#if this was nowhere near what you meant please feel free to send in a new request with clarification

[iriel3000]

2022 Friday Recs - Week 4

Happy Friday! Some reading recommendations for your enjoyment. No particular order and more to come.

Sooooo many good stories. It's like Clintasha authors just keep getting better and better!

Nothing to Lose (But Everything to Gain) by LadyofAvalon

There was nowhere left for Aaron to run. But for the first time since the Battle of Manhattan, he did not want to.

Doors of perception by Felize/@jeanbarton

“I’m not walking through that door!” It’s a statement. No space for discussion. If he wants to send her back to that dead world so she can spend the rest of her miserable existence in solitary, he can better kill her right here and now. Maybe if there is some sort of afterlife, she would be reunited with her friends then, her family… Clint. “Well… the door was more of a metaphor anyway.”

falling doesn't feel so bad when i know you've fallen this way too by strawberriesinmoominvalley/@strawberriesinmoominvalley

they've finally taken down hydra, after years of near-constant raids. all natasha and clint have to worry about is going to stark's party and going home to their kid. but when ultron goes wrong, and they're forced into a fight with a robot and two enhanced teenagers, where are they meant to turn? is it truly possible to get peace in their time, or are they fighting an indestructible force?

and will they all make it out alive?

You showed me colors you know I can't see with anyone else by AdaisyforDaisy

Natasha was burgundy, copper, canary, and iris. A color palette that makes sense to Clint and Clint only. When you love someone so hard, colors help to define what words can't.

tell me you love me (even if it's just a lie) by Oceanspirit9

She was a dying rose. Sunset dancing across her face. A porcelain doll, cracked open. Red in a pool of satin.

If you are one of the authors or know them on tumblr and they are not properly tagged, please let me know in comments and I'll add them. Please feel free to click the Iriel3000fridayrecs link below to browse more categories.

[angst-fairygodmother]

Can I request a fluffy little fic with Klaus? And like he’s always super supportive even if he doesn’t quite understand what you’re doing, he’s kinda always like “fuck yeah look at you go!” I could really use the love lol

A/N: Hey Nonny. I didn’t know what sort of things you meant, so I defaulted to what’s familiar for me: the struggles of higher education.  I hope you enjoy it, and that whatever you’re doing, you know it’s amazing because you’re doing it 😊 Word Count: 1944 Content Warning: mild language, brief references to drugs

You groaned, your head hitting the table as you stared down at your circled answer, the wrong answer again. You were determined to keep taking this practice test until you got it right, until all of the answers felt like second nature. Except you kept making the same mistakes over and over again instead. 

Your pen sailed through the air, causing your best friend, and eternal headache, to duck with a chuckle as it clattered against the wall. 

“I see studying's going well,” he teased, walking further into the room.

“Klaus Hargreeves, unless one of the assortment of pills I just know are in your pocket right now is a magic one that will help me remember this shit, I say this in the most heartfelt and loving way possible: piss off.”

He pressed his hand to his chest dramatically. 

“Exqueeze me?” he trilled, “I come to make sure you’re alive, as you’ve not been seen in days, and this is the thanks I get?”

“I’m serious Klaus,” you sighed, running a hand through your tangled hair. “I need to study.”

He looked you over, taking in the bags under your eyes, your rumpled clothing, the sag of your shoulders. You were overworking yourself, as self-destructive in your own way as he was in his, and it pained him to see. 

“You need a break,” he said, crossing over to you and sweeping you up in his arms, toppling your chair in the process and surprising you with the strength hidden in his arms. 

“Klaus,” you whined, struggling ineffectively from your position pinned to his chest in a bridal carry. “No, I don’t have time for a break right now. Especially not the kind you mean.”

He sat down on your bed, keeping you in his lap and began carefully finger-combing through the knots in your hair.

“I have no ulterior motive, mademoiselle,” he hummed. “Only your wellbeing in mind. Relax with me for one hour,” the worst of your knots gone, he laid down, tugging at your arm to try and get you to join him. “And I will leave you alone for the rest of the night, or even help you to study, if you want.”

“I don’t want...chemical aids.”

He scoffed. “Who do you take me for? I know you better than that.”

“Then how could you help me? You don’t know anything about the material. Or testing.”

“I’ll...hold up your charming little flash cards, or read you the questions. I don’t know. Sit next to you and cheer enthusiastically whenever you get a question right and burn the whole book if it claims you’re wrong?”

You couldn’t help the giggle that slipped out, and were glad of it when he flashed you that dazzling grin. The longer you sat, awkwardly leaning and half in his arms, the harder it became to resist his temptation.

“Fine, one hour,” you said, attempting to be stern as you relented, curling up against his chest.

“No more, no less. And then we shall study until our eyeballs fall out,” he promised, fingers crossed behind your back as he held you.

~

Your hands shook nervously and you thought for sure you were going to sweat through your blazer as you paced the hallway outside the small lecture hall. You checked the notes you had tucked in your pocket and licked your lips to try and wet them, not that your equally dry mouth and tongue made much difference. 

“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen of the board, distinguished faculty, and guests,” you muttered for what felt like the seven-hundredth time today. “No, that sounds stupid. Why am I calling the faculty distinguished but not the board or the guests? Maybe I should just do ‘good evening ladies and gentlemen of the board, faculty, and guests,’ but that sounds weird too.”

You flopped against the wall, groaning in frustration. This presentation was the moment, your time to shine, or to crash and burn, dictating potentially the entire rest of your career. And public speaking was not your strong suit. 

“Y/N?” your advisor said, poking her head out into the hall and giving you what was surely meant to be a reassuring smile. “They’re ready for you now.”

You took a deep, shaky breath. “Okay, thanks, Linda. I’ll be right in.”

This was your thesis you were about to defend. You had spent more than a year researching and writing it. So why did you suddenly feel like you knew less than the day you walked into your first “101” class? 

“Time to face the executioner,” you muttered to yourself, squaring your shoulders and walking in behind Linda, feet carrying you slowly down the aisle to the podium. 

You paused, taking a moment to arrange your notes and scan the crowd, looking for someone who looked friendly and unassuming, maybe a kindly librarian type, to focus on while you spoke.

Instead you locked eyes with a familiar, wholly unexpected pair of green eyes. You frowned, about to call out and ask what the hell Klaus thought he was doing here, when you remembered exactly where here was. You cleared your throat and tried to school your face to be placidly blank.

“Good evening,” you started, gaze still fixed on his face. “I would like to thank everyone for their time and attendance, um here, um today.” 

‘You’ve got this,’ he mouthed silently.

You smiled, launching into your presentation proper with gusto. 

Every time you felt yourself hesitating or fumbling, you sought him again, and his awed little smile bolstered you, reminding you of all the late nights he had spent up with you, watching you from your bed as you paced the room or sat hunched at a desk, thinking out loud or talking to him about it all, offering little suggestions (never that helpful) or affirmations (always very helpful) occasionally, just to remind you that he was there, for you. 

Before you knew it, your time was up and you exited the room to a smattering of applause. Out in the hall, a pair of warm arms wrapped around you from behind and lips were planted on your cheek. 

“That was brilliant! You were brilliant!” Klaus said enthusiastically before dropping his voice to purr in your ear. “And the whole ‘genius’ thing is very sexy.”

You felt your cheeks blush heatedly. “I’m not a genius, Klaus.”

“Well I had no idea what you were saying, other than super smart stuff, so I disagree.”

You slid out of his arms, although he did manage to keep one circling your waist, and started walking, planning to stop at the 24 hour cafe on campus for a quick pick-me-up and then head home. Klaus followed, holding you as close as you’d let him, planning to go anywhere and everywhere you wanted and nowhere else.

“How do you know it was super smart then, if you didn’t know what it was?”

“Because I know you, and you’re the smartest person in the world.”

“I am not,” you countered, giving him a gentle shove, blushing even harder now. 

“And because all those stuffy old academic types in there were impressed.”

“You think so?” you asked hopefully. 

You felt like you couldn’t get a read on the room the whole time you were presenting, and their questions had been extremely critical. 

His eyes twinkled as he stared down at you. “I know so.”

~

Before you knew it, graduation had crept up on you. You sat in the hard plastic chair in the stuffy canvas pavilion, surrounded by all of your classmates, and waited. It had been hours, and would be hours more, and you just wanted it to be over. No one was there for you, no one cared if you even got this diploma. You could probably slip out the back and be gone before anyone realized, the only sign of your absence the awkward pause when your name was read. 

It had always been this way, all through your schooling. Your parents didn’t really understand your career choice, or didn’t have time to come for campus events. You didn’t have a lot of friends due to the demands of your program, and your own innate awkwardness. Instead of being a celebration of your achievements, graduation felt like another reminder of how alone you were, how most people would never remember you unless you did something embarrassing like trip and fall off the stage. 

Making excuses and muttering apologies, you slipped out past the rest of your row of fellow graduates and out into the fresh air and bright light of the campus lawn. You breathed a deep sigh of relief, taking off your mortarboard hat and unzipping the robe-like graduation gown about half way. 

“Y/N?” you jumped at the sound of Klaus’s voice, not expecting him to be here of all places, and especially not coming out of the tent you had just exited moments ago.

“Klaus!” you gasped, hugging him. “What...what are you doing here?”

“I came to see you, obviously,” he said, booping the end of your nose. “So when I saw you looking like you might be making a break for it, I followed.”

“Oh.” You were flattered that he would attend or managed to spot and recognize you in the sea of identically dressed co-eds, confused how he’d found out the date and time, and a little annoyed that you’d been caught. 

“Were you running away?”

“They can mail me my diploma,” you said with a shrug. It wasn’t quite an answer, but it said everything it needed to.

“Y/N,” he sighed, placing his hands on your shoulders. “You know I don’t understand all this college, academic, brilliance stuff. But I know it’s supposed to be special and important and one of those things you’ll always remember.”

“Because it’s supposed to be a celebration. Only I don’t feel like celebrating alone.”

“Well, you’re not, are you?”

“My classmates don’t count. I barely know them.”

“I meant me.” He leaned down, pressing his forehead to yours. “You’re not alone, because I’m here. I’ll always be here.”

You smiled softly, staring into his green eyes, so tender and full of love, as you remembered all of the times he had been there already: how he’d gone to the post office and held your hand when you mailed out applications, how he’d listened to you practice for your admissions interviews for days on end, every late night study session and “study” session, every distraction from anxiously awaiting a grade, pulling you up when you sank into a slump or felt like a failure and cheering you on for your highs and successes. Klaus had never been through formal schooling, had no desire to for all that he was clever. But even though he never knew what the hell was going on, he was there for you through it. 

“I should have known that,” you murmured. “After all, you always have been before.”

“Even geniuses can’t know everything,” he countered with a shrug and a smirk, before leaning down to press your lips together softly. 

You wrapped your arms around his neck, stretching up on your toes to bring you closer to him as his hands slid down from your shoulders to rest on your waist, an embrace as much as a kiss. You became dimly aware of the sound of applause from inside, signalling the end (finally) of the current speaker. Reluctantly, you pulled away.

“I guess I should probably get back in there,” you sighed. 

“Only if you want to,” he said, thumbs tracing circles on your sides. “I’ll support you either way.”

[cinebration]

Pathetic Fantasies (Geralt of Rivia x Reader) [Request]

ooh ooh! could you maybe do one where geralt and y/n are in an argument and geralt says something hurtful (can be on purpose or accidental) and the reader gets upset? and i don’t really care how it would end. please????? 🥺—Requested by anon

Apologies, anon, but I was feeling it and it came out here.

Warnings: mild violence

Gif Source: henrycavilledits

“And you’re nothing but a whore!”

The words slapped you across the face with as much strength as an actual hand. You reared back, the anger in you shifting from hot to cold, hurt making it icy, harder.

Geralt stood there half-undressed, his hair loose of its tie, face flushed with fury. The words hung in the air between you both, frozen as if by magic.

He didn’t look like he was going to take it back.

Drawing yourself upright, back stiff with a haughtiness you suddenly felt strongly, you snarled, “Then what have you been paying me with?”

He flinched. “Is that what you want? Money to leave me alone?”

“Is that what you want? Because it sounds to me like you’re trying to make yourself suffer.”

“Suffering is enduring you for company.”

You laughed, the sound harsh in the lofty stone-walled space. “Then why am I here?”

“You’re here because I needed a quick fuck and you give it away for free.”

Rage coursed through your veins like molten lead. “How fucking dare you.”

“Get out.”

“You’re a fucking piece of work, Geralt,” you sneered. “How dare you say that to me?”

“It’s the truth.”

“It’s nowhere near. The truth is that you are lonely and you punish yourself with that loneliness. The truth is that you wanted me so you wouldn’t be alone, but the very moment you realize that I can see you, truly see you in a way few others have, you are terrified.” You snorted. “Imagine, a witcher, terrified!”

“Get. Out.”

“You don’t intimidate me, witcher. I know you are nothing but a pathetic, weak man hiding behind the lie that witchers are emotionless monsters.”

Geralt moved forward with feline quickness, throwing you back against the wall. Your skull smacked against the cold stone, sending sparks of pain through your head. His hand closed around your throat, the same place hours earlier he had gripped you in the heat of pleasure. You glared across his ropy forearm into his livid features.

He leaned forward, lips peeling back away from his teeth in a snarl. “I can show you what a monster is.”

“You already have,” you spat.

His fingers tightened, forming bruises on your bare skin. Your pulse pounded in your skull between the pain and the tightening airway.

“Do it,” you snarled, your voice strained as the pressure increased. “That way you can prove to yourself you’re the big bad wolf.”

His hand seized, cutting off your air immediately. You gasped reflexively, found no air. Resisting the urge to flail against him, you forced yourself to maintain your glare. The fury in his face blazed.

He released you suddenly. You wheezed instinctively, hands flying to your throat to massage the muscles there, pain lancing up and down through your neck.

Geralt turned his back to you. “Leave.” There was no fury left in his voice, just a flat tone meant to conceal when in fact it spoke volumes.

Straightening, you strode to the door, hesitated. Turning back, you snarled, “Next time, get yourself a whore the old-fashioned way. I’m sure you’ll find one that reminds you enough of Yennefer to satisfy your pathetic fantasies.”

He jerked, spinning sharply to face you, but you were already out the door, head held high as anger propelled you forward.

[tinydestinybear]

Heartbeat (II)

A/N: I really enjoyed writing the tiktok compilation before so here’s another compilation of 5 tiktok pranks! Please feel free to request any other tiktok pranks you may want to read - would love if you guys could reblog & leave feedback 💕

w/c:  810 words

ever since you started pranking harry, tiktok had become your favourite source of entertainment. it was fun to scroll over the feed or when you did pranks yourself to see his reactions, which somehow brought harry to the world of tiktok. you’d both spend countless hours sending each other videos. yet harry always seemed to fail to notice any of the pranks you’d pull up on him. 

i. calling him by the wrong name

you were spending sometime with harry in his london house, currently sitting with him in his studio while you read a book and he worked on one of his upcoming projects. it was a while later when harry felt thirsty so he decided to get something for himself and asked you too. “i’ll have some water please,” you said. once he left, you decided this was the perfect moment to prank him and set up the camera. 

he came back with a glass of water and some juice in another for himself and walked towards you, handing over the glass. “thanks alex!” you said after he bent down for a soft kiss on your cheeks but turned to look at you with a frown. 

“wait wait go back, what did you just say?” he propped down beside you on the couch as his green eyes stared into yours. it was nowhere near frightening as he meant it to be.

“said ‘thanks h’,” you looked at him, covering up with a confused look. “love, I’m sure you didn’t. I heard you say alex, now who is this guy?” he asked.

“i’m sure you misheard it babe,” you said.

well ... he thinks he maybe did so he scratches his neck awkwardly, “oh... sorry. i think i’m beginning to hear anything now, should probably take a rest been working since early morning.” 

as much as you enjoyed doing this prank, you didn’t want him to have any doubts in his mind later on which is why you’re quick to sit on his lap, “i’m sorry, it was just a prank.” 

“w-woah! you scared me there y/n,” he said letting out a relieved sigh. “a brat you are.” 

ii. telling him you’re in the mood

the prank you were trying out today seemed harmless and you could already picture what harry’s reaction would be - which excited you more so. harry’s been ready always to please you so he would never skip out on this so when you text him spontaneously “i’m in the mood.” he’s pretty much wrapping up stuff as quick as he can and doesn’t forget to text you back, “i’ve got you, coming home soon x”

as soon as he’s home, he’s quick to take you in his arms and you’re least bothered to even tell him it was a prank because you’d been thinking about him all day. it doesn’t help later when you’re both making love with the way he compliments you and your body - you’d repeat this prank a thousand times just to watch him look at you like you’re his own goddess. 

iii. they’re coming, quick let’s go!

oh it got a little over crazy when the second you started shouting, “THEY’RE COMING! HARRY GO!” you hear things falling down. harry hears your voice coming from the living room and he’s pretty much collecting everything in front of him without much hesitation and not much care about things falling down. “i got it, y/n! i got it! quick let’s go!” he appears in the living room. the confused look he gives you when you don’t move towards the door behind him doesn’t help and you start laughing. “h, i’m so sorry,” you’re crying-laughing by the end of it, “it’s a prank.” 

“god, i thought we were in danger,” he breathed out a sigh as he sat down on the marble floor, focusing on calming his rushing breath now. 

“but why did you get a pillow and a rug along?”

iv. does my shirt smell weird?

this happens when you’re relaxing by the couch watching a show while harry’s in the kitchen cooking something for you two. you’d go upto him and be like, “athena (your pet) just ran away from me, do you think i smell weird? maybe my shirt does, can you smell?”

you want him to smell your shirt? he'll do it but the randomness of your request took him back at first. 

as soon as he’s close to smelling, you leave a soft kiss on his forehead. he is definitely quiet for a few seconds.. before he moves up with a wide smile on his face. oh.. this was another prank but he liked this one. harry’s one affectionate boyfriend so to receive the same love back warms his heart. he definitely will increase his forehead kisses count for you in the next days. 

[ltbarnes]

Masterlist

Last Updated: March 3rd 2024

🔞Most works contain explicit content and are not meant for minors, therefore my entire blog is 18+. Minors do not interact!

Please reblog, like and comment! It makes me very happy when you leave thoughts and notes on my work, even if just to leave a mindless comment. Enjoy my mostly self-indulgent fics!

My to-read-list where I reblog things I plan to read in the near future: @thingstwantstoread

REQUESTS ARE OPEN! Please feel free to send in any ideas and I’ll see what I can do <3

CALL OF DUTY

Back to December | Part 2 | angst, smut NEW!

[ex!Simon “Ghost” Riley x fem!reader]

Your new job as an assistant for the CEO of a big, shiny company was supposed to be a good thing. Instead your ex from uni who completely ghosted you out of nowhere several years ago happens to be one of your superiors. It doesn’t help that he’s only gotten more handsome over the years. But you hate him for leaving without an explanation, and he seems to hate you too. Everything is just fucking great.

MARVEL

One-Shots

Webs of Opacity | fluff, angst

[Peter Parker x Rogers!reader (adopted, of course), Steve Rogers x sister!reader]

On the eve of the annual Stark Halloween party, you’ve managed to gulp down too much alcohol and tangled yourself into intricate webs of trouble. Even glittering fairies can’t escape the drama, and handsome 80’s film characters can’t always save them from sleazy boyfriends and hangovers.

My Blood Turns Into Alcohol | fluff, angst

[bartender!Bucky Barnes x fem!reader]

Bucky Barnes doesn’t step out behind his trusted bar counter, no matter what goes on out on the floor. Until you, that is—the town newbie who stumbles inside the lanky old bar and won’t stop showing up in your pretty dresses and with that shy smile. Bucky is infuriated. Maybe that’s why he won’t let you pay for even one of your drinks, or why his coworkers won’t stop bothering him about you.

Braces Are Breaking | angst, fluff

[Peter Parker x sister!reader, Bucky Barnes x reader]

Peter Parker does not have much family left, and the small part he has he protects fiercely. When he suspects someone is dating his sister, he’s determined to find out who it is. What he doesn’t expect is to do so under such dire circumstances.

Barefoot in the Wildest Winter | angst, fluff

[Steve Rogers x agent!reader]

Being hopelessly in love with Steve Rogers does nothing to help you in your massive fight after risking your life on a mission. Steve Rogers being hopelessly in love with you might just help save your life when the heat goes off in your reclusive safe house in the midst of wild winter.

You Flower, You Feast | smut, angst, little bit of fluff

[Bucky Barnes x fem!reader x Sam Wilson]

Ever since you began your work as an agent, John Walker has treated you like shit and you have no idea why. Sending you to watch over Sergeant Barnes and his work should have been a punishment—turns out it was anything but.

Sweet Spot | smut, fluff, angst

[Steve Rogers x fem!reader]

Fed up with being the only one who can’t relate to the seemingly mind-blowing sexscapades everyone seems to be experiencing, your superior and great friend Captain Steve Rogers offers to help you with your problem. You should have never agreed to it.

Series

Resurrection Masterlist ON HIATUS!

[brother!mafia!Bucky Barnes x adopted!sister!reader, mafia!Thor Odinson x reader, mafia!Loki Odinson x reader, eventual Steve Rogers x reader]

Bucky Barnes was only nineteen when the lives of his parents and little sister were taken right in front of him by the ruthless members of the Odinson mob. His father’s mistakes have turned Bucky into a vengeful and cold shell of the charming boy he once was, now deeply rooted in the criminal lifestyle of the Stark mafia. Sudden attacks ignite the conflict between the two forces of the city, refueling the rivalry that has been rather tame for years. Nine years since Bucky’s life fell apart, he finds it shattering once more when what was supposed to be long dead returns to the living.

Anachronism Masterlist COMPLETED

[slightly feral Bucky Barnes x fem!reader, Steve Rogers x fem!reader]

Sprained ankles, snowstorms, blood-thirsty wolves and feral super soldiers. What was supposed to be a peaceful walk in the woods surrounding the cabin you're staying in with your best friend Steve quickly turns devastating, forcing your path to cross with a mysterious and burly man who can't seem to grasp social cues and the concept of privacy. His past is a puzzle that can't seem to be solved and your feelings for the sweet and giant man quickly develop from friendly gratitude to something neither of you can't quite grasp.

Stark U Masterlist

[college!Steve Rogers x fem!reader, college!Bucky Barnes x fem!reader, college!Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader, college!Sam Wilson x fem!reader]

Five people crammed into a loft just outside of the Stark University campus might have been a bad idea. Concussions, breakdowns, asshole hook ups and secret pining are everyday occurrences. Nobody is normal and chaos is constant, but what would you ever do without them?

Drabbles

You’re Gonna Go Far

[older brother!Steve Rogers x sibling!reader]

You’ve been acting different for weeks now and Steve is not having that at all. His little sister is his world, and sitting crying in your room without telling him why? Unacceptable.

Wildest Dreams

[Bucky Barnes x reader]

Song fic!! Based on Wildest Dreams by Taylor Swift

[witch-hazels-musings]

OMG OMG OMG open requests! I’m so excited! Please don’t overwork yourself, though!

I’ve had a NSFW Xiao x gem!reader brainworm living in my head rent free for WEEKS

Okay

So Xiao had said to speak his name and he’d come help, right? Well, what would happen if reader is pleasing herself alone and accidentally called Xiao’s name? 👀

call my name

(sending you love my dear friend <3 - come get your boy !!) 

Warning -> 18+ NSFW (masturbating, getting caught, fingering, penetration, slightly rough intercourse) 

Character X FM Reader | Anthology 

Includes: Xiao

“If you ever need me, speak my name.” He had once told you when you first met and, to this day, the words still lingered on the tip of your tongue. You knew he would be there to protect you, save you if ever the time came, but neither of you expected that calling of his name at this moment would send him over the edge. 

You’d been thinking about him all day - the thoughts which fluttered around your mind were anything but pure 

It had been days since you saw him, and the growing starvation between your legs was insatiable - no matter what you tried to do, the thoughts about him touching you, feeling you, holding you against him while he slid in and out of your body - it was all so very distracting 

You tried your best to push those images to the side when they inevitably surfaced, often at times when it was inopportune for them to show themselves 

You rested your head in your hand and looked out over the shop. It was completely dead, it had been for hours, but you had promised to stay there until the final bell rang. Still, all you wanted to do was leave and, due to your boredom, you kept drifting back into sensual thoughts about the Adeptus who had captured your body, mind, and soul. 

Visions filled your mind's eye: hands reaching around your waist to pull you against him, fingers sliding down to the heat building at your core, and slipping in as if they were always meant to be there. Lips connecting with your neck, teeth grazing your skin, something needy pressing into you from behind. It was all you could do from breaking down right then and there. 

The bell to the door rang out and shook you from your thoughts. Embarrassed, you went back to work and hoped that the customer couldn’t see right through you. Perhaps, if you didn’t make eye contact with them, they’d be none the wiser.

The night was even worse - being alone in that bed without him near you was like trudging your way through thick mud, or listening to static for hours

You dreaded them and, in particular, you dreaded this night because the desire to give your body release was stronger than it had been in days - there was no way you could hold back anymore, and so, as you lay on your back you decide to take matters into your own hands 

Your fingers slid in and out of you, your hand reaching to fit between your legs as your back arched to give you better access. You couldn’t decide between bending or straightening your legs, both seemed to be not enough, and as desperate as you were, it was frustrating to have to do this on your own. 

Still, you did what you could to stay focused on the images that crowded your mind earlier, that lingered like warm hands, that pushed you into the depths of your deepest, lewdest urges. 

You wanted him to touch you, wanted his fingers to be the ones moving inside your core, slipping and pressing against you, so badly you wanted for him to be the one. Yet, he was nowhere to be found, his duties keeping him elsewhere and, so, you were resigned to handle it yourself. 

Your mind wandered as your fingers stimulated you, palm pressing down to provide comforting pressure. He hovered above you, his raven hair falling toward your face, tickling your collarbone. His lips pressed against your neck, your jaw, and your lips with an intensity that made your head spin. His hand moved down your torso, fingers making a line straight to your hips until they found their way to your aching, wet cunt. With ease, with care, he pushed his fingers into you and the sensation made you cry out - you matched the pace of your imagination, slow and steady, just the way he would move - he picked up, fast and faster until you could feel yourself reaching the peak, the edge and just as planned … 

“X-Xiao …” You whispered, over and over again. His name spilling from your mouth like too much water after a desperate drink. Your hips pushed into your hand, the relief you knew would come was right there, “Xiao!” You called again, but this time there was a gust of wind that moved through your room. It startled you, and your high, and quickly your hand slipped away only to be caught in the sheets. 

“I came as soon as I …” He stopped dead in his tracks. His face tracked on you like a wolf tracks its prey. Your chest heaved, your lower body ached and throbbed from being denied its orgasm and even though you were stunned, you couldn’t help but squeezed your legs together to add pressure. “What are you …”

“... um.” You watched as he stepped to you, his eyes locked on you the whole time. Your breathing increased and without thinking, you reached your hand toward him. Clingy fingers dug into his clothes but he didn’t turn away.

His hand reached to your legs, which were partially covered by the blankets you half-hazardly pulled over your lower body. “Were you …?” He didn't need to finish his question, your eyes and hazy nods tell him everything he needs to know. “You couldn’t even wait till I returned, silly human.” 

“It wasn’t enough …” You say through your shame, your body only increased its desire for him the moment he reached you. No matter how badly you’d die from embarrassment the next day, all you had on your mind was one thing and now that he stood before you, you were ready to beg for it. 

“Do you need my aid?” 

“Yes.” You breathed as his hand slid over your thigh and drew closer to the place pleading for him to touch. 

“Lie back.” His eyes turned a deeper shade of green, his voice gruffer and richer than the food you could get at the most expensive restaurants. As soon as your head hit the pillow, he began, just as you imagined he would. 

When his fingers pushed into you, your eyes closed, your hips moved and legs parted until they dropped onto the bed. He hummed or growled, you were really sure because the pleasure he was giving you, the unexpectedness of his movements as he thrust his fingers into you over and over, was enough to build your orgasm into a practical explosion. 

Your moans filled the room, hands reaching to grab onto whatever they could - the sheets, your hair, his shawl, his arm, you weren’t sure what could help you from losing your mind, but it was inevitable to hold it back and, as constant as the stars in the night sky, you fell apart to Xiao’s fingers. The feeling of pushing into you as your walls constricted around him, your hips pushed upward and the sudden sensation of his lips on the hand which reached for his face made you tumble. Under his watchful gaze, you felt relief for the first time in days. 

Through pants, you tried to speak, but nothing came out save strange vocalizations. The mattress depressed around you, a hand appeared next to your face but you weren’t sure what was really happening until you watched him prop himself onto his knees and begin to undo the ties of his pants. 

“X-xia -” He cut you off with a look, his eyes intense and deafening. When he was free from his pants, he held onto his cock before bending back toward you. 

“These desires of yours, I’ll rid them for you.” With nimble hands, he scooped up yours and held them above your head as he positioned himself at your entrance. The sensation of him pushing his cock into you, stretching and filling you up, and the sound that escaped your mouth was more sensual than anything your own fingers could have produced. He didn’t waste any time either, as soon as he was fully inside of you, his length invisible to his eyes, he began to work himself in you at an incredible pace. 

You wiggled, pulled at the hands he had trapped above your head, but he wouldn’t let them go. They were his and, in an effort to see how your body looked while in this position, he pushed your shirt as far up your body as he could. Smoothly, your spine bent and allowed him to move the fabric which once covered your torso up to your elbows and wrists. It caught your hair but you didn’t care, for soon the fingers which trapped your hands also claimed your shirt and, when your flesh was presented to him, he descended onto it like a hungry animal. 

His lips connected with your breasts, his teeth grazing your skin and tongue working its way over the mounds that heaved with each thrust of him. It was becoming so much, so overstimulating and the pleasure he was pushing into you at an unbelievable pace was sending you over the edge. 

“XIAO!” You screamed as he slid his cock free from your body only to thrust it back in, all in tandem with his mouth as he bit your shoulder, just enough to make sure you felt he was there. The sound of his name made him shake, his breathing turn ragged, his pace became unsteady, and in his disillusion, his hands let go of yours so he could better position himself. 

He panted and moaned against your shoulder and you quickly worked yourself free of the shirt which was bunched around your wrists so you could wrap them around his neck. Shifting your hips only increased the angle he could penetrate and soon the both of you were a moaning mess, your vocalizations mixing in the nighttime air until it all came undone at the same time. 

Your stomach tightened, your body constricted around him, and felt how he pulsed inside of you. His breath warmed your collarbone and your hands began to smooth out the hair that you once gripped onto for support. 

A pair of beating hearts syncing in the night, hot breaths providing the only sound to the background wind which rattled the windows, and the scent of your lover covering you like a warm blanket. 

“Are you satisfied?” He asked, his tone raspy as he rested his forehead against your heaving chest. 

“... no, Xiao, I need more, please …” He lifted his head and you saw the fire in his eyes, his gaze almost feral and the pounding in your heart faltered, becoming erratic. 

“Have you no shame? Fine, turn over.” You did as instructed, your chest pressing into the mattress, the feeling of his dripping cock pressing against your back as he positioned himself over you made you shiver. A hot hand pushed between the bedsheets and your hips until it came to your cunt and began to work you over again. “Call my name, Y/N, I won’t hold back anymore.” 

-- 

tag list:

@star-gods @mercurysmaiden @dourpeep @pepperoncinipizza @handswritteeen @lucifucker @beelsdessert @odafashioned @coolcats09

@ninqat @musekala @mooshymello @heavenlyang @glazelilyy @justyoureverydayqueer @idunkar @solowmomo @twokissesforamelia @goat-mama-breezie @angel-melt @shesleire @zentoruu @smol-knife @nightlywallows

@nitorious-ghost @mguerra11 @lucy-roo @anatthesavage @maiiikoo @youaskedfurret @tempehlust @zenith-impact @plumpkie @jaggedsi @salty-salty @onlyhereforinteractivestories @gultonluvv

[burning-the-write-oil]

Being Honest

Summary: Din calling you “good girl” and just being fucking hot overall.

Characters: Din Djarin/F!Reader

Words: 590

Rating: Explicit, 18+ Only

Warnings: explicit language, sexual references/innuendos, some vaginal fingering, Din being a bit of a snarky dom

A/N: I have no explanation for this. TBOBF episode 5 reawakened my thirst for Din and I can’t stop thinking about him telling me I’m a “good girl” 🤷‍♀️ Hopefully I’ll start writing longer stuff again soon but maybe this will suffice for now! Please feel free to send me any Din Djarin or Boba Fett fic requests and feel free to like, comment, and reblog!

Masterlist

“Stop staring at me.”

“What else should I be staring at?”

“I don’t know, but you’re making me self-conscious.”

You pull the blankets you’d pulled onto the floor further up your chest to cover your bare breasts, your cheeks flushing as you avoid his gaze focused on you. It’s not that you could actually see him looking at you, but you knew with his helmet tilted in your direction that he was admiring you through that visor.

