#i swear i spent so long typing this someone better fucking read it

[roosterforme]

Adult Education Part 2 | Hangman x OC

Summary: Jake wasn't sure what he had done wrong, but the last thing he wanted to do was scare Jessica off. With a little bit of help, he manages to get a few minutes alone with her again. And all she does is effortlessly make him want even more.

Warnings: Fluff, angst, swearing

Length: 2600 words

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Female OC

This story is part of the Beer Boy and Sugar universe but can be read on its own! Adult Education masterlist

Seriously, who let Jake on my masterlist!? Banner by @mak-32

Jake was still perplexed the following afternoon as he listened to Maverick lecture about the efficiency of the modified fuel system in the F/A-18. He couldn't help but think that Dr. Reed would have done a much better job speaking on the topic. And looked cute while doing it. 

He'd spent most of the night thinking about her, trying to determine where exactly he had fucked things up. It seemed like she was into him while they were at the bar. The cheap beers and peanuts at Chippy's let Jake know she would be relaxed enough to hang with his friends. And the way she looked and her PhD in physics let him know she would hold his interest. If he was looking for someone to date, it would be Professor Jessica in a heartbeat.

She was so charming and intelligent. And maybe that was the problem. Maybe it only took her an hour last night to recognize that Jake wouldn't be enough to hold her interest. She really went running for her office as soon as they were outside.

"Damn," he muttered once the aviators were all dismissed for the day. When he unlocked his phone, his browser was still open to the tab of Jessica's profile on the San Diego State University website. That little photo of her wearing her glasses and a blouse with the top buttons undone was really messing with him. He practically had the About Me section memorized by now, and she'd said nothing about a spouse. He went to close out of it, but he couldn't. 

"Hey, you need a ride again today?" Bradley asked him, checking his own phone.

"Nah, I got my truck back this morning," he replied. "But thanks."

Bradshaw just shrugged and grunted in response, but then he was holding up his phone for Jake to see the screen. "My wife apparently has a message for you."

Sugar: Tell Hangman I ate lunch with Dr. Reed today. And she wanted to know if my sexy aviator husband happened to know another sexy aviator by the name of Jake Seresin.

Jake perked right up at that. "Mind if I text Dr. Tits myself?" he asked, and Bradley handed over his phone. 

"Just as long as you don't call her Dr. Tits. Jesus, I'm shocked you're still alive."

But he wasn't listening. Rather he was already texting. 

Hey, it's Jake. Did Jessica say anything else? After we had some beers at Chippy's, she kind of ran off. I'd like to see her again, but I'm not so sure she'd want to see me.

Jake sent the message and stared at the screen. "She might not be able to respond right now," Bradshaw was saying. "She's got a late lecture this evening." But the messaging app was telling Jake that she was in fact currently typing. 

"Shh," Jake said, devouring the message as soon as it arrived.

Sugar: I told her I know you. Be thankful that I painted a much, much prettier picture of you than I could have. But she didn't say much else. However... she does have office hours until 7:00 tonight. Just so you know.

Jake groaned and handed the phone back to Bradley. Of course he was relying on help from the woman he had accidentally given a vulgar nickname. He didn't know what he should do. On one hand, he'd love to show up at Jessica's office and pick up where they left off. On the other hand, there was a good chance it would be awkward. But he wanted to know what he did wrong. 

While they were at Chippy's, Jake had been thinking about inviting her to have dinner at his place one night. He thought about making her smile and laugh in his kitchen while he tried to convince her he was smart enough to keep up with the conversation. Imagining how it might feel to press his lips to her elegant neck.

"Yeah, I'm going," he grunted, checking the time. 

"Going where?" Bradshaw asked, looking at him like he had two heads as they finally exited the deserted classroom. 

"Visit your wife at work," Jake replied with a wink. 

He just rolled his eyes in response. "Tell her I'll pick her up at 9."

Jake didn't even bother to change out of his flight suit. He'd only been out on the tarmac for a short period of time today, so the jet fumes didn't seem to be an issue. He grabbed his wallet and keys from his locker and rushed for his truck. It was already after 6 o'clock. Depending on traffic, he might not even make it to campus before Jessica's office hours ended. But what did he have to lose?

"Come on," he complained, merging with the congestion of cars leaving North Island. Everyone was creeping across the bay bridge, and Jake was watching the minutes tick away. When he was finally close to campus, he tried to remember where Bradshaw had parked yesterday. He cut down a side street and came out near the math and science building, but there was nowhere to park. 

"Shit," he said, and then someone was pulling out of a spot further up the block. Somehow he managed to successfully squeeze his truck between two other cars, and he hopped out onto the sidewalk. He tossed his sunglasses onto the front seat before locking his truck, and tried to fix his hair as he walked toward her building. He could see Chippy's across the street, and he briefly wondered if she might head over there if he couldn't find her office in time. 

When he tried to open the door to the math and science building, it was locked. He jiggled all the door hands, but none of them were open. There was a card reader off to one side, but no students in sight. "Fuck," he groaned. The building was probably only left unlocked yesterday for the mini lectures. 

Jake started scrambling for his phone so he could call Bradshaw and get his wife's number. But then he saw her walking down the hallway inside, and he pounded on the door. She turned and looked at him with a cautionary glance until she realized it was him. Then she walked over and pulled the door open for him.

She grinned and said, "Just in time for office hours, I see."

"Thank you," Jake said, and he didn't even call her Dr. Tits. "I owe you one. For the information and for opening the door."

She just pointed him toward the row of elevators and said, "Dr. Reed's office is on the fifth floor, to the left when you exit the elevator."

"Thanks!" he called out as he practically ran to push the little up arrow. And now he was nervous. Why did he think this was a good idea? As the doors slid open, he registered that it wasn't too late to just go back to his truck and drive home. But as they started to close again, he found himself darting inside and pushing the number 5. 

If he got completely shot down, then so be it. And if she was already gone for the day, then maybe he'd consider stopping by Chippy's and running the risk of having her bartender friend give him the third degree. But it would be worth it just in case Jessica wanted to talk to him again. 

Fifth floor. He turned to the left and read all of the names on the doors as he made his way down the long hallway. And then he saw it on the placard on the second to last door on the left. DR. JESSICA REED, PHD.

The door was slightly ajar, and Jake let out a deep breath before he knocked. 

"Come in."

When he pushed the door open and stepped inside her small office, he smiled. Jessica was sitting at her desk, writing something down in that red notebook he saw yesterday, and when her gaze slid up his body, her lips parted in surprise when she met his eyes. "Jake."

"Dr. Reed," he drawled. "I almost missed your office hours."

Her eyes were wide, and she nudged her glasses up higher on her nose with the backs of her fingers. "What are you doing here?"

Jake took a step closer to her desk, and she slowly stood. And hell if she wasn't wearing another cute skirt today. 

She was eyeing him curiously, still waiting for an answer when he said, "You told me I could borrow your copy of the Journal of Propulsion Science. The edition with the information about Super Hornets."

"Oh," she whispered, her face falling a bit. "Right. Of course." She turned away from him and started to search along some shelves that were jammed with books and periodicals. His eyes roamed over the back of her body all the way down to her feet and her high heels. He watched as she pulled a few glossy journals out and turned to hand them to him. "Here's the Propulsion Science journal, and here are a few more that might interest you. I don't need them back. You can keep them."

Jake took them and immediately set them down softly on her desk without looking at them. "Thanks, but that's actually not the only reason why I'm here."

"Why else are you here then?" she asked carefully, and Jake wished there wasn't a large desk between his body and hers. He felt himself starting to hesitate again, but he was already in this deep. Might as well go all the way.

"Listen, Jessica. I was having a pretty great time last night at Chippy's." He was trying to gauge her reaction as he added, "You're beautiful, funny and smart, and hey, I'm only human. And I thought you were maybe feeling what I was feeling? And correct me if I'm wrong here, but I thought we were having fun? And it didn't even seem like you expected me to lay down my usual bullshit, which was really nice."

"Oh," she gasped. She worried at her bottom lip with her teeth before she said, "No. You're not wrong."

He shrugged at her, heart pounding as he asked, "Then what did I do wrong? Why did you run off?"

She laughed softly and looked down at her desk. "I nerded out so hard."

Jake grinned as the sheepish look on her face. "You must have been able to tell I was enjoying myself. God, I could have stayed at Chippy's with you all night long. You know more about my jet than I do, and I have the NATOPS memorized."

She ran her fingers nervously along the top of her desk as she looked at the stack of journals he was meant to take with him. As Jake planted his hands on his hips, she glanced up at him. "It's just too good to be true."

He shook his head slightly. "What's too good to be true?"

"You."

He raised one eyebrow, about to ask what that was supposed to mean when she said, "There's always a catch with the charming, good looking guys, right?"

"A catch?"

She licked her lips and pressed her palms on the desk, leaning a little closer to him. "I've been through this before. There's always someone else. A sexy naval aviator in his uniform shows up to my lecture and then flirts with me? Please. There's always another girl."

Jake was kind of stunned. "I would never do that."

But she still looked apprehensive as she said, "As soon as you started ignoring calls and messages, you said you had to leave."

Bradshaw. He was ignoring calls from Bradshaw who was trying to tell Jake to meet him at the Bronco. And he was only ignoring him because he didn't want to leave her at all.

When he didn't respond right away, she shrugged and said, "Figured it was your girlfriend calling you."

Jake made sure she met his eyes before he said, "I don't have a girlfriend."

She barely hesitated before asking, "Wife?"

"I don't have one of those either."

Jessica slowly pushed off from her desk so she was standing at her full height, lips forming a perfect, kissable pout. She looked a little embarrassed now as she messed with her glasses. "That's all really useful information to have," she muttered, picking up the stack of journals and walking them around her desk. 

Her steps were intentional and deliberate, the little click of her high heels muffled in the small space. Even in those shoes she only came up to his chin, and she didn't stop until she was right in front of him. He could smell her shampoo or perfume. He could see gold flecks in her eyes. This time when she held out the journals, they grazed his flight suit. He took them in one hand and murmured, "Thank you."

"Mmhmm," she hummed, and Jake almost tossed the literature aside and pushed her against her desk when her fingers met the patches on his flight suit. He stood still against his desire to tilt her face up and press his lips to that pout. She looked good, and she smelled good, and Jake was convinced she would taste good, too. Then she glanced up at him, fingers still tracing his patch that said HANGMAN. 

He cleared his throat softly. "What if I decide I want to return the journals after I read them? And what if I have some questions only an expert would be able to answer?"

She smiled and said, "Then I would implore you to find me and avoid Dr. Leeland and the rest of the physics department."

Jake laughed softly, but then she removed her hand from his flight suit, and he started to reach for her. But she was already turning toward her desk, tearing a page out of her red notebook. As she bent at the waist, Jake stifled a groan and rubbed one rough hand over his mouth. Her skirt rode up along her legs, exposing so much skin, he couldn't look away. Perfect, gorgeous skin from her bare thighs down to her ankles and those stupidly high heels. 

He was definitely caught staring after she finished scribbling on the sheet of notebook paper and spun to face him. He wanted to ask her if she wanted another three dollar pint and some peanuts, but she folded the paper in half and handed it to him before he could gather his thoughts into a sentence that actually made sense.

He glanced down and saw that she'd written her office hours in her neat penmanship. 

Dr. Reed's office hours for journal topic discussion:

Tuesdays 5:30 to 7:00

Thursdays 6:00 to 7:30

"I might be willing to stay late again. For you." 

Jake looked up into her pretty eyes and tapped the sheet of paper. "Any chance you'd add your phone number for me, Dr. Reed?"

The soft smile and dreamy look she bestowed on him had him grinning like an idiot, he was certain. He wanted that phone number in the worst way. When Jessica's fingers ghosted along his patch one more time, she said, "Maybe I'll see you on Thursday?"

"Yes." Jake would make it a point to come back on Thursday. 

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

Professor Jessica thought she nerded too close to the sun. And Jake really did give off some of the telltale signs of a man who is up to no good (including but not limited to looking hot in his uniform). Thanks to @beyondthesefourwalls and @mak-32

PART 3

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[bowsellie]

better than revenge - pt 2

fic warnings: cheating, angst, love triangle. abby x reader, reader x ellie, abby x ellie kind of. MDNI, smut

part 1 part 3

warnings: not proof read! ellie x reader, smut without feelings, kind of toxic!reader, manipulatey!reader, SMUT, MDNI. oral (r! receiving), face fucking (e! receiving), praise, pet names.

The rest of the night was spent internet sleuthing. Going through the girls Abby followed named Ellie--of which there were three--and finding the only one with a pride flag in her bio. Requesting to follow and scrolling through her posts to confirm that she was exactly Abby's type. Liking a few of her recent posts to show her you've been looking, then going through your mutual friends to figure out your common link.

After some time gathering information, you decided to send her a message.

hey, idk if you know me but we have a couple friends in common. I can't believe we've never met, you seem so cool!

Shortly, a response came.

oh, hey! yeah I've seen you around but never had the chance to introduce myself haha. well, I'm ellie (obviously).

You let yourself fall into the comfortable lull of flirting with Ellie. Complimenting her appearance, her vibe. Mentioning your queerness. Bringing up the potential to meet up in person. Everything that had worked on Abby seemed to be working on Ellie.

oh, are you still dating that abby girl?

Shit.

oh, her. idk honestly haha. we're on a break or something, but I don't think we'll get back together. I kind of have my eye on someone else.

who?

You looked at her message, considering for a moment before the three dots on Ellie's side popped up again.

do I know them at least? I won't say anything if I do--swear.

how about we go out to coffee and I can tell you then?

Nervousness and excitement danced in your gut as you watched for her response. When the little "yes" appeared, you smiled to yourself and began to make plans to see Ellie.

---💗💗💗---

"You're so pretty, baby."

Ellie's mouth was against your ear, breathing hot and humid as you whimpered. Her knee grinding against your cunt, pressing into the seam of your jeans and expertly growing a pressure there that you knew would pay off sweetly.

Her soft mouth moved to kiss your face all over. Cheeks, brows, lips, as she whispered praises in between. "Prettiest girl I've ever seen. So perfect. I bet you're so sweet." At this suggestion, your hips bucked upwards and elicited a louder groan out of your mouth. "You want me to taste you, sweet girl?"

You nodded quickly, somewhat dazed already. Sex with Abby hadn't felt this good since the very beginning of your relationship, when sparks were still flying and the fire in your bellies was bright. Before the domesticity, and the comfort, and...

You should probably stop thinking about your girlfriend while fucking another girl.

Tuning back in, you noticed that Ellie had pulled your jeans and panties down in one swipe and was resting her cheek on your thigh, looking up at you with hungry eyes. Making eye contact, she leaned forward slowly until her warm mouth attached itself to your cunt. You closed your eyes as you moaned, immediately overwhelmed by how warm and wet and good it felt to have Ellie's tongue playing through your folds. She teased at your clit before moving back down and giving long licks to your pussy, listening attentively to what made you pant and groan and squirm underneath her. She focused more and more attention on your pulsing clit, sucking it between her teeth harshly and applying pressure that made your back arch and thighs clasp around her head. Your hands took two chunks of her hair and began to pull her closer to you, pushing your hips against her mouth as she sucked and lick at your clit. Tensing up and practically shouting her name, you came messily over her mouth.

Ellie leaned away and looked up at you with a grin, wiping her mouth on her hand. "You are sweet." She leaned forward over your body to kiss you sloppily, the tangy taste of pussy on your tongue.

“Ellie,” you whined. “I wanna taste you.”

“Want me to fuck your face, pretty girl?” You nodded enthusiastically, reaching to pull her close to you. Ellie discarded her jeans, moving to position herself above your face. She held you by your hair and lowered her wet cunt over your mouth, holding you still as she ground over your extended tongue.

The girl above you was a grunter. Between praises of how good you were doing, she was breathing out carnal pants and groans that grew louder when she began to increase the pressure. Your jaw was sore, but you knew Ellie was close as your teeth bumped against her clit one, two, three times. As her rhythm stuttered and the grip on your hair loosened, Ellie’s thighs squeezed tight around your head as she came right on your tongue. Your tastes blended into something strong that stayed on your tongue as Ellie climbed off your face, kissing your hair and heading towards the bathroom to grab a washcloth and clean you off.

Wiping down your legs and chin, you sat up and began retrieving your discarded clothes. Ellie sat on the edge of the bed, shy in a contrast to her precious persona. “Have somewhere to be?” she asked. She placed her weight on one hand behind her in an attempt to look casual, but a crease sat between her eyebrows.

“Yeah, it’s late and I have to get home. This was great though. I want to see you again.” Your words came out rushed, and you glanced up at Ellie.

“Yeah, let’s do this again. Should I, I don’t know, walk you home or something?”

You shook your head, already halfway out the door. “No no no, don’t worry about that.”

Suddenly, your plan was getting risky. Yes, you wanted Abby to find out and be jealous. But how were you planning to tell her? How would she actually react? The foundation began to crumble and you bit the bottom of your lip raw on the way home.

[cloudynyims]

This is part two of the untitled Jamie/borrower fic I started... 6 months ago D: I genuinely didn't think I would lose gusto for that long but January-April is always busy for me w/ school so I'm not terribly surprised. But as promised, here is part two! Enjoy my first writing in 6 months :) Part 1 is here if you didn't read or forgot what happened! This part is about 2.1k words!

Roy was pissed off when they told him what happened while he was gone. “That stupid fucking prick. Not only was he lurking in my office, but he scared you half to death,” he seethed. They knew better than to interrupt Roy when he was worked up like this. Even still, they rolled their eyes.

“He didn’t scare me that badly,” They mumbled to themselves, trying to downplay the mind-numbing terror they had experienced. 

“Fucking hell. Are you sure you’re alright?” He asked them for the millionth time. They hadn’t seen Roy get this protective since the team first found them a year ago. 

“I told you, I’m fine. He didn’t do anything to me. He just asked me a few questions and then left me alone.” Roy didn’t seem to trust their words, but they knew he was just concerned. If Jamie had done anything, he’d be the first to take care of it.

“When I get my hands on that bastard, I swear I’ll…” They began to tune him out. When Roy was aggravated like this, it became a one-sided conversation. They usually listened politely, but their thoughts turned to Jamie. They kept replaying the moment in their head. When he saw them for the first time, how their entire body froze up with fear, and they could barely get a word out. 

But each time they thought about it again, his actions became less scary. He didn’t grab them, hurt them, prod at them, or do anything they seemed uncomfortable with. He didn’t yell, nor did he act malicious in any way. But they also couldn’t ignore how strongly the team felt about him.

They should still be cautious, right?

The Jamie they encountered was so different from the Jamie everyone described. He was gentle, considerate, and attentive. He was a little annoying before he noticed them, but after he wasn’t. He wasn’t demeaning or narcissistic either. The mix of opinions and actions messed with their head. Was he trustworthy or not?

For the next week, they tried to solve that mystery. They still spent most of their time during training in Roy’s pocket, but that was fine with them. It made it easier to observe Jamie. They started peeking out of the pocket when they were certain Roy wasn’t paying attention to them. They wanted to watch and understand how Jamie operated. They needed to see what he was like for themselves. 

To their surprise, Jamie seemed distant. They hadn’t seen him practice before, but this was not what they had expected. From what Roy had told them weeks prior, Jamie was still the same self-centered type of player. While his gameplay wasn’t really affected, even they could tell he seemed off. He had a few uncharacteristic errors during training.

Ted was getting on him about those, and Jamie just took it. They knew Jamie could run his mouth; his insults and backtalk often drove Roy to the edge. But now, he was hardly talking at all. He only nodded absently to any direction he was given. They were even more confused than they were before they started. 

They couldn’t figure it out. Why was he acting so strange? Roy still wasn’t coaching him, but that never bothered him before. The only thing that had taken place recently was him discovering them. They scoffed. He had no reason to be affected by that. He didn’t get towered over by someone he was told to be wary of. He didn’t get his wits scared out of him. There was no reason for their existence to influence him.

Practice had finished once they returned from the depths of their thoughts. Roy brought them back to his office to stretch their legs. Once he set them down, they began pacing on his desk, thinking again. He could tell something was wrong. “Oi,” He said to snap them out of their thoughts. “What’s up with you?”

They turned to face him. “Sorry,” They said with a small smile. “I was just thinking. I didn’t mean to worry you.” “You’re not worrying me.” He observed as they continued pacing. “Are you thinking about Jamie?” He asked suddenly. They looked up with a start. He continued, “If that twat is making you stressed out, I swear to fucking God that I will beat his ass into next week.”

That made them chuckle. “No, no, no, you don’t need to do that. I promise I’m okay,” They said waving him off.

He knew that wasn’t everything. “But?”

“I just… I can’t figure it out. Why has Jamie been so off lately?” Roy didn’t comment and waited for them to continue. “Is it my fault? He makes these errors in practice now, and I know how much it annoys you when he *doesn’t* make errors. And he seems so distant. He’s not talking much, and he hasn’t annoyed you in days!”

Roy sat back in his chair. “You say that like I enjoy it when he annoys me. I’ve been enjoying the peace,” Roy said with a ghost of a smile.

“That’s not what I meant,” They clarified. “I just… I feel bad. Like I drove him to this point or something.” They paused. “Like... maybe if I hadn’t been so nervous… or… maybe I should apologize—”

Roy interrupted them. “Apologize for what? That prick was snooping where he wasn’t supposed to be. Given how shitty he is, he shouldn’t have been surprised you reacted the way you did.” They cast their gaze down, still unconvinced.

He reached out to tap their shoulder reassuringly. “You’re a good person, and I know you care. But don’t waste your energy worrying about him. He’ll get over himself. His attitude is not your fault.” 

Roy’s words dispelled their guilt for a few days. But Jamie’s mood wasn’t getting any better, so their guilt returned tenfold. One day, in the middle of training, they made up their mind. They were going to talk to Jamie and figure out what was going on. Roy would kill them if he found out, probably because this was their stupidest idea to date. But they wouldn’t be able to live with themselves if they didn’t.

They knew Roy had a coaches meeting today, so they waited until he left them in his office. Once the coast was clear, they walked over to the edge of the desk. The office didn’t have much to help them get to the floor, much to their annoyance. So, they went back to their roots and headed to their old stash of supplies in the walls. Finding their old hook wasn’t difficult, and they made their way back to the edge of the desk.

“Phew, it’s been a while since I’ve had to do this,” they mumbled to themself. Digging their hook into the groove they previously made at the edge of the desk (they were grateful Roy still hadn’t noticed), it all came back to them. With practiced ease, they descended to the floor, gathered their hook, and jogged toward the door. 

It was closed, but they were small enough to squeeze underneath. They crawled under, with their hook getting stuck behind them. After yanking it free from the narrow opening, they looked at the locker room. It had been a while since they had seen the locker room from here. They had almost forgotten how looming it all was. A twinge of fear crept up their spine.

As fate would have it, Jamie was the only one present. He was standing in front of his locker, messing with something inside. They took a deep breath and started heading his way. Doubts crept into their mind, but they pushed the thoughts away, their resolve stronger than their fears. 

They had almost reached where he was standing when he suddenly turned away from his locker. With not a moment to lose, they scrambled out of the way as he stepped way too close for comfort. They felt the ground shake as his shoe landed a few feet away. Eyes wide, they stared up at Jamie, who was oblivious to what just happened. Penny in hand, he walked toward the laundry bin and tossed it in absently. 

Their heart was racing from the close call. They pressed themselves against the bench wall as he ambled back their way. Jamie promised he would never hurt them, but they guessed that only counted if he knew they were around. He sat down on the bench in the middle of the room and began untying his boots.

They took a moment to catch their breath and calm down. Their heart was still pounding, but they were directly in his line of sight now. There was no going back. “Jamie?” they called hesitantly. His eyes found theirs in an instant. 

“Oh, it’s you,” he said with a remorseful tone. “What’re you doing over there? Did you need something?” Jamie was being extra careful. He could see how their fingers tugged anxiously at their sweater. While they weren't as terrified as the first time they met, it was clear they were still nervous. 

“…” They debated telling him about the recent scare he just gave them, but deemed it counterproductive to their mission. Peeling themself away from the wall, they took a few steps closer. “I just wanted to know if—" they paused as Jamie leaned a little closer to hear them better.

Every instinct was telling them that they shouldn’t be here. But Jamie looked so concerned with what they had to say. So, they regrouped and continued. “I just wanted to know if I did anything to upset you or make you feel bad. I’m sorry if I did.” They noticed that Jamie’s face twisted into a confused expression. “It’s just… you’ve been acting strange since that day, and I feel like it’s my fault and I threw you off your game or something…”

Now he looked downright bewildered. “You’re... apologizing to me?” He asked. 

They nodded. “I thought you might think you hurt me or something… but I’m okay! I was just nervous. I didn’t mean to come across that way. I’ve just heard so much about you from the team and it was wrong for me to judge you so quickly. I wanted to apologize for that too.” They steadied themselves. They were getting worked up into a panic again. “Roy would kill me if he knew I was here but… yeah.”

Jamie didn’t know what to say. They were the last person he wanted an apology from. In his eyes, they hadn’t done anything wrong. Why were they apologizing for how they reacted? Were they so nervous that they thought they had to make amends for being scared? Now he felt even worse. “I don’t think I ever got your name,” he said softly. 

The question was out of the blue. “Y/n,” they responded.

“Listen, you don’t need to apologize to me for anything. How I’ve been feeling is… complicated. But none of it is your fault.” They watched as he stood up from where he had been sitting. They shuffled a few steps back, anxious. He loomed over them even more while standing, but thankfully he squatted down soon after. 

“I’ve been off because you made me think about myself. I’ve been trying to be… better,” he explained, but it was almost painful to watch him say it. “I don’t hate you, or anything like that, I’m just…” He looked like he stopped himself from going further. “It doesn’t matter, but don’t feel like anything is your fault, okay? I get it. I’ve been a dick in the past, and the team only wants the best for you.” 

They were nodding along, taking in what he had to say. “But, could we maybe be friends? At some point? Could I earn your trust?” Jamie asked hopefully. He wasn’t stupid. He could tell they were more than a little uneasy around him, no matter how much they tried to appear otherwise. 

They shifted awkwardly from foot to foot. “At some point,” they said after some deliberation. A thought came to them and they smiled a little bit. “It would drive Roy crazy, though.”

Jamie shrugged. “I can live with that.” 

They found themselves opening up slightly. “So… we’ll take it slow?” They asked, just to be sure. 

“As long as it takes,” he assured. 

They nodded. “We’ll be friends… eventually.”

PHEW now that this is done, I can start on new ideas and scenarios and things :D I don't like the end but when do I ever lol.

[dreamlanddeluxe]

pro-tip from someone who has had stretches pf insomnia like this since high school: (bc your posts makes it sound like a new development and like youre scared, so i want to help. sorry this unsolicited)

but literally?? fake it

fake sleeping. youre going to lie down, close your eyes, shift when youre uncomfortable, but keep your eyes closed and stay laying down. try to keep your mind as blank as possible, thats really hard for me specifically, so i legit will listen to videos or podcasts or music or ocean-waves as i fake-sleep (bonus, i found something that works for me 60, 70% of the time are those ASMR roleplay videos where it'll be like "your boyfriend/girlfriend talks to you while you sleep" or "you get confessed to while youre asleep" or literally anything where i have to "roleplay" being asleep?? weirdly? flips a switch and ill be KOed before the video ends. what the fuck. but thats niche as hell, idk if itll work for you, but it is an "experiment! you never know" encouragement)

and youre going to want to fake-sleep as best as you can, even if youre actually awake the whole 8+ hours, because it legit tricks your brain into thinking youre asleep enough that it gives you those chemicals you need from sleeping that help regenerate your energy and whatnot. like scientists found this works really well, insomniacs who did this instead of their phone or tasks or reading, even if they rarely fell asleep while fake-sleeping, not only recorded feeling a lot better than the control group who was not given this order to sleep like this, but also had more balanced chemical stuff. i like to akin ir to a cell-phone charge. youre not going to get the 100% you would from actually sleeping, but going from a 20% to a 65% is still p huge and very helpful. before i was told this tip, i literally would meditate to recoup; and shockingly meditation releases those same chemicals so like. i was already doing it. just. sitting up instead of laying down lol

also, please do talk to a doctor about getting a sleep study done or something if you have the insurance to afford it. but this is a tip you can do in the meantime in addition to other experimentations thatll help you out. youll still feel exhausted (esp if you cant quiet your brain. my AuDHD mind shuts the fuck when other people speak, so the audio-roleplay and podcast and video-essay people have been god-sends), you won't be that 100% refresh as i already said, but it also wont be AS compounded of an exhaustion which is so helpful when your metaphorical battery is just going down and down and down— to have SOMETHING charge it even a bit or just stall it. i dont want you to think this is a "youll feel back to normal!" cure-all; it truly is the epitome of a "well, thatll help it not get WORSE at any rate, and maybe a bit better" type of rhetoric

for now, i would recommend doing a fake-nap, pick x-amount of hours that feels most comfortable to you (my pick is usually 3 or 4, but my lil sister found she prefers 2 hour long fake-naps and my other lil sister just goes "fuck it, no fake-nap, only fake-sleep; im doing 8+ hours" lmao), see if it at least takes the edge off

i have said a lot of "temper your expectations" type of stuff but i will also say this: at one point, this tip literally saved my life. because i spent 2.5 months running on a total of 4 to 6 hours of legit-sleep per week or per week-and-a-half throughout. and that kinda shit, i belatedly found out, should mean i should be dead. but i was fake-sleeping at least 5 hours a night. and my family's doctor went "uhhhhh thank god i showed your mom that study i guess, omfg". so like. i swear it helps. just. ALSO temper your expectations on how much it helps lol

if this is unsolicited and feels unwarranted, i apologize. im not good at reading tone in text, and just wanted to help. i hope this does help you out, you got this, i believe in you!!

Hey no worries, I appreciate you taking the time to type all this out. Recently (like, within the past one to two years or so) I’ve been more prone to bouts of restlessness and the fake sleeping is actually something I practice and it does help me most of the time. I think right now it’s more of a stress induced sort of thing more than anything that’s led to me having more trouble. Might just be one of those things I gotta wait out to be honest. When I do have a moment where I can’t sleep right it doesn’t last more than a few days normally so I don’t imagine this being different I hope. Maybe seeing a doctor would help but I’ll be honest there’s a probably a few things I should be seeing a doctor about and I just don’t have the money for that lol. But still like I said I appreciate you taking the time to try and help me out and offer some advice that’s very kind of you 🫶

[comradepingu]

Ok I know I'm a little late to the party but just some of my thoughts on the Magia Record final season. Take this with a grain of salt because I have not finished arc 1 of the game yet (I'm on chapter 8 where iroha and sana locate the eternal sakura uwasa and fight touka and nemu there)

Tbh while it was very flawed and had themes very far off from what the game or the original pmmm series had at the very least I was still able to find some enjoyment in it and it and was not completely unwatchable like what I thought it would be.

Obviously, if you have not watched season 3 and do not wish to be spoiled then do not read this.

Touka and Nemu

I like how this season actually gave these two a slight bit more depth than their game versions. Game Touka to me has always been nothing more than an annoying brat who happens to be a child prodigy and also a cult leader because that seems to be the only way she was characterized thus far at least until where I am in the game storyline. Game Nemu doesn't get much characterization at all (I am aware she has some moments later on in arc 1 but I haven't reached there yet).

Final season episode 1 actually did a pretty good job finally explaining the Magius' backstory and founding. Some explanations behind Touka's motivations were also given, how her responsibility of listening to the unresolved and uncared for problems and worries of hundreds, maybe thousands of weaker magical girls all of whom were exploited and used by Kyubey but unlike a lot of the other girls we see, are too weak to do much about their situation. It took a toll on her and slowly radicalized her into the ruthless extremist we see in s1 and s2. Game Touka never really got such explanations for her motives as far as I know and is mostly just an extremist because she is. The doomscrolling analogy used for this scene also made her somewhat relatable? Idk given how shitty the internet has been to trans people lately with all the trans swimmer discourse and people bashing trans Ukrainians for fleeing the war it can feel very demoralizing and hopeless to read sometimes and that scene felt just a little relatable.

All that being said the amount of flip flopping of their motivations and switching sides that the both of them did later on was really annoying, not to mention the random decision to kill them off? You made them go through a sort of redemption arc and then just make them do a suicide attack which didn't even work like that? What was the point?

Momoko & Mifuyu

Unlike most of the deaths this season these 2 actually felt touching and more meaningful. While I have no fucking clue how they got into that astral plane place to help Mitama with un-doppeling all the doppel syndromed magical girls (i thought only coordinators like Mitama would be able to do things like this given that only coordinators can learn the ability to do stuff to modify soul gems??), at the very least this felt like a meaningful sacrifice unlike many of the other deaths. I sort of enjoy yachimifu content so it was sad to see Mifuyu die but yeah, not too bad overall. That's not to say Momoko's death did not feel a bit random and uncalled for tho.

