#cut some hair from growing down (pissed me off immensely)

[lynxgirlpaws]

Was in the middle of scratching my own chin (as you do since no one is there to do it for me) when I. Y'know. Remembered the whole facial hair thing. And now I'm a bit less than pleased.

[deadpcnned]

the gamble of the heart | chapter 2 (r.l.)

chapter two: repression

series masterlist

previous chapter

pairing: remus lupin x potter!reader

chapter summary: y/n pursues her relationship with mason and sees the repercussions on remus. and herself. 

warnings: swearing, kissing, alcohol 

wordcount: 3.8k

a/n: new chapter! the next chapter is shorter so i’ll have it up sometime this week. 

“Stop,” Y/N drawled, but she made no effort to move the arms that were holding her in place. “I should probably say hello to my friends.” As Y/N used her fingers to comb through Mason’s blond locks, she couldn’t help the content smile that fought its way onto her face. 

“Probably - but I think I’ll miss you too much,” Mason mumbled against her lips. Y/N knew if she let him kiss her she would never get the chance to even glance at her friends. There was just something about Mason that drew her towards him. It was like whenever Mason Tomlinson was in question, Y/N was physically being pushed towards him and she would find herself doing things she’d never expected. It was a wonder to her how she fell for him as quickly as she had. 

There was no doubt that Mason Tomlinson was handsome and extremely charismatic, yet Y/N would have never guessed that she would feel as strongly as she did for him after only two weeks. She always considered herself to be a practical person, but when Mason looked at her with his big green eyes, she lost any pragmaticism. And Mason knew how to take advantage of that. 

“Mmm, Mase. You know I’ll stay if you ask me to,” Y/N pressed a kiss to the corner of his lips and they twitched slightly beneath hers. 

“I’m asking, love,” Groaning, Y/N placed her head against Mason’s chest before pushing herself away from his grasp. She looked through the doors to the Great Hall and could see all of the strangers she was so shamelessly flirting with her boyfriend in front of. 

“Nope,” She said, giving him a pointed look. “I am going to sit with my house today. You’ll just have to miss me.” 

“Will you miss me?” She would. That was the strange thing about her recent affair. It was like when she wasn’t with Mason she was floating purposelessly. It was as though she was a kite and he was the piece of string that was keeping her from floating out into space. Her independent streak was something Y/N had always valued, but since meeting Mason it was like she never wanted to be away from him. 

“You know I will,” An uneasy feeling settled in the pit of her stomach as she noted the jovial expression on Mason’s face. Why couldn’t she stay away from him? 

After departing from Mason, Y/N took the familiar path to the Gryffindor table. As she noticed three familiar boys, she smiled to herself. Suddenly, she was half walking and half skipping towards her best friends. When she reached she threw her arms around Peter from behind and squealed. 

Hi, boys,” she giggled, not noticing the dry expressions on their faces. “Did you miss me?” She took a seat next to Peter and surveyed their faces carefully. Who pissed in their pumpkin juice?

“Tomlinson busy today, Y/N?” Sirius accused. 

“No? I just wanted to sit here today. Are you guys mad?”

“Yes,” James shrugged. “You haven’t spoken to us in two weeks, because of your new friend.” Oh. Y/N had been so consumed in Mason she didn’t realize she was neglecting her closest friends. 

“I’m so sorry, you guys. I guess I didn’t realize I was doing that,” She offered, her hand reaching out to hold James’ hand from across the table. Upon feeling his hand squeeze hers, she let out a relieved breath. 

“We’ll forgive you on one condition, Y/N” Sirius mused, the shadow of his mischievous smirk evident. Y/N quirked her eyebrow at him, prompting him to continue. “You have to tell us everything.”

Y/N began to gush endlessly about her boyfriend and was so enthralled in the topic that she hadn’t noticed a fourth figure appear in the seat beside James. As Y/N finished explaining how Mason had asked her out after a few days of sharing a class, she looked up only to have the air knocked out of her lungs. 

“Remus,” His name had left her mouth just like it had a million times before, but now it was leaving a bitter taste behind. He nodded his head towards her before starting to fill his plate with some toast and meat. While watching him Y/N barely caught the rest of the boys telling Remus that they needed to finish morning detention and they’d see him in class. 

The last time Y/N and Remus had spoken was a few weeks prior when she had sent him an owl over summer vacation. She felt another odd ache in her stomach, but it sharply contrasted the feeling she had with Mason. This was different. It was like when she was with Mason she couldn’t help but want to be near him, but with Remus, she wanted to want him close. But that couldn’t be possible. She liked Mason immensely so why was she still experiencing residual feelings for Remus? 

Y/N couldn’t help but analyze every detail of the boy in front of her. He had cut his hair slightly shorter (which he did at the start of every school year) and it had become a slightly lighter shade of brown, likely due to the summer sun. She also winced as she looked at the new scar that trailed from the back of his hand and disappeared under his robes. 

“Rough full moon?” Remus looked up at Y/N, started for a couple of seconds, and returned his gaze to his food. Y/N looked around the Great Hall awkwardly before starting again. “How have you been, Rem? Been a few weeks since we last talked.”

Y/N was met with a deafening silence and a shrug from Remus, but she noticed that he had taken the luxury of rolling his eyes, as well. 

“Right, well… oh I’m not sure if you know, but I’ve got a boyfriend now,” Remus snapped his head up, an indecipherable look on his face. “Would you like to meet him?”  Remus looked away, but when he looked back at her, Y/N wished she hadn’t ever said anything. He looked furious.  

“No, not really,” Remus finally said, before getting up from his seat and storming off. 

Y/N watched him as he walked away and felt her head begin to spin. It would be idiotic for her to act like she didn’t know why Remus was so angry, but she never wanted to confront those feelings. She was terrified for the moment that someone would ask her what happened between her and Remus. Because the truth was she had no idea. What she and Remus had was real, she knew that. But ever since she met Mason it was like something had shifted. Suddenly the only thing on her mind was Mason, Mason, Mason. Seeing Remus had awakened something in her she hadn’t felt in weeks and she hated it. So she was going to do the only thing that made sense. She was going to repress her unwanted feelings so far down, she’d forget they existed. 

—

These days the word Quidditch could seldom be spoken at Hogwarts without someone associating it with the Potter name. That was for two very competitive and very proud reasons: James and Y/N Potter. The Potters had an aptitude for the game and everyone at their school knew it. 

Y/N and James often argued over which Potter was the most valuable asset on the team. “If it wasn’t for me being a seeker, the game would go on for ages. I literally win us the games,” James would argue to which Y/N would say, “You must be joking, James. If it wasn’t for me constantly throwing bloody bludgers at the opposing team’s seeker, you’d never catch that snitch.” 

But regardless, Quidditch was the thing that connected the cousins most. Growing up, Quidditch was all the pair knew and for Y/N it had become an escape. There was something about being so high in the air as the wind blew harshly against her skin that made her feel free. Maybe it was the fact that not many people could reach her when she was flying through the sky or maybe it was simply the thrill of the game. 

“Ready, Potter?” Marlene yelled as Y/N adjusted her helmet. “What about you, other Potter?” The two cousins grinned as they approached each other. 

“On the count of three,” James began. “1, 2 —” Before he finished his countdown the two Potter kids each raised their right hands and clasped them together. Laughing maniacally they thrust themselves into their pregame ritual (which was a very poorly executed handshake-dance combo), effectively filling the locker room with loud laughter.

“We are now, Mar.”

With that, the team began their walk to the Quidditch pitch. Y/N bounced on her feet as they approached the crowded arena, a habit she had when she got excited. It was the first game of the year and against Slytherin no less. She knew that if they won this game the party was going to be absolutely insane, which was, of course, all a Gryffindor could ask for. 

The game had gotten intense as soon as Madam Hooch had blown her whistle. The Slytherin Beaters were giving Y/N a run for her money, but luckily the Gryffindors had been able to hold their own. Regulus Black, who was the Slytherin seeker, was taunting James playfully as they each kept an eye out for the snitch. Y/N was close enough to James to see how his attention began to shift from Regulus’ face to beside his head and then back. He had seen the snitch. And it was right next to Regulus. 

Y/N could easily distract Regulus, who was too caught up in teasing his brother’s mate to properly prepare himself against a hit from her Bludger. She also knew that if James tried to grab the snitch, Regulus would have it in his hands in a second. The younger Black brother was known for his quick reflexes after all. The decision was easy.  

Making one lap around the pitch to gain momentum, she shot her Bludger right at Regulus who with a horrified look ducked the ball. At that moment James leaped forward on his broom and grabbed the snitch. The stadium erupted in cheers so loud not a single Slytherin’s disappointment could be heard.

“And the Potter’s have done it again! They really are a dream team.” With a triumphant smile, Y/N made her way down and was quickly thrown into a circle of people where she found James right in the center. 

“Nice one, cuz,” James winked, happily relishing in all the attention he was receiving. 

“Yeah, mate. You too,” Y/N followed James out of the crowd of excited Gryffindors but they were looking for two completely different people. Y/N watched James look around for either Sirius or Lily (she didn’t know who he’d look for first these days) and she found herself looking for one boy in particular. Mason. 

Instead of the image of a blond boy dressed in a repulsive blue (Mason had refused to wear the Gryffindor colors), she found herself staring at a taller boy who was donning her favorite colors. Remus had not only worn a scarlet cable knit sweater (which it was way too warm for) and yellow-gold scarf, but he was wearing a beanie that was meant to give the appearance of a lion’s mane He had also used muggle paint on his face. His left cheek had a red number seven and the right revealed a very badly drawn snitch. He looked utterly stupid. But the worst part of it all was he was dressed almost exactly as he had at the last Quidditch game of the previous year. 

In the past two years that Y/N had played Quidditch on the Gryffindor team, this game had definitely been her best. The Gryffindors had just secured the Quidditch cup, which Y/N thought was the best way to end her fifth year. Y/N’s performance in the last game of the year just made it that much sweeter. 

“I reckon you played alright, Potter,” Remus smirked. He had been right in front of her as soon as her feet had touched the grass beneath her. Waiting for her. Like he had at every one of her games. 

“You know I did a lot better than alright, Lupin,” She shoved his chest, but before she could move her hand he had flattened her palm against his chest. 

“Yeah, you did,”  She was only distracted from his intense gaze when she heard Sirius let out a wolf whistle at the sight. Remus let go of her hand, blushing slightly as he glared at Sirius. 

“Oh, shut it,” Y/N scolded. She nodded her head to the right, indicating for Remus to follow her. After walking a little while longer, they had found themselves walking on the outskirts of the Forbidden Forest. Remus had grabbed a hold of Y/N’s hand as soon as they were out of everyone’s sight. She glanced over at him deciding that he had dressed warm enough for the cold that was invading the new spring season. She stared a little longer to get a better look at his painted face and eclectic accessory. She wanted to laugh, but the sound died in her throat as she took a better look at his cheek. 

There on his right cheek was a big number five. Her Quidditch number. 

“You look utterly stupid,” Y/N insulted him, though she had intended to say something else that had been on her mind. She and Remus had reached a weird sort of limbo. They had gone from just being a part of the same friend group to being each other’s best friends in their fourth year and now they were here. In their fifth year, Y/N and Remus had spent the majority of it flirting and being affectionate with one another. However, they were still technically not a couple. They had spent so long being each other’s friends that it was second nature to make jabs at one another in good spirit. Y/N liked it that way. She liked the healthy balance of romance and humor they shared. Only at this moment, she wished she had told him how happy he made her. But Remus, like he always did, understood. 

“Wanted you to know that I’m your biggest fan,” Remus stopped walking and softly pulled Y/N closer, positioning them to be face to face. 

“Are you? My biggest fan, I mean?” Her voice had fallen to a whisper despite no one being near.  

“Without a doubt,” Remus said fervently, his voice just as low as hers. “I know your parents might disagree, but no one’s as big a fan of yours as I am. I promise you that.” Remus brought one of his hands up to her cheek and stroked her cheek with the pad of his thumb. Lowering himself slightly he placed a kiss on her cheek before hovering over her lips. Y/N’s heart was beating harshly against her ribcage and she felt like her feet were lifting off the ground. Remus had a way of doing that to her. Whenever he was this close to her, she felt like she was back on her broom floating inches above the ground. He had a way of giving her that freeing sensation even when she was trapped under his lustful gaze. Moving forward just a little more, Remus teasingly grazed his lips against hers. 

“Remus,” she whined, earning an innocent hum from him. “Just fucking kiss me.” And boy did he kiss her. No matter how many times she had felt his lips against hers, it never failed to amaze her how much better each kiss got. He kissed her slowly, probably to continue to tease her, but she found herself enjoying it more than he could’ve intended. His lips were soft, contrasting hers which were chapped from the wind but she didn’t care. The taste of mint and chocolate was intoxicating and she was losing herself in his touch. She hardly noticed when he pushed her against a tree, kissing her harder than before. Remus pulled back slightly only to dive right back to kissing her. After doing that a couple more times, he hesitantly kissed down her neck. No, please don’t stop, Y/N thought. 

With one last kiss on her neck, Remus mumbled against her skin, “We should probably get back.” Remus had one hand on her waist and the other pressed against the tree behind her, keeping her in her spot. 

“Don’t wanna,” She pouted and she felt Remus groan against her neck. “I wanna stay with you.”  Sighing, Remus pulled back and placed his hands on her cheeks. He used his fingers to warm up the apples of her cheek which were bright red from possibly more than just the stubborn cold air. 

“And I want to stay here with you, but you promised Lily that you would help her with some work before the party tonight,” Y/N laughed because that response was so Remus. Making sure that she kept her word and did what she had to. Taking care of her in an unconventional way. She gave him another peck and just looked at him with adoring eyes. “What?”

“Nothing, you’re just something really special. You make me feel elated, you know that, Remus Lupin?” Remus beamed at her and kissed her again. Just hard enough to express his bliss, but not get them stuck in the forest for another fifteen minutes. 

“I think that’s why we were put in each other’s paths,” Remus’ words caused Y/N to draw her eyebrows together in confusion. “I mean, call it fate, destiny, or just insignificant chance, but I think we were meant to know each other. Just for that. To elate each other. Don’t you think, Y/N?” 

“Y/N?” Y/N was drawn out of her trance and when she blinked Remus wasn’t in front of her anymore. Instead, she was staring at green eyes and a blue sweater. 

“Hm?”

“I said don’t you think?” Mason said, only now realizing Y/N had been completely lost in thought. “Here, you must be tired. Have some of my juice.” Finally blinking out of her daze, Y/N properly took in the boy in front of her. 

“Babe! I’m sorry I didn’t even realize you were there,” She immediately jumped up to kiss him and with each second she felt any thoughts of Remus disappear. Besides, they shouldn’t have been there in the first place. Repress. Repress. Repress. 

“I noticed,” Mason attempted to sound lighthearted, but there was an edge to his voice. “Uh, any way you wanna do something before the party tonight?” She nodded her head and let herself be dragged away from the bustling crowd around her. But not before she realized she could feel a smoldering gaze directed towards her. 

—

A crowded common room, the smell of firewhiskey, and deafening music was without a doubt Y/N’s second favorite feeling after flying. If there was a party at Hogwarts you could bet you’d find Y/N carelessly dancing or making a spectacle of herself for others’ entertainment. And the person right next to her? Always Sirius Black. 

There was no reason tonight’s party was any different. Sirius was downing Firewhiskey straight from the bottle with one hand and spinning Y/N in circles with his other. The music in the back was pulsing through their veins just as much as the alcohol was and they were horridly singing the lyrics of the song in the background. 

“Potter.”

“Black.”

“Don’t let that Ravenclaw make you into a drag.”

“Never,” she whispered her face inches apart from his. 

“All I need to hear.”

The two probably would’ve kept dancing if Mason hadn’t wrapped an arm around Y/N and pulled her away from Sirius. The alcohol mixed with the sheer excitement she had seeing Mason in front of her, compelled her to grab a hold of his collar and kiss him as hard as she could. Lost in his touch, she ignored Sirus’ drunken “gross” and continued to sloppily make out with him. Eventually, they had reached the corner of the common room and unabashedly deepened their kiss. 

The most surprising part? Y/N was doing the most kissing. She was leaving purple bruises along his neck and biting his ear. She was running her hands up his arms and pulling at the collar of his shirt. She didn’t know why and she didn’t know how she was doing this in a room full of people. All she knew was something about this boy was so spellbinding and she needed to feel him against her. But she was halted from fulfilling her needs by someone pulling her off Mason. 

Her eyes met Remus’ bloodshot ones, which she assumed were caused by the empty bottle of Firewhiskey in his grasp. Pushing him off her, she stepped back a bit trying to gather her thoughts.

“Remus, what-” She was cut off by Remus' discordant voice.

“No - no. I -” He hiccuped, pointing an accusing finger to Y/N. “You… you suck.”

“Remus, you’re drunk-” she started again, but to her dismay, she was cut off again. 

“NO. I - no, you’re going to listen. You said - you said you, in your last letter, you know what you said. So if it was true how could you be w-with him,” Remus growled as his eyes trained on Mason’s slowly reddening face. “How can you act like we never happened?” 

Y/N flicked her eyes towards Mason and gulped as she noticed how angry he looked. She had never really talked to Mason about her past with Remus because he had never asked, but judging by the look on his face he didn’t want the conversation to be prompted by Remus insulting him. Luckily, Y/N was saved by James.

“Remus, c’mon. Now isn’t the time,” He mumbled. He held a sympathetic look in his eyes as he looked at Y/N, but she had a feeling the sympathy in his voice wasn’t for her. 

“No, Prongs. She needs t - to tell me,” In his frenzied state, Remus had tucked his head into the bespectacled boy's neck.  

“Okay, mate, but not right now.” Y/N watched as James led a babbling Remus up to his dorm, her heart clenching. She had done this to him. She had betrayed him, his trust, his heart.  She betrayed him and when he asked her why she couldn’t even tell him. She wouldn’t be able to tell him or herself, because she truly didn’t know why. 

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[rowyn-writes]

Dying From a Broken Heart

Part Two of Confidence

Warnings: Violence, angst, language, arguing, blood, fluff

Pairings: Jack x Winchester!Reader

Characters: Jack Kline, Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester, Castiel, Rowena, Eros, Reader

Word Count: 3.1k

Summary: While you and Jack are at the motel, you make a shocking discovery. You're not dealing with a pack of werewolves like you thought, but Eros, God of Love and Lust. You finally figure out the connection between Eros and the victims. . . Only to find out that you're next.

You and Jack were still doing research when Sam and Dean came back. "Okay, so get this." You said, turning around in your chair. "Every year, six people go missing and are found dead with their hearts torn out."

"A ritual?" Sam inquired.

"Exactly what I was thinking, dear brother." You grinned. "Now, big city like this, six missing people is something you'd hardly notice."

"Yeah, but why would a werewolf preform a ritual?" Dean asked.

"That's what Jack and I kept asking ourselves." You said, looking over at your boyfriend. "Why in the world would a Purebred werewolf need to preform some kind of ritual?" You stood up, rummaging around in your backpack for a book. You gave a triumphant smile as you held up your Greek Mythology book.

"Eros. God of Love and Lust." You opened the book to the page that was dedicated to the god.

"But their hearts were torn out." Dean furrowed his eyebrows. "What would Eros want with hearts?"

"It's a sacrifice for him." You informed the men. "Think about it. None of the vics had bites or even scratches. At first, I thought it was a Purebred werewolf because the attacks didn't line up with the lunar cycle. But the more I thought about it, the more that this makes sense. People used to worship Eros and make sacrifices for him, but now hardly anyone believes in him anymore. So Eros goes out and gets his own sacrifices."

Sam and Dean seemed impressed while Jack seemed proud. "Okay." Dean nodded. "That means that since he failed with the last victim, he's going kill again."

You tried your hardest to think of some kind of connection with all the deceased. You knew there had to be something in common since they were dealing with a god. They seemed to be picky with their sacrifices.

"What are you thinking about, Y/n?" Jack asked, resting his hand on top of yours, something that didn't go unnoticed by your brothers. Dean was about to say something when Sam stomped on his foot, earning a grunt from Dean.

"I'm trying to find the connection between everyone. Because I know there has to be one." You picked at a tear in your jeans while you tried to connect the dots.

Then it hit you like a ton of bricks. You stood up abruptly, startling the men in the room. "I know what Eros looks in for a sacrifice." You stated, grabbing your notepad to look at the stuff you had written down. "Everyone we interviewed said the victims just had a big announcement. The 55 year old man was celebrating his 30th anniversary with his wife, the 28 year old woman was newly engaged, the 45 year old man just started dating again after his wife died, and so on until the fifteen year old girl. She had just gotten her first girlfriend when she was attacked."

"What are you saying, Y/n?" Jack questioned.

"I'm saying that Eros is targeting people with an immense amount of pure love. That's what he's looking for!"

"Wow." Sam said, looking at his little sister in admiration. "That's genius, Y/n." He patted her on the shoulder, only to furrow his eyebrows. "What's that on your collarbone?"

You gave Sam a confused look as you headed to the bathroom. There, on your collarbone was a dark red circle. You sucked in a sharp breath.

"I know who the next target is." You told the men.

"Who?" Jack seemed worried by the look on your face.

"It's me."

.

. .

. . .

"How did this even happen?!" Sam exclaimed.

"I don't know!" You defended yourself, your voice raised slightly. "The whole time we were out I was with you guys. Jack and I never left the motel room while you two were gone."

"That is true." Jack nodded. "Y/n and I stayed in here and she agreed to be my girlfri-"

You put your hand over his mouth. "Now's not the time, babe." You could feel Dean glaring a hole through you and Jack.

"Okay, let's think about this for a second." You said, trying to calm everyone down. "Maybe this is a good thing."

"A good thing?!" Dean roared. "Y/n, how in the hell is this a good thing?!"

"Dean." Sam hissed, cuffing his brother. "Calm down and let Y/n talk." You threw Sam a grateful look.

"This way we can lure Eros out, and kill him. Apparently all it takes is a wooden stake dipped in lambs blood."

"I don't like this plan." Jack muttered.

"See! Thank you." Dean said, clearly pleased with the Nephilim.

"Jack-"

"No, Y/n. You're not going to put yourself in danger just to kill this god. I won't allow it."

"Oh for the love of-" You sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose. "Eros is coming for me either way. It's better to be prepared and have a plan rather than to just sit here and let him tear my heart out!"

"Don't talk like that!" Jack insisted angrily. You understood that he was worried about you, but you were a grown woman and could make your own decisions.

"It's inevitable, Jack." You said softly. "Eros will come for me. We know from the victims that he kills them 24 hours after being marked. I have maybe 18 hours at best."

Dean was furious. "This is your fault!" He growled at Jack. "You're the reason my baby sister is being targeted!"

Jack looked taken aback. "I didn't want this for Y/n." He said sincerely. "If I could trade places with her, I would."

"That's the problem!"

"Dean-" You started, only to get interrupted by your oldest brother.

"You think you're in love with her, but you're not! It's unnatural. Nephilim, they can't fall in love. All those stupid movies that Y/n and Sam let you watch made you think you're in love with her. You can't love Y/n."

You felt your throat close up, hurt by Dean's words. "Is it that hard to think someone could love me?" You whispered.

Dean's hard glare softened as his eyes landed on you. "Of course not, sweetheart. But Jack. . . He's not right for you."

"Oh, and you know what's best for me?" You growled. Your hurt turned to annoyance and anger.

"Yes, I do. I'm your brother."

Sam and Jack gave each other looks. It was bad when Sam and Dean argued, but when you and Dean argued, it was catastrophic.

"And John was my dad, and he never knew what was best for me! That doesn't mean anything!"

"Oh, so family doesn't mean anything to you?"

"Dean, come on man, you know that's not what she meant." Sam tried to reason.

"Stay out of it, Sam!" Dean yelled.

You could tell Sam was growing annoyed with Dean. His frown deepened, his eyes hardened, and his hand began to twitch.

"No! I won't stay out of it. I am tired of you mistreating Jack and Y/n!"

"Oh, I do not mistreat them!" Dean argued. "Jack, do I mistreat you?" Jack seemed uncomfortable being put on the spot. You knew he looked up to Dean, but Dean had also said some rather hurtful things about Jack.

While Sam, Dean, and Jack continued their argument, you were able to slip away unnoticed.

You were crying now, the thought of dying scared the crap out of you. And your brothers and Jack arguing didn't help the situation.

You looked around the parking lot, looking for something to hotwire. You came across a black Harley Davidson Dyna Super Glide Sport. And the dumbass was stupid enough to leave the keys in the ignition.

You started the engine, listening to the bike purr. You threw back the kickstand and began driving. You didn't know where you were going, all you knew was that you had to get out of there.

You weren't stupid, of course, you had your gun and a silver dagger just in case.

You planted both of your feet on the ground at a stop light. You were still crying, and you couldn't figure out why. You were just so angry.

You ended up stopping at a small dive bar outside of Little Rock. There were a total of ten people there, and most were men.

You flag down the bartender and order a beer. Around twenty minutes later, a man slide in the seat beside you. He said nothing as he ordered a drink. The man seemed so familiar to you, but you couldn't put your finger on it. He had curly, dark brown hair, and beautiful blue-grey eyes. He was handsome in all aspects of the word. But he was nothing compared to Jack.

"I've never seen you here before." He said to you.

"Oh, I uh - I'm just passing through." You gave him a tight smile.

You felt your phone buzz in your pocket. You grabbed it, looking down to see that Dean's as calling you. You sent him to voicemail, something that was bound to piss him off.

"Guy troubles?" The man inquired.

"More like brother troubles." You laughed. "I'm Y/n, by the way."

"Elliott." He smiled, showing off a gleaming row of white teeth. "So, what's going on with your brother?"

"Brother's, actually. They treat me like a baby, just because they're older than me."

"That's what brothers are supposed to do." Elliott shrugged. "They're supposed to look out for you, protect you." Your phone rang again, this time, it was Sam. You sent him to voicemail as well and put your phone on silent.

"Yeah, I guess." You agreed. "But -" You cut yourself off, not wanting to dump all your feeling onto this random stranger.

"But what?" He asked, curious to what your response was.

"There's this guy, this amazing, wonderful, sweet and funny guy. He cares about me, and I care about him, but my oldest brother, he thinks we shouldn't be with each other." You confessed, taking a sip of your beer.

"Is he respectful towards you?" You nodded. "He cares about you and treats you right?" You nodded once more. "Then what's the problem?"

"I don't know." You mumbled. "My brother just doesn't trust him, even though he has no reason not to."

"Call it a brother's intuition." Elliott grinned. You blinked as your vision began to blur. "Hey, you okay?" You let out a slurred response. "Let's get you some air." Elliott helped you out of your chair and outside. You felt the cold air nip at your cheeks, making you feel a thousand times better.

Your head began to spin, the world shifting around you. "I don't feel so well." You groaned. Your body went limp, and the last thing you felt was a pair of strong arms wrapping around you to keep you from falling.

.

. .

. . .

"Guys!" Jack yelled over Sam and Dean, trying to catch their attention. "GUYS!" Jack's eyes flared orange, finally getting Sam and Dean to stop arguing. "Where's Y/n?"

Sam and Dean looked around the room frantically. Jack looked into the bathroom and found nothing. "Damnit!" Dean growled. "How could she have left without us noticing?!"

"Well, you and Sam were rather angry, I think it was very easy for her to slip away." Dean glared at Jack.

"So help me God, if a single hair on her head is out of place, all hell will break loose, and it'll be on you." Sam sighed, shaking his head.

Dean dialed your phone number, looking apprehensive. "Y/n, I swear if you sent me to voicemail on purpose, I am going to kill you! Answer me, damnit!"

"Let me try." Sam mumbled. "Y/n, please call and let us know you're okay. We're worried."

"I can find her." Jack said hopefully. He closed his eyes, searching for any sign of you. He saw you sitting next to a guy in a bar, he saw the man put something in your drink, and he saw you pass out outside of the bar.

Jack grew angry. He knew what happened to you was wrong, he could feel you were in distress. "She's in trouble."

.

. .

. . .

"Wakey wakey, sunshine!" Elliott cheered as he threw water on your face. You gasped, bolting awake. You found that you were bound in a chair, the thick rope cutting into your skin. You looked around to see that you were in some kind of a abandoned building.

You were relieved to see that you still had on all your clothes. "I was worried for a second. I thought I might have given you too high of a dose for your body."

"You roofied me." You groaned.

"I did! But you have to understand, Y/n, I would have never gotten you out of there otherwise. You're one of the strongest sacrifices I've ever had."

"Eros." You said in realization.

"Ding ding ding! We have a winner!" Eros almost seemed happy by the situation. "You are going to be one of the best sacrifices I've had. A hunter with a strong heart full of compassion and pure love. The perfect candidate."

"Please," You whimpered. "Let me go."

Eros sucked in a breath, faking remorse. "You see, I wish I could. . . But I can't. I need you. Ever since the last sacrifice escaped, I've been looking for a new one. And then your brother's, boy wonder and you roll into town. I knew as soon as I saw you that you were perfect. Almost too perfect."

You felt a tear slip down your cheek. "Please. I don't want to die. I'm only 21, there's so much things I haven't done yet. Let me live." You pleaded.

"I was hoping you'd say that." Eros grinned, pulling up a chair in front of you, sitting with his chest on the back of the chair. "I was actually looking for a wife." He gave you a wicked grin that made you squirm in your seat. "I need an heir, or heiress, I don't discriminate. I just want someone to pass my powers off to, to teach. So, I can let you live if you agree to be my wife."

"Rot in hell." You spat, disgusted by the thought of marrying Eros. He grew annoyed, as he punched you, your head snapping back.

