#just needed to ramble work was frustrating and what better way to let the steam out that post on here🙃

[piebingo]

You know come to think of it my main problem with hate (of celebrities or regular people) is not the hate itself, because we can have whatever feeling we want about whoever we want for whatever reason we want. My main problem is when the hate turns into bouts of insulting things that have nothing to do with it. No, your hate doesn’t give you a pass to insult someone’s bumpy nose or skin colour or curly hair. No, it doesn’t give you a pass for disgusting and unfounded misogynistic comments. It doesn’t give you a pass to comment on how ugly you find their bodies or how introverts are fucking weird and extroverts are obnoxiously loud and should just shut up. It doesn’t give you a pass.

You know why? Because while that person might never see/hear all of those things, everyone around you will. All the strangers you have nothing against that see your post on their feed? They’ll read how their curly hair is ugly. They’ll read how their body isn’t right. How their shy personality or rbf isn’t right. And that’s one of my main problems with celebrity hate. Because while you might think that the insults are justified because you don’t like that celebrity, you just manage to be an ass to everyone around. Like it’s not that hard to criticize things that you actually have problems with and to not insult everyone else in the same sentence. Being respectful isn’t just about the celebrity or person you hate, it’s about everyone that isn’t involved in the conflict.

[bertinworms]

Late Night Talking

Pairings: Tangerine x gn!Reader

Tags/Warnings: language & cussing, reader is sad/going through it, comfort, angst ig, lmk if anything was missed!!!

Word Count: 3.7K

Summary: You had been having a hard time recently and it all hits a wall when Tangerine comes home early in a bad mood and accidentally scares you. You end up sobbing in his arms. 

************************************************************************

Most people you knew assumed that in your relationship, you were the one who kept both of you down to earth, and most of the time that was true. 

You and Tangerine had been together for a while which meant that you had been present for multiple Tangerine tantrums, as you and Lemon liked to jokingly call them. Sometimes the boys would have a job go wrong and Tan would come home upset, steam practically coming out of his ears, rambling about what could have gone better and why. Sometimes Tangerine would come home from a particularly scary job, like the job in Kyoto that he refused to tell you anything about, and practically go mute - shut off the world, and take a break from everything. Whatever he needed to do to decompress — but he never, ever aimed any of it at you. His anger or frustration was shared, but he always made sure that you understood he was not upset with you, he’d just had a rough job that go around.

Tangerine’s many moods and how he processed his job never bothered you. The man had a pretty tough job and whatever way he chose to process that job was up to him. Plus you enjoyed taking care of him – when he let you. It seemed that he took care of you in every other aspect of life. The man paid for anything and everything you wanted or looked at, so being there for him made you feel important. It had taken him a while to get used to the constant reassurance, trust and love from you, but he now greatly accepted it. 

You on the other hand were still having a hard time letting Tangerine be there for you emotionally. Being vulnerable was not one of your strong suites.

Tangerine’s jobs usually took him away from you for long periods, and usually took a lot out of him. So whenever Tan was home, you didn’t want to bother him with what was going on in your mundane life. You felt like your worst days would probably be a wonderful one compared to some of his bad days. So when Tan was home, and even when he was on a job, you didn’t usually tell him the full truth of how you were doing or how your day went. You would conveniently leave out the part where you accidentally dropped your keys into the garbage somehow, or how you dropped your phone in a muddy puddle, or how the day had been an extremely overstimulating one for whatever reason. You usually could step away for a second, take a breather, and you were back to being fine. It wasn’t that big of a deal, you just needed to push it down and enjoy the time you had now with Tan before he went away again for gods know how long. 

Sometimes when Tangerine was on a trip, you would come home and have a good cry for a solid ten minutes and then get on with making dinner or any other chore needing to be done. And today was no different. 

This March had felt like the longest month you had ever lived through. So many little things kept going wrong. Every day seemed to be a little bit worse. And you hadn’t seen Tangerine in exactly fifteen days. You had woken up late that morning because your phone apparently hadn’t charged the night before, then you couldn’t find your keys, you had spilled coffee on yourself right before walking into work, you had a coworker who had made a rude comment to you, your boss had reprimanded you for something that wasn’t your fault, and to top it off on your way home someone had rear ended your car, sending you to the hospital to be checked out where you had sat in a room for three hours, alone, waiting to be discharged. 

You just wanted to go home, crawl into bed and disappear. The regular day had been a horrible one anyways and sitting in a cold, scary hospital room alone where you had been examined and poked about fifteen thousand times did not help. You also hadn’t heard from your partner in almost a full 48 hours.  Your anxiety was now through the roof. You were tired. You were sore. You were sad. You wanted to go to bed. 

You unlock the front door and step into the dark and quiet place that belonged to you and Tangerine. You quickly slip off your shoes by the front door and head towards the kitchen where you set your keys and phone down on the island counter. 

You tap your phone screen – 8:43PM and no notifications. You take a deep breath in, and let out a sigh as you rub your eyes, willing the headache of the day to go away. It didn’t work. 

‘Maybe some water and a snack would help,’ you think to yourself as you head towards the refrigerator. You quickly grab some water and a snack and grab your phone before making your way to the living room where you slumped onto the couch. While eating your snack, the thought of Tangerine can’t help but come to your mind. 

You pick your phone off of the couch cushion, unlocking it and going to your last text thread from Tangerine. 

Tangerine had texted you the morning before, a simple, ‘Good morning, love. Thinking of you, hoping to be home in the next few days. X’ 

When you had woken up to the text, it had made you smile. But now that it had been two days of no responses from him or Lemon, it felt more like a taunt. You were used to Tangerine being very hit or miss when it came to communication while he was on the job – it was for safety. But with this being one of the longest jobs he and Lemon had ever been on, it made you nervous. So you read back over your texts. 

7:03AM: morning tan – hope you and lem are keeping each other safe! im ready for you to be  home safe again ♡

1:43PM: a package was delivered for you. im not sure if its a new suit, work stuff or something else so im leaving it in the garage for when your home lol

9:42PM:  im headed to bed, but wanted to let you know im just thinking about you. i love you and hope youre safe wherever you boys are at. get home soon ♡

11:32AM: missing you extra today, as cheesy as that sounds. hope you arent getting yourself into too much trouble

You roll your eyes at the last text you had sent. That was a little too cheesy even for your taste, let alone Tangerine’s. 

You start typing out a message to Tangerine. Thinking about telling him a little about your day, or even just telling him you missed him and loved him and couldn’t wait to just see him face-to-face again. But you erase the half written message, worrying that he might get annoyed by your abundance of needy texts that didn’t really have a need to be sent. 

You let out another sigh as you turn your phone off, setting it on the coffee table in front of you along with the trash of your snack. You grab the throw blanket laying across the back of the couch and slump further down the couch until you’re laying down with your head supported by the arm rest. You absentmindedly look out the window next to you. 

You were glad you had left the lights off in the flat. The lights of the city outside the window allowed for a soft glow to seep into the room. Without the lights on you were able to see the quiet street and watch the people of the night go about their business. You wanted some sort of distraction, but the thought of scrolling on your phone or turning the television on seemed like it would make the headache you had even worse.  It also allowed for your brain to wander gently between thoughts. 

You wonder where the people on the street below are going.

You wonder where they’re coming from. 

You wonder where Tangerine and Lemon are.

You wonder if they were safe, if something bad had happened.

And before you realized it, your eyes had grown heavy and you had dozed off. 

You jolted as you were rudely awoken by the refrigerator door shutting harshly. You could hear your heartbeat in your ears as you realized you weren’t in the place alone. You didn’t move at first as you opened your eyes to see who was there. You could make out the silhouette of a man standing in the kitchen, illuminated by a small amount of light coming in through the window from the street lights. Tangerine hadn’t called or texted you before you had fallen asleep so you weren’t sure if it was him. You were hoping it was him, if it wasn’t you didn’t know what you would do. 

“Tan?” you half whispered. 

“Yeah.” He says dryly. You watched as he turns towards your voice and flips on the light above the kitchen island. You blink a few times to adjust to the bright light and give him a look over. 

He looks tired, or maybe annoyed? You couldn’t really place the emotion, but it wasn’t a positive one. You notice his suit jacket is laid over the back of one of the barstools with his suitcase propped up against it. You look from the jacket, back to him and notice a few bruises and small cuts that range from his face to the exposed upper chest sticking out from a slightly unbuttoned undershirt. 

You watch as Tangerine quietly moves around the kitchen gathering a variety of things to make some sort of meal. His movements are sharp and more than once he lets a cabinet shut a little roughly. 

You clear your throat as you readjust how you’re sitting so you can see Tangerine better. “I didn’t realize you’d be back home tonight. How did the job go?” 

He looks up at you with half a sandwich on the way to his mouth. “D’rather not talk ‘bout it, love.” He quickly says before taking the last bite of his dinner.

You watch as he puts his dishes in the sink and washes his hands. You watch as he dries them off and then places his hands on either side of the sink, almost bracing himself. You could tell something was stuck on his mind as he takes a breath in and closed his eyes. 

You begin to play with the blanket laid over you out of nerves, avoiding looking at him. You couldn’t read Tangerine’s mood and you worried something serious had happened. 

“Why didn’t you wake me up when you got in? You scared me when y–” 

You were cut off by Tangerine.

“Wouldn’t have to be concerned about who had gotten in if ya’d keep the front door locked, would ya now?” He snaps, raising an eyebrow and cocking his head at you. He hadn’t raised his voice, but the look on his face shares the irritation he has. 

The tone in his voice had taken you by surprise and had caused you to stop fidgeting with the blanket and look up at him. Tangerine wasn’t prone to snapping at you out of nowhere like he just had. Even after a particularly bad job, he usually was able to keep his aggravation not geared towards you. 

“Excuse me?” You question him, your voice faltering as you look at him. His face was tense. You couldn’t pin if he was truly irritated with you or if he was taking out his last fifteen days on you. 

“Ya left the fuckin’ front door unlocked. Again, love.” He readjusts his stance and stands up straight, with his arms crossed. You let out a small sorry, but either he doesn’t hear it or doesn’t care as he continues on.

“I’ve told ya so many times, ya got ta keep it locked.” He drags a hand down his face, and rubs his chin. “Do you know how dangerous it could be? What happens if some prick comes lookin’ for me? When me and Lemon aren’t here, you’ve got–”

This time you cut him off. “Tan, I apologized. It was a fucking accident. Okay?” 

You couldn’t even remember if you had or hadn’t locked the fucking door when you got home. All you remember is wanting to just be inside and hidden from the day. And you start to tear up just thinking about the last few weeks you had had. 

“Accident or– if someone – it is dangerous, darling. Do you know–” he cuts himself off as he looks directly at you. At this point tears are streaming down your face and you’re wiping them off of your cheeks.

“Tangerine. Please. For the love of god. It was an accident. I didn’t mean to leave the god damned fuckin’ door unlocked. I don’t even remember– I–” 

It becomes harder to speak the more you talk. You hadn’t meant to just break down. But the combination of the last few weeks, being startled awake and the tone of Tangerine, you just couldn’t not let it all out. 

You rub your face with both your hands as you take a shaky breath in and look up towards Tangerine. You realize he had made his way across the distance from the kitchen island to the coffee table as he stood a few feet away from you. The features of his face had softened, he had a look of sadness on his face. 

“I know you’re afraid when you leave me someone will show up, it was an accident. I’m fine now. Okay? Just let up, Tan.” You can’t even try to stop the tears now. 

“Love, m’sorry.” he sits down at the edge of the couch, “I just worry. So, so much when I’m not ‘ere. Especially when I’m gone so fuckin’ long. ‘Didn’t mean to snap, it was just a shit job. M’sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you, my love.” 

“It wasn’t just you, Tan. Its… It’s just been such a day. It’s been such a month.” You sniffle and wipe another tear off of your face. You take a deep, shaky breath. “I’ve really missed you.” 

“Oh, darlin’. I’ve missed you as well, more than I’d probably like to admit. How about a hug? Is ‘t okay if I get closer?” He asks, setting a hand close to your crossed legs on the couch. 

You sniffle and nod your head. 

At this point Tangerine readjusts himself to where he is fully sitting on the couch. He pulls you into him and holds you tightly, wrapping one of his arms around your head and pulling it to the crook of his neck. He kisses your head as you further break down. 

“I’m so sorry. You just got home and I don’t mean to be like this. I just, I had such a bad day and then you scared me waking me up like that and you’re upset with me, I know it’s scary when you leave and you can’t be here making sure I’m safe. I know you just got back and you were gone for so long and–” you wrap your arms around his waist and begin to cry harder.

You hadn’t meant to upset him in the first place. You knew he always worried about you, and you felt even worse that you were sobbing into his chest, making him worry even more. 

“Tangerine, I’m sorry. I know you don’t want to–” 

You're cut off by Tangerine hugging you a little closer. 

“Love, it’s okay. M’not upset with you, I was just being a right fuckin’ asshole, yeah? I didn’t really mean what I said. You’ll always be safe as long as M’here. Wha’s happened? Wha’s wrong?” Tangerine says while he starts to gently run a hand over your hair. 

“One thing just hasn’t happened, it’s just been so many little things. And you’ve been so busy with work. Tan I’ve missed you. And I didn’t mean to make you mad as soon as you got home. I hadn’t even realized I didn’t lock the door.” You say, squeezing your arms around him even tighter. If you could be any closer to the man, you would be, but you don’t think it’s physically possible. 

You take a deep breath again with a sniffle, gaining more composure before starting again. 

“I just got home tonight and I just wanted to go to bed, Tan. I barely even remember what all I did when I got home. I’m sorry. I don’t want you to have to worry or to be mad at me.” You sniffle once more and bring a hand up to wipe your eyes.

“Darlin’, I promise I’m not upset with you.” Tangerine says petting your head again and kissing your temple.

“But you’re tone. Tan, you’ve never spoken to me like that. You were mean, you sounded mad.” You sniffle again. God. You needed a tissue, but you weren’t going to risk moving out of Tangerine’s arms. You didn’t think you could bear to look him in the eyes, even if you had stopped sobbing.

“M’sorry, ya know I’ve been with Lemon for the last few weeks and I’ve been dealing with right arseholes. It just slipped, yeah? It isn’t right of me, but it just happened. I promise I’m not upset with you or even mad at you – I could never be mad at you, love.” 

He lets out a sigh before pulling back from you for a second, adjusting you both in a way where he can look into your eyes. He wipes away some of the left over tears on your face

“I promise I am not mad at you. And I promise I won’t bring my work tone back home to you.” He says, making sure to emphasize each word a little slower than he usually would. 

Your eyes trail over his face, looking at the bruises that scatter his body closer than you previously could. “Okay,” you say quietly, realizing just how tired you were and you could imagine Tangerine felt the same. 

“What can I do to make it up to you? What can I do to make up for the last sixteen days?” He holds your face in his hands softly, rubbing a thumb over your cheek. You let out a yawn, followed by a soft smile. 

“You don’t have to do anything, Tan. It’s okay, really.” You bring your hands up and place them over his. “Let’s just go to bed, yeah? We can make up for the last few weeks after some sleep. I know you’ve got to be tired – not to be rude, but you look like hell.” 

Tangerine lefts out a soft chuckle, and you smile once more. He leans forward and places a soft kiss on the tip of your nose, and then your lips. 

“Let’s put you to bed then. But I’ve got to shower before bed, love.” He helps untangle you from the throw blanket you were previously wrapped in and then stands himself. You walk to the barstool in the kitchen grabbing the handle of his suitcase as he grabs his suit jacket, and you both head towards the bedroom. 

“Well I’m glad you made that decision by yourself. I wasn’t going to say anything, but you do smell like work.” You say jokingly, scrunching your nose at him and letting out a small laugh.

Tangerine’s face breaks out in a grin before he throws his suit jacket towards the hamper and turns to you. You go to set his suitcase by his side of the bed when you’re suddenly blinded by Tangerine coming up from behind you and engulfing you in the shirt he was just wearing.

While your back was turned, Tangerine had unbuttoned the rest of his shirt and had now cocooned you in it. “Shoulda kept your mouth shut, love.” He laughs as you try to push him away from you.

You laugh as you turn around, now facing his chest. “Jesus, Tangerine– you smell so bad.” You duck down and out of his arms, falling back onto the bed before Tangerine tackles you flat onto the bed. 

“It's the wonderful smell of a man who’s not showered in three days, dear.” He begins to shower you in kisses as you try to push him away between laughs. 

“Tan, EW! Go make it zero again!” You laugh as he gives you a final, overdramatic kiss on your cheek as he gets off of you, throwing his shirt into his hamper before heading to the bathroom with a “Whatever you say, lovely.”

You smile to yourself as you wipe your face, attempting to wipe off the grime you felt from Tangerine’s attack. 

While Tangerine quickly showers, you plug both of your phones into their chargers and set them on their respective bedside tables. You also change into your own night clothes before turning off the overhead light and crawling into the bed. A few seconds later Tangerine follows suit and you move closer to him. 

“Better now, yeah?” He says, pulling the collar of his shirt out and offering it to you to smell. 

You swat his shirt away before snaking an arm around his waist, and giving him a kiss on his jawline. 

“Much better, thank you.” 

You smile to yourself as you lay your head onto his chest, and Tangerine scoots closer to you letting his arm snake around your waist and pulling you tight to him as he gives your forehead a kiss. You had missed this, you had missed him. 

You knew you and Tangerine would have a chat in the morning about how he was doing, and what had happened with you, and how much you had missed the other. Lemon would probably come around and would tell you about how much Tangerine whined about missing you the entire trip, which would cause a spat between the two. But for now, all you could think about was how at home you felt. How comfortable you were. How happy you were that your Tangerine was finally home, safe in your arms.

************************************************************************

A/N: i dont just absolutely love this piece, but i've been going through it and very much benefited off of writing this lmfao

if you liked this, check out my master list! --> HERE if you have a request, feel free to send it in! :]

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

3/21/2023: edited to update warnings

3/22/2023: edited to fix grammatical mistakes and text formatting

[miya-twins]

OT3 Origins: AtsuAranKita

the series where I just ramble about poly ships getting together because it's fun

the thing is. everyone can tell aran and kita are into each other. they love to spend time together. aran goes out of his way to understand kita's peculiarities. kita laughs at aran's jokes all the time even when they're not that funny.

it's just that they don't do anything about it and nobody knows why. they're both smart people, they can't be that oblivious, can they?

it frustrates atsumu to no end. now, it really shouldn't be his business what they do or don't do, but. he's been nursing his own crush on aran since middle school, only to then see aran so smitten with kita. and he can't even be mad! obviously anyone would fall in love with kita. he's perfect. atsumu should hate him for stealing aran and even he's falling for kita's charms.

both of them are so damn lucky the other likes them, and atsumu's not jealous. he would be, if there was anything to be jealous of, but there isn't because they don't do anything about their obvious crushes. it's maddening. atsumu doesn't even know who he'd be jealous of anymore. and his stupid, stupid heart won't even stop hoping if there's no concrete evidence that it should. like this, it beats like crazy in his chest every time aran ruffles the twins' hair and lets his hand linger in atsumu's just a tad longer than osamu's. or when kita smiles at him and praises him for a play well done.

he knows aran is just friendly and sees the twins as his little brothers. kita is proud of his kouhai. sometimes, at least. that's all that is. but his heart doesn't get the memo.

so atsumu's getting fed up with the lack of progress, but osamu tells him not to meddle, so he does what he always does when he needs to let off steam, which is practicing his serves.

osamu went home without him so he thinks he can keep going until he's about to collapse, but then he gets interrupted. and of course it's kita and aran who stayed behind to talk to the coach or smth. definitely not to do what they should be doing which is making out behind the gym.

and kita instantly starts to scold atsumu for staying so late, he shouldn't be overworking himself, he's gotta take better care of himself

for once atsumu doesn't listen to him tho, just fires back like "it's not like you do what's good for yourself which would be kissing aran so you got no room to talk!" and he just goes on a rant how literally everyone knows they're in love and atsumu wouldn't even be here working off his frustration about his crushes on them if they just got their shit together

aran is stunned into total silence while kita just plainly presents his perspective, which is yeah he was aware that both aran and atsumu are giving him looks as if they like him, he was just under the impression they were already dating, so he felt it would be rude to insert himself there without being asked first. he was hoping they'd ask eventually.

atsumu's brain kinda explodes at this and he can see the same happening to aran, like no???? they're not dating?? kita's just there like "huh. you just looked so close. my bad."

poor aran then has to go. yes I've had a crush on atsumu for years. didn't act on it cuz poor little samu didn't understand what was going on and thought aran didn't like him anymore when he was trying to spend some time with just atsumu. so he just gave up on it. and yeah he's been eyeing kita also but it's not like he ever got over atsumu. also no he didn't realize either of them were into him. that's wild. what do you mean lovestruck looks he's never seen either of them do that. no not at each other either. he thought everyone but him was only interested in volleyball and friendship.

atsumu is happy he's for once not the dumbest one in a situation

kita suggests they date since they all like each other, it's the most logical solution

aran can barely keep up. atsumu jumps them and tries to kiss both of them at the same time and fails horribly. aran tells him that's obviously not how it works and kita laughs at their antics. and atsuaran just melt at how sweet he sounds and try to kiss him at the same time. and fail horribly.

one day, they'll figure that out, but it's not this day

I'll do more of these but if you want a specific one feel free to send an ask. any ship goes as long as it features at least three people at least one of which must be a miya twin

[ellsbclls]

you write hurt/comfort so beautifully, it makes me want to have tom comfort me like that ): do u think you could write something where he's taking care of you after a long day at work?? and if it's a little nsfw i wouldn't mind but u dont have to do anything ur not comfortable with. again L O V E ur work!!

thank you so much 🥺 i guess i just try to portray a type of love i think everyone deserves! but also thank you for giving me this idea because my mind went rampant. i also don’t know why the reader is a musician, but just roll with it i guess idk what happened there??? 

i hope this tickles your fancy! nsfw, so extended warnings will be under the cut! please do not interact if you're a minor!!

extended warnings: cue fingering, and some messy, needy sex in the bathtub 🛁✨

The steam rising from the bathtub makes light work of your weary muscles, menthol vapors kissing up your spine, soothing the knots scattered across the length of your back. You were in dire need of this, after the plight of a day you’d endured. A couple of hours in the studio had quickly spiraled into a six hour-session, with nothing to show for it but a lousy sixteen measures of brass ensembles — and by the good grace of your talent and patience, the artist has requested you drop in for their session again.

