#good thing i'm not in college because I would try and strangle one of these guys. I may or may have not done something similar before | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

haetkeeper · 2 years ago

Text

pineapple l.dh / l.hc 🍍

4.9k words — smut (in part 2) with plot!

when paired up with the worst partner in the entirety of the university, this research paper is going to need a lot of work—too bad the topic of interest is sex education. with two geniuses like yourselves, you have two different project ideas, but both of them require you to get a whole lot closer to donghyuck than you’ve ever wanted to be.

essentially a fem! reader x haechan college au

tags / enemies to lovers, reader really dislikes haechan, haechan really loves teasing reader, slight mention of reader x other nct members

warnings / masturbation scenes, use of the word ‘slut’, perv!haechan, explicit language, alcohol consumption, multiple mentions of sex

( part 2 will surely be much worse, but this part will be fairly tame— stay tuned )

damn professor mira park. "I'm not working with him!" you shout in the kindest way possible, gaining nothing but a simple tsk and shake of her head.

"you're the top student in your graduating class," she states, "this project will be far too easy for you if I give you a less challenging partner." she demands, and you can't admit to yourself that she's right. with a huff, you exit the classroom lecture hall. you're dropping her class next semester even if it's the last thing you'll ever do. because lord knows he may kill you first.

she knew exactly what she'd done by the way both you and donghyuck gave yourselves whiplash, spinning to face her as the words left her mouth. she'd paired the two of you as project partners, to write a research paper, a very important research paper to be exact.

the topics were drawn randomly, and you were oh-so-lucky enough to pull sex education, while donghyuck was given the broad subject of fruits and vegetables.

you used to love this woman, she used to be your favorite professor, but she's crossed a line this time. your feud with donghyuck has grown to be ten years old, and worsened as time goes on—but she knows this. the two of you used to be civil classmates, until he hit puberty and began to think with the head of his penis instead of the head that sits on his spine.

argument after argument, fight after fight, the two of you have grown from the bickering, these days opting to nothing but the silent treatment for one another, but he hasn't changed. he's always seen with a posse of girls surrounding him, and never seen without a cocky smirk on his face.

it's often that you spare him with nothing but a glare in the hallways, not deeming him worthy enough to even hear you speak. he doesn't deserve your energy nor your time.

but doing a project with each other will take a lot more out of you than a little bit of energy and time. if you fail to work with donghyuck, you won't pass the semester, nor gain the necessary credit you need to graduate.

he’s always had it out for you— his side of the feud had stemmed from the way you constantly rose above him academically; no matter how good his grades were, yours were always better, and second place isn't somewhere lee donghyuck likes to be.

frequently, while you want to strangle him because he's evil, he wants to strangle you because you're just so damn cute when you're angry. now don't get him wrong, you're an absolute bitch to him, and words hurt. he really was furious at you in most of your arguments and fights, but he can't deny the twitch in his pants every time your face contorts into a fussy reaction for all of his teases and ministrations.

above all, to you, donghyuck may believe you're a demonic spawn from hell; but if you're one thing, it's a good student. because there you were, sitting on the beer stained living room carpet of the neo fraternity house, and trying to put the past behind you.

donghyuck was rustling around in the kitchen, every now and then calling a question over his shoulder, "is tomato a fruit or a vegetable? answer me dumbass." and every senior who entered the front door would eye you either suspiciously or with dark intention. an intention you'd soon figure out when jung jaehyun was cornering you in the frat house bathroom.

so maybe you extended yourself a little too far by agreeing to study at donghyucks place, but inviting him to yours would prove to be much worse.

—

its been nearly a week into the project, and you and donghyuck have done next to nothing when it comes to brainstorming and rough drafting the research paper. you're growing anxious about the final grade you could receive and the importance it holds in your future.

but the frustration didn't keep just you awake all night, donghyuck was up, laid back in bed, and recalling the way you'd raised your voice at him earlier that day.

you roughly explained your worries to him, cute little eyebrows furrowed with discomfort, and you told him that he needs to be pulling his weight in this project.

"use your brain! if you even have one." you flicked at his forehead, and he actually enjoyed the electric jolt of pain your finger left on his skin, and the way your insult clawed at his heart strings. he smiles to himself in bed, 'heart strings', thinking of how you'd probably say that he doesn't have those either.

perhaps it's irresponsible, but donghyuck isn't too worried about this project grade; because if he goes down— you're going down with him. and maybe, just maybe, if he can annoy you enough through this experience, perhaps little miss perfect will get her first C+ score.

behind his eyelids he recalls your lips, pursed in frustration, and your chest heaved up and down in anger, breasts squeezed together and displayed to him from the way you leant down. donghyuck squeezes his eyes together, and to the memory, reaches a hand down to palm at himself over his boxers.

this isn't the first time he's touched himself to the thought of you. it's actually quite often that your blazing fury swirls into a white hot need in the pit of his stomach.

you could hate him with every fiber of your being, but it would only further his fantasy of fucking you. you'd be so angry, yet so needy at the same time, and he'd get you to admit that you must not hate him that much; if his cock was inside you right now.

he grinds into his hand a couple of times, and it's just as the erotic pleasure begins to rush through his veins that it hits him, an idea for the project.

—

the next night, he shows up at your door with a handful of groceries, brown paper bags filled to the brim with fruits and vegetables. "sup bitch!" he cheerily beams at you, immediately gaining a frown in return. "it's me, your lord and savior, here with a present."

you sigh loudly, grabbing a bag out of his hands and turning away from him in pursuit of the kitchen, grimacing along to his nonsensical blabber as if it sounds like nails on a chalkboard to your ears.

you're about to grill him out of annoyance, but what he says next stops you in your tracks, both mentally and physically. "don't thank me just yet, I still haven't told you about the perfect project idea I've come up with."

you spin to face him, taking a drink of coconut milk you've stolen from one of the grocery bags. his slender arm is leaning against the countertop and a confident smirk is painted across his features, "masturbation" he says simply.

just as the words leave his mouth, the milk leaves yours, and you're spitting the drink all over the kitchen tiles. "excuse me?" you squeal, face red with embarrassment at his vulgarity, and donghyuck is laughing harder than he ever has before, head tilted backwards and smiling widely.

"you're such a dick!" you land a punch onto his shoulder and grab a handful of paper towels to clean up the mess. as you glare up at him, he's grasping his skin with a wince, "I thought you were serious. you know how important this project is for me."

at the sound of your words, the expression of joy is suddenly washed from donghyucks face, mouth still agape, but now in a surprised '0' shape. "I am serious!" he retorts challengingly.

when you respond with nothing but a scowl, he continues to defend himself. "our research paper can be a sex educational experiment, covering which fruits and vegetables are best for male and female masturbation!"

you scoff out a laugh in disbelief, rolling your eyes as you stand to your feet, nearly gagging at the mere sound of his voice. "nice, donghyuck nice, you really think professor park will take us seriously with a project like that?!"

he takes a step toward you, lips pursed into a pout as he argues, "I already ran it by her, she finds the concept to be unique and challenging!" there's a twinge of light in his voice, as if he's using aegyo to persuade you into his perverted plan. "what? is little-miss-perfect-student not up for the challenge?"

"I don't know.." you trail off, eyeing the vegetables that sit over the kitchen counter, a cucumber peeking it's way out of the brown paper bag.

it's girthy and long, you shiver at the thought of it, large enough to be painful if inserted inside of your— "it's our only idea, and we have to start this project before we run out of time, so what do you say dumbass?" donghyuck pokes, once again stepping toward you.

"it's gross." you state, and donghyuck immediately rebuttals, "it's bold!"

you raise your voice, "it's strange." your tone is stern. "it's daring!" his tone is bright, like the grin on his face.

"I'm not doing it!" you throw the paper towel, soiled with spit-out coconut milk, right into his chest, leaving a dark stain on his grey shirt.

he glances down at the damp spot, and then back up at you, eyes dark and expression unreadable. he's so close to you now, after the two steps he'd taken before, you have to tilt your head upwards to face him. your heart begins to race, unsure if he's about to land a punch on your jaw, or hurt your feelings with the worst insult you'll ever receive by ear.

"listen," he speaks, voice deep and surprisingly calm in order to reason with you, "we need to start this project," he pauses for dramatic effect, "tonight."

you nod your head in agreement, not breaking eye contact. "so we start it." he continues, "if you come up with a better idea by the end of the school week, we can do that one instead."

the idea is tempting, donghyuck giving you just enough leverage to feel in charge, lending you a challenge for the week, to prove his idea to be stupid, and lesser to one that you can come up with.

"deal?" he asks when your respond with nothing but silence. "fine, deal." and the evil smirk he flashes around his perfect teeth has you regretting your decision.

—

the next twenty-four hours proved to be quite difficult for you. not only were you unsuccessful in racking your brain for any project ideas, but it bled it's way into your school work, and you didn't pay attention in any of your other classes.

donghyuck shows up to your dorm with his laptop in hand and a pair of glasses sitting on the bridge of his nose. he plops down onto the couch and illuminates himself in the blue-lit screen.

"so—" he begins, glancing up at you for a second as he types away at the computer keys, "what is your experience with masturbation?"

"what the fuck?! jumping straight to the point are we? at least take me out first." you yelp, grabbing two water bottles from the refrigerator, allowing cool air to blow on your now flushed face.

"come on it’s for the project!" he annoyedly calls over his shoulder back at you, and you plop down onto the floor in front of him, separated by nothing but the coffee table.

"come onnn! a total slut like you has to have some insight." he murmurs, the words coming out of his mouth— so mean, but a playful pout sits over his lips, as if he's suppressing a smile.

you stare up at him, doe eyes unsure of what to respond with. "i'm not a slut." you state, causing a smirk to crawl its way onto his lips. "oh yeah?" he pokes, and your heart sinks in your chest before he can continue.

"is that why you let mark take your virginity sophomore year?" he asks, pushing the glasses up the bridge of his nose, "how about the time you had that fling with doyoung, but you cheated on him at the senior party?" his tongue swipes out to lick at his lower lip, and he crosses his arms to await your response.

your blood begins to boil, the scowl on your face growing nastier with every word he speaks. "of course I let mark," you stand to your knees, "my boyfriend," you yell, "take that from me— we'd been dating for nearly a year!"

donghyuck feels small as you point your finger in his face, but he's basking in every moment of it. getting a reaction out of you was his only goal, and here the dominoes fall.

"and doyoung?" you continue, tone laced with sass, "fuck him! I never cheated on him." you mimic him by folding your arms over your chest, and with a final mutter, "we weren't an official couple, nor did we agree to be exclusive."

donghyuck shakes his head, letting out a few cocky chuckles beneath his breath, and then reverts his eyes to the laptop screen, "whatever you say, let's get started."

"fine, I've never masturbated with anything before—" you attempt to admit, yet he's already typing away at the keys and speaking once again. but it isn't false, what you've said, fingers aside, you've never masturbated with an object.

"slut." he states factually, dismissing you completely, "anyway! it's pretty obvious that fruits are better for male masturbation and vegetables are better for female masturbation." and you once again grimace at the vulgarity of his words. "I think we should focus on both citrus and melon families, and the marrow and root families."

you're annoyed he's changed the subject, but grateful you don't have to speak about your own masturbational preferences anymore— as of the moment.

he gets up from the couch and makes his way over to your fridge, opening it up and letting himself in, ignoring the scoff you release at him for it. he sets the coffee table with various produce, a large grapefruit, a small watermelon, a long cucumber, a green squash, and a pointy carrot.

"so, which one catches your eye first?" he asks, his slender hand hovering above the vegetables to display your options.

"you mean��," you mumble out, unnerved by his question, "to masturbate with?" and he laughs loudly, making you wish to soak into the carpet like liquid. "yes! which one do you think would work best for your pleasure?" he's smiling across the floor from you.

he waits as you scan the table with your eyes. the cucumber is long and thick, while the carrot is thin and pointy, and to be truthful, you find it hard to believe that either of them would be pleasant to have inside of you. "the squash." you mutter.

"why?" he gently asks in return, his voice high and airy, all sweetened up just for you. "the cucumber is too big, and the carrot is too sharp." the words mumble out of your mouth, and he smiles widely at your innocence.

"too big?" he questions, his tone impossibly quieter than before, and he wraps his fingers around the cucumber. it's similar in size to his own cock, and his body tingles in excitement at your worries. a new fantasy has popped into his head now, and he'll definitely dream ruining you with the size of his penis for the next few weeks.

"how would these," you hesitantly speak, changing the subject from your vegetables to his fruits, "even work for males?" the words stutter out, making donghyuck laugh.

"well," he picks up the grapefruit in his palm, "you carve a hole into the middle," he glances up at you from beneath a pair of long eyelashes and the glass of his spectacles, "and put it in the microwave to warm it up."

you must have a disgusted look on your face by the way he chuckles again, "do you understand, or should I go more in detail?"

"I get it." you snap, suddenly feeling rushed and glancing at the clock, it's getting late, you have plans tomorrow, and you still have homework to do. "lets finish up here for the night."

donghyuck nods his head, a small grin still playing on his lips. "I'll take my grapefruit with me as I go, and leave you and mr.squash alone together." he wiggles his eyebrows, and you shuffle on your knees, immediately groaning back at him. "get out of my apartment you perv."

if you're honest, a tiny part of you feels excited to pleasure yourself with something you'd never thought of before. it's true that you've never masturbated with an object of any sort, only your fingers, and the imaginable stretch this vegetable could give you is already sending waves down to your core.

donghyuck on the other hand, is just as eager, if not more, to get his hands on this project tonight. in fact, when he gets outside to his car, he's ready to speed home and get started.

he's already halfway hard just from the way you spoke to him earlier. not only were you aggressive to him when debunking the rumors, but the topic of sleeping with mark, and who's ever been able to touch you—it has him wishing he was in their shoes.

you're continuing to run through donghyuck's mind as he drives home. he didn't realize you were so pure, he wants to destroy you, in truth, he wants to send you a teasing text message right now, just to see your aggravated response. so as soon as he parks the car outside of his fraternity home, he does just that.

11:41 PM

lee donghyuck: plans tonight? a vegetable orgy perhaps?

he enters the fraternity house, keys in hand, phone in back pocket, wallet in— where's his wallet?

"shit." he breathily curses, jogging up the stairs to his empty room. his roommate johnny must be out for the night, bed made neatly in the corner.

donghyuck plops into his own bed and dials your number, now growing anxious about his missing wallet.

"what do you want donghyuck?!" you sound angry, well, angrier than usual, and if he listens closely, your breathing is labored, as if you'd just done something strenuous.