"That's too bad." Eros shook his head. "But, at least I'll get to enjoy killing you."

You watched in horror as Eros' fingernails grew into sharp, claw-like hands, almost like a werewolves. You screamed in pain as he drew his finger over your face. "Shh, shh, love. It's gonna be okay." You gave out a small cry, struggling against the ropes.

"The more you struggle, the more it's going to hurt." Eros said in a singsong voice.

You began whispering apologies in your head, to Sam, Dean, Jack, Cas, Rowena, everyone. There were so many unfinished words, so many unsaid 'I love you's,'

"I'm sorry." You whispered. You screamed out once more as Eros dug his nails into your chest.

"Y/N!" You heard Dean yell. Sam, Dean and Jack appeared from behind a crate, your brothers carrying guns, and we'll, Jack himself was a weapon.

"Ah, ah, ah." Eros grinned wickedly. "I am holding her life in the palm of my hand; literally. So put down those shiny guns, and step away from them." Sam and Dean looked at each other. Eros scowled as he dug his nails deeper into your skin. You cried out in pain, feeling his nails getting closer to your heart.

"Alright! Alright!" Sam said hastily, setting down his gun and stepping away, encouraging Dean to do the same.

You were quite the sight for the men. You had blood coating your clothes, a bruised eye from the blows that Eros landed earlier, your hair was a mess and you face was streaked with tears.

"Get away from her!" Jack bellowed.

"Oh, look, it's your lover boy." Jack's words only made Eros angrier, as he retracted his hand, and swiped his claws over your face, creating four long gashes.

"I said get away from her!" Jack's eyes began to glow orange, and he trembled with anger. Eros looked frightened as he was sent flying back into the wall.

Sam and Dean surged forward, both carrying a wooden stake dipped in lambs blood, while Jack went to help you.

"It's okay," He whispered. "I've got you." You gave out a small whimper as he cut the ropes. "Can you stand?" You tried to stand up with the help of Jack, but your knees buckled beneath you. Jack scooped you up in his arms. You buried your head in his chest, turning away from you brothers, who were currently killing Eros.

"Take me home." You mumbled before darkness enveloped you.

.

. .

. . .

When you awoke, you were in your bed at the bunker, surrounded by Cas, Sam, Dean, Jack and Rowena.

"Y/n." Dean breathed a breath of relief as he hugged you. You winced in pain, your body still sore from you attack. "I am so sorry. I never should have said those things to you. I'm so glad you're okay."

"It's okay, Dean." You assured him. Even though you said you were fine, there was still pain swimming in his eyes.

"We couldn't heal your wounds with magic," Rowena informed you. "Since Eros was the one to injure you, it will have to heal naturally. I did make you some herbs that will stop the pain, however."

"Thanks, Rowena." You smiled. The room began emptying out, everyone wanted to let you rest. Jack, however, didn't leave your side.

"I'm sorry, Y/n." He whispered.

"Why are you sorry?" You asked, squeezing his hand.

"I let you get hurt. I should have gotten there sooner." You saw there were tears in his eyes. You frowned as you scooted over.

"Come lie beside me." Jack hesitantly climbed into the bed, pushing aside the covers. You wrapped your arms around his middle and rested your head on his chest. "You got me out of there when you did. I'm okay, and that's all that matters."

"But-"

You cut Jack off with a kiss. "I don't want to talk about it anymore." You mumbled, cupping his cheek. "I just want you to hold me."

"I can do that." Jack nodded, pulling you closer to his body. You decided to put on a movie as you and Jack cuddled. Halfway through the movie, you ended up falling asleep. Jack didn't sleep that often, but he felt so at peace that he fell asleep as well.

When everyone came to check on you again, their hearts melted at the sight of you and Jack. "Oh, just look at them." Rowena whispered to the men. "They're so cute."

"Yeah," Dean nodded. "They are."

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Tag List: @mila-dans @blairrrose

[lindwyrmrelinquished]

So....what are some of your headcanons for Ranbutler?

OHHHHHHHHHH BUDDY, YOU ARE OPENING YOURSELF TO A WHOLE NEW CAN'O'BEANS HERE

OKAY SO FIRST OF ALL-

(everything else under the cut because there is a L O T )

Butler's human form is predominant(which unfortunately means he does not have a tail :(), but he can make Ender noises/speak Galactic. He's got a bunch of stims and tics, and making the Ender noises is one of them! He often makes them to fill the silence, or in times of high emotion(positive or negative. just imagine a Butler bouncing on his toes while excited Ender chirps keep coming out of his mouth, or he's rambling about something and half of it is layered with Galactic). Following from that, Butler has something that Billiam calls the "monochrome form". If he's under high levels of stress, whatever dark tint of color is in his right side will start spiking into the left side, making his skin darker(and, if he has enough color in his skin from NOT FUCKING OVERWORKING HIMSELF, it can get dark enough to blend into shadows) and spreading from the little black scales on his neck and cheeks and hands(which are already claws, that's why he wears gloves), and if he's really stressed/pissed, little horns are gonna start poking out of his skull and he's gonna be completely gray/black, his teeth are already deadly but they're gonna get sharper and if you look him in the eyes he will s c r e a m and very likely tear you apart if Billiam isn't there to hold him back/calm him down.

Speaking of! Butler very much dislikes eye contact. It makes them extremely uncomfortable and the Ender part is gonna start screaming to attack attack attack and the pupil-slit thing is gonna happen. Unfortunately, he's frozen by the eye contact and cannot move of his own free will, it's all going to be instinct to either get away or attack, if he moves at all. And the moment the eye contact is broken, he starts to calm down and all the screaming in his head starts to dissipate, so he doesn't really get the chance to consciously act on the Ender side's instinct.

NEXT OF ALL, throwing canon out the window and saying BILLIAM AND BUTLER ARE FOUND-FAMILY. The way they acted in the episode is just that, an act. In reality, they actually Care each other Very Very Much and have adopted each other into their respective hybrid groups(i.e Endermen have their hauntings, Piglins have their sounders{that part's not canon to mc but i yoinked it from a fic}). Hubert jokes about how Billiam accidentally adopted Bu as his son, but both Bu and Bi deny this. Hubert also got Liaria and James in on the joke and now these two are being constantly triple-teamed.

ON THAT NOTE Liaria and James know about the Egg. It happened at the tail end of Bu's first masquerade when they started accusing Billiam of committing all the murders, and Bu kind of panicked and outed himself as the killer, he pulled out the knife and everything. Billiam admitted that he knew about this, and showed them the Egg as explanation. Now Liaria and James willingly give up their bought lives to the Egg on the regular(we might get into the lives thing later{it was also something i yoinked from a fic, and then I gave it more explanation}) to keep Billiam and his family alive, but they're not all that affected by it due to not even being near it half the time.

AND ON THAT NOTE, let's talk about Butler's relationship with the Egg! Bad. It's bad. Absolutely terrible, the two despise each other immensely. I like to say they're the closest thing to caliginous that a teenaged hybrid that lived off spite and an ancient crimson demon can be. The Egg's hurt Bu a lot, and honestly that's part of the reason his contempt and fear for it is so high. But that's also part of the reason why Billiam was pulled out of its influence despite living right above it. Because he cares for Bu, a literal child that's suffered severe mental and physical trauma at the hands(well, vines) of the Egg. Honestly? Billiam wouldn't be the way he is now if he didn't have to take trips to the Nether. Short explanation, too much time away from their home realm gets hybrids really really sick. So, about a few months or so after Bu arrived, he had to yeet back there for a week and just told Butler and Hubert to take care of the mansion. And you know what Hubert did, that bitch? He took advantage of both Billiam's absence and Butler's skill and pampered himself while throwing the entire load onto the child. And then like halfway through the week, he got the idea to introduce said child to the Egg, who before then has had no idea it ever existed aside from the crimson red aura around the mansion(it's a whole thing about Endermen and magic but again, another thing I might get into later). He hadn't even attended a party before then. So, yeah, Hubert just left him down in one of the old cells for three days. Didn't even check on him, that bitch. And then when Billiam game back, suffice to say he was PISSED. He may be a rich bastard who causes murders biweekly, but even he has standards, and hurting a damn 7-8 year old child that bad was not one of them. he can't be held responsible for child labor, bu followed him home by his own choice. again, another whole backstory thing

Bu's genderfluid! He usually switches between he/him and they/them, and the direction he nods is a little indicator of which one(up for gender, down for no), but sometimes he uses she/her. Adding on that, due to Weird Enderman Genetics, he can manipulate his hair to grow real fast and likes to experiment with it in the mornings for Maximum Gender Euphoria This means that one day his hair could be barely touching his neck, and the next it's all the way down to his waist. It's a fun little anomaly and sometimes Billiam likes to play with it when it gets longer :3 travelling on the lgbt train, Bu is also ace/aro! This doesn't have much impact story-wise(usually), but it's just a fun little tidbit :3 On other, more Ender notes, he has pretty much all the traits an Enderman does, even if he looks fully human aside from being 6 inches taller than Sir Billiam himself. With the eye-contact thing, I've got a headcanon that Endermen can kind of read minds to an extent if they look into another entity's eyes, but it gets loud and borderline painful if anything but another Enderman does the same. Meanwhile, Bu's about the perfect mix of an Enderman and a Human(later called Players and Villagers depending on their capabilities) to be able to take at least a few seconds of eye contact. He can also teleport! To about the same extent as Endermen, if not a little less. Unfortunately, spending too much time in the void between teleportations(i.e a few hours for him, though an hour in the void is a minute in reality. It's why teleporting happens in the blink of an eye to anyone but the user) has some adverse effects. Bu's either glitched, gotten some sort of void-sickness like a flu but worse, and/or lost large chunks of memory each of the separate times he stuck himself in there for too long. Pure-blooded Endermen have a longer tolerance, but even they can succumb to the void with enough time.

Bu's also hurt by water, and the first time Billiam really figured this out is when he dragged him to the roof because it was raining and for some reason, Bi really likes the rain. Bu, on the other hand, was hospitalized for a day once Billiam actually realized, "oh, he's burning" Unfortunately, Bu can still produce tears, so he's got some scars on his cheeks and hands from those, Luckily, though! Billiam got him some gloves and a facemask reminiscent of cc!Ranboo to hide those scars because bu's. really self-conscious about them :,D

But also he's got TOE BEANS,

[ahem] So Endermen are basically giant block-holding teleporting cats and no one can convince me very much otherwise. So on the one hand, they have giant hands shaped for holding blocks. On the other hand, T O E B E A N S

So Bu's got beans on the pads of his fingers and feet(which also end in claws with a black gradient because Peak Character Design <3). Billiam likes to hold his hands on the rare occasion he doesn't wear his gloves because mans likes to stim with those toe beans. Meanwhile Billiam himself has nicely-textured hands because of his Piglin hooves and Bu also likes to stim with them, so just. them holding each others hands for mutual stimmage

[ahem] anyway

Bu stims!! He flaps his hands and does thing really rapidly and harshly when he's really high-strung, which doesn't happen often, at least in front of people. Boy's got anxiety so he's had his fair share of panic attacks :,D he just knows how to disguise them so people don't see, but Billiam knows the signs at this point. But he also has a lot of vocal stims/tics, mainly lots of Enderman noises, some popping and a little screechy thing here and there. Sometimes he picks up a sound and then repeats it a whole bunch because it feels nice on the tongue :] there's also these poofs of particles that happen when he's happy, they look like mini purple fireworks and they're like an expulsion of magic, he can feel when they happen and it feels nice :]

(cw for self-harm in this paragraph and the followed copy-pasted convo)

[ahemhemhem] So y'know how Butler's an Ender-hybrid? His hands and feet reflect that(along with the ears, the eyes, the height, the abilities, but we're talking about about the hands here). Part of why he keeps those gloves on almost 24/7 is to dull his claws, which are not so much an intentional danger to others rather than an unintentional danger to himself. He's got tics and stims and is very neurodivergent and has anxiety(me projecting? noooo /hj), so he gets very nervous very easily. And one of his nervous habits rather than wringing his hands, fidgeting, and (if really bad)a heightened amount of tics, he tends to scratch at his arms. His claws can tear through the fabric easily, and more than one or two suits have been sent back to the tailors for repairs to the sleeves. However, having both padded sleeves and padded gloves nullifies that, so he always wears them special-made. If he didn't have that habit, he likely wouldn't have the gloves on as often as he does.

Friend Hey good headcanons 👀👀👀👀👀👀👀 Also ohhhh my god Billiam fussing over him and his gloves until he gets them to be the right amount of padded where Bu can still do things but also not hurt himself

Me gbfhdgbhgsfhbgsfdhdf He keeps examining them every time the tailors try but it doesn't feel right until That Specific Try so he just plops the gloves back on the counter and says "Do it again"

Friend They spend an entire day doing nothing but making gloves while Billiam & Hubert take turns watching Butler to make sure he stays safe

Me Absolutely Problem is Butler can feel eyes on him. And eyes make him nervous :,) so when he gets nervous. he starts to scratch at his arms again and anxiety is too much for him to ask them to stop watching him

Friend It ends up with them just having to hold his hands, looking at random things (they can go sit on the balcony or something so they have something pretty to look at)

Me That hold on actually that's adorable-

Friend Fhhdjdjdjsjsj they're friends your honor

Me Absolutely Even Hubert contributes to keeping him safe. And Hubert's afraid of even being near Butler

Friend And then we get bonding via the oh no Billiam is busy and Hubert has to take care of Bu for the next 3 hours

Me GHDSFGSHFGS THAT IS A GREAT IDEA Butler insists he can do everything himself, nothing's different about the routine, and then he has a mental breakdown when he tries to make food without anyone else in the kitchen- Cause usually Hubert's there, even if he's making something else. There's at least another presence, and that's the sort of thing that's calming for Bu. But Hubert's off setting up the table for lunch/dinner or something and Butler makes One minor slip-up and spirals from there until he's struggling even handling spice mixing The same thing happened with cookies one time, and both times Hubert found him borderline unable to function because he panicked too much and helped him out of it.

Friend Butler is just curled up in the kitchen, trying to have a quiet panic attack because he can't cause the others any more trouble than he already is, and Hubert is very quietly upset about helping him because he was doing so good at avoiding Bu but here he is again being the only thing that's letting this kid breathe

Me Absolutely

Friend Do you think Bu passes out on him? Like Hubert (probably reluctantly) gives Butler a hug cause those help, and Bu was just supposed to stay there until he felt better, but panic attacks are exhausting and he fell asleep at some point-

Me Oh my gods he would though, especially with the amount of sleep he gets He'd have to try so hard to even stay conscious, much less do things in the manner he usually does, and Hubert just quietly tells him that it's okay to sleep; he'll take care of everything. Hu never forgets that of course Bu's always in danger around him - he has fleeting thoughts and quite often knows how to act on them - but he stands up holding an exhausted child and takes him to his room so he can rest. Butler may want him to stay; Endermen usually want someone around when sleeping. It's the security of having someone watch for nightmares, but Hubert doesn't stay. He has to go back to the kitchen and finish that meal Bu was making. But if he's still asleep by the time Hu's done with everything, he might linger outside his door, listening in for anything bad.

(Okay the cw is over now, you may now go back to your regularly scheduled content :,D)

Also, one last thing: Billiam gives Butler a bunch of gold things(including the masquerade mask) because that's what Piglins do with their sounders, they cover them in gold to show they care. And after Bu finding out the reason why Billiam's been handing off a bunch of gold things to him he does not cry, because that would hurt his face, but he does feel quite a lot of things that make him want to because holy shit Billiam feels the same

Butler is Billiam's sounder and Billiam is Butler's haunting, they are family your honor

[oddlyhale]

IronQrow Villains AU

Ironwood and Qrow as villains in the RWBY show AU.

Ironwood is based off of the Three Snake Leaves fairytale, a story about a man who revived his dead wife with Three Snake Leaves. However, reviving her only brought him betrayal, as she lost love for him and tried to kill him with her lover. Able to survive, the man went to the King and told everything the Princess had done. She was then punished with her lover to be drown in sea on a sinking ship.

Qrow is now based on The Juniper Tree fairytale, a story about a young boy who was killed by his greedy step-mother that wanted the inheritance he would get from his father. She killed him, cut him up and served him as dinner to his unknowingly father, and forced her daughter to bury his bones under a juniper tree next to his real mother. The boy became a bird, singing about his story and received three gifts from strangers that listened. He gave the gifts to his family: his father got a gold necklace. His sister got lovely red shoes. And his evil step-mother got crushed under a millstone.

In this AU, for Ironwood:

He fakes being a good headmaster, only to reveal his true identity once the fall begins.

He is a man masked under oxygen, for his first death caused him breathing problems.

His semblance is to revive the dead, however he tries not to use it often, as it causes him immense pain and can run his aura dry.

HIs goal is to find his wretched ex-wife and murder her for what she did to him (she’s not dead in this one.)

In this AU, for Qrow:

Qrow is a bit psychotic. Not theatrically insane, like Tyrian, but he’s on a level of kalopsia (delusions of seeing things more beautiful than what they are.) He is quietly energized by mayhem and distress.

His semblance is shapeshifter, accommodating by being handsy with building his own crazy weapons. HIs favourite weapon is a giant hammer made of millstone.

He plays the ‘nice uncle, playful drunk’ for a while, under the Fall hits. Turns out his ‘drunkard antics’ were just him covering up his manic laughters and bursts of rage.

He doesn’t try to kill Ruby or her friends, but he warns her to not come for him, or he will kill them without hesitation.

His goal is to live ‘beautifully’ and die in the deepest pit of bliss. By that, he wants to live to cause harm and art, and die a masterpiece himself.

About the relationship:

Ironwood and Qrow are married (James proposed.)

Qrow is utterly in love with Ironwood, as is James for Qrow.

James finds Qrow to be the most endearing psycho he’s ever met, figuring out how Qrow has a hidden humanity about himself, as he cares deeply for music and art.

Qrow was smitten the first time he met James, immediately wanting to be his.

The two men met each other years ago, back when James was to be happily wed to his queen. He was thrown off the ship by the crazy woman and her secret lover, nearly drowning, had it not been for the single loyal servant that saved him. James’ semblance unlocked that day out of panic, thoughts of dying only fueling his semblance to be released. His body revived itself, waking James on the raft that the servant was on, but the act left James badly injured.

The servant was weeping, both in joy to see their master was alive, but in horror as to what had happened to James’ body. His right arm, his right leg, gnawed off by the active sea beasts in the water. His hip was chewed at, nearly severing him in two. Despite being alive, the only thing his semblance couldn’t do was regenerate some new body parts. And yet James was conscious, despite the bleeding and pain. Alive and pissed.

His lungs were filled with water, only a dead person could carry so much. Once they arrived at shore, finding no persons in sight to help, the servant ran out to the land to see if there was any civilization nearby. James laid in the raft in pain, waiting for the servant to return.

Somebody finally came, but it was not the servant. It was a lithe and tall man with dark hair and pale skin, eyes bright red like rubies. He stumbled onto the beach after seeing the frantic servant run into the village nearby, curiously wanting to see what the fuss was about.

“My,” Qrow smirked down at James. “You look like you need a hand.”

James stared blankly at the man, as if he were incredibly unamused. Until he replied, “are you pulling my leg?”

Qrow couldn’t help but burst into a short fit of laughter. James did too, but not for long as he was cut short. His back was killing him.

“I can get you a new body. And some.” Qrow assured. “Come with me. I know somebody.”

“At this point? Fine.” James huffed. After being betrayed by his queen and almost eaten alive by sea beasts, he could hardly imagine this stranger could make anything worse.

Qrow took James to the Whale, to Salem. After some convincing, Salem allowed Qrow to let James stay, so long as he was the one watching their new guest. Qrow agreed happily.

Qrow’s story was only filled with pain. He learnt from a young age that he was never loved by his step-mother, and being left behind by his sister. His step-mother murdered him in his sleep, cutting him up and serving his flesh like he was grade-A beef. His soul took the form of a crow, fueled by the rage he had for his step-mother. He wanted her dead, and by luck, he met Salem. She granted him the wish to have his vengeance, helping him turn back into a human. He was only a little boy still when he met Salem, growing up to look to her as his new mother.

After killing his step-mother, Salem took him in and had been at her side since.

James was soon recovering, but his rage was building deep within. All he could think of was his wretched wife, who was almost successful in killing him. She knew he couldn’t swim. How the sharp teeth of the massive sea monsters would eat at his body. He was ready to kill her, avenge himself.

James’ internal injuries couldn’t be fixed. He had to constantly wear a breathing-mask to help inhale more oxygen that his fragile lungs couldn’t take in normally. It was pain, feeling like he aged 50 years, even though he was only 20 at the time. From what he learned, Qrow was also the same age, at least feeling comfort in knowing somebody his age was around.

During James’ recovery - while Salem was mildly interested in this loner - it was Qrow who was the most intrigued. He loved coming to see James, see his progress so far. A new robotic arm, a new robotic leg, and some new parts had to be added in. Unfortunately, it meant much of James’ lower-half had to be remade, Half of his waist was not salvageable, meaning he’d have to lose a hip and his genital area. James didn’t care, wanting to be fixed already, and out of the stupid medical bed. Wanting to be strong again.

Though, he made a joke about giving him a massive metal cock, barking out laughter when he saw Qrow’s reaction of giggling like an embarrassed old woman. But, his wish was curiously granted.

As James was back up on his feet and trying to adjust to this new body, it was still Qrow who helped him. To the others that were residents of the Whale, they were surprised at how much time Qrow spent with James. Knowing the guy, Qrow could hardly process empathy. He would laugh at burning houses full of orphans, and dance on a dying man while he’s down.

But now, he was the most gentle, tender and kind to this perfect stranger.

Would you believe it when this story ends with the two marrying? After knowing each other for 5 years? Well, that’s how the story went. The two men fell in love, not caring for how crazy their lives would become. James loved this psychopath. And Qrow loved this vengeful man.

James was quick to become compliant in Salem’s plans, to start a new world and have their wishes granted. What he wanted was that bitch of a wife dead, and anybody else that associated with her existence. He didn’t care anymore if they were innocents, they had to be taken out. Feeling the same pain he felt.

Qrow had no goals, other than to live and serve Salem. To be the perfect little dog and grant her every wish. But now, his devotion turned to James. He loved him to bits, and would kill anybody for him. Already, James had killed quite a few people for Qrow, and that was probably one of the most romantic things he’s ever received. The only painful thing he could think is to live a life without James. Even his devotion for Salem couldn’t keep him alive.

Despite their chaotic life, the two surprisingly had a well-adjusted marriage and relationship. It was contentment, understanding and fun. They adored each other the same way they first met, and it seems that their honeymoon phase never ended, after 15 years together. They’d have a wedding dance next to a pile of dead bodies if they could, and they’d still be completely enamored by one another.

During the years together, the two had begun building their false identities among the people. Qrow had contact with his family, still there as Ruby and Yang were young and had grown to attend Beacon Academy. Ironwood had stolen the identity of a previous soldier of Atlas, taking their place and soon becoming the headmaster and general of Atlas. Their appearance was nothing to be judged, coming off as noble and normal.

When the time came for Beacon’s Fall, Qrow was the first to act. After the death of Penny 1.0, he had gone to murder the others in the Beacon Vault. He was successful in killing Glynda, Ozpin and the Maiden (transferring her powers to Cinder who is still in the gang), but he pretends to have no success in killing Ironwood, giving false hope to the heroes that at least one of their own is OK.

After that, he went out to go kill some more civilians of the Academy. Ruby and Yang realized their uncle was part of the evil team, and are broken by the betrayal. Qrow was quick to dismiss them as his family, skipping off merrily back to Salem.

When time passed and it was time to arrive at Atlas, it would be Ironwood’s turn to betray the teams. While cooperative and kind, Ironwood legitimately had no remorse for any of the kids. Quite frankly he wanted them dead, as well as the Ace Ops.

[ninak803]

Elitist Nightmares

And chapter 3 is ready! Thank y’all for reading it, it makes me so happy!

@whataboutmyfries thanks for helping me with the story! It’s evolving because of you.

characters belong to @lumosinlove

Chapter 3

Remus

It’s been a week since Remus and Leo started tailing Sirius. His life seemed pretty organized: He left the house around 9am, always followed by James Potter, his bodyguard. Then Sirius went to different meetings, each one lasted between one and three hours, after that he would drive back to the Black’s mansion and stay there for the rest of the day.

Today was different.

They had been following him all day. Nothing special had happened, and at night Remus wanted to drive back to his apartment already, when the main door opened again. Sirius and James stepped outside. 

Remus and Leo followed them to a nightclub.

“Okay, come with me.” Remus said and stepped out of his car. 

They went inside together and Remus looked around. The place was crowded. It would be easy to lose sight of their target here, but at least the possibility of being spotted was low. At least that’s what he’d thought.

“Can you see him?” Leo asked him.

He had to come close to Remus' ear, so he could hear him over the loud music.

Remus looked around, then shook his head.

“Let’s go up there, so we have a better view.” he said and led the way up the stairs.

It wasn’t hard to spot Sirius then: He was surrounded by people, all of them curious about the Black’s heir, but also too shy and intimidated to actually come too close to him. It was like he was a magnet, pulling people closer and pushing them away at the same time.

Remus looked at Leo, who had already seen Sirius.

“He’s the center of attention. Do you think he’s enjoying it?” Leo asked curiously.

Remus shrugged.

“Don’t know. Don’t care. Hey, would you get us something to drink? We’re way less suspicious with drinks in our hands.”

“Oui. Sure.” Leo nodded and went to the bar.

Remus watched him, then he glanced back at Sirius.

He was dressed more casual than Remus had seen him all week. He wore blue jeans, a Pink Floyd Band shirt, and a black leather jacket over it. And he looked good in it, Remus had to admit. Damn it. No. Don’t think about him like that, it’s just a damn job.

He talked to some girl, but it was too dark in here for Remus to see their lips, so he couldn’t tell what they were talking about. He could do lip reading, he wasn’t perfect at it, but it came in quite handy sometimes to know what someone was talking about roughly.

But from the girl's laughs, her hand on his arm and how she tried to come closer to him, Remus assumed they were flirting.

Leo came back a moment later, two drinks in his hands. He gave Remus one, then looked back at Black.

“Everyone’s talking about him downstairs. Seems like he comes here every Friday, the barkeeper told me.”

Remus smiled at him. That was useful information the blonde just told him there.

“Good job.”

“Merci.” Leo said, smiling to himself.

The boy learned fast. He took in every piece of information Remus gave him and tried to put it into practice immediately. And it worked.

Remus still wasn’t happy to have a partner for this mission, but Leo was  nice company to have and he was good at what he did, so at least Remus didn’t have to worry about failing this job.

He looked at James Potter, Sirius’ bodyguard. He was leaning on the bar, watching Sirius with an amused smile on his face. Remus found out he’d been Sirius’ bodyguard for a couple of years now. He had a wife, Lily Potter, and a 3-year-old son, Harry.

“I think they’re friends. James and Sirius.” Leo had said one day.

Remus had asked him what made him think so.

Leo shrugged.

“I don’t know. It’s just a feeling, I guess.”

And now Remus got the same feeling: He wouldn’t watch him with the same… happiness, if it were only a job. The two were friends.

Sirius took the girls’ hand, and the two started dancing in the middle of the dance floor. He was twirling her around, making her laugh, and everyone made room for them to dance. He knew how to move, that much was clear.

Remus kept watching him, his body language and his facial expression, as far as possible through the darkness. He seemed to be relaxed but still watchful, somehow reserved, like he couldn’t fully enjoy the intimacy.

Remus had this weird feeling in his stomach he couldn’t quite place. The next moment Sirius’ eyes landed on him. He looked him directly in the eyes. Remus heartbeat accelerated.

Shit.

He put his drink away and placed a hand on Leo’s arm.

“Let’s go. that’s enough for today.” he said and started moving through the people to the exit.

“Wait, shouldn’t we-” Leo started, but Remus interrupted him.

“I said, let’s go.”

---

He brought Leo home. They were both very quiet the whole way.

“Something’s wrong.” Leo stated finally, “He did see you.”

Remus sighed and turned the engine off, parking in front of Leo’s place. That kid was just too smart and observant.

“No, he didn’t. It’s not possible. There were hundreds of people. He could have looked at anyone.”

Remus knew it was a lie. He knew Sirius had looked at him and just at him.

He glanced at Leo for a second, then his eyes went back to the street. 

“Don’t worry. Everything’s fine. We just better keep a low profile. It was time for us to go.”

Leo nodded, still not fully convinced.

“Bonne nuit.” he said before he left the car.

Remus watched him enter the building, then started the car again. He took a deep breath. Everything was alright, there’s nothing endangering this mission.

Sirius

Sirius yawned. Shit. He shouldn’t have done that. His mother threw an angry glance at him.

“Do we bore you, son?” she asked him with an alarming tone in her voice.

Sirius sat up straighter and shook his head.

“No. Of course not. I’m just a bit exhausted, that’s all. I am sorry.” he swallowed.

He was sitting here for three hours now, his parents discussing some issue he didn’t really care about. Truth be told: He was bored immensely.

“Then I suggest you’re staying at home tonight and not going out like usual, if you’re so exhausted.” she said.

“No. I am good. I’m sorry.”

He was going out today, like he did every Friday. It was the only fun thing he did all week and there was nothing holding him back from it, not even his mother. She had forbidden it before, but Sirius just sneaked off, with James of course. He wouldn’t do anything without James. It would be just half the fun. 

So Sirius tried really hard to pay attention to his parents’ conversation and after another half an hour he finally was released.

“I’ll see you at dinner.” was all he said before he left.

He walked out of the room, followed by James immediately.

“You’re still alive.” James said, smirking.