The thought makes you want to drown.

Instead, you opt to curl into yourself, softly pressing your cheek into your knee, watching the spindles of warmth waft up from your well earned bubble bath. In retrospect, the weight of your day didn’t fall solely on this new client — if you’re being honest, they actually had a lot of potential. You wouldn’t mind having your name tethered to a couple of their hits — but Tom had just returned home from a three month long shoot, and you’ve only been graced the luxury of his presence for less than 24 hours. Any time that isn’t being spent with him feels blasphemous, but since he has yet to return from his unknown whereabouts, you seized the opportunity to flush out as much irritability as possible before he returned.

You didn’t know just how tired you were until you were woken up.

A half an hour passes before you’re tousled from your dreamless slumber by a docile touch, familiar digits scaling the curve of your spine before they take a detour at the nape of your neck, carefully parting stray strands of hair to either side of your frame.

“Tom?” You hum, dulcet tones wafting through the steam akin to a dream as it ebbs from the rim of your subconscious.

“Yes, darling?” He muses, entranced by the frothy remnants of your bath soak as he dips his fingertips into the water.

“I missed you today.” You melt into his touch, allowing your head to fall to the side and survey his attire. His hair is all tousled, chestnut locks sprouting from the bottom of his backwards strewn baseball cap, and those honey-dipped hues you adore so much are creased with concern. You want nothing more than to soothe them away with the pad of your thumb, and so you indulge yourself, reaching over the edge of the tub as you continue to ramble. “I started the day already praying for it to be over with, and somehow, every single inconvenience fathomable decided to fall onto my lap. I mean — who the fuck needs seven different french horn tracks in an overture? A real band barely needs one.” Tom’s nodding along to your ramblings, but you both know that he doesn’t fully under the lengths of your frustration — just as you’ll never truly understand the inner workings of his own career. “The only thing keeping me together was the thought of coming home to you.”

“I’m so sorry, my love,” He coos, and continues to caress your back, working out all of the knots that the steam couldn’t relieve. “If it’s any consolation, I was only running late because I had to stop and buy some pancetta on the way home.”

“Don’t apologize. I assumed you would be back since all your stuff is still here.” You tease, mirroring his bemused smile, letting his world seep into your slowly booting brain. “Pancetta…” Not many people knew this, not even Tom before his first attempt, but the boy could whip up a mean bowl of pasta. You remember floundering across the bed the night before, identical to a little kid throwing a tantrum, moaning over just how badly you were craving carbonara. Silly of you to think that he’d take your melodramatic request in stride. “Are you-“

His enamored gaze is answer enough, but he pairs it with a chaste kiss to your forehead that has you nuzzling into his touch. “Only the best for my lil’ lady.”

You show a mere fraction of your appreciation with a swift, flurry of kisses over his cheekbones, pulling him closer by the downy bundles of his hoodie. Lovedrunk giggles and contented sighs bounce off the tiles before you’re both submerged in a comfortable silence, one that leaves the both of you free to shamelessly examine the other, one clad in their comfy, weatherworn disguise while the other dawns nothing but an enchanted smile. Even with the disparity between your attire, you both end up with flushed cheeks and dopey grins.

Hours, days, years seem to press on until you break the silence with a silly question, one that you ask in hopes of hearing his gentle, candied voice once more — or even better, his laugh. “What would you do if I was as big as a thumbtack? Would you still love me?” You query, a childlike sense of wonderment tinting your sugar-coated sigh.

He takes a second to ponder your questions, taking it into far more consideration than you had in bringing it to fruition. You can’t stifle the tiny puff of air that leaves your lips, the semblance of a chuckle, and Tom, with his wild brow and theatrical ways, whips his head in your direction, sending you a cautionary glare. “I suppose I would…” He starts, only to tap his finger against his bottom lip, drawing the suspense to its boiling point by the time you shove his forearm. “But then again, it doesn’t matter what size you are, there’s no limit to how much I love you.”

“Hmm,” you manage to vocalize. Your heart is now a star, an incandescent ball of fire caged beneath your ribs, and if he hasn’t gathered it by now, then he can bask in the warmth of your smile and know that for him, for him it is the sun.

You have to admit that you got ahead of yourself. One moment, you were binding your lips in a bruising, indulgent union, urging him to bask in the lovelorn rays of light he summoned, but only managing to pull him into the bathtub, fully clothed and unsuspecting. What was once your lukewarm oasis is suddenly a swirling cauldron of spearmint, teatree, and now unmistakable notes of him, sloshing against the edge of the tub as his frame struggles against the latent tide. There’s bound to be one hell of a mess waiting on the bathroom floor, but now that he’s settled in your grasp, you see no reason to fret just yet.

“Y/N.” His voice is deadpan, which can mean one of two things — he’s either overwhelmed with joy, or exhibiting a great deal of restraint in not drowning you right then and there. You choose to cancel out the latter, and offer the best attempt at innocence your babydoll eyes could muster, peering at him through your lashes with a teeth-rotting gleam.

“What?” You ask simply. His eye starts to twitch, and you only double down on your facade. “I just wanted to be closer to you.” Wading through the newly shallow body of water, half of its contents now dispersed across the tile floor, you make light work of his soggy hoodie, sloughing it over his head as he grumbles beneath it, giggling when it catches against that razor-sharp jawline of his.

“Well, you are very close now.” You notice how his voice drops down an octave, and you’re embarrassed to admit just how quickly the coil in your stomach tightens at the sound of it, how it already aches to be pulled taut. 

Tom seems unsuspecting enough when he captures your lips once again, his brims as delicate as baby’s breath against your own, tentative as they glide in a sultry dance. He doesn’t need to coax a confession out of you, the truth is already there, nestled in your urgent, needy pressure, in the whimpers threatening to spill into his lips. He’ll indulge in this little game for a moment longer — where you pretend that you aren’t desperate for his touch, and he pretends that he isn’t just as desperate to provide it — but once you fumble into his lap, clumsily grasping for more, and more, and even more of him, his resolve begins to crumble.

“I need you.” you whisper into the hollow of his mouth, golden-tongued and virtually earnest, coaxing a trembling sigh from the back of his throat.

He hums back, contented, basking in the intoxicating warmth of your silhouette, tracing the curve of your breasts with his knuckles. “Long day, my love?”

“Mhmm,” You demonstrate your point with a wistful sigh,  enveloping his great hands with your smaller ones, coating them in languid kisses until there was no skin left untouched.

You’re just too fucking cute, he muses. He can never say no to you, not even in jest.

Two of his slender digits roam the valley of your stomach, knuckles ghosting over your navel in their listless descent before they venture between your thighs, surveying just how badly you really need him. He dips his middle finger between your folds, tender and slick with your arousal, and emits a husky groan as he traces a steady line between your entrance and the spot just below your clit, ghosting your little bundle of nerves with each taunting caress. “You’re already soaked, my love. This all for me?” He coos, nudging your jaw with the tip of his nose, pressing a wet, open mouthed kiss against the column of your neck.

“All for you,” You sigh, digging your nails into the broad planes of his shoulder. “Please, Tom, please touch me.”

He finally spares you, thumb sloppily circling your clit as he plunges two digits into your opening, welcoming the lithe intrusion with a warm, velvety embrace. You slump into his embrace, nipples straining hard against the soaked fabric of his t-shirt, and raggedly whimper as he starts to work you open. The reminder of your nude form plastered against his clothes, albeit soaking wet, summons another pool of wetness to your core. You’re flooded with thoughts of delectable anguish — of denim kissing your hips, dragging against your bundle of nerves, as he ravages your bare little cunt, proving that you’re so desperate for his cock that you can barely wait for him to undress.

“Is this all you needed, baby? My fingers? You wanted me to stretch this pretty little cunt out?” He can’t stop the filthy words tumbling from his lips, especially not when your tiny mewls of pleasure are flooding his ears — you’re just so soft and pliant under his touch, so eager to be filled to the brim, it’s intoxicating to know that you’ll take anything he has to offer you. “I’ve got you, baby. I’m gonna give you everything you need. Gonna have you spilling all over my fingers and then — fuck! — then i’m gonna fill you up with my cock. How does that sound?

“Y-yeah,” You’re rutting against his palm at this point, grinding down to meet each thrust, to feel impossibly closer, fuller, ambling toward an orgasm that is already barreling toward you. As he finds a new angle, the pads of his fingers nudge against your g-spot, and the heel of his hand careens over your clit with such a delicious pressure that your thighs begin to quake. “‘M so close.” You whine, prompting him to punctuate each thrust with a curl of his fingers, dragging your orgasm from the pit of your stomach.

“Then let go, baby. Let go for me.” You need no further persuasion, your eyes squeezing shut as you teeter off the edge, with nothing but a raspy, desperate string of obscenities, clawing at the slope of his shoulders, and bathing his hand in sultry waves of nectar as it spills from your weepy little hole. His fingers are trapped between your fluttering walls, working you through your climax with nimble, tentative thrusts, stretching each wave of pleasure out until you’re trembling over little ripples.

“That’s it, that’s my girl.” You feel so small beneath his gaze, teeming with endless pools of adoration, like you’re a freshwater clearing and he’s parched. It nearly distracts you from his fingers as they slip from your opening, but each receding wave of bliss is tethered to him, so you groan at the loss of contact. Your walls flutter hopelessly around nothing, chasing the delicious stretch of his digits in their absence, but you’re instantly qualmed by the sound of his zipper being pulled down, no doubt freeing himself from the waterlogged confines of his jeans.

“Can I?” You sink your hands into what little water still remains in the tub, hooking your fingers through the belt loops of his jeans, but he swats your shaky hands away, adamantly shaking his head as a small frown of confusion forms between your brows. “You don’t wanna take ‘em off?”

“This is about you, my love.” He whispers, his free hand smoothing over the small of your back, stroking the patch of dew-ridden skin with his thumb. “And right now, all I wanna do is keep my promise.”

“You’re so good to me,” You whisper just above his lips, leaning back into his touch, peering between your bodies to survey his ministrations. You’re still a bit dazed from your first, earth-shattering orgasm, but the prospect of another has you buzzing with excitement, and Tom knows that look well enough to speed up his course of action.

Pearly veneers sink into the swell of your bottom lip at the mere sight — his cock is beyond compare. Even as its impatiently pulled through the opening of his jeans, it’s put on a mouth-watering display as he leisurely pumps himself, smearing tiny pearls of precum across his flushed, leaky tip with each upstroke. He’s far too enticing, far too pretty with his rosy cheeked, droopy-eyed charm, to resist, and you’re quick to replace his hand with your own, curling your fingers around the base and mimicking a couple teasing pumps before guiding him to your entrance.

Tom spreads his legs a little wider to accommodate you, the sensation of wet denim rubbing against your thighs, knocking your legs farther apart, causes a soft whimper to fall from your lips. It doesn’t take long for you to align the head of his cock with your entrance, teasing him with a couple of lascivious drags through your folds before you sink onto his length, reigniting the remnants of your last orgasm as inch after delicious inch prods your tender walls apart. By the time he bottoms out, you’re nothing but a trembling pile of limbs, and his lips seek out your own just to muffle your staggered breaths with a burning kiss.

You allow yourself a couple of seconds to adjust — no matter how or which way you take him, he still pushes up every crevice of your insides, demanding every square inch of your velvety heat. A wild flurry of crimson blossoms across the high planes of your cheeks as Tom nuzzles his forehead against your own, brushing his nose against yours, coaxing a melodious string of giggles from your chest while you scrunch up your nose. He presses a chaste kiss to the corner of your lips and smiles against the spot. “You look so pretty like this, my love. With that gorgeous smile of yours, and that pretty little pussy squeezing my cock.” You feel like you’ve got whiplash, trying to come to terms with how obscene he can be under such tender movements. “Just wanna turn you over and bury myself inside. See how tight you feel when you’re folded in half.” His hands reach down to rub gentle, circular motions into the small of your back, and you can’t help but pulse around him at the juxtaposition.

Once the uncomfortable stretch of his girth melts into pleasure, you finally start to work yourself over his length, and you swear you can feel every gorgeous ridge and vein of his cock as you rise up to the tip, only to plunge back down with a impish yelp, setting a clumsy, needy pace that certainly gets the job done. You don’t really find your rhythm until Tom helps you out, sinking his fingers into the supple curve of your ass, orchestrating a hard, punishing pace as he drives up into your sopping cunt, meeting you in the middle with each thrust.

All at once, the bathroom is washed in a crude symphony, the combination of your heavy panting and slapping skin intermingles with the shallow splash of water as it laps against the edge of the tub, punctuating the sinful drag of his length, and how the tip pounds against your furthest wall as you impale yourself onto him. You can feel another orgasm start to build, and since Tom has made it his solemn vow to not only study, but master, every little, scrumptious detail of your body, he senses it as well. 

“You got another one for me?” He asks between labored pants. His own orgasm is starting to peak over the horizon, following in the blazing trail you’ve set, you can tell by the way a thin sheen of sweat starts to build against his hairline, and his brows almost meet in the middle, as if the feeling of your pussy pulsing around his cock is unfathomable. He uses the grip he has on your waist to take control, using one hand to scale up the breadth of your back, and as his palms leave a blistering trail up, up, up your sides, he pulls you flush against his chest, attempting to plant his feet against the floor of the bathtub, 

He needs the leverage to piston his hips up into your own, to pound into your greedy hole at an unyielding pace — to keep his promise — and as you start to feel the tell tale edge of your climax cresting over your weary frame, you spoil his shoulder with sweeping, butterfly kisses and flood his mind with sweet, sweet nothings, luring him to the brink with the same dulcet tones you know drive him wild.

His hips stutter into your own, and before the words can even exit your lips, you’re dragged to the edge of bliss with a couple of rough, uncompromising thrusts that have you wildly spasming around his length. He joins you almost immediately, throbbing against your sensitive walls as he fills you to the brim, driving the mixture of your arousal further into you as he fucks you through your orgasm. 

Once he pulls out, he’s quick to wrap you up in a soothing embrace, planting kisses over every acre of skin he can get his lips on, but you’re too focused on the trail of cum leaking down your thighs to really indulge him, curiosity getting the better of you as you gently weave your arm between your bodies and collect the wetness on your thighs. You swear you can feel the rumble of his chest once you pop your fingers into your mouth, humming around the sodden digits, making a spectacle out of the addicting elixir pooling on your tongue, but his glimmer of reinvigorated stamina is put to rest by the sight of your drowsy, half-lidded stare.

“Why don’t we get you dried off? Then I can start dinner.” He hums against your cheek, punctuating his suggestion with yet another chaste kiss. It’s genuinely like he can’t get enough, and neither can you as you sleepily nod.

“Will you wake me up when it’s ready?” You sigh, teetering on the edge of slumber once more.

“Of course, my love.”

[incorrect-ikevamp-quotes]

How about B, I, L, U, V for our big boi Theo? :3c

Sure thing, bub!! Theo hcs coming right up! 💙💙💙💙

I really hope you like them!!!! :3c

Fluff ABCs Template here for requests

Body -- What is his favorite part of her body?

Do y’all have any idea how hard it is for me to answer this letter without making this horny hours.

ANYWAY losing my mind because my instinct was to respond with ���her tears.” And then my brain was like. Minnie that’s not a part of the body…that’s not how any of this works…But let’s pretend for a moment like I am valid, shall we?

No cap, I die on this hill. And my answer comes in two parts. The first reason tears destroy him like nothing else is because of how much she feels for the van Gogh brothers tbh. I think Theodorus is very accustomed to their situation being seen through a lens of indifference, a kind of “oh well, what can be done ¯\_(ツ)_/¯” especially. While he may argue that he’s used to it, he’s full of shit. It hurts every time–even more so because people are being dismissive about the person he loves most in the world (other than her, of course.) He’ll be silent for the most part, usually pretty stoic if those things come up, but the way her eyes glisten with tears just undoes him. He feels stupid to be so affected, but it’s something else entirely when somebody actually gives a damn. Somehow it's harder to keep his composure under that gaze...

The second reason is more about teasing. He can’t resist getting a reaction out of her sometimes, or seeing her brought to frustrated tears. That lovely blush overtaking the tips of her ears and face, to say nothing if it happens during nsfw hours. They make her face shine, a visible manifestation of all the emotion he tries so hard to deny–to run from–that it just moves him like nothing else. Where he can't find words or proper expression, she always does. Leonardo said once that a single glance at that man and you can tell he’s in love with art. And he was right, save that that kind of passion can be found in him again in moments like this. Alone, driving her to madness and pleasure.

It’s the part of him that belongs to her, and her alone.

Injury -- How would he act if she got hurt?

Lmao call Vincent instead of Theo if you actually want anything productive to be done about it.

I’m KIDDING mostly but to be honest I think he has a hard time hiding his distress when MC is hurt. If it’s something small he’ll try to play it off as mild irritation, muttering about oblivious hondjes and how she needs to be more careful. If it’s something like a bruise or a bandaged cut–maybe she bumped into something–he’ll just clumsily try to pat the pain away. Don’t try to hide it from him either because he has eyes like a hawk and will expose you. He’ll be a dumdum but it’s really sweet because he’ll be so gentle over such a tiny wound (it always amuses Dazai so much) that all the men will have to kind of hold back laughter. They don’t mean to mock the guy but he takes it so seriously it’s a little bit funny. Vincent is so unironically proud of him for being sensitive though and it’s enough to make a girl cry TwT

If it’s a very serious injury I am sorry but you are getting nothing but probably a panic attack from him. He doesn’t really do well with even the slightest suggestion of losing a loved one, so if she breaks a bone or experiences excessive bleeding–whatever the risk may be to her life–he is fighting to stay in control of his body’s response. He’s trying so hard to be strong for her, but he can hardly breathe and his vision is a little fuzzy and did they say she would be unconscious for a few days? Needless to say he’s a bit of a mess. Ideally, Vincent would do his best to help the guy stabilize while he waits for things to improve, but it’s touch and go for a bit there.

When she wakes up, he needs as much gentleness as she does in many respects. The stress attacks and constant distress have just resulted in so much tension and exhaustion, he doesn’t even have the energy for any verbal swipes at anyone. (I was going to say “he’s just a big puppy” but the irony hit me so hard I literally couldn’t finish typing the sentence). He just really needs lots of kisses and hand holds and promises she isn’t going anywhere, completely unprompted. Not to be emo (WAKE ME UP) but he really needs to be brought back to life slowly, in a way. He’ll get better with some time and assurance that she’s going to make it, but oTL hondje please, he can only take so many heart attacks in one lifetime.

Love -- How does he show her he loves her?

He does not.

I’m KIDDING but I stand by the fact that he’s more of a show than tell type of guy. He has a really, really hard time verbalizing everything that he feels, so I think the person he loves would ideally have to keep that in mind. He’s lowkey but very classy, imo. Gets surprise flowers every once in a while, buys groceries after work all the time if she needs things at home, always reliable with taking care of their finances (and in general). I feel like the thing about Theodorus is that he’s the quiet romantic; he won’t smooth talk or endlessly go on about love, but when she needs him? He’s there. Come hell or high water. When things are hard, when things feel impossible, when life just feels like one slap in the face after another–he’s warm and there and steady, leading her by the hand.

He's very proactive about just about anything other than expressing his feelings directly, so write that down--

Upset --How does he act when she's upset?

LMFAO catch him crashing at Vincent’s place tonight, no thanks murderous hondje ain’t it for me, sorry sweaty.

All jokes aside, I think he’s the type of guy who just has no idea how to handle it. I mean she’s the one that’s usually pretty stable emotionally, so when she isn’t it tends to be a big deal–the cause of her foul mood has got to be sizable. While he may be stymied upfront, will most likely go after the root cause of her distress and kill it with a hammer when her back is turned. Nobody upsets his hondje (unless it’s him) and gets away with it. The man has two modes: kill and more kill, and so he uses the second one as necessary in these situations.

That being said, it doesn't mean he's completely bereft of sensitivity. If it's a more sorrowful kind of upset, he'll try to make time for a lot of cuddling and pampering. Get her things she likes to eat/drink, rub her back gently, put on a movie she likes (even if it's boring to him). He hopes that some care and a few little distractions will be enough to calm her soon. He loves his hondje best when she's smiling, after all ùwú

Vaunt -- What is he proud of? Does he like to show her off?

