#now if only he'd Shut Up for five minutes so I don't decide to kill him first

[apocalypseornaw]

Meant to Be (Pt 5/5)

Dean Winchester x Reader

With Sam's help Dean tracks you down.

@lacilou idea I ran with

Warnings: NSFW happenings

When you left the cabin it had been a split decision kind of thing. A part of you was surprised you'd been able to get out past Sam without waking him up. You'd quickly grabbed your bag of clothes, your gun and knives that weren't in your car along with the green quilt you'd claimed and slid out of the bedroom. Dean was asleep on the couch and you knew you had to be silent to get past him.

The door thankfully didn't creak any when you opened it and stepped out. You pulled it shut behind you then ran for the barn where your car was parked alongside baby.

You just needed some space. You'd decide where you were going once you hit the road and you'd call Bobby to let him know you were ok.

You could hear a knocking at your door as soon as you got out the shower. Who the hell was that? Tavi had hit the road as soon as the bones had gotten salted and burnt, maybe she'd forgotten something in your car?

"GIVE ME A MINUTE!" You hollered, throwing a sports bra then t-shirt on over the shorts you normally slept in. You almost headed right for the door but thought better of that in case it wasn't Tavi. You grabbed your gun from your duffle before moving to the door, gripping it in your hand as you turned the knob.

You would've been better prepared for damn near anything other than Dean standing on the other side of the door. "How the hell did you find me?" You asked, knowing if you tried to shut the door he had you on strength and thanks to purgatory on speed as well.

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

A smirk slipped onto his face "Cmon now Y/N. Think about who your best friend is" you groaned "I'm gonna kill him" "He was worried about you sweetheart, so was I" you closed your eyes at the nickname that had never bothered you before now "I would've answered the phone for him if I would've known you weren't nearby. Look Dean, what happened we can chalk up to cabin fever ok?"

He shook his head "I don't want to chalk it up to cabin fever. I just drove eight hours to get to you, can you let me come in and give me five minutes" you sighed, then stepped to the side to allow him into the room.

He watched you as you shut the door then walked over to lay your gun back onto your duffle "I'm giving you five" he nodded and started to take a step towards you but you stepped back, crossing your arms.

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

Dean knew you pretty well. The moment you'd opened the door you'd wanted to be happy to see him. That half second flash had told him that you really did have feelings for him and that he'd really hurt you. As if Sam bitching him out didn't tell him enough.

You stood about two feet from him with your arms crossed over your chest. The plain black tshirt you had on was a stark contrast to those bright pink sleep shorts but to him? You were the most beautiful woman he'd ever laid eyes on.

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

"I'm an idiot" Dean finally said and you couldn't even attempt to stop the laugh that fell from you "You could say that" he raised an eyebrow at your laugh "I'm being serious, trying to share my feelings here and you're gonna laugh at me?"

"You deserve it Dean! I'm sorry but you do. I have had feelings for you for years! I never asked you to reciprocate those feelings. I know the heart wants what it wants but damn, I got sliced by hellhounds trying not to lose you. I have tried so many times to bury how I feel, to forget it but then your ass comes strutting in with those green eyes and that smile and I lose every train of thought. I want you Dean in every way. I know your past, I know who you truly are. Your scars don't scare me I have plenty of my own. I know you push people away to protect them, I know you're a huge dork. I know Sam is the most important person to you, hell I know you wanted to be a firefighter as a kid because you couldn't save Mary. The only thing I don't know is what I would have to do to ever be good enough for you to see me!"

You hadn't realized tears had started to slip down your face until Dean quickly covered the area between you and when you didn't move away he gently wiped your tears with his fingertips. "Feel better to get that out?" He'd purposely pushed you into admitting your feelings. Damn him.

"Why did you come here? Why do you care if I feel better?" You asked, letting him pull you against his chest. "Because it took me too long to open my damn eyes but I do see you sweetheart. I am so damn sorry for every ounce of pain I've ever caused you" you pulled away from him and he let you. You looked up at him and he smiled "What will it take to prove to you that I'm genuine?"

He motioned between you "Want me on my knees? I'll get on my knees" he started to kneel but you grabbed his arm "Dean, be serious!" He looked at where you were holding his arm "I am. I never would've dreamt of being good enough for you. You're beautiful, an amazing hunter and friend. You're smart, dangerous when you're mad and downright sneaky when you wanna be. You went from that smart mouthed ten year old that wasn't afraid of anything to the amazing woman standing in front of me. If you still want me I am yours"

You shook your head "I don't want a night Dean" "Neither do I" the look in his eyes made your stomach flip. He was being genuine. Dean Winchester felt the same about you as you felt about him. He must have seen the look in your eyes because one of his hands came to rest on your hip, a grin slipping onto his face "Y/N?" You shook your head "and if this doesn't work? What about Sam?" His grin deepened "It'll work"

You couldn't resist any longer, you were in Dean's arms, the way he was looking at you "Kiss me?" "Thought you'd never ask" he pulled you closer to him, crashing his lips against yours.

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

You'd thought about kissing Dean so damn many times but it was nothing like the real thing. The way his lips moved against yours, his grip tightening on your hips and the way he used the small gasp that escaped you to slip his tongue into your mouth, rolling it against yours in a way that made your knees go weak.

You pushed him away after a moment the need for air even greater than your need for him. He pulled back and almost looked disappointed until he saw the look in your eyes then he chuckled lightly before walking you backwards towards the bed "Tell me you want this and I promise you'll be sure come morning that I don't want anyone else"

You were trying to form words when the back of your legs hit the bed. Dean was silent, waiting for your answer with a smirk on his face "Use your words princess" "I want you Dean"

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

"You've got me" He promised before catching your lips in a passionate kiss. Your hands slipped under his shirt and when you tugged at it he broke the kiss long enough to slip the shirt over his head then tossed it behind him.

You moved from his lips to kiss across his jaw then down his neck and was rewarded with a low groan leaving his lips when you found his pulse point on his neck.

"Damn sweetheart" he murmured, reaching for the hem of your shirt. You let him pull it over your head along with the sports bra "Look at you" he whispered in awe before pushing you back gently onto the bed.

You watched as he quickly kicked his boots off then climbed onto the bed. "C'mere Winchester" you reached for his shoulders to pull him down with you. He groaned again as he caught your lips with his, one of his hands moved to cup your breast causing you to moan into his mouth at the feeling of his hands on your sensitive flesh.

He kissed from his lips across your jaw and when he got to your neck you had to stop your hips from bucking up against his. "So eager for me" He spoke into your skin.

He continued kissing down your chest until he got down to your left breast, he licked the nipple into his mouth while his hand worked the right breast. Your fingers found the hair at the nape of his neck, tangling there and when you tugged lightly he bite down just hard enough on your breast to pull a moan of his name from your lips.

He leaned back to look up at you and if you were being honest you damn near came just from the look in his eyes. Dean Winchester looked completely wrecked on top of you and you'd barely done anything yet. "You are so damn beautiful" he praised before continuing his trail of kissing and nipping down your stomach until he got to the waistband of your shorts. He looked up at you for permission and you nodded "Words baby. I want words" "Yes Dean" you breathed and he smiled "I love hearing you say my name like that"

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

He slipped your shorts off your legs and tossed them behind him before settling himself between your thighs. Anyone else on earth you would've felt self conscious, too exposed but with Dean? You felt wanted, like the only woman on earth the way he was looking at you.