“You have nothing to be self-conscious about.” His modulated tone is casual as he leans back against the cold wall of the Crest. He was still completely bare save for his helmet.

“Easy for you to say.” You scoff, moving your arm to lay behind your head. “You’re practically sex on legs. A liability.”

He scoffs, shaking his head slightly before you feel his fingers start to caress your skin up and down your bare stomach. Din might not have been the type of guy to compliment you all the time, but when he was giving you compliments, you knew he genuinely meant them. However, you could tell Din he was the strongest, sexiest, most capable man you’ve known and you could practically hear him rolling his eyes under his helmet with a grunt of acknowledgement.

“Sweet girl…” He mumbles, moving his hand to gently brush the backs of his knuckles across your cheek and you feel his praise rush over you.

You bite back the grin that was pulling at your lips and shifted up to nuzzle your face into the crook of his neck, inhaling the scent of him. How he thought you still looked that beautiful with your hair all over the place and cheeks flushed from your previous actions, was beyond you. You knew you had to smell like sweat and sex and you had your stretch marks and scars, fully on display as he had carefully removed every item of your clothing, making sure his lips brushed over every inch of exposed skin. You’d always have sex in the dark if it meant feeling his lips on your skin.

 “Are you being shy now?” He gently teases, his fingers brushing up and down the bare skin of your back. “Because, we both know where your mouth was ten minutes ago…”

“Din!” You whine in embarrassment, smacking his chest as you give him a playful shove near his ribs and you hear him laugh. 

He wasn’t wrong; you had no shame about what you both had been doing.

“You’re nowhere near innocent, so don’t start pretending now.” You can hear how the tone of his voice lowers and becomes more of a growl that he would use when you two were in bed, causing goosebumps to rise on your skin and your nipples to harden.

You whimper at his words and he brings a hand up to begin to tug and roll one of your hardened nipples between his thumb and forefinger. You bite your lip as your eyes roll back ever so slightly, looking into the ‘T’ of his visor.

“You want more, you just have to ask, cyar’ika. Use your words.”

You exhale shakily as he brings his left arm around you to continue toying with your nipple before bringing his free hand between your thighs to teasingly stroke at your swollen lips.

“Please, D-Din.” You breathe, your chest starting to arch into his hand at the particular rough tug he gives your nipple.

You hear the soft groan the modulator picked up as his fingers start to circle your clit, your combined releases mixing together to lubricate his movements.

“Good girl.”

[tittyblade]

tumblr etiquette 101

a list that is nowhere near exhaustive, from yours truly.

First off, welcome! Whether you’re a twitter veteran looking for anything but whatever twitter is, or a new user just done signing up, glad to see you in our ranks beloveds! Welcome home. Refer to this quick tour to make sure your fandom experience (or tumblr experience in general) is a positive one!

Disclaimer: I know it’s long, but please try to read or skim through til the end if you’re new here! This is by no means meant to be a rule book (for the most part lol), only a guide to help you get settled easier!

1) Your blog

This is where people will see and interact with you, so put some effort into it!

Try to choose a name (url) that’s simple. You can see it as your brand, it’s how people will perceive you and remember you. If you’d like to interact with other users here (and not use the site just for the content) it’s better to have something short and sweet, preferably without spaces. (Of course, these are only suggestions.) Rest assured, you can change it literally any time you want.

Have a theme. Utilize the tool that lets you edit your blog’s color or the font of your bio! You can make it match your profile picture, or your blog if it has a theme of its own. Make it feel homey :]

Fill in your bio. People will be checking out your profile probably more often than you think. Don’t leave it empty! Put in any information you’re comfortable with sharing and isn’t too personal (like your age if you’re a minor, or other TMI that can be found on other people’s carrds). It’s always better to add a name/nickname people can use to refer to you by, but feel free to use your blog description to shitpost still.

You can have an intro post. More often than not, you’ll see a blog have a pinned post, a post permanently appearing at the top of a blog until you pin another post or unpin it. You can make one of those, if you’d like to introduce yourself in more length, link any other socials or a carrd, and show others visiting your blog how you tag things so it’ll be easy for them to navigate. Not an obligation.

Keep your anonymity and your safety. It should go without saying, but there’s no harm in repeating it just in case. Your comfort, privacy and safety has the utmost importance. Don’t share any information you don’t want to. Don’t share your age if you’re a minor, or any other incredibly personal info. I’d encourage you to go by a nickname that’s not your real name, (blog name, your brand, remember?) since there’s safety in anonymity, and that’s lowkey one of the big deals of tumblr, but that’s up to you still.

Choose what you want to be visible. Your liked posts and who you follow are all things you can set to keep to yourself and hide from the publics eye, how handy! You should go through all the setting while you’re at it, set it to your comfort.

Side blogs are a thing. You can have multiple blogs that you can use for different things (see: different fandoms, art blog, etc) to keep them organized or away from your followers. Just remember that the replies and off-anon asks you send will be from your main blog, as well as where you follow other blogs from.

2) Interacting with others

You’ve set up your account, now comes the fun part!

Follow to your heart’s desire. If you care about others seeing who you follow, fear not! In tumblr, usually only two types of blogs keep their following visible to others: newbies, and big blogs using it to point people on other good blogs’ direction. Just turn it off, and go ham following people.

Customize your dashboard. Gonna mention just two things here: this is another reason why it’s really important that you follow blogs without sparing, your dash will collect dust otherwise; and you should turn off “best stuff first” in your dashboard settings, to have a better community here and all.

Follow tags. You can set it in your settings that posts with your followed tags appear on your dashboard.

You can check the og post for edits and context. When you see a reblogged post you don’t understand the context of (or don’t recognize the character in case of fanarts), click on the profile so it will take you to the original post. From there you can check the original poster’s tags to get the context, or see if there have been any edits made to the post, since when you edit a post it doesn’t update any past reblogs.

Send people asks... This is how you make mutuals, people! Do it off-anon if you’d like them to know your blog, or anon if you’d rather not! (You can still end your messages with a signature to show you’re the same person, -[name] is one example.) Send them nice messages, ask their opinion on something, discuss things, or just straight up shitpost lol. Go wild. The sky’s your limit and it’s definitely more than 280 characters.

...and let them ask you! You can set your preference in the settings, do it on desktop tumblr to access more settings tho! What you can customize on mobile is limited (like letting people ask you things anonymously, that’s only on desktop settings). In my personal opinion, it’s always better to tag their username (or a nickname you give them, if they’re a friend) on that post, since you wouldn’t want your interactions with your friends to get buried in your blog forever.

Comment on posts. If you have something to say but don’t want the post to appear on your blog you can add a comment. The owner of the post will get a notif for it, but for anyone else you need to tag them.

For the love of god, reblog. People will only see your liked posts if you have it visible to public and they specifically go on your blog to look at them. You like something? You reblog. It’s already hard for posts to circulate properly, if you don’t reblog them literally no one will see them. If not for anything do it for the artists. Just hold and drag on mobile to fast rb.

3) Your Posts

Finally here! Don’t be a lurker, post and engage!

Make use of “read more”. If your post is long, add it. That’s what you clicked on earlier to expand this post. On desktop leave an empty line and you’ll see three dots appear, and on mobile type :readmore: on that empty line.

Draft a post to come back to it later. Pretty self explanatory.

Queue your post. Whether it’s your own post or you’re reblogging, make use of the queue feature to a) not spam reblog and fill up the dashboard of people following you and b) keep your blog active while you’re gone. Mess around in the settings, it’s fairly easy to set up.

Schedule your post. Same as queueing, the only difference is you get to choose the exact time your post will go up. Handy if you want to schedule a post for certain dates like april fools, or 5 years in the future for some reason. 

Format your texts. You can do all kinds of fancy stuff here (that’s a link, try pressing on it). Twitter doesn’t have this, make use of it. Changes depending on whether you’re on mobile or desktop. (Desktop has less features.)

Check your stats. If you’re trying to understand the algorithm better or want to look at some pretty graphs you can get your data on that on desktop tumblr.

@ people in comments. You’ll get all the notifs when people comment on your posts but they won’t see your reply unless you tag them in your message.

4) Tags, and tagging a post

This is where my earlier statement “this isn’t a rule book” stops being applicable. It’s not a war crime to go against these, I won’t come chasing you (don’t take my word for this) but you’ll work up a bad rep. Just saying lol.

Do NOT crosstag posts. It’s really tempting to add unrelated tags to increase your posts’ interaction, I know, but that’s not what tumblr is about. Don’t be a dick and make other communities’ experience worse for them.

Always tag your posts with “crit/critical/discourse/etc” if it calls for it. There’s no exceptions to it. This is the reason you see people migrating to tumblr. Let people enjoy things.

Don’t main tag a critical/negative post. If your crit post is about “Thing”, you add the “Thing critical” tag, but not the “Thing” tag. People block crit tags if they don’t want to see it, don’t shove it in their faces by main tagging it. 

If you don’t want to see something, just block it. Another reason why people are able to survive on tumblr. You don’t start discourse, you don’t make call-outs, you block. You can find something for every community you can think of if you go looking for it. The worst of the worst probably won’t ever appear on your dash, but if you’re worried or feel the need for it, you know where the block button is.

Feel free to shitpost or ramble. More often than not you’ll see people rb a post with a comment, and their elaboration will be in the tags. The tags are only visible on your profile and the notifications of the owner of the og blog. Just a thing people do.

Reblog artists’ posts with nice comments in the tags! Commenting on a drawing is usually done through the tags (Not an obligation, again, just a thing people do. Feel free to add your comment on the rb itself if you’d want other people to see it tho!) and leave nice messages for the artists! It’s a win-win for everyone involved. 

If you have more than a single follower, always use the common tw warning tags. You don’t need to tw everything, but tw’ing some common things is the bare minimum human decency. Keep it safe for others. 

Tag a post “long post” if it’s really long. Pretty self explanatory. Don’t make people scroll through all that please lol. 

You can use them to organize your blog. This is more of a pro tip, if you’d like to not miss a post in your blog, cause they will start pilin’ up soon enough.

#Liveblogging is pretty fun. If you’d like to talk to people during streams, don’t forget to add the relevant tags still! Again, you won’t show up on people’s dash otherwise.

Whew! That got out of hand. Hopefully I didn’t bore you too much. Check out blogs like @heritageposts and @hellsite-hall-of-fame to honor our past o7. @mcytblr-hall-of-fame too maybe :eyes:. Anyways, don’t forget the most important rule of them all:

Enjoy your stay! You’re meant to have fun on here while also making friends (if that’s your thing). Just be kind and respectful of others, you’ll get the hang of the rest! <3

[finelinevogue]

What if a security guard wouldn’t let you back in the arena if you went out to get something. And they didn’t believe that you were harrys gf and just thought you were a crazy fan

oooh it’s been done before but here’s my version!! ;

You were running late.

It was already 7pm and you were only getting out of your car in the car park. Harry was due to be on stage in an hour and you hadn’t even seen him yet. The traffic around Dallas today has been awful. Chocker block. You’d been with Harry all day, up until 3 hours ago when he had to leave the hotel to come to the stadium for rehearsals. Normally you’d go with him, but you were so tired that you wanted a little nap before coming. The problem here was you overslept.

There were no Ubers available and a taxi would be far too expensive at this time, so you drive in Harrys car instead. You’d been following Harry on tour in his car, so when you get to different destinations you can go out on ball day trips if you want to without the obscenity of a huge tour bus or paying for Ubers everywhere. It was the main reason you were so tired though, travelling across country and into different time zones. It would be so much easier if this was the UK.

You grabbed your purse and your jacket, locking the car as you got out and started running for the backstage entrance. It was easy to make it there and you noticed security guards already standing there.

“Hi!” You smiled, slightly short of breathe. You were about to move past them when one of them shoved your shoulder back, making you stumble back unbalanced. “Wha—”

“ID and backstage pass to get through here.” One of them said, looking you up and down as if you were nothing.

If anything, you were quite shocked on how they just treated and continued to treat you. Normally, Harry would show a picture of you to these backstage security guards to make sure you’d be able to get in no problem, but it seemed like today Harry might’ve forgotten to show that photo. This was going to be a problem for you, because you’d forgotten to bring your backstage pass.

“I normally just go through? I’m Harry’s girlfriend.” You tried talking your way around the situation, not appreciating behind held up so close to show-time.

“Oh you’re Harry’s girlfriend? You must be the 7th one we’ve met tonight.” The security guy laughed and so did his friend, making your blood boil with how annoying they were being. Harry would be so pissed if he heard the way they were treating you.

“No but I actually am.”

“Then, ID and backstage passes.” One of then held out his hand whilst the other crossed his arms over his chest to make him look intimidating. Dickheads.

“I have ID just not the backstage passes.” You answered honestly, holding out your ID for them to check. They collected it and asked you questions on it, you answering them all perfectly.

“Well you definitely know you, but you have no proof you’re supposed to be where you claim to be.” They handed you back your ID and you huffed in stress.

“Well what can I show you? Photos of me and Harry together? Text messages?” You waved your arms around, getting really pissed off that this was actually happening. You’d probably miss Jenny’s whole set because of this and then 15 minutes before show-time Harry gets transported under the stage. So you only really would have half and hour with him, and that’s just not enough time. You wanted a safe and warm hug off him. You wanted a kiss. You just wanted him.

“Everyone knows they can be photoshopped.” One of the guys scoffs at your notion.

“Listen. You either show us your backstage pass or we’ll escort you off site.” The other one says a lot more firmer this time. It made you quite anxious for what you’d do if they did that - or maybe when they did that.

“Well I don’t have the backstage passes.” You sighed, rolling your eyes at the way this was going to end.

“Then let’s go.” One of them pointed to where you came from and to the car park, stepping forwards as he did so.

“I’m not leaving until you let me through those doors. My boyfriend is waiting for me.” You answered, taking a step back in stress of what they might do.

“Harry ain’t your boyfriend. Now let’s go!” They stepped forwards again and reached for you.

You swung your bag at one of them, hitting him in his side and he grunted because of the impact of your water bottle with his chest. The other one grabbed your arm and you couldn’t shake him, since you were not trained in any way for situations like this at all. His fingers dig into your skin and it made you scream out a cry, trying to kick him in any way to escape. The other one recovered ever ordered the guy holding you to escort you away whilst he stayed and guarded the door. The one holding you tugged your arms behind your body and held them tight there, it really fucking hurting. He didn’t care though and continued to walk you, asking you where your car was so he could get you out of here.

Once you reached your car he let you go and you wrapped your arms around you as he walked away again, not verbally saying anything but his eyes saying enough. Stay away. You shakily got your keys out of your bags and unlocked your door, climbing in and just sitting there. You could feel your hands really shaky and achy. Looking down with tear clouded eyes, you saw the red marks over your arms and slight bruising already. Your arms and shoulders hurt from being bent in an uncomfortable position.

You cared less about the pain though and how much of a disappointment of a girlfriend you were going to be to Harry. He was going to think either the worst for you or the worst of you. You reached in your bag on your lap for your phone, throwing your bag on the seat next to you afterwards. You wiped your eyes with the sleeve of your t-shirt and unlocked your phone to text messages, sending Harry a quick text.

To Harry: Are you free to call? x

No response. You sat there for a few minutes in silence, still shook up and teary. That had been a really awful situation to be in and you hated that you were nowhere near Harry to fix it. Your phone vibrated 3 minutes later, finding a text message from Harry. You sighed and felt safe when you saw his icon light up your notifications, knowing he was in contact with you.

From Harry: Of course, you okay? xx

You didn’t open your phone because you didn’t know how to respond. How do you tell him you’re not okay, only 20 minutes before he’s meant to be ready to go on stage? You didn’t want to worry him, but you also didn’t want him thinking you were a terrible girlfriend either.

Another vibration.

From Harry: Lovie? xx

Your eyes watered at that simple word, meaning so much more to you than five letters. It made you feel so much comfort, you only wished you could get that hug and a kiss now.

Again.

From Harry: Love, you’re worrying me now.

From Harry: Let me face-time you, hang on.

His icon lit up the screen; Incoming…

You shakily accepted, wiping your eyes quickly before. When he answered you could tell he was still in his dressing room, sat on the sofa that you wish you were also sat on with him. He looked so beautiful. His hair was perfectly styled and he was wearing a pearl coloured silk shirt and you knew he was wearing white silk pants to co-ordinate. You thought he looked ethereal. A glowing beacon of hope and beauty.

He didn’t say anything to you at first and you nothing to him. He just looked at you and instantly knew something bad was up. He kept eye contact with you and it was as if he was having a telepathic conversation with you, understanding that you needed him and just him.

“Hey, Mitch man?” Harry asked, turning his head to somewhere else in the room. “Could y’just give me a minute. Please.”

“Sure, sure.” Mitch answered and all you could hear was the sound of shuffling and the door shut. As soon as he was gone you started crying all over again. You cupped your hand over your eyes and your body shook as you just cried. Harrys heart broke that you were alone and he couldn’t hug you close to his chest.

“Y/N, baby. Look at me.” He asked urgently and you just shook your head, embarrassed that this was happening to you. “You’ll be alright lovie, I promise. Just look at me, beautiful.” You moved your hand away from your face and wiped your eyes and nose to try and make you look slightly better - not that it helped. “There’s my pretty girl.”

You smiled. He smiled.

“I-i’m so-rry H.” You whispered, sniffling in between words because of how shaky you felt.

“Hey, no. None of that. It’ll be okay.” He reassured you, keeping eye contact with you to try and decipher what was wrong. “Where are you, lovie? You’re in the car, yeah?” Harry asked, recognising your surroundings but you could get anywhere. You could have been in an accident for all he knew, but he was remaining calm so he didn’t send you into a panic.

“Yeah. In the stadium car park.” You saw Harrys eyes momentarily light up at that, before he remembered that you weren’t okay.

“Okay. Tell me why you’re upset, love. Help me understand.” He sounded urgent, just wanting to know so he could help you out. He wanted you to be okay. He wanted you with him.

“The security guards wouldn’t let me in, backstage I mean. I didn’t have my backstage pass. But..” You choked on a sob and Harry told you to just breathe. You were okay. “One of them g-grabbed me and escorted m-me of sight.”

“Baby, are you hurt? Is that why you’re upset?” Harry asked, standing up now in panic. His face looked angry, but you could tell he was trying his best to be a comfort for you. “Y/N?”

“Y-yes. Yes Harry, yes.” You voice wobbled out and you let out an exasperated sob. “I’m s-sor—”

“No don’t you dare. Don’t apologise for this. Not ever. You understand me?” He made very clear he wasn’t messing around.

“Yes.” You nodded.

“Alright. Now, you gotta be strong for me okay?” He asked, before asking, still checking that you were okay. He knew you would be though, because you were his bravest girl ever - stronger than you knew.

“Okay.”

“You’re going to make your way back to the backstage entrance, alright? I am going to be there, before you get there. Those security guards won’t be there I promise. You’ll be okay. Can you do that for me?” He asked, moving around the room and then out of the door. He was walking down the corridors, ignoring the people shouting his name. He was only focused on you.

“Yes. Okay.” You nodded, wiping under your nose again.

“I love you.” He kissed the camera of his phone, looking like he was kissing you instead.

You returned the gesture, kissing him virtually back. “I love you.”

He told you that it’d be alright and then ended the call, explaining how you didn’t need to hear him get angry when he found these security guards. They would be fired even if they weren’t on his tour crew, he’d make sure of it. You made your way back to the backstage entrance again, slowing down before you rounded the corner. Taking a deep breathe you walked around and were met with exactly what Harry promised; him.

You smiled and broke out into a run to get to him, your bag weighing on your shoulder. Once you reached him your bag was thrown on the floor in front of him and you jumped into his arms. He lifted you up to sit you around his waist, keeping his arms tight around your waist and squeezing the biggest hug out of you. Your arms tightened around your boyfriends neck and you buried your face into his neck, and god he smelt like everything homely and sweet. He felt just like home.

“See, you’re alright now lovie.” He assured you, kissing your cheek that wasn’t quite buried into his neck.

“Th-ank you.” You muttered, kissing his neck in appreciation which made him hum in delight. He tasted so hot and lush. He was insatiable. You then felt him start kissing your arms, where the harsh red and purple marks were.

“Sorry y’had to go through this.” He kept kissing your arms, until you moved your head up and looked at him with furrowed eyebrows.

“If I can’t say sorry, then neither can you.” You shook your head, kissing his nose softly. You watched his eyes flutter close and felt so special that only you could do that to him.

“You’re so amazing Y/N. Truly.”

“You’re pretty special too, my love.”

He didn’t need to hear anything else from you, those words were enough, so he pressed his lips to yours softly, filling you with the love you’d been waiting to feel all day. You smiled into the kiss and he just felt so amazing. He was so soft and gentle with you - as smooth as the silk that dressed his body. He was so pretty to watch melt away under your spell and delicious tasting. Strawberries, was that?

He was everywhere. He was everything. He always would be.

[free-pool-trash]

dancing with our hands tied - peter maximoff

here it is you guys... the ✨very spicy✨ sequel to delicate which can be read here <3 (had to keep the rep song title theme going here)

please for the love of god let me know how this is I’ve never written smut before so please go crazy with the asks/comments/reblogs on this one I’d really appreciate it😩😓

word count: 4k 😳 (it’s not all smut dont get too excited)

warnings: +18 content, sexy times, unprotected wrap it before you tap it, swearing, i tried to keep vulgarity on a low level but i decided to just commit towards the end lmao, insinuation to sex from the beginning , some fluff and a tiny bit of angst sprinkled in there too, wandavision spoilers

You can definitely read this as a stand alone but it’ll make more sense if you read delicate first !! enjoy <3

masterlist

The days you spent in WestView had been tiring. Wanda seemed to be losing her composure with each day that passed, you watched how she became more and more skeptical of Peter and found yourself growing all the more anxious with the situation you’d run head first into. But, you were with Peter, your mind and his mind were free of Wanda’s influence and she’d been kind enough to appoint the pair of you your own house in the neighbourhood, a few doors down from her own, so, you couldn’t complain too much.

Today was a relatively quiet day, but you had a feeling that just meant you were in the calm before the storm. Tonight was, apparently, Halloween. Despite the fact that it was nowhere near October, you were more than happy to play along with Wanda’s over the top festivities.

Peter and Tommy had just zoomed into your and Peter’s bedroom, sporting matching outfits and excited expressions as they looked at you expectantly, “Well? What’d ya think?” Peter asked, motioning between himself and Tommy. The littlest speedster awaited your answer with wide, hopeful eyes, wanting validation from his cool uncle’s even cooler ‘friend’.

Yeah, you’d made out on Wanda’s couch but you still hadn’t addressed the question of where exactly your relationship stood. It felt as though the pair of you were both actively avoiding the awkward conversation, opting instead to simply fall into bed together every single night and completely disregard the boundaries of friendship in favour of hearing each other moaning until the early hours of the morning.

With a smile you let out a low whistle, “Looking good boys. I gotta say, Tommy, I think you’re outshining your uncle right now.”

You had to laugh when Tommy smirked triumphantly at Peter, “I told you she liked me more than you.” He boasted proudly and your laughs grew louder when Peter huffed angrily. He crossed his arms over his chest and jutted his bottom lip out childishly.

“Y/n, tell him you like me more.” Peter demanded, again, childishly.

You only grinned, “No comment.” You told him airily, making your way to your closet and hesitantly pulling out the latex costume Wanda created for you off of the rail, holding it by the hanger skeptically.

It was Peter’s turn to let out a whistle when his eyes scanned the skimpy looking leotard suspended by the hanger. The fabric mimicked the design of Peter and Tommy’s outfits although it seemed Wanda had gone out of her way to make yours ever so slightly sexier. The leotard was strapless with a sweetheart neckline and a silver lightning bolt ran through the light blue material. The only saving grace was the silver tights that hung from the hanger as well, at least you’d have some kind coverage. With one last peek into the closet, your eyes landed on a pair of white, knee high gogo boots.

“Christ…” You muttered, eyebrows furrowing at the thought of wearing the ensemble out in public, if it was cold tonight Wanda would be in for an aggressive telling off. With a deep sigh you turned to the two speedsters who were both staring at you, waiting for you to say something. “I guess we’re all gonna be matching tonight.”

“Sweet!” Tommy exclaimed while Peter only smirked. Peter, with a lot of effort, moved his attention from your costume to his nephew.

“Why don’t you go hang out with your brother for a while? I gotta talk to Y/n for a sec.” Tommy welcomed the suggestion, only nodding his head before he had sped out of your house and back to his own.

A gust of wind hit your face as Peter sped himself in front of you, the man didn’t hide his intentions as he gripped your hips and pulled you flush against him. Swaying his body against yours and bringing his lips to the exposed skin of your neck. He trailed his lips up your neck, sucking and nipping, smirking when you let out small noises of approval. When his lips reached the spot behind your ear, he gave a final, harsh suck which had your breath hitching and whining when he pulled away.

To be honest, you’d love to be able to call him your boyfriend and be certain that he thought of you as his girlfriend, but at the moment you were perfectly happy with whatever the fuck the two of you had going on if it meant you could keep feeling him against you like this.

“I cannot wait to see you wearing that.” He all but groaned against your ear, his voice deep and gravelly. The butterflies in your stomach went feral at his words and you had to pull your bottom lip between your teeth to keep from letting out a moan from his tone of voice alone, not to mention the fact that his crotch was pressed up against yours, he was excited to say the least.

Your hands slid up his chest and settled on either side of Peter’s neck, you gently pulled his head out from the crook of your nape and teasingly raised an eyebrow at him, “Maybe later I’ll let you help me get out of it.”

A wicked grin spread across his lips, he squeezed your hips in response, tugging you into him even further for some kind of relief then pressed his lips to yours briefly, murmuring against them, “That’s definitely a plan I can get behind.”

Giving him one last kiss, you pried his hands from your hips and pushed him away, “Alright, get lost I need to get ready.”

“Meet me at Wanda’s?” You nodded at his question, letting out a deep sigh you hadn’t noticed you’d been holding when he finally sped out of the room.

After a second of cooling down, you pulled on the outfit and you’d be the first to admit; Wanda knew what she was doing with this one. You looked incredible, albeit a little stupid in the costume, but still incredible.

When you made your way over to Wanda’s to meet up with the others, you let out a laugh seeing as Wanda was essentially wearing the same outfit as you, only with the added extras of a cape and gloves.

“Hey! Why are you dressed the same as Uncle P and Tommy?” Billy asked you curiously, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion as he glanced between you and Peter for answers. The speedster in question was smirking proudly, his arm finding a spot wrapped around your shoulder.

“Because she’s totally obsessed with me.” He lied with an over dramatic sigh, causing Tommy to laugh.

You rolled your eyes, elbowing him in the ribs playfully before focusing your attention onto Wanda, “I think it’s safe to say that Wanda and I will be winning best couples costume.” Wanda gave you a knowing grin and a not at all subtle wink in response to your statement.

“Only the best for the best.” She replied, walking forward and linking her arm with yours, stealing you away from Peter who whined in protest, “Oh hush, you can have her back later.”

Telepathy definitely had its perks, one of those perks being you could tell there was more to Wanda than just being an evil puppeteer. The two of you got along extremely well, you were actually growing to see her as a friend. It helped that you knew her story, though. You sympathised with her, knowing full well that if you lost the love of your life you’d probably create a false reality to be with him too. You’d already followed him into a fake reality so you supposed it wasn’t really too much of a stretch to imagine yourself in Wanda’s position.

As the night went on, yourself, Wanda and Peter were sitting around in town square, the twins having run off somewhere. Tensions were high between the interreality siblings at the minute, Peter seemed to be having the time of his life getting on Wanda’s last nerve, poking and prodding at her lifestyle choices.

“Lay off, Pete.” You warned quietly, your stare serious as you felt Wanda becoming impatient with the mutant. Your breathing stopped for a moment and you let put a horrified gasp, your hand clapped over your mouth as you stared at the image in front of you.

Peter’s skin was grey, his eyes were milky and he was littered in what you could only assume to be bullet holes- he was dead- no, you realised as you caught Wanda’s pained expression, he was Pietro.

Wanda regained her composure after a few seconds but the sight of Peter dead was enough to shake you to your very core and you found yourself shaking where you stood.

You didn’t even have a chance to regain your composure before shit had hit the fan. It had happened in a blur, Billy and Tommy were frantic and worried about Vision being in trouble and next thing you knew Wanda was sending Peter flying with a ball of energy after he made a smartass comment about Vision not dying twice.

Quickly, you ran to Peter’s side, he was groaning in pain and looking up at you through squinted eyes, “What the hell was that all about?” He grumbled, hiding his head in your lap when you got down on your knees beside him.

With a sigh you let your body fold against his, wrapping your arms around him and letting your head rest against his shoulder, the image of him bleeding out still too fresh and real in your mind. You could berate him for his brash behaviour another time, for now though; you just needed him close.

“Come on, dumbass. Let’s get you home before you decide to cause more trouble.” You mumbled, pulling him up with you. Ignoring his whining while you led him home, your arm remained firmly around his waist the whole way despite the fact he’d recovered from the blast Wanda dealt him after only a few minutes.

When you got back to the house that Wanda had deemed yours upon your arrival, you finally allowed yourself to breathe. Peter was staring at you with a guilty expression as you released a heavy breath through your nose and shuffled into the kitchen, the heels of your boots scraping on the hardwood as you walked.

Like a lost puppy, Peter followed you. Once he reached you lent against the sink he wrapped his arms around you from behind. He knew you weren’t angry at him by the way your arms immediately moved to grip his and tug them tighter around you.

“You know, her real twin- Pietro… he died,” Peter’s face contorted in confusion when you began to speak, he listened with concern as he could already hear your voice beginning to shake, absentmindedly he caught himself tucking you closer against his chest. “For a second… you must have said something that hit a nerve but for a few seconds…” Your voice hitched and you shook your head in an attempt to knock the image out of your mind, though you had a feeling it would haunt you for as long as you lived. When Peter noticed you’d started chewing at your bottom lip, as you always did when something was causing you anxiety, he gently turned you around in his arms so that he could look at you, his arms remaining firmly around you, yours finding a place resting against his chest.

“What happened, sweetheart?” He cooed, his eyes very much alive and staring into yours.

Swallowing thickly you answered, “You looked like him. You were dead.” You told him quietly and he was sure the look of grief on your face, brought on by the thought of him dying, would haunt him for a lifetime.

Your eyes watered as you took in his face. Scanning every part of it, his brown eyes that made you melt, the dimples that could still be faintly seen even when he wasn’t smiling, the lips that took up the vast majority of your thoughts and that tiny furrow between his brows as he looked down at you with worry.

You loved him.

Of course, you’d known this for years. But you needed him to know, and even though you were already well aware the overwhelming feeling is mutual, you needed to hear him say it.

His thumb running under your eye pulled you from your thoughts, “I’m not going anywhere, baby.” He whispered softly, his hand cupping your cheek as his thumb ran back and forth over your cheek bone. Your stomach flipped at the pet name and you nuzzled against his touch.

“Good. I don’t want to lose you ever again.” You confessed, looking up at him through your lashes fondly as his lips formed an almost sad smile.

Gently, he brought his lips down to meet yours, pouring his heart into the kiss, hoping it would make up for the turmoil he felt responsible for causing you. Too soon, he pulled away.

“Believe me, I’m never leaving your side. I mean come on, I’m without you for like three days and I end up being mind controlled by my sister who isn’t even my sister.” He chuckled out, a grin growing on his face as you began to smile too. He let his eyes close blissfully when you brushed your nose against his, a toothy smile on your face.

“You, Peter Maximoff, are completely hopeless.” You whispered through your smile as he opened his eyes to look at you. His own face sporting an adoring smile.

Your heart skipped a beat the second his next words passed through his smiling lips, “Without you, Y/n L/n, yes I am.” Within a second your arms were around his shoulders and your lips were moving frantically against his. Peter’s hands wasted no time in sliding down to your thighs, gripping them and propping you up onto the kitchen counter.

Your legs automatically wrapped around his waist and your hands got lost in his hair, keeping him as close as humanly possible while his lips migrated to your jaw.

An appreciative hum left your throat as he lapped at the underside of your jaw, leaving a mark before trailing his lips back to your mouth. His tongue licked at your bottom lip as he kissed you, moving it into your mouth the first chance he got. Peter moaned into your mouth when you gave his tongue a light suck.

You grinned at the sound and leaned your weight forward so you were primarily resting against his body, your arms and legs wrapped tightly around his body, your ass barely resting on the counter by that point. Welcoming your movements, Peter’s hands glided up from your thighs to grip your ass and pull you from the counter completely.

He carried you clumsily through the halls of the house, bumping into furniture and pausing to press your body against walls, his eyes closed and lips never separating from yours. You were about a foot away from the stairs when you felt your back make contact with the plaster behind you, your chest heaving when Peter abandoned your lips in favour of littering wet kisses across your chest, no doubt leaving a trail of hickeys in his wake.

You let your head fall back against the wall, enjoying the sensation of Peter nipping and licking at your skin, the man diving back to your neck as soon as he realised that your head thrown back made it entirely exposed to him. You released a breathy moan when his lips ghosted over a sensitive patch of skin, he moved his tongue frantically and you shuddered at the feeling of his hot breath hitting your bruised skin.