"don't be a bitch, I just have a question," he says coldly, "did I happen to leave my wallet at your place?"

you groan throatily from the other end of the phone line, and haechan smirks in reaction, happy to be of inconvenience. a soft shuffling rustles through his speakers, and you're annoyedly stopping down the hallway to your kitchen.

his leather platted wallet sits quaintly over the counter top, and you sigh loudly enough for him to hear. "yes it's here, I'll be sure to chuck it at your head in class tomorrow." you sneer, and donghyuck scoffs back an "okay, but I know how much money is in there, so don't even think about stealing any."

you're on your way back to your bedroom when you respond, "fuck you donghyuck, I changed my mind, I'm gonna give it to a homeless man on my way to class."

and before he gets a chance to bite back, you throw the phone onto your bed sheets and snuggle right back in to where you were before he called.

he however, is still on the other end of the line, snarking an unheard comeback into the speaker like his life depends on it. he's completely unaware that the phone has just landed next to a vegetable, the squash, which is laying over the bedsheets in preparation to be used.

once he finishes speaking, he's confused as to why you haven't hung up, because the phone call is racking up the minutes before his eyes, yet nothing but a simple rustling noise comes through the speakers.

before his interruption, you were stroking yourself with the vegetable, experimenting with it like the research project entails for you to. so here you are again, and it's difficult, you find yourself whining out loud when it won't fit inside you, stretching the outside of your hole with a sharp burning pain.

donghyuck inhales sharply when he hears you, that soft angelic whimper escaping your throat— he can only imagine it to be one thing. is there someone there with you? are you touching yourself? do you know he's still on the line? the questions fly through his brain.

it isn't until you whine to yourself "too big," that he really understands what's happening on the other end of the phone. the vegetable.

donghyucks heart races, recalling the size of the green squash in his brain, it wasn't even that large. oh my god, you really have never masturbated with an object before. even though he'd heard you say so earlier, he ignored it out of pure disbelief.

yet now that he knows, he can't bare to hear your despair over the phone, he wants to educate you, he's desperate to help you pleasure yourself in your tiny and untouched hole.

he doesn't want to hang up the phone, but the angel on his shoulder reminds him how dirty and wrong the situation may be. you had to have meant to hang up the phone, there's no way, as much as he wishes there was, that you'd left him on the line on purpose.

so the little red end button is tapped by his finger, and it swiftly makes way to the keyboard, typing out yet another text message for you.

11:41 PM

lee donghyuck: plans tonight? a vegetable orgy perhaps?

12:03 AM

lee donghyuck: you can't make yourself feel good with something so big, unless you warm up first. start with your fingers, take your time, stretch yourself out.

he watches closely as the text bubble delivers, and a heavy fog sits in his bedroom air. the fact that he heard you whimper at the mercy of unreachable pleasure, and knowing that you're masturbating in this current moment in time— it's done something to donghyuck, obvious by the imprint of his hard cock in his sweatpants, and the rapid racing beat of his heart.

—

in the morning, you feel physically ill, when recalling the events from the night before. donghyucks text message had buzzed your phone to life, and your stomach dropped as you read it. there's no way he could've guessed that masturbating is what you'd been doing before and after answering his phone call, and by the amount of minutes the caller ID racked up, you knew exactly what happened.

he heard you. masturbating. with a squash.

in hindsight, it isn't that big of a deal, this is your research project, after all. and donghyuck will need to fuck a food just as well you will, but the fact that he heard you and so nonchalantly gave you advice about it, its so embarrassing.

you cant go into class today, not with this on your conscience, and especially not with the blackmail that the infamous lee donghyuck is now equipped with.

you'll have to switch schools, better yet, you'll have to change your name.

donghyuck was confused when he entered the classroom, actually slightly excited to see you at your desk, only to find it vacant and cold in lack of your presence. even professor park herself asked the students if they'd seen you on campus today, worried by the disruption in your perfect attendance.

donghyuck reaches for his cellphone, immediately typing out a text for you, the third text within twelve hours actually.

11:41 PM

lee donghyuck: plans tonight? a vegetable orgy perhaps?

12:03 AM

lee donghyuck: you can't make yourself feel good with something so big, unless you warm up first. start with your fingers, take your time, stretch yourself out.

10:02 AM

lee donghyuck: where are you?

you stare at the text as it buzzes it's way onto your home screen, nausea pooling it's way into your stomach. you knew you hated donghyucks project idea, but you had no idea that it was going to be this gut wrenchingly awful to execute. so you ignore the message—all day.

tonight's plans consist of a wedding, a beautiful reception for your wonderful cousin and the man she loves. and while you're elated for their happiness, you find yourself most excited to take place at the open bar all night.

so here you are, downing your fourth lemon drop shot and ordering yet another glass of rosé champagne from an old female bartender. the ceremony was gorgeous, so was your cousin, and now that she's wedded, the guests are celebrating, you included, until you hear an agitating-ly familiar voice from down the bar.

"can I get another bottle of soju?" donghyuck slurs, leaning over the black countertop to an older bartender. he seems reluctant to give donghyuck what he asks for, but does it anyway.

a sober you would've ducked your head and ran the other way to avoid donghyuck, but drunk you, "what the fuck are you doing here?" blurts out harshly, also slurring your words.

his reaction time is slowed when he turns to you, proving him also to be very tipsy. "what the hell?" he grits his teeth, "the groom is my brothers best friend, why the fuck are you here?"

oh but of course. what an inconvenient coincidence.

"the bride is my cousin, so I'm family. that means I'm more important." the words barely make sense as they string together when leaving your lips. "you should leave." you state, turning away and stomping back toward a dinner table.

donghyuck can't help but glance at your body in the little blue dress you threw on for tonight's event, it flows cutely in the wind behind you as you stumble away in your high heels. he almost chuckles, until he remembers the way you ghosted him all day.

"excuse me?" he hisses, now stumbling after you. "can you rethink the way you're speaking to me lately? I'm a person too you know." he grasps onto your wrist, but you wriggle away from his touch and plop into a dining chair.

it only takes half a second for him to join you, sitting in the seat directly next to yours. "I really enjoyed your response to my texts, by the way. It was really great, super well thought out, had great diction and outstanding sentence structure, I was appalled by your greatness—" he rambles on and on sarcastically about the read receipts and lack of responses left beneath his messages.

"shut the fuck up!" you lean forward to confidently yell in his face, the gutsy move supported by the alcohol in your veins. your heads are close, and donghyucks eyes widen by the fury in your tone.

"if you're trying to hound me about the project—don't." you warn, breath still close enough to fan donghyucks face. "I'm done talking about it with you. from now on, I'll do my part, and you do yours. that's it." a pout sits over your lips when you lean back into the chair and take a large sip of your drink.

donghyuck is dumbfounded by your words, but resonates with them nonetheless. he crossed a boundary with you, and understands the place you're coming from. you've worked together enough so far, and can finish the research paper without discussing the— intricacies.

the rounded table falls silent, each chair vacant, nothing but purses and jackets left by party guests who now reside on the dance floor. you stare into the middle of the white tablecloth, eyes now focused on the fruit tray appetizer sitting in the middle of it.

"I love pineapple." you drunkenly state through the silence, now gripping a tiny chunk of the fruit between your fingers.

the argument is over, and donghyuck watches as you examine the snack and plop it between your lips, painted such a pretty pink color. he wants to laugh at the way you've just went from screaming at him to contently munching on appetizers. "it's alright. I like strawberry better."

your eyes widen in disbelief, cheeks full of pineapple when you debate the matter of his opinion. "what?! pineapple is so much better! it has so many interesting benefits also. did you know that it promotes reproductive health?"

"benefits?" he leans closer, watching as you pick up yet another piece of the yellow fruit. a sober donghyuck would do his own research and try his best to correct the way you're educating him right now, but drunk donghyuck would rather question it blindly.

"yes," you stare back at him, chewing the juicy texture with happiness, "eating it makes oral sex taste better."

his already flushed cheeks are now burning with saturation, and he smiles at your words. "that's such a myth." a giggle leaves his lips beneath his giddy and crescent shaped eyes, and you sit forward in shock.

that's it. a new project idea that totally trumps his flop masturbation idea, and will get you out of it entirely.

"wanna bet? let's research it." you're now facing him straight on, and there's a curious glint in his foggy and intoxicated eyes. he sits back, once again taking in the way the blue dress compliments your figure. “how?”

who knew that a drunk you could think of a project idea much faster than a sober you ever could.

maybe it’s the way donghyucks brunette hair is disheveled around his forehead, or the way his voice has dropped several octaves to a sexy husk, it could be nothing but the lustful look in his eyes.

but whatever it may be, has curated a need inside of you that you never thought you’d form. “follow me, and I’ll show you.”

———★———★———★———★———★———

part 2 coming soon! ( much quicker than part 1 did, sorry for the wait )

TAGLIST: @thisbabydontstop @thelmathinks @trulanxe @jaeymark @nctxtrash @artgukk @jaehmarks @count-your-shadows @pradagukkie @matchahyuck

#finally found motivation to post this #still hate it tbh #sorry it took so long #part 2 will be better 😎#haechan smut #haechan x reader #haechan au #nct dream smut

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incorrectbatfam · 3 years ago

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Hi. I love your work it's super hilarious and always makes me smile no matter the bad I had. I know you mostly only do bat family only. But I really love the BuzzFeed unsolved segment you did with Batman villains. Would it be alright to ask if you could do more of that?

Again love your blog. It's so refreshing.

"Hello and welcome to another season of Buzzfeed Unsolved. Today we'll be covering the enigmatic case of the Riddler."

"I see what you did there, Ryan."

"Thanks, I appreciate it."

"Yeah, I love a good wordplay."

"It's a double wordplay, actually, since his true identity—as we'll dive into—is Ed Nygma."

"Really?"

"Yeah."

"That's a stupid name."

*wheeze*

Shane: "I'd love to sit down for a dinner with Poison Ivy."

Ryan: "Except she could strangle you with her plants."

"She seems like a decent lady."

"She's an eco-terrorist!"

"But she's got a good point."

"—and that's when Roman Sionis became the notorious crime boss Black Mask."

"Wait, so he fused a mask to his face?"

"Pretty much. Kinda gross when you think about it."

"I can imagine. Like, you know when you were a kid and you'd cover your head in saran wrap and try to melt it on with a hair dryer?"

"No?"

"You didn't try to encase your head in plastic when you were a kid? That was a whole thing at my school."

"The fuck kind of school did you go to?"

"You didn't do that?"

"Why the hell would I do that?!"

"Harleen, known for her genius-level IQ, got her PhD in psychiatry at Gotham State University."

"But Gotham's not a state."

*wheeze* "I mean, it's so cut-off it might as well be."

"Also, if my math's right, that means she went to school with Bruce Wayne."

"What are you implying?"

"You know how college is."

"So you think Bruce Wayne and Harley Quinn were—"

"Smashing pumpkins?"

"... Sure. Let's go with that."

Shane: "If I was Mr. Freeze, I'd give up evil and just drive an ice cream truck."

Ryan: "No offense, but you'd be the stranger danger that parents tell their kids about."

"You don't want my ice cream? My evil Arctic laser ray sundaes?"

"Actually when you put it like that it sounds pretty good."

"Here we are in the Joker's abandoned theme park. I'm gonna turn on my spirit box and see if we can pick something up."

"I thought he was alive."

"Depends on your canon."

Shane: "Fuck, marry, kill: Two-Face, Mad Hatter, Man-Bat."

Ryan: "Kill Man-Bat and uh... fuck Two-Face and marry the Hatter."

"Interesting. Care to explain?"

"Well, Man-Bat's, like, an animal, right? Or at least part animal. And I'm not into the furry stuff anymore, so—"

"Anymore?"

"It was an experimental phase."

"Sure. A 'phase'."

"It was!"

"Don't worry Ryan, your secret's safe with me." *winks*

"I'm not—" *takes a deep breath* "Anyway, so kill Man-Bat. Then I'd have a one-night with Two-Face 'cause I think his two halves can get creative, you know?"

"Why're you asking me if I know? Do I look like I know him?"

"Honestly I wouldn't be surprised at this point."

"And then I'd marry the Hatter 'cause Batman's gonna send him back to Arkham in like a week anyway so I'll be free."

"Welcome back to Buzzfeed Unsolved: Postmortem, a show where we answer your most pressing questions about the latest episode of Buzzfeed Unsolved, which was Red Hood. All the questions we have today are from our Instagram, Facebook, Twitter, and directly on the video on BUN."

"Our first question comes from user@jasontoddsnotdead on Twitter: Is it possible that Red Hood was actually a former protogé of Batman who felt he was let down because Batman won't do what's needed?"

*Shane and Ryan glance at each other*

Both, in unison: "Nah."

Ryan: "Our next fan art comes from @robin4 on Instagram. It's basically the Ghoul Boys as a vigilante duo."

Shane: "Would you ever become a vigilante, 'cause I wouldn't."

"Sure. Just not in Gotham."

"The Hotdaga's coming to Gotham City, and this time, they're facing off against the evil Condiment King."

"That's not a real villain."

"It is."

"I don't believe you. It's too over-the-top even for Gotham."

"Well, you better believe it, 'cause we even got a special performance from Catwoman herself."

"Why did I agree to this show?"

#ask #batfam #batfamily #batclan #batman family #gotham rogues #gotham city sirens #dc comics #crossover #tw food mention #tw swearing #tw death mention #tw sex mention

410 notes · View notes

nightowlwriting · 3 years ago

Text

summary: steve is acting weird. avoiding you, being snippy and mean, leaving the room when you enter. all you want is your boyfriend back, but all he wants is to pretend you don't exist. when he's almost hurt on a mission, you do what you're made to do.

word count: 11k

reader specifics: no race/gender/sexuality/body type mentioned, no pronouns for reader used, powered!reader, insecure!reader

warnings: steve is mean to the reader in the beginning, heavy angst, hurt/comfort, canon-level violence, brief ptsd symptoms, slight description of blood, brief mention of racism in the '30s & '40s

brief mentions of: reader's parents being toxic, homelessness, past accidents, ableism in the past & present

note: this one hurt me lmfao. idk why this went the way it did but i'm not mad at it // also i am a queer, trans, disabled american. i have fundamental disagreements with things that marvel/the mcu as it stands for and some of the more nuanced things that you might not notice unless you're looking for it. this will take place in my writing because i cannot separate myself from the lens in which i consume/create content.

title credit: lil nas x

mobile masterlist - request - support my work? - ao3

Falling in love with Steve Rogers went against every instinct you had. You knew that he was going to hurt you from the first moment your lips touched his. Sure - he’s clever, righteous, courteous… You can’t forget he’s also drop-dead gorgeous because every trashy gossip magazine in a three-state radius of New York doesn’t let you forget. Neither does the sight of him waking up in your bed every morning. (Well, actually, maybe that would remind you if he was still fucking doing that.)

But lately, you’ve had to rely on the fucking tabloids to catch a glimpse of your super-hero boyfriend. The university class you had picked up on a whim at the end of the summer - Life & Times of the ‘30s and ‘40s - avoids any mention of Steve Rogers and the Howling Commandos. Not that your classmates do because, Christ on a bike, those magazines manage to catch pictures of you and Steve in moments that you don’t even remember. Plus, you’re an Avenger too. It’s bound to catch some attention when you waltz into a college classroom.

You’re sure if you were an undergrad trying to fill a gen-ed requirement and were sitting next to someone who could kill you without blinking but also dating Captain Rogers you’d be a little distracted too. You try not to blame your classmates too much, but they do make it hard to concentrate with their -really dating Captain America?- and -wonder if I could get an autograph- whispers. None of that matters because you’re learning, really studying, in between missions and missing Steve and believing that maybe the gossip reporters are right.

Maybe he’s forgotten about you.

You grit your teeth and push the thought away. It does you no good right now, while you’re training with Peter. He’s working his way up to bona fide missions and, because you’re the only one on the team who has experience with real-life teenagers outside of saving their lives, it’s up to you to get him to the level that he needs to be. Plus, the mission where he’s going to get his gills wet is just you, Tony, Steve, Nat, and Bucky. You’d much rather be the one to train him because you won’t traumatize him.

Right now, though, you’re just kicking his ass to try and get rid of some of the tension in your body. You feel a little bad about it, but when you started as his mentor you told him point-blank that you’d never go easy on him. That meant if you were having a bad day he either needed to up his game or he’d have a bad day too. It appears he’s taken that to heart as he struggles to dodge the hits you’re throwing his way. He lunges out of the way when you try to land a right hook but practically walks into the leg sweep that sends him crashing to the ground.