“It’s a wonder, honestly. I almost died out of sheer boredom.”

“Oh, I bet.”

They drove home together, talking about nothing special. Lily wanted to spend the weekend with Harry at her parents’, but James couldn’t get the days off, so the mood at the Potter's house was rough right now.

“I told her to go without me, but she didn’t want to do that either. So now she’s angry at me. She says she isn’t, but… If looks could kill, I’m telling you.”

“I’m sorry. I’m talking to my parents, okay? Tell her you can go next weekend. I’ll arrange it.” Sirius felt bad for James. He didn’t spend enough time with his own family because of his job. His parents demanded that James was around all the time.

James nodded, but he didn’t look convinced.

“How is Harry?” Sirius asked to change the subject.

James' face lit up instantly.

“Oh, he’s growing so fast. You have to see him again, he asked for you actually just yesterday. He is missing you.”

Sirius smiled. He didn’t see Harry as often as he wished, but every minute they spent together was full of joy and laughter. This child was a real gem and Sirius enjoyed every moment with him.

“I will try to visit you soon. Promise.”

---

After a never ending dinner with his parents, Sirius was finally back in his room. He was staring at his wardrobe, thinking of what to wear tonight. He was happy to wear something other than button-down shirts. His mother always insisted on those. He picked out his favorite shirt; it was a Pink Floyd band shirt, and he loved it. He loved the music, the aesthetics and the fact that it’ll piss his mother off. He took his black leather jacket. It was buried in the depth of his wardrobe, so his parents didn’t find it. They didn’t approve of things like this, but he didn’t care. Tonight he was going to be himself and not the fucking heir. Fuck his parents. Fuck the consequences.

He slipped into the jacket and checked his appearance in the mirror. Yup, this will do.

Together with James, he drove to their favorite nightclub. The night was still young, but the club was already crowded, as always.

“Okay, let’s get us some drinks,” Sirius said.

“Can’t drink, I’m working, Pads.” James responded.

Sirius sighed.

“Well then, I’ll get me some drinks.” he shrugged and went to the bar.

They made their way through the crowd; which wasn’t hard considering that the people around them made space for him. He ordered a Gin and Tonic, then just watched. He enjoyed being around people when he could be himself and not the version his parents wanted to make of him.

He stood next to James, who scanned the crowd quickly for threats, but he seemed quite relaxed.

“that girl? he nodded in her direction, “she’s coming over in at least 3 minutes.”

“You wanna bet?” Sirius raised an eyebrow, mischief showing in his eyes.

James nodded.

“Sure. I’m winning anyway. So lunch tomorrow?” 

James held out his hand, and Sirius took it.

“You’re always so sure.”

“Because I’m usually right.”

A minute later the girl James had said walked over to him. She was good looking: dark short cut hair, a nose piercing and a cute smile.

“Hi.” she said “You’re Sirius, aren’t you?”

“That I am. And who are you?”

“I’m Amber.” she smiled at him.

Sirius glanced at James, who had a huge grin on his face.

“Told you so” he mouthed.

Sirius grinned and turned back to her.

“You know, I owe my friend over there lunch now, because of you.” he said bluntly.

She leaned her head to the side, eyes looking curious.

“Because of me? Why?”

“He said, you’d come over to talk to me any minute. And you did.”

Amber started laughing.

“Well, when there’s a celebrity showing up, you have to talk to him, don’t you agree?” she placed her hand on his arm.

Sirius laughed.

“I’m not a celebrity at all, but thanks. And yeah. I do agree on that. Do you want to dance?”

She nodded and took his hand, dragging him onto the dance floor.

Sirius closed his eyes for a moment, enjoying the music, letting it rush through him. Then they started dancing. It was easy with her, natural. She knew how to dance and he liked dancing with her. It was just… He was looking for something else tonight. Someone else. He danced with her for a long time nevertheless. It was fun and fun was what he wanted.

Sirius pulled Amber close again, his eyes drifting away from her up to the people standing upstairs. Something caught his eye, no, someone. A man standing there and watching him. Sirius made a turn with amber and when he looked back up the man was gone.

[hunflowers]

Hate Me or Love Me

Word Count: 7.6k

Requested? Yes, and you can too, here :)

A/N: YAY the long awaited arrival of part 2 of Femme Fatale is here :D Thank you all so much for being so patient with me, I appreciate you all so much. The smut itself is 2k so enjoy ya filthy animals. And when you’re done, maybe throw a comment my way! *nose boops*

Everything was different.

In hindsight, this was expected. There was no way everything could simply stay the same and they knew that. They expected things to change, and honestly, they expected it for the worst. But, it was a good different. Everything was good, new, fresh, different.

Three months ago, when Harry visited Y/N at her office, nothing had been the same since. That much was clear when she straddled his lap and kissed him feverishly, losing themselves in a heated make out session, mindlessly dry humping one another until their lips went numb and their bodies felt overheated. She would’ve liked to have her way with him right then and there, but unlike Harry, Y/N liked to keep things in her office professional – besides this, which was a one time thing.

Once they separated themselves – well, once Y/N was able to remove herself from his lap because apparently he was a teenage boy that had no control over his sexual drive – they got to talking. And seriously talking at that because they knew they wouldn’t be able to go about their days anymore normally. They had to situate a common ground, a way they could run their businesses separate but cohesively without any bumps or forks in the road.

For a century, their city had been divided. Now, it was blending back together as a whole. Rough patches were inevitable. That’s why over the course of the last three months, Harry and Y/N dedicated their time to working on the city and its people and their livelihoods, hardly focusing on them as a pair and what this all meant as a step forward in their relationship.

But now, as everything was going smoothly just like they had hoped, they were left with nothing to worry about and were left with no choice but to sit down again and talk about their relationship.

They didn’t see themselves as dating. Dating would be the proper term but the two of them were hardly proper and the word just didn’t seem to fit who they were. Y/N didn’t think calling Harry her boyfriend sounded right and maybe it’s because she’s never really had one so the word was completely foreign to her or maybe it’s because she never expected Harry to hold the title, but boyfriend wasn’t exactly how she imagined him.

They were exclusive, that much was certain. About a month ago they were at a meeting and this guy had come up to Y/N and was all polite and sweet and had the courage to ask her to go out for a drink, but Harry stepped in, not liking the fact that someone had the audacity to come up to her, especially now, as he had these mushy-gushy feelings about her. If he would’ve done this months ago there would’ve been no problem. But, now that Harry got a taste of what liking Y/N felt like, he didn’t want to stop and he wasn’t going to let some random lad swoop in and take his girl.

Something of similar style happened in Y/N’s case too. Two weeks ago, after a long night of bullshit this and bullshit that, they went to their favorite bar. Y/N goes to the bathroom for one minute and when she comes back, she’s greeted not by one, not by two, but three women crowding around Harry. He didn’t look uncomfortable per se, because they were attractive women, but Y/N could just tell he wasn’t enjoying their presence. And this bubble in her gut –she deemed it to be jealousy, swelled the moment she saw one of them put their hand on his shoulder. If Y/N didn’t have any decency, she wouldn’t hesitate to hurt each and every single one of them, but Y/N’s a nice girl, so she went over to them very calm and with the most southern belle smile she could muster and made it very clear they were not welcome to talk her Harry.

Needless to say, they were shaking in their heels.

But, they weren’t dating.

They were simply exclusive.

Right?

Right.

Maybe.

They figured that this night was as a good as any to sit down and hash things out since business was a little slow on both ends, but it seems nothing can ever really go smoothly for them.

At around six, Harry knocked one the door to Y/N’s home, bottle of wine in hand, a kiss to the forehead delivered, and the smell of heavenly dinner wafting up through his nose. The sun was just setting over the horizon, a warm glow radiating through the large windows on the far wall that reeled in the romantic and dreamy atmosphere around them.

Never had Y/N imagined herself to be romantic, wanting to enjoy a candlelit dinner with some wine and with her guy, but she was surprising herself more and more these days, all of her attitudes shifting and changing the more she found herself around Harry. Same goes for him. He would rather be caught dead then settle down with someone, but alas, his morals were taking a hundred-eighty degree turn these days.

And maybe romanticism went a bit more down the sexual path the more they indulged into that bottle of wine. Leaving the remainder of their dinner to sit until Y/N cleans it up later, they moved themselves over to her couch – because that seemed to be their brand – and engaged themselves in another heated make out session. Except this time they moved past the teenage humping stage as Y/N gently shoved her hand into his pants and past his briefs, nails scraping over the patch of hair that trailed to his growing erection, her fingers maneuvering to pull him out and into the open. He hissed at the cool air conditioning encasing his throbbing cock, mouth falling open and Y/N leaned down to press a moist kiss to his tip.

And he knew, he knew he was about to get the best head of his life and she knew was going to give the best head of her life, but then the phone rang. They ignored it at first, letting it ring on as she sank her mouth down and around him, her warm, velvety mouth sucking him in like he was a lollipop. Her tongue flattened against his shaft as her throat constricted the moment he pushed further down her throat, a guttural moan escaping Harry’s lips at the mesmerizing feeling.

Then the phone rang again.

This time it was both of theirs.

Y/N removed herself with a huff, and Harry whined in discomfort, but they both reached for their phones on the table and answered hastily to whoever disrupted them. They both specifically remember telling everyone not to bother them for the rest of the day, yet it seems no one knows how to comprehend simple words.

“What–”

“Y/N I could not care any less if you were in the middle of having sex, you need to get to Central now,” Flo snipped on the other line, although from what Y/N could tell, it seemed like her best friend sounded nervous. And that concerned Y/N a lot.

Then Flo hung up without another word, which sent Y/N into a scramble of pulling herself together and putting some shoes on. Harry looked beyond confused at her while also trying to focus on whatever the person he was talking to was saying and then not another moment passed by before his dick was shoved back into his pants and he was running out the door with Y/N.

“This had to happen the moment I hit the back of your throat,” he scoffed as they waited for the elevator to reach them from whatever floor it started on.

Y/N turned her head to Harry slowly, looking at him with a straight face, and blinked her eyes before smacking him on the chest. “Not the time!”

From what Harry could gather from Will, who was basically the night-shift manager in his office, it seemed there had been a bit of riot down in Central City because God forbid anything go easy. It was no secret people were upset with the merge of the city, because all their lives they’ve grown to hate the other side, and it was understandable because change needs time. But it was fucking tiring having to deal with ignorant people stuck in their ways.

The drive never felt so long, especially with the few traffic heading into Central. It was normally a twenty-five minute drive from Y/N’s house, but this night it seemed everybody and their mother wanted to take a leisurely drive.

Harry and Y/N tried thinking of whatever this could be about, but for the past week there had been absolutely nothing for them to worry about, so this whatever this was really coming out of left field. And it pissed the both of them off to no extent that they had very little to go off of for whatever it was they were walking into.

Y/N tried to text and call Flo numerous times but in the timespan from the phone call to now, she hasn’t responded once. And Flo was always on her phone.

“What the fuck?!” Y/N screamed when her phone went straight to voicemail for the fifth time. It was ringing minutes ago and now there was nothing. Her heart rate had picked up immensely at the thought of something happening to her best friend, and all she could think about is how she would absolutely ruin whoever hurt her. They’re practically signing a deal with the Devil the moment they touch someone Y/N cares for.

They had a general idea of where to drive to because most of Central was occupied by old and abandoned warehouses that mainly housed business meetings and transactions every now and then. Besides that there was the one strip of bars and restaurants right in the middle of Central. Best bet was whatever was happening, was happening in that strip over some pathetic drunken fight. Although that wouldn’t make sense if it was some drunk fight, because Flo would never sound so shaky over drunk people.

Then they saw it.

In the street along the strip, a group of people surrounding others, guns in their hands to keep them on their knees, beneath them as if they were gods. And among the people kneeling was one who was lying on their side, and Y/N could recognize that blonde pixie cut from anywhere.

And then she was seeing red.

Everyone turned to the headlights of the car that was beaming at them, their guns immediately raised and ready to start shooting. Harry and Y/N exited the car with hands raised, knowing not to come off as a threat and risk their lives or the lives of anyone else. Even though it was tempting to go at them because it had been awhile since Y/N got her hands dirty, it was best she kept her cool.

When all of their eyes adjusted to see who was walking towards them, some of them took a breath of relief dropping the aim of their guns before remembering what they were doing in the first place before aiming it back at the group on the floor. Y/N’s eyes quickly scanned over who she was dealing with, not instantly recognizing anybody nor feeling intimidated by any of them. Quickly turning her eyes to Harry, she saw that his jaw was set in a tight clench as his eyebrows furrowed in anger, giving her the feeling she knew who these people were.

When they walked close enough, one spoke up, demanding them to stop where they were, and the way he slurred his words, it didn’t take an idiot to figure out he was plastered beyond comprehension. “Look who decided t’finally show up,” he snarled.

“Pat, what the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Harry growled, dropping his hands down to his sides as his hands balled into fists.

“Could be asking ya the same thing, mate. Last time I checked, we swore on our lives to be the enemy to her yet here you are showing up in the same fucking car. You get one taste of pussy and you suddenly become one,” this Pat guy laughed, swinging his gun around as if it were some toy.

Y/N couldn’t visually recognize Pat, but from the times her and Harry talked about business and who worked with them, she can recall the name Pat being thrown around and from what she could gather, Pat was pretty fucking important on Harry’s side. Guess it didn’t matter anymore because if Y/N knew Harry at all, he had a zero tolerance rate for anyone who goes against his word, and by tomorrow morning, this guy was going to be erased as if he never existed.

And if they weren’t in such a compromising situation right now, the idea of Harry holding such power would turn her on immensely.

Well, it is turning her on immensely she just can’t exactly act out on those feelings at the moment.

Before Harry could get another word in, Y/N stepped closer, gaining everyone to avert their attention to her, a few clicks of their guns to ensure that they were ready to be fired at any given moment. It didn’t phase her though, she was used to that sound more so than she’d like to admit. “You have five seconds to explain why you ruined my night before I ruin yours.”

Then someone that wasn’t Pat stepped closer to her, the nozzle of their pistol now pressed firmly into her temple, keeping her head forward. In her peripheral she could see the pale skin of the guy stretch upward into an open mouthed smirk, and it was then she could smell the overbearing stench of whiskey that masked him.

God, did he fucking bathe in it?

“As your boss, Pat, I’m telling you to save whatever dignity you have left and put down the guns–”

“And as your enemy, Pat, I’m telling you to put down the guns before you make any more regretful decisions.”

“And what the fuck are you gonna do abou’ it?” He laughed, genuinely laughed knees buckling a little as the alcohol consumed his inability to stop laughing. Practically everyone cocked their heads to the side to wonder what was actually so funny, eyes looking around to see if anyone else was laughing.

Nobody was.

Then, all in just a matter of seconds, Y/N stomped on the person’s foot beside her, heel of her boot digging into the toes of his, a high-pitched yelp of shock leaving his lips as she used her arm to knock the gun out of his hand before catching it in her own and smashing the butt of it into his nose, immediately a waterfall of blood gushing down his face and onto his clothes and onto the cement below them. He kneeled over in pain, a scream of anguish sounding in the air as she brought her knee up and into his forehead which knocked him backyard, his body collapsing to the ground in a heap of blood and cries.

That shut Pat up.

His hazy eyes widened in fear and nobody else knew what to do as they swayed from intoxication and cowered in fright. At this point, everyone that was once kneeling on the ground had managed to scurry themselves behind the two demanding forces, because that’s just how dumb these guys were. It made Y/N wonder how the fuck Flo was unconscious–

Right, Flo was unconscious.

Tracing her hand over the sleek black metal of the pistol, Y/N pulled back the slide, aiming the gun right between Pat’s puny little eyes, finger resting very close to the trigger. “Your five seconds are up.”

“Wait!” He pleas, eyes wide with desperation, voice laced with worry as the cool metal pressed against his forehead. “He told me to do it!” He shouted, hand pointing at Harry with a furious nod of his head.

Y/N’s eyes snapped to Harry who looked as confused as ever, but the way his hands rested on his hips and the way his lips were rolled into his mouth, there was some truth, or maybe all of it was true. “What’s he talking about?”

Harry sighed, looking down to his shoes in defeat which made Y/N all the more angrier. Harry pinched his eyes shut, then brought his line of vision to his girl. His girl that he couldn’t imagine wanting to hurt anymore. Yet the past always wanted to come back to bite him in the ass.

“Listen–”

“I’m telling the truth, you gotta believe me! It was all his idea I swear it!” Pat panicked beside Y/N, hands clasping together in a pleading motion, and when she looked to him, she could see the faint moisture buildup in his eyes.

There was a lot happening all at once, yet it also felt like nothing was going on at all. There was the claim Harry set this up yet in the thirty seconds it's been floating around in the air, there’s been no jump to deny it or explain it. And Y/N was feeling a whole lot of everything, and she would appreciate it if something could be explained so she could focus all of her energy on one emotion. And at this rate, anger seemed to nestle itself nice and snug inside her veins.

She’s seen Harry change over the course of the past three months. Honestly, she has, and she knows that deep in her heart he wouldn’t put their blossoming relationship at risk anymore; But something was also telling her this was exactly something he would do. He would use her just to get what he wants, and that’s all of the power. The power to be the sole King of the city.

And that broke her just a little bit.

Harry hasn’t made a move to say anything again, and that didn’t settle well with Y/N. Turning back to Pat, she kicked the shin of his left leg, knocking him down to the floor, keeping the gun against his skin, looking down at him with her nicest smile, hissing out, “Tell me the truth. All of it.”

He gulped, eyes bouncing between the two mafia leaders, before he kept his twitching gaze on Y/N. “He w-wanted to start a war. It’s been his plan for months – to end what his grandfather started and… take you down. Starting with her,” his head gesturing to the girl that still lay unconscious atop the cement.

Then the stressed look left Pat’s eyes, and his original smirk settled back on his greasy skin. “Did you think he actually liked you? Cared for you? … You said it yourself, you’re the enemy.”

“Y/N…” she heard him step closer, his fancy shoes scuffing across the ground. Y/N cringed at the idea of him being closer, so without really thinking about it, Y/N bashed the butt of the gun into Pat’s head, knocking him out, now having it aimed at the guy who’s managed to hold her heart in his hands and then crush it.

She shouldn’t be surprised and she will listen to what he has to say, but this didn’t change the fact that he wanted a war. There was always the tension that a war was bound to happen just to keep everyone on their toes, but Y/N never had the intention to actually start one unless necessary. She figured he thought the same because war meant a lot of unnecessary deaths were bound to happen and a lot of clean up and resituating the city that no one had time for.

Guess she was wrong.

“I would say I’m shocked… I’m not,” Y/N shrugged, looking at the gun in her hand before dropping it to the floor. Even if he wanted to hurt her, she couldn’t do that to him. Not now, not after everything they’ve worked for.

“I said it a year ago when I was drunk off my mind in a brief conversation! I wasn’t going to act on it, c’mon you know this, you know me,” he scoffed, hands never leaving the comfort of his hips. He stood as if he were her father scolding her for something ridiculous, and maybe she was overreacting a little over everything, but she didn’t take shit from her father and she wasn’t going to take shit from him.

“Regardless, your people hurt mine and that goes against the biggest rule of conduct. Fix your shit and get your own ride home,” she rolled her eyes, stepping over the body of the first guy who was still cradling his broken nose in his hands.

Y/N made her way to Flo, gently touching her to see if she would wake within the next few moments. From the way her lip was busted, the small bruise forming under her eye, and the blood drying in her hair, Y/N could tell she didn’t go down easy and she needed to get her out of here as quickly as possible to make sure she didn’t suffer from any long term damage. When she noticed her friend stir a little, eyes squinting open as she moaned in pain, hand flying up to caress her aching head, Y/N went to help her up, helping her walk to her car parked down the road.

Y/N didn’t know how to feel. She really didn’t. She couldn’t be mad at Harry for saying something when he was drunk, because God knows the amount of things she’s said when she her blood was replaced with vodka, so it would be wrong to be a hypocrite. But she can’t trust that one time a year ago was the only time he discussed it. If it were something that was mentioned once on a whim, there would be no way Pat and his men would do something like this without some sort of order. None of it made sense and the more Y/N tried to think about it, the worse her headache got.

But the one bit she couldn’t stop her mind from reeling over and over again, like it was a broken record. Did you think he actually liked you? Cared for you? … You said it yourself, you’re the enemy.

Y/N never, ever got herself into relationships. She didn’t want one, wish for one, crave for one because with her lifestyle, it’d be difficult to keep up with. It wasn’t in her cards and for all of her life she was fine with that. But now that she got that taste of one, taste of something that resembled something of a relationship, she didn’t want to give it up. But did he like her? Or was it all some sort of show just so he could rip the rug right out from under her feet?

This was exactly why she didn’t do relationships. Because now she was getting too much into her own head and didn’t know what to believe anymore. And she would be damned if out of everybody on this fucking planet it would be him to break her heart.

When Harry saw her car speed away, he knew he fucked up. He felt something pang in his chest, in his heart when he saw her cold eyes for the last time. When she said she wasn’t shocked, her eyes looked bewildered yet defeated all at once and for Harry to know he was the cause hurt him. He was used to her being angry at him, it was practically how they lived their lives, but over the past three months, every time their eyes locked, he saw something else hidden behind them, flashing across them, dancing over them, like admiration and adoration. He would give anything to get that look back instead of the icy glare.

Picking up the gun that she dropped, a fit of rage washed over him as he realized he now had to deal with this group of idiots before him. They all looked as if they were going to shit their pants, and rightfully so because they knew what happened when anyone crossed him.

They get a bullet in their skull.

Maybe everything wasn’t so different after all.

❊ ❊

Moments passed by.

Silence.

Seconds passed by.

Nothing.

Minutes passed by.

Not a word was said.

They sat in gruelling quietude, neither of them jumping to break the tension.

It had been a month since they saw each other. That was mainly due to the fact they both had over inflated egos and didn’t want to be the first to cave. She was mad at him and felt it was necessary for him to want to contact her first because he was the one who had some serious explaining to do. And he did try to talk to her. He called her at least ten times a day for the first week, which she declined all of them. So, then he was angry and gave up and didn’t want to beat his already bruised narcissism. Then, when he didn’t call her again, she got even more angry that he didn’t want to try harder for her. So they ignored each other for three weeks after that. And when the silence became too overwhelming, Y/N decided to give him a call back, so it would seem she was taking the higher road and was the better person.

Then he ignored her.

It was all a competition, and it always would be between the two. Even when they didn’t really mean to make things so complicated, there was that underlying rivalry creeping back into their lives. Maybe it would never go away, and that’s okay because being rivalrous was their chivalry, and that’s what drew them together as partners both business and pleasure.

Eventually, they put their differences aside - or rather their similarities, and they finally discussed a time and place for when they should meet and actually talk about things. And they decided on a public restaurant to make sure they wouldn’t cause too much of a scene. Not that that’s ever really stopped them before but it was worth a try.

But, again, it was a battle of who would open their mouth first. This never ending cycle was kind of sickening, but it was also a little funny. They were laughing on the inside, but on the outside they could kill someone with their dirty looks. The poor waiter that had come over recognized who they were instantly and was already nervous from the get-go, but when he saw how miserable and angry they both looked, he was near shitting his pants. When he saw Harry send him a grimace at his presence when he approached the table, he wanted to cry. And if Y/N wanted to lose and break the silence first, she would’ve scolded Harry for being so rude to someone just doing his job.

But she wanted to win, so she kept her trap shut.

Of course, though, they both tied when they spoke the first time, at the same time. If being mad at one another wasn’t angering enough, but to both speak at the exact moment so neither could have the title of being winner or loser was near infuriating.

“I’m not mad y’know-”

“Look, I’m sorry-”

At her words, Harry looked a little perplexed, head tilted in confusion at her confession, a million thoughts now running through his head. If she wasn’t mad, what was with the silent treatment? What was with the icy look before she left him that shot right through his heart? He knows he deserved it so how could she not be angry? If the roles were reversed, Harry would expect a decent apology and to be honest, he’d probably, but he’d never forget.

Maybe that’s why he liked her so much. She amazed him in so many ways because no matter how similar they were, they did also have their differences. One of them being that Y/N would inevitably always be the nicer one out of the two. She had the reputation of being the nice boss. People preferred living on her side of the city a lot more than they did his, so even though it used to be illegal to move to the other side, people always found a way to emigrate. And right now, that much was clear that she’s a better person than him by a landslide. Harry would always admire that about her and could only wish that he matched her.

Taking a sip of his wine, he licked his lips in thought, gesturing for her to continue with her previous statement. Ladies first, after all. And even though she felt it was really his job to do a lot of the talking now, she was going to let it slide. “I did a lot of thinking this… break. I was mad at first, I’ll admit. Thinking after everything we’ve worked through for you to go behind my back and want to hurt me, well, hurt me and I hated that I let myself get to the point where you were able to hurt me. I was mad that I didn’t see it coming yet at the same time I did see it coming and didn’t do anything to prevent it. I was mad that my best friend got hurt because of you and it took everything in me not to put you in the same state she was in.

But, I realized that what I was feeling wasn’t anger, but… pain. What Pat said about you not actually liking me didn’t settle well with me at all and I got a little too into my head, thinking he was probably right and I’m the biggest fucking fool there is. Then I did more thinking and realized he’s fucking wrong. You’re not the same disgusting person I’ve known all my life after these past months, and I know you like me. You like me so much and I know that because I like you so much. So, long story short, I’m not mad. But, Flo is, so you better fucking apolgize to her,” Y/N concluded, reaching for her dry martini, finishing off the remaining droplets of it, observing Harry as he sat very stunned from her rambling session.

That was a lot more to take in than he anticipated.

At least she wasn’t angry. But he still had some apologizing to do and wouldn’t stop until she knew how sorry he was. She was right, he did like her a lot and he needed to fix this to the best of his abilities, because he wants her in his life liking or loving him rather hating him. What a sap he’s become.

“I will, I promise. I never intended for that to happen and I know with our past it doesn’t seem too far off, but I could never do something like that now. I was drunk when I first mentioned it, but I’ll admit the idea of a war had been brought up on a few more occasions past that. But when we first agreed to merge together, I made it very clear to my team that any previous ideas were to be thrown out because this was the new plan, and the plan I intend on sticking to. I don’t know why Pat did what he did, and it pisses me off to no end that he did it.” Taking a breath, Harry took a moment to gather his next thoughts, leaning forward on the table between them, green eyes never leaving hers.

“I know you said you don’t believe what he said, but I’m telling you myself, just to clarify your thoughts, that it wasn’t true. You’re not my enemy… anymore and I want you in my life. What we have is good and I don’t want to risk losing it. So even if you’re not mad, will you please forgive me?”

Y/N has to refrain from smiling brightly, biting her lip to conceal her laughter. The way he still wanted to apologize even if she declared he didn’t really need to, and the way his mouth formed itself into a small pout as he awaited her forgiveness was too cute to not want to smile at. She wanted to pinch his cheeks like a mother to her child and coo at him with all of the love in the world. Not hating him felt so nice and like such a relief that she couldn’t even comprehend how they lasted that long in the first place. Over the months she got to know him a lot better than she used to, and he’s one of the biggest dorks she’d ever meet, so not liking him simply didn’t feel like an option anymore.

Nodding her head softly, Y/N leaned across the table to capture his lips in a soft and quick kiss, ensuring that they’re back on good terms. Harry couldn’t hide the smile that flashed across his skin.

“Now that that’s settled, you’re paying,” she motioned at the checkbook that was just placed between them. He rolled her eyes at her before picking it up to read the total and reaching into his pocket to pull out his money.

They both stood up, pushing in their chairs and exited the restaurant practically different people from who walked in. They didn’t hold hands walking to their cars because that was just a little out of their comfort zones, but they did walk in step, arms brushing against one another as they kept stealing fast glances at one another through their sunglasses.

Stopping in front of her car, they stood chest to chest, goofy smiles planted on their faces that hardly seemed like they were leaving. Then of course Harry had to ruin the cute moment. “Now that that’s over, do ya think you can finish that heavenly blowie? M’practically itching to feel the back of your throat again.”

“Shouldn’t you be the one trying to please me?” She quipped, digging into your purse to get out your keys.

“You’re right, I’m also itching to feel you on my tongue. Sixty-nine?”

Somehow, that’s exactly where they ended up. On her king-sized bed, Harry’s cock down her throat again, her nose brushing against the taut skin of his balls, her dripping cunt resting over his face as he devoured her like she were his last meal.

Crazy how a day could change so quickly.

She gagged as his hips involuntarily thrusted upward into her velvet warm mouth, tears springing to her eyes causing her to rest her hand on his thighs and give herself a moment to breathe. He ushered a quick mewl of an apology, aching to get her back on him, his release impending. He knew she was sensitive and he tried his hardest not to rock his hips harder and more frequently, but when she was moaning around him, sending vibrations up his spine because his tongue delved into her pulsating core, he found it very difficult.

Dabbing at her eyes with her fingers, she took her hair and wrapped it around her fist to keep it out of her as she pushed herself as far down as she could on him. Harry let out a moan similar to that of a pornstar as she bobbed her head faster, his tip constantly pushing against her soft throat, which shook Y/N and had her thighs clenching around his head fiercely when she felt the familiar coil in her stomach begin to churn.

Harry removed one of his hands from the soft skin of her ass, admiring the nail and handprints he’d left in his wake before he took his thumb and focused rubbing fast circles on her clit while his tongue continued to lap up her juices and plunge into her sopping wet entrance. At the attention of her bud, Y/N was a mess, her work on Harry becoming a lot sloppier, saliva trailing down the sides of her mouth and onto her chin, dripping to his balls and onto the sheets below him. Harry could feel her spit travel from her mouth and onto him, and the vision of her mouth stuffed completely of his cock had him twitching in her mouth and he wanted nothing more than to cum in her mouth and for her to come in his.