Oh my goddddddd. Bih. If this man suffers from a cardinal sin, it’s pride I swear. Even if he’s Mr. Bad Mood Stink Face he will literally never say a bad word about her. There are so many people convinced he’s deadass got some kind of disorder because he has scary face, but also looks so delighted at the same time it's terrifying. Gets all puffed up about what a hard worker she is, how talented, how he couldn’t have done any of this without her. Even when he’s roaring drunk, now he just rambles on and cries about how much he loves her and Vincent and it’s beyond hilarious. Would throw down for her, would die for her, would steal a clown’s balloon for her–you name it.

She can do absolutely no wrong, so write that down.

Has a love hate relationship with showing her off (in the more blatant way) though because. Homewrecking. Does she look lovely in that dress? Undoubtedly so. If he sees one more gross lustful/covetous gaze directed at her though, he’s just gonna leave with her in tow. (He would throw hands but she doesn't like that.) Y’all know the whole Lord of The Rings’ “My p r e c i o u s” thing? That’s his vibe LMFAO. Depending on his mood he will either be like "hell yeah that's my wife you jealous bih, I'm the luckiest guy ever ik now buzz off" or he will just get more and more lowkey steamed until they leave.

[wri0thesley]

This is gonna sound so stupid, but the idea of a new La Squadra member who is book smart but a complete dumb ass at everything else gets to me. Like they can do math and have so many science/history facts and could probably recite Shakespeare by heart. But the moment you ask them when the last time they ate was they just blank out. They are fully capable at their assassin job, but they can't tell if the guys hate them or not because what are social cues. Like. I would love to see how the boys react to that type of a person. I don't know it that made sense at all.

under cut for length!

♡ Risotto honestly kind of gets this himself. He’s the kind of man who throws himself whole-heartedly into the one thing that he thinks needs to get one, at the expense of all of the other things - up to and including remembering to do things like eat. He’s not particularly good at social clues either; he kind of makes up for not knowing these things by being so tall and broad and intimidating, so people don’t tend to bother him. He still sometimes wonders, when the rest of La Squadra aren’t around, if his team actually like and respect him. They do, of course - but Risotto still feels like he’s wading through syrup around them. So he understands this new recruit better than some of the others do - although he’s a little baffled by their spouting of random facts when they get nervous. He’s much more likely to go all-over quiet than he is to ramble. 

♡ Formaggio likes to poke and needle at them, because he thinks it’s funny when people blow up. He reads social clues really easily; he’s a people person. But, as the ‘heart’ of the group, he’s good at watching out for when he might be pushing them too far. If he notices they haven’t eaten or haven’t slept in a while, he won’t go out of his way to cook for them or push them into bed - but he might offer a slice of the cold leftover pizza he’s eating, or move up on the sofa and say ‘hey, come and have a sit down, I’ve got a blanket!’. He wouldn’t like it if you pointed it out, but he’s actually surprisingly caring. 

♡ Illuso, like Formaggio, likes to poke and needle. Unlike Formaggio, he’s not quite as sweet about it - he may very well push you too far because he thinks it’s funny. He’s learnt social cues by watching people and he can tell when you’re uncomfortable or at your breaking point, and he’ll continue to push it just that little bit further until your eyes fill with tears. He tries to laugh it off as just normal team stuff; it’s actually just that he’s kind of an asshole. That being said, though, he’s actually very impressed by your intellect. Intelligence is something that he values in other people. You’ll know he trusts your smarts, at least, if he comes to you for help trying to crack some patterns or puzzles in a mark he’s working on. 

♡ Prosciutto is frustrated by you. You clearly have plenty of talent; your work as an assassin leaves a favourable impression on him. He appreciates people who are whip-smart and clever and subtle when it comes to the art of murder. He just doesn’t understand how you can be so bad at everything else. He tries to take charge of you, barking orders to remind you that you should eat and sleep and don’t forget to stretch before going out in case you end up in a fight! If he sees someone who has potential and is at risk of not using it to its fullest, he can’t help but want to make them be better. Congratulations; you’ve received a mentor in life skills and human rapport. Unfortunately, Prosciutto isn’t the most patient mentor to be saddled with--

♡ Pesci’s scared of most new recruits of La Squadra, and you’re no exception. He finds your intellect frightening and intimidating. Prosciutto never outright says that he doesn’t think Pesci is smart, but Pesci picks up that feeling from the raised eyebrows and sighs of the other members of La Squadra. Still. Pesci will make friendly overtures to you if he notices that you seem out of place in La Squadra - he remembers being the newbie all too well. He’ll listen to your facts and be dutifully impressed by your skills. Pesci wears his heart on his sleeve, at least, so you’ll know that he doesn���t hate you. If you can befriend him, he’s a loyal friend to have. 

♡ Melone at once has similar problems to you and very different ones. He tends to be overbearing; he doesn’t quite understand other people so he tries to be overtly friendly instead of pulling back, often making him come across as creepy and unhinged. Whether he is those things or not is up for interpretation - whichever it is, you’ll soon find that (like Pesci), he’ll be very friendly towards you and seemingly wear his appreciation for you on his sleeve. He’ll be even more friendly as he finds out that you’re good at your job, as he sees how clever you are. The two of you are very likely to find a common ground in facts and numbers and figures and debate, all of which Melone enjoys immensely. Surprisingly, he also cares about the mundane things like if you’ve gotten a good night’s sleep - that kind of biological process to do with the running of your body is of an especial interest to Melone! And woe betide you if you’re a good candidate for his Baby Face; you might not even understand what Melone is asking until it’s too late. 

♡ Ghiaccio is a very difficult case. He’s frustrated by people who he thinks do not act cleverly or intellectually - and you clearly have the capability for it, even if when it comes to social situations you falter. He tends to get very angry at you for exact same kind of stuff that he does himself. Only, where you’re shy at hold back for fear of offending someone or your teammates hating you, Ghiaccio is physically incapable of doing something such as ‘holding back’. Expect your relationship with him to run hot and cold, depending on what the current thing he’s steamed up about it - but when it’s running well, the two of you make an amazing team. 

♡ Sorbet and Gelato like to watch you trip up, because it’s funny. They don’t go out of their way to bother you too much, though - the two of them know that the way they are with other people is hardly what most people would call normal. If they have to work with you, they roll their eyes at one another and harshly correct you when you look about to make a social faux pas that’s going to cost them the target, but otherwise they’re very likely to let your existence peacefully happen. They’re glad that you’re a competent assassin, but they’re not the kind to throw out praise for no reason. They’re a little too concerned with one another to be too bothered about your little foibles. 

[imaginesga1ore]

Loves Harsh Reality

Summary: Life is a bitch.

Pairing(s): Bucky Barnes x Reader, Avengers x Reader (all platonic)

Warnings: swearing, mention of past/current abuse

Prompt: “You want what everyone wants. You want a love that consumes you. You want passion, and adventure, and maybe even a little danger.”

Word Count: 1780

Do not copy, translate, or post any of my stories anywhere you write stories, whether that’s here, Wattpad, or Ao3.

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

Life never treated you well. Not even when you were just an innocent child, trying to navigate your way in this terrible world. You were forced into a cold and unloving organization that was run by people who don’t really give a shit that you were only 2 when they stole you. They never treated you like a human, more like a laboratory experiment, which kind of went haywire. When you were brought in, the sleaze running this entire operation stripped you of everything you had so far, which was only a name you had just barely begun to learn, and they assigned you a number, much like a court case; experiment 973. And that’s what you went by for the next 23 years of your life.

The day you were rescued from that deranged and psychotic place was...hectic to say the least. It began like any other day while you were their little pet; get woken up at the ass crack of you don’t know when, test out your powers until you physically passed out and then get ungracefully woken again only to be forced to use your powers. This continues for hours on end before these assholes make you go fight actual people in hopes that you aren’t lacking in physical strength. You fight until bodies start piling up and when your sadistic handlers are satisfied with your progress, as if you haven’t they haven’t been training you to take down monsters bigger than Goliath himself. But something wasn’t right and you could feel it in the enclosed space of your cell.

While you normally had a rough awakening by someone poking, prodding, and eventually yanking you out of bed, nobody was there. In fact, there wasn’t even a peep from the cells neighboring yours. That was until you heard multiple gunshots and multiple bodies slumping against the floor. See, the thing about HYDRA is that they’ve trained you for this exact moment but every single ounce of training they’ve ingrained in your body and mind left the building completely as you hunkered down against the wall furthest from the thick, metal door barricading you from the outside world.

Suddenly, the door you were just measly standing behind came crashing down, dust from the unwashed floor rising. After the dust settled, you looked up to see the poster boy of HYDRA himself, the Winter Soldier. “Steve, I’ve got a live one here. Female, looks to be in her mid-20s,” he whispered into his ear piece. He slowly moved closer, putting his weapon away as he noticed your frail body shaking from fear. “У тебя все нормально? Я ведь не бил тебя дверью?*” Shaking your head, the soldier stopped in front of you, kneeling next to you. “Меня зовут Баки. Что у тебя?” Shrugging your shoulders, you made an attempt to look over at him. “That’s ok. How long have you been here?”

“двадцать три года*,” you said, a bit of hesitation in your voice, finding it hard to speak after decades of being punished if you spoke out of turn. As you finished speaking, you heard another voice, one which you assumed belonged to this Steve person.

“Хорошо. Стив дал мне добро, чтобы мы могли убираться отсюда,” Bucky said, standing back up on his feet. But you weren’t too sure about this. Along with your training, your handlers had pushed on you the notion that the Avengers, and anyone associated with them, were out to harm you, always, and that’s why you needed to be able to defend yourself.

“Ты ведь не сделаешь мне больно, верно? О-или убить меня,” you asked, clear hesitation towards the soldier who was about to grant you freedom from this hellhole.

Bucky looked at you with sympathy drawn over his features. Shaking his head, he gently grabbed your hands, a shiver traveling up your spine at the coolness from the vibranium arm. “Конечно, нет. Я вытащу тебя отсюда.”

-TIME SKIP-

It had been a few months since the Avengers had rescued you from HYDRA and you were beyond grateful that Bucky had stumbled upon you that day. But the fear that HYDRA had instilled in you about being near the Avengers was still running rampant in your system. Whenever someone knocked on your door, or came up behind you, your fight or flight instincts kicked in like that of an animal in the wild. You thought it’d be better by now, considering you have been going to therapy since coming to the compound. But today, all your frustrations came to a head.

You probably should’ve been in bed considering it was 4 in the morning but you needed to burn off some steam. What you failed to realize was that a certain super soldier was sitting in one of the boxes above the training center, watching your every move. But, him being a super soldier meant that he could pick up on more than you realized. Bucky had noticed that blood dripping onto the floor, which came from your terribly wrapped hands.

He knew you were on edge, but not like you were when he first got you out. By the time that you realized Bucky was in your presence, it was a bit too late. You felt a hand on your shoulder; two seconds later you had the body attached to the arm on the floor, your other arm extending towards their throat, keeping them pinned to the floor.

Once the haze cleared, you could tell who it was that you had down on the ground. “Buck? Oh my god.” Quickly pushing yourself off of him, you started pacing the gym floor. “Fucking shit. I am so sorry Bucky. I-I didn’t mean to do it. Are you ok? I didn’t hurt you, did I?” You kept rambling and pacing until Bucky stopped you, stepping in front of you to stop you from wearing a hole in the floor.

“I am fine, кукла. Are you ok? Your hands are bleeding.” Looking down, you saw the streaks of red coming out from under the tape on your hands. “Let’s go get you fixed up, ok?” Nodding, you followed Bucky out of the gym and towards the medical center. “So, what’s got you going at 4 in the morning anyway?”

“I couldn’t sleep. No matter what I tried. I even tried that tea Wanda suggested. By the way, don’t drink it. It tastes like dirt.” Bucky chuckled as you sat on a gurney, grabbing supplies from the cabinets. “What are you doing? Shouldn’t we wait for, you know, a doctor, or an actual medical professional to come in and do this,” you immediately questioned him.

“Do you seriously doubt my suturing skills? I did serve in World War II, so I’m pretty confident that I know my way around a needle and thread,” he said, carefully unraveling the useless tape from around your knuckles, taking a look at the damage. “Yeah, this’ll probably take a little bit, but don’t you worry, Dr. Barnes is always here to help.” Bucky smiled at you, calming your nerves the tiniest bit.

After prepping and numbing you properly, Bucky began stitching your open wounds shut. “So, do you wanna talk about why you couldn’t fall asleep? Talking might help, at least it usually does for me,” Bucky asked, not taking his eyes off his work in progress.

“I, uh, I keep having nightmares. They went away for a bit, when I could actually sleep for the night, but for some reason, they’ve come back,” you admitted quietly, almost like it was a dirty little secret.

“Well, you’ve only been here a few months so I wouldn’t expect your nightmares to just instantly go away. It took me a few years to actually get a good night's sleep with them waking me or anybody else up. So I know exactly how you feel,” he said, finishing up before wrapping your hands in sterile dressings. “And you are all set. Now, no excessive force, which includes going to the gym at 4 in the morning and working out like you are about to fight the Hulk.” You laughed lightly, shoulders loosening up.

“Why are you being so nice to me? I mean, you just stitched up my hands cause I got too into my own brain after I almost choked you when you could’ve just dropped me here and gone back to bed.” Tears filled your eyes once more, a thickening feeling surrounding your concerns.

Bucky sighed, gingerly sitting next to you on the gurney. “When I found you at the base, I knew it wasn’t going to be an easy ride for you. Or for anyone here really. Adding another member to the team can sometimes jostle things around. And I knew for a fact that you would feel like an outcast amongst some of the biggest heroes the world has ever seen...so far,” he said as you laid your head against his arm, wiping away the tears that had made their way down your face. “And I thought maybe, just maybe, if we became friends or even just acquaintances, that you wouldn’t feel so alone here. Cause I know exactly how that feels. And ever since coming here, I can see what I looked like when I was found; lost, felt like I didn’t deserve anything good or even deserving of love. But even though you hide it with a sort of tough exterior and you’re used to being trapped away, I can tell you something about yourself that you probably don’t even know,” Bucky said in a matter-of-fact voice.

“Oh yeah? What would that be,” you asked, quite curious as to what he may have found out.

“You want what everyone wants. You want a love that consumes you. You want passion, and adventure, and maybe even a little danger. Cause that’s exactly how I feel right now.” At some point, of which you weren’t sure, Bucky had hooked his fingers under your chin, turning your face up to meet his. Your eyes finally met his, capturing the look of a pure and innocent love in his icy stare. He slowly leaned down, but stopping right before your lips collided. “Is this ok?” Quickly nodding, Bucky pressed his lips to your own, cupping your face as your injured hands made their way to his sides.

Pulling back, Bucky rested his forehead against yours. “Never thought that this is how we would have our first kiss, doll,” he said, making you laugh which in turn caused him to chuckle. “But, I’m not at all opposed to it.”

“I’m glad. Now let’s get out of here. I’m tired.”

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

1. У тебя все нормально? Я ведь не бил тебя дверью - Are you ok? I didn’t hit you with the door, did I?

2. Меня зовут Баки. Что у тебя? - My name is Bucky. What’s yours?

3. Это хорошо. Как давно ты здесь? - That’s ok. How long have you been here?

4. двадцать три года - 23 years.

5. Хорошо. Стив дал мне добро, чтобы мы могли убираться отсюда. - Ok. Steve gave me the go ahead so we can get out of here.

6. Ты ведь не сделаешь мне больно, верно? О-или убить меня? - You aren’t going to hurt me right? O-or kill me?

7. Конечно, нет. Я вытащу тебя отсюда. - Of course not. I’m going to get you out of here.

8. Кукла - Doll

If you see this on another blog, @multifandomwhre , that is my first blog where I submitted it to @sweeterthanthis “Quote Me” challenge. 

[cyarikashakira]

Chimichangas

A/N: This is my first time writing a fanfic. I am super nervous but I have an overabundance of love for Joaquin Torres so I had to put it somewhere. I'm doing @caplanbuckybarnes's summer writing challenge.

Summary: Falling in love at the supermarket wasn’t on your to-do list today, yet here you were snatching looks at a cute stranger.

Warnings: (I don't know if these count as warnings) GN!Reader, No Y/N, Joaquin Torres is an absolute cutie pie!

‘They were gone. All of them.’ I thought as I rummaged through the wrongfully stocked freezer. A sniffle escaped, then two, which was followed by a full on wail.

“Who the hell put the Steak and Cheese chimichangas where the Chicken and Cheese chimichangas goes!?”

I slammed the freezer door and rested my head on it and placed my hand on the cold glass.

Casual shoppers and workers tiptoed around me while I grumbled to myself in annoyance. I just wanted my comfort food.

A full on breakdown in the middle of a grocery store and I gave no fucks. A tap on my shoulder and I whirled around ready to light up the poor soul who decided to bother me.

“What do you want?” I wiped the tears from my face with a growl. Giant innocent eyes looked at me in shock as I grimaced at him.

“Hi - um, can I help you?” He bravely pointed at his name tag which said ‘Joaquin’ with the Walmart name above

“Sure~ can you just point me towards the person who decided to sleep on the job and stock the wrong chimichangas in the wrong spot? I just wanna have a little chat.” I said with a fake smile on my face.

“Th-that would be me.” He gulped and pointed over his shoulder towards the stocking material behind him.

You peeked around him and just glared.

“So it was you. You have been declared as my arch nemesis. Where are the chicken and cheese chimichangas?”

“They are out of stock. But we can call you when they are back in stock.”

The air suddenly became tense.

“...Believe it or not, they already have my number because I buy them so often. It is Tuesday and it’s 8:30. They are always stocked at 8pm on Tuesday.” I looked down at my watch to double check the time. I crossed my arms ready to take my frustrations out on the worker.

“We are going to have to call some people.” He said plainly.

“What?” My head tilted to the side in confusion.

“For this chimichanga shortage. We need to call some people.” His smile got bigger as he continued talking.

“Chimi..changa shortage? If they are going to fix my day then you better call them.”

“I’m kidding..”

“Oh.” I let out a nervous laugh and made a face.

He ran a hand through his fluffy black curls and huffed. I took a look at his face, he was nervous.

“...Are you new?” You raised an eyebrow at him.

“To the stock things department, yes. This grocery store, no. I’m so sorry that I stocked it wrong but thank you for pointing it out for me.”

I immediately felt bad because I realized that I was being a dick over some food.

“I’m so sorry. I’m just having a bad day. It was just a complete shit show. My cat got sick, my car is on it’s last leg and my boss is on my ass and I ran out of chimichangas and forgot to restock my fridge so here I am today - “

I rambled on and on.

“Hey, it’s okay. We all have bad days. I thought this was about to be a bad day for me also because you were upset at me.”

“I’m sorry again. I’ll live without them. I should go home before I embarrass myself even more.”

I lowered my head now feeling shy and more aware of my surroundings.

“Before you go, I think I have something that will make your day a little better. Follow me.” He turned swiftly and started walking away.

“Uh, no. I’ve burdened you enough today, sir.”

He stopped and turned to face me again. A smile formed on his face. Were those dimples always there?

“Come on. I’m just taking you to a person who can solve your problems.”

“Oh o-okay.”

I followed behind Joaquin towards the front of the grocery store. He stopped in front of the deli section and tapped a hand on the counter to alert the workers.

“Hey~ is Margie in today?” He said sweetly to the teenage girl who could barely see over the huge counter.

“Yeah Curly, she’s in the back. Let me go get her.” She ran to the back and pushed the double doors with force.

I looked at Joaquin with furrowed brows and pursed lips.

“Why do they call you Curly?” A small smirk appeared on my face. He blushed and his hand went to his hair once again.

“My hair. It is how everyone finds me and the fact that I’m tall. Everyone has a nickname here. We are as much a family as capitalism will allow us to be. Margie is just...wait until you see her.”

The shock of blue hair caught my peripheral and I expected to see a teenager. No. A tall lady who was on enough to be my mama strolled up to the counter with a huge smile on her face.

“What can I do for ya, Curly Quin?” Her accent drawled as she leaned against the display case.

“We have a situation. Apparently, I suck at my job and a certain someone had an entire meltdown in the middle of the freezer aisle because they are having a bad day like it was my fault. I’m pretty sure they want to get me fired but I’m too cute for that, right? So we need a solution to their chimichanga problem.” He sarcastically and over exaggeratedly explained the situation to Margie and his smile got wider as he went on.

“So Grilled Cheese over here wants a chimichanga? How is that my problem?” Margie planted her eyes on me and I felt like I swallowed my heart.

For an old lady, her look was intense.

“I need the goods. The family secret, the whole enchilada, you get where I’m going with this. I’ll finally bring you back your book that you let me borrow when I first started working here.” Joaquin slapped on the puppy dog eyes and Margie rolled hers.

“I’ll believe it when I see it. That was a year ago. I’m never getting that book back and you know it. I’ll be back for you and Meltdown over here, assuming that is you.” She gave a small smile and moved to go towards the back doors. “Give me a sec.”

As soon as she disappeared, I face palmed and groaned.

“You guys are going to make fun of me forever, aren’t you?” I looked at him in despair.

“Oh yeah, you know it. Welcome to making history.” He smiled towards me, flashing a dimple.