Iroha

Honestly I liked her this season. Finally seeing her snap and shoot that bastard rat kyubey through the head was cathartic. Overall the season was pretty ok for her character, with her being forced to come to terms with reality vs her initial very idealistic view of the world of magical girls, but still remain hopeful for the future along with the Mikazuki Villa. Though I get why the latter point can fall flat given how rushed the pace of the anime is. We barely get to see any bonding between Iroha and the rest of the Mikazuki girls bar Yachiyo, with Sana, Tsuruno and Felicia feeling like random side characters sometimes. Though this has been a very huge glaring problem with the Magireco anime since season 1 and that's just what happens when you try to cram 10 chapters of in game content into just 3 very short seasons of anime episodes.

Kuroe

Her doppel and witch design was great but she was so badly written omg. While her death did do some good for Iroha's characterization as mentioned above it also felt so random and forced. Why did SHAFT introduce this (initially) anime exclusive character, give her almost no development in the previous 2 seasons and then kill her off in such a forced way in the final season??? WE BARELY KNEW HER 😭😭😭💀 Honestly I kind of liked her character despite the crippling lack of development but SHAFT really did her dirty. She deserved much better. If only the Magireco anime wasn't so rushed...

Alina

Probably gonna be my final point for the night. Downright atrocious and lazy writing. I've heard that game Alina is actually a much more complicated character than she seemed but I haven't seen her side stories on YouTube yet. Anime Alina however doesn't get much characterization or screentime in all the previous seasons but at least her appearances were fun and enjoyable. In this season however SHAFT turns her into a lazy twist villain just so they can add more deaths and trauma for seemingly no reason other other than for the sake of it. Fuse with Eve and absorb Walpurgisnacht's powers so she can turn the entire world into magical girls??? Alina has always been off the rocker but wtf is this random ass pull of a twist?? At least we got the funny witch name "neo-dorothy motherfucker" out of this 💀

Anyway the season felt like it was trying to be dark and edgy for no reason other for the sake of it, with all the meaningless and random deaths and random ass pull twists. The theme of the final season is downright opposite to that of the original series and magia record game story. Both of those stories are dark and plenty of moments of despair yes, but the main message was always that no matter how dark everything is there is always reason to hope. I got almost none of that from the ending of this season which just felt very depressing. Despite all that at least it had it's good moments and overall I was still able to enjoy watching it.

Feel free to leave thoughts down in reblogs or comments.

[rcksmith]

Not you — Five Hargreeves

Requests: “Five Hargreeves x fem!reader, Fluff prompts 9, 52 and 53, please? (You can do this whenever you feel like it) Five and Y/n are both hit by one of Hazel and Cha-Cha’s bullets in the Gimbel Brothers store and they immediately go to the academy (Five wants Y/n treated as soon as possible.) after they’re fine, the siblings start to question them on Five’s protectiveness over Y/n”

“Hii could I request 4 & 23 off the fluff prompts for Five pls ty 😌✨”

Fluff prompts:

4. “Sweetheart, you’re my entire world”

9. “So you're saying that girl is your girlfriend?!" "No, that girl is my wife!”

23. “i’ve dreamt about this.”

52. "Help her first."

53. “There are no limits when it comes to you. I’ll do anything to keep you safe.”

A/N: We not tolerate any pedophilia here !!

I write about Five with their 20s. I write the same about the characters of Harry Potter.

I hope you guys like💖I decided to compile these two requests, since they were the same energy and they prompts connect to a central plot. I added all the elements that were asked for individually, and made sure that all ideas were respected and written down. Good reading.

I used here some fragments of the central plot of Five, but, guys, keep in mind that he is 20 years old, and that when he comes back to 2019 Five does not make a mistake in the calculations. I changed the location of the fight too, but a really I hope you, Anon # 1, don't mind.

English is not my first language, so I so sorry if have a mistake.

Requests are open. Love you ❤️

Couple: Five Hargreeves / Fem! Reader.

Warnings: blood, mention of death, swearing, fluff too.

— — — — —

You remembered perfectly when you met Five Hargreeves, the commission's golden ball, The Handler's award-winning shamrock. If you closed your eyes, even after years, you could still smell the male cologne wafting in the air, and you could relive the same feeling in the pit of your stomach that you had when he looked at you with those obsedian eyes.

Five Hargreeves was gorgeous. Absurdly gorgeous. But absurdly arrogant, boastful, presumptuous and completely absent of any delicacy in relation to empathy and kindness. He was the type who would open the door for you to enter first, but who would be the first to make fun of your erroneous reasoning.

And that was why, at the time, when you were assigned to be his partner, you lived in conflict with what you really felt. It was a mixture of tantrum and physical attraction.

But unlike all the people around Five, when he spit fire at you with all the anger at his difficult temper, you didn't run. In fact, when it exploded the first time in front of you, you crossed your arms, arched an eyebrow and looked at him with boredom.

“Have you finished your show yet?” You said, as if you didn't care, leaning against the hood of the car while Five screamed through the 7 winds “Stop to imply with everything.”

Five had been your partner for a few months now and it became clearer each day that the irritation was mutual. He made it perfectly clear that you pissed him off until his last hair.

But, unlike you, it was for another reason.

Shit, you were a fucking goddess! Your beauty was notorious, but that was not all that caught his attention. You were smart, canny, brave, Five never saw you in fear of any situation or shaken by any scene of blood. You knew your goals and went after them. It was strong, decisive, and, goddamn, he loved it. You had a fist, you were firm, and you always made it very clear that you were no helpless maiden.

It felt like you had gotten out of his imagination, from the daydreams in which Five rambled about what kind of woman he admired. And, hell, you came with the full package. It was a combination of overwhelming beauty, intelligence, dexterity, and he never thought that someone like that could be real.

But of course you were. And now Five was completely irritated because you were real, and not just another his dream and daydream in which a sublime woman starred.

“To Imply?” Five turned to you, eyes on fire “To Imply?!”

“Like a 2-year-old who didn't take his afternoon nap. It's not the end of time, it doesn't have to be childish.”

Now Five felt himself ignite. He was a dry, rough fire and you were gasoline, igniting everything saw ahead.

Was that damn woman calling he a child?! You?! Just you, the person whose Five wanted to tie the bed and do all kinds of sinful things.

Oh hell no!

Five came forward, furious, like an angry god, his coal eyes never leaving your direction.

“Childish, isn't it?” He snarled “I'm going to show you the childish!”

Five held your face tightly in his hands and pressed your lips to his. Fierce, needy, set on fire, lost in half sentences of feelings about you. He slid his hands to the back of your neck, closing his fingers in your hair and invading your mouth with his tongue, letting you taste the caffeine, danger and lust he had.

You sighed, or Five, or both. You held him as close as he was, with the two of you being on the same mission: to conquer, to take, to possess. But Five had an extraordinary intensity, a magnitude that managed to win you

Then your touch became more docile, your kiss became submissive and you were surrendered. When Five walked away, not with his body, he still held you against him, but with his head, enough to look you in the eye, you sighed.

“I’ve dreamt about this.” You gave up your game, because you couldn't pretend anymore, and Five responded by kissing you again, this time tasting your whole mouth.

After that day, Five and you never came apart. You two were like a dynamic duo, crime partners in the morning and intense lovers at night.

But Five spent so much time with affection, love and caring being denied that when, on a night when work got the best of him, Five fell into the bed you shared in a Motel room, very close to your lap and you smiled sweetly and ran your fingers through his black hair, establishing the affection there, Five was catatonic.

His wild mind wanted to take it away and go, tell you to swallow those loving gestures and that he would never need them. That they were a nuisance, a distraction.

But his body and heart... well, they begged Five to stay another second. Just one more second enjoying that touch, the care, the importance that someone felt for him. He liked to be pampered, who knew.

So he ended up falling asleep with your touch and, after that day, Five realized that if his body and heart couldn't get any further from you, then no one would ever take you away from him. You would stay with him, until the end. As long as you wanted to stay.

And you wanted to. You wanted all the stages, all the moments, all the fights. You wanted Five, completely. And after some time like that, he said that you two were going to get married. It wasn't a request, it wasn't a speculation, it was a fact and that's it. You laughed, it was Five's style to be embarrassed about something and treat it more coarsely, just because he didn't know how to deal with the emotions he felt.

“Of course I do.” You reassured him by bringing your hands to his face, tracing affectionate circles on his cheek with your thumb.

“You would have no other option.” He grunted, not looking at you, trying to divert attention from his own racing heart.

You laughed and sealed the future of the two of you with a kiss.

After five years of making it official, Five said he had found a way for him to get home. And as he spoke, you noticed a flickering hesitation in his eyes. You knew, at that moment, that Five would leave it behind if there was a chance that you wouldn't want to go along. He promised to love you, in joy and sadness, in difficult times and in good times, and he never broke a promise.

Five Hargreeves would stay for you. In 1963, in 1988, in 2019, it didn't matter the season, the year. It wouldn't be worth anything if didn't have you by his side.

But, like him, it was logical that you would never abandon him, ever. So you went along. It was together in the murder in 1963, it was together at the time of the target, and it was together when he jumped in the portal. You were with Five when he reunited with his family, they all amazement by the 13 year old little brother who disappeared to reappear as a man of 25. On top of that accompanied by a girl.

But Five still couldn't administer his emotions properly, he still couldn't say that he missed his brothers and that being without his family had been terrible. His past contained many shipwrecks and he did not know how to open up about it. After so many years alone and then killing without any judgment, it was difficult to connect with emotions.

So, instead of saying everything that screamed inside him, after just some time with the siblings he took your hand and pulled you out, telling the Hargreeves that he would go after a decent coffee.

“I wish I could have talked to them better.” You grumble whit Five and he rolled his eyes.

“As if they were going to understand the things you were going to explain.” He murmured, covering the whole issue of the Commission and time jumps.

“This is not difficult to explain.” You raised your left hand, signaling the silver circle that hugged your finger.

Five laughed, sipping his coffee.

“You will be my wife forever, there is plenty of time for you to tell that.”

But as soon as Five's words had just left your lips, blowing in the air like fog, the door to the store opened, and you two didn't have to turn around to find out who they were. Years on the commission have earned you enough training to even recognize the sound of their footsteps.

The exchange of looks that Five and you gave was enough to know what each one was thinking and how they would act. That was your secret language, the superpower that you two shared. No words were needed to understand each one like the back of your hand.

You took a deep breath, while your fingers on your right hand steadied yourself on the coffee cup and Five on the knife. There was no waiting for speeches, exchanging words, you both knew that the Commission would send the best agents besides you, and Hazel and Cha-Cha were not known to be late at work.

Then the action started, Five turned and teleported with the knife, shoving it into the leg of one of the agents covered in rabbit masks. You didn't stay behind and swivel your chair around, throwing the sizzling coffee into the second's hands, causing him to drop the gun on the floor. You didn't wait to kick him in the chest, making him stagger backwards as you got up from the chair. You and Five were good, but so was Hazel and Cha-Cha, and you couldn't count on the powers to dodge physical attacks.

Everything was very fast indeed, windows were broken, punches were exchanged, blood was plucked. But when you looked to the side and saw who was probably Cha-Cha pushing Five against a broken glass stake, you understood why love at work was so dangerous. You understand completely. Because you've lost your focus. It took a thousandth of an instant for years of training and improvement to be thrown out the window. Only the possibility of Five getting hurt got you off track, and that was fatale.

The agent who fought with you took advantage of your distraction, reaching for the gun that was on the floor in that split second. And a shot reverberated through the place.

Suddenly, the world for Five stopped the axis. Everything was suspended, appalled, frozen. And in that very second, his body shivered from head to toe, as if misfortune had sighed in his neck. Five Hargreeves never feared anyone, even death itself. But as soon as he heard the sound of the shot, Five tasted death. Was rough, metallic and cruel, the blood drained from the body and the world released a dark and funeral note, sinking into a black sea.

Because fear is not the bullet hitting you, but someone you love.

Five turned back, eyes wide, hands shaking, and he didn't know what was beating faster: his fear or his heart.

He would remember that moment as the most cruel and frightening of his entire life, years in the apocalypse and killing had no comparison to the terror that was seeing your white shirt start to be stained with blood, the bullet hole marking your abdomen. You looked up at him, shocked, livid, and Five could see death perfectly, pulling the vitality out of your eyes.

He didn't think, he didn't reason, he just teleported himself to you, taking your body in his arms and teleported you two away from there. Five’s hands were shaking, a visceral pain snaking through his body and suffocating him with the worst sensation Five had ever felt in his life.

He took you both to the Hargreeves mansion in the blink of an eye, his powers failing when the blue flash left you both in the giant living room.

“Five!”

Maybe it was Luther's voice, or Klaus, or Diego, he didn't know. Everything was a distant echo, a note submerged in the water. Five saw or heard nothing but your body in his arms, your eyes closed and face frighteningly pale, his right hand, which was pressing on your wound, was already soaked in blood.

It was too much blood, the smell was overwhelming, and for the first time in a long time, Five Hargreeves was in despair.

Hands touched his shoulders, and Grace's voice was heard in the background. But he didn't want treatments, whatever the goddamn his wounds were going to be.

“Help her first!” Five shouted, his voice finding strength in the terror he felt. And also in fury.

The Handler would pay for that, and so would Hazel and Cha-Cha. And, by God, the whole world would pay if you never opened your eyes again.

“Right now.” Maybe it was Pogo “But, Five, are you…”

“No!” He ordered “She first!”

Then Grace's hands took you out of his arms and Five refused to leave you for even a second. He was beside you at the operating table, holding your hand, with him bloody fingers of your blood and the agent he had fought.

But Five didn't care about the himself state, the people around it, or anything. His eyes were focused on you, his face frozen in a livid expression.

And when Grace said that you would need a blood transfusion and Five barely let her finish speaking before rolling up the manga and extending his arm, the siblings Hargreeves and Pogo were shocked. What they saw in Five's eyes was not a man afraid of losing someone, but of losing the person he loved.

I shouldn't have come back. Was Five's first thought when the surgery ended well and you were still asleep. It was his fault that you almost died. And everything was buzzing in Five's head like a propellant.

“So…”

Klaus appeared in the kitchen, with the siblings, while Five was washing the blood from his hands, now calmer since you were alive.

“That was heavy.” Luther let out a little gasp, a kind of choked laugh.

“Aren't you going to tell us what happened?” Allison sat at the table.

“She almost died because of my decision, that's what happened.” Five replied, turning and picking up a cloth from the table, drying his hands.

“Five...” Allison made his eyes go towards his sister “Who is she, actually ?”

Five gave a bitter laugh. Who were you? How would he explain it?

You are everything. The reason wake up everyday was good, what made the summer breeze and the sun's rays warm, the reason why his world was still spinning.

Who were you? It was absolutely everything for Five.

“Someone very important.” His whispered escaped.

“So you're saying that girl is your girlfriend ?!" Luther looked at Five in shock, as if the possibility of him having a girlfriend was absurd.

“No.” Five looked at Luther with fire in his eyes, his voice hoarse “That girl is my wife!”

The room's breath evaporated, everyone was dumbfounded and bewildered. But Grace came in at that moment, saving Five from continuing that conversation.

“She woke up.” His mother's voice was soft, and Five dropped everything he was doing and disappeared into the blue flash.

The first thing he noticed when he entered that room was you sitting on the bed, your back against the headboard.

“Hey...” the smile you gave made Five's world spin again.

He didn't wait a second before walking up to you in quick steps, holding your face in his hands and sealing your lips in a desperate kiss, as if that could prove that everything was fine.

“I thought I lost you.” He whispered against your lips, hands shaking, thumbs stroking yours cheeks.

“Bad vase doesn't break early.” You joked and Five laughed softly, his forehead touching your. “Were you hurt?”

He denied it, still with you, as if letting you was impossible. Maybe it was.

“I got distracted, I'm sorry that we let them escape and...”

Five interrupted your sentence

“Sweetheart…” You stopped, bewitched by his tone of voice “You’re my entire world.”

Five wasn't calling Hazel and Cha-Cha right now. He would kill that entire Commission later. Later. Now the only thing that mattered was you.

“I shouldn't have broken our contracts with the commission. I shouldn't have put you in this.” He said “But ... but I am very selfish, and even though I knew it would be better to let you go back to the Commission, I cannot live without you...”

“Hey, I not go come back.” You held his hands that were on your face, looking at him with love "My place is with you.”

“I promise you that I will never let anyone else hurt you. Even if I have to kill every single person on this planet. ” Five guaranteed “There are no limits when it comes to you. I'll do anything to keep you safe. ”

You smiled, put your lips together in a passionate kiss and whispered:

“I only need you, my love. Forever.”

[xoxo-teddybear]

What Have I Done? - Bakugou Katsuki- pt.2

Bakugou x f!reader

Warnings: Angst, Mentions of suicidal thoughts, fluff, insane behavior, nsfw, noncon! Dubcon!, murder, stalking, abusive behavior, yandere!Bakugou, cursing, blood, lowkey kinda slow burn (meaning the beginning is a little boring BUT IT GETS GOOD I SWEAR😭)

Ep. Warnings: Angst, hitting, cursing, stalking, kidnapping, murder

Summary: It’s been awhile since you’ve left him. Two months actually but it was two months too long. Katsuki was slowly going insane and I guess you could say he officially has because he’s officially snapped. You become his main target, his number one priority, his entire being even though you’re trying to leave him. But Katsuki won’t let you. You’re his..and in the words of Bakugou Katsuki..you always will be.

A/N: ....I made it a yandere story y’all. OH SHI-

BAKUGOU’S MASTERLIST

Chapter 1

Twitch, twitch, twitch. That’s all Katsuki’s body been doing. Either his eyes or his fingers, his body is uncomfortably moving. Shit doesn’t feel right for him. And he knows exactly why. You left him.

The first week was horrible. All Katsuki did was cry. He even kept his destroyed home in shambles because he couldn’t find the motivation to do anything. If it wasn’t for Kirishima, Katsuki would have starved himself to death. The second week was just as bad. Nothing but a crying baby being taken care of by his best friend.

The third week is when Katsuki become a drunkard. He made Kirishima and the boys of the Bakusquad constantly take him out whenever. As long as the place served alcohol, he would go. He would go and drink himself to sleep. While he was intoxicated he would cry about how he misses you and how he was a terrible husband. He always said you deserved better but he was too in love with you to let you go. The 4th week was pretty much the same.

After a whole month without you, Katsuki threw himself into depression. For the entirety of the second month, he locked himself within the walls of his home. Thankfully, it was now considered a home environment once again after his dear friends cleaned the place up for him. Katsuki stayed inside all day, drank his soul away every night, and sobbed constantly. Constantly regretting how he neglected you, how he mistreated you, and how he hurt you. He doesn’t even know how he even brought himself to do that. Even though he’s been alone for almost 2 months, he still had hope that you would come back. That things would go back to normal and he would be a better husband to you, just like he promised.

Katsuki felt himself going mad and slipping away, but what pulled the trigger was what Kirishima brought to him on the 6th week.

—

Flashback

“WHAT THE HELL IS THIS?”

Katsuki looked down at the papers in his hands. Kirishima had walked in with a nervous and sad look on his face when he gave Katsuki the papers you had the red head deliver. “Sorry man...”

Katsuki shook as he stared at the divorce papers with wide eyes. He saw you already signed it and all the paper needed was his signature. His face grew dark as something in his mind snapped. Katsuki turned to his friend and instructed him to get out of his home.

“What? Man are you alright?” Kirishima said. He walked to his best friend and when he reached a hand out for him, Katsuki pulled on his arm and pushed him out the door. He slammed it shut and locked it as he looked at the papers.

A scary smile grew on the man’s face. His eyes grew crazy as he laughed maniacally. Hysterically. As if what he held was the most hilarious thing in the world. His palms began to spark as he used his quirk to destroyed the papers. The quick blast made his hair floof around a bit and when it was over, a pile of ashes lay at his feet.

“She-....she thinks she can leave me?” Bakugou began to walk to the framed picture on the coffee table. He picked up the picture of you both on your last anniversary and ran his finger over the image of you. “Poor Princess....you can’t leave me. You need me. Just as much as I need you. I mean..hehe...look at what I mess I’ve been. I can only assume you must be worse. But it’s okay, love...I’ll find you soon enough..and I’ll help you feel better,” he walked to his bedroom and layed down on the soft mattress as he held the frame close to his chest as he stared sinisterly at the ceiling, “and we’ll never be apart again.”

—

The 7th week was when it began. Katsuki took some time off of work. He was gonna be too busy for hero work. He had something much more important to do. He had to bring you home.

Katsuki spent the 7th week looking for information on you. He was up 24/7 reading all he can, talking to as many people as he can, and doing all the digging he could until he found you. Unfortunately for him but luckily for you, he found nothing. It pissed him off. How could you have completely erased your existence? Did you just go into hiding or was he not searching hard enough.

This time, the luck switched. Katsuki was just walking to the store when he looked to the far side and saw you in a cab. He had to do a double take to make sure he wasn’t mistaken but after a good glance and taking a picture for confirmation, he knew it was you. His body almost betrayed him as he almost went in to run after you but luckily his brain stopped him. He had to think. Katsuki hid in an alleyway nearby as he watched you from the side. When the driver continued down the road, that’s when he began to follow you. He used his hero training and quirk to keep up with the car. He followed you for miles until the cab finally stopped at some hotel. He watched you walk in and decided this was far enough.

He knew where you were now. He could wait a little longer before snatching you up. If he did it now in broad daylight, chaos would break out. He had to wait for the perfect moment to get you back. He was okay with waiting. He knew where you’ve been staying, how to get there, and knew what time you got back from wherever that cab picked you up. And then it hit him. The cab.

Katsuki went back to look at the picture he took of you in the cab and checked the license plate. With this information, he went home to find where the vehicle was.

Katsuki busted the door open to his home and ran straight to his in-home office. He went to log onto his work laptop that he used for hero work. The laptop contained the tools and websites that would allow him to find the cab. He finally reached the site he was looking for and went back to the picture. There, he typed in the license plate number.

“よ 57-342” he whispered aloud. Finally, he located the vehicle and went to find it. Katsuki followed the location until he found the house where the driver stayed. He waited in hiding, hoping someone would come out and hoped that the someone would be the driver. He waited and waited until finally, after almost 2 hours of waiting, a man came out. Katsuki quickly pulled up the picture and made sure it was the same person who was driving you, and to his luck, it was.

He quickly ran to the driver before he could get into the cab and pulled him into a dark corner. He slammed the man up against the wall and pulled up a picture of you. “Listen! You dropped this girl off at a hotel, I need to know where you picked her up! Tell me! Now!”

“W-whoa!” The driver exclaimed as he took notice of Katsuki’s identity. “Y-you’re Dynamight!”

Katsuki sucked his teeth at the fact that this guy knew who he was but then again, he wasn’t surprised. He was the number 2 hero after all. “Yeah! I am! Now tell me where you picked up my wife you dog-faced loser!” He screamed.

“Y-you’re wife??” The man looked at the picture and recognized you and the name you gave him. “Oh! M-Miss Y/N! Yes! Uh-..uh- I- she- I- ..I picked her up from a gym!” The man exclaimed.

“What gym?! Tell me!!!” Bakugou shouted at the man.

“I-I’m sorry! I don’t know if I can! She- she said she got divorced so how can I trust you’re her husband?!” The man shouted in fear.

“Are you calling me a liar?! I’m a fucking pro-hero! Why would I pull some bullshit like that! Tell me where my wife was! What?! Gym?!” Bakugou screamed once more. In fear, the man gave Katsuki the information he needed.

“Hosu Gym!” The man shook and Bakugou stared for a minute to scare the poor guy before dropping him to the ground. As he walked away, the man spoke up once more. “D-Dynamight, sir. I-If miss Y/N doesn’t want to see you..and you’re forcing information out of people..I’ll have to tell the authorities..sir.”

“You’re not gonna do a damn thing. You hear me?!” The pro screamed. Bakugou side eyed the man as he watched the driver get up from the ground.

“Sir. From the small conversation we had in the car, Miss Y/N said she was divorced-“

“We aren’t divorced!!” Bakugou said as he made a random explosion to intimidate the man. “We are still together, and she is still my wife, and none of this is any of your business!” Bakugou began to walk away but heard the driver grumble something under his breath that triggered something in his brain.

“I can see why she left a crazed man like you...” the driver mumbled. Katsuki quickly snapped his body to face the man and jumped on him. His burning hand found it’s way around the man’s neck and began to squeeze.

“The hell did you say?! You’re gonna wish you never said that you fucking fool, cuz now those are gonna be your last words!” Bakugou said before he activated an explosion and killed the man. Katsuki took deep breaths before realizing what he did and for some reason, he felt no remorse. And he knows why.

“That idiot should’ve known better than to talk about me and Y/N like that...s’his own fault he died.” Bakugou said before walking away from the gruesome scene. He acted like nothing happened as he made his way to Hosu Gym. He just needed to know what time your got there and when. Then, he could finally go home before continuing his plan for the next day.

—

The blonde decided to wait for some time before he went into the building. It was getting dark and so the gym would be closing soon. He waited and waited until finally, the place was empty. Empty except for the man who worked at the front desk.

Katsuki slipped in right before closing and hid himself in the locker room. He waited 10 minutes before going out and finding the one employee he saw. After exploring the area, Katsuki found the man sitting on a bench. He snuck up behind him, and pounced. He covered the man’s mouth as he tugged him into the back room. Once inside, The blonde threw the man in and locked the door to prevent anyone getting in or out.

“W-What is going on? D-Dynamight, what is happening?” The employee asked in fear. He assumed a threat was going on or some trouble was taking place outside of the gym. He had no idea the trouble was standing right in front of him.

“I need you to tell me when this lady came in.” Bakugou said and pulled up a picture of you. The man looked at the picture and shook his head.

“I’m sorry, but I don’t recognize-“

“YOU WILL! This woman came in here today and I need to know what time! TELL ME!” Bakugou screamed as he lit sparks in his palm. The man shook in fear at the hero’s booming voice and began to look harder. After a minute, he finally spoke.

“I- I remember. She came in hours ago! Sometime around 12 to 2!” The man said in hopes the yelling would stop. It didn’t.

“ARE YOU FUCKING STUPID?! There’s a huge space in between! I need to know exactly what time she came in! Don’t you morons have a sign in?!” Bakugou screamed.

“We do! We do sir!” The man nodded his head in fear. Bakugou huffed before walking over to him and dragging him by his collar to seat him on the chair in front of the computer.

“Then get into your data base and FIND MY WIFE!” The blonde screamed. The worker nodded frantically before getting right into it. Bakugou watched his every move and the computer. He kept a sparkling hand right next to the man’s head to keep him intimidated as he worked. Eventually, Bakugou saw your profile picture on the screen when the man scrolled down. “Stop. Her. Check what time she came in.”

The man read the drafts and spoke. “1:30 p.m.”

Bakugou nodded before walking to the door and unlocking it. He turned to the trembling man and gave a quick warning with a sinister smile. “If I ever find out that you told anybody, even your own damn friends or family, about what happened tonight, I won’t hesitate to come back and kill you. Am I clear?”

The man gave a quick and jittery “y-yes sir!” As he watched the pro-hero leave the room. Once Bakugou was gone, the man let out a breath of relief and allowed the few tears he was holding back to fall. Bakugou Katsuki definitely struck fear into those of the lives he met.

With this simple information, Bakugou smirked as he walked out the gym doors. He knows where you live, what gym you go to, what day you go, and what time you arrive. You were always a very punctual person. You had a schedule and you followed it through and through. He completely trusted the fact that when he came back here next week, he would be sure to see you. All he had to do now was wait 7 days.

—

7 days have passed and Katsuki was waiting for your presence in the gym. After finding out you arrived at 1:30, he showed up almost an hour earlier at 12 just in case. He waited and waited for you to show. He was almost out of patience, but after seeing that it was only 1:00, he settled the slightest bit. It wasn’t until he took notice of a familiar figure at the desk.

The man Katsuki had threaten nights ago was shivering and shaking in his boots as he greeted people at the door. He was aware that the pro hero was in the building and after the incident of what went down that night, he was definitely scared for his life. Bakugou began to walk to the man and said man could feel a scary aura coming around. When he turned, he was greeted with the sight of a smirking Katsuki.

“Hey friend,” Bakugou said with his hands in his pockets.

The man jumped at the sound of his voice and his scary presence made his eyes teary. “H-Hello Dynamight.”

“Thought I’d just come by to warn you again. When Y/N walks through those doors, don’t you fucking dare try telling her about me or my presence here. Got that.....” Katsuki said looking down at the man’s name tag. “Hiro Itadori? ‘Cuz if you do, your body goes boom. Understand?”

“Y-Yes Sir!” Hiro said as he looked to the ground with wide eyes as he felt himself break into a cold sweat. Bakugou patted the man’s back, causing him to flinch but when the hero walked away right after, Hiro calmed down. Unfortunately, that only lasted for about a second before you walked in.

“Hello Hiro!” You joyfully said. Your voice reached the ears of your ex-husband. Or more so, your “supposed to be” ex-husband. His ears perked up and he smirked as he hid behind a corner wall, taking the view of you in.

“Y/N.” He whispered to himself. He smiled and a blush bloomed on his porcelain skin as he admired you from afar. You were just as beautiful as he remembered. If anything, your looks seemed to have only gotten better. He watched as the man nervously greeted you and allowed you to go through with your workout. Katsuki smirked as he knew the man gave no hint at him being there, and so he would be able to watch you in peace.

Katsuki wasn’t there to keep tabs on your workout and what exercises you did. He was there just to watch you. Of course, while doing so, he admired you, but he was there to gain selfish intel. He watched you from start to end. Once you finished he followed you to your next location. It was still early and so it was safe to assume you weren’t heading to bed yet. He followed you back to your hotel and waited in another area until you walked out again. Sure enough, you did.

For the rest of the day, Bakugou followed and stalked your every move. He watched where you work, where you spent your free time, he followed you to the new cafe you seemed to enjoy, and then he followed you back to your hotel. Instead of waiting in another area and watching from afar, Bakugou climbed the side of the building and watched you from your hotel balcony through the glass door. He payed attention to your every move and noted what time you went to bed. Satisfied with the day’s revelations, he went back to his own home.

Knowing this information, Katsuki was able to sleep a little more peacefully. For the next few weeks, Katsuki followed this procedure. He became a full time stalker, even going so far as to call out of work for some time to put his full attention in you. He watched you like a hawk. He took note of everywhere you went, where you ate, who you spoke to, and what you did. All of it became engraved into his brain.

Now, Katsuki stood at your balcony for the umpteenth time as he stared at your sleeping form. It was deep into the night and with the moonlight on his back, he found enough courage and craze to open the door. He walked in quietly and shut the door, blocking the chilly air from seeping in to awaken your unconscious state. He approached your bed and crouched down to meet your face.

“Still as perfect as ever,” he whispered as he removed a few strands of hair out of your face. His touch didn’t seem to startle you and Katsuki took it as your body naturally indulging in his familiar touch. He blushed at the feeling of your oh so soft skin as his fingertips grazed your pillowy cheeks. His hand finally cupped the side of your face as his thumb drew circles along your skin. Your head unconsciously nuzzled into his warmth like it used to and Katsuki couldn’t help but smile. “Don’t worry Teddy Bear...I’ll bring you home soon.”

With that, Katsuki leaned down and softly placed a kiss on your lips. This was the lightest kiss he ever bestowed upon you. The pressure and weight was similar to a feather and the blonde struggled to restrain himself once he came in contact. He craved more but his mind knew better. Reluctantly, he pulled away and removed his hand from your face. He walked away, back to the balcony to take his leave but not before turning to look back at you. “Real soon.”

—

You woke up to a sense of familiarity in your room. Although you were alone, you could’ve sworn there was this chilling presence. It was faint but it was there. Taking in a breath and looking around at your surroundings, you reluctantly got out of bed and got ready for the day.

You did the usual. Got ready, got dressed, had breakfast, and went about your day. You went to the market to picked up a few things and ended up staying much longer than you liked. You walked in during daylight and came out when the sun was setting. You sighed in disappointment.

“Guess I can skip the gym this one time. I might as well get back home, read a book or two..” you went on talking to yourself about your schedule. You walked with the groceries in hand as you enjoyed the scenery on your way back, however, even with the shining sun creating it’s golden hour with a beautiful purple sky, you couldn’t help but feel wary of the stillness in the wind.

—

‘Where the fuck is she?!’ Bakugou thought to himself. He waited at the gym all damn day. He waited and waited to see your beautiful face but you never showed. If he had known that you would’ve skipped out on the gym today he wouldn’t have came here and wasted his time. Today was supposed to be the day. The day you came home.