“Peter…” You whined when he pushed his crotch up against yours, pressing you further into the wall smirking against your neck when you called his name.

“Yes?” He asked teasingly, rutting his hips against yours once more, deliberately attempting to pull another moan from you, he obviously succeeded. His smirk broadened when you let out a huff and tugged his hair so he’d look at you.

Peter swore he was in heaven when his eyes met yours again, your face was red and your eyes were half-lidded, pupils blown wide with lust as your chest heaved. He could’ve exploded on the spot when you tugged your bottom lip between your teeth and looked at him innocently, all the while grinding your hips slowly and firmly against his. Peter clenched his jaw and let his eyes fall shut, his hands gripping your hips so tightly that you were pretty certain the area would have bruises come tomorrow. You were struggling to care about that though, focusing your energy on the man who had you pinned against the wall.

You brought your lips to Peter’s neck, repaying the favour, not detaching until you left a dark, albeit small, purple bruise on the underside of his jaw. Deciding to prolong the teasing for a little while longer you moved your lips up and let them hover by his ear and you began to let out soft little moans in response to his grinding, the action caused Peter’s movements to become more frantic and your lips to form in a smirk as you felt him hardening against you.

His breath was laboured when he murmured, “Let’s take this upstairs, yeah?” Before you could even answer he had sped the pair of you to the bedroom and you let your feet return to the floor.

As he stood in front of you, you took him in, swollen lips and Halloween hair completely tossed, not to mention the tent in his trousers that was very visible despite the layers of his costume. When your bodies collided again, it was a frenzy of hands, the both of you practically tearing the fabric off the other until you were in nothing but your underwear, kissing sloppily and stumbling towards the bed.

Peter’s lips attached to your chest again the second your back hit the mattress. He groped at your right breast while his tongue sucked on the other, swapping over before you pulled him back up to you.

The way he slotted between your legs and how his forehead rested on yours felt so perfect, you couldn’t help but grin.

“You’re gorgeous, sweetheart.” He muttered between kisses against your lips, his hands kneading your breasts as he did.

You were practically dripping by the time his hand slid down your stomach and under the band of your underwear. For someone with super speed he was moving agonisingly slow at the moment, his hand rubbing languidly over your wet core while he swallowed your moans.

“Fuck- God, Peter please.” You whined, your hips bucking into his hand, desperate for more friction than he was giving you.

The sound of your voice, so needy for him, was all he needed before he was pulling your underwear off, tossing the thin material over his shoulder haphazardly and shimmying out of his own boxers, clumsily kicking them away from his ankles, earning a giggle from you.

When he kneeled on the bed between your bent and separated knees you sat yourself up, sliding one hand up his bare chest and resting it against his shoulder while the other slid downward, only stopping once it was wrapped around his shaft. Peter sucked in a harsh breath when your began pumping him softly, the man completely losing it when your thumb swiped over his tip collecting the precum that had gathered and using it to wet the length of his dick as you continued to fuck him with your hand.

As much as Peter was loving the image and feeling of you jacking him off, he knew if you carried on he wouldn’t be able to last much longer. Still, he didn’t have the heart to pull your hand away when you were making him feel so good. His head found it’s favourite spot in the crook of your neck and he groaned out against the skin that was littered with little purple and red marks from his earlier work, which he’d be sure to admire later, “Shit, Y/n-“ He croaked through a moan, hands gripping your hips as he fought the urge he had to thrust into your hand, “M’not gonna last much longer if you keep doing that.” He groaned out, almost reluctantly, not truly wanting you to stop while simultaneously craving more.

You stopped your motions at his statement, giggling when he let out a strangled noise of disappointment at the sudden lack of pleasure. Doing the honours, you lined him up with your entrance, letting him take over when his lips connected with yours.

Peter gently pushed you back until your head was resting against your pillow and your back was flush with the mattress. His lips continued to mesh with yours as he pushed into you inch by inch until he bottomed out. The deep groan he released was music to your ears and your hands gripped his biceps when he began to thrust in and out.

A symphony of moans filled the room as Peter had managed to set a steady pace, trying his best not to let his mutation get the best of him, as much as he wanted to just go to town he was determined to make you feel as good as you made him feel and judging by the way your head was thrown back and his name fell from your lips like a prayer; he guessed he was doing an okay job.

In only a few minutes Peter had you gasping and clutching onto him like your life depended on it as he picked up speed, one of his hands reaching down between your bodies to rub your clit, his hips snapping against yours. Soon enough, you felt the pressure in your stomach release, your walls clenching around Peter’s dick as your back arched and you released around him. After only a few more staggered strokes, Peter moaned your name against your lips, finishing inside of you and thrusting lazily, riding out his high and subsequently helping you ride out yours.

You let out a blissful sigh when Peter pulled out and rolled over to lay on his back beside you, his chest heavy and his blonde hair sticking slightly against his forehead.

“That- that was awesome.” He mumbled, intertwining his fingers with yours, holding your hand by his side.

Over the last couple of nights you and Peter had, admittedly, ended up in a similar position but neither of you intended for it to happen. It’d usually start off innocently enough, with cuddling or just talking and then one of you would move in just that little bit closer and things would escalate. But there was something about this time that felt a lot more emotional than the few times before. “It was.” You agreed with an airy giggle, squeezing his hand affectionately.

A gust of air shook you from your haze. Peter had taken it upon himself to clean up the mess the pair of you had left between your legs, a pair of his boxers and one of his t-shirts now adorned your body matching him as he wore the same.

He was on his side facing you, his arms holding you against his chest securely the same way they had the night you’d shown up in WestView and urged him to kiss you. When he took you in, he kicked himself for missing out on so much of you for so long.

He was certain, one of these days he’d actually speak the three words that followed him around whenever he thought about you, but as he watched your eyes flutter closed, he decided the words would be best spoken some other time. He was well aware you already knew, just as he was well aware that you loved him, it needed to be said. Eventually, but not quite yet.

[rae-gar-targaryen]

loved you once [angel reyes x fem!reader]

A/N: So, this is NOT the Angel fic I previewed the other day. That one (and the EZ fic) is STILL COMING, I PROMISE! This just jumped into my head and wouldn’t leave. And I wrote it with a speed I am heretofore unfamiliar with (heretofore? Did I use that right?) I invented a tattoo and an ex-girlfriend for Angel, and I fudged the timeline a bit. So, apologies in advance for that. 

As always, if you want a tag in anything I write for Angel, EZ, the Mayans fandom (or anything else), please feel free to send me a message or an ask, or add yourself to the taglist (link in profile). 

Pairing: Angel Reyes x fem!tattoo artist!reader (as always, the appearance is ambiguous, but the reader is described as having female pronouns/parts. Also, the reader here speaks a bit of Spanish. I’m half Mexican, so I do imagine a latinx reader, but I hope I’ve written this so you can imagine yourself with no restriction.)

Word Count: 15.3K (HAHAHA WHAT THE FUCK all for a TWO AND A HALF MINUTE SONG, ARE YOU KIDDING ME????) of ANGST! (SERIOUSLY THIS IS SO ANGSTY) lyrical nonsense and the remnants of sticky, cotton-candy sadness … fluff that makes you feel empty. 

Warnings: ANGST, non-explicit references to infidelity, sexual references and sexual content, oral (male receiving), fingering and other nastiness -- so 18+ ONLY, please! Canon-typical douchebaggery, references to a past relationship, song references and poetry. (It is me, so yeah, poetry.)

Summary: You and Angel may as well be strangers now. But why? After all, you loved him once. And he loved you, right? Based on the song “Loved you Once” by Clara Mae. Listen here. 

--

We don't need to be best friends, we don't need to hang again. But tell me why we have to be strangers because I loved you once?

What were you doing here? You haven’t been back to the clubhouse in months. Not since -- well, you know. You hadn’t talked to him since then, either. But that wasn’t your own doing. 

No, Angel had erected a veritable wall of silence, and you respected him enough not to breach it. 

That was what relationships were all about, anyway, right? Mutual respect of the other’s needs? So when Angel had told you in no uncertain terms that your relationship was over, you were … upset. Understandably. You wanted to sit with him, talk about where this sudden insistence that you depart his life had come from, but he was resolute. With the absolute air of authority that comes with either a great deal of thought, or borne of virtually sudden external influence, with nothing in between. He clearly didn’t want to sit and talk about it. 

And so you didn’t. 

Ever mindful of his wellbeing, and when he was and was not receptive to communication. 

"It ain't working," he had said. You had settled for merely imagining the faraway look in his large, oilslick eyes, since he was much more interested in staring at his boots and the grooves in his floor, his forearms laid over spread thighs, unmoving and resolute from his spot at the end of the bed. Refusing to meet your eyes. 

From your seat next to him, you made to brush the arm closest to you with your fingers. When you touched, he gave no indication that you were even there. That he even felt you. Which you knew was bullshit. He always felt you. 

"Angel, what --" you hated the way your voice cracked as you tried to ask him what the hell was going on. You hated how you had sounded so small and quavering to your own ears. That wasn't who you were. You were clear, outspoken. It was always one of the things Angel said he loved about you. Loved.

You didn't know this, of course, but Angel hated it, too. How you’d sounded in that moment. Hated that his words had taken the fire out of yours, your voice unfamiliar in its timidity. 

"It ain't working," he repeated. "I can see it. Not my fault you can't." 

That was it. 

No "I'm sorry, querida." 

No "I hope we can stay friends." 

Not that you would expect an apology, or anything as cliché as a "let's be friends," from a steadfast man like Angel. Predictable in his volatility. 

You should have pushed back. Demanded an answer. You hated that you didn’t, the shock and sudden sadness morphing you into a silent, crystalline girl you didn’t recognize. Your eyes welled with tears, turning your head away from where Angel sat -- at least you wouldn’t let him see you cry. Even if you knew he knew the tears had spilled over your lashes and down your cheeks were of his own doing. 

You had arrived back at his place a day after your tense "conversation" to discover that your items you had come to reclaim were tossed into a box and left outside of the door. 

You had knocked once, in the hope that if Angel was home, he’d at least come to the door to shout through it, or, heaven forbid, would open it so you could look him in the eyes just once more while he shattered you. Your knock was met with silence, though you could have sworn you felt Angel on the other side of the door. 

In the months since then, you had cried (obviously), you had questioned (it was sudden, it wasn't just you; your friends were surprised, too), but most importantly, you had persevered. 

You had taken a bunch of new clients and inked some pieces you were incredibly proud of. You had gone out with your friends a few times, always with a wary eye on the door of the local dive, ya know… you never knew who would walk in.

Santo Padre is a small town, after all. And the cracks in your soul were nowhere close to healed. No molten gold to spill in and repair the fissures of your heart, rendering metamorphosis of something broken to something flawed, but beautiful. You sat, alone, still just… flawed. You had never felt less beautiful. Even after all this time. 

And your friend Aneesa, ever the supporter, would stop at nothing if it meant hyping you up enough to leave your cave of blankets, sheet masks, and comfort movies. Your only rule? All nights out with Aneesa were strictly girls’ nights. She was gracious and understanding of this rule, of course. She and Gilly had been together a touch longer than you and Angel. 

And if Angel had ever asked Gilly to ask Aneesa about you? Well… you never heard about it.

Not that Angel would do any of that. Shit like that was so middle-school. 

So, here you were. Back at the clubhouse after months of self-imposed exile for the sake of self-preservation. 

Coco had texted you -- the first you’d directly heard from anyone within Angel’s circle, inviting you to a patch party for some nameless, faceless newbie. The invitation had a string attached to it, of course -- the tattoo artist’s chair in the corner of the clubhouse needed a resident for any partygoers jonesing for new ink. Certainly, the new patch would need something decidedly “Mayan” to show off his new status. 

You had hesitantly agreed -- Aneesa would be in attendance of course, and offered herself as a human-sized buffer to separate you from people you were otherwise hoping to avoid. 

--

Now, perched near the tattoo chair, you busied yourself with setting out your portfolio of completed pieces, sketches and most-requested designs. You wiped down the chair a few more times than strictly necessary, but you wanted to be ready for anyone who might plop themselves down for a new piece of art. 

The main room of the clubhouse was sweltering -- a familiar blend of desert heat, cigarette smoke, citronella, and the smell of citrusy, foamy beer. The dim lighting and thundering bass giving everything a slightly blurry edge in your party-periphery. You glanced across the room at where Aneesa and Gilly sat together on a corner couch, thighs pressed together. Aneesa tossed her head back in a full-bodied laugh at something Gilly had whispered into her ear, swatting his arm -- Gilly’s reciprocal smile demonstrating his pleasure at having garnered such a reaction from his girl. 

A wave of cheers and noise accompanied the thwack of the clubhouse door swinging open -- more Mayans pouring in, jostling one another's shoulders, slapping each other on the arms, and good-naturedly cajoling. 

There was Coco, mid-pull of the cigarette between his lips, quicksilver eyes flashing around the room, taking stock of who was where. EZ followed, million-watt smile on full display as he gently guided a pretty girl with long, inky hair through the bottleneck at the entryway. 

If EZ was ambling his way in, then, surely, not far behind ...

With an arm around a tall, broad guy you hadn’t seen before, was Angel. Midway through a joke with the guy you assumed was the new patch, you took the opportunity to study the man you had once considered the moonlit orbit of your entire world. 

You hated to admit it to yourself, but he looked good… His arms still replete with thick, corded muscle. His hair was a tad longer on top than you remembered, slicked back and belied with cleanly-cropped sides. His smile as warm and blinding as the cruel light at the end of your better dreams, only for you to awake each day alone. 

As you continued your silent study, you were surprised to see -- still adorning his left arm … the tattoo you had given him on the day you had first met. You had thought he would have blacked it out by now … a cover-up on top of a cover-up. 

But there it was --- the soft, leafy greens creeping down his forearm on sharp vines, abutted with bursting blooms -- small, ornate gladiolus buds and a sprig of purpling rosemary. Such a flowery piece on the arm of someone like Angel might have been laughable. But if anyone dared, he would simply stare, stone-faced, with burning eyes and a set jaw, ready to ask just what they thought was so fucking funny. 

To you? It was perfection. It was remembrance. 

‘Cause I loved you, once… 

---

You had moved to Santo Padre from Oakland. Hardly an axis-tilting move, but significant enough to you. 

Your friend Oliver had offered you a seat at his tattoo shop. And you? You were positively itching to get out of the city. A few too many bad nights with a few people you could no longer in good conscience consider friends. 

So, here you sat, resident of one of two chairs in this corner parlour off the so-called “main” drag in sweltering, dusty Santo Padre. 

Your books were pretty clear … Not that you attributed much logic to the ebb and flow in any conceivable pattern of the tide that was tattoo shop patrons, but January seemed an agonizingly slow month. You filled the idle time with keeping the shop neat, disinfecting and re-disinfecting every surface, and organizing Oliver’s books. 

And if you weren’t dreaming up new sketches and designs for the more adventurous prospective client, you were jotting idle lines of lyrical poetry in the margins of your sketchbook. 

If the month dragged on like this, you were sure you could publish an entire book of moody, mid-winter prose that would make Charles Bukowski want to drown himself in stiff Cabernet. 

The dinging of the bell above the parlour door yanked you from your doodling stupor. You looked up to see who had come in, your gaze met with a towering, golden-skinned man donned in a leather vest, his boots squeaking on the shop’s linoleum floor as he made his way to the front desk. He leaned over it and rapped his silver-ringed hand against the top with the ease and comfort of someone who had been in many times before. If the ink trailing his arms was any indication, he may as well be a regular, though you hadn’t seen him in before. There was no way you could forget that jawline, and those shoulders. 

“Yo,” he called in greeting, eyes flashing to where you stood, walking to meet him at the counter. You swore you saw his gaze dart over your form, giving you the old up-down. An easy smile graced his full lips as he made himself comfortable leaning against the counter.  

“Oliver here?” 

You shook your head, the action serving to answer his question and --hopefully-- clear your head of the foggy spell this man was casting over you with his presence alone.

“Nah, sorry. He’s guest-chairing at his buddy’s shop in L.A. Did you have an appointment?” 

“I look like the kind of guy with a datebook?” He chuckled at his own joke. “No appointment, corazón.” 

“Walk-in? Always a risky strategy,” you lilted. 

“What can I say? I’m a risk-taker,” he replied with the practiced ease of breezy flirtation. 

You smiled softly, grabbing Oliver’s calendar from the desk, flipping to the following week. “He’ll be back in next week, if you want to wait?” 

“That’s no good for me, babe, I’ll be out of town.”

“Ah.” You huffed a bit through your nose “Bike rally?” You asked, gesturing at his worn leather kutte, cringing internally a little at the teasing edge your voice had taken on. Were you always this bad of a flirt? 

The man looked at you shrewdly for a beat -- seemingly trying to discern just how much fun you were making of him before taking mercy on you and peeling back the slight layer of awkwardness the conversation had taken.  He scrubbed the back of his neck before confirming,

“Uh, yeah, actually,” he rumbled a chuckle. “Why? You wanna go?” He raised a full brow at you in a mild challenge. 

Your eyes widened at his seemingly-serious invitation. You took in the quirk of his lips, causing the slightest crinkle at the corner of his warm eyes -- the look of a man borne of good humor and who smiled often. It was endearing, and if you were honest, made you melt a little. Even if you now realized he was teasing you. 

“Sorry, guapo,” you cracked a smile of your own, gesturing at the empty shop. “As you can see, I’m a very busy girl. Highest of demand.” 

“Claro,” he replied. “So, I better get in while the getting’s good, huh? Your chair open now?” 

“Uhm,” you chewed your lower lip, now slightly nervous at the prospect of spending more time with this man. “¿Quieres esperar para Olí? I won’t be offended. You haven’t even seen any of my pieces.” 

A beat of silence passed between you both, the man seemingly weighing his options. 

"I mean," You broke the silence and leaned forward, lightly tapping a fingernail against his bicep. “What if my art style doesn’t suit the king of the bikers?” 

"Something tells me you'll suit me just fine." His smirk was full-bore now. He didn't miss a beat, did he?

You were silent, probably for a few moments too long. Was he actually flirting with you? You blinked. He probably flirts with everyone ... get over yourself, you internally chided.

"Angel," the man said, recovering the moment and holding out a large, ringed hand for you to shake. You gave him your name, shaking his hand firmly. 

You nodded your head over your shoulder, toward your chair. 

"Well, come on back, Angel, you can tell me about what we're doing today."

Angel followed you back to your station, and you could swear you felt his dark eyes on your form as you walked, the thought that this man was looking at you with any kind of discerning attention made your cheeks warm a little. He folded his long body into the chair you gestured toward, and you took the rolling seat next to him. He proffered his left arm to you, tracing down a spot on his forearm.

"Just wanna cover this up," he paused, letting you observe the offending ink. "It's about time." 

"'Clara Forever,' huh?" You took in the faded, loopy lettering down his forearm. "Who's Clara?" Your tone was gently teasing by nature, but he seemed to clam up a bit at the question, regarding your sharp tongue with sharper eyes.

"Well, it wasn't forever," he finally bit out, shoulders now a little more tense than before.

"Aw, cariño," you sighed in good-natured taunting. "Didn't anyone ever tell you the number one rule of tattoo? 'Forever' is a certain jinx. And a name is almost never a good idea… unless it's your dog's."

You made a sweeping hand gesture over the rest of his person, your eyes noticeably cataloguing the ink adorning most of the real estate on his arms and what little you could see of the top of his chest. 

"How did anyone let you get this far without telling you the rules?"

He relaxed at the humor in your soft voice, comfortable now that he had confirmation that you were teasing him rather than seriously ridiculing. His posture relaxed once more, he waggled his eyebrows at you, also teasing,

"Le sorprendería saber que nunca fui uno para seguir las reglas?” He asked. Would it surprise you to learn that I was never one for rules? 

"¿Tú?" Your eyes widened in mock surprise. “Para nada.” Not at all.  

"Hey," he swatted your arm gently. "Cuidaté, niña. Insulting your customers? I can see why your chair is empty." He chuckled at his own little jab as you busied yourself gathering your supplies.

You turned and reached for him, holding his arm in one hand and running your now-gloved thumb over "Clara Forever." 

"So?" You queried, "What are we doing with this? How do you want to cover it?" 

Angel shrugged, the leather adorning his shoulders creaking ever-so-slightly with the movement. 

"Figured I would just black it out. I've been putting it off long enough. To hell with her anyway, yaknow?"

"Hmm…" you considered his proposal. "I could do that, if that's what you really want. Easy enough. But…" you trailed.

He shifted in the chair, arching an eyebrow at you.

"But?" He pressed.

Now it was your turn to shrug. You released his arm from your grip and gestured to the booklet containing photos of your most prized work. 

"Why waste the opportunity to give yourself something you really want?" You handed him the book. "Besides… from the looks of things, you have limited real estate left on this arm. May as well fill it with something… more you?” You made to hand him the scrapbook. “You can see what else I've done. See if anything sparks an idea." 

Angel regarded you for a moment. Leaning forward in the chair and slightly more into your space, eyes never leaving yours. He took the edge of the book, deliberately brushing his fingers over yours as he did so, making you hold your breath a little. If Angel noticed, he had the decency not to say anything. 

“Why not?”

You exhaled softly as he leaned away again, flipping his way through your book. 

As he scrutinized the photographic renderings of your pieces, you took the chance to really take him in. His strong jaw and full lips were objectively pleasant, abutted by deliberately-shaped facial hair. He had a prominent brow, something that would surely give away his feelings, even if he decided not to verbalize them. There was no hiding a frown or a smile on that face.  You fiddled with your fingers as he flipped through the pages. 

“This is some seriously top-notch shit, querida,” he voiced his approval, followed by a warm smile. He flipped his way through your minimalist renderings, floral pieces, lines of script, and one particularly involved piece with a burgundy phoenix and lifelike flames...

“Yeah?” You couldn’t hide the pleasure in your voice that he might think of you in a positive light. “Which one do you like?” 

He flipped the book to you, gesturing at a geometric planetary canvas piece you had etched down a prior client’s thigh. 

“Did you think of that one?” 

“The client had their ideas, I just execute, I guess… That was a fun one.” You shrugged, glancing at your shoes scuffing at the linoleum, suddenly feeling very shy under his scrutiny.

“Hey, don’t do that,” he leaned forward once more, his fingers gently brushing along your chin to bring your eyeline to his. “Don’t downplay your talent. You’re a badass. Own that shit.” He gave you a soft wink, releasing your chin from his grip.

Um, wow.

Was it always this hot in the back of the shop? Or were you just spontaneously combusting? Did that seriously just happen?

All you could do was nod. 

“Aight,” he crossed his legs at the ankles, making himself comfortable in the chair. “I’ve decided.” 

“Yeah?” You breathed, “What’ll it be?” 

As if he was doing nothing more complicated than ordering fries, Angel pointed at your book. “Dealer’s choice.” 

“Excuse me?” You couldn’t believe he was just going to trust you to cover up his ex’s name etched into his arm. “¡Oye! Did you hear nothing I said earlier about walk-ins being risky? Nothing about the rules?”

Angel scoffed. “About as well as you heard that I don’t give a shit about rules, babe,” He crossed his arms over his chest. “You like rules, huh?” 

Oh. The rumbling tone his voice had taken on with his last question did not go unnoticed by you. If there was any heat to spare in this shithole desert-town, it was now one hundred percent flooding through your body. 

But you wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of knowing he’d had that effect on you… (although, let’s be real, he probably, definitely, already knew).

“Fine, Angelito,” the mocking tone had returned to your voice. “But unlike Clara, this one’s gonna be forever. If I find out you cover up my art, I’m gonna blacklist you at every shop in Southern California.” You raised an eyebrow at him in a challenge. “Can you live with that?”

Angel nodded. 

“Do your worst, Vince.” 

You wrinkled your nose at the moniker. “Vince?” 

“Yeah,” he seemed so assured in his own cleverness. “Like Van Gogh?” 

You rolled your eyes. 

“Van Gogh!?” You feigned offense, hand-over-heart, lashes batting. “Not even Frida? Come oooon, Angelito.” 

He chuckled. Shifting in the chair and offering his arm to you so you could get him ready. 

“You gotta earn ‘Frida,’ dulcita.” 

“Everyone’s a critic,” you sigh, shifting your focus and taking stock of the space on Angel’s arm and what you had learned of him so far.

Someone who was seemingly confident and breezy, whose rough exterior belied something softer that was just out of reach. Someone who clearly cherished things and people he adored, if the tribute you were now covering was anything to go by. And, by the same token, more than a little impulsive. He wore his heart on his sleeve, apparently literally. 

You gathered your inks and began to work, your playlist and the buzzing of the tattoo gun filling the silence. 

It’s not like you had any reason to know it, but Angel considered you as you were working, admiring your focus and the intensity with which you afforded your art. Was he a little nervous about the fact that you were free-handing a design for him off the top of your head? Maybe... But what was life without a little risk? And he certainly wouldn’t mind a little risk with you. You were, it was obvious to him, very pretty. It was more than a little off-putting how easily you traded quips with him, seemingly unaffected by his presence and everything that came with it. If it wasn’t for the little hitches in your breath when he gently flirted with you, he wouldn’t have anything to go off of in terms of your interest. Something that was both respectable and maddening to him. 

He reached his other arm over to the side-table, grabbing your sketchbook and idly flipping through the etchings. 

Not only was the book filled with little designs, splashes of watercolor mixing with pen and charcoal, but he noticed the cramped words in the margins, perusing at his leisure and ignoring the itching buzz of the needle on the skin of his other arm.

“So, not only a Vince, but a Frost,” he broke the silence. 

You paused your work, wiping your brow with the back of your hand and looking at him with a question in your eyes.

He tapped his finger along the lines of prose in your book. “A poet,” he said. 

“Ah,” you said. “Uhm, more like a bad poet,” you chuckled, embarrassed. You made to begin again, when Angel gently gripped the wrist of your free hand. 

“The fuck did I just say?” He lightly tugged, forcing you to look into his maddeningly honey-dark eyes. “Don’t brush off your shit. Would Frida do that?” 

You regarded his eyes for a moment longer, darting your gaze to his pouty lips, resolutely set in their mission of imparting some of his confidence onto you. 

“Point taken, Angel,” you pulled your hand from his grip, which he released, trailing his fingertips over your hand as he did so. “I’m the greatest poet who ever lived, you’ve convinced me. Fuck William Shakespeare.” 

“Yeah,” Angel boisterously agreed, pleased to be bolstering you but surprising you with the little barking shout, “Fuck that dude!” 

You chuckled, shaking your head and silently returning to your work, the silence filled once more with the pleasant buzzing as you drew away. 

When you were finished, you released Angel’s arm, allowing him to inspect the clean lines of the greenery that you had drawn out of his former-love tribute. What were once loopy, cursive letters were now vines creeping steadily along his forearm, soft, yellow and red gladiolus buds emerging from where Clara’s name had once sat, neatly finished with the clean lines of the purpling sprig of rosemary along the edge of the piece. 

Angel was speechless, leaving you to marinate in your nerves. 

“It’s …” he started, “... flowery,” he supplied, lamely. 

“No shit it’s flowers,” you shot back, feeling a little defensive now, but wanting to make a quick recovery. “And they’re for you, Angel.” 

He seemed puzzled. 

“Gotta say, Vince, this is the first time a chick’s gotten me flowers,” he chuckled, “Guess they won’t die?” 

“They won’t,” you assured. “They really are for you, you know? Look at you, the rest of your ink. What it covered. You’re clearly a man formed by your experiences. It only seemed right, si? Gladiolus? They’re for remembrance. Rosemary? Symbolizes thoughtfulness and memory.” 

You continued as you began wipe the piece clean before wrapping it in new saran-wrap, “Your memories and choices make you who you are, sure. But you never know… something good could bloom from them, through the cracks."

His silence at the end of your little soliloquy was deafening. He hated it, you were sure of it. Fuck. Why did you have to get so fucking clever with him? You should’ve just done some black ink in something tribal, something masculine. What the fuck was wrong with you??

You dared to sneak a glance at his face, only to find that he was already staring at you, lips softly upturned in the hinting bloom of a smile, tarpit eyes twinkling with a good-natured mirth he would come to reserve just for you. 

“Fuck Shakespeare. That was damn beautiful, Frida.” 

The heat had returned to your cheeks, standing quickly. 

You stripped off your gloves, and made to turn your way to the counter, gathering the aftercare sheet and balm for Angel to take with him. 

You spun back toward him before he could get up.

“Oh! Can I take a picture?” You held up your phone, shaking it lightly. “For the ‘gram?” 

“Sure thing,” Angel dutifully held his arm under the lamp you had used to work, letting the fresh ink and colors pop against the golden dunn of his skin. 

You took a few photos, deciding to scroll through your camera roll later on and post your favorite. You made quick work of wrapping his arm in a sheet of clean plastic wrap before relinquishing your hold on his arm, turning to walk back to the counter. 

“Uhm,” you trailed … the telltale squeak of Angel’s boots on the linoleum indicating he was following you back to the front of the shop. You assembled everything into a bag for Angel to take with him, grabbing one of your cards from the front card-holder, and quickly jotting your number on the back next to your where the instagram handle for your art page was neatly printed, hoping he didn’t notice your sneaky little move. 

Angel resumed his comfortable lean against the counter, turning and tilting his forearm, scrutinizing your work. 

“It’s gonna be a clean one-fifty, Angel.”

He looked slightly surprised at the figure, a light frown dusting his features. 

“You sure about that? For the size, and the color, and time and everything? It’s been, like, hours.”

You shrugged. 

“We’ll call it the friends-and-family rate.” 

He gave you a long look, very clearly looking you up and down now, a prolonged edition of the greeting he had graced you with when he had entered your shop mere hours before. 

“And is that what we are now, querida? Friends?” 

How was it even possible for his voice to reach such a low register when he said these things to you?

While your insides flip-flopped at the flirtation, you hoped your face was the impassive mask you were trying to school it into. You subtly brushed your slightly-sweating palms against the frayed hem of your shorts before bringing an elbow up to the counter, resting your chin in your palm, lightly batting your lashes at him before responding...

“Sure,” you replied. There! Easy, breezy, cool-as-you-please. How does it feel, Angel?

“One day with you and friends already?” He rapped his ringed hand gently against the counter. “Can’t wait to see where we’re at tomorrow.” 

He swiped the bag off of the counter, tossing a few crisp bills onto the countertop and a wink over his shoulder before exiting the shop. 

You counted the bills on the counter, watching as Angel left the building.

Holy shit.

Three hundred bucks. He had tipped you 100 percent of what you charged him.

Cheeky.

Maybe Santo Padre wasn’t so bad, after all… 

---

Now, staring at him from across the room made you feel like you were drowning in the sickly-sweet cotton candy of sugared dreams, now lost to time. The saccharine balm melted to acrid wax, leaving you with only the tinge of bitterness. 

You were jostled out of your reverie by the sudden appearance of EZ’s blocky frame, ambling toward you with the same girl from before on his arm. 

He greeted you with a slow wave and a soft smile. 

“Hey, girl,” he greeted, clearly unsure of how much friendlier and closer he should approach you. 

You took mercy on Angel’s sweet, (big) little brother, opening your arms slightly for a hug. EZ took to the gesture like an over-excited golden retriever, scooping you up and spinning you once, before putting you back where he found you, slightly dizzier than you were before. 

He offered your name to the girl by his side, who looked pleasantly amused at the spectacle before her, her amusement melting to recognition at the name EZ had imparted to her. 

Ah. So she knew who you were. 

You tried not to let that realization sour your encounter, easing a practiced smile onto your features and offering your hand to the girl to shake. 

“Oh!” EZ chuckled. “This is Gaby -- er, Gabriela.” 

“Encantada,” you eased, gently shaking her hand before having a realization of your own. “Gaby, as in Leti’s friend?” 

She nodded, a warm smile illuminating her already sunshiney features. You could see why EZ obviously liked her. She had the practiced social grace of a debutante, but the friendly aura of someone you had known for your entire life. 

“I hope you’re keeping Ezekiel out of trouble,” you teased gently. 

“Only as well as I can,” she replied. EZ rubbed the back of his neck as you two gossiped about him like he wasn’t standing right there. 

“Listen, hermanita,” EZ began, swirling the dregs of his beer around the bottle clutched in his hand as the conversation lapsed into comfortable silence, “About Angel --” 

That was a hard no. 

“Coco!” You called as you spotted the lithe man prowling through the crowd after obtaining a drink from the bar, effectively shutting EZ up. 

Coco sidled over, slinging an arm over your shoulder and nodding in greeting to EZ and Gaby. 

“Wassup, chiquita? Over here with all the cool kids?” 

“You know damn well I was never cool enough for the cool kids,” you knocked your shoulder into Coco’s good-naturedly. 

“Dunno about that, pequeña,” Coco took a drag of his cigarette, sighing as he exhaled. “I’ve got some pretty cool body armour thanks to you.” 