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

He slipped one finger into you, watching as your eyes fluttered slightly from such the smallest of touch. He added a second finger, curling it up slightly until he found that small spot inside of you.

"Oh my God, Dean" you moaned, bucking your hips up. He used his other arm to slip over your waist to hold your lower half still as he licked into you, using his tongue to work at your clit while his fingers worked you over the edge. He could tell you were getting close when your thighs started to shake slightly. He changed his angle just slightly and knew he'd hit the right spot when your fingers moved to the back of his head, your grip tight as you moaned his name again.

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

Words couldn't describe the feeling coursing through you. You closed your eyes tightly against the flood of pleasure "Dean" you moaned, trying to hold back and could feel your legs shaking from the effort. He chuckled against your core and you felt that coil inside of you threaten to snap.

He changed his angle just enough that the coil snapped, your vision going soft around the edges as your orgasm washed over you. Your fingers found the hair at the back of his neck, gripping tightly as he worked you through your orgasm.

You pushed at his head weakly when you began to come down off the high "Too much Dean. Too much" he pulled back to look up at you and grinned, wiping his lower lip with his thumb "You taste as good as I thought you would"

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

You moaned just from that "Fuck Dean. That was amazing" you looked down where he still wore his jeans "Can I return the favor?"

He stood up on the side of the bed and reached for your arm, pulling you into a sitting position "Whatever you want baby. I'm yours" you reached for the snap of his jeans, laughing lightly when you realized your hands were shaking a bit. "You ok?" He asked and you smiled "I'm perfect"

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

You unzipped his jeans then he helped you push them down off his hips and kicked them away. Your eyes widened when you saw his hardened cock, straining against his boxers. He was long and thick. You reached for his boxers and he let you push them off his hips.

You looked up at him as you reached for his cock. You held his gaze as you licked a line from the base up to the tip. His eyes fluttered shut just for a moment and a praise of your name fell from his lips.

"God damn" he groaned before you leaned closer taking as much of him as you could into your mouth. You could feel his hips twitch in effort to not thrust so you started to move your head up and down licking and sucking him listening to his breathing to tell what touches he liked. You used your free hand to cup his balls gently massaging them and was rewarded with a moan from him of your name. "Y/N....sweetheart"

You pulled back from him with a wet pop to look up at him "Something wrong?" He shook his head with a smile "Hell no but I don't want to come yet" you smiled slightly "Oh" then grabbed his hand "C'mere Dean"

You laid back onto the pillows, pulling him with you. He crawled up your body, leaving a trail of kisses everywhere his lips could reach until he made it up to your lips. He caught them in a probing kiss, rolling his tongue against yours so you could still taste yourself on him. "Are you sure about this? About me?" He asked and you laughed "I'm sure Dean"

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

You felt him line himself up with your opening before he slowly plunged himself into you, both of you moaning from the feeling. Once he was fully sheathed inside of you, he stilled to let you adjust to his size. He rested his forehead against yours, his breathing ragged as he struggled to not thrust before you were ready "I meant it baby. I only want you. I was an idiot"

You leaned up to kiss him "It's ok Dean. We can make up for loss time" you tapped his shoulders "Move" he gave a tentative roll of his hips and when you moaned he smirked "I could get used to hearing that" you shoved his shoulder "Oh shut up and fuck me already"

He raised an eyebrow "Yes ma'am" he rolled his hips into yours and when your back arched slightly at the movement he groaned "Fuck I was an idiot"

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

Every movement of Dean's hips meant he was hitting that spot deep inside of you. It wasn't long before you felt that coil tightening again. "Fuck Dean. I'm so damn close" You moaned, nails biting into his shoulders slightly. One of his hands slipped between your bodies, nimble fingers working at your clit while he kept his pace pushing you over that edge.

You came with a scream of his name on your lips. He fucked you through your orgasm then you could feel his hips stutter, "you can fuck me harder Dean" you breathed and he nodded "I don't wanna hurt you" you reached up to grab his face forcing him to look at you "You know I'm harder to break than that"

He caught your lips in a frenzied kiss before pulling back. He kissed the tip of your nose then buried his face into your neck. His hips started to snap forward into yours, the angle was the same but the depth he was hitting had you seeing stars again in no time.

You knew he could feel you were close again, his thrusts were starting to get a little sloppy and you knew he had to be close. He kissed your neck then said "You can come again baby. I won't be far behind" that seemed to be all it took for that coil to snap yet again. You could feel your legs shake around Dean as he continued to fuck into you, chasing his own release. "Do I need to pull out?" He asked and you shook your head "I'm covered. Please come in me Dean. Let me feel you"

He thrust a few times before burying himself inside of you. You gasped as you felt him come deep inside of you, coating your walls. He remained still on top of you, bracing his weight on his arms. When he met your eyes you smiled "That was amazing" he smiled in return "Took the words right out of my mouth" he kissed you gently this time as he pulled out causing a small gasp to escape you both.

He collapsed next to you, pulling you over on his chest. "We'll go get a shower in a few minutes" you cut your eyes up at him "You gonna carry me if my legs aren't working by then?" He grinned broadly "Of course sweetheart"

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

You lay there for a while in silence, both of you working to get your breathing back to normal before Dean spoke "I meant what I said Y/N. This, us...it's all I've ever wanted I was just too much of an idiot to realize it. I hope you can forgive me for the past because my future is all yours"

You placed a kiss over his heart before meeting his eyes "I forgive you Dean" he brushed your hair back from your face "How did I ever not see what was right in front of me?" You gave him a small smile before teasing "Well you have called yourself an idiot multiple times tonight" he rolled his eyes before pulling you on top of him.

Your hips straddled his waist and he gripped them tightly "As long as I'm your idiot I don't care" you laughed before leaning down to catch his lips in a kiss. "Of course you're mine" he smiled against your lips "I could damn sure get used to hearing that"

@lacilou

@deans-spinster-witch

@suckitands33

@deans-baby-momma

@jackles010378

@someonewhoisdesperate

@ferrersbiggestfan

@123passwort

[acourtofthought]

I haven't seen this particular gem of a post but there is apparently one going around stating that everyone in the ACOTAR world has suffered more than Lucien, that he doesn't know suffering.

Just a little starter here. The first book began with Lucien's friend being murdered because they needed to sacrifice him in order to break the curse on Spring.

"Autumn Court is ...cutthroat. Beautiful, but his brothers see each other only as competition, since the strongest of them will inherit the title."

"Lucien fell in love with a faerie whom his father considered to be grossly inappropriate for someone of his bloodline." "His father had her put down. Executed, in front of Lucien, as his two eldest brothers held him and made him watch."

"Without his title protecting him, his brothers thought to eliminate one more contender to the High Lord's crown. Three of them went out to kill him."

"But he has never forgotten what they did to her, or what his brothers tried to do to him. Even if he pretends that he has."

