#knuckles is next and he’s gonna counter what i just said because i made him a blood player and HES RED UGGGHHH

[golftimex3]

by jove he’s orange!!!

[whyareyouhere66]

Omg wait I love JJ he deserves more recognition I swear- So I have request for him! <3

Friends to lovers JJ Maybank x male reader with JJ getting into a fight and reader patching him up and ends up kissing his wounds better.

(I just want to pepper his face in kisses he’s so pretty 😔)

You and me are so the same because it’s just the small soft moments- oml the small soft moments with this man

JJ Maybank x male reader - Kiss It Better 

CW: suggested violence, cuts/bruises (vague) JJ is shirtless (not in the suggestive way it’s mentioned like twice) I don’t know if you wanted a big kiss with this too but hey why not it’s cute

x

It was the middle of the afternoon when he showed up, bruising and bleeding at your front door. 

Some random Tuesday afternoon, you were home alone with the tv playing and a freshly empty plate sitting on your lap, when he knocked on your door.

“Coming, coming.” You mumbled, the knocks had continued with a sort of anxiousness behind them. It wasn’t until you did open the door that you understood why.

“Hey- woah.” JJ stood at your doorstep, with puffy eyes and scars littering his skin. Immediately, your eyes widened, and you ushered him inside.

“What happened, J? Are you alright-?” You rushed to ask, leading him to the couch where he stumbled to the cushion.

“Fight, kook, it was bad.” Is all he said in summary, leaning into the comfortable back rest and slouching. While his eyes closed, looking busted as fuck on your couch, you looked over the various welts and scars across his face.

“Looks pretty bad…” you mumbled, eyes jumping from the small bump on his forehead to the purple bruise on his cheek.

“Yeah, alright, bathroom.” 

Which is how you winded up with an injured, shirtless, JJ Maybank sitting on your bathroom counter, back to the mirror, watching with a raised eyebrow as you sorted through the first aid kit that had been tucked into the cabinets. 

“How many bandaids can a person have…” he mumbled, head rolled to the side and leaned against the mirrors surface. 

“Depends how many cuts there are,” You nodded at the red mark running across JJ’s thumb, “hand please.”

The blonde complied without any protest, watching with faint interest while you gently spread the bandaid across his roughed up skin. You don’t let go of his hand, either, instead turning to the red that stained JJ’s knuckles and examining them closely.

“I’m gonna need the Neosporin for this.” At that, JJ groaned. 

“I know, so horrible.” You remarked sarcastically, almost smiling at your friend as you uncapped the small yellow tube, bringing it close to the scars strewn across JJ’s hand. “Stay still.” 

“It stings like a bitch.”

“I can’t imagine the fight was much better.” 

JJ shifted, repositioning himself on the smooth counter and trying to ignore the burning sensation that came from the medicine. 

“Is there not any other way-“ with a sigh, you set down the tube. 

“What, you need someone to kiss it better?” You asked in a teasing voice. 

JJ shifted around again, his thighs brushed against your hips. 

“Well…”

You paused, and looked at him for a moment. 

His voice wasn’t teasing, like it would be normally- instead, it had sounded almost bashful.

Oh.

He didn’t look at you, so you took the opportunity and gently lifted his hand to your mouth. It seemed to have startled him a bit, feeling your lips agains this knuckles- but soon butterflies followed, for he made direct eye contact with you as you did it.

Each knuckle, one by one, got a small kiss to the sensitive skin. Then, one on the bandaid covering his thumb, before you moved to the next hand.

He watched, eyes glossed over with something he wasn’t even sure he could name, and savored the feeling. 

But then, you’d gotten each scar and bruise on his hand. A quick glance down or his torso, blood rushed to your cheeks.

“I’m not getting those ones.” You said, though your hands betrayed you when they settled on his hips. 

His mouth was still slightly agape, his mind left behind to when your mouth was on his hand, like some sort of prince.

“You missed my face.” He blurted out, before he could even think. Both of you quickly became hot in the face. 

Tension grew thick in the confines of your bathroom walls, your waist still tucked comfortably in between his legs. 

He stared at you, waiting. 

Slowly, with a hitched breath, you leaned in until your lips brushed the tender skin across his cheek. And you let your lips rest there, just for a moment, pulling away only an inch or so because any further and you’d still be sucked back into his warmth. 

JJ felt small tingles across his cheek, you had been so close to his face. 

He felt as your lips drifted, ghosting over his skin as to meet another scar- this time the long one tracing his cheekbone. JJ’s eyes fluttered shut, internally building up his courage. 

‘Do it, now, damn it-‘

Before you could lean closer and give that cut the same treatment as the other, JJ ducked his head down and pulled your face the opposite direction- to his lips. 

A bit chapped, but still smooth and oh so addictive, his lips caught yours and quickly pulled you to him indefinitely.

Your eyes widened, suddenly being surrounded by his everything, his warmth, his touch. It didn’t take you longer than a few seconds before you leaned into it. 

Your right hand drifted from his thigh to the dip of his hipbone, dancing around the sore bruise in your way- you fit into each other so perfectly. 

At first, he’d pulled away after a few seconds or so. “Shit, I’m sor-“

But you pulled him right back, you’d waited so long, you can’t let it end now. And it was so soft, sweet- you didn’t want to let go yet.

By the time you both pulled away, you’d gotten so close that you couldn’t move more than an inch or two from his face, while you caught your breath. 

“Feel any better?” You asked, after a minute. He grinned, and it spread right back to you. 

“Much.”

A small hum, and your hand rested on his cheek. You pecked the remaining cuts along his face- his nose, his forehead, cheekbone- the kiss giving you a burst of courage to let yourself linger on his skin longer.

“Good.”

[merlin-wolfgang-trades-hale]

I haven't written McDanno in forever, so idk if the characterization is anywhere near correct. But some McDanno for you all.

****

"Shut up," Steve practically growled as he glared through the windshield from the passenger seat. There wasn't much to glare at, as the pouring rain was coming down so hard, if he hadn't crashed into any of them on their way back to the truck, he couldn't know there were trees out there.

"I didn't say anything."

"Then why can I hear your ranting anyway, Daniel?"

"Maybe because I am both flabbergasted and amazed at the same time that a previous boy scout turned Navy SEAL who grew up on this island is the one who keeps getting hurt on these adventures you insist on dragging me into!"

"Did you really just say flabbergasted?"

Danny sighed and they returned to silence between them, the only noise being the pouring rain in the jungle. "I can't believe people have paid for this noise to help them fall asleep."

"Not everyone associates any form of water with drowning."

"Yeah, well, that's just another bit of evidence that I'm just smarter than almost everyone," Danny grumbled. There was a pause before he looked over and asked, "How's your leg?"

"Hurts like a bitch. Pretty sure I sprained something but nothing feels broken."

"You're not escaping a doctor visit."

"I never said I wasn't."

"Good."

"I just don't really see why I'd have to. Once we get back, I can ask Max to look me over, get the better bandages, we have over-the-counter pain meds at home. Done and done."

"No," Danny said firmly.

They entered another bit of silence that stretched on, despite the air being filled with a tension of both of them wanting to say more.

Steve sat up, and reached over, while calling out, "Hey..." When he turned Danny's face toward him, he captured the blond's lips with his own in a tender kiss. When they pulled apart, Steve smiled at Danny and ran his hand through his lover's soaked hair, "I'm sorry for ruining your hair."

Danny scoffed but cupped Steve's face and pulled him in for another kiss. This one came with Danny licking Steve's bottom lip. They adjusted as best as they could in the front of Steve's Silverado so they could deepen the kiss into a proper make-out session. When they pulled back this time, Danny flicked Steve's forehead with a nonheated glare, "When are you going to apologize for hurting my boyfriend?"

"That really more important than messing up your hair?" Steve asked with a small, but amused smile.

"Damn right, it is. He's mine. And I hate it when he's hurt. Only acceptable instances are bites from me or bruises left by grips when we're having some fun at home on lazy mornings."

"It's not just lazy mornings."

"If it had been, we'd be at home, making lunch and watching a game..."

This time it was Steve's turn to sigh. He turned back to facing forward but reached for Danny's hand and interlocked their fingers. He brought Danny's hand to his lips and kissed his knuckles, "I want you to see the island like I do. To see it as beautiful and enchanting. I...I want you to like it, if you can't love it. So you're not just tolerating it."

"...hey," Danny echoed what Steve had done earlier and cupped his face and made Steve face him. He leaned in and gave him a gentle, loving kiss, "The island and I are...getting used to each other. Grace's opinion on it matters most to me, and she loves it. But next to being able to be near my daughter, I got another reason for this pineapple infested hell hole to actually be paradise for me."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. And he's got some shit luck every time he tries to get me into the jungle. And hopefully will read into that, that it's a sign from some spirits, to stop bringing your boyfriend out to the jungle!"

"I don't know, Danno. I think we gotta try again. To show whoever keeps fucking up my jungle dates that they can't win! We're winners!"

"Next time you ask me out on a jungle date, you're really gonna have to work for it."

Steve grinned devilishly, "You know I love a challenge. And I know all you like. I'll enjoy getting you to agree for a next time, Danno."

"With what you'll have to do to get me to say yes, not as much as me, babe."

[yikesharringrove]

I think a lot about Steve and Billy becoming foster parents.

I think about them, mid-thirties, welcoming two kids into their home. A brother and a sister. A fifteen year old boy, and a two year old girl.

And clearly, they’ve been through some shit.

The baby is easy. She’s shy at first, and clings to her brother for the first few weeks, but she warms up easily to Steve and Billy. (Especially when Billy sneaks her cookies and Steve is always down for a little snuggle.

It’s the boy who is hard to crack.

He’s been in and out of foster situations his entire life. If it weren’t for his sister, and the fact that his social worker was actually doing a good job of not splitting them up, he feels like he’d be in his on. Our in a boys’ home.

But he’s seen foster parents that seem kind, but have some ulterior motive. Or call the social worker when they can’t handle his trauma.

So he pushes back.

The first day he’s at Steve and Billy’s, he throws a plate at the wall.

He doesn’t miss the way Billy has a white knuckled grip on the kitchen counter, or the way he leaves the room the second it looks like Steve’s got it under control.

And he assumes, that Billy was trying to hold himself back from smacking him. That he left to call social services.

He doesn’t bother to unpack.

But the next day, no one comes to take him away.

In fact, he startled awake to a soft tap on his bedroom door, and a voice telling him that breakfast is ready, please come downstairs when you’re ready.

He doesn’t. He doesn’t go downstairs all day.

And every few hours there’s a knock and a voice telling him to come down for some food.

He only leaves when the voice tells him that his sister keeps asking for him.

And there’s a plate of food for him in the microwave, and Steve gives Billy a knowing look before taking his sister off to bed.

He knew it was a fucking rouse.

And he wolfs down his meal, expecting Billy to tell him they’ve spoken with the agency, and they’re keeping his sister but kicking him to the curb.

“I need to tell you that you’re not going anywhere. No matter how much you push against us, we promised to care for you. You’re staying here.”

“Is that a threat?”

Billy smiled.

“Nah. It’s just true. You would never leave your sister anywhere without you.”

“Yeah? How the fuck do you know?”

And he wanted that stupid smile to fall off Billy’s face. But it didn’t.

“Because I was you. It didn’t matter how often my dad beat the shit outta me. I stayed there to make sure he never did it to my sister. We’d never, ever, do anything to hurt either of you, but you’ve been hurt too many times to trust that yet. So what you can do, is stop acting out. You don’t have to let us in. You don’t have to start calling us your dads and shit, but please. Accept that we want you here. That we want to take care of you.”

And he’s fucking stunned, because this is not at all what he thought this conversation was gonna be.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled. “I assume the worst.”

“That’s okay. You’ve been through a lot. We won’t push, and like I said. You don’t have to let us in, but we’re here for you.”

He sniffed, and Billy’s hands flexed on the table, like he wanted to reach out and touch him.

“I thought you were gonna tear me a new one about last night. I thought you were gonna send me back.”

“No. I mean, Im not exactly excited about the glass I had to clean up. And your sister was scared shitless, she’s been freaked out all day, make sure you go see her before bed. But, I understand. I know what it’s like to feel like everyone will give up on you, so you might as well push them away. And I’m sorry I left. To be honest, the plate thing, it really freaked me out.”

And that made sense, because of what Billy told him about his own father.

He’s been on the receiving end of a broken dish before, too.

“I’m sorry.”

“That’s okay. I mean, Please, never do it again, but your anger and your fear is totally okay. I can help you cope. I’ve been in more therapy than you could even dream.”

And billy kind of had a spark in his eye, one that said it’s really okay.

I just think it’s be neat.

[lost-in-static-glow]

You're Gonna Go Far || Gilmore Girls

Pairing: Luke Danes x Callum Wilder [OC]

Fic rating: Mature Fic Tags: Trans masc OC, trans OC, original character, aligned with canon, many of the Gilmore characters, bisexual Luke Danes, autistic Luke Danes, slow burn, drama, show references, minor canon divergence

Chapter Summary: Callum tries to do an interview. Tries.

A.N: n/a

Fanfiction | Ao3 | Prev | Next

Chapter 2: Inn It for The Long Haul

It was only when Callum arrived that he realized how he dressed was not appropriate for the interview scene. The place was the embodiment of the word “grand”. The opening lounge was spacious and had beautiful seating. He has seen some nice places, but this one was something else. The paintings lining the walls guided Callum’s eyes to the main desk where a man and dark haired woman were bickering. The newspaper Callum had in his hand crinkled slightly as he tensed his knuckles and approached. Professional, calm, intelligent. Callum never had many interview opportunities before, and that was his own fault. However, he had read a book with some tips to provide to him. 

As Callum approached the man arguing with the woman had an accent that was surprisingly thick but he could understand him otherwise. Neither him nor the woman noticed Callum and he could tell the conversation was getting a bit heated. After a couple minutes of contemplating how to interrupt this situation he finally just placed the newspaper on the counter noisily which made both turned at him. 

Callum gave a smile, though it was trained and forced. “Hello, I’m looking for a Lorelai Gilmore?”

The accented man smiled and turned back to the woman. “Have fun” He said then turned heading through some doors, saying behind him “That’s her.”  and Callum looked back at the woman.

She was really pretty. Lorelai sort of reminded him of a friend from college. Callum had to push the thought back as he stood straight. 

“My name’s Callum Wilder, I had found your advertisement in the paper and I wanted to see about an interview.” He said. Callum had recited it as he got the Inn, and he then realized how foreign it felt to introduce himself. 

Back home, he never really bothered to do so. Usually his mom would try to but he was never paying attention, or mid-bite into some food they were serving. And the clothes, God, the clothes were always itchy and annoying. Callum never liked the feeling of silk. Soft to others but it was like a nightmare if his nails grazed along the cloth, feeling his skin prickle and his stomach shift from the bad touch. The mere thought made him cringe a bit but he steeled himself as he waited for Lorelai’s response.

“Yeah sure! Right now, I have time.”

Callum was not sure what he was expecting— certainly not an on-site interview. A little dumbfounded he stood straighter. His attire was all wrong for this, far from it. In fact, Callum couldn’t be sure he had anything to make himself look presentable. Another fault of his war against the itchy clothes his mom put him in.

Lorelai gestured for Callum to follow her to the lobby’s chairs and waved him to sit down. He did so, albeit hesitantly because he was not sure what was supposed to happen. The chairs themselves felt comfortable, yet he couldn’t help but shift in his seat. He tried to think back on a couple of interview questions his dad had spit-balled at him before when his parents tried to convince him to get a job.

“Can you fold a fitted sheet, or am I going to have to start a support group for the staff?”

Callum didn’t even know. Making your bed is one thing, but when your parent is telling you how wrong you’ve done it for a majority of your young life you began to doubt those bare-simple skills.

“Yes, I can. Was a requirement for my household.” He responded. There was feigned confidence in his tone, and he did try to make it sound as professional as possible.

Lorelai clapped her hands and smiled that came across as something close to being relieved. “Oh thank goodness, great start. Do you have any previous work experience with inns or relative?”

“Oh, no.” Lorelai pursed her lips but nodded, completely unbothered by that answer. “Did you have any prior work experience that could apply?”

Callum swallowed with some difficulty. “This is actually my first job.”

The pause between them felt like hours as it looked like Lorelai was taking in this information.

“Okay,” She kept her hands together and sort of gestured with them. “Any skills or talents? Our last hire could juggle oranges and that’s a pretty hard act to follow up with.”

Were these sort of questions normal? Asking about skills sounds right but what inn would need a juggler?

“I can paint and draw?” He offered, uncertain if that would count for anything.

“Ooh!” Lorelai said, lighting up. “I like that a lot.”

Lorelai stood up again suddenly, gesturing and telling Callum to follow in which he did obediently. He followed her through the lobby towards some double doors and into what turned out to be the kitchen. The smell of the kitchen was pretty nice though it mixed a feeling of sweet and savory. From what could be seen, there were cookies being pulled out, and then garlic potatoes being roasted. Several people dressed in chefs uniforms scrambled around the kitchen holding pots or pans, food or dishes, all being directed by a short woman who Callum found rather endearing immediately.

“Sookie! Come here for a second.” Lorelai called over the bustle, and Callum stood their wordlessly as he watched the woman come closer. Her apron was splattered with stains of different types and she was holding a mixing bowl in her hand, though Callum couldn’t tell what it could be. It smelled a bit doughy.

“Sookie this is Dallum-”

“Callum”

“Callum! He told me he paints and draws, and so I thought-”

Sookie lit up at this fact and placed the bowl aside and took Callum’s hand much to his dismay. He felt the flour on her hand in his palm and the grainy texture gave him goosebumps.

“Oh thank goodness, I’ve been needing an artist for this whole poster design I had in mind. Now see, I’m an artist too, though I guess more in the baking and cooking sense, but my point is I need an artist to help with designing this picture onto our cakes and the picture is supposed to be of this couple who are staying here for their honeymoon,” Sookie rambled and Callum tried to catch up.

“Oh do you think he can help with the decorations?” Lorelai suddenly pondered aloud, and before Callum could open his mouth, Sookie chimed in soon after, confirming for him. Callum’s shoulders slumped as he began to feel the other ladies conversation weighing him down. Remain polite, because if there is a confirmation to get this job, Callum wouldn’t want to ruin any chances.

“So Callum you think you could do it?”

Shit.

Callum blinked as he tried to see if he could remember what they were discussing. “Yes.” He said anyway, and perhaps that is what locked him in. Sookie chirped a cheer then turned grabbing a container of cookies and placing them in Callum’s hands.

“Thank you so much, this will be such a big help!”

That’s Callum. Typical Callum. The helpful guy. The guy that helps. The man, the myth, the legend. He had absolutely no idea what he agreed to but he was already being shuffled out of the kitchen by Lorelai as something caught fire on one of the stoves, and Sookie scampered over to deal with it.

“Are you hungry?” Lorelai suddenly asked.

Callum went to answer no, but his stomach had seemed to answer for him. It was then he remembered he didn’t get to eat anything today and his cash was near out.

“Mm, let me take you for lunch! My treat, consider it a part two to this little interview.”

It would be absolutely moronic to reject such an offer, and while Callum had considered ditching this job opportunity for someone less loony, the hunger won and he agreed. Once again following this strange woman, they walked out of the Independence Inn, the formal and flowery patterned couches behind them and somehow Callum felt relieved.

…

Lorelai brought Callum into the diner he had saw earlier. As they entered through the door, he didn’t see any signs of Kirk lingering around asking about hot dogs and overly sized buns. Either he must have moved on or found someone to pitch the idea to. The two saw at a table sort of back though Lorelai began looking around for someone, as she slid the menu to Callum. The diner itself felt as alive as the town outside. Customers coming in and out, a gentle murmur of chatter, and the sounds of the kitchen in the back. It smelt strongly of something warm, a mix of breakfast and coffee but there was something else. There didn’t seem to be a description in mind that Callum could place. The diner simply felt... nice. Good, even. This place was good. No hardware store in sight however, it may have just been left there.

“He is depriving me of my ritual coffee.” Lorelai grumbled, bringing Callum’s attention back.

“Who?”

“Luke.”

“Luke like the diner Luke?”