“Awe,” Peter groans, letting his guard down. You take the momentary lapse of focus to grab him by the collar of the hoodie he’s wearing and haul him to his feet, jerking one fist back to cold-clock him but he beats you to it. You hear the sound of your nose cracking before you feel it but then the pain rushes you all at once. You’ve had worse but coming from Peter, the move surprises you. You don’t yell out but he does when you push him away from you and call the fight off. Peter practically yelps your name, hands up by his head as he watches you bend at the waist, both hands over where your nose is absolutely gushing blood. “I am so sorry, I just reacted-!”

“It’s fine, Pete,” You shake your head and stand straight again, the blood beginning to leak through your fingers, “Just go get me a towel, okay?” Peter practically trips over his feet to get something for your nose and as you track him on his way into the locker rooms, you see Steve, Bucky, and Nat. The latter are looking your way, eyebrows raised like they’re asking you if you’re okay. Steve hasn’t even broken stride in his conversation so you wave them off with a bloody hand. Peter’s back in a flash, pressing a wet towel into your grasp and snapping you out of your self-pity party. “It was a good hit,” You compliment as you wipe your face off, “I just wasn’t expecting it. Prob’ly wouldn't have landed it if I had.”

He wrings his hands, shifting from foot to foot. “I’m sorry-”

“It’s a good thing, Peter, means you’re getting better.” You deadpan, checking to see if your nose has stopped bleeding yet, “I don’t think you actually broke it, but I’ll go down to medical to check later.” You do your best to clean up your hands with the wet towel, but it’s so soaked with your blood that it mostly just smears it around. You grimace and shake your head. “Well, I should go now before our sparring match ends up looking like I murdered you.”

“I’ll go with,” He offers, “I’m the one who broke your nose.” You let Peter walk you down to medical even though you were originally going to refuse. Perhaps petty, but it was the way that Steve didn’t even look your way as you left that made you let the teenager walk you the two floors to where you’d be able to clean yourself up. He hums in the elevator and you know that he wants to ask you something - it’s the way he holds his mouth when he’s prying for information or keeping a secret that tips you off. Finally, just before the elevator opens, you sigh and turn to him.

“What, Peter?” He grins but then it falls when he has to skitter after you down the hall. Maybe that’s why it falls - the question he asks next nearly sends you to your ass.

“Is everything okay with you and Captain Rogers?” He easily catches up to you when you stop in your tracks, ignoring that you’re still bleeding a little bit down your face and you might be dripping blood everywhere from where it’s run down your arms.

“What?” You do your best to look confused like everything is fine, but Peter is perceptive. He may fumble around and be pretty awkward, but those are really just teenager things that he’ll hopefully outgrow. You should have known that when someone caught onto how bad things are on your end, it would be Peter. (You wonder if Nat or Bucky has brought it up with Steve, considering he’s spent more time with them in the past week than he’s seen you in the past month.) “We’re fine.” Your words are stilted as you begin walking to the medical wing much faster than before.

“I just thought I’d ask, well, because I’ve sort of noticed… Something just seems off, you know? Like, you two used to spend a lot of time together, and maybe it’s the recon mission coming up, but I was just thinking that you two really barely look at each other even when you’re in the same -”

“Peter!” You say his name much louder than either of you expected and both of you jump. “Peter,” You say softer, looking at the glass door to the medical wing instead of him, “Just leave it, okay? It’s nothing you have to worry about, kid.” Peter ducks around to open the door, forcing you to look at him. “He’s just focused on his stuff and I’m focused on getting you whipped into shape for this mission. We only have two days.” Once you’re inside and surrounded by the medical crew Tony keeps on staff, he thankfully drops it. You love Peter, you do, but it’s a lot like having a little brother. You can only love them so much before you want to fucking strangle them. Eventually, as the doctor checks to make sure he hasn’t broken your nose, you have to order him away to go study or something. “I’ll join you later,” You promise him as the doctor prods at your tender flesh, “I have an essay due soon.”

That’s another thing that’s been bugging you that Peter surely picked up on. Nearly everybody knew you were taking a course at the local community college, but nobody knew what it was about. You’d wanted to keep it a secret until you told Steve, but the day you had registered he’d flown out for a two-week mission without telling you or saying goodbye. After that, you decided it didn’t really matter if anyone knew what class you were taking, and keeping it a secret sort of spiraled from there. If they wanted to know they could look it up. Maybe it was petty, but you just wanted the class to be over and done with so you could forget that you really only picked it up so you relate to your boyfriend more.

If you can even call Steve your boyfriend anymore. You’re not so sure where you stand and, honestly, you’re really close to giving up on the relationship as a whole but you can’t do that. Before you were dating, you were friends, and Steve… He never gave up on you. Not once. How could you repay him by giving up on your relationship? The one that you thought was The One? Even if it hurts, even if you’re unsure more than sure these days, how could you? Somewhere, though, you know you deserve better. You don’t deserve the sinking, dark feeling that lingers in your gut for most of your days now or the way that you second-guess every move you make - even in the field. It’s dangerous but you can’t do anything to fix it.

You’re too scared. You know that eventually, it will happen, he’ll break up with you, but you’d like to put that day off for as long as possible. To relish in the love he once had for you, how pure and powerful it was. You’re sure that you’ll never experience anything like that again.

Hell, you might never fall in love again.

Those thoughts don’t do anything to help you, though, so you try not to have them. You get clearance from the doctor and get cleaned up as much as you can without taking a full body shower. The idea to go back to your room and take one crosses your mind but you know that Steve’s probably done training, probably heading back for his own shower, and you don’t want to open that can of worms. Instead, you go to the common room and drop into the couch between Peter and Tony. They’re talking about something something science something something, but you pull your stack of books and notebooks out from the shelf underneath the coffee table and continue outlining your essay from where you left off. The assignment was focused on how the end of WW1 changed American life and then how life changed leading up to and during WW2 but that had hit a little too close to home for you, so you’re writing about the racial tension and overall racism of the times. Tony and Peter keep talking over your back and then you hear footsteps heading toward the common room.

You barely look up when they enter - Nat and Bucky - because it’s fine. It’s normal. They’re just two of Steve’s best friends, that’s all, nothing to be jumpy about. You don’t even register that emotional pain that hits when you realize that, yeah, you’re not one of his best friends anymore. You doubt you’re even considered a friend in his book.

You groan and lean back into the couch, bringing your study materials with you. Peter glances over, skimming over your page and a half of shorthand, and gags. “Jesus, can you write like a normal person?”

“Oh, sorry,” You say lazily, not looking up as you continue to scribble in your incomprehensible code, “I do forget that some of us had privacy at home.” You lift your lips just a little bit to let Peter know you’re kidding, looking up at him through your lashes as you slouch next to him. He looks red in the face. “Besides, once you have to start doing mission reports you’ll be begging me to learn my shorthand and use my stenography machine.”

“I keep telling you that I can update that ol’ thing,” Tony draws your attention. For the first time, you realize that Nat and Bucky are on the loveseat looking at you expectantly. Steve is standing in the corner over their shoulder reading a book from the bookshelf in front of him. His back is tense and he looks like he’s not reading, just listening. You force your eyes back to Tony on your right and shake your head.

“No, because then you’d know my shorthand and it makes me too happy to see you spend hours trying to decipher it.” His eyes wander to your essay again, trying to find any patterns that he can use to figure out what the hell you’re writing on anything ever. He’s opening his mouth to make a smart-ass remark that will no doubt lift some of the weight off of your shoulders when another voice speaks up.

“Wow,” Steve doesn’t even look at you even as he says your name sardonically, “Way to be a team player.” Your mind comes to a screeching halt, trying to figure out what the fuck he’s playing at. Even Bucky and Nat look surprised at the cold way he spoke to you, Tony and Peter both gasping from your side. You can’t say anything, throat tight and burning with tears as you stare at your boyfriend with raised eyebrows. What do you say to that? How do you respond? You know it wasn’t a joke because he’s not laughing, not smiling, not even looking up from that fucking book in his hands. You can’t tell if you’re more hurt or embarrassed, but either way, you don’t want to stick around for someone to get the nerve to say something.

Instead of replying, you slam your textbooks shut and bundle everything into your arms. You doubt Steve even notices that you’re making such a hasty retreat but if he does, he doesn’t say a fucking thing. You feel like you’re in high school - practically running through an empty hallway with your notebooks and textbooks pressed to your chest, trying not to cry. It’s ridiculous. You’re a trained assassin, you’re an Avenger, you are strong and powerful and yet… And yet. You’ve given so much of your heart and soul to Steve Rogers that he can knock you down eight pegs without even trying. Without even looking at you. You can’t wait to go on this fucking recon mission, where you can put all of your focus on making sure Peter is doing okay and gathering the intel. Where you can stop thinking about how easily Steve Rogers seems to be pushing you to the side.

You spend the next two days writing your essay, ignoring almost everyone, and working on your essay. On the day of the recon mission, you’re running out the door for your eight a.m lecture, printed essay in hand, and reminding Tony that he promised to pick you up on campus after class for the mission.

You’re lucky that you went, too. You hadn’t counted on the professor making everyone stand up and tell the class the subject of their essays - didn’t realize that it would be twenty-five percent of the grade on the paper. You’ll never understand college professors and the weird shit they do, but the class is informative and entertaining. He goes around the room, starting on the opposite side of you, so you’ll be last. Great.

Several students did their papers on the propaganda of the time, one student was brave and did her essay on the ethical dilemma of the super-soldier serum and eugenics, and most of the other students focused on pop culture and how it changed. When your professor looks at you it’s almost like he’s expecting you to have done nothing but fawn over Steve and Bucky, considering you know them personally. He looks surprised when you clear your throat, stand and say: “I focused on the casual and institutional racism that faced non-white Americans at the time.” You almost preen when he looks impressed and then the shame fills you. It’s just… You want Steve to be proud of you. You want him to congratulate you on going back to school, even if it’s just for one class. You want him to be happy and surprised that he was the inspiration for taking the class.

Though, lately, the class has been more for you than for him. You like learning new things, pushing the boundaries of assignments, making people uncomfortable with the truth of the times you’re studying as told to you by two people who lived it. It’s nice. Normal.

Everyone needs a little bit of normal.

But, honestly, normal is fucking boring. By the time your class is over and you’re handing in your essay it’s like ants are crawling over your skin. A combination of nerves from the upcoming mission, a head full of fog from whatever is happening with Steve, and a little bit of fear at the thought of taking Peter into the field has you bolting for the door the moment your essay is taken from you. You’d worn your tac-suit underneath a pair of baggy sweats and a loose hoodie, so you don’t even bother slowing down as you head toward the car that Tony has waiting for you. He’s in the front seat, grinning at you from underneath his aviators and Peter is driving.

You slip into the backseat without thinking or looking at who’s there, tossing your bag in the back and peeling your hoodie off. “God, Tone, we’re goin’ to die before we even get to the mission with Petey driving.” You toss your hoodie back to join your bag and finally see who’s sitting next to you.

Of course, it’s Steve. He’s looking at you - but not really. He’s looking through you, like he can’t stand that you’re both crammed in the backseat of Tony’s electric car. His gaze catches you and holds you in place. Everything around you goes cold and fuzzy, making you miss Peter’s indignant complaining that he has his license so he should be able to drive… And then Steve scoffs and looks out his window, ignoring you. It stings but you have a job to do. You make some witty retort back to Peter, but it falls flat as you struggle out of your sweats. This is what life is, you think. Relationships aren’t meant to be forever - you learned that at a young age.

Until your accident at fifteen, you had watched your parents run out of helium, their relationship expanding and cooling in arguments, in days spent not talking, in trips to your grandparents without the other, in passive-aggressive computer searches for divorce attorneys left open for anyone to see. Then, after you were trapped between those machines - after you spent hour after agonizing hour with electricity pressing between your atoms, being torn apart and rebuilt as a young god - after that day you watched them expand against each other before the neutron core of their relationship collapsed on itself and the resulting supernova sent you to the streets. But then Fury found you. Then Tony, then Nat, then Steve.

Your parents exploded out from each other and the shockwaves ruined your life. At least now, your relationship with Steve is ending silently. There’s no explosion, no collapse, no rapid expansion to take over your cosmos. Your relationship with Steve is simply approaching the event horizon, where it will hang in the air until one of you takes the final step and you both become frozen, two collapsing objects on opposite sides of the universe. Maybe that’s what you already are. You feel so far away from him in the back of Tony’s car - like he’s eons and light-years away from you - and you feel so cold. Frozen, down to the bone. It makes you stiff in your replies to Tony and Peter, slow on the uptake when the car pulls up to the quinjet, nearing stasis and unable to respond when Nat asks if you’re okay.

Finally, you turn to look at her, nodding. “Fine,” You clear your throat, “Been a rough day.” You do your best to smile at her, but your face feels heavy. Your chest feels cold and tight, making you worry about your performance on the upcoming mission. When Peter shakes his head next to you, discreetly telling Nat not to press, you’re focused on Steve and the electricity humming in the most base part of your body.

He scoffs and rolls his eyes. You turn away and force yourself to smile, throwing a weak and numb arm over Peter’s shoulders. “Are you ready for this, Pete?” You jostle him back and forth, leading him toward the sitting area behind the cockpit. “Gonna get your ass kicked?”

“Please,” He shoves you off, nervously laughing, “Not with the skills you’ve taught me.” He mimics throwing webs, making hissing noises under his breath, and you bark out a laugh, shaking your head.

“You’re payin’ my medical bills when I have to save your ass, Spidey.” You shake your head and strap in next to the wall, Peter taking the seat to your right. Tony, from the aisle across from you, points a thick finger your way.

“You don’t pay medical bills anymore,” He waggles his finger, “So you’ll just have to make him do your homework for a week.”

“Mister Stark!”

“He’ll have to earn shorthand to do your essays,” Nat chimes in from between Bucky and Steve, who are both doing their best to not look at you - or anyone really. “You willing to share that with him?”

You lean back in your seat and jab at Peter with your elbow. “Hell no, so I guess Spider-Boy better do his best.” The arachnid in question grumbles, crossing his arms and slouching in his seat.

“No pressure, right?” He complains, “Not like I’m already nervous or anything.”

“You’ll do fine, kid,” Bucky pipes up, drawing your eyes back to Steve, “It’s goin’ to be a cakewalk.”

“Don’t jinx it, Barnes,” You warn half-heartedly, tucking in on yourself, “We need this to be easy.” From the look on his face - everyone’s face, really - you know that they heard you loud and clear when you were really saying I need this to be easy.

After an uneasy laugh from Bucky, a claustrophobic silence settles over you all as the jet begins to take off. You’re in for an hour ride and plan to spend it going over battle plans with Peter when harsh whispering catches your ear. It’s Bucky and Steve nearly crushing Nat between them until she gets up and sits across from Peter, rolling her eyes. Still, you try your best to run him through the actions you both had planned - the names, the setups you needed to execute them, everything. If something happens to Peter, you’ll never forgive yourself.

And then, cutting through your soft promptings to Peter and his equally soft replies, Bucky’s voice. “Leave it, Steve. Until after this mission.” Even Tony looks up from his tablet, curiosity piqued. Their faces are both red, set hard and angry at each other and your stomach drops. What the hell is going on that Steve ‘Till The End Of The Line Rogers is fighting with Bucky You And Me, Pal Barnes? You must shift, or lean too far into Steve’s eyesight, because for the first time in what feels like years he is looking directly at you - and seeing you, too. It makes your pulse jump and, almost instinctively, you want to reach out and ground yourself on the rubber of the seat underneath you.

You don’t get the chance, though, because Steve speaks. “No, why should I? This is clearly affecting the team.” He’s still looking - glaring - at you like you’ve done something wrong. “What’s the point of waiting? I’ve been waiting to talk about this.”