"She took his eye as punishment. Carved it out with her own fingernail, then scarred his face. She sent him back so bloody that Tamlin...The High Lord vomited when he saw his friend."

Lucien's brothers lurked on the edges of the crowd - no remorse, no fear on their handsome faces. Amarantha sighed. "I thought you would have learned your lesson, Lucien. Though this time your silence will damn you as much as your tongue." Lucien kept his eyes shut. Ready - he was ready for Rhysand to wipe out everything he was, to turn his mind, his self into dust.

"but only after she made Tamlin bestow Lucien's punishment. Twenty lashes." (remember, because he tried to help Feyre in her trial? Also she prevented Lucien from being able to heal).

"Lucien lay chained to the center of the floor on the other side of the chamber, his remaining russet eye so wide that it was surrounded with white. / Again he was to be Amarantha's toy to torment."

"Don't give me that look, Lucien." SIlence again. Then a vicious snarl, and a shudder of magic rocked the house. Tamlin's voice had been low, deadly. Do not push me on this. I didn't want to know what was happening in that room, what he'd done to Lucien.

Thoughts slammed into me, images and memories, a pattern of thinking and feeling that was old, and clever and sad, endlessly sad and guilt-ridden, hopeless -

"She - she didn't act that way at..." Lucien. Lucien had hated her. Had made vague, vicious allusions to not liking her, to being approached by her. I was going to throw up. Had she...had she pursued him like that? Had he...had he been forced to say yes because of her position?

He might have completed the Great Rite with Ianthe of his own free will, but he certainly hadn't enjoyed it. Some line had been blurred - badly.

I waited the five minutes it took Tamlin to decide not to kill Lucien, and then smiled. I wondered if Lucien had pieced it together. That I had known Tamlin would come to my room tonight, after I had given him so many shy touches and glances today.

"Back off". "Do not touch me," he growled." Where Lucien stood, back against a tree - twin bands of blue stone shackled around his wrists. / And in this case...holding Lucien against that tree as Ianthe surveyed him like a snake before a meal. She slid a hand over the broad panes of his chest, his stomach. And Lucien's eyes shot to me as I stepped between the trees, fear and humiliation reddening his golden skin.

As the youngest of seven sons, I wasn't particularly needed or wanted."

"Did you think it was mere hatred that prompted my brothers to do their best to break and kill me?"

The circle of people who now claimed to be Feyre's new family...It was what, long ago, he'd once thought life at Tamlin's court would be. An ache like a blow to the chest went through him.

"I am Lucien. Seventh son of the High Lord of the Autumn Court. And a whole lot of nothing.

"I do not belong in the Autumn Court. And I'm willing to be I'm no longer welcome at h- the Spring Court." Home, he had almost said.

"The same things he does now." Helion waved a hand. "Belittle her, leave bruises where no one but him will see them." (So to recap, Beron physically and verbally abuses his WIFE, killed Lucien's love and people think he had an easy childhood with this man?)

It would explain why his father and brothers detest him so much - why they have tormented him his entire life.

I hadn't asked Lucien any questions about that visit - to Tamlin. Lucien hadn't explained the black eye and cut lip, either.

"I don't have anywhere else to go." "You ruined any chances I have of going back to Spring. Not to Tamlin, but to the court beyond his house. Everyone either still believes the lies you spun or they believe me complicit in your deceit" - Side note but even knowing this, about how the people feel about him because of Feyre's schemes, Lucien still allowed the NC to permanently station him there in SF. It's really cute of E/riels to think Az is having such a rough go of it, living in the Night Court with the brothers who love him, while Lucien just has it so easy, right?

The male had grown up alongside Eris. Had dealt with Eris's and Beron's cruelty. Had his lover slaughtered by his own father.

This paragraph is about Eris: Beron had tortured his own son for information, rather than thanking the Mother for returning him. / The male had been raised with every luxury and privilege - on paper. But who knew what terrors Beron had inflicted upon him?

So with that said, If that's how Beron treated his own son how do you think he treated the son he suspected belonged to another man?

Cassian knew Beron had murdered Lucien's lover. If the High Lord of Autumn had been willing to do that, what wouldn't he do?

So by all means, I'd love to know how a character who we have canon evidence of suffering from his younger years all the way through the present has it so much easier than everyone else?

Someone's selective reading is showing!!

[oliviaischillin1204]

18 minutes (tickletober day 8- "nuzzles")

Pairing: Romantic Carmy/Claire

Word Count: 824 words

ck anon if ur out there, our convos abt the bear inspired me to finish this one asjdhgshj

It was just past 4:30 in the morning, and Carmy was about to walk out the door. Sydney had offered to take the opening shift this morning, but he'd turned her down. He hadn't been able to sleep past four in the morning in over ten years, and there was no point for both of them to be up before dawn. It was a mere six minute walk (three minute run) to The Bear from his apartment, so as long as he was out the door by five til, he'd be right on time.

Then again, if he got there earlier, that'd be more time that he could be working, and less time that he would have to be alone with nothing but his thoughts. So he was leaving a bit early.

Until his door opened from the outside, keys jangling into the bowl before he could even react.

"Hey," he said. A beat, then Claire stepped into the light.

"Hey."

For a rare moment, Carmy allowed himself to do nothing. Nothing but stare, taking her in. He wasn't used to standing still, but something in Claire seemed to ground him.

She dropped the rest of her things on the little side table before taking in a deep breath.

"Come here," she asked, raising her arms as if he needed more invitation. His eyes went to the clock on instinct, but he didn't stop himself from stepping forward into his girlfriend's embrace. He inhaled the hospital antiseptic she worked with, mixed with her deodorant and the faintest notes of her shampoo.

"Good shift?" Carmy asked, but Claire shushed him.

"Mmmm. Talk later."

She smushed her face into his shoulder for emphasis, and he smiled to the wall behind her. His arms wrapped tighter around her, and for several minutes they swayed in silence.

"When are you leaving?" she eventually asked (breaking her own 'no talking' rule, which Carmy very maturely did not point out).

"Gotta head out of here in about..." He craned his neck to the clock above the stove. "About 20 minutes."

Claire hummed into his shoulder. "Wanna kill some time?"

Keeping it cool, Carmy cleared his throat. "Sure. We can- I mean, if you want to- do you wanna, uh, go to the bed, or-?"

Thank God, Claire took mercy on him; her lips pressed on his were enough to both shut him up and help his stammering brain go calm. There was still the ever-present anxiety, of course, but Claire was good at making it go quiet in the back of his head.

"Missed you," she whispered before pressing a kiss just under his ear. Carmy twitched his shoulder up.

"Missed you, too," he murmured. Claire's mouth trailed down, down, down his neck and towards his collarbone. Carmy shivered.

"Come on, let's--" She exhaled heavily through her nose and he twitched, this time hard enough to jostle her away from his shoulder. She looked at him with a furrowed brow.

"Uh, what was that?"

"What was what?"

"Carmy." She tilted her head, giving him a loving smile. "You're a shitty liar."

"I don't-- can we go back to the kissing?" he asked weakly.

"Oh, I was kissing you," she said, "before you interrupted me."