“Yes, Luke owns the diner, and when you own a diner you serve customers coffee, and when customers don’t have coffee we get cranky.” Lorelai pouted, but from how she squinted at the counter, it was easy to see she wasn’t genuinely upset.

Eventually a man walked out of the kitchen, having the phone to his ear and glanced their way.

“that’s Luke?” Callum asked.

“That’s the menace depriving me of coffee.”

Never would Callum have imagined seeing a diner owner look so casual, but then again this place was small, and he was the owner, he could do whatever he liked. Luke strolled over, only somewhat glancing at Callum before bringing a large cup to Lorelai.

“I want-”

“You want your usual Tuesday order, burger with double cheese, no vegetables add bacon.” Luke said automatically, cutting Lorelai off who only grinned.

“Well actually Luke, I want you to meet Callum.”

Oh great she remembered his name AND she wants to introduce him. Wonderful.

Luke nodded to Callum seeming just as awkward as the new guy felt. “I’m Luke.”

“Hi, nice to meet ya.” Callum smiled weakly and closed the menu. “Can I get a cheeseburger as well, all the vegetables and bacon? Fries.”

Luke nodded, not bothering to write it down. “Drink?”

“Water.”

“No, Luke get him a milkshake!” Lorelai chirped.

“But he said-”

“What flavor?”

Callum blinked uncertain. He couldn’t afford a milkshake. That thought seemed to reach Lorelai’s mind and smiled again. “No no remember my treat? Its on business.”

“Chocolate.”

“Good answer. Two chocolate milkshakes.”

Luke frowned but it was mostly aimed towards Lorelai rather than at Callum. Which was fine by him, the man seemed intimidating and Callum didn’t need enemies so quickly. It was barely enough he could tolerate Taylor from earlier. Within a blink, Luke did not stick around long for much more small talk, seeming to just give towards the back of the kitchen.

“Where are you from Callum?” Lorelai asked, sipping the somewhat large cup of coffee.

“Maine, uh, Oxford area.”

“Oh is it much different from here?”

Callum shook his head slightly before realizing he should probably answer properly. “No, well, this place seems more lively. Where I’m from isn’t very...active community wise. Everybody’s...more reserved I guess.”

Lorelai nodded in what resembled sympathy and understanding. Callum wouldn’t complain, but he did continue, now feeling much more relaxed since he walked into the Inn.

“It’s pretty up there in this time of year, but there isn’t much going on except maybe some ice-fishing but it hasn’t snowed yet.”

“Mm, the snow here in Stars Hollow is very pretty and I always think it makes this town look different.” Lorelai smiled fondly. “So did you move here?”

“Uh- yeah...in a way. I was actually looking at one complex, but the guy there kind of freaked me out.”

“Guy...guy…wears sweater vests? A bit of a dramatic pitch to his voice and acts like he is the kind of the town?”

“Taylor.”

“Yeah that’s him.” Lorelai sighed. “Sorry you had to be met with him first.”

“What did Taylor do now?” Luke’s voice broke between the two and it made Callum almost flinch. Luke placed plates on the table, and the growling in Callum’s stomach was clawing it’s way up. It took everything in the younger man’s power to not tear into it like some caveman.

“Cal here looked at one of his complexes.” Lorelai answered.

“You have my deepest sympathies.” Luke said plainly, with a slight scowl etched in. There was certainly history there.

“I’m going to take it that this is a common occurrence?” Callum said eating a fry and savoring every salt grain on his tongue.

“You have no idea.” Luke answered, “I’ll bring your shakes out.” With another turn the other man was gone. Callum’s eyes trailed after him. Funny enough, it seemed like Luke was the only sane one around here, at least, from whom Callum has met.

Gentle conversation and questions continued between Lorelai and Callum, while Callum had to circle back a few times to the job position, it was nice actually making nice with a local in the process. It was difficult to not relax too much, even if he was permitted to. There was a nagging feeling of this interview being like some big test.

“Well,” Lorelai said. “I will let you know, but I think we will be seeing a lot more of you around her Mister Wilder.”

Lorelai put down money on the table and Callum stood. The diner had cleared up more as evening came closer. Callum left the diner, still awkward but feeling more positive than he had this morning. The positive feeling wrapped him up so much that he never even noticed the eyes on him from behind Luke’s counter. The words Lorelai had said moved around in his mind, and perhaps it was that or the food he actually got to have today that made everything feel so much...lighter.

Even if it wasn’t late, the day had been exhausting. Callum still had no proper home or place to bunk but that didn’t sway his feelings on what he had experienced. He got back to his truck, left alone safely—besides the note Taylor left about just leaving vehicles in private property. A fair warning but Callum crumpled it and started the car up and out to somewhere closer to the square.

Turning the car off he crawled into the back seat and stretched out as best as he could. He stared out the window of the backseat, watching the sun settle and the lights of Stars Hollow blink on. He’d freeze tonight and probably for a couple more nights until he could save enough but it’d be worth it.

Everything about this place was so absurdly different. And the more Callum thought about it the more he began to wonder if it was him instead. Community is a staple here, that much he realized. The way everyone bantered, smiled, and felt known. Oddly he felt assured rather than excluded like he did before.

This town was a good choice.

That was all he could say to himself as his eyes closed. A deep inhale of the cold made him relax more than he had all day.

This town was a perfect choice.

[mollymagician]

Soo because I was asked so sweetly ❤️🥰 now it looks like there’s a second chapter of this

The day filtered in slowly. Soft world sounds beyond the window, muffled. He also felt soft and muffled, and. Heavy. As though he were stuffed with wool and fog.

Dream turned his face away from the light he could sense beyond his eyelids and drew an experimental breath. The pain in his chest was gone. His muscles were no longer aching. The stubborn throbbing headache was dwindling. He felt better than he had in…He had no idea what day it was. He cast his mind back through the fog that seemed to be all that was left of his brain at the moment and tried to dredge up his missing hours.

He remembered laying down to sleep feeling a sense of wrongness he couldn’t find words for, so when Hob seemed concerned that he was dragging himself to bed with the sun barely set, he just claimed he hadn’t slept well the night before. He was tired, that was true enough, but there was something else his body was displeased about and he could only hope that it would make more sense in the morning.

In the morning was when the coughing started and he was introduced to the concept of…er…phlegm.

“Hooboy, looks like you’re gonna get another one of those human experiences to add to your collection,” Matthew said, grabbing a box of tissue off a side table in his claws and flapping over to drop it next to Dream on the couch. “Pro tip, send Hob out for the fancy ones with lotion in ‘em, otherwise you end up looking like Rudolph.” He seemed to find the mental image hilarious. Dream had spent the afternoon googling ‘Rudolph’ and ‘coughing’ with very little context to go on.

By the time Hob came home that evening, he was in the bathroom, coughing in fits so hard they ended in gagging heaves over the toilet.

He remembered…a great deal of his Sister’s specific work (work? play? He’d never been sure how she felt about it, personally.) He tried to separate her reality from the rest. He remembered the room feeling cavernously large and then nonsensically small. He remembered being cold, and then hot, and then cold again, waking for a time standing with Hob in the shower, draped against him and swaying, with tepid water drumming against his back and Hob’s voice in his ear whispering I know, duck, relax, just a moment longer. He remembered walking out in the streets alone, searching for something. He remembered Matthew preening his hair. He remembered goldfish swimming from the door of the bathroom and out the window into the night.

He remembered…Hob. In the kitchen. He’d woken alone and saw the soft glow of the kitchen light through the open door. Before he realized what he was doing he was halfway down the hall, leaning heavily against the wall as everything swayed around him. He found Hob standing in the kitchen, elbows braced against the counter and head bowed, hands clasped so hard his knuckles were white. Dream must have made some sound, wobbling there in the doorway because he looked up suddenly, his face pale and drawn.

“Fuck,” he’d said. “Fuck, I’m sorry. I promised. Dream, love, I’m so sorry, come here.”

He let Hob steer him gently back to bed and cocoon him in blankets. The incredibly soft ones that Hob had brought home after watching Dream absently petting them in the shop. He was doubly grateful for them now. His skin felt strange and sore.

Hob sat on the edge of the bed, smoothing Dream’s hair back and watching him with that same pinched expression. Dream reached up and stroked the worried line between Hob’s dark brows with his thumb. It took him a moment to line the words up correctly in his mind, they kept scattering and fading.

“There’s no need. For concern,” he said. “It’s just….a human experience. For my collection.”

The sound Hob made was closer to a laugh than a sob, but only just. “Yeah,” he whispered. “A human experience. That…that it is.”

It was morning now. You beat it in the dark, and everything feels better in the mornings Hob had said of all the various times he’d experienced illness, and he was right, as he often seemed to be about these things. Dream forced open eyes that felt glued together with sand and who-knew-what else and squinted against golden morning light. Everything did feel better.

Hob lay sprawled beside him on his stomach, breathing softly, sound asleep. Even with his face half-buried in the pillow Dream could see the dark bruised-looking rings under his eyes, enough stubble that it had ceased to just be stubble. Dream wanted to touch him, to stroke his arm in just that way that always set Hob shifting to let Dream slide in and pillow his head against his chest. Now that he’d thought it, his body ached to be in just that place. But Hob was clearly exhausted and Dream would not see his rest disturbed so he contented himself with looking.

Maybe his gaze still had some of its old eldritch weight to it, or maybe it was just 600 years of honed instinct, but it was only moments before Hob was stirring. Dream could see the moment the memory of the past days flooded back in and his eyes sprang open, searching immediately for Dream’s face. At the sight of Dream gazing back at him, he drew a long breath and smiled.

“Hey! Hey, love,” Hob whispered. He reached up to cradle Dream’s face, stroke down his neck. “Oh, you look so much better. How do you feel?”

Dream swallowed into a parched throat.

“I beat it. In the dark. And everything is better in the morning. Just like you said it would be,” he rasped.

Hob’s expression crumpled, and for a startled moment Dream thought he was about to cry. He dropped his head down against Dream’s chest and laughed, instead. Damply.

Dream remembered Hob’s face in the kitchen, in the dark bedroom, in the small hours of the morning. “You were afraid,” he said.

Hob looked back up at him, scrubbing a hand across his eyes. “I’m just not…used to it. Having someone who can’t be taken away.”

His eyes startled back to meet Dream’s as a pale hand cupped his jaw, cool and gentle now instead of burning hot and desperate.

“I’m not going anywhere,” Dream whispered.

He immediately found himself crushed against Hob’s chest, all his breath squashed out through his nose. “Hob. My love,” he said, sounding strangled. “I believe I may have just blown snot into your hair.”

Hob’s voice was muffled against the crown of his head. “Don’t care.” He lifted his face and spit out a few downy black strands. “You’ve seen maybe a fraction of the gunk I’ve had stuck to me over the centuries. Are you hungry?”

Dream raised an eyebrow.

“Wow. Yes. You’re absolutely right. Worst segue ever. But look, you haven’t eaten anything but weak tea, apple juice and toast for three days.”

“I do not remember the toast.”

“You were very grumpy about it.”

“Yes, well, I’ve been ill. I think I’m allowed.”

Hob gusted out a sigh, gazing at him with acute fondness. “I would kiss you but we both probably taste appalling right now. I’m making you eggs. Stay here.”

Dream looked mutinous. “I’m sure I can make it as far as the couch.” He swung his legs over the side of the bed, stood, and realized belatedly his mistake when the room tilted and he nearly toppled sideways into the nightstand. Hob’s arm round his middle arrested his fall, and before he had time to register what what happening and make displeased noises about it, he was scooped up bodily and carried into the hallway.

“Eat, hydrate, and nap. In that order. Then we’ll see about you getting anywhere under your own power,” Hob said. “I promise not to bang your head on any doorframes.”

Dream quirked a small smile, resigned to his fate, and dropped his cheek down against Hob’s shoulder.

“If you do I’ll simply consider it another human experience,” he said. “For the collection.”

[i-didnt-do-1t]

46, 47, 48, 49, 50.

(Writing the Delancey’s is good fun, I’m on a real Delancey kick at the moment :)

“You’re late.” Oscar’s gaze had followed him since he stepped foot through the distribution gate, and Morris had done his best to ignore it, but there was no escaping it once he reached the counter, and he knew what was coming next. “Since when did you have a black eye?”

Morris shot Oscar a look as he side stepped around a pile of newspapers to stand behind the stall, and immediately grabbed a handful to begin counting up the first fifty of the day to set aside in a separate pile. He made an effort to avoid eye-contact with Oscar, because the fact someone caught him off guard was embarrassing enough, and quite frankly, he didn’t need Oscar’s commentary on it.

“Since when did you care? I have black eyes all the time.”

“Yeah, except usually I’m there when you get ‘em.”

“So you admit you do a shit job of watching my back then.”

Oscar slammed down his collection of papers, the bang of his hands on the tables sudden and loud, as he exhaled in frustration. And really Morris should’ve seen that reaction coming, it was a sore point and he’d known that when he said it.

Morris resisted the urge to curl his own hands into fists because he and Oscar were Not going to get into a stupid fight this early in the morning. It took active effort to ensure he didn’t crumple the papers he was holding as he continued counting otherwise Weasel would have his head for ruining them.

27, 28, 29-

“What happened?”

“Who says something happened.”

“You think I’m blind or just stupid?”

God, Oscar walked into that one. “Both.”

“You gonna talk sense or do you want your other eye to match.”

Morris dropped his papers. “It make a difference if I tell you I won?”

And Oscar glared at that, not dignifying it with a response.

The silence overtaking the stall was the type that made Morris uncomfortable, the type that he could feel in the back of his throat, all expectation and heavy weight as Oscar waited for something.

Morris was never really sure how much weight there actually was behind Oscar’s threats because he was just as bad for throwing them around, and because for years half their conversations have been made up of petty arguments and traded insults.

It had only been once, and only once Oscar had actually followed through.

It was a few months back now, but he could still remember the look Oscar was wearing when Morris had stepped into their shared bedroom and found his older brother leaning against the single cabinet their room held, arms crossed, cigarette in between his teeth, and coins, Morris’s coins, in neat piles next to him.

Morris had been lying about his pay, picking up a couple extra jobs here n’ there, hiding some money. It was only an issue because they’d agreed years ago that they’d save whatever they could scrounge up together, so they could get a flat together, and not have to live in the cheap, dank backroom in Weasel’s house anymore.

Morris knew he had broken that promise, that he had lied, when Oscar had been setting every spare bit of cash aside- so he couldn’t say he wasn’t deserving of the bruise that had coloured his right cheek for the next week and a half; that he wasn’t deserving of the way his head throbbed for days afterward because Oscar had shoved him up against the wall, voice low and dangerous and all too much like’s Da’s in too many ways.

But this time round all Morris did was scoff out a laugh.

“Yous so bothered by this.” He swiped under his nose with his bruised knuckles. “Was one of them trolley strikers, ‘pparently his broke bones healed up enough n’ he saw me walking myself last night and thought he’d give it a shot. Cocky asshole.”

“He got a good hit in.”

Morris frowned at that, turned back to the papers.

30, 31, 32-

“Yeah, glad you’s admirin’ his handiwork.”

33, 34, 35, 36, 37, 38, 39, 40-

Oscar had been quiet for too long.

Morris risked a glance just to see him leaning one elbow against the counter and staring at him, face blank.

Morris had never liked Oscar’s silences.

“What?”

“Was it Da?”

“Christ no.”

“You lyin’?”

“Why the hell would I lie? It was some old man with a grudge and real fragile bones.”

Oscar stared at him for a second longer, then turned back to his own papers.

“If you say so.”

“I do says so. So you can stop with your goddamn interrogation.”

Oscar rolled his eyes, turned his attention back to his own papers, muttering under his breath as he counted cuz he’d told Morris once the numbers got all jumbled in his head and it helped to say them out loud.

This silence was comfortable, familiar. This type, only interrupted by the sound of papers and Oscar’s quiet counting, was fine.

Morris turned back to his own pile.

41, 42, 43, 44, 45-

[makethatelevenrings]

Two Scoops (and a Danish) // J. Todd x f!reader

Requested? Yes!

WARNINGS: minor physical altercation with a customer, retail (lol), fear gas, mention of the Joker, brief reference to attempted self harm while under fear toxin, swearing Summary: Part two to this.

Despite it being four in the morning, you were already in the kitchen when the familiar sound of your window being opened came from the living room. Tossing the rag in your hands onto the counter, you planted your hands on your hips and gave the kitchen a once over.

“Any injuries?” you called.

“No,” Red Hood replied. You nodded to yourself and snatched two cartons of ice cream out of the freezer. Grabbing two spoons, you balanced the ice cream in your arms as you walked to the living room to find Red Hood sprawled out on your couch. 

He had already changed into sweats and a comfy shirt, but he left his domino mask on. You could see his leather jacket and gear propped up next to the bookshelf in the corner of his room and you appreciated the fact that he didn’t want to dirty up your couch.

“Stop a few crimes? Knock a few heads together?” You passed him the carton of cookie dough ice cream and climbed onto the couch to sit across from him.

“Of course.” A cocky grin crossed his face and you rolled your eyes in response. 

“What about you? Scooped some ice cream? Sell some cones?”

“I quit,” you announced. He raised an eyebrow at your declaration, the spoon halfway in his mouth.

“I start in three days at the coffee shop on the corner of Hyacinth and Lilac. Day shifts instead of night so no more robberies hopefully.”

“This is Gotham, sweetheart. You could get robbed in broad daylight.”

You grimaced and he immediately winced, nudging your calf with his foot. “Sorry.”

“No, it’s just…you won’t be there.” Your voice quieted at the end of your statement and he sat up straighter, placing his carton on the coffee table. Hood leaned forward, clasping his hand over your wrist and drawing your eyes to meet the white lenses of his mask.

“I ain’t gonna let anything happen to you, sweetheart. You hear me?” He spoke with such ferocity and conviction that you had to believe him. He stroked his thumb along your pulse and smirked.

“Besides, who said that I won’t be there?”

A week later and you were finally getting the hang of your new job. It was easier to remember orders, drink styles, and prices. You were even getting to know the daily customers. But you had yet to deal with the infamous hellions your coworkers had told you about.

Sure, you had dealt with your fair share of shitty customers at the ice cream shop, but there was something different about coffee shop Karens. It was as if the lack of caffeine made them ten times more rabid.

Which is why you found yourself practically cowering under the snarling, frothing words of the bodybuilder as he screamed at you because of soy milk or something like that. His face was turning a bright red that probably wasn’t healthy and spittle literally flew out of his gaping maw and landed on your cheek. You raised your hand to wipe away the offending liquid when he reached out and grabbed your wrist.

It was a far cry from the tender hold Red Hood placed on your skin. When Hood touched you, it was soft caresses and gentle presses of his calloused fingers against your knuckles, as if he pressed too hard you would shatter beneath him. This guy, however, was all brute strength and bruising grip. You tugged your hand back but it was a futile attempt. His muscles rivaled bowling balls in size and weight.

Tears sprang to your eyes at the sharp ache in your wrist as he clenched down tighter, but just as soon as the pressure started, it left your arm. A hand firmly gripped the back of his shirt and then he was yanked back.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Another customer had the guy in a headlock and made it look easy. This new guy somehow rivaled the bodybuilding douche in the muscles department and height, but he also had skill. In a few swift moves, he had the guy up and out the door with some choice words and threats.

“You alright?” the guy asked once he returned to the counter. You pointed at the door and then back at him, mouth agape in shock. He raised an eyebrow at your silence and nodded towards your wrist.

“Can I?” He waited until you nodded before he unfurled your fingers and checked over your wrist, pressing down on tender spots and examining for bruises.

“I think I’m alright,” you chuckled weakly.

“If he ever comes in again, stab him,” the guy said, entirely serious. You swallowed against the sudden dryness in your throat and refocused your attention back on the register.

“What can I get for you?”

“Large americano,” he ordered.

“And your name?”

Under the brim of his baseball cap, he met your gaze with gleaming teal eyes. A grin crossed his full lips and you tore your gaze away from his handsome face to the cup and sharpie in your hands.

“Jason,” he answered. “Name’s Jason.”

Jason became a regular. He’d come in once a day, get an americano and sometimes a danish, and sit in the corner with a book. Rain or shine, he always parked his ass in one of your chairs and sipped at his god awful bitter coffee and read some novel.