“All in a day's work,” you mock-saluted. You were doing great. Keep it light, keep it friendly. You may be able to make it out of this unscathed, after all. 

Gaby and EZ were speaking softly to one another just to your side, as you and Coco continued your conversation. 

“So, who’s the new guy?” You asked, nodding over to where Angel and the still-unnamed newbie were tossing back shots. You tried to ignore that each one had girls placed on each of their laps. Well, mostly you were trying to ignore one girl placed on one lap; tried to ignore as ringed fingers trailed up and down her thigh hypnotically as he howled in laughter at something the new guy had said. 

The longer you stared at the way he was touching her, the more You thought you could feel it on your own skin. And you knew all too well how that touch felt. Memories, make you, right? 

You blinked harshly, turning your face back to Coco’s, only to find his hawkish eyes trained on you as he continued to smoke. Now you were certain he had seen everything you had, and more. And you cursed yourself for slipping. Because nothing slipped past Coco. 

He took mercy on you nevertheless. 

“Andres. He’s aight. You may not remember him from before, when he was just a prospect.” 

“Guess not,” you agreed, shrugging amiably, suddenly very interested in toying with the hem of your flowy little summertime skirt. 

“Mierda,” you heard Coco hiss, glancing up to see none other than the new guy -- Andres -- walk over, his arm around the waist of the girl from his lap, accompanied by none other than Angel Reyes, furnished with his own lap-turned-arm candy. She was giggling in his ear, popping her gum and bumping her hips against Angel’s as she walked by his side. 

You felt EZ stiffen from your other side. 

Great. 

The easy smile you’d had when conversing with Coco now felt positively screwed into place, settling unnaturally, a stranger's face made up of your own features. 

Andres smirked at you in greeting, eyes trailing over you -- the most unwelcome iteration of that gesture in this context to-date. 

“I hear you’re the girl to see about some ink.” 

You bit back the snarky response that rose to your tongue. You see anyone else here, tonto?

“Sure am,” you replied, cool as you pleeeeaseeee. Maybe a little too cool. The ice in your voice was obvious to everyone except the strangers before you. 

You really were doing great, weren’t you? 

“Great,” the new meat brushed the girl off from his side, plopping unceremoniously into your chair. “You did that right?” He pointed behind you to where Angel was standing, gesturing at his arm and your miniscule mural of memorial greenery. 

“Cierto.” You nodded, sparing Angel’s arm the barest of glances.

“Aight, well, none of that girly shit, alright, sweetheart? Angel may have had the good grace not to say anything, but flowers ain’t really my style, yeah?” 

What the fuck.  

Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed Coco visibly tense next to you, obviously displeased at the uncalled-for critique of your work. Of a piece he himself had often admired. He would never admit it, but he thought the story behind it was even better. It’s like you had walked out of some shitty romcom Leti watched with her tittering friends and into Angel’s dreams, sinking yourself beneath Angel's skin like a dream he would recount to all of his friends. Coco knew the most about you by nature of Angel's second-hand stories when you were together. Although Coco thought, once he had met you, Angel's stories didn't do you justice. How wonderful and talented you were. How warm and welcoming.

Angel watched the exchange silently, clearly none too keen to defend the piece you had designed for him. That had come to mean so much to you. 

That stung.

You winced, almost imperceptibly. But you were certain Coco saw it, not much escaping his sniper’s eyes. EZ, with his owlish perception and photographic memory, certainly would have seen it, too. If Angel saw it, it’s not like he was going to say anything now. 

Where the fuck was Aneesa? Wasn’t she supposed to be heading this kind of shit off? You glanced over at the couches in the corner where your friend had previously been sitting with GIlly, and was now nowhere to be seen. Fuckin’ typical. 

“Aight, no más flores." No more flowers. “What were you thinking, then?” 

That was you, ever the professional. 

Andres showed you his phone, a rendering of an old-style beastly cat, like a panther from an old folktale, pulled up in his image search. 

“Something for a warrior,” he puffed his chest slightly. “I was thinking here,” he shrugged out of one side of his new kutte, tugging the button-up to expose one side of his chest. 

“You got it.” 

You set to work, cleaning the area to be inked and getting your tools ready. The rest of the group drifted as the project progressed, clearly not feeling the need to stand there for the entire duration of a tattoo. 

You were acutely aware that Angel hadn’t stepped as far away as the others, circumventing the periphery of yours and Andres’ space, not close, but not far. And he still had yet to even look in your direction. Or acknowledge your existence. 

You tried your best to ignore the icy shard of Angel’s indifference that was currently wedging its way between your ribs and lodging itself firmly once more into your heart. At this point, you guessed it would never heal. 

“Sooooo,” Andres lolled his head to the side of his chair to face you, slinging back the beer from the bottle dangling in his free hand. “I haven’t seen you in a while. You were around a little bit when I was prospecting.” 

You opted not to respond, aware that Angel was likely listening, and you would need to choose any words carefully. Andres had no such reservation, clearly uncaring about who might be listening. He pressed on, each word more infuriating than the last. 

“You were Angel’s little sidepiece for a while, right?”   

You tried to keep your despairing sigh to a quiet little nothing. 

“Sure.” You offered lamely. “Sorry, man, I don’t mean to be rude, but I really work better when I’m not talking.” 

“S’alright, jaina. I can talk enough for the both of us.” 

You hmm’d nonchalantly at that, lip imperceptibly curling over your teeth in distaste at the moniker. You chose instead to focus on the piece. You wouldn’t give a shitty tattoo, even if this guy was a douchebag. And the pleasant buzz of the tattoo gun. Maybe you were etching the lines a little sharper than strictly necessary. If he noticed, Andres gave no indication, continuing on with his diatribe: 

“So, what happened? I mean, Angel knocked that other chick up? Ouch, right?” 

You were now seeing red, the edges of your vision blurring slightly with angry, pinpricking tears. Thank fuck you were just about done with this. 

“But that’s the life right? I mean, we’re not exactly known for being steady with just one chick. You know how it goes ...” He eyed you up and down again, lingering a little too long on your legs before finishing his thought with a smirk “... Clearly.” 

You hated his use of “we,” like he was in any way, shape, or form worthy to be in the class of man EZ, Coco, Bishop, or, hell, even Angel, was. None of them would talk to you like this. No matter what Angel had done. 

You shut off the gun, pushing back from the space with Andres, spinning in your chair, and grabbing the clean wipes for Andres’ fresh ink. As you dabbed the area and made to bandage it, the oblivious biker grabbed your wrist. None of the teasing fun or gentleness in the same gesture that Angel had imparted when you had first met. No, Andres’ grip hurt. It was all bruising possession and entitlement. 

“I think we would have fun, you and I.” He leaned forward and far too into your space, the stale stink of warm beer heavy on his breath. 

You wrenched your grip from his, standing quickly and offering him a tight smile, cheeks flaming with your anger and embarrassment. How dare he speak so trivially of your relationship with Angel. How dare he think you were so easily won with his kutte and shitty attitude. 

“Uhm,” you tugged your fingers agitatedly through the ends of your hair, chewing your lip. “You’re all set, Andres. Aftercare sheet is on the table next to you. It’s on the house. Happy patch party!” Your voice sounded so shrill and fake in your own head, but you just didn’t have it in you to care at the moment. 

With that, you quickly whirled on your heel, in a distressed flurry past the Angel-shaped blur who had been watching the entire encounter, and out of the clubhouse door into the cooler late-night air. 

Getting heavy to breathe in this room together. It’s so awkward, we can’t seem to do it better. Can’t we just fake a smile and put our shit to the side? 

---

Angel had waited a whopping 18 hours to text you after your clandestine tattooed meet-cute. 

You were in the middle of exchanging consultation e-mails with a prospective client when your phone had buzzed. 

“Vince?” The text read. 

You bit back a smirk before responding,

“Vince? No Vince here. This is Frida’s phone.”

You watched as the little bubbles appeared in the corner, disappeared for a second, and then reappeared. You were grateful for the little manifestation of Angel’s hesitance. It made him seem more human. And it made you appreciative that he was clearly trying to choose his words with you, when words had seemed to come so easily to him when you had met. 

“My bad. Oh, beautiful, talented Frida.” 

You couldn’t hold back the smile on your features now. Grateful it was still you and only you in the shop so that no one could see your “obviously-texting-a-cute-guy” face. 

“It’s nice to hear from you, Angel. Good thing you didn’t throw away the card.” 

“That card was clearly a gift, querida. Much like the pretty flowers on my arm.” He snapped you a picture of his tattoo, the healing process underway. 

“Looks great!” You sent, cringing at your lack of ability to effectively flirt via text. It was something that your friends had teased you relentlessly about back in the Town -- your notorious lack of game. No! New home, new you! Be cute. Be cute. 

“So, if I’ve given you all the gifts, what do I get?” You sent with a “thinking” emoji. 

Angel at least had the decency to wait a minute or two before replying, either thinking about his response or keeping you in suspense… you weren’t sure. But you were grateful for the little opportunity to catch your breath. How did he make you so speechless when he wasn’t even in the room with you? Some things just weren’t fair. 

“Niña, I paid you for this ink. What more could you possibly want from me?” 

Tricky Angel. Zorro. Like a little fox, he had effectively maneuvered the conversation back to you -- the ball was in your court. Would you tell him what you wanted?

You chewed the end of your fingernail thoughtfully before responding. 

“You texted me, boy. Are you sure it isn’t you who wants something?”

If only your friends could see you now. That was damn smooth. 

“Boy?” 

You snorted to yourself. Trust a guy like Angel to get hung up on something small like that. The bubbles reappeared. 

“I was thinking about this pretty girl I met the other day. Hell of an artist. But a shit poet. Thought I would see if she was free sometime?” 

Angel was merciful. You could kiss him. Had he seriously just taken all the weight out of this conversation? Your heart felt a million pounds lighter in your chest, knowing he was asking you. The wave of relief that he wanted to see you again crashed through you, replaced in the tide with the backdraft of a feeling of mischievousness. You wouldn’t let him off so easily.

So you waited before responding. Let him sweat a little, right?

Only… you weren’t sure Angel was sweating as much as you were, fingers itching with the desire to text him back and accept immediately. 

When what had felt like an eternity (but in reality had only been about seven minutes) had passed, you picked up your phone, opening the conversation with Angel. 

“She’s free next Thursday … After your bike week, el rey de los bandoleros.” 

You put your phone back down on the counter, grinning like an idiot, feeling like you had just swallowed a bunch of bubbles. You entertained the notion that if your combat boots weren’t keeping your feet weighted to the floor, you would have floated away. 

Your phone dinged once more.

“See you then, mi reina.” 

Time passes slowly the more you want it to go quickly. And whenever you have a deadline you’re dreading, it gallops ahead. Time really is that bitch, and she does not give a fuck about your feelings. 

The following Thursday felt like it took a year to arrive. But it found you closing up the shop, your stomach fluttering with butterflies and pop rocks, adorned in your favorite pair of jeans and boots, a clean, flattering tank top that showed off your own ink. You hoped it was fine for whatever Angel had in mind. 

Honestly, he hadn’t said anything about your date. A few flirtatious texts here and there? Obviously. You sent him photos of the pieces you had done for new clients. He sent you ridiculous selfies and a couple of group pics of him and his friends at the biker event. One guy who kept popping up in the photos, Angel had told you, was his “little” brother. But there was nothing “little” about that dude. 

You loved seeing all of Angel’s goofy, smiling faces. Treasuring the photos in your small moments of quiet downtime. 

The rumbling of a bike engine greeted your ears, like the seductive purr of a large cat. You glanced up, a full Cheshire grin alighting your features at the sight of Angel’s gorgeous, deep forest green bike, and the man of the hour looking very at home on the seat. 

He rolled to a stop in front of you, unclipping his helmet and dismounting with his winning trademark smirk, ambling over to greet you. 

“Frida,” he scooped you into a hug, his tall frame causing you to lift, your toes now barely brushing the ground as he brought you to his height. He pressed a soft kiss to your check, setting you down gently and letting you get your bearings, chuckling pleasantly at the obvious, dizzying effect his greeting had had on you.

“Angelito,” you returned. “Back in one piece?”

“Hail to the king, baby,” he countered. 

“Yeah, yeah,” you teased, scuffing the toe of your boot into the gravel of the lot. “So, where are you taking me, o benevolent one?”

“Just gonna hafta find out.” He handed his helmet to you, helping you clip and tighten it beneath your chin. “Ever ridden before?”

“Uhm, well, sure” you replied too assuredly, quickly realizing your slip. “I mean, no. Not like that. I mean, yes, like that. But not on one of these.” Fuck. Could you be more embarrassing? 

Angel released a full-bellied laugh at your response, his head tossing back a little. 

“You’ll have to tell me more about alla that later, cielo.” You put your head in your palm willing the embarrassment to go away. Angel quickly pried your hands away, cupping your cheeks with his own warm hands, long fingers brushing your cheekbones reverently. “In the meantime, just hang on, okay?” 

You nodded, still cursing your idiot-brain that had partnered with the dirtiest corners of your mind to take over your mouth. Shut the fuck up, dumb-dumb. 

You clung to Angel as he drove, your hands roaming his firm torso probably a little too-familiarly. You enjoyed the way the wind whipped around you, tugging at yours and Angel’s clothes as you made your way up the canyon overlooking the desert that was Santo Padre. 

Angel parked his bike on the ridge overlooking the town, the sun beginning its descent in the desert sky in swirling hues of pastels and cotton candy pink-purple-blue overtaking the orange hue. 

You had never been up here before, and you told Angel as much. He looked pleased at that, pleased that he was the one to show you the best view of the Santo Padre sunset. 

Angel busied himself unpacking the bags on the side of his bike while you enjoyed the scenery. Pulling out a couple of wrapped sandwiches and bottles of water, he handed yours to you, coming to stand next to you on the ridge. 

"Thanks," you acknowledged, looking at the offerings. "What, no beer?"

Angel chuckled a little at that.

"I ain't tryna liquor you up, niña. Besides, you want warm beer that's been rattling around on my bike all afternoon?"

You crinkled your nose a little at that. "No," you decided. "Never mind. Besides, I'm more of a whiskey girl."

Angel glanced at you, sipping on his own water idly.

"Really?"

"Really," you confirmed. "Don't tell me you're one of those guys who thinks it's impressive when a girl drinks whiskey because it's such a 'man thing.' "

Angel held up one hand, defensively. 

"Nunca. Just took you for more of a… dunno? Maybe a rum kinda girl?"

"Don't think so. For now, though? Water and sandwiches do me just fine. Whiskey can come later." You took a bite of the now-unwrapped sandwich. "This is good," you confirmed around a slightly-full mouth. "Did you make this?"

"Of course. Pop owns the butcher shop down the street from your parlour. Sliced the meat myself, an' all," he said, a little proudly now that he knew you approved of his sandwich-making skills.

"Bueno," you giggled. "Thank you for this, Angel. Really. This is one of the nicest nights I've had since moving here." You shuffled a little closer to where he was standing, looking in his eyes as you thanked him.

"Bah," he waved away your compliments, "it ain't alla that. This can't be the most exciting thing you've done since getting here."

"Maybe it is," you pressed. "I dunno. Maybe I'm too boring for the king of the bikers?"

"I doubt that very seriously, querida," he turned his body so he was facing you now, sandwich long gone, fiddling with the water bottle in his hands. "You play your cards right, I'll introduce you to the rest of the club. Then things'll get really exciting."

You blinked. One date and he already was thinking about introducing you to his friends? Your inner shy romantic (okay, not so "inner," right? You're pretty clear about who you are) was doing little somersaults in your chest. 

You must've been silent a beat too long because Angel was quick to supplement, "Only if you want."

"I'd like that," you confirmed, nodding and smiling gently. 

"So, are you gonna tell me what brings an East Bay girl here?" 

You raised a brow. You didn't remember telling him where you moved from. He rubbed his hand along the back of his neck nervously, realizing you'd caught his slip. 

"I maaaay have scrolled your Instagram?"

You finished your sandwich, thinking about how much you wanted to tell him.

"Just time for a change of scenery. Olí is an old friend, and he offered me a job. I think he wants to travel more." You shrugged, "It just felt like it was time. Plus, I dunno… I like it here. Much quieter."

Angel nodded at that, not having the heart to tell you that his club was not at all quiet and was the source of the disruption in the otherwise-quaint town. 

You kept talking, telling him about the friends you'd left behind, your old shop, weekends spent in the park surrounding Lake Merritt, and going to Raiders games. Angel took in your features as you spoke, the golden light of the sunset making you glow like something out of a dream he'd had once. Your eyes sparkled as you talked about things you loved, the books and art that inspired your poetry. How you'd gone to art school. You were something.

"-- Sorry, I'm rambling," you breathed in a rush, flush with the amount of talking you'd been doing in a record amount of time. "What? Do I have something in my teeth?"

Angel realized he'd been staring as long as you'd been talking.

"No, querida. Nothing in your teeth." He gave you a dazzlingly white smile.

"Oh thank God," you returned his smile with a small one of your own, shying a little under his gaze, and wondering how long he had been looking at you like that as you'd talked.

He leaned over you now, his height giving him the definite advantage as he'd -- not unwelcomely-- invaded your space. He brought one hand up to cup your chin, his dark eyes revealing flecks of sparkling gold in the pastel wash of the sunset as his gaze once again met yours.

You saw his quick glance down at your lips, you unconsciously giving a small nod before his warm lips met yours.

Oh.

You had obviously been kissed before, been the recipient of past romantic attention. All of that paled in comparison, melting away as Angel's full lips maneuvered over yours, both of his large, calloused hands gently brushing your cheeks as he cupped your face, sliding one hand down to rest on the side of your neck.

You sighed lightly, one of your own hands twined into his shirt, the other resting on the side of his firm torso. 

Angel took the opportunity to slide his tongue past your lips, your own brushing against his as the kiss deepened.

 You were in no hurry for the kiss to end, enjoying the way everything about Angel was so warm, something that was surprisingly welcome, despite the ever-present desert heat of Santo Padre. You could get used to this. 

You had only known Angel a short time, realistically. Your one meeting spawning a series of flirtatious texts and snaps, and now this date that, while low-key, felt almost too perfect to be real. He made you feel safe, desired.

You could already feel him slipping beneath your skin to rest in a special place in your heart. And while you as a person were generally reticent to share that part of yourself with anyone, you had a feeling Angel could take up permanent residence there. If he wanted. 

You dropped from your tip-toes, effectively breaking the kiss.

Angel blinked, looking down at you and noting the pleasant glow on your skin, lips now slightly swollen from his kiss. He could get used to this.

The rest of the evening passed in a pleasant blur, trading quips and stories as the sun went down. Angel told you about his club, his brothers. About his pop and Ezekiel, and how at one time, he enjoyed being the bigger brother, teasing, pranking and lording over EZ until EZ had hit his growth spurt and could (and would) definitely hit back. 

As he drove you home, you snuggled a little bit against him, pressing yourself into his back and enjoying the way you swore you could feel his heart pounding through the kutte and over the rumble of the bike and the road.

He'd dropped you off with a parting kiss and the promise of another date.

Another date turned into several. Time you weren't at the shop was now spent with Angel, showing him what you were working on, inviting him over for dinners and to watch mindless television while he told you what he could about his day. 

The both of you were slowly peeling back the layers around your respectively guarded hearts, revealing more of yourselves only to be met with pure acceptance by the other. Even blindados had to take off their armour at some point. 

You cherished your time with Angel, and he quickly found himself stumbling, head over his own biker-booted heels for you.

After a few months had passed, he had brought you to meet the club. You had manifested nothing but general acceptance of his lifestyle and were eager to meet the people Angel had so obviously cared for. Who had helped shape him into the brash but conscientious person he was with you. 

And one sunny afternoon had found you bringing lunch you had made for the entire club over to the scrapyard, Angel agreeing with your plan. You never were one to show up empty-handed. 

As you walked across the yard, past the gate, and into the clubhouse, your eyes adjusting to the dim interior from the blinding sun outdoors, Angel bounded over to greet you. Taking the bag full of homemade goodies from your arms, he pressed quick kisses to your cheeks, and one to your forehead. 

He turned, met with the pleasantly-surprised stares of his brothers. He announced your name to the room before turning to you, pointing at each man and supplying a name. You nodded, smiling and offering a warm wave to each. 

The man you knew to be EZ from all of Angel's initial texts and photos quickly strode over to you, shaking your hand in his impressively firm grip before bending down to press a quick kiss to your cheek with a,

"Bienvenido, hermanita. Angel's told me a lot about you. Won't shut up, really," giving you a sly wink as Angel swatted EZ's arm in annoyance at his brother's revelation.

Boys.

The smaller man with the sharp eyes and full curls you knew to be Coco made his way over to where you were now seated as Angel went to get you both drinks, the other men digging into your offerings as you made yourself comfortable.

He sat next to you, tossing you a, "You mind?" Lighting his cigarette after you’d shaken your head.

He studied you through his own plumes of smoke before leaning across the table and speaking to you, lowly and with an almost conspiratorial rasp to his voice,

"You did that cover-up for Angel?" He asked on a smooth exhale.

"Mhmm," you nodded. "He gave me free reign. I was nervous he'd hate it."

Coco seemed to chew over your words for a dragging moment. You shifted in your seat. He was definitely sizing you up.

"Bold move, pequeña, giving the secretario of a biker club a sleeve of flowers." 

"I suppose it was," you sighed, more than a little uncertain now. "But it felt meaningful, right, I guess. I just sort of… started drawing. I… think it worked out, though?" You trailed off.

Coco nodded. "It's a fuckin' good piece, mami. Angel told me what you'd said about memories making you who you are." He snorted lightly through his nose. "It's funny. We've never even met before, and you're already sounding like me." 

A small smile played across his lips, returning it with one of your own.

"I'm glad you approve," you nodded. "Angel's opinion obviously matters, and don't tell him I told you this, but it means alot coming from one of his family." 

And that's what they were. His family. You could see it. The obvious camaraderie and care underlying each of their actions with the other. You admired the system of support, cushioned by good humor, despite being flung regularly into harsh reality. It was clear -- they were there for one another.

Coco's voice broke your train of thought,

"Maybe you got space for me in your books one-a these days?"

Your small smile was a full-blown, sunny grin now.

"Of course. Anytime you want to drop by, you're more than welcome." 

"Gracias, chica." Coco leaned across the table and patted your shoulder before getting up and taking his leave.

And so it went. The boys would filter through your shop. Olí teasing you about his offense that all of his most lucrative, inked clients were now going to you. 

You enjoyed the time working on pieces for them afforded you -- offering you a glimpse into their inner workings, what they felt was important enough to take up permanent residence along their skin. Making idle chit-chat with you while you worked. And always, always sharing embarrassing little anecdotes about Angel. 

The months passed with you and Angel, finding comfort in your unpredictable, but welcome, respective routines. 

One night in particular found Angel wrapped up in your embrace, the physical embodiment of your gradual and growing trust in one another.

He had arrived home more than a little rattled, his eyes wildly darting to the corners of the room before settling in you, exhaling a shaky breath before striding the length of the room and crushing you to him, pressing a bruising kiss to your lips. 

You understood he probably couldn't tell you what had happened, but you asked anyway, needing him to know you would hear him.

"Angelito, everything okay?" 

He shook his head softly in the negative, but didn't elaborate. 

You pressed a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth. 

"Okay. We don't have to talk about it," you wound your arms up and around his neck, pulling him impossibly closer to you. "But it's going to be okay. I've got you. I won't let go."

He gripped your wrists, pulling your hands from his neck and sliding your arms down, bringing them to rest around his waist. Once he had positioned you where he wanted, he brought his hands to cup your cheeks, eyes heavy and dark with the weight of his stormy thoughts. 

He nodded at what you had said before bringing his lips back to yours. 

You brought one hand up to meet his, where it rested along your cheek. You twined your fingers through, joining your hands while breaking the kiss. You lead him through the apartment, bringing him to the bedroom. You had music softly playing from your speaker in the corner, candles lit to bathe the room in ambient glow and a warm, honey smell, all in anticipation of Angel's eventual arrival home.

You silently gestured for him to sit on the edge of the bed, where you took your seat next to him. 

You tugged the leather kutte from his shoulders, folding it reverently and placing it on the chair near the bed. He exhaled in relief, shoulders sagging once the leather manifestation of his obligation to a darker world had been removed. The weight of the world a little less on the mantle of his shoulders. 

You turned your attention to his feet next, unlacing and tugging off his boots. Then, his belt. 

Once he was just in his jeans and his t-shirt, you resumed your seat at his side, bringing him back into your embrace and carding your hands through his hair, as his head rested on your shoulder. 

Angel spoke, voice cracking as he broke the seal of silence in the room. 

"It was… it was awful, Frida." He sighed. "I do everything they ask. It's my job … Fuck. Sometimes I wonder how much more my heart can take. But then, I get to come home to you." 

His breath was shuddering now.

And while you didn't always know what to say -- it was a rare sight to see Angel so rattled. But you were a caregiver by nature, ready to give him the pieces of yourself that would make him feel whole.

You guided him down so that he could recline, you came to rest at his side, winding your arms around his torso, your face turned into his neck, cuddling him as he came down from the mania of his emotional high.

The moments passed, Angel's breathing leveling again as you stroked his hair in time to the soft music.

He turned his head to look at you, admiring the flutter of your lashes as you blinked at him, your gaze warm and adoring, full of twinkling fairy light and starshine. 

"Te amo, querida," Angel breathed. This was not the first time he had said it to you during your months together. But each time felt as momentous as the first, each declaration of love felt like the slip of something sweet, and you were determined to store it in your heart and mind forever.

"I love you too, Angel. More than anything," you murmured. "I love your smile, your sense of humor, your strength." You pressed kisses to his face and neck with each admission. "Mostly, I love your strength. And that you trust me enough to tell me when you don't always feel it."

He sucked in a shuddering breath before whispering to you,

"I love your mind. How creative you are. How you see everything so beautiful, just like you," he hmm’d. "Mostly I love your trust. And that you choose to give it to me." 

You kissed him again, leaning over him with your entire body, pressing your palms gently into his shoulders. 

As your kiss deepened, you each began to tug at the other. His hands carded through your hair, tugging gently, but firmly. You lifted his shirt from his torso, the kiss breaking so you could peel it away.

You divested one another of each layer, baring yourselves to the other, body and soul. Again, this wasn't the first time you had done this. But this felt momentous nonetheless. 

Angel skimmed his hands over your form, running his hands softly down and over your breasts, loving your soft sigh at his touch. 

You leaned over him once more, reluctantly removing his hands from you, and placing them gently down at his sides. 

"Your heart is mine, mine to protect," You hummed softly, invading his senses and placing kisses down Angel's neck and to his chest, trailing your lips lovingly over Angel's heart, and pressing one last deliberate kiss there. "And I take my job very seriously." 

As you kissed him, you lightly trailed your fingers down his torso, coming to rest at his hip.

Your declaration was met with silence; you glanced up at Angel through your lashes only to find him already looking down through heavy-lidded eyes at you, his now swirling with some unnamed, weighted emotion.

You trailed your hand across his hip, not breaking eye contact as you took his hardening length into your hand. He inhaled sharply at the sensation of your grip, but refused to look away as you began to pump him slowly, still pressing kisses to his hips, torso and thighs. 

"Please, querida," Angel gasped.

"Please, what?" You murmured back, your voice taking a throaty register you reserved strictly for private moments with your beloved.

"Please… use your pretty mouth?" 

You nodded. 

"Relájate, baby, I've got you," you assured. Sweeping your hair back, the action washing Angel with the sweeping comfort of your scent as you made your way lower down his body. 

Angel slumped back against the bedspread, glittering galaxy eyes still trained on you as you lavished him with attention. 

You took the opportunity to flatten your tongue, licking a broad stripe up the length of him, one hand braced against his firm thigh, the other holding him gently at the base of his cock as you worked.

You swirled your tongue around the tip of him, delighted at his throaty moans, feeling the effect they had on you, making you feel like you were burning from the inside, feeling the slickness from your own center as your thighs rubbed together. 

Taking Angel wholly into your mouth now, you bobbed over him, relishing in the heavy feel of him in your mouth and the throaty groans you received from Angel in response. 

Before you could spend too long lavishing him with attention, Angel tugged on your hair at the base of your neck. Following his grip, you lifted your head and released him from, watching (a little greedily) as his thick length bobbed against him when you relinquished him from the confines of your mouth. 

He guided you up his body, hand still knotted in your hair, pushing his mouth onto yours, uncaring of the saliva on your lips and chin, and the taste of himself on your tongue. 

You straddled his hips, surging the rest of the way up his body and effectively deepening the kiss. The hand that was once in your hair now made its way to loosely grip at your throat, the other skimming his way down your breasts, across your ribs and toward your center.

As his fingers traced through your folds, you involuntarily rolled your hips into his hand, alight at his touch, and desperately seeking more. 

Angel touching you was like the shock of a live wire. Every time felt just as electric as the last, goosebumps erupting across your flesh as his fingers traced across your skin. 

He chuckled through your fused mouths, drawing back at your reaction and the wetness he found between your legs.

"Eager, amor?" Every word fell that fell from his lips sounded like a dangerous purr.

You nodded, drunk on the way Angel's hand gently squeezed your throat, while the other was teasingly making its way to-and-fro across your wet folds, occasionally making his way up to lightly circle and press his thumb over your clit, making your eyelids flutter. Your hips continued to rock against his hand, silently begging for more, his teasing touch making you more than a little crazy.

"Yeah?" Angel asked, his voice thick and syrupy, the timbre like dark clouds. "That shit turn you on? Sucking my cock?"

His words combined with his touch made another rush of heat flood through you. You were certain you would pass out, that your knees would buckle. And you were doing so well, holding your place up and over his hips while he played with you.

The hand on your throat gripped a little tighter, causing your eyes to flutter shut.

"Nuh-uh, baby," he shook you lightly, all mirth gone from his eyes, no more pleasant, smiling crinkles at the corners. His full lips pressed firmly together. "I asked you a question. You answer that shit"

He pressed two fingers teasingly against your entrance, refusing to insert them, despite the little roll of your hips.

"Y-yeaahh," you sighed, head tossed back, "I-I fucking love it -- love you, Angel."

He rewarded you by sliding a long finger into you, allowing you to ride his hand. The hand still around your throat guiding you forward, over him, allowing him to press hot, open-mouthed kisses, first to your lips, dirty and raw, like an exposed nerve in his unabashed want for you. 

He relinquished his hold on your neck, allowing him to trail his lips and his tongue there, kissing you softly behind your ear, down and around your neck to your collarbones, all while his fingers continued their earnest treatment inside of you, his thumb now pressing to your clit, your warming crescendo building.

Using his height and the fact that you were straddling him, Angel encouraged you to lean forward, allowing him to capture one of your breasts in his grip, his mouth following. His warm tongue swirled around your nipple before he sucked the bud into his mouth, grazing his teeth ever so gently over your sensitive flesh.

Angel's attention was rewarded with your gasping sighs and breathy moans. How anyone could make you feel this good was beyond you. Angel had an uncanny ability to elicit responses and feelings like no other person before him.

You felt the thrumming hum and warm, sticky wave of your orgasm building as Angel worked his fingers inside of you, stroking that particular spot from within that he knew would be your undoing.

"O-oh," you whined, keening noises caught in your throat. "Please, baby, I n-need you. Need you inside." 

The room was sweltering. Or was it just you? Angel withdrew his fingers smoothly, not sparing you the chance to be disappointed at the loss of feeling as he smoothly flipped the two of you, guiding you down to the mattress and hovering over your trembling form. 

"Yeah?" Angel asked. "You ready for that, querida?"

You gazed up at him through your lashes, longingly. He would give everything, anything, that he had in the world if you only looked at him like that forever, gaze full of warmth, heat, and unfiltered, starry adoration. 

"Mmm," you nodded, "Please? Angel?"

He was only a man, after all. Who was he to refuse when you asked so prettily for him?

He gently turned you over so that your back was to him, running his hands down the slope of your back and guiding you to your knees, propping your hips up.

Positioning himself behind you, Angel resumed his grip on your throat, using it to guide your head around so that he could kiss you again while he guided himself inside of you. You moaned into the kiss at the sensation, never tired of feeling every ridge of his thick cock sliding into you like he belonged there.

Angel groaned, breaking the kiss and shaking his head, chuckling darkly, his eyes flashing as he swore, 

"Never fuckin' get tired of that shit," he began to move his hips, using his other hand that was gripping your hip to guide you along his lengthy, meeting his thrusts. "Never tired of your pussy … You're so … good."

Angel's words coupled with his thrusts were driving you crazy, causing you to eagerly meet him with the momentum of your own hips, the heat in the room spliced with the distinctive noise of his skin meeting yours. 

Angel, leaning over your back, crowded your every sense, the taste of him, of his kisses still lingering on your tongue. Your ears met with the harmony of your two bodies and the filthy words and sounds coming from Angel's mouth. The sight of him was as intoxicating as ever, as you looked over your shoulder at him, the shadows of the room playing across his tawny skin, glimmering in the low light with the sheen of sweat you knew was also present on yours.