Unfortunately Carmy decided to open his mouth at the same time that Claire lifted a hand to run her nails underneath his ear to his jawline. Now that they were face to face, she could plainly see the flustered smile on his face as he scrambled to pull her hand away.

"No."

"No, what?"

"I know that face. No." He tried to move away, but Claire locked her hands behind his neck and held him in place.

"When were you gonna tell me this little secret?"

"Uh, probably-- probably never."

"Mhmm," she replied. Then she stuck her face back into the crook of his throat, rubbing her nose and lips all over his stubble.

"Claire," he said, and he'd never admit it but it was only her arms around him that kept him standing, his knees buckling immediately at the sensation.

"What's the problem, Berzatto?" she murmured; the Z and T's zinged down his spine. He whined, choking back quiet laughter. He hasn't laughed like this in-- he doesn't even know.

Effortlessly she moved her head, stroking her lips down to nuzzle at the front of his throat. Now there were high pitched giggles mixed in with his breaths. He couldn't pull back, couldn't push her away. Wouldn't have done it even if he could.

"Come on," she whispered into his ear, warm breath setting his laughter alight. She started maneuvering them to the bedroom.

"I have--" Carmy managed. He caught a glimpse of his clock even as he let himself be pushed back onto the bed. "About 18 minutes."

"Well, then," Claire said; every word was punctuated with a pecking kiss to his neck, holding Carmy close as he trembled. "Better make it count."

[pickledpascal]

Killer Queen

Chapter Three: Sweet Emotion

Warnings: smut for sure brother, penetrative sex, collars, BDSM elements, slurs, ben likes it rough i guess

Word Count: 3.8k

Killer Queen Masterlist

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Eventually, Eden was able to coax Amber and Soldier Boy out of their room to have something for dinner. Well, she mostly wanted to get Amber to eat, Soldier Boy was… a change, that's for sure. Something about him when Eden was in school or, hell, even when she grew up, she thought he'd be shorter. The boots had to give him an extra inch or two so they lied about his height. But they didn't. Soldier Boy was a six-foot-two all-American man. Eden always thought he'd be five-eight. 

Amber grabbed a few slices of the pizza Eden provided and stuffed a piece in her mouth. On the other hand, Eden kept staring at Soldier Boy. Nervous wasn't the right word, no, more like she was sizing him up. She knew she likely couldn't take him in a fight, even if she was a Supe, but she would probably be able to do something that made him suffer. 

“Who's that?” Ryan said when he came out of his room. He was looking up at Soldier Boy. Butcher was one of the only other men who had ever entered the house.

Soldier Boy glanced down at the kid and narrowed his eyes a bit. Why the hell did he look so much like him? He kept his mouth shut, opting to follow Amber's rules. For now. So he ate. 

Eden answered, “He's gonna be staying with us for a little while, kiddo. He's, uh,” She didn't want to lie. Ryan was a smart kid and he'd likely figure out why he was here in the long run but she also didn't want to say Soldier Boy was going to kill his dad. “He's one of Amber's special friends.” 

“Oh.” Ryan recoiled at the comment. 

Soldier Boy cocked an eyebrow at Amber. “He doesn't know what a f–”

“Shut the hell up.” Amber cut him off, gaze hardening. 

Once dinner was done and Ryan was away from Soldier Boy—Eden immediately decided they couldn't be together for more than fifteen minutes since Ryan would likely learn something he wasn't supposed to at ten. 

“So who the fuck are you?” Soldier Boy turned to Eden, lips pursed into a thin line that showed his dimples. A sign he was discontented. 

Eden looked at him unimpressed. “The smartest person in any room.” She shrugged. She liked to brag as humbly as possible. She wished Amber would do it more or else people wouldn't test her as much as they did. 

Soldier Boy scoffed, “You're a woman.” 

“And you don't know what an OnlyFans is so who's really winning here?” Eden countered with a lop-sided smile.

Soldier Boy tilted his head, glancing at Amber for an answer. She didn't give him one. 

“Do you think if we can get Homelander, Butcher will let us psychologically torture him? We’ll let him kill him afterward. Or, we could all bitch him together.” Eden suggested, an excited glint in her eyes before she glanced back at Soldier Boy. “Sorry your son turned into such a fucking bitch, by the way–”

Soldier Boy’s eyebrows shot up. “Wait, what the fuck does she mean?” He'd seen pictures of Homelander, pictures of him were plastered almost everywhere.

Amber glared at Eden. She was glad Ryan wasn't here for this. Especially considering his grandpa had quite the mouth on him. 

She and Eden knew of this after Eden hacked into Vought. Partly for fun, partly for work. They just so happened to come across a file about Homelander and his origins. And how Soldier Boy, by artificial insemination, was his father. Immediately after finding out the information, Eden blamed that on why Homelander was so horrible. Amber didn't know all of the details of Soldier Boy’s life but she didn't think that was the case. The file also included all the American propaganda Homelander was forced to watch as a child. 

A boy who grew up only watching American propaganda was going to fuck him up somehow. 

“You remember when Vougelbaum called you into your lab? It was 1980. Some sort of genetic test,” Recognition dawned in Soldier Boy’s face as he leaned back into the couch he sat on. “He was born in 1981. And part of the reason Payback did what they did. So he could take the spotlight once he was older.” Amber explained softly. She had a feeling it would be jarring for anyone to find out they had a secret child, no matter if they were a fascist piece of shit. 

Soldier Boy’s lips drew back into a snarl as he tried to choke down his emotions. Amber, he was fine with crying in front of, but Eden? Fuck that. He didn't need other people to know he was weak. 

He had a son. A fucking child. And he wasn't there like he wished he would. Anger rose in his chest. Soldier Boy abruptly stood and Amber could feel the air in the room shifting. She didn't have a radiation counter on her but she could tell, if she did, it would be skyrocketing. 

Amber lifted a hand to try and calm Soldier Boy which he slapped away. “Shut the fuck up and don't say you understand. You fucking don't. You don't even have the fucking parts to have a kid, you tranny bitch.” He spat, chest heaving. 

Eden's eyes widened, looking between the two of them. Even most bigot fucks Amber came across, they didn't say it to her face. Amber's stare turned cold. Any sympathy she had for him was flushed down the drain. 

“Yeah, uh… I'm gonna take Ryan downstairs.” Eden excused herself. The basement was soundproof for the most part. And built like a fortress. She was glad she decided to make it out of metal. Sound didn't travel that well through it. 

Soldier Boy let out a sharp breath from his nose as he stared at Amber. There was a small part of him that regretted what he said but he was too prideful to go back on it. A muscle in his jaw tightened while his nose turned into a sneer. 

Amber wasn't intimidated by whatever tactics Soldier Boy was trying to use. “You think you're strong? That you scare me? Not more than an hour ago you were gagging on my dick. Some small part—or, hell, big part—of you is scared you like me,” The air in the room was tense, the radiation rising when she hit a little too close to home. “But another part,” She stepped closer, causing Soldier Boy to step away. “Is excited by that. You're not the most powerful in the room anymore. Maybe that way you'll be a little normal for once.” 

“Fuck you, you don't know shit about me.” Soldier Boy’s shoulders were rigid as he tried to stand his ground. 