There were two constants in your life: Hood coming through your window at all hours of the night and Jason showing up at work and both instances had you craving more. Both made you feel impossibly safe, incredibly comfortable, and both made you laugh more than you had in years. You hated it. You never wanted them to leave.

But when Jason came into the coffee shop on a rainy day with a black beanie firmly pulled over his head and a sparkle in his eyes, you felt your heart fall when you saw him holding the hand of a gorgeous woman. She was saying something to him when they walked in and he grinned, adding the twist to the pain in your heart.

“Hey,” Jason greeted when he stepped up to the counter. “How’s it going?”

“It’s going okay. The usual?”

“Yeah, yeah. And this is my little sister, Cass. Whatever she wants.”

You hated the fact that a little thrill shot through your chest at the confirmation that she was his sister. She smiled, soft and gentle, and ordered a vanilla latte. Jason paid and tucked a few dollars in the tip jar as usual and then he and Cass headed to his usual table while you focused on making their order.

When you brought their coffees over to their table, however, you found that they were joined by four other people. Jason looked murderous as a handsome man slung his arm over his shoulder and greeted you cheerfully.

“Hi, Dick Grayson. Jaybird’s been talking about how great the drinks were here so I figured I would stop by and what do ya know, my two favorite siblings are already here.”

“Considering Jason gets the same drink every time, I don’t know if he has the authority on our menu,” you joked. “Is this all your siblings?”

“Not all,” Jason sighed. “Dick, Damian, Tim, and Duke. Steph is probably off somewhere ruining lives for good reason.”

“Nope.” A blonde girl slid into the booth next to Cass. “I only ruin lives between the hours of nine and ten AM.”

Jason hauled himself out of the booth and pointed at the gaggle of siblings around the table. “Text me your orders. Or don’t. Perish, for all I care.”

“Awww, he’s buying our drinks!” Dick cooed.

“And poisoning it too!” Jason scowled at his brother but nothing would stop the wide grin on the older man’s face. Jason grunted and followed you back to the register, waiting until you were back in your rightful place behind the counter.

“I’m sorry for them. They’re…a lot. I know.”

“Nah, today was slow so it’s a nice change. Besides, this reminds me of the time Batman came into my old job.”

“Oh, no shit?”

“Oh yeah, all of the bats and birds. It was wild.”

“Wow, you’re practically a celebrity.” He held out his phone for you to read the note on the screen that listed out everyone’s coffee order

You snorted out a laugh at his comment and shook your head. You began to type in the different orders as you continued talking. “As if. If I were a celebrity, I wouldn’t do any work. Like Bruce Wayne.”

“Contrary to popular belief, I do actually work sometimes.”

You dropped the cup you were holding and looked up to find Bruce motherfuckin’ Wayne standing next to Jason with an amused smile playing on his famous features. Your eyes darted between Jason and Bruce motherfuckin’ Wayne as you tried to make sense of why Gotham’s most famous billionaire was standing in your shitty little minimum wage job. Your gaze drifted over to the pack of siblings arguing at the table in the corner and then you thought back to all the times you had heard about the Wayne kids, but you never cared enough to look up their pictures.

“Jaylad,” Bruce motherfuckin’ Wayne said in greeting.

“Dad,” Jason replied.

“Oh, what the fuck?” you exclaimed.

After working at the coffee shop for four months, you were finally given the opportunity to close. Your coworker, Macy, handled the more advanced things you hadn’t been trained on, leaving you to clean up around the store. It was only eight at night, but the two of you were eager to close and get home. There was an Arkham breakout four days ago and the city was on edge waiting for the inevitable attack. Both Jason and Hood hadn’t made their typical appearances since the breakout and you were starting to get worried.

But you couldn’t think about that right now because the toxin sirens started wailing the second Macy locked the doors behind you.

“Fuck!” she shouted. “You got a mask?”

“Of course.” You yanked the collapsable Wayne Enterprises gas mask out of your purse. It was given to every citizen who signed up for it at the local post office. She pulled out her own and shoved it over her face before waving goodbye and sprinting off towards her apartment.

You were glad that your apartment was a fifteen minute walk from your work instead of the thirty minute commute you had at the ice cream shop because it was moments like now that had you running faster than you had ever ran before. A yellow-tinged fog rose up from Gotham Heights and you swore. Fear toxin was barely better than Joker toxin, but it wouldn’t be instant death.

Gothamites all around you ran for safety, various styles of gas masks covering their faces. A dark shadow flew over your head and you glanced up for a moment to see Batman blot out the moon before he disappeared into the shadows with the bright traffic color lights of Robin on his heels. Good, this would all be over soon.

You stumbled as a small body crashed into your legs. Thinking quickly, you caught the kid around the shoulders and absorbed the hit by careening into the brick wall next to you.

“Hey, hey, what’s wrong?” You crouched down so you could see the little girl better and grimaced when you realized she didn’t have a gas mask. The fog was coming closer and you thought about it for a moment. You were older. You could handle fear toxin better. It would be horrible and you would see things that weren’t real. It would feel like your mind was being torn apart…but you would be able to handle it better than an innocent little kid.

Without hesitating, you ripped off your mask and secured it over her face. She sobbed and clung to your neck as you hefted her up into your arms and scanned the frantic faces around you in hopes of finding parents. A woman across the street was searching for something and you made the guess that she was looking for her daughter.

“Ma’am!” you shouted as you crossed the street. “Is this your daughter?”

“Oh god, Maria. Thank you. Thank you so much. I was looking for a mask for her and she ran away because of the sirens.”

“You’re alright. Get to safety, okay?” She thanked you one last time and disappeared into the throng of the crowd, leaving you behind without a mask and a quickly approaching wall of fear toxin. If you sprinted the last remaining ten minutes, you still wouldn’t make it in time. The streets were clearing quickly, along with your chances of sanctuary, as the fog grew closer. You cursed yourself for not bringing two masks along and decided you should just take your chances and wade into the fear gas.

The gas was starting to creep around your feet when the sound of wire snapping and a creak of metal met your ears. Heavy boots thudded next to you and then thick leather covered hands grabbed your shoulders.

“What the hell are you doing out here? Without a mask too.” Hood snarled. “Are you stupid?”

“No! No, I gave it to a kid. I was trying to get home.” Your explanation fell flat as he yanked off his helmet and shoved it over your head. You jerked your head back in surprise as the darkness enveloped your vision, but you quickly adjusted to seeing out of the lenses.

“What the hell are you doing?” you shouted back. Your voice sounded weird being all distorted from the helmet. “Gotham needs you!”

“And I need you safe,” he snapped. The gas was obscuring his face from view and quickly, Hood wrapped one arm around your waist and aimed his other arm towards the sky. He fired his grapple gun and you shrieked as your feet lifted off the ground. Hood dropped the two of you on the fire escape of your apartment and stumbled away from you, falling to his knees.

“Fuck,” you whispered. You grabbed his arm and threw it over his shoulder, but hauling six feet of pure muscle wasn’t easy. You needed to get him inside and out of the gas. “C’mon, Hood, help me out here.”

He groaned and pushed himself up against the railing, but kept his eyes screwed shut. You shoved open your window and practically threw him in before sliding in after him and yanking the window closed just as yellow gas began its steady ascent against your building windows. You collapsed against the couch and looked over at Hood, but he wasn’t looking at you. The lenses of his domino mask were fixed on the corner of your living room and you swore under your breath.

He had given up his helmet, his gas mask, to you so you wouldn’t be affected. But now he was seeing the stuff of nightmares and, you could guess, he had seen far more in his life that kept him up at night. You yanked his helmet off and tossed it onto the ground.

“Hood, what do I do?” You grasped his cheeks and forced him to focus on you. “How can I help?”

“Make him stop…make him stop. fucking. laughing.” He clapped his gloved hands over his ears and you surged forward, clutching at his wrists as he clawed at his skin.

“Hood. Hood, please,” you whispered. You slid your hand between his ears and his fingers and felt a small device. Yanking it out of his ear, you fixed the communication device in your own ear and tapped on it. A steady stream of chatter filled your ear and you saw Hood relax when the noise left him. He was still rigid as a board, but he stopped trying to claw his own ears off.

“Hello? Hello, does this work?” You desperately hoped your hunch was right.

The line went silent and then a low, gravelly voice spoke up. “Who is this?”

“My name’s Y/N Y/L/N. Red Hood saved me but he was hit with fear toxin. He’s currently in my apartment but I don’t know how to help him.”

“Nightwing. Take an antidote to Hood. Now.” Batman, motherfuckin’ Batman of all people, ordered.

“I won’t hurt him,” you blurted. “I know that sounds exactly like what someone who planned on hurting him would say but I won’t. I’ll take this thing out so you guys can go back to talking, but please, until you can get here, how can I help him?”

“Keep talking to him,” a new voice spoke up. “Talk about anything and everything. Keep him focused. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

“The window is unlocked. Thank you.”

You tossed the device onto the coffee table and stroked your thumb across Hood’s cheeks. “I gotcha. I gotcha.”

He twitched as some sort of fear-driven vision flitted across his mind and you leaned forward, pressing your forehead against his temple. “Did I ever tell you about how I spilled coconut milk all over my shoes?”

You kept talking, even as he clenched his teeth and broken screams escaped the back of his throat and his domino mask started to come off his face due to a mixture of tears and sweat. You just shut your eyes and continued regaling him with stories about your time in school, your friends, jobs you’ve had in the past. Anything but the horrors in his mind.

The window slid open and then shut quickly. You looked up as Nightwing tilted Hood’s head to the side and injected a needle into his neck. He pushed the edge of the syringe down and Hood’s body relaxed as the antidote began to course through his veins. The black and blue vigilante reached up and removed his rebreather once Hood relaxed.

“Thank you,” he murmured. You blinked up at him and then looked down at Hood. You smoothed your hand over the edges of his mask to make sure it stuck and shook your head.

“He did it to save me,” you murmured. “I should have been smarter.”

“Nah,” Hood panted as he finally regained his mind from the influence of the toxin. “I just had to make sure the best barista in Gotham was safe. Need that Americano to keep me going.”

Your jaw dropped as the pieces fell into place and Nightwing let out a gleeful chuckle. “See you both on Sunday for brunch. Hood, you’re benched today.”

He strapped on his rebreather, opened your window and climbed out before shutting it, and promptly did a swan dive out of the window before grappling away.

“Does that mean…holy shit I’ve met Batman twice?”

Jason peeled off his domino mask and threw it down next to his helmet. He yanked you onto his lap, his lips ghosting over yours.

“Please stop talking about Batman like he’s better than me,” he grunted.

You woke up to a thud and then a muffled “shit!”. Rolling over, you pressed your face into your pillow to stifle your giggle.

“Shut up,” Jason whined from the floor. “My hands are full.”

“I’m sorry, aren’t you supposed to be the all-feared Red Hood?”

“That’s it. No ice cream for you.”

That got you sitting up. You flipped on the lamp next to you, finding him next to your bed in full gear. He set a cup of ice cream on your nightstand and then held out a white paper bag that you recognized from the old coffee shop you used to work at a year ago.

“Two scoops and a danish,” he reported.

“Well, look at you being all sappy,” you hummed.

Jason stood to his full height and dropped a kiss to your forehead. He moved to strip out of his leather jacket and you settled back against the headboard to watch him. Your boyfriend paused and gestured towards the food he had brought.

“I’m pretty sure you’re supposed to actually enjoy anniversary gifts instead of letting them melt,” he grunted. “Unless you’re not hungry. I can put it in the freezer.”

“Oh, I’m hungry all right. Continue.”

“You’re objectifying me right now. I’m being objectified.”

“Happy one year to me, baby. Now, strip.”

Tag list: @annalayton19​ @tiannamortis​ @khaetiin​ @mcrmarvelloki​ @gone-batty-fics​

[sanguineterrain]

Adore You - s.h | e.m.

Summary: When you and Eddie learn that Steve has never celebrated his birthday—and had no intention of letting you know he even had a birthday—you two make it your mission to give him the best birthday ever. Secret parties, however, aren’t always easy to keep secret.

Pairing: Steve Harrington x fem!reader x Eddie Munson

Word count: 5k

Warnings: mild angst, misunderstandings, Steve's crappy parents, birthday fluff, happy ending!!

dividers by s-tarksintern

Follow @sanguine-stranger for all my Stranger Things fics updates!

"Yo, Buckley!" 

The door jingled, alerting your entrance. Eddie held up a pair of customized Converse by the laces. Robin's eyes lit up. 

"Holy shit!" she squealed, walking around the counter. "You’re a dream, Munson.” 

"Flatterer," Eddie grinned, tossing her the shoes. "No charge."

She inspected the designs, all carefully hand-painted by Eddie. "Dude, you're awesome. Y/N, tell your boyfriend he's awesome."

"I remind him of that fact everyday," you grinned, pecking Eddie's jaw. "He knows."

"I know," Eddie smirked. 

"Well, unfortunately, your other boyfriend sucks," she informed you. "He's been moping all week. And he left me to stack the new releases by myself!" 

You frowned. "That doesn't sound like him. Where is he?" 

Robin rolled her eyes. "I made him go pick up the tapes Keith ordered. Hopefully he eats something—that’s probably why he’s so cranky.”

"Aw, damn. We were gonna get his measurements to start his jean jacket," said Eddie. ”Don’t tell ‘im, though. It’s a secret.”

"Eds wanted to match," you explained. "Because he's a dork."

"You said it was a good idea, baby," he pouted. 

"Both things can be true. It's very cute, honey," you assured. "He'll love it."

"Custom jacket is a great gift," Robin agreed, already lacing up her new shoes. "That's probably the one thing Steve's never gotten for his birthday."

You and Eddie both went still.

"Birthday?" he echoed. 

"Yeah, it's next Sunday, remember? I made him look up his astrology chart and y'know what? A lot of it makes sense." She twirled her finger over her temple in a crazy sign. "Good luck."

"Wait, back up." You held up a hand. "Steve's birthday is next week?"

"Uh, yeah? Don't you know his birthday?" 

"He never said anything." Eddie's face scrunched. "What the hell?" 

"How do you know it, Robs?" you asked. 

"I learned it by accident when Steve filled out his job application. You really didn't know? You guys have been dating for a while."

"We figured it had passed." You frowned. "He was just gonna let it come and go without ever telling us."

"Hang on. Maybe he doesn't know you usually tell serious relationships your birthday," Eddie reasoned. "This is the longest relationship he's had."

You thought for a moment, then rapped your knuckles on the counter. 

"Actually, we're gonna take off.”

Eddie’s head swiveled to you. “What?”

“We have things to discuss.” You gave him a look, then turned to Robin. “Can you tell Steve we'll meet him at home?"

"You got it," Robin said, giving a two-finger salute. "Godspeed. And please pull that stick out of his ass!" 

“Buckley wouldn’t lie about Steve’s birthday, would she?”

“No,” you said, watching the butter melt in Mrs. Harrington’s luxury cast-iron pan. “Definitely not.”

You and Eddie had gotten a copy of the Harringtons' house keys before you'd become something more. After an incident involving dead power lines and Eddie breaking into a window to make sure Steve wasn't bleeding or possessed, Steve had gone ahead and given you keys. He'd said he trusted you with his life—and that Eddie was to never break in again. 

"'Kay, we have to approach this tactfully, sweetheart. How 'bout this: I'll bring up my own birthday first. Then it'll be a natural turn into a conversation about his."

"Or," you said, flipping the grilled cheese onto a plate. "We use a tried and true method that boyfriends and girlfriends have used for thousands of years: food and sweet lovin'."

Eddie turned on the puppy eyes. "Do I get one? I'll tell you my birthday too, baby."

"I already know your birthday, big guy," you snorted, setting down another sandwich in front of him. 

He pumped his fist. "Another victorious win."

You dusted your hands and leaned on the kitchen island. 

"We can't pressure him. That'll only make him retreat,” you mused. “I just hope he doesn't not trust us or anything."

"Nah," Eddie assured around a mouthful of sandwich. "Maybe he's just not a birthday kinda guy."

The 733i pulled into the driveway, engine shortly cutting out. Then you heard Steve's footsteps up to the door and the key turning in the lock. 

"Honey, you're home!" Eddie called gleefully. 

Steve looked up, startled, then relaxed when he realized it was you two. 

"Oh, hey. Robin said you came by. Sorry I missed you—Keith put me on this stupid delivery thing."

"No prob," Eddie said, rising and wiping his hands on his jeans. "We'd much rather have your undivided attention, hot stuff."

Before Steve could remove his uniform, Eddie pulled him into a deep kiss, hands sliding into the seat pockets of Steve's jeans. Steve stumbled from the intensity, clinging to Eddie's shoulders. He melted instantly. Eddie cupped the back of Steve's neck, coaxing out a whine. 

"Eds," you groaned. “Come on.”

Steve, puffy-lipped and dazed, watched you with wide eyes as Eddie kept him near. 

"What? Too much?" 

"At least let him sit down before you suck face," you chided, pulling out a chair. 

"Was just doing the sweet lovin' bit," Eddie mumbled. 

Steve eagerly turned to you, clearly hoping for a match in affection. You gave in a little, since he'd had a bad day, but it was important to save the main goods for the interrogation. 

"Eat," you ordered after pressing a few quick kisses to his lips. "Robin said you missed lunch."

"Snitch," he sighed, picking up the sandwich. "Wasn't that big of a deal."

"You already don't eat breakfast as often as you should. Do I need to come down here and force feed you pancakes every morning?" 

"Well." Steve swallowed. "Not gonna say no."

“You are so lucky you’re cute.”

“How ‘bout me, baby?” Eddie beamed. “Am I cute too?”

“Oh, the cutest,” you cooed, pulling him down by his leather jacket collar and nipping playfully at his lips. 

“Tease,” he complained. 

“We’ll get there.” 

Soon, Steve was down to the crusts of his sandwich. You propped yourself on your elbows, smiling sweetly.

“Want another? Or I can make you something else?”

Steve blinked, toast crumbs on his mouth. “I’m okay, baby. Thank you.”

Phase two. Eddie leapt up to herd Steve over to the couch under the guise of “helping” him take off his uniform. After washing and putting the plate back in the cupboard, you joined them, taking Steve’s other side. The TV was on, turned down low. Eddie gently finger-combed through the slight tangles in Steve’s hair. His lids had started to droop. You pressed a kiss behind Steve’s ear, cupping his chin. Then you traced the freckles on his collarbone, just resting your lips on him. He leaned into your touch.

“Everything okay, sweetie?” you asked mildly, not breaking your movements.

“Hmm? Yeah, everything’s fine,” Steve answered drowsily. 

“Work’s okay?” 

“Work’s fine. Jus’ today was a pain.”

“Buckley mentioned you haven’t been feeling your best,” Eddie said. 

“Oh. Um, I dunno. I'm fine, really."

You glanced at Eddie, who nodded. Steve's hand was on your hip; not wanting anything, just feeling you. 

"We heard it's your birthday soon."

The hand stiffened. You remained wrapped around Steve, wanting to keep the atmosphere light. 

"Yeah," Steve admitted. "It is."

You kissed his cheek. “Did you wanna do anything for it?”

Steve shrugged shyly. “We don’t have to.”

“We want to,” Eddie said. “If you want to.”

Steve sat up, not looking at either of you. Meticulously, he cracked his knuckles, shoulders tense.

“‘S just, I never really celebrated my birthday. My… my dad said it was stupid to put so much on a day that comes every year. Said I didn't deserve it, most years. But he always wanted a gift for his birthday.”

You and Eddie stayed quiet, waiting for Steve to finish. He moved from his knuckles to a healing cut on his thumb, picking at it.

“I don’t think Tommy H even knew when my birthday was.” He laughed, but it sounded more like a choke. “I guess he wasn’t really a birthday guy either. He took Carol to the lake for her birthday, I remember.”

“We can go someplace for your birthday,” offered Eddie. “Take my van. I’ll even let ya sit up front, since you’d be the birthday boy and all.”

“No, no,” Steve scoffed. “Oh my God, no, that’d be dumb. Not–not that going someplace with you guys is dumb, just that making a big deal about it now would be dumb. I don’t want you guys to have to plan around my birthday.”

You put your hand on Steve’s before he tore his cuticle picking the cut. He looked at you and tried for a smile. 