Removing himself for a moment so he could speak, he placed kisses along her pussy and thighs, words coming out after the smack of his lips to skin. “M’close baby… gonna cum in deep in your mouth – fuck, I know you’re close too… c’mon, princess, cum for me. Want you to soak my face, have your honey, shit – dripping down my chin.”

He always had a way with words.

Holding his balls in her hand and softly tugging on them and massaging them, without using actual words she was also encouraging him to cum down her throat, wanting to swallow every drop he had to offer. She wasn’t going to put all this work in for nothing.

And because these two were so insync these days and never letting the other come out as superior, they both managed to reach their climaxes at the same time. Ropes of his release flew down Y/N’s throat, and wave after wave of pleasure seeped onto Harry’s face, and both wouldn’t want it any other way.

Removing Harry from her mouth and moving her body off his, they both took a moment to breathe, never being so grateful to get a taste of fresh air. But before they relaxed too much, they busied themselves into a good old fashion make out session, enjoying the taste of themselves on each other’s tongue. Y/N separated their mouths to lick up the remnants of her on his chin, this having Harry’s cock practically shoot right back up.

Harry sat up against the headboard of her bed, situating themselves so Y/N was sat in his lap, her slit slowly guiding up and down against his shaft, quickening his recovery period.

“You’re not too exhausted, hm? Need you to fuck me good, H,” she murmured against the skin of his neck, biting on the flesh, planning to make it very evident that no one else had the privilege of touching him again.

He had the same thought process, except he didn’t care about other people, rather wanting to leave marks on her skin so she would remember who put them there and who would be the only one to put them there. Her poor ass was bright red as he kept grabbing and slapping at the battered skin, but he didn’t care. If she couldn’t sit, oh well.

He gripped her hips, forcing her downward to grind against his growing erection, giving her her answer. He would never forgive himself if he didn’t feel his prick nestle into her tight walls after this month of separation. Her pretty pussy is all he can think about these days and if he could keep himself inside of it forever, he would. So, yeah, he’s gonna fuck her good, with a hint of love making because he wants her to know that he’s hers for as long as she’ll have him.

“I’m nowhere near finished,” he replied, bending his head down, latching his mouth around her pert nipple, tugging on it with his teeth as his other hand reached for her other and pulled on it between his fingertips.

He took his time on her tits, paying equal attention to each nipple, swirling his tongue around them, lightly sucking and pinching, all of which was making her moan quietly into the otherwise silent atmosphere.

She kept the slow grind of her clit on his mound going, knocking her head back as she was in euphoria as he continued his assault on every inch of her body. She wrapped her fingers into his curly hair, tugging on the roots like he likes, his moans reverberating on her chest, hitting against her heart that pounded against its cage.

Removing himself with a pop, he smiled up at her with a boyish grin, reaching both hands up to squeeze her tits, pushing them together, imagining himself fucking them now, her chest slippery with spit and precum as he slid between her slowly, enjoying every second of it.

But he’d save that for another time.

“Gonna ride me, love? Can you do that f’me?”

She didn’t exactly want to, because even though she asked him if he was tired, she was a bit exhausted herself. She would certainly try to ride him, bounce on his dick with all of the power she has in her, but she couldn’t count on having energy forever. And something told her he wanted her doing all of the work all the way through.

Y/N wasn’t a pansy though, so she nodded her head and lifted herself onto her knees, feeling him bob up and his head hit against her moisture. Reaching down and taking ahold of his member, she tortuously moved him between her folds before sinking down on him, inch by inch, savoring the moment of connection.

They groaned in unison, electric pleasure shooting up both of their spines as he stretched and filled her to the brink. It took her a moment to fully adjust to his size before she rolled her hips forward, her spongy walls sucking him in.

Harry wrapped his hand in her hair, pulling her head back so her throat was on full display, peppering hot kisses along the skin. “Feel so good, baby. Your cunt was made for me. Tha’s it, fucking bounce on me, get that ass moving.”

She whimpered at his words, mouth falling open as her eyes rolled back the moment she felt him hit that spongy spot inside of her over and over again. Harry couldn’t resist resting his thumb on her tongue, and she couldn’t resist closing around it, sucking on it like a baby. Her tongue circled around it, gently biting on it that had him slapping her ass in response. Y/N cried at the impact, which also had her sinking down on him a lot quicker.

“Faster, Y/N. Act like you’re mad at me… ruin me, c'mon know you got it in ya,” he growled, taking his hand away from her face and gripping her hips again, thrusting up into her harshly to egg her on. He bent his knees which lulled her body closer to his, the angle pushing him a little deeper inside her walls.

Sweat coated their bodies as she worked herself to a faster pace, her hands resting on the headboard behind him. Her clit rubbed against his tuft of hair, sending her into a frenzy as her orgasm approached a lot quicker than before. She would be done for soon but she needed to make sure he wasn’t so far behind, and when she clenched down on him, hearing his whine of delight let her know it wouldn’t be long until he was coming undone.

“Harry… oh my God Harry.”

“We’re almost there, keep going. Harder, Y/N, you can do it.”

“Har–” She cut herself off the moment his hand wrapped her throat, lightly squeezing and causing her to now have to work for her air.

She crossed the finish line. She couldn’t help it as her orgasm suddenly shocked through her body, her thighs clenching and twitching around his, her hands holding onto his shoulders with a tight grip. She rode it out, crying at the sensitivity of her clit as she continued to sink onto him, waiting for him to follow.

Because she came, she felt this sudden wave of extreme fatigue, hardly finding the energy to keep herself upright at the moment and Harry noticed this. So, he pushed her body backwards so her back hit the soft material of her comforter, and now he put the effort in and pounded into her at a furious pace. His hand didn’t leave her throat and because he was a cocky son of a bitch, he attached his thumb to her hypersensitive bundle of nerves, coaxing a third orgasm out of her.

Y/N was crying at the sensation, her legs trembling as she released again, his cock completely coated in her wetness, the sound of their connecting genitalia heightening at the increased moisture between them. Admiring how much of a mess she looked beneath him, her hair a scattered mess, throat and chest littered in love bites, thighs and ass bright red and bruising like a peach, he decided why not add to the collection.

Pulling out of her, much to his dismay, he pumped himself a few times in his hand before he let out his second round all over her thighs, pussy, stomach and chest.

He was satisfied to say the least.

Both of their chests were heaving, their breathing patterns working oppositely, she breathing in and he breathing out. Harry laid himself down beside her, eyes drooping closed in utter contentment, a smile dashing across his face as he and his girl lay completely worn out.

“I need… to get cleaned… but too… tired*,” Y/N murmured in a pant, not finding the energy to wipe off his cum that littered her entire body.

“I quite like the way you look,” he started, flipping to his side and caressing her soft cheek under his palm.

“All fucked out, and all because of me.”

[noneya-business-me]

The Language of Anger

T/W: Blood, fighting, assault, hospitals 

Midoriya Izuku was frustrated. Scratch that. He was beyond frustrated. He was pissed off. He’s been a Pro-Hero for a couple months now, still extremely young for the position he was in. He wanted to be a side-kick first, just to get comfortable with the new world he was supposed to protect now. However, All Might insisted that he go Pro right away like he had. Like an idiot he had nodded and agreed. The Hero helped him get a contract with the hero commission so he could work independently, which also meant that he was on call 24/7 apparently. He’d been called in for every crime imaginable, natural disaster, even small incidents that the police were usually sent to deal with. Bottom line, he was exhausted and the more people he wasn’t able to save the more frustrated he became. He had been regretting the decision to listen to All Might for a while now, but now it was really cementing in his head how stupid he had been. Even Bakugou had swallowed down his pride and took a side kick position with Best Jeanist. The greenette couldn’t help but growl when remembering the blonde laughing in his face when he told him that he already went Pro. 

“By who’s standards?” He laughed, “you haven’t been on the scene yet to even qualify to be a Pro.” 

“All Might suggested it.”  Midoriya shrugged nervously.

The blonde gave him a meaningful look before sighing. “You’re going to end up burning yourself out,” He said, crossing his arms, “you being a self-sacrificing idiot and all that. Maybe you should reconsider.” 

Midoriya couldn’t help the small flare of anger from flashing on his face. “Just because you aren’t able to go Pro right away like you wanted doesn’t mean you can jeopardize my opportunity to.” 

Bakugou suddenly looked like he had been slapped before he glared at him. 

“Fucking fine! But don’t come crying to me when you realize that you weren’t ready.” 

That hadn’t talked for a while after that. But of course because of their friends they were eventually forced back together and they were able to reconcile. However, in this moment the green haired Pro could only think of the encounter in fury. Bakugou had probably been watching him fail and laughing behind his back, while sending him messages of condolences and worry. The blonde since graduation and guidance from Best Jeanist had become someone extremely caring for his friends, family, and co-workers. It even showed in his work as a side-kick. It was probably all for show anyway, as a way to mask what he really felt for others. Just the thought of that made Midoriya turn and leap across roof tops towards the blonde’s apartment. He’s always looked down on others, why would that change now? It was dark by now, which means that the blonde would be home since side-kicks aren’t allowed on night patrols until their second years in agencies. How nice that must be.

He was standing in front of his door before he realized, the night air cooling him off significantly to the point of not really remembering why he was even there in the first place. His thoughts were cut off by the lock clunking open and the door opening slightly. A poof of pale blonde hair stuck out of the crack of the door, before opening fully to show the much shorter blonde standing there with sleepy eyes.

“Deku?” He questioned, obviously confused as to why he was there before moving out of the way to let him in. 

He was wearing pale blue pyjamas instead of the sweatpants and tank top he was infamous for wearing in high school. Making him seems a hell of a lot more soft than what he actually was. Midoriya moved into the front entry way, slamming the door shut behind him. The blonde jumped a little, still fumbling around from sleep, making the steady stream of anger come back. ‘Why does he get to come home and sleep in his own bed every day when I have to camp out on roof tops.’

Bakugou lead them into his living room before turning to him, while rubbing his eyes. “I saw one of your recent saves on the news. You did a good job,” He stated, motioning to the couch for him to sit, “Do you want tea or coffee? Or something else?” 

The Pro stayed silent, trying to reign in his anger. Why the hell would be mention something like that if he wasn’t trying to piss him off or start something? 

The blonde raised a questioning brow at him, before his face softened. “Are you okay?” He asked, his voice full of concern. 

It was like something snapped in the Pro-Hero, in a split second he had turned into a feral beast. His fist swung swiftly into the blonde’s nose, feeling it crack under the pressure and gush blood around his fist. The blonde stumbled back, tripping over his own feet and landing heavily beside the couch. He looked stunned as his eyes blew wide in confusion, “W-wh”

Midoriya was on him before he could even form a sentence. 

“WHY DO YOU ALWAYS HAVE TO LOOK DOWN ON ME!?” He screamed, grabbing for the blonde’s ankle before he could scurry away, throwing another punch to the side of his head. 

“What are you talking about?!” Bakugou yelled back at him, spitting around the blood in his mouth, and landing a kick to his sternum. 

He was able to shakily get to his feet, and stumble towards the kitchen where his phone was plugged in and charging. He was able to grab a plate form the drying rack and throw it back at his assaulter to buy him a couple more seconds. The heavy porcelain hit him smack in the middle of his forehead before smashing on the ground. He grabbed his phone, rapidly pushing on the side buttons, hoping to God that it would actually call his emergency contacts; before he was grabbed by the back of his pyjama top and yanked backwards, making him choke and hack as he was thrown into the cupboards. 

“I’M NOT THE SAME WEAK QUICKLESS BITCH THAT YOU USED TO MAKE FUN OF!” Midoriya screamed, grabbing the blonde’s hands as they began to pop as a last resort. 

A wicked idea suddenly popped into the green haired mans head as he gripped both of the blonde hands in tight fists so he couldn’t pop off without hurting himself. 

“Maybe you should feel what it’s like to be quirkless for once.” He stated, in an eerie monotone. 

Bakugou stared up at him in horror, before he began to struggle with renewed energy. Midoriya couldn’t help the deep chuckle that slipped out as he watched him struggle helplessly. This was supposed to be someone that was going to be a Pro-hero some day? Pathetic. He couldn’t even escape from a classmate. 

It was surprisingly easy to crush his ex-friends fists in his hands, morally and physically. Of course he was expecting for the blonde to be screaming, what he didn’t expect was what he was screaming for. Bakugou Katsuki was screaming for help. Never in his life, even them growing up could be remember the blonde asking for help, let alone screaming for it. The thought made him even more angry, throwing him to the side back towards the living room. 

“Really Kaachan after all these years you’re finally asking for help?” He sneered, glaring down at the other, “you could never take it from me, but now you’ll take it from anyone? Is that it?” 

He couldn’t help but notice the fear that shone in the other’s eyes, but he could still feel the undercurrent of contempt. He huffed, slamming his knees down over top of him, spitting in his face. “Do you see how pathetic this is Kaachan?” 

The blonde stayed silent, but never shifted his gaze where he was intently watching where the greenette’s hand were. 

“I’m the pro hero here and you’re nothing but a side kick.” He growled. 

The blonde opened his mouth a moment, flashing the empty spot where one of his front teeth should be before closing it again. “Don’t be shy now!” Midoriya yelled, shaking him, “tell me what you’re thinking!” 

“It’s been really tough for you hasn’t it?” 

It was suddenly like ice water was thrown over him. The next punch lands directly in the blonde’s mouth, another tooth cracking and being spit out by the blonde. Bakugou’s hands tried desperately to clutch the others shirt, but failed to grip with all his broken fingers. Midoriya couldn’t help when his fists started to glow with green static. The blonde’s arms weakly rested above his face, trying in vain to block the punches. 

“WHY DOES THE ONE TIME THAT YOU’RE RIGHT HAVE TO BE THE TIME THAT IT DESTROYS ME?!”

“Please,” the blonde muttered between blows, his face swollen and bloody, “you’re going to kill me.” 

The grenette only growled in his face, before the front door blew into splinters and he was tackled to the ground by a wall of muscle. The air got completely knocked out of him as he was pinned to the ground by immense coldness. 

“KATSUKI!” Someone screamed, “just hang on baby, the paramedics are coming up now.” 

“Eiji?” The blonde croaked, trying to open his eyes, but the bruising was preventing him from doing so. 

“Yeah, I’m here.” The red head sniffed, going to hold his hand before his noticed the state they were in. 

He grimaced, instead opting instead to shuffle as close as possible, not sure what parts of his body were broken. 

“Deku?” 

“He’s captured, you don’t need to worry.” Kirishima replied, glaring in his direction. “Is he okay?” The blonde questioned as the paramedics quickly wheeled in a stretcher, and got to work accessing his injuries and getting him out of there. 

“He’s…fine.” The red head replied, glancing over again at the greenette, not seeing many injuries on him at all.

** 

 Unlike what he was expecting, Midoriya was placed in one of the soft rooms in the hospital, the same one that were used to tell family when news was bad. He wasn’t left alone though, Shouto was in the corner watching him from over the top of his phone. He couldn’t help but wonder why he wasn’t thrown into a jail cell already. His blood was taken on the way to the hospital in another ambulance, while Kirishima travelled in the back of the other one with his fiancé. So far he hadn’t heard from anyone. 

He was wringing his hands together nervously when the door opened swiftly and shut. He glanced up to see Kirishima standing in the door way, his face grim and livid. Midoriya couldn’t help but look away towards the ground again.

“The test results came back,” Kirishima stated, his arms crossed tightly over his chest, “you’re not under any sort of quirk.”

The greenette couldn’t help but chuckle under his breath, “so that’s why I’m here.” 

“You just appeared in front of our apartment in the middle of the night for no reason except to beat the shit out of my fiancé.” Kirishima spit back, “so I want to know why. I wouldn’t be able to get access to you if you were in a prison cell.”

Midoriya couldn’t help but glare up at the red head from where he was sitting. “I was pissed off.” 

“You were pissed off?” The red head hissed, moving forward before Shouto was beside him, pulling him back slightly. 

“We’re not doing round two of this shit tonight,” Shouto said quietly, “Katsuki needs us to be 100% right now.” Kirishima gave him a small nod before taking a deep breath, “explain.” 

“I’ve been called in constantly for everything, and I can’t fucking do my job right.” He hissed, “how come you guys get to relax while I have to work my ass off for nothing?!” 

“He told you not to go pro right off the bat.” Shouto replied, his glare completely unimpressed. 

The green haired pro rolled his eyes, remembering that Todoroki was indeed around when the two had had that fight around graduation.

“I know!” Midoriya yelled, slamming his hands down on the arms of the chair, “and it pisses me off because he was fucking right! But now he’s still looking down on me because he knows that he was right.” 

His friends watched him silently. “He had the audacity to bring it up too!” 

Kirishima sighed heavily, his shoulders falling in exhaustion. “You seriously need to get your shit together. It’s fucking embarrassing at this point.” 

“Excuse me?” 

“Why the hell do you think we’re in our costumes right now?” Kirishima asked, motioning to the two of them, “or why I wasn’t home in my own apartment?” 

It seemed that Midoriya’s situational awareness was off because for the first time that night he decided to listen to the red head and take a glance at his surroundings. 

“Do you seriously think that you’re the only one to go Pro right out of high school?” Kirishima spit, “I did the same thing. I was offered a position at Fat Gums as a pro but that’s because I was working in a side kick position in high school. It’s the same with Shouto.” 

“What you don’t get is that we had experience as side kicks so we knew what we were getting ourselves into.” Shouto added, “you didn’t. I feel like you still don’t.” 

“So don’t you dare blame others for your inability to form coping mechanisms or to even speak up for yourself.” Kirishima snapped, “you’ve been letting All Might be your barrier for everything and now that you can’t solely rely on him to do everything for you, you take it out on the only person that tried to help you back then.” 

The red head leaned against the wall, worry creasing his brow but there was disgust still evident in his tone. “I can’t believe he wants to help you out so bad.” 

“What are you talking about?” Midoriya questioned. 

The red head scoffed, looking away from him, anger radiating off of him. 

“Bakugou’s been accelerating his side kick track so that he can go on night patrols to help pick up the slack for you,” Shouto replied when Kirishima kept silent, “he’s seen how stressed you’ve been and wanted to help you.” 

“He’d never do that,” Midoriya argued, “he wouldn’t do that for anyone, let alone me.” 

He couldn’t help but remember himself standing over the blonde just a few hours ago, feeling that the blonde was looking at him with fear and contempt; but was that really from Bakugou? Or was that coming from himself? 

He could tell that Kirishima’s patience was quickly wearing thin as he stomped forward grabbing him by the front of his costume and pulling him to his snarling face, “MAYBE IF YOU WEREN’T SO BUSY PLAYING HERO YOU’D BE ABLE TO SEE THAT HE’S NOT THE SAME PERSON HE USED TO BE!” 

He threw him back against the chair.

“You need to realize that you’re not special. You’re a copy and paste of All Might except you can’t handle the fucking pressure.” Kirishima continued, making his way back across the room before he did something that he would regret, “you’ve pushed all of us aside one too many times and now I don’t think anyone knows who you are anymore. If you’re going to blame anyone, if you don’t want to accept blame that much you can blame All Might.” 

“I have to give him props he did a better job than my dad of shaping you into what he wanted you to be.” Shouto added, absentmindedly. 

Shouto looked a little bit relieved when Kirishima let out a small chuckle. For Midoriya it was difficult to argue back because as much as he hated it, he was kind of right. He’s always done whatever All Might wanted because he was blinded by admiration for his hero. 

“Excuse me?” A soft voice called, with a knock on the door. 

Suddenly all the energy drained out of the red head and the person that was standing there wasn’t Red Riot anymore, he was a worried sick desperate partner to someone who was gravely injured. It was the first time that he was hit in the gut with guilt. 

“Yes?” He asked with a small smile. 

“I’m sorry to bother you, but I was hoping to go over Mr. Bakugou’s procedure plan.” The doctor stated, before noticing the others in the room, “do you want me to wait until you’re alone?” 

“That’s okay,” Kirishima replied, wringing his hands together anxiously. 

He nodded, motioning to the couch in the middle of the room, sitting down next to him and opening the file in his hand. “I’m not going to beat around the bush here. Your partner is badly injured, however we have some amazing surgeons here that are going to do their best to get him back on his feet,” the doctor began, “with your permission, Dr. Aya has began the burr hole trephination to relieve the brain bleed and swelling. We’ve determined that it’s an intracranial hematoma which is common with trauma. However, we were able to catch it quickly so it should be relatively easy to repair and it’s not as invasive as a full on craniotomy.” 

He flipped to the next page. 

“After that procedure is finished, he will need to continue being intubated because of bruising and swelling of the windpipe, so it’ll be difficult for him to breath of his own. Likely he’ll be kept asleep just so it’s easier on his body.” 

The red head nodded along with his explanation. 

“From there, we can hopefully do the final surgeries off the tail end of each other. There was significant damage done to his hands. So we’ll have to go in and repair the bones in his hands and the glands in his hands that are used for his quirk. At this point it is uncertain if we’ll be able to repair full function to his hands. Dr. Hima, who’s going to performing the operation on his hands has a quirk that gives him an image of the original structure of someones anatomy so he can repair to the best of his ability to the original. Rest assured if it can be done, he’ll be able to do it.” 

“So he might lose his quirk?” Kirishima asked quietly. 

It was like the colour was slowly draining out of the sturdy hero the more that the Doctor talked. 

“In the worse case scenario, yes.” The doctor replied, “we’re lucky that the bones weren’t crushed too bad, but the glands and vessels that help the sweat travel to his palms were pretty damaged.” 

Unfortunately for them all, he had pictures of some of the blonde’s injuries in the file, which they saw a flash of before he was onto the next page.

“Near the end of that surgery, the plastic surgeon is going to work on reconstructing and setting his broken nose, and broken cheek bone. He’s very good and usually the stitches will heal with minimal to no scarring.”  

He finally closed the file, placing it on the coffee table. “We’re going to do everything we can to help him.” 

The red head kept his head down, as he clenched his hands into the pants of his costume.

“Do you have any questions?” The Doctor asked. 

Kirishima hesitated for a moment, before he let out a shaky exhale. “Is Katsuki going to die?” 

All at once Midoriya’s chest seized and it was like gravity was weighing down on him like a ton of bricks. 

“At this point everything is looking good, but there’s always the possibility of complications with any sort of surgery.” The Doctor replied, “Yes, Katsuki is in critical condition, but he’s responded well to every test and as far as I know the surgery has gone perfect so far.” 

“Of course he would be the perfect patient.” Shouto added, “Katsuki doesn’t half ass anything.” The red head gave him a grateful smile, before turning to the Doctor. 

“Thank you for everything so far, you’ve been incredibly nice.” he stated, “especially for it being so early in the morning.” 

The Doctor only gave him an appreciative nod, before standing up and moving towards the door. 

“We’ll let you know as soon as he’s in a room and stable. For now you can just stay in here if you’d like.” 

“Um, I just have one more question,” Kirishima stated, getting up after him, “do you still have the pyjamas that he was wearing?” 

The Doctor gave him an odd look. “We need them for the investigation.” 

“Oh right,” he responded, “we had them bagged as evidence in the triage room, so I’ll make sure they make it back to you.” 

“Thank you. I appreciate it.” 

The silence was heavy after the Doctor closed the door behind himself. The green haired hero curled into himself, his head hanging down between his legs as he tried to make sense of the situation that he not only put himself in but also Bakugou and Kirishima. They were right, he couldn’t handle the pressure and now he could see that he was no longer even a hero. He went after someone that he considered his brother and fought extremely hard for him to feel the same way. The thought that he could possibly die now because he snapped was destroying him all over again. 

“What happens now?” He asked shakily. 

“You’ll be charged with assault, and your hero license revoked.” Kirishima replied immediately. 

Midoriya grimaced but nodded. “I understand.” 

The two other heroes glanced at each other, before looking back to the shaking greenette. 

“However, unfortunately it’s all up to Katsuki to decide if he wants to press charges or not,” Kirishima added, “I for one will be encouraging him to have you arrested.”

Midoriya nodded again.

“I’m going to stay here until Bakugou is out, could you go to our apartment and get me some clothes for the both of us?” Kirishima asked, turning to Todoroki. 

He nodded, glancing over at Midoriya. “What about him?” 

“Can you just take him with you?” Kirishima asked, hopefully, “I really just want to be alone for a little bit.” 

The two toned man nodded, motioning for Midoriya to follow him out. 

“I’ll be back soon,” Shouto stated, disappearing out the door. 

Midoriya paused in front of the massive red head, who was finally taking off his hero mask. 

“Kirishima,” he said quietly, “i’m so sorry.” 

The red head glared at him more coldly than he ever had in his entire life, “I’m not the one you need to be apologizing to.” 

“I know.” Midoriya replied dejectedly.

“Just hope that he’ll be around to hear it.” 

**

Thankfully Bakugou made it through all his surgeries successfully, as if he’d ever failed something in his life. The swelling had gone down over the past week, so he wasn’t intubated anymore. He was propped up for the past week because of the swelling on his face, a portion of his head had been shaved and his head bandaged with a cap over top. So far he had woken up and responsive to everything that the Doctors were saying and at that point was considered a complete success. For Midoriya, it was up to him to explain what happened to the blonde side kick to Best Jeanist and other agencies in the area. It especially came into focus how out of touch he was with everyone when he realized that he didn’t know a majority of the staff at both Best Jeanist and Fat Gum’s agencies. Safe to say, for the moment, he wasn’t welcome anywhere near their districts. 

It felt like it was inevitable when he finally got a call from Kirishima.

“He’s wants to see you.” was all he said before he had hung up. 

That’s how he found himself standing in front of the blonde’s hospital room. He raised a hesitant hand and knocked softly on the door. Kirishima opened the door, the bags under his eyes darker than ever. He scowled but let him through anyways. 

He stopped after a few steps, when Bakugou noticed that it was him. The blonde gave him a small smile, regardless of the fact that his face was heavily bruised and covered in bandages. 

“Eiji, do you mind going to get me some food?” Bakugou asked, turning his gaze to the red head, “the Doctor said this morning before you got here that I can have some solid food.” 

The man looked nervously between the two, “what do you want?” 

“Katsudon? From that place around the corner at home?” He shrugged.

The red head bit his lip before nodding, “Call me if you need me, okay?” He stated nervously, kissing his forehead carefully before disappearing out the door. 

They were silent for a moment, before the blonde coughed and pointed to the chair next to his bed. 

“Have a seat,” he said, “we need to talk.” 

The greenette nodded, sitting himself down and curling into himself. 

“I’m sorry.” He finally muttered, as a tear rolled down his cheek, “I’m so so sorry.”

Bakugou just stared a him before he let go of a shaky breath. “You know I realized a lot of things over the past week and a half,” Bakugou started, “I’m also sorry.” 

Midoriya’s head snapped up to stare at him in disbelief, “what could you possibility need to apologize to me for?!” he shouted, before clapping a hand over his mouth, “I assaulted you. I tried to destroy your quirk Kaachan.”

“I know,” Bakugou replied with a small nod, “however, I did the exact same thing to you for years.” 

The dumbfounded expression never left the Pro’s face. 

“The shit you were screaming at me while you beat my face in reminded me too much of myself and I realized that it wasn’t enough to just ignore what happened,” He continued, “so I’m sorry.” 

“Kaachan, seriously I’m so sorry.” Midoriya shook his head, “I clearly hit you too hard in the face and now you’re not thinking right.” 

Bakugou a quirked brow at him. 

“We were kids, but I’m a grown adult and I should have known better.” Midoriya stated, “I forgave you for that a long time ago.” 

The blonde was silent again before he burst into cackles. “No shit you should have known better, moron!” He laughed, “but you finally got your shit together right?” 

“Um, yeah. Kirishima and Todoroki helped me realize some things.” He replied, sinking into his chair. 

“Eiji didn’t give you too much of a hard time right?” Bakugou asked, shifting around the blankets on his bed. 

“I almost killed his fiancé. Of course he gave me a hard time.” Midoriya groaned. 

The blonde cackled loudly again, “that’a boy!” 

“So where are you going to be side kicking?” Bakugou asked.

The greenette’s brows furrowed in confusion, “what are you talking about?” 

“Well you said you figured your shit out so I’m assuming you’re going to be a side kick for a while.” The blonde replied. 

“Kaachan, my hero license is going to be revoked.” Midoriya explained, “I’m probably going to jail.” 

“Not if I don’t press charges,” Bakugou shrugged, with a small smirk, “you haven’t assaulted anyone else right?”

Midoriya suddenly stood up, his chair toppling over behind him. “That’s not fair Kaachan! I need to pay for what I did!” 

The blonde watched him unimpressed, “you gonna make me have you arrested?” 

“I don’t want to make you do anything!” The other yelled back.

Bakugou settled down into his sheet, with a smug smirk. “Then I guess you’re going to be realllll nice to me for a while. Don’t worry, I’ll get you a side kick position with Jeanist.” 

Midoriya went to yell again before he huffed. There was no winning when it involved Bakugou, there was only losing or teaming up with him. “He’s not going to let me within 100 feet of that building.” He sighed.

“It seems that you have some time off then until I get back and can introduce you myself,” Bakugou hummed, “we have some catching up to do anyways. Besides you’ll need a job if you’re going to pay for some veneers to replace my teeth. Look at me. I’m gorgeous and then I open my mouth and I look like I’m from some weird backroad town in America.” 

It was like a massive weight was finally lifted off his shoulder as he gave his oldest friend his first genuine smile in what felt like months. 