Amber cocked a doubtful eyebrow at him, a smirk on her lips. “Uh-huh. I know for the past few seconds, your eyes have been on my dick,” Soldier Boy’s lip quivered with his anger but he made no move to deny it. “What Eden failed to mention is that Ryan is your grandson.”

Blinking, Soldier Boy's shoulders slumped. His jaw unclenched as he drew in a sharp breath. “He's—”

“Homelander’s son. The reason why he's here. Homelander wants to make Ryan like him,” Amber explained softly. Maybe she did have a little bit of sympathy for Ben. A shred. But it could easily be snuffed out and replaced with that white-hot feeling from earlier. “This could be your chance to be a father like you wanted. And, maybe, he could be better. Not like you or him.”

Soldier Boy dropped onto the couch, frame creaking underneath his weight. His whole world was shattered and put back together again in a matter of a few minutes. How could he have failed Homelander so badly? Hell, he would've let him take the spotlight. What kind of father wouldn't? He bit his cheek. Ryan wasn't his and he never would be. Sure, they were related but it was different. He'd know it would be different. 

But Ryan was so young. A whole life ahead of him. Soldier Boy pushed his hands through his hair, tears stung the edges of his eyes. He wanted kids. For selfish reasons. As a big fuck you to his father that he could do better than him. 

“Does he know?” Soldier Boy looked up at Amber, hands falling in his lap.

Amber shook her head. “No. I mean, Ryan knows who his father is. Not that you're his grandpa. And Homelander, as far as I know, doesn't know about you.” She sat next to him. 

“God fucking hell.” Soldier Boy sighed. Why did this feel a hell of a lot more messed up than anything he'd ever done before? He'd be stealing his son’s son away from him. Perhaps for good reason. “You–You’re—” A part of him really wanted to yell at Amber, accuse her of turning him against his own kin, but he had a feeling Homelander committed far worse atrocities than he did. At an even larger scale. 

Soldier Boy ran a hand down his face. “Ryan—he’s a good kid?” He asked after a while. 

“Yeah,” Amber hummed softly. Besides a few times of him slicing open the roof with his laser eyes or hugging Eden a little too tight, it was sunshine and rainbows. Eden was durable enough not to get immediately crushed. “I think he looks a lot more like you than Homelander anyway. Especially with that fucking box-dye. I mean, if you're gonna be the epitome of ‘blonde and blue-eyed,’ at least make sure it looks good before you base your entire personality on it.” 

Soldier Boy let out a small breath. A laugh. Even though he didn't understand half the words that came out of Amber's mouth, he knew the point she was trying to make. Homelander was an artificial fuck. Quite literally. He and Homelander's surrogate never even touched, he just sent his seed to Vougelbaum and never thought about it again. Whoever she was, they would've had a good night if they did it the proper way. Or Soldier Boy would've broken her. 

Amber hooked a finger under Soldier Boy's chin and tilted his head so he looked at her. “You remember that deal we made?” Her eyes flicked from his lips to his eyes. Soldier Boy’s breath hitched. “You called me something bad. Which means…” She intentionally trailed off. 

“Consequences.” Soldier Boy finished for her with dilated pupils. 

Amber winked, “Bingo.” 

After a scramble to get upstairs, Amber's door was locked behind her while she and Soldier Boy were inside her bedroom. He breathed heavily while she appeared calm. Way too calm. It was unsettling. Something about it made Soldier Boy’s pulse hasten. With dread or something else, he wasn't sure he'd want to admit.

“Turn around and strip.” Amber instructed with a smile. 

Soldier Boy wanted to ask why he'd need to turn around but the words were caught in his throat. He complied, taking off his Dodgers jersey and sweatpants along with his boxers. He heard a scraping of a drawer opening and closing. And then a light ding of a bell. He flinched as he felt his neck constricted. Soldier Boy glanced down and caught sight of the small jingle bell on his neck. Connected to a leather collar. 

Avery pressed a kiss to Ben's jaw and hummed as she stood behind him. “On the bed for me, hands and knees.” The way she sounded, it was more of a request. But he knew if he didn't comply, something worse would likely happen. 

Soldier Boy hated the way he so easily followed her order. And he hated it more when Amber pushed his head into the sheets and he liked it. If only his father could see him now. He wondered what he'd say. Probably something worse than what he could come up with. But, then again, that would take a lot more work than what his father wanted to do. 

“Take a deep breath,” Amber advised. Soldier Boy could hear a cap opening and closing. He had an idea as to what it was. “Or don't. You might like it better.” She teased as she pushed her finger inside him without any other warning. 

The muscles in his legs tensed as he moved his head, the bell on his collar ringing as he did. “What the—” Another finger. Soldier Boy was even less prepared than before. “Fuck!” Pain seared inside him. Not overwhelming but a lot more than he thought he'd ever experience in this setting. “What—”

“Shhh,” Amber cooed softly, “Bad boys don't get to speak. Now, I want you to be quiet. Or else something worse might happen.” Soldier Boy couldn't see her face but he could imagine what it looked like. A nice, but unsettling, smile on her face as hooded eyes stared down at him. “Give me a nod that you understand,” She pressed her fingers deeper inside and he had to bite on his bottom lip to keep a noise from escaping him. “C'mon, sweetheart, please?”

Soldier Boy nodded, eyes screwed shut. A satisfied noise left Amber's lips. She curled her slender fingers inside him while his face contorted, trying his best not to let out a strained moan as he gripped the sheets. His whole body tensed when Amber's hand started to move. 

In and out. In and out. In and out. Harder, harder, harder. He wanted to scream. Yell. Maybe kick a door in. He wanted to do something. But this power Amber had over him made him have second thoughts. The way she made him feel. Like he was a teenager again. Powerless. Soldier Boy had lived so long that he forgot what it was like. A life that was mostly filled with drugs, women, and alcohol to ease some sort of pain he didn't want to acknowledge. But Amber fucked it out of him. Somehow. 

So Soldier Boy stayed quiet. Like she asked—no, demanded—him to. And then there was that bell. It rang with each push. He felt like it was too much. The noises, the sensations, the fact that he couldn't let the tension in him release in some way. But it also wasn't enough. He wanted more. Needed more. That gnat inside him was going insane. He needed to feel sore the next morning, needed to be reminded of what happened, needed to follow her rules.

“That’s a good boy,” Soldier Boy could hear pants being unzipped. He drew in a sharp breath. “Only good boys get to be fucked by my cock. Do you think you deserve that?” Amber's voice was smooth and sweet, like honey, but grounded and strong. He couldn't get enough of it. “Use your words.” Her movements stopped so he could form more coherent words. 

“Please.” Soldier Boy panted softly, finally easing some of the tension built in his shoulders and arms. 

Amber tsked. “I can't hear you, sweetheart. Louder,” She thrusted her fingers in suddenly, eliciting a sudden, choked whine from Soldier Boy. And another ring of the bell. “Like that.” 