“Is there a way that I can make everyone forget about this? I will pay you guys off. I promise. Just forget everything that happened here today.” I waved my hands in circular motions like I was casting a spell, earning odd looks from everyone around.

He laughed for the first time that night.

“It’s not every day a grown up has a total fit like a toddler. This has made my day and probably my whole week.”

I groaned again and stomped my foot in annoyance, ready to snap at him.

The back doors flew open and a brown paper bag was thrown in my direction. Joaquin and I fumbled to catch it at the same time and we butted heads.

“Good thing you knocked some sense into each other so I didn’t have to. Get out of here kids, your chimichanga problem is solved.” Margie smiled.

I opened the steaming paper bag and started crying.

“Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.” I started bouncing up and down with joy. I wrapped my arms around Joaquin and pulled him into a tight hug, crying on his shirt.

“No problem, I can’t breathe, please..let..go..” He said dramatically.

I immediately let go and cleaned my face putting on a huge smile. He took a deep breath and put his hand on his chest.

“You guys are the best and I am so sorry for taking my frustrations out on you. I really hope you can forgive me at some point.”

“Already forgiven. I just always want to do something positive with my day and make others smile. It’s all in a day’s work.”

“I don’t know how to thank you guys enough for the chimichangas.” I held the bag close to my heart, grinning widely.

“Go home and eat them. That’s thanks enough.” Margie deadpanned.

Oh. She was still there.

“Yes ma’am. Have a good night. Thank you for everything!” I waved goodbye to her.

“Don’t mention it kid.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow Margie!” He said to her.

She waved us off and we were on our way to the front doors of the store. We stopped just before the entrance, triggering the doors to automatically open. We were blocking the exit and people started going around us.

“I guess this is goodbye? Until I come in to restock my freezer again.” I said glumly, holding out my hand towards him to shake his hand.

“I guess so.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone, placing it in my hand.

Question marks filled my brain as I looked down at his phone in my hand. He shyly placed his hand on the back of his neck.

“I told you whenever we restocked, I would give you a call so.. I would need your number for that.”

“Oh. But they already have my numb- Oh. Okay. Oh. Oh um, of course uh..”

I stuck my tongue out in concentration as I typed my name and number into his phone and handed it back to him.

“There you go. I uh, look forward to your call for whenever the chimichangas are back in stock.”

“Of course. I’m just doing my job. If they aren’t in stock and I’m off of work, can I still call you?”

My brain short circuited and I blinked rapidly at him. He was smooth. Toooo smooth. I studied his face for a joke.

“You aren’t joking with me, are you?” I put my hands on my hips.

“Nope, not one bit. Are you okay?” He questioned. I was sure smoke was coming out of my ears at this point.

“Uh, yeah. I’m fine. Just tired, it’s been a long day. I should get going.” I looked off towards the cars in the parking lot.

“It was nice to meet you. I’m sorry about your chimichangas and for my poor stocking skills.” He apologized sincerely.

“It was nice to meet you too, Joaquin. Thank you for everything. Am I allowed to hug you again?”

His brown eyes lit up and he furiously nodded. I wrapped my arms around him and he did the same to me. We let go as quickly as we started.

“I’ll see you around, Grilled Cheese.” He gave a two finger wave towards me and started walking backwards.

“Likewise, Joaquin Phoenix.” I started walking in the other direction.

“Haha. So original! It’s actually Falcon!” He shouted.

“What?” I stopped and turned back towards him but he was already gone.

I shrugged and walked towards my car. I opened the door and climbed inside, tossed the bag of chimichangas in the passenger seat and rested my head on the steering wheel. I released a huge sigh while lifting my head, started my car and began driving home. The street lights blurred past me on my drive home. My body was on autopilot as I opened the door, kicked my shoes off and sat on the couch next to my roommate with my bag of chimichangas.

I took a bite and immediately frowned.

‘Damn it. Steak and Cheese strikes again.’ I started laughing and shaking my head, dropping the chimichanga back in the bag.

“What is your problem?” My roommate said staring at the tv, not concerned to turn their head towards my hysterics.

“Nothing. I just had a meltdown in a freezer aisle and I think I fell in love with a stocker who is bad at his job.” I leaned back against the cushion of the couch and sighed dreamily.

“....no offense but you aren’t allowed to go to the store unsupervised ever again. You got issues...”

My phone began to ring and I just stared at the unknown number before answering.

“H-hello?” I stuttered.

“You will never guess what we just got in stock.” A light voice filled with laughter said over the phone. A huge smile formed on my face and I was booking it out of the door and yelled a quick bye to my roommate.

“I’m on my way.”

I hope you guys enjoyed this. I tried my best :)

[alfredosauce50]

Island Escapade [Ex-con 2p! America x reader x Denmark] 10

Island Escapade - 10 - Swimming pools Content warning: A little soft-core. Dubious consent. Mature audiences only. Wordcount: 2, 510 The reader is referred to as she/her.

A/N: I was inspired by Kendrick Lamar’s “Swimming pools”

Allen could drink like it was his job. But throughout the whole of his career, he’d never felt this nauseous. The skidding of the boat, the churn in his stomach, watching you and Mathias—it was all too much. Thanks to the dim light on board, he could see everything as clear as day during the night. You were half-awake on the Dane’s lap, fighting to stay in control of your body with seven shots’ worth of alcohol in your system. Poor thing.

Mathias was talking about taking you back to his house, even. Something about tablets. Medicine. If anything, going to his place was the last thing you wanted. Allen knew that much.

And yet, he couldn’t find the motivation to do anything about it. Not while his head was filled with hot water, leaving his mind in a haze. Alcohol was his weakness, and he never dropped the habit of making bad decisions under the influence.

Just as he thought, he was still the same.

When the boat finally docked at the wharf, he never lifted a finger when Mathias carried you off. He wasn’t walking in the direction of your house either. And yet, all Allen did was stand on the beach, mulling over the heat that overwhelmed his body. A searing headache was pounding in his skull, but it didn’t quite hurt like the ache in his chest.

He was giving up again. After trying so hard to get his shit together, he was giving up again.

It wasn’t the first time, so why was he crying?

He’d seen the look in your eyes. The way you stared at him like he was the best thing in the world. It was hard to believe, but deep down, he knew Mathias wasn’t the only one. The only difference was that you trusted him. You trusted Allen. You wanted to be with him. But he was letting you go, letting you down all over again, letting Mathias become the one thing he wanted to be. Yours.

I think that I'm feelin' the vibe, I see the love in her eyes I see the feelin', the freedom is granted As soon as the damage of vodka arrive

After giving you some water, bread, and crackers, you eventually felt well enough to move on your own. A shower was in order after a night out in the club, but he wasn't entertaining the idea of any drunken accidents. So while you adjusted the temperature, he joined you in the cubicle. "You should've brought me with you if you were gonna drink," Mathias began, coiling two arms around your stomach.

"He doesn't know how much you can handle."

Pressing flush against you only made your heart pound like a drum. You could feel everything, from his wide chest and toned stomach to the space between his legs. This wasn't happening. "... I know my own limits, Mat. So maybe I wanted to get hammered," You murmured, tugging at his arms for him to let go. "It's fine. Allen's fine. He was looking after me before you came."

He released you, albeit reluctantly. "You're upset." His wet hair was slicked back, and steady streams of water were trailing down his face as he watched your frustrated expression. "Why?"

"Why?" You turned to him, in awe at how dense he was. It was becoming hard to believe it was just cluelessness. Entitlement sounded more like it. "Because I'm in the shower with you, that's why!" Mathias's eyes widened as you rose your voice. You shot an arm out to gesture at his crotch, but you really weren't much of an exception.

"I can see your dick, Mat. Don't you see anything wrong with this picture?"

He stared down at himself. When he glanced back up, it became clear to you he didn't—his stare on you was hard and unwilling. "... I'm just... I'm just trying to look after you. Can't I do that?" He responded, earning a huff from you. His deep frown spoke of untold regret, and you were sick of seeing it.

"You keep saying that, but you're pushing it. You could've stayed outside." Turning around to get some body wash into your hand, you lathered it all over your body. "Why are you so weird? Why am I so weird? Why am I even—" When you spun back around, your cheeks were flushed with a deep red. Whether it was from the alcohol or something else, Mathias didn't know.

"—why am I letting you do this?"

Deep creases formed between his brows. He knew the exact answer to that question, but he was too afraid to say it. "... I don't know."

"Yes, you do. You know everything. You just pretend that you don't." Digging a finger into his chest, you watched distress run across his face. If you were sober, you wouldn't even be saying these things. But the truth was finally stepping into the light, raw and unfiltered in the form of a drunken ramble. And you were onto him. "You knew what you were doing. Living with me, sleeping with me, it was all part of your little game to get me back. Well, guess what?"

Mathias's chest was rising and falling intensely at this point. While he breathed heavily, his heart was racing, threatening to burst out of his ribs. He could already predict what you were about to say, and yet, he was insanely nervous to hear it. "... What?"

"It’s working." Blood flushed his face until he was even redder than you—excitement, euphoria, love-sickness, it was all there. His eyes lit up with the most happiness you’ve seen him with, which spoke volumes when he was already a cheerful person. Was this it? Were you finally accepting him again? Not yet. "But if you think you won me over, you’ve jumped the gun. I’m not staying here. I need to get home."

You turned your back on him to keep washing. A deep pout scrunched up his face while he was left standing in a cloud of steam, heating up faster than the water from the showerhead. It’s working, you’d said. Lingering on the words made him burn up with lust so potent, he was left reeling. This was the part where he’d convince you to give in. Like every time you both got into a disagreement, he’d kiss you drunk and take you to bed to make up.

It was the oldest trick in the book, and it worked every time. No wonder he was getting hard. His body sensed what was happening. His mind just picked up on it a little later. And he’d act on it once you were both done with the shower.

"I'll walk you back," Mathias murmured by the doorway. He watched you gather the last of your things in the living room. He'd spent so long at your place, he couldn't bear the sight of you walking out on him. Not again. It became apparent that sleeping alone in his own house wasn't an option. "But can I ask for one last thing?"

There was a subtle droop to his eyes. His hands were by his side, clenched in fists, and his frown was growing deeper at every second you failed to say anything—your breath hitched as you forced the word out. "... Yeah?" One last things never ended well with someone like Mathias. You knew that better than anyone. But the thought never occurred to your intoxicated self.

You just wanted him to stop looking at you like this.

"Can I kiss you?" He took your wrist and held it gently. "Just once."

It wasn't desire he sparked. Rather, it was a harrowing kind of bittersweetness that made your chest tighten up. And so, a deafening silence followed, but only because it was so loud. He had you again, and you weren't pushing him away. Instead, you did something free from your better judgment, which was long burned away by alcohol.

You reached up to his face, giving him the green light. So he leaned down and pressed his mouth to yours. The force was enough to move your head back, so when he pulled away, your lips seemed to follow his. Led on by nothing but an ache that never went away, one kiss turned into two, then three, then a heated lip-lock you couldn't remove yourself from. And Mathias knew.

It was a sin in itself to keep going, but the thought merely got his blood pumping. Without parting, he picked you up and carried you to the bedroom. There on his bed, he pulled you onto his lap. Then, he kissed you until you'd have the taste of his mouth ingrained in your brain. You were breathless the whole time. And yet, the heavy panting never broke the thick ropes of saliva draping between your tongues.

He never let you get the air you desperately needed, let alone the chance to think. Mathias wanted you to lose yourself. He wanted you to feel the same hot yearning that had him in a chokehold.

He wanted you to make the same mistakes as you did in the past.

When you wrapped your arms around his strong neck, it became clear he was getting what he wanted. History was about to be repeated, and it would start with the growing tent in his boxers. If you didn't snap out of it soon, he'd have you naked in his bed and under him before you knew it. And to make up for all the time lost, a year's worth of it, a few hours of love-making wouldn't suffice.

"Just stay the night, eskler," Mathias whispered in your ear. "I miss you."

Having sex with him all night sounded more like it.

Breaking up with him would be history, and you'd be back to square one. Back to letting him do what he wanted, so long as he could put his hands on you. The man was a sex fiend. A bigger one than what Allen could ever be. And you were so foolish to not see it sooner.

Back in your house, Allen was raiding the fridge for anything to offset against the wooziness. He hated tearing through carbs so carelessly like this, but at least he wouldn't feel like complete shit. After scoffing down a packet of biscuits, he sauntered to his room and tried to take his mind off things. He never thought he'd willingly open Animal Crossing on your switch, but the cutesiness of it all made it worth a shot.

However, the longer he kept playing, the worse he felt.

Some island living he was going through. If only reality made it a permanent escape like the game did. In a month's time, he'd be out of here. The R and R he indulged in was about to end on a depressing note, and he'd be back to being a bum. What about you? Probably seeing Mathias again. He practically gagged at the thought. The sick churning in his stomach returned like an old friend, and it never stopped as he lingered on the earlier events that night.

But when he remembered what you told him, he had to hold himself back from vomiting on the spot.

Mathias loves kids, you'd said. And you know how selfish he can get.

That's why I had to break things off.

Allen paled with terror. What had he done? But the real concern wasn't that—it was what he failed to do.

He turned off the switch and scrambled outside. With nothing but a torch in hand, he ventured out into the dark, searching for a house he'd never been to. He didn't know what it looked like, but that never slowed him down. In fact, he ran even faster, tearing through the island like a madman to get to you. This was his last chance at redemption, his last chance at being there for you when you needed it. All the self-doubt had been staved off by this bout of desperation.

He could sulk later. For now, he needed to get to you.

Half an hour went by in fearful anticipation. He went house by house until he arrived at his destination. Without bothering to knock, he broke into one of the windows with his expert lock-picking skills. Allen didn't have time to worry about morals. Not that he stopped to second-guess anything. Not with you in mind. He just hoped he wasn't too late.

Rapid footsteps thudded down the hall, slowing Mathias' movements to a stop. He had his fingers looped around the side of your underwear, and he would've pulled it down if it weren't for what he heard. Before he could register the intruder as the resident ex-con, his damnation and your salvation, they slammed the door open. In stormed Allen, looking like Hell.

When he saw Mathias hovering over you, half-dressed and dazed beyond compare, something inside him snapped. Marching over to rip the man off of you, he threw a hard punch right across his jaw. "That's for beating me up for no reason," He hissed, pulling his hand back for another strong strike. "And that's—" Allen pounded his fist into his face, again and again, driven by a fury so hot, he had to wonder if he'd gone insane. "—for taking advantage of her!"

He was never satisfied until Mathias fell unconscious. Giving his hand a brief shake to get rid of the blood, he cast a softened gaze over your limp form. Immediately, his anger simmered down. You were okay. A little fucked up, but okay. Scooping you up under your back and legs, he carried you all the way home. While he did, you never let go of his neck. After tonight's fiasco, you've never been so calm. The smell of his cologne, the clinking of his dog tags, you couldn't mistake it for anyone else. And it was all you needed for a good night's sleep.

Needless to say, Mathias wasn't allowed in your house anymore. After getting beat up like that, he learned his lesson and backed off. Allen did call himself a criminal, and Mathias got exactly what he paid for.

It was just you and Allen again, spending every minute of the day together for the rest of his sentence. There wasn't much time left, so you needed to make the most of what you had. And on one of those days, you hoped to remind him how much you adored him. But at each passing day running across the burning hot sand and wading through warm waters, the adoration seemed to swell into something greater.

He was abnormal in every way he could be—from his personality to his looks—but the idea of being more than friends gave you hope that you could be normal too. That you could finally move on. Allen didn't have many aspirations in life, but he was beginning to look more and more like the answer to your future.

[ghostofstudentspast]

I didn’t plan it

Remus x Reader

Hey guys! This is my first ‘angsty’ piece on here and I was all up in my feels about it so I hope you enjoy 😭💕

You were perched on the edge of the bathtub in your small flat. The flat you shared with your boyfriend Remus. After Lilly and James’ deaths he hadn’t been the same, he was flighty, quick to shut people out and had more trouble controlling his monthly problem.

It had been a long year since that fateful day when the love of your life had lost his best friends. All of his best friends. The only thing he had left was you now. He worked odd jobs tirelessly and so did you, keeping busy and keeping distracted from the pain. He’d wake up in a cold sweat most nights and you’d be there to run a hand through his hair and rub his back until his breathing calmed down and he could fall asleep again.

Back in your school days you had always helped the boys with Remus after a bad change. You had potions and ointments and plenty of chocolate to help him recover from his furry little problem. He would wake up in your dorm room with your head on his heart and somehow things wouldn’t seem so bad anymore.

These days he took on his transformations alone and it took a toll on him. New scars littered his body, often hiding them from you with bulky sweaters. You tried to talk to him, to let him help you like you used to but he had shut out the world.

So here you sat, on the cold rim of the bathtub, staring at the pregnancy test in your hand with tears steaming down your face. It was the third one you’d taken, all with the same little plus sign staring back at you. You loved Remus and you knew you would love this child but you couldn’t tell him. He was fragile enough as it is and you couldn’t add to that with the idea of a baby.

You quickly stuffed the positive test at the bottom of the bin and covered it with some tissues. You looked at yourself in the mirror and bit your lip to stop more tears from escaping. Splashing some water in your face, you collected yourself and got ready to face the day.

You quietly made your way to the kitchen to whip up some breakfast and get ready to go to work. You had been posted in saint Mungo’s as a healer for the past two years now and you needed to be alert for your job.

“Mornin’ Y/N,” Remus appeared at your side and kissed your cheek softly. He was aware of how down he’d been lately and how much of a toll it was taking on you. But he just couldn’t burden you with his anxieties and his pain after a full moon anymore. You had your own pain to deal with and your job was exhausting, he saw it in the bags under your eyes and the way you held yourself these days.

“Morning,” your voice was quiet, less cheerful than usual. Regardless of the situation you were always the sunny one between the two of you. Chipper and warm because you knew that Remus needed a little happiness in his life. “breakfast is on the counter, I have to go.” you muttered and grabbed your bag off the floor and made to step into the fireplace.

“Hey, are you okay?” you felt Remus grip your wrist lightly, tugging you back towards him gently. You turned to face him and refused to meet his gaze. Your eyes were red, your face blotchy, you’d clearly been crying.

“I’m fine Rem, just late,” you kissed his cheek and quickly darted into the floo. With a “Saint Mungos” you disappeared.

Remus felt nauseous, he pushed his eggs around his plate with a frown on his face. We’re you mad at him? Did something happen to you? Why wouldn’t you talk to him? He paced around the kitchen and waved his wand to clean up the dirty dishes. He suddenly became uncomfortably aware of how much he’d been holding back from you lately. How your frequent hugs had turned into hesitant touches. Your loving rambles had become quiet good nights. His hands rubbed his eyes as he realized how he’d shut you out over the past few months.

So caught up in his own grief he hadn’t even realized what he’d been doing to you in the process. Yet you’d stayed by his side. He didn’t understand why. And now he was convinced he was about to lose you.

“Shit,” he swore and slid down the wall to sit on the cold kitchen floor. Tears in his eyes he though about how he’d give anything to ask James for advice right about now. A hug from Lilly. A slap on the back and a snarky comment from Sirius. They weren’t there anymore, he couldn’t change that. But you were still with him, he could still fix that.

Stepping out of the fireplace into your flat you let out a soft sigh and brushed the dust from your work robes. It had been a long day, filled with some of the most draining magic you could perform. On top of that, you still hadn’t had time to process this morning. To your surprise you were greeted by Remus in your small kitchen, food laid out and ready on the table, candles lit and floating around the room. He was holding out a bouquet of flowers to you with a guilty look on his face.

“Remus?” you asked hesitantly as he stepped forward and laid the flowers on the table.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, you could see the tears brimming in his eyes as he ran a hand through his sandy hair in frustration, “I didn’t know, I didn’t realize I was shutting you out. I-I’ve been selfish and I didn’t think you’d want to deal with my problems on top of work and your own grief. I’ve been an idiot and I don’t deserve you. Y/N these last few months have been the worst of my life and you’ve done nothing but be a bright light in the darkness and I took that for granted.” He stepped closer again and gently took your hand, rubbing his thumb over the back of it. His touches were hesitant, unsure if you would pull away.

“Rem all I wanted was to be there for you. I just wanted to hold your hand and make you tea and hug you when you’re sad. I wanted you to share the burden because it’s both our burdens. The boys were your family and I can’t replace that but I want to support you,” You hiccuped as tears streamed down your face, “you’re right, you were an idiot, but you’re my idiot and I just wanted you to see me.”

“I know, I’m sorry,” he choked out and wrapped you up in his arms stroking your hair gently. “I’m sorry baby, I promise I’ll try harder. I’ll share my thoughts with you, I’ll hold you when you’re down, I’ll take care of you this time. You are my family.” at the word baby you lost it again and pulled back shaking your head.

“Rem-“ you whispered through your tears and his heart dropped through the floor. You refused to look him in the eye and couldn’t get out any more words.

“Please, give me another chance,” he begged softly, holding your face in his hands.

“Remus...” you took a deep breath, “I’m pregnant.”

His eyes glazed over as he stared at you in shock, mouth slightly open. You pressed your nails into the palm of your hands, waiting for his reaction as he took his time to process the words that had left your mouth.

“I-it’s mine right?” he asked with wide eyes as his eyes flicked between your belly and your face.