“Yeah, I got you.” 

[simsadventures]

Only Mine: Chapter 7: Need You

Summary: You and Bucky spend more and more time together, realising that there wasn’t any other place you two wanted to be. And things get heated pretty quickly.

Warnings: more fluff, swearing, mobster au, smut (MUST BE 18+ TO READ THE PART BETWEEN WARNINGS)

Word Count: 3585

A/N: I know Bucky’s a mobster and all of that, but I mean, his fluffy side is doing things to me, you guys! What would you like to see happening in the future? Maybe some angst going down? (*wink, wink, wink*) Let me know, love you all!

Series Masterlist __ Masterlist

< Previous Chapter

Spending your time with Bucky was far from what you heard and imagined. You always thought he was this selfish asshole (and he could be, you knew about that side of him) who wouldn’t give a damn about your wishes and dreams. But the side Bucky was showing you was a complete opposite.

He had a lot on his plate, running a mafia wasn’t as easy as you thought, trying to keep everyone and everything in line, getting respect and payments all around, and all of that but he was still able and willing to find time to spend with you. He would usually come to your apartment because you didn’t feel the most comfortable in his bachelor pad, where you knew he brought half of New York to have sex with.

Bucky, at first, didn’t really get why you wouldn’t come to his place, because he felt like you two had more privacy there, as you still lived with Natasha. His apartment was also much more luxurious, with his favourite coffee, soda-maker and all that fancy shit. But after a long conversation, he understood that knowing that he fucked so many women there (even if his cleaning lady took her time getting rid of any traces left by those women) wasn’t appealing to you. And because you were so different to him, he didn’t want to push you into anything you didn’t want.

Each day he spent in your presence, he was growing softer. He could feel it on himself, and even Steve and Sam teased him about it. But the weird thing about that was that he didn’t give a damn. He could still cut out guy’s heart out if he felt like it. It wasn’t about that. It was more like whenever he was with you, he tried to keep to his promise and be a better guy.

And you appreciated this change immensely. You still didn’t let him back in your bed, feeling like you wanted to build a friendship before you did anything. Not that you weren’t horny half the time you two were together. He could whisper something to you while watching a movie, and you could feel the arousal in you. But your goal was clear in your mind, and you wanted to last at least a little longer before you two started getting to know each other a little more intimately. And yes, you were aware that you’ve already slept with him.

Bucky came into your apartment late that afternoon, with his brows furrowed. You knew immediately that something must have happened, but one of the rules you established fairly early on was that you didn’t ask about his job and he didn’t have to feel conflicted about telling you secrets. But he seldom came to your place pissed because something went wrong in his other life. And you were very well aware that if “relationship” had any future, you’d have to get to know his other life as well. As much as you hated just the thought.

You smiled at him at the door, but the smile wasn’t reciprocated. He just nodded and wordlessly entered, marching right to your sofa. He sat down with a huff and closed his eyes. You could see he was fighting himself, tiredness and his lousy mood mixing and creating a deadly combination.

You just stood there, watching him intently, thinking about your next move. There were only two options, you thought. Either you§d pretend like nothing was going on, but that wouldn’t show him that he has a support system in you, just like you knew you had in him, ever since he saved you that night. Or you could show him that he can trust you and that you were there whenever he felt like talking.

You sighed and went to sit down next to him. He didn’t even acknowledge your presence. You scooted a little closer, touching his thigh in the process. Still no reaction from him. He had his hand on his eyes, and he was breathing through his mouth. Not good signs at all.

“I know that you probably don’t want to talk about it and that I was adamant on not being involved. I just want you to know that I’m here for you. Whatever you need, I’m here, James, and I’m not going anywhere. So tell me, how can I help you?”

Silence. It was actually deafening. But you let him have his time with his thoughts. You kissed his cheek lightly and got up to re-heat the lasagne you made a few hours ago. You hoped he would at least talk to you if he wasn’t into talking. As you stood there, waiting for the oven heat getting through all of the layers of the food, Bucky finally got off the couch and went to you.

He watched you from behind, as you stood there, waiting patiently. He didn’t understand how a guy like him could have ever landed a girl like you. You were everything and more. He never would’ve admitted it out loud, but he used to be afraid of love, of women in general. But ever since you strolled into his dark life, you brought life into it that he worshipped. And he hoped you’d stay forever, even though he only knew you for such a short amount of time.

Bucky hated days like this. He only just found out that Pierce was running his mouth about returning to New York, and there have been new gang activity in Brooklyn as if the boys didn’t know any better. He had to take care of so much shit that day that when he came to you, he simply couldn’t relax. Thoughts were running through his mind, and it wouldn’t shut up.

But when he saw you there, he felt the stress evaporating from his body, finally letting him breathe a little. He took hesitant steps towards you, and when he reached you, he simply put his head against your shoulder, breathing in your perfume mixed with the little something that made your scent yours.

You didn’t even tense, knowing he was standing there long enough. You were glad he finally got off that couch and was making a move towards you, towards a better night. Before you could say anything, the oven beeped signalling the food was ready to be served. You briefly caressed his cheek and put the lasagna on the table.

You ate in silence, both of you in your own worlds. You were trying to figure out what you could do to make Bucky feel better, and Bucky was trying to shove himself into confiding in you. He knew he’d feel much better, but the protective, paranoid mafia boss in him wasn’t letting go of the secrets he was holding easily.

When you stood up to clean the kitchen,, Bucky was right next to you. He pulled your hand away from the empty plates and kissed them.

“I’m sorry for earlier, doll. I just have so much on my plate. I find it difficult to relax a little lately.”

You smiled, appreciating that he was actually sharing with you. It wasn’t much, but Bucky was one of those people who hated sharing anything personal, so being at least a bit vulnerable with you was a step forward.

“It’s ok, I understand that. Just know that I meant every single word I said. Anything you need, I’m here for you.”

Bucky knew precisely what he needed to release some pressure, but he didn’t want to ask you. You were too precious to him to be used, and he could never act that way around you. But you did say everything…

“I can see that pretty head of yours is thinking of something. Tell me,” you bid him and gave him a reassuring smile.

“Ok, but know that I’m not expecting anything. It’s just that I usually have so much of it and now because I don’t want to push you somewhere you don’t wish I-“

“Just tell me, James. I’m not gonna bite your head off. If I feel that appalled by your idea, I’ll tell you, I promise.”

He nodded and took a deep breath. “I would like to have sex with you.” He mumbled and kept his eyes trained on the ground. You could even swear that he was blushing a little. You thought of it for a while. Bucky was someone used to getting what he wanted when he wanted it. You couldn’t be too sure, but you had a feeling that ever since he met you, he didn’t sleep with anyone. And for a guy being used to getting some every other day, you could imagine in how much “pain” he was.

“Have you been with anyone since our night?” You asked quietly. You didn’t know why you just needed to know. You weren’t even in a relationship so you shouldn’t care about his nightly adventures.

“I tried once. But she wasn’t you, and I couldn’t do it. It was the night you couldn’t reach me, and I felt like I needed to get you out of my mind, but the more I tried to do it, the more you occupied all my thoughts. And even though the woman was beautiful, she wasn’t you. So I sent her away.”

He still wasn’t looking at you, and you were kinda glad. You were looking at him with so much awe that you should have been embarrassed. You weren’t in any proper relationship, and he still couldn’t sleep with anyone else. Just because. Your heart almost jumped out of your body.

You didn’t have any words to give him, so you did the next best thing. You took the remaining step separating you, and you kissed him fervently. You could feel he was hesitant in the beginning, but when he realised what was happening, his arms snaked around your hips, and he pulled you flush against his chest. He deepened the kiss swiftly, trying to get as much as he could while it lasted. He didn’t know if you wanted the whole thing or not, so he tried to get as much as we could.

Warning: smut starting

Your fingers weaved into his hair, pulling ever so slightly, but even this little pressure on his scalp had Bucky moaning into your mouth. He needed you, and he needed you bad. He was already painfully hard, and you’ve only just kissed him. That’s how desperate he was for your touch. To say that he was touch starved would be an understatement of the year.

His fingers roamed the skin on your hips, continuing forward to caress your stomach. He could feel goosebumps erupting on your skin, and he smirked. He was happy to see that he had the exact effect on you as you had on him. He tried to explore as much skin as he could get to, leaving you a shivering and wanton mess. Your mouths work in perfect sync, exchanging dominance, which was a bit surprising to you, considering Bucky was such a dominant guy otherwise. But you were glad about it. You could be the perfect submissive, but knowing that you could have some power over him as well was elevating.

Your own fingers wanted to feel Bucky’s skin, so you let them wander down his torso, pulling his white shirt over his head. His body was as perfect as you remembered. Few scars here and there, but other than that, he was built like a Greek God. In any other situation, it would make you feel anxious about your own physique, but because your own arousal was clouding your mind, you had no time to think about your insecurities.

Bucky’s mouth suddenly left yours, and you would have whimpered if he didn’t attach it to your jaw only a few moments later. You grazed the back of the neck and continued to do so on his arms, clutching his biceps tightly as you felt him leaving his marks all over your neck. You didn’t even know when, but he managed to throw your shirt away as well, leaving you in your bra in front of him.

He momentarily left your neck to appreciate your almost bare chest. Even though you had a pretty simple bra, just sleek black, we could feel premium leaking on the front of his jeans. You were the hottest person he’s ever seen, and he would make sure you knew it by the end of the night. If you let him, that is.

What he didn’t expect was you suddenly grabbing his hand and pulling him towards your bedroom, but not before you grabbed your phone quickly, dialling somebody on it.

Bucky raised his brow, looking at you incredulously. What was so important that you needed to do it while he wanted to make love to you?

“Nat? Yeah, hi. Listen, I need you to stay with Bill, or what’s his name tonight. - Yeah, yeah, I know, but I’m gonna fuck the life out of Bucky, and I don’t need you to listen to it.- Exactly, good. Have a good night, bye!” You rambled quickly, trying to get this out of your hand and get back to the far more exciting activity.

Bucky chuckled silently, and because he didn’t want to wait any longer, he scooped you in his arms, all but running towards your bedroom and throwing you on the bed.

He made a quick work of your leggings, leaving you only in your underwear in front of him. But before he could strip himself to be finally inside you, you jumped out of bed and kneeled in front of him. You wanted to blow his mind, and not only that.

You quickly unzipped his jeans, pulling them down and letting Bucky step out of them. You then looked up at him through your lashes, while cupping his cock through his boxers. Bucky hissed audibly, and you could see the wet patch on his underwear. You felt like the most powerful woman on Earth, having a man like Bucky wanting and squirming because of your touch.

You wanted to tease him, to see just how far you could go before his dominant side resurfaced and he took you the way you imagined. Rough and fast, without any mercy. You grabbed his still clothed cock in your hand and squeezed tightly. You then licked him through his boxers. Bucky was no longer hissing, he was growling.

“Don’t be a tease, Y/N. Please.” He said the please so sweetly that you had to comply.

You grabbed the band of his underwear, pulling it down quickly, letting his fully erect cock spring up and hit Bucky’s abdomen. Just the sight of it made a gush of slick stream from your core, dampening your panties.

You gave him few kitten licks, but no longer wanting to be the tease of the year, your right hand hugged around his girth, while your mouth hollowed around him. Bucky moaned loudly this time, letting all of his precautions run out of the window. You bobbed your head up and down, your tongue licking the underside of his massive cock, while your cheeks sucked the life out of him. You then did a thing that you knew would make him go crazy.

You took him to your mouth so far you could feel him hitting your throat, and you gagged a little, but remaining calm. You got this! When your throat relaxed, you stuck your tongue out of your mouth and licked his balls. Your tongue pretty much just teased them, but the second Bucky felt your throat at the tip of his member while your tongue teased his balls, he almost lost it. He swore under his breath and pulled out swiftly.

He looked at you, and he could swear that you have never been prettier. On your knees, with a string of saliva connecting your mouth with his cock, small tears running down your cheeks from the little gag you had there, and your lips pink and plump from all the kissing and sucking.

Bucky bent down and before he kissed you, swiped the saliva from your lips. He grabbed you by your upper arms, pulling you up and throwing you on the bed once again. He was on you in an instant, unclasping your bra and ripping away your panties. Unlike the first time, he wanted to enjoy you a little longer.

Before you knew what was happening, Bucky’s face was on the level of your pussy. And he loved the sight in front of him. Your pussy was calling to him, he was sure of it. And he didn’t hesitate. He dived headfirst, his mouth finding your clit in an instant, sucking on it harshly. If he wasn’t holding on your thighs, the pleasure would make you jump out of bed. That’s how intense it was.

His tongue darted out, and he licked a long strip from your slit to the clit, and you were done for. You have never been so wet in your life. His tongue inserted your pussy, teasing you and eating you out like his life depended on it. You weren’t even sure if he had enough oxygen down there, but the pleasure didn’t let you think about his needs.

When you felt like you couldn’t take more, his finger entered you, reaching all the right places, but not quite. You wanted his cock, throbbing and heavy in your pussy and you wouldn’t take no for an answer.

“James, please, please stop the torture and fuck me.” He smirked, but his eyes gleamed a little stronger because of the way you called him. He probably never had a girl calling him by his first name, and definitely not during sex. He was obsessed by the sound of it on your lips.

He left little kisses on your skin as he went up to kiss you properly. He wanted to enter you in every way possible.

Your knees fell around Bucky’s hips, giving him enough space to grind against you. He almost spilled himself on your stomach when he felt just how wet you actually were for him. It was intoxicating, and he wanted the night to never stop.

He looked at you one last time, seeking any fear or question in your eyes, but when he didn’t find anything of that sorts, he slowly pushed into you. It’s been long for you as well, and you could feel him stretching you to the point where it actually hurt a little. When he was fully sheeted, he gave you a few seconds to adjust to him, for which you were immensely thankful.

When he finally started moving, he couldn’t hold himself. He pounded into you, your breasts bouncing under his chest, his chest-hair scraping your erect nipples. You were both moaning loudly, not caring that your neighbours (and maybe the whole building) heard you two.

He could feel you getting closer, your walls pulsing, and he sped up. He wanted to give you everything he had, and he needed to sate you. It took only a few more strokes to the right place, and you were screaming his name, scraping his back with your nails and holding onto him for dear life. You were seeing stars, and your toes were curling, and you knew that you’d feel him inside for days to come.

Bucky was coming right after you, biting your neck to prevent himself from screaming like a boy. When he pulled out of you, he watched as a white string of his seed flown out of your swollen pussy, his dick twitching in interest again.

Warning ending

He laid down next to you, still panting. When he looked at you, you were already looking at him, and the sight made him smile.

“That was exactly what I needed, Y/N. Thank you. I know you wanted to wait, so-“

“If I didn’t want to do it, I wouldn’t have. I’m happy you said what you needed, and I’m even happier I could be the one making you a little more relaxed.”

He kissed the crown of your head and hugged you even tighter. You listened to the beat of his heart, letting it calm you down.

“Today was such a shitty day, and I needed to let off some steam. I know I chose what I do, and I love it, don’t get me wrong. I’m the big boss, and I take shit from nobody. It’s just nice to be only a guy sometimes, spending his nights with his girl.”

The last comment made your heart flutter. “Your girl?” You asked, a small smile playing on your lips.

“Hell yeah, my girl. You better remember it too, sweetheart, because I won’t let anyone even look at you.”

You chuckled even though you were aware that he meant it very, very seriously. This possessive side of him was something you two needed to work on, but you had time for that. Now you just wanted to enjoy being his girl, and hopefully, it meant something little more than the girl of the month.

“So you’re not getting rid of me by the end of the month?”

Bucky pinched your side, making you laugh, and he nuzzled your cheek. “You’re not going anywhere, doll. I won’t let you.”

It was a promise, and you would take it. Any day.

/Next Chapter> 

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[maatryoshkaa]

young god | chapter 8

chapters: | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11| 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | epilogue |

word count: 7.3k

warnings: graphic descriptions of violence, mentions of mental disorders, foul language

description: jisung visits you as soon as the lockdown is over, but the sweetness of the morning quickly turns sour when your last therapy session takes your relationship in a turn for the worse. from bloodstained clothing to yang jeongin’s tapes, the digger you deep, the uglier the truth becomes...and you find your entire world unravelling piece by piece.

watch the trailer here!

08| out of time

“Move, move! Initiate hold and secure procedures, Miroh Heights Campus is entering lockdown!”

District 9 Police Precinct had been thrown into utter chaos -- Chief Kim Woojin yelling commands into his police radio, darting around the station and dispatching teams left and right. They could hear the sirens blaring outside, darkened windows of houses and dorms alike flickering alight one by one as the citizens of Miroh Heights were awoken.

Chan was right by his friend’s side, and for once the sleep-deprived detective seemed even more frantic than the police captain. They had burst into the security office to look through the security cameras themselves; Chan had both hands on the desk, eyes glued to the monitor as the security guard flipped through the footage.

“Nothing here...or there...not here, either,” Chan mumbled, brow furrowed. “How big are these blind spots?”

“The security system at Miroh Heights is outdated,” Woojin replied, voice strained. “There are cameras on the main roads and buildings, but the alleyways…”

Chan cursed. “Don’t you dare take your eyes off of the monitor, then -- we’re going to catch this bastard if it’s the last thing I--”

A slew of drunken yelling cut Chan off, and they turned to see a huddle of officers with a stout, older man draped over their shoulders. The man’s hair and clothing were bloody and disheveled, and when he tilted his face into the light Chan saw that it had been badly beaten. All the curses the man was shouting were slurred from the hot blood pooling in his mouth.

"Whu’ th’ devil -- le’ me -- le’ me go, fuggin’ demons -- son of a fuggin’ --”

Chan rushed to the officers, Woojin right behind him. “Who is this?”

“The victim they found,” one of the officers replied, slightly out of breath from holding the man back. “Paramedics gave him first aid and were going to let him go, but he took a swing at a couple of officers on scene. We were forced to detain him--”

Dark blood had already soaked through the man’s freshly bandaged nose -- in fact, the man’s face was covered in so much blood, both fresh and congealed, that Chan couldn’t even tell where he was bleeding from. Only a moment later did the officer’s words sink in. 

A witness? No, even better -- the victim, alive and in their hands. “He -- he saw the killer, then? This man?” Chan asked the officer, a flutter of hope in his chest. 

“Chan--” Woojin began, but Chan barely heard him.

“We need to take him to questioning, right now --”

“Chan,” Woojin interjected again, placing a hand on the agitated detective’s shoulder.

“Woojin, we have a lead,” Chan exclaimed breathlessly, pulling his notebook from his pocket. “He’s seen the--”

“Chan!” Woojin’s raised voice finally made the younger detective stop and look up. Woojin sighed, jutting his chin out towards the man. “Look.”

Confused, Chan followed Woojin’s gaze -- and with a sinking feeling, he saw what his friend had been pointing out. The man’s eyes were unfocused, a milky white film glazed over his pupils as they darted frantically at their surroundings. 

Their one surviving victim was blind.

The man was still rambling feverishly, foaming slightly at the mouth. “Lil’ punk...couldn’t even see his face -- fuggin’ -- fuggin’ right hook outta nowhere--”

Just his luck. Chan exhaled slowly, shoving his notebook back into his pocket as the officers hauled the man into the precinct. He turned to Woojin, whose tense, wary expression mirrored his own. “Don’t lift the hold and secure until dawn. If we can’t flush the killer out of the streets, then the sun will.”

────────

The bright chime of the doorbell woke you out of dreamless sleep, a beam of sunshine kissing your eyelids as you stretched and buried your face back into your pillows. It was probably around 10 A.M. -- you had no classes scheduled for today, so you’d allowed yourself to sleep in. Last night seemed so far away -- the thunderstorm, the lockdown, everything had seemed like a nightmare you’d suddenly gotten sucked into. The warm memory of Jisung’s soft voice through the phone, though, still made your cheeks heat up, remembering how his words had ended up lulling you to a peaceful sleep.

The doorbell rang again, and with a disgruntled groan you pushed yourself out of bed, stumbling through the hallways with your eyes shut stubbornly. Who could it be? The neighbours? Your landlord? A delivery boy with the wrong address? Despite your morning grogginess, you felt a sad pang as you thought of Jeongin. At this point, you weren’t sure who it could be, but that hardly mattered -- at the moment, you were only growing more and more royally pissed off that somebody had messed with your sleep.

Maybe that was why you didn’t give a second thought to your bedhead -- cowlicks and flyaways sticking straight up like your own hair was scared of your scalp -- and barely bothered to pry open your eyes as you yanked open the door, another yawn stretching your lips in the process.

When your squinted eyes finally adjusted to the sunlight streaming in, you found a very startled Han Jisung staring back at you.

He blinked.

You blinked.

And now, you were very much awake -- and very much aware of the half-dried drool on your chin, the sleep circles around your eyes that could put pandas to shame, and the thin, wrinkled, oversized t shirt draping your frame. As if electrocuted, your hands instantly shot to your hair, combing at it furiously and smoothing out your shirt the best you could.

You didn’t miss the growing smile on Jisung’s face as he watched you fumbling, hazel eyes glinting with amusement.

“Morning, sleepyhead,” he chuckled, and you tried to shoot him the deadliest glare you could muster within minutes of waking up.

“Sh-shut up--what are--why--”

“They just called off the lockdown, so…” Now it was Jisung’s turn to look flustered, ears a telltale shade of red despite his nonchalant tone. “Maybe I wanted to come check on you.” His gaze finally landed on yours, vulnerable and serious, and you felt your heart stop. “I was worried about you, last night.”

Flashbacks to the night before made your stomach flip with embarrassment -- how shameless had you been? Calling him when he could have been sleeping, just because you were scared? Cursing at yourself and cringing inwardly,  your gaze flickered to Jisung -- and you were suddenly caught off guard at how genuinely concerned he looked. He was chewing at his lip, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. A faint echo of how caring and patient he had sounded over the phone, reassuring you until you fell asleep, sent an immense feeling of warmth unfurling inside your chest. It felt...different from the racing heartbeats, the giddy, jittery feeling you’d always gotten after talking to him, the sweaty palms every time you managed to lock eye contact. No, this felt steadier, calmer. It felt...right.

Oh, hell. Were you in love with Han Jisung?

“Come in, then,” you replied breathlessly, and Jisung’s shoulders relaxed slightly as he stepped into your apartment. “Just--wait here,” you told him, cheeks aflame as you sat him down at the kitchen table. His eyes followed you curiously as you darted from your bathroom to your bedroom, you throwing on a clean hoodie and longer pants before washing up in record time. The boy sat as obedient as a puppy, watching you like you were the most fascinating thing in the entire world.

When you deemed yourself somewhat presentable, you stepped back into the kitchen, rolling up your sleeves and clearing your throat awkwardly. “So...have you had breakfast?”

Jisung flashed a shameless smile up at you, golden hair falling into his eyes. “If I say no, do I get to eat your cooking?”

You scoffed, fighting the smile threatening the spill all over your face. With a sudden surge of confidence, you tugged on the sleeve of his hoodie and yanked him to his feet. “We pull equal weights in this relationship, Han Jisung,” you told him, grabbing a bag of all-purpose flour. “Let’s make some blueberry pancakes.”

Sure enough, a half hour later, there was a thin layer of sugar and flour all over the kitchen counter, the occasional squashed blueberry staining the floor purple. Jisung was surprisingly inept at cooking: you didn’t know what you had expected, but him spilling the batter countless times while whisking shakily -- coupled with his intensely focused expression -- made your stomach hurt from laughing.

“Jisung, you’re studying to be a surgeon. Shouldn’t your hands be a little steadier than that?”

“Shut up, oh my g--hnghhh.” Jisung’s voice was slightly high-pitched, unintelligible sounds of frustration coming from his lips and making you laugh even harder. He was laughing, too, shaking his head and yelping as more batter coated his fingers. 

You’d finally ended up confiscating the bowl and whisk from him in order to salvage what was left of your breakfast. Jisung stood leaning on the counter and wiping up the mess you -- or, he -- had made as best he could, popping blueberries into his mouth when he thought you weren’t looking. He fed you blueberries, too, enjoying how flustered you got from the small gesture. The sweet aroma of pancakes cooking slowly but surely filled the kitchen, and with a triumphant scrape of the pan -- Jisung tilting it carefully -- you let the golden brown cakes flop onto two plates.

You giggled at the way Jisung’s entire face seemed to light up upon the first bite, just like it had on your first date. In some ways, he really was like a young child -- drowning his pancakes in maple syrup and eyes practically filling with stars as he exclaimed enthusiastically about how good they tasted.

There was something about the smell of fresh, hot pancakes and the serene morning that made Jisung remember a time, thirteen years ago, when things had always been this simple. 

He watched you purse your lips and furrow your brow in concentration as you flipped the pancakes, the delighted smile on your face when they turned out just right. The way the sun hit the side of your face like liquid gold, the feeling of its warmth on his skin, everything made his chest ache with yearning -- a want to slip back into those memories, to rewind time, for another chance.

In some ways, he realised, you were just as far away, as unattainable as those memories. You were too good, too beautiful, too...precious. And him -- he was stained, tainted, flawed...he could never go back to those times, so how could he ever be good enough for you?

“Since you’re here…” you stabbed at a blueberry, absently swirling it in maple syrup. “Do you want to have another session? We’ve nearly covered everything, so it’ll be our last one.”

Last one. Jisung nodded absently, cheeks still stuffed with syrup and pancakes. With a smile, you ran to your room and fetched your laptop, the two of you gravitating to the living room sofa. The bouquet of peach roses Jisung had given you sat in a glass vase on the coffee table -- you had placed them there right after your first date -- and Jisung couldn’t help smiling to himself when he saw them. 

Glancing back at you, he saw your face contort with worry as you read over your notes. “Is something wrong?”

You scanned over what you had written a couple nights ago, nibbling nervously at your lip. Abusive childhood. Screening for PTSD. Ask about family again. They had seemed overly intense back then, but actually sitting in front of Jisung and preparing to ask such...sensitive questions only increased your feeling of dread by tenfold. You took a deep breath to calm yourself. After all, this was Jisung. He would understand, right?

“Before we start, I need you to promise something,” you began, and Jisung raised an eyebrow. “Promise that you’ll be honest with me.”

His expression was unfathomable, still as a mask, and you felt the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. This was the side of Jisung that you’d always tried to forget, the one that made all your fears, your suspicions, seem a little more real. 

After what felt like an eternity, he gave a small nod, and you looked down at your first point.

“Last time, we talked a lot about your family,” you said carefully. “I was just -- is there a reason why you spoke of them in...the past tense? I might just be imagining things,” you added hurriedly, “but I was just-- I was wondering--”

“You were wondering what happened to my family,” Jisung finished for you, and you nodded. A long, heavy pause followed before Jisung finally spoke again. “They passed away.”

Your eyes widened, and you felt your heart drop. Of course they did. Good job, y/n, you managed to find the most sensitive topic to start with. “I--I’m so sorry,” you stammered, wanting nothing more than for a hole to open up the ground and swallow you up. You quickly scrolled to your next question, grateful to change the subject. “Do you--generally speaking--do you have any regrets in your life?”

The word regrets sent scenes and voices flashing before Jisung’s eyes, and he bit the inside of his cheek to keep himself from slipping away entirely. “Of course,” he managed to reply, voice coming out softer than he would’ve liked.

“Like...what?” You pressed, despite every fibre of your being wanting to throw down your notebook, pull him in for a hug, and end the session. You’re training as a therapist, y/n, your professor would have scolded you, Focus on your patient’s responses, not yours.

“Mistakes,” Jisung breathed, voice barely above a whisper. It was as if his tongue had shrivelled up, the right words struggling to escape from his lips. “Mistakes I’ve made that I’ll remember for the rest of my life. Letting...everything spiral out of control.”

Out of control? “All those things you’ve mentioned before...your nightmares. The colour red, your parents...do they, by any chance, remind you of those mistakes?”

Your voice was so gentle. Jisung knew it should have been easy to answer these questions, any normal person would have been able to answer your questions. You were always so kind, so sweet, so willing to listen -- so why did it suddenly feel like his throat had closed up? 

When he didn’t answer, you asked tentatively, “Do you still have those nightmares?”

A nod.

“What do you have nightmares about?” You looked down at the notes you had written: Patients suffering from PTSD are likely to experience nightmares about past traumatic events.

“The--the past.”

You felt your heart drop straight into your gut as you asked the follow-up question. “Do you get them often?”

“Yes.” The memories, the long-buried pain, they thrashed at his chest as if demanding to be let out; the words were already beginning to roll off his tongue. Jisung knew with a horrible, sinking feeling that it wouldn’t be long until he cracked completely. Whenever he looked into your eyes, he felt the lump in his throat wanting to give way, he felt all the walls he had ever built up threatening to crumble to dust. What were you doing to him?

“How do you...cope with them?”

“I don’t,” he answered, and laughed weakly. “That--that sounds bad. I just--I don’t like thinking about them. I’ve always just let them happen until they’re...over.”

You read over your notes and swallowed hard, suddenly at a loss for words. It couldn’t be.

Jisung’s eyes were watching you, darkened and unreadable. “What’s wrong?”

“It--it’s just…” you shook your head vigorously, looking from your boyfriend to the notes you had written -- the case studies, the theories, all the evidence was pointing in the same, horrible direction. “If everything you’ve said is...is true -- I mean, if you’ve ignored these symptoms for so long --  you would also be suffering from multiple other side effects. In other words, you’d come across as much more...unstable, but--” you looked at Jisung’s face, his expression smooth and unfathomable as ever. “You don’t seem...unstable at all.”

A small smile played on Jisung’s lips, a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Things are never quite as they seem, y/n.”