“Say my name,” Angel pants into the slick skin on your back, kissing a line down your spine, his body covering yours possessively.

You were too caught up in everything Angel, failing to respond quickly enough for his liking as you gasped at every thrust.

A crack of heat flashed across your ass, Angel swatting you there once. You should be annoyed, but you couldn't lie -- you fucking loved it when he was like this. Only for you. 

"A-angel," you sighed, the crescendo of your orgasm climbing, threatening to burst any second, you tightening around Angel.

"Bueno," he purred. "You close? Yeah, you fucking are," Angel snarled, taking in the way you threw your hips back desperately to meet him, squirming one hand beneath you to touch yourself. "You can have it, baby, I'll make it good. You just gotta ask pretty for me." 

You deepened the arch in your back, flexing your hips back toward Angel, and gripping the bedspread before you in your fingers, face pressed flush with the sheets, your other hand still pressed to your clit.

Angel tilted your head, leaning over further and gripping your jaw, squeezing to pucker your cheeks. He kissed you, sucking your lower lip between his. He kissed you gently, a deceptive contrast to the hand gripping your face, his hips snapping into yours at a now-brutish pace. He pecked another light kiss to your lips, followed by another, gently biting your lip and dragging it lightly as he drew his face from yours.

He released your lips as you whispered another plea into his mouth.

"Come on then, baby." 

Your orgasm washed over you, pinpricks of striking matches splintering across your skin, followed by a euphoric wave of white-heat, blissfully soothing every nerve it had just lit.

Angel followed, emptying himself into you with a few final thrusts, groaning at the way you tightened just so around him. 

He withdrew gently, collapsing next to you as you both caught your breath. 

Your lashes fanned your cheeks as you blinked hazily at the form of your love through the soft glow of the room.

"I do love you, Angel," you told him, leaning across the sheets to rub your nose back and forth against his, pressing a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth, grazing your soft fingers against the lines of his forehead, easing them away into an expression of soft serenity. "Always."

---

Now, you walked out of the clubhouse, around to the side of the porch, a quiet corner away from the noise. Willing yourself to calm down as small, hot tears trickled their way, uninvited, down your cheeks. 

Your thoughts were moving a million miles a second, the battle of luck you were waging with the universe saw you quickly losing. 

The year you spent with Angel replaying itself in your mind. Every word, every touch, that goddamn tattoo. Remembrance, my ass. How you would hold him when he came home too high-strung and strung-out emotionally for words. How you would save the best leftovers for him when you knew he had been away and would be craving the Chinese food from the place down the block when he got back. How he felt inside of you on the coldest nights and in the most tender mornings. How he would whisper enchanting endearments into the shell of your ear as he rolled his hips into yours, your mind and body completely his. How you would wear his shirts and overly-large socks around his apartment, leaving doodles and scribbled poems on sticky notes for him to find in his moments alone. How he kissed you warmly, his tongue sweeping into your mouth like syrupy possession that you never wanted to end. 

How it did end. How he had thrown out your world, crumpled it into a crushed paper ball and tossing it away with the carelessness of a child. Ending things with seemingly no spare thought for your feelings. How EZ had let slip when he saw you in town that Angel was expecting a kid, the timing of everything suddenly making a little more sense. How it made you feel, now that you knew you were wholly his, but he was never entirely yours. How you had kept to yourself in the months that followed, the cracks in your heart widening until you felt like you would drown in them. 

The pulse of your feelings for him, always strong; they warm you. But it was still you they all left behind. 

Your thoughts were still swirling when, off to the side, you heard the porch door open and close again, and you prayed that whomever was coming outside was going to have a smoke out front, or that they were on their way out. That they wouldn’t find you. 

But of course, these things never worked out how you wanted them. You cursed any god you could think of for just how un-fucking-lucky you were sometimes. 

Because, really, who other than Angel was making his way around the porch to you? Taking in your hunched form as you leaned over the railing, looking anywhere but at him. 

Of fucking course.

You kept your eyes down, focused in your clasped hands as you leaned over the railing, refusing to look at him. 

And now? Now he was looking at you, and it's the one time you wished he wouldn't. 

One thing you wouldn't do, now that he was here, was break the silence first. He didn't want to hear what you'd had to say, so why would you grace him with your thoughts now? Petty? Sure. But you weren't the one in there with your hands on some ass while a so-called friend harassed your ex. 

A few uncomfortable beats dragged on before Angel broke the silence, shattering it like glass with a verbal hammer.

"What'd he say to you?"

You remained silent.

"What the fuck did he say, Frida?" His voice angry now, demanding. The same tone he used to break your heart. 

"It ain't working. Not my fuckin’ fault you can't see it."

You rolled your eyes, another shard of icy glass painfully wedging into your heart at his use of the name. Still refusing to look in his direction when you replied, softly but sharply, 

"You know exactly what he said. What I'm trying to figure out is why, exactly, you care."

"I care, Frida," was all he offered.

You snorted in response. Undignified, sure. But couldn't he see this was killing you? Where was his mercy?

"I do," he insisted, the thud of his boots across the wood of the porch indicating that he was crossing to you, coming to stand a ways behind you.

"I'm not going to do this with you. He said some shit. It's over. We move on. What more could you have to say about that?"  

Keep it simple, keep yourself safe. You gave him nothing to say back. And then… 

"And if I told you I wanted you? I wanted you back?"

You whipped your head around to -- finally -- meet Angel's eyes, which you did for a fleeting moment before zeroing in once more on your shoes, staring resolutely at the ground. You were not going to let him see you cry again, godfuckingdamnit.

The fleeting glimpse of his face, of his eyes meeting yours once more after all this time, was enough. He looked more tired up close than he had before. Still unfair in his striking beauty, his midnight eyes still enough to pull you in, drown you in their oceanic depths. You hated it. Hated that he still had that power over you. But try as you might, you couldn't hate him. 

Your silence was killing Angel with the precision of a thousand miniscule cuts. Each deeper than the last. Until he couldn’t take it any longer. He reached through the space between, for where your hand rested on the railing. You saw the gesture coming, and whipped your hand away at the last moment, cradling it to your chest like he had burned you. You faced him fully now.

You chuckled softly, wryly, and devoid of any humor before you muttered, "You don't want me, baby. Please don't lie."

“And how do you know that’s a lie?” Angel mumbled thickly, working his tongue around the words, through his own emotion. 

You scuffed your toe into the hewn wood of the deck, shrugging before you responded, simply, 

“If I was what you wanted, you wouldn’t have gone looking elsewhere. And you certainly wouldn't have found someone else. You wouldn’t have said what you said, ended it like you did, with everything on just your terms.” You sighed deeply, with the rattle of tears lodged into your chest before you spoke again, “You made up your mind and never even let me say a word. If you wanted anything to do with me, you could have at least given me a word.” 

Angel blinked, hard. The familiar pressure of real tears building behind his eyes. You were right of course. And fuck, weren't you always? You'd always told him like it was, harsh truths that only you could cushion in your gentle, empathetic way. 

"Please, querida, just let me explain what happened--" 

You held up your hand, shaking your head firmly, effectively silencing Angel.

"No!" Much softer now, "No. I- I'm sorry, Angel, I don't mean to be rude. But, no." Your voice small, but clear, as you'd finally gotten your opportunity to say something back to him. "I, uh, I don't want to hear any explanation, and you really don't have to?"

You lilted the last part like it was a question, but continued on. 

"You, um, you've had a lot of time to tell me something, anything, about what the fuck happened. And you didn't. You left me with nothing. Just confusion and hurt, and I've made peace with that. It's taken a while, but … I just… I don't need that from you. I gave you space, always respected your decisions and opinions, and now you won't do the same. You're still trying to take from me. Offering me an explanation now?" You scoffed. "That isn't for me, and don't fuckin’ act like it is -- it's for you. And I understand that, that's fine. I'm not angry at you for that, but I'm also not going to humor it." 

You exhaled shakily, you couldn't believe you'd said all of that, that you had made it through.

Angel was speechless. It made your heart feel even sicker -- all of this silence from him for so long, and he'd offered to explain himself and you'd (gracefully) told him to fuck off. Why had you done that??

It was about time you'd stood up for yourself, that's why. 

An explanation would be nice, sure. But where Angel's words, whispered affirmations and heady declarations of love, had once made your soul swell and sing… now, you knew, anything he'd had to say to you would only serve to do the opposite. 

And your heart, perpetually bruised by nature of you being a hopeless romantic, just couldn't take it. 

You hopped off the porch, spinning around to face Angel, finding his eyes on you still. Hadn't you wished for him to look at you? To really see you once more? 

"I'm out," you tossed a thumb over your shoulder toward where you'd parked your car. "Sorry, I don't mean to abandon the old post, but uh, I'm sure you guys have someone to fill in. I'll text Aneesa to grab my stuff, don't worry about it." 

Like he would, you thought.

You were mostly rambling to yourself, and not really to Angel, as you backed away, fleeing to your car. 

Angel watched you go, the resonant ache in his chest that had been ever-present since tossing your stuff out, amplified when Luisa had left him, and now sure to be permanent, buried in cement beneath the weight of his every decision, and every word.

You looked good, he thought. Your hair was longer than when he'd seen you last. Your little skirt flouncing as you strode away. Your skin still glowed, full lips still twisted into that wry smile of yours that he had seen from across the room. All of that was true, but your eyes were also tired, and your smile never quite reached them. 

The thought that he was responsible for dimming that sparkle made him feel sicker than he already had. The way you had brushed off Andres, despite his obnoxious insistence, and the things the cocky  new patch had said to you -- may as well add those to the ever-growing pile of things stained and tainted by Angel's guilt.

And he was left alone with that guilt as you left the lot. He turned back to the party. His cool facade slipping back into place. Not ready to face the wrath of EZ and Coco, surely waiting inside to proverbially beat his ass.

What would you say if I come over? And we stand face to face now that we're older?

---

Angel shuffled into his apartment, the late hour catching up to his weary form as he ambled over to his bedside, flicking on the lamp. 

Rubbing a large hand down his face, he sat on his bed in a huff of exhaustion. Your first encounter in months since he'd all-but tossed you from this very room was pricking him with a kind of nauseating nervous  energy. But all he wanted to feel in that moment was you, whether he deserved it or not.

He'd still had it, didn't he? Where was it?

He pulled open the drawer of his nightstand, fishing through its contents for what he hoped was still in there.

His fingers curled over his prize -- a slip of paper adorned with your handwriting. Scrawled lines of poetry on a neon pink Post-It note, curled with age and disuse, something you had left for him while he slept in one morning. 

“I was thinking of you,” you had said when he had asked you about it later, shrugging as if it were the most matter-of-fact thing in the world. 

Your love for him was clean in its simplicity and forwardness, whenever he could wade his way through the mire of your shy demeanor. You had stuck the Post-It to his nightstand while he was sleeping and you made your way to work. Your words were cramped and crunched into the small paper square, but ready to greet him with the shining light of a sunny new day. 

“I see your ardor through a pearlescent lense, and all is pleasantly pink and blurry with you-- Resplendent in your love's solar hope. You are so warm beneath the brush of my fingertips, and I burn. So in love with you, as I am and as I do."

Now, his eyes scanned the words for the millionth time since you had written them. He had committed it to memory by now, wishing he could hold you instead of this crumpled piece of paper, mocking him with its annoyingly bright pink hue.

But how could he? Angel was the kind of man who simmered in his emotion -- burning slowly, lowly, only to reach a pitch. He kept to himself until he couldn’t any longer -- and then it was all bleeding hearts on a very crisp sleeve. 

He had done what he had thought was right. Cutting you out with all of the brutality and finesse of a battleaxe, to focus on Luisa and his unborn son. He thought she was what he wanted. But now, he didn’t even have them. He had nothing to show for his decisions but the lonely, sick feeling ever-present in his chest. 

The you at the beginning of your relationship would have kissed each bruise in his soul, one by one, until they were better. Would have gifted him with the warmth of your time and attention until he was made whole again with the molten heat of your gracious heart. But the you now? 

Angel could never, would never, cover the tattoo on his arm, though he had thought about it. Blacking it out once and for all, so the piece of you he wore on his sleeve would finally match the  pitch, and emptiness inside. But he couldn’t bring himself to do it. It was, as he’d said all that time ago, your gift to him. And he’d made you a promise that he wouldn’t. 

All he wanted was to look you in the eyes so he could remember that he loved you once.

And not that he had any reason to know it, but across town, you had made it home. Your phone shoved to the bottom of your bag, lighting up with texts from Aneesa, EZ, and Coco. But the only person on your mind was Angel. 

How much of what he had said was true? You weren't sure. But you were sure that you knew where you stood, still painfully alone and in love as ever, the cracks in your heart only fillable by the very person you had brushed off earlier.

And, while Angel readied himself for bed, snapping the lights off and attempting to cut through the oppressive darkness by staring at the ceiling with his own penetrative gaze, the empty side of the bed had never felt more cavernous, but more weighted. Mocking. 

If Angel was being honest with himself -- something he was never too keen on being in his more sobering moments -- he didn't love you once. He still loved you.

Thinking after all this time, I just wanna meet your eyes so I can remember why... Why I loved you once.

Tagging:

@themarcusmoreno @ithinkhesgaybutwesavedmufasa @steeeeeeeviebb @qveenbvtch @mxsamwilson @ifimayhaveaword @huliabitch @pettyprocrastination @phoenixhalliwell @flightlessangelwings @cinewhore @velvetmel0n @moonlight-prose @rebeccasficrecs @videogamesandpoorlifechoices @aerolanya @djvrins @jenrebloggingfics @ciriswife @justanotherblonde23 @superhoeva @witching-hour​ @luckyharley1903​

[pan-fangirl-345]

He Would Tear the World Apart

Summary: During a raid, you're taken hostage. Shouto doesn't take the news well, and will do anything to get you back.

TW: kidnapping, abuse, alcoholism mentioned, Enji Todoroki's bad parenting, mental torture, dissociating, injuries, blood, angst, mentioned character death (no one actually dies), a lot of swearing, chains, starvation, dehydration, that sort of thing. If there's anything I missed, please let me know! Also, there is a happy ending, so it's angst to fluff!

A/N: First and foremost, I have no medical degree, I have no idea what it's like to dissociate, so anything medically incorrect is because I am not a doctor, though I am currently working on getting my psychology degree. I'm sorry if this offends anyone, that was not the intention. I have no idea what went through my head to make me write all of this in an hour, but here you go. Also, please read the trigger warnings, and if you don't like it, don't read it. Anyway, I might make a part two to this if anyone is interested. Feel free to spam my ask box, or slide into my DM's if you want. Please interact with me, I adore you all.

Aizawa sighed as he stepped into the conference room. He sat down heavily in his usual seat, and Nezu climbed onto his shoulder, as was custom after so many years, despite the situation they were in.

Again.

"As you have all heard, one of the second year students, (Y/N), has been taken. She was last seen on a raid with the hero she was studying under, and we haven't heard anything from her since this transmission."

Nezu pressed play on a recording and her voice floated through the air.

She was panting, and she was whispering, but Aizawa knew that it was her.

"To anyone receiving this transmission, this is hero-in-training Tempest, I'm pursuing the criminals associated with the gang 'The Numerals'. I've been separated from the others and my comms have been compromised by one of the members. Please, send back-up."

There was a pause where all they could hear was her breathing, and suddenly she yelled, "Hey! You, stop!"

There was static, and then there was nothing.

"We have received information from one of our recon teams that they have taken her to their base of operations, though we don't know exactly where that is yet. We have also, as a school, received a ransom demand. Her parents have yet to be contacted about this."

Copies of the notes were handed out to the teachers, and they all frowned, clearly thinking the same thing Aizawa had thought.

They were a school, what kind of school had this kind of money sitting around?

"What is the girl's quirk?"

"She can create different types of storms in her hands," Aizawa supplied. "As of the end of last year, she could make a hurricane for a few minutes at a time, sometimes a dust storm, and I know for a fact that she was undergoing training over the summer, so it might be more than that now. Under extreme duress, she can make a full scale electrical storm in a building or outside, but only if her life is threatened."

"So, not helpful for getting out of this kind of situation?" one of the other teachers chirped and Aizawa nodded.

"No," he agreed. "Though we should be checking for any strange storms and freak electrical spikes."

"Do any of the other students know about this?" Hizashi asked.

"No, and we need to keep it that way," Aizawa told his husband.

"Why?" Vlad King asked.

"(Y/N) is Todoroki Shouto's girlfriend," Aizawa replied, then waited for that to sink in before he continued. "If he finds out that she's gone, or that's she's been kidnapped and harmed . . . ." He shook his head a few times before he added, "He would tear the world apart to get her back."

"Fuck," someone mumbled, and Aizawa nodded.

Pretty much everyone that was at U.A. knew what that girl meant to Shouto, not to mention the people at Endeavor's agency, and the one that (Y/L/N) was working with.

"Alright, so what's the plan?" Midnight asked.

"We plan a rescue mission," Nezu said. "We're working with nearly every police force in the country to try and figure out where they're keeping her. We have a rough area," he clicked onto a photo of a map, one area to the far north highlighted in bright red. "But there's nothing we can do until then, we need a warrant and evidence."

"The life of a child isn't enough?" Midnight asked. "Especially such a beautiful girl?"

Everyone went quiet, the mood somber and heavy.

"Aizawa, you spent more time with this girl than anybody," one of the third year teachers said, "how likely is it that she'll find a way out on her own?"

"It's a possibility," Aizawa admitted. "She's a very capable student, on par with Midoriya, Todoroki, and Bakugou, but they know what she can do. Not to mention that sources tell us she was injured, though we aren't sure to what extent. And the longer she spends with them is more time Shouto has to figure out what's happening. Not to mention the other students. We need to get her out as soon as possible."

"Agreed," Hizashi added.

It was no secret that Present Mic and Eraserhead had both taken a liking to you when you were in Class 1-A, all of the teachers liked you, and you were a solid foundation for your classmates.

You were a calm presence, and everyone, Bakugou included, had gone to you for advice at some point, though it was all for different reasons.

You tend to be a level-headed person, but when you felt strongly about something, nothing was going to stop you.

People, Shouto mainly, would start to sense the lack of your presence, and Aizawa wasn't ashamed to admit that he wanted you back where you belonged.

"We can't keep him, Shouto I mean, in the dark about this," Hizashi murmured. "He's one of the best up and coming heroes."

"Not to mention," Aizawa added, "that we plan on flooding the streets with her photo. We've already sent it to all of the major hero agencies involved with the search, Endeavor's being one of them. If we don't tell him, his father will, and we all know how volatile that relationship is."

Everyone in the room shuddered at the mention of the father and son duo and nodded.

"Aizawa, All Might, it might be better if you both told him," Nezu said. "You both have the best relationship with him in this room, and you might be the only two that could hold him back if he reacts violently."

"And he will," Aizawa mumbled, already standing from his chair.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Shouto knew something was wrong.

He hadn't seen or heard from you in two days, almost three, and the teachers were acting suspicious. There were fewer of them in the halls, and Aizawa was even more tired than usual, with dark worry bags under his eyes that the students hadn't seen since the Bakugou Debacle in their first year.

The last he had heard, you were going on a raid for some gang members that were selling some sort of hallucinogenic drug based off of a mirage quirk.

You hadn't contacted him or come back since.

"Young Shouto, can we speak to you for a moment?" All Might asked, making everyone look up from what they were doing.

Despite the dorms no longer being completely necessary, (the League had backed off a little bit in recent days, and there hadn't been very many Nomu attacks lately), most of Class 1-A, now 2-A, had moved into the dorms for their second year, you and Shouto included.

"Does this have to do with (Y/F/N)?" he asked, standing quickly.

"Unfortunately, yes," Aizawa said, voice somber.

"Todoroki, do you want us to come with you?" Midoriya asked, getting that look on his face.

"If it's about (Y/F/N) then they all deserve to know too," Shouto said. "And I would feel better knowing they were here."

"Of-Of course," All Might replied, glancing at Aizawa nervously.

"(Y/L/N) has been kidnapped and is being held hostage as we speak," he told them, as blunt as ever.

Aizawa ripped his goggles off right before Shouto blew.

One half of his body erupted into blue tinted flames, and the other exploded in a rain of ice, but they evaporated quickly under Aizawa's gaze, and before any damage could be done to the dorms.

Everything went dark in his head, and his feet were moving before he even had a chance to fully process what his former teachers had been saying to him.

"And where do you think you're going?" Aizawa asked, raising an eyebrow as he moved to intercept him.

"To find her," Shouto snarled, and he didn't even recognize his own voice. It was several octaves lower than normal, and there was a rasp to it that had never been there before. "To get my girlfriend back."

"You don't even know where she is," Aizawa said. "We don't even know where she is. Besides, you're too emotionally involved."

"Too emotionally involved?" Shouto said, his voice too calm, his eyes too dead.

Everyone in the room took a step away from him. Everyone except Midoriya and Bakugou.

"Too emotionally involved?" he repeated.

"Oh shit," someone whispered, though Shouto didn't know who it was.

"That is my girlfriend. That is the love of my life and you're telling me that I can't get her back because . . . I'm too emotionally involved? What about when Midoriya went to get Eri? Was he too 'emotionally involved'?"

No one dared to point out that it was nowhere near the same thing, but there was a collective thought about it in the room.

"That is my fucking girlfriend out there," he snapped. "I will work harder than anyone to get her back. I will be the one person wholly invested in making sure that she stays safe."

"And that is why you can't be one of the people in on this," Aizawa told him. "The others are her friends, but you? You are way more than that, and that means that when it comes down to it, you can't make a clear-headed decision on whether it's worth it to try and grab her or not. Because she'll always be worth it to you."

"Damn right she will," Shouto said, staring Aizawa down.

No one had heard Shouto swear this much at once, if ever, depending on the person. He was starting to sound like Bakugou, and the others knew immediately that if you weren't back soon, he was going to blow.

"Look kid, I understand," Aizawa muttered. "I really do. I understand how you feel, I would do that same thing for Hizashi, but I also know what I would do, and we can't have that in the investigation. What would (Y/F/N) want?"

"She would want to be here!" Shouto shouted. "She would want to be teasing Bakugou in the kitchen, making sure that everyone had a blanket for movie night. She would want to be curled up with me on the couch watching bad romance movies that the girls cheated their way into picking out and making sure that I-!"

Shouto stopped as the emotions got lodged in his throat. Tears threatened to spill over as his vision got blurry, and the others were there to catch him as his knees gave out on him.

"We'll get her back kid," Aizawa assured him, crouching down, touching the top of his head softly. "We will get her back."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Your head was buzzing as you came back to consciousness and you suppressed a groan of pain.

Consciousness hurt.

You did a short mental tally of your injuries.

Your ribs were definitely a little bruised, if not cracked or broken. Your lips were split in at least four different places each. One shoulder was definitely dislocated, and the other was hurt in some way. Your left ankle was bruised and swollen, broken probably. Your head probably had a huge gash if the blood running down the side of your face was anything to go by, and you were definitely concussed on some level.

Apparently getting your head slammed into solid concrete by someone who had launched themselves off a ledge would do that to you.

You were in what looked like a basement of some sort. The walls were solid concrete, there were pipes running overhead and dripping on you randomly, which wasn't appreciated, and there was insulation and plaster showing through here and there.

"Finally awake sleeping beauty?"

Your head whipped around to see your kidnapper, but your head protested and so did your stomach, despite the fact that there was nothing in it.

You suppressed a groan, trying to keep your stomach where it belonged.

"Ready to tell us who the informant is?"

"Go straight to hell," you muttered, when you were certain you wouldn't throw up on yourself, glaring at them.

"I still can't believe you were fucking stupid enough to kidnap a child! She doesn't know shit," the other man snapped at the first.

"She has to know something!" the first guy snapped. "She was in on the raid!"

His quirk allowed him to change his voice, so he wasn't using the real one, he sounded like a guy that smoked twenty packs of cigarettes a day.

The other guy you had started calling Sandy in your head. His quirk was similar to yours, he was able to turn anything he touched into sand, and then use it. He mostly made sand storms, and that's how they had gotten the jump on you in the tunnels.

One had blinded you while the other had carried you away, much to chagrin of the Sandy.

"I'm in training," you rasped. "I'm hero-in-training Tempest, from Class 2-A at the school U.A."

They hadn't given you anything to drink in the last two days, from what you could even remember of it, and you knew that you weren't going to last much longer, having been dehydrated when they had taken you.

They had kidnapped you from the raid site, and then spent six hours driving around like morons trying to cover their tracks, before driving for an unknown amount of time before they had dumped you in here. You had been unconscious for the secondary part of the drive, and you knew that with everything going on, there was the possibility you were experiencing retrograde amnesia.

"They don't tell me the important stuff like that. I get told when we're going on raids, and what my part in them is, and that's on the very rare occasion that they happen during my shifts. Most of the time, I'm on patrols around the city," you told them, taking a break in your little speech to spit blood onto the floor by your leg. "You need directions, I'm your girl, but you need to know who's a rat, sorry, I can't help."

You would've shrugged, but your arms were chained to the wall behind you, and every time you moved your right arm it made an awful clicking noise that you knew wasn't natural. Your left shoulder was dislocated as well, meaning your arms were pretty much useless.

One leg was operational, but barely. You were so far out of commission you wouldn't be surprised if U.A. kicked you out to recuperate.

U.A. wouldn't, and couldn't, pay the ransom. You knew that. The best hope you had was that you could act your way out of this, or that they planned a raid to get you out.

They had done it for Bakugou, why not you, right?

Shouto passed through your thoughts, thoughts about what he might do to get you back, but you shut them down as soon as they entered your head.

You were trying to keep him in a safe place.

You hoped that Shouto never learned about this. About where they were keeping you, what they had already done to try and get you to talk.

He was your safe place now, safe and away from this building, wherever you were. You thought maybe if you could keep him out of your head here, it was a way of protecting him from the reality of your situation, even if he already knew.

"She's a kid," Sandy snarled, pointing at you viciously. "She's a kid. You know the Boss' rules about kids and you broke almost every one of them!"

"Yeah, well-"

"Guys, hey, I hate to interrupt," you interjected, "but I really have to go to the bathroom."

They both stared at you for a moment before Sandy asked, "Do you promise to not try and escape?"

"Buddy, I don't know if you've looked recently, but I doubt I'm doing anywhere," you quipped. "My ankle is obviously demolished, my head was cracked open like an egg, thanks to your buddy Darth Vader over there. Not to mention, I'm dehydrated and starving, and don't even get me started on how much my ribs are killing me right now, probably literally. Do I look like I'm in any shape to try and escape?"

Sandy frowned, glancing at you like this was the first time he was seeing the extent of what had been done to you.

"Alright, I'm going to undo the chains, but you can't try to escape, you'll only make things worse for yourself."

"Death seems preferable at this point," you grunted, trying to hide the pain you were in.

"Don't you have healing supplies?"

"How am I supposed to use them when I can't move my fucking arms?" you asked, wiggling your fingers in emphasis. "And you morons confiscated my belt, which had them all in it! You know what my quirk is! What did you think was in it? Explosives? No, I leave that to Dynamight."

"Fuck," Sandy muttered.

"Why do you care so much anyway?" the voice dude asked.

"Because if she dies then that means no money and no chance of surviving prison again. Do you know what happens to people who mess with kids in prison? Nothing good."

You logged that little piece of information away, trying to focus on their features, but with your concussion, your eyes weren't the hottest.

"Can you move?" Sandy asked you as he worked on unlocking your chains.

You couldn't help the cry of pain when your arms dropped to your sides, tearing stinging your eyes as you bit into your already roughed up lip.

"Shit. Can we get a medic in here?" Sandy shouted.

A door opened and someone stuck their head in. Sandy repeated his demand, and the door shut again.

"Why are you doing this?" you whimpered, trying to keep your voice even.

If they were sadists, any fear or pain you showed only gave them what they wanted.

"Because we don't have a choice," Sandy said. "The Boss gave us somewhere to belong, he gave us a place off the streets. We owe him. We would've died."

"Shut up," Smoker snapped, and you glanced at him.

"I have a headache, and it comes and goes as you talk. Please, for the love of all things holy, shut up," you hissed to Darth Vader, wanting to touch your head, but not being able to for multiple reasons.

Sandy touched your shoulder lightly and you cried out again, moving automatically to hit him, but your other arm twinged, bringing more tears to your eyes.

"Sorry," Sandy murmured, pulling his hands away.

You took a shaky breath, waiting for the pain to dull before you said, "There's no way I'm moving from this spot without being in pain, and I'm definitely going to need help."

"Holy fuck, you two morons were two lucky blows away from killing her."

You glanced over to see someone with a med kit strolling leisurely down the stairs.

"Hello Tempest," they said, giving you a bright smile.

"Hello Med Kit," you replied, giving them a grimace.

"You can call me Himo for now," Med Kit said. "Do you mind if I take a look?"

"You're going to whether I want you or not, but sure, go ahead," you muttered. "It's not really like you can make this any worse."

"I could break almost every bone in your body and keep you alive while doing it, so I could do so much worse, but that's not the goal here," Himo told you, setting to work.

"So what is the goal? Since I'm assuming that I'm never going to get out of here," you said, glancing around.

"Why do you think that?" Himo asked, ignoring your first question.

"Because I've seen your faces, I know your quirks, I know a general area of where I'm being kept, unless someone used a teleportation quirk of some sort. I know the school won't pay the ransom, my parents don't have that kind of money, and my boyfriend's father would never pay to see me safe and sound. He would probably twist his son's grief to get him to be compliant," you grumbled. "Besides, I'm a hero, hero-in-training, whatever, it's all semantics. I'm basically your arch-nemesis. Isn't that what every villain wants? To kill the person in their way?"

"We aren't villains," Sandy muttered.

"You break laws put in place to protect people, you attacked a minor, then kidnapped her after assaulting her, and you are trying to get a ransom for me," you pointed out. "That doesn't really scream 'hero' or 'civilian' to me."

"Have you ever though about who writes the rules? About how money can manipulate everything? The system is flawed, and we are going to make sure people know it," Darth Vader snarled. "Do you understand how unfair the world is?"

"Don't talk to me about the world being unfair," you whispered, your voice dropping, every muscle in your body tensing. "My boyfriend loves his mother more than pretty much anyone in the world. Her parents, his grandparents, arranged a quirk marriage, and she had four children she didn't necessarily want. Her husband drove her to near insanity, enough so that she poured a kettle of boiling water over my boyfriend's face because he looks like his father. His father has already managed to get one of his children killed, and he considers the other rejects because they don't have the quirk he wanted them to have. He's a different kind of monster, and he's not in jail.

"My own father verbally and mentally abused me for as long as I can remember. My mother and I were zombies until recently, when I decided I had had enough and my mother finally found the courage and will to leave his sorry ass in the gutters where it belongs. My father always had enough alcohol in his system to make him a human molotov cocktail. I had little to no self esteem until recently, and I still struggle to understand and comprehend that I am worth love. I am still learning to respect myself. So you don't get to preach to me about how unfair the world is buddy, we all know," you snarled.

"The hundreds, thousands of kids out on the street know. The women and men that get raped, and continue to see their own personal monster roam free know. The kids that get hit every day for not being what their parents want know. That's why people like me exist, to put away the monsters wearing human skin. That's why my friends and I try so hard to be heroes. It's not about the glory, or the money. It's about bring people to justice, it's about making sure that people feel safe. It's about giving other people something that we never had."

Silence echoed through the room as what you said sank in.

You hadn't meant to burst like that, but you were sick and tired of these guys using their shitty lives to make other people's lives shitty too.

"Why are you a hero, Tempest?" Himo asked.

"Because I want to save people," you replied. "I just told you that. I want to make sure that every child like me knows that they don't have to be their parents, that there is another option. I don't want the abused becoming the abuser. I want to make sure that the people doing the bad things get put where they belong. I want to help the kids that have nothing to lose, I want to help them realize that they have everything to gain. I want to give people like you hope."

There was no use in lying to them, they were probably going to kill you anyway. Besides, it might help you build rapport, and they might let you go when they realized that they made a mistake.

"People like us?"

"People who think that there isn't another option. People who have been shown nothing but the horrid parts of the world, the horrible parts of humanity. People who don't know what it's like to be loved completely by somebody, both good and bad. People who think that they owe someone who isn't worth one minute of their time. Good people who strayed too far from the path."

There was silence for a few minutes before you said, "I've seen a lot of real villains, people who aren't capable of basic human emotions, I've seen people who have no humanity in their eyes. They are the villains, they are the monster under our beds personified. People like you, you just simply wandered. You aren't lost, you're just further to the side than some other people. It would be easy for you to walk the path again."

You paused, thinking over what you said, then added, "Well, it wouldn't be easy necessarily, but it would be worth it."

"You still have the naivety of a child," Vader snarled.

"Call me what you want, naive, innocent, optimistic, I've heard it all, but in the end, I'm right," you told him.

"And how do you know that?"