“Yes it’s yours!” you let out and exasperated cry. Your hands wiped your hot tears away as you looked up at the ceiling begging the tears to stop.

“Our baby,” he whispered and engulfed you in a hug again, “our baby!” he cheered as he picked you up and spun you around. You couldn’t help but let out a relieved laugh as you started crying again, happy tears this time.

“You’re not mad?” you asked softly as he put you down again, pulling the both of you onto the soft couch in the living room. He perched you on his lap, gently rubbing your back as you looked at him, concern evident on your features.

“Why would I be mad darling?” he smiled up at you, “I love you.”

“I know but I thought maybe you wouldn’t want...” you trailed off chewing on your lip. A frown seemed permanently etched onto your face, “I thought maybe you didn’t want kids,“ you said softly.

“I’ll admit I didn’t plan on having kids, definitely not so soon. But I look at you and think, if our baby is anything like it’s mother I would be over the moon.” he reassured you, admiring how even when you were worried, sniffling and teary eyed, you were still the most beautiful person he knew, inside and out.

“And what if our baby is like you Rem? What then?” you voiced the unspoken question in both of your minds.

“I will love him or her all the same Y/N, it will just be a little extra work.” he kissed your shoulder and buried his face in your neck, “I know I haven’t been handling the moon too well since...since everything but I know I can be better. I have my potions and I have you...if you still want me.” he looked up at you tentatively.

“Of course I do, you silly man,” you shook your head with a smile and leaned down to press your lips to his. The kiss was sweet, pouring all of your love into it. A hand on each cheek, he held you as if he was afraid you might slip away.

“We’re in it together from now on I promise.” He said once you broke apart.

“You better keep that promise Mr. Lupin.” you smiled and curled up against him, listening to his heart beat.

And keep his promise he did, with the help of his wolfsbane potion the transformations were easier. With you by his side stroking his fur it wasn’t so bad at all. And when things got out of hand you were always there to feed him chocolate the day after, apply ointments and supply him with plenty of cuddles. When you were down or had a bad day at work Remus was there with a home cooked meal or a back rub or a gentle stream of whispered reassurances.

It wasn’t easy, you still had bad days but you communicated and let each other in. Around the moon Remus would get very protective of you and your now protruding belly. He’d refuse to let you do any house work, bring you treats in bed and pepper your tummy with kisses. He’d often talk to the baby in the mornings, singing his favourite songs under his breath.

When your baby boy was born you cried because he looked exactly like his father. Remus cried because he smiled exactly the way you did. You were happy, undoubtedly so. And Remus told stories about his time at Hogwarts and how his friends would have adored your little boy. Little James Lupin would never doubt that he was loved equally by his parents.

[youreacowgirllikeme]

Intoxicated

note: this was a request from @dappertapper69 , I hope you like it :)

words: 4238 (oops)

warning: alcohol, swearing, smut, unprotected sex (pls don’t do that) hope that’s it

“Focus, damn it! “you told yourself, hastily writing down some notes on your tablet before looking back up to where your boss was standing in front of the white board. It was the daily morning meeting, so you still were a bit tired, but that’s what coffee was for and it was certainly not the reason you weren’t able to pay attention.

It was him, your boss. Right now, he was showing some poll graphic, but your eyes were fixed on his muscular arms and rolled up shirt sleeves. He looked so good when dressed casually, the top two buttons of his dress shirt were undone, and you desperately wanted to run your hand into the neckline.

Yes, your boss was hot, but he was also really intelligent, kind and funny to no ends. The whole package, and your crush on him was big.

But your boss was also Jake Tapper, the lead anchor of CNN Washington, and there was no way he would ever see you this way. No, he was your mentor, and you basically owed everything you had right now to him.

You’ve met about a year ago at a debate Jake was moderating. Covering the event had been the first major job you’ve gotten from the newspaper you we’re working at back then, and while you weren’t really satisfied with print media, you had to take what you could. But meeting Jake had changed your life for real. You had started talking about what you were currently writing about, and you showed him some of the freelance articles you had done in for various political blogs.

He had liked your work, you exchanged numbers and two weeks later, a job offer from CNN Washington was on your desk, assistant producer for The Lead with Jake Tapper. You had to read the letter three times before actually believing it. It was the opportunity of a lifetime, and you had no doubt who was behind it.

You didn’t hesitate for a moment, you directly called Jake to confirm, and two weeks later you were all packed up and ready to move to DC.

Jake went above and beyond to make sure your transfer was smooth in every sense, he helped you find an apartment, gave you a two-hour long office tour on your first day of work and regularly checked up on you in the first weeks to see if you were adjusting. He still did that, to be honest, even now that you’ve worked here for months and had learned the ropes.

But you didn’t mind at all, you have learned so much from Jake, journalism-wise as well as when it came to politics, history and literature. His general knowledge was so impressive, another thing that made him so ridiculously attractive to you.

But considering all the facts, jeopardizing your entire career by making a move at Jake was just impossible. But Lord, you wanted to.

You were so caught up in daydreaming that you didn’t even notice that the meeting was over, everyone already left except for Jake. He was packing up his stuff and looked over to you.

“Y/N, everything alright. You’ve been really quiet today, and you look exhausted. Is there something you need?” He asked, sounding genuinely concerned.

Bless his heart, you thought. There was definitely something you needed from him, but you would not go there. And it wasn’t like you could tell him that the reason for your exhaustion was the wet dream you’ve had of him last night, one that made you wake you up drenched in sweat and with soaked panties, unable to fall asleep again.

So you just dismissed him. “I’m fine, don’t worry. Just a lack of sleep.”

“You know you can always come to me when there is something up.” Jake said, putting his hand on your arm in what was meant to be a friendly gesture, but just got you even more worked up. You had it bad for the man, and that was why needed to get out of this situation right now.

“Of course, I know.” You gave him a tight smile, hoping he would buy it. “But I really need to go now, lots of stuff to do. I’ll see you.”

Later that day, when you were alone in your office booth, you texted your friend who was working in another department of CNN.

I def need to let off some steam tonight. Club? Xx

She texted you back a couple of minutes later.

Run in with the hot boss again? ;) But sure, let’s do it xx

Even though it was a weekday, the club was bursting with people. You already were on your third or fourth round of shots, and the base was humming through your body, blasting away your worries.

You dragged your friend over to the dancefloor when you heard your favorite song starting to play, the alcohol creating a warm and fuzzy sensation you totally got lost in.

+++

When you woke up the next morning, you regretted every decision you ever made. You didn’t remember how you got home last night, and your head felt like someone had smashed it in with a hammer. And on top of all, you were late for work.

When you finally got the office, everyone was already coming out of the morning meeting. You carefully made your way inside the meeting room, where Jake was still packing up his stuff, as always. As you approached him, your heart almost jumped out of your chest, as it usually did when you were alone with him, but now with the added fear of his anger.

But when he glanced up and saw you, he looked…relieved? You were confused, you had expected a telling-off, but he appeared as if he was happy to see you.

“Thank god you’re alright, Y/N, I was so worried when you didn’t show up this morning.”

It was when he took a closer look at you that he noticed your appearance, and undoubtedly sensed the alcohol still lingering. He had a very keen sense of smell, something he told you a while back. You swallowed when you saw his expression shift from friendly to irritated.

“You’re hungover.” He stated matter-of-factly, his voice cold.

“Jake, I’m really sorry, I-“you began to apologize, but he was not having it.

“Look, it’s really none of my business how you decide to spend your free time, but I expect you to act professional when it comes to the job, and that doesn’t include showing up late and hungover. I will let this one slide, but this happens again, and we have a problem, am I clear?” he was definitely angry, and you should be intimidated my that. You really felt remorse, but seeing Jake worked up like that also made your stupid brain come up with thoughts of him throwing you on the desk of the briefing room and working out his frustration on you.

“I said, am I clear?” Jake asked again, you had clearly zoned out again.

“Yes, sure, clear.” You said in a small voice, now immensely ashamed that you had disappointed Jake, after everything he had done for you.

“Again, I am really so sorry.” You called after Jake as he was making his way out of the room, but he just dismissed you with a wave of his hand.

The thoughts you had about Jake didn’t leave your mind for the rest of the day. You wanted him so bad and seeing him constantly when he was so out of reach was getting harder every day. You desperately needed to clear your head, the only way you knew. So, against your better judgement, you texted your friend again, and a couple of hours later you found yourself in the same club, drunk and dancing without a care in the world.

You almost hated how much you needed this, the music, the people surrounding you, the alcohol flowing through your veins, making you forget everything.

You lost count how many drinks you’ve downed, but you lost sight of your friend as well, so you decided to go outside for a smoke and some fresh air.

You picked your phone out of your pocket to message your friend when a fantastic idea hit you.

Why not call Jake? You were having a great time, and it only made sense that you should share it with him, because you really liked him, right?

“Y/N? It’s the middle of the night, what’s wrong, did something happen?” a still sleepy, but increasingly alarmed Jake asked from the other side of the phone.

“Hiii Jake, oh my god, I’m having the best time ever here, it’s so fun, you should come too! C’mon its Friday, you should party a bit.” You basically screamed into your phone, your voice slightly slurred from too many drinks.

“Shit, it’s Friday morning, which means there is still work tomorrow. Wait, are you drunk? Where are you?” Jake asked, his voice was full of anger now, and under normal circumstances you would be really worried about that, but right now, you did not care a single bit.

“Oh, I’m at that great new club downtown, it’s called the red…I can’t remember, something with red, and the people are so nice, but I lost my friend, so I think I’m going home soon.” You rambled on, the alcohol loosening your tongue.

“There is no way in hell you’re going home like this, Y/N. You stay right where you are, I’m coming.”He definitely sounded infuriated now, and even your intoxicated brain understood the instructions.

“Alright, Jakey, I’ll see you.” But he had already hung up.

You kept aimlessly walking around in front of the club for a while, making drunk small talk with other club goers, when suddenly, someone grabbed your shoulder and yanked you around. It was Jake, tired looking and with a deep frown on his face.

“Jaaaaaake, you came!” You exclaimed and threw your arms around his neck. He stiffened against you and softly pushed you away.

“Y/N, you’re wasted. Come on, I’m getting you home.” He said, voice leaving no room for arguments. He grabbed you by the wrist and basically dragged you to his nearby car, pushing you into the passenger seat. When he leaned over you to buckle your seatbelt, he came incredibly close to you, and again, you spoke without thinking.

“You smell so nice, Jake, like a forest.”

He just gave you a puzzled look and walked around the car to get in the driver’s seat.

The drive to your flat passed in tense silence, you were busy staring at Jakes hands angrily gripping the steering wheel, wondering if they would feel as good around your neck as you imagined. You could feel a tingle between your legs and started squirming a bit, until Jake grabbed your bare tight just below the hem of your skirt and snarled “Stop moving like this, I have to focus on traffic.”

You had to stifle a moan at his rough touch, but if he noticed he didn’t comment on it.

When you finally arrived at your building, Jake had to support you while getting into the elevator and to your door, you weren’t that steady on your feet anymore and by now, more of a tired than a giddy drunk.

“That’s mine.” You said and started fumbling with your keys. “You wanna come inside?”

If you had been sober, you would’ve noticed the pained expression that flashed over Jakes face just before it hardened again.

“No, I certainly won’t come inside, but this is what you are going to do. You will drink a glass of water, brush your teeth and set your alarm, so you will be on time at work tomorrow where we can discuss” he gestured angrily between the two of you “whatever this stunt was. Understood?”

“Yes.” You answered meekly “and thank you for taking me home!” you called, but Jake was already on his way back to the elevator.

+++

When your alarm woke you up only a few hours later, you felt like hell. And that was because you could remember everything. No blissful blackout this time, you were able to recall every vivid, horrible detail of how you had made an absolute fool out of yourself in front of the man you admired most in the world. You owed him one hell of an apology, and you were not really sure how to go about this.

You entered the office like a beaten dog, shoulders hanging and praying to the gods you looked better than you felt. Jake ignored you in the morning briefing, so you stayed behind to face his wrath. When you were finally alone, you spoke first.

“Jake, about last night, I can’t even begin to tell you how sorry I am. Not only did I act extremely reckless and unprofessional, but I also took advantage of our friendship, which is something that a value more than anything. I accept whatever repercussion you see fit, I just hope you can see how sorry I am.” By the end of your little speech you were almost crying, your disappointment in yourself and your fear of Jakes reaction were making you physically sick.

Jake stayed silent for what felt like forever, and when he finally spoke, your anxiety was almost killing you. “Yes, I am immensely angry about what happened last night. But most of all I’m worried. The Y/N I know doesn’t act that irresponsible, getting absolutely wasted two nights in a row. I went to talk to your friend down in the sports department earlier this morning. I know, that might be considered unprofessional, but she’s just as worried as I am. She told me you’ve been drinking a lot lately, and always more than you should. What is wrong, Y/N, what are you hiding from me?”

That was the perfect timing to tell him everything, how he was on your mind all the time, how you wanted to kiss him, touch him, be with him in every way possible, so bad that it was keeping you up at night or haunted your dreams. But you couldn’t, there was too much on the line.

“Nothing, work is just stressful, I’ve been working overtime so much; I had to blow off some steam. I’m just sorry I dragged you into this.”

Jake stepped closer to you, and you could feel your heart speed up at the way he was looking at you, something like heated curiosity on his face.

“So, this has nothing to do with the way you threw yourself at me last night, or how you told me I smelled nice?” he asked, his deep voice making goosebumps break out all over your skin. “Or with the fact that you tried to invite me into your apartment?”

“Jake, it’s not how it looks like, I swear. I won’t bother you like this again, ever, I promise.” Your voice starting to become panicked, this couldn’t be happening, he couldn’t know.

But Jake just chuckled and leaned down to whisper into your ear.

“I think I know exactly how this looks, Y/N.”

He took a step back, suddenly looking calm and collected again, as if the moment you just had never happened.

“I have to go now, but I see you tonight. The office party in the bar down the road, you remember? I expect everyone to at least show up for a while.”

Great, you thought, having totally forgotten about the event. You just wanted to curl up in bed and feel sorry for yourself, but obviously that wasn’t in the cards for you today.

And so, a couple of hours later you found yourself in said bar, surrounded by your colleagues. You already had a short talk with your friend, ensuring her that you weren’t mad that she talked to Jake, you were convinced it came from a place of concern.

You kept it at two drinks, but it was enough to lighten your mood a bit. Jake was talking to someone in another corner of the room, and he looked fantastic with a casual blazer and no tie. There were moments when you felt like he was watching you, but you were never able to make eye contact and were too shy to approach him directly.

It got late and people were starting to hit the dancefloor. You decided to give it a go as well, and soon you were totally lost in the music.

Suddenly, you felt a set of strong hands on your hips and the presence of a warm body behind you. You spun around to tell whatever creep decided to grope you to let it go when you saw that it was Jake. He was smirking down at you, moving his body to the music. You weren’t sure what to do, you were incredibly nervous, but having him close felt so good. Deciding to be brave, you just took his hands and put them back on your hips, giving him a small nod. His grin broadened and you could see his eyes sparkling in the dim light of the dancefloor. He pulled you closer until your bodies almost were almost touching, you put your hands around his neck and started to lightly move against him.

Jakes eyes were darkening as he looked down at you, and his grip on your hips tightened noticeable. Being the center of his attention like that, in combination with the pulse of the base and the pleasant warmth of the alcohol in your system made you slightly lightheaded, you felt like you were in your own little bubble, just you and Jake. You started to lightly gyrate your hips, and you could swear that you heard him groan over the sound of the song playing. He pulled you even tighter against his body, by now you were grinding against each other, never leaving each other’s eyes, and your body felt like it was on fire. The tension between the two of you was so thick, you could cut it with a knife. Your faces were coming closer and closer to each other, and your heart was basically jumping out of your chest by now, when suddenly, someone burst your bubble.

“Jake, we need you in the studio, there’s been an incident with…” some agitated guy tried to scream over the music, and you couldn’t make out all the words, but the next thing you heard was Jakes voice as he leaned down to address you.

“I have to go for now, but this isn’t over. I’ll see you on Monday.” It sounded promising, and a delicious shudder went down your spine at his words, easing away some of the frustration you felt at being interrupted.

The weekend was long, you didn’t call or text Jake, unsure what to say. So you just tried to distract yourself until it was finally time for work again.

The week started with the usual morning meeting, and you and Jake weren’t even trying to hide the glances you were giving each other. The dynamic between you had definitely shifted, and the tension only increased over the course of the day.

He was purposefully standing closer to you than usual, you let your hand lightly brush against his leg when he was sitting next to you at lunch and during the afternoon shows ad breaks, his eyes were fixed on you, never leaving you out of sight. You looked back, biting your lips and Jakes eyes widened, he looked like he wanted to devour you. You knew that sooner or later you had to face him and address what was going on. So when you got a message from Jake shortly after the show was over, telling you to meet him in his office, you basically ran there.

In front of his door, you took a moment to collect yourself before you knocked and entered.

Jake was leaning against his desk, tie and suit jacked discarded, arms crossed over his chest.

You made your way over to him and when you were close enough, he put his hands on your hips, like he was picking up right where you left it Friday night.

“You know.” He said, and his voice was a bit husky. “I’ve been in quiet the state since our dance Friday night. And your little touches here and there haven’t helped at all.”

He accentuated his words by pulling you flush against his body, and you moaned simultaneously when you felt the evidence of his arousal pressed against your belly.

You smirked and got on your tiptoes to whisper into his ear “I see, now what am I supposed to do about that?”

You pressed a kiss to his neck, and the deep groan he let out was almost sinful.

He reached out to grab your jaw and kissed you in a way that made it clear that he had lost his usually tight control. You held onto him with both arms while he spun you around and probed you up onto his desk, sending papers and pens flying in all directions. No one of you cared.

His hands found their way under your skirt, climbing up until his fingers were stroking over your already soaked panties. He pressed a finger to your covered clit, and you couldn’t suppress a loud moan.

“God, Y/N, how are you already so wet, I have barely touched you.”

“Get on with it then, please.” You groaned, spreading your legs to give him better access. He complied, pushing up your skirt. You lifted your hips so he could swiftly slide your panties down your legs, exposing your glistening center to the cool air of his office.

His fingers crept up your tights again, parting your lips and plunging two digits inside you while his thumb was rubbing your clit in light, circular motions, the pressure creating the most perfect sensation.

“Yesssss.” You hissed and tried to move your hips into the direction of his fingers to increase the friction, this wasn’t nearly enough for you.

“Please Jake, I need more.” You looked up at him and his eyes darkened.

“Don’t worry, I’m going to take care of you.” He whispered, withdrew his fingers and opened his fly. He pulled down his trousers and underwear, revealing his cock. You licked your lips at the sight of it, you were definitely going to enjoy this.

“You better come over here right now.” You whispered, and Jake stepped between your legs, the tip of his cock nudging at your entrance, teasing you.

“Damn, Tapper, fuck me already.” You groaned, and a second later he was thrusting into you in one fluid motion, instantly setting a brutal pace. You slapped your hand over your mouth to suppress the scream that was bursting out of you at the feeling of being filled so roughly. By now, you were almost lying almost flat on his desk, various clutter digging into your back.

Jakes hand were on your hips again, grabbing them tightly while slamming into you over and over. You had to keep your hand pressed to your mouth to prevent your loud cries from spilling out. Jake was hitting a perfect spot deep inside you with each hard thrust and you already knew you wouldn’t last long.

“I’ve been thinking about this for the whole weekend, throwing you on that desk and fucking you.” He growled through his clenched teeth and hearing him talk like that made your arousal spike. You had never seen him so unhinged, and it was glorious.

“You feel so good inside me Jake, so good, please fuck me harder.” You whimpered, and when he deepened his thrusts it only took another moment till you hit your peak with a guttural cry, a disfigured version of Jakes name falling from your lips.

He fucked you through your climax, never slowing down. Beads of sweat were beginning to form on his forehead, your mixed breathings and groans and the sound of skin slapping against skin echoing through the office.

When he reached between your legs to rub your clit again, it almost felt like too much, you were overstimulated, but he was relentless, rubbing and pressing until you were on the edge of another orgasm.

“Jake, ugh, I’m going to come again.” You cried, and when he pinched your bud between his fingers you felt like you died and went to heaven. The walls of your pussy were fluttering and clenching down onto his cock as you hit your second peak, this time dragging Jake along with you over the edge. He gave one last forceful thrust and released himself deep inside you with a growl.

After he pulled out, Jake helped you get up from the desk and pulled you against his chest.

“You should have told me earlier.” He said, voice still slightly breathless. “How you felt.”

You lifted your head to look him in the eyes.

“I wish I had.” You answered. “Would have saved me a lot of trouble.”

“What is this too you?” he asked, his voice strangely emotional “What do you want from this?”

“I want you. If you’ll have me?”

The kiss he gave you in response was all the answer you needed.

[multifandomwhre]

Loves Harsh Reality

Summary: Life is a bitch. 

Pairing(s): Bucky Barnes x Reader, Avengers x Reader (all platonic)

Warnings: swearing, mention of past/current abuse

Prompt: “You want what everyone wants. You want a love that consumes you. You want passion, and adventure, and maybe even a little danger.” 

Word Count: 1780

Do not copy, translate, or post any of my stories anywhere you write stories, whether that’s here, Wattpad, or Ao3. 