You furrowed your brow in confusion, mouth feeling like it was stuffed with cotton. As if sensing the sudden uneasiness in the room, Jisung broke the tension with a laugh, his tone light as ever. “I’m joking! Hey, you’re so serious when you’re working.” He shot you a reassuring smile, hand reaching to lightly pinch your cheek. “So, what have you concluded, then, Doctor l/n?”

“You...you might have trouble sleeping,” you began tentatively, not taking your eyes off your notes, “and missing ‘blank’ spots in your memories--”

Jisung’s smile froze on his face as you continued, “You might be a person who doesn’t let a lot of people get close to you.”

“Well, that’s not true,” he replied, voice coming out shaky. “You’re wrong.”

“You might even have these...these bursts of anger, or even violence--”

“What are you diagnosing me with?” Jisung cut you off, voice stiff.

Both your expression and words echoed those another therapist had told him thirteen years ago. 

“Post-traumatic stress disorder,” you replied quietly, and a heavy silence fell over the room like a curtain, the weight of your words slowly sinking in. Before you could say anything, before you could take back what you’d said, before you could tell Jisung that it meant nothing, that you had probably misread something, he had already gotten to his feet.

“I have -- class in ten minutes -- I completely forgot.” Jisung grabbed his bag and strode out into the hallway, not looking you in the eye when he glanced back. “I’m sorry, I have to--I have to go.”

You opened your mouth to stop him, to apologise, to do anything, but nothing came out -- and all you could do was watch as Jisung disappeared, the door swinging shut with a decisive, hollow bang.

A couple of peach-coloured petals fell from the bouquet of roses, the flowers hanging their heads sadly.

────────

You spent the better half of the morning moping and muttering furiously at yourself -- Stellar job, y/n! You’ve finally fucked it up for good. The best damn guy who’s ever come along, and you’ve finally managed to drive him away.

It was only when you trudged into the living room again in the afternoon that your eyes fell on a black object wedged in between the sofa cushions. When you fished it out, you realized it was a phone -- Jisung’s phone. He must have forgotten it when he’d stood up and left so suddenly. 

You paced around the living room, chewing your bottom lip anxiously. You should return it to him as soon as possible, but -- how? He’d claimed he had classes today, but you had no idea where they were.

I live in the dorms on the other side of the Yellow Wood, you remembered Jisung telling you at the park, and you snapped your fingers. That’s it. As far as you knew, there was only one residence hall near the Yellow Wood -- that had to be where Jisung’s place was. Slipping his phone into your pocket, you hurriedly pulled on your shoes and headed out the door.

Sure enough, after reaching the clearing of the forest and carefully navigating through a couple of damp, winding alleyways, you found yourself facing a set of tall, rusted gates. The student dorms loomed above you, making a semi-circle around a small garden. You pushed through the gates and made a beeline for the front desk, where a female student was sitting.

“Um, hi,” you stammered, “I’m looking for a Han Jisung? I have something of his I need to return.”

The girl barely looked at you, flipping through the pages of a plastic binder before scrawling something onto a slip of paper and sliding it over the counter. You quickly thanked her and headed towards the elevator, scanning the slip.

Floor #9, Room #0325

You found yourself standing in front of a plain, off-white door, the old paint peeling from wear and age. There was no mailbox, no slot in the door -- and no place for you to safely leave his phone. You bent down -- maybe you could slip it under the door? -- and felt the door give way entirely, swinging open to reveal Jisung’s apartment.

Stunned, you swung around and stood up, eyes landing on the lock -- or where the lock should have been. The metal had been dented so badly it looked as if it were about to snap clean off. As if someone had been blindly, repeatedly slamming against the door. Heartbeat quickening, you stepped inside and tried pushing the door shut again. It creaked open stubbornly, a crack of light spilling into the room.

Deciding that whether or not Jisung’s lock worked was the least of your problems, you proceeded into his apartment, heartbeat thudding louder and louder with each step. Why are you nervous? You asked yourself, trying to wipe away the cold sweat that had formed on your palms. You’re not doing anything wrong.

Still, you couldn’t shake the feeling that you were trespassing on something...private. The moment you’d stepped in, you’d been hit with the strong smell of bleach and soap, the strange scent pricking at your nose and making your eyes sting. Was Jisung a cleaning freak? Small details jumped out at you: the walls were cracked and barren, devoid of any family photos, posters, or maps. You passed the small, cluttered kitchen, where a half-eaten bowl of cereal sat glumly on the table.

So Jisung had had breakfast already.

You should have left his phone on the kitchen table and bolted out the door; you should have been minding your own business -- but the further you trudged into Jisung’s apartment, the deeper you felt yourself getting pulled in. Tentatively, you tip-toed your way towards the only other shut door in the small dorm room, pushing it open. It revealed another plain room with a small window, weak streams of sunlight grazing the dusty floorboards. His bedroom, you supposed, and turned to leave -- when something caught your eye.

An air mattress stood in the corner of the room, pressed up to the window. Besides a small reading lamp, there was no furniture -- a row of textbooks were pushed against a wall, and his clothes hung from a makeshift rack behind the door. That wasn’t the weird part -- plenty of students lived like this, especially if they needed to save up money to pay for student loans. But…

“Are you okay? You’re limping.”

“I...may have banged my foot on the corner of my bed last night.”

Your eyes skirted around the room -- the mattress, the empty walls. How could he have hurt his foot that badly in a room with no furniture?

You shook your head and smacked your face lightly. Stop it. Stop overthinking. “There are plenty of places for him to hit his foot,” you told yourself aloud, turning to leave. “The walls. Maybe it was the kitchen table. There’s nothing to be paranoid about, nothing to--”

You trailed off, voice dying in your throat.

In the clothes hamper, right at the top of the pile, was a wrinkled white shirt.

It was the shirt Jisung had been wearing yesterday.

And it was covered in dried red blood.

You felt your legs give way and you stumbled towards it, rummaging through the hamper and pulling it out. A pair of jeans fell out with it, and you caught them, turning the denim over. 

Blood. There was so much blood.

Spots of crimson dappled the shirt, and when you held up the jeans you saw that there were two dark stains in the shape of hands seeped through the pockets. 

Were they his handprints? You felt your stomach twist unpleasantly, a cold sweat sticking your palms to the fabric and staining your own skin with red. It wasn’t that much blood, right? Just the front of his shirt, and two handprints on his jeans. It looked more like a nosebleed, if anything -- you nodded shakily, not able to tear your eyes from the soiled clothing. Yes. That was it. He must have had a bad nosebleed yesterday night, and--

Your phone rang, and you nearly screamed.

Throwing the clothing back into the hamper and slamming the bedroom door shut, you fumbled with your phone. It took you several tries to hit the ANSWER button, your fingers were shaking so badly.

“H-h-hello?” You fished Jisung’s phone from your pocket and set it on his kitchen table before making a beeline out of his apartment. You pulled the front door as tightly shut as you could and pressed your back against the wall of the stairwell, breathing erratic.

“Y/N?” Hyunjin. Hearing his voice was like a lifeline to reality, and you let out an enormous sigh of relief. “Hey, you alright?”

“Y-yeah. I’m just--I--what’s up?”

“It’s Jeongin. They--they finished his surgery and moved him to the ICU this morning. I went as soon as I heard -- he’s not awake, they say he might not be for a while, but--”

“I’ll be right there,” you interrupted, and began bolting down the stairs.

────────

The stark white lights of the ICU stung your eyes as you darted past stretchers and grim-looking doctors in long white coats, spotting a bed in the corner where a tall figure sat hunched over an unconscious younger boy. 

He’s at high risk for prolonged unconsciousness, Hyunjin had informed you over the phone. They say they don’t know when he might wake up from the coma.

You reached Jeongin, and a sad ache pulled at your heartstrings when your eyes landed on his face. The delivery boy looked peaceful, so peaceful it was almost as if nothing was wrong at all. The already-faint worry lines of his face were smoothed out, mouth parted slightly. If it weren’t for the cap of gauze wrapped around his head and the mass of wires connecting him to machines, you would have thought Jeongin was sleeping.

Hyunjin had his cheek bit in worry, and you carefully rubbed soothing circles on his back. The barista looked terrible -- bags under his eyes so dark they looked like bruises, the faint stench of alcohol wafting from his clothes. You bit your lip, trying to find the right words to say, when a nurse pulled aside the privacy curtain and you looked up.

“What’s his condition?” You asked her. Hyunjin’s eyes looked up curiously, although he must have already asked the same question a thousand times.

“The CT scan detected no major structural damage to his skull, which is the good news. Most of the bleeding came from the physical force of the traumatic injury. The surgery was mostly for the hematoma and clotting from excessive internal bleeding, but the operation was successful.” She hesitated, then continued gravely, “However, the doctor isn’t sure when your friend may regain consciousness.”

You nodded slowly, her words echoing in your mind as she walked away.  Massaging his temples as if he had a migraine, Hyunjin gave you a weak smile and stood up. “I’m going to the washroom, be right back.”

As Hyunjin slipped into the hallway, you turned back towards Jeongin. The heart monitor beeping was a constant reassurance that he was alive, that the surgery had been a success -- but the boy was so pale his veins were visible on his paper-thin eyelids. His rumpled blond hair was matted with blood, and he was still wearing the oversized hoodie and baggy jeans he had been attacked in. They must not have had time to change him into hospital scrubs, you thought -- that, or they didn’t want to risk disconnecting all the tubes and wires while he was in critical condition. Either way, seeing Jeongin almost exactly the way Hyunjin must have found him made your heart ache even more.

Tugging on the hospital’s blankets, you yanked it over the young boy to tuck it up to his chest. Your hand hit something hard and you yelped in surprise, looking down and rubbing your skin. Nothing -- then you saw it. Jutting ever so slightly out of Jeongin’s hoodie pocket, hidden beneath the thick fabric, was something square-shaped and solid. 

Looking around furtively to see if anyone was watching, you carefully reached into the pocket -- and your shaking fingers hit a cool metal surface. Heart hammering against your chest, you pulled a Walkman -- Jeongin’s silver Walkman, the earbuds tangled around it -- and two tapes out.

Your eyes widened, nearly dropping them on the spot. These were surely pieces of evidence the investigation were waiting for, and the last thing you should have been doing was touching them -- but you felt a burning curiosity as you turned the tapes over in your hands. You knew Jeongin carried his Walkman everywhere, whether he was listening to music or recording his own personal voice memos. 

What if Jeongin had been recording the night he was attacked?

You hastily pressed the PLAY button on the Walkman, but were met with nothing but cold silence. Not even a hum of static. Frowning, you flipped it over -- and saw a long crack running across the silver metal. Broken. Cursing under your breath, you started to slip the tape player back into Jeongin’s pocket when another thought hit you.

Deep in the heart of Miroh Heights, tucked into the oldest part of town, was an old, rundown electronics store. It had once been a record trading shop, but it sold all sorts of vintage paraphernalia now. You had never had a reason to visit it -- until now.

Before you could hesitate, you stuffed the busted tape player into one pocket and the two tapes in the other, pulling out your phone to text Hyunjin.

You: Hey! Something came up, sorry I had to leave :(

You: I’ll see you tomorrow, take care. ‘kay Jinnie?

Taking a deep breath, you whispered, “Sorry, Jeongin,” before you pulled aside the curtains and took off.

────────

Young Wings Record Shop was a pain in the ass to find. You had looped around Mia’s Diner nine times before you managed to spot the small store wedged between two Chinese restaurants. Out of breath, you burst through the door -- and stepped straight into another world.

The shop was so...cozy. Inside, you felt completely cut off from the rest of the world -- the bustle of people and traffic outside muffled by the soundproof walls, a Beatles song playing faintly overhead. Rows upon rows of CDs, albums and records lined the room in cluttered rows and shelves, vintage posters and license plates adorning the walls. You had nearly forgotten the reason you’d come, lost in the sudden, rare peace and quiet, when a lazy drawl snapped you out of your thoughts.

“Hi, can I help you?” A black cat leaped from the lap of the boy who had spoken, pattering to your feet. You vaguely recognized him -- Seo Changbin, former music major. He wasn’t a stranger, but he wasn’t exactly a friend, either -- you’d caught glimpses of him around campus, but never exchanged more than a polite nod or hello. He was sitting behind the counter, partially hidden behind a comic book he had been reading. Both pet and owner stared back at you with equally inquisitive eyes, blinking sleepily.

“I-I need you to help me play some tapes. I heard you sell players–-” You stammered, still trying to catch your breath.

The record store owner frowned, pushing dark hair out of his heavy-lidded eyes. “CDs, camcorders, tape players, yeah, I sell ‘em all. But why? What tapes do you need to play?”

Your fingers scrabbled at your pockets, fishing out the two tapes. “Yang Jeongin’s – the delivery boy’s. From the night he got attacked.”

Recognition flashed in Changbin’s eyes, his eyebrows shooting up. “Shouldn’t those go to the cops?”

You swallowed hard. “I--I need to hear them myself. I…” You were at a loss for words. How were you supposed to explain the small, horrible feeling you had in your gut? How were you supposed to explain why you were doing this when you weren’t even entirely sure yourself?

Changbin studied your face thoughtfully. Time seemed to pass more slowly in the record shop, the black cat circling around you like a small panther. “Y/N, right?” You nodded slowly. After what seemed like ages,  he finally said, “Alright. I won’t turn you in.” When you looked up, surprised, he added, “But only if you let me listen to ‘em, too.”

You bit your lip, nodding again slowly. This hadn’t been part of the plan, but a part of you was almost relieved that you wouldn’t have to listen to them alone. You had no idea what had really happened that night -- and now, you weren’t sure if you were ready to find out.

With a tilt of his head, Changbin lead you to the back of the shop, pushing open the door to the storage room. The space looked more like he had turned it into a makeshift living room: shipments of records had been pushed up against the walls and a large beanbag sofa sat in the middle of the room, an old TV and video game consoles piled before it. Comic books, batteries and wires littered the floor and a small producer’s desk stood in the corner, complete with a keyboard, monitor, and speakers. Frosted, barred windows let in weak strains of sunlight into the dim warehouse.

From what you had heard from Felix, Changbin had been studying music at Miroh Heights before he dropped out under special circumstances. His father, who used to manage the shop, had fallen ill, and Changbin was the only surviving family member who could take care of the old man. In that way, Changbin almost reminded you of Hyunjin -- that is, if Hyunjin was more of a recluse, and half of his original height.

Rummaging through a small cardboard box, Changbin pulled out a red tape player and earbuds, motioning for you to join him on the couch. With a click, Changbin inserted the first tape, and after looking at you for confirmation, he pressed PLAY.

The Walkman whirred to life and Changbin cranked up the volume, a familiar tune trickling into your ears.

The voices tormenting me are crying out again

Step out of the voices,

Cover my ears, but they’re shouting again

Step out of the voices,

Break free from the voices in my head

You could tell Changbin recognized the song, too -- it was by one of Jeongin’s favourite artists, but you couldn’t remember their names for the life of you. Jeongin had removed the instrumental, you realised, sounds of crickets and rain collected from his long delivery shifts mixed into the melody instead. Carefully, you skipped through the tape -- it was all songs by the same group, a little mixtape the delivery boy had created for himself.

You popped out the tape and switched it with the second one. Would this one be full of songs, too? At first, there was nothing besides the faint buzz of static, but as you listened closer, you heard Jeongin’s heavy breathing. It sounded like he was pedalling -- so he’d recorded this one during his deliveries, too. By the sound of it, it was a voice memo -- you remembered he liked to record them on longer nights. “It keeps me from falling asleep,” he had told you once. “Plus, it’s fun.”

“I.N. here!” His bright voice sent chills down your spine. I.N., you thought with a pang -- that was the nickname Jeongin gave himself on these voice memos, as if he were hosting a podcast on a radio show, instead recording on an old tape player. “It is currently...2:04 A.M.! It’s my first late-night delivery -- or is it early morning? Anyways, it’s exciting, huh? The whole campus seems to be sleeping; no one’s out on these streets at this hour. It feels pretty cool, like I’m carrying out a secret mission or something.”

2:04 A.M. You and Changbin exchanged looks, a feeling of dread twisting unpleasantly at your gut. Jeongin had been found at 5 in the morning. There were only three hours left.

“Anyways. Why did I take up another job? Well, today Hyunjin -- he’s the barista, owner, really, of Glow Cafe -- asked me why I didn’t apply for, you know, a driver’s license or something. At first, I thought, well, there’s no point -- I can’t afford a car, anyways. But--” You heard him sigh, then laugh -- the carefree, innocent laugh that was known for making everyone’s morning. “I’ve decided that it’s worth a try, right? I want to pay off my student loans soon. Maybe fix my bike up. It’ll be hard at first, but nothing Yang Jeongin can’t take! Me and my bike, we’re unstoppable.”

This was the last day you had seen Jeongin conscious -- you remembered the playful exchange between the barista and the delivery boy. You hadn’t even realized you were silently crying until Changbin pushed pause on the tape, reaching for a box of tissues with a worried expression on his face. You quietly thanked him and started the tape again, furiously wiping the tears away -- and heard something that made you freeze. 

A woman’s scream -- muffled, distorted, but it was there. Grabbing at the tape player, you looked to Changbin. “W-wait. Did you hear that?”

He shook his head and frowned, rewinding the player and pressing PLAY again. Sure enough, under Jeongin’s voice, you heard a bloodcurdling shriek, followed by a man crying out in guttural pain. You felt your breath hitch in your throat. Jeongin was still humming -- he had his earbuds in, you realised; he must not have been able to hear it. The sharp snapping of tree branches and the whisper of fallen tree leaves made goosebumps prick at your skin. Jeongin had entered the Yellow Wood now, the wind whistling through the treetops. 

Any moment now.

Suddenly, you heard the bike skid to a stop and you listened, holding your breath. What’s happening?

“Hello? Is everything okay over there?” Jeongin’s voice sounded tinny and distant -- as if he’d pulled his earbuds out. There was no response, and both you and Changbin instinctively leaned closer, straining to hear. You heard Jeongin give a cry of horror, your own heart pounding wildly in your throat.

“U-um. Is he--do you need help? I can call an ambulance. What hap--”

CRUNCH.

Jeongin’s small gasp of pain was enough to make your gut flip, your nails digging so hard into your palms you felt them break through the skin. A deafening crack echoed through the earbuds as the Walkman hit the pavement, the wire skittering from Jeongin’s ears. You could hear a muffled, heavy breathing of someone approaching -- it wasn’t Jeongin, and yet it sounded so...familiar. Gripping the couch to steady yourself, you forced yourself to listen, to stay calm. You had found it, you had found him -- whoever it was that had killed that man, whoever it was that had attacked Jeongin that night, the tape would have recorded it all. You were so close--

You heard the rustling of fabric, as if the killer had abruptly dropped to his knees over Jeongin. His breathing was hoarse and ragged, strange, muffled sounds blending into the static -- and you realised with a start that the killer was crying. Turning to Changbin, you opened your mouth to say something when you heard it. In an instant, your heart plummeted to your gut, your blood turning to ice.

“Who--why? Why is it you? Why are you here?”

You felt your mouth drop open, cold sweat forming on your palms.

You could recognise that voice anywhere. Over the phone or in person; his laughs, his jokes, his whispers.

“You’d look good in red.”

“I saw the body, and my curiosity got the better of me.”

“Things are never quite as they seem, y/n.”

It dawned on you now, why the breathing had sounded so familiar. Why you’d had an uneasy feeling in your gut all morning -- no, ever since the day you’d first met him. It all burst open now, flooding your head and chest like a burning poison consuming you from the inside out. You looked down at your hands, where the faint red of someone else’s blood still stained your palms.

Han Jisung.

You dropped the tape, Changbin diving to salvage it before it crashed onto the cold concrete floor. “Hey--hey, are you okay? Is that--is that him? The guy they’re looking for?”

Hot, horrified tears were pricking at your widened eyes and you buried your head in your hands. In the tape, you could hear Jisung’s scared, choked sobs, and that was enough to make you finally break down, shoulders shaking with sobs of your own. Changbin bit his lip worriedly as he watched you. “Do--do you...know him?” He finally asked.

You felt yourself nod slowly in shock, but your ears were ringing and all you could think was no, no, this can’t be happening. No, no, no. Han Jisung is not--

The tape was still playing, the sound distorted as if you were trapped in a horrible, never-ending nightmare. You couldn’t make out anything clearly anymore, just the shuffling of clothing and feet. You heard what sounded like a doorbell--Glow Cafe’s doorbell--and the sound of footsteps rapidly fading as Jisung ran away. There was a faint click as the tape finally ran out and stopped, and leaving you and Changbin in a hollow, heavy silence.

Wordlessly, the dark-haired boy adjusted his black cap and gently pulled your earbuds out, tucking the red Walkman into your hands. “I won’t ask if you don’t want me to. Keep it if you still need it,” he told you slowly, patting your back. He gave you a reassuring smile, but even his heavy lidded eyes looked slightly shaken. “As for me...I won’t say anything to the cops unless you're cool with it. So don’t worry, ‘aight?”

You nodded, the ground still feeling as if it were about to give way beneath you. Wiping at your eyes and clearing your throat, you forced yourself to stand, knees wobbling slightly. “Thank you.”

Changbin nodded, watching you with a concerned expression as you stumbled shakily out of the storage room, disappearing behind the rows of store shelves. Swaying slightly, head pounding so hard your eyes struggled to focus properly, you pushed open the glass door. The rumble of the city rushed into your ears, greeting you with the familiar sound of cars and citizens hustling about. A group of freshmen gave you a weird look as they walked past. You must have looked like death itself.

If Jisung had been as panicked as he’d sounded on the tape, there was no way he would have had time to dispose of whatever he’d used to knock Jeongin out -- and yet the coroner’s report had come out claiming that there were no traces of DNA, fingerprints, or murder weapon. Impossible -- how could they have not found a single piece of evidence from the crime scene, the brutally beaten body -- or even Jeongin himself? He was a living witness, and yet the tapes and his clothing had been left completely untouched. It was almost as if...

It was almost as if the coroner had been tampering with the investigation.

You felt a wave of nausea hit you like a ton of bricks and took a deep, shaky breath, screwing your eyes shut as the ground spun beneath you. If everything was true, then there one more man who held the last missing piece of the puzzle. 

In the distance, the rooftop of Miroh Heights Hospital loomed ominously. As if someone were pushing you forward, you fell into a run, only one coherent thought on your mind.

You needed to find Lee Minho.

[wordsfromthesol]

I’m No One’s Princess (3/3)

Author: @wordsfromthesol Pairing: Dick Grayson x Reader Summary:  You catch Dick’s eye at one of the infamous Wayne Galas, things took a turn and now he needs to find you. Warnings: The usuals aka language, violence, fluffy fluff, etc.  Word Count: 4.0k A/N: Sorry not sorry I got a little carried away with this part but there was no good point to split it up. 

Part One  Part Two

Dick turned towards Jason, “How many?”

“I counted five patrolling around the warehouse. Seems like a small team, just set up to wait for someone to pick her up. They definitely aren’t expecting anyone.”

“Have you seen her?”

“No, no one has come in or out. There’s two door entrances. I’m betting one leads to the office where she’s being held.”

“We go in through the roof. Too many unknowns going in through the doors.”

“Not if you just start shooting…”

Dick glared at his brother.

“Why do we care about this girl again?” Damian snarled.

“Because she’s an innocent, Damian.” Dick tried to reason with his youngest brother.

“We do not know this. She is the daughter of a hitman.”

“Ever heard of innocent until proven guilty?”

Damian rolled his eyes but proceeded to follow his brothers anyways.

**

Ignoring the spots in your vision, you tried to move your hands, to at least allow you to push yourself to the side. That was when an immense pain filled your arm. Great, my wrist is broken. You added another injury to the list. Injuries due to your father, your father that would and has sold you out for less than a piece of bread. The worst part was, you couldn’t even sell him out if you wanted to. You had no idea where that criminal was.

You began to hear sounds of fighting in the other room and soon you swore you heard your name. As you opened your mouth to speak, all that came out was blood. You glanced around for some way to make noise. You sucked in a breath and thrust you hips into the air, forcing the chair to move with them. The metal chair came down and clashed with the concrete. You felt the cost of your decision lingering on your already injured wrist. About to brave the risk yet again, you heard the door swing open.

“Y/N?!” You watched as Nightwing slid by your side, examining your current state. You didn’t try to respond. “Guys, she’s in here! I need an ambulance!” Your eyes widened at his words as you violently shook your head. “Y/N, look at you, you need to be in a hospital.”

“N..no.” You were able to stutter out. Nightwing hoisted the chair upright and began to cut the zip-ties. You felt a twinge of relief in your chest, now that gravity was there to help keep the blood down. “He’ll find…me. No…hospital.” He looked to the other vigilantes crowded in the room.

“Just take her back to the cave.” Red Hood waved his hand, as if that were the obvious solution. Red Robin nodded in agreement, but the youngest one just stared at you.

“Just take me…home.”

“There is no way I’m taking you home like this.”

“I’m tired…tired of masked – they always…hurt. Home. Please.” The spots in your vision were getting worse since you stood, but you refused to let them see you give into the pain. Nightwing ran his hand through his hair.

“Alright. Home. Where is that?”

Your blinking had become more animated as you tried to fake normalcy. Wait, what did he just ask me? You shifted your eyes side to side. “Home.” You began to walk towards the door, though it was less of a walk and more of a swayed stagger. Your mind didn’t even register the three men very clearly in the way of the door, and you ran directly into Red Robin. The small bump caused you to stumble backwards. Thankfully, Nightwing was close on your heels and caught you before you hit the ground.

“I’ll meet you guys, tell Alfred to get the medical equipment ready.” Nightwing picked you up as he headed for the car.

**

“Alfred?” Tim radioed from his bike.

“Master Timothy. I did not realize you were out tonight.”

“Wasn’t supposed to be. Something came up. We’re coming in hot.”

“Who is injured?”

“A girl, stab wound to the left leg, broken right wrist, broken ribs, concussion.”

“My, something did come up. I will prepare the medical equipment.”

**

Waking up, you looked around and noticed you were not home. You let out a deep sigh as you examined your patched-up wounds, grimacing as you noticed the cast on your wrist. You sighed again before swinging your legs over the side of the bed. I’m tired of the masks. I’m tired of the running. I didn’t sign up for this, just because my last name is Y/L/N. Pushing yourself up, you limped around the room looking for some kind of door. Where the fuck am I? Finally, you noticed a staircase. Of course it’s stairs. You looked down at your bandaged leg and prepared yourself for the pain. As you stepped up the first one, you heard someone behind you.

“Planning on going somewhere?” You turned around and saw Red Robin minus the mask, plus dark circles underneath his eyes. Not bothering to offer an explanation, you slowly lifted your leg to the next stair. “I think Nightwing may kill me if I let you leave.” You felt his hand grasp your arm.

“And how are you going to stop me exactly?’

“I’d like to think I can just reason with you.” You let out a sigh and turned around, leaning against the railing and motioning him to begin. “Well, Maroni is going to be pissed his boys lost you. Double, triple his efforts. Whatever information you have, he wants. You are safest here, recovering. Your house is the first place they will look.”

You stared blankly towards him, you should’ve known that. How could you have been so careless? “Fine. But I need clothes.” He nodded, and helped you back to the hospital bed, before heading up the same stairs himself. The young vigilante did not return, but an older one did, carrying clothes. “Nightwing?”

“The one and only, how are you?”

“Well, clearly…” you gestured around the room, “I’m doing fabulous. Though I’m not at home.”

“In my defense, you didn’t tell me where that was.”

“You found me, I think you could’ve found my address.”

“Wouldn’t be safe,” he shrugged, “plus I don’t know what medical supplies you have. And I’m going to doubt it includes plaster.” Nodding towards your encased wrist. Rolling your eyes, you held your hand out for the clothes.

“I’m so not sleeping on this, don’t you vigilantes have places that aren’t dark and creepy? And have less masks?”

Nightwing ran his hand through his hair. “I think I can find something…put those on and we’ll go.”

**

“Much less dark, though there is still some weirdo in a mask hanging around.”

“Ha, ha, very funny.” Nightwing hopped over the couch and proceeded to turn on the tv.

“Wait, you’re staying here?”

“Well, I’m not leaving you alone.”

“Why do you even care?!” You were growing more and more frustrated with the situation you had been thrust in.

“Just trying to help, calm down there princess.”

That name, why did he have to use that name? “Don’t you dare call me that!” Tears escaped from your eyes before you had a chance to stop them. You sunk to the floor, shaking. Nightwing quickly realized his mistake and was at your side in seconds.

“Hey hey, calm down. I’m sorry. I just…I saw you, at the gala. And when they took you, well I couldn’t do nothing…and not just because I’m Nightwing.”

You looked up at him, tears still looming in your eyes, “You were at the gala?”

“Yeah, more importantly though…why were you?”

“I was…looking for someone.”

“Who?” You didn’t want his judgement, so you said nothing. Dick sighed at the lack of response but didn’t press you further. “Why does Maroni want you?”

“Who knows.”

“Y/N, you gotta give me something to work with here.”

“I really don’t know. I was…I was at the gala to try and figure out. My name was beginning to pop up more than usually on the –” you stopped yourself, you were talking to one of the ‘good guys’ after all. Dick threw his hands in the air.

“For Christ’s sake Y/N, I’m not going to judge you. Just let me help you dammit.”

“Alright, calm down bird boy. My name was circling around the dark web, more than it should be. I was worried my father did something stupid again. I always seem to pay the price for him…”

“I know he’s your dad…but why protect him?”

“Protect him?!” A laugh escaped your lips. “God, I wouldn’t protect that monster. I just don’t actually know what he’s doing. Anytime I do see him…well it’s usually because he’s bargaining my life for his.” You looked down and mumbled, “To either side. Masked vigilantes, masked criminals? They all see me as one thing, I’ve got the scars to prove it.”