Shaking off his negative thoughts, Bakugou continued with his backup plan. Although it would hurt his soul to bring harm to his precious princess, he reminded himself that he was doing this for her. He’s been so broken for the past months, he could only imagine how destroyed you must be. Hurting you was his way of helping you.

And so, Bakugou made his way to your hotel, where he found himself standing infront of your glass door at your balcony. To his dismay, you weren’t there. He released a huff before climbing down and once again, began to wait. He waited and waited in hiding, constantly on the lookout for you. It’s hard to find you in the city when you don’t follow your daily schedule, but knowing where you currently resided to get your rest made his job much easier.

Finally, after some time, he heard the familiar and comforting sound of your humming voice as you sang a little song to yourself. Bakugou took the sight of you in and blushed at your beauty from afar. He allowed himself to soak in the sound of your pretty voice before making his move. “Sorry Princess.”

—

You finally made it to the hotel. After your long stroll, you couldn’t wait to get some rest. Except, the closer you got, the more tense you became. You could feel the suspenseful aura in the air and your pace soon slowed down. Eventually, you came to a stop as your nerves got the best of you.

“Hello?” You said in the wind. You looked around and saw nothing but the pitch black night illuminated by the street lights and stars.

“Is someone there?” You asked again, turning your head another direction. Nothing but leaves in the wind. You released a sigh and continued your walk but became startled due to the sound of squirrels fighting in the trees.

“Ah!” You screamed and dropped your bag. After taking notice of the two animals going at it, you chuckled to yourself and turned to pick up your bag, unfortunately being startled once again at the sight of shoes in front of you. “AH!”

You jumped back in fear and took a fighting stance before you settled and relax at the sight of your supposed ex-husband. “Bakugou..it’s just you.”

“Mm, nope.” Bakugou said as he bent down to pick up your bag and hand it to you. “It’s Katsuki.”

His words sent your eyes rolling as you took your bag back with a hesistant hand. Something seemed..off.

“Not anymore. Thanks for the help. Bye.” You attempted to walk on to your hotel entrance but his arm stopped you.

“What? That’s it? Thanks? Bye?” Bakugou asked while gently pushing your body back in front of him. “We should talk, Y/N.”

“There’s nothing to talk abou-“

“There is.” Bakugou said with a firm voice, grabbing your full attention. Seeing your doe eyes look at him with caution caused him to settle. Bakugou sighed through his nose and allowed his hands to rest on your waist. “I miss you, Y/N. I want you to come back home.”

You shook your head at the idea and scrunched your eyes as you tried to step out of his hold. “Bakugou..”

“Hear me out, okay? It won’t be like last time, Teddy Bear-“

“You don’t know that-“

“I do. Because I’m going to try harder for you and I’m going to hold onto you and I’m not gonna ruin us for a second time. I still love you Y/N. I always have and I always will.” Bakugou sweetly said. You looked at him with the same eyes of caution before you placed your hands over his, giving him a sign of hope.

“I’m sorry, Bakugou,” you said, pulling his hands off of your waist. “I sent divorce papers. I don’t want to be with you anymore. I don’t love you anymore.”

“You don’t mean that.” Bakugou said with full confidence. Although you pulled his hands away from your waist, you still allowed him to keep a hold on your own hands.

“...I should.” You said looking down. With each word of denial, Bakugou took a step closer, invading your personal space. “You should get going-“

“No, Y/N-“

“Bakugou-“

“Baby. I know you still want me. I know you still love me and I know you’re excited that I’m back. I love you...and you love me. So just admit it.” He said, inches away from your face. You stared in his eyes with a look of longing...and a hint of love. He was right. You did still love him. But after the neglect and harm he’s brought you, you didn’t know if you did want to go back. You didn’t know.

Sensing your hesistation, Bakugou slowly moved in to close the gap between you two. His hands let go off yours as he wrapped his arms around your waist. His face inched closer to yours and when you didn’t stop him, he continued. Finally, he gently placed his lips upon your own and you’d be lying if you said you didn’t feel something again. His kisses always brought a comforting feeling of butterflies in your stomach and after a second of feeling his warm lips, you kissed him back. Your hands found way around his neck as you pulled him in deeper and you could feel Bakugou smile into the kiss. It was hot and passionate. You were out in the open but for a moment it felt like no one else in the world existed. You would’ve gotten lost in the kiss had it not been for you remembering the situation you were in with the man.

Reluctantly, you gently pushed Bakugou off of you, but he still managed to press his forehead to your own. “Katsuki...you should go home.”

“Not without you.” He softly said. You shook your head as you completely pushed him off of you and gathered your things.

“Please...just go.” You said and began to walk away but Bakugou held onto your arm to stop you from moving any further.

“I’m not leaving without you, Y/N. Come home.” He stated.

“Bakugou! Just leave!” You shouted as you turned to him. When you faced the blonde man, you were shocked to see a crazed smile decorating his face.

“Too bad. I’m not asking Y/N. I’m telling. You’re coming home with me. Tonight.” He said and you scoffed at him with slight fear.

“You’re crazy!” You said and tried to shake his hold off of you, but of course failed.

“About you? Yes.” He said as he pulled you in closer. You squirmed against his hold until he pressed you in his chest and kept you in his grasp. You continued to fight against him but he grabbed your face with one hand to force you to stop and look at him.

“Let me go!”

“Listen! You either come home with me the easy way..or my way.” He warned. You looked at him with fear laced all around your face as you watched his insane side surface. You began to squirm again and fight once more.

“I’m not going!” You spat. Bakugou just released a simple laugh before caressing the side of your face.

“Yes. You are.” With that, the gentle hand on the side of your face formed into a first as he swung and knocked you out. You dropped unconscious in his hold and Bakugou was quick to carry you princess style and walk away, abandoning your groceries on the sidewalk.

“Shoulda listened. Cant believe you forced me to hurt you like that, baby.” Bakugou spoke to your unconscious state as he walked back home through dead city streets. “Don’t worry though, I’ll take care of you once we make it back. And then, we’ll never be apart again. I promise.”

—

You awoke to chains being locked on your wrist that were tied against a headboard. You layed on a large mattress in a dark room with a dim light. As you looked around, you recognized the familiar place. The place you used to make love for hours with your ex-husband. The place where movie dates and cuddle sessions were a must. The place you locked yourself in before leaving your last relationship. Katsuki’s bedroom.

You tried to jump out of bed but the restraints pulled you back down. You tried to scream and only muffled sounds could be heard. Katsuki taped your mouth shut. You tried using your quirk but it didn’t work. You looked to your restraints and saw the cuffs he used to hold you were quirk restraining cuffs. With nothing else to do, you tossed and turned in the bed as you allowed the muffled sounds to be as loud as they could. Eventually, the ruckus you were making brought the attention of your captor. Katsuki Bakugou.

Hearing all the noise, Bakugou busted opened the door to be met with your frustrated and teary eyes. You glared at him as he smirked at your locked up state. He took the opportunity to walk up to you and caress your face.

“I’m so sorry I had to hit you baby,” he said leaning down to place a kiss on your forehead. “But you left me with no choice. All you had to do was come home on your own free will and I wouldn’t have had to do all that.”

You began to tremble with anger and fear as you stared up at the man. Your teary eyes challenged his insane rubies as he sat on the side of the bed.

“How does it feel to be back? Hm?” He asked, ripping off the tape. You groaned at the pain and grew sick as you saw Bakugou pervertedly lick his lips at the sound. You leaned back and huffed with heavy breath before answering him.

“What the hell is wrong with you?! Let me go!” You screamed. He only looked at you in confusion as another sinister smile took place on his lips.

“Why would I do that, Teddy Bear?” He asked, allowing his thumb to create sweet and soft circles on your cheek.

“I don’t want you anymore Katsuki! I don’t want to be with you!” Bakugou merely raised a brow at your words and continued to listen. “You burned me-“

*SMACK*

You looked at the man in front of you with fear and shock written on your face. Your cheek stung as your face now turned to the side but Bakugou quickly changed that by taking you by your chin to make you face him and wrapped a hand around your neck, chocking you. You gasped for air as Bakugou’s smirk became replaced with a frown and his brows became pointed.

“How dare you?! You’re asking what’s wrong with me but what the hell is wrong with you?! You left me, for months, Y/N. I was heartbroken. I was basically dead with you gone. I did you a fucking favor bringing you back. If I was so fucked, I can only imagine how horrible you must’ve been feeling. You’re lucky I came and save you. Saved us. And now, we can be happy again.” He explained.

“K-...Katsuki-..p-please!” You forced out, trying to beg for air.

“SHUT UP! I saved you, Y/N. So don’t even try to mention the little accident that happened so long ago, baby. Now you can forgive me. And don’t worry..I’m ready to listen to all the apologies you surely have for me...even if I have to choke them out of you.” He seethed with his hand tightening. Your eyes began to pop as the blood flow began to fill your face. Your eyes turned red as you struggled for air.

“I-...I-I’m..K-Katsuki! ...I’m sorry!” You shouted as best as you could. Luckily for you, the second you did, Bakugou’s hand lost its grip and simply rested on your neck. You choked and coughed as you relished in the sweet taste of oxygen. He smiled and leaned down to give your lips a sweet peck to shut you up and tapped your cheek before he walked to the door. Before leaving, he turned around to look at you and give you your official welcome back.

“I’m glad you’re home, baby. Can’t believe you really tried leaving. You’re mine, Y/N. And you always will be....don’t forget it.”

He slammed the door shut, walking away from the room with a smile. And you?

You cried.

A/N: Back by popular demand, we have part 2 to “What Have I Done.” How was it? In my opinion the beginning SUCKED! But I promise it’ll get better! The story will focus on Y/N and Bakugou’s new lives now so stay tuned and I hope you guys enjoyed it!

Tag list: @captainchrisstan @jazzylove @bakugous-trauma @konohahoee @whatdidshesayyy @chibiiichann @lover-of-helios @unicornlover25 @tamakisropebunny @iliketobullydeku @peacchfuz @fairybnha3 @ebiharachan @levimeko @5sos-wdw @naluciosa @anime-weeb-bnha @bakucumsackslut @asteria-obey-me

[soulwillower]

housesitting •  richie tozier

(richie tozier x reader)

requested: no

had this in my drafts and figured i’d finish it and post it, sorry for being away, but idk if i’ll keep writing! hope you enjoy, i’ll prob still come back and update/post fics on this account on occasion. love u guys lots and i hope you’re all doing okay <3333

warnings: drinking, unprotected sex, oral (fem and male receiving), light deepthroating/face fucking, praise kink, degradation, use of the words slut, whore, etc, suuuper unedited

(losers + reader are 21+.)

4.7k words

♡

the moment you stepped back into your flat, dropping your bag heavily on the ground with a sigh, you finally felt like you could breathe. 

today and yesterday had been a nightmare - you and your roommate bill had gone home, planning to stay for a week with family and friends back home. 

you'd spent the first night out with old friends at the bar enjoying yourselves and  you'd even gone home with a handsome boy you'd had a crush on in high school. but just as he was about to go down on you, after you'd gone down on him despite how terrible his b.o. was, he said he wouldn’t because it was 'gross.' 

you hate to admit but you were slightly tipsy and horny, so you still stayed for ten minutes of awful, boring missionary before he fell asleep. then when you'd left in the uber, a voice message from your boss threatened to fire you if you didn't come in and finish a project - so you had to scramble for a flight home, leaving bill back with your friends in maine for a few days, and now you're just ready for a shower, a nicely packed bowl, and a large dinner. 

because good god, that was an awful trip. 

"hello?" you call, rubbing your eyes as you walk towards your kitchen, wondering if your roommate's best friend was still here - he was supposed to stay and take care of the apartment while you were away. 

but instead, your eyes landed on a complete mess in the kitchen; solo cups everywhere, trash, empty chip bags, furniture moved and counters sticky from spilt beer. 

"what the fuck?" you project, eyes landing on the figure who walks into the kitchen, towel hanging low on his hips as water drips from wet, shaggy curls of hair. you meet the bright eyes of richie tozier, your roommate’s best friend. 

he looks like a deer in headlights, his glasses slightly fogged as he blinks his eyes owlishly and you swear his eye lashes tangle together as he blinks. "oh, hey y/n, why are you here?" 

and honestly, richie has always made your fingers tingle and your abdomen clench when he so much as looks at you, despite bill’s groaning and glaring when you refer to him as ‘hot friend number one.’ (he had a lot of hot friends). 

but you’re wound up, stressed, frustrated, and exhausted so all you can do is look from the boy to the mess and then back, stunned, "this is my apartment." 

he chuckles, wiping a drip of water off of his chest. you have to fight to look away, feeling burning from irritation and also something else as your chest heaves. you're just so tired, and this boy who you don't know very well has trashed your place and maybe even had a party and you just want to smoke and go to bed and- 

"say, what are you doing back so soon, toots? thought i had the place to myself for the next five days." he says too casually, grinning like he's catching up with an old friend. his hand runs through his wet hair, droplets rolling down his bare skin and causing you to fight the urge to keep your eyes on his face.

you shake your head. "richie, why does my kitchen look like a scene from dexter?" you say, trying to keep yourself calm. 

he tilts his head in an irksome, handsome way that makes you want to scream, "pretty sure dexter was....murdering murderers, not slamming smirnoff at three am."  "clean it up! what gives you the nerve to have a party in someone else's fucking apartment? while they're gone?!" you yell, throwing your hands in the air. richie shrugs uncomfortably and you're briefly in shock at how much faith richie is putting in the small tuck he's made with the towel, barely keeping up on in his waist. he laughs somewhat nervously, "sheesh, doll, it would've been cleaned by sunday, you just surprised me and almost gave me a heart attack while i was in the shower. bill told me we could throw at your place as long as we were responsible." he sounds pretty genuine, but you're just so tightly wound and frustrated.

"well this," you gesture to your place, "is not responsible." you glare, "i'm going to shower. i've had a long fucking day, and when i get out the place better be fucking spotless and you better be gone. i'm not asking." you snap. 

he grins as you push past him, turning to watch you storm towards the bathroom with an apologetic grimace on his face. 

- 

you took as long as you could in the shower, savoring every warm drop until you stepped out of your bathroom, expecting to see an empty apartment. 

"what are you staring at?" the boy with the curls mutters as he fixes the wine glass he'd placed on the counter. you're pretty speechless as you look around, wondering how richie had managed to get your place more clean and inviting than how you'd left it. dishes are all clean, put away, the counters spotless; the oven is set with a timer for two hours, and the smell of lasagna invites your nose with a rumble of your stomach. two glasses of wine are poured, sitting at the counter as richie chews on his lip anxiously, hair glinting in the dark mood lighting from the lamp near the window. 

"i felt bad. you seem like you had a long day and i didn't mean to make it worse." he admits. 

you step forward, suddenly feeling hot as you watch him, his jaw clenched slightly and sharper than you remember it. he's actually really fucking beautiful, you realize. 

"you didn't have to do all this." you say, biting your lip as you take the wine glass from his hand. 

"i know." he says with a cocky smirk. your face feels hot as you watch him slide out the stools by your breakfast bar, sitting down and sipping on his own wine. 

with a smile, you sit next to him. he was always the friend of bills that made you the most flustered - he's a tall, loud, garish bartender who spends most his time doing stand up at the clubs on the weekends even though he studied applied mathematics in school. he's the kind of boy that everybody has a crush on, because he's got that dorky yet beautiful sculpt; dark, curly locks, pale skin with a splattering of bright freckles. his eyes pierce yours whenever you're in the same room and his grin makes your stomach flip on it's head. 

"so, why'd you come back early?" richie asks as he takes a sip, eyes staring at you brightly from behind the rim of the glass. you huff a small bitter laugh, "my boss told me i had to come back because we're understaffed. told me the extra hours are 'building charater' or something. but i was having a shitty trip anyways, so i may as well just volunteer my time." 

he laughs, muttering, "good girl. doin' the lords work." you almost laugh but his words have heat sent straight between your legs and you can't tind words, suddenly in a state of shock. oh, god, this wine is getting to you.

richie's always been so hot, you're not surprised that one casual phrase had you so frantic like this. you blink, richie muttering, "y/n?" gently. 

you shake your head, snapping to look at him, "y-yeah? sorry, i just- what did you say?" you're embarrassed. you're embarrassed because richie didn't even mean it like that and you didn't expect to like being called that by him and you're embarrassed because he knows now, god look at his smirk, you're done for. 

"i asked why your trip was shit." he says simply, smirk on his face causing your face to heat up even more. you sigh, eyeing him, "i tried to enjoy myself and then i have the worst hookup experience of my life. then i came back to a messy apartment." you admit, shaking your head as richie pours you both another glass of wine, "the worst? that's a shame. what'd he do, throw up on you?" 

you laugh, "no, nothing like that. he was a minute man, and he refused to..." you shake your head, wondering why you're admitting this to a guy you barely know. you've never hung out one-on-one before with him.  "-he made me do all the work. and then he fell asleep. the worst part is, i've liked him since high school." you admit, dropping your face into your hands as richie lets out a chuckle. 

richie's shaking his head, "see, those types are the ones who just shouldn't be allowed in the gene pool. lazy. missin' out on all the fun, especially with a gal like you." he says with a wink. you laugh, face feeling hot. "i'm no fun." you say bashfully. 

richie raises his brows with a grin, his smile making you melt, heat pooling in between your legs from the way he runs his fingers across the rim of his glass. "i highly doubt that, doll." 

his eyes dip down in a not-so-subtle way as he takes in your body, biting his lip and making you clear your throat with a heated face. "sorry you had to put up with a guy who couldn't fuck you the right way. and that your boss also fucked you. and that i ruined your night." 

you shake your head, "i just had so much pent up stress from the last few days." he's eyeing you, and you wonder if he wants to fuck you as bad as you want to be fucked right now. would bill kill you? yeah, he would, but richie is so damn fine and you were left so high and dry last night that you’re just about ready to jump onto his lap. 

as if reading your mind, richie hums, "bill's still in maine, yeah?" he asks casually, eyes fluttering to the timer on the oven that ready an hour. 

you nod, "yeah, he's actually hanging out with the guy i hooked up with tonight." you say with a light huff. richie groans a laugh, "no fuckin' way. i promise, not all of bill's friends are bad at sex." richie says with a grin, and you laugh. "you sure about that?" 

he hums, eyeing you but not responding. 

“guess i’ll just have to find out.” you say boldly, butterflies fluttering in your chest when richie shoots you a deep look, slicking his lips through a smile. he hums, "so i don't get it, what was so bad about it?" 

you sigh, "he wouldn't go down on me. said he was 'too tired' and ‘too much work’ then he wanted to lay down so i rode him for, like, five minutes and then he fell asleep." 

richie's laughing, and you swat his arm as your face burns, "it's not funny! it's humiliating, richie." 

he snorts, standing up to place your empty glasses in the sink, recycling the empty bottle. "sorry, doll. that's just shit. he should've at least had the decency to make you cum." 

you almost choke on your spit at his bluntness, face blossoming and thighs tingling. "y-yeah." 

"anyways, i can get going, if you'd like. guess i’m done being the house sitter. the lasagna will be done in an hour or so." he says with a nod, eyes staring at yours fiercely. you hum, standing up as richie walks closer. "or you could stay." you say, looking up at him from where he stands in front of you. 

"you lonely or somethin', doll?" he rumbles lowly, lifting a brow. biting your lip, you swallow, "something like that." you say, lifting a challenging brow. 

“so if it was stan here, or mike...” he starts, walking towards you until he’s close enough that you’re afraid he can hear your heart thump, “you’d want them to stay?” 

you swallow dryly, “if bill lived with someone else, would you want to stay?” his smirk makes you clench your thighs. his long fingers raise and curl around your jaw, tilting your head back before tucking hair behind your ear. you swallow roughly, his hands are so big. his rings that he wears are thick and ice cold and feel so good against your warm face. 

your heart pounds as he smirks, eyes challenging you. the waiting is killing you.

"you've got a pretty mouth." he whispers, sending shocks all around your body. "y-you've got a pretty everything." you stutter out, feeling extremely flustered and suddenly shy. "thanks, honey." he says with a laugh, making you feel even more bashful.  

"y'know..." he drawls, hand settled on your neck, caressing your jaw, "i've wanted you since i first saw you." 

you can't help the whimper as it falls from your lips. it's a small, shy noise of need and it makes richie beam a beautiful, sexy grin that has your knees weak. "please..." you whimper, eyes staring at his, the suspense making you anxious with need. 

"please what?" he asks quietly, clearly loving the tense air. you almost roll your eyes, "kiss me." you say, rushed. 

he pulls away slightly, giving you a stern look. “please.” he says, smirk creeping onto his face. you burn in slight humiliation because he knows what he’s doing. 

“please kiss me, richie.” you finally say, swallowing.

"good girl." he says with a smirk and you feel like you're burning up under his gaze. but then he’s leaning in and his lips are on yours and wow, richie is a good kisser. he’s pulling you towards him tightly, hungrily; his teeth bite gently at your lower lip as his tongue swipes your own, pulling you into him. he was needy in the way he kissed you, a dominance in him that you're not surprised to find. you craved it, you craved him; and then he's pushing you back, up onto the stool as he moves between your legs. 

his mouth is then marking your neck, claiming you, and you love it, the feeling of his teeth against your warm skin, the sweetness of his smile against you.

his hands brush up your thighs and past the hem of your shorts, legs spread so he’s pressed flush against you, his bulge so close to where you want him. "richie," you let out a mangled whimper, hair knotting in his soft curls. he laughs, lips finding your ear, "always wondered how you'd sound when i had you like this," he says quietly, "can't wait to hear what pretty noises you make when i'm inside you." 

his fingers find the damp seat of your panties, dancing across it and making your legs shake with anticipation and neediness. you’re already a soaked, mewling mess as you grasp for him, hungry and needy and you want him closer, closer. 

he pulls you off the stool, then, and you both stare at each other for a moment. he almost dies at the state of you; already fucked-out, hair mussed up and still wet, your eyes lidded and your lips kiss-swollen. 

you can’t believe your eyes, richie’s curly hair fluffy from being freshly washed, the taste of wine on his lips, the freckles, the collarbone peeking from his collar, the smirk that could melt black ice. he looks like he could tear you apart. you hope he will. 

“you’re hot.” you blurt. 

he rushes at you again, melding your lips together with a searing hot kiss as he shoves you backwards towards the bedrooms. 

"bill told me to stay away from you," richie says as he walks you down the hall, your feet nearly stumbling and shaky as you walk backwards, lips seeking his every moment, "he said i'd ruin you." he adds. 

you lift a brow, too flustered to say anything as you stare up at richie, inhaling sharply as his hand trails down to cup your ass lightly, still walking backwards. "he knows how pretty i think you are. how hot, how... perfect." he whispers into the skin of your neck, raising goosebumps. "but i want to fuck you so well you forget your name. i don't care about what bill wants." 

you look at him, desperate and needy. "i don't give a fuck what bill says. i want you, please." you say, pawing richie and kissing him needily. richie’s leaving dark love bites on the column of your neck and you know it's wrong, and you shouldn't, but you let him kick open the door into bill's room, guiding you to bill’s bed instead of yours. “please, wan’ you so bad,” you pant, the needy throbbing getting unbearable, desperate for some release. 

“how bad, pretty girl?” he asks, smoothing down your hair. biting your lip, you sit on the bed, eyes level with the zipper of his pants. the sight of you staring up at him from below his hard, clothed cock makes his pants feel even tighter and he hums, "you sure?" 

you nod enthusiastically, "wanna make you feel good, please." he lets out a soft noise as your hands go to pull down his fly, “filthy girl." he says lowly, making heat drip from your core. you shift, trying to relieve some pressure. you feel hot when you realize you want him to degrade you, that you love it. “god, say that again.” you moan, mouthing around his bulge. his hands come to caress your face, watching you, 

"you like being my little whore, huh? so good just for me. bet you’ve thought of my cock in your mouth before, haven’t you?" 

you nod, biting your lip. he grins and you’re moving to pull him out of his pants, trying to conceal your shocked face as you take in his size. your cheeks heat up, hand grazing his length and meeting his own hand as he pumps himself a few times, lining his tip up to your lips. 

“open.” he says simply and you comply willingly, laying your tongue out. he’s teasing his cock on your tongue and you’re whining, desperate to feel him in your mouth, to make him feel good. 

“just wait until i say so, baby.” he says, slapping your tongue lightly with his cock and making you shift on your legs, dripping wet.

he groans, one hand coming to hold your head softly, making you tingle. you watch as he stares at you, lips parted and eyes blown wide. his cock is glistening with precum as it lays on your tongue. “suck my cock pretty girl.” he mutters, caressing your cheek. so you close your lips, slowly sucking on his tip before taking a bit more, moving your head slowly. 

you lick a stripe up the base of his cock and up to his tip, swirling your tongue. he groans in relief and pleasure as you take as much of him into your mouth as possible slowly, bobbing your head and taking as much in as you can. he’s bigger than anyone you’ve been with before, and the need to feel him inside you and to make him fall apart has you taking him as deep as you can.

you take him deeper, your eyes clouding with tears as you try not to gag and he hums, hands pulling your hair from your eyes - you can tell he’s straining not to buck his hips as you bob up and down on him.

“god, you feel so good, y/n.” he groans. you pull back, sucking on his tip as you swirl your tongue, catching your breath. his hands fall to your head and he gently, slowly thrusts his hips slightly. you gag, mouth wet as he pulls out of your mouth and wipes the trails of spit from your lips. “do it again, please.” you gasp, and he grins. “such a  slut.” 

he guides your face back to him, “tap me three times if it’s too much.” you take him in again, holding as long as you can and loving the way he’s thrusting into your mouth. he groans, both hands on your head, his chest rising and falling shakily.

"god, that’s so perfect. my good little toy.” he rumbles and your chest flutters. you feel him twitch and you sense he may be close, so you start to bob your head again.

he stops you, "no, pretty girl. i'm going to cum inside of you, okay?" you swallow, mouth dry, "okay." please. 

he sinks to his knees, gently pushing you so you're laying down on the bed again, pulling your legs so they hang off the side of the mattress. he's pulling your shorts off, your underwear following as he spreads your legs wider, kissing your thighs. “look at that pretty pussy. soaked, all for me.”

you're breathing shakily as one finger rises to gently rub your slit, making you moan softly. his touch is feathery-light, teasing you and making you whine, moving your hips. "shhh." he says softly, bringing his tongue to lick up your slit. you moan out, relieved to have some sort of satisfaction. richie's hand moves up to push up your top, thumbing your nipples as he starts to suck your clit. he pins your hips down, "be a good slut and stay still for me." he says, burying his face as your toes start to curl in pleasure, the burning sensation of pleasure increasing. 

he rubs circles into your hips with one hand as he slides two fingers into your heat, making you whimper, his fingers start to pick up pace as he continues to circle your clit with his tongue. his long fingers curl up inside of you, still pushing into you fast and rough, hitting your g-spot. you moan, “richie, harder, please.”

he hums, lifting his head as you gasp for breath, "since you asked so nicely, doin' everything i say." his fingers are moving again, faster than before. his tongue runs over your clit, practically moaning into your heat, fingers moving faster. you moan unabashedly, feeling yourself clench and knowing you're about to cum. your legs wrap around his shoulders as your hips move slightly, 

“cum on my tongue like a good little slut, okay baby?” he says gently. you moan, eyes shutting as you see stars. you're hitting your high and then richie's watching you, praising you as you fall apart, letting out soft whimpers. 

then you're sitting up as he rises from his knees, licking his lips. pulling him into a searing kiss, he crawls on top of you, rutting into you a few times before pulling back. 

he's pulling himself out of his pants and you swallow around your words, resisting the shocked face that threatens to creep on to you when you see how big he is. you moan as you watch him pump himself, pulling off his shirt as you pull off your own. 

he grins as he looks at you, "so good for me, my little slut. you want me to fuck you now?" he asks and you eagerly pull yourself up to your elbows, "yes, please, rich, fuck me." 

he hums, pushing his cock against your slit, the tip rubbing your sensitive clit and making you moan sharply. he continues to tease you, one hand on his cock and the other holding your waist. "use me, please." you whisper in his ear, hand holding him to you from the back of his neck. 

he lets out a sharp breath, hand snaking to your neck and pushing you back onto the mattress. "you want me to use you?" he asks, thrusting against you slowly, teasing your slit. "like my little plaything?" 

"yes, god, richie, please-" but then he's sliding into you all at once, his large cock stretching you as he moves his hips, sheathing into you. you feel so full that all you can do is gasp, richie kissing your forehead as his hand rests on your throat. "gonna fuck you on bill's bed, okay? and you're gonna be good for me, right? my good little cockslut." 

you nod yes, "so good for you." you say, and he smiles. he starts to pull out, easing back in and starting a shallow rhythm, getting you used to his size. you're euphoric as he starts to languidly pump into you, one hand on your neck and the other on your chest, palming your tit. 

he starts thrusting into you, picking up speed - rough and fast. his hips buck up against you, pulling back fully before filling you up. his thumb gently grazes your sensitive clit and you grip his bare back, raking your nails down in pleasure. "do you walk around thinking of how it'd feel to get fucked by me, baby?" he whispers in your ear as he pounds you into the mattress. you moan, "yes, r-rich, i've wanted you for s-so long," you trail off into a moan. "feels so good." you mutter, panting, words babbling from your mouth incoherently. 

you barely have a warning before you cum a second time, clenching so hard that richie's hips sstutter, his moan ringing with your own. he looks down at you, thumb trailing into your open mouth, you eagerly sucking on it like a lollipop. "god, you're so tight, doll. such a good little whore for me. i bet you'd let me do anything to you, anywhere." 

your legs are shaking as he keeps thrusting you through your orgasm, feeling sensitive and euphoric. he smirks, "yeah? bet you'd let me fuck you anywhere, just my little fuck toy. so perfect for me." 

you nod, kissing him needily, tears from oversensitivity pricking your eyes. "want you filling me up richie, feels so good." 

"anywhere?" he asks, eyebrows knit in pleasure as he fucks into you. he's so possesive, it makes your face warm. you nod, "anywhere." 

he's smirking, and you know he's thinking about how shocked bill would be if he found out. it makes it that much hotter as you turn and see the picture of bill and richie on the wall near the door. 

then richie pulls out of you and you're being flipped onto your knees, richie's large hand pushing your face towards the soft sheets. you can't help the moans that escape you as he spits onto your dripping cunt, fingers playing with your used pussy as you moan, sensitive and still desperate. "pretty baby, all fucked out. can you take one more?" he asks, hands roaming your ass. you nod, yelping gently when a hand smacks down on your ass. 

"can you take one more?" he asks. "yes!" you moan into the mattress with need. he mutters, "good girl." as he pushes into you, the new angle making you moan loudly. with every thrust, he pushes you down on the mattress, making you grip against the edge of it with pleasure. one of his hands drops down to rub your clit, and you buck needily against his touch. after only a few minutes, the combination of the snap of his hips, the few slaps on your ass, and his hands on your clit push you over the edge, clenching around his cock as you whimper. your legs barely stay up after you cum, and his arm wraps around you to hold you as he pounds into you, chasing his own high. 

"yes, my pretty girl, so good." he praises again, hips speeding up. you think he's close because his breathing is faster, hands gripping your hips hard as he kisses down your spine, "take it." he whispers onto your back as he finally cums, pulling out and finishing on your ass and lower back, moaning lightly. 

you can't believe what just happened as richie disappears, returning at the speed of light with a damp washcloth to clean you off. you blush at how sweet the gesture is before he falls next to you on the bed, sighing. "i'll be honest, i didn't expect that." 

you laugh, "neither did i. i thought i was coming home to an empty apartment and some microwave ramen." 

he's staring at you, a smirk on his face, “i'd apologize again but holy fuck, you look so pretty when you cum.” you don't know what to say, feeling hot as you roll your eyes with a grin. he laughs and kisses you, “you’re cute, you know.” 

"says you." you mutter against his lips. you thank god bill won't be back soon as you watch his best friend rise, naked, from beside you and grab a spare hoodie and gym shorts from bill's closet, throwing them on before handing you his own shirt to wear.

"so, lasagna?" he asks, glasses askew slightly. you laugh as you stand on shaky legs, "it's the least you could do." you joke. 

tag list:  @gabiatthedisco @blisshemmings @stenbrozier  @sft-core @clownsloveyou  @moon-shine-baby  @daughter-of-the-stars11 @trashedfortozier @oceandog13 @chl0bee  @kait16xo @upamongthestarss @fiantomartell @beverlyparkerr @beauregard-s @diorbubs @leighjaenikhowell @groovybimbo @deepestofwaters  @unfortu-nate-ly @sassy-uris @loverloserrr @hauntingkaspbrak @soph-ec @hockslutter @babytortie  @decafcoffeew @etaerealboy

[rwprincess]

Two Worlds Collided

Masterlist

A/N: Oh, an anachronistic songfic from RWPrincess? But this time it’s about John Bender! :D Inspired by Never Tear Us Apart (originally by INXS in 1987, but I particularly like this Paloma Faith version)

Word Count: 2K

Synopsis: Bender met reader at the Breakfast Club and the two seemed like opposites, but they shared a common hidden sadness. Over the years, feelings and relationships change.