“God, please! Please! Amber, I-I need you so much.” He whined, pleading with every ounce of want in his body. His knuckles were white as they fisted the sheets. Soldier Boy was painfully aware that he tore them—he was so close—Amber would have half a mind to stop and think of something worse to put him through. “Like—fuck! Like nothing else I've ever needed in my life.” The words jumbled out of him faster than he could think. 

The air stilled. For just a moment. 

He was surprised at himself for admitting such a thing. Was meeting Amber really all it took for his walls to start crumbling? Not completely, but enough. To the point where maybe falling in love again wasn't so hard for him. 

Amber slid a hand up Soldier Boy’s side and let out a hum. “Really?” Her voice was amused. “Get on your back for me, then.” 

Quickly, Soldier Boy turned on the bed. His knees were bent in front of him. He was happy to finally be able to see her face. And appreciate her body. Amber was stripped back down to her underwear. Well, minus her actual underwear. Her bra was still on but he couldn't find it in himself to care. Amber pushed his legs apart and looked down at him. 

The view of Soldier Boy below her made her feel accomplished. Prideful somehow. Amber did always like the idea of a man begging for her. And this man just so happened to be a really powerful one. Yeah, that was gratifying. 

“I want you to promise me something,” Amber began with a light, intentionally, sweet smile as she pushed inside him. Soldier Boy's jaw dropped open. He felt like he was being split down the middle. “Don't say anything like tranny or fag or, hell, even pussy again to me or anyone else. Okay?” Her smile dropped from her lips, eyes glaring down at him. 

The bell on his collar rang frantically as he nodded, eyebrows furrowed with pleasure. 

Amber lifted Soldier Boy’s calf over her shoulder as she leaned over him, admiring the way he looked in the black leather collar as she pushed her pelvis into the flesh of his ass. His chest shook as he took in a sharp breath. 

“Please—please move!” Soldier Boy begged softly, lifting a hand to Amber's neck to gingerly caress underneath the curve of her jaw. He wanted to sob with need. He was way too close to having his fortress be completely and utterly destroyed. And he didn't want to stop it. 

A wicked smile graced Amber's lips. A twinge of desire churned in his stomach. “A little more, sweetheart, I like this.” She admitted as she jerked her hips. 

That goddamned bell chimed again.

Soldier Boy choked on a whimper. “Baby, fuck—I need you to move! Please.” His brain was buzzing louder and louder as time went on but he was still very much conscious and hadn't turned Amber into dust—not that he'd be able to do that in the first place. 

“Hmm. Okay.” Amber relented. Only slightly. 

Her immediate pace was hard and fast and Soldier Boy panted heavily, a whine or whimper at the end of every single noise he made. The bell rang with each movement, swinging softly. He pushed his head back onto the bed as his whole body tensed up. His muscles ached while his mind reeled with delight.

Soldier Boy had never felt anything like this before. Pure ecstasy. Better than the drug. Any drug for that matter. His ass was starting to get sore with each thrust but he couldn't have cared less. The ache made it all the more worth it. Hell, even the sound of her skin pounding into his made his mind whir like an old computer. 

“Your sounds,” Avery panted into his ear. “They’re fucking beautiful.” She attached her lips to Soldier Boy’s jaw, nipping at the skin. She wanted to do this more often. 

And judging by Soldier Boy’s sounds, he'd like that too.

“Ah, fuck!” Soldier Boy’s free hand gripped at Amber's waist, digging his nails into her skin. “Baby–Baby, shit—I can't—I can't—” He sobbed. He couldn't hold on anymore. All the touching and feeling and everything was rising and rising. A part of him was surprised he lasted this long. Especially with the finger-fucking he went through earlier. 

Avery flipped the bell around Soldier Boy’s neck as she sucked a mark above it. A helpless whimper escaped his lips. 

“Be a doll and hold it in,” Avery ground out, giving Soldier Boy a particularly hard thrust. He drew in a sharp breath which morphed into a whine. “You'll do that for me?” 

Soldier Boy whimpered, “Uh-huh.” He was so drunk on feeling that he couldn't stop himself from obeying her. But it got harder and harder with each snap of her hips. “Shit–” He breathed as the muscles in his legs started to twitch. 

“You're almost there,” Compared to the almost carnal way Amber was fucking into him, the way her lips pressed against his skin was soft, gentle, and felt strangely more sensual than everything else. “I can feel it, sweetheart. So am I. Just—” Amber grunted lowly into Soldier Boy’s ear. “Just hold on. A little more.” Her voice was strained.

That's when Soldier Boy had a moment of clarity. Amber was going to cum. Inside him. A shiver of delight ran throughout his body. 

After a few more deep pushes, Amber let out a harbored sigh. The tightness in her stomach broke and Soldier Boy cried out as he felt her paint his insides. Not more than a few seconds later, as Amber slowed her hips, he came as well. Drops of white landed on both of their stomachs. 

Soldier Boy had to resist the urge to actually cry. He had never felt more thoroughly satisfied in his life. 

“Oh, my sweet boy,” Amber cupped his face, tilting it so he would look her in the eyes. “You like this, hm? Me inside you? You'd like it if it was like this all the time, wouldn't you?” She teased softly. 

The man underneath her loved the weight of her inside him. Maybe he secretly wished she would split him in half. He nodded silently, his face red as he felt a bead of sweat run down the back of his neck. Soldier Boy didn't sweat. Not in a long time. 

Amber caressed the side of his face and smiled down at him. “I could arrange that.” She hummed. “But,” She pulled his leg from her shoulder and let it fall. “We have things to do tomorrow.” Her cock slipped from him and he immediately felt empty. 

He pursed his lips, a crease between his eyebrows when he let out a whine from the loss of her touch. He could barely speak after feeling something so intense. Amber went to the bathroom connected to her room to grab a towel and cleaned him up. Soldier Boy’s whole body was sore but his ass was where he felt it the most. 

“C'mon, sweetheart,” Amber sighed, running a hand through his hair which he gladly leaned into. “Don't be like that.” She sighed as she picked up her underwear to put it back on to, at the very least, have something to cover herself in bed. Amber didn't like being naked underneath covers. It just felt wrong. 

After some coaxing, Amber was able to get Soldier Boy to put his boxers back on himself and lay in bed correctly. However, he immediately clung to her like a vice once they were both in her bed. He buried his face into her neck while an arm rested over her stomach. Amber hadn't bothered to take the collar off his neck and Soldier Boy didn't mention it. He liked how it felt. A symbol of her ownership over him. 

That little bell stopped ringing. And so did his head. 

-----

A/N: I JUST WANTED TO SAY THANKS FOR THE SUPPORT ON THIS FIC !!! i never thought so many other people would want to read about soldier boy getting dicked down but here we are !!! 🫶

taglist: @aleemendoza2425-blog

taglist open here !!

[noonmutter]

Best Boy

DWC Feb 2024 Day 4: Vengeance/Satisfaction

Pandaria was already meeting spring with wide open arms, and the cheerful, bright sunlight was almost offensive to Shedwyn's eyes. That wasn't really new, though; everything was almost offensive to Shedwyn's eyes right now. Her fucking husband had gone and got himself fucking titled--legitimately titled, through no effort of his own, the fuckhead--and he had no idea how it'd happened. She had even less idea, and his babbling explanation hadn't made it a whole lot clearer.