“I don’t.” Nightwing reached up and pulled off his mask. “I don’t see you only as his daughter.”

A small smile formed on your lips as the familiar face looked back at you, “I wish I wasn’t. I was looking for him at the gala.” A look of shock donned Dick’s face. “His next target was there.” You offered the information as an explanation.

“Do you know who it was?”

“…Dominic Nero.”

“And you didn’t warn him? Or try to stop your dad?” Now you could see Dick getting mad, you could see his image of you falter, change into the one everyone else saw. Henryk Y/L/N’s daughter. You rose from the floor, making your way to the bedroom, and saying nothing.

Dick tried to rectify himself, “Y/N I didn’t –” The words were too late, as you shut the door inches from his face and crawled into the bed. Your mind was filled with nightmares, both of memories and of what is yet to come.

**

You woke in the middle of the night in tremendous pain. Carefully, you rolled off the bed and made your way to bathroom in search of painkillers. Traipsing back into the bedroom you saw a figure in the corner of the room. You saw it, but it didn’t quite register in your mind, which only created more problems.

“What? Not even going to acknowledge your dear old dad?”

Your face contorted with confusion at the words. “Henyrk?”

“Come on princess, let’s get you out of here.”

This wasn’t right… You bolted for the bedroom door, but with your injuries, your father easily stopped you.

“Man, those boys really did a number on you. I told them not to hurt you.”

“I’m sure. I knew they were yours. Your little test failed. If I did know where you were, I would’ve given you up in a heartbeat. DICK –” Your father’s hand quickly went up to cover your mouth. Thankfully, not fast enough, and he knew it.

“He can’t protect you forever.” Henyrk turned and jumped through the window as Dick threw open the door and saw you on the floor grasping your knees to your chest.

“Y/N…” Dick surveyed the room and noticed the open window, “what happened?”

“He found me. I knew he would find me. Why would I try to go after him? I should’ve run.” You violently shook your head. “I knew I should’ve run.”

Dick sat beside you, “If he found you here, running wouldn’t have done you any good.”

“I didn’t ask for this.”

“I know.” Dick pulled you into his chest. “I’m sorry.”

Once you had fallen asleep, Dick placed you back in the bed and called his brother.

“Tim? I need everything you have on Henyrk Y/L/N. And I need you to round up Jason and Damian and be at safe house delta for a briefing. We need to end this.”

“We’ll be there at the end of the hour.”

**

You woke up to multiple voices in the living room. Looking around, you began to wonder if you dreamed the encounter with your father. I mean how would he have found he here in the first place? You sat up and looked around the room, searching for any signs of a break-in. There were none. Slowly, you got up and headed out of the room. Your eyes were met by four other pairs. Most of them gave you looks of sympathy, save for the youngest who looked at you with resentment and disgust.

“Was there a party invitation I missed?” Your words came out slightly hoarse and much less confident than you hoped.

“I was sharing the information I gathered about your father.” You recognized the boy who spoke, it was the same one who stopped you from leaving the vigilante headquarters the day before.

You let out a chuckle, “Well this will be interesting. Mind if I sit in on this meeting?”

“I don’t know if that’s a good –” Dick began, but Jason soon cut him off.

“She might have some useful information.”

“That is unlikely.” The youngest boy scoffed.

“I can tell you it looks like he’s building his own army against Maroni. Whatever shit he pulled…” your words trailed off.

“Why do you think building his own legion means he did something?” Dick questioned.

“Because I know my father. He hates working with people. And there’s one last effort move he always makes when he’s in trouble. It hasn’t failed yet.” You pushed down the horrific memories that started to stir in your mind. “For him to skip that…and go straight to amassing an army…it’s bad.”

“How do you know he skipped it?” Jason looked at you quizzically, wondering what this move was.

“Because it’s me…he trades me.”

“How do you know he didn’t? The men that grabbed you…”

“Were his,” Tim had already pieced the puzzle together and answered Jason. “Weren’t they?” He turned towards you, you nodded in confirmation.

To your surprise, the youngest boy’s face twisted as more information surfaced. “Your father let his men injure you in this way?”

“I think I found out why Maroni is after him.” Tim interjected as all eyes turned to him. “He killed Maroni’s sons.”

“I thought Holiday –” Jason started.

“We all thought it was Holiday. How did we not see this before?” Dick looked to his brother.

“Something one of the men said when we got Y/N back, about how his boss wanted the princess. And then Dick told me your reaction to the name. It had to be your father’s name for you. I started looking at all your father’s connections and there was a bystander testimony claiming they heard the killer arguing about a princess.”

“Why would he have been talking about me to the Maroni brothers?”

“That is a question only he can answer.”

You nodded, “So then boys, what’s the plan?”

“You’re going back to the Manor. It’s safer.” Dick’s tone seemed almost angry.

“The Manor? Is that the dark and creepy place I was before? Because no thanks. I don’t want to deal with any more masked people. I’ve been given enough from them as it is.”

“You know we are the good masked people, right?” Jason soon corrected his statement, “Well they are, I’m more of a neutral party.”

“I’ve never known a good person in a mask.” You watched Dick’s face twist with disappointment, just to dig the knife in further, you continued. “I have the scars to prove it.” You lifted your shirt and pointed to the mangled flesh. “That’s from an arrow from your ‘hero’ Green Arrow. Oh and we have this piece from the Wondergirl.” You pointed to a circular mark burned around your ankle. You were hoping that was enough to push them away from you. Unfortunately, it wasn’t, as you turned to go back to the bedroom Dick called out.

“Don’t think that’s going to make us give up on you. You deserve to be free from your father.”

You didn’t turn back to face him, so you didn’t see all his brothers (even Damian) nod in agreement.

A few hours later you walked out of the room and saw Tim sitting at the dining room table, his faced glued to a computer.

“How did you get stuck babysitting?”

“Dick thought I would be most convincing to get you back to the Manor. I believe I have located your father. They went back to gear up now.”

“I’m coming with you.”

“I don’t think that’s a smart idea. You’re already injured.”

“Yeah well, what’s the harm then?”

“You could slow us down and get someone else hurt?”

You huffed in annoyance. Why did this little brat have to actually make a point? “Fine.” You grumbled out, “take me to the damn Manor. Then join your brothers so they don’t all get themselves killed.”

“You knew?”

“I’m not stupid. Just like I know your dad is Bruce Wayne, which makes him Batman. Where is he anyways?”

“Helping the Justice League. Let’s go.”

**

All the vigilantes stared at you as you walked into the room. Finally, Dick made his way over to you.

“You know you’re not going, right?”

“I know. But I also knew it was pointless arguing with Tim, especially when he was right.”

“I still have to admit, I’m surprised you came here.”

“Yeah, well, my dear old dad already knew the location of that safe house. Didn’t have too many other options.” Just then Tim walked in, geared up. “Now you all go before my dad decides to move.”

“Alright…” Dick turned around reluctantly. He knew something wasn’t right. If only he really knew. You waited a few minutes and then set out yourself, you couldn’t afford to stay too long, less you wanted your father to know who the vigilantes really were. You planned to set up shop near your father’s hideout, not only to lure him out, but also so the bird boys were nearby if you needed them.

**

Dick watched as you took one of their bikes out. I fucking knew it. He radioed his brothers.

“Yeah, I was right, she just left. I’m going to follow. Don’t move on Henyrk just yet.”

He followed you to an abandoned convenience store just across the street from the supposed location of your father.

“Well, it doesn’t seem like she’s moving. Just staying across the street. Been standing in the middle of the room for nearly five minutes now.”

“I wager she’s waiting for her father.” Tim explained.

“How would he know where she is?”

“I’ve been thinking about how he knew where the safe house was. You brought her from the Manor, there’s no way he followed her. And he knew she was at the gala…I think he’s got a tracker on her.”

“Shit. How could I not have seen that?”

“Perhaps you were too distracted, Nightwing.”

“Can it, Robin. Do you see any movement?”

“People are gearing up. I’m sending the demon spawn your way. The replacement here can stay with me and follow him.”

**

It only took about ten minutes for your father to saunter in through the door.

“So where is it?” There was a chill to your words.

“Oh my dearest princess…”

“Just tell me. I can’t be your bargaining ship for this anyways.”

“I don’t know, a daughter for a son. Seems like an even trade.”

“But you killed two.”

“Hm, I did didn’t I?”

“Why couldn’t you have just left me out of this? I didn’t want to be in your world!”

“But you’ve always wanted to help people.”

“Never you.”

“Come now, princess. It’s time to go home.”

“I’m not YOUR PRINCESS and you have never been my HOME.” You pulled a pistol from your waistband. “Just leave me alone, or I will kill you.”

“I doubt my sweet little princess could even use that. Nonetheless kill her father, her king.”

You let out a disgusted laugh. “Oh, the tracker didn’t tell you all those days I spent at the range? Or how about all those hours I was locked up paying your debts? How do you think I got out? By asking nicely?” You lowered the gun and shot centimeters away from his foot. “Next time, you may lose a toe…or maybe I’ll just go straight for your crown.” You raised the gun back to his head.

“I don’t think my boys here would like that very much. Especially Ethan, I hear you gave him this lovely wound.”

“Yeah and a broken nose. Plus, I don’t think MY boys would like you threatening me very much.”

“Princess, look around. You’re alone.”

“If you’re willing to take that risk.”

Your father scoffed and as he motioned for the men at his sides to grab you, you shot directly through his raised hand.

“Remember, I warned you!” You screamed back at him as you ran into the shadows. Feeling hands grab you from behind and spin you around, you let out a small sigh of relief. “I almost thought I was hallucinating you following me.” You whispered at the black and blue clad figure.

“You shot him.”

“I didn’t kill him. Now can we get out of here. I got what I needed.”

“But you didn’t get anything.”

You gave him a smirk as you headed for the doorway. “Tell your brothers to get out.”

“We can’t let him go free.”

“Man, you gotta work on that trust thing…Nightwing. I don’t want to tell this story twice, so to your little cave and I’ll explain everything. I’m also going to need a ride.”

“What about the bike you stole?”

“Someone’s going to have to pick that up.”

Dick eyed you curiously but led you bike to his anyways. He then watched in shock as you pulled out a knife, using your broken wrist to cut into your forearm. You smiled as you pulled the tracker from the flesh and threw in to the ground.

“We could’ve done that way cleaner at the Batcave.”

“Didn’t want to take any chances…or have him that close to me any longer.”

**

“Alright Y/L/N, your wounds have been tended to. Enlighten us.”

“So impatient Damian. Well I knew the only way he could’ve found me in that safe house was a tracker. So I needed to get out of the…what did you call it? Batcave?” You looked at Dick as he nodded in confirmation, “as soon as possible so the asshole didn’t come here. I knew he would be checking up on me after Dick interrupted our conversation last night. So I went to him, that way you guys would be close by. I was surprised Dick followed me though.”

“I’d like to think I’ve gotten to know you a little after these past few days.”

“So why didn’t you kill the bastard then?” Jason piped up.

“Well, believe me I wanted to, but I just don’t know if I could cross that line.”

“What about that tale you spun to your father then?”

“It was true, Jason, I never said I killed anyone. Just that I was very good at wielding a gun.”

“So, what plan did you have, why did we let him go?” Tim grew impatient, as he worked hard building the file against Henryk.

“Well, I may have sent your file over to GCPD, Tim. And I may have recorded his confession that he killed the Maroni boys. And I may have had GCPD take down his headquarters while I was chatting with him. He walked right back into an ambush.”

“We could have just taken him in ya’know.” Dick looked at you, confused as to why you went the extra steps.

“Didn’t want him holding more of a grudge against you lot…plus I’m still not a fan of the masks.”

“And yet you donned this intricate one when we met.” He walked over and pulled the mask from the drawer.

“You kept it?”

“Alright! I’m out.” Jason turned to leave immediately acknowledging where the conversation was headed, his brothers hot on his heels.

“…”

“I suppose they do have their purposes.” You reluctantly answered his question as he made his way over to you. Gently he tied the mask around your head. “Well, does it fit?”

“Perfectly.”

[hockeylvr59]

YOU LIKE BIZNASTY?! UGH YES PLEASE WRITE SOMETHING SMUTTY ABOUT HIM- OMG OMG WHAT IF HE ACCIDENTALLY HURT HIS GIRL IN THE SEX AND THEN GOT WORRIED AND THEN APOLOGIZED AND MADE UP FOR IT AFTER

“Like” is definitely too weak of a word. You can ask pretty much anyone…I’m lowkey obsessed with that man. 

If you want smutty biz you should definitely check out “Anything You Want” in my masterlist. It’s biz and seguin but it is very very smutty. 

But since it is his birthday and I didn’t have anything else written to post for it, enjoy this smutty little 760-word blurb I just wrote up:

Paul had been “laying off the piss” since New Years, but tonight was his birthday and the two of you had gone out to dinner together and ended up sharing a bottle of wine. While a bottle split between the two of you meant that neither of you was drunk, you were both just a little bit buzzed. 

Arriving back at his condo, you’d slipped your shoes off before leaning up to kiss him murmuring for him to meet you back in his bedroom. As soon as the words left your mouth, Paul groaned and his eyes visibly darkened. Slipping down the hall to his room you slipped off your sweater, draping it over the chair in the corner of the room. Next to go was your sundress, leaving you in nothing but the silk lingerie you’d been wearing underneath. You had just settled yourself onto the bed when Paul appeared in the doorway, two bottles of water in hand. The second his eyes landed on you he cursed. 

“Happy birthday Paul.” You murmured, watching as he stalked over to you, setting the waters on the bedside table before leaning in for a kiss. 

“Happy birthday to me indeed.” He whispered in reply, the gruffness of his voice growing with his arousal. “This my gift?” He teased and though you’d technically given him something while at dinner, this was a little bit more intimate of a present. 

“I’m yours tonight.” You agreed and immediately Paul pounced on you, his hands slipping under the silk to rest on the skin of your hips. Fueled by the little bit of booze and the joint you could taste on his breath, Paul quickly had you undressed and spread out for him on his bed, your hair fanned across the pillows. Having been keyed up all through dinner, you really didn’t need extensive foreplay. “Please fuck me…” You requested, your hand on the back of Paul’s neck preventing him from sliding down your body. “Just need to feel you.” You insisted and it didn’t take much to get Paul to comply with your request. 

Having been exclusive for quite a while, and with you on the pill, you’d previously mentioned not using condoms if that was something he wanted. He’d never taken you up on it, but after inquiring whether that was something you were still okay with, you fell Paul line himself up with you, pressing into you bare. It was a new and different feeling, but one you were already immensely enjoying and you found yourself moaning as you stretched around him. 

Locking your ankles around his waist you rocked your hips up into his, motioning for him to move. When you’d first started dating you’d teased Paul about whether or not he could live up to his reputation…but he’d quickly proven that rep to be 100% accurate and then some. Paul’s love for sex and experience meant that he knew exactly what to do in order to bring you the most pleasure. 

Today was about him though, and so you murmured for him to use you. His hands immediately tightened around your hips in response and his mouth bit down on your nipples and neck as he pistoned inside of you. It wasn’t until he had spilled inside of you that his frenetic energy waned and he noticed the already darkening bruises littering your skin and the slight amount of blood on your lip from where you’d bitten down on it. 

“Baby…” He murmured, his entire body expression immediately softening as he looked down at you, guilt filling his eyes. “Fuck...why didn’t you tell me I was hurting you?” He whispered. 

“Paul...I’m fine.” You insisted, leaning up to kiss him softly. “A few bruises won’t kill me.” Your reassurances didn’t seem to make him feel any better and he sighed into your kiss, his fingers reaching up to tangle in your hair. 

“Don’t ever want to hurt you though.” He breathed and you felt the air shift at his words. “Will you let me make it up to you love?” He questioned and while it wasn’t that three little word phrase, it was a step closer to it. 

“It’s your birthday. You can do whatever you want.” You reminded him, any further words cut off by a kiss as Paul settled himself between your thighs, determined to make up for each and every mark on your skin with an orgasm. It might have been his birthday, but you weren’t sure you weren’t getting the better end of the deal.

[renaerys]

20. “Have you slept?” (Brick/Blossom)

{{Original posting unfortunately deleted. Reposted here.}}

February Fic Prompt #20 originally requested by the lovely philosophicwax. 

Summary: It's finals week at college, and Brick has hardly slept in two days while studying. A weird monster attacks because of course it does, and he has to team up with Blossom to bring it down while all he really wants to do is take a nap. 

xxx

The great thing about college was that Brick was on his own, living his life, nine months out of the year completely on his terms. No brothers nagging him for shit, no cleaning up after anyone but himself, and no disruptions during study time. His life, his rules, quiet and tranquil.

Except for the giant, sentient hairball currently terrorizing north campus that some poor asshole (Brick) would have to deal with.

Because the worst thing about college was that he was on his own, living his life, nine months out of the year without his brothers around to follow his lead without question.

“Evacuate to Prospect Avenue!” Blossom’s clear, commanding voice rang out over the shouts and screams of fleeing students.

Which, cool. Drunk, sleep-deprived twenty-year-olds in their pajamas at three in the morning were totally going to listen to the imperious Super flying above them in her pink camisole and Ivy University logo sweatpants.

Spoiler: they didn’t, and Brick was forced to abandon his warm, solitary room and his physics textbook in only a pair of old basketball shorts and his favorite red T-shirt in favor of saving a hysterical Freshman from split ends that would have literally split her end to end.

Crimson afterglow marked Brick’s path and singed the sentient tresses that crawled like tentacles after the panicking Freshman. Pudgy and cute and in the throes of a panic attack, she clung to Brick’s shirt even after he set her down a safe distance from the monstrous hairball.

“Please don’t leave me!” she sobbed.

Brick pushed her off him. “Get a grip, you’re not dead.”

She reached for him again, frightened and unable to defend herself against the supernatural monster and yes, okay, logically he knew it wasn’t her fault but fuuuuuuuuck what a pain in the ass this was.

He sidestepped her and she stumbled, almost falling, until he caught her by the elbow so she wouldn’t break her nose on the concrete. “Jesus fucking Christ.”

“Please,” she sobbed, genuinely frightened.

Brick winced. “Just get to Prospect Avenue. It’s that way.”

And with that, he left her to follow the screams of her fellow fleeing students because she was not his problem. If Blossom had already decided on a proper evacuation plan, then that meant less work for him. Lord knew he was too tired for this shit running on three hours of sleep in the last 50 hours courtesy of two finals in as many days back to back. He had four left. He did not have time for whatever the hell was going on tonight.

Crack!

Blossom crash-landed in the green not four feet from where Brick stood. Her sweatpants were streaked in grass stains and her mane of wild, red hair was swept up in a very messy bun.

“Brick,” she said, a bit breathless, a bit pissed off.

“Blossom,” he returned.

Their passive-aggressive greeting was cut short when a lash of prehensile hair came slamming down on top of them. They bolted in opposite directions, nothing but pink and red vapor, and reconvened high up in the air. Brick got an eyeful of the creature steamrolling through campus and wondered why, even so far from Townsville, he still had to deal with this weird crap.

Talk about a bad hair day, Boomer would have said if he was here. He wasn’t, and Brick just scowled.

“It’s growing,” Blossom said grimly.

Son of a bitch, she was right. The thing was sprouting more arms to help it crawl overland and tangling around the gothic architecture like the ivy this elite college was named for. It slithered through windows and drain pipes, as though searching for life hiding inside.

“Cool,” Brick said.

He was so tired.

“Can you try—”

“Not unless you want me to burn down all of Balin Hall in the process,” he interrupted her, already knowing what she’d ask. Ignoring her frown he said, “What about your—”

“Same problem, opposite outcome. These old buildings will crumble if I freeze them,” she said.

Brick matched her frown. “Fine. Then we split up.”

She looked at him far too gravely for three in the goddamn morning. “That’s not a plan.”

“It’s the best you’re getting from me right now, so stop complaining.”

That earned him a scathing glare. “Brick—”

But she didn’t get her chance to chastise him because a massive hair tentacle shot toward them with deadly accuracy and exploded into nine smaller tentacles when it was upon them. Brick darted away from the mutant tresses, but he wasn’t quick enough. Thick, black hair wrapped around his ankle and yanked him down hard enough to send his jaw rattling.

The stone shingles of a Sophomore dorm building came rushing close. He twisted, tried to get away before impact, but the thing was fast and strong and those shingles couldn’t break him but hell if they didn’t hurt on impact. Brick grunted as he gasped for breath. His back roared with pain, but the Chemical X bonded to his bones was quick to mitigate the damage, leaving him breathless with the brief, phantom memory of it. He gathered scarlet energy in his palms and blasted the hair tentacle shackling him, but the damn thing only quivered like water wherever his energy blasts hit it.

He felt it before he saw it, a cold so unnatural it grabbed him like a vice and squeezed until he nearly choked. Ice crystals bloomed upon the hair, slowing and freezing it until it lost all sentience and cracked like dry pasta under Brick’s immense strength. He blasted out of there and pulled up alongside his savior.

“You said you weren’t going to use your ice breath,” he snapped.

“Thanks for your help, Blossom, I really appreciate it,” she said, flying alongside him in a swoop back around toward north campus.

Brick rolled his eyes and immediately regretted it. Exhausted and severely sleep-deprived, he briefly saw double and faltered. A warm hand steadied his arm.

“Hey, are you okay?” Her voice lacked the smarmy edge this time and she looked at him with a measure of concern.

Brick was about to tell her to focus on the monster instead of him, but he didn’t get the chance when more hair lashes shot after them with the persistence and speed of homing missiles. Brick grabbed Blossom and flew, but he didn’t make it ten feet with her in his arms before a mass of writhing hair surrounded them and constricted.

Blossom gasped for air as she tried in vain to extricate herself, but between Brick’s ironclad hold around her and the hair shackling them together, neither of them could move. The hair squeezed tighter, and Brick gagged.

“B-Brick,” she said, her voice raspy against his neck. Her hands were flat against his chest and they were pressed so tightly together that he could hear his own heartbeat thundering under her fingertips. Even now, he could feel her trembling as they slowly, painfully suffocated.

And now he was good and furious.

Acrid, black smoke swirled in his lungs, hot and building. As little as he could move, he fisted the back of Blossom’s camisole in a silent plea. But three months and change here without either of their siblings around gave them ample time to learn each other free of distraction, and words were hardly necessary anymore. She ducked her head against his shoulder as close as she could get, and he turned his head as far from hers as he could manage before opening his mouth and releasing a concentrated inferno upon the hair binding them.

The effects were instantaneous. The fire gorged on the evil strands with abandon and drew a chilling scream from deep within them. Soon Brick and Blossom were suffocating from the smoke and heat rather than constriction. But it lasted only a moment; the second he felt the pressure around them slacken, he took off as fast as he could before the fire could consume them too.

So much for not burning down north campus, he thought, resigned.

Blossom coughed against him, and he realized he was still holding on to her. Rose met red as she looked up at him. “Thank you,” she said.

He as so tired that all he could do was stare at her for a minute. He was pretty sure she’d never looked at him like that before, without a trace of suspicion or superiority, genuinely happy to have him there.

The hair shrieked again, and both of them looked down on the burning mass below. Except, it wasn’t burning much anymore. The hairball somehow managed to sever the huge chunk lost to Brick’s fire and save itself from burning up entirely. The melted mass stank and smoked and made Brick’s bloodshot eyes water as he watched it turn to ash in mere seconds. Unfortunately, the rest of the hair that had escaped the conflagration was resilient and began to gather and engorge as it angled for Brick and Blossom, like it knew they were a threat it needed to eliminate.

“That hair is psychotic,” Blossom said with such gravitas that under different circumstances, he probably would have laughed at the lunacy of it all.

“Yeah,” he said. There wasn’t much else to say.

She’d pulled away as they hovered, sharp eyes narrowed in thought. Brick, head buzzing with adrenaline keeping him excruciatingly awake, also racked his brain for something that might help him. It came to him like lightning, and Blossom glanced at him in the same moment with the same conclusion.

“What if we led it—” she began.

“—to Tower Lake?” he finished.

She smirked. “Genius.”

“Efficient,” he agreed, managing a tired but determined grin of his own.

The great thing about college was that Brick was on his own, living his life, nine months out of the year with the only person on the planet who was sharp enough to understand him and his thought processes without the added annoyance of explanation.

She took off in a burst of pink, and he flew in the opposite direction, knowing he could trust her to move and adapt with him without the extra guidance their siblings often required.

Her laser eye beams drew the hair monster’s attention eastward, and it roiled like a thundercloud as it scrambled up the side of Balin Hall and launched into the air after her. But Brick was there and ready to blast it with his own laser eye beams, enabling Blossom to slip away from the grabby tentacles. Something within the tangled mass roared, animalistic, and soon it was tearing after him.

Just as it was about to grab him, there was Blossom with a burst of icy wind. They tag teamed the monster, leading it ever closer to the lake where the rowing team practiced, remote and clear of students at this hour. Enraged, the hairball clambered after them, determined to swat them out of the sky until they rebuffed it with fire or ice, only to draw it in again with their lasers.

The giant hairball was not smart, to the surprise of absolutely no one, and when it reached the shore it went tumbling into the dark water, unable to slow its momentum. Screeching, the mass writhed and tried to backtrack to save itself, but the water sapped it of its supernatural strength and the tentacles fell limp and lifeless the wetter they got, until it was nothing but a normal, extremely disgusting hairball.

Brick and Blossom stood an arm’s length apart on the shore watching the mass slowly sink to the bottom. It was an oddly hypnotic sight, and he couldn’t look away even as his eyes began to droop.

“Well. We’re going to need a lot of Draino to clear this out,” Blossom quipped.

Brick, half aware of his bare toes sinking into the damp soft sand, laughed at that one. And then he fell.

“Brick!” she shouted, far away.

He blacked out for all of three seconds, just long enough for her to grab him before he could lose what was left of his dignity by falling flat on his ass. Sluggish, he was slow to react to her looping his arm over her shoulders so she could bear his weight and fly them back toward campus.

“Have you slept?” she demanded in that snobbish way she had.

“Think I just did,” he said, barely able to stay awake despite the ignominy of being half carried like an invalid. That thought ignited something in him and he jerked, making them swerve.

“Watch it! Oh, for heaven’s sake.”

He rubbed his stinging eyes and didn’t really fight her as she led him back through the window to his single dorm room. Luckily, the hair monster hadn’t infiltrated his building, so his room was in the same state as he’d left it.

She let go of him and he landed on his twin bed against the wall. And then he realized what had just happened.

“What the fuck, Blossom?” he growled and staggered to his feet.

He didn’t take even a step from his bed before she pushed him back down with her strength.

“Have you slept?” she asked him again, but it came out sounding more like a threat this time.

“I’m vaguely familiar with the concept,” he snapped and tried to get up again.

She pushed him down again and pressed her hands down on his shoulder so he couldn’t get up again. Red eyes glared up at her, seething, but she matched his venom with her own, and the sight made him falter.

“They say sarcasm is the lowest form of humor. You need to sleep.”

“I need to study.”

Her hands squeezed his shoulders, and her expression softened. “Is that why you’re so tired?”

“No, I’m always tired after dealing with you.” Absurd, every minute of this. He couldn’t even stand up with her weighing him down and blocking him.

Her hands sparked with her power, pissed off at him as usual. Brick wasn’t one to believe in fate or some higher plan, but it was times like this that he seriously suspected the universe was fucking with him by giving him a literal perfect match with the most annoying personality he had ever encountered.

He sighed and rested his weight on his hands on the bed. The power she channeled to her fingers had a lovely, soporific effect as it danced over his neck and shoulders, though he would never, ever admit this to her. “What are you even doing here?”

Her fingers clenched and slackened, like she couldn’t decide, and he bit his lip to stifle a groan. God, that felt good.

“Rest,” she said, much closer than she’d been before.

Her tempting fingers moved from his shoulders along his neck and threaded through his short, red hair. Her nails were clipped but not so short that he couldn’t feel them scrape pleasantly along his scalp.

Sleep-deprived going on his third all-nighter and utterly drained after the adrenaline burst of having to fight a monster tonight in the midst of finals season, Brick finally gave up and leaned into her touch with a needy sigh.

“Blossom,” he mumbled. She smelled faintly of smoke and of him, and the heady scent made him smile to himself. His hand found the hem of her camisole and clenched it gently, a silent, delirious plea to bring her closer.

So smoothly he barely even realized it was happening, she laid him down on the bed, her hands heavy on his chest as if to push him down deep enough for the covers to swallow him whole. Her hair fell around his face, slipped free from its precarious bun, and he breathed her in.

“Rest now,” she whispered, those magical hands still dowsing him in her cool, calming power like waves over his skin.

Unable to resist her, he finally nodded off into a deep, dreamless slumber and didn’t wake again for another twelve hours.

The worst thing about college was that he was on his own, living his life, nine months out of the year with the one girl he could never seem to escape, and whom he’d never managed to keep.

xxx

Blossom gently played with his hair as he lulled to sleep at last, the last vestiges of his controlled resistance finally spent. His fingers remained curled around the hem of her shirt, warm against her waist. Sitting next to him on his bed, she watched his face slacken, at peace as his breathing evened out.

“Why are you so stubborn?” she murmured, running her fingers over his freckled cheek.

He had the determination and purpose of an avalanche, inevitable and absolutely crushing. It had given him the power to catch up to her in school as kids, to challenge her at every turn like no one else could, and to motivate her to try harder, to be better, to give him a challenge worth rising to. She couldn’t say when her feelings had changed. There was not a day, or a moment, or even a sudden epiphany that revealed her deep and tranquil affection for him.