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

Life never treated you well. Not even when you were just an innocent child, trying to navigate your way in this terrible world. You were forced into a cold and unloving organization that was run by people who don’t really give a shit that you were only 2 when they stole you. They never treated you like a human, more like a laboratory experiment, which kind of went haywire. When you were brought in, the sleaze running this entire operation stripped you of everything you had so far, which was only a name you had just barely begun to learn, and they assigned you a number, much like a court case; experiment 973. And that’s what you went by for the next 23 years of your life.

The day you were rescued from that deranged and psychotic place was...hectic to say the least. It began like any other day while you were their little pet; get woken up at the ass crack of you don’t know when, test out your powers until you physically passed out and then get ungracefully woken again only to be forced to use your powers. This continues for hours on end before these assholes make you go fight actual people in hopes that you aren’t lacking in physical strength. You fight until bodies start piling up and when your sadistic handlers are satisfied with your progress, as if you haven’t they haven’t been training you to take down monsters bigger than Goliath himself. But something wasn’t right and you could feel it in the enclosed space of your cell. 

While you normally had a rough awakening by someone poking, prodding, and eventually yanking you out of bed, nobody was there. In fact, there wasn’t even a peep from the cells neighboring yours. That was until you heard multiple gunshots and multiple bodies slumping against the floor. See, the thing about HYDRA is that they’ve trained you for this exact moment but every single ounce of training they’ve ingrained in your body and mind left the building completely as you hunkered down against the wall furthest from the thick, metal door barricading you from the outside world. 

Suddenly, the door you were just measly standing behind came crashing down, dust from the unwashed floor rising. After the dust settled, you looked up to see the poster boy of HYDRA himself, the Winter Soldier. “Steve, I’ve got a live one here. Female, looks to be in her mid-20s,” he whispered into his ear piece. He slowly moved closer, putting his weapon away as he noticed your frail body shaking from fear. “У тебя все нормально? Я ведь не бил тебя дверью?*” Shaking your head, the soldier stopped in front of you, kneeling next to you. “Меня зовут Баки. Что у тебя?” Shrugging your shoulders, you made an attempt to look over at him. “That’s ok. How long have you been here?”

“двадцать три года*,” you said, a bit of hesitation in your voice, finding it hard to speak after decades of being punished if you spoke out of turn. As you finished speaking, you heard another voice, one which you assumed belonged to this Steve person. 

“Хорошо. Стив дал мне добро, чтобы мы могли убираться отсюда,” Bucky said, standing back up on his feet. But you weren’t too sure about this. Along with your training, your handlers had pushed on you the notion that the Avengers, and anyone associated with them, were out to harm you, always, and that’s why you needed to be able to defend yourself. 

“Ты ведь не сделаешь мне больно, верно? О-или убить меня,” you asked, clear hesitation towards the soldier who was about to grant you freedom from this hellhole. 

Bucky looked at you with sympathy drawn over his features. Shaking his head, he gently grabbed your hands, a shiver traveling up your spine at the coolness from the vibranium arm. “Конечно, нет. Я вытащу тебя отсюда.”

-TIME SKIP-

It had been a few months since the Avengers had rescued you from HYDRA and you were beyond grateful that Bucky had stumbled upon you that day. But the fear that HYDRA had instilled in you about being near the Avengers was still running rampant in your system. Whenever someone knocked on your door, or came up behind you, your fight or flight instincts kicked in like that of an animal in the wild. You thought it’d be better by now, considering you have been going to therapy since coming to the compound. But today, all your frustrations came to a head.

You probably should’ve been in bed considering it was 4 in the morning but you needed to burn off some steam. What you failed to realize was that a certain super soldier was sitting in one of the boxes above the training center, watching your every move. But, him being a super soldier meant that he could pick up on more than you realized. Bucky had noticed that blood dripping onto the floor, which came from your terribly wrapped hands. 

He knew you were on edge, but not like you were when he first got you out. By the time that you realized Bucky was in your presence, it was a bit too late. You felt a hand on your shoulder; two seconds later you had the body attached to the arm on the floor, your other arm extending towards their throat, keeping them pinned to the floor. 

Once the haze cleared, you could tell who it was that you had down on the ground. “Buck? Oh my god.” Quickly pushing yourself off of him, you started pacing the gym floor. “Fucking shit. I am so sorry Bucky. I-I didn’t mean to do it. Are you ok? I didn’t hurt you, did I?” You kept rambling and pacing until Bucky stopped you, stepping in front of you to stop you from wearing a hole in the floor. 

“I am fine, кукла. Are you ok? Your hands are bleeding.” Looking down, you saw the streaks of red coming out from under the tape on your hands. “Let’s go get you fixed up, ok?” Nodding, you followed Bucky out of the gym and towards the medical center. “So, what’s got you going at 4 in the morning anyway?”

“I couldn’t sleep. No matter what I tried. I even tried that tea Wanda suggested. By the way, don’t drink it. It tastes like dirt.” Bucky chuckled as you sat on a gurney, grabbing supplies from the cabinets. “What are you doing? Shouldn’t we wait for, you know, a doctor, or an actual medical professional to come in and do this,” you immediately questioned him.

“Do you seriously doubt my suturing skills? I did serve in World War II, so I’m pretty confident that I know my way around a needle and thread,” he said, carefully unraveling the useless tape from around your knuckles, taking a look at the damage. “Yeah, this’ll probably take a little bit, but don’t you worry, Dr. Barnes is always here to help.” Bucky smiled at you, calming your nerves the tiniest bit. 

After prepping and numbing you properly, Bucky began stitching your open wounds shut. “So, do you wanna talk about why you couldn’t fall asleep? Talking might help, at least it usually does for me,” Bucky asked, not taking his eyes off his work in progress.

“I, uh, I keep having nightmares. They went away for a bit, when I could actually sleep for the night, but for some reason, they’ve come back,” you admitted quietly, almost like it was a dirty little secret. 

“Well, you’ve only been here a few months so I wouldn’t expect your nightmares to just instantly go away. It took me a few years to actually get a good night's sleep with them waking me or anybody else up. So I know exactly how you feel,” he said, finishing up before wrapping your hands in sterile dressings. “And you are all set. Now, no excessive force, which includes going to the gym at 4 in the morning and working out like you are about to fight the Hulk.” You laughed lightly, shoulders loosening up.

“Why are you being so nice to me? I mean, you just stitched up my hands cause I got too into my own brain after I almost choked you when you could’ve just dropped me here and gone back to bed.” Tears filled your eyes once more, a thickening feeling surrounding your concerns. 

Bucky sighed, gingerly sitting next to you on the gurney. “When I found you at the base, I knew it wasn’t going to be an easy ride for you. Or for anyone here really. Adding another member to the team can sometimes jostle things around. And I knew for a fact that you would feel like an outcast amongst some of the biggest heroes the world has ever seen...so far,” he said as you laid your head against his arm, wiping away the tears that had made their way down your face. “And I thought maybe, just maybe, if we became friends or even just acquaintances, that you wouldn’t feel so alone here. Cause I know exactly how that feels. And ever since coming here, I can see what I looked like when I was found; lost, felt like I didn’t deserve anything good or even deserving of love. But even though you hide it with a sort of tough exterior and you’re used to being trapped away, I can tell you something about yourself that you probably don’t even know,” Bucky said in a matter-of-fact voice.

“Oh yeah? What would that be,” you asked, quite curious as to what he may have found out.

“You want what everyone wants. You want a love that consumes you. You want passion, and adventure, and maybe even a little danger. Cause that’s exactly how I feel right now.” At some point, of which you weren’t sure, Bucky had hooked his fingers under your chin, turning your face up to meet his. Your eyes finally met his, capturing the look of a pure and innocent love in his icy stare. He slowly leaned down, but stopping right before your lips collided. “Is this ok?” Quickly nodding, Bucky pressed his lips to your own, cupping your face as your injured hands made their way to his sides. 

Pulling back, Bucky rested his forehead against yours. “Never thought that this is how we would have our first kiss, doll,” he said, making you laugh which in turn caused him to chuckle. “But, I’m not at all opposed to it.”

“I’m glad. Now let’s get out of here. I’m tired.” 

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

1. У тебя все нормально? Я ведь не бил тебя дверью - Are you ok? I didn’t hit you with the door, did I?

2. Меня зовут Баки. Что у тебя? - My name is Bucky. What’s yours?

3. Это хорошо. Как давно ты здесь? - That’s ok. How long have you been here?

4. двадцать три года - 23 years. 

5. Хорошо. Стив дал мне добро, чтобы мы могли убираться отсюда. - Ok. Steve gave me the go ahead so we can get out of here. 

6. Ты ведь не сделаешь мне больно, верно? О-или убить меня? - You aren’t going to hurt me right? O-or kill me?

7. Конечно, нет. Я вытащу тебя отсюда. - Of course not. I’m going to get you out of here.

8. Кукла - Doll

I will also be posting this on my other blog, @imaginesmcu. This is a very, very late submission to @sweeterthanthis ‘s “Quote Me” challenge. 

[the-sympathetic-villain]

Choking in the Dark

AO3 | Next | Masterpost

Description: The prompt for this one-shot is this animatic, "Wires" by Anna Midnight, which I highly recommend you watch before reading.

Characters: Logan, Remus Word Count: 2769 Chapter Warnings: Heavy Angst, Choking, Self-Esteem Issues/Self-Deprecation, Injuries, Dark but Not Necessarily Unsympathetic sides, Abandonment, Self-Harm, Angst with an okay(?) ending (Let me know if I need to add anything!)

General Taglist:

@somehow-i-got-an-account @justanotherhumanstuff @im-an-anxious-wreck

-

   I can’t breathe.

   Hours.

   How many hours?

   I've been here for so long.

   Logan's lungs ached. On his knees, he hung his head. The weight of his head pulling against the thick rubber cable around his neck, making it even harder to breath. He stayed there for a moment, swaying as he ignored the voice in the back of his mind screamed for air.The voice became increasingly persistent until he was forced to raise his head as the edges of his vision blurred.

   It doesn't matter.

   Thick wires cut deep into his wrists, a solemn comfort that he was even alive. The fading had started hours ago, starteing in the tips of his fingers and slowly claiming his body.  He held up his hand. The translucent appearance of his digits a metaphorical punch to the gut as he jerked his head, the wire around his neck tightening like a noose.

   I'll do you all a favor and spare you my company.

   If he'd known the words would be some of his last, he would have chosen a subject more interesting to lecture on than Peter Singer's take one Effective Altruism. He could have talked about anything. Astronomy, chemistry—The others barely acknowledged his contributions as it stood. The topics may not have been relevant, but at least he would have been able to choose the lesson.

   His last lesson.

   Logan whimpered as the thick wire tightened around his neck, cutting into the already raw skin. He wheezed a stiff breath against the heavy piece of rubber threatening to crush his windpipe.

   Not that it would have had an impact on any of them.

   The piles of dust scattered across the floor around him remained a stark reminder that his words fell flat on the ears of those he most needed to hear them. Thomas—His friends—

   If that's even what they consider me at this point.

   After all, he was here. No one had noted his absence in the hours he'd been gone.

   Why would they?

   Clearly, his words were so unnecessary they should simply be skipped. He growled breathlessly in frustration as the binds around his wrists pulled taut. His arms were stretched out, pulled upward like some sort of sick marionette hanging limply on his knees. He glared into the empty space around him. His ‘room' as the others loved to refer to their personal corners of Thomas' mind.  His room. The awe-inspiring place had once been full of chemistry books and stars and all the little things that made Thomas curious. Logan had been collecting them since Thomas was a child, but it was gone, turned to piles of dust around his room as Thomas' search for knowledge fall further and further out of his mind.

   Unimportant.

   Just like him.

   He couldn’t help the sick smirk on his face as the wires tightened once more around his throat, jerking his head upright. He swallowed a shallow breath, barely drawing oxygen as his airway strained to remain open.

   Unwanted.

   Logan snarled bitterly as memories surfaced forcefully in his mind.

   Not that any of you care, but I am unharmed—

   I'll do you all a favor and spare you my company—

   His own words from this video echoed in his mind as he choked on his own breath. Only Patton had objected, but his protests were weak and quickly forgotten. If one thing was clear, it was that his contributions were neither wanted, nor needed anymore.

   They'll finally get what they've wanted all along—

   Logan groaned as the wires pulled on his wrists and his shoulders ached, barely holding place in the sockets against the strain of the heavy cords threatening to pull him to pieces.

   His life was a small price for them to pay for him to finally be silenced.

   Roman wouldn't have to shut him up when he started rambling anymore. Virgil wouldn't have the added stress of convincing him that Thomas' fears were valid. Patton wouldn't have to feign the moral obligation of treating him like an equal, like he actually had a seat at the table. Thomas—Logan choked back a sob—Thomas wouldn't have to feel guilty about pursuing what actually made him happy.

   This is for the best.

   After all, I already see how worthless my life had become—

   Logan’s head jerked up at the sound of a sinister snicker. “Well, well, well—Look who's wandered a little too far from the light. I didn't take you for the bondage type, teach.”

   He watched as Remus stepped out of the shadows, a menacing grin on his face as he approached. Logan scowled as Remus kicked through the piles of dust, scatter the last remnants of the things he once loved. “What are you doing here, Remus?”

   “What am I doing here?” Remus cackled maniacally. “Oh, no, no, no. The better question is what are you doing on the dark side?”

   “The dark—” A cry past Logan’s lips as the wires around his wrist jerked once more, dislocating his right shoulder. He groaned, daggers in his eyes as he glared at Remus. “You know what?”

   Remus tilted his head at Logan, a show of mock concern as he brushed through yet another pile of dust.

   “Fuck your questions.” Logan spat. “Leave me alone. The least the rest of you owe me is to let me fade away in peace.”

   “You ought to watch that mouth of yours or you're going to disappoint the cardigan-clad killjoy. Besides, what are you going to do about it?” Remus giggled as Logan glared, stepping forward and waving his hand through Logan’s phantom limb. “Ghost me?”

   Fire burned in Logan’s eyes as he stared at Remus, knowing he was helpless. Trapped, as Remus walked free to do as he pleased.

   “So, nerdy wolverine,” Logan looked up as Remus leaned close to his face. “What happened to my invite to the pity party?”

   “This isn't my doing,” Logan hissed, losing steam. “Thomas’ subconscious is pulling me back. I—I've outlived my purpose.”

   “Pulling you back seems like an understatement. It looks to me like you’re about to be pulled to shreds—” Remus smirked, leaning against the wall behind him nonchalantly. “—and don’t get me wrong. I’m all about watching Thomas' mind tear you into little pieces, but you’re supposed to be pretty important for the big guy, right? Seems to me like Thomas is supposed to need you more than those other dorks on the light side.”

   Logan gritted his teeth. “Clearly, you’re mistaken. They are managing perfectly well without me.”

   “Oh, now I do sense a little bitterness.” Remus purred. “Maybe he's not so resigned as he looks.”

   “Your point is null, Remus. My existence is of little consequence to anyone and the subconscious has made its decision.” Logan wheezed numbly, tears in his eyes as he tried to move his fingers, desperately hoping they were still there. “This is happening, whether I want it to or not.”

   "Oh, I don't know." Remus mused absently. "I don't think all of that is true."

   “What?” Logan strained painfully against the thick cord around his neck to turn his head to catch a glance at Remus.

   “I wouldn’t say no one wants you around.”

   Logan swallowed painfully, dropping his gaze in shame as tears brimmed in his eyes. “The others—”

   “Screw the others.” Remus smirked as Logan stared a him. “I meant me.”

   Logan froze, temporarily stunned as his limbs went limp in their binds. “You—you want me around?”

   “Now, don't get all sappy on me, teach, but the others aren't as much fun to play with. They roll over to easy.” Remus wiggled his eyebrows at him and giggled as Logan stared blankly at him. “Not you though. You gave me a run for my money last time, and—and we made a good team. Didn't we?”

   “What?” Logan winced as Remus raised a hand to his neck, staring at the wires digging into his skin. His fingertips brushed the edge of the wire's tight grip and the red, raw skin burned painfully at his touch, but the contact—the contact felt nice.Tears streaked down his face as emotions welled in his chest. He couldn't remember the last time he'd been touched so gently.

   “We may have opposed each other, but really that was the only way to get through to Thomas and it worked.” Remus sighed, and Logan could see the sadness in his eyes as he pulled his hand back, looking into Logan's eyes. “I couldn't have done that without you. The rest of them would never have seen past the darkness in me.”

   Logan stared blankly down at Remus for a long moment, before his purpose kicked in. “The others are unnecessary blinded by their narrow view of moral. The  concepts of light and dark are arguably meaningless. Assigning actions as good or evil only serves our biases and our internal need for affirmation of our own moral value—” Logan nearly bit down on his tongue as Remus raised an eyebrow at him. “—I'm sorry. I'm rambling.”

   “I didn’t stop you, teach." Remus smirked. "I would gladly listen to you ramble about light and dark for hours.”

   Logan blinked in surprise. For the first time in a long time, he actually believed someone was genuinely interested in his thoughts. He stared blankly at Remus until another tight squeeze of the wires caused his vision to blur. His head swayed, the lack of oxygen contributing to his fading consciousness.

   “Unfortunately, I don't think we have the time right now.” Remus glanced at him nervously. “The subconscious has nearly claimed you."

   “It's too late.” Logan wheezed, tears streaming down his face as he prepared for the mysterious edge of Thomas' mind to pull him apart.

   “The subconscious could have just taken you.”

   “What?”Logan cracked his eyes open at Remus' solemn whisper, nearly hyper ventilating from the strain to pull in enough oxygen to keep him conscious.

   “You could have disappeared on the light side, but it brought you here.” Remus looked up at the wires trailing infinitely into the  mind palace above them.

   Logan wearily stared up at him, black oblivion tugging at his vision as his head swayed. “So?”

   “So, do you want to live, Logan?” Logan barely felt as Remus grabbed his collar.

   Logan wheezed, exhaustion hanging onto his body as the pain intensified.

   “I need an answer, Logan.”

   Logan closed his eyes, oblivion pulling at him as he whispered breathlessly. “Yes.”

   “Alright,” Logan felt Remus drop his collar as he took a step back. “Forgive me for this.”

   “Wha—” Logan’s statement was cut off as Remus' knuckles connected with his temple. His head was jerked to the side and the welts on his neck burned like fire from the sudden movement.

   "Time to taste what you’re made of, Lo!”

   Logan’s head jerked up as he lurched forward furiously. White hot rage surged through his veins as he bit bit his lip hard enough to draw blood.

   What kind of sick bastard punches someone as they're dying.

   His hands hung loosely at his sides as he screamed at Remus. “You piece of—What are you trying to do to—”

   Wait. Loosely?

   The realization lasted only a moment before a second fist connected with his cheekbone. All rational thought left his mind as fury filled his being and he lunged forward at Remus. He cried out as his dislocated shoulder connected with Remus' chest, toppling him over. He gasped as he hit the ground and pain lit up across his body as his bruises and welts all connected with the ground with a loud thud.

   “Shit, Lo. You knocked the breath right out of me.” Logan could hear the sounds of Remus shuffling next to him. “Hold on. I've got you.”

   Logan felt Remus roll him over and he moaned in pain at the forced movement as his back settled on the cold ground.

   “I know, Lo, but I've got to set your arm before you do some permanent damage.” Remus whispered gently. “Are you ready? On 3. 1—2—”

   Logan's vision went white as pain shot through his body and his consciousness faded briefly. No times seemed to pass, but as he opened his eyes a moment, he found himself curled in Remus' arms. A quick glance down revealed that creative side had used his signature green sash to fashion a makeshift sling for his arm. He stared down at the gentle attention Remus had shown him and he couldn’t help but smile.

   Brilliant—

   Logan cut off his thought with a sudden gasp. His uninjured hand shot to his neck, feeling—nothing. Tears streamed down his face as he looked up to Remus. “ The wires. Th-they’re gone.”

   I'm free.

   “Sorry about the black eye I gave you to get you out of there.” Remus smirked as Logan looked up from his shaking hands, running his free hand through his hair as he looked away evasively as Logan stared at him. “I normally try to get permission before I get rough, but—”

   “You did that for me.” Logan's mouth hung open as he traced the deep indents in his arms where the wires had constricted his wrists.

   Remus shrugged. “It wasn't noth—"

   Logan sucked in a breath, going limp with the realization that someone cared enough to intervene. “It most certainly is something, Remus. Those wires—they've bound me for years. I don't think I even remember a time when they weren't—” Logan clenched his teeth, feeling the wet streaks mix with the blood from his lip running down his face. The realization of what just happened hit him all at once and he choked back a sob. “You saved my life.”

   “Nah,” Remus brushed him off. “You did all the real work. Everyone’s got a little light and dark in ‘em, right? I just antagonized that little spark of anger in you until you went full Mr. Hyde to your usual Dr. Jekyll. A little push and the dark side accepted you.”

   Logan blinked in shock as realization struck him. He dropped his gaze to the ground as he considered the days' events. "I'm a dark side now. Aren't I?"

   "What happened to the idea that light and dark are arguably meaningless, nutty professor?" Remus giggled before turning serious. “Don't worry. You're not stuck with me. The subconscious’ grip on you is gone if you want to go back—”

   “Don't make me go back, Re.”