CW: Swearing, sexuality, Bender being a general asshole

Bender had met her the same way everyone in the Breakfast Club had, on the Saturday detention on March 24th. He had seen her in the hallways prior to that as he was always observant. He had seen everyone in the Breakfast Club before that day; but he hadn’t given her much thought. Now, he was paying attention to little else. He had no idea why he was drawn to her; they were both so different and he could never picture himself with a goody-two-shoes like that. But the way she had reacted to his more vulnerable, real moments, how she tried to make a connection with him...that stuck with him. He knew he should have learned from his disastrous blow-up with Claire that two people who were so different just wouldn’t work out. He repeated this to himself over and over, like a mantra, but it never changed how he actually felt.

After the breakup, the Breakfast Club had a split between those who chose Bender and those who chose Claire. Of course, Andrew sided with Claire unconditionally, but John considered that as no big loss. Allison tried to play the middle ground and Johnson had sided more with him, but he was surprised at the wholehearted backing he received from Y/N. He had assumed that she would either try to be neutral like Allison, or pick Claire. She had no reason to side with him, he had always come off as an aloof ass. But she had, and he was eternally grateful for that. He had originally decided to get together with Claire because the notion had a hot, forbidden quality to it. They spent time insulting each other and making out to make up for it. It was as passionate as it was destructive, so of course it couldn’t last. However, when he was alone and reflected to himself, he had been attracted to Y/N all along. She was hot, yes, but he had plenty of good-looking girls to choose from. He was more drawn to that kind, quiet inside she had displayed that day. How she had gone out of her way numerous times to reach out to him and had been genuinely nice to him. Most of the time, someone only did that to gain something for themselves. Whether it was to use him or to make themselves feel better, it depended on the person, but with Y/N that never felt like it was the case.

Don't ask me

What you know is true

Don't have to tell you

I love your precious heart

He thought back to the first time he saw her on that Saturday, walking into the library and looking so out of place. He was already adjusting into his spot when she entered and she froze in front of all the tables like a deer-in-the-headlights, as if she had just materialized there and had no clue what she was doing. He remembered feeling both attracted to that doe-eyed look and scoffing internally at it. While she wasn’t part of the cliques that Andrew and Claire were, she had a very sheltered look to her and he was envious of that type of innocence. Her ignorance must have been bliss compared to the hell he lived each day at school and at home. She was just as out of place as the preppies or ultra-dweeb Johnson, but instead of being offended by that notion, she looked terrified. She meekly put her items on the front-row desk opposite to him and he thought about all the fun he could poke at everyone here, including her. However, the first blow did not land well. Bender loved making people uncomfortable, but he didn’t necessarily want to make them cry. He’d made some off-handed remark towards her. He had been circling her and eyeing her, employing the discomfort he liked inflicting, trying to ‘guess’ why she was in detention. “I bet you were caught fooling around with a teacher, right? Always the quiet ones that you’d least suspect…”

John Bender rarely regretted his words or actions. He knew he was an asshole and let unfiltered thoughts through so that he could be the center of attention. In doing so, he had to stand by all the shit he said, even when he crossed a line. This was one of the scattered occasions in which he felt remorse, though. She didn’t reply, not verbally, anyway, but she looked scared shitless and was rooted to the spot. Tears instantly sprang up in her eyes and she looked as if she were about to hurl right on his combat boots. He backed off after that. He didn’t apologize, because that’s not something John Bender could have on his reputation, but he didn’t target her. There was something so sincere about her reaction and he saw himself reflected in that expression. Not the tough-as-nails persona he projected, but his secret self who had seen too much too early in life and could barely stand another blow. He didn’t know what her deal was, but there was a heavy sadness behind those eyes that was far too real for him to tamper with.

When he had shown the group his souvenir for spilling paint in his garage, courtesy of his father, she must have seen that reflection back. No one in that group actually knew him. They all thought he was a lying sack of shit; what could he say? His reputation preceded him. But he caught her gaze as he backed away from the group, and the sadness in her recognized the sadness in him. He felt an odd sort of click, a mutual understanding, but he turned away from them all and trashed the library.

I, I was standing

You were there

Two worlds collided

And they could never tear us apart

That was months ago, and out of everyone he met that day, she was the one who truly stuck by him. He’d surprisingly connected with Johnson, sure. Everybody likes to get high and Bender was the supplier. And he and Allison had similar interests, but she wouldn’t give up Andrew and with that territory came Claire...there was just no going back to that. But Bender still had Y/N, and he could never understand it. The first time he had brought her into his friend circle, he tried to justify it as sticking to his word and ‘having the balls to stand up to his friends’ like he had told Claire to do. He also reasoned that it was some sort of social experiment. As much as he liked to portray himself as someone who couldn’t care less, Bender was entirely social. He craved attention and admiration for others and could read just about anyone like a book. Maybe that’s why he didn’t mess with Y/N after that first comment landed so wrongly. He felt like he knew exactly what she was thinking and feeling and decided to back off. However, it wasn’t just some ‘watch and see how she interacts’ set up; Bender genuinely wanted her there. He wanted to integrate her into his life.

She was still extremely quiet, mostly a speak-when-you’re-spoken-to type, but he started to peel back layers in her personality. He found that, despite that lurking sadness, there was an unending pool of optimism. She tried to see the best in situations and in people. She meshed incredibly well with his friends because she listened instead of judged. She would nod along like she knew exactly what they were talking about and how they felt. He started to develop an attachment to her. While he was still dating Claire, he told himself it was akin to having a pet. Y/N was like a goldfish that he could tell his problems to and know the secret would be kept. But after Claire, he realized that wasn’t the case...particularly when he sought Y/N’s comfort above all else. He divulged the entire last big fight he and Claire had to her, and she was just so...reassuring. After that day, he began to see her in a different light. He argued with himself over what his feelings and intentions actually were, but he couldn’t keep them at bay for long. She was good for Bender. He had never felt lighter.

Of course, Bender had not known stability in his life ever, and the risk of falling for Y/N and having it mean something and being accountable to one person overwhelmed him. He did what he knew best: he fought it and ran away from it. At first, he tried to avoid her, just distance himself. But he’d gravitate back; being without her was too heavy to bear. He wanted to try to actively push her away, to fuck up this relationship with his words, just like he did with everything else. But when he opened his mouth to try to lie, to say he didn’t need her or want her around or whatever, he would look into her eyes and it became impossible. He remembered the way he had shaken her to her core the first day they met, and he couldn’t allow himself to bring that sadness up again in her.

We could live for a thousand years

But if I hurt you

I'd make wine from your tears

Eventually, he gave in. While he was able to control his words to not say anything harmful, he wasn’t able to contain them from slipping up and telling her, “Dammit, I love you!” It wasn’t in a context that could be taken as joking or being said flippantly; she knew immediately what he meant and that he meant those words, wholly.

She took his face in her hands and told him, “I love you, too.” There was no turning back, and as the years passed, they fell deeply in love. He'd dug up her secrets and fears, but she seemed to trust him enough to not use them against her in any way. They both dreaded the prospect of never getting out of Shermer and falling into the same circular trap their parents had. However, he reassured her that the moment they had the opportunity, they would bust out of there. He lucked out that Claire had never asked for her diamond earring back. It was probably one of many and she had forgotten she had even given it to him as a token. He decided to pawn it to top-off the savings he and Y/N had accrued. "You're too good for me, you're sure as hell too good for this place,'' he told her. The trade-in was enough to get them out of town and start anew, but only one of them could really ‘move up’ for now. While they argued back and forth about who should get to pursue which dream, Bender rationalized to her, “I was barely cut out for high school. I can’t really do college. And that’s okay. You’re the brains in this relationship, I’m the beauty.” He winked at her and with her laughter as response, that sealed the deal of who was going to school.

I told you

That we could fly

'Cause we all have wings

But some of us don't know why

She searched the crowd, holding her diploma. Bender had supported her both financially and emotionally these last four years and now they had the degree to prove it. She felt pride in being able to take over from him and let him follow a new path. He had always been good with his hands, but despite his protests, he was good with his mind too. He was a sharp-thinker and she knew that he could make a career that he loved out of that. She’d be there to push and brace him as he had done for her. Finally, she spotted him. When their eyes connected, she felt that same crackle that she had the first day they had met, all those years ago. Before the friendship and the love, she knew there was a spark there, that they were two of a kind, even though they were so different.

I, I was standing

You were there

Two worlds collided

And they could never tear us apart

[yeojaa]

( TRUE CRIME, pt. i. )

“Watch your mouth,”  he snaps, tempted to force you back on your knees like he had moments earlier.  Whether for the right reasons, he can't quite say, but it feels more like hatred than hunger fueling his actions now.  A desire to put you in your place - assert the dominance that comes with being on opposite sides of the same battle.  “You're a long way from home.  Don't act like you have any power here.”

(or:  Jeon Jungkook meets his match.)  

pairing.  gangster!jjk x rival f!reader.  genre + rating.  explicit smut.  tags.  enemies to enemies lovers, forbidden romance, jk is an asshole, pining, inappropriate language, one (1) punch is thrown, smut in the form of:  oral (m receiving), dirty talk, jk’s imagination.  wc.  11.2k.  beta reader.  @hobi-gif​​, as per usual.

a/n.  this is the first half of @lcksndkys’ commission. 💖 i originally planned to do a single oneshot but decided to break this into two parts.  the second half will be posted sometime this month.  as always, i hope you enjoy this.  it’s super different from what i normally write so all feedback is appreciated.  tysm for reading!  ps.  please picture 190811 jk. 🥴

Jeon Jungkook is many things:  quick to anger, bratty when he's told he's wrong (and yet somehow infinitely more troublesome when he's right), addicted to the sting of a tattoo gun over his skin.  Easily bored is another, something that would be better off stamped across his forehead with how often it rings true.

It's why he's here now, seated at the end of the bar with a newspaper laid out before him.  He's not terribly fond of crosswords - there are about a hundred other things he'd say were more fun - but it keeps his hands and mind occupied, blue ballpoint pen scribbling in the margins as he works through the next clue.

“Element extracted from kelp?”  The brunet asks no one in particular and definitely not the two behind the bar.  Attractive as they are, they'd been hired to bring in cash from overeager patrons, not to use their brain cells.  “Fuck is that?”  A sideways glance is thrown to the woman standing not two metres from him, leaned against the bar while she waits for her drink.  You.  “D'you know the answer?”

When you turn - focus the full of your attention on him - he swears there’s a fissure from his toes straight to the top of his head;  a livewire crackles through each vertebrae, ignites every nerve ending when your stare slides across his face and continues, traipsing from his crown of dark hair to the chain that dangles around his throat. 

You’re shameless, a quiet confidence carrying your gaze further.  It’s too calculating to be polite, too pointed to be casual.  

When you speak, it’s another contradiction:  a velvet brocade over shattered glass, throaty and deep.  The kind of voice he’d expect from someone who smoked ten packs a day, who has spent their entire evening getting fucked senseless into thousand thread count sheets.  It curls out of your mouth like smoke and sinks beneath his skin, setting him off on a nicotine rush.

“Can’t you use that pretty head of yours?  Or is it empty up there?” 

He realises then, peering back at you, what he’s reminded of.  A predator sizing up their prey.  (Except Jungkook’s not a weakling.  Never has been, never will be.  Still - it’s electrifying.)

An inhale comes, sharp off his tongue, stinging his teeth.  The round of his cheek becomes more pronounced - a tic he’s always had.  Something that screams is that a challenge? with more than just his eyes.  The same that are narrowed now, returning your careful scrutinisation with little shame. 

(Jungkook‘s not used to this sort of interaction, to strangers turning his whole world on its axis.  People tended to steer clear of him, give him the breadth of space belonging to someone who wore a perpetual scowl and a litany of scars.)

(That, and he’s always been the type to keep within his own circle - which means rarely running into those who don’t know who he is, one way or another.  He figures he’s brought this upon himself though, by making casual conversation with a stranger.)

(A seriously good-looking stranger.)

(Not that he’s interested.  He’s just feeling friendly tonight.) 

A brow quirks, disappears beneath his fringe of mussed silk, black strands swinging over his big round eyes.  Normally, he’d offer a sneer, knock you ten pegs to the ground.  Instead, he’s playful, indulgent.  

“So you think I’m pretty?”  The words are sharp, offering the mockery right back - but he’s smiling, dimples slotted deeply into place on either cheek.  “Because if so, you don’t have to play so hard to get.”  Chin cocks, something close to a challenge poised in the dark of his stare.

You meet it, face it head on, and he has to bite back his surprise - smooth the facade that threatens to slip when you laugh.  It’s a silvery sound, twinkling in his ears like bell chimes.  It leaps high and then transforms, curling behind his molars like honeycomb, thick and molasses. 

A world waits to be explored in your irises, an infinite galaxy reflected by the bar lights that throw your expression into shadow when you toss your head back.  You’re surreal, a fantasy plucked straight from his wildest dreams.  Equal parts intoxicating and infuriating, from the shake of your head to your flippant answer, offered with utter nonchalance.

“Hard to get?”  There’s a swath of disdain that colours your words - dips them in battery acid and slots their edges against the pulse of his throat.  A part of Jungkook thinks to feel offended - that first, knee jerk reaction - before your features are softening, petals of your mouth giving way to something softer.  It feels like a deception, a test dressed in thorns.  “I don’t want you, pretty boy.” 

Something flashes across Jungkook’s expression - works its way through his brows, over the curve of his softly parted mouth.  In his line of work, it’s important to know how to read people and well, you?  You’re not like anyone else Jungkook’s ever met.  That excites him more than it should, has his heavy-booted foot tapping a rhythm against the rail under the bar.

Silence stretches longer and longer, the two of you caught in a curious staring match.  You refuse to look away even as he leans forward, curls inwards and steals up space that isn’t his.  He wonders how long you’ll keep this up - what you’ll look like when you bow to him.

“Your bravado doesn’t impress me,”  you relent, finally, with the airs of someone who doesn’t care.  

(But he knows better - catches the way you linger before retreating, how your eyes drift too far, attention caught by the pink of his tongue soothing the dry of his bottom lip.  For all your talk, you’re all bark and no bite.  He doesn’t think he minds.)

For a long moment - another handful of seconds tacked to the quiet you’d forced - he chooses not to answer, simply letting his gaze run all over you.  From the dainty jewels lining your ears to the delicate turn of your neck, he takes his time;  he drinks in the blood that spills over your skin in the form of soft silk, dragging his stare down your legs with a reckless abandon.  Everything about you screams sin.  

“Who said I’m here to impress you?”  The pen flipping over his inked digits falls, nearly lined to the margin of the paper, and he shifts, shoulders rolling, leg drawn out until his knee skims the hem of your dress.  “Don’t even think you could handle me.”

He might be lying through his teeth, baiting you unashamedly.  He wants to rile you up, wind you tight until he can unravel you.

When you step forward - again, so close skin brushes the textured fabric of his trousers - Jungkook practically preens.  Fights the most absurd desire to grin, forcing down the stretch of his mouth into a cheshire smile. 

You’re close enough he can practically taste you, a blend of vanilla and bourbon that settles into the back of his throat and lays heavy over his tongue.  A cocktail that blends all the things he loves most.  

Desire pools in his gut, strikes like a hot brand over his ribs, and only grows stronger - turns from smoldering coals to a raging inferno - when you speak, lyrical and taunting.  “Say whatever you want, but you’re practically drooling over me.”  

He clocks every movement - notes each step forward, the way your lips move and how you seem utterly unbothered to be caught up in this... whatever it is.  Not many people go toe to toe with him, especially people he doesn’t know.  More often than not, they end up on their backs with broken teeth (or on the rare occasion, love bites hooked in a daisy chain around their necks).

Jungkook doesn’t think he’d be opposed to doing the latter with you. 

“Big talk for someone who’s alone,”  he retorts, arm folded across the back of the bar stool beside him, fingers curling through the space that holds you close.  “Couldn’t get anyone to tolerate you long enough to come out with you—or are you just into being shot down at bars?”  The fabric of his trousers strain over his thighs as he sits up, just a little, hips shifting in his seat.  He dresses the last question in snark, tongue rolling against his cheek.  

How mean can I be, Jungkook wonders.  Are you the type of person to give up easily - or someone who can match him?  Actually grant him some sort of fun on a day where he’s been assigned surveillance and nothing else.

The answer to his question comes in the form of fingers slinking around the cold of his glass, beads of condensation dancing across digits.  For a moment, he’s curious - and then he’s arduous, needy, wanting.  Utterly entranced as you take what’s yours.

Dark eyes follow the hand that brings it to your mouth, lips curling over the rim.  It stirs something in his stomach, doubles the electricity coursing through the livewire until he feels as if he’s been struck by lightning.  He’s practically outlined in neon, worried for the briefest moment that his own hunger might betray him, bright beneath his skin.

Your close proximity feels like the makings of a black hole, devouring all his sensibilities.  (Not that he had many to begin with, far too fond of acting for, asking later.)  The closer you drift, the more you invade his space, the harder it is to breath.  You’ve swallowed up all of his oxygen, fixing yourself at the centre of his universe as you cage him in, arm finding a home over the back of his seat.

When the amber liquid drains - disappears by half within the crystal - he can’t look away, every ounce of attention focused on the curl of your lips, how your throat constricts with the swallow.  It doesn’t even bother him that you’ve helped yourself to it without asking - something he’d normally knock a guy on his ass for.   

Instead, the corner of his mouth quirks, cheek rounding once again.  A telltale little sign - an unspoken challenge accepted as he leans back, lets the soft of his shirt brush the hand that rests over the back of his chair.  You’re warm, searing heat through the thin material;  he tenses on instinct, ink draped shoulders growing taut beneath the fabric.  

“I like coming to bars along to put pretty boys in their place.”  

Somehow, he doesn’t doubt that.  You look the type - absolute, arrogant, avaricious.  All the same qualities he carries, mirrored in the loveliest package.    

“So you think I’m pretty?”  His smirk is unabashed, glass raised between them as he repeats himself, mockery stretched thin between syllables.  When he takes a sip, he does so from the exact spot you had, tongue licking a wayward drop away from the rim before he sets the scotch back down.  “I’d say you’re pretty too - but I can’t tell without you on your knees.”  

Checkmate, he thinks.

He realises he’s wrong, not five seconds later, when something grazes his neck.  It’s cold and damp, firm against the warm skin, tangling itself in the strands that curl over his ears.  It’s your hand.

Like some sort of dog - Pavlov would be proud - Jungkook leans into your touch, revelling in the fingers that toy with the loose strands, play with the slightly too-long silk that slips in loose waves.  There are few things that provoke such a thoughtless reaction from Jungkook.  Among them - somewhere high on the list, just below praise for a job well done - sits having his hair played with.  So he really can’t help himself.  Frankly, doesn’t want to.

It's then that he realises he needs to be careful - actually, genuinely careful - lest he tip the scales too far in your favour.  (He's Jeon Jungkook - he doesn't give up control easily.)

“Do you want to find out?”  You’re baiting him.  It’s clear as day.

Jungkook shifts, almost subconsciously, ladder of his spine stiffening.  He finds an extra half inch of height, pulls his shoulders back and does his best to rise to whatever challenge exists in your stare, piercing through him straight to his core.  

He likes the way surprise skips over your expression with each movement he makes - a little bubble of pride popping within his chest.  Should he be doing this?  Maybe not.  Should he be focusing on the task at hand, monitoring the comings and goings and not drawing attention to himself?  Definitely.  Was he going to give up this sinfully hot opportunity?  Well, that was up in the air still.

“I've got things to do,”  he hums, vague and nonchalant like his hand on his thigh isn't fisted loosely, crescents dug into his palm,  “But I might have some time.”  His other returns to his glass, swirling ice within the dark liquid.  Condensation beads across his fingers as he raises it, nearly presses it to your lips but stops short - an offering of sorts.  “Have to finish my drink first, though.”

It’s not an excuse, he tells himself.  He’s doing the same thing you are - drawing you closer and closer, hot and cold in equal parts.

If only you weren’t so shameless, taking a mile when he’s hardly given an inch, eating up any distance he puts between you.  You devour it all - threaten to do the same to him when you flash a smile, all bright white teeth and lacquered mouth stretched wide.

A fissure runs through his foundation, thrown into stark relief when your palm slides from his hair and over his neck, following a path Jungkook's far too preoccupied by.  Dark eyes - normally so round, deceptively sweet within a face that swings between dangerous and delighted - trace the long, delicate fingers that smooth over the softness of his dress shirt, somehow searing heat into every nerve ending.  It's as if molten lava has replaced the blood in his veins, liquified him from the inside out.

He both hates it and loves it all at once, throat constricting in tandem with the way yours does as you polish off the entirety of his practically full glass.  (Well, there goes his drink.)  His gaze remains glued to the unblemished skin of your throat, how flesh pulls taut over your jaw, hugs the prominent collar bone and disappears beneath the satin of your dress.  He wonders what lies beneath all that fabric - how it tastes and how easily it'd bruise, how deliberate he’d have to be to build a wreath of roses around your neck. 

It's only when the grip around his wrist further tightens that Jungkook's attention falters, slips thanks to the peek of a pink tongue past your pouted lips.  A brow rises, hitches high and disappears beneath his fringe of downy softness.  Who did you think you were?  More importantly, why did it excite him the way it did?

There's a moment of silence between the two of you, different than the rest.  It's heavier, thick with promise and anticipation and a deep abiding hunger that he bites back behind his teeth.  

Despite himself and the small, nagging worry that threatens to unravel his plans - would Namjoon see?  Yoongi? - he shifts in his seat, wipes a palm across his leg.  He's not nervous but a similarly charged energy runs the length of the limb, jostling it as he rises.

Huh, you’re not nearly as intimidating when he stands, gaze clearing the top of your head.

You’re no less intoxicating, though, holding his attention like a candle in the night.

(He doesn't miss the look the bartenders throw his direction - curious glances from their peripheries, nothing that lingers too long and gives him away - before he begins moving, own fingers now curled around your wrist.  He does as you had earlier, with a tension in his knuckles and tips of digits embedded into the soft underside where your vein pulses.)

(Truthfully, Jungkook's not really sure where he's going, if there's anywhere he can escape to in order to fulfill the urge that hugs him like a lover, but he assumes he'll figure it out along the way.)

(After all, he’s always had a one-track mind.  Usually, it's to his detriment - in the form of competitions he blindly accepts, bets he refuses to lose, people he leaves bloodied on the ground.  In this instance, however, he thinks it might lead him somewhere he wants to be.  Namely, slotted between your legs, tangled so closely your heartbeat might be mistaken as one.)

It takes a moment of careful consideration - of the other members of his organisation spread throughout the immediate vicinity, the closest secluded areas, the likelihood of the alley being empty - before he realises you’re speaking to him.  Maybe you have been the entire time he’s been leading you away, pulling you from the bar to somewhere he hasn’t quite decided on.  

“What’s your name, baby?”  

He doesn’t normally take kindly to this sort of familiarity, the outright arrogance that comes from the pet name.  With you, he doesn’t mind, his heart playing a strange beat in his chest when he glances over his shoulder, catches your expression brought to life by the technicolour lights.

“You can call me whatever you want,”  he reasons with a smile like the devil,  “As long as you're moaning it later.”

(It’s an awful line.  Would be, anyway, from anyone other than him.  As it stands, it pours from his mouth like fine wine, intoxicating and loaded with sin.  Whether it’s an appropriate answer, it doesn’t matter.  Jungkook hardly knows you - doesn’t at all, actually - and he, for all his lust-addled brain, still understands something like this requires a certain subtlety.)

(If you want his name, he'll give it later, when you’re in the clear.  That's fair, he thinks.)

With a decisive sidestep past writhing bodies, down a corridor that leads past the washrooms and back out to the front bar, Jungkook's delighted to see the side door unmanned.  Not surprising, given the time of evening and the fact that the entrance is hardly used as is.   Anyone who was anyone would come in through the back and everyone else - all the losers looking for a hit, who know what went on in the back rooms of the bar - would be forced through the front, made to stand in chilly evening air until one of the doormen allowed them entrance.

Pushing open the door into the alley, he notes to slide the locking mechanism open before tugging you through behind him.  There's a blind spot here - three metres down from the reserved parking spot of the sleek black Mercedes and a good five yards away from the street.  Perfect for what he needs.

Out in the dark, away from prying eyes, Jungkook is shameless, features twisting slyly as he rounds on you.  “Looks like today's your lucky day.”  Somehow, when it skips off his tongue, it's less lewd pickup line and more exhilarating promise.

(Maybe he shouldn't have brought you out this way, shouldn't have guided you past employees who did their best not to stare, shouldn't have gotten involved with you in the first place.  It's almost certainly a problem for future-Jungkook, though, so he tucks the nagging angel on his shoulder away in a small box, staples it shut with a nail gun and tells himself he'll deal with it later.

(So long as no one walks this way - which they won't, because they never do - he'll be fine.  No one is stupid enough to cut through the alley when there's a perfectly good crosswalk just around the corner.  Even if people don't know what goes on in the shadows, they know enough to avoid finding out.  He’s relying on that.)

“You talk a big game.”  Despite the mockery that dresses your words, you’re a willing participant, closing the measly distance between your bodies.  The warmth of you burns through fabric, dousing his nerves in gasoline.  When you curl your hand once more into his hair - right at the root, with a confidence that surprises even him - he almost whines.  Almost.  “You sure you’re not wasting my time, pretty boy?”

Words die on his tongue - fall off the edge when teeth snap shut and grit together, thoughts guillotined by the edge of enamel.  Your hands on him have the column of his spine liquifying, heat threatening to turn his limbs into jelly.  Such a simple gesture and yet it feels like a thousand volts of electricity, a livewire running from the tips of his fingers all the way through to the pit of his stomach.

A hand of his own rises, seeking some semblance of balance wherever he can find it, ink-strewn fingers curling into the fabric of your dress like it's a lifejacket.  “Keep it up and I’m turning around,”  he snaps back, the picture of nonchalance betrayed by the hard edge of his voice, all sharp corners and dipped in acid.  You’re dangerous, taunting him with a red cape that has tension growing, an ache throbbing in his jaw.  

Truth be told, Jungkook can't make up his mind - whether he wants to be the one in control or not.  It's not something he's used to, holding tight to power as if it were a second skin, fitted across his shoulders like fine armor.  It's why he does what he does, operates with the people he does.  

He supposes there's a first time for everything.

The first pass of your lips has him stiffening further, electricity jolting every muscle to attention.  He doesn't normally react like this - laughs in the face of people who can't keep their cool - and he has to make a conscious effort to pass a breath through his teeth, the exhale whistling past after a drawn out second.

When you speak again, he has to focus hard on the sound of your voice.  It’s like a siren song, stealing his thoughts when they’re already so preoccupied by the feel of your kiss - a cheeky stamp against his throat.  You’re tracing the contour of his jaw, teasing butterflies to the surface of his skin by the wet brush of your tongue.  

“You’re cute.”  It sounds more like an insult than a compliment.

Thanks is what he means to say but what comes out sounds far less confident, a single word that gets lost somewhere along your lips when they find his, swallowed whole by the heat that hangs between you.

 How you touch him - kiss him, beguile and simultaneously terrify him - is not at all how Jungkook had expected.  He anticipates tongue and teeth and too much aggression - a lioness claiming her stake.  Instead, everything's hidden behind the softest haze - a dreamy golden warmth that seems to refocus every thought, place his attention on the feel of your lips, deceptively soft and enticing.  A noise of surprise passes, slips before he can help it, and the fist curled into your dress tightens, seeking out more in the only way he knows how.

He moves like he's on autopilot, as if he thinks his usual approach might get him what he wants.  (He doubts it will, but it's hard to think logically when every thought is absorbed by the bitter taste of whisky on your lips.)  The unoccupied hand - previously limp as his side - fits itself in the small space between your neck and shoulder, a near mirror image to your hold on him, silver-strung fingers dipping beneath the collar of your dress, thumb set comfortably against the delicate muscle of your jaw.  Like this, he tugs you closer - if that's even possible - head tilted in demand.

Half of him expects a rebuff, two hands pressing him back.  Instead, you reciprocate and he swears his head starts spinning, a buzzing building at the base of his skull.  It engulfs his sensibilities and he leaps at the opportunity, jolts into action at the feeling of skin on skin when your hand descends beneath fabric, your nails sharp over the notches of his spine.

There's an urgent nature to his movements, to how his mouth softens, seeks further admittance.  His tongue slips past, running along the seam of your lips in a silent bid for entrance.  Despite the single sip he'd taken of his beverage, he somehow feels intoxicated, high on something other than liquor.  It makes his heart rattle about in his chest, knuckles blown white with the grip he has on you.

“You're playing with fire,”  he murmurs, somewhere low in his throat, the admonishment surprisingly steady despite how breathless he feels.  He wonders, idly, with his teeth seeking out the softness of your bottom lip, how far this will go.  How much time he has and how worth it it'll be if he gets caught.

A part of him imagines it might be fine even if Namjoon were to walk out right now, barking an order that has Jungkook slinking back into the bar without a backwards glance.  It might all be worth it - if the ache in his gut is anything to go by, the strain against the tailored fabric of his trousers surprising even him.

When you exhale something sweet and low, a hiss of pleasure as his teeth sink hard into your skin, he knows it will be.  The moan only acts as a struck match upon gasoline, igniting his desire to hear more, to have you come apart with him, because of him.  

“I’m just trying to figure out if you think I’m pretty.”  It’s an unnecessary call back, a reminder to what’s brought you both out here.  It’s also a distraction, meant to divert his attention away from the way you’re touching him, sneaking teasing grazes over his waist, the hard plane of his chest.

A heavy sigh of his own spills past his lips, dropping into a lewd groan at the sudden pressure that doesn't feel like nearly enough.  It has his cock twitching in interest, aching and hard in the shape of your palm.

Despite being the barest stimulation, he's somehow impossibly, almost painfully hard, the fine fabric doing little to hide his shame (or lack thereof).  He can't help the way his hips roll then, grinding against you like a freshman with his first fuck.  It's almost absurd how badly he wants to do a million terrible, awful, sinful things to you - someone he hardly knows.  How he wants to simultaneously draw it out and receive his reward all at once - have his cake and eat it too.

The hand curled around your neck tightens, pads of fingers drifting experimentally over every inch of bared flesh he can reach.  It's not enough.  

Before he knows it, Jungkook's leaning forward, entire weight resting heavily over your own, caging you against the brick wall.  His head finds the crook of your neck with something close to relief and wastes no time in sealing his mouth over the pulse that jumps beneath his tongue, laving over the capillaries that burst beneath skin.  

“Still haven't made up my mind,”  he purrs, bearing down upon the heated flesh,  “I could still be wasting my time.”

It's a game of cat and mouse that he never wants to end.  It's too good, checking off all the invisible boxes he's laid out over paper, appealing to all the idiosyncrasies he never quite thinks twice about.  How, he's not sure, but he can't find it in himself to second guess it.  He's drowning in you, in how you taste and feel, and he thinks what a helluva way to go.

“Pretty,”  he coos, mimicking the word you’d used that first night, smirking against the skin that burns white hot beneath each pass of his mouth.  Teeth bare against tender flesh - sore still from days prior - and ruin it further with a relentless energy that branches through Jungkook's limbs, builds and builds until it has nowhere else to go.  Luckily, you’re his outlet.

—or would be, if he didn't feel as if he were suddenly short circuiting, entire body lighting up like a switchboard.  A noise drips off his tongue - a barely realised dry sob - and his eyes are squeezing shut, cock straining in his pants.  “Fuck,”  he grits, self-control ground to ash between his teeth.  “Show me you’re a good girl.”  He's unapologetic when he speaks, words reading like a demand rather than a request. It's so heavy it sinks like gravel between you.  “Get on your knees, sweetheart.”

You’re a sight to behold, doing exactly as you’re told.  Something that surprises and entices him, has him brimming with pride and amusement when you sink between his legs.  He catches the way you grimace - a delicate wrinkle between your brows before it smoothes out - and he can’t help but want to laugh.

No doubt the tile beneath you is cold and uncomfortable but you take it all in stride.  Find reason to continue when your cheek meets flush with his thigh, worn denim soft over skin.  

Jungkook’s certain, as the sky is blue and his blood is red, that you were sent to be the cause of his demise.  You’re everything the twenty-something could ever ask for - equal parts staunch recalcitrance and delightful vulnerability.  You listen when told (mostly), bite back when given the opportunity (often).  It’s a perfect blend of his favourite attributes, leading the brunet to a state of euphoria he hadn’t expected - that he still, even now, has troubles wrapping his mind around.