“Bo, I don’t think this is the time,” Bucky looks over his shoulder at you, then, and you know what’s coming. You know that it’s time, that Steve is about to break up with you in front of your teammates. Your friends. Your family. You steel yourself for the anguish you’re about to feel and then jerk your chin out, hardening your resolve.

“Buck, it’s fine. If Steve wants to address something, he can.”

Natasha says your name, a low warning over the hum of the quinjet. “I think he should wait.”

“Well, I’m not goin’ to wait!” Steve unbuckles himself and stands, “I have tried waiting, and look at where that has gotten me.” He puts his hands on his hips and puffs out a breath. You unbuckle and stand, too, unsure of where this is going. “You need to,” He holds one hand out, pointing at you while his voice shakes. You notice his hand is shaking, too, but fractionally. If you didn’t know Steve as well as you do you may have never noticed it. “You need to get it together.”

“I need to get it together?” You question, eyebrows nearly hitting the ceiling with how fast they shoot up. You’re not totally sure you’ve heard him right because what do you have to get together? The broken shards of your relationship? The information and research for your final paper? The awful way you’ve let yourself be treated for what seems like forever?

“You heard me,” Steve says, at the same time Bucky leans his head back and groans deep in his chest. “What? Someone had to say it.”

“We should wait for this,” Nat speaks up again, but lifelessly. She knows now that you and Steve are both on the warpath, neither of you are going to stop. (That’s also why the two of you work together as a couple so well. Very rarely are you both so worked up about something that you can’t back down, so the other is always there to meet you halfway and get you back to earth.)

“No, no, no,” You say, near hysterically, “No, he wants to do this now? Before a mission? Instead of the fuckin’ weeks we had to hash whatever crawled up his ass and died out? Be my guest. He’s already dragged everyone into this by treating me like a pariah.” You’re not sneering, but your teeth are gritted so tightly together you can hear them scraping and feel a tension headache beginning to bloom in your temples. Bucky looks… Almost incredulous at your statement. Like putting the blame on Steve is a dick move or something.

“Oh, so I’m the bad guy here?” Steve is curling his lip, glaring at you. There’s something behind his eyes, but he’s buried it so deep that you can’t reach it and figure out what it is. “I’m the bad guy, right. Right, right, right.” He scoffs, shakes his head, and then he’s running his fingers through his hair like he really can’t believe what you’re saying to him.

“Well, what else am I supposed to think?” You throw your hands out to the side and let them slap back down on your thighs. “You ignore me, you make me feel like shit, you talk down to me like I’m some insignificant foot soldier. How else am I supposed to take that, Steve?”

“Oh, I don’t know, maybe ask me what’s wrong? Maybe ask me why I’m acting like this, instead of ignoring all of your problems like a child?” He mirrors your moments, but the sound his hands make when they hit the outside of his suit is more powerful than yours. Fueled by anger, you think. Anger and whatever the hell was in the serum Erskine pumped into Steve.

“Ask you?” You repeat, near-hysterical, “Ask you? Oh yeah, let me get right on that. Hey, Mister Rogers? Mister Captain America? Mister Ignores-His-Partner-For-God-Knows-Why? Hey, just why are you doin’ that?” You’re surprised that you’ve said something so snotty, but you don’t back down. (Steve looks surprised, too, and Bucky has stood up next to his friend like he’s about to start berating you as well. At least he looks more cautious about it, like he’s not totally sure that this fight should be happening.)

The more surprising part of your fight is how fast it’s shut down. Tony and Nat stand at the same time and exchange a glance like they’ve surprised each other. “That’s enough,” Tony starts.

Nat cuts him off. “I don’t care if you fight this one out instead of talking, but if you do it before this recon mission you two are going to blow it. Do you understand me?” She looks dangerous, the sharp edge of a knife spiraling through the air. You force yourself to look away from her, from Tony, from Bucky, from Steve. She’s right. You know she’s right - especially on this mission. Peter is there, going to be in real danger even though there’s not supposed to be one Hydra agent in a four-mile radius. You have to clear your mind and focus on protecting him.

Steve seems to think the same thing because he stands down. When you watch him collapse in on himself, Bucky’s arms around his shoulders, into the little quinjet seats your everything aches. Heart, lungs, eyes - everything. Even though you don’t know what’s going on, what could have possibly happened to make your relationship sink this quickly and out of the blue, you still love him. He’s still The One for you. You still want to be the one to comfort him and make him feel whole when he’s struggling.

But you can’t. You can’t and it kills you.

The heat of battle makes a lot of things fade into the background. Important things like why the fuck are there Hydra agents here? and Steve is going to break up with you when you get back on the jet and Tony swore on the fucking limited edition AC/DC vintage tour poster he has in his office that this would be an easy in/easy out information mission. None of that matters, though, because you’re in deep shit. There are seventeen of them, all primed to the teeth with weapons made to take your team down permanently.

You’re practically glued to Peter, calling out commands and plans for him to initiate. It’s when all of your plans fall through that you take a hit from a heavy fist on purpose, hitting the ground hard. “Plan F, Spidey, Plan F!” You cover the instruction with a groan and then you’re back on your feet, working your way toward him.

“Plan F?” Tony says, somewhere above you in his suit. Your comms crackle ominously as another heat-seeking grenade is launched, interfering with the radio waves your tech relies on. You don’t worry about it, because you know Tony is on it. He’s your eyes in the sky.

Peter is the one who answers his question, watching your close hand-to-hand tilt out of your favor briefly. “Plan Fuck It, Mister Stark.” He grunts as he webs up a Hydra agent, jerking him away from where he was about to slip a knife up and under Natasha’s kevlar. You finally drop the guy in front of you, ignoring Steve’s disappointed Language! and toss one of your knives toward Nat for her to use. Tony is still laughing in your ear, wheezing as he drops down and snags the rifle from one of the snipers and then takes back off.

What your little protégé failed to mention about Plan F is that it’s not just chaos, but controlled chaos. You let loose, letting a soft current cover every inch of your skin as Peter switches to his conductive webbing and takes special care to not web any of his allies. Except for you - if you’re in the way and he catches you in a web it doesn’t matter because you’re you, alive with electricity that drops the men that get caught in the web, too. You rip out of the webs and turn the current off when one of your teammates gets too close.

More Hydra agents are pouring out of the woods, topping out their numbers around twenty-five. That’s twenty-five too many in your opinion, especially when you can see Peter getting tired, his anxiety spiking, his moves having more and more hesitation behind them. You need to get this over with quickly, but you don’t have the options to do that. Steve, Bucky, and Nat are really the heavy-hitters - you, Pete, and Tony are the only ones without serums despite all of your individual abilities. Desperately you reach out for a web that’s still connected to Peter’s arms, pulling him out of the way of a baton that’s about to come down on the back of his neck.

The baton the agent is wielding glints in the coming dusk, freezing you as Peter scrambles past you with a quick apology. You’ve seen that before - seen it, felt it, know it like the back of your hand. There’s no way that you could ever forget that weapon. The man stumbles when his hit doesn’t connect but then rights himself and searches for a new target.

A long, black baton that splits into two prongs at the end is heavy in his hand. Electricity crackles between the bulbs at the end, flashing in the setting sun and your memories. The man only has one, but if it was hooked up to a machine, spinning. If there were four, five, six. If you were pinned between them, screaming in the pain as they rewrote your DNA… You’ve only felt it once, but you’ll never forget it.

And now, you’ll taste it again. On purpose this time. The man holding the stun baton is going for Steve’s back - his strong back, the one that protects people, the one that holds the weight of the world, the one that lays in your bed, the one you see whipping out of rooms as you’re entering just so that he doesn’t have to look at you - and you can’t let that happen. It only takes ten amps to kill a regular human, but you know those things are cranked up to twenty minimum. You don’t want to see how many amps of current it will take to stop Steve’s heart. You’re between the baton and Steve before you can think about what you’re doing or what comes next, the hard bulbs settling unyielding into your side and cranking out maximum power for maximum damage as soon as the current is connected and able to flow from one bulb to the other.

The pain hits you and your throat catches on it. It burns through your body, setting everything on fire - your chest hurts as your heart protests the electrons and then your powers kick in, sweeping them into your very atoms and cells. You’re a live wire now, ears humming and body thrumming with power you’ve only dreamed of. It hurts, and it burns, and you feel tears rising in your eyes because you’re back there - back begging for death or for life or for God and god at the same time - but then it’s over. The man sees that you’re not seizing up, not dropping dead in front of him, and he takes three steps back.

It’s not far enough.

You’ve only felt like this once before - right after you were unhooked from the machine that changed your life and brought you to your new family. You remember how you looked when you were put in front of a mirror with all of the pent up electricity circling your body - how your eyes were filled to the brim and dripping with bright and blue electricity, the way it was jumping across your body, how you didn’t need to breathe because your body was fully saturated with pure, unadulterated power. You wonder if you look like that now and assume you do because you can see the bright blue reflecting in the terrified eyes of the Hydra agent.

Your suit, unlike everyone else’s, is not grounded. It’s metal, metal, metal. You’re made to conduct, born for it, and the earth beneath you comes alive with bright white as you release all of the energy, the power, surges down and out. You’re practiced. You can reach out and feel the synapses and neurons of every human being in the clearing, know exactly where your teammates are standing, and know exactly how to target everything but them and the pitiful amount of electricity their brains carry. You grin, something truly feral and unhinged, and you can see the fear in the Hydra agent. Then, you let go.

You know that everyone is going to be pissed. (Maybe not everyone.) You’re not built for this, not made to take down nearly twenty fucking people at once. As you let go, you feel what they feel. The seizing muscles, the stopping of their hearts, the inside of their bodies crisping against their bones. At that moment, that delicious moment, you see the universe.

You become God. You become everything - your mother and your father and God and god and anyone else who’s watching your life from the ether. You become the judge, jury, and executioner of souls that you don’t know from Adam. You become lightning, and thunder, and exposed nerves of the cosmos at the same time. The world bends to your will and you relish in it, taking that power in your fist and wielding it to protect the man you’ll love for the rest of your life and the family that you’ve made. You will stop at nothing to end this, even if it means turning yourself inside out to do it.

You damn near do turn yourself inside out too, but that doesn’t matter, does it? The blood spilling from your ears, nose, and eyes feels like heaven. It’s hot, and thick, and it’s proof of the power that your body holds. You’re a temple and a sanctuary, a war-room and a bunker, a field of flowers and a sun-dry desert. It does not matter if Steve doesn’t love you at that moment, because you are love and hate wrapped into one package. You are everything and nothing, spread thin at the beginning and the end of time.

And then none of that is true. You are just… You. Standing in a clearing, surrounded by twenty-something dead Hydra agents and your terrified, terrified family. It hurts to breathe and you can taste blood in your mouth, but that’s an afterthought. Steve is still standing behind you, but he is alive. That is what matters.

This is what love is, you think.

Pain and pleasure.

Even if he leaves you, you will always love him.

Pain and pleasure.

You’re weak at the knees when he finally turns to see you - and you’re a sight. Struggling to stand, fingertips blackened with soot but not burnt, blood pouring from your nose, ears, eyes… You look like death, but you feel like life. Someone says something behind you - Peter, maybe? Or maybe Tony, in your comms? - but you don’t hear it. Everything tunnels out, your weak knees finally collapsing as you keel backward.

Steve bears down upon you almost immediately. You’re halfway to unconsciousness when he wraps you up in his arms, keeping you from falling in with the pile of bodies around you. He’s saying your name, harsh and soft and then in a voice like he’s ordering you to wake up. You loll about as he drops you down onto a patch of clear grass, hands searching your body for wounds. When he skims over your side, where the baton has burnt through your suit and your flesh, you surge back toward being able to have cohesive thoughts. The pain brings you back, hands wrapping around Steve’s arm and calling out his name. “Steve! Fuck, that hurts!”

“Honey,” He breathes, “Fuck, we have to get you back to the jet.” His jaw ticks, hair dirty and loose from its normal style. “Why’d you do that?” Steve doesn’t wait for an answer from you, ordering Peter to web something up to carry you over your protests.

“I’m fine,” You argue, only slurring slightly, “I feel fine.” But you’re going to let Nat and Bucky load you up on the webbed stretcher anyway because it’s the first time Steve has cared for you in a long time. You want to relish in this moment, the way that he didn't say your name but called you honey.

Well, and because Natasha slides a thumb across her neck over Steve’s shoulder in a silent threat.

You groan when Bucky accidentally grabs your calf where there is an absolutely awful stab wound, but you wave off his apology. “How could you have known?” To be honest, you hadn’t even known it was there until his Vibranium hand was slipping against it and sending shockwaves of pain through you. Peter is next to you the whole time that you’re being carried back to the jet - Tony staying back to begin scanning the bodies of the Hydra agents for the information you need and any other information they may be carrying. The poor kid is nearly at a breakdown, so you reach out to him and shake his arm when his fingers twine with yours. “Chill out, kid, I don’t know how you got it into your head that this is your fault, but it sure isn’t.” He sniffles, but hands back with Steve as Bucky and Nat get you situated in the small medical room of the jet. They transfer you and then make to leave, only Bucky hesitating near the door.

“Stevie’s goin’ to be here soon and… I don’t know what made you do what you did but you have’t explain it to him. He’s bendin’ over backwards to figure it out, and we don’t have’a clue. Came out’a nowhere.” He looks at you for another moment before shaking his head and stepping out of the room. Your head is spinning, partially from what Bucky just said and partially from the pain and stimulus of electricity. You wait there, then, because this is it. This is the event horizon. You wait there, eyes closed, until you hear footsteps approach the med room, and then the door slowly opens. Steve says your name, holding all the finality and weight of an atomic bomb. You don’t open your eyes until he swings a chair next to the stretcher and lays a hand on your calf.

“You don’t have to do this,” You finally say, pushing yourself up onto your elbows to watch him. “I know that you don’t want to.” Steve only scoffs and begins to wash the stab wound using a packet of soap and a water bottle. You say his name twice before he looks at you, something between hate and hurt curdling into a glaze over his eyes that stops you in your tracks.

“Just let me do this. It is the least that you can do.” His words are painful and stilted, like it’s taking force to push them past his teeth. You lay back down and close your eyes, content to just feel the pain of Steve beginning to stitch you up and then dress the wound before you feel the pain of Steve leaving you like you knew he always would. (Falling in love with Steve Rogers went against every instinct you had. You knew that he was going to hurt you from the first moment your lips touched his.)

When he’s done he sits back and puts his elbows on his knees, head in his hands. He heaves a heavy sigh and then shakes it off, “I’ll dress your burn, and then we’ll talk.” And normally, yes, you would agree but this is too important. You want to get it over with so you can lick your wounds metaphorically and dress them literally - and then you want to go home, you want to pack your bags, and you want to disappear and remake your life somewhere else.

Some far-off place where everyone you know won’t take one look at your face and know that you’re still painfully, deeply in love with Steve Rogers, end of your semester be damned. Family you’ve made be damned. You can’t sit around and be in love with him like a neon sign on a dark highway while it’s painfully clear that he hasn’t had a sign on his highway in a long time.

So instead of agreeing, you swing your legs over the stretcher and swallow your flinch when the burn pulls tight. Steve opens his mouth to argue but you give him a tight-lipped shake of your head and his jaw snaps shut. “No,” You say, voice not giving in to the emotion swirling in your chest. “I have let this go on long enough.”

It’s the wrong thing to say because Steve fucking scoffs again and looks away from you. “One day was long enough.” He says, cutting straight to your core. Okay, ouch. You take a deep breath and shake your head to try and bite back the tears that are inevitably rising in your eyes. If one day was long enough for him to realize he doesn’t want to be with you, why did he let it go on for nearly a full year? Why did he spend so long leading you on, pulling you by a thread before garroting your heart with it? What was the point?