“Plus I didn’t give you a heads up or anything," he continued. "It’d be pretty much impossible to do something now.”

“That’s not—”

“Okay,” you cut Eddie off. “Okay, Steve. If you don’t want to do anything, we won’t. We were just wondering is all.”

He nodded, sucking on his lower lip. Eddie shot you a look behind Steve’s back. You held up a hand, shaking your head. 

"Cool. Yeah, it’d just be too much work anyway. I get it. I’m gonna, um, shower. We can watch a movie…?”

You kissed Steve’s lips with a smile. “Think it’s Eddie’s turn to pick.”

He groaned. “Okay, but not Star Wars again. I can recite practically every line at this point.”

“A New Hope is peak cinema,” Eddie informed him. “But whatever. I suppose I can scrounge up something else.”

He waited until Steve disappeared down the hall before pouncing on you.

“What was that, baby?” he whined. “Pretty sure you made his hair deflate.”

“We’re going to give Steve a birthday he’ll never forget. And it couldn’t be a surprise if I told him, could it?”

Eddie’s lips spread into a slow grin. “Was this your plan all along?”

“I had to make sure Steve didn’t genuinely want a party,” you explained. “But I think it’s pretty clear he does. He’s just guilty about it.”

“That was some messed up shit his dad pulled,” Eddie sighed. 

Steve didn’t like talking about his family much. They were usually away, including this month. You and Eddie slept over when they were gone—Steve hated being alone in his house.

The shower turned on. You leaned into Eddie, arms around his neck.

“So whaddya say, Eds? Ready to throw our boyfriend the best surprise party ever?”

“I’m following your lead, baby,” he said, bowing to meet your lips. “Let’s do it.”

This was not a good idea.

“Steve said not to break into his house again, Eds. That’s, like, his only rule.”

“This isn’t breaking in! We have keys. Besides, how can we keep this a surprise if we barge in like we own the place?”

“I don’t understand why we can’t just ask him his size.”

Eddie slid open the top dresser drawer. He rifled through socks for a moment, then moved on. 

“Don’t you know it’s rude to ask a man for his measurements?” he grinned. “And you need the pictures for the video.”

“Well, hurry up.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

You heard the front door open. Eddie froze.

“Shit,” you hissed. “Shit, shit.”

“I thought he wasn’t gonna be back till four. What do we do?” Eddie hissed.

“Okay, it’s fine,” you whispered. “I’ll distract him. Work fast.”

You hurried out to the hall, quietly shutting Steve’s bedroom door behind you. Steve was poking around in the fridge. Maybe you could hide? The drapes were long enough, right? Or behind the TV…

“Holy fuck!”

The bottles on the fridge door rattled as Steve flinched upon seeing you. He slammed the door too hard. 

“Y/N, Jesus Christ. What are you doing here? I thought you were busy today.”

Steve had wanted to hang out today. You’d made up an excuse about housework. Eddie had faked pneumonia.

“H-hey, Steve. I was—I am busy. But, um… I needed a pan! A frying pan. Mine broke.”

He tilted his head. “You came to my house to steal a pan?”

“Yep. I reeeally need to fry stuff. Plus your mom buys the best cookware.”

“Uh… okay. Well, since you’re here, did you wanna do something? Eddie’s sick so I was thinking we could get lunch and bring it to him.”

You winced. Why did he have to be so sweet?

“I can’t. Any other day I would but I–I shouldn’t even be here, really. I’m sorry, baby.”

“Oh.” Steve nodded. You could tell he was trying not to look too dejected. Fuck.

“I’m sorry,” you said again.

“No, hey, you have things to do. I don’t expect you to drop it all for me.”

God, those big eyes were brutal. But you had to stick it out.

“I’ll see you tomorrow?” Steve asked, half smiling. “Try not to break my mom’s kitchen.”

He started to walk toward the hall. You raced to block him.

“Wait! Where are you going?” 

Steve squinted. “I’m going to my room?”

“Your room?” you said loudly. “Steve is going to his room.”

“Y/N, are you feeling okay? Eddie said he has pneumonia. You didn’t catch anything, did you?”

“I feel fine, Steve. Are you sure you wanna go to your room?”

“Considering my clothes are in there, ideally, yes.”

“Cosmopolitan says changing in different rooms can be empowering.”

“Y/N,” he sighed. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing! What if your room is haunted?”

“What?”

You took Steve by his wrists and dragged him back to the island.

“Maybe you can try changing in the kitchen,” you shouted at the bedroom.

“Honey, you’re kinda freaking me out.”

“I–” 

Eddie peeked around the corner, waving. He gave you a thumbs up. You jumped, causing Steve to look truly concerned.

“I,” you began. “Love you! Stevie, baby, I love you. You’re a dream. Keep it tight.”

“Huh?”

You kissed his cheek and backed towards the front door. 

“Gotta go!”

“What about your pan?” he called.

“Eggs are overrated!” you rushed out, closing the door.

You bolted down the block where Eddie had parked, cutting through a neighbor’s lawn. Eddie was already in the van, engine running.

“You’d better have gotten those pictures,” you panted. “I ran.”

“Your efforts were not in vain, baby. Great vamping, by the way. You lost me with the haunted room, though.”

“Please drive. I can’t believe there isn’t a single brain cell among the three of us.”

“There is,” Eddie said. “‘S just Steve has it this week.”

“Call Dustin. We’re gonna need all the help we can get.”

“Does anybody have any questions?”

“I have a question,” said Max, raising her hand. “Who the hell is that?”

“This is Spider,” Eddie introduced. “He’s the one letting me borrow his projector and screen for the party.”

“Whassup, dawg?” Spider nodded, piercings glinting as he did so.

“You have a projector guy?” asked Robin. 

“I know people,” Eddie defended. “I met Spider at one of my performances.”

“This dude shreds on guitar,” Spider said, then turned to you. “You’re a very lucky woman. I wish you all a lifetime of happiness.”

“Thanks, Spider.” You smiled awkwardly. “Okay, aside from Eddie's friend, any other questions?”

“How long am I keeping Steve occupied?” Robin asked.

“At least until eight. If you need an excuse, I can—”

“No, no,” she grinned, looking too pleased. “I’ll figure something out.” 

“O…kay. Dustin, you know what you’re doing?”

“Absolutely,” he said, giving a thumbs up. “And here’s the tape.”

He handed you the video. You took it eagerly.

“Awesome. Now look: ultimately this is to give Steve a great birthday. So let’s focus on that, okay?”

“This is really cool what you’re doing, Y/N,” Lucas decided. 

“It also helps that Steve’s no longer a douche,” added Mike.

“Hey,” scolded Eddie. “Watch it, Wheeler.”

“Uh, fellas?” said Robin, who had one of the curtains parted. “Did anybody tell Steve to come over?”

“What?” you yelped, rushing to the window. “Eds, did he call you?”

“Not since yesterday, baby. Gave the pneumatic performance of a lifetime.”

“Shit, shit. Okay, this is fine. It’s fine. Eddie, you’ve just gotta make him go away.”

“What? I’m supposed to be bedridden.”

“I’m sorry, honey, but you gotta. We’re at your trailer. It’ll look suspicious if I come out. Just pretend you’re getting better.”

“I’m no good at lying,” he whined. “Especially not to those baby browns. He’ll see right through me, sweetheart.”

“No, brother, you’ve totally got this,” said Spider. “Treat him like an old Fender. Gentle, but firm.”

Knock! Knock! 

“It’s okay,” you added. “It’s only until the end of the week. Here.”

You threw a knitted throw around Eddie’s shoulders. 

“What do I even say?” he whispered.

“You’ve been dating for three months,” Robin hissed. “It’s Steve.”

“I don’t need that attitude, Buckley.”

“Eddie?” came Steve’s voice. “Babe, you there?”

Eddie hacked a cough, jiggling the lock.

“Here,” he croaked, pulling open the door. “Steve?” 

“Hey," Steve said brightly. "How do you feel?”

“Uh, sick,” Eddie started weakly. “S-so sick. Achoo!”

“Oh.” You winced at Steve’s soft tone. “Okay, that’s cool. I was just—sorry, this is silly but uh, Y/N’s been acting really weird and I dunno, I just haven’t seen you guys much this week. Are we good? That night, with the birthday thing…”

“Yes!” Eddie blurted too loud. “Everything’s good. Everything’s amazing. We haven’t even thought about your birthday.”

Ouch. You didn’t have to see Steve’s face to know what a crash and burn that was.

“Oh. Uh, right. So…” You heard the front steps creak. “Wait, whose bikes are those?”

“What?” Eddie squeaked. “Oh, p-probably some kids left 'em. You know kids, always leaving their shit everywhere.”

“That one kinda looks like Dustin’s…”

“Nope, don’t think so!”

“Eds,” Steve sighed. “I don’t know what’s going on with you and Y/N but, like, I wish you’d talk to me instead of making things up. Y/N said she needed to borrow a pan and Robin’s been acting super weird this week. Dustin won’t even come into the store. Everybody’s walking on eggshells around me and—”

He stopped, eyes wide. Eddie pulled the throw tighter.

“Are you… are you guys breaking up with me?”

“What? No! God no, Steve, we’re not breaking up with you. It’s just—we’re just…”

“Yeah?” Steve asked, hopeful.

“...Busy,” Eddie finished lamely. “Really busy.”

“And sick,” Steve said coldly. “Right.”

“Baby…”

“No, it’s—” Steve held up a hand. “It’s fine. Whatever. I’ll see you later. Or not. Tell Dustin hi.”

You covered your face with your hands when the door slammed. It took Steve less than a minute to leave, his car soon rolling out of the park. 

“Munson. Dude. No bueno,” Spider said, eyes wide. 

“I know!” he cried, tearing the throw off. “Fuck, I know, I know, it was terrible. I’m terrible. And so close to his birthday, God…”

“No, no. Eds, I haven’t been much better,” you said. “I was so caught up in keeping this a surprise…” 

And now Steve didn’t even want to see you.

“It’s okay, guys,” Dustin assured. “Steve’ll forgive you once it comes together.”

“He was so hurt,” Eddie cringed. “God, maybe we should just call it off.”

“No,” Robin said firmly. “No way. I have covered for that dingus too many times to let it all go to shit. He’s head over heels for you both. He’ll understand.”

You turned to Eddie with a frown. He pulled you into a hug, kissing the top of your head.

“Whaddya think, Eddie?”

“I think Buckley’s right, sweetheart. Steve’ll understand. He’s just taking it hard ‘cause it’s his birthday.”

“Yeah?”

“I hope so,” he chuckled. “Or I’ll have faked pneumonia for nothing. Plus think about how worth it it’ll be to see the look on his face.”

Eddie was right. Steve deserved this. He deserved a birthday to remember. You had to pull through.

“Okay,” you said. “What time does Party City close?”

“Can I have a taste? Pleeeaaase?”

“For the thousandth time, no!” You moved the mixing bowl away from Eddie’s wandering hands. “You’ll have some soon enough. Why don’t you help the kids with the decorations?”

“I was actually banned from the yard, if you can believe it. Apparently there is such a thing as too many balloons.”

You rolled your eyes. “Take a brownie. One. As compensation.”

Eddie happily took the confection, immediately getting fudge icing and sprinkles on his nose. He took a bite and groaned, pressing a sweet kiss to your cheek. 

“Shit, these are good, baby. He’s gonna love these.”

“Yeah? It’s a new recipe.”

“Hell yeah, angel. Are you gonna make these for my birthday?”

“If you’re good,” you winked, wiping frosting from his lip. “Here, help me decorate the cake. This one’s cooled.”

You had smoothly iced the top of the red velvet cake with cream cheese frosting. In delicate cursive, you’d already written Happy birthday with blue icing. You handed Eddie the piping bag.

“Here, write his name.”

“Shit, okay, I got this.”

Eddie took the bag with both hands, sticking his tongue out in concentration. His aim wasn’t as careful as yours, so the message ended up saying Happy birthday, sTeVE baBY!!!

“Hm. Think he’ll be able to tell who wrote what?” 

You bit your lip, leaning into his chest. 

“That’s okay, honey. Adds personality. Now, please.” You took the piping bag back. “Please go make sure Spider and the kids aren’t tearing up the Harringtons’ lawn.”

“Very well. I shall return,” he said in his best dungeon master voice. “Save me a cupcake!”

You put the last layer of the birthday cake into the oven. Then the phone rang. 

“Harrington residence.”

“Hey there, best girlfriend in the world,” came Robin’s voice. “Are you guys almost done setting up?” 

“Almost,” you said, checking the clock. “Give us another half hour. Everything okay with Steve?”

“Yeah, it’s cool. I jimmied the lock to the supply closet and made him think he’s locked in.”

“You what?”

“It’s fine!” she insisted. “He’s just pissed. He’s not, like, having a breakdown or anything.”

“Robin,” you sighed. “That’s not what I meant when I said keep him at work.”

“No, it’s cool. He’s—oh, he’s trying to kick down the door. Gotta go. We’ll be there in thirty minutes!”

Thirty minutes passed in a blur. Spider, oddities aside, got the projector running smoothly. You gave him a half dozen cupcakes and twenty bucks. He bowed deeply, kissed Eddie’s rings, and left. Joyce Byers had generously helped you with the dinner, and as soon as the cake was complete, you warmed the chicken.

“He’s here!” came Will’s voice, who’d been assigned lookout. “He’s here! Places, guys.”

Everyone filed out to the backyard. You and Dustin turned on the projector while Eddie and the others pulled out the screen. You heard them walk through the pool gate with Robin talking louder than usual to signal her entrance. 

“...Keith definitely needs to get those locks changed,” Steve was saying.

“You’re so right. We’ll call him first thing tomorrow. Or maybe you could be less of a dingus and not get locked in next time.”

“I have never gotten locked in before! Robin, why won’t you let me inside my house?”

"It's a secret," she grinned. 

"Robin, look, I really don't feel up to this. My week has kinda been a bummer and—"

"Steve.” She turned his head to the screen. "Just watch."

The projector clicked on, tape rolling. The screen was blank for a moment before switching to the video.

“What am I saying?” Max had been impatient when you’d caught her after school to record her part.

“It’s his birthday. Say what you’d tell him on his birthday,” you urged from behind the camera.

She looked at the camera, sighing.

“Fine. Hi, Steve. Uh, happy birthday. You’re twenty, right? Practically an old man. Don’t break a hip. Somebody’s gotta watch out for us shitheads.” She smiled then, rolling her eyes. “Guess you’re alright, though. Happy birthday.”

“Hi, Steve.” Joyce Byers sweetly waved at the camera. “Y/N and Eddie are here. They asked me to say a few words to you on your birthday. You guys are such dolls.”

“Mrs. Byers—” you said offscreen. “If you could talk to Steve…?” 

“Oh, right. Steve, I know we don’t know each other well, but I’ve heard a lot about you and how you’ve grown into a very nice young man. Thank you for keeping my sons safe, and for protecting the kids. Happy birthday!”

Steve stared, eyebrows to his hairline. His lips were parted, eyes never leaving the screen as Robin herded him into a chair. 

“Steve, buddy, hi!” Dustin beamed on screen. “You’re turning twenty, that’s awesome! Um, I wanna say that you’re really cool and you’re like one of my best friends now. Also, Y/N and Eddie did all this and they’re awesome. Please don’t be mad at them for being weird this week—they’ve just been planning hard for your party.”

The others had begun to trickle out of hiding. You and Eddie were slow in joining, not wanting to interrupt the video. 

“Harrington,” came Hopper’s firm voice. “Heard you’re turning twenty. I better not get any calls about being drunk and disorderly.” His expression softened into what could almost be called a smile. He nodded at you and Eddie behind the camera. “Glad you’ve found a better crowd to run with. Happy birthday.”

You stepped out fully. Steve’s gaze landed on you and Eddie. His eyes were glassy.

“Happy birthday, Steve,” El, Lucas, and Mike yelled. “Hope it’s awesome!” she added.

“Hey,” you whispered. 

“Hey,” Steve said, equally as soft. “How did—what—”

“Happy birthday, dingus!” Robin sang on film. “Okay, wait. Look at them for a second.” She shifted the camera around, panning it around to you and Eddie. 

“Robin!” you squealed on camera, trying to push it back around. “Speak to him!”

“No, you guys should get a feature too. Steve, these two love you so much and you’d better not fuck it up because they really are the best.” 

She turned it back to her, smiling. 

“Now I’ll say my piece: you’re my best friend. Not to get sappy and shit, but you’re a good guy and you deserve good things. Happy birthday.”

The tape rolled to a stop. You held your breath. A tear slipped down Steve’s cheek. Eddie was quick to swipe it away from his thumb.

“Babe,” Eddie murmured. “Is–is this okay?”

“Okay?” Steve choked. “Okay?”

“We know,” Eddie continued, grimacing, “that we’ve been acting fucking weird but only because we wanted this to be a surprise. We’re real sorry, babe.”

“Don’t—Jesus, don’t be sorry—” Steve gasped, stumbling forward. 

He threw both arms over you and Eddie. You hugged him back hard, kissing his shoulder. 

“Happy birthday, big guy,” Eddie said.

“We love you so much,” you added. “Happy birthday, Stevie.”

“You guys did this all for me? I thought…shit.” 

Steve sniffed, rubbing his eyes. Eddie kissed him first, then you went. Steve gasped into your mouth, overwhelmed.

“You okay?” you murmured, cupping his cheeks. “Not too much?”

“No. It’s perfect. It’s—God, a single cupcake would’ve been great. You didn’t have to do all this.”

“We wanted to! We love you! I love Steve Harrington and Y/N L/N!” Eddie shouted at the top of his lungs.

“Eds,” you scolded laughingly, tugging his arm. “You’ll wake the neighbors, quit!”

Eddie pulled Steve in by his waist.  

"Let 'em complain. Our favorite guy's birthday is today."

You led Steve and the others back into the house. There, you began to dish out the food. Steve stayed close as you and Eddie helped the kids serve themselves. The dining room had been decorated with pictures of Steve. With you, with Eddie, with Robin, at school, in the summer, whatever photos you could find. 

“These were what we had to get a few days ago,” you explained. 

“That’s why a bunch of photos are missing from my room,” Steve said. 

“Yeah, Eddie’s no James Bond, clearly,” you laughed. “But we… well, we made the theme Memory. ‘Cause you haven’t really had any good birthdays. So we hope this’ll start a new line of memories.”

Steve bit his lip, rubbing his eye.

“Please don’t cry, handsome,” Eddie pleaded, wiping another stray tear from Steve’s cheek. “This is supposed to be happy.”

"No, I am happy. You two always bring life into this house," Steve murmured. "You make it feel like home."

You covered the pans and pulled your boys near. 

"Well, we can do this as much as you want. Eddie and I will cook anytime you like, honey."

"I cooked," Eddie said proudly. "I also did some decorating. Shit, your present!"

Steve's eyes widened. "My present? This wasn't it?" 

"No, duh. We had to get you a gift, obviously."

"You didn't have to—" 

"But we wanted to," you interrupted, silencing Steve with a kiss. "Will you let us spoil you?" 

Eddie gave Steve a gift bag stuffed with his favorite newspaper funnies. 

"A jacket?” Steve gasped. "Eddie, it’s…”

"Now we can match," Eddie said giddily. "Y/N has jeans to complete the set."

Eddie had customized the back of the jacket with a mix of his, yours, and Steve's favorite patches. On the sleeve it said bestest birthday boy!!!! He'd also patched on a heart that said S.H. hearts E.M. + Y.N.

"You looked so good in Eddie's vest," you slyly grinned. “Hawkins won’t survive with you killing in denim.”

"Okay, well, I hope you know you're only giving me a giant ego, so," Steve announced. 

"It's your birthday," Eddie shrugged. "We can afford it."

"Hey, are we eating or what!" shouted Dustin. 

"Eat, eat, we'll be there in a sec," you called back. 

"Probably making out in the kitchen," you heard Robin mutter. 

Steve took your and Eddie's hands in his. He sniffed, smiling wide. 

"Thank you. Really. This is—this is the most special thing anybody's ever done for me."

"Good," you said, kissing his temple. "You deserve this and more."

"Yeah, and just so you know," Eddie added. "This is only the beginning. Now that we know your birthday, you're not escaping us, Harrington."