(It’s partially your fault.  You’d left him high and dry last time, pressed a kiss to his lips, stained him with your taste, that honeyed sweetness lingering for days.  He still can’t believe you’d just, well, fucked off, departed with a laugh and a wave as he’d stood in the alley like an idiot with his dick hard.)

(He can’t say your tactic hadn’t worked though.  You’ve been on his mind every day since, every night, finding him in his dreams.  It’s been hell, stealing his focus and turning all of his thoughts into useless silhouettes shaped like you.)

He refuses to let his surprise weigh upon his pleasure though, accepting and indulging without a care.  If he should regret this later, he’ll remind himself of these moments: the loveliest face thrown into stark relief, painted in chiaroscuro by the streetlights; the taste of salt and whisky on his tongue;  the sounds that fall so sweetly from lips he can’t wait to see stretched wide and stuffed full.

It’s practically impossible to think of anything but you, anyway.  You’re so good at what you do, practiced and poised, unbuttoning his jeans with deft movements.  Giggling softly to yourself - a sound that sounds terribly at odds with how you look, eyes heavy-lidded and mouth kiss-swollen - you ease the material down his thighs.  

The black band of his briefs glares back at you, erection straining against the brushed cotton.  When you graze his length - a feather light touch that could be mistaken for accidental - he nearly breaks, hands fisting at his sides.  

Your stare never falters, holding his with an intensity that makes it hard to breathe.  He wonders if you’re like this for everyone, where your taking feels more like giving, where the hard edge of your stare feels like it’s chipping away at his self-control.  Carving him out of marble, making him vulnerable. 

So caught up in his own thoughts, he almost misses your movements. 

(You’re sly, captivating and confusing.  You could probably tear his heart from his chest and he wouldn’t even notice.  How’s he supposed to when you strip him bare?)

The first pass over his swollen head is enough to test his patience;  the second and third and all that follow toss his rationality out the window.  Against the yielding curve of your mouth, he rocks forward, thighs straining as he gathers the silk of your hair in his hands, curls his decorated fingers through the roots.  Jungkook wants this so fucking badly he can feel it eating him alive, a callous need that presents itself in a low growl, a quietly uttered threat meant to veil the whine that threatens to spill out.  “You might look good but that’s only half the battle.”

There’s a sneer fitting itself over his face, dragging his mouth into an expression befitting the devil - endlessly charming and dangerous.  The same look he wears while working, whatever that might entail.  If only his role consisted of filling beautiful girls’ mouths regularly.  (Or just one’s, in particular.)  

“Be good for me.”  He swings so easily between loading you with praise - offering the sweetest side of him - and wanting nothing more than to break you - embed himself so deeply within that you might never be apart again.

 He doesn't doubt for a moment that you - this angel, this pretty thing with a face carved by the old masters and a mouth that feels like heaven - will make him feel good.  He's already turned up to eleven, waiting waiting waiting as he stares down into eyes that captivate him.  

Snap out of it, Jungkook tells himself, though he doesn't really mean it.  He's more than happy to waste some more time here, receive compensation for all the time he’s spent dreaming of you.

Each graze of your tongue acts as an accelerant, stoking the fire that burns bright in the pit of his stomach and warms him from the inside out.  There's a dizziness stirring in the back of his mind, every thought caught up in a whirlwind of lust, want, need.  It's impossible to separate one thing from the other, Jungkook's attention solely focused on the grip around his aching length, the tongue that coaxes a choked whine off his own.

“J-Jesus—fuck.”  The expletive barrels off his tongue, piercing the silence of the shop - a shot in the dark.  He imagines his face is screwed up, every feature twisted so tight in tandem with the pleasure that shoots up his spine.  It's not the first hookup he's had here - not the second or third or fifteenth - but this feels decidedly different.  More.  So deliriously good he can't help but snap his hips forward, rolling into the wet heat that feels like nirvana.

Is this heaven?  he wonders.  

(Certainly not, because Jeon Jungkook's got a one way ticket to hell.)

The fingers caught in your hair double their effort, grip just that much tighter, and he huffs through his nose, trying to keep the noises of delight from slipping out.  Between how heartbreakingly beautiful you are and how well you work your mouth over his leaking head, Jungkook's thisclose to losing his cool.  (As if he hadn't already, the moment he'd let himself get into this situation.)

“Open wide, pretty,”  he demands in the same instant he tugs at the silk in his hands.  Thighs taut, spine loose, he presses his cock forward with an obscene groan.

The breaths he takes are measured, done with careful inhalations that are meant to keep him from tearing apart at the seams.  It doesn’t work well;  he’s stretched so thin he’s about to snap, fall prey to the sensual way you sink his cock further past your lips.  It’s just too much, drawing his attention past the rise and fall of his own chest and centring it fully on the sensation he’s being assaulted by. 

A good girl chokes past dry lips, the praise slinking out in a low murmur.  “Doing so well.”  It’s not often he offers these words of encouragement so readily - predisposed to taking what he wants with little regard. His grip on your hair slips further back, drifts from temple to crown.  Fingers loosen, spread flat and dig softly into strands and skin, and Jungkook applies a firm, unrelenting pressure to coerce more.  “Choke on it,”  he instructs, barely giving a moment to comply before he’s snapping into the slick heat, delighting in the messy sounds that only prompt him to drive his hips faster, more fully seating his aching length within your mouth.  A deep, rumbling moan tumbles out, dispersing into an almost whiny gasp when the swollen head meets resistance, his grip turning almost punishing with how staunchly he holds you there. 

It’s as overwhelming as it is pleasurable, stinging the tips of his fingers, muscles in his abdomen pulled taut.  He’s never been driven to an edge so quickly, never felt this sort of all-encompassing, blinding desire before.  He hates it just as he loves it, jaw clenched tight with the effort it takes to hold himself above the blissful abyss.

He's completely lost, pulled beneath the waves that crash over his head and sweep him out to his end.  It's impossible to focus, body buzzing, heart racing.  The slide of his hips come of their own accord, eager to force past the resistance, slide himself home in that impossibly tight, dizzying channel that tightens around him with each lewd gag.  It's so erotic he wants to bottle the sound and replay it for nights to come.

(If you sound so pretty like this, Jungkook wonders how you’d sound laid out before him, smothered against his sheets, split open by his cock.  Just the thought has him groaning, eyes snapping open to peer down into the face between his legs.  It’s just as beautiful as it was the first night he met you, though even better with tears glittering along your lash line, jewels twinkling beneath the hazy overhead lights.)

You’re taking him without complaint, as if you enjoy the feel of choking on his cock, pandering to his ego.  It’s almost enough to distract him from the shift of your other hand.  With one poised on his thigh, digging angry red grooves into the muscle, it’s obvious the other is missing.

From how your breathing hitches around his length, it’s a dead giveaway where it’s found itself.  

“Even beautiful when you cry.”  The words are saccharine sweet, a whisper of affection as his hand drifts, tips of fingers collecting wayward drops.  He presses the moisture into your cheek, mixing it with the saliva that dribbles down your chin and makes your skin glisten. Then all at once, he grips tight - almost punishing.  His entire expression turns, brows gathered in a hard line, mouth set razor sharp.  “But so bad too,”  he all but snarls, vise in your hair leveraged to tug you off his weeping cock.  (It's almost not worth it, the sudden sting of air and the way it bounces against his abdomen, slick with spit.)  “Did I say you could touch?”  He's bent close, shoulders rounded, so close he almost loses himself to the dizzying dark of your stare. 

He half anticipates acid and venom, something sarcastic and crude to come from such a pretty mouth.  He’s delighted with what presents itself instead, hard at first but far too breathless.  “No.”

“No?  No is right, baby.”  His grip turns white hot, seeking to sear pain into your scalp, roots held viciously within his fingers.  Even as he surges forward, steals another kiss because he’s brought you higher, dragged you unceremoniously closer - spit-heavy and made almost entirely of teeth - he refuses to lessen the tension.

With a string of saliva caught between you, so gossamer thin it snaps when Jungkook pulls back, he licks an obscene stripe from the delicate, sculpted line of your jaw all the way to the highest point of your cheek.  Unnecessary, certainly, but it’s obscenely hot, skin glistening with the trail of spit.

“What is it you want, pretty?”  The hand not firmly planted in your hair falls between his legs, fisting loosely around his straining, still-slick cock.  He pumps the length with measured twists of his wrist, tugging from base to tip with his tongue peeking past his lips.  “Maybe you'll get it if you ask nicely.”

You’re unbothered, mouth twisting into that expression he’s come to recognise.  You’re a bonafide tease, licking over your lips, popping them around a scoff.  “Why should I ask when you’ll give it to me anyway?”

Jungkook is used to submission - gets it in most areas of his life (whether work, or romance, or anything really).  It doesn't surprise him any longer, rather having become something he simply expects out of those he's involved with.  (Regardless of the fact he's one of the youngest in his organisation, he subverts his youth with sheer power.)  This, though?  This pliant beautiful girl beneath him who can still level his arrogance with just her laugh?

This affects him in a way he'd never anticipated.  Because it's like taming a lion.  He loves it as much as it surprises him, big round eyes staring down into your tear-stained face with something inscrutable in his own expression.  It presents, loosely, in the furrow between his brows, faint light reflected within the depths of his irises.  

It’s as close to mutual infatuation as Jungkook can get.

“Pretty, pretty, pretty,”  he crows, rising to his full height in a single fluid motion.  The motion knocks his chair off its legs and it clatters to the ground.  When your attention shifts, his fist in your hair loosens - just enough that the tension remains but the pain doesn't - and he tugs.  He wants you to focus on him.

Standing above you now - towering above you, really - Jungkook can't help admire the way your face twists, the lovely turn of your mouth and how those dark, dark lashes frame your hazy stare.  You truly were so pretty, indisputably attractive from the contours of your cheeks down to your chin.  “Open.”  It comes again as a demand, his own hand gliding its full length once, twice, until he's satisfied and tapping the head gently upon your cheek.  “No hands this time—anywhere.”

If you have a problem with it, you say nothing, simply staring up at him in silence.  His brow quirks and you make a face, equal parts disrespect and deference. 

(Everything you do makes Jungkook's heart sing - or cock harden, if you're being vulgar.  It caters to every deep seeded desire he has, stirring affection and delight in equal parts as he traces his leaking tip over your skin.)

Another good girl comes, sweetly uttered before he realigns and presses in, snaps his hips forward with enough force to bury his length fully.  It's at complete odds with the tenderness of his voice, the almost broken quality of his sigh as his aching erection returns to his favourite place, warm and wet and wide open for him.

Brushing his hand over your hair, smoothing it away from your face, Jungkook lets his fingers press soothing circles into your scalp, gently rocking forward.  “Make me come with that perfect mouth of yours,”  he commands, a far softer request than he's made all evening.  Next words come in a purr - something like a vow as he draws back and rolls forward again, lost in the feeling,  “I'll help you with your little problem too.”

The promise is enough - payment you accept readily, without hesitation.  He likes that about you too, that you’re somehow always on the same page, eager for all the things he is, even when you pretend not to be.

(And oh, how you did.  Riling him up and stripping him bare, testing him to the point of no return.  Holding your own against him, hidden beneath that hard exterior and sharp wit.  Brushing off this encounter as if it were just another night.)

(But it isn’t.  He knows it.  He’s sure you know it.)

Each little adjustment you make beneath him - around him, unfairly beguiling and perfect with your lips stretched wide and spit-slick - doesn’t go unnoticed.  It pleases Jungkook like nothing else, drawing a satisfied groan off the bridge of his teeth, sound spilling into the quiet as he meets each motion with one of his own.  

For every swallow, his hips stutter, the line of his spine electrified with the feeling.  With each press of your tongue, his grip tightens, curls just a little tighter before soothing any residual pain he's brought along.

“Just like that,”  he coos, gaze dark, lids heavy with desire as the warmth in the pit of his stomach builds and builds, threatening to crest above his head and drag him down under.  He wants to stay in this moment for as long as he can - pretend as if fucking your throat is his only responsibility - but he's also been strung so tight, held on the precipice of bliss for so long, that he knows he won't last.

With light flickering along his vision, burning through his limbs, Jungkook pulls back, drags his aching cock nearly completely from its sheath of warmth—and then snaps forward, burying himself once more.  It's a rough gesture, barely giving you time to prepare, but the brunet savours the aggression.

He comes with a hoarse, needy whine, grinding forward as bittersweet ropes burn down your throat, hands so tight over your scalp he almost feels bad.  Almost, but not quite. 

Because it’s he that has to ease you back, find distance between your bodies when you make no indication of moving away.  It’s he that inhales sharp when you offer a small smile, staring straight up at him as you tuck wayward strands behind your ear.

The realisation there’s nothing to apologise for only fuels his desire, has him revelling in the sensation for longer than he ought to, trapped within a blissful little cocoon he has no interest in leaving.  

You’re dangerous, appealing to his senses in a visceral way that has him craving more.  Would you be just this good face down?  Trapped against a wall?  How nice would you look, begging like a porn star? 

There are a million questions running through his mind - playing tag at the outskirts of his thoughts, drifting into his periphery and then tearing off again.  (He'll pay them mind later, when he's not riding the high of an excellent blowjob.)

A smile but far darker - laced with a sweetness that doesn't quite reach his eyes - comes and dresses itself across his expression.  “I’ll admit - you really are pretty on your knees.”  Fingers unfurl, drift from crown to cheek, deceptively soft.  It's all so tender - until he replaces the emptiness with his thumb.  It remains there, switching between pressing to the interior of your cheek to flat against your tongue, coating the digit in saliva.  “How're you feeling?”

Somehow, your voice has dropped, heavier even than that first night.  It rasps out, worn and tired, but there’s an underlying eagerness that lifts it high and spills words into one another.  They run headlong into the next, jumbling your answer.  The way he’s filling your mouth most certainly doesn’t help.

“Use your words.”  It's less a request than mockery, feigned expectation but little else.  The digit slides as deep as it can go and presses hard, pad of his thumb forceful over your tongue.  “Can't give you what you want if you can't even do that.”  He's being cruel - just a little, drawing your own release out longer than he needs to, but he has a feeling it's all for the best.  That, when he finally gets what he wants, the wait will have been worth it to see how you fall apart.

With the hand not caressing your face, he takes his time to tuck himself away, sliding the black band of his briefs back to its proper position.  Jeans come next, dragged over his straining thighs and partially zipped, button left undone, belt hanging loosely from its loops.  (He could fully dress, become some version of prim and proper again, but Jungkook's not quite ready to tear himself from this fantasy.)

Focused once more on your pliant figure, he withdraws his thumb from the recesses of drool and warmth, lewdly tracing saliva over your cheek and jaw in a wide circle.  “Come here,”  he hums, as that same hand drifts to your hair and pulls, far more gentle than before but still insistent.  Rough, yet kind.  Powerful, yet lenient.  There's no need for harsher words or crueler actions - he knows he has you wrapped around his finger (just as much as you have him).

There's nothing but amusement twinkling in his stare, a galaxy of fondness gleaming bright within the depths.  To see you - previously so confident, so readily arrogant - brought to your knees feels like heaven, the kind of pleasure he'd go through hell for.  It sings beneath his skin, burning his blood in his veins as he tugs harder, grips you tighter, and forces you to stumble headlong into his arms.  

He’s sure your legs are sore, that your head is swimming with the sudden movement.  It’s the only reason you come so easily, brought to him like a lost puppy.  There’s not an ounce of resistance when he brings you further, maneuvering until you’ve met the painted white of the wall.

Jungkook’s unoccupied hand drifts, skims the length of your torso, up and over your hip, and settles, so very lightly, over the swell of your ass.  Fingers grip, digging firm into the soft rounded muscle, and he pulls you flush against him in tandem with the crook of his knee, thigh working between your legs.

You whimper - honest to God fucking whimper - and he buries his face into your neck, nose running the side of your throat.  Words muffle against your neck, teeth bared to skin as he sucks sweetly at your pulse.  “Since you asked so nicely.”  (You hadn’t.) 

He brings his hand higher - splays inked fingers over the bare of your back - and licks from clavicle to ear with the flat of his tongue, savouring the salt-sweet taste of your skin.  Hums appreciatively when the tang of metal falls upon his taste buds, the cool chain disrupting his course.  Jungkook thinks nothing of it when his other hand - formerly coiled in silk strands - drops to finger the necklace, traces it along the edge of a tattooed finger—

And then flinches away, snarling low in his throat as both hands fall, entire broad form slamming into the wall behind him.  

Even then, it’s not enough distance.

“What the fuck is this?”  It barrels off his tongue, laid with venom and disgust, normally bright eyes narrowed, brow furrowed into a tight knot.  All at once, he feels sick - yanked from the throes of passion and pleasure by an all-encompassing red.

Surprise coalesces with confusion, paints your features in broad strokes that pull your mouth into a frown.  It brings focus back to your gaze, sweeping away the haze of desire that’d once dominated.  He can see every emotion clearly now, a dozen flickering lights roving in your stare.  “What do you mean?”

(If he’s not mistaken, there’s something else.  Hurt, maybe?  Jungkook’s not sure.  Can’t fixate on it for long before he’s once again drawn back to the thing that hangs around your neck, dipping past the cashmere of your top.)

Features tighten, draw sharp in line with his glare and his demeanour turns sour, lips thinning into a scowl.  If only looks could kill.  “What do I mean?”  All at once, he’s close again - though for a decidedly different reason.  There's no warmth in how he eats up your personal space, acrid distaste rolling off him in waves.

A hand fists in the front of your sweater, so much tension his knuckles blow white beneath skin, ink spread thin.  Malice fits itself across his features, a deep abiding anger bubbling in his chest.  It feels almost wrong after all that's transpired, after how much unadulterated pleasure he's derived from the events of the evening, after how many hours he’s spent thinking of you.  Uncomfortable and misplaced and yet he knows he can't dwell on those previous feelings.  (He'll have to cut those memories away - strip them as one does with weakness.)

“You're geondal and you thought I wouldn't notice?”  Disregarding the fact that he hadn't originally - that he'd very nearly taken you to bed not once, but twice - completely blinded by the heat of your kiss, the siren call of your voice.  The hand fisted in cloth rises, replacing fabric with the chain that hangs around your neck.  If he could - if there wouldn't be severe repercussions for it - he'd tear that symbol right from your throat.

The sound of his sudden laugh is snide, short and snapping off the tip of his tongue.  Bile rises in his throat, makes him want to reel his fist back and punch something.  He's beyond any sort of articulate irritation, everything simply bleeding into a pool of vitriol.  (Part of it's shame, he's certain - guilt for not knowing, not realising earlier - but Jungkook's never been good at admitting he's wrong.) 

“Get off me.”

It’s far more measured, cutting through his own vehemence like the edge of a blade.  It means to sever the disdain that rides his bones but he remains steadfast, meeting your rebuttal with a firm no.

When your hand curls around his wrist - nails so sharp, grip so tight - Jungkook nearly lashes out, his own flexed and held in such a way that it'd be easy to break the hold.  Just a crank of his arm counter-clockwise, a flick to launch your grip off him.  

Why he doesn't immediately rebuff the hold - why he allows himself to be rebuffed - he's not sure.  He's off his game and he fucking hates it.

“Watch your mouth,”  he snaps, tempted to force you back on your knees like he had moments earlier.  Whether for the right reasons, he can't quite say, but it feels more like hatred than hunger fueling his actions now.  A desire to put you in your place - assert the dominance that comes with being on opposite sides of the same battle.  “You're a long way from home.  Don't act like you have any power here.”

Except you do still.  Somehow.

You meet his hatred with your own, meeting his stare.  The crescents digging into his skin twinge, growing incrementally more painful the longer he holds you there, refusing to let go.  For each moment that passes, it feels like a lost war - staring down the barrel of a gun. 

“I said ‘get off me.’”  Your contempt is clear as day, a serrated edge that cuts through him to the core.  

It’d be impossible to miss how you seem to transform right before his very eyes, crystallising into something hard, beautiful, untouchable.  Nothing like who you’d been, with a heavy tongue and bedroom eyes.  

The girl before him now is the same one he'd snarked at while at the bar, who'd traded mockery with an easy smirk.  Gone is the pretty thing so eager to please.

Except that amusement has all but disappeared, hidden behind a stoic mask that reads more like a challenge to him - that shouldn't, but does.  Because Jungkook loves rising to the occasion, pride being his cardinal sin.  How could one possibly say no when faced with something like this?  Something that infuriates and appeals to him, tension flooding his limbs in equal parts and steeling the curve of his jaw.

“You should’ve done your research before you came to one of our bars.  Should’ve used that pretty head of yours before coming here,”  he snipes back, feral behind the teeth, heated in his breath.  The hand that'd gripped your sweater has found his own collar, ink-strewn digits curling into the brushed cotton.  Deft fingers thread another button and further skin is revealed - pale beneath fluorescence and stamped with multicoloured ink.  A mugunghwa in the centre, surrounded by trigrams.  A clear seal, his fealty etched into his flesh.  “Maybe start behaving, huh?”

Your response is an offense, practically a fuck you to everything Jungkook is.  He hates it, bristling when you return his animosity tenfold.  “Behave?”  Your own laugh is disparaging, mockery dressed in twinkling bells.  “You think I’m scared of you?  You’re no one.  A pretty boy who only thinks with his dick.”

There's something to your hubris, how utterly unbothered you seem by everything that’s unfolded.  How you hold your own against Jungkook even while quite literally in the lion's den.  You’re refusing to back down, returning spite as if you’re not the least bit bothered.  It both irritates and amuses him;  he's never been in this position, own emotions reflected back in the form of someone who has no business treating him this way.

Still, he can't quite rein in his attitude when you berate him, taunt him just as readily.  Hair on the nape of his neck rises, burning heat prickling across his skin to stain his flesh red with shame.  It's one thing to have Yoongi speak to him like this - or even Namjoon - but this doesn't sit right.  Makes him want to lash out, demand the respect he’s worked so hard to cultivate.

So he does—with fingers twined around the offensive chain, an arrogant tilt of his chin and rounding of his shoulders.  The two of you are drawn together with such immediacy that he briefly (so very briefly) wonders how you’ll react this time.  

“If you want to leave here in one piece, you'll learn your place.”  Perhaps it's an empty threat - he knows Namjoon would have his head if he were to do anything out of sheer arrogance - but it comes bristling with malice.  “I don't think your dumok would be too happy to hear you got on your knees for the enemy.”

Imposing as you might be - head raised in defiance, glare hotter than that of a thousand suns - Jungkook’s simply stronger, unmatched with the muscle that he wears like an armour plate.  Long hours spent in the boxing ring, with scores of bruises across his knuckles and blood stained into the leather of his gloves.  He might be irresponsible or temperamental but he’ll always have his compact brawn to back up any poor choices he might make.

(Somewhere, in the recesses of his thoughts, he wonders if he’d really raise a hand to you.  He’s never been in this position, backed into a corner by a woman.)

“Learn my place?”  Both hands grip his wrist and the pain is so unexpected he nearly falters.  The press of your nails into his pulse has his nerves screaming, grip reflexively loosening to pull away.  “You don’t even know what you’re talking about.”

“You’re telling me you didn’t just suck my dick?”  There’s no use for him to avoid the very obvious elephant in the room - the tension that’d swept over you in a current and nearly drowned you both.  Might as well use it to his advantage.  “Maybe you did it on purpose.”  The twist of his expression is cruel, calculated.  “Girls like you are only good for one thing, right?”

The shape of his mouth changes, rearranges around neat white enamel when he laughs.  Past the boyish softness of it, further behind the teeth that turn it mean, there’s something else.  That same competition you’ve been locked in since the beginning, gleaming gold like treasure.  Woven into each interaction, each word.  A silent don’t test me that Jungkook hamfists into his smile.  

It’s better than the other emotion that bubbles just beneath the surface, threatening to spill over.  So much better than that shame.

And it seems he’s hit a nerve, broken through that cold exterior.  Your facade slips, a whirlwind of emotion just beneath the surface, brokering hate into the line of your mouth and the darkening of your stare.

His own eyes are sparkling - a skyline of stars reflected in the darkness.  It's not often he's given this much leeway, offered someone whose buttons he can push so spectacularly.  It makes him giddy, pride bursting in his chest at having seemingly hit the nail right on the head.

It's his terribly capricious nature that has him beaming at you, all bared teeth and vehemence dripping off his tongue.  “Someone's upset.”  The words are purred, heavy with ridicule.  They slip off his tongue and settle into the minute spaces between your bodies.  “Are you mad you were caught like a fool?”  The hand previously caught around the gilded chain splays, ink-marked knuckles falling loose over wool - over where the intricate pendant lies.  “Or are you upset you didn't get fucked like a whore?”  

Maybe he should've seen it coming.  Maybe he should've had some inkling that his callousness would lead to this.

Somehow, the brunet's still surprised, doe eyes widening further in shock.  A hoarse cry careens off his tongue, crashing into the knuckles that skim the seam of his lips, and he stumbles.  It's not a hook that would take him down - not enough to send him crashing to the ground - but it certainly hurts his ego.  Slips between his third and fourth rib and twists, slotting right where his pride lies,  nestled neatly around his heart.  It hurts, plain and simple.

With a roar, he's righting himself, catching his misaligned foot and centring his mass back where he wants to be.  Shoulders hunched, he lunges forward - palms slamming hard into the opposite wall, trapping you within his outstretched arms.  It's done with enough force to put a hole through the drywall, paint cracking beneath his touch, all of his distaste offered in the single motion.  Perhaps Jungkook shouldn't let this get to him but he'll be damned if he'll let you get away with hitting him.

If you’re scared, there’s no indication - no further crumbling of that fortress you’ve built, walls high around your neck.  You don’t cower, don’t shrink back.

You stare up at him like you’ve got nothing to lose.

That—that makes him hesitate.  Makes him second guess his next move.

Because all at once, he realises how far he’s come - how one misstep will mean he’s gone too far.

He shouldn’t be here.  Why he still is, he's not sure.  He should've left - cut this short and kicked you out.  Been the good soldier boy he's always tried to be, always ached to be.  But Jeon Jungkook isn't those things, as much as he wants to be.  Dedicated, loyal, willing to bleed for the man who wears the crown - only things that don't amount to sensible or lenient.  Perhaps that's his downfall now, staring down at you, the girl who doesn’t scramble for safety, who lines his bones with weariness.

“Have you got a death wish?  Think you can go around punching people and get away with it?”  Rhetoric, paired with teeth bared, lips pulled back into a scowl that stiffens his jaw and has his brow furrowing.  There’s nothing but contempt sinking into his veins, turning blood to vinegar beneath his skin when he gathers your hair in his fist again and brings himself terribly close - where your breath mingles into one.  

It’s enough that he’d almost slept with the enemy.  Everything else is just fucking terrible icing on top, a big fat reminder of his mistake in jellied font.  Jungkook abhors it.

“You’re lucky I don’t end things right here, right now.”  Not that he could with any semblance of cleanliness - switchblade and baton neatly tucked away in his vehicle parked out back.  He’d never thought he’d be in this position, so utterly bloodthirsty he pines for the feeling of cold metal between his knuckles and not feather soft strands.  It’s pure pride - his bruised ego - that prompts the demand, fires it past the chamber of his teeth.  (He should let it go, should stop before he does something Namjoon will make him regret.)  “Apologise.”

“No.”  You’re adamant, the small of your palm meeting his chest with force.  It shouldn’t surprise him how aggressive you are, given you’d just punched him but he can’t bite back the snarl that forces a tremor through your hand. 

“This really the hill you want to die on?”  

Spoken so soft, timbre so low it barely registers - infinitesimal in the quiet hallway, no louder when he further breaches the distance you’d just put between you.  It's as if Jungkook thrives off the close proximity, finds some sort of power in getting closer until the contours of your face are all he can see, nothing beyond the swath of hair framing your cheeks and sweeping over your ears.  

He shifts then, face so close he can feel the warmth of your skin against his own;  when he beams, it’s with a mouth too full of teeth to be anything but malicious.  “Because you will and I'd have no problem with it.”  Others, maybe.  Namjoon, definitely.  (And that's almost enough to give him pause, but you don’t need to know that.)  With the newfound position, words husked low into your ear, he drops his hand from hair, curling it over the expanse of your throat.  There's no pressure;  it's only cautionary.  “Now apologise.”

“I’m sorry.”  It’s a legitimate admission of guilt, an inkling of truth trickling over the two words.  That much he can tell.  

But where’s the fear?  The terror that should be struck into your heart, that should rightfully propel the concession?  Why is it lily white, honest, even as you glare up at him?

(Truthfully, Jungkook hadn’t been sure what the outcome of this would be, whether he’d really get an apology out of you, who bleeds the same crimson he does, full of arrogance and venom and heady sensuality.)

So surprised is he that he very briefly - for no more than a split second - forgets what you’re apologizing for.  (It’s not that he has a one track mind - only that you, his enemy, seems to elicit such a strong, carnal reaction in him.  But he reminds himself of the chain hanging around your neck, the carved emblem that marks you as off-limits.)

When he centres his focus, he simply nods, deep seated satisfaction pouring across his expression like paint.  It seeps into the lines, leaves no room for anything but infantile triumph.  “That wasn’t so hard, now was it?”  Still, the hand doesn’t rescind, ink so prettily contrasting the unblemished skin beneath.  

He’s won this fight;  somehow, he still yearns for a battle.

But that’s neither here nor there, and he can’t keep getting sidetracked.  Can’t forget about the line you’ve all but already obliterated.  So he steps back, moves so fluidly it’s almost lyrical, and simply stares down at you, seemingly torn.  Lost in thought.  

“If I ever see you again, I’ll kill you,”  he offers the statement conversationally, deadpan as hell.  The mask has slid back into place, sense of responsibility returning like a lead weight.  It falls through the soles of his boots, straight down six feet under, bringing any semblance of hope with it. 

This isn’t what he wants - but that doesn’t matter.  He hopes you understand.  

tag list.  @gyukult​ @yzkyzkuniverse​ @neverthefirstchoice​ @youwannabelostandnotbefound​ @codeinebelle​

[god1ngs]

━‎ end of the world

synopsis; a forbidden love told for generations

contains; human reader, major character death, swearing, mentions of war, spoilers

god c!technoblade / reader, 3.4k wc

note; the title doesn't make much sense but whatever lol ,, this is for @mayasimagines 's 600 event! congratulations and i hope you like this :)

   throughout the fall of countries, the crumbling of empires, there stood a man. he gazed upon the vast land, the grass stained red. buildings had crashed down, debris staining the area around them. they layed in heaps of piles, taller than most. the fallen down buildings had been a sign of the empire's loss.

   there was no one alive to commemorate the loss however.

   screaming rung inside of his head, shouting and yelling, with some other tones mixed in. displeased and ecstatic and mocking tones blended together, sounds of chaos lingering in the mind of the man. he only sighed, walking away from the destroyed country.

   he's seen this happen too many times before, the repetitive cycle of watching a country build itself only to come crashing down years later. they never lasted long. always the one for chaos, he sometimes participated in the destruction of the countries, though most times he didn't need to.

   humans were savage, brutal creatures who only cared about themselves. by studying their nature, the way they go about certain scenarios, he had figured out that much. selfish, twisted beings who would betray each other in a heartbeat. all it took was more wealth or a promise of better gear.

   how easily swayed they were. technoblade sneered, his red cape dragging beneath him as he stalked the hallways. pillars of quartz, chipped at the edges from years of standing, lined the hallway. they reached the ceiling, some even going higher. the magnificent red carpet he stalked down had ended at a throne.

   a throne made of gold, the shiniest material he could get his servants to find. emeralds and diamonds and rubies lined the top of it, the same jewels lining the gold of his crown. at last, he sat down, the voices calming down at the familiar seating area. they always got loud whenever there was destruction.

   technoblade, the blood god. also known as the god of war and chaos to many, he wasn't very popular among the peaceful people. people often worshipped him for protection, to which he rarely granted. protection from him, a god of war, was seldom. often he didn't care about the hunans enough to waste his protection on them.

   yet, one mortal, had caught his eye. they were nothing too special, middle class and usually someone technoblade wouldn't even spare a glance at. they were different though. they outshined any ray of sun, their smile proving to be the brighter of the two. he found them, despite all odds, very interesting.

   later, after wine and more sparring, the man had caught wind of philza coming over. philza, the angel of death, had been one of technoblade's good allies, even so far as to consider the blond a friend. he brought saints to their knees in their final moments, allowing them either an eternity in hell or a peaceful life above.

   he wanted to meet them, and technoblade always gets what he wants.

   even before technoblade had become the god he is now, forever cursed to watch humanity rip itself apart, he knew philza. the two fought wars together, never straying from their path of loyalty. the blond perched himself on the windowsill, his striking white wings folding on his back, as he smiled at the other. "hello technoblade." he greeted, ever the polite man.

   technoblade only scoffed, shaking his head with an amused grin. "please, phil," he drawled, looking from his red wine to the angel of death. "no need for the formalities. just call me techno." the blond threw his head back with a laugh, wide smile painting his features as the other chuckled. "of course, mate."

   silence washed over the pair for a moment, a comforting silence that allowed them to bask in the moment od seeing each other. they didn't get to visit often, one thing they mutually hated about being in the sky palace, usually swamped with other duties. philza with guiding people to the afterlife, and technoblade with causing conflict.