“If you want to leave me, just say that,” You reply harshly, standing and wobbling away from him. He just watches you go, watches the way you struggle past the lead weights your muscles have become, the way you’re starting to feel the stab wound on your leg, the way the skin on your burn is beginning to blister and only just now losing its heat. He just watches you, where the Steve that loved you once upon a time might have helped. You turn your back on him, hands on your hips so that you can hide the way that you’re crying and your hands are shaking.

“If I want to leave you? If?” He says. You hear the scrape of his chair as he stands, “I think after what you’ve done, it’s not an if, sweetheart.” The way he says it tastes like iron. Steve never calls you sweetheart like he never calls you by your name. It’s always honey, lover, dovie. You don’t turn to face him because you’re struggling to keep yourself above water. “I spent so long thinkin’, wonderin’, askin’ myself - God damnit, will you look at me?” You turn slowly, not because you’ve never heard Steve speak like that but because his voice is desperate and raw. When you turn, you’re not sure what to expect. Maybe him, standing in front of you, broad-shouldered and disappointed like in those PSA’s he had to film once. Maybe he’d be angry, hands clenched at his sides and eyes narrowed like he gets in meetings when he doesn’t agree with something but he’s out-voted. But you never expect to see him crying, lip wobbling, folded in on himself like a young boy instead of the strong, invincible man you’ve come to love.

He looks so different.

It hits you, then, that you’re not looking at Steve Rogers. Not really. He's not Steve Rogers, not Captain America, not even Captain Rogers. You see him as he was - before America spat it’s untruths all over him and injected him with a serum that changed who he was, is, will be. He’s not the able-bodied man that you know, not strong and unreachable, not the heartthrob that overshadows the team during press events. He’s not America’s Darling, not really. Not where it counts.

You’re looking at Stevie Rogers. Stevie Rogers who, for all intents and purposes, was supposed to die before he made it out of toddlerhood or soon thereafter. Stevie Rogers who the doctors said wasn’t supposed to survive. Stevie Rogers who grew up sickly, rattling painful breaths and never playing ball with the neighborhood boys. Who couldn’t walk until middle school when he got his braces off. Who never had a partner because Bucky, strong and handsome and tall Bucky, was always deemed the better option. Who believed in his country so much that he tried to sneak into the second world war, subjected himself to a painful medical procedure so that he could change his very DNA to be what the world wanted him to be.

Captain Steve Rogers. Captain America. Strong, blond, patriotic, resilient.

You’re sure that if men don’t want to go to therapy now, in the modern age, they certainly didn’t want to go in the ‘40s. So where did that leave Steve, your Steve, standing in front of you and looking small, and broken, and sad, and alone? Did they expect him to take his new, taller, working body and run with it? Did they not think about how he would lose a part of himself in the process? How did they expect him to go from disabled to abled without some disconnect?

You think about the You That You Were Before and the You That You Are Now, and how you lost a part of yourself when the accident gave you your powers and how you’d lose yourself if someone figured out a way to take them away. You Before formed your identity around being normal - living in a shitty home with shitty parents, sure, but normal - and You Now form your identity around your powers, your team, your job, your love. If you lost those things, what did you have left? Who would you be?

When Steve lost his identity and became everything that America wanted everyone to think that America was, what did he have left? Sure, he could tell himself that he represents America - strong and patriotic and just - but it must have conflicted with everything he knew about himself before that. You know that disabled people now know that American society is unjust, unfit for them with abled people not willing to make room to allow them to thrive. You can only imagine what it was really like for Steve in the ‘20s and ‘30s and ‘40s. What he had to do just to survive. (Medical experimentation, you remind yourself. Did they know it wouldn’t kill him? Did they know his body wouldn’t rip itself apart with the new sinewy muscle they were packing on? Did they care? Or was he just a body they saw as broken? A project to fix? To turn him into something more like them and call it patriotism?)

You shake your head at him, still filled with despair, and try to figure out what he’s talking about. “Stevie,” You start, pet name easily replacing what you had been calling him because it’s not fair to shoe-horn him into a body that doesn’t feel like his own. You wonder if he still expects the bone-grinding pain that he used to tell you would happen when it rains. He raises a hand, a strong and family hand, shaking his head.

“I just need to know why I wasn’t enough for you,” Steve looks sad, slouching in on himself like he’s expecting to get his ass handed to him in another alleyway and hope Bucky is there to save him. “I need to know why you wouldn’t just break up with me if you wanted to see other people so badly.” You suck in a shocked breath because, okay, that’s not what you were expecting. Between that and the paradigm shift you’ve had on how Steve must view his identity, body, and self, you’re stunned. Steve continues like he doesn’t even register that you look shocked and pale and now you’re crying because he thinks you’re cheating on him? “And I get it. I get it. You have no idea how much I understand. If I were you, I wouldn’t want me either, okay?”

You cut him off there because what the actual God damn fuck is he talking about? “No, Stevie, I’m not cheating on you.” You shake your head again and this, your statement, lights a fire in him. He still looks like Stevie rather than Steve, but there’s anger there. You imagine that’s what it might have looked like moments before he got himself in trouble back before he was serumed. “I’m not.”

“Oh, yeah?” He challenges, jaw ticking and chin jerking up, “Oh, yeah? You can’t lie to me. I know, okay? The act is up, it’s over, I know, okay? You can stop pretending.”

“Steve, I do not fucking know what you’re talking about but I”m not cheating on you!” You raise your voice, not really angry but more out of necessity. You need to get it out of his head that he is anything less than everything you want - that you could possibly love anyone more than you love him.

“I wanted to clarify something for you,” Steve says like he’s reading an old script from when he was just a beefy, red/white/blue stage prop for the American military, “I am excited to meet with you, but there are some rules. Do not talk about Captain Steve Rogers. I don’t want to hear about him,” As he continues to recite something that has clearly hurt him, you go lax. You know exactly what’s happened - your fists unclench, your jaw drops a little bit, and it feels like someone has gutted you, “I think it is wise to keep work and pleasure separate, and it’s a rule I will enforce heavily. I look forward to seeing you again.” He’s sneering at the end, tears falling down his ruddy cheeks.

“Steve,” You try again, but he cuts you off.

“Am I just work for you?” His voice is shaking more than you thought possible, and so are his hands. You’ve never seen Steve so off-kilter, so thrown, and it breaks your heart that yes, technically, you’re the cause of this. Before this, before this horrible misunderstanding, your relationship with Steve was the paragon of trust so neither of you cared if the other read emails or texts. You remember the email - the email from your fucking college professor - because it had made you so angry that he’d referred to your relationship with Steve as something as simple and base as just pleasure - like you could even put words to the galaxy of a relationship you had with Steve - that you’d gone to the gym to work off some of that irritation. You hadn’t wanted to take it out on anyone accidentally. When you came back from the gym, Steve was gone on that two-week mission that he’d left on without saying goodbye.

Oh, God. You feel sick to your stomach as the paradigm of the way that Steve’s been treating you shifts violently to the left. You have to physically hold yourself up and try to speak past the lump in your throat. Steve looks… Brokenly smug. Like he knows he’s right, but he’d rather gnaw his own legs off than be right.

“No,” You croak, “No, Steve, you’ve got it all wrong.” You want to reach for him, but it feels like the room is closing in on you. You’re second-guessing everything now - especially what you’ve just said. How many people said the exact same thing to him pre-serum because they said something meant for Bucky to him? How many times did he hear that when he was getting a new diagnosis, hoping for the best? How many times had his own mother said it to him when he told her something someone had said, fresh-faced and not yet used to the way that abled people sometimes treated disabled people? You think you might be sick. “That email was from my professor, Steve. I’m not cheating on you, I’d never.” He laughs darkly and sits back down in his chair, head in his hands again. You try to gather the strength to move toward him when you see his shoulders shaking, a telltale sign that he’s crying.

“A professor,” He says with a watery laugh, “Right.”

Finally, you realize that he needs you, needs to know you love him, that you’d do anything for him. You can iron out the kinks later - figure out why he didn’t want to come to talk to you past the original hurt, why he treated you so coldly, why he didn’t trust that you wouldn’t do this to him - but now, you need to show him that you’re here. That you choose him. That you’ll always choose him.

You make your way to him and set a shaking hand on his shoulder. For a brief second you think he’s going to shake you off but then Steve’s hand shoots up and latches onto where your hand is resting, dipping his head to press against your arm. “Stevie, please,” You say, unsure of what you’re asking him to do, “I picked up a class, just one, and it’s… I picked it up for you, it’s about the ‘30s and ‘40s and…” He looks up at you and he looks so broken - face ruddy and wet with tears, lip wobbling, chest heaving as he tries to not sob. His brows are knit and he looks confused, “I just wanted to be able to understand you better. You had to leave so much of yourself at the door when you joined the Avengers, had to leave so much of yourself in the ice… In Erskine’s lab… Stevie, I just wanted you to be able to be you when you’re with me. I wanted to know the you that you were before you became Captain America.” Your voice is shaking, knees knocking together, and honestly? You feel like you might blackout.

“What?” He rasps, “What?”

“He sent that email because too many kids signed up for his class thinking that they’d be able to look at pictures of you and Buck for a semester. Emailed me directly because he knows we’re…” You choke on your words, shaking your head because you’re not even sure there’s a we anymore, “Because he knows I’m on the team. Didn’t want me walking in and making his class about just a few years in the ‘30s and ‘40s rather than the culture of the time.” You don’t know how else to explain it to him, but Steve isn’t saying anything - practically isn’t moving or breathing- so you continue to try and explain what’s really happening as best as you can, “And - and that email made me so angry because he singled me out, didn’t email anyone else about it, and I left to try and work some of that out; I didn’t want to take it out on you, or let it spoil - let it spoil… But when I came back from the gym, you were gone. You were gone for two weeks and I didn’t know why.” You’re crying harder now and pretty sure that within the next sixty seconds you’re going to collapse if you don’t sit down.

Steve shakes his head, still looking like he doesn’t understand. “What?” He says for a third time, “A class? A college class?”

“I just wanted to feel closer to you,” You confess, “Just wanted to understand a fraction of your life without making you do the heavy liftin’ and teachin’ me. Shouldn’t have’t do that,” You’re sobbing, barely biting out your words as you realize that something you’ve done to strengthen your relationship with Steve has destroyed it, “Shouldn’t have to explain a whole different time just to feel loved, Stevie. Should be able to be with someone who understands without you havin’ to explain.” You’re not sure you can say Peggy’s name out loud, and you hope he understands what you’re saying without making you actually say it, “Should’a been able to have love with someone who knew, and I know I’m nothin’ compared to what you should’a had, but I want to be. I want to be in the same ballpark instead’a watchin’ from the stands.” You wipe your face with your free hand and look away from Steve when he stands in front of you. You don’t want to see the look on his face - what he’s thinking about what you’ve said.

He says your name and you glance at him, but his expression stops him in your tracks. Where Steve looked broken and hurt and fuming with anger to hide the anguish, now he looks stricken. You shake your head, “No, no. I didn’t say that to make you feel guilty-”

“You think that I care about whether or not you can understand the ‘40s?” He cuts you off, hands moving to curl around your biceps, “You think that I care whether or not you can relate to a time in history when you weren’t even thought of?”

“Of course I love you. I love you more than anything in this world, but you shouldn’t have to not care, Steve,” You argue, shaking your head, “That’s what I’m trying to say. You should be with someone who understands without explanation. I just wanted to give that to you - didn’t know that this would happen.”

“I should be with someone who loves me,” He argues back, “If you love me, that’s all that matters. My past be damned.”

“But your past is you!” You try to pull away from Steve, but he anchors you there. You’re dizzy from being so close to him after this long, but also because of how many different twists this situation has taken. You can barely keep up with how bad your communication with Steve has become - barely keep up with how you need to fix it, or how to fix it. “Your past is you,” You repeat when you realize that Steve isn’t going to let you go. “And you shouldn’t have to give that up so that someone will love you.”

“But you love me,” He says desperately, ducking his head so that he’s nearly nose to nose with you, “You love me, right?”

“More than anything,” You say, closing your eyes and relishing in the feeling of being so close to Steve, “I love you more than I’ve ever loved anyone. I don’t care about what anyone else thinks, or anyone else. I’ll even stop goin’ to class if you want me to - Steve, I just can’t do this anymore. Can’t do this thing where you don’t talk to me about what’s botherin’ you.” You’re choking up, barely whispering, but you know he hears you. YOu can feel his warm breath on your face, “Nearly fuckin’ killed me.”

“I thought it was goin’ to be easier,” He breathes, nose bumping yours, “When you eventually decided to leave me for him. Thought I was savin’ myself some trouble.” You can practically taste his tears as they fall again, “Buck and Nat tried to tell me that you weren’t - that you wouldn’t - but I just couldn’t believe them.”

When you open your eyes, his are closed. This close to him you can see the soft freckles that are blooming over his eyelids, his soft eyelashes kissing his cheekbones. You can feel him breathing, feel him nearly pressed against you in a way that feels hauntingly nostalgic and terrifyingly fleeting; like you’ll be able to feel his warmth for years to come, but he’s about to disappear. “That’s okay,” You finally whisper, “It’s okay that you didn’t believe them. That you thought what you thought. It’s okay.” He shakes his head against yours, opening his mouth to protest, but you refuse to let him feel guilty about feeling this way - you have plenty of time to sit him down and talk to him candidly about the way he acted because of these feelings, anyway. “If I would have been in your place I’m not sure I would have believed them.”

“I treated you so badly…” He shifts and wraps his arms around you. It’s almost immediate - you relax into his arms and wind yours around his waist, keeping him pulled against you as he presses his face into your neck and you press your cheek against his chest. “So awfully.”

“We’ll talk about that, okay? But later. Right now you just need to know that I love you, Steve. I love you more than I can tell you - more than I can express.” You want to kiss him, but you can’t. Can’t kiss him, you need to wait for him to kiss you, for him to close that gap and show you that he still loves you like you love him. “We’ll have to have a talk, a long and hard conversation about this, Stevie, but for now… For now, I’m just content to be with you, okay? MIssed you so much.”

He sighs, nose pressing against yours again. “Missed you too, dovie. Missed you more than I can even say,” His voice breaks as his lips brush yours. Your relationship is not without its flaws and problems - Steve’s actions when he thought you were cheating on him are proof of that and, well, the fact that you didn’t realize what was happening, why it was happening, or a large part of your boyfriend’s psychological makeup having an impact on your relationship while it went unknown by you… There is a lot of work for the two of you to do, a lot of work to do, a lot of communication to be done… But you’d do it all for Steve, over and over again.

When he presses forward and presses his lips gently to yours, you know that he’ll do it all for you, over and over again, too.

#steve rogers imagine #steve rogers/reader #steve rogers x reader #marvel imagine #mcu imagine

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percyinpanties · 4 years ago

Note

hey I'm the pipeyna anon and that's ok!!! can u do pipeyna with piper pining after hot jock Reyna which hopefully ends happy (smutty)

just a quick warm-up, i say, i won’t spend too much time on this. i really had to resist just going on and on and on with this. i miss writing this ship, damn.

anyway - this fits really well with an enemy to lovers prompt i have for jercy, so thats what im hinting at too here.

Read on Ao3

for context : i always write college aus from a UK uni perspective bc that’s all i know and i don’t care to adapt to how it might or might not work in the u.s. (sorry)

rating: teen+ (no smut in this one, but let me tell you, this TEMPTED me)

words: 2.2k

___

“An actual goddess” Piper says wistfully from where she’s leaning against the wall next to Percy, taking back the cigarette she’d just bummed of him. Her eyes are glued on the field, and more precisely on Reyna, smile on her face and water bottle in her hand as she jogs over to Jason standing at the side of the field. They greet each other with a hug, even as Reyna wrinkles her face, seemingly complaining about her own sweatiness.