"Oh?" Steve laughed bashfully, apple-cheeked and glowing. "How on earth are you gonna top this one?"

You and Eddie grinned at each other.

"It’s a surprise.”

[freedomfireflies]

I’m looking forward to Friday now, can’t wait to see Mr. And Mrs. Hey Soul Sister😩

You stare at the document in front of you. The words, the ink, the instructions all blur together as the tears find their way to your eyes.

Sign Here.

Easy enough. A simple signature and you’re rid of him forever. The nightmare can finally be over.

You swipe your knuckles along your cheek, ridding yourself of the embarrassing admittance of your disappointment. You’re not sure why you’re so upset. This is exactly what you wanted. It’s what he wants, too. Finally, you can go back to your mundane life and leave Harry Styles and his endless parade of press and photo-ops behind.

The pen hovers above the page, tight between your fingers, waiting to be used. You’re hesitating but you’re not sure why. 

Sign the fucking document. Sign it and go home. Sign it and leave him behind.

You look up at the clock. Five minutes until eight. He’ll be arriving at the carpet for his new movie about now. He’ll smile, he’ll wave, and he’ll answer questions. You can practically hear him now.

What are you wearing? Uh…Gucci? I believe? Yeah. Gucci. 

Can you describe the movie in three words? Uh…heartbreaking…exciting…cinematic.

Cinematic? Yeah, you know…it just…it feels like a movie, y’know?

Sure, sure. And where is the missus tonight? Oh, she’s at home tonight, yeah. Bit jet-lagged from our trip.

Then, they’ll ask about the flight. If you’re both happy to be in New York. He’ll lie and say you are, even though he’s the one in New York and you’re still at his home in L.A.

He’s already signed the papers. Signed them the day they were delivered. And then…he left. Without a word. Without a goodbye. Without a handshake.

You were okay with that. Because seeing him…having to face what you said, what you felt…it was too much for even you.

You stayed to pack up your things. You wanted to be gone by the time he returned. Which would be tomorrow, just before his sold-out show. 

Before things…well, ended, he’d offered to let you and your friend come along. She was thrilled. You were reluctant but you had to admit, some of his songs were growing on you. And not because you actually liked the songs, but because…well, you suppose it doesn’t matter anymore.

You shake the thought from your head. Eye the papers. Grit your teeth. Take a deep breath. Just sign them, dammit. He did. Far too easily. In fact, you should be a little offended he was so glad to be rid of you. Didn’t even feel the need to say goodbye. After everything.

He’s a pig, you decide. He’s a pig and an asshole and he’s starting to remind you a little of Homelander from The Boys. Which is a character you only know because he made you watch the entire show.

So…there. He’s Homelander and you’re Starlight or whoever the fuck else and you’re gonna sign these papers and be rid of him forever. You’re gonna be the hero of your own life.

And you do it. Scrawl your name across the page, holding your breath the whole way, and before you know it…it’s over. 

It’s over.

You lean back, eyes on the document as every weight on your shoulder suddenly lifts.

You are officially no longer Mrs. Hey Soul Sister.

Truth to be told, you don’t know how to feel about it but you won’t let yourself feel anything about it because there’s just not enough time to cry over some guy with glitter up his ass.

You’re done.

You spend the rest of the day packing your things and saying goodbye to the home you’ve grown so used to. The door he had you pressed against. The mirror he fucked you in front of. The floor he ruined you on.

You leave the papers on the kitchen counter. They’ll be the first thing he sees when he walks in.

You readjust the strap on your shoulder and take a deep breath, preparing yourself to leave this odd blip in your life behind.

Once the door shuts behind you…it feels like everything is gonna be okay.

You spend the next day at your friend's apartment. She doesn’t pry for information. She doesn’t try to cheer you up. She turns off his song when it comes on during shuffle.

Most importantly, she offers to go pick up your favorite food for dinner and you could cry with gratitude.

Once she’s gone, you slump over to the sofa, pulling the blankets further around your body as you let your eyes fall toward the fireplace, watching the flames flicker along the brick, listening to the crackle. 

You take a deep breath, one rogue tear falling free before you have the chance to wipe it away, and you ask yourself how long it’ll be before he’s out of your system. For good.

“What the fuck…is this?”

You look up, terrified and startled as you see Harry suddenly standing about ten feet away, waving something in the air. 

You gasp, fingers clutching the soft throw blanket a bit tighter to your chest. “I…Harry, what the hell are you—”

“You just left?” he bellows, taking a step, vicious stare finding yours. “No note, no nothing? Just divorce papers?”

You blink. “Well…yeah, that was our deal—”

“No, fuck that,” he laughs, rather bitterly as he shakes his head and looks around the small apartment. “No, you…I thought we were gonna talk it out.”

“Talk what out? You left,” you remind him. “And you signed them, too.”

He stares at you for a moment, teeth gritting together as he tosses the papers in his hand toward you. 

You catch them, a bit confused but rather curious as he nods his chin at you.

You look down.

You see your signature. Your name.

And right above it? Right where his should be?

Mr. Hey Soul Sister.

“I…don’t understand,” you whisper, looking back up. “You know that’s not actually your name, right?”

He scoffs, hand running through the soft curls on his head. “Yes, I know that. I just…I thought if you saw that…maybe…maybe you wouldn’t sign them.”

Your head tilts. “Harry, why…what the hell is going on? I thought this is what you wanted.”

“Yeah, well…so did I,” he grumbles. “But when I came home and you were…you were just gone, I didn’t know what to do.”

Your heart sinks. Don’t do this to me. Please. Please don’t do this to me. “Harry…”

“Oh, don’t Harry me. No, we…look, I left because I knew you wanted your space and I didn’t wanna push you but I thought…you know, I thought after a couple days you’d finally be ready to talk.”

You sigh as you glance over his face. “That was sweet but…there’s nothing to talk about.”

“And why the fuck not?” He takes another step, no longer annoyed but livid. “Huh? You told me you loved me and then you left.”

You scoot toward the edge of the sofa. “Yeah, I left because you don’t love me.”

“Says who?”

You blink. He doesn’t.

“Says…says you, dipshit,” you remind him. “You made it very clear this was just a business deal to protect your image, and that’s fine, but now we’re done.”

He straightens up. Regards you carefully. “Maybe I don’t wanna be done.”

You straighten up as well. “And maybe I can’t do any more maybes.”

This settles in the air between you both for a moment, the only sound that of the crackling fire a few feet away.

He nods once. Takes another step. “I don’t want to be done.”

Your jaw tenses. Undeterred and unimpressed with his motivation. “You’ll find someone else to keep on your arm, don’t worry.”

“I don’t want someone else.”

“Well, you don’t want me.”

“I always fucking want you.”

You lean back, eyes wide and heart racing. You wait, just for a moment, to see if he’ll retract it. Shake his head, change his mind. 

He doesn’t.

“What?”

He takes another step. “I said…I always fucking want you. Why the fuck do you think I made up all that shit about the divorce ruining my image?”

You feel your breath hitch. “What…what do you—”

“Oh, come on. You don’t think I really give two shits about a couple of articles, do you?” he snorts, now a hint of a smile on his lips. “They’ve been calling me a womanizer and a playboy for years. You think this is where I’d get insecure and squirrely?”

“Then…then why?” Your hands wave in the air, desperate to grasp onto understanding. “Why put us through all this if you…why?”

He shrugs now, eyes falling to the floor. Almost ashamed. “Because I didn’t want to let you go. I knew it the moment I met you in the bar and you started screeching like a dying whale trying to sing that song.”

Your eyes narrow but you feel yourself smirk.

“And I knew what I was doing asking you to marry me. And I knew that you saying yes was the best moment of my life. And I knew that I didn’t know anything else…except you.” 

He looks up.

“And I figured we had the rest of our lives to work out all the details,” he murmurs. “I just didn’t figure you’d actually leave.”

The blanket falls from your hand, collecting on your lap.

“Har, I…I…” You stand, fingers shaking slightly as you step up to him, soft gaze falling across his face before your palms find his chest and you shove. “What the fuck is wrong with you? Why didn’t you tell me any of this before?”

He stumbles but he’s fighting a grin. “Because I wasn’t sure if you really meant it. I thought maybe it was a…Stockholm Syndrome thing or something. That you’d realize you just felt bad for me and I…look, I didn’t want your pity.”

“That…is so…” You sigh before pushing him back once more. “Stupid. That is so fucking stupid. All this time? I mean, all this fucking time we could have been—”

His hand slips around the back of your neck and before you know it, he’s yanking you forward and kissing you quick.

You go silent. Surprised and confused and so fucking happy you’re not sure what to do with yourself. 

He doesn’t deepen the kiss. Doesn’t attempt to go any further without your permission. Just wants you to know…

Wants you to know what?

You shove at his chest for a third time. Softer. Just enough to part your lips and regain his attention. “Har…what are you doing? What…what is all this for?”

He takes a deep breath, forehead pressed to yours. “Just had to get a running start.”

“What? What fo—"

“I love you.”

You suck in a sharp breath. Hear those three little words ringing in your ears, over and over and over. 

“What?”

His palm finds your cheek. Caresses it softly as he meets your eye. “I love you. I want to stay married to you. Forever. To you and your tone-deaf pitch and your dad jokes.”

You laugh, despite yourself.

“I want to spend the rest of my life, in sickness and in health…with you. And I promise, I will love you through all of it,” he whispers and your heart just about soars. “And I promise to spend every day…teaching you why Dancing Queen is so much better than Gimme, Gimme, Gimme.”

You laugh again, fingers slipping into his hair as you stretch up onto your tiptoes to kiss him. To really kiss him. To taste him, to have him…your husband. 

Forever.

However, after a moment, he steps away from you, and you feel gutted until you realize why.

He reaches toward the sofa, plucking the document into the air before throwing it into the roaring fire, smiling proudly as he faces you once more.

“Now, you’re officially and forevermore…Mrs. Hey Soul Sister,” he declares.

And as you kiss him again, happier than you’ve ever been, you can’t help but think one thing…

Maybe Harry Styles isn’t so bad after all.

THE END🥹♥️

Thank you so much to the original requester for trusting me with this amazing idea and for letting me explore it a bit further! I hope it was everything you wanted and that I could do it justice!

And thank you to everyone that kept up with it and felt excited along with me to see where these two idiots wound up! I love you all so much! 💞

~ Previous Part

~ Other Harry Blurbs

~ Full Masterlist

[ggensblog]

Could you write a Robin buckley x reader where reader gets upset because someone made a homophobic joke or comment or was just downright nasty to them and Robin has to comfort them? Ty!!!

Love ur writing btw <3

my heart hurt writing this, thank you anon <3 fem!reader x robin buckley

synopsis; read the ask <3

warnings; homophobia, cursing

word count; 1k

it was like any other day, you sat behind the register at Benny's Records, flipping through the latest copy of your favorite magazine. it was a monday, so it wasn't particularly busy, leaving you with your thoughts and the faint sounds of fleetwood mac in the background. the bell at the door jingled, bringing you out of your trance. you looked up and saw a couple guys walk in, laughing at something the other had said and beginning to peruse the collection of vinyl.

you folded up the magazine and placed it under the counter, cracking your knuckles and standing from your stool. you watched as the guys flipped through one particular section, picking out the ones they liked. the guys started their way to the counter and you put on your best customer service smile.

the records were set on the counter and you smiled.

"the police? nice choice." you smiled, typing the prices into the years-old cash register.

"you think?" the taller of the two guys was leaning on the counter now, a bit too close to you for comfort. he had a shit-eating grin on his face and nodded for his friend to wait outside.

"yeah, i mean, not my first choice but they're decent enough," you shrugged and went to the next record. "well maybe we can listen to them together sometime." that was the sentence that stopped you in your tracks. you looked away from the cash register and to the guy. your eyes were a bit wide and you swallowed.

"i- uh- no. i- uhm i have a girlfriend." it was the guy's turn to stop in his tracks. his once smug grin shifted into that of a disgusted look. he took a step back from the counter and you stood there, not knowing what to do next.

"a girlfriend?" he asked, his tone borderline judgmental. you nodded, trying to hide your discomfort. "so you're one of those types?" you took a step back as well, not liking where this conversation was going.

"you don't look like a gay. you just haven't found the right guy yet. c'mon baby, let me be the right guy." he was leaning forward again. you wished you could run away and hide in the break room in that moment.

"uh, no thanks." you tried to let that be the end of the conversation, going to finish ringing up the rest of the records to get this utter creep out of the store and away from you as soon as possible.

but as you brought your hand to the cash register, the guy caught your wrist. "you're gonna go to hell if you act on those impulses. no one wants to be around someone like you, even in the afterlife." the guy's tone was low, and his grip on your wrist was tight. you tried to pull away, but he wasn't so easy to get rid of. "i'm just trying to help you out, bitch, such a pretty piece of ass shouldn't be in hell," you ripped your arm away and pointed to the door.

"get out" the guy stood up straight, suddenly offended. he didn't move though. "i said get out, we don't want your business here if you're going to act like a dickhead." you were holding back tears, watching as the guy slowly turned and then stormed out of the shop, but not before throwing one last "burn in hell" comment at you.

you saw him talk to his friend outside the window, watching as they both looked to you with disgusted looks on their faces. the two of them walked away from the shop and you allowed yourself to collapse back onto your stool.

you tried not to think about the interaction too much for the rest of the day, but as soon as you started to close up shop for the day, you heard the bell ring again.

robin.

you smiled a bit watching your girlfriend walk into the shop with a paper bag in her hand.

"hey there lovely, i got us some burgers. wanna check out a movie from next door and eat at mine? steve's working tonight." robin was so happy, being able to steal her girlfriend from her job.

but your smile fell, thinking back to those two guys. and as you started to cry, you felt the weight of the conversation fall onto your back.

"hey- hey." robin quickened her pace and threw the bag onto the counter before coming around the back and pulling you into a hug.

"what happened?" her tone was soft, the rasp in her voice even more apparent. you hugged her back, putting your head on her shoulder. robin let you cry, not saying anything until you brought your head back up and wiped your tears.

"there were these two guys that came into the shop today," you started replaying the conversation for robin, trying to keep it together for as long as possible.

"i just- i don't understand why people are so cruel. they treat people like us like- like we're alien murderers." you ran a hand through your hair and looked to robin, whose gaze you've been avoiding the entire time.

"i am so sorry that happened to you today, and i'm so sorry i couldn't be there with you. those guys are insecure assholes that couldn't even get a straight girl to go out with them." you laughed a little bit. "don't listen to them, that whole 'you're going to hell' spiel is bullshit."

you nodded, finally calming down. "plus," robin started again, "you are the prettiest alien murderer i've ever seen" she finished, offering one of her famous semi-awkward grins. you laughed even more at this, taking robin's hand and kissing it.

"thank you, i don't know what i would do without you." you said softly. robin shook her head and pulled you in for another hug, kissing the side of your head.

when the two of you pulled away from each other, robin grabbed the forgotten bag of burgers and took your hand.

"well, these burgers aren't going to eat themselves. finish up here and i'll meet you next door."

"wait, isn't family video closed?" you nodded to the clock and robin shook her head.

"ah you sweet little alien murderer, stevey boy owes me a favor."

[softboydrew]

sneak away and love me

warning: this piece has smut- oral sex

- long awaited first smut piece. pls don't bite my head off LMAO

Drew was in a predicament, a big one in fact.

You might wonder why, and it’s because of his girlfriend, who looks like molten sex appeal in a soft sugar cone while sitting on their shared towel with water droplets all over her newly tanned skin.

He watches her from afar as she innocently reads her newest beach read. He can’t help but smile at her, of course she’d try and get out of the water earlier than everyone else.

Which brings us back to why Drew mentally curses himself.

A weekend getaway with friends is always a good idea, but not when you want alone time with your girlfriend, and Drew hasn’t gotten any alone time with y/n since they arrived.

Granted, there hasn’t been time in between long beach days- to hourly dinners that lead to way too much overpriced wine, causing everyone including the couple to fall face first into their pillows.

“Who wants to go to the Airbnb and grab lunch?” Y/n says, snapping drew out of his sulky mood.

“I’m gonna stay” Maddie shouts back.

"Were good!" Rudy chimes in before turning around to splash the rest of your friends.

Drew looks around at their friends who shrug their shoulders, all of them still enjoying the refreshing water that helps them escape the heat.

Drew doesn’t even say anything while he feels himself splashing towards y/n, she’s sliding on her cotton shorts and smiling at him as she grabs her phone.

“You sure you don’t wanna miss water tag?” She says pointing towards her friends making him to crinkle his nose.

Y/n laughs, shaking her head at him before he grabs her small hand in his while they begin making their way back to the bungalow.

"I'd rather do something else" he says, licking his salty lips.

"I know, I'm starving!" she says, not catching the drift of his underlying comment. His lips tremble into a smirk at her innocence.

"Mhm" he hums.

-

"This sandwich has been calling my name all afternoon." Y/n chuckles as she reaches into the fridge to retrieve the sandwich in question. She garbs the bag of jalapeño chips from the cabinet and brings the food to the island counter, where her boyfriend sits, his fingers tapping impatiently against the marble.

"I bet." Drew says uninterested- sticking his tongue against his cheek as he watches her pop a chip into her mouth.

Y/n gives Drew a questionable look as she takes a bite out of her sandwich before looking around the large kitchen and back over at him. "Are you not going to eat?" she questions. "You didn't have to come here just for me, babe." she says, covering her mouth after swallowing her food.

"Oh I will, I'm just not in the mood for that." Drew says, making his way around the counter to stand next to his girlfriend who of course, has no idea what he's talking about.

"Okay, then get something else." she deadpanned. "I think we still have that potato salad in the fridge if you want."

Drew hums as he moves his body closer to hers and runs his finger tips against the back of her arm, causing a shiver up her spine as she reaches for the glass of water in front of her. "I don't want that either." he says quietly, making his way towards her damp hair, sliding it over her other shoulder.

Y/n's eyes widen once she realizes what her boyfriends intentions are and she can't help but scoff as she feels his lips fan against the back of her exposed neck. Drew kisses her shoulder while wrapping his arms around her hips, allowing his body to press against her in all the right places. He traces his lips up against her soft skin and y/n giggles, feeling his hot breath tickle against her neck as she leans back and feels his hardness from the instant contact of her lower back.

"What do you want then?" she asks, turning around in his hold, disregarding her half eaten sandwich.

"You're finally catching on?" he teases while gripping her hips between his large palms.

Y/n scowls at him making him chuckle and bite his lip as he watches her run her small hands up and down his torso. "Well, why didn't you just say so?"

Drew lets out a long huff and dips his head down towards her face level and presses his nose against hers, rutting his hips against hers in the process, causing y/n to let out a sharp breath. "Too many distractions." he groans before pressing his lips against hers forcefully.

Y/n's hands travel up towards his hair and griped onto the strands, earning a moan to escape her boyfriends lips. The way her body arched under his made him swell even more than he thought possible. The way her soft hands dug into his hair as they both explored each other's mouths with wonder like they haven't took in one another in a decade made the fire ignite in bottom of y/n's stomach, earning a whimper to escape from her now, red swollen lips.

Y/n's head fell back as Drew pushed her harder against the marble counter, his large hands gripping her hips in a addictive fashion. The thin fabric of her cotton shorts would be no match for the bruises she'd probably see tomorrow, but she didn't mind, she craved it as she felt him use his lips as a paint brush against the canvas of exposed skin. The sponges of kisses against her chest began to travel down, down, down her body and she sucked in a breath as she looked down to see her boyfriend drop to his knees, his face being level to her core.

"Not here." she croaked out, her hand flying to her chest in surprise as Drew smiled at how he's already got her mesmerized by his actions.

"C'mon, pretty girl."

Drew stands to his feet and chuckled as y/n immediately jumped into his arms eagerly. Wrapping her legs around him, causing him to let out a sharp inhale at the contact of her heat against his member. She swallows his sounds against her lips while he carefully maps out the way to the bedroom they shared. To their advantage, the bedroom was straight down the hall from the kitchen and with enough ease Drew managed to get the both of them behind the bedroom door without any hiccups. With smug satisfaction at the way y/n attacked his face and neck with sloppy kisses and teasing touches Drew let his girlfriend down onto her own feet and stood back to take in her presence.