It was as gradual as the changing tides, deep waters hiding truths that had always been there, quietly waiting. She’d been accepted Early Admission to Ivy University, the culmination of her high school efforts, and he wasn’t even sold on college when they went their separate ways for the holiday break. And then, in passing, he mentioned the pre-Frosh weekend in April for new admits; he’d be going, and could he borrow her notes for missed classes since she probably wasn’t?

She couldn’t pinpoint when or how, but maybe that was why. As much as he preferred to remain ineffable and unknowable, he had failed with her. Rather spectacularly, though she would never expose him like that. Not until he was ready.

Carefully so as not to disturb him, Blossom leaned close and kissed his forehead. Ice crystals melted upon his skin, and his fingers unconsciously closed tighter around her shirt.

Stupid, stubborn boy.

But there was time.

The best thing about college was that she was on her own, living her life, nine months out of the year with the boy she’d never been able to leave behind, and never would.

[artificialqueens]

Nostalgia, Part 2 (Rujubee) - Dartmouth420

nostalgia is a series that follows the re-ignition of raven/jujubee’s friendship (with benefits) while jujubee competes on all stars five and raven is working on set. there will be one chapter for every episode of AS5 where jujubee appears. drag names used with male pronouns.

summary: The girl-group challenge is no joke and stressed-out Jujubee needs a break. But then he runs into a certain someone in the hallway… a certain someone who leaves a mark.

warnings: smut, semi-public sex, bodily fluids, hickies

-

When Jujubee watched the episode as it aired almost a year later, he noted that the hickie was very obvious. Oh well. He would simply chalk that down to another one of his questionable shenanigans with Raven, hope nobody noticed and move on. 

The first day of filming the second episode didn’t start out particularly well. It began with Cracker deciding that he had to tell Ongina how desperately he had wanted the other queen to be in the bottom, which was goddamn irritating. Jujubee gave Cracker some healthy side-eye for his bizarre behaviour.

The girl group challenge was difficult, writing and recording original lyrics, and then doing original choreography was time consuming and exhausting. And then Jujubee had to look good and stand out among nine other queens. 

After re-explaining the assignment to India who hadn’t seemed to understand it, Jujubee decided now was the time for a bathroom break, as much due to the actual need as the desire for a brief moment alone. One of an army of PA’s released him and he wandered down the hallway, making a turn to their designated area. 

The lip-sync format twist wasn’t sitting well with Jujubee. While seeing India compete against Yvie last week had made for an amazing show, the development was concerning. Jujubee had spent a significant portion of his prep time before the filming developing strategies for lip-syncing against any of the other girls in the room. He’d watched their performances over and over, learning their go-to moves and considering how to work around or block them. But now there were random lip-sync assassins showing at the last minute? What the fuck, Ru?

Just as Jujubee was turning the corner to the bathroom, he spotted a very familiar ass covered in a very familiar pair of tight jeans. Well, hello. The rest of Raven’s body was there as well, of course. He was talking to somebody, but Jujubee lingered in the hall as the conversation ended and Raven nodded in confirmation and then turned around.

Raven stopped dead when he noticed him, a smile growing on his face. 

Jujubee waved flirtatiously with just his fingers and said, “Hey, dumbass.”

Raven positively sashayed towards him, “Thought you were busy with filming.”

“Bathroom break.”

Raven glanced to the door next to Jujubee and then back, “How’s it going today?”

“I’m so fucking stressed out.”

Raven nodded understandingly and Jujubee glanced at his mouth and recalled their storage room tryst a few days ago. Jujubee was trying not to let the stress of the competition get to him, but it was building up today. And damn it, Raven was such a good stress release.

“Care to join me?” asked Jujubee, motioning towards the door with his head. He doubted he’d get a positive response, there was no way they’d manage to get away with it twice-

But Raven actually, physically, bit his bottom lip and inhaled sharply, and then he glanced over Jujubee’s shoulder down the hall. 

“If we’re quick-”

“We will be-”

“And no one sees-”

“Then fuck yes,” said Raven, eyes still on the hallway. “Just a sec, someone’s passing down there-” he paused, “Now.”

Jujubee pushed the door open and Raven followed him in. The small brightly lit room had a toilet, a urinal, a sink and a mirror, and an oh-so-lovely lock on the door. 

Jujubee had barely turned the lock when Raven was on him, pushing him up against the bathroom wall and kissing him aggressively. Damn. Jujubee returned the enthusiasm, enjoying it immensely since he’d missed out on the opportunity the other day. There was no makeup to ruin now. 

Raven’s hands were already wandering, sliding down Jujubee’s waist to grip his ass and grope the rapidly growing erection in the front of his pants.

Raven deftly unbuckled Jujubee’s belt and fly, palming him through his underwear, and Jujubee returned the favour, touching Raven with an oddly nostalgic familiarity. Rapid mutual hand jobs shouldn’t be a problem, it would a quick and dirty stress release and then they’d go back to work.

Raven was kissing his neck and Jujubee allowed him, enjoying the contrast of Raven’s soft lips on his neck to the quick, almost rough sensation of his hand moving on his cock. 

And then he felt a hint of teeth. 

“Don’t you dare leave a mark,” snapped Jujubee, gripping the back of Raven’s neck, “Seriously. I have enough makeup to do without covering up a hickie.”

Raven pouted and whined, “But I want to.”

“For fucks’s sake,” muttered Jujubee, rolling his eyes. He pushed Raven back and pulled his shirt up. Jujubee drew an invisible line across his chest and said, “My dress tonight will cover from there down, go at it you dumb slut.”

Raven did so with a grin, pushing Jujubee against the wall again and dipping his head to kiss and suck and bite at Jujubee’s chest, while simultaneously returning to job that was, well, at hand. Jujubee shut his eyes let Raven do his thing, reflecting once again on the other man’s blatant oral fixation. But it did feel good, as he flinched slightly at the sensation. Apparently Raven was fully intent on leaving visible marks.

Raven straightened up and Jujubee could reach him again, taking his hard cock in his hand once more and going for it. 

And again, there was something so filthy and satisfying and ridiculous to be doing this with Raven in a random bathroom while the other queens were stuck in the Werkroom going in stressful, anxious circles. Soon enough Jujubee was beginning the feel to the craved-for release. 

“I’m going to come,” said Jujubee, focusing to keep his voice steady. 

“Good,” breathed Raven into his ear. 

A few moments later Jujubee gasped and his vision went briefly white and everything was very, very good and Raven made a noise in the back of his throat and then there was cum on their hands and Jujubee’s stomach.

They stepped away from one another, going to the sink to wash off. Cleaning up afterwards was always unceremonious, considered Jujubee as he wiped the cum off his stomach with a wet paper towel. 

“Ah shit, there’s some on your jeans.”

“Oh,” said Raven, looking down, and wiping it off, “If it stains I’ll just say I spilled some lash glue, it’s fine.”

“Girl, that’s nasty.”

“Ah, shut up.”

Jujubee glanced down at the reddish marks Raven had left on his chest that were already beginning to bruise, before pulling his shirt back down and ensuring it looked neat again. They’d probably fade, and if they didn’t they’d be covered by the top of his dress. His mind was returning to the task ahead of him, worrying about lip-sync format once more.

“These twists, I swear,” muttered Jujubee, fixing his hair in the mirror, “I don’t mind the change in format, but not knowing who I’m gonna be lip-syncing against is stressful.”

“Yeah, that’s kind of the point.”

“We work our asses off in the challenges and then some random queen comes in to assassinate us for five minutes with no stakes against them whatsoever?” Jujubee shook his head in frustration.

Raven leaned back against the sink, “They’ve got some really great people on the list.”

“Oh yeah? Like who?”

“I can’t tell you, that would be cheating,” replied Raven with a smile, gently pushing Jujubee’s arm.

“Coco Montrese? Alyssa Edwards?” asked Jujubee, staring intently at Raven, hoping he could get a hint out of him, “Sasha Velour?”

Raven shrugged, lips pressed shut. Jujubee racked his brain for queens that were known for successful lip-sync assassinations. He himself would have been on the list had he not been competing. Jujubee briefly considered it from the other side, damn it would have been fun.

“Chi Chi Devayne?” he continued, “Kameron Michaels? Dida Ritz? Monét X-Change? Shangela? Manila? Alaska-”

“Stop trying to guess,” interrupted Raven, rolling his eyes. A brief flash of insecurity. Interesting.

“You?” countered Jujubee. The room seemed smaller all of a sudden, more intimate.

“No.”

But Raven was avoiding eye contact, and he was shit at lying and always had been, so Jujubee’s smile just widened and he said, “Oh girl, you are on the list.”

“No, I’m not,” insisted Raven.

“Since when are you a lip-sync assassin?” mocked Jujubee.

“I’m not!” repeated Raven, and then he laughed, “But I did well in the lip-syncs on both my seasons, thank you very much.”

“Bitch, if I’m in the top this week and that screen rolls up and you’re standing there in one of your forty-seven blonde bob-cut wigs, I’m going to fucking walk off set.”

An evil grin split Raven’s face, “Oh, I would live for the drama.”

“If it’s a Robyn song I will personally kill RuPaul,” stated Jujubee.

“But then I’d be unemployed… ” sighed Raven dramatically, dipping his head back and draping his wrist over his eyes, “… and in this economy?“ 

Raven laughed at his own dumb joke. Jujubee narrowed his eyes and watched him for a moment, considering his strategy if he had to lip-sync against Raven. He wouldn’t put it past the production to somehow wrangle the two of them onto that runway together, once again. 

"It’s going to be a fun season, let me tell you that much,” said Raven.

“I’m sure,” replied Jujubee dryly, then he pushed Raven towards the door, “Get out of here, I need to actually piss like I said I would.”

Raven huffed a laugh and unlocked the door, glancing up and down the hallway before shutting it behind him. 

“Well that was a nice long bathroom break,” commented Cracker when Jujubee finally returned to set, “Are you early season girls getting old age special treatment? They barely let me piss.”

“I got some bad chicken earlier, that’s all girl,” dismissed Jujubee. But Mariah was giving him a suspicious side-eyed look and Jujubee was well aware that Mariah was nothing if not astute. Not that Jujubee necessarily had to keep what had happened between him and Raven a secret, but it wasn’t in his best interest to reveal it to the other girls just yet.

The next day they prepared for the Skin I’m In runway and Jujubee realized at the last minute that his dress didn’t cover the most prominent hickie. Damn it, Raven. And now Jujubee was getting some very suspicious looks, so he hiked the top of his dress up as far as it would go and hoped for the best. 

But after the runway and before Shea’s lip-sync battle, while Raven was over by the judges table touching up Ru’s makeup he glanced over and eyed Jujubee up and down, giving him a knowing, flirtatious look. Jujubee just shook his head slowly, nostalgic affection rising in him again despite his better judgement.

[j2hoes]

It’s A Boring Story. (Sweet Pea x Reader)

Summary: Sweet Pea remembers the story of how he ended up dating a Northsider.

Word Count: 2,073

Gif Not Mine. Requests Are Open!

Warnings: Swearing? Self Harm, Sexual Harassment.

Third Person POV. She was shy, sweet and quiet. He was confident, rude and loud. They were the last people anybody would have expected to get together. Yet it happened. The intimidating lion was dating the timid mouse. It was completely cliché, but still people couldn't get enough of their relationship. Even Cheryl Blossom, the school's queen bee, was desperate for details. Though, it was safe to say, Y/N and Sweet Pea were rather private when it came to their relationship. It wasn't that they didn't want anybody to know, in fact they didn't care about people knowing of their relationship. It was simply that they would rather not have anybody getting involved. Meddling in something so personal to each of the teenagers could severely damage the strong bond they had built between one another. Neither one of them was prepared to risk that. "You've been dating this Northsider for months now. Surely you've defiled the angel by now." Fangs' comment caused Sweet Pea to clench his teeth. Especially when he used the name 'angel'. That was his nickname for her, not that anybody knew that of course. The Serpent turned his attention to the row of lockers across from him, gazing at the girl in question. A soft smile set upon his features as he watched her skirt ride up her thighs hen she lifted her arm, reaching for the top shelf in her locker. Fangs gently nudged his taller friends, causing his eyes to land back on him. "You waste too much time prying into my relationship." As the words tumble from Sweet Pea's mouth, three people appear by their side. Three females. Cheryl Blossom, Toni Topaz and Betty Cooper. Their eyes follow Sweet Pea's, all three pairs landing on Y/N, who now stands in conversation with Kevin Keller. Cheryl and Toni glance at each, knowing looks on both of their faces. The boy has fallen off the deep end and now he's drowning. He knows it too. Even if he doesn't want to admit it. "You love her." Cheryl points out, looking between Sweet Pea and his girlfriend. Pea is taken back by the comment, eyebrows knitting together. Toni laughs softly at his lack of speech. Fangs punches his friend, happy that finally he has done some good for himself. Sweet Pea lets his shoulders fall, releasing a deep breath as he silently admits to the group that they're correct. "I never thought I would see the day that Sweet Pea fell in love." Toni smirks as she speaks, pleased that if anybody could make her best friend happy that it was Y/N. "So I think everybody is wondering the same thing. How did you two end up together?" Betty asks curiously, prepared to be shot down completely, like any other time a question has been asked about their relationship. Pea watches his girlfriend as she moves, her hands gently tugging on the soft, woolly sweater that hangs delicately off her small frame. The way her hair falls around her face messily, causing her to continuously push it behind her ears. He remembers the first time he ever saw her do that. Actions so small but somehow beautiful to him. Despite meeting under such strange circumstances, the Serpent knows he wouldn't have it any other way. Eight Months Ago. Y/N's POV. Honeydew's Tattoo Studio isn't the most ideal job, especially for a sixteen year old girl. I'm the lowly receptionist, simply taking bookings and greeting those that arrive for their appointments. It's a pretty simple job, so long as you don't mind the long hours. Which I don't. I'm on my own tonight, the owner's are out of town at some convention. They were considering closing the studio, however, decided against it at the possibility of losing clients. I offered to cover the weekend shifts, it's less depressing than staying in my bedroom all day. The sky begins to darken as the sun sets over the large row opposite the shop. Flicking the lights on, I smile slightly, the entire place instantly ten times brighter. It gives off a friendly vibe, it's welcoming. Well, as welcoming as a place with black walls can be. Sliding my phone out of my pocket, I open the messaging app. Hoping that I'll find a text from my mother. Much like usual, I find that I have no new notifications. At this point, I'm not too sure why I bother to look. She hasn't been in contact in years, despite her promises to do so. I guess I just assumed because she was my mother she would care, but clearly I was mistaken. Placing my phone on the desk, I open the drawer slowly. Eyes falling on the small bag of blades that I carry everywhere with me. Pulling on my sweater sleeve, I graze my hand over the rows of scars. Some old, some new. The fresh ones are obvious. Still red, dying to open once again. Instinctively my hand reaches out for the bag, but as the door to the shop flies open I yank down my sleeve and shove the drawer shut. "Listen I'm in deep shit and I need your help. Please just let me hide out here for fifteen minutes or so." The boy is out of breath, face red from either the cold or running. My guess is a combination of both. I don't speak, simply grab his hand and lead him towards the staff toilets. His hands are huge compared to mine, my fingertips pressed gently on the palm of his hand. When I open the door, he shoots me a wide grin, happily entering the small room without question. Turning the key, I lock the door, making sure that I can do whatever it takes to keep him safe. By the looks of it, he needs it. Slipping the key into the small metal safe, hidden behind a rather large mirror, I manage to convince myself that I've done a pretty good job. My nerves slowly beginning to fade. That is until I hear the door of the shop open for the second time this evening. Several pairs of footsteps entering the building. Taking a deep breath, I round the corner, allowing my presence to be known. Three men stand by the door, each holding baseball bats riddled with nails. Slowly my eyes make their way up to the faces of the men. Based off the studded jackets and downright ragged appearances, I'd assume the men are Ghoulies. Gulping slightly, I watch as one of them makes his way towards me. The hair on top of his head is immensely curly and I try to keep my focus on that so I don't have to stare into his hollow, emotionless eyes. "You know where our friend is? He swung by here a few minutes ago." He asks, voiced sweet almost as though he is talking to a child. Shaking my head slightly, I feel myself filling with dread at the possibility of what may happen. Of what these men are capable of. The curly haired man raises his baseball bat, swinging it into the computer that sits on top of the desk. Wincing at the noise, I do nothing to stop as they make their way through to the back. Following quietly, they all look rather amused as they peer around the room. "He wouldn't happen to be in that room there would he?" Before I even have time to answer his question, he is striding over. Hand on the doorknob, pulling on it as hard as he physically can. No matter how much he struggles with it, the door won't budge and the frustration is evident on his face. "Where's the key?" He asks, voice impatient and demanding causing me to shrink back. "I don't know. My boss is out of town, they probably have it." I lie, doing my best to make my voice seem convincing despite the present fear. He growls in anger, kicking over a table of ink. Each jar shatters, sending an array of colour to spill across the tiled floor. When my bosses get back, they're going to be pissed. I'm most likely going to get fired, all for the sake of saving one boy that I don't even know. Sometime I really do wonder how I find myself in these situations. "Strip." Raising my eyebrows, I step back nervously. The three men edge closer, cornering me by the desk Shock evident on my face, the leader of the pack places a hand on my face. Although his touch is gentle, I can still feel the aggression behind the movement. "I asked for the fucking key and I don't believe that you don't have it on you. So strip." Small tears escape my eyes as I kick off my shoes. My mom always taught me that if a guy is pressuring you to do something, then just do it. Don't put up a fight, it will only make things worse. Besides, according to her it's better to face a few minutes of embarrassment and pain rather than the consequences of trying to defend myself. Skirt falling to the floor, I daren't look at their faces. Not willing myself to see how much they're enjoying this. Reluctantly, I pull my sweater over my head, leaving myself exposed to the men in front of me. Out of habit, I try to wrap my arms around myself, in a futile attempt to cover myself up. The leader smirks at me as he strides over, placing his hands over my bra clad breasts. Groping and feeling as much as he wanted. Closing my eyes, I try my best to disassociate from the situation. Though, as his hand travels south I find it increasingly difficult. "Stop it, stop please. I think it's pretty obvious that I don't have the key, so just leave. Please." I whimper softly, pushing on the man's chest, desperate for him to get away from me. He grabs my wrist, fingers tracing along the deep gashes that I made the night before. A deep, cynical laugh escapes his mouth. His goons soon joining in, laughing at my weakness. I've never felt so small, so humiliated. I've never wanted to die as much as I have in this very moment. "Grow up little girl. Cutting is so 2012." When he lets go of my arm, my back slides down the wall behind me. Collapsing into a ball on the floor, I let myself break down. I feel like I'm in heaven when I hear the door close behind them. Though, I can't get over the harsh words and the torture they made me endure. My body shakes violently as I quickly pull on my clothes, knowing that I need to let the boy out of the toilet. The moment the door clicks open, his arms wrap around me in a smothering hug. His hand rests on the back of my head, allowing me to sob into his chest. Not caring about anything else other than making sure that I'm comfortable. "Thank you." He whispers into my hair, pressing a soft kiss to my temple. Clutching at his shirt, I mumble a soft apology which he quickly brushes away. Instead he insists I talk to him. Insists I tell him everything. From what happened with my mother, to what I just experienced, to my problem with self harm. I've never spoken to anybody about my problems before but I manage to let everything out. The boy listening intently to everything I have to say. "You know you're going to be okay. I'm going to make sure of it. I'll be there for you, every step of the way. Just as long as you know you can trust me." He tells me, pulling me in for yet another hug. His arms engulf my small body, yet I don't mind at all. Everything about him is intoxicating, in a good way. From his scent to his height to his voice, it makes me feel safe. He makes me feel safe. Third Person POV. Sweet Pea smiles shyly as he remembers every detail of that night. As he does this, he feels grateful that he and his girlfriend decided to keep things very private within their relationship. Simply because he wanted to keep this story for himself. "It's a boring story. Trust me."

[smartguyreviewed]

1x7 - A Little Knowledge

Original air date: May 7, 1997

Hello there, friends. How are we holding up during these “unprecedented times?” I am currently holding up by pretty much being high 18/7, not sleeping and obsessing over a show that pretty much nobody talks about because I am that bored.

Really, I do want to thank anyone who takes the time to read this blog and/or drop a like. I started this blog because I enjoyed reading reviews of Lizzie McGuire and Boy Meets World. And then I thought of how not that many black sitcoms are pretty much ever really discussed. I watched Smart Guy so much when I was a kid but didn’t realize how important it was to even be watching it because we had so many other black television shows during my childhood, the complete opposite of how it is now. I always thought about even making a YouTube channel reviewing that black ass nostalgia that I love so much, but since I’m in the ugly phase of growing my starter locs, I figured I’d blog for now. 

Alright! There’s my intro. I really did mean it, but I had no idea how else to segue into the opening for this episode. By the way, if anyone is a super meticulous asshole and thinks the numbering of the episodes is off, I was honestly confused because Disney omitted a whole ass episode of the show, so I wouldn’t be surprised if the numbering of the episodes is different here but nowhere else on the web. The first season is already less than 10 episodes, so whatever.

Okay, so we open to Floyd about to do his books but he needs the little precocious calculator to help him out. This triggers me because I still have not done my taxes even though the deadline was extended. Luckily, it doesn’t appear that the Hendersons have any timely bills due but they are broke. After TJ adds up all the numbers, Floyd sees he is definitely not in the black. 

Because the episode is about money, naturally, both of Floyd’s grown children need pricey things all of a sudden. Yvette comes down and asks for a coat to replace this...thing that she’s wearing because it’s clearly ill-fitting. Floyd says he can buy her a new coat, as long as she’s not particular as to which winter she gets it in.

Up next is our Marcus, asking for something totally egregious. At least Yvette was asking for weather appropriate clothing. Marcus is asking Floyd for a $1500 bike. And now I’m confused. Why the hell would Marcus of all people need a bike? If he’s really trying his damndest to get the girls, I thought the band alone served that purpose. Regardless, Marcus needs it and he’s a teenager so the world is going to end tomorrow if he doesn’t get this deathcycle of his. He even tries to manipulate his dad by showing him a photo of Floyd on his bike. I actually think it’s cute how Floyd lights up at the sight of younger him. Maybe he met his deceased wife during these years? 

Floyd breaks out of memory lane and reminds Marcus that he, a human parent, wants the finer things also, including the chance to see his old friends at his high school reunion but that doesn’t seem to have a snowball’s chance in hell of happening. Yeah, because Floyd has to put food on the table for a woman and three guys (yes, I’m including Mo and guys eat a lot and I don’t wanna hear shit about how girls eat a lot too because guys just eat more and that’s a fact) and school all of his children. No room for the finer things.

He then says that Yvette and Marcus can buy what they want but simply have to get jobs. Marcus balks at the idea and says he wouldn’t want work to interrupt his studies. Yvette and TJ have a nice little kii over this since hahaha “Marcus is dumb,” hahaha.

We cut to TJ in his room attempting to strategize ways for the Henderson clan to save money while watching a bootleg version of Jeopardy!. Marcus comes in on the phone with Craig, the guy selling the bike, and convinces him to not sell it, even though Marcus only has 4.2% of the funds. Yvette barges in and is pissed at her annoying little brothers for not unlocking her door when they’re done with the bathroom. See, they share a bathroom in this episode. In another episode, Yvette gets her own bathroom built...somewhere because she’s tired of sharing with them. This bathroom is never mentioned again. In another episode, Marcus temporarily moves to the attic. I just wonder exactly how the Henderson house is built because it seems like there’s so much space yet so little space? 

The boys aren’t listening to Yvette however, because she stank. She credits this funk to the job she just got at the Cluck Bucket, “yanking the gushy stuff out of chickens,” as Marcus eloquently puts it. She brags, saying she makes $100 a week, which is obviously $1000 a week in 90s money. 

After TJ proposes that Yvette cut Marcus’s hair, Marcus realizes TJ is attempting to optimize their family’s finances. TJ really is doing a lot for a 10 year old here. Normally, he’s being extremely rude to them, but in this episode, he’s trying to use his intelligence to fix a problem that he has no business worrying about. Clearly, this intelligence is a gift and a curse. I’m about to be 29 and I worry all the time about things I can’t even control along with the things I can. Imagine being 10, gifted AF and stressing only about adult things you can’t control.

Marcus actually delivers good advice this episode, most likely unbeknownst to him. He commands TJ to turn off his brain and stop worrying because this is something he can’t fix. And Marcus is right. A 10 year old has zero reasons to be trying to balance the family checkbook. It would have been better if he threw a Gameboy at him and told him that’s his homework instead.

But this is TJ and he is the determinator AKA hard-headed. Bootleg Jeopardy! is about to end but the host announces a junior version of the show. TJ checks all the boxes. Youngster? Check. Living in the D.C. area? Check. In desperate need of $25k? Double check!

TJ and Marcus are back home and go over how they’re going to break the news to Floyd since obviously he wouldn’t have given TJ permission to audition if they asked. Floyd seems pissed at first when they tell him but Marcus makes sure to place emphasis on how TJ kicked ass. Floyd is proud now, even though a few moments ago, he was about to go full Papa Bear.

The next day, Piedmont is buzzing about TJ’s television debut but he’s confused because he only told his fam. We then cut to Marcus blabbing to some girl about how he can get her a seat next to him so she can give him a handjob on the sly. (Of course, we don’t even see said girl at the show.) TJ tells Marcus he didn’t want everyone to know because, understandably, now there’s more pressure on him. Marcus responds to this by putting even more pressure on him, telling Craig that TJ is going to win him the bike. Then he puts a damn anvil on it by telling Craig to raise the price to $1700 and he’ll just take the bike now. This will end well.

TJ, under immense pressure because the show is filming in 6 hours at this point (film/TV people, if you’re reading, feel free to say if this is even normal for it to move this quickly especially for an underage guest?), is up late at night studying his ass off and high off legal coke. He’s awoken Marcus who is wondering why on earth TJ would be up this early studying for a quiz television show that has a large monetary prize and they’re broke. He wants TJ to get some sleep by he’s in the zone because he had 20 cups of coffee. After a drug fueled rant, he just passes out. 

6 hours later and TJ is still high. Floyd chalks it up to nerves before TJ starts sprinting around the set. Marcus shows up, announcing he just chained up his new bike to a dumpster. This will end well. He checks in on TJ who is still coked up and not coming down anytime soon. His dad calls him over to meet the other contestants which include Dylan Roof and Yung Sharpay.

After the kids are ushered onto set, Floyd goes to the other hoity toity parents, bragging about their kids’ accomplishments. He dismisses them and says TJ actually has a life. Floyd, you dick! Afterwards, the show begins. The host is opening and says he believes that children are our future. Floyd and Marcus are backstage and in true black parent fashion, once TJ is announced, they lose their shit!

The game is now underway and Yung Sharpay and TJ are caught up. Dylan Roof is pretty much just there because he’s so far behind that it doesn’t even matter. Amy loudly tells TJ that he has a broken leg and they’re loading the shotgun because she just caught up to him. Of course, nobody heard this even though she was loud as hell. Also, racial implications much?

Yvette comes late in her work uniform and is hurriedly trying to tell Marcus a bit of info he’ll want to act fast on, but naturally, he shushes her to listen to the game that TJ is about to possibly lose. Yvette is also a petty asshole, so she doesn’t even try to tell him again. They cut to break and Yvette announces then that Marcus’s bike is gone. Turns out, locking it to a dumpster isn’t the best idea because some guy in a garbage truck stole it dragged the dumpster away. Marcus is pissed and lets slip that he paid $1700 for it which gets him in trouble because he just told Floyd that he was taking it on a test drive. Then the rest of the truth spews out. Marcus says he wanted something from the money TJ was going to win and oh mama is Floyd pissed because he naturally expects the worst from Marcus always and thinks he forced TJ to be in the competition which wasn’t even the case. Floyd tells Marcus he’s going to talk to TJ and warns him to “brace himself” for when he gets back. Yvette gleefully says she’s going to get chalk for his body outline. What did Marcus do to everyone to make them hate him so much? TJ does way shittier things than him and he’s still held in high regard. Hmm.

Floyd comes over to TJ to check in and lets him know that he’s aware of what’s going on. TJ, who has only consumed coffee and chocolate for the past few hours, is now dizzy. Floyd has to remind TJ that he has plenty of time to worry about rent and bills and student loans and credit card debt and finding a therapist and the pressure to have it “together” by the time you’re 30 which is crazy unrealistic. Good lesson and one of the few times I don’t wanna strangle TJ. Understandably, with the pressure off, TJ wants to dipset. The host, while seeing TJ and Floyd leaving, says they signed a contract so somebody needs to fill in for TJ. Cut to one of the funniest scenes in the show, hands down.

The question is how much did Thomas Jefferson, another TJ, pay for the Louisiana Purchase? This is word for word what Marcus-as-TJ says.

“Well uh, let’s see. In DC, the most you can take out of the ATM is $300 and you would wanna hold back a $20 in case something comes up, so I’m gonna say $280, Hugh.”

Yvette’s reaction says it all.

In the end, we see Yvette at the Cluck Bucket, putting on her functional gray pea coat that she probably got from Contempo Casuals or something. Marcus is the janitor now because he has to work off his debt to Craig and because remember, Marcus is a dark-skinned buffoon and couldn’t get the same job as Yvette for some reason. Whatever. I wonder what Yung Sharpay did with her prize money.

Stuff I Noticed:

- Yvette’s jacket. What is this?

- Marcus’s face for Lil’ Dylan and Yung Sharpay versus TJ. I love black families.

White lady on the left does not approve.

- No Mo this episode! :(