The fact that they were shouting at each other about it the whole time probably hadn't helped.

But still.

Fucker.

After they'd gone in circles for about half an hour, and she'd slugged him in the chest a little bit harder than she'd actually meant to, she'd decided it was time for a breather.

"I'm going to Leon's. I need sex in my mouth right now and I don't mean you."

"First of all, fuckin' ew--"

"YOU KNOW WHAT I MEANT, ASSBAG OF KEEL."

She hadn't realized she'd been growling obscenities, mostly about her husband, out loud until the younger Ambroce whistled at her from his front door.

"Y'gonna keep me in suspense or kin we take this inside?"

"I want to be petulant and snarl some more and maybe blow something up, but I also want pizza, and I know if I do the first thing I won't get the second."

Leon nodded and stepped aside to let her into the house. "Yer becomin' downright self-policin' these days. I'm pretty sure tha's a good thin', but..."

"Shut up and feed me."

"Fine, but this better be good, y' grumpy li'l shit." He adored his sister-in-law, but that also meant he was a lot more willing to be crass with her than most. She was family, ergo she was tough enough to take a little bit of honest ribbing.

"Food then snark. Please. I want to not be the adult right now."

"Fair enough. Does tha' mean I don't get an explanation? Only if tha's th' case, I'm not gonna make yer fav'rite."

"But--"

"Them's th' rules."

Shedwyn sighed. She would kill a man for anchovies, and the man who did the absolute best thing with them was standing right in front of her, and she was a Lady, god dammit, and... She sighed again. She could be polite for a little while.

"All right."

"Attagirl."

"Don't push it, Ambroce."

Laughing, Leon closed the door behind them and fled to the kitchen to get to work. It was a good thing everyone else had left for their own chores for the day, or the complaints would've started within five minutes of the fishy dish going into the oven. For the most part, the house smelled of salt, generic "fish" smell, shrimp, ham, cheese, and tomatoes, but those first two really overpowered the rest. Anchovies were not popular at the restaurant in Stormwind, but the ones who liked them really liked them, as he'd found out, so he kept a small supply at home for emergencies. Emergencies like his little mana-bomb of a sister having a bad day, for example.

They didn't talk about much of anything while he was cooking. Leon was too focused to offer up much of anything without being prompted, and Shedwyn was in no mood to talk like an adult yet. She was in the mood to pout, and scream, and maybe punch Terry again. She'd had to go through so frickin' much to get her own title set down on paper and into the records that mattered; she'd memorized every stupid word of the stupid Doppelganger Decree of 28 and would probably not be able to forget about it for years. And Terry'd gone and fuckin' farted out a dynasty.

Shedwyn Lias-Ambroce was not strictly speaking a jealous woman, but she had limits. It just wasn't fair!

Somewhere amid the interminable brooding, a steaming pizza appeared on the table in front of her, and the clouds parted. Angels didn't sing, because angels sucked and didn't like anchovies, but that was fine. More for her. The first bite was always the best, but the second through sixth bites were pretty damned amazing, too.

Leon was kind enough to wait until she'd torn through two slices before he cleared his throat. When Shedwyn was not immediately forthcoming, he made his point by taking a slice of his own and sitting down. She growled to herself, then picked up a napkin and dabbed at her mouth.

"Your brother got lucky again."

"...Like yer 'avin' another kid, or...?"

This time, the sigh was loud, extremely melodramatic, and seemed almost to propel her backwards to drape over the back of her chair. "Like he didn't end up dead or promoted at the end of the Gilneas campaign, so he fell ass-backwards into a viscountcy instead!"

Leon blinked, then took a bite of his slice. Nope. Still don't like anchovies. "Alright..?"

"All right? Really? That's the first thing you say? Your brother's a goddamn titled, landed Gilnean nobleman out of nowhere! After all the shit I went through to get my shitty little Barony carved out of Duskwood! Not only does he just walk into some office in Stromgarde and walk out with a title, he walks out outranking me! Which I didn't know I would care about until it happened!"

Leon said nothing, simply letting her unload, as was his wont. His neverending patience pissed her off even more, as was her wont.

"I had, and still have, to work my absolute ass off for every single scrap I've ever gotten or ever will get, and then I have to work even more to keep it, and your bullfuckin' Ambroce luck has Terry just survive long enough! What the fuck, Leon?!"

When she stopped to ask him a question, even if it was a rhetorical one, Leon looked up from finishing off his slice. He calmly licked his fingers, then set his elbows on the table. Then, he set his chin on his hands. "Would it 'elp any if I said it wasn't all luck this time?"

"Well of course it wasn't all luck, it takes a shitload of skill to survive the absolute fuckalanche of shit he's been through, but--"

"No, I mean it was me."

That stopped the little mage mid-rant. "What was you?"

"Th' Gilnean Repatriation Initiative sent out letters somethin' like a month ago. I got one, you prolly got one tha' got tossed out, knowin' 'ow you an' Terry feel about anythin' bearin' th' royal seal of anywhere."

Shedwyn gaped.

Leon continued, "I'm just as much a Gilnean as 'e is, but I've my life 'ere, an' I very much like it. An' really, goin' 'ome does not bring 'appy mem'ries t' th' fore. Maybe I coulda got th' ranch back, but... gods, I don't want it. But I know Terry does. An' anybody 'o'd met th' man fer five minutes knew 'e'd go back t' Gilneas th' instant th' call went out. So I sent a reply with a couple suggestions."

Shedwyn's hair was starting to crackle like one of those globe toys that made lightning strike where your fingertips touched them.

Leon, undeterred, picked up the pizza plate and walked it back into the kitchen.

"My brother is a turd, a recoverin' racist, an' more than a bit of a jackass. But 'e's also an extremely patriotic, loyal man when 'e wants t' be. Tha's admirable as 'ell! Downright noble, even. Apparently they agreed, eh?"

The chair clattered to the floor as Shedwyn stood up, both hands up in front of her, grasping at the air in a strangling motions.

"You- you-"

"Feel free t' tell 'im Leroy says congratulations." He turned and stared her straight in the eye, even as they crackled with arcane lightning. "Elroy does, too."

Later on, Shedwyn would say the only reason Leon survived that meeting was because she didn't want to destroy the house, his spouses didn't deserve that.

Mostly it was because everytime she'd try to gather up the energy to cast something, he'd headbutt her, and she was too stubborn to dodge.