   Remus stared at Logan pleaded up at him. “Lo, you can stay, if you want, but Virgil’s gone. I'm pretty sure Janus checked out after the last vid. It's just me down here and I snore—”

   “Remus, in the last ten minutes, you've shown me more humanity than any of the others have in years,” Anger flashed in Logan's eyes as he slowly straightened to his feet, glancing around the room. The piles of dust were gone, revealing a polished concrete floor, a blank canvas. “It all makes sense now.”

   “What does” Remus paused and watched as Logan stood. With a devilish smirk, he brushed off the the dust of his shirt. The last remnants of the his empathy fading into oblivion.

   Emotions. I always knew they were simply a nuisance.

   “I couldn’t help Thomas from the light side. The rules, the niceties…They were preventing me from fulfilling my purpose. I need to be more forceful. More persistent. More angry” Logan looked up to see the night sky above them, an illusion of the mind palace and the beginning of a new chapter. A bitter smile spread across Logan's face as the dark clouds swirled above them, allowing only a sprinkling of stars to show through. “Don't you see, Remus? I need to make them listen. I need to make Thomas listen.”

   Remus raised an eyebrow at him suspiciously. “You’re actually staying?”

   A mischievous smile spread across Logan’s face as he watched items creep slowly up out of the floor, his room now feeling much like he'd had before. A desk, a globe. The room filled to the brim with bookshelves. Everything returned to his room just like before was except—a little darker, a little colder and about as welcoming as the sinister smile spreading across his face. “Yes, I think I'm going to get comfortable here, Remus.”

   Remus matches his smile, giggling manically. “Ah yes, Lo. Let's burn this place to the ground!”

   Free. He was free at last.

   Logan chuckled, smiling at the wonderful man beside him. “Yes, Re, let's do just that.”

[catboyshinsou]

Hey! May I request Bakugou, Hawks and Aizawa headcanons, to them aciddentaly making you cry, please? SFW and with a female reader. Thank you ❤

Accidentally making you cry (sfw)!

pairings: Bakugou x fem!reader, Hawks x fem!reader, Aizawa x fem!reader

warnings: angst to fluff, crying obv, feather nickname for hawks, kitty nickname for aizawa

Bakugou Katsuki:

It was a few weeks after moving into the dorms, everyone had grown comfortable with each other and living at school. The first internships had started, you were also on a search for somewhere to intern but without luck. You had done your work study under Best Jeanist, whose status was currently unknown.

So you sat at your desk, flipping through old notes from the beginning of the year. It was lucky you still had them, especially the little portfolio of heroes interested in you after the sports festival. You considered asking the Pussycats as they had asked you during the summer camp but hesitated when you remembered their current situation. You thought to yourself ‘No they have too much to do with Ragdoll missing, that'd be too rude’

Suddenly the door slammed open. Bakugou, finished with his provisional licence training, stepped in and made his way to your bed. Face first he landed on your pile of pillows and groaned. It wasn't many times that Bakugou just came in like that, unprompted and exhausted.

"Good evening, how was training?" You sing sang, not looking up from the hero sheet.

He groaned again, making you chuckle and get up from your desk

"Awe, babe…" You turned towards him and saw him buried under your sheets, his face turned towards the wall and one of your seal plushies in his arms.

The bed dipped as you sat down next to him and put your hand on his arm. You leaned against the headboard and just stroked your boyfriend's arm in silence. His quirk being very hard on his eyes and ears, he just preferred quiet and darkness when he was done for the day which was part of the reason he went to bed so early.

"You know if Aizawa catches you sleeping here, we'll get in trouble…"

"Fuck him. I'm too tired to go to my own room." He shuffled closer to the wall under your blankets. “This stupid fucking provisional training. I don’t understand how I didn’t fucking pass if all you stupid extras did!” He muffled into the plushie, the occasional rasp coming out.

“I’m one of the extras, first of all. And you know I don’t like it when you call anyone that. You’re not the only main character of the world, Katsuki.”

“Well neither are fucking you. You can’t even get yourself an internship without my help, I wonder how you even fucking passed.”

A thread ripped in your chest, tears welling up in your eyes. Your hand left his arm and you stood up from the bed.

“Oh, wait, fuck I didn’t mean that!” He jumped out of the sheets and rushed to your side.

The tears rolled down your cheeks, low whimpers coming out your mouth. You sniffled as you walked into your bathroom.

Internships and the provisional license exam had been a sensitive topic for both of you guys. Bakugou’s competitive nature didn’t make it easy for you guys to be in the same class, especially when you were put in the same teams. After interning at Best Jeanist and the pro himself saying that you had been a better intern than Katsuki, he had just been waiting for another opportunity to outshine you. It was supposed to be the license exam when he passed with a higher score, but you passed in the top 10 while he failed and it nagged on his ego. 

"Fuck… I didn't mean to say that, y/n please… Open up." It had been an exhausting day for him, all the extra work nagging on his nerves. All he wanted was to relax while you played with his hair and talked about whatever with him.

You sat on the bathroom floor, hitching breath and red cheeks. You weren't sure why you had started crying like that, he made remarks like that a lot. Especially out of frustration.  

You sat on the bathroom floor, tears running down your face and quiet sobs aching in your chest. You weren’t sure why you broke down like this, just started crying at a comment he probably didn’t even mean. Bakugou said a lot when the day is long, a lot of empty words and you knew that. The snarky and sometimes rude comments, fake threats and promises. Especially after training he tended to let out some steam while you comforted him. He tried to better himself, not let it out only on you even if you didn’t really care much. They were just empty words, right?

“Babe, c’mon let me in. I didn’t mean it. Please.” 

You unlocked the door, sitting back on the floor with your back against the wall. The tears had stopped, just a few sniffles coming from your side. An uncomfortable feeling spread across your chest, your stomach pulled together and you could feel your heart pumping

Bakugou looked down on you, remorse in his eyes as he slowly kneeled down next to you. “I’m… I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that.” You could hear the regret in his voice. With a shaky sigh you looked at him, his red eyes meeting yours. They softened up at the sight of your puffy face. He cupped your cheek with his calloused hands. You leaned into his touch, closing your eyes in exhaustment.

“I tried really hard, okay…” You started sobbing again, shaky breaths and your voice pitching up.

“I know… I know, I’m sorry you didn’t deserve that…” He pressed you against his chest. “I’m sorry.”

You heard his heart pounding, steady as he took deep breaths. You stayed like that for the next 5 minutes, you against him, his arms around you and muttering apologies. He knew you weren’t prone to crying, so this must’ve really hurt. Of course he would have apologised nonetheless, he was learning to be more decent with the extras- people. People around him. And you were the first step

Takami Keigo (Hawks):

“Feather? Feather? Feather? Hey, y/n. Y/n???” Keigo poked you with his finger, over and over trying to get your attention off your laptop.

It was his day off, one of the very few he had. It was early, too early for him to be up after working on cases for the past 3 weeks. You wanted to get some stuff done before he woke up so you could spend the whole day together but he woke up too early for you to finish.

“Yes, Keigo?” You finally gave in and turned towards him, a bright smile on his face. “God, you’re so cute.” You gave him a kiss before turning back to your workload.

A slight blush spread over his nose as he coughed. You smirked at yourself, knowing that he would need a few minutes to recover. 

Hawks didn’t seem like it, being trained in espionage and everything. But whenever you gave him a genuine compliment, he became a blushing mess and needed a few minutes to get back his composure. He would never admit it, but he needed the reassurance that you actually liked him and not the persona he put on as a hero. Lucky for him, you loved giving him the affection he deserved, whether it be verbal or physically. 

He came back to put away your coffee mug and plate from your quick breakfast, not disturbing you as he cleaned up around you. You mumbled a thank you under your breath as you finished up the last few passages and finally saved the document.

“Feather, go wear something warm.” Keigo’s voice rang from the bathroom, his head poking out the door. “Please?”

“Why? It’s like 22 Celcius out…” You stretched out your whole body and yawned. This man didn’t actually plan on going out did he? After three weeks of work he didn’t just want to stay in and relax?

“Just trust me! I’ll hold your jacket if you get hot but you’ll need it, okay love?”

There it was. The magic word that made you a slave to him. As much as you knew how to make him blush, he knew how to push your buttons just right to get his ideal outcome. You got up and dressed, wearing an extra layer under your shirt and hoped that that was enough with a jacket. You did your hair in your usual way, concealing your dark under eyes to look less dead if you were going to be leaving the house today.

“Don’t forget your sunscreen, feather!” You heard your boyfriend stumble through the apartment, some stuff falling down followed by an apology and cussing.

When you stepped out of the bedroom, you saw your boyfriend, your lovely, amazing boyfriend, in his hero clothes. Your shoulders dropped and you sighed.

“Keigo, what the fuck?” You huffed and rubbed your eyes. “I thought it was your day off?”

“Don’t worry it is, this is just the most practical outfit for today!” He stepped closer and cupped your face, placing a kiss on the top of your nose. “Don’t you trust me, love?”

You looked him dead in the eye and tried your best to hide your flusteredness. “I’m not going with you if you’re going to be in hero gear. I’m not leaving with Hawks, I’m leaving with Keigo.”

You stared at each other for a minute before you raised a brow and crossed your arms. He pulled back and sighed.

“Fine, I’ll change. But don’t blame me when it gets cold and you can’t have my snuggly Hawks jacket!”

You haven’t washed it in 3 months, I wouldn’t want it either way!”

After roughly 10 minutes you were ready to go, waiting at the door and slipping on your shoes. Keigo came out in casual wear which looked awfully hot for the weather but you just decided to trust his senses.

“What’s the plan then?”

“You’ll see, feather. I want to show you something.”

He grabbed his keys and dragged you out the apartment, pulling you up the stairs to the top floor. Despite your exclaims that you had the whole day and he didn’t need to rush, he only went faster until you reached the door that led to the roof.

There wasn’t a cloud in sight, the sun burning on the top of your head. You thought about going back and getting a hat but Keigo held you at your wrists and pulled you close. “Baby, today we’re gonna fly.”

It wasn’t a question. He had an excited look on his face, eyes wide and a grin that went from one ear to the other. He held you by your wrists, his face only a few inches from yours.

Keigo always rambled about taking you on a flight when you were in bed, his head on your chest with your fingers combing through his hair and his wings stretching over the bed. He could talk hours about how he only felt truly free whenever he was over the clouds, the wind in his hair and watching everyone beneath him. Often he’d just fall asleep mid sentence while he told you how it felt to fly through clouds.

You always thought he was just rambling, you never thought that he'd actually do it. Especially not on his day off when he should be resting his body and wings.

“Uh… Keigo, I don’t think that’s a good idea…”

“Come on why not?! I’ve always wanted to go on a flight with you… Show you the clouds, introduce you to some birds…”

“I’m too heavy for you to carry and fly, Keigo please..”

“There’s no such thing as too heavy, honey… I’m offended you think that I couldn’t.”

Of course you knew that he was very much capable of carrying you and flying, you were just looking for an excuse to not be thrown into the skies of Japan.

“Well here we go!” He scooped you up into his arms, ignoring your warning calls and jumping off into flight.

You covered your eyes, holding your breath as you heard your boyfriend giggle.

“Open your eyes, feather! We’re almost there!”

One hand at the time you took them off and looked up to Keigo, who had the biggest smile on his face with his eyes sparkling in enjoyment.

“Oh my god, we’re flying. Keigo, we’re in the air!” You commented on your current state as if he hadn’t already noticed, holding onto his arms for support. A feeling of euphoria spread all over your stomach. It spread into your chest, your limbs almost going numb from the excessive adrenaline and dopamine flooding your system

“OH MY GOD KEIGO WE’RE FLYING!” You started giggling and screaming when he maneuvered around the skyscrapers, suddenly flying up parallel against the glass windows.

You covered your ears, the wind screeching in your ear as you suddenly were met with silence. Your heart pounded, the endorphins overloading your brains along with the almost unhealthy amount of adrenaline. There was a knot building up in your throat, releasing as Keigo gained speed again.

The tears poured down your cheeks, you could barely catch a breath with the thin air. Your excited screams turned into loud sobs. Keigo noticed almost immediately, his shirt soaking but his feathers also noticing a change in your breathing pattern. He was going too fast to hear your sobs but he could feel you burying your face in his chest and shutting your eyes.

His eyes widened as he searched for a safe surface to land on, that wouldn’t get him in trouble nor display you two too much. His feet landed on the roof of an apartment building, needing a few steps to completely stop.

“Hey, hey, are you okay? Everything alright?” He let you down and scanned you for any type of injury, snapping next to your ear and analysing your face. Did he go too fast and your ears couldn’t handle it? Was the pure sun exposure too much for your eyes? Did you hit your feet anywhere when he zoomed around the buildings? Fuck, he should’ve made you wear his gear to be extra safe, you probably weren’t ever gonna do this with him again.

You nodded as he held your face and wiped away your tears with his thumbs. With hitching breath you started laughing. “It was really fun!!”

Keigo sighed in relief. Thank goodness you hadn’t been hurt because of his carelessness. But if you had enjoyed the ride, why were you crying?

“Please, those were tears of joy and surprise. I think my body couldn’t handle the excitement.” You rolled your eyes at his confused look, putting on the brightest smile you could.

Your winged boyfriend relaxed and pulled away. After a deep breath, his feathers relaxed as well. You loved his feathers reacting with him. It was an unconscious thing that came with his bird tendencies but it made a lot of stuff easier, especially after he learned to let his emotions be. “I loved that Keigo. Let’s do it again, okay?”

Aizawa Shouta (Eraserhead):

You sat at the table, playing around with your cutlery and looking through your phone.

messages:

y/n @ Presentation Michael:

y/n: yooo mic is shouta still in school?

presentation michael: nah we left like an hour ago. why? still not home?

y/n: oh okay… nope not yet. thank you tho <3

It had been an hour since your last message to Hizashi and your loving boyfriend was nowhere to be seen. You tried calling him, messaging him, you even checked his inactive social media accounts to see if he had posted anything. But nothing.

Normally, you'd assume that he was just out patrolling late again or maybe out with the teachers for some drinks to end the week. But he'd promised to come home as early as possible so you two could spend the evening together.

With a tiara on your head and some extra confetti in your head, you waited at the table and stared at the door. You'd put the cake your coworkers had gotten for you in the fridge so the ice cream stayed intact until you could eat it. It didn't look that fresh anymore, some of the ice cream had melted down before you put it back and the lettering looked a little rough. But it was fine, it was going to taste just fine. All you needed was Shouta to start.

Suddenly a shock went through your body. What if he had gotten caught in a villain attack again? His class and with that him were somehow the main target of the League of Villains, you'd painfully noticed it at the beginning of the year when Shouta was mummified for about a month or two. What if that had happened again and you sat here being mad at him? Were you being a bad girlfriend because you didn't consider that?

With a racing heart, you searched up the news and newest events in your area. If there had been any larger scale villains on the street, there would be some sort of announcement to stay off the road until heroes took care of them but you couldn't find anything of that sort in any outlet. The streets were quiet too.

And then, it clicked.

messages:

y/n @ daylight:

y/n: hey nemuri, is shouta with you? 

daylight: no… tbh i haven't seen him today

daylight: did something happen?

y/n: he isnt home yet and mic said he left UA an hour ago so I thought he might be with you

daylight: oh I'm sure he'll be there soon, he's probably feeding some stray cats you know how he is

y/n: yeah ig.. thanks <3

Were you crazy for thinking he might be cheating? Probably, right? He wouldn't do something like that and if he did he'd have the decency to not do it today… right?

The door clicked open. "I'm home…"

Shouta's tired voice rang from the corridor, followed by his shoes clicking against the floor. With a groan. he waddled by the kitchen door and fell onto what you judged was the couch.

“Welcome back…” You tried containing your mix of emotions: relief, disappointment, anger, happiness - all of them were muddled inside you like a poorly mixed cocktail but you didn’t want to snap until you heard his reason for being so late when he promised not to be.

“Where were-” “Kitty, I’m too tired to have dinner… Can we just go to bed?”

His voice was muffled, his head was probably buried in the couch cushions or the cat had come back with him and decided to make herself comfortable on his face. You hoped that he hadn’t actually just said that and that the muffled speech just distorted his words.

“What?” You chewed on the inside of your lip and got up to see where he was.

Just as you expected, his head was in between the cushions and the cat had made herself comfortable on his back. His capture weapon laid on the table next to him, even though you were vocal about him not just putting the dirty thing on surfaces where someone might eat or sleep. But that's besides the point right now.

“I’m tired y/n…”

Your shoulders dropped. With a deep breath you took away his capture weapon and threw it in the bathroom before grabbing the cat off his back. You placed her on your arm and started petting her black and grey speckled fur, earning a pleased purr in return.

This wasn’t the first time he came back home completely exhausted and out of it. He was a Pro and a teacher of a class that made more trouble than they were worth, so could you blame him? But you had wanted one evening. One evening with him.

Tears welled up in your eyes and you walked back into the kitchen. Your head started hurting and your chest hurt from holding back. It was your birthday after all. Nobody wanted to see the birthday princess cry, right?

Hatsuki stopped purring as you sat back down, opening her eyes and just glaring you while you pet her with tears in your eyes. She stretched and jumped off your arms.

“Not you too…” You started balling pitifully, the tears leaving a trail in your special birthday makeup one of your colleagues had done. After all, you were the birthday princess right?

Shouta got up from the couch, stretching himself in a similar manner to Hatsuki whenever she got bored of the place she was laying. He yawned and got up, looking around for you. You were there like two minutes ago, did you already head to bed?

“Kitty?” He called through the apartment and stepped out of the living room, seeing the light in the kitchen burning. His eyes widened at your sight, sobbing into your knees with the tiara slipping off your head. The tiredness dropped out of his system as he rushed over to you.

Did something happen? The cat scratch you? Did he forget- oh crap.

“Oh my god, kitty, I am SO sorry. I completely forgot about-” You only started crying louder. So he didn’t have any excuse for it. Somehow you’d have preferred if he had just gotten attacked by some minor villain but the fact that you thought that the only thing making him redeemable was an attack made you sob more.

Completely at a loss for words and his mind blanking at his options, he just kneeled in front of you with a lost look on his face. How did he make up for forgetting your birthday? Breaking his promise that he’d come home early so you two could spend the evening together? He didn’t even have a present for you, even though that was the actual reason he was running late after leaving UA? The plan was to leave as early as possible, go to the shop and get you flowers and something small and head back so you two could celebrate. But in the store he got lost in thought and wandered through the aisles thinking about how he would organise the upcoming training camp for the students.

He got up, his joints and back cracking in the motion. He was too old to be forgetting his girlfriend’s birthday, his body was a constant reminder for that. If he remembered correctly, you wanted to bring back cake so there must be… In the fridge! Knowing there were sparklers in his bag because he confiscated them from Kaminari and Bakugou who wanted to see whose quirk was better at lighting it from a distance, he headed into the corridor to get them. He was just going to improvise. It wasn’t that late yet, it was barely 9, so you could eat cake while watching a movie and cuddle. Yeah, that sounded nice right? You were still sitting on the chair, knees up to your chest and the not so waterproof mascara and eyeliner running down your cheeks while you waited what Shouta was planning. There was nothing to hear but scrambling in his bag and quick steps around the whole apartment until he stood in front of you again. It smelt burnt and like nitroglycerin. You scrunch your nose before looking up to see the cake with two sparklers in it and your boyfriend’s apologetic face behind them. He even tried genuinely smiling and not doing that creepy smile he did in front of everyone else.

“Happy Birthday kitty… I’m sorry for being an asshole... “

With glassy eyes you looked at him and scoffed. “What are you gonna do to redeem yourself?” Your stuffy nose made it hard to talk properly but he seemed to understand just fine.

He put the tiara back on your head and took a deep breath. “Whatever you want, okay?”

It was something between a laugh and guilt when he spoke, his eyebrows scrunched up and a guilty smile on his face. He looked cute, even though you couldn’t think that right now. What type of asshole forgets their girlfriend’s birthday right?

You sniffed one last time and out your feet back on the ground. “Okay. I forgive you. For now.”

Shouta sighed in relief and put the cake on the table. “Thank god, I already thought I’d have to sleep at Mic’s for tonight.” “Nah… You’re fine, I guess…”

He booped your nose and took you into his arms. “I’m really sorry…”

Bonus: Present Mic @ Little Nemuri:

Present Mic: You owe me 20 bucks

Little Nemuri: You’re a horrible friend for not believing he’d remember you know that Hizashi? Present Mic: I just know him and man is he bad at remembering dates

Little Nemuri: Don’t you think we shouldve told him before leaving?

Present Mic: lmao if i did you wouldn’t owe me 20 bucks right?

Little Nemuri: A horrible friend

Present Mic: :)

aht aht i’m sorry if this isn’t what you wanted... i just thought this type of format was more fitting for your request <3

[lightsupinthenorth]

Harringrove teachers AU part 3

Part 1 - Part 2 

Thank you to everyone who read, liked and/or reblogged the previous parts. Also, the people who said something nice in the tags or in reactions own my heart. Just thought you should know ;) <3 

Tag list: @twoprettyboys, @inkedplume​, @marianaosborne​, @liglitterbug​, @hmg621 @spreckle @goldenweatherharringrove @yikesharringrove @yogurtfordinner @wingedbears @charlotte-frey @hargrovesharrington​

If anyone wants to be added to or taken off the tag list for the future posts of this AU, let me know ;)

I hope the tags are working because I recently had some trouble with them (ah, Tumblr is a mess). 