"Thank God for no stairs." He says causing them to let laughter fill the bedroom as he gripped her shorts by his pointer finger, pulling her closer to him in the process.

"I can't believe you didn't trip or slam me into something." Y/n giggles making them both snort in remembrance of previous mishaps.

"Shut up!" Drew giggles as y/n watches him slide down her shorts, painfully slow causing her to press her lips together as they finally pool down at her feet.

She locks eyes with him as he backs her up towards the bed, a haunting smirk forming on his lips as he quickly pushed her onto the bed, a soft giggle falling from y/n as he crawls over her while she awkwardly shuffles towards the pillows. Blushes and bashfulness bubbling between them as Drew watched y/n's head fall back against the fluffy pillows.

"Come here" y/n pleads, clutching onto the back of his neck, forcing his lips onto hers greedily. Drew's body fits perfectly against y/n's and they both moan at the contact of his tongue finally meeting hers again causing Drew's hips to twist into hers, whimpers drown between the two of them. "P-please." she whines, her neck arching at the feeling of him pulse against the bottoms of her bikini.

Y/n's back arched painfully as Drew repeated his movements, the both of the gasping out as y/n gripped at his shoulders. "Please what?" he taunted as he roamed the palm of his hand against her chest, pinching her nipple earning a cry from y/n.

"Y-you know wh-what." she stuttered with her eyes snapped shut and her bottom lip between her teeth as she felt his hands drag down towards her bottoms. "Don't tease me." she snapped, feeling his ego pool around them.

Drew laughed as she opened her eyes and dug her nails into his shoulder blades, the sting making excitement jolt through his body before he decided to pull down her bottoms, throwing them across the room knowing that she'd have his head later for not being able to find them.

"I won't tease you." he finally said. "Not until you tell me what you want." he said darkly causing y/n to instinctively try and snap her legs shut at the raspiness of his voice causing his eyes to darken. "Speak." he ordered making y/n's legs give out from under her, her heat pulsing at each demanding word he spoke.

"I-" she sighed as her cheeks flushed under his hard gaze, "I- I want your mouth..." she let out an embarrassed chuckle.

Drew pressed his lips together noticing her lack of confidence, his hand traveling up her body and gripped her chin in his large hand, forcing her to look up at him. A smile in return made y/n's nerves quickly fade as she looked at her boyfriend who did nothing but adore her especially at her most vulnerable. "Where do you want my mouth?" he questioned lightly making y/n bite her lip and arch her hips against his. "Use your words baby." he said in amusement.

"I want your lips here." she whispered, gripping his hand a bringing it down towards her sex, Drew's mouth went agape as he watched her eyes roll back at the slight friction of his knuckles against her naked self. "I'm asking nicely." she said with excited eyes.

Without a word Drew pushed off of his elbows and crawled down against her, giggles filling the room once again as y/n watched him grip her curvy hips and trace his hands against her thighs and spread them open for him.

"Open for me pretty girl." His breath fanned against her bundle making her shiver and lay her hands on he head as she watched his eyes take in her state. Before she could even take another breath, Drew's lips hungrily found where she needed him most and her fingers dug into his hair painfully tight causing him to moan against her body.

The feeling of him vibrating against her caused y/n to let out a cry, her head falling to the side as her back arched against his lips while he explored her with gentle strokes of his tongue, her mind slipping away into pure bliss.

"Does that feel nice baby girl?" he groaned against her with flushed cheeks, his hunger finally being met as he tased her arousal.

"Yesyes!" y/n moaned not being able to breath in a pause as she felt his lips capture her bundle of nerves in ways that were villainous. "Don't stop, please let me-" she didn't even have the luxury of finishing her sentence as drew shoved her hips down back onto the mattress, hungrily finishing off what he had been craving all weekend long. The bedroom was now filled with moans that would make passerby's gawk and stop in surprise. Y/n didn't care, nor have the capacity to stop herself from the explosion of bliss she felt, her legs shaking as she felt her boyfriends palm rest against her mouth and encourage her to scream into his hand as he moved his other set of fingers into her entrance to allow, one, two, three fingers explore her in ways nobody ever could.

"Go ahead, I got you. I got you." he encouraged with words that dripped liked honey causing y/n's fire to burst, her back arching as her hand quickly moved to grip the duvet, her eyes snapping shut as waves thrashed around her, Drew's hand moving from her mouth to let her come undone as he gripped onto her hip and support her movements against his mouth, her noises dying into whimpers as she crashed against the mattress. "There you go, I told you I got you." he mused.

Pulling away from her center, y/n gulped at the loss of contact, her sleepy eyes opening to reveal her boyfriend crawling beside her now, his hand caressing her body as she smiled weakly at him. Drew's eyes filled will concern as she placed her hand against his bicep and nodded reassuringly. "Thank you." she whispered.

"You need anything?" he wondered.

"I'm perfect." she hummed happily.

Drew chuckles and leans towards y/n, kissing her lips tenderly earning a hum from y/n as she tastes herself on his lips. She moves her shaky hand towards the elastic of his swim trunks making him grip her hand as he sits up slowly. "It's okay, we can take a break." he says looking down at her.

"Are you sure?" she says running her hands up his arm tenderly.

Drew nods, bending down to retrieve a soft kiss, "Always." he promises. "Lets get you cleaned up, okay?" he nearly whispers as he stands from the bed and scoops y/n up into his arms, heading towards the ensuite as she let out soft giggles and thank you's.

"I can walk myself you know!" y/n chimed as he set her down on the tiled floor.

Drew flashed his bright smile her way as he turned on the hot water for the shower, kicking off his trunks and watching y/n slip off her top. "I like taking care of you though." he said cheekily, taking her hand and pulling her into the shower with him.

The two wincing at the satisfying warmth of the water. Y/n wrapped her arms around Drew as he grabbed the wash cloth and began cleaning her off, her cheeks tinted pink as she watched him lovingly.

"I don't think we're ever gonna go back to the beach if you keep treating me so good." y/n teased.

"I could go an extra round plus dessert." Drew winked.

[kikixreverie]

Hi- may I ask for an angst-mix with Bucky x reader: she had her share of abusive/toxic relationships in her past, but it was nothing she spoke of, and not now when she had James. It wasnt like she thought she was gonna be triggered again, not by him, any other guy- buy not her Bucky! Some tiny bickering evolved to a large dispute, and before she knew what was happening, she shied away from him, making herself small, awaiting the blow - that never came... And instead she was overcome by shame...

Pasts and Apologies

Bucky x Fem!reader

Word count - 3k

Warnings - Mentions of domestic abuse from ex, some descriptions of abuse, angst, trauma

A/n - Okay I definitely went hard on the angst for this one. I kinda just went off on one so not so much bickering and more just a full blown argument but I've been feeling kinda angsty lately so I kinda accidentally made this darker than I expected. Please read the warnings and do not read if you think this could trigger you.

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

Love had not been kind to you before Bucky. Every decent memory of your ex was clouded with uncertainty, you would walk on eggshells around him, terrified that saying the wrong thing would set him off and you'd be calling Sam again, sobbing down the phone, cradling another bruise at the hands of your 'partner'.

You were together for years, devoted to and unconditionally in love with the man that you had met in high school. Childhood sweethearts.

He always was quick to anger and he wasn't shy about that. He never had any issues with shouting at you when you pissed him off, just as he never had issues with shouting at his mother or younger brother, but at the time, you had always stood up for yourself and defended the poor woman, making him apologise, and he let you, he always let you clean up his messes.

The first few years were spent in ignorant bliss, you constantly ignored the fear that would creep up your spine when he got angry, but you could manage a screaming match or two, you could manage it all because you loved him, you depended on him despite that he wasn't at all dependable.

The arguments were tough, but you never expected it to go further than that, but eventually, it did.

The first time he was physically aggressive was on his 22nd birthday. He had insisted that he spend his birthday with his friends, calling it a guys night, and you were fine with that, you knew how handsy he got when he was with his friends anyway, so you spent the day with him instead, making sure to keep him happy and spoilt rotten.

As the night crept on, you had tried to wait up for him to return, just as he had asked, but as it passed 3am you decided that he wouldn't mind you going to bed since you had work the next day, so you crawled into bed and fell asleep, a mistake, at the time, you didn't know you had made.

When he returned half an hour later to see you unconscious, he woke you up with his shouting, angry that you hadn't stayed up for him, convinced that you were ruining his night on purpose. The loud awakening was enough alone to trigger your fight or flight but when he threw the duvet off you and grabbed your ankle so tightly you knew a bruise would form, you were terrified. He dragged you off the bed and pushed you towards the door, telling you to fuck off, and you did, tears streaming down your face as you laid awake on the couch till morning.

It only got worse from there, when he realised that he could hurt you and get away with it, it became his favourite past time, he'd look for reasons to shout at you, make you do things that would piss him off just so he'd have a reason to be cruel.

When Sam started noticing dark bruises on your skin, he was livid, and despite how often you'd try to convince him that it's just clumsiness, Sam knew better.

There were rare days that you would have long conversations with Sam, you'd talk about how you'd lost all your friends and distanced yourself from your family but you didn't blame your abuser, you blamed only yourself, and Sam would beg you to leave him but you'd be sobbing in his arms, telling him that you still loved the man who hurt you, that he didn't really mean to hurt you and you'd feel even more guilt if you ever got him in trouble for it.

It was a long and hard journey, but the moment you told Sam that you wanted out, he was there for you, offering you to stay at his place and helping you call the cops. He gave you all the resources he could possibly find through the VA and set you up with an amazing therapist and eventually you were living in your own place, talking to old friends again, and filing a restraining order against your ex.

It was nearly two years later when you met him. Introduced through Sam, you met the love of your life on a Sunday. He was quiet and focused, with hard eyes scanning the room, looking for escape routes, analysing people's faces.

You smiled gently at him when you met, opting for a small nod in greeting instead of a handshake. You stayed near him for the remainder of the gathering, not pressuring him to speak to you, just sitting in silence. You were drawn to him, his behaviour was so similar to yours.

You knew what it felt like to want to just blend into the corner, to stay unnoticed, you understood the need to know how to escape a room, and you saw the way he hesitantly returned your smile and then struggled to chase his smile away once you had sat down beside him.

You and Bucky soon became each other's rocks, always there for the other on the hard days, days that you would spend just walking or reading together in calm silence. There was no doubt that the two of you loved each other, and after months and months of trying to hide longing glances and blushing cheeks, you finally confessed to each other, and the rest was history. You trusted him like you had never trusted anyone before.

As your relationship progressed, Bucky started to notice some strange things in your behaviour, how you'd always ask his permission for you to go out with friends, how you were always quick to apologise in any situation and distanced yourself from him when he was the slightest bit irritated.

He had tried to ask you about it, but you always changed the subject as soon as it was mentioned, ensuring him that it was nothing to worry about.

To tell the truth, you were embarrassed, you were ashamed that your ex still had this effect on you, and no matter how many times you told yourself that he would never, that your Bucky would never, your brain refused to allow you to believe it and you continued with the odd behaviour that you used as a defence mechanism when in the abusive relationship.

You never spoke out of line, you never asked him where or who he was going out with, and you never let small bickering escalate.

It was only after you had overheard Sam and Bucky in a heated conversation, Sam scolding Buck for being reckless and stupid during a mission, that you had your first argument with him.

You had called Sam while Bucky was at the store, convincing him to tell you what had happened and after a few minutes of guilt-tripping, Sam finally confessed that Bucky had practically ran into open fire, endangering himself in an attempt to shut down a Hydra base, it could've very easily been fatal, and it wasn't the first time something like this had happened.

You knew it was wrong, you knew you should've just asked Bucky about it, but you couldn't help yourself, and you knew that Bucky would've downplayed the whole situation.

When he returned home you were pacing up and down in the living room, chewing the inside of your cheeks and your nails to pieces because you could've lost him, Bucky could've died and he was acting as if it were nothing.

"Doll?" You could hear the worry in his voice as he placed the shopping bags on the kitchen counter and walked over to you, standing in front of you to stop your movement, pulling your hand from your mouth and kissing your knuckles.

It was supposed to calm you, and it almost did, but as his soft lips grazed your hand, and his eyes met yours, your mind kept wandering to the fact that he could've died.

This moment could've never happened, instead, you'd have Sam or Steve at your door, trying to deliver the news of their best friend's death, your lover.

"Honey speak to me" He looked utterly confused, but the look only made you feel angry.

How could he be so reckless?

"I just got off the phone with Sam."

He froze, eyebrows furrowing and taking a step away from you, waiting for you to explain.

Your gaze didn't move from the floor, trying to even out the anger and worry rushing through you, settling like a heavy rock in your stomach.

"He told me about the missions, about how you've been acting."

"What do you mean, how I've been acting?" He scoffed, sounding offended, and you sighed.

"How reckless you've been acting. Sam said that Tony's considering pulling you out of missions! How many times have you endangered yourself like this? How many times is it gonna take for you to realise that you could fucking die out there, James."

Your voice was stern, and the tone felt foreign against your tongue. Bucky's kept his face hard, refusing to show any emotion, but you could see the way his jaw clenched harshly, eyes glued to the corner of the room, ignoring your fiery glare.

"Were you ever going to tell me? I thought that all the injuries you got were fairly normal for the jobs you do, but when I hear that you run into open fire, that you make decisions on your own before talking to your team, that you've gotten fucking stabbed in the past, and you never told me, how do you expect me to react?"

He sighed heavily through his nose, jaw ticking in annoyance towards his friend, angry that he had told you even though it wasn't his place.

"I told him not to tell you." His voice was gruff, the words spoken harshly under his breath and you felt your anger flair again.

"What and you think that's okay?!"

His gaze shot to yours, looking at you incredulously.

"Bucky we're partners! You're supposed to tell me this shit, you're supposed to tell me when you've nearly died on a mission, you're supposed to trust me."

"You think I don't trust you?!" His voice was slightly raised and you felt your annoyance spike, "I didn't tell you because I didn't want you to worry."

"Of course I'm gonna worry, James. This is a big deal, I can't believe you've been getting seriously injured and not telling me."

"Well, I don't think it's that big of a deal, Sam shouldn't have fucking told you. This wouldn't be happening if he had just kept his mouth shut, but no! Of course not!" Bucky's eyebrows were drawn in tight with annoyance, wishing you'd just drop the subject, "I'm not stupid, I know what I'm doing."

"What the hell do you mean 'You know what you're doing?' You know that you're not supposed to endanger yourself to complete a mission, yet you do it anyway. I'm glad Sam told me because otherwise, I doubt I'd ever find out!."

"I don't see how what I do on missions is anything to do with you. Sam is exaggerating. I'm fine!"

As Bucky's voice raised, you started to lose focus, flashbacks of your past echoing in your mind and in his annoyance, Bucky didn't notice the way your eyes had gone distant, losing sight of the man in front of you, the man you loved, and forming the image of the man you still see in nightmares, the man you're so terrified of seeing in the street that you haven't stepped foot in Queens since leaving him.

You could almost feel the sting of his palm against your cheek, the burn of his hand, tight around your wrist, and you tried to remind yourself that it wasn't real. It had been months since you'd had an episode, and your steps to control them were hard to find with the false image of your abuser so clear in front of you.

"Are you even listening to me?" The statement dragged you back to reality and you felt yourself calm when your eyes focused in on Bucky, reminding yourself that your ex wasn't here, that Bucky wasn't like that, he would never, but as he raised his arm to push his hair out of his face, everything flew out the window and in the moment, you were 21 again and you were sure he was going to hit you, your exes face flashing behind your eyes again.

You flinched, a gasp falling from your lips as your eyes squeezed shut and your head ducked down, breathing heavily through your nose as you awaited the hit.

Time slowed.

Bucky froze completely, his eyes wide and frantic as he quickly stumbled away from you, shaking his head as self-hatred ran through his veins, disgusted at himself for making you think even in the slightest, that he would ever hurt you.

"Doll?" He sounded absolutely broken.

Your head shot up, panic flooding through you when you realised what you had done and pain replacing the feeling when you saw the agony on Bucky's face.

"Y/n, I- I would never-" He kept his voice at a pained whisper, not wanting to scare you further as he stayed at a distance.

You collapsed to the floor, sitting on your knees as the weight of the situation pulled you down. Your hands raised to cover your mouth as a sob threatened to tear through you, so fucking ashamed of what had just happened, so fucking ashamed that your ex had done this to you, and you had let him for so long, ashamed that he still haunted you.

"Babydoll I-" He struggled to find the words, terrified that he had just lost you, wanting to reach out and hold you but scared shitless of hurting you more than he already had, "I don't know what- I'm so fucking sorry y/n, I can't- I can't even fathom the thought of-"

His voice trailed off, unable to even say the words and you felt your guilt tenfold.

"N-No Bucky, I'm sorry I thought-" You struggled to speak through your crying, hot tears flowing down your cheeks as you rocked yourself gently in an attempt to self-soothe.

"Why are you apologising honey? This is on me, this is-"

"No, it isn't, I promise Buck this isn't you, it's.." You couldn't get the words out, you couldn't tell him, "Just come here, please."

You wanted him to wrap his arms around you, you needed him to know that it wasn't him, you know the way his mind works and you knew that by now he would already be drowning in guilt and self-hatred.

"I don't think that I should. I don't want to hurt you, I can't- I can't hurt you" You smiled at him gently through your tears and your chin wobbled as you saw the tears running down his cheeks too.

"It's okay. I'm okay Bucky, I just- I-I need you over here, I need you - I need you to touch me. I need you."

He was over in an instant, falling to the floor beside you and letting out a huge sigh of relief when you instantly wrapped yourself around him, tucking your head into the crook of his neck and crawling into his lap, needing to be as close to him as possible, to rid the memories of the pain, to remind yourself that his touch is good, his touch is safe.

Arms enveloped you and he held you as tight as possible, the both of you crying.

After the two of you had calmed down and a comfortable silence enveloped you, Bucky knew he would have to break it.

"Why did you think that I would hit you?" He asked, his voice tentative and gentle and you sighed, knowing that it was time for you to tell him.

"I didn't, I don't, I promise."

You lifted your head from his shoulder but still stayed on his lap, instead, resting your forehead against his.

"Then why-?"

"I thought I was better, I-I thought it was all over but I just- I lost myself again. Everything got all foggy and I lost where I was and I just, I thought I was there but-" The floodgates opened again and you knew that Bucky had no clue what you were talking about but the words just kept coming.

Bucky's eyebrows were furrowed tightly and when your vague, confusing explanation only made his worry grow, he felt himself pulling you even tighter against him.

"Doll, Did someone hurt you? Is that why you're always walking on eggshells around me? Is that what the nightmares are about?" He struggled against the words, not wanting to say them because he didn't want to believe them and he watched in agony as you swallowed hard and nodded slowly, your hands coming to rest on the back of his neck as you continued to hold your forehead against his.

He refused to let his anger show, he wouldn't do that to you, especially with you so fragile, but he couldn't hide the pained shaky breath he let out at your confession, "Fuck, I'm so sorry. God, I'm so sorry that that happened to you. Was it your ex? Did he hurt you?"

You nodded again, doing your breathing exercises, and calming yourself so that you could explain your situation fully to your partner.

"I should've told you, I know, I just, I'm so angry that I'm still like this, I just wish it would all go away and I could forget about what he did. I thought I was better. I can't stand that I'm still so haunted by that asshole" Bucky nodded along as you spoke, brushing his fingers up and down your back to help calm you.

"It's okay, Doll. Things like that don't just go away. Believe me, I wish they did too, but things will get better, I promise you that. Thank you for telling me."

You scoffed in self-deprecation, "I should've told you ages ago."

"That doesn't matter, you've told me now, and I'm sure it wasn't easy, so thank you for sharing" His voice was so gentle, his hands caressing your back almost making you feel sleepy.

"And Buck?" He hummed in response, letting you know that he was listening, "About the mission thing, I'm just worried about you. I can't lose you, I need you, and I need you alive."

A gentle smile lifted his frown and he nodded in understanding, feeling bad for getting mad in the first place, and you leaned back, looking down at him, your hands playing with his hair.

"I know. I'm sorry for being an idiot, It's just so hard to look at them and remember what they did to me and know what they've done to so many innocent people and I just lose it, all rationality out the window" You nodded at him, understanding how painful some of the missions must be.