"Because, at the end of the day, I know that every life I save isn't just one life," you replied. "That young woman I saved, she might have kids some day, or foster a child that needs a loving mother. That child I shoved out of the way might help the suicidal child in his class. Every life I save touches other people's lives. As hard as it is to believe, no one is ever truly alone in the world. Every smile I give to a stranger might make their day, might help them live long enough to find the thing that makes them happy. That's why I'm a hero."

More silence.

Your face heated, but there was something in their faces that told you they had never thought about it that way before.

"So, is there anything you can do to heal me?" you asked, breaking the silence.

"Like I said, these guys were two lucky blows away from killing you, I'm surprised that you're still alive, actually, everything considered. Your head will heal on it's own, but there might be a little scar left. However, your ribs might take longer. Three are cracked, and four are bruised. Your ankle might need surgery to get it back to the way it was. It's definitely broken, and there might be small bone particles floating around in there, I'm not entirely sure, my quirk isn't that detailed I'm afraid. Not to mention that, from what I can see, your shoulders just need to be popped back into place. One was dislocated more than the other, but it will hurt."

"Can't hurt worse than the state I'm in now. So what can you do? I'm assuming that taking me to a hospital is out of the question."

"Well, I can treat the cut on your head, relocate your shoulders, and I can see if someone else can take a look at your ankle, but everything else will have to heal on it's own."

"So there isn't much?"

"Nope, we don't have the equipment needed for your ankle here, and, like you said, no hospitals."

"Fucking gre- wait a minute, to you guys still have my belt?" you asked, perking up a little.

"Yeah, it's over here," Sandy said, walking over into the back corner, pulling your med belt out.

"Hand it over. I promise there's nothing too harmful in there. There are some painkillers, but it's just Midol. It's all medical stuff," you said, wincing as Sandy dropped it into your lap.

You opened it, taking out a small device.

"What does that thing even do?" Himo asked, looking at it warily.

"It's not a communicator or anything," you hurried to explain. "I made some friends in the support courses, so I asked if they could make me a device that works like an X-ray would. Himo, take it."

He took from you gently, which you appreciated, and turned it all around, trying to figure out how it worked.

"Alright, see that little button on the top left, yeah, right there. Click that button twice, like hitting the home button of a phone."

Himo did as he was told, and the screen blinked to life.

"Alright, hold the over my hurt ankle, and it should be able to show what's going on. Or," you added, "it'll blow up. Hatsume is kind of unpredictable like that."

Himo's hands tightened on it, but he did what you asked, and was clearly surprised when a detailed X-ray appeared on the screen.

"Holy shit, it worked!" you cheered, grinning.

"You have some very talented friends," Himo told you.

"I know right? She's a little quirky, but she's great at what she does!"

"How are you able to smile right now?" Sandy asked, looking at you with something akin to wonder.

"Don't get me wrong," you started. "I'm fucking terrified, but there's not much I can do in this situation. Besides, from what I can tell, other than the initial assault, you people don't want to hurt me. You want something from me. In this scenario, what I'm guessing, is that you want something from me, so you're going to be nice, and make me want to help you out, or make me feel like I owe you one, and then, when I don't comply, you'll either torture me to try and get what you want until I die, or you'll just kill me right off the bat."

Himo winced, and Sandy twitched.

"You guys really hate the thought of me dying, don't you?" you asked, cocking your head to the side, despite the protect of your brain. "Is this one of those scenarios where kids should be off limits?"

"We may be bad guys, but we have certain priorities," Sandy admitted. "Kids are a sore spot for most of us."

You nodded slightly. "I can see why. You guys said something about being on the streets? I know that sometimes kids band together, that's how they survive. I'm assuming you've lost friends."

"Smart kid," Himo murmured, eyes darting over the X-ray.

"Sometimes they give us profile training," you admitted. "Besides, I've been working on my psychology degree."

"Wicked smart kid," Sandy quipped.

"Alright, so I can set your ankle, there isn't anything wrong with it other than the obvious fact that it's broken," Himo said, handing the device back to you. "Riko, I'm gonna need your help."

"With what?" Sandy asked, looking skeptical.

"Can you hold her legs down? I need to relocate her shoulders before I do anything with her ankle, just because I have a feeling she attacks when she's hurt."

"Good instincts," you muttered.

"I'm a doctor," he confessed, grinning. "You learn a thing or two."

"Sorry about this," Sandy said.

"I wouldn't worry about it too much," you told him. "As long as that's all you do I'll considerate your way of trying to make up from everything else."

Sandy snorted, holding your legs just below your knees.

"This is going to hurt," Himo warned.

"I would be surprised if it-"

You clenched your teeth to try and keep your scream in as Himo popped your right arm back into place.

The rest of your body bucked, trying to roll away, but Sandy, Riko, had a firm hold on you.

You panted as the pain started to fade a little in your arm.

"Sorry, I've found it works better when people aren't expecting it," he said.

"Son of a bitch," you gritted out, spitting blood off to the side. "I bit my tongue."

Riko chuckled, shaking his head.

"Alright, now for the other one," Himo murmured. "I really don't understand how you managed to take this much damage."

"At least I only broke my ankle. My friend Deku has broken both arms, both legs, and both hands before. I think he's broken almost every bone in his body sa-"

Himo popped your other arm back into place and you couldn't stop the tears that flowed down your cheeks at that one, your jaw almost cracking with how hard you clenched it to try and keep the noises in.

"Fucking fuck," you muttered when the pain pulsed into something a little bit more bearable.

"Better?" Himo asked, prodding your shoulders.

"Yeah," you admitted, moving them slowly. You dug around in your med belt, pulling out two pieces of metal and a small bottle.

"What is that for?" Himo asked.

You pushed a button on the metal, and they extended to the required length.

"It's for a splint, or a cast," you told him. "Once you set my ankle, you put the metal on either side, and I can spray this one. It's a special kind of plaster, don't ask me how it works, I have no idea what's in it, but it'll hold until my ankle is fully healed, then it'll fall off on it's own."

"Amazing!"

"Heroes, when the respond to disasters, often have to set up triages until other emergency responders can arrive, so we have to know a little bit about basic medical treatments in emergencies like that. So a lot of us have belts and such to keep medical stuff in. I also keep duct tape and glue in here. You never know when you're gonna need it."

You pulled out some painkillers, popping two in your mouth, taking them dry.

"How?" Vader asked, sounding horrified.

"Hate to break it to you, but when you're a teenage girl, especially one learning to be a hero, when you don't always have time for water, you learn to take pills dry."

"TMI," Vader muttered.

"Hey, jackass, you asked," you told him.

Riko and Himo chuckled.

"Alright. Riko, see if you can get a hold on her, this is gonna hurt like a bitch," Himo warned. "Li, hold her other leg down."

"Don't use my fucking name!" Vader shouted.

"You know, I wouldn't have known that was your real name if you hadn't reacted that way," you told him. "Heroes are also trained to pick up on certain behaviors like that."

Li grumbled, but did as he was asked.

Himo situated himself, then said, "Get ready."

The pain had you blacking out before you knew what happened.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"I knew something was wrong," Shouto muttered for the umpteenth time in the last ten minutes. "I should have gone with her!"

"Dude, it wasn't even your mission," Kaminari told him. "There was nothing you could've done for her."

"Yeah you half-and-half bastard," Bakugou chimed in. "Besides, we're gonna get her back, so shut up and try and think of something useful."

Everyone had leapt into action when it had sunk in that you were in serious danger. It didn't take long, and no one wanted to acknowledge that it was worrisome.

They had split up into teams.

Midoriya, Bakugou, Shouto, Kaminari, and Kirishima were working on the maps that had been given to the students.

Momo, Jirou, Uraraka, Mina, and Tsuyu were going over the interviews with raid members, trying to gather up information on what had happened, trying to see if there was a traitor among them, other than the undercover agent that they had been told about.

Tokoyami, Ojiro, Shoji, Sero, and Koda were helping the other heroes do recon missions and patrols in the area where they suspected you were being held.

Sato, Shinso, Hagaruke, and Iida were working on the case files of all the known members of the gang that you had been going after. Surprisingly, those four were the only ones able to hear about the things that some of the gang members had done.

Hagakure was crying softly to herself as she read, but no one could pull her away from the files.

"I have to know," she kept saying. "I need to know about what they did so I can help when we get her back."

Sato didn't know you as well as the others did, so he was a little less effected. He were itching to get you back, but the others had spent far more time with you personally.

Shinso, on the other hand, was powering through them, wanting to know what he had to avenge when they got to that building. He wanted to know what they might be doing to you so that he could have far more reason to get them arrested.

Iida just wanted something useful to do.

"They just cleared building seven in section 3-C!" Aoyama called from his spot the progress computer that they had set up in the common room.

Aoyama was in charge of letting them know what had been cleared, what was under suspicion, and what they had ruled out completely.

"Fuck, that pretty much clears that grid section," Bakugou muttered, forcefully crossing an abandoned apartment building off his map.

"They might need to expand their net," Midoriya added. "No one knows where she is. There's the possibility that they aren't even in that area."

"I hate this!" Shouto burst out. "I feel useless just sitting here!"

"It's either this or you get stuck back on the sidelines," Bakugou reminded him and he clenched his fists.

He just wanted you back safe and sound by his side, preferably with his arm around your shoulders.

He'd been trying to remember the last thing he said to you before you had gone on that raid, but he couldn't remember.

He hoped that it was 'I love you' or something similar, but not knowing was killing him.

"Todoroki-kun," Midoriya said, laying a hand on his arm. "We will get her back."

"Yeah, we aren't giving up on her, no way in hell," Kaminari added, eyes flashing gold in the lights of the common room.

"She never gave up on us, it's not manly for us to give up on her," Kirishima chimed in.

"I know," Shouto said. "I trust you all."

It went unsaid, but understood, that when it came time to get her back, Shouto was going to be the one leading the rescue.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A week later, Himo came into the basement and said, "Do you think you can walk?"

"On one leg maybe. Why?" you asked.

Your ankle was wrapped in the cast that you had taken out, but your ankle was feeling a little better than it had been. It still throbbed every once in a while, but it could've been worse.

"The boss wants to see you."

"Oh, the big boss," you griped, rolling your eyes. "He wants to see me he can come down here himself."

Himo hesitated, but he nodded, heading back upstairs.

You had known that there was an undercover agent in the gang, but you had yet to figure out who it was.

Every member of the gang seemed to know that you were there, that, or they were much bigger than you had anticipated.

So far, Himo and Riko were your top two suspicions, given that they were the only two that were actually kind to you, but you had a small part of you that wasn't sure.

The door opening a few minutes later announced the arrival of the leader, and you steeled yourself.

"You fucking morons," the man muttered, rubbing his eyes like he had a headache. "What did I say about kids?"

"Sorry Boss, but we didn't have a choice," Li said, stepping out of the shadows.

He had been stay with you for the entire week, and it was clear that you didn't have the kind of rapport with him that you did with Riko and Himo.

You had been trying to make a storm, something, to let the someone know where you were, but you had idea of knowing whether it was working or not. You were in the experimental stages of the large storm capabilities of your quirk, and you were completely drained at the moment.

"What's your name kid?" the man asked.

His hands were covered in rings, and scars littered the little bit of skin his tailored suit showed off.

You had seen Shouto in high class clothes for gatherings that he was required by social convention to attend, so this guy was either rich, or so far into debt that he was on the run from the banks.

"You can call me Tempest," you said.

"(Y/N). Second year at U.A. Class 2-A student, and one of the new public favorites," Li said.

"Aw, you looked me up, how sweet," you taunted. "But like I said, I prefer Tempest, it sounds cooler."

"Far enough," the boss said.

He was wearing a mask that covered the top half of his face, and a fedora type hat, so there wasn't much to catalog, but you did anyway.

"Are you here to kill me?" you asked, crossing your arms over your chest, despite the way it made the chains rattle.

"No, not if you give me what I want," the man said. His voice was deep, and he looked like he was in his early thirties, but you weren't entirely sure.

"I don't know who your rat is," you stated.

"How do you know that's what I wanted?"

"When I woke up on day two, your Sandy man and Darth Vader over there were talking about it. Vader actually asked me about it." You paused, then said, "You guys do realize that I'm right under an intern right? I'm not high enough to know about UC's. Think of me like the intern's intern. I'm lucky I even got to go on the raid."

The man watched your for a moment before he said, "I hate it when people tell me the truth. It means I don't get to have any fun."

"Sucks to be you then," you replied. "So what happens now?"

"You get broken," the man said, reaching out to touch your forehead.

"Good luck with that," you muttered when he pulled away.

Then the visions started.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Everybody get up!" Aoyama shouted. "Up, up, up! Someone called in a noise complaint late last night!"

Class 2-A poured into the common room.

Shouto, Midoriya, Bakugou, Kirishima, Kaminari and Sero ran in with no shirts on, and Kaminari fell trying to pull his shorts up over his Pikachu boxers. Shinso was already in there sitting on the couch with a cup of coffee clad in a t-shirt with a cat meme and dark jeans.

The girls poured in in a mix of pajamas and hoodies that they had stolen from the boys over the last week, their hair a mess and dark bags under their eyes.

"What's going on?" Shouto asked. He knew that his bags were darker than anyone's, and no one had seen him sleep in almost three days.

"Late last night someone called the tip line anonymously to complain about screaming from a condemned building smack dab in the middle of section 1-A. Someone checked into it and there has been a lot of activity in that area lately," Aoyama explained.

He had given up trying to keep up the sparkly attitude, though some of the French had stayed.

"Is there anything else?"

"Guess which gang has been operating in the middle of that area?" Shinso said, having stayed up with the sparkly blond.

"The Numerals," Shouto said.

"Tres bein!" Aoyama replied.

"Have the heroes been notified?"

"They started a conference at three this morning," Shinso said.

"And no one told us?" Shouto asked.

"They wanted to let us sleep. They know how hard we've been working," Shinso replied.

"I'll sleep when we get her back," Shouto snapped, heading for the conference room.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Aizawa shouldn't have been surprised when his former students streamed into the meeting that was being held to rescue (Y/L/N), but he was.

Though that might have been because most of the boys were shirtless and the girls were clad in their pajamas, and hoodies that were clearly not theirs.

"Catch us up," Shouto demanded.

"Shouto, what are you-"

"Shouto, you are aware that this is merely to scope out the building, correct?" Aizawa interrupted, glancing at his former class.

"We don't fucking care," Bakugou snarled. "You're going to catch us up, and you're going to let us join, because she's our friend, and we're the strongest team that you could ask for."

"We can't, in good conscience, let kids into-"

"Do we need to mention all the times that the League has attacked us in the last year? Not to mention Gentle Criminal, Stain, the whole Chisaki ordeal, should we go on?" Midoriya asked, frowning.

Endeavor went to talk again but more students started to talk.

"We can help," Kirishima chimed in. "We want to help."

"Besides," Kaminari added before any of the adults could chime in, "the more hands you have the better it'll be. We can capture more members and get her back. It's a win-win scenario. Gangs are known to be disorganized. If you can get word to your informant about a stealth mission, you might be able to get both them and (Y/L/N) out with minimal risk to them both."

"And we have useful quirks," Jirou supplied. "Kaminari can kill any power they have, Bakugou and Midoriya are good for taking stuff down, so are Kirishima and Sato. Todoroki is more than capable of restraining anyone that he comes across, and I can tell you where people are, how many and so on."

"Not to mention I can make communicators that are much harder to disconnect," Momo piped up.

"People don't really know about me yet," Shinso said, hands in his jeans pockets. "They don't know my quirk, so they're much more likely to fall for me, which is more than helpful for you, since it makes fighting back much less likely."

"We want to get her back, me more than anyone," Shouto said, arms crossed over his chest. "We can useful. Besides, I don't think I need to mention all the times that we've stepped in without your permission and gotten the objective completed while keeping everything legal."

Aizawa sighed.

"We really should just let them help," he said. "They're going to keep pushing, and I don't want any of them expelled and arrested. They are some of the best up and coming heroes. Besides, they all make good points."

"I feel the need to point out," Midoriya chimed in, "that the more of us you take, the more heroes you can have causing a distraction, or the more you can release to recharge and work on other things that are starting to take precedent, like the drug that the gang is manufacturing and selling."

There were more whispers, and finally the heroes sighed.

"Alright, but you're working with Eraserhead and Endeavor, since they're going to be leading the mission with Fatgum."

"We can work with that," Bakugou said. "But we want permission to engage if necessary."

"You would have that anyway," Fatgum said.

"We also want credit if we find her," Sero added. "We aren't going to let possible attackers think that we're defenseless. They take on one of us, they take on all of us."

"That can be discussed," Present Mic assured them.

"This should go without saying," Shouto began, "that I get to ride with her in the ambulance when we find her."

"Everyone assumed that anyway," Midnight told him. "Don't worry Todoroki, no one is going to keep you away from her."

Endeavor opened his mouth, but sharp looks from everyone had him shutting it again.

The students nodded.

"Now catch us up," Bakugou demanded.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You couldn't remember when you had stopped processing things the proper way.

You couldn't remember a time before the nightmares.

They talked to you, they wanted you to know about an informant. Sometimes Shouto appeared, smiling and reaching his hands out to you. Sometimes your father walked in, drunk as always, shouting at you to do better.

You retreated in on yourself.

You turned to that small part of your brain that you had made to wait out the fighting, the yelling, the hurt. You retreated into the part of yourself that you knew no one could ever enter but you.

Shouto was there like he always was. He wasn't entirely your Shouto, but he wasn't the nightmare either.

He was a figment of your imagination, but he made things a little bit better.

"I'll come," he assured you. "I'll find you."

You were lying in a meadow, a small clearing surrounded by trees that were bent over you to create a small dome of shade.

"I know you will," you told him, reaching your hand out to him.

He touched his fingers to yours, but you couldn't feel it.

You remembered someone in the past calling it dissociating, but you weren't a professional yet.

You had never done it at U.A. since you had never felt the need, but this wasn't something that you would ever be able to forget how to do.

You could still see the nightmares, but it was like it was far away, background noise.

"Do you think that you'll ever go back?" Shouto asked. "Do you think that you'll ever go back to me?"

"Maybe, if the nightmares ever stop. If I think that it's actually you that I'm going back to," you said, watching him carefully.

"Do you remember the last thing you said to me?" Shouto inquired.

"Yeah. I said, 'I'll always come back to you'. Why are you asking me that?"

"Do you remember what I said to you?"

"You said, 'Promise me you'll be safe?' I was about to go on the raid, and you were upset about not being able to go with me."

"Do you promise to remember that?" Shouto asked.

"Yeah, I promise," you told him, smiling a little.

"(Y/F/N)! Oh, darling, what did they do to you? (Y/F/N), can you hear me?"

The nightmare was getting better at looking like the real Shouto, and this one had the same voice.

"Go to him," the dream Shouto said, sitting up.

"Why?"

"(Y/F/N), blink if you can hear me," Shouto demanded.

You forced yourself to blink.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Shouto couldn't describe to absolute relief it was to see you blink.

He had seen the discarded cast off to the side of you, and he wasn't sure whether you would be able to hear him in that state.

"Hey darling, come on, we're gonna get you out of here, I promise," he murmured, touching your face lightly.

"Sh-Shouto," you rasped. "Shouto, wh-what was the last thing that you said to me?"

"Darling, don't try to speak," he told you, trying to figure out how to cut through the chains without hurting you.

"Shouto, what was the last thing that you said to me?" you asked again, reaching up to grab his hand.

"'Do you promise me that you'll be safe?'" he said, eyes roving over you to try and see any wounds. "That's what I said to you."

Your eyes widened in surprise before tears slipped out of your eyes.

"Sho, it really is you!"

"Darling, hey," he murmured, touching your face softly.

You were sobbing now, fully body sobs, and Shouto wanted so badly to take a moment to just relish in the fact that you were safe, but he had to get you out of there as soon as possilbe.

"Tsukuyomi," Shouto called. "Can Dark Shadow cut through chains?"

"Yes."

"I'm on the basement level of the building. I have Tempest, can you meet us down here?"

"On our way," Tokoyami assured him.

"Guys, I have her, she's in the basement with me, we're getting her out as we speak," Shouto declared over the coms, and he was met with cheers and relief that you were okay.

"How many of you are here?" you asked, wiping at your face.

"The whole class is here," Shouto told you. "Most of the hero agencies sent representatives that are here too."

"Seriously?"

"Yeah, people were really upset that you were taken, especially with the role you played in apprehending Numeral gang members on the last raid, and the part you played in bringing the drug to light."

"Wow," you murmured, making Shouto laugh.

"Hold on just a little bit longer darling," he coaxed. "Our friends are on the way."

"I can't believe that it's really you," you whispered, touching his face softly, rubbing your thumb over his scar the way you did.

"Oh darling, what did they do to you?" he asked.

"For the past couple of days they've been trying to break me, they want to know who the undercover agent is. I don't know who it is though, so the leader of the Numerals used his quirk on me. He makes the drugs. His quirk makes you see things, makes you feel things. It's like he can burrow into your head and take the images out of your head."

You shuddered in his arms and he frowned as Tokoyami appeared in the doorway.

"Hello (Y/L/N)," he said, smiling at you.

"Hey little bird," you replied, your smile watery with emotions.

"Can Dark Shadow get through those chains?"

"Of course," Tokoyami told Shouto.

"Hello starlight," Dark Shadow said.

"Hi Dark Shadow," you murmured, stroking the sentinent creature before he tore through the chains like paper mache.

You rubbed at your wrists for a moment before you threw your arms around Shouto, burying your face in his neck.

"Sho," you sobbed, tears back full force.

"I've got you darling," he murmured. "I've got you. You're free, you're free."

You nodded, arms tight around him.

Shouto scooped you up, cradling you against his chest, letting you sob as much as you needed to.

The paramedics that had been called to the scene hadn't managed to get Shouto to let go of you, and you showed no signs of letting go of him, so they had managed to do everything they needed to with you clinging to him.

"She'll need physical therapy, not to mention professional trauma therapy. She's malnourished and dehydrated, not to mention suffering from exhaustion and a very severe concussion. Her ankle needs to be further inspected, and there's some internal damage, some cracked ribs that might need to be taken care of, but we can do some more thorough work at the hospital. I assume that you're coming with her?" the paramedic asked when he was finished.

"Yes, I'm her boyfriend," Shouto said.

"Alright, well, you have to let go of her so that we can get her hooked up to an IV and make sure that we don't make her concussion any worse. You really shouldn't have moved her, but there's only so much we can do about that now," the other paramedic told him.

"I-It's okay Shouto," you murmured, pulling away from him enough to wipe your face off.

Your breathing was ragged, and you looked like you wanted to go back to being unconscious, but you allowed the paramedics to get you onto an IV and a bed with a neck supporter.

"Shouto, will you stay with me?" you asked.

"Always darling," Shouto said, gripping your hand.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Forthree weeks afterwards, you were stuck in the hospital. Your ankle hadn't been as bad as it had been feared, you back on your feet in a week, and you were undergoing physical therapy.

You were back to a normal diet, and you were going to therapy three times a week. Well, the shrink came to you, but semantics.

Your class visited every day, bringing you your homework and recorded lessons, most of them crying, and more than elated that you were back, safe.

Shouto, after being given permission by your parents, was being counted as a family member, and he had been practically living in the hospital with you.

For the first week, he had refused to leave your hospital room. He had slept curled around you, despite the machines that you had been hooked up to, he had missed class, staying with you and keeping you company.

There was also the reason of him being the only one to be able to calm you down after a nightmare.

There were nightmares where you woke up sweaty and nervous, asking the nurse on the night shift to light the candles that were all around your room.

But there were some that had you hurtling to the small bathroom in your room, hurling the contents of your stomach up. Then there were the ones that got so bad that you locked yourself in the bathroom, hiding yourself away in a corner until someone noticed and got a hold of Shouto.

They were getting better, and you were getting better about people coming up behind you, the touching.

For a few days after being admitted to the hospital, the only person who could touch you was Shouto.

Your mother had been heart broken every time you flinched away from her touches.

Your father had only come once, and he had been carried out by hospital staff after Shouto had tossed him out of your room.

You had retreated into yourself after that, and had come clean to Shouto about some of what had happened while you were being held hostage.

The therapy was helping, and so was the massive support that you were getting from the public and other heroes that had been in similar situations.

Your friends were very understanding of you not touching them as much anymore, and you and Bakugou were closer than ever, since he had experienced something similar.

Today was your first day back in the dorms, and you weren't going to lie to yourself, you were nervous.

The class had slowly starting moving all the gifts that you were receiving into your room, so you were only carrying a small bag.

"Shouto," you began. "You know that you can walk away if I get to be too much right?"

It had been bothering you for a while, that he had stayed with you for so long. It had bothered you that he had given up so much of his time for you, while getting very little from you in return.

"Why would I do that?" Shouto asked cocking his head to the side in confusion.

"I just mean that . . . well, I know that I haven't been the easiest girlfriend to have recently, and I . . . I have more issues than when we first started dating, and things have changed. I'm way more high maintenance than I was. I wouldn't blame you if you wanted a different girl-"

"Stop it right there," he demanded, turning to you.

His eyes were hard, despite his soft tone of voice.

"(Y/F/N), I don't want anyone other than you," he said. "I don't care if you wake me up at three in the morning screaming. I don't care if you sometimes have days where you feel like you can't say anything to me. I don't care if you have days where you can't get out of bed. I love you. I love you more than anything, and those things are not going to stop me from loving you.

"You are one of the strongest women in my life, and I am not letting you go because you have some issues. We've all got issues, hell, I have issues we haven't even touched on. Those things are just another part of you that I get to love. Alright?"

You nodded, blinking back tears.

"What did I ever do to deserve you?" you asked softly, wrapping your arms around his neck.

He waited for a moment before he wrapped his arms around your waist.

You weren't entirely sure why touch was such a problem for you now. Other than the injuries you had received during the fight, nothing had happened to you that would explain it, nothing you could remember anyway.

There had been some retrograde amnesia that went along with your kidnapping, though the doctors had assured you that those memories would come back with enough time.

And they had. There were still a few blank spots, but there weren't nearly as many as there had been.

"All the right things," he murmured, kissing your forehead hesitantly.

"I love you too Shouto," you told him.

He smiled softly at you, then turned towards the doors.

They opened, revealing your friends and a huge banner with your characterized face on it.

"Surprise!" they all said, though they didn't yell it like you had thought they would.

"Welcome home (Y/F/N)," Shouto said, sliding his arm around your shoulders as you both walked out.

Yeah, this was home.

[buckybarnesdiaries]

otchet o missii

© @wintersthighs

bucky barnes x reader. ⎢ masterlist.

part one ⸺ part two ⸺ bonus

request made by anon: Hi Maria you beautiful person you please be my friend 🥺 I kinda have a request but if it doesn't speak to you then you don't have to write it, could you write something where reader is an enhanced/ mutant (kinda like Wanda or Jean Grey so like crazy powerful and dangerous) and Bucky just will not let the government get near her because he knows they'll probably experiment on her to make her a weapon cause they're sus like that? It can be romantic or platonic no preference, if ya want, please and thanks sorry this was so long

word count: 1.165 words.

warnings/tags: none. dad!bucky being overprotective with his baby soldier.

author notes: re-posted because tumblr deleted it for no reason. none of my stories contain reader’s body descriptions to be inclusive.

Join the tag list here.

“Soldat, stoy”.

(Soldier, stop).

Your eyes widened. Your heart raced. The time froze. That command clicked something in your brain, producing the spheres of flames concentrated on your palms to dwindle till disappearing. You had just one second to look around you, before turning at the firm tone of voice behind your back. You found yourself in the middle of Times Square, surrounded by different security forces, aiming at you with large-caliber weapons. Above your head, two helicopters were setting up a perimeter. The chaos spread around the long avenue. You didn't have an idea of how you ended up there, but you were scared like never before.

Turning slowly, your eyes landed on a pair of pale blue orbs. You didn’t notice the other people as a backup. A feeling of safety invaded you when he tilted his head confused, narrowing his eyes, trying to understand how it was possible that you were there. But before you could take a step closer to him, a twinge followed by an electric cramp shook your body. The last thing you heard before blacking out was an I got you, and a cold arm wrapping your abdomen.

BUCKY'S POV

Avengers Compound

06:03 pm, New York

“How do you know it’s not a trap set by Hydra?” Steve asked, reclining himself on his seat at the meeting table next to the rest of the Avengers.

“Because I trust her”. Bucky didn’t doubt replying, although he couldn’t understand why, hearing Stark clicking his tongue as he rolled his eyes.

“James, you don’t know her”. Natasha sighed, referring to the fact that being assassins together years ago meant nothing.

“I trained her. She owes me loyalty”.

“What’s that? Some kind of Stockholm Syndrome patented by Hydra?” Clint scoffed incredulously.

“Tell us what you know about her, Bucky. What you remember”. The captain asked his long-life friend, leaning on the table with both forearms rested against the edge of it.

The soldier gulped, deeply breathing, nodding his chin with his eyes lost somewhere on the dark oak. He explained how Vasily Karpov knew about you. An orphan with no family, no history, and a power of telepathy that allowed you to control the four elements as you pleased. Water, fire, earth, and air. From nowhere, your body could produce flames and throw them anywhere. Exactly the same you could do with water and air. Earth was different. Only by using your hands you could wild it as you want; creating earthquakes or holes, move it. The heroes around Bucky were stupefied. You were a potential danger.

Then, he told them about your skills. Karpov made him stay awake after killing Tony’s parents to train her. You were just a kid. And soon, you were a soldier with an angelic face who could kill anyone just by blinking your eyes. To tell the truth, the Winter Soldier was everything you had in this life. You two worked together, hand-to-hand, for more than ten years until he disappeared. With him out of the game, Hydra continued experimenting with you to replace him. But they reached a point where you couldn't bear the pain, losing control completely.

“Let me talk with her, please”. Bucky begged, touring his eyes around the people there.

“It’s too dangerous”. Vision affirmed, taking a position close to Tony.

“She. Owes. Me. Loyalty”. He repeated almost hissing, pointing out every word with his silver forefinger poking the table.

“You have five minutes before the Government brings her to the Raft”. Rhodes sentenced, crossing his arms on his chest. “Five minutes”.

Escorted by Steve and Wanda, who was the only one there that could control you, Bucky went down to the third sublevel. When the soporific made its effect and knocked you out in the middle of Manhattan, the Avengers managed to take you to their compound.

You were still stoned, but conscious enough to know what was happening around you. Everything spun inside the bunker. Your head hurt like hell and you felt a knot within the pit of your stomach that made you want to puke your guts. As the heavy door proffered a loud noise being opened you retreated to the farthest corner, placing your knees to your chest and wrapping your legs with both arms. Again, you were shaking. Terrified. About to beg for your life.

“Soldat, otchet o missii”.

(Soldier, mission report).

Your breathing became erratic as if the air wasn't enough to fill your lungs. You were at the edge of your crying, raising your hidden face from the gap of your knees. The Winter Soldier was standing some feet away from you. No expression on his face, as always, but with the small difference of a slight inkling of concern. He also looked skinnier, shorter hair, a grown beard. He looked healthier, free.

“Net zadaniya”. You whispered with a broken tone.

(No assignment).

“Soldat, otchet o missii”. He repeated taking a step ahead, hardening his voice.

(Soldier, mission report).

The command made you gulp a sob. Wasn’t he believing you? How could you lie to him?

“Net zadaniya”. You replied with no hesitation, standing on your bare feet and sticking your back to the wall. “Missiya ne naznachena”.

(No assignment. No mission assigned).

You noticed he wanted to turn to his partners, but he didn't. The soldier kept eye contact, coming a little more closer, invading your personal space without caring. He tilted his head forward, trying to find the answers to his questions in your orbs. But they both were emptied with the sole exception of the horror invading your chest and reflected on them. You didn't want to come back. You wanted to be released from Hydra's chain. You weren't an assassin, nor a monster.

“I wa… I was looking for… you”. Babbling, you confessed, being the explanation for why your mind took you to that place in concrete.

“Why?”

“Because you are the only person I have”.

His eyelids narrowed for a second, scanning your intentions, feeling frustrated by not finding anything hidden beneath your words. “Otchet o missii, soldat”.

(Mission report, soldier).

“Net zadaniya, Sergeant Barnes”.

(No assignment).

It was the first time you pronounced part of his real name since you met him many years ago and you could listen to his heartbeat increasing. Before you blinked, his metallic hand grabbed your throat and pinned you against the wall, watching the fury and the rage taking control over his grimace. Glancing above his shoulder, a redhead woman stopped the blonde man known as Captain America. Your gaze focused again on the soldier, loosening slowly the grip on your skin.

“Why don't you remember me?”

The last thing you knew about him was that the man behind him brought back the memories of his past life. His real life. But he was still looking at you with hate and revulsion. Of course, the Winter Soldier was conscious of who you were. What he had forgotten was how he felt about you. He didn't reply to your question, walking backward to the exit, leaving you there. Alone. Again.

feedback is appreciated, please, leave a comment to let me know if you liked it and/or reblog it.

author notes: what do you think about, after the two parts explaining the story, continuing it to explore the evolution of their relationship? do you like the idea? lemme know in a comment or send me an ask!