It’s coincidence that the end of Reyna’s soccer practice collides conveniently with Piper’s and Percy’s late seminar on Mondays. It isn’t coincidence that Percy and her have taken to sharing a cigarette on the side of the building that looks out toward the field during their break, however.

Percy makes a non-committal noise and his eyes follow Piper’s gaze while she takes a drag of the cigarette and wrinkles her nose. She needs to quit smoking for good, she thinks, and flicks the ash to the ground. There was a brief moment in first year when Piper thought that Percy might be interested in Reyna, or she in him, but luckily, nothing ever came of that.

“You think they’re dating?” Percy asks, arms crossed over his chest now, making no move to take the cigarette back again. He’s not even pretending not to be staring, his eyes intense where they flit between Reyna and Jason. Piper on the other hand has the common decency to at least cast her eyes away every now and again before she’s caught looking for a little too long.

At the edge of the field, Reyna and Jason are standing close together now, chatting about god knows what, smiling and laughing. They’re certainly comfortable with each other, but Piper can’t say that’s much of an indication given how she’s around Percy.

“I hope not.” Piper mutters and Percy laughs at that, even though she knows he agrees. Percy wouldn’t admit it in a million years, but Piper would bet real money that he has a thing for Jason, too, as much as he claims to hate the guy. She’d have to be deaf and blind not to notice the tension between them.

It would make sense, though, in a way. Jason is captain of the men’s rugby team, Reyna of the women’s soccer team. Some of their practices collide and the two clubs do most of their weekly socials together, and Piper’s seen the two of them hanging out aside from that plenty as well. Reyna and her haven’t talked much about Jason, maybe because Piper hasn’t actually exchanged more than five words with him and never had much of an urge to change that, but she knows that Reyna and Jason have known each other before university.

Around Jason, Reyna seems to let her guard down, something Piper has only managed to achieve a handful of times since they met during their first year.

Jason laughs at something Reyna says, eyes bright and head thrown back and Piper can’t deny that he’s handsome, at the very least. He’s fairly decent, too, as far as guys go, and really, Piper knows she shouldn’t be hoping that there is nothing between Reyna and him if that is what would make Reyna happy.

“Invite her to the party.” Percy suggests then, drawing Piper’s attention back from the tangent her brain was so insistent to start on. When Piper turns her face to look at him, he’s already looking back at her, one eyebrow arched. “I was going to, anyway, but it’s different coming from you yourself.”

He’s not teasing her, it’s an honest suggestion, and technically not even a bad one. It’s Percy’s birthday this weekend, and if nothing else, it would be a good excuse to hang out again. Percy knows a ton of people, but he usually doesn’t invite too many to his party, so with any luck, it won’t be too crowded to actually spend some time with Reyna.

More than that, though, it’s another opportunity for Piper to finally get a move on. Percy, Piper knows, thinks that Piper’s pining had reached a point where it’s almost comical halfway through last year, but even so, Piper has yet to manage to actually act on her feelings.

A party is casual enough that she can always play it off as nothing serious when it ends up blowing up in her face. Piper might finally get over herself and just ask Reyna out already – although she’s tried that a few times before only to find herself tongue tied and staring at Reyna like she hung the moon in the sky. She’s been head over heels for Reyna since maybe three weeks after they met in first year, and now that they’re starting their third and final year, Piper needs to get a move on or it’ll simply be too late. Granted, she’s scared shitless at the prospect of being turned down, but at this point, even that would be better than pining forever and never finding out if she’d even stand a chance.

“Yeah… maybe.” Piper says finally, and manages a small smile towards Percy who bumps his shoulder against hers playfully. They should be heading back inside, so Piper sneaks a last glance toward Reyna and this time, finds her looking back.

They don’t share any classes this year, and Piper doesn’t usually run into Reyna on campus, so on Wednesday morning, she ends up texting Reyna on her way to class. She fumbles with her phone, almost tripping over her own two feet trying to type the words out as fast as possible, and ends up having to sidestep off the path to actually send the texts.

Hey you.

we’re having a party on Saturday, it’s Percy’s birthday.

Piper wants to add more, but instead, she bites her lip and stuffs her phone back into the pocket of her jeans. It’s almost an open invitation like this already anyway, and Piper wants to gauge Reyna’s first reaction before deciding exactly how she’s going about asking. Technically, it would be so easy to just as Reyna to go with her, specifically, to the party, but the intention might be lost over text and anyway, wouldn’t it be simpler to just invite her generally?

Piper frets throughout the entirety of her first lecture, and most of the second one, for nothing. Reyna doesn’t answer, even though the messenger app shows Piper that she’s read both texts already, and Piper tries not to be disappointed about it. She doesn’t know what Reyna’s schedule is like today, the girl might just be busy and planned on replying later. It makes sense, much more than Piper’s second thought that Reyna is not answering because Piper is annoying and Reyna doesn’t actually want to spend any time with her. She knows that thought is stupid, knowing that however does nothing to ease the anxious knot in Piper’s stomach.

Piper finds herself checking her phone more often than not. It would be funny if it wasn’t so ridiculous, and if the lecturer wasn’t so clearly catching on that Piper isn’t paying as much attention to the class as she is to her phone. She texts Percy as well, but she knows he’s in that seminar he shares with Jason, so chances are that she won’t be getting a reply on that end anytime soon either. In the end, she has to force herself to put her phone away and actually focus on the lecture up front, even though by that point, she is already lost as to what they’re even talking about in the first place. It’s no good, and Piper can’t deny being relieved when the lecturer eventually dismisses the class.

She doesn’t allow herself to check her messages until she’s across campus in the coffee shop, queuing for some much needed caffeine and fishing out her phone so she doesn’t have to make small talk with anyone while she waits in line. Reyna still hasn’t replied, but at least Percy has messaged her after his seminar.

I’m gonna strangle him, Piper. You’ll have to bust me out of prison because they are going to arrest me for goddamn murder.

All she’d asked was if his classes were as boring as hers today, and while she had expected Percy to go off about Jason in reply, this isn’t exactly what she’d thought to be reading today. She smiles at her phone, types out a quick reply and moves up in the queue.

That bad? What’s he done now?

The way Percy talks about Jason makes Piper think of a Cartoon Network villain, always plotting, provoking and scheming. The few times she’s spoken to Jason, the guy wasn’t half bad, and if Piper is honest, she doesn’t quite get the vendetta these two have with each other. She suspects though that it has something to do with how ‘infuriatingly attractive, like fucking superman or something’ Percy described Jason after their first class together.

It’s like he thinks I’m stupid or something. Got a dumb fucking project to do together and he honestly told me that he ‘needs to pass this class so iif I’m not planning to put in the work, we might as well ask for new partners right away’

Like, excuse me, bitch? My grades are better than yours, for one thing

And for another, it’s not like good-old Dodds is gonna let us switch anyway

Piper huffs audibly while she reads the texts. It’s clear Percy’s actually upset by this, and she figures it will only get worse if they actually have to do the work together in the coming weeks. Before she can shoot Percy a reply though, she’s next in line.

Piper orders her coffee, steps aside to wait once she’s paid, and rereads Percy’s texts before she types her reply to Percy.

Sounds like a dick move.

Piper’s almost inclined to defend Jason for a moment, since Percy mostly doesn’t pay much attention in class, especially in Mrs. Dodds seminars – so how is Jason meant to know how much effort Percy puts in outside of it? On the other hand, though, Piper knows how Percy is, and how personally he’s clearly taken Jason’s comment already, so trying to convince him otherwise would simply be fruitless.

Once Piper’s coffee is done, she heads back outside, finding an empty bench to enjoy the break before her next class. If nothing else, at least Percy’s ranting is distracting her from Reyna, and the party, and asking the other girl out – and in between the rapid texts Percy and her are sending back and forth Piper almost forgets about it entirely. Until she has to head back to her last class, that is, and sees that Reyna has, so far, still left her on read.

Piper hesitates for a moment, clicking on the text field without typing anything just yet. Is she going to come off as desperate if she texts again, or should she just clarify now before it gets too late and Reyna already makes different plans for the weekend?

Piper types out a few words, deletes them again and pockets her phone only to get it back out a few seconds later to try again. She shouldn’t be walking and texting, especially given that she should be going faster to actually make it to her lecture in time, but Piper knows that if she doesn’t send this text now, she’ll spend another lecture agonising over what to say.

So yeah, I wanted to invite you too ofc :)

Piper cringes at her wording, but figuring it won’t get much better, she sends the text anyway and finally tucks her phone back into her pocket to actually hurry to class.

By the time Reyna replies, it’s late and Piper is sitting on the beat-up couch in her shared flat’s living room, watching something trashy on TV without really paying much attention at all. Percy is clanking around in the kitchen, making something that smells good enough to remind Piper that she should probably be getting herself some food, too. She’s about to get up and rummage through her fridge compartment in search of something edible when her lock screen lights up with a message from Reyna, and that derails any thoughts of food immediately. Piper isn’t subtle in the way she practically lunges for her phone, but luckily, Percy can’t see and judge her from his position in the kitchen.

Sorry, long day, reads the first text, following a few seconds later by another one.

Promised Jason to hang out but I’d love to :(

Piper bites her lip, knowing before typing out the words that Percy won’t like what she’s doing in the slightest.

You could bring him? Percy won’t mind.

Except that Percy most certainly will mind, Piper thinks, and grimaces. If she hadn’t come off as desperate before, she most certainly does now – texting back within less than a minute after having been left on read all day, only to offer that Reyna can bring her friend (boyfriend?) along as well if that means she’ll be there.

There’ll be other opportunities, Piper tells herself, and scrubs a hand over her face. She needs to chill, and maybe she needs to grab a cigarette and step outside and calm down before she embarrasses herself even further.

Piper stares at the screen. How on earth is she meant to interpret this? At this rate, she won’t make it until Saturday, dying of one crisis or another before then.

if you’re sure? I’ll ask him.

haven’t seen you in a while, would be nice to hang out again ;)

I’m sure.

#will i continue this? maybe #i do kinda wanna write the party part and have it ending ~spicy~#pipeyna #piper mclean #reyna ramirez avila arellano #my stuff #my fic #prompts #teen+#pjo #Anonymous #jercy #in the bg

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sparklingchan · 4 years ago

Text

Stray Kids AU

Stray Kids soulmate AU

Prompt : The name of your soulmate appears on your body only after that person falls in love with you.

A/N: this was sooooo fun to write but it turned out rather long but please the whole thing,I swear it'll be worth every minute🥺

Warnings : None.

1. Bang Chan

You met him for the first time when you went to the movies one evening,alone ,trying to take your mind off the upcoming exams.

He was seated to your left,his mind completely focused on the movie . He wore a black tshirt with a black jacket and a pair of baggy pants but you couldn't help but notice how attractive he looked even in the dark.

You also subtly noticed the bandaids around his fingers and the reddened knuckles and the tired and exhausted look on his face ,which you were very familiar with because it is the same expression you see when you look into the mirror.

"Are you like a boxer or something?" You weren't the kind to go around talking to random strangers at movies but this time your curiosity got the better of you.

He looked at you ,confused ,but answered anyway. "No. I'm a musician "

"Then what's with the bruised hands?"

He looks down at his hands and laughs,shaking his head. "Let's just say I overwork myself a little too much sometimes". Fair enough.

"I'm y/n by the way " you offer your hand and he takes it,smiling from ear to ear. "I'm Chan"

You notice his lack of snacks and a cold drink and you couldn't help but offer your extra large bucket of popcorn ,which previously you were sure you could finish on your own but now, not so anymore.

He thanks you,dipping his hands in and grabbing a fistful of popcorn,a small but very noticeable blush tinting his cheeks.

That night,he offers to walk you home and you couldn't say no. You stood at your doorstep,smiling to yourself as he turns around and walks back home.

The moment he is out of your sight,you feel a sudden pain in your left forearm.

Rolling your sleeves up till your elbow,you are stunned to see "Bang Chan" cleanly written there.

2. Lee Minho

You hated Lee Minho from the bottom of your heart. He went to the same dance studio as you and ever since you guys had a minor argument about something regarding a particular step,he's felt like nothing but a nuisance.

He knew that you disliked him so he made sure to bother you even more. Sometimes he'd make fun of your frizzy hair and sometimes he'd simply grab your phone out of nowhere and run. He even ate your food without any permission.

But one day ,your dance teacher paired you two up together for a couple contemporary dance competition.

You were so close to strangling Minho everytime he looked at you with that smirk on his face as you guys practiced day and night. But you also couldn't help but acknowledge how perfect his every movement was.

It was the day before your competition when Minho fell in the bathroom and fractured his leg,forcing your duo to back out from the competition.

You honestly weren't a bit angry or sad about it since it was a small internal competition but you knew he was upset with himself so you went to visit him at his dorm.

"I'm sorry, y/n " he had said. That's the saddest you've ever seen him look and to be very honest, you hated it.

"Shut up ,idiot. It's not a big deal " you gave him the donuts you bought earlier as he looks up at you ,smiling brightly.

When you were about to leave, he asked you if you could drop by often. His eyes looked at everywhere but you.

"Why?" You giggled. He looked down shyly. "I realized you're not that bad to hang out with "

You laughed, pressing a small kiss on his cheek. "I'll come by often"

When you reached home,you felt a strong sting at your forearm.

And on observing closely at the burning area,you see "Lee Minho" written in big,bold letters.

3. Seo Changbin

You hated your job ,you really did but everything changed when your new colleague, Changbin, arrived. He was the funniest,nicest and most talented mam you'd ever met.

A few weeks into the friendship,he had already made you listen to the songs he composed. His smile when you complimented him was something to die for.

And Whenever you felt down ,he would make some silly jokes and he'd instantly brighten up your mood.

And you didn't want to deny it,you had developed a crush on him.

It was a rainy afternoon in your office when you saw Changbin walk inside your executive director's cabin. You knew that it could never mean something good.

When he came out of the office,almost half an hour later,his eyes looking down at the floor and his ears red ,you knew he had gotten a nice scolding from your shitty boss.

You knew because a few months ago you'd been in the the same position too.

But instead of coming back to his seat,you saw him walk out of the office. Mindlessly,you followed him into the terrace .

"He's a stupid asshole,don't fret yourself about it" you wrapped your arm around his. He sighed, ruffling his hair with the other hand.

"I'm going to punch that man one day " he gritted his teeth. You were so used to him being a smily ,funny man ,you were scared when you saw him this angry.

"He's not worth your attention,I'm telling you " . He only replied by shrugging.

You two decided to have dinner together that night.

"I hope there's a next time to this" he had said,shyly, His smile doing wonders to your heart. As his car disappeared around the corner,you felt your heart swell with a warm feeling.

The next morning,you woke up with a stinging pain in your forearm and when you checked it out,your heart skipped a beat on seeing 'Seo Changbin ' written there.

4. Hwang Hyunjin

You'd never seen a man as beautiful and amazing as Hyunjin. Although he probably never noticed you,you noticed him. All the girls in your college did and you were no exception to that.

You were more than excited when your teacher told you that you two were supposed to do a project together.

Initially, you were expecting him to be a brat ,given his popularity among women ( and men OFC) but he turned out to be a warm person,making you feel guilty for thinking that way about him in the first place.

He helped you all he could ,and you also realised at that time that he was not just a handsome face ,he was pretty smart too.

After working hours on the project at your house,you two would sometimes just spend time talking to each other. It wasn't even forced; you guys just clicked naturally.