"I'm sorry I got so upset with you, and I'm sorry I went to Sam instead of talking to you. Don't be mad at him, I kinda forced him to tell me" You gave him a sheepish look and he breathed out a small laugh, his nose crinkling like you always loved.

"It's okay doll, I'm sorry for being so careless and hiding the stuff about the missions, I promise I'll be more careful, I gotta make sure I always come home to my sweet girl. And don't worry about Sam, you deserved to know and I know what you're like."

You tutted at him and he smiled in response, the adorable, loving look on his face making you pull him into the sweetest, softest kiss which he instantly returned.

After sitting together in each others embrace for a while, the yawns eventually started. You were both positively exhausted from all the emotions you had both just experienced so Bucky wrapped your legs around his waist and lifted you both from the floor, discarding the groceries still left in bags in the kitchen and carrying you to bed, holding you as close as physically possible as you both drifted off to sleep.

[kiridarling]

𝐁𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐓 𝐓𝐎 𝐃𝐎.

katsuki bakugou | competitive sex + f!reader + pro hero!kats + hickeys + hair-pulling + ripping clothes + a surprise guest + more! minors dni.

— 1.8k words

"Text Shitty Deku we're gonna be little late."

“Katsuki. Hands off.”

The ash-blond sighs, grumbling like the petulant child he is before forcing his hands to his sides. Glaring at you through the mirror, he grunts, “Fuckin’ why.”

"Because I'm trying to get ready and you're in the way." You swat his hands away and reach for a brush, rolling your eyes when he ignores everything you just said in favor of hooking his chin around your shoulder and wrapping his arms around your waist. You shrug him off, "Now move."

In your defense, you've been pushed to your limit.

You two are already late enough for the Gala as it is, you know, the one that's exclusively for pro heroes. And yet, for some reason, today's the day your boyfriend's brain seems to be in his dick.

Katsuki digs his teeth into your neck, hard enough to make you whimper before you rip his head away by the strands of his hair. He growls in frustration, the grip on your waist ever-tightening.

"Y'know...if people saw the type of shit you pull in private, they'd think you were the aggressive one."

"You let me get away with it," you respond absentmindedly, leaning towards the mirror until the cool from the counter presses into your gut. Mistake.

"Right. I've been too fuckin' soft, huh?" Katsuki says more to himself than to you before he's forcing you over the sink with a heavy hand on your back; the metal from the faucet knocks you in the collarbone. "That shit changes today."

"I—Kats, we don't have ti—" but the indisputable sound of ripping cloth bounces off your bathroom walls, and the addition of cool air brushing your inner thighs implies precisely what you hope he didn't just do.

His phone clatters on the counter before he's nudging your legs wider, nestling between them, and settling on his knees.

"Text Shitty Deku we're gonna be late."

"Katsuki Bakugou, did you just rip my fucking stockings?" You howl, grip tightening around the marble countertop in fury. Katsuki growls, delivering a heavy slap to your ass.

"I said fuckin' text him."

Your chest rises and falls with indignance, and yet you're punching in the code to his phone anyway, telling Izuku to reserve two spots at the table next to him because you two won't be able to do it yourselves.

"D'ya send it?" Katsuki asks, having a blast as he kneads your exposed ass to the point where it's sore. You nod, dropping the six-by-four box onto the countertop in resignation, and the ash-blond's chest rumbles at that, hand disappearing only to crack back down twice as hard. "Good girl."

Pushing your panties to the side, Katsuki wastes no time in sliding in his finger to the first knuckle, grinning when you shudder against him. You squeal as his teeth graze your inner thigh, and he hikes your knee onto the couch, dismissing how much you complain about the burn.

"What? Can't get a better view?" He growls, cheeky bastard, before he's sucking a hickey into your thigh because he knows you like it and pushing his finger in the rest of the way. You narrow your eyes, glaring at the small sliver of his smug face you can actually see in the mirror—and he's quickly filling you with a second finger, chuckling at your moan.

"You shouldn't have a view in the first place," you grumble, insistent on standing your ground. "You should be viewing the road because we're supposed to be driving right now."

"That's a real fuckin' pity then," Katsuki responds apathetically, lips pink as he moves to suck another hickey—closer to the apex of your thighs this time. You whimper as he scissors his fingers and passes a messy thumb over your clit, hips burning from holding this position for so long. With a final lick, Katsuki pulls away from his third or fourth mark (you're not too sure) and smacks his lips. "On the sink."

"On the c—Katsuki we have to g—wah!"

Katsuki takes it upon himself to hook his arms under your thighs and hoist you onto the cool thing, sending all miscellaneous bathroom items flying. You sigh, accepting the fact that you're probably not going to make it out of the house tonight as your back kisses the freezing glass, and Katsuki pushes your knees as far back as they'll go.

He curls a lip, and then he spits, getting saliva all over your pussy and thighs, and it's wholly and utterly lewd. And yet, you bite your lip at the feeling, and he grins, knowing you like it just as much as you'll say you hate it.

"You're a fuckin' dirty girl, y'know that?" Katsuki's eyes go dark. You huff, threading a hand through his ash-blond locks to tug—and you're the one grinning when he moans.

"I'm not the one who's making us skip a mandatory gala to get his dick wet," you quip with a raised eyebrow, and your hand never leaves his hair. "Am I?"

Katsuki growls with a curled lip, but you know better, and so does the clammy grip on your thigh. You tug on his hair again, and suddenly you're full of him, yelping in surprise as your arms scramble for his back for better purchase instead.

"What was that?" He asks breathily, hiding a groan behind a bitten lip. You're just thankful he's giving you time to adjust, or so you think, until he almost pulls out entirely before his hips snap forwards as hard as they can, knocking your spine into the mirror and a bottle of lotion onto the floor.

You moan, hands searching for his hair again because you know it's one of the only things that will provide a one-up—Katsuki bares his teeth at that, bending over to suck a mark into your neck and his hips continue to fuck you into tomorrow.

"You fit like a goddamn glove," Katsuki wheezes, the grip he has around your stocking-covered thigh edging on bruising. "So tight around me—fuck—"

"K-Kats—" you grapple for his dress shirt so hard it tears, causing you to crash against the counter and make more of a mess that's already been made. The ash-blond's hips don't do anything but speed up though, filling you to the point where a deep breath feels like too much.

"Fuck baby, you're so goddamn needy," Katsuki grabs your attention by your jaw with a gritty chuckle, "But this shit's only for me, ain't it? 'Cause you're fuckin' mine."

You whimper with a nod, nails latching onto hot and sticky skin now. Katsuki hisses as they rake down his back, but that only makes you want to dig in harder.

"Fuckin' say it—tell me you're mine and no one else's," he challenges with a glint in his carmine red eyes, and something in your gut churns underneath it. Something painfully primal and raw, which has you howling out:

"'M yours, only yours!"

You jolt when his thumb returns to your clit and refuses to let up. Katsuki growls at that, somehow finding the stamina to speed up—and gripping your shoulder for leverage. You moan, eyes fluttering as his cock reaches the deepest it has tonight, and you’re sure Katsuki can tell as well if his curse is anything to go by.

Ring, ring! Ring ring!

Surprisingly, Katsuki's phone survived the purge and still sits on the counter, albeit teetering on the edge of absolute destruction. The ash-blond catches it before it falls and has the nerve to swipe right, not allowing you to fit in an objection or any say in this at all.

"The fuck do you want, Deku?" He grunts, putting the phone on speaker before he sets it back down. You eep in protest, but all he does is mouth the words quiet, baby. So you're huff, biting onto the meat of your palm for extra precaution.

"Um, Kacchan? Where are you guys?" The greenette's voice echoes off the bathroom walls to the point where it's nearly comical how clueless he is, and yet Katsuki refuses to slow down. "People are starting to ask when you're getting here..."

"Not fuckin' goin'," Katsuki's sweat drips from his brow onto your chest, and all of a sudden, you're aware of how painfully close you are, but hold back in fear of making too much noise. Izuku sighs through the phone, and you can feel his disappointment from here.

"I—Kacchan, you can't just opt out of these things, you know," Izuku says, echoing your words from earlier. "Mandatory means you have to attend."

"Yeah, well, I got better shit to do, Deku," the ash-blond spits, though he's grinning like the devil because the asshole knows you're close, he can just tell at this point, and you hate how well he knows your body.

"It doesn't matter if you don't want to go, Kacchan!" The pro-hero shrills, voice peaking out of pure frustration. "This is mandatory. As in, M-A-N-D-A-T—"

Katsuki hangs up.

"Why is everyone so goddamn mouthy these days?" He grunts, primarily to himself, and somehow you have the will to giggle. Katsuki's eyebrows furrow as you tighten around him, spurred when the head of his cock nudges the perfect spot, and his nails start to tear into what's left of your stockings as he shudders, "I—fuck baby, I'm gonna cum."

"What? Being on the phone with Izuku got you all riled up or something?" You jest breathily, and Katsuki growls, slapping your outer thigh.

"Don't fuckin' bring the nerd up right now," he wheezes, and you resist the urge to quip back—mainly because you're close yourself. You reach to pull Katsuki's hair again and his hips stutter, eyes fluttering with a breathy moan as he finally fills you up, keening over to dig his teeth into your neck. And his orgasm is only the catalyst for your own, thumping your hands against his chest as your body ignites like a live wire, toes curling and eyes screwed shut.

Katsuki stays seated in you as he catches his breath, head resting on the cool mirror with his ash-blond hair mattes brown to his forehead. He's always uncharacteristically soft while basking in his afterglow, face and chest flushed bright red from exertion as his eyes soften in a way he rarely lets them.

"You good?" He pants, chest still heaving as he blinks down at your exhausted figure. Somehow, you find the energy to nod.

"I don't feel like leaving anymore, though," you declare towards the ceiling. Katsuki clicks his tongue.

"Was hopin' you'd say that," he says gruffly—you narrow your eyes but bite your tongue. "Wanna watch a movie?"

A movie doesn't sound...bad.

You sigh in defeat (again), though jolting when Katsuki's phone rings. He quickly presses red, and 9 missed calls from shitty fucking deku is the first notification on his home screen. You two share a look—the ash-blond shrugs.

"What? I told the fucker I had better shit to do."

wrote this for a friends bday and i was like,,,i guess i could put it here too...

[cjsinkythoughts]

In Need of a Breath

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Reader

Word Count: 4007

Warnings: !FATWS SPOILERS!, Cursing, Zemo, Feelings, Another PTSD Flashback

A/N: So…Part 4 is going to have a couple parts to it. Maybe even three. I didn’t even make it half way through the episode on this one, mainly because I really wanted to fit in the Reader’s backstory and I wanted her and Sam to have a heart-to-heart again. I’m suuuuper tired, so I probably won’t be posting the next part for another few hours (it’s 5 am right now and I haven’t slept), BUT it’s my day off work and I won’t be doing anything I planned because my grandmother had a stroke a couple days ago so plans have changed and I’m staying in to help her, meaning I’ll mostly be writing all day. 

This Part is kind of a mix between off-screen and shot-by-shots, but it’s mostly off screen/what’s going on inside Reader’s head.

I’m really excited about future parts and the characters that are being introduced! I will say that after these parts, I will be doing one shots of previous MCU movies with the Reader, due to the information that is being given about the Reader now. You kind of see more of how she was affected/how she affected the previous MCU movies and what she was doing during that time.

Like always, this hasn’t been beta’d, again it’s SUPER early in the morning, and I’m really tired, so please excuse any mistakes! I hope you guys enjoy this part! Stay tuned for more to come later today!

FATWS MASTERLIST

cjsinkythoughts MASTERLIST

!SPOILERS UNDER CUT!

“You know…I’m really starting to regret saying yes to this.” You huffed out, craning your neck and squinting your eyes against the sun as you stare at the facility in front of you, hating the skin-crawling feeling of being back.

“Would you relax? Whenever you’re nervous, I get nervous, and I don’t wanna be nervous about this.” Sam shifted his weight from one foot to the other.

“Do either of you have a better plan?” Bucky grumbled, crossing his arms.

Gnawing on your lips, you finally take the lead and breathe out, “alright. Let’s go then.” You could feel the hesitance from your - what were they? Partners? Coworkers? Teammates? - the fellas before they started after you.

There was a sick twist in your gut as you entered the building, going through the lobby and security.

You had been there.

You had been there when Zemo impersonated Bucky. You had been there when Zemo unleashed the Winter Soldier at the Joint Counter Terrorist Centre Building in Berlin. You had been there during the battle at the airport. You had been there when Zemo turned Tony and Steve against each other in Siberia. You had been there when Zemo tore the Avengers from the inside out. Your family. The only family you’d ever known.

But you’d always been good about pushing your personal feelings aside for the sake of the mission. It’s what you’d been born to do. All you ever knew.

“Hey. Doll. You hear me?”

“Hmm. What?” You looked up from the ground to look into those enchanting blue oceans Bucky had for eyes, staring worriedly down at you, eyebrows pinched and forehead creased.

“I’m going in alone.” You frowned, opening your mouth to argue, but he shook his head. “Sam already agreed-”

“I didn’t necessarily agree-”

“You’re an Avenger, sweetheart.” Bucky tilted his head, speaking softly, those eyes of his worried. Worried for you. It made your stomach flip. “And you were there in Siberia, and that almost makes it worse. Especially considering you went after him. Just…just let me do this, okay?”

You cracked your knuckles nervously as you thought. It was a terrible idea. But it was an idea. And it was all they had. “Okay.” You finally relented, shrugging as your hands hit your thighs and slid up to your hips. “But don’t do anything stupid.”

“Steve took all that with him.”

Knowing about their little inside joke, you scoffed. “Sure he did. Go before I change my mind.”

You watched him walk down the hallway, hands fidgeting with excess nerves. “I think you’re the only one he actually seeks approval from.”

“Good thing I’m so lenient then, huh?” You joked, turning to Sam with a strained smile. Your smile slipped at the curious expression on Sam’s face, his eyes darting to each of your features. “What?”

“Are you doing okay?”

You groaned, throwing your head back. You thought you got out of talking about your feelings back in Baltimore. “Oh my God, Sam-”

“I’m serious. You…you just don’t seem like yourself.”

You shook your head, looking down the hall to where Bucky disappeared before turning back to him. It was weird to have a self that people recognized. Your whole life you’d been searching for it and when you finally found it…everything went to shit. “Honestly, Sammy, the only time I’ve ever felt like myself was with the team. Zemo took that away from me and now we’re here, practically begging him for help.”

Sam hummed, leaning against the wall. “Have you thought of taking a break?”

“What?”

“A break.” At your bewildered look, he rolled his eyes. “Cher, this time last year most of us were dead. This time a few months ago you found out about Wanda. This time last week you were out looking for her. Maybe you should just stop and take a breather.”

Shoving your hands in your pocket and looking at the floor, you couldn’t help but snort at his advice. “I haven’t taken a breather since I was eighteen.”

He clicked his tongue. “That’s my point. FBI academy as soon as you graduated. SHIELD recruit by 21, undercover operations leader by 24? Slow down. You’re in your thirties. Next thing you know, you’re gonna be ninety something, lying on your deathbed, wishing you had stopped to smell the roses.”

“If I live to be ninety, shoot me.” He chuckled in amusement. “I’m so fucking serious, Sam. I will not be put in an old folks home to play Bingo and be pushed around in a wheelchair. It ain’t happening.”

“I’ll see what I can do.” There was that infectious smile, which you unconsciously grinned back at. “Y/N…I’m serious. You’ve been in and out of missions since you were a teenager. What’s the shortest undercover operation you’ve done?”

“I dunno.”

He gave you an unimpressed look. “Yeah you do.”

Licking your lips, you turned away and shrugged. “A couple months. Seven weeks and three days, to be precise. September to October in 2012.”

“And the longest?”

“August 2007 to May 2009. Twenty one months.” 

Letting out a puff of air through his nose, Sam pushed himself off the wall and caught your chin between his fingers to make you look at him. “That’s nearly two years under cover. And I’m sure you went right back under after-”

“I was sitting at a desk for four months doing paperwork on it.” You defended yourself.

He shook his head, brows knitting together, lips drawn down. “You say that as if four months is enough time.”

“It doesn’t matter anymore, Sammy. I’m out. I’ve been out since Ultron and Sokovia. I haven’t been under in almost a decade-”

“A decade half the world was dead for half of-”

“I wasn’t!”

“I never said you were.” Sam sighed, closing his eyes for a moment. You were always amazed at his ability to keep his emotions in check. To stay cool under pressure. Sometimes you forgot how experienced he was with dealing with other people’s trauma. It was no wonder why Steve thought he’d be good for Bucky. “Listen. All I’m saying is once this is done…don’t go diving back into searching for Wanda. Don’t go running to the kid every time he calls - and I know you’ve been doing that-”

“It’s just been homework and stuff-”

“Y/N.” You stopped, biting your lip at the stern look he gave you. “Go home. Order take out. Binge watch TV. Go for a jog through the park. Actually meet your neighbors. Go grocery shopping. Just…live. If only for a couple weeks. Don’t worry about anyone else. Don’t pick up the phone, don’t drop everything because someone needs you. You need you.”

“I-I…” You shook your head, looking at him, sincerely apologetic. “I can’t. I wish I could. But I can’t. I’ve never had one normal day in my life. I’ve never had someone to care for, never had someone to care for me. I can’t let people I’ve come to…I can’t let them think I don’t care. I don’t even know where I’d go.”

“Whaddya mean?”

You winced, not thrilled for his reaction to your next statement. “I, uh, I sold my apartment in D.C.”

He gaped at you in complete disbelief. “You got it in December!”

“I know, I know. I liked it. I really did, but…I dunno. Nomadic life has always suited me better. It’s what I grew up with.”

He took a breath, making you cringe again. You don’t think you’ve ever legitimately gotten on his nerves like this before. “Have you ever thought that, instead of going with the flow and jumping place to place, putting down roots might actually help?” He cut you off before you could say anything, holding up a finger to stop you from talking. “I can’t imagine going from foster home to foster home like you did. I can’t imagine not having a home for as long as you can remember. Louisiana’s my home. Always has, always will be. But I understand your life has been anything but stable. And maybe, just maybe, that’s why you need some stability.”

You clenched your jaw, crossing your arms. “The Avengers were my stability. Steve was my stability.”

“Because you loved him.”

“I’m not doing this with you again.” You turned to walk down to the lobby to wait for Bucky there, but Sam caught your arm.

“You were in love with him! It’s okay! You two were super close! No one would blame you! Why won’t you just admit it? I’m trying to understand! Why won’t you-”

You tugged your arm away, finally snapping at him. “Because he could never be mine, Wilson! Is that what you wanna hear?!” Sam took a step back at your exclamation. You closed your eyes, swallowing the lump in your throat and pushing down the tears. “He could preach all he wanted about moving forwards, Sammy, but we all knew he was stuck in the past. He visited the museum every Thursday because her interview showed in his exhibit on Thursdays. He carried around that broken compass because her picture was in it.” You looked back up at him sadly, shrugging. “And I get it; it’s hard to move past your first love. I get it because…that’s what he was to me.”

There was a silence that blanketed the hallway, before he spoke up hesitantly. “What about Bucky?”

“I thought - I thought I was projecting my feelings for Steve onto him because I knew Steve couldn’t ever…”

Sam raised an eyebrow. “You thought? What do you think now?”

You cleared your throat. “I’m still figuring that one out.”

“If you ever need to talk, I’ll be here.”

You chuckled, nodding slightly towards him. “Back atcha. Don’t think I haven’t noticed you not being yourself lately, either.”

“It’s…a tough topic.”

You nodded in understanding. “Just know that I’ll support every decision you make as long as you think it’s the right one. Because I trust you. Steve trusted you. It’s all we can do to try to do what’s right. That’s what makes you a good man, Sammy. He gave you that shield for a reason, and if you think what you did was right…I’ll stand by it.”

The two of you stared at each other for a moment, calming down in each other’s presences and taking comfort knowing you’d be there for each other through thick and thin. “Thank you, cher.”

“Of course, Sammy. Now let’s go see what’s taking the old grump so long.”

He laughed at that, nodding in agreement, taking your offered hand and squeezing it as you made your way down the hall.

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

“What?”

Bucky eyed you as you spluttered, coughing on the water you were drinking. “Please don’t choke, doll.”