   "i actually wanted to talk about somethin' with ya, mate." phil broke the silence, hopping off of the marble windowsill to come lean against one of the pillars. the pink haired man, ever so interested, hummed questionably. "and what did you want to speak to me about? come on, spit it out." the man said, looking down at philza.

   he sighed, glancing up at technoblade. "you've been acting off, mate. less wars are starting, and that's weird for you. i know you also started protecting that one mortal. fuck, what was their name?" he murmured, brows furrowed. technoblade sighed in annoyance, not wanting to be pestered with questions.

   "[name]." he answered phil quietly, not bothering to look back at the blond man. the clouds danced with each other in the sky, entertwining and morphing with each other freely. sometimes he wishes he could be as free as the clouds. "you know," phil said, a mischievous glint shining in his eyes. the blood god could only dread what he was going to say. "rumor has it that gods only protect mortals they're interested in."

   the teasing, despite only being light hearted, had a quizzical undertone. while technoblade had been acting strange, protecting somebody was something phil had never expected. either something was special about that mortal and their family, or someone had begun fantasizing. he could only hope it wasn't the latter.

   with more conversation, technoblade denying any feelings blooming for a human, phil left to go do his job. he was alone with his thoughts, the voices making him tug at his own hair to keep them quiet. they craved the mortal, despite how much he willed himself to stay in his throne room, the man had to go see them.

   it was a normal day for you. nothing was different, much less weird. it was only normal, a basket of bread in your hands as you walked home. you hummed as you stepped on the path, enjoying the peaceful walk back to your house. you were content with your life, having a few people and more deaths than you could count.

   and see them he would.

   you partially blamed philza, the angel of death, for the passing of your loved ones, but you also knew he wasn't the one to kill them. he simply took them to the afterlife, guiding them to where they would spend the rest of their days. the deaths in your family had piled up, mostly from war and some of falling ill.

   you spent your days worshipping gods now. you were always the lonely type, choosing to stay by yourself rather than interact with others. you never minded the comforting embrace of being alone, the silence enveloping you at every given moment. it provided you with a sense of comfort you couldn't get anywhere else.

   while you did worship other gods, you mostly worshipped technoblade. he was the primary god, you giving up all your offerings to him ─ ranging from bread to trinkets to gold galore. the tales of the blood god, always grand stories with daring adventures that had you on the edge of your seat, had always intrigued you.

   your favorite, the one you read the most to the slim amount of people you did contact, was the tale of the butcher army. when he was human, a detail that many didn't know whether to believe or not, he blew up many countries. it hinted at the start of him being the god of war many years later. for punishment, the butcher army hunted him down.

   they lied to the man, once they had captured him, in which they had prepared for his execution. some say he died that day, only to be revived due to the gods holy whim; others say he had never died, and broke out of the iron bars to kill the men who had hunted him down. learning about the magnificent god, a god you admired, had faced an army of four and won, allowed you to admire him even further.

   once you got home, setting down your basket of bread, you had sighed. you always liked coming home, your safe space filling you with a joy like no other. the everlasting comfort of your home, a familiar place you longed to be at constantly, helped you feel safe. the comforting feeling of being home at last filled you at peace.

   until it wasn't so peaceful anymore.

   from your kitchen came a clanging noise. there were a few grunts followed afterwards, your eyes wide. fear flooded your system, nervousness coursing through your veins. you stayed silent, hoping you'd either been dreaming or had been imagining sounds. however, once a voice spoke, you knew that was not the case.

   from your kitchen came, with his red cape dragging behind him, technoblade. you stammered, confusion replacing your previous nervousness. your grip came loose on the item you were holding, not being able to process what you were seeing. "well this is awkward." the god stated, putting your kitchen utensils he had just knocked down back on your counter.

   if anything, this was awkward. very awkward. who expected a god to come through their kitchen window? "uh, do you," you stuttered, voice measily yet you still tried to fight it out. "do you mind telling me why you're here?" it was more than odd to see a god in your kitchen, the sight one hard to believe for even yourself.

   technoblade had sighed, draping himself over your couch cushions as if he lived there. his arms, unlike your bare ones, spread across the back of your couch, the sight making you nearly sigh. "well, mortal, i had taken intrest in you." he answered bluntly, your mind still reeling from the fact that he was even here, but taking interest in you? no, this had to be some kind of joke.

   the visible confusion highlighting your features made the god chuckle. it was amusing, seeing the looks on mortals' faces whenever something odd or unexplainable happened. "what's so confusing? i took interest in you, and so i came down here to see you." the blood god explained, shrugging his shoulders. the confusion you felt only worsened.

   why was the question. why was a god in your house? why had he taken interest in you? you shook your head, suddenly feeling lightheaded. "sorry, i need to sit down." you muttered, trying to regain your footing. you sat down, going slowly as to not pass out in front of him. "so," you spoke up as soon as you had calmed down. "why have you taken interest in me?"

   a cloud of silence loomed over the two of you, technoblade falling into his thoughts. why had he taken interest in you? there was no particular shining traits in you, even if he studied you as if you had carved out the world with your own hands; he watched you as if you had brung down a fantastic reign upon everybody.

   "who knows?" he wondered aloud, a hum of amusement following his words. technoblade didn't know the reason for it, and despite itching with curiosity, he didn't bother trying to find out. he only let it be, coming to terms with the fact that you, a mortal, had piqued his interest. you kept him entertained, and that's all that mattered.

   after the two of you talking more, you still trying to get over the shock that the blood god was in your home, you had to say that he was fairly a nice guy. maybe he was kinder than all of the other ones, however you've never crossed paths with a god either, so you couldn't tell. when technoblade had stood up, braided hair falling against your couch, you knew it was time for him to go.

   he turned to look down on you, his towering figure highly intimidating. there was a reason he was feared across nations. he stared at you for a second, maybe deciding on what to say, though you couldn't tell with his blank expression. the man only sighed, wishing you a good day, and then turned to leave.

   "you've got me interested, technoblade."

   you only spoke to the god more after the first encounter. seconds turned into minutes and then minutes turned to hours. he was an interesting guy, choosing which emotion to show and when to show it. perhaps it came with being a god. as he came by more, each visit surprising you, you only talked to him more.

   "as you've got me, [name]."

   soon he started telling you stories. the butcher army, the l'manberg war, how he met philza. he told you great things of philza, the angel of death, so much so you nearly stopped disliking philza. you were always interested in his stories though, no matter how long or how action packed. each further lured you in to his grasp.

   technoblade, however, had stopped visiting so often. with more conflict arising everyday, he didn't have as much time to visit you anymore ─ philza was starting to catch on as well. how he wasn't home as often or how he lied to philza each time he asked him where he was. he was getting suspicious, and wanted answers quickly.

   philza confronted technoblade on this issue a while later. his wings puffed up confidently, he was so sure something was going on with his eldest friends, the edges torn at the seams. "technoblade." he addressed politely, standing in front of his throne once again, as he did not so long ago. he would get answers out of him.

   technoblade only sighed, his cheek pressed against his closed fists as he stared at philza. "yes, philza?" he asked, voice heavy with exhaustion. the recent wars, as much as he loved the excitement and panic that came with it, have been too tiring for him. he also couldn't visit you that morning, only pissing him off more.

   "have you been seeing the mortal you told me you had interest in?"

   silence crashed over the room, violent in its malicious intent. phil's questioned nipped at the blood god, desperately pleading for an answer. philza sighed, one of disappointment and perhaps even anger. the silence was enough of an answer. "mate, are you kidding me?"

   technoblade merely sighed, eyes narrowing at the blond. "you have no say on who i take interest in, phil. that is none of your concern." he dismissed the blond, turning back to look at the window. philza had no say in what technoblade done with his life, no matter how long the two have been friends.

   "none of my concern? mate, they're a mortal and you're a god! hell, the blood god! for fucks sake, mate, you can't be seeing mortals!" philza snapped, brows furrowed and cheeks red from anger. the trouble a god could get in from seeing a mortal was irredeemable.

   if technoblade got caught with the mortal, he would lose not only his titles, but his life. he would be executed.

   technoblade merely scoffed however, rolling his eyes. "as if i'll get caught, philza. those laws are stupid anyways. what, are you going to tell on me?" he arched his brows at the angel of death, sneering at him. how dare he barge into his temple and then go off at him; a beloved friend of his.

   however, the mortal was too intresting to not keep seeing. he may of even caught feelings. how laughable ─ the blood god, feared across empires, falling for a mere mortal. philza only sighed, rubbing his temples. he weighed his options: technoblade could continue seeing the mortal, get caught, and then both of them get in trouble.

   or philza could tell the council. tell them of his affairs, tell them why he hasn't been here as often. once more, a vicious silence swept over them. only for a moment, for philza had declared:

   "if you don't stop seeing this mortal, i'll have no choice but to stop it. don't make me do it, mate."

   his evening visit was late that night. you had already prepared dinner, setting it up for when he was to arrive. from what he's told you, he hasn't had human food in a long time. he told you that gods didn't need to eat nor sleep. you had decided to make him food for when he comes, wanting him to have food even if he doesn't need it.

   the gust of wind from deceiving angel wings swept across his face. messy hair cascaded over his face, and for once, the blood god had found a problem he didn't know he could solve.

   ten minutes. twenty minutes. thirty minutes. you sighed at the mocking tick of the clock, each passing second being another sign that he wasn't going to come. perhaps he had better things to do. frowning, you began to gather the food up, knowing you wouldn't eat it all, before the familiar two knocks came at your door.

   rushing over, once you had opened it, you were surprised to see something different than you were used to.

   technoblade was there, but he looked different. more angry, perhaps even upset.

   worried, you frowned at the god. "are you okay?" you asked, hoping the man was alright. the god only nodded, staring at the ground. he came back to you after a moment of silence, sighing. "yes, just got caught up in some things. nothing for you to be concerned of." he said, brushing you off before you could even speak.

   when technoblade had gone back to his temple, rubbing his temples with a sigh, something unexpected had greeted him. there was philza, perched on the window with a firm look of coldness. "visiting the mortal again, were you, mate?" he asked once he had came into view. technoblade had half a mind to tell him to fuck off.

   that night provided a great distraction from what would come the following days.

   no words were spoken from technoblade afterwards. the betrayal of another friend, a promise to do something about his meetings, had wounded him. he didn't want to lose philza, but also had begun to realise something ─ he had caught feelings for the mortal.

   for you, who had been the sunshine on his darkest days. call it a cliche, but technoblade truly didn't know happiness if you weren't by his side. having watched countless deaths and falls of kingdoms over the many, many years of being alive, the man had never found as great of a comfort than by your side. you were the sun to his moon, a forever shining force to his immortal darkness.

   though the moon and sun are destined to never touch.

   that night, philza had technoblade bring him to your house under promise of telling the council. they had shown up to your house late at night, when the world was asleep. it had been abrupt, the two males coming into your home. you were shaking, scared as to what this meant. the angel of death and the blood god inside your home could mean nothing good.

   and you were right. that night, that forsaken night, technoblade had been cursed in front of your eyes. the wide eyed look on his face, the shock of what a former friend could do. you tried to reach out for him, but were stopped by philza. he permitted you to stay still, or else your blood would be on your walls.

   "technoblade, the blood god and the god of war, i hereby sentence you to an eternity of reincarnation. as long as you are alive, your lover, [name] [last name], will be killed and reincarnated. only ever letting you get close enough to hardly touch them."

   your words were caught in your throat, the cruel punishment knocking the wind out of you. philza's eyes shone, bright in an unholy way, rising up with his wings behind him. technoblade had felt the burning sensation of a marking, a forever sign of the curse, on the side of his neck. a flower had been burnt into the side of his neck, your favorite flower.

   "i'm sorry, technoblade." were the last words you heard before a sword made of light had stabbed through your stomach.

   the blood god had frantically scooped up your body in his arms, panicking for the first time since you've seen him. he tried to get you to say anything, although the words were too hard to say, no matter how hard you tried to get them out. he reassured you would be okay, despite knowing the inevitable would happen.

   "you should've listened to him ... heh, you're a dumbass, you know that?"

   you took your last breath seconds later.

[live-the-fangirl-life]

Weird? Crazy? I once thought of a meet ugly where someone accidentally barges into a stall where someone is taking a shit just for the punch line “you scared the shit out of me” “literally” or something along those lines but I can’t imagine how either person would recover from the embarrassment unless they were in a long term relationship and this was in their home or something

Scared Shitless

Aelin Galathynius x Rowan Whitethorn - Prompt

"You scared the shit out of me" / "Literally"

This is total crack. This prompt made me laugh so hard I snorted. Please, anon, tell me who you are, because this was hilarious.

Masterlist | Read on Ao3

Warnings: Language, Crude Bathroom Humor (I apologize in advance)

791 words

*******

Rowan would think by now that he’d have learned this lesson.

The lesson being: don't let Aelin cook.

He’d known her for seven years, dated her for five, and been married to her for two; he really should have known better by now.

But she was so excited to try out a new recipe she found online, something that reminded her of a childhood dish. And she looked so proud and hopeful when she put it out on the table for dinner. It didn't taste the best, but it also wasn't her worst concoction, so Rowan didn't think much of it as he ate a single serving, washed it down with a couple glasses of water, and counted it as a success.

That was before he’d spent the last hour trying to relieve himself of that night's dinner, to no avail. As much as tried, and as much as he needed to, he couldn't do it,

Whatever Aelin did to that dinner, made Rowan more constipated than he’d ever been in his life.

He was just glad his wife was still asleep and not suffering the same way he was. First, because he was not having a good time and he didn't want her to feel the same. And second, because there was only one bathroom in their apartment and if she had the same issue, well, it wouldn't be good.

Rowan groaned again, wishing he could just give up and go to sleep, but he still had the horrible feeling of needing to go, but being unable to no matter how hard he tried.

He grabbed the green bottle of Aelin’s conditioner from the shower ledge and read over the back of the bottle. He’d already learned everything about her shampoo and body wash, he might as well finish the set. Rowan made a mental note to keep a book in here for future extended bathroom trips.

A loud knock on the door interrupted him as read about how silky the conditioner could make your hair.

“Rowan?” Aelin’s voice called through the wood.

“Yeah? I’m a little occupied, Fireheart, do you need something?” he tried not to sound too strained. As much as he loved his wife he really didn't need her seeing him right now. Especially not as he finally, finally, felt like he was getting somewhere.

She banged on the door again, “Rowan, I really need to get in there! Please, open the door!” she sounded frantic; her normally cool, sometimes cocky, voice reduced to an anxious whine.

“Uh,” He looked at the locked door which was about a foot out of his reach from his current position. “I can’t really do that right now.”

Her banging on the door became more insistent. “Ro! Gods, help me, open this fucking door!” He could hear her muffled, and not so muffled, curses as she muttered about how she was never going to touch a stove again.

“Rowan Whitethorn,” Her voice felt almost as strained as he did, “Promise me, on our love, that you will never let me cook again. Oh godsㅡ”

“Aelin? I swear to all the gods listening that I’ll never let you cook again.” he managed to grunt out as he heard her steps disappearing. Good, maybe she was feeling better.

He was so close, gods he could almost feel the relief, but not quite. He tried again, using so much force his neck strained and he could feel his face getting red.

So close.

He was too focused on trying to finish this, that he didn't hear the sound of metal tinkling in the doorknob.

Come onㅡ

The door burst open, banging loudly on the wall as it crashed into it, most likely leaving a dent. Aelin was there on her knees with a bobby pin in one hand and a bent paper clip in the other.

Rowan’s eyes met hers and he was so startled that his body seemed to jump off the toilet seat. The rush of adrenaline or shock and the quick movement sent him over the edge and he felt his body relieving itself.

Aelin got to her feet and stalked towards him as he looked at her and said breathlessly, “You scared the shit out of me.”

“Literally.” She snorted, at his words or his relaxed expression, he wasn't sure. Then her smile dropped and she hastily told him, “now finish and get out cause I need that.”

He did exactly that. Finally leaving the bathroom, Rowan crawled back into bed and waited for Aelin to join him. As he tried to stay conscious, he couldn't help but think they had just covered some type of married-life milestone. Turns out that when you're married to someone, there's no shit-shaming.

***

Taglist:

@acourtofsnakes @allthebooksunderthemoon @astra-ad-mare @becarefuloflove @bisexual-genderfluid-loki @booklover41802 @charlizeed @cookiemonsterwholovesbooks @danibutterr @doubt-less @emily-gsh @enormousbooklover @foughtconquered @fromthelibraryofemilyj @hakunamatatazz @i-have-but-one-brain-cell @in-love-with-caramel-macchiato @jorjy-jo @lemonade-coolattas @mariamuses @mayhemories @midsizewitch @miserablesmusings @morganofthewildfire @nehemikkele @rowaelinismyotp @rowansfirebringer @sayosdreams @sheharahu @sleeping-and-books @stardelia @story-scribbler @superspiritfestival @surielandiareendgame @swankii-art-teacher @tomtenadia @westofmoon @whimsicallyreading @ladygabrielli1997 @moodymelanist @realbookloverproblems @gracie-rosee @julemmaes @yesdreamblog

[bitchassbucky]

.avi

Word Count: 1.2k

Warning/s: nsfw! (literally) stalkerish themes. dark!bucky x dark-ish!reader. cybercrimes being committed. f & m masturbation. sex toy (vibrator mention). this is kinda meta, tbh.

A/N: the long-awaited part two of .exe mwahaha. we're delving not-that-deep into bucky's little thingy methinks. as always, reblogs and comments are welcomed! <3

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Jesus Christ, you’re insatiable.

Bucky barely woke up when he caught you masturbating with a rabbit vibrator on your bed—laying on your stomach. The towel you thoughtfully laid on was folded halfway. He assumes that you’re a squirmer too when you come. The Friday night show was his favorite though, shame that he didn’t get any footage of it.

His dick is already hard but he’s got no time to waste just yet. Clicking open a screen recording app, he gets to work. Bucky’s already got some footage of you sleeping, cleaning up, and tidying your sheets. In his little mind palace, he’d never let you do any of these things—he’ll be the one to change the sheets, he’d tuck you in bed too.

Bucky let the program run on the desktop as he went to get his breakfast. His mind keeps drifting back to you in his office.

How do you like your coffee?

Do you even like coffee?

You look like a tea kind of person.

Maybe he’ll ask you for breakfast, as soon as he learns how your morning routine goes.

When he came back to his desk, the bed was already made up (again). He got worried for a second until your face came into the frame, your glasses fogged up with vapor.

You bring the laptop with you to the living room, along with a big mug of… something.

He’s gotta learn what you like so he can like it too.

On his side of the things, he sees that you keep your word processor running in the background. More work, perhaps? He hadn’t had the chance to check out your files just yet. He kept himself busy with your pictures and candids. Bucky had his favorites all printed out—he, of all people, knows that technology can’t be trusted, so why were you uploading these pictures of yourself?

There were ones taken in your bathroom, he presumes. On your bed. In the kitchen. By a fucking window, for crying out loud.

He wants to be the one to take these pictures, to imprint them into his memory. Seared in his brain. But not yet.

For now, he just needs to get back at making sure you’re safe in your apartment.

You’ve been staring and smiling at your phone for a while now.

What are you up to?

—

Turns out Mr. IT Guy isn’t very social-media savvy.

All his pictures are out in the open for everyone to see. You wonder what he’s like in private, then.

Maybe he likes posting candids of his new girlfriends and deleting them when it’s over? For a man who has a face of a god, you’d expect to see at least a girlfriend within the past few months.

But he doesn't. No corny pictures, no hashtags of anniversaries, no tagged photos.

You spent your morning working up yourself with your trusty vibe, the image of him fucking you by the kitchen sink fresh on your brain.

Holy shit, does he have that effect on everyone?

What if you wander into his office after a shift and you’d find him stroking his cock? Would you close the door and never speak of it? Maybe you’d smirk and walk over him, sinking down on your knees to suck him off.

God, now you’re all worked up again. Horny, hot, and bothered. That’s good though, then you’d have the energy to finish the chapter you left a week ago.

—

So you’re a writer by choice. Bucky knew that much.

What he wasn’t expecting though, is you write the most explicit things.

The all-white collar girl he met last week likes to get fucked roughly. Overstimulated. Choked. Gagged. Slapped. Spit on.

He’s gotta show you how to make love. Slow, sensual love. Preferably after the roughhousing, that is.

Oh, the things he’d do to you—how he’ll worship your body, head to the tip of your toes. Bucky wants to bury his cock between your lips and praise you for the good girl you are. He wants to let you know that you don’t need to be degraded in order to come.

You just need him.

Bucky’s cock twitches in his sweatpants, still painfully hard. The thick vein on the underside of his shaft protrudes, waiting for him to just fuck something warm.

His hand will do for now.

By the time he got his hand gripping the base of his cock, he’s got you in fullscreen. The recording app still running in the background.

You’re busy. Typing. Researching. Looking for words to replace ‘say.’ Your sleep shirt is loose on your soft frame.

Bucky focuses on you, then. Imagining you on your knees, right here in his apartment. You’d be wearing those glasses you have on. He knew he had a thing for girls with glasses.

He closes his eyes to indulge himself in his own movie.

Your tongue laying flat against his girth, drooling all over the thick base of his dick. He’d let you take your time licking, all the way from his balls to tip. Your lips would close around his leaking head, teasing and tasting his precum.

One of his ties would be around your wrists so you’d learn how to use your mouth.

Bucky swears to God that he felt your mouth closing in on his cock as he pistons his fist faster. A guttural moan spills out of his mouth as his toes curl, the carpet gripping the pads of his feet.

“God, fuck—Y/N.”

Bucky forgoes any kind of underwear last night, only dressing himself up with baggy sweatpants. It was for the better too. He doesn’t think he’d come so much from watching someone—well, not just someone—on the screen.

He sighs, wiping himself clean on the underside of his pants. He needs to do his laundry soon.

Bucky looks at your face longingly from his side of the screen; God, is this how long-distance couples feel?

Maybe he’ll shoot you a text later.

—

Unknown Number: I hope you’re doing well.

Unknown Number: How's your laptop?

Unknown Number: Shit, sorry, it’s Bucky from IT. :)

Your head spun in three different directions as the texts came in.

Hey, Bucky! I’m doing well. The laptop is too.

Was it too curt? Well, you didn’t want to come off too strong. It’s not like he’s been on your mind for the better half of your weekend morning.

Your stomach made a worrying flip as the message status turned Read 10:44 AM. But there was no typing bubble.

Whatever, you’re fine. You’re a busy girl. A strong, independent woman who—

IT Guy Bucky: Good! Just checking on you. We had some downtime due to system maintenance last night.

Oh, it’s work.

No problems on my end! You type in quickly, sending it. To be fair, all you had in common was a band.

Hey, I have a question. It’s not work-related.

—

Oh.

Oh, he fucked up, didn’t he?

Y/N: Do you know any restaurants near the office? I’m sick of eating take-out food. Other than the hipster hideyhole you told me.

Bucky breathed out a sigh of fucking relief when he read your text. He chuckles mostly at himself and composed a reply.

Yeah! I have a non-hideyhole spot a block away from the office. You wanna check it out sometime?

You already got inside jokes.

Is 11:30 good?

Yeah, Bucky types, a smile forming on his lips, 11:30 it is.

[wicked-mind]

Fire and Gasoline - Alternate Ending

Summary: Break-ups are hard. Especially when the cause of the break up is the man of your dreams cheating on you but what’s even worse… You both still love each other.

Word Count: 6.1k

Warnings: Cheating, unreciprocated kiss, swearing, drinking, tiny bit of implied smut

All Writings Masterlist

Fire and Gasoline - Original Version

As always, any likes, comments, and/or reblogs are appreciated (: I love that shit.

*gifs not mine

ALTERNATE VERSION

Since the day Bucky met Y/N, he knew she was the one. She was a new tech analyst at the facility and made sure the heroes had all the new tech possible. Bucky got to know her for about two months before asking her out and they had been like fire and gasoline ever since. He loved her more than anything in the world, more than himself. But he always thought she was out of his league. She was too sweet, too innocent for him. He worried everyday that he wasn’t enough for her, that she would figure out just how screwed up he was and leave him for someone better.

Y/N stood in the technology lab with her assistant, Nick, going over some new technology. Nick flirted with her all the time which she ignored every time and kept reminding him she was dating Bucky and that he would break Nick’s arms without trying if he didn’t stop, but he didn’t. Y/N was working on a present for Bucky, a new type of knife to add to his collection. She got inspired after watching Star Wars with Bucky one night and decided to surprise him with some sort of laser blade. Once she got it to finally work and test it out, she squealed and clapped her hands, turning to Nick and saying, “We did it!” What she didn’t expect to happen was Nick pressing his lips to her’s.

Bucky had rounded the corner to greet Y/N with some coffee when he paused, seeing Nick kissing her through the window. He frowned, jealousy immediately flooding him. He hated that they spent so much time together with Nick’s incessant flirting, worried that one day Y/N would choose Nick over him. Nick was a handsome man, had the same hobbies as her, and was just as smart. He stomped away, going up to his room in a jealous rage. He couldn’t think rationally, feeling cheated in his relationship. Betrayed. Hurt. All he could think about was getting even. What he didn’t see after he stomped away was the abrupt slap Y/N had landed to Nick’s face.

Y/N finished up in the lab, sending Nick home after firing him for sexual misconduct. She filled out her report with Steve of why he had to fire him and said she was alright. It took a few hours before she was able to go find Bucky, the knew laser knife in her hands. She knocked on his bedroom door softly and opened it with a smile but froze when she saw him perched over Katerina from communication who had always had the biggest crush on Bucky. Even though he was under the blankets and she could only see his bare shoulders, she could see the movement of the bed as he thrust into her. Katerina’s eyes met her’s and she smirked. Y/N quickly shut the door, tears welling up in her eyes as she walked back to her own room. How could he do this to her? He knew her history of how all her boyfriends cheated on her before.

After a good hard cry, Y/N went to Natasha. Her eyes were glossy and her nose was red from crying, but that didn’t stop her from sitting down in Natasha’s office, “I would like to be transferred with you to the Seattle facility. I think it would be good for me to help set up the tech lab.” She told Natasha, picking at her fingernails as she spoke.

Natasha raised her eyebrows at Y/N. When she had asked her before to come to Seattle for a temporary position until the new facility was up and running, Y/N had told her she didn’t want to be away from Bucky, “I would love to have you. But I’m curious, what changed?”

Y/N looked up to meet Natasha’s gaze, “Everything. I just need this right now, Nat. I’ll go start packing and leave tonight. I’d like to be there to make sure everything is all set up correctly in the lab.” She said before standing and going back to her room. She didn’t have much stuff, most of her things got packed into the two suitcases she had. She quietly snuck passed Bucky’s room, hearing light snoring coming from inside knowing he was asleep. She couldn’t confront him… How could she go through that again? Every time she seemed to find the perfect man she could picture the rest of her life with, they cheated on her or left. Bucky was no different in her mind. She was gone that night on a private jet to Seattle to the new facility.

Steve was walking passed Bucky’s room when he escorted Katerina out, his brow furrowing at the view as he watched the brunette leave in one of Bucky’s shirts. He looked at Bucky with an eyebrow raised, anger in his eyes at what his best friend had done to Y/N, “What the hell, Buck? Did you and Y/N break up?” He asked once Katerina was out of earshot.

Bucky shrugs, folding his arms, “You could say that.” He muttered out with a frown as he leaned against his doorframe, “Saw her kissin’ that punk, Nick, yesterday.”

Steve’s jaw dropped a little, realizing the full situation since Y/N had reported and fired Nick, “You’ve gotta be kidding me, Bucky!” He said loudly, “So you go and screw the first thing that bats her eyes at you?! You don’t even know what happened, did you even talk to Y/N?”

Bucky’s frown deepened, “Didn’t need to,” He snapped back, “Saw the whole thing.”

Steve ran his hand through his hair as the other rested on his hip, “You really screwed up, Buck. Did you stick around long enough to see her slap him? Or fire him? Or maybe ask her what happened? She filed a sexual misconduct complaint with me yesterday, saying that Nick just randomly kissed her!”

Bucky’s jaw dropped at his words before a loud groan passed his lips, “Fuck.” He growled out. He had fucked up. He let his jealously get the best of him and screwed everything up. He betrayed her in the worst way possible, “I… I didn’t know, Steve. She’s going to hate me.”

Steve kept the deep frown on his face, shaking his head, “I wouldn’t be surprised. The best thing you can do is go explain it to her right now before Katerina goes around and tells everybody that she was in your bed last night.” He said, pointing a finger at Bucky before disappearing down the hallway shaking his head in disbelief still.

Bucky sighs and immediately made his way to Y/N’s room, shifting on his feet awkwardly. How was he supposed to tell the love of his life that he cheated on her? That he did the thing that every man before him had done to her? He took a deep breath and knocked on her door, “Y/N? I need to talk to you..” He said through the door, hearing silence he knocked again with still no answer. After a few minutes of standing there with no response from her, he tried the doorknob to find it was unlocked. As he started to push it open, he immediately started apologizing, “Y/N, sweetheart… We need to talk and I-“ He paused when he looked around the room. All her belongings were gone from the room and her closet was empty. Fuck. Y/N knew. She must know if she was gone.

Natasha was walking by the door when she noticed Bucky sitting on what used to be Y/N’s bed, “What’re you doing, Barnes?” She asks, folding her arms and leaning against the doorframe.

Bucky looked over at Natasha before back to the floor, “Do you know where she went?” He asks softly, his heart breaking inside as each second passed. He had ruined his chance at real love because of his unbridled jealousy and temper.

“She came in last night and asked to be transferred to the new Seattle facility, left immediately after.” Natasha told him, “What happened? She looked like she had been crying when she came and talked to me.”

“I fucked up.” Bucky said, staring at the floor, “I thought I saw her kissing Nick in the lab yesterday. Turns out he kissed her and she slapped him then fired him. I didn’t see that though… All I saw was his lips on her’s… I slept with Katerina. She must have known.”

Natasha frowned at him, wanting to yell at him for his mistake but instead decided to go an alternate route, “Y/N loves you. She’s never shut up about you.” She told him, “I would give her a little bit to cool down before going and seeing her. You’re lucky she isn’t a field agent otherwise she would’ve killed you. I would have.” Natasha turned and left him in the room.

Bucky took Natasha’s advice, giving it a few weeks. He could barely look himself in the mirror anymore. All he saw was guilt plastered on his face and rage at himself. How could he do that to her? To the one he loved, the girl that he knew was the one… He had packed his bag to take to Seattle with him. He needed to see her, to explain what an idiot he was and that his jealousy and rage got the best of him. Bucky grabbed his bag and walked to the runway, getting on the jet to go see Y/N in Seattle.

Y/N was busy trying to sort through resumes for potential tech analysts to hire in her office. She let out a deep sigh and put the papers on her desk, leaning back in her chair. Her heart still ached and when she slept the only thing she saw was Katerina grinning from underneath Bucky as the bed shook. She hadn’t had a proper nights sleep since she left New York, spending her night crying herself to sleep to only wake up crying from the nightmares. A light knock on the door interrupted her train of thought, letting out a soft, “Come in.” Her eyes looked at the door and she froze when she saw Bucky standing there. He looked as good as the day she met him except for the dark circles under his eyes letting her know he hadn’t been sleeping well either. She could read his face like a book. It was like a written apology was stapled to his features. Y/N adverted her eyes from his gaze and looks down, “What are you doing here?”

Bucky shut the door behind him gently, looking Y/N over. It saddened him to see the heartbreak clear on her features. He didn’t know how to start, just staring at her sadly, “Sweetheart…” He began but was cut off.

“Don’t.” Y/N said, looking up to try her best to glare daggers at him. The brim of her eyes started to fill up with tears at the familiar pet-name, “Don’t call me that.”

Bucky flinched at the words, feeling his heart break a little more than it already was, “Y/N we need to talk about what happened.” He said, staying standing by the closed door.

Y/N shook her head, looking up at the ceiling in hopes to keep the tears from falling, “Talk about what happened? You mean talk about how I walked in on you fucking Katerina?” She said, her voice cracking slightly as she said it. She kept her gaze anywhere but on him.