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[universalistotalis]

Stiff That You Love

Ushijima Wakatoshi (Timeskip!) x Female reader

Masterlist!!!

You never thought you'd see him again. You almost choked on the truffle pasta that you ordered in this café when a certain beautiful giant waved and made his way to you.

"Holy damn." You whispered underneath your breath as his strides made their way towards your table. You knew he was already a show stopper back then, but now???!

You were so sure everyone would drop dead at the sight of him.

"Hi." He greeted with his deep voice. "Do you still remember me?"

Surprise filled your expression at his question but you smiled politely and nodded your head. "How could I forget? How are you Ushijima?"

You swore you saw a glint of relief and excitement in his eyes but it immediately wavered as he motioned to the chair in front of you.

"May I?" He asked again, holding the back of the chair.

Is he really going to sit here with me?!

"Sure, of course." Your voice squeaked at the feeling of your heart bursting out of your chest. His greeting was enough to kick the air out of your lungs but a whole conversation?! You didn't know how long you would last in his ever- intimidating presence.

-

It was already the last year in college and you were so determined to graduate with latin honors. Every single minute of your life, you dedicated it to studies, friends and family. They were all that mattered. And so you stayed until the wee hours at certain café spots around the university or at the library inside the campus. You went to meet up with friends during the weekends only for a simple dinner or lunch. You called your family members every chance you get during free time. That was your life. And you were content.

But then this boy came in to the picture.

"You will be partnered together and I shall assign the pair. Make sure you finish the written output, video presentation, and oral defense at the end of the semester." Those were the words of your professor during one of your classes before yours and his name were called out together.

You swore it was fate. Romance was really not in the forefront of your mind but as they say, "You'll find it best when you're not looking".

AND MY GOD WERE YOU SO WRONG!

This man named Ushijima Wakatoshi who came out from nowhere, looking as good they come, had no ounce of romance nor funny bone in his muscular body. He was the most dense, most serious, most infuriating man you've ever met in your whole life!!! He was a whole perfectionist, always so blunt at his comments about the outputs that you showed him. He was also so strict with the deadlines, not considering that you had other classes than this that had much more weight and importance.

You were so close to giving up but...

"Y/n?" You knew that voice only belonged to the certain antagonist in your story right now.

Your hands trembled as you wiped the tears streaming down your face after your meeting together at the library.

"Ushijima, hey!" You pretended to be your usual chirpy self as you turned around to face him.

It was already late so the lights surrounding the university casted an unworldly glow on his face. He was always so breathtaking no matter where you put him but damn those looks! He was just as heartless.

"Are you alright?" He asked with a worried tone.

"I'm fine. I'll be going home now. See you next week." You excused yourself.

"Wait." His cold fingers caught your arm and that made you stop your tracks.

"Is there a problem, Wakatoshi?"

He bowed his head before slowly releasing you in his grip. "I wanted to apologize for my behavior."

"W-what?" You wanted to make sure if what your ears heard was right. He does not seem the type to apologize.

You heard another deep sigh as he looked at you. "I've always been told that I come off too much to others. I didn't realize it until recently when one of my friends told me."

"Oh, well..."

"I'll try to be better though. I'll be more careful from now on. And I'm really sorry if I ever hurt your feelings in the past." He said with all seriousness that you can't help but sigh and just nod.

"You can be really mean sometimes." You agreed and chuckled, letting a tear escape your eyes.

"You've been crying." He stated flatly as if he was reciting a trivia. "I'm still so sorry."

You giggled. "Yeah, I forgive you. Anyway, it's getting late, Wakatoshi. We have to head home."

"I'll walk you home." He said with a finality in his voice. You were again, surprised by his actions but just agreed because this was such a draining day.

And as you were nearing where you stayed, you were again surprised at how comforting his presence was.

--

You did find his presence after that night relaxing. He became more tactful and he started to insert jokes during your meetings which shocked you so much the first time that he felt a little offended. You became such close friends that his team mates in volleyball were again, shocked that he managed to get a friend outside the team. It was just a matter of getting used to, you thought to yourself. He's just so honest, mechanical, and straightforward to a fault and you got to master how to tell him off when needed. He also developed to trust you so whenever he needed advice, he would always go to you and trust your honest words.

Looking at him now, it made your heart warm at how far he'd come. It's amazing to have known him then. To have seen how he grew as an athlete, a student, and a person. He may still be a little stiff but that's just the Wakatoshi you've come to love.

"Soo..." He started while sitting back down again after claiming his coffee from the counter. "I am not disturbing you, am I?" He pointed at the laptop and papers next to you.

You laughed. "Not at all! I finished them anyway."

"How have you been then?" He asked. His elbows were resting on the table and his hands were holding on to the cup of coffee. The sight was a little funny considering his giant built was leaned onto a very small table.

You smiled gently. "I've been good! I got the job that I dreamed of having and I own some businesses too. Ho--"

"Your eyes sparkle the same way." He cut off.

"What?" You asked, surprised at his random comment.

"Your eyes..." He pointed out. "They sparkle the same way they did in college when you were talking about something you like."

"How did you notice that?" You laughed.

"I'm known to be observant." He smirked slightly, taking a sip of his coffee.

"Okay, Mr. Oh-So-Observant, how are your matches going? I've been tuning in since the first tournament and it looks like you're going to the semi- finals!" You cheered not hiding your pride and excitement for the country's national volleyball team. When you searched on how to watch the live games, you insisted that you were there to cheer for the country and definitely NOT to cheer and simp for a certain brown- haired, serious player. Definitely NOT!

"You've been watching our games?" He asked, eyes slightly widening at the thought of you cheering for him. What he didn't know was that you were always watching his games since college, not missing even one match. You were always there, crying at how proud you were of him. Also, crying at how much he could never be yours.

"Of course, I have, silly!" You chuckled and pointed at your laptop. "I've been watching here and you're just so amazing and strong!"

He suddenly paused at your statement, silently raising a brow at you and smiling softly.

"I- I meant that your whole team is amazing and strong." You clarified, a blush automatically painting the whole of your face and ears.

"Would you like to go tomorrow?" He blinked, setting down his cup on the wooden surface. "To the game, I mean?"

Your eyes widened at his offer. "Are you serious?!"

He chuckled at your reaction. "Of course! We're allowed to bring spectators for the games, I'll just give you the tickets."

"Wow, Ushijima, thank you so much! It's an honor!" You chimed excitedly, jumping a little on your chair.

"The honor's mine." He replied, grinning at you.

He already knew back then that you were one of a kind. No one ever really stayed and tried to understand his demeanor and personality but you did. You were so honest and kind and you always knew what to do or say to keep him at ease. You accepted him for who he was and he's so thankful to have met such a beautiful soul. Even when you were doing nothing, even when you're just sitting across this table from him, without you knowing, you already made up his entire exhausting day. Hell, you made up all those exhausting years of not seeing each other since you two graduated. He suddenly imagined if being with you would always be like this. So peaceful and just pure bliss...

"You've got to be shitting on me! Is that Ushiwaka?" The pair sitting next to the glass walls of the café was oblivious of the red- haired tower and group of men walking past the street. All of them were wearing coats and casual attires as they're planning to go for lunch at their favorite restaurant for a little reunion. The all powerful Shiratorizawa Volleyball Team, headed by Ushijima in high school, cowered like puppies at the name of their captain being mentioned.

"Where?!" Goshiki stopped and shielded himself from an invisible force. "He said he couldn't make it!"

"I guess our baby's growing up, look!" Tendou hummed and pointed at the two of you laughing and looking at each other with heart eyes. "I bet they don't know that they're shooting hearts at each other."

"I never thought he could smile like that." Semi whispered.

"Yeah well, he's been crushing on that girl since college." Tendou filled the silent wonder of the whole group. "That's why she looked familiar! He kept sending me photos of them together studying or something..."

"Studying, my ass!" Shirabu laughed as they continued staring and hiding behind a post at the same time.

They all burst out laughing and again Tendou chuckled. "No seriously, they were studying!"

"Yeah well, they look good together. I hope he'd have the balls to ask her out. Please god!" Goshiki put his hands together as if seriously praying.

"Bet you 10, 000 yen, we'd be attending his wedding two years from now." Semi challenged.

"Nah, I'll go with a year." Tendou offered.

The men casted their bets on how long you and Ushijima would get married. They knew their captain so well to be sure enough that he was serious with you. Safe to say, Semi won the bet.

--

Reblogs are appreciated! <3

[bestiesenpai]

youtuber Sukuna pt2

I wonder what things will happen in this part? I hope there's sparknotes, I don’t feel like reading all these words…

Content warning: *more* mean internet comments, Sukuna doxxing ppl(idk if that needs a warning?? But just in case)

part 1 --- part 3

Being a Youtuber was a lot more work than Sukuna thought it was. When he’d picked you up early in the morning, he wasn’t expecting you to come out with such a fancy camera and microphone. You looked cute as all hell too, hair styled nicely and your outfit was perfect for a day at a countryside cafe.

“Thanks for driving!” You said, climbing into his car and smiling at him. Sukuna could smell your perfume  as it wafted off your body and he immediately felt the urge to buy a bottle as well and spray his pillow with it.

“S’no problem.” He muttered, driving off as soon as you were secure. He’d looked up the place beforehand, reading their menu over and over so he’d know what to order. Slowing down at a red light, he glanced over at you taking pictures.

He wished he could ask you to send them to him so he could save them in the never ending folder he had, but he couldn’t. It would be weird, you weren’t exactly close, and it’s not like you shared any pictures anyway.

“Hey Sukuna, what’s my contact photo on your phone?” The question came out of nowhere and he looked at you in confusion.

“Contact photo? You don’t have one.”

“What, really? I’ll send you a picture then! And add a few cute emojis with my name.” Well, that was easy. He wasn’t expecting you to offer to send him a picture, but he wasn’t going to decline it.

“Okay, I will.” Turning his attention back on the road, Sukuna turned the radio on to fill the silence. “Should I...send you a picture of me?” He had the perfect picture in mind to send you, it was a thirst trap he’d snapped post-shower after a really good day at the gym. A towel hung low on his hips and he still had a few droplets of water on his skin and dripping down from his hair.

“Yes!”

The drive to the cafe was quick and easy, not a lot of traffic early in the morning. The sun was just beginning to settle in the sky and the dew on the grass was fading. The cafe you’d chosen was in a small countryside town, barley fields just a few yards away and farmers with their dogs walking by.

“This the place?” Sukuna asked, pulling into the small parking lot in confusion.

“Yup! I’m so excited!” Hopping out of the car, your camera was immediately put to work filming the surrounding area. It was peacefully silent all around you, the only sound the occasional breeze or dog barking in the distance.

Panning the camera to yourself, you took a quick couple breaths and babbled a few times before speaking properly.

“Hi everyone, as you can see we’re in a different place today! Me and Sukuna are at a cafe in the countryside that I saw online and fell in love with. Say hi Sukuna!”

“Hi.” He was standing at the edge of the lot where a field of wispy tall purple grass started. He waved dumbly, feeling like a dumb kid taken to Disneyworld.

“This is the name of the cafe…” Turning your attention elsewhere, you filmed the rest of your intro. Once again, Sukuna was amazed at the proficiency at which you did things and how smoothly he knew the shots would look.

Looking at the cafe on the outside, it didn’t look like anything special. It was a wooden and concrete building with two large windows. He could see the minimalist decor and furniture inside was wooden as well, probably handcrafted by someone in the town.

“All finished, let’s go in.” Waving him on, Sukuna jogged to be the first to the door to open it for you. Filming as you walked in, when Sukuna entered, he still didn’t understand the hype you’d placed around it.

The air smelt like a strong tea and the humidity was definitely higher. He was right in thinking that all the furniture was handcrafted, all the chairs and tables had a rough quality to them only achievable with a human touch.

“Look, this is what I came here for!” You were standing right at the dessert case, pointing your camera at whatever you were looking at.

“Why is it...?” Sukuna looked at it in confusion. There was an airbrushed cake shaped exactly like the peach emoji sitting in the case with a realistic leaf and stem as well and you looked inexplicably happy over it.

“The owner makes these cakes herself, and she’s doing a cute emoji series!” Bouncing on your heels, you tugged on his sleeve. “I’m totally getting a slice, what’re you getting?” Suddenly, the research he’d done the night prior meant nothing as he looked at the cake.

“I have no idea.”

“You’ve got time to think about it, I’m gonna ask the owner a few questions for the video.” Leaving him at the case, Sukuna saw you go up to the owner waiting at the counter from the corner of his eye. Since the two of you were the only ones here, he could hear your excited voice gushing about the cakes and decor.

Fifteen minutes later, you and Sukuna were seated right in the corner of the cafe, where the two windows intersected on the building. Not one for sweets, Sukuna got a plain poppyseed muffin and a hot tea; the cafe didn’t serve coffee.

Setting up the camera on the table next to you, you took a bite of your cake and loved it, immediately singing its praises to the camera. Sukuna ate as well, trying not to be too stiff as you spoke.

“Sukuna, you should try this too!” Holding up your fork filled with cake, you held it out to him.

“Hm, okay.” Grabbing your hand as well, he expected you to let go of the fork. But as he guided it to his mouth, you didn’t, and you were staring right at him as it went into his mouth. “Why ya staring?” He mumbled, feeling his ears burn.

“I need to know if you like it.” Sukuna didn’t let go of your hand as he chewed and you didn’t make a move to remove it either. You were too focused on his reaction to care, waiting on the edge of your seat for him to say something.

“It’s a peach flavored cake.” He nodded, snorting when you motioned him to say more. “It’s too sweet for me, but if you like it then I like it.”

“Good enough for me!” Finally you pulled away from him and put the fork down, turning to the camera and pointing in his direction. “Can you believe Sukuna doesn’t like sweets? He’s like an old man, he only got a muffin.”

“Please, could an old man deadlift almost 300lbs?” Sukuna scoffed, slapping his chest and flexing his arm.

“That’s so much! You have to train me some day Sukuna, I wanna lift that much!” Your shocked face made Sukuna smirk and he flexed the other arm as well. Your wide eyes got even wider, bouncing between both his arms.

“Anytime, (Y/N).” Sukuna felt confident enough to wink at you, and he saw the way your face faltered at it. Ducking your head away, you pretended to fiddle with the camera, the tips of your fingers shaking slightly.

It was afternoon by the time you finished in the cafe, walking out into the warmth of the sun. Looking out, all the land surrounding the cafe was flat, covered in fields of barley or tall grasses.

“Hey Sukuna…” There you were, touching the purple grass with your fingers.

“What?”

“Will you take a few pictures for me? For Instagram?”

“I don’t think I’ll be any good.” Sukuna barely knew how to take pictures of himself let alone another person.

“That’s okay, just try your best!” Putting another camera in his hand, you grabbed his wrist and tugged him to join you deeper in the field. “That camera is pretty simple, just point and click.”

“Alright.” Holding it up, he immediately snapped a picture of you.

“Wait for me to pose!” You laughed. Sukuna chuckled as well, and when you were ready, he took the pictures. He took as many as he could, clicking the button over and over.

“Take a look.” Twenty minutes later he was handing the camera back at you. Looking through the pictures, you instantly burst into laughter.

“Sukuna, why’d you take a picture of the sun? My head is in the corner, it looks like a toe!”

“I told you it’d be bad!” He couldn’t help but laugh as well. You really did look like a toe in the corner of the screen.

“Oh my god, I’m taking you to a photography class, some of these are too much.” Giggling your way through the rest of the pictures, you put the camera back in his hand. “Let’s take a couple together!”

Sukunas heart leapt for joy. He would be able to take a picture with you. It felt like he was a fan of yours and not someone you knew on a personal level.

“You’re gonna hold the camera, your arms are longer.” Flipping the viewfinder up, you slided up to Sukunas side. He muttered something unintelligible, too busy looking at the two of you together. He could almost imagine you were a couple.

“Sukuna, hold the camera like this.” His hand had gone limp, casting a bad angle on the two of you.

“Don’t face that way, the light will make you look bad.” In one of the pictures, you’d changed poses.

“I know you only take serious gym pictures but smile for this one!” His face had dropped down to a scowl, his normal resting face. After who knows how long, he was finally free from taking pictures.

Wandering back to the car, it was silent as the both of you settled in. You were busy looking over the photos and Sukuna was busy watching you from the corner of his eye.

“Anything else you wanna do here?” He asked after a while of pretending to look on Twitter.

“Mmmm, we can drive around some more! I don’t really know what else is out here.”

Sukuna drove you through the countryside town, marvelling at the farmers and all their animals. You stopped to get a couple handmade candies from an old man, and Sukuna made sure to pick up some food that wasn’t just sweets for you. Eating at a small restaurant, when you hit the road again it was nearly evening.

Driving back in near silence, somewhere along the way you fell asleep. Your head rested against the window, jostled a few times by the road or a turn. Sukuna couldn’t help but look at you any chance he could, and although he felt like a major creep, he couldn’t stop himself from taking a picture of you.

“You’ve gotta be fucking kidding.” Sukuna groaned as he got closer to the city, coming upon a wall of traffic. Far ahead up the road there was an accident that wasn’t going to be cleared away anytime soon.

“What’s up?” You asked with a loud yawn, stretching out your arms and legs as best you could.

“Traffic.” Leaning his head out the window, he let out another groan. “Might as well put the fucking car in park.” Shifting the gear and sinking low into his seat, Sukuna sighed. It’s not that he hated traffic, but he wanted every moment of this outing to be perfect, and this was seriously hindering it.

“Do you want me to send you some of the pictures we took together for your Instagram as well?”

“Yeah, send ‘em over.” At least Sukuna could stare at the two of you together to pass the time. The amount of pictures you sent him was seemingly endless and included a few he didn’t know you’d taken of him eating and looking out the window.

“How long do you think we’ll be here?” You whined, kicking your feet out in boredom.

“At least an hour.”

It was quiet for a few minutes, the sound of the radio and other cars around you filling the background. Sukuna could see you fiddling with your phone, opening and closing apps. He could see you getting antsy.

“I’m already so bored.” There it was. Your pitiful whine accentuated with your head pushed back. Sukunas fingers itched to reach out and squeeze your cheek, it was glowing from the sun. “I think I’m gonna get on Instagram live or something so I can complain more.”

Laughing at your honesty, as soon as you went live Sukuna got the notification on his phone. Your head was tilted away from him, only your side of the car showed. Waving at the camera a few times, you smiled really big.

“Hi everyone! I’m stuck in traffic!” Your eyes flicked across the screen, reading the many comments coming in. “Hm, what do you mean who’s car am I in? I bought this car!”

“Liar.” Sukuna mumbled with a cheeky grin getting bigger when you tried to hide your own chuckle.

“I swear I bought this car!” You couldn’t keep the lie going, and broke down in giggles the more Sukuna looked at you. “Alright, I’m in Sukunas car.” Panning the phone out, he saw himself on screen.

“Hi.” He waved, reading the comments asking if you were on a date. “Don’t you remember from the last live? We aren’t on a date we’re filming some fucking vlog.”

“It’ll be up soon! You’ll all really enjoy it, Sukuna was a great guest.”

“The best.” He nodded along. You responded to a few more comments, but there were some that kept coming up.

‘(Y/N) kiss Sukuna’

‘(Y/N) kiss Sukuna’

‘(Y/N) kiss Sukuna’

“Stop spamming that fucking message like a weirdo.” Sukuna finally snapped. You had done a great job at ignoring the comment, but it was all Sukuna could see on the screen. “You’re gross to ask us to do that.” But Sukuna did wish he could kiss you. Ever since the first comment came through, he’d taken glances at your lips as you spoke.

“Oof, don’t make Sukuna mad, he’ll kill you.” You teased, and your hand went out to squeeze his arm. “He said he can deadlift almost 300lbs, so watch out.”

“That’s fucking right.” Flexing his arm proudly, Sukuna nearly put it around your shoulder, faltering at the last minute and landing on the center console with a thud.

‘It would be kind of cute to see them kiss…’

‘I bet Sukuna can’t even hug (Y/N)’

‘I bet after today they’ll come out and say they’re dating!’

Now all the comments were talking about the two of you dating, and how cute it would be if you really were. Biting his lip, Sukuna watched your reaction closely. Truly he had no problem with the comments, he wanted them to be true as well, but if you were uncomfortable he was ready to put everyone in their place.

“Gosh you guys ship us so hard.” You seemed okay with it, your face wasn’t tense and you were still making eye contact with Sukuna. “Are you going to subscribe to my channel if I kiss him?”

“What?” Sukunas eyes widened and the comments poured in promising life long dedication to you if you went through with it.

“Alright.” Setting your phone up on the dashboard, you turned to Sukuna. “I’ll be quick, okay?”

“What?” He parroted. His hands were getting clammy just thinking about it and the look in your eyes wasn’t helping. With a nervous lick of his lips Sukuna leant forward and had just begun to pucker his mouth when you loudly kissed your palm and pressed it to his cheek.

“There! I kissed Sukuna!” With a big grin on your face you kissed your hand again and put it on him. “I did it twice! Now go subscribe!”

“What the hell.” Sukuna mumbled to himself, feeling like an idiot for thinking you’d really kiss him. He spent the next fifteen minutes in a stupor, vaguely replying to comments and trying to get over the embarrassment he felt.

Dropping you off nearly an hour past the original time, when Sukuna got home he buried his face into his pillow and let out a short yell. The biting shame he felt at almost making himself a fool in front of thousands of people was still fresh. He knew there’d be fancams of the moment just waiting for him. A buzzing on his phone pulled him out of his thoughts.

(Y/N): you need to send me a picture for your contact photo!

That’s right, the picture. Sukuna didn’t even need to scroll that far to find it, it was in his favorites. Sending it to you without a second thought, he didn’t even have the mind to check your reaction. Leaving his phone on the bed, he rushed to the shower to cool off.

When he returned, there were a flurry of messages from you waiting to be read. Most of them were unreadable keyboard smashes and a few emojis.

(Y/N): SUKUNA!

(Y/N): you can’t just send me a picture like that!!

(Sukuna): why?

(Y/N): you know why!

He could practically hear your flustered little whine.

(Sukuna): enlighten me please

(Y/N): SWSGMLU

(Y/N): you’re such a bully!!

(Sukuna): haha sounds like someone's embarrassed

It was a long few minutes before you replied and Sukuna could see the typing bubbles appear and reappear several times.

(Y/N): I’M GOING TO BED

(Sukuna): you that tired? it’s only 9pm

(Y/N): YES GOODNIGHT

(Y/N): BYE BULLY

(Sukuna): lol goodnight then

In a week, the vlog was up and Sukuna made his debut into the world. He rewatched it several times over, in awe of how well you’d captured the countryside and translated it to video. He even screen recorded some parts, like when he was flexing for you, just to replay your reaction over and over.

In the weeks following, Sukuna watched your channel grow exponentially. Your number of subscribers wasn’t small, but it was nowhere near his, yet you made the leap to over a million and a half practically overnight. And with that new success, came a lot of pressure.

You’d recently taken up streaming, and Sukuna was at every single one. He had made a Twitch account just to watch you and he subscribed immediately, blushing when you read out his name and personally thanked him in a text a few minutes later.

Entering your stream as soon as it started, Sukuna was ready to sit and watch you do whatever. Usually, you played a game like the Sims, but sometimes you’d cook or put makeup on for a stream.

But this time was different. When your face appeared on the screen, you looked down. Almost as if you’d been fighting back tears. Immediately, Sukuna grabbed his phone, ready to call you and ask what was happening.

“Hey guys.” He could hear it in your voice that you were sad. It warbled and broke, and you sniffled a few times.

‘(Y/N) why’re you crying??’

‘What’s wrong?’

‘Did something happen? You can tell us, we’re here for you’

“No, don’t worry everyone it’s just…” A stray tear fell down your cheek and you wiped it away with a shaking hand. “I-I- just-” You quickly broke down crying, turning your chair completely away from the screen.

Sukuna was swiftly dialing your number. He had no idea what was wrong, you hadn’t told him anything was wrong, but he needed to know. He was prepared to go to your house if you needed him to.

“I’m okay, I promise.” Feverishly wiping your tears, you turned back to the camera. Taking several deep breaths, you didn’t look at the camera as you spoke. “I’ve just been getting a lot of hate comments recently and you know I always ignore it but-” Your voice caught, and Sukuna was glued to the screen. “It’s just been a lot honestly.”

‘(Y/N) WE LOVE YOU’

‘PLEASE DON’T CRY WE’RE HERE FOR YOU’

‘I bet it’s all of Sukunas fans, they’re so fucking gross’

‘Totally Sukuna fans, all the real fans love (Y/N) and would never do this’

“N-no, don’t blame Sukuna! He can’t control what people say!” It was totally his fans and he fucking knew it. His call had gone unanswered two times, but on the third time you answered. “Hello?”

“Put me on speaker.”

“But-”

“Put me on speaker!” He demanded. Sukunas blood was boiling, rage rolling over him in waves.

“Sukuna’s calling, I guess he has something to say.” Holding the phone close to the microphone, you kept wiping away tears.

“Listen here you insignificant dirtbags, stop leaving shitty little hate comments on (Y/N)s stuff. You’re all fucking piss poor losers who can’t even wipe your own asses, probably jerking each other off in a pathetic circle. Go get a fucking job, worthless pieces of shit. Don’t think this is something you can get away with either, I’m going to make sure you fucking regret the day you were born.” His voice was dripping with so much malice it scared you. While Sukuna was used to talking like this, you’d never heard it in person and you could tell he meant every word.

“Thanks Sukuna, but you don’t have to-”

“Tell me who they are. Where’d they leave the comments?” Angrily setting up a shitty webcam he had, Sukuna was preparing to do a livestream himself.

“I don’t know…”

“(Y/N).” Taking a pause, he stared at the screen. You were worrying your lip as you stared at your phone while the comments begged for you to tell him.

“Alright. Most of them are under the vlog we did together, and there’s a lot under my most recent Instagram pictures.”

“The ones with us together too?”

“Yeah, those are the worst ones.”

“Keep me on the line.” Sukuna had never been this angry in his life before and it showed in his actions. He was slamming things down in a rush to set up his stream and letting out frustrated noises in the back of his throat.

“Sukuna, what’re you doing?” You’d gotten your emotions under control enough to stop crying, your glassy eyes shining in the light of your room.

“I’m setting up my own stream.” Just as he spoke, his face appeared on the screen and he was live. “Tell everyone to send me screenshots of the hate comments, I’m going to teach these assholes a lesson.”

“I think they heard you.” Indeed they had. The phone was still close to the microphone, and now there were comments pouring in telling Sukuna they’d send links through his stream.

Clicking on almost all of the ones that popped up, his screen was bombarded with pictures of people leaving hateful comments on your posts. Many were saying that you didn’t deserve to be alive, to be so close to Sukuna, and many called you ugly or other mean names.

“Let’s see what this fucker looks like.” Going to one of the profiles on Twitter, Sukuna nearly spat on his screen looking at it. “This ugly sack of shit wants to leave some mean comments? Well it’s your lucky day bitch, you’re the first one to go.” It took Sukuna all of five minutes to find the person's Facebook account where they posted more personal information.

“Oh, that’s a pretty high brow uni you’re going to! It would really be a shame if I sent an email to the dean.” Sukuna said mockingly, already typing up a long email. “You’re not gonna be studying to be a doctor any fucking more. Have fun digging ditches bitch.”

Sukuna’s stream easily went from 200 viewers to nearly 40,000 just in the time it took him to dox the first person. The next one was even easier, and it snowballed from there. Sukuna had no qualms about sharing this personal information, from their addresses to their personal phone numbers to where they worked.

“You really don’t have to do all this.” You kept saying over the phone. You’d ended your own stream to calm down, but you didn’t hang up the phone.

“Yes I do.” Sukuna replied instantly. “People have no respect for others, it’s fucking gross. If they think they can get away with this they’re idiots.” So many comments were egging him on as well, with a lot of people promising to harass everyone exposed until they apologized. “I hope every single one of them loses everything.”

“Sukuna…” With a sigh, you sat back and watched him do it. There wasn't anything you could say to stop him, he was on a warpath and intent on causing harm. Eventually, you had to hang up the call as it got well into the night and he was still going.

“Keep sending the fucking links, I can do this all night.” Sukuna repeated several times, fighting off sleep. His eyes burned from staring at the screen for so long and his back had begun to ache but he wasn’t about to stop now. There were still so many people that had to pay.

After nearly eight hours of streaming himself doxing people, he finally stopped after his channel got banned. His manager had emailed as soon as the sun rose, frantically screaming at him to stop what he was doing or he could get sued.

(Sukuna): tell me right away if this happens again I’ll handle it

He texted you right after getting banned. His body hurt from exhaustion, he could truly pass out at any moment.

(Y/N): I will

(Y/N): sukuna...thanks for doing all that. It really meant a lot to know you care about me

(Sukuna): Of course I care about you

Sukuna was about to type out that he liked you, of course he did all of that and risked himself getting sued because he liked you and never wanted to see you cry again. Almost admitting to how he wanted nothing more than to give you a big hug, but stopping himself at the last moment.

(Y/N): you’re such a good friend Sukuna, thank you

(Sukuna): you’re welcome

It hurt to be put into that category, in the friendzone. It made his tongue curl in disgust, a rancid place that he wanted no part of. People that were in the friendzone were spineless and too weak to just confess their feelings - and Sukuna seemed to be one of them.

After that incident, you went on a break from all social media and Sukuna began to patrol your comments sections. He actively posted that he would start doxing people again if they said anything bad, citing all the damage he’d done to the previous victims. Sukuna had gotten what he wanted, all the people he exposed suffered in some way, most losing jobs and friends.

On a run to the grocery store, Sukuna was listening to a podcast you’d been on. He missed the content you posted, and while he did text you sporadically about Youtube stuff, he didn’t feel comfortable messaging you about anything else. His mind always stopped him, questioning him on if what he wanted to say was really worth your time.

“Hi Sukuna.” Standing at the bread section, Sukuna nearly jumped into the air hearing your voice pop up next to him. There you were in a baggy hoodie and sweats, looking every part an unnoticeable member of society.

“(Y/N)? W-what’re you doing here?”

“Hm? I’m shopping.” You chuckled, showing him your handbasket.

“Right.” Nodding slowly, Sukuna eyed you up. Your eyes were still a little puffy and he could see they were red as well. You looked tired and worn down, not your usual happy self. “Hey (Y/N).”

“Yeah?” You were unprepared for the heavy arm that landed around your shoulders and even more at being pulled into an embrace. Sukuna hugged you to his chest tightly, squeezing the back of your hoodie in his hands.

“I…” He could feel you relaxing into his arms, heaving a deep sigh like a weight had been lifted off your shoulders. “Don’t feel sad anymore.” Sukuna seemed to have a habit of saying the things he wanted to say in the worst way possible. What did that even mean? To tell you not to be sad anymore instead of offering something else, like his friendship, during this time. He wanted to tell you he’d be here for you.

“Thanks Sukuna.” Hugging him back just as tightly, he could hear you sniffle a few times. The hug lasted for a while, just standing in front of bread, and a good two minutes passed before you started to unwind yourself from him.

Keeping a loose arm around you, Sukuna kept you close, searching your face for any hint that you would possibly start crying. Your eyes were a little misty, and your lower lip quivered just a little, but you sent him a smile that made it all better.

“So, what’re you getting?” He asked, attempting to be casual.

“Well, I’m actually done shopping now and I just saw you standing here.” You admitted with a chuckle. “I know it’s been a while since we last spoke properly.” The last message you’d sent to each other was about a sim card two days ago.

“Don’t worry about it, you were going through stuff.” Shrugging his shoulder, Sukuna grabbed the bread he wanted. “I don’t want you to force yourself to talk to me if you don’t want to.”

“Sukuna, I want to talk to you more though! I know we only talk about Youtube stuff but I want us to be better friends.”

“Really?” Nearly crushing the bread in his hands, Sukuna quirked a brow at you.

“Yeah!”

“Well...alright then.” That made him really happy, like really really happy. You wanted to pursue a stronger relationship with him and while it wasn’t a romantic one like he hoped, he was still ecstatic on the inside.

“I have to go, but can we video call later? I have some things I wanna ask you.”

“Okay.” Giving you a brief wave, Sukuna watched you walk out of the aisle and out of sight. A silly smile stretched his cheeks at the thought of your call later, and it stayed on his face the whole way home.

Later that night, Sukuna was diligently waiting for your call. He kept his phone glued to his hand, something he didn’t normally do, just in case you called. At nearly 7pm on the dot, you called and Sukuna answered right away.

“Hi!” You weren’t in the baggy clothes anymore, it looked like you were in pajamas sitting on your couch.

“Hey.” Sukuna was sitting at his computer doing editing, so he didn’t have to worry about you seeing the lack of furniture in his home. All you had to look at was a blank wall behind him. “So, you wanted to ask me something?”

“Mhmm! I was wondering- well first, Sukuna do you watch anime?”

“Anime?” His face twisted up in mild disgust. “No, that shit is fucking lame.”

“Sukuna!”