On the day the project finished, you decided to bake cookies for him and even packed some for him to take home. "This is a thank you gift"

His whole face lit up as he took the jar of cookies from you. "I should be the one thanking you "

Before he left,he gives you tight hug and then a kiss on your forehead. "I'll see you tomorrow "

While you prepared dinner that evening,you felt a weird sting on your forearm,as if a bug bit you. Putting down the spoon,you checked out your forearm for any signs of a bug bite.

Your cheeks turned red when you saw that it wasn't a bug bite. "Hwang Hyunjin " was printed onto your skin in a clean and neat handwriting.

5. Han Jisung

You were the new producer intern at JYP entertainment and although unfamiliar to most people,you felt quite comfortable at home. You first met Han Jisung when he popped his head through your studio door,mistaking your studio for some else's.

His cheeks turned red with embarrassment, as he rubbed the back of his neck. "I'm sorry. I thought this room was Mike's."

You smiled shyly. "Its alright. Don't apologize please." He then slowly stepped into the studio,his hands behind his back.

"Are you new here ? Haven't seen you before " You nodded in response . He thrusted his hand towards you,his lips curving up into a smile.

"I'm Jisung. I am a trainee here" he said. "Nice to meet you ,Jisung. I'm y/n,a new intern producer"

You then proceeded to tell him that you have in fact heard about him and his team ,3racha,from other producers. He giggled,clearly embarrassed. "Yeah. I do compose a little, here and there "

Needless to say,over time you guys had developed an unbreakable bond not only through music but also the similar way that you two click with each other. It's as if you both had found a safe haven in each other.

A few months later,he told you that he wanted to show you a song he was working on. And excited, you quickly agreed to it.

For someone who was only a few months older than you,his music style was way more mature than yours. The way every beat,every chord ,every lyric sticks out beautifully, you couldn't help but clap as the song ended.

"That was amazing,Jisung. You're gonna put all us producers out of work!" You had teased.

He gave you his signature smile and shook his head . "You guys are going to be big one day, I can feel it " you told him.

He stopped for a second and stared at you ,his fingers fumbling with his laptop. "But you'll still be here right? Even if we do get big one day,you'll still be there with me right?"

You smiled ,as he took your hand in his. "Yes. I'll be there "

As soon as Jisung left the studio after a few minutes,you suddenly felt as if your arm was on fire. Alarmed ,you decided to check the area .

"Han Jisung" was written on your forearm.

6. Felix Lee

You loved swimming more than anything in the world and you were so good at it,people at your school saw you as their swimming champion.

But it all changed when Lee Felix joined your school. He was an amazing swimmer and as much as it hurt your ego to admit it,Felix was better than you .

You couldn't help but feel jealous and even though he was in the same swimming team as you ,you never bothered to acknowledge him. He did try to befriend you but your ego was too big to pay heed to him.

On his birthday, when he invited you to his house for a party,you couldn't say no to those pleading eyes. You told yourself you went out of pity but that's not entirely true.

The party wasn't half as bad as you had thought and by the time the party died down,you also realized you were being too harsh on Felix. His sunshine like smile and cheerful personality worked magic on you.

He offered to walk you home since you insisted on walking back home alone . You agreed because your houses weren't very far apart.

"Do you hate me or something?" He caught you off guard as you find the right words to answer him.

You shook your head ." I don't hate you,Felix. I guess...I was just envious"

He chuckled. " you shouldn't be" and you nodded. He was right, you shouldn't be jealous and right now,in this moment you realise how ridiculous those feelings were.

You stopped at your gate and looked up at him,smiling ,and then gave him a quick hug

But before he could say anything you ran into your house.

The moment you close the door behind you,your forearm starts hurting really bad. And when you check it out to see what's causing it ,you see the name 'Lee Felix ' written on your skin.

7. Kim Seungmin

Kim Seungmin was that one cute boy from your school who dropped by at the library you work at every day.

He always greeted you with the brightest smile on earth and often chatted with you before he left the library. You had gotten used to his positive energy.

But one evening he came in,his eyes tired and mouth pressed in a small smile. He didn't even greet you ,which broke your heart a little.

He sat on the farthest corner of the library, a book open in front of him but his eyes and mind were elsewhere . You approached him.

"What's wrong?" He looked at you with tear filled eyes. "I didn't do well in my maths paper "

You softly patted his back. " hey,it's okay . Everyone knows you're good at maths and plus it was just an internal assessment. It won't hamper your finals "

"But that's the thing,y/n. I'm not good at maths. I am fairly good at the other subjects but I suck at maths,big time "

You looked at his sorry face and realised how much his grades mattered to him unlike you who didn't give too much thought to it . "I'm good at maths. If you want ,I could tutor you "

His face broke into a smile as he placed his hand on yours.

"You would?" You nodded as his smile turned even bigger.

You walked back to the reception after Seungmin calmed down,having discussed the timings for his math tutions and making him promise you free ice cream for the rest of your life in return for your favour.

You suddenly felt a sting on your forearm and on inspecting your forearm ,you saw the name 'Kim Seungmin' written in big letters as your stomach did a backflip in anticipation of what is to come.

8. Yang Jeongin

Jeongin and you had been best friends since childhood. Your parents were friends too so naturally you grew up to be closer than anyone.

But as you both entered teenage, you started seeing him as more than just a friend . So you distanced yourself from him. Over time ,he stopped trying to earn you back and you two grew apart.

It was the last year of high school and everyone was busy preparing for the Winter Ball. You weren't going(obviously),not just because you had no date but also because you didn't want to see Jeongin with someone else.

The morning of the ball arrived and your friends had given up on trying to convince you to go with them.

You were sitting on your sofa while eating breakfast when the doorbell rang.

"I heard that you weren't coming to the ball,y/n " Jeongin looked at you with sad eyes.

You looked at your feet,embarrassed . "Yes."

He sighed,walking into your house. "Why, y/n?"

You told him that you didn't have a date but he refused to believe that to be the only reason. He grabbed your shoulders,looking into your eyes. You heart was beating so fast you were sure you might pass out any minute.

"You like me,don't you? Isn't that the reason why you stopped hanging out with me? Please tell me its true" Your forearm started hurting badly at that moment but you ignored it,there were more important things to do than worry about a sore arm .

"Yes " you didn't want to lie to him anymore . You were tired of being afraid and playing safe all the time . For once,maybe bravery might be a better option.

He smiled from ear to ear ,wrapping you in his arms and snuggling his face in the crook of your neck. "I do too ,you dumbo. "

While your heart leaped with happiness ,the pain in your arm increased so you quickly checked the area whilst still in his embrace.

'Yang Jeongin ' was written on your skin and you knew what it meant. You knew that he was the one for you.

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moodyvalentinestories · 5 years ago

Text

O Thomas Hunt, Wherefore Art Thou My Professor? | Chapter 68

Summary: A date at an aquarium? Sounds rOmAnTiC!

Notes: Me, trying really hard to get that Yvonne story in there because of ONE BLOODY LINE I want to use in a future chapter:

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The next, and last, part of the date was a visit to the aquarium. Part of Aria’s Save-the-Reef theme, I believed. It wasn’t far so we, much to Hunt’s dismay since it gave us more time to talk, walked there.

“I know what you were doing back there, you know?” I said after a while.

He didn’t answer. Of course.

“I get that you don’t want to talk about that woman. Clearly, you care about her, and I’m not going to make you tell me anything.”

“Cared,” he said. “Past tense.”

I smiled. Hearing that eased my jealous mind quite a bit.

“Be that as it may, we didn’t leave that restaurant because of that. You didn’t want that kiss to happen.”

“What kiss?” he asked.

Jesus Christ, this asshole was so frustrating. Playing dumb? Really? That was his plan?

“You know what I’m talking about.”

No reaction again.

“Damn it, Hunt,” I exclaimed. “You were going to kiss me but you didn’t. Because you are afraid of what might happen.”

He huffed. “I’m not. And I shouldn’t have even thought about entertaining your foolish fantasies. It was a temporary moment of weakness.”

“You’re not making a good case for you not having feelings for me. You are aware of that, right?” I mimicked his statement from earlier.

“I think I’ve been pretty clear about my feelings for you,” he said. “Namely that I have none.”

That was it. I stopped right in front of him, making him almost run into me. “Yes, you have been pretty clear. But not in the way you think.”

“Oh?” he said, raising an eyebrow. “Do elaborate.”

“You keep telling me that there’s nothing,” I said. “But then you say things like this. That it was a moment of weakness. Or, back in New York, when you said you didn’t have a choice. You make it so very clear that you want to give in but this dumb idea that it would be wrong is holding you back. I’m telling you, there’s nothing wrong about this.”

He glared at me, then walked around me. “We should get to the aquarium and wrap this night up.”

Goddamnit, he was such a fucking idiot. Hadn’t he felt it, too? How bad these past months were?

I knew, though, that he wouldn’t let me talk any more. At least not right now. I would try again, later. At the aquarium, maybe. Or so I thought.

But when we got there, arguing was the last thing on my mind. I’d been there before, but there had been other people, and it had been day. Seeing it now, empty, at night was entirely different.

It was gorgeous. Magical, even. I couldn’t focus on talking to Hunt when I was so busy admiring the view and exploring the place.

In fact, we hadn’t exchanged a single word until I stood in a glass tunnel inside an enormous tank.

“It’s like I'm in the ocean,” I said quietly. “It’s beautiful.”

“It really is,” Hunt said from behind me, startling me. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to frighten you.”

“Don’t worry about,” I said and turned to him. He seemed to have been done talking, though, so I reverted my attention to the sea creatures around me again.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Hunt walking up next to me.

“She would have loved this place,” he said, staring out into the water.

“Who?” I asked, glancing over at him. He was clearly lost in thought.

“Yvonne,” he explained. “The girl in the photo. You asked about her earlier.”

I raised an eyebrow. “I assumed you wouldn’t want to talk about her.”

“I didn’t. I don’t,” he sighed. “But this place… it reminds me of her. Almost makes me sentimental.”

“Almost?” I asked, cocking an eyebrow. Then, hoping I hadn’t ruined the moment, I said, “You loved her?”

“Deeply. A long time ago.”

“What happened between you two?”

He sighed again. “We were in college. She was an exchange student from Spain and, after a year, she had to return.”

“You’re not telling me the whole story.” I knew him well enough by now to know there was more to it.

“Ever so perceptive,” he chuckled. “I’d wanted her to run away with me, if you can believe it. We were supposed to meet the night before her plane left, but…”

“But?” I asked. For heaven’s sake, if he wasn’t going to finish this story, I was going to strangle him.

“But I never showed up. And she flew back to Spain, where she married an old boyfriend.”

So even then, he’d been an idiot. “Why didn’t you meet her?”

“My career was too important,” he said. “That decision… it ruined me for a while.”

He finally turned his attention away from the water and looked at me, his expression much softer than I was used to.

“Deep regret can destroy a man from the inside, Rachel,” he said and lifted a hand to my cheek.

Before he even touched it, though, he let it fall. His scowl returned to his face. “We should go.”

“Just a moment longer,” I pleaded.

“Okay,” he said. “One moment won’t hurt.”

But a moment could change everything. Especially a moment with him. And it was obvious that neither of us wanted this particular moment to end.

I couldn’t say how long we stood there in comfortable silence, just watching the flow of the water and the brightly coloured fish that swam in it. It could have been an eternity and it still wouldn’t have been enough.

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Tags: @silversparrow02 @hopelessromantic1352 @alleksa16 @lilyofchoices @trappedinfandoms

#wherefore art thou my professor #professor hunt #thomas hunt #rachel #hwu #hwu hunt

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greensconnor · 6 years ago

Note

Hello! Might I be so bold as to request F(!)MC x Estela for the prompt 'I'm flirting with you'?

ofc!! thank you so much for the request!

send me drabble prompts!

Tropical islands always sounded so wonderful in theory. In practice, Estela found, there wasn’t a whole lot she could say she was fond of. La Huerta, in particular, hadn’t exactly been the site of many fond memories, and there was definitely something strange happening on the island. These were two facts that kept her from enjoying her time on what anyone else might have called a ‘vacation’. Estela knew better.

If this was a vacation, she wouldn’t be sitting in the sand, dark hair piled on top of her head so that the nape of her neck could sweat freely, watching Taylor and Jake try to beat the absolute snot out of each other. Jake had gotten rid of his shirt about an hour ago, and Taylor was down to a sports bra and oversized running shorts she’d ‘borrowed’ from Craig. Estela assumed this meant she’d just snuck them from Craig’s bag when he hadn’t been looking, in absence of her own.

Estela couldn’t say that she minded. Out of all the resort guests, Taylor was the one she liked the most. She had sharp eyes and an expressive mouth, and when she looked at Estela, she felt raw and exposed without fail. Something about Taylor made her was calming and nerve-wracking, familiar and strange, comfortable and not all at the same time. She was an enigma, an experience, and Estela had been dropping hints for days that she would very much like to kiss her.

“You’re dropping your right,” she said idly as Taylor blocked another punch from Jake, sweat sticking her hair to her forehead. Jake’s eyes flicked south, and he aimed a jab at her ribs, which she narrowly managed to redirect. She lifted a leg and aimed a sharp kick to his solar-plex, forcing him to stumble back out of range, dropping into a crouch to steady himself.

“Thank you, Estela,” Taylor said, with the tightly patient tone she took after Aleister had made one too many barbed comments in her direction. Estela frowned. She didn’t like it when Taylor took that tone with her. The poor woman already had to put up with enough, between Sean and Jake’s will-they-won’t-they posturing contests, Craig and Zahra’s unresolved romantic tension and Aleister’s obvious pining for Grace. Keeping the peace between the resort residents wasn’t easy, and Estela was no diplomat. She didn’t like the idea of contributing to Taylor’s stress.

“Jake’s weak on his left side since he leads with it. You can disrupt his balance at the ankle.” Jake sputtered as he struck forward again, Taylor crouching and dodging to the side, teeth gritted.

“Hey, Ellen Ripley! Whose side are you on?” His brows furrowed and his lip stuck out in a childish pout. Estela gave him a sweet smile, watching as he kicked some sand at Taylor and proceeded to launch at her again. Taylor rolled nimbly out of the way and leapt to her feet again, pummeling Jake with a barrage of punches.

“Always come back to a defensive that guards your face,” Taylor’s brows furrowed further, “and make sure you don’t slack on your right, or you’ll give Jake an opening. Alternate your jabs, he’s predicting your pattern.”

“Just call me Mister Miyagi,” Jake smirked, a punch whistling just past Taylor’s ear. She let out a frustrated growl from between clenched teeth, arm striking upward to capture Jake’s elbow between her forearm and her bicep. “Wha-” said Jake.

And then Taylor flipped him. Estela’s heart skipped a beat, furious blush crawling down her neck. Taylor’s arm yanked down and toward the inside of her opposite knee, sending Jake head over heels. He landed hard on his back, a pained wheeze escaping him as sand fluttered in all directions. Taylor stood over him, one foot on his chest, panting hard. She took a moment to compose herself, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear, and wiping the sweat from her forehead on the back of her arm.

“I believe,” she said, “that makes you Daniel-san.” Jake groaned.

“Wasn’t enough to crush my ego, you had to go and set it on fire too?” Taylor smirked.

“Everything’s better with fire.” She reached a hand out, clapping it into Jake’s and yanking him to his feet. “Thanks for the lesson, Jake… Estela.” Taylor’s tone took on an oddly collected quality that made Estela’s stomach fall. Jake waved her away, stumbling over to his belongings to take a swig from his water bottle. Taylor took a deep breath, lacing her fingers together and cupping the back of her head as she wandered toward the sea.