“I’m sorry…” Bucky said softly to her. Now he knew the truth about how she found out- Nobody had told her, she had walked in on him during the deed and that must’ve hurt her so much more. The guilt inside of him bubbled up more, “I was coming down to your lab to give you some coffee… I saw Nick kiss you and-“

“So the first thing you do is go find that bitch and pull her into bed with you?!” Y/N yelled, standing from her desk and throwing her hands into the air in anger. She didn’t try to stop the tears that now streamed down her cheeks, “He kissed me. I didn’t kiss him. I fired him instantly and filed a report while you were busy finding the first woman to breathe in your direction to go fuck.”

Bucky watched her, his own tears brimming in his eyes at the sight of her so mad at him, “Y/N I’m so sorry… I wasn’t thinking… I was just so consumed with jealousy and anger. I never meant for this to happen.”

Y/N tilted her head at him, her eyes narrowing as a deep frown sat on her lips, “You didn’t mean for it to happen? Really? You just happened to trip into bed with her naked?” She said before taking a deep breath, “You knew how much that would destroy me. You knew everything about me. How every man I’ve been with did the same thing that you did to me. And you didn’t care.”

Bucky couldn’t stand it anymore. He walked over to her, walking around her desk until he was looking straight down at her face with his pained eyes, “I know. I’m so sorry, Y/N.” He told her, “I was stupid. I was an idiot. But I love you, doll. Yours is the only face I saw while I was with Katerina. I wanted it to be you and I feel so guilty that I did that to you. I regretted it the whole time and especially now. I love you. Please just give me another chance.”

Y/N sniffled slightly as she listened to him, staring straight up into his apologetic, painfully broken eyes, “And I love you and I probably always will. But I can’t trust you anymore.” She told him, tears streaming down her face, “I can’t be with you if I don’t trust you.”

Bucky reached a hand out to touch her cheek, wiping away those tears that were breaking his already broken heart with his thumb gently, “Give me a chance. Please. I’ll do anything. I’ll regain your trust in whatever way possible.” He begged, “I love you… I know I fucked up really bad. And I’m so unbelievably sorry for breaking your heart. Please let me try to put it back together.”

Y/N stared into those eyes she loved so much. They were like her own personal ocean but right now the waves were crashing, unresting, “I don’t know…” She whispered to him, breaking her eye contact with him and looking to the floor.

Bucky moved quickly, pulling her into his arms in a tight hug and couldn’t help but feel the smallest bit of relief when she hugged him back, sobbing into his chest, “I’m so sorry, baby.” He whispered down to her, keeping a tight grasp around her body, “I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you, I promise.”

After Bucky left Y/N’s office, she slumped in her chair and thought about everything that was said. How could she trust him? Believe that he was actually sorry? She couldn’t… The image of Bucky fucking Katerina would stick in her brain forever no matter what he did to make it up to her. Y/N leaned her forehead on her desk and groaned at the situation. She had been here many times but this time was different. She thought Bucky was the one but maybe he was just the same as all of her exes. Once she gathered herself and sat herself back up straight about to go through the applicant list again, another knock came at her door, “Come in.” She said softly, looking up the door expecting to see Bucky with his endless apologies again but instead there stood the tall and blonde Captain America giving her those sad blue eyes.

“Hey, Y/N.” Steve said, shutting the door softly behind him and taking a seat in front of her, watching her intently. He could see her glossy eyes, knowing she had been crying and the dark under her eyes meant she hadn’t been sleeping well. Steve had never seen her like this for as long as he had known her. She looked defeated- broken.

Y/N looked at him before back down at the papers on her desk, leaning back in her chair, “Are you here to tell me how sorry he is? That I should give him another chance?” She asks softly.

Steve shook his head at her, “No, I’m not.” He said softly, returning his gaze to her, “I wanted to make sure you were okay. You left without saying goodbye.”

Y/N felt tears stinging her eyes again, shaking her head slightly as she closed her eyes tightly to try and not let the tears fall down her face, “I’m not okay, Steve.” She said, finally looking up to meet his gaze, “He knew exactly how to ruin me and he didn’t care. He knew every other relationship I had ended that same way- being cheated on. Me walking in on him… That’s not the first time it’s happened to me. I’ve caught two other of my exes screwing women… He’s no better. He’s ruined me.”

Steve listened, his eyes shifting into a sadder stare than they were already. He didn’t know that about Y/N and it just made his sadness grow for her and anger grow at Bucky, “I’m so sorry, Y/N.” He said to her. What else could he say? The tears falling from Y/N’s eyes stung him deeply. Steve was Bucky’s best friend which meant when Y/N and him started dating, Steve got to know her really well. He thought someone like her would be good for Bucky, someone full of so much light to help him out of his darkness. But Steve was wrong- Bucky had just pulled the light out of Y/N and destroyed it, “He’s an idiot.”

Y/N scoffed, “I can think of far better words to describe him other than ‘idiot'…” She said looking towards Steve, “But I’ll contain my language for you.”

Steve’s lips twitched slightly to a smile, “Appreciate that, Y/N.”

“You know, I was headed up to his room to give him a gift when I caught him in the act.” Y/N said softly, opening her drawer and pulling out the laser knife she had made for Bucky and passing it to him, “You just click that button and laser knife.” She watched him click the button and the red laser blade appear, “I made it for him after we watched Star Wars.”

Steve looked at the blade in amazement, “This is amazing.” He said, turning it in his hand to observe every bit of it, clicking it to make the laser disappear, “Star Wars? I don’t think I’ve seen that one.”

Y/N nodded, “Yeah, Star Wars. It’s not just one, there’s like nine movies now I think.” She said, “I haven’t seen any of the new ones yet though. Was going to wait and watch them with Bucky but I guess that isn’t going to happen.”

Steve heard her voice trail into sadness again t the end of her sentence, frowning slightly again. He hated the sound in her voice, she didn’t deserve to feel like this. If anything, Bucky deserved to feel like this, “I’ll watch them with you.” He blurted out before continuing, “I’ve never seen them before and I’d like to see where the inspiration for this comes from.”

Y/N smiles slightly at him, “You don’t have to do that, Steve.” She said softly, “I know you’re probably busy.”

Steve flashed her a small smile, “Don’t worry, I want to do it.”

Luckily for Y/N, the apartment suites for staff were in the total opposite side of the facility than where the guest rooms were which meant she didn’t have to see Bucky in the hallways when she walked to her apartment suites from her tech lab. It also meant that Bucky never saw Steve come over to watch movies with Y/N. She started the Star Wars series over so Steve could get the full Star Wars experience. He was great to be around. He was always a gentleman, he made her laugh, and he always brought the best snacks to enjoy while watching the movies. They started by sitting on opposite ends of the couch with the snacks in between them but they slowly started getting closer until they sat right next to each other. One night, Y/N looked up at Steve who noticed and paused the movie, “Whats up?” He asks, giving her a small smile.

Y/N smiled a little. Steve made her feel better, feel worthy of love again like there was a light at the end of the dark tunnel she had been trapped in. She had known him from the first day she started work back in New York and he had always been kind and welcoming, “I have a question for you but I don’t want to pry.” She said to him, biting her lip.

Steve raised an eyebrow at her as he watched her face curiously, “I have an answer. What’s your question?” He asks. Steve enjoyed hanging out with Y/N as well. He could see the light in her start to glow again and he couldn’t help but feel like he had something to do with it. Whenever Steve came to visit, usually the weekends, he would sneak up into her apartment so Bucky wouldn’t get suspicious. He didn’t know how Bucky would feel if he figured out he was spending so much time with Y/N.

“I was wondering what Peggy was like.” Y/N said softly, picking at her fingers as she asked the question, “You know all about my relationship with Bucky and all I know is that you loved Peggy.”

Steve smiled gently, “Peggy was great. She was beautifully confident in everything she did. She was sweet and kind, but also fierce and smart. I have no doubt she could move mountains if she put her mind to it.” He told Y/N, watching her face as she listened, “Reminds me a lot of you.” That was the truth. Y/N reminded him a lot of Peggy. The way she was smart, determined, fierce but also kind and sweet. A good soul.

Y/N smiled softly, “She sounds great. I’m sure we would’ve been friends.” She said, nudging Steve’s shoulder with her own slightly, “Do you think you’ll ever find love like that again, Steve? I really thought Bucky was the one. Sometimes I feel like I’ll never find a love like that again.”

Steve kept his eyes on her, keeping that small gentle smile on his lips as he listened to her, “I know I’ll find a love like that again.” He said, wrapping one arm around her shoulders and pulling her a little closer, “And I know you will too, Y/N.”

Y/N and Steve continued having little moments right under Bucky’s nose. Bucky was helping in the training department which was on the opposite side of Y/N’s lab so he didn’t really have a reason to see Y/N. That didn’t mean that Bucky didn’t linger around outside her apartment door or the door to her lab, wondering how she was doing. He kept his distance and everyday it seemed like she was doing a little better, even happy. The dark rings under Y/N’s eyes had faded and she didn’t look like she had cried in a while. Bucky continued to try and make amends with Y/N from a distance- sending flowers to her apartment every week as well as having her favorite coffee waiting on her desk in the morning. Little did he know that Y/N and his best friend were getting closer and closer every week.

Steve sat with his arm around Y/N’s shoulder, smiling to himself as he watched the sixth Star Wars movie. He enjoyed them and it made Y/N’s little laser knife even cooler as he saw where her inspiration came from. Eventually, she switched the blade color to a blue and gave it to Steve as a gift for helping her feel better and he was ecstatic, never going anywhere without it. He would make jokes about being a Jedi to Y/N which made her laugh. God, he loved to see her laugh and smile. A Peggy sized hole in his heart had been replaced with Y/N and he wondered if she felt the same for him. As the movie ended, he looked over at Y/N to see her asleep leaning on his shoulder. He felt his heart flutter at how comfortable she was around him. Sure, it took a long time for both of them to get to this point, but it felt right, like they were slowly mending each other’s broken hearts while slowly falling in love, “Hey, Y/N, movies over are you tired?”

Y/N smiles at his voice, wrapping her arms around his large one and snuggling her face into his shoulder, “Nope. Not tired.”

Steve chuckles at her, “Honey, I think you might be tired.” He told her gently, “Why don’t I help you get to bed?”

Y/N shook her head against his shoulder, “I’m comfy here. You’re an excellent pillow.” She protested and opened her eyes to look up into those blue ones. Bucky’s eyes used to hypnotize her but now… The way Steve looked at her felt like magic was running through her body. He gave her butterflies that would bounce off the insides of her stomach frantically trying to get her to make a move with him.

Steve shrugs, “Alright, alright.” He chuckles out and picked up the remote to start the next movie, “We are onto the ones you haven’t seen though.”

Y/N sat up straighter next to him, focusing her eyes on the screen in front of her as it started with the opening, “Okay, pass me some popcorn.” She asks and watches Steve grab the bowl of popcorn and pass it to her. She kept brining some of the popcorn to her mouth before she realized Steve wasn’t paying attention to the movie and was still looking at her. Y/N looked back up at him, “Hey, you were just giving me crap for not watching the movie and now you’re not pa-“ Steve cut her off by cupping one of her cheeks in his palm and leaning down and giving her a soft kiss. He waited until she kissed him back before twisting his body a little bit to face her, blindly grabbing the bowl of popcorn from her lap and trying to place it on the table but it fell to the floor. He pulled away and looked at the mess he made, “Oh crap.”

Y/N took a deep breath, blinking at him when he pulled away before grabbing his arm and pulling him back to her, “Don’t worry about it…” She whispers before pressing her lips back to his. He slowly but easily moved do lay her down on the couch, crawling on top of her and continuing to kiss her, each kiss more deep and passionate than the next.

Steve pulled away finally to look at her face, one hand stroking through her hair while the other rested on her hip. He looked into her eyes and smiled softly to her, “I think I’m falling in love with you, Y/N.”

Y/N smiled up at him, her hands stroking gently through his hair as he spoke, “I think I’m falling in love with you too.” She whispers back to him before pressing her lips back to his. Steve made her feel safe, made her feel like he would never hurt her in anyway, especially in the way Bucky did. Unlike when she was with Bucky, being with Steve felt secure. There was no doubt that if they had a relationship that he would be a loyal, loving man. There had always been deep doubt inside of Y/N when she was with Bucky that she had ignored for a long time. But with Steve… Everything was effortless. She could be herself and not worry about if he was taking care of himself or worry if his emotions were going to flip on a dime. He was consistently Steve.

Bucky caught Steve a few times at the facility, questioning what he was doing in Seattle instead of New York. Steve always told him he was just making sure everything was getting set up correctly and see if anybody needed any help. He was keeping his relationship with Y/N on the down-low, worried of how Bucky would react. It wasn’t until a week before the grand opening of the facility that Bucky was lingering outside Y/N’s office when he heard the phone call or at least her side of the phone call that made him panic.

“Hey! How are you?…. I’m good…. I miss you too. I’ve been considering what you said and I think I have an answer for you… I know we are going to need to find some new movies to watch… Are you coming for the grand opening?…. I’m excited… I’ll save you a dance.”

Bucky could hear Y/N starting to head out of her office and made himself scarce. Who was she talking to? How long has she been talking to them? She missed them? He felt that same jealousy bubble up in him. He would have to wait another week to figure out who this mystery person talking to his girl was. Bucky wanted to be the only person she missed. The only person she danced with. The only person she watched movies with and even though he knew he ruined that for himself, he was still determined to get her back.

On the night of the grand opening of the new facility, Y/N looked so beautiful Bucky couldn’t keep his eyes off of her. Her hair was curled and swept to one side of her neck and she wore a long dark blue dress that sparkled slightly when she walked. Bucky watched her walk around making conversation, bringing a champagne glass to her lips as she smiled and talked. He kept himself at the bar, ordering whiskey after whiskey as he watched her. He sat up as he noticed her making her way to the bar, running his hands over his clothes and through his hair to make himself look more presentable and put together.

Y/N smiled at the bartender, passing him her empty champagne glass. He asked if she wanted a refill and she nodded her head at him with a smile, “Yes please.” She said with a smile. Y/N looked over at Bucky as the waiter refilled her glass, her smile fading a little but still on her lips. She had to admit that Bucky always looked good in a suit. Her stomach was twisting slightly with the way he was looking at her with a small grin on his lips. She bit her lip at him before turning to the bartender, “Thank you.” She said and watched the bartender smile at her before going to help other guests.

Bucky stood from his seat and moved to sit by her. This was his chance to talk to her, see how she was. See if she wanted to try again with him, “I thought you didn’t like champagne.” He said with a smile.

Y/N looked over to him and allowed a small smile to appear on her lips, “I’ve acquired the taste I guess.” She said with a small shrug.

Bucky nods slowly, bringing his whiskey glass up to his lips and taking a large gulp before smiling back over to her, “You look beautiful, doll.”

Y/N looked at him and smiles, “Thank you.” She said, running her free hand down the dress to flatten it out a little bit before taking a sip of her champagne glass, “You clean up nice yourself.”

Bucky nodded and grinned at her compliment, taking a drink of his whiskey and keeping his eyes on her, “How do you like Seattle?” He asks, trying to keep the conversation going. This is the longest he had been able to get her to talk to him since he’s been staying here.

Y/N shrugs her shoulders slightly, “It’s alright. It never stops raining though and it’s always cold.” She admitted, looking down at her glass of tequila, “I miss New York. It would rain and be cold sometimes, but at least it had sunshine too.” She bit her lip looking at him before sharing her information, “I’m actually going back to New York soon.”

Bucky smiled as he listened to her. Y/N’s voice was like music to his ears, “Yeah, you never did well with the cold.” He said before downing the rest of his whiskey in his glass, “That’s great news.” He loved the idea of Y/N being back in New York with him- it was just another step closer to her forgiving him and getting her back.

“Yeah…” She murmurs out, bringing the glass to her lips and taking a large swallow before she felt a large hand on her hip. She turned to look up and to see Steve which immediately brought a smile to her lips, “Hey! You made it!”

Steve looked at Bucky before looking down at Y/N with a smile, “I did, sorry I’m late.” He said before looking back to Bucky, “How you doin, Buck? Getting the training division all figured out?” Bucky shrugs, not noticing Steve’s hand on Y/N’s hip, “They’re getting there. Few more weeks and they’ll be able to figure out their head from their ass.” He joked. Bucky had been helping train field agents in hand to hand combat during his stay in Seattle.

Steve nods with a small chuckle and smile, “Yeah, here’s hoping.” He responded before looking down at Y/N, “Did you save me a dance?”

Y/N smiled and nodded to him, “I did.” She said up to the blonde, setting her champagne glass on the bar and pulling him towards where the other couples were dancing to slow songs.

Bucky watched them go, his eyes falling to Steve’s hand on Y/N’s hip. It made his lips part slightly as he started to put pieces together in his mind. Steve hadn’t just been here figuring out how the facility was coming along, he was here to spend time with Y/N. Steal her right out of Bucky’s grasp. Bucky frowned as he watched Y/N wrap her arms up around his neck and Steve wrap his arms around her waist, pulling her close. Bucky shook his head when Steve laid a gentle kiss on top of Y/N’s head, slamming his empty glass down onto the bar before making his way to the elevator to go to his room. He had pushed her away from him and right into Steve’s arms. Into the arms of someone who would never hurt her or betray her loyalty.

Later that night, Bucky was planning on going to talk to Y/N and let her know she didn’t need to be sneaking around with Steve. That he understood and wanted her to be happy. But instead, as he was about to knock on the door, he froze. He heard noises with his enhanced hearing. The noises. The noises she used to make for him when he had her tangled in his arms naked.

“Oh… Oh god, yes… Mmmm… Right there… Yes, Steve!”

Bucky blinked at the sounds, feeling his heart break all over again and knowing he was the cause of all of this. He used to be the only one that could make Y/N say those things, moan like that. The only one that could make those sweet noises pass her lips. Here he was- getting taste of his own medicine. At this moment, Bucky felt like he knew how Y/N did when she saw him with Katerina. He did something unforgivable, pushed her away and right into the arms of a better man. Bucky had received a taste of his own medicine.

___________________________________________________________

Taglist: @buckypops @bibliophilewednesday @stcrryslibrary

@perseone Here is the alternate version (;

[oh-for-fic-sake]

It’s A Match Chapter Two

Masterlist

Summary: as you and henry become closer he lets his family know there may be a new woman on the scene. And you surprize him by moving a little quicker then he had thought. Not that he is against it. He is all to eager to move along to the next step.

Warnings: RPF, Swearing, Angst, Heated Discussions, Fluff.

A/N: here is chapter two, this will only be a short fic maybe there or four chapters but i hope you all like it. This is just me writing down my fluffy fantasy.

Taglist: In Reblogs.

'Shes a big fluffy teddy bear, and loves hugs, even if Shes crushing me~' henry froze hands quivering nervously over the keyboard. You replied? You actually? Holy shit! He bit his lip sitting up straighter with a grin and smoothed his hair back. He wasn't sure why it made him so happy but? He had a reply, and actual reply from a person! A woman!

Now what?

He wracked his brain and frowned. What does he say? Does he ask questions or just talk about dogs? He didn't know all he did know is that he had messaged a complete stranger and she had messaged back.

'I can imagine moving her must be hard work if she's comfy'

'Yeah but on the plus side she's always warm~ a huge hot water bottle'

'A numb but warm set of legs then😂'

'Absolutely! That sounds like the talk of a man who's been there?'

'Yes I have an American Akita, a very snuggly boy that gives me atleast one dead leg a day😅'

'Aww I love Akita's, I was going to get one but them Amii sort of fell into my lap, and has stayed there ever since'

'Big or small a lap dog is a lap dog'

'Definitely😂' Henry paused. Shit what does he do now? Does he just ask questions? Explain a bit more about himself? Both seemed a little too juvenile... And it was scary... Awkward he wants a nice chat, for conversation to flow naturally. He didn't want to fuck up. There was another ping as you typed another message.

' I have to say I'm surprized I got a message on here, only been on here for a few days😅' henry was thankfull, you wasn't going to judge. You were both in the same boat. Both nervously talking to a stranger in the hopes of there being something more. It made replying a little easier, he hoped that things would get less awkward after breaking the ice.

'Really? I made mine today... not sure about all this new online stuff but will figure it out'

'Well I'd say your doing alright,  at least you had the courage to message someone, i made the profile then chickened out😅'

'I almost did, your the first profile that caught my eye'

'Was it Amii?'

'No, as cute as she is you lacked a duck face selfie, and you look very sweet and have kind eyes' henry froze after sending the message. Shit, shit! That was fucking cheese! Cringe and just a fuck up! He quickly wracked both hands through his hair and cursed trying to think of a way to get out of this but nothing came to mind... And then he saw it the tiny y/n is typing... At the bottom of the screen, he winced dreading the reply he was going to get. He bit his lip worried he hopes he hasn't tripped at the first hurdle.

'Thank you that's kind of you to say. And is a missing duck face that strange?🤔'

'Every woman has a duck face'

'Well I do not have a duck face'

'Really?🤨'

'Well not a good one 😅My duck face is sub par more a fish face, call me guppy😂' he chuckled, you did have a sense of humour which was good. He liked making people laugh and not having them take everything so seriously, it meant he could relax and let loose. To just have fun! He heaved a big sigh unconsiously petting Kal as he sat up and leant on his leg. He quickly began typing once more finding it easier chatting with a stranger with each message.

'🤣🤣 I got to admit I'm not sure what to talk about, this is my first time🤔'

'Well that makes us both online virgins😅lets start with the important things shall we?' Henry froze panicking. 'Oh god! Oh god! What ere you going to ask?!' He thought watching the little dots on the screen holding his breath dreading you'd ask for picture or something. He was put out of his misery with a tiny ping sound and your message popped up. He threw his head back and laughed outloud seeing the all important question.

'Who's your favourite superhero?' You were definitely a geek girl, just like he wanted. He bit his lip and typed without needing to think of the answer.

'Superman, afterall he is the grand daddy of all superheroes. You?'

'Oh your not gonna like this~ I love batman🤗' henry smiled at the screen and leant back wiping his mouth trying to massage the ache from his cheeks. He really was grinning ear to ear just from speaking to you so... Unguarded he was just being himself and it was freeing!

'Oh no!😱can I ask why?' He typed quickly not wanting you to think he was going to keep you on read? Was that what they called it nowadays?

'He proves that at 30 you can have a dramatic goth early midlife crisis and that regular assholes can be heroes too, all you need is money🤗🤗'

'🤣🤣 oh god! You know I never thought of it like that!' henry shook his head laughing out loud as he replied

'But you'll be happy to know supes is number three on my list'

'Well he makes the top three so that's salvageable😆'

'Yeah... Two is Captain America though'

'Rich goth with issues, man with an expensive tea tray, then supes got it 👌👍'

'Omg yes!😂that's sums it up beautifully🤣' after that the conversation moved on which he was a little thankful for. Not that he disliked geeking out but... it'd be easy for him to slip up on that subject. Luckily though he didn't have to think of a change of topic as you began chatting away casually about your day and he did in return before long the conversation was over too soon as you stated you really had to get on with filling out these payslips. So the chat drew to a close with promises of speaking tomorrow.

And you kept your promise. For the next week you both spent your evenings chatting away at one another becoming fast friends. That was when he decided to let his family know in the new weekly face time zoom chats.

He looked to the screen fidgeting as his family spoke amongst themselves trying to find the right moment to break the news. But his mother had noticed and asked him out right, leaning closer to the screen watching him worriedly.

"Henry? Are you alright your looking nervous?" The others stopped speaking at the question and henry heaved a sigh nervously twisting his fingers.

"Yeah yeah I... I just have some news... Is all" he said swallowing trying to find the words. He was worried, it had been a while since he'd tried to introduce someone new into his life and his family. He didn't want to alarm them but... he wanted to forewarn them that he was on his way to hopefully sharing his life with someone.

"News? Oh its nothing bad is it?" His younger brother asked, but his oldest paused straightening up with a smile already guessing his brother had taken his advice.

"No nothing bad... Its really good actually... I'm sort of... well I'm speaking to someone online... A woman"  he stuttered rubbing the back of his neck and called Kal onto the sofa with him stroking his fur trying to calm himself and fend of the huge grin that seemed to spread across his face everytime he thought of you.

"You did it?" His eldest brother called out clapping his hands excitedly. A ripple of confusion washed over the others and they frowned looking to one another unsure what had happened between the two.

"Did what love?" His mother finally asked not understanding what her sons were talking about

"I made an online dating profile" he said plainly drawing gasps from everyone.

"Oh gosh love are you okay? Your not being hounded are you?" His mother jumped immediately concern etched deep in her features. His father looked uncomfortable-hell they all did! Each worrying over him. He wasn't surprized they had seen fans both love and hate on him and his partners.

"No mum its fine-better then fine I'm really carful... I've covered my ass and no one knows its me, she doesn't know" he said trying to placate his family but instead he was rewarded with disappointed faces, tutting and small, cringing hisses. Fuck.

"Oh god Henry you haven't made a fake profile? Tell me you didn't- please tell me your not lying to this poor woman" his father scolded sternly. His dad may not be up to speed with all this new age online dating shenanigans but he did know that it was wrong to lie to a potential partner. Just thinking that one of his boys were doing just that left a bad taste in his mouth. If he could he would clip his son around the ear!

"Well no not exactly- its me and I'm myself on there I just... changed my name to Hank... And crop my photos so she can see me but not recognise me that's all! I swear I'm not lying or-or anything!" he explained willing then to understand but with the deep sighs and unimpressed looks he got it would seem they didn't understand or approve.

"Are you sure about this? What will she think if things get serious and then this young lady finds out you've been lying?" he father spoke up again wanting to hash this out. Henry faltered for a moment, he worried about that too. He was frightened that you'd get angry and leave him without even giving him a chance!

"I'm not lying, I just? just omitting certain details about my life, I'm being me I'm showing her the real quirky geeky side of me- this is? Its my one shot! The only chance I'm going to get to have someone look at me, not what they can get out of me... I'm not going to blow it or hurt her... if we get to that point then I will explain things- she'd understand she's really thoughtful and is logical" henry pleaded trying to convince both himself and his family. He cant ignore it, he was worried and had been telling himself over and over you'd understand. But he also knew it could really shake you up. But what he was doing wasn't wrong! It couldn't be helped, he thought they would understand!

"Well I hope so because you could break her heart son... And I want you to understand that, this woman could fall for you. You could really upset her when she finds out" his father finally spoke drawing the issue to a close not wanting to argue, but he still wanted henry to know what ever happens was his own fault good or bad. Not everything ends with a happy ever after, but he didn't need to voice that out loud. Henry knew, they all did.

"I know dad, I've only been speaking to her just over a week anyway, for all i know she will ghost me or something" henry nodded calming a little not wanting to fight but still it was clear to everyone henry hadn't appreciated the lecture.

"Ghosting?" he mum perked up trying to diffuse the situation not wanting this to blow up. Tensions were high and no one needed a family spat at the moment.

"Its when someone stop talking to you and ignores you for no reason" his brother revealed explaining the term to his parents. They both ahh'd in realisation but were still a little tense. So his younger brother spoke up deciding to try and be more supportive to him. And henry was thankful.

"Well how about you tell us about her henry. What's you lady freind like? What does she do?" henry quickly grinned forgetting the irritation. His family watched the sudden change as henry got the chance to boast about the woman who had caught his fancy. It was sobering to see, he was glowing with pride and excitement, overjoyed from just thinking about this mystery girl.

"She's just? God where do I start? Shes amazing and funny and wholesome... She doesn't live too far away- Shes pretty much on my doorstep! Shes really funny and nice we talk everyday and have soo much in common its amazing we like the same music and tv and just- everything! Its like talking to a female version of myself! And Shes a fan too" his family all seemed to warm to the idea of this woman until his final remark. Everyone paused. And so did he, what was so wrong about her being a fan? Why was that a red flag for them and not him?

"A fan? Henry... are you sure she doesn't know? If she's a fan she might know and be... making her answers more favourable" henry bristled at that and visibly leaned back brows furrowed and eyes glowing, showing as much anger as he dared show his mother who had spoken out against you.

"What? No! No she doesn't mum she hasn't got a clue- Shes not a fan of mine per say but? She likes my work, she's a huge lover of DC and fantasy so has seen the Witcher and she loved it! Shes really just like me! Is that really hard to believe? That there are women like me? That enjoy the same things?" what had started as a panicked explination quickly became heated and sour. His words slowly becoming uncharacteristically venomous. But Marie Ann new it was just him getting defensive, he was frightened. He had this silly belief he was an abnormality, that his interests will make him forever alone. The thing that did stand out was just how defensive he was about you. A woman he'd probably not even met yet, someone he was only chatting to. It wasn't like henry to take to someone soo quickly. It made her hopeful, that he really had found someone, found his soulmate. But she was a mother and couldn't help worry over him, no matter how old or huge her boys got they were just that. Her boys. And she will always feel the need to look after them.

"Henry please don't get angry, I didn't mean to upset you but... I worry" she said slowly trying to calm him before he got himself into a tizzy. She could see much more then he wanted her too. And right now he was anxious, probably questioning himself over this woman and the way he was approaching her. She could only hope her son was right and had covered his ass and that this woman was as understanding as he said. Otherwise henry was about to get a wakeup call like never before. It wasn't everyday a well known actor fakes a dating profile. It'd be a media shitstorm that he may not recover from.

"I.. sorry I didn't mean to- y/n isn't like that I... I just know alright she isn't after anything" henry apologized smoothing back his hair taking a huge breath and leant back once more relaxing.

"So why don't you tell us a little more about her son? You've been speaking for a week so must know a little more then her name and were she lives?" she said moving on wanting to coax more information about the woman.

"Well she has her own successful business that caters to dogs, walking, grooming and rehoming and is a kc registered breeder. Shes thirty years old and... Absolutely stunning- and no she hasn't filtered any photos either...wait here! See?! Isn't she beautiful?" Henry gushed quickly bringing up your profile picture he had saved on his phone and holding the phone to the camera. He heard a few compliments but could still see the worry in his family. He understood but he just new. He new that you were real, that you were honest and everything you said you were. You were blunt and didn't have time for games, you said life's too short for that crap. And he agreed.

"You have a photo saved already?" henry faltered at the question that had followed a round of compliments and quickly pulled his phone back flushing embarrassed he hadn't even thought of how that would look

"I.. w-well yeah... I'm gonna ask for her number soon and want a photo for my phone... We decided to stick to messaging for a while first and" he tried desperately to dig himself out of the hole he'd just unceremoniously swan dived into. But his brothers burst into laughter making whipping motions making him flush and shrink further. They were definetly going to busting his balls for this. But with a quick shake of his head he continued to gush about you wanting to side step this whole premature photo saving incident.

"she doesn't have Instagram or snapchat... she's just... I can't explain it she's just funny and sweet and genuine... I really like her.. I could easily fall for her" silence reigned after his admission and everyone saw just how serious and devoted henry was to trying to make this relationship work. His mum nodded with a smile, this was just a watch and wait scenario. This woman would either make or break her son, and all she could do was hope to god it was the former.

"Okay then love. I'm happy for you henry just be careful okay?" she finally drew the curtain on the subject and everyone sighed in relief.

"I will, I promise but you have nothing to worry about, I just wanted to let you guys know that i might have someone for you to meet in a few months" henry said eagerly, like a small boy waiting on Christmas eve. He was full of life and enthusiasm. It was nice to see this side to him again, she'd dare say he was well on his way to being loved up! Smitten.

"And we look forward to it henry, but take your time. There's no rush just enjoy yourself" one of his brothers spoke up jumping in on the conversation wanting to make it clear they all had his back whether this ended good or bad. For now they were happy for him.

"I will, we decided were wont meet for a while and just see how things go for the time being but... I have a good feeling, she's everything I've been looking for I'm really excited" henry preened trying to pace himself, he didn't need to be daydreaming in a family face time. Luckily he was pulled from the edge of his own fantasies by another question.

"You said she had a company?"

"Yeah here I'll send you the link its called Puptown! She's actually handled Kal a few times, I send him there for his nails and teeth" henry said quickly sending the link to his brother. He wasn't stupid they were going to look you up, they were worried. He might aswell sent them the link. There was a tiny bio on there of you- the owner on the staff page that had all the staffs qualifications and roles on there.

You moved through the groom room Amii was curled up under your desk fast asleep as you began taking a stock list. Recently you'd been getting more and more white dogs in for their groom so needed to top up on the bright white shampoo and it was tick season soon so had to double check you had all the tick removal forceps, and ear powder- lots of ear powder the poodle clients had doubled over lock down after all the new puppies bought in lockdown. Every dog deserves a professional groom. But poodles needed them.

"hey boss! You doing another check?" Mandy called as she hoisted a tiny black poem into the bath. Bella a regular and very few people could actually groom her out of the five staff only two of you dared to try. And you didn't blame them this dog was a tiny savage, but the trick was not to show fear.  