“What? I’m not that much of a fucking loser to like anime.” Rolling his eyes, he immediately envisioned a man in his mothers basement jerking off to pixelated tits. “Why? Do you watch it?”

“Yeah…” Now you were embarrassed, and it showed on your face.

“Fine, you’re not a fucking loser.” Propping his phone up on his desk, he tipped his chair back and looked at the ceiling. “At least, not a total fucking loser.”

“Sukuna!” Now you were laughing at him, and he smirked at you. “You’re so mean, you know that?”

“Hey, that’s my brand ba-” He was about to call you baby, the word catching thickly in his throat. Luckily, he stopped himself and slammed his chair back down on the ground to cover it up.

“Well, now I don’t know if I want to ask you my question! You’re gonna say no right away.”

“Tell me.”

“No!” Shaking your head hard, you panned the phone up to your ceiling. “You’re definitely gonna bully me!”

“Who knew you were such a baby?” There, he’d called you baby like he wanted to. Not in the context that he desired, but he still got to say it.

“Am not!” Glaring at him, you exhaled shortly. “I was wondering if you wanted to come to this anime convention with me? It’s happening downtown in a few weeks and I’m a guest on a lot of panels this year. I want you to come with to help film stuff for me so I can make it into a highlights reel for my channel? As sort of a comeback video since I’ve been gone for a while.” It was amazing how you’d managed to say all of that so quickly without taking a breath.

“A convention?” Sukuna had only been to fitness conventions and a few that his manager made him go to.

“Yeah! And I wanted to know if you watched anime because I wanted to see if you’d cosplay with me!”

“Cosplay? What the fuck is that?” It sounded stupid.

“We would dress up as characters from an anime! Have you heard of demon slayer?” No, he hadn’t and his silence told you as much. “Look up Nezuko from demon slayer, that’s who I’m dressing up as!”

“Fine, one sec.” Quickly typing it into his computer, Sukuna’s brow rose seeing the character. “You’re gonna dress up as some BDSM girl?”

“It’s not BDSM!”

“Then why does she have that thing in her mouth?” What else could it be for?

“That’s because she’s a demon and they don’t want her to eat people!”

“God that’s lame.” Looking between his phone and the computer, Sukuna tried to imagine you in this outfit. It was cute, a cute pink kimono with a little hair tie and sash. The more Sukuna looked at it, the cuter it got. “But on you it’ll be cute.”

“So will you dress up with me?” You asked immediately, your eyes shining with excitement. “I already know what character you’ll be! There’s a boy named Inosuke that-”

“No way, save your breath. I’m not dressing up.” Doing a quick search of the boy in question, Sukuna let out a snort. “And why do you want me to dress up as someone with a boars head on? You saying I’m ugly?”

“You don’t have to wear the head!” The opportunity was quickly slipping through your fingers at seeing Sukuna cosplay. “It’s ‘cause you’re so fit and so is he! And you’re pretty similar too.”

“I don’t care if he was my twin.” Shaking his head, Sukuna closed the tab and crossed his arms over his chest. “I’ll tell ya what, I’ll come to this thing and take all the videos and pictures you want and in exchange, I won’t dress up.”

“Wait, how does that logic-”

“Just go with it. Now send me an email about the thing and I’ll clear my schedule.” Waving off any further questions you had, Sukuna quickly got the email for the convention. It was about two weeks from today, and it was going on for the whole weekend.

“So, do you think you’ll be able to make it?” You asked tentatively, worrying your lip.

“Of course.” Sukuna would definitely need to do some serious schedule rearranging. “I’ll pick you up like last time, just let me know the time.”

“You’re the best, Sukuna!” You smiled big at him and Sukuna smiled back. Maybe during the convention, he could show you he was more than just a friend.

When the day of the convention came, Sukuna got ready bright and early to pick you up. The sun had only just settled onto the horizon and he was chugging coffee before leaving.

“Hey.” You yawned loudly as you got in his car, still clearly half asleep.

“Cute.” Sukuna said in response. You looked absolutely adorable. The pink kimono looked good on you, the sash accentuating your waist well. The little green gag he’d seen earlier was hanging around your neck, and you had a cute pink ribbon in your hair.

“Hm? You like it?” Shuffling around, that was when Sukuna saw how high the slit was on your outfit, coming high up on your thigh. His eyes were glued to the skin that showed, unable to look away.

“I do.” He whispered, glancing at you briefly to see your eyes were closed.

“That’s good, I spent a lot of time on it.” Putting your seatbelt on, you yawned again and pointed lazily out the window. “To the convention!”

It was a short drive to the convention, and you were some of the first people there. With a badge around his neck, Sukuna followed you into the hall. You weren’t carrying the bag of camera equipment you’d brought, Sukuna insisted on carrying it so it wouldn’t ruin your costumes aesthetic.

“We’re here really early to get pictures! I booked with a professional photographer, and my pictures are going to be used as promo for a few brands here today.” You explained as Sukuna followed you into a room with a full photoshoot set up.

“Okay.” He was completely lost watching you begin to take pictures. After chugging an energy drink, you hopped straight into it. Sukuna made sure to watch the photographer closely, looking at the computer as the pictures popped up to make sure they weren’t indecent for you.

Nearly an hour and a half later and you were finally done. Sukuna had begun to film some parts of it for you per your request; his job as videographer started now.

“The convention hall is open now to everyone, it might be kind of overwhelming to see all the people out there.” You told him as the photographer was packing up.

“Eh, I’ll be fine.” With a shrug of his shoulders, Sukuna left the room and stepped out into the main hall. Immediately, he knew you were right. There were so many people already milling around dressed in costume, most from shows and games he’d never seen. The only readily identifiable characters for him were from Nintendo.

“Told you it was a lot.” Bumping him with your shoulder, walked out into the convention space. If Sukuna didn’t stand right behind you, he feared he would lose you in the crowd. There were other people dressed up as the same character and he couldn’t trust himself to differentiate between all of them.

Filming a little bit of walking around, Sukuna could hear and see people looking at him in shock. It wasn’t unknown that Sukuna had a distaste for anime and the whole culture surrounding it. Some of his most popular videos were him making fun of people at the very same thing he was at now.

“E-excuse me, (Y/N)?” A young teenage girl approached you, nervously fiddling with her phone.

“Hi!” You waved, immediately seeing her phone. “Do you want a picture?”

“Yes, please!” The girl's nerves quickly dissipated at your question, but she still looked scared of Sukuna.

“How about we take a few selfies?” Sliding next to her, you put an arm around her shoulder and posed. You and the girl took a numerous amount of pictures, and when she left she had a happy blush on her cheeks.

“Is that gonna happen often?” Sukuna asked, watching the girl disappear into the crowd.

“Yeah, sorry! I posted that I’d be going to this for the second and third day and a lot of people said they were gonna ask for pictures.” Rubbing the back of your head nervously, you sized up Sukunas face. “Sorry if it annoys you, I know it can be kind of tedious.”

“I don’t mind. Let's get going.” With a casual shrug, Sukuna walked to where your first panel was. He stayed off to the side as you talked to the organizers and other guests, feeling awkward that he couldn’t hold a conversation on whatever it was you were talking about.

The people soon filed into the panel, filling the seats and whispering excitedly about you and the other people sitting at the front of the room. Some of them noticed Sukuna and whispered about him too.

Ignoring them diligently, Sukuna filmed your panel from the back of the room. He didn’t need to worry about picking up any sound, you were speaking into a microphone. All he had to worry about was capturing good angles for you.

He did this for a few more panels as well, slowly getting more comfortable with people noticing him there. He even waved at a few fangirls that saw him, their faces erupting in a scarlet flush and giggling silly.

“We have almost two hours before my next panel, do you want to grab some food? I’ll pay.” Waiting in the back of an empty room, you tried to reach for your bag that Sukuna had slung over his shoulder.

“No, you don’t have to pay.” Pushing your hand away, Sukuna kept you at arms length.

“C’mon, you have to let me pay! You’re doing so much for me already!”

“Nope.” You tried to struggle past him and grab your bag, but Sukuna was strong enough to keep you at bay with one arm. “Fine! But I’m buying you a plushie later!”

“Whatever.” With the matter settled, the two of you left the room. Almost as soon as you came out, there was a loud gasp from a few people outside the door.

“Oh my god, your Nezuko is so good!” One of them shouted. Sukuna eyed him up, a young man dressed with a strange green and black checkered overcoat.

“Thanks!” You replied, fiddling with the edge of the brown one you were wearing. “I spent ages on getting everything just right!”

“Y-you’re (Y/N)! I didn’t think I was going to see you today!” Another man had on a similar getup to the first, but he was clad in yellow and orange.

“It must be your lucky day!” Laughing a little at his shocked face, you quickly noticed the third man standing there. “Sukuna look, this is what I meant when I said you should dress up as Inosuke!”

“Huh.” He looked at the shirtless man in front of him. The guy was muscular enough, not nearly as much as Sukuna was though. The brown pants he wore were too baggy for Sukunas liking, but he could see the way you were looking at him.

“Can we get a picture please?”

“Of course!” You quickly got in the middle of the three of them and crouched down, throwing up peace signs and smiling brightly as they took the selfies. Sukuna was watching all of their hands, making sure no one touched you or got too close.

“Sukuna, will you take a group picture for us?” You asked, already handing him a phone.

“Yeah.” You didn’t really leave him with a choice and it’s not like he was going to say no to you anyway. It was harder to keep track of just where these men were putting their hands, and every so often Sukuna would look to make sure that the hand placed on your back stayed there and didn’t go any lower.

“Thank you so much!”

“You’re the best, (Y/N)!

“Bye, please tag me in the pictures if you post them!” Waving cutely at them, you walked away. “Ah, that was so much fun! They were so cute!” Gushing about the pictures, you didn’t notice Sukuna had a vein throbbing in his forehead. He seriously wishes he’d dressed up in that dumb costume with you so you could feel the same way about him.

Quickly eating some fast food - much to Sukunas disgust - you were back in the convention hall. There seemed to be even more people here than before milling about. Gripping the back of your top, Sukuna made sure you didn’t get too far from him in the crowd.

“Let’s go check out the merch!” Leading him to a larger space in the convention center, your eyes sparkled looking at all the different vendors spread out. “Sukuna, is there anything you want to check out?”

“Not really.” The only thing he could see that he knew were some overpriced candies. “I’ll just follow you.” And that he did. You stopped at nearly every booth, rejoicing about how cute something was and how much you wanted a certain figure. Sukuna offered to pay for whatever you wanted, but you staunchly refused.

“Sukuna, which one’s your favorite?” Coming upon a booth filled to the brim with different plushies, you crossed your arms and squared your shoulders. “We aren’t leaving here until I buy you a plushie!”

“I don’t need one.” Not only would it ‘ruin’ his tough image, he didn’t like those things to begin with.

“Yes you do!” Stamping your foot childishly, you pointed at them. “Pick one!”

“Who knew you could be so mean?” He teased back with a flick to your forehead.

“Shut up.” Puffing out air, you grabbed his hand and pulled him closer to the booth. “I’ll even help you decide.”

“O-oh.” You were holding his hand. You were definitely, 100% holding Sukunas hand. Your two hands were squishing his one in your palms, shaking it side to side as you looked at all the choices before you. How was Sukuna supposed to pick something when you were holding his hand so close to your body? He could feel the tips of his fingers graze your sash every couple seconds.

“What about this one?” You pointed your hands to a brown bear with a giant body but a tiny head.

“What’s wrong with the head?” He looked concerned at the doll.

“It’s supposed to be like that!”

“I- okay.”

“Do you like it?” Looking at him hopefully, you squished his hand even more. “It’s so cute, you have to get it.”

“Let me see it.” Picking it up with his other hand, Sukuna stared at the unmoving, smiling face of the bear. Squeezing it in his hand, Sukuna let out a short sigh and put it down. “Alright, I’ll get it.”

“Yes!” Letting go of his hand, you rushed to grab your wallet before he could stop you. “Make sure to send me a picture of you with it!”

Right after you finished paying, Sukuna nearly demanded to buy you stuff as well. He’d seen the way you were eyeballing the figures and some books, and he wasn’t going to be the only one to leave this part of the convention hall with a souvenir.

The bags he was carrying were definitely heavier now when you left to go to your next panel. They put a little strain on Sukunas arms but he wasn’t about to let you carry anything and quickly ducked back to his car to put it all away.

Right in the middle of your next panel, Sukuna ducked out to go to the bathroom. He was keeping well hydrated during this whole day and it was surely catching up with him now. Wandering the halls, he eventually found a bathroom to use and on his exit, he noticed a sign for something called an ‘artists alley’.

“Let’s check it out.” Here, there were people selling things but they were clearly fan made. There were paintings and pins, stickers and fan art everywhere. Wandering between the vendors, his eye caught on a particular booth.

“Sukuna?” The person gaped when he walked up but he wasn’t paying attention to them. On a cork board above them was a moderately sized drawing of you, dressed up in an all red get up.

“How much?” He pointed at the drawing, looking at the red cap you had on that matched with the red jacket.

“The (Y/N) x Cells At Work fan art? It’s $35.”

“I’ll take it.” The artist was clearly surprised, scrambling to grab the drawing and put it in a protective sleeve. “Keep the change.” Sukuna slapped 40 down and turned away. “Oh, and don’t tell anyone I was here.”

“O-okay!” They shouted after him. Sukuna kept the drawing close to his chest and when he got back he quickly hid it in his bag so no one would notice. He started filming again like he’d never left and you didn’t question him on it when it was over.

“Man, I’m so tired!” With the convention over hours later, you all but collapsed into Sukunas car. It had indeed been an eventful day between speaking at panels and taking pictures with countless people.

“Yeah, I’m beat.” Sukuna agreed, taking a moment to sit in silence in the driver's seat. He hadn’t expected to be so tired after today. He’ll have to prepare better for tomorrow.

Driving you home, both of you were like zombies as you departed. Sukuna didn’t even have the heart to properly disrobe when he got home, collapsing into bed with the plush you’d gotten for him still in his hand.

The next day was just as hectic as the day before, the word had gotten out that you really were at the convention and now more people swarmed you in between panels. Sukuna took the pictures for all of them, giving any man that wanted one a harsh glare before he started. He was easier on the younger girls, but he still made sure that they didn’t try to flirt with you or anything. No one could be fully trusted.

“Sukuna, I forgot yesterday but we need to go to the artists alley!” You exclaimed in shock, grabbing his upper arm. “They have such cool stuff!” Oh, Sukuna definitely already knew about it. The drawing he’d bought of you was hanging in his room, by his full length mirror so he could see it whenever he wanted.

He pretended everything was brand new to him, acting as if he’d never seen the pins before or the stickers and tote bags. Coming upon the artist he’d bought from yesterday, he noticed there was more fan art of you there.

“Oh my gosh, that’s me!” You giggled happily, pointing to yourself drawn as a Pokemon trainer. “It looks so good!”

“Thank you so much (Y/N)!” The artist gaped, clearly shocked to see you here. “I-I studied all of your pictures so I could get everything just right!”

“You did a great job!” The two of you went on and on about the drawings and other paintings that were there. Sukuna wished he could chime in and say that he really liked the art he bought yesterday, but there was no way he was explaining to you that he bought a drawing of you as a red blood cell. He would rather die.

The rest of the day went by in a blur, all the panels going by so fast and melting into one another. He didn’t feel the same exhaustion as the other day, but Sukuna was definitely still tired as he walked to the car.

“Sukuna, thank you so for this weekend, it really means a lot!” You were the happiest he’d ever seen you. The footage he’d filmed for your video perfectly captured all the good parts of the convention, with several shots of your smiling face with fans and other panel members. “How can I repay you?”

“Well…” There was something he’d been wanting to ask you for a while, ever since he saw you in costume. Today was the last day of the convention and subsequently the last day you’d be wearing this costume. “Can we get a picture together?”

“What? We never took a picture together?”

“No.” Sukuna chuckled at your surprised face. Rushing to his car, you set up a little stand for your camera on the hood of his car.

“Okay, let’s take some!” As soon as Sukuna was standing next to you, you wrapped your arms around his middle in a tight hug.

“W-what’re you doing?” Immediately, his face began to blush.

“You deserve a hug, Sukuna, you’ve been amazing.” Sukuna could barely breathe. Not because you were holding him firmly, but simply from the fact that you were hugging him of your own accord. His hands were shaking slightly as he moved to hug you back, grinning shyly at the pleased hum you let out when he did so.

The drive home left a bittersweet feeling on Sukunas tongue. He was glad it was over so that he didn’t have to wake up so early and deal with the gross crowds of people. There weren’t potentially disgusting men and perverts trying to take upskirt shots of your costume or grope you that he had to worry about.

Stopping at a light though, he realized how much fun he had as well. Listening to you talk and share your opinions on the panels was interesting and getting to hear others talk to so passionately as well had made him interested in a few shows. He knew you’d be ecstatic to hear that he could potentially get into anime, and Sukuna knew that at the next convention, he’d dress up for you. He also loved the bear you’d bought him even though that was something he’d never admit.

“Thank you again Sukuna, seriously.” You squeezed his arm as he pulled up to your house.

“Don’t mention it. Let me help you with the stuff in the back.” You’d bought even more things today than yesterday, mostly for friends and family that couldn’t make it to the convention. Gathering all the bags, Sukuna walked them to your door and wandered right into your apartment.

“You can put them all near the couch!” Closing the door behind him you quickly jogged over to the couch to help him with the bags.

“Whoa, your place is nice.” It actually looked like someone lived here as opposed to Sukunas place that looked like an upgraded jail cell. There was a fluffy rug on the wall and a few cute figures and small plushies on shelves, you had plants hanging down from the ceiling and it smelled vaguely floral. There was also a space dedicated to fan made art and gifts, with some fresh flowers sitting in a vase.

“Thanks! Maybe we can film a video here someday!”

“Definitely.” Mumbling dumbly, Sukuna was vaguely aware of you staring at him. “What?”

“You’re such a good friend, Sukuna. I can’t thank you enough!” Again, you hugged him. Burying your face into him, you shook his body side to side before quickly letting go. “Anything you need, don’t hesitate to ask!”

“Hey that’s my line.” Patting you on the head, Sukuna let a dumb smile spread his cheeks. He truly had the most fun ever with you, and for a moment he could pretend that you were a couple and that he was going to spend the night here, cuddle up with you and talk about all the dumb little things happened the past few days.

But he wasn’t dating you and his daydream only lived a few seconds before he made his departure. Going back to his own home, as Sukuna stepped inside he got a notification that he’d been tagged in a photo.

It’s one of the ones you’d taken together where you were hugging each other tightly. Your smile was genuine, showing all your teeth. Your eyes were crinkled at the corners, looking at Sukuna’s kind of surprised face with an indescribable warmth.

‘I love my friends’

That was the caption you’d put with a simple heart emoji after. There were people in the comments asking if this meant you were dating now, begging for you to admit it so they could say their ship sailed. Reading the caption over and over, Sukuna bit his lip to contain the feeling spreading in his chest.

‘I love my friends too’

He commented. And one day, he promised himself that he’d get to call you something more than just a friend. Wandering further into his apartment, he smiled like an idiot at his phone, quickly screenshotting the post.

“Ow!” Bumping his shin hard into his plastic foldable dining table, he was faced with the jarring reality of his surroundings. If he wanted to call you his, he needed to get some furniture first.

[peakyblindersxx]

whiskey business - john shelby x reader (part 8 of ?)

gif by @thesoldiersminute can i send you a cake or something cause fuCk!!!!!!!!!!! he's beautiful

a/n: to everyone still reading this fic, my sweet angels, ily!! this fic is so near and dear to my heart and @stxdyblr-2k has just done such an amazing job with it i can't even thank her enough. as per the last part, this one is also mostly her, just me editing but i hope you guys love it as much as i did!!! don't worry, there's gonna be a lot more :) and i apologize for being not as active, i'm gonna try to get a couple of requests up that i'm really excited about this week tysm for being patient with me <3

love, abi xxx

read part one two three four five six seven | my masterlist

prompt: ada has some talking to do, and you're not about to deny her.

warnings: fluff, semi-angst, tommy being the cocky mf he is (let's be real, it's only acceptable cause he's so damn fine), john being cute and in love and jesus i am head over heels

tagging: @datewithgianni, @mayaslifeinabox, @deepdonutkid, @springsoulofengland, @lilymurphy03, @operation-spot

You had planned to go to Ada's after work, but she obviously had other ideas. She didn't even bother walking in and asking to speak to you; instead, choosing to bang on the window closest to your desk and yelling at you to "fucking hurry up!" Your boss opened the door for you expectantly, not offering you any protection; he was firmly in the Shelby's ever growing pocket and as long as he could go home to his children, his sickly wife and their six bed in the country, with a full time nurse and nanny, he had no interest in crossing Thomas.

"Ada, I was coming to see you after work, I swear."

"I know. I was going to let you but..." She trailed off. "We need to talk. I don't know what the fuck is going on with you. John said he'd seen you last night and you asked after me."

John had indeed seen you last night. It was strange waking up with him, used to leaving almost immediately after he was finished with you. Your small bed could barely comfortably fit you both, having to intertwine your limbs with John's to not fall off the edge. You had awoken to John pressing a kiss to your forehead before lazily trailing his fingers between your legs, waiting for you to open your eyes before settling between your thighs, tongue swirling around your clit, making you cum before sunrise.

"Do we have to do this in the street?" You practically begged, the shouting having attracted onlookers.

"I wanted to talk to you before anyone else in the family gets to you because I need you to be honest."

"Ada-"

"No, I'm doing you a favour here, so you fucking listen. Right now, between you and I, no bullshit. No tactics. No white lies. You have to tell me exactly what we're dealing with." She looked frantic, scared for some reason.

You nodded, walking her down the side street, careful not to link arms with her. You knew she was doing you a favour; this wasn't about forgiveness or friendship, much more was at stake here.

"To what extent was Thomas involved?"

That took you off guard. Ada read the confusion on your face and sighed impatiently, her subtle plea for you to keep up.

Shit. You remembered your conversation with John, how she thought this was her brother's way of pushing her out of the company.

"Don't spare my feelings. What did my brother say to you?"

"He said it was in our mutual interest that you didn't find out. He didn't care who John slept with but cared who you trusted so I had to trust him. He said there was no point in upsetting you over one of John's conquests who he'd tire of in a month."

"That all?"

"Pretty much, I didn't know Arthur knew. He never talked to me about it, did laugh at Thomas' digs now that I think on it-"

"Did you know Isaiah and Michael knew?"

"I thought they were aware but no one ever talked to me about it."

"Of course they wouldn't." She hissed, frustration causing a nerve on her neck to jump.

Ada and you had spoken for years about the rampant misogyny of her brothers and any men you two came into contact with. Although you were both far more reserved than you used to be as rebellious and adventurous thirteen year olds, you'd both grew increasingly angry at how you were treated. She'd long written off her brothers as womanisers, who saw women as purely sexual and entertaining, objectifying them. You both long despised how they dehumanised women. She was amazed that Thomas had attempted to settle down and managed a somewhat loving marriage, but resented him for his carelessness and need for power which inevitably killed his wife.

"Ada, I just want to say..." You licked your lip nervously, unsure of how to continue.

"You need to talk, Y/N. No bollocks."

"Before last night, he'd never been to mine or called. I always went to him."

The muscle in her jaw tensed.

"You slept with him last night then?" You met her question with silence and she rolled her eyes. "The second he said he saw you I knew you had, he wanted to tell me that he was going to continue seeing you and that he hoped I'd be able to accept it one day."

"We never intended to hurt you. It was meant to be fun at first, but now..." You cut yourself off with a sigh, unable to admit you'd fallen for her brother.

"Isn't fun for me. It's fucking embarrassing." She paused, lighting a cigarette, nervous to offer you one, conflicted within herself. She raised her eyebrow, prompting you to continue, the mannerism so similar to her brother’s.

"It should never have happened. I am never going to be able to fix this, I'm so fucking ashamed for doing this to you, Ada."

She sulked, silently drinking in your words.

"Obviously it's not going to be the same, yeah? I'm really fucking upset. I'm so fucked off with you but Poll's really worried about a coup. She thinks you're being used as blackmail against John to keep him on side with Tommy while he expands."

"Makes sense."

"You're part of a much bigger game, you know?"

You nodded. "Yeah, and I knew I would lose from the start. Fucking tragic, Ada."

"My brothers keep pushing, keep growing the business. They keep chasing this prize but I don't think it even exists."

"If it does, it isn't worth it if this shit is the cost. I didn't mean to play into his hands."

"You couldn't have known." She said with a shrug, " 'Siah thinks John loves you."

"He told me last night." Several times, this morning also. You would never tire of hearing him moan those words into your neck or being yelled from your front door as he left for the office.

"You love him, don't you?" She said bluntly, a statement more than a question, your face suddenly hot with embarrassment.

Everything you'd suppressed for months, everything that you'd hidden, every time you lied smiling, every knowing glance from a stranger, every degrading comment from under Thomas' breath.

"I do, an awful lot."

She pauses, relighting her cigarette, "The worst thing about the entire situation is it could've been fine if someone told me. I wouldn't have loved it, obviously, but-" Ada sighed, rubbing her temple with her free fingers.

"I thought you'd hate me."

"How could I? I'd be more angry that you'd drop your standards for my brother. Seriously? Him? Mate…."

"Come off it, I've always thought he was charming. He's funny, smart-"

"Don't gush over my brother, it's grim. I'm just so fucked off you all lied to me." She peered at you through her cigarette smoke. "If you love him and he loves you..." she pressed her lips together as she tensed her jaw, "I could get over it. If it'd make you both happy. But that's going to take a long time. A long time."

"Ada-"

"Look I have meetings and shit to sort, I have to run." She interjected, checking her wristwatch, adjusting the cap which sat atop her trendy short haircut. You caught her arm before she could turn away.

"Thank you. For understanding."

She shrugged you off, "I don't get it, I'd never do that to you. But you also don't get to choose who you're attracted to. I'm really hurt, but I do love you and John a lot. He mentioned that after last night you helped him, got him cleaned up. I have to believe that you both do love each other. So I have to believe that this is a good idea for you both and not stand in your way."

"I love you, Ada. Can we hang out soon, just us two?"

She shook her head. "I need some time, I'll be in touch, yeah?"

You nod, stretching out your pinky finger. She sighed and linked it with hers, as you'd done since you were children, a silent signal to each other after a fight that you still had the other's back.

"Right, I've got to get back to this meeting, Tom is getting done by Polly for nearly getting John killed. I need to be there in case one of the lads needs patching up."

"Your aunt has a nasty left hook, I'll give her that."

"She'll be pleased you think so, she wanted Tommy to slice you to bits for crossing me."

"Fuck’s sake, thanks for the warning, I'll keep my head down. Good luck with the meeting."

Ada nodded and you watched her walk away, a Blinder suddenly appearing by her side seemingly from nowhere. This city was crawling with them. They clambered into Ada's car as you watched the car disappear into the distance before walking back to work. Thankfully, with your head still attached to your shoulders.

*******

Ada arrived at Thomas' estate, following the swell of shouting voices to his exquisite library. It was eye roll worthy and typical Tommy to choose the location of his post-fuckup debrief to be where he had the best view of the gardens, river and rolling hills. She could bet he'd sit in a corner and stare at the view, zoning out their aunt's lecture.

An armed blinder she vaguely recognised opened the door. Thomas was making a statement today with the armed guards, she noted. Her brothers really were fucked up. Arthur was an alcoholic killer who couldn't understand that Thomas would betray them all eventually, Finn was letting the tokyo and the razor chasers that circled him distract him from keeping the family together, John was apparently in love with her best friend, and finally, Thomas nearly got Arthur and John murdered last night with his foolishness. At this point only herself and Polly were holding everyone together, keeping everything silently moving along.

The door opened, and she was the last to arrive, Polly glaring as she murmured an apology, standing next to Finn. His eyes were bloodshot, grey-purple smudges under his eyes, he'd obviously had a heavy night. The last thing the poor lad needed was Polly's shrill yelling and the blinding sun streaming through the large immaculately crafted windows, which he'd tried to block with the brim of his cap. John caught her eye, acknowledging his sister with a nod, which she returned with a small tight smile.

Ada couldn't bear to think about the reasoning behind her brother's smug interjections in between Polly's rant to Thomas who was listening wordlessly, smoking.

Y/N and John? It didn't make sense. They had a similar sense of humour, sure, but she was far too intelligent for him. He also had a swarm of children, while Y/N preferred a wild night out only staggering home at daybreak.

It made far more sense for Y/N to end up with Michael, or if it had to be a brother, Finn. They were younger, so had less responsibilities and commitments so they could keep up with her. But John? Of course she knew he was believed to be the Casanova of her brothers, he was kind, he was an excellent father, yet he could never keep anyone around long, usually John was chasing someone new after a month or so. That's why the revelation that John had been involved with her best friend for almost half a year had taken her completely by surprise. Maybe that was why she was open to them being together. That had to be it. This relationship was completely out of character for John; she needed to believe that he was serious about his feelings towards Y/N and wasn't going to fuck her over. Because if he did, John would be a dead man.

"I don't know why you're all bleating at me. Yeah, I overlooked some details in the planning of last night's meeting-"

"Such as warning us that they were really fucked off because you'd helped bomb their warehouse." John pointed out.

"What do you want me to do? Apologise? Grow up, John." Tommy snapped back.

"They had loaded guns against their heads, they deserve an apology." Ada interjected, John giving her an appreciative flash of smile. She did love her big brother. Despite the fact that she'd pretty much only been yelling at him for the past month, John never dismissed her feelings and only apologised. It was confusing to admit to herself, but when Isaiah told her that he was confident John loved Y/N, she felt a wave of relief. At least he cared about her; it was the bare minimum but the Shelbys were notorious for not even meeting the bare minimum for acceptable social interactions.

"They didn't fuckin’ get shot." Thomas stated, his voice matter of fact and condescending.

"Do you ever hear yourself speak?" Polly spit back at him. "They didn't get shot this time. But it was too fucking close."

"It won't happen again, Polly." Tommy sighed. "What else can I say? Sorry lads, take the weekend off?"

"It's a good start." Arthur countered, "You're also paying for the extension on my house and my wedding."

"Fuck’s sake Arthur I was joking. But fine. Sure."

"You can't buy your family off." Polly scoffed at him.

"Think of it as compensation, a settlement." Thomas coolly corrected his aunt. "What do you want, John? A fucking farm?"

John hesitates while Finn whispered suggestions to him, Ada meeting his stare, John raising a brow to her in question. She sighed and nodded her approval.

"You can pay off my mortgage Tom, give me the kids' birthdays off-"

"So you'd never come into work then?" Finn cut in, Ada elbowing him in the ribs. She usually enjoyed Finn's remarks but she knew where John was heading; she could barely breathe.

"Tom, you're also to leave Y/N completely alone. If you have a problem with her, you come to me about it." He said firmly.

Arthur and Tommy traded knowing looks, obviously more aware of the ins and outs of his relationship than Ada was.

"Also if you're paying for Arthur's wedding I want the equivalent in cash." He adds.

Tommy shrugged. "Whatever. As long as we can move past last night and focus on today's order of business."

John nodded, satisfied. He knew Tom wouldn't care, but just saying out loud that he was involved with Y/N and having his family aware was a relief. He hadn't realised until he finally admitted how stressful keeping his relationship a secret was. Now, he could stop worrying about Tommy interfering.

Polly rolled her eyes, lecturing the brothers on their lack of moral backbone to allow themselves to be bought off, but dismissed them. She caught Ada's arm in hers on their way out, pulling her far from earshot.

"So Y/N and John are together now?" She asked, her face firm and scowling.

"Polls, I talked with her, she's aware of what she's done. She apologised and meant it. What more can I ask for?"

"Her not to have fucked him in the first place."

"She said that. Look, Polls, they're happy right? John seems happy-"

"He always is when he gets a leg over."

"You know she looked after him last night? Fixed him up after the meeting."

"Meeting? It was a fucking set up." Polly hissed but her face had softened. "She cleaned him up?"

"Antiseptic, bandages and all."

Polly looked subtly impressed, although she'd never admit it. "He went to hers? Not yours?"

"He wanted to talk to her." Ada shrugs, "I saw her this morning and-"

"What do you mean? You bumped into her?"

"I went to her work." Ada admitted, her aunt shooting her an exasperated glare.

"Why do I bother? Nobody listens to me."

"I had to talk to her, I'm glad I did. She reckons she loves him, he told her last night that he loves her, so..."

"We are talking about John? Our John?"

"I know Polls, I'm as amazed as you."

Her aunt huffed, unimpressed. "Are you okay with it though?"

"I guess, I just want them to be happy. I've told them to give me time with it."

"She was a good friend growing up, but people change, sometimes for the better, often for the worse."

"Poll, it's Y/N; she's my best friend. At the end of the day, we'd do anything for each other."

"Sweet Ada, you're going to be so miserable if you keep letting people walk all over you." Polly said wisely, kissing her goodbye affectionately. "I hope you're right. If she makes you cry again I'll kill her myself."

"Thanks, Polls."

She knew her aunt wasn't joking.