Estela hauled herself to her feet and stumbled after her, brushing the sand from the backs of her thighs. Behind her, she heard Jake’s voice raise an octave, and a rumbling laugh. Sean had almost definitely been watching, which meant Jake would be preoccupied trying to win back his wounded pride. Which meant Jake would trail Sean like a lost puppy. Which meant Estela would be alone. On the beach. With Taylor. Who was half dressed.

“That was a nice move you pulled,” Estela said shyly, taking a step into the water beside Taylor. The other girl jumped, her face flickering with many emotions, before she shrugged and lifted her arms into the air, enjoying the salty breeze.

“Thanks,” she said dryly, “good to know there’s at least one thing you think I can do right.” Estela flinched.

“What-”

“Look, I get it, okay,” Taylor said, sigh irritable, “you’re hard on me because I’m weak and untrained, and whatever’s coming with the watchers I have to be prepared or else the rest of the community could suffer, and blah and blah and blah. I get it, Estela. They’re my friends too, you don’t think I worry?” Estela suddenly felt very, very cold.

“That’s not-”

“It’s just, it’s really hard to remain optimistic about all this, and especially about my chances when you’re just so… so…” at loss for words, Taylor held her hands out in a mock-strangling position and shook them, “ugh! I’m trying, okay? I really am, but like… a few nights ago I was just a college student slogging through all nighters and shitty mandatory courses and now I’m going to fight a race of potentially alien inhabitants on a tropical island with weird time discrepancies and it would be a lot easier if you could stop hating me for long enough to be constructive!”

“Hate you?” Estela was flabbergasted, jaw hanging open. She shook herself suddenly, violently. “No! No, I don’t hate you. I like you! More than like you! Like, like-like you! I’m flirting with you!”

“Flirting with me?!”

“Yes!” Estela’s eyes were wide. Taylor had thought she hated her? The thought made Estela want to crawl into bed and bawl her eyes out, and then get impossibly drunk off of one of Raj’s genius cocktail concoctions. “I’ve been giving you advice! To make sure you can beat Jake, because if you can beat Jake, you can stand against the Watchers, and that’s… that’s important to me because- because, well… I would hate if anything… happened to you.”

“Oh my god,” Taylor was wide-eyed now too, shocked, “you were flirting. Oh my god.” She burst into laughter, howling laughter as merriment took over her face. She doubled over, hands on her knees as her shoulders shook hard. “Estela,” she said, sounding short of breath, “I appreciate it, I really do, but most people’s idea of flirting is telling someone they have a nice ass. I’m so sorry.”

“Oh,” Estela blinked, and then leaned back for a second, “you have a nice ass.” Taylor laughed harder, her body heaving with almost violent shakes now. Estela couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled in her throat. She tipped her head back, putting both hands over her face as she descended into a fit of hiccuping laughter to match Taylor’s.

“You thought I hated you,” she groaned, pulling her hands away to glance sideways at the other girl. Taylor was smiling at her now, shoulders still jumping with silent chuckles. Grinning, she reached out for Estela.

“I don’t anymore,” she said, hands pressing against Estela’s cheeks. With a surprising amount of strength, she pulled Estela forward, pressing their lips together. Estela laughed, letting Taylor’s lips swallow the sound. Both of them were smiling too broadly for their lips to even fit together, teeth clacking more than anything, but Estela couldn’t bring herself to care.

Her hands settled on Taylor’s hips, tugging her closer as the other girl’s arms draped around her neck, fiddling idly with loose strands of hair at the base of her bun. Taylor’s grin subsided to something more manageable, and Estela leaned into her, pressing slow, easy kisses to her lips.

With the ocean pressing insistently against their shins, and Taylor’s lips moving slowly, almost shyly against her own, it was easy to forget about what lay in wait outside the gates of the resort. For a precious few minutes, all that mattered was Estela and Taylor; Taylor and Estela, revolving around each other in their own private world.

#playchoices #endless summer #estela montoya #estela x mc #es #sol.doc #hope this is in the vein of what u wanted!#i figured most fics were about mc flirting so i decided to switch it up #thank u sm for ur request!!!!#marmolady

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irepookie · 6 years ago

Text

Infinity

Summary: QUEEN AU where Roger (akaRow) is a teen single dad and aspiring rock star

Warnings: fluff fluff fluff and some cursing.

Words: 2090

I changed the names Cause I feel more comfortable writing it that way (idk why) but I could re-change them if that'd help you getting more into the story.

Rowan Queen: (tho you can imagine Ben as well. This is my take)

Chapter 1: I'm here

Written from his mother's POV, which gives us some insight on the family background and history as the first day of the rest of their lives unravels.

Gina Marie Queen (neé Thomas) had always been ahead of her time. She was never a fearful woman. Not for men anyway. She hadn't had a father -that alcoholic piece of shit was nothing close to that.-

And for all she knew, she hadn't had a husband either -another waste of space-. She had finally kicked him out hers and her son's life after 10 years of hell when that drunk asshole's rehearsal fits had made her lose the daughter she had been longing for since she could remember.

He could throw plates at her, and she'd fight back burning his beloved match tapes. Or intoxicate his food. Those were her favorite paybacks.

He could verbally abuse their son, and wake up with pink hair the next day. (Rowan's idea when he was 10)

But the night he had pushed her and she had broken waters at month number 5, that was it.

It should have ended earlier, she knew. Her unborn daughter shouldn't have had to suffer the consequences for Gina to finally throw his shit out the window and soak them in the Jack Daniels bottle he hid under his side of the bed and light them with the lighter he'd switch his bloody cigars.

But unfortunately that's what it had taken.

And she would have strangled him in his sleep if she had known Rowan would be taken care of while in jail. But she wasn't. And someone had to think of the rebellious trouble maker too.

And when her son -yes, she decided that rebellious trouble maker was, more or less, worthy of the title despite being the spitting image of the his father- became a father, Gina feared her granddaughter would have the same fate. Row had it in his genes and , as much she had tried to raise him as best as she was capable of, that fear never faded.

So when the phone rang

"Rowan Queen?"

""I'm his mother"

"I'm from the Hospital's maternity aisle. We call to inform you that his daughter's mom has disappeared after giving birth..."

That was all she needed to hear before dropping the phone and leaving it hanging upside down

"ROWAN EUGENE QUEEN! GET YOUR FUCKING ASS HERE THIS INSTANT!"

"I've got rehearsals with the band..."

"YOU GOT SOMEONE PREGNANT, YOU IDIOT??!"

"Me? No!"

"WELL THINK AGAIN!"

"Mum..."

"Just got a call from hospital saying your daughter's mother has disappeared after birth!!! And they called us!"

He was high school's infamous Playboy. Blonde, Blue Big eyes, and a charming smile. And on top of that, one of the four members of a wannabe rock band. The Hot Drummer, they call him .Gina knew. She didn't need to hear about his reputation to know the likelihood of him getting someone pregnant was high. But she had pictured it differently.

She grabbed him by the wrist and pulled, but he didn't move. He kept staring at nowhere.

"Rowan!!!"

No reaction.

She had to slap his cheek in order to get him out his shock

"What do you want?!"

"We're going to hospital, right now"

"What? Why?"

"To work this shit out!!"

"But we have to rehearse"

"Fuck that shit Rowan! They've just told us you got someone pregnant and she run off! That's the most important thing right now so get in that this instance!!"

He did as told. It was a tense car ride. And Gina remembered Elsa. Her baby girl. And how for her father's fault she wasn't there.

"So what now?" Row asked

"We're putting her up for adoption, unless they can contact the mother, although I don't think she should have a say. But if you're the so called father and your name is in the file, we can leave your part signed and then go home."

"Oh"

Gina thought she caught a hint of disappointment in his voice.

It had to be her imagination. Disappointment over what? Missing the wonderful experience of being a teen dad? Ha.

He did look thoughtful. He hadn't even turned on the radio.

Something was off.

But she figured he'd just want to get this whole thing over with, and that he'd sign her over to a better family. As anyone with minimum common sense would

Right?

Then, as they waited for the application, he asked if he could see her.

Her answer was immediate "No"

"Why?"

"How come Why? Why on Earth would you want to see her?"

"Well I'm here. You've been freaking out , and freaking me out as well. Might as well see who this fuss is about"

"A baby. That's it. You don't need to see one. They all look the same. Small, Wrinkly, like a large prune. There you have it"

"Well I wanna see my... That small wrinkled prune"

Damn. He had said <<mine>>. He already considered her his.

Gina changed her strategy.

"Your name is on the certificate, right. But that means nothing"

"Why would it be there otherwise?""

"A mistake. Or maybe the mother just wants to tangle you up."

"The mother's gone"

"Yes. For now. It's called Baby Blues, and when it's gone She'll have you exactly where she wants to. Because I'm guessing she won't be no straight A student either, and you'll have to sustain them both -if you ever make it to college- and you'll end up getting married, and maybe you don't even love her, but divorce is even more tedious than getting married. That's why I've Never done it. So you'll both be stuck as cashiers in whatever low cost store, and then she'll confess that you were her high school crush but that the kid is actually her ex boyfriend's and then you'll throw a fit, and you'll get in a fight and you'll end up grabbing whatever is on your reach to hit whoever's on your reach...."

"Wait mom. I just... I just wanna see her." Row cut her off " Whoever the fuck she may actually be, I'm the one who's here. And I ain't signing anything without knowing who I'm making decisions for. That's all. I just want to see. I don't even want to touch her or whatever. Just knowing who's the reason I had to turn the boys down today. Then I'll sign the paper and we'll go home."

"She's in the NICU anyway. Doubt they'll let you in"

"What's NICU?" Gina caught genuine concern in his voice.

"Nothing bad." She reassured.

They handed the files, and she took them "I'll fill them"

She got through the first page, and he was gone.

Shit. That stubborn bastard.

She didn't want him to be a father. He was 19 for fucks shake. Had never had one of his own. He had only moved out a couple months ago. Nothing lasted much for him. Wether it was a girlfriend, a job, clothes... His longest pet had reached one year alive. And he couldn't go long without getting injured

Not even his drum kit had survived the move, and was litterally patched up. She'd consider herself guilty of murder if she allowed a baby to be on that list. Not to mention the alternative was that she'd be the one, sooner or later, to take over. Because he was never patient and would stress too much -if he didn't lose interest first- or get fed up and cause her shaken Baby syndrome. And just as she was too young to be a grandmother, she was too old to raise a second kid.

So she stormed inside the NICU aisle ready to get him out of there. And what she saw was quite breathtaking. The look in his eyes was priceless: such fondness and marvel... Only comparable to when he had first seen that red Ludwig drum set through the glass of the local music store.

"I've never seen something so awesome in my life!" He had said.

They had never been able to afford it. He had tried to get a job after school, to save up everything. But it hadn't been enough. And he'd go everyday to that street, and just stare at the shiny wonderful kit for hours, hands on the glass, knowing that the likelihood of ever owning it was almost non existent.

He ended up making acquaintance with the owner. They tried to bargain for it, but his lowest price was way too high for them. He did get to play it once tho, and it was an undescribable experience. Murray, the owner, let him give it a try out of pity when someone else bought it, as a farewell. And had never seen anything like it again.

Now this baby was, technically, his -regardless of what biology could say- and he was about to give it away.

Gina did know on first hand it was, having been a volunteer on midwife assistance with her aunt. And 10/10 woman who swore to never want anything to do with their child changed their minds as soon as they laid eyes on them. Only those who really followed through -take it away, I don't wanna see it- walked out there with empty arms.

Now Row was looking at that baby ad if she was a treasure, but that meant nothing in the long term. His father had done something similar to Elsa's sonogram.

Her poor little girl. So young.

So helpless. She had been so naive thinking he would ever change.

But she wasn't gonna make that mistake again. She loved her son, but he really wasn't good at anger management.

She couldn't expose another innocent child to such danger.

"Rowan, come here now. You've seen her. Got what you wanted. Met her. Now let's get this over with"

His hand was resting on the top of the incubators glass, even if he had unglued his eyes from the tiny being inside and nailed on her now, as if he had been staring at the sun for a long while and was now blinded.

"Why the hurry?"

Was she hearing correctly?

"How come Why the hurry? Because we both have things to do"

"I've already cancelled the one plan I had..."

"Well I still have an errand to get done."

He didn't reply, eyes back on the child

"Rowan" she approached him, making sure not to look at the kid. "Rowan Eugene Queen, look at me when I'm talking to you" she ordered in a strict tone

"What?"

"Papers. Signature. Now"

"I'm thinking about it"

"Thinking about...?! Thinking about what? What's there to think? Sign these and we'll go home, and we'll never have to look back at this! Nobody has to know."

"And what about the raisin?"

"The what?"

"Her. What about her?"

"She'll be fine. Adopting couples love newborns. She'll go to a fit, nice marriage and will be very happy. And we'll resume our lives"

"And I'll never see her again?"

"Why do you care?"

He just shrugged and turned his attention back to her. Gina watched him watch her. Goddamn. She was losing him.

"Are you the father?" A nurse asked, walking towards.

*Don't say it. Don't say it. Don't say it*

Gina prayed.

"I suppose I am" He said it so naturally, with such a bright genuine smile that Gina almost forgot how critical those words were.

"Well, I'm Callie, and I'm on charge tonight. Congratulations, Mr... Oh, Queen." Her eyes widened When reading the tag on the incubator. "We're glad at least someone's here"

"Yea, well..." He scratched the back of his head nervously

"Don't worry. Her mom will get over it." She turned to Gina "You must be Gran..."

"No I'm not" Gina snapped harshly before she could finish the sentence "We were leaving"

"We were not"

"Rowan, I will not repeat it. Sign those bloody papers and get your ass back in the car"

"What if I don't want to?"

"This is serious! There's no other way!"

"Yes there is!"

"You can't be serious!" What 19 year old would ever choose this?

"Well I am"

"You don't even know what serious means! You have no sense of responsibility! You've never finished anything you've ever started!"

"Maybe I want to change! Maybe I can grow up if you stop pestering the shit outta me day In day out! This is not your decision!"

"I'm not letting you do this Row!"

"Then go! Leave me the fuck alone and stop getting in my way!"

Before Gina could answer, a small cry came from the incubator.

And she found herself walking backwards.

It was right she couldn't stop him but she wasn't gonna take part on it.

So she turned around and left, as the nurse explained Row how to hold his newborn daughter.

"You're not gonna break her, I promise. You'll do fine. Because you're here. Just because you're here I know you're gonna be a great dad. You already are" Callie said, putting his trembling arms on the correct position before lifting the small white bundle out the incubator.

They usually didn't do it unless it was necessary for a feed or a change, but she thought this was even more important: they had to meet each other properly: The little one needed to hold on to someone after being abandoned. And there was something in the young boy's eyes that told her he needed just the same.

So with a reassuring smile Callie placed her on Rowan's arms, who brought her closer to his chest by instinct, a small smile already on his lips as he took in her features.

She was gorgeous. And he didn't know why, but he found her to be the most perfect thing he had ever seen. He instantly knew he was gonna protect that wrinkled prune at all costs.

"Hey there, lil'raisin. I'm..." He swallowed the lump in his throat "I'm your Dad and... I'm here now."

🎶🎶🎶🎶🎶🎶

Hope you guys liked it

It's my first fic on Tumblr so I still don't have the formatting completely handled and my phone won't let me select all the paragraphs at once to put it all in regular font.

Let me know what you think. Thank you all!!😍😍😍😍

~Pookie

#bohemian rhapsody #queen band #roger taylor #roger taylor baby #roger taylor daughter #single dad! roger taylor #ben hardy! roger taylor #fluff #queen fic #queen family #queen #queen fanfiction #queen fandom #queen fluff #fathers and daughters #Rowan Queen #Infinity fic #music #infinity fic

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