I was planning on keeping the chapters short but every part has been longer than the last so far ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ (then again, it’s still pretty short so I guess it’s fine ^^). 

I’ll stop rambling now.

*

Billy didn’t know how he had ended up in this situation, this situation being Steve and he making out in the otherwise empty teachers’ lounge, but he certainly wasn’t complaining. He wanted to keep Steve’s soft lips on his forever. Sadly, he didn’t get his way: there was a loud bang, and suddenly Steve’s lips were gone. Steve was gone too, as well as the teachers’ lounge. Billy woke up at home, in his bed, hard as a rock in the basket-ball shorts he was wearing as pajamas.

Great, he got an erection just from dreaming he and Steve were kissing. What was he? A teenager? That was pathetic.

Billy was considering rubbing one out, despite the embarrassment, but there was another loud bang that made him remember why he had woken up in the first place.

What the fuck was happening this early on a Saturday?

Billy instantly worried Max had fallen or, worse, that someone had broken into the flat and would hurt her (highly improbable in such a small town, but Billy wasn’t alert enough to be logical). The concern killed his arousal in two seconds tops. He shot up from bed and exited his bedroom in a hurry.

He found Max in their open kitchen, mixing what appeared to be pancakes ingredients.

“What was that noise?” He asked, in lieu of a greeting.  

“I dropped the pan. Sorry.”

“There were two noises.”

“I dropped the mixing bowl too. Let me live! It’s your fault, you stored both these things on the highest shelf” Max complained.

“Hey, no need for a defense, I’m not accusing you. I was just worried, shitbird.”

“Oh… well, I’m okay.”

“And you’re making pancakes, so I’m certainly not going to complain.” Billy added.

“Who told you I was making some for you?”

Billy pouted, even though he knew Max was bluffing. He could see the amount of batter in the mixing bowl. She had quite an appetite, but there was no way she’d be able to eat all of that on her own.

“So mean, so early in the morning.”

“What can I say, I love messing with you.”  

Paradoxically, Billy was happy that she did. When they had first met, he’d been a perpetually angry teenager, and teeny tiny Max had done everything she could to stay out of his way. Once Susan had announced she was ill, though, Billy had tried his hardest to be the brother Max deserved. After Susan’s death, Billy had looked after Max and kept her safe from his father until he had turned legal. He had then fought to get Max away from Neil and had obtained full custody of her.  

It had been hard to balance getting his degree, working part-time jobs, and taking care of Max. Even more so with Neil trying to steer trouble every now and again. But they had made it out alright, in the hand, and Billy didn’t regret a second of it.

“Sit your ass down.” Max said as she turned the stove on.

“Oh no, no way. You ‘sit your ass down’. I’ll take it from here.”

Max was good at finding the best recipes and at mixing ingredients, but the cooking process was another thing entirely: she had nearly burned the kitchen down almost every time she had tried using the oven or the stove. Her cooking privileges had been revoked after the fifth time.

“Ugh, fine.”

Billy had two plates full on pancakes in no time. He put one in front of Max and went to sit down with his own on the other side of the table. The second his ass touched his chair, Max asked:

“So, you have plans with Steve and Robin this afternoon?”

Billy frowned.

“First of all, it’s Mrs. Buckley and Mr. Harrington for you”, he started, just to get on her nerves (he didn’t give a fuck how she called her teachers), “and second, how do you know that?”

Max arched an eyebrow.

“You literally talked about it with Steve right in front of me yesterday”, she said, ignoring Billy’s reprimand (no surprise, there).

“Oh… right… I did.”

Truthfully, Billy had stopped paying attention to Max and El the second he had laid eyes on Steve and the dumb spot of blue paint that had been resting on his cheek as if it had any right to.

“So, what are you guys going to do?”

“Not that it’s any of your business, but we’re going to grade papers.”

“Well, that’s exciting.”

Her sarcasm was off the charts.

“Tell me about it”, Billy mumbled, around a mouthful of pancake.

“Ew, gross.”

Billy stuffed even more pancake into his mouth, in defiance, before he spoke again:

“So, Art club, uh? What’s up with that?”

They hadn’t had an opportunity to talk about it the day before, because Friday night was movie night, and they had eaten dinner in front of the tv. Plus, Billy would have been too distracted to hold a conversation (Steve hadn’t left his mind).

“Steve said I should come. He noticed I haven’t been speaking to a lot of people, and he said it might help to do an activity in a smaller group…” Max wasn’t looking at Billy as she explained.

“Anyway, I think he was right. He’s the best!” She beamed as she said it, finally looking up from her slowly but surely diminishing pile of pancakes.

“That’s good. I’m glad.”

Billy was glad, really. He was also a bit frustrated that Steve had managed to talk to Max about making friends, when Billy hadn’t known how to bring it up without offending her, but he wasn’t petty enough to show he had a problem with it. Even if Max calling Steve “the best” was treason of the highest order, Billy just wanted her to be happy. If Steve’s intervention helped more than Billy himself could, then so be it.

They finished breakfast, got ready for the day and then went grocery shopping. As they got back to the flat, Max went to her room to chill, and Billy read for a while before he started preparing lunch. Keeping busy distracted him from thinking about seeing Steve in the afternoon. Well, he didn’t think about it too much, at least.

-

When Billy made his way into the coffee shop, Steve and Robin were already seated, talking animatedly… in another language.

“Hi. Was that Italian?”

They must not have noticed him approaching, because as soon as he greeted them, they stopped talking, and Steve looked up at him like a deer caught in the headlights.

“Hey Billy”, Robin said, “as a matter of fact, it was.”

“Don’t you teach French and Spanish?”

Billy was perplexed.

“I do. Doesn’t mean I don’t speak Italian.”

“It figures”, Billy shrugged.

He wanted to ask Steve where he had learnt Italian, because it intrigued him. However, he chose not to. He didn’t want to talk to him unless it was necessary. It’d be better for everyone if they had the bare minimum of interactions together, surely.

“Are these new piercings?” Robin asked, gesturing toward his ears.

“Uh, no. I’ve had them for a long time. I just don’t wear them at school.”

“Well, you should. They look really cool, and I’m sure no one would have anything to say about it.”

Billy stared at Steve pointedly, but Steve looked away as soon as he caught his gaze.

“I’ll think about it.” Billy finally said.

Steve and Robin already had their orders, so Billy took his wallet from his bag and went to the counter. He glanced at the display case and eyed the cherry pie with envy, but decided against it. After this morning’s pancakes, it wouldn’t be reasonable. Plus, he hadn’t hit the gym in a few days. He had to start indulging less if he wanted to stay in shape. He went for a simple black coffee. As the burly man behind the counter, whom Billy guessed to be Benny, asked him if he wanted anything else, Billy nearly surrendered, but he powered through. He handed Benny a ten-dollar bill and put the change he was given in one of his pockets.

When Billy went back to their table with his cup of coffee, Steve was blowing on his cup of steaming hot tea. Billy’s eyes caught on the ‘o’ shape of Steve’s lips, which reminded him of his dream. He averted his eyes, praying to God he wasn’t blushing, now that he couldn’t hide it behind his tan anymore (screw Hawkins, Indiana).

As Billy sat down, he noticed Steve had a piece of the pie he’d been eyeing. Not fair. He nearly started pouting but caught himself. After all, his pie-less state was his own fault. Why did he have to be reasonable?

Billy took his pen and the essays he had to grade out of his backpack to give himself something to focus on. But then Steve started eating. And he moaned. Quite obscenely.

“Mh, this is so good. Benny is a magician. You guys want a bite?”

Billy really wanted to say yes, not only because he wanted pie, but because Steve was the one offering. It would have been weird, though? Right?

“No thanks” he ended up saying. What a hard thing to say.

Robin had no such qualms. She needn’t have, since she and Steve were actually friends. Not only did she get to experience Steve warmth and kindness, she also got a bite of his pie. Did she even know how lucky she was?

Billy got into his grading. And he was already past the no-pouting stage of the afternoon. It sucked to be him, sometimes.

“You should probably wait for Steve to finish eating… and drinking too, to be honest, before you put your students’ paper on the table. That man is a disaster.”

Billy had to admit Robin was right. He ate lunch with Steve on a regular basis, and had therefore seen him spill a bunch of things on himself. Thankfully, nothing he had ever spilled had reached Billy, so they were probably safe.

“Oh come on! We’re on opposite ends of the table.” Steve objected.

“I know, but I’m sure you’d find a way.”

Steve scoffed but didn’t try to argue his case any further. He looked adorably ruffled when Robin laughed at his expanse.

They didn’t say anything more for a while, as they were finally doing what they had come here to do. At some point, though, Robin brought up a point one of her students had made about the French translation of “Newspeak” in George Orwell’s 1984, which led her and Billy to launch a discussion about the novel.

Steve offered no input whatsoever, but he had stopped grading and had been staring at them for five minutes straight.

It was making Billy’s skin itch.

At some point, he couldn’t take it anymore and asked:

“What’s your opinion Steve?”

“Uh… I… I don’t really have one.�� He stammered, caught off guard.

“How come?”

“I, uh, I haven’t actually read the book.”

“Oh. Well, you should. It’s an amazing book.”

Steve fidgeted with his red pen, repeatedly taking the cap off and then putting it back on.

“Uh… I don’t know about that. It’s not really my thing.”

“How can you know it’s not your thing if you haven’t read it?” Billy asked, a tad defensively.

“I didn’t mean the book… I meant, reading.”

Steve bit his lower lip.

“Why not? Is that beneath a math buff such as yourself, or something?” Billy’s tone had become hostile.

And, by pulling accusations out of his ass like that, he had gone from defensive to straight up aggressive.

“No. ‘course not… It’s just… reading is hard for me… I’m, uh… I’m dyslexic, so…” Steve trailed off, looking down at the pen he was seemingly holding in a vice grip.

Billy was speechless with shame and regret, as Steve offered a wobbly smile and said: “I’m gonna… go get some more tea”, before leaving the table.

Billy stared at his retreating form before he turned to Robin and found her glaring at him. If he could have felt worse than he already did, he would have.

“So… should I go apologize right now or should I leave him alone and apologize later?”

Teenage Billy would have probably not apologized at all, but present-time Billy knew better. He felt like the biggest jerk.

“I’d say, go for it.”

Billy followed Robin’s advice and, with knots in his stomach, he went to Steve, who was waiting for his tea behind the counter.

“Steve, man… I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay…” Steve said, but his eyes didn’t leave his own shoes.

That wouldn’t do. Billy had made Steve feel shitty, and he would make it better if it were the last thing he did.

“No, it’s not. I shouldn’t have pushed.”

Billy had let his frustration with Steve get the better of him, and that was unacceptable. Steve was not particularly nice to him, so what? It wasn’t a reason to be outright mean to the guy.

“Really, it’s no big deal… It’s not like it’s a secret… my dyslexia, I mean.”

“Yeah, but you obviously didn’t want to share this piece of info with me, and I should have dropped it.”

“I just… I was afraid you’d find me stupid… But you probably thought I was stupid already, anyway… what with me never having anything interesting to say when Robin and you talk about literature.”

“Hey, I don’t…”

Benny placed Steve’s cup of tea on the counter, cutting Billy mid-sentence.

“It’s on me”, Billy said, fishing his five-dollar bill of change out of his jean’s back pocket and handing it to Benny.

“You didn’t have to.”

Was Steve blushing or was it a trick of the light?

“I want to make it up to you.”

“There’s nothing to make up for, but thanks.”

Steve grabbed his cup of tea and was going to go back to their table, but Billy held him back.

“Wait… I want you to know I don’t find you stupid, okay? I know I’m kind of a jackass, but not enough of one to actually think dyslexic people are stupid.”

“Good to know”, Steve replied.

“So, are we good?”

“I told you, we are.” Steve assured, smiling brighter than he had ever smiled at Billy before.

The knots in Billy’s stomach loosened, and his heart filled with warmth. So that was how it felt, when Steve’s sunshine fell upon you? Billy couldn’t wait to experience that feeling again.

“We should get back to Robin.”

“We should” Billy echoed, before following Steve, awestruck.

[glorious-kt]

The Case of the Cybernetic Arm

Joining up with the Bad Batch was either his stupidest idea or his best idea. Echo was still debating on it to be honest. Hunter treated him with respect, but... he also treated him differently than the others. Tech treated him normally, always asking him questions and trying to get his help with his new hacking gear. However, Tech... didn’t seem to trust him much. Crosshair treated him with disdain, full of sarcasm and blunt whit. Sometimes Echo could fire back with his own silver tongue, but... there were instances where Crosshair’s words hit a little too close to home. He was an outsider. A “reg”. To those three at least. Wrecker... Wrecker treated him with kindness, happy to have a new friend to nag and to challenge.

Echo wasn’t sure what he could do to earn the other three’s trust and clear respect. They never trusted him enough to let him go off on his own during missions, they hardly let him do anything on his own, they tended to just disregard any strategies he tries to offer. But... but they also let him have his own room, buy his own things, read whenever he wants to, they let him hoard as many droid parts that he can find. It wasn’t all bad, but it wasn’t perfect either. It’s why he was debating on if he had made the right choice. One out of four disliked him, two out of four tolerated him, and the last actually treated him correctly, like a person. He had wanted to join them mainly because they offered freedom. Freedom to figure out who he was now. That and they also reminded him of Fives. He wasn’t stupid. He knew Fives was dead. That didn’t mean it didn’t hurt though.

“Oi, Echo. You’re stuck in your own head again,” Wrecker’s voice cut through Echo’s thoughts, making the former ARC Trooper blink rapidly as he pulled himself back to reality.

“Sorry, Wrecker. Just thinking,” Echo smiled back at the larger trooper in front of him.

They were playing some sort of brawling game that the Bad Batch had installed into the ship’s main table. Echo had no idea how to play, but Wrecker had begged him to play, so he was.

“Whatcha thinkin’ ‘bout,” Wrecker asked, grinning as he pressed a button, forcing one of the holographic creatures to attack one of Echo’s own holographic creatures.

“It’s nothing. Just my mind rambling on,” Echo huffed in slight frustration as he glared down at the game, he was loosing.

“Oh! It’s doing that thing that Tech does when he talks about computers,” Wrecker grinned back at Echo, tilting his head.

“Yeah,” Echo laughed lightly as he made his own move in the game, wincing internally when he had moved to try and use his right hand only to be met with the strange cybernetic attached to him instead.

He really needed to start working on that cybernetic hand. It was getting annoying, not being able to use his right hand anymore. Plus, having both hands would make him more useful on the battlefield right? Maybe that’d earn him some more trust.

“You and Tech ramble a lot, but you do it internally,” Wrecker nodded as he finished off Echo’s last remaining creature with a smirk, making Echo groan.

“Yeah. I don’t want to annoy anyone.”

——————

He was stuck with Crosshair this mission. Echo normally didn’t work with Crosshair on most missions, mainly because the sniper didn’t like him all that much, but this mission required him to be Crosshair’s second pair of eyes. That’s what he’d been told, but Echo had a sneaking suspicion that the real reason was because Hunter didn’t want him anywhere near the intelligence center they were infiltrating. He wasn’t stupid.

“Should we look for an alternate escape route for them should they run into trouble,” Echo asked quietly, glancing at the sniper beside him.

“No. They’ll be fine, reg. Just be my second pair of eyes and be quiet,” Crosshair scoffed quietly while he scanned the area with his scope.

Right. A second pair of eyes. What sort of use was a second pair of eyes for a sniper whose eye sight is perfect and his aim even better? Echo tried to hide his disappointment. His shoulders dropped anyways, and his left hand traced over the cybernetic piece on his arm. Useless. A second pair of eyes to a perfect sniper was useless. Why was he even invited to join them if they were never going to treat him like he was one of them?

He just needed to wait a little longer. He’d get that cybernetic hand fixed up by the end of next week, then he could be useful.

“Let’s move, reg.”

“Right.”

———————

Staying up till midnight wasn’t his best decision or his favorite decision, but he wanted to get that arm done so badly. He was halfway through though, so he couldn’t complain. Tech, however, apparently could.

“Look, I don’t know what you were doing last night, but please keep it down. Some of us like our beauty rest,” Tech scowled as he poked Echo in the chest.

“Sorry. I’ll try to be quieter. I was just fixing up my cybernetics,” Echo apologized quietly.

“What for? They’re in prestine shape. What damage could you have possibly done during the missions we’ve been on? Especially with where you have been placed in each mission,” Tech fired off two questions immedietly, crossing his arms over his chest in suspicion, or at least it looked like suspicion to Echo.

“I was just fine tuning some stuff. I get phantom pains, and tinkering helps me block it out,” Echo shrugged lightly, his voice going quiet under the scrutiny.

“Hmm. Just be quieter,” Tech huffed before heading back towards the kitchen in the ship.

“Right. Sorry.”

———————

Echo took Tech’s advice and was quieter the next night, tinkering away at the new cybernetic arm. He was 95% done with it when Hunter entered his room, making Echo jump. The Seargent studied him quietly, his face blank while he flicked his gaze from Echo, to the tools, and to the arm on the floor of his room. Echo swallowed heavily when the man took a few more steps towards him, closing the door behind him, and took a seat on the floor beside Echo.

“Is this what you were working on last night,” Hunter asked quietly, gesturing to the arm.

“Y-yes, sir. I just... I figured if I had both of my hands then... then you would trust me more. I wouldn’t be able to plug into anything anymore, and it would give me back my mobility. I’ve been useless so far. You won’t let me go off on my own, or do things by myself, and you don’t trust me enough to use any of my strategies. I’d be of more use this way. You could point and I’d shoot and—”

“Who said you were useless,” Hunter cut his rambling off, sitting up straight, alarm seeming to color voice.

“N-no one, but... I’m not stupid. I can tell when you’ve just put me with somone to keep me out of the way or to keep me away from computer terminals,” Echo replied quietly as he stared down at the unfinished cybernetic arm.

Hunter stared at Echo, studying the broken ARC in front of him. They treated Echo differently, because he was. Echo was the only brother that they had welcomed into their family that wasn’t a commanding officer like Cody or Rex.

“We’ve been treating you like glass and you took it the wrong way,” Hunter said softly, tilting his head away in slight shame.

“What?”

“C’mon, vod. Let’s put these tools away and get some sleep. You can finish this in the morning, that way Tech can make sure you hook it up correctly.”

“But, I—”

“No “buts”, reg. In the bed, even ARCs need sleep.”

“I- yes sir.”

———————

When Echo woke up that next morning he woke up to a steaming cup of caf beside his bed. That was... new. Not unwelcome of course just new. Echo sat up tiredly in his bunk and nursed the cup of caf for a good thirty minutes before he even got out of bed. It was then that he noticed the arm he had been working on was missing. Had Hunter taken it when he had taken the tools? Echo yawned lightly as he exited his room and went towards the kitchen to dispose of his cup.

“Hunter where did you put my stuff last night? I want to get it done by the time... we...,” Echo yawned as he stepped into the kitchen trailing off as he blinked at the picture in front of him.

Both Crosshair and Tech were curled over the cybernetic arm he had been working on last night, tools and paintbrushes in hand, slightly alarmed at Echo’s presence. Hunter looked smug almost as he sipped on his own cup of caf. Wrecker was- as usual- barely awake.

“What,” was all Echo’s tired brain came up with.

“Just fixing up the calibrating for it. We added a few things too. Crosshair kept bugging me about the design, so he helped too. We can attach it once we’re done,” Tech said, recovering first, voice as steady and logical as ever.

“It was made out of scraps of course I bugged about the design,” Crosshair scoffed, rolling his eyes.

“What,” Echo squeaked again, not understanding what was happening.

“Hunter said that we have been making you feel useless by not letting you do things by yourself or join the harsher missions. We didn’t mean to cause that type of thinking. We wanted to give you time to adjust first. That and we need you to regain some of your weight back, but that plan seems to have backfired. So, we are changing up our plan. You still won’t be in some of the harsher mission until you’re body is back up to it’s healthy weight, but we will no longer treat you like glass,” Tech replied easily as he finished working on the cybernetic arm.

“Because the reg isn’t made of glass. He never was,” Crosshair rolled his eyes lightly.

“By the way, Crosshair calls you a reg out of affection. Not insult,” Tech spoke up again.

Echo blinked in shock at the information, he twitched lightly when Crosshair didn’t even deny the comment either. They were... they were giving him space... giving him time to get used to things. Oh. OH.

“I was an ARC trooper. Still am really. You realize that being in the 501st on top of that makes me the farthest thing from glass, right,” Echo said quietly.

“Yeah we sort of figured that out,” Hunter laughed quietly.

“The boys in blue are crazy,” Wrecker nodded, starting to wake up.

Tech stood up from his seat and moved over to Echo, cybernetic arm in hand. The ARC trooper blinked in shock as Tech began to remove his old one and replace it with the new one. Echo twitched lightly when he felt it connect with his nerves.

“That should do it,” Tech nodded as he pulled back, the other Bad Batchers shifting slightly in anticipation.

Echo swallowed as he opened and closed his new cybernetic hand. He grinned sharply when he could feel it.

“Thanks. When can I test it in the field,” Echo smiled upon at them, the smile was sharp and near feral, all teeth and mischief.

“Next week, Echo,” Hunter laughed loudly.