“Break him out of jail?!” You repeated his words and blinked at him, absolutely baffled by his plan. “Oh my God.” You groaned as Bucky and Sam started arguing, moving your flashlight around the room. “Where the hell are we?” There was no response as they kept going back and forth.

“Zemo’s gonna mess with our minds! Especially yours! No offense.”

“Heelllloooo!” You tried again. “Where the hell are we?!”

Bucky turned on the lights, giving Sam a look. “Offense.” Glancing at you he quirked an eyebrow. “Stop worrying your pretty lil’ head, sweetheart. You trust me, dontcha?” Your breath hitched at his words. You quickly recovered, huffing and pouting - although you’d deny ever pouting - and crossing your arms. You stood between the guys like that, eyes darting to whoever was speaking, waiting for them to stop so you could actually think.

“Look. Let me just walk you through a hypothetical. Can I walk you through a hypothetical?”

You and Sam exchanged glances. “What did you do?”

“I…didn’t do…anything.” Bucky shrugged.

“How is it that you, one of the most deadliest assassins basically ever, are one of the worst liars I know.” You tilted your head at him, an eyebrow quirking up in confusion.

“Shush it you. Just, okay. The weakest point in any system isn’t the software, the hardware, it’s the meatware. The human element.”

The more you listened to Bucky’s “hypothetical”, the stronger the gut feeling telling you this was a terrible terrible idea got. You brought your hands up to your head, eyes wide as he spoke.

“I don’t like how casual you’re bein’ about this. This is unnatural.”

You couldn’t help but agree with Sam’s words, your head falling back and your eyes closing. “Sweet Jesus. Listen, God, I know we don’t talk much these days, but please, please don’t let this not be a hypothetical. I’m fucking begging you.”

A noise to your right made your head snap over. “Oh hell to the fucking no!” You shook your head as Zemo himself walked in, wearing a prison guards uniform. “Uh-uh! No way! Bucky, this was not part of the plan!”

“What did you do?!”

“We need him!”

“You’re going back to prison.”

“If I may-”

All three of you faced him, simultaneously shouting, “no!”

You held your face in your hands as your head dropped, shaking back and forth, your eyes squeezing shut, tuning them out for just a minute to think. Bucky had a point. The enemy of my enemy is my friend and all that, and the Avengers were technically disbanded, which was Zemo’s whole objective in the first place, but…God. You were good at compartmentalizing, but not that much. You were willing to put your feelings aside for the mission so Bucky could talk to him. Not for you to work with him. But he had connections, you knew he did, and he had information…

“Doll?” You looked up, Bucky anxiously licking his lips as he met your gaze. “I need you to say something.”

You looked to Sam, who shrugged, gesturing to Zemo. “What do you think?”

What did you think? What did you think?! You thought that it was the worst idea in the history of ideas and you should turn back and find another way! But…you knew this was the fastest, probably most reliable way to get information that you needed.

Dammit, since when were you the deciding factor?

You sucked in a breath, looking over Sam’s shoulder at Zemo, who lifted his hand in greeting. You raised your eyes to the ceiling, pointing your finger accusingly. “This is why we stopped talking.” Gaze dropping to the still waiting fellas, you gnawed on your lip, before hissing out, “ffffine…” Running a hand through your hair, you threw your hands up as you shrugged. “Fine. Okay. Fine.”

“Okay.” Sam nodded, taking charge again.

You couldn’t believe this was happening. Except, that was a lie. You could. You’d seen weirder. You’d experienced the impossible. Lived through the unbelievable. This…this was completely imaginable.

Which is why, with a lot of hesitation and very little confidence in this plan, you followed Zemo through the auto shop you were in until you reached a large room with a ton of different old cars.

Bucky’s hand found yours as Zemo explained what the plan was, rather vaguely, in your opinion, but at least he was explaining. Point for him. Not that it would make up for the level of distrust you held for him, but it was something.

You looked up at him, giving him a puzzling frown. He usually only grabbed your hand in front of other people when he was feeling anxious. Which, yeah, he had a right to be anxious right now, but it wasn’t the right kind. The type of anxiety caused by large crowds and loud noises, ones that startled him and threw him into a defensive mode.

But the look on his face made you squeeze his hand in reassurance. He was pouting, staring at you although he did something wrong - a puppy that tore up a pillow - and all you wanted to do was give him a hug.

“You’re mad at me.” He mumbled as the four of you headed out with Zemo in the lead.

“No I’m not.”

“Yeah you are. 

“Bucky, I’m not mad.”

“Listen, if I had a better idea I wouldn’t-”

You brought your linked hands up to your lips, pressing a gentle kiss to his gloved knuckles. “I’m not mad.” You repeated more firmly. “It’s just…a lot for me, right now.”

“Why? What’s going on?”

“Nothing’s going on, Buck, I-I just…” You thought about your and Sam’s earlier conversation and suddenly understood what he meant. “I need to breathe for a second.”

His features twisted into ones of uncertainty, eyes squinting as you stepped outside. “Do you…do you wanna leave?”

You shook your head, tugging his arm to stop him and grabbing the sunglasses on his collar, slipping them over his eyes. “No. I just need some time to think. Hopefully the plane ride to wherever the hell we’re going will give me that.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, James. I’m sure.”

He lowered the glasses on his nose to scan you over the frames, before nodding and sliding them back up. “Okay. You ready for this, then?”

“No.” You breathed, turning back to where Zemo and Sam were still walking. “Let’s do this.”

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

Climbing onto the private jet, you raised an eyebrow at Sam, who shrugged, giving you a bemused expression. A Baron…huh…who knew? You feel like you should’ve, yet there you were.

You sat besides Bucky, across from Zemo, crossing your legs and leaning back while staring at him through narrowed eyes.

His butler seemed nice, which made you even more suspicious. You obviously didn’t know as much about Zemo as you wanted to. It was a habit you picked up after years of undercover work; once the mission was complete, that was that. There was no looking back on it. No sitting on it. It was over and you moved onto the next one. It was a bad habit in cases like this.

The moment you spotted the notebook over Zemo’s book you knew something was going to happen, yet you still flinched when Bucky lunged at him, grabbing his throat. You leaned back in your seat again, steadying your now racing heartbeat. You decided you were too tense, trying to relax your muscles as Bucky sat back down in his seat.

“I’ve seen that book. It was Steve’s when he came out of the ice. I told him about Trouble Man. He wrote it in that book.” Sam seemed so proud of himself that something he recommended was written in Steve’s little book and it made you smile.

You remembered that; Steve and you were supposed to meet up for coffee after his run, but Fury called him in so you rescheduled it for when he got back. He asked you about Marvin Gaye. For your opinion. You told him to check it out and make his own.

You remembered asking him about that little notebook of his, and he just shrugged you off telling you about his list. He would read items off to you, but he never let you read the book yourself. You never found out why, and you supposed you never would now. The thought made an ache behind your ribs that you’d come to familiarize yourself with appear.

You smiled a little more as Zemo and Sam told Bucky how awesome Marvin Gaye was. “C’mon, baby. Back me up.”

Chuckling, you looked at Bucky. “They’re not wrong. But,” you quickly added before Bucky could whine at you, facing Sam again. “Neither is Buck. I mean, c’mon. You can’t find music like the 40’s anymore. Ella Fitzgerald, Louis Armstrong, Benny Goodman, Fred Astaire. Ol’ Blue Eyes himself.”

“Thank you.” Bucky grinned at Sam, who rolled his eyes.

“Okay, okay. But, I mean, c’mon! Everybody loves Marvin Gaye.”

“I like Marvin Gaye.”

“Steve adored Marvin Gaye.”

Your face fell as Zemo started talking about Steve and icons and Red Skull, your mind once again slipping away from reality.

~

“Kids love you.” You giggled as you finally made it out of his exhibit. You’d wanted to show it to him since he moved to D.C., and you’d finally got an opportunity after coming back from being undercover for ten weeks. “You’re their hero, you know.”

“Yeah, well, I’m just trying to do what’s right.”

You nudged him, scoffing at his answer. “You’re too humble. You’re a national icon, you know.”

Steve shrugged, looking around the museum at the planes surrounding them. “I never wanted to be.”

“Why not? Everyone loves you.”

“I’m sure not everyone loves me.” He rolled his eyes. “And…I just wanted to help. To fight. Protect my country and the people I cared about. I-I didn’t ask for…all that.” He waved behind his shoulder where his exhibit was getting smaller with each step they took away. “People were dying. Bullies were winning.”

You shook your head, spinning and walking backwards besides him to face him. “Sure, but you did that. And you became someone people could look up to in the process.”

He narrowed his eyes at you before asking, “why do you do what you do?”

“...because I’m good at it?”

“Honey.” He gave you a look. “Answer the question.”

You hummed in thought. “Because I couldn’t stand by, knowing there would be orphaned kids if I didn’t help any way I could.”

“Alright. Why do you do it in the dark?”

“Whaddya mean?”

He shrugged. “Why don’t you come out and take credit for all the lives you’ve saved?”

“Because that’s not why I do it. I don’t want that attention. I just want to know I’ve helped people. I’ve kept them safe.”

He gave you a soft smile. “I just wanted to beat the bully. I never wanted to be a dancing monkey, too.” You looked at him in a new light then, understanding where he was coming from. “Watch out, honey!” He grabbed you and pulled you aside before you could crash into a wall, arms wrapped firmly around your waist. He gave you that charming smile of his. “Wouldn’t want you hurting that pretty lil’ head of yours, now would we?”

~

“Y/N!”

You snapped back into the conversation, moving your eyes from the window to Bucky, who tilted his head, eyebrows pinched and eyes narrowed. “Sorry. So, Madripoor. That’s a fun place.”

You ignored the side eyed glances Bucky and Sam exchanged, Sam turning to you curiously. “You’ve been?”

“Once. Back in 2010 for a few months”

Zemo raised his eyebrows. “You’re lucky to have gotten out.”

You shrugged nonchalantly. “Lucky, maybe. Skills were a part of it, too, though.”

“Good.” Zemo nodded. “Because we’re going undercover…and if we blow it. We’re dead.”

You breathed out, shaking your memory away and getting your head back into the game. Because like the man you were severely wary of in front of you said, if you blew this, you were dead. And, sure, you didn’t want to live until ninety, but you weren’t even half way there yet. So dammit if you were going to die soon.

“Hey.” You looked over at Bucky’s murmur, his head tilting as he grabbed your hand and pulled you from your seat closer to him. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah. I’m fine. Are you okay? You know you’re going to have to be-”

“I know.” He nodded. You watched his Adam’s Apple bob as he swallowed thickly. “I’ll be fine. Just…tell me right now if you need to step out for this one.”

You gave him a smile that you knew he didn’t buy, just by the slight narrowing of his eye, his lips pressing together. “No. No, I’m good for this. If you think I’m gonna let you two idiots go into Madripoor with him - alone - oil that cyborg brain of yours, because there’s no way.”

He squeezed your hand, eyes still filled with uncertainty. “Are you sure?”

“If there’s even a slight possibility that I can protect you, then yeah. I’m sure, Buckaroo.”

[rezzyromance]

Idk if this is how you request things or if it's just asking, BUT-

How would the Lords react to an S/O that's usually the chillest person that you will ever meet (not to be confused with a pushover because they are not), they've never seen them even mildly annoyed when something bad happens. But then something happens and, turns out, the S/O is utterly TERRIFYING when they're mad.

Hope this makes sense!

Aw man I'm gonna feel awful scaring Moreau and Donna :(

Alcina

You're relaxing on a beautiful morning. The sun is shining through the window just enough to warm the room but not hurt your eyes. You hadn't even changed out of your sleep wear. "How are you feeling, my dear?", a sweet voice rang from the doorway. You were sitting in your favorite chair near the window. You turn and smile at her. She walks over and rubs your face in her large hand before leaning down and giving you a soft kiss. "I'm feeling amazing. And you?", you grab her hand before she pulls it away and you place a kiss on her knuckles. "I'm feeling alright. There's a new maid here. She's a bit slow. I'm giving her until tonight to finish dusting the entire castle or else she won't see another sunrise." It was almost comedic how dark her words were as you both stared out the window and gazed at the beautiful scenery. "Come on Alcina.", you stand up and place your hands on hers, trying to hold them despite the size difference. "Give the girl a break. It's a huge castle AND it's her first day.", you knew your words would probably change nothing. Alcina was rather cruel, but you looked past it. You tried your best to make the nervous maids comfortable whenever they arrive.

"We'll see how she does." She gives you one more kiss before leaving the room. You sit back down in your chair, enjoying the warmth of the sun for a little while longer. You lose track of time, minutes maybe even hours go by. Suddenly, there's a crash not far from the door. You jump and stand up, no longer comfortable after being startled. "What in the name of Mother Miranda?!", you leave the room and look down the hallway. The new maid stood there with a terrified look on her face. In front of her was one of the paintings Alcina had on her walls, now with a broken frame and a hole punctured. Your blood began to boil. It was a painting of you, her, and the girls all together. It was your favorite. "How in the hell did you manage to do that?!", you begin to stomp towards her. She cowers and struggles to find her words. "I-I-I was just dusting! It fell and I-I didn't mean t-", you cut her off. "How the fuck did you knock such a large painting over just by dusting?! DO YOU THINK YOU'RE ALLOWED TO MAKE SUCH STUPID MISTAKES HERE?!", you unravel. "I-I didn't mean to! I'm sorry!", she almost begins to weep. "SORRY ISN'T GONNA SAVE YOUR ASS!"

"MISS DIMITRESCU PLEASE HELP!", she cries out. You freeze, realizing that the lady herself is right behind you. You turn to face her. Her eyes are wide with shock. She has never seen you like this before and never even knew you had this type of side to you. She was impressed as much as she was terrified. "(Y/N)? Are you alright my love?" She had no idea what to do as your seething slowed down. "Why don't you go back to the room, yes? Settle down a little and deal with her later.", she places a hand on your back helps walk with you back to the room. Once you're there, she bends down to whisper in your ear. "I don't know where this side of you has been this whole time, but I am so amazed by you. And also a little frightened."

Donna

The Beneviento house was usually a calm place despite its creepy aura. You and Donna are both quiet and chill people. Never once have you fought or even raised your voices at each other. It was pleasant.

You had planned a nice dinner for the both of you. You wanted to try out a new recipe and surprise her, so you made your way to the kitchen to get started. "Okay, what first? I guess I'll need a pot.", you go rummaging through the kitchen and you find the pots stacked within each other inside one of the top cabinets. You groan and stand up on your toes, grazing the pots with your fingers. It didn't take much to cause them to tumble down, crashing on top of you with a loud sound that followed. "Aw shit.", you sighed and picked up the knocked over pots. A small but annoying pain began to throb in your head from where it made contact with a pot. What you didn't notice was you forgot to pick one of the pots up. It remained unnoticed. "It's fine.", you say to yourself as you maintain your composure. Next, a cutting board and knife. You turn around and begin to walk forward to find the cutting board, but you slam your toe into counter. You wince in pain and grab your foot. "SON OF A BITCH!", you yell.

You calm yourself, still wanting to have a pleasant meal with Donna. "Alright. Everything's fine." You step forward and kick the pot that you had forgotten to pick up. It caused your freshly kicked toe to ache even more. "OH COME ON! GOD FUCKING DAMMIT!", you scream and swear as you throw your arms up in pure rage and shock.

"...(Y/N)?", a gentle voice whispered from the doorway, causing you to whip your head in that direction. It was Donna. She looked absolutely horrified and almost looked like she could cry. "Is.. is everything... are you alright?", she worried. "Yes. I'm sorry. Just got a little pissed off.", you took a deep breath to calm yourself down, feeling bad for scaring the poor girl.

Moreau

You were sitting on the dock together, looking into the water as your feet swung back and forth above it. It was a sunny day and you two decided to spend it outside. Your hand slowly made its way over to his. His feet stopped swinging for a second as you entangled your fingers. "I don't know what I'd do without you, (Y/N)." his words were bitter sweet as a gentle smile formed from his lips. "Oh, Sal. You don't have to think like that. I'll always be here for you.", you kiss his cheek and continue to relax as you sway your legs.

"There it is! There's the beast!", a voice yelled from not so far away. You both look in the direction of the voice and see a few young village boys. Possibly between the ages of 13 and 16. Moreau had become some what of a scary story for the villagers. A tale that kids spread on school court yard and bring up during dares. But, you've never seen a kid brave enough to actually make it far enough into the reservoir to actually see Moreau. Now, there were about 3. All of them stood and pointed, shocked and terrified.

"Hey beast! Come get me!", one kid teases. You glare at the kids as a newfound rage begins to boil inside you. "Let's go back inside.", Moreau says before standing up from the doc. The sadness in his voice was heartbreaking. Suddenly, one of the children gathers the guts to pick up a rock and throw it as hard as he could. His aim was off, but not by much. It slammed into the wood near Moreau's feet, startling him. "Take that you devil!", he laughs. "THAT'S IT YOU LITTLE SHIT!", you begin sprinting in the direction of the immature brats. Two of them run from the direction they came from while the one who threw the rock was frozen in fear. You took the opportunity to grab him by the collar of his shirt. "Listen here you little waste of space. I'm gonna give you 3 seconds to turn around and run for your goddamn life. If you or any of your little snot-nosed friends come around here again, they'll be goddamn fish food. Do you understand?" The kid was too scared to speak and instead began to nod rapidly. You let him go and watched as he ran as fast as he could, screaming the whole way.

You walk back to the shack and find Moreau standing in the same place he was when you took off. His mouth was agape and he looked almost as scared as the kids. "You alright Sal? I made sure those little shits won't be coming around here anymore." "Yeah... I didn't know you could be so... scary", he says. "I'm sorry. But those kids were being cruel. I had to do something.", you say. "Well... it was awesome!", he smiled. "But also very scary!" You laugh which helps sooth him a little.

Heisenberg

"Screw driver.", is all Karl said with an outstretched palm. He was working on some type of mechanical heart for his experiments. He wanted you to lend a "helping hand" even though he could easily do it all by himself. He did this because he wanted to be around you, he was just too stubborn with too big of an ego to simply say it. So here you were, handing him every little tool he asks for.

"Do you want the big one or the little one?", you say with a hint of boredom in your tone. "Aw c'mon don't sound like that! Isn't this exciting? It's like you're working on it with me! Also, hand me the big one.", you do as he says and hand him the big screw driver. "I just don't get it. You literally have powers. You can easily do this by yourself and have been for so long. Why do you need me to help?" He pauses for a second and looks over towards you, his brow slightly furrowed. "I don't NEED you to help. I just thought it would be nice for you to help out. Plus, you're the one always bitching about me constantly working. Well, here you are! Helping me work! So, either suck it up or you can leave." His harshness had no real ill will in it. He was just confused and a bit too ignorant to consider his words. But, he was testing your patience. He continued to use the screwdriver until handing it to you without saying a word.

"Hand me a screw.", he demanded with his hand facing palm up again. "Which size?" "They're all the same sizes, dumbass." You feel your blood begin to boil. "They're different fucking sizes! This one is smaller than this one!", you hold up two screws that are obviously different sizes. This makes Karl angry. Not because you were right, but because you seemed upset over something that seemed so insignificant.

"If you came here just to yap in my ear, then I don't think I need your assistance.", he huffed. You put the selection of tools and supplies he was making you hold on the table he is working on and ball your fists. "You're the one who told me to do this in the first place!", you yell. "Yeah, because you won't stop bitching! Non-stop you're always compla-" you cut him off before he can finish. "SHUT UP!", you yell. The room goes silent. "YOU SAY I'M BITCHING? HAVE YOU HEARD YOURSELF? JESUS FUCKING CHRIST KARL YOU BITCH AND MOAN ALL THE TIME! I'M DONE TAKING SHIT FROM YOU!" He wanted to be angry, but he couldn't. He felt something much more overwhelming. Was he.. intimidated? He didn't move from his seat. All he could do was look up at you with a confused expression. What now? What is there to do? If he pushes you further, what would happen? He was actually too scared to find out.

You take a deep breath to calm down before speaking. "Now, if you want me to help with your shit, I'll stay as long as you keep your mouth shut. Can you possibly manage to do that?" He gulps nervously. "Yes ma'am."