"yeah, trying to prepare for summer already, you know i think this will be our busiest yet especially with lord whiskey." you muttered nibbling the pen and moving a few bottles about. Flea treatment and some dry skin conditioner were quickly added to your growing list.

"lord whiskey?" Mandy asked louder over the sound of the shower instantly Bella began snarling like the hell demon she was. On walks and about the place she was a little soppy loving lap pup, but when it came to bath time? Different dog. You cant help thinking she had a bad experiance before she came here. You sighed and placed the pad and pen down standing along side the bathe and began petting the tiny dog.

"yeah they are the vet clinic for lower incomes... They want to set up a new clinic and have reached out" you explained you had to admit the request came out of the blue and you hadn't had chance to tell everyone yet. The staff meeting was on Friday.

"that would be good!" she said slowly wetting the snarling prom that was trying her absolute hardest to frighten you both off. But alas she was no great wolf, but a teeny cute little raging fluff nugget, and to her utter dispair neither you or Mandy found her scary at all. Even if she was trying to foam at the mouth.

"yeah that's what I thought, having a vet on site... We're still talking but if everything goes acording to plane we will have the mobile vet out front while setting up the small clinic... I was thinking in the old groom rooms? They had water and electricity already and its a littl out of the way so the unwell puppets can be separate from the healthy customers" you shrugged moving around Mandy to help tend to your most vocal customer.

"so business will be booming?" Mandy said moving to rinse underneath the small feral beast. You giggled and stood Bella on her back legs as she seethed but in between her savagery she was actually licking at you, showing a hint of the sweet girl she really was. You pet her praising her promising chicken treats and snuggles afterwards. You might even pop Amii in with the others in the small day care pen. Bella liked laying on her using the huge dog as a fluffy bed.

"yes hopefully, i mean were not taking anything for them, they are a charity but hopefully we will get a few visits in the shop? And the more people know about us the more likely they are to use us!" you said you had been weighing up the pros and cons about the new venture. More people visiting the premises, more footfall in the shop and hopefully you can draw enough people to have a little pet café. Your business was right on the edge of the huge woodland park you'd always wanted a small café that serves both animals and people you want a little empire to become a franchise company and give the little guys a chance.

"And how about you? Any luck on the online dating front?" she asked with a small smile. You sighed you half regretted telling her about it. Mandy has been with you since the beginning, she was your first employee and most trusted freind. And she has been hounding you about your love life for a while now. She wants you to take a step back from Puptown and find some time for yourself, and now that the business was established and ticking over nicely it was the time to do it.

"Ooo! Oh my god your blushing!? Bitch spill!" she squealed excited as you flushed and looked away not answering her. And by doing so answering her at the same time.

"I'm talking to someone~ Hank.. He is... Funny and charming we've been chatting each night for about a week" you revealed quietly making her beam at you. Thankfully Bella chose that moment to make a mad dive over your shoulder but you managed to catch her and pop her back into the tub.

"ooo yes get in girl, you have been pouring too much into this company! Its about damn time you focused on yourself" sandy began as she washed Bella lathering the pup with a rather expensive de-sheading anti tangle shampoo.

"Please don't start, I'm doing it now and that's what matters. He is... He messaged me first and things are going good and that's where I'm going to leave it okay? I will update you as we go... I promise" you said releasing the now wet pup as Mandy began rinsing her down. You stepped back to the shelves full of half empty bottles of product. needing to change the topic to avoid daydreaming and fucking up your orders. As great as the wholesaler was this was still expensive stuff and you didn't want to unbalance the books and get more then you needed.

"Oh Bella?~ baby girl its so bad isn't it? Being brushed and washed and massaged? Then getting yourself a blow out and having a nap in the nice cosy play room?" you called over your shoulder condescendingly at the pup who was still snarling out her displeasure. She really was a little brat in the bath.

Another week passed and you were lazing around the house having a duvet day, snuggled in bed with Amii on your lap. Normally your days off were all housework and finalizing orders or paper work but this week was different. With lord whiskey agreeing to taking the old groom room you decided to finally get an extra set of hands in management to take care of paperwork. It was strange at first but worth it. You now hade someone else to rely on, not that you didn't have managers to help out before but now you had a full time employee that's whole role was to take care of the business side and alleviate the pressure. So instead of the normal made rushes and mountain of paperwork you were in bed chatting away with henry.

He had just finished his work out and was relaxing, having a cool down before having yet another painfully boring sounding meeting with his own bosses. You sympathised. Practical work was the bomb! But the theory and paperwork kicked everyones asses. Risk assessments can eat shit! I'm a person and can asses the risk and decided to do it, why answer to a tick box system? But then again everything needed a tick in a box nowadays. You shuffled about grunting as Amii played dead on your lap so you couldn't move her from the comfy slump she was in over your thighs pinning you down.

'Soo you said you game?'  was the message that changed the subject, thankfully choosing to move on from speaking about work.

'God yes, when I can'

'What do you play? Sims and stuff?'

'depends if I'm on pc or xbox I'm more into fantasy and historic rpgs, but if I'm on my switch its little farming sims sometimes I branch out to things like shooters but not often, I like the big immersive fantasies!'

'So you really do mix and match are you playing anything atm?'

'I'm doing a re-run of skyrim with a load of mods just to spice things up. And just restarted Witcher wild hunt again'

'You like Witcher?'

'I adore it, Witcher skyrim and dragon age are my all time favourites, do you? Sorry I realise I'm just takeing over, I just get excited, I never really talk about this stuff 😅😅'

'No, no its fine I'm the same, I never really get to geek out anymore with work and stuff. I'm happy to have the chance, and I do love the Witcher too fantasy is my thing😄' henry paused for a moment. Should he? I mean you just said you were replaying it... Would it be big headed? To ask what you thought of the show? Of his performance... I mean it'd be an unbiased view, you wasn't going to try and butter him up you still didn't know it was him.

'So you've watched the show on Netflix I presume?' he typed and pressed send quickly before he lost his nerve.

'Absolutly, I binge watched it a few times.😅'

'You liked it? I know a few people didn't' henry couldn't help but dig a little deeper, he desperately wanted you to have enjoyed it.

'I loved it, but I think it was easier for me to watch bc I new what was roughly going on before hand. Most people that struggled thought it was going to be an easy watch? Like got'

'Oh come on, there must be something you didn't like?🤔🤔'

'😞okay you got me, I was a tad disappointed with geralts eyes you can do the toxic eyes and cat eye potion at least give me a teeny cat eye just a smidge🤏🥺'

'Yes I see what you mean, their could have been a little frame of it but there are always sacrifices when going from books to the big screen 😅'

'But henry's portrayal more then made up for it! That man was on point! I was so happy when they anounced it was him playing Geralt there was no way he was going to fuck it up!' henry stopped breathing. You liked it? You actually like him playing Geralt? His heart swelled and he laughed out loud for some reason you enjoying his work just... It meant the world to him! He was over the moon. Quickly his attention was drawn to his tablet again as another message pinged on screen.

'And I have a little fan theory over the whole eye issue😏'

'Hit me with it I'm all ears'

'Geralt has complete control of his eyes right? And is a softy deep down so my idea was he is always holding his pupils open so he doesn't scare anyone'

'🧐that is brilliant! It makes so much sense! 🥰🥰 its also nice to know I have a little conspiracy fangirl on my hands😁'  henry frowned heart clenching as you went quiet, he waited and waited minuets seemed like hours. His mind immediately jump to conclusions terrified you had caught him, that you'd figured out just who you were speaking to. Sweat formed on his brow as he frowned praying he hadn't got a little to close to home and given himself away. Then the dots appeared. You were typing.

'So I was wondering I know we agreed not to at first but since we've chatting every night I thought we could maybe exchange numbers? Only if you want to! No pressure. I'm just excited' henry slumped, melting into his seat. Thank fuck for that! His relief quickly became excitement at the prospect of hearing you! Actually speaking to you properly having an actual phone call? Fuck yes!

'😊😊I was actually trying to find the time to mention it myself, i know its only been three weeks but it feels much longer.'

'Omg thank god! I thought you would think i was rushing you😅here xxx xxxx xxxx' henry was quick to pull out his phone and type the number in, not wasting any time in creating your contact info into his phone book. And whislt doing that also replied to you putting you at ease.

'No not at all, I'm excited I cant wait to hear you🥰'

'Oh god don't build your hopes to high I don't have the most attractive voice it may be the deal breaker😅'

'I doubt that anything could put me off you love, your gorgeous, smart, funny, kind everything I could of dreamed of and soo much more'

'I'm glad its not only me Hank, I have to say I was frightened by how quickly we have become friends, but I suppose it makes sense we are two peas in a pod' henry grinned reading the message and nodded to himself pressing the small green call button and held the phone to his ear feeling confident as he re-read your last message.

You hummed nibbling your lip, chewing it nervously after giving out your number. You couldn't help your mind dredging up all the horror stories of Ted bundy-esque creepy ass psycho killers, luring in prey on the internet... Fuck you were a bigger girl so easy to sweet talk. You whined and snuggled into the massive furry lump on your lap, lacing your fingers into the dogs thick fur. Petting her as your over active imagination conjured scenario's that could end up with you in a eight foot hole in someone's basement ,being told to 'put the lotion in the basket'. Jesus Christ. But it was fine right? He wasn't weirded out or anything? He seemed happy. You were sensible, or at least you thought you were.

You yipped at your phone suddenly vibrated in your hand, you almost threw it across the room. The screen lit up with 'unknown number' you swallowed eyeing the device then nodded answering the call heart beat thundering in your chest your breath picked up you made to speak but couldn't quite make sounds, unable to force the words to roll off your tongue. There was a deep chuckle, gorgeas and rumbling even if it was quiet.

"You have no reason to be frightened darling I'm just as eager to move on" you gasped as the thick voice spoke in slow syllables, calling you by the nick name he had taken to calling you. You'd asked a few girls at work about it, worried things were going to fast. But they had calmed you down saying it was his way of avoiding being freind zoned. You had to admit the cute little names always made you grin and blush, but this? God this was better then anything! His low timber and slightly more eloquent accent uttering the name sent a shiver up your spine.

A surprizing reaction in all honesty, you'd never really thought about voices much, never had a voice kink or really thought anyone could have an attractive voice. Well not a real voice anyway, sometimes characters on tv with low raspy voices got you going Geralt and Alcide to name a few. He almost sounded like the former if you thought about it... Just more refined? A regal soft lilt.  It was definetly a voice you could listen to all day, this man could read you a bloody take away menu and you wouldn't even gruff at the extortionate prices. You wet your lips and dug your fingers into the warm dog in your lap breathing deep, filling your lungs with air trying to ease yourself and draw in some courage.

"O-oh your? Really there? Really.. real?" you stuttered slowly. You chided yourself for sounding so silly, so childish. But you couldn't help it you felt completely unprepared. Which irritated you because it was you who'd offered your number, what were you expecting him to do with it? Use carrier pigeon? Of course he was going to call you.

"I'm most definitely real love" he spoke again with a small chuckle, he was clearly amused by your flustered question. You blushed and squirmed on your seat trying to breath quietly, you didn't want him to hear just how on edge you were.

"Oh gosh that's.. wow I cant even, I don't know what to say" you huffed trying to think of something- anything else you could focus on rather then the absolute sex that was his voice, then he spoke once more

"Now, now don't be shy love, I want to hear you, your voice is just as I thought it'd be" henry tried encouraging you wanting to hear you and revel in your sweet voice, wanting to commit it to memory.

"Oh? And what's that then?" you asked trying to be playfull but in all honesty you wasn't hitting the mark, you were to nervous. You'd never really thought about your voice, was it attractive? Or too high? Deep? I mean you were normal, you spoke normal and if anything sounded common.

"Pure and delicate, playful and charming all in one just like the woman it belongs to" henry's breathing hitched as you giggled. The sweet tinkling laugher warmed his heart and made him huff out a chuckle himself. He was so happy he could have cried. It was just so overwhelming to hear you finally, to put a voice to the amazing woman he was slowly falling inlove with. He sometimes grew wary thinking you were too good to be true, that you were a catfish yourself. But here and now he knew. You were as real as him and all it did was solidify his resolve, he was doing the right thing. He was falling for a genuine woman. A real woman with no strings attached, and with any luck you were feeling the same.

"well I think I just found my mans flaw~" you giggled once more blushing under the weight of all the compliments. He was really smooth, smoother then you'd thought and that was saying something.

"really darling? Care to enlighten me?" he quipped playfully you usual banter and teasing between you both flowing just as effortlessly as it had when messaging each other.

"your clearly deaf! Well have no fear, i will talk a little louder and learn some sign language for you~" you laughed out loud he joined you low echoing chuckles that sounded as if they came from a deep wide chest. It was enough to drive you mad with lust, but that may be the new found voice kink brewing.

"well its nice to know you are so committed to your man and his disability love" suddenly you froze and trembled panic and anxiety washed over you clogging  your wind pipe at his words... Fuck!

"oh god- no I? Your not really deaf are you? I'm sorry I didn't mean to make fun-" you began apologizing not quite picking up on his sarcasm. Henry was quick to cut you off and stop your guilty rambling.

"No love I'm not deaf I was just pulling your leg" his voice was strained as if he was trying not to laugh at you, but you couldn't really say anything. You were the one nervously crack jokes then immediately trying to take them back. Stumbling your wat through the very first real conversation with a man you were crushing on. God you were such a dweeb!

"oh Jesus you scared the crap out of me" you heaved a sigh wanting to bury yourself into the covers and hide despite knowing he couldn't see your glowing face.

"I apologize darling, I have only the purest of intentions... Well maybe not that pure~ but I don't want to scare you" he grinned when you gasped at his little flirtatious comment. And he wasn't kidding, he found you incredibly attractive and wanted to do all manner of very filthy things with you. It didn't help when you were sending him photos of you drenched nipples hard and drawing him in like a moth to a flame. You probably hadn't even noticed that and he was thankfull for it because you wouldn't have sent it otherwise. It was his favourite photo, apparantly it had been a husky escape from the bath as you switched his lead to another hook.

"your fine, I'm just a little nervous is all" you huffed finally somehow managing to sort yourself out and think clearly overcoming your excitement and nerves.

"I understand but just remember its just me love. So have anything else planned for today?" henry hummed sweetly before giving you a chance to change the topic, you'd never know it was because he was barely holding himself together. He was almost bursting at the seams wanted to laugh and cry and shout all at once. He was completely overwhelmed with joy and relief and wanted to listen to you as much as he possibly could.

Both you and henry then began the nightly ritual of phone calls and texted all day. He even had a new nick name. Puppy. And he couldn't be more thrilled you'd said it was because he made tiny cute puppy whines when you teased him. But he didn't care, he would happily be your puppy anyday!

The weeks became one month, then two and before you knew it you were one week shy of three months. And that was when it happened. Those fateful words left his mouth as he spoke to you just before bed. He had asked to meet, he was certain and confident he wanted to meet you and take this further, and he hadn't really planned to ask it just happened.

"So your really letting lord whiskey in your old groom space? That's incredible, I'm so proud of you for letting them in love. It says volumes for you and your business, that its not all profit driven" henry spoke down the phone as he stirred his tea getting ready to go up to bed.

"I mean it just seems right... No matter the income everyone should be able to get medical care for their animals. And I'd be lying if I didn't hope some people will come into the shop or realise that we are here and come back for our facilities." he smiled at that. You wasn't just trying to make a great profitable business, you cared and wanted to give everyone a reasonably priced alternative to pooch care. And he was right behind you, he loved that you were trying to give owners the chance to spoil their fur babies without breaking the bank. In slashing your prices you'd attracted more customers and been making a great profit, so much so that you could afford to just give away your old groom rooms to the charity for free.

"shop? You have a shop?" he pondered padding about the kitchen giving Kal his nightly biscuit treat and motioned for him to take it upstairs. Which he didn't need to do, Kal new the jig and was already carrying the treat to the stairs.

"yeah it opened last year? The year before maybe? Its small but here with food and treats a few toys and leads... I try to use smaller businesses the brands that you wont see in the bigger shops" you said slowly and he heard a small yawn and rustle of paper. You had said you were packing up and heading to bed for the night soon.

"I may have to pop over with the bear~" he teased coyly humming to himself as he sipped his tea.

"pop over? I.. Well you could I suppose?" you hummed quietly, henrys eyes almost popped out of his head were you inviting him to ask you out? He coughed quickly trying not to choke on the mouthful of tea and then rocked his head from side to side. I mean he could come over and see you.

"I'm only ten minuet's away darling, Kensington... I've actually used your grooming service once or twice getting the bears nails and teeth done"

"oh?! I didn't know that." you said trying to picture the owners of the akita you saw, but honestly? You had soo many customers now it was hard remembering everyone, that and you wasn't really front of house now, you had more and more to deal with back of house, even with the new manager.

"well you do now sweetheart... So? Do you want to meet up tomorrow?" he asked placing his tea down in favour of crossing his fingers hoping he had read your signals right.

"Yeah of course I'm covering for walking duty tomorrow... So I can't really do anything in the morning or early afternoon" henry fist pumped and grinned faking a silent shout of victory as he managed to wrangle a date.

"That's fantastic actually... I could meet you in the park? I'll bring the bear with me and we could walk the dogs and grab a coffee or something?" he said somehow managing to quell his excitement enough to arrange the date properly, placeing a hand on his heart as it beat wildly. The realisation that he could see you- meet you face to face!

"Yeah that sounds like a brilliant idea, will noon be alright? That's when we do a switch over and go back to feed the dogs in day care so I'll have an hour lunch break" you said stuttering a little when it began to sink in that this was happening!

"Its a date I will see you tomorrow at noon love" Henry anounced eagerly suddenly tomorrow couldn't come soon enough!

"See you then puppy, good night sweet dreams" you said needing to hang up and squeal into a pillow or something.

"sweet dreams love" as soon as he hung up he was already scrolling his phone selecting the number he was after and called in a tizzy.

"Piers?! Piers! I'm? Oh god- were meeting tomorrow and fuck- I'm freaking out already! What do I say? What should I wear- kal's coming too do I put his halti on or just his collar- fuck I don't know what to do!? Please help!" he yelped down the phone to the unsuspecting man drawing a deep sigh from him before he began talking him down.

[get-shiggy-with-it]

Ch. 2

Shigaraki Birthday Celebration! 18+ MINORS DNI

Pairing: Tomura Shigaraki x fem!reader 

Word Count: 3k

Warnings: reader is marked fem cause Tomura is a little sexist and hates you cause you’re a woman, no pronouns, incel!shiggy, collage au/no quirks, tomura is an asshole, gratuitous swearing, like so much, shiggy has a dirty mouth, mentions of shigs being anxious, brief male masturbation, tags will be added for smut in the next two parts

Ch. 1 | Ch. 2 | Ch. 3 | Ch. 4 | Ch. 5 | Ch. 6

Summary: In which studying is done, unwilling connections are made, and Tomura thinks about the way you smell a totally normal amount. 

AO3 mirror

Taglist: @dillybuggg​ (just shoot me an ask if you want to be tagged!

Tomura hadn’t stopped staring at his phone since he left the apartment. It was second nature by now—head down at a nearly ninety degree angle, hoodie pulled up to hide hair he hadn’t bothered to comb in weeks, and phone out, held just far enough away that he could see the pavement behind the screen. 

He’d found that people tended to naturally avoid him this way and he didn’t have to risk accidentally making eye contact. It was still a bit nerve wracking to venture into buildings he didn’t expressly have to for classes, so he was still hesitant to make the voyage from his apartment to the library.  But he’d made the mistake of mentioning plans to his roommate and the bastard wouldn’t leave him alone about it afterwards until he was practically shoved out with the door locked behind him. 

He was half tempted to make up some excuse last minute and go hide out at the only cafe on campus he could tolerate, but Tomura knew he was just delaying the inevitable. Biting the bullet now would help to not prolong his suffering. 

Your text thread glared up at him in stark white on blue as he pushed past a crowd of students by the library entrance and flashed his ID to the attendant. 

Group Project Bitch:

— hey I got us a room on the third floor, all the way in the back

—text me when you’re here I’ll wave you in, it’s kinda hard to find T-T

                                                                                                     sounds good— 

He shot off a quick text to you that he was hoping on the elevator. The other two guys in the lift may have given him a dirty look for only going up to the third floor, but Tomura sure as hell wasn’t going to risk the physical exertion of stares when just the thought being stuck in a small room alone with you for god knows how long already had him sweating. 

When he stepped out, you were leaned against one of the 90s-green shelves, scrolling aimlessly through your phone. He panicked momentarily, thinking he’d have to get your attention cause just walking up without saying anything would be weird right? 

He wasn’t sure. 

He didn’t do shit like this. 

Thankfully, you looked up at the chime of the lift and waved him over. His red sneakers squeaked as they scuffed the linoleum floors and he already regretted choosing his tighter fitting pair of sweats. The tapered legs that hugged his ankles and thin calves rubbed against his skin and stung the raw patches. 

“Hey, thanks for coming,” you said softly and he nodded, following as you began to weave through the stacks. “Sorry it was short notice, graduation’s coming up so I'm swamped with meetings.”

“It’s fine, I didn’t have anything going on.” 

He cringed internally at the way his voice cracked, trying to keep the usual rasp to a minimum. His roommate said it was from the innumerable hours he spent shouting at his monitor or on discord, which was probably true but to you he was sure he just sounded like a fucking teenager. 

“Cool, I’ve been set up for awhile so feel free to move some stuff,” you talked a bit louder now that you’d both stepped into the study room and shut the door. 

Tomura looked around. You’d snagged one of the nicer ones at least, with the big monitors he could cast his screen onto and those comfy chairs he liked but could never beat anyone too on the lower floors. 

You were right, there was shit all over the big table at the center of the room. Notes and printed out readings with highlights galore and sticky notes littering the pages were scattered all over. What a show off. You probably tossed all this stuff out so he’d think you were actually intelligent or some shit. 

Kicking a pile off of the nearest plush armchair, Tomura took a seat and pulled his laptop out. There was a jack in the middle of the table and you plugged yours in to cast onto the big monitor. 

You made a fucking power point for him. 

This couldn’t be real. 

“So I know I ran some stuff by you in class but essentially I was thinking we make like a simple Twine type thing using the rhetorical argument Swift is making…” 

You started rambling again and Tomura almost immediately tuned you out. His eyes drifted between the rough outline you were flicking through on the board and the laptop you had your nose buried in. 

It was covered in stickers, pretty obviously stereotypical for someone as obsessed with being ‘cool’ as you clearly were. But as he scanned through the various old meme phrases and aesthetic shit, he caught a couple of game references he recognized and a panel cutout from one of his favorite manga. 

He almost fell into your trap for a moment, feeling a rush at the prospect of someone—much less a chick—being into his main hyperfixations. 

But it was quickly crushed under everything his years trolling subreddits had taught him. People like you didn’t actually have interests beyond the attention and dick it got them. Plus that manga was pretty popular anyway, you probably didn’t even read it, just thought the line was funny or made you sound quirky. That had to be why you felt the need to drop it in your first texts. 

“What do you think?” you asked, making good on your new habit of startling the hell out of him. 

Tomura blinked, gaze instinctively turning to you but the blatant way you stared made his mouth turn to sand paper, so he looked resolutely back at the color-coded bullet points on the screen. 

“Look’s fine,” he mumbled. 

The more he glanced over it, the more it actually did look fine. A bit more than fine, really, which pissed him off even more. The little choose-your-own debate style story was not a terrible way to make fucking Whatever Swift interesting and it kinda looked like you’d bothered to google some simple coding which gave him a better idea of what you were looking for. 

It was...good. 

And that so fucking annoying. 

Well, he wasn’t sure if annoying was the right word for it, but the proposal coupled with your apparent lack of disgust at working with him made his face hot and that only ever happened otherwise when his roommate left the dishes out for weeks or when some newb on his server fucked up their raids. 

Then, you had the audacity to plop down in the chair next to him and— 

“You can tell me to fuck off if you want,” you began, shuffling in the chair to cross your legs on the cushion, ���but I was hoping you’d be willing to show me how you do some of the coding stuff? I tried on my own, but I have literally no clue what I’m doing.” 

He could smell you again, like the whole fucking health and beauty aisle at the grocery store. When he turned his head a bit to look at you around the curtain of his hair, you were crooked—back against the armrest and facing him. 

“Why do you want to know?” he asked, sounding a bit less rude than he would have liked to. 

You just fucking stared right at him though, didn’t wrinkle your nose at how greasy his roots were or how he was wearing the same hoodies as yesterday. 

“I’ve always been interested in it, but my program is kinda stressful and I don’t have much free time so I never learned,” you offered and for once Tomura found he didn’t feel his skin crawl under your unwavering gaze. 

The dry, cracked area around his eyes burned though as sweat beaded on his forehead and he quickly wiped at his face with a loose sweatshirt sleeve. The garment hung off his shoulders, bought a size too big that he never ended up growing into. 

“What’s your major?” 

He found the words slipped easily from him. It was the quintessential question you asked of anyone in college when you met, but he’d never been interested in the answer before. 

You babbled a bit about your specific area of study and your voice was surprisingly not as infuriating as he remembered it being before. It was softer, he thought, than when you were soapboxing in class about the sexist implications of old as fuck poetry—it had a less grating quality and was almost pleasing to the ear. 

Or Tomura would have said that if he thought you deserved the compliment. 

But, obviously you didn’t. 

So he didn’t. 

He just pretended to care about what you were saying and didn’t hang onto every word at all. Actually he was more enraptured in the way your lips moved when you talked. You used your hands a lot too, but his eyes were ensnared on the way your mouth quirked and dipped, at the occasional flash of your tongue between strong teeth. When he leaned in a bit, he could smell your breath too: fruity gum and the remnants of whatever you were always drinking in that loud as fuck cup. He wondered now what exactly it was, so he could buy it and get a better idea of what you mouth might taste—

Nope. 

No, see this was exactly what he wasn’t supposed to be thinking about. How were you doing this to him? What a fucking slut. 

Tomura steeled his nerves as you started explaining the extracurriculars you did on the side. 

“My roommate freshman year actually started a gaming club and so I’ve gotten more into that over the years,” you explained, pointing at the stickers on your laptop case. 

“Are you talking about The League?” 

“Yeah, I didn’t know if you’d heard of it,” you shrugged.  

He knew of the gaming club on campus. He’d thought about joining when he enrolled but the allure of anonymity online gaming provided was too strong. Plus his discord server didn’t have annoying weekly meetings. 

The thought of you, up late and illuminated by the blue light of a tv screen, tucked away in one of the basement rooms in the media building was...strange. It also prompted an array of new images—you in those fucking cat ear headsets, seated in his lap as he trashed you in Mario Kart which was even stranger. 

Tomura had to physically shake his head to dislodge the thought. 

“Uh, we should probably work on this right?” he cringed at the way his voice cracked compared to your own, smooth tone. 

You should narrate those fucking sleepy time mediation things. His roommate used to hide wireless speakers in his room and blast those when Tomura stayed up too late. It was annoying as shit then, but if it was you talking, he probably wouldn’t have minded so much. 

Or no, no he would definitely mind. 

Yes. It would have been worse if anything. 

“Oh shit, you right. It’s been like two hours.” 

He glanced down at his laptop and saw that it had, indeed, been two hours since he got there. He’d willingly spoken to you for two goddamn hours. It felt like no time had passed at all, but the sun was definitely setting, the overhead fluorescent bulbs taking over as the main light source in the room. 

Weird. 

So you settled back in your chair, typing away like you always did, but the sound wasn’t nearly as frustrating as before. Occasionally, you’d glance over his shoulder and ask questions about what he was working on, but mostly the two of you settled into a comfortable silence. 

This pattern continued for the next few weeks. As the weather warmed, you began to show a bit more skin. He never worked up the nerve to comment on the thick expanse of bare thigh that tapered off nicely into your calf, or the curve of your arms not hidden behind knit sweaters—hell even your fucking shoulders were hard not to look at. 

Maybe all those high school dress codes weren’t actually so full of shit after all. Cause he was definitely distracted by the way your neck swooped into the exposed skin of your shoulder and down your back on more than one occasion.

Did all girls know that? Was it some kind of massive conspiracy to crumble the patriarchy or some crap to go flashing bare shoulders everywhere? 

Regardless if you really were trying to hypnotize him into liking you, Tomura stayed resolutely in his monochrome, long sleeved attire, and if you noticed the behavior you never said a word. 

Never said a word about his allergy ridden skin, peeling lips or scarred throat. Never commented on his terrible posture or said his eyes were creepy. Even when he’d occasionally toss a negative remark your way, you never retaliated maliciously. Just brushed him off with a jovial ‘don’t be a dick’ and a playful, but hard slap to his chest or the back of his head. 

The two of you always met in the same, secluded room on the third floor. You’d talk with him in class sometimes or shoot him texts about random bits of inspiration or a late night game memes, but for the most part, your conversations were confined to that room. He found he preferred the study room ‘you’ best. You weren’t as stiff. There was more of a solidity to you, like he’d seen when you told off that Kai bastard. 

It...grew on him. 

He was irrationally anxious that there would be a time when you couldn’t secure this particular room—with it’s big monitor and comfy chairs and less annoying ‘you’—but he’d been reassured after your third work session. 

Someone had knocked softly at the thick, wooden door and a head of wild, bright pink hair peaked around the crack. 

“Sup bro,” the intruder quipped, as they stepped fully into the room. 

“Hey, Spinner,” you mumbled back, looking up momentarily from the essay portion of your presentation before going back to typing. 

Spinner had seemed to notice him at that point and offered a small wave in his direction. “Oh hey, sorry, thought you were alone,” he said quickly. 

“Nah, this is Tomura,” you said, glancing up again and jerking your thumb in his direction. 

Tomura nodded and tugged at his hoodie strings to stop from scratching under the newcomer’s gaze. He’d gotten used to you, but other people still made him a bit nervous. 

“Nice to meet you,” Spinner had a nice smile, bright and flashy when he spoke. He leaned against the door and crossed his arms, looking around the room. “You got the nice one, huh. How’d you manage that?” he asked. 

“Yeah,” you half closed your laptop and stretched a bit. “Jin was working the front desk, so I’ve just been bribing him with vending machine snacks.” 

“He hasn’t gotten himself fired yet?” Spinner laughed incredulously, but not unkindly. 

“Surprisingly not, but he’s completely corrupt now,” you were picking at the cuticle of your thumb and Tomura fixated on the way the skin split off at the nail. Just like his. “A couple packs of chips and a Monster and I get the most bitchin study room whenever I want.” 

“Damn,” Spinner chuckled again and Tomura really wished that he’d leave already. He was beginning to feel himself fading into the upholstery as the conversation left him in the dust. The divergence of your attention away from him or the project was even more annoying that you were. “Well, are you coming to The League meeting tonight? We’re busting out a Smash tournament.” 

“That’s tonight?” you asked, eyes perking up but sliding subtly in Tomura’s direction. “Sorry, I think Tomura and I are gonna be working on this project for a while longer and I’m kinda burnt out. But next time, yeah?”

Spinner rolled his eyes but nodded and kicked off the wall. “That’s not very sexy of you,” he chided and waved a hand in parting. “Gonna work yourself directly into the fucking grave.” 

“Jokes on you, I welcome death.” 

You buried yourself in the screen again and Tomura actually felt a bit grateful for you ending the conversation before he got too painfully awkward. 

But Spinner stopped before he left, looking Tomura up and down from the frayed strings of his black hoodie to the tips of his worn red sneakers. 

“Nice to meet you, man,” he said with a wide grin. “Feel free to tag along next time if you want, we always need more players.” 

The door clicked softly shut behind him and Tomura relaxed back into the silence.

He did end up tagging along—though he spent most of the time hanging off your heels like a lost puppy—to the next meeting of your gaming club and the one after that. Frustratingly enough, he learned that your interests did also extend into skills as you almost bested him in a few rounds Smash. Your profile, lit only by the flashing screen lights, was even more striking outside of his imagined imitations. 

So much so that it found its way into his head late at night when he was too tired to log onto his server. So much so that it had his cock growing firm and tenting his grey sweats without even the visual aid of his go to porn clips. So much so that sometimes, he felt inclined to do something about the throbbing between his legs. So much so that he thought about the way you picked the skin by your fingers. How it looked like his. How your hand might feel like his but softer. Smoother around the edges. With your sweet voice whispering in his ear, making him whine and pant and spill white ropes of release onto his stomach. 

But it was only because you were hot. 

And you were practically begging for him to jack off to the thought of you with those outfits and liking all the shit he liked and noticing when he shrunk away from conversations or including him in them when he started to feel that awful sense of fading into the background. 

Yeah. 

Everybody jerks it sometimes to their group project partners if their ass is nice enough. 

Right?