( @daily-writing-challenge @shedwyn )

[sociieties]

@peachmuses: after telling makoto everything he's heard from kazuya, (and telling him how kazuya showed him how he held shuu ) tatsuya is laid across his boyfriend, eyes staring up at the ceiling. " I think I fucked shuuzou up. " he says softly, " we dated. we fucked. I left. he hasn't been in a relationship since. it's been near two years. we started dating when I was 15. then, I left him and moved here. he moved here too, and now we are here. " tatsuya breathes out, " shuu is in love with zuya. I can tell. I dont think he knows though, but he is. "

makoto's comfortable in the silence, having settled in it after tatsuya told him about what kazuya did ( and now, really, makoto's the only who who hasn't seen it for himself, but knows about it all the same ). things were fine at one point -- it's something makoto knows to be true, but that one point now feels so long ago he doesn't know if they'll actually get back to it. unwillingly, he's dragged out of his thoughts as boyfriend chooses to break the silence with one of the worse things he's ever heard the other say before / and still, makoto chooses silence over words for what feels like five minutes.

first, finally, makoto's first words are nothing more than broken breaths as he exhales stress he's been holding onto for too long. " shuu is more sensitive than he tries making himself out to be. " he knows his best friend well enough to know it / knows his boyfriend knows his ex well enough to come to the same conclusion as well. still, he doesn't really know what to say about something like that as they were only 15, therefore young and stupid. shuuzou, makoto hates to admit, is a lot more damaged than he acts and even the tiniest cracks in things shake his entire foundation. this, however, is not tatsuya's fault. " it's not your fault, " he chooses to say, leaving out how he feels like shuuzou is an earthquake waiting to happen, trying to tiptoe across the underwater fault line that is kazuya. " shuuzou... "

eyes close as he allows his voice to trail, squeezing them shut and ignoring the way they burn before he restarts and tries again. " shuuzou also has abandonment issues. you didn't cause them. " if tatsuya made them worse or not, makoto cannot and will not say. " he followed you back here because he wasn't over you. he-- " this isn't really just information he just offers people about his best friend, " he decided that if he was going to chase after someone's affection, he'd rather it be like someone like you and not the family that keeps biting his hand and making him feel like the bad dog because he's tired of feeling like the villain. "

he swallows, hating that he's telling shuuzou's business, but he knows that tatsuya knows enough. ( still, shuuzou would kill him if he knew. )

" i don't know when or how he got over you, but he did. that doesn't make it your fault, it just makes it something that happened. " and yet, shuuzou is still one busted can of spaghetti sauce that people tend to step around instead of cleaning up. makoto's been cleaning him up for so long that his hands are stained red and he can't get the smell out. shuuzou, the broken best friend / makoto, the fixer with glass cutting his hands. " about zuya... he does that. he makes people care about him even when they don't want to. " he hates knowing this. " zuya's in love with shuu, too. what happened with his boyfriend, i doubt he actually really cared about him in any real sort of capacity, or ever even tried to. it's just shuu all the time for him -- it-- " face scrunches, " zuya's been avoiding shuu all this time saying that he can't show his face because he doesn't know what to do about it because it's shuu. shuu might have this thing about not fucking his friends, but zuya has it about not dating them. "

[quesocane]

They really just handed me a street style bisexual like this

[mackenzielovee]

jealous - rafe cameron

a/n: hi! im kinda a mess right now and this story is a little all over the place so im sorry if you hate it lol but i really wanted to write something based on what i think Rafe would really be like as a bf so here it is! (not my pic)

Summary: Your boyfriend, Rafe Cameron, takes you to a party.

Warnings: swearing, drug use (cocaine), alcohol consumption, mentions of sex

Word Count: 2k

my writing

You can hear the music coming from the house before you see it. It's Friday night on Figure Eight, and you already know what that means. Accompanying your boyfriend to yet another party. You and Rafe have been together for almost a year, and some days, you really think you could rip his head off.

You hadn't even wanted to come tonight. When you voiced that to Rafe, however, he told you with a shrug of his shoulders that he'd just find someone else to dance with. Of course, it started a fight, and now, you're sitting in the back of Topper's Jeep beside Rafe, watching as he stares at his phone.

He isn't talking to you or looking at you, but apparently it's enough for him that he just knows exactly where you are and what you're doing. It's not enough for you, though. You reach over and grab his hand from his phone, looping yours through it. Rafe hesitates at first, wanting his hand back so he can continue what he had been doing. When he sees your expression, his eyes soften just a bit and he relaxes into his seat and your touch.

Topper parks the car and tells all of you to hop out, which you do with the help of Rafe. You appreciate that he doesn't let go of your hand, even though you know it's only because you all are approaching the party and he wants every single person to know that you are with him.

Rafe leans over and kisses your temple quickly, then brings his lips down to your ear.

"Stay close, yeah?" he whispers, his hand gripping yours even tighter.

You know the drill by now. Of course you're going to stay close, because Rafe never lets you get more than five feet away from him at these things. You envy the way Topper treats Sarah sometimes, even though you really think Topper's a tool and would never date him.

Once you all enter the house, Rafe moves his hand from yours to around your waist, leading you through the party and glaring at any guy that even looks over at you. You all make your way into the living room area and find seats on the couch, Rafe immediately pulling you down dangerously close to him.

"Yo, who got this shit?" Rafe points to the cocaine on the table in front of him, the rolled up dollar bill tempting him.

"Bought it from Barry this morning, bro," Kelce speaks up, grinning. Kelce is always trying to please Rafe.

"Always reading my mind, brother," Rafe smirks, and leads forward to take a line without hesitation.

When he comes back up from his line, he grins and daps up Kelce, telling him it's good shit. Then, without you even moving, he leans over and kisses you roughly. His tongue enters your mouth quickly, which you accept and grab onto his neck. He moans into your mouth and then pulls away, immediately going back to the coke.

You sigh and sit back, pulling your phone out. You know Rafe will be high as a kite when you two leave tonight, which only makes you hopeful that he won't turn into an absolute asshole once that stuff kicks in.

He turns back to you with a devious smirk on his face, and before you can even ask what he's doing, he's collecting a line up on your thigh.

"I don't want that shit on me, Rafe," you grumble, but you know better than to move. He might just kill you if you spilled that shit all over the couch and the floor.

"Relax, baby," he tells you, not looking up at you. He's too focused on perfecting his line.

His friends all watch as he snorts a line up your thigh, all of them silently wishing they could do the same. You try not to roll your eyes at him and end up catching the eye of some guy standing in the corner of the room. He's watching you both, curious why you're hanging out with a guy like that. You just shrug and roll your eyes only halfway, telling the guy you're over it.

You're not sure why you do it, you suppose it's the concerned look in his eye as he watches. Nobody ever looks at you like that anymore.

When Rafe glances back up to you and sees you looking at another guy, he instinctively wraps his arm around your waist.

"I don't like the way he's looking at you," Rafe tells you, "Come sit in my lap."

His voice is raspy and his jaw is clenched as he pulls you into his lap, kissing on your cheeks and your neck as he stares at the guy. After only a minute or so, the guy is intimidated enough that he ends up walking out of the living room completely.

"Did you know him?" Rafe asks you, his eyes trailing the boy out of the room.

"No, baby," you sigh.

He catches the frustration in your voice and looks up into your eyes, reaching up and tucking a piece of your hair behind your ear. This is the Rafe you love; the intimate, soft one. The one who isn't afraid to show you how he loves you.

"Are you having fun, princess?" he questions, his voice softer than it had been before.

You're not, but you know Rafe is enjoying himself and wants to stay and hang out. So, you take a deep breath and nod your head, giving him a convincing smile. Rafe smiles back and strokes his fingers against your cheek, then brings his hand down to your neck to pull you closer to him. He uses his nose to move your hair away from your ear so he can talk into it.

"I can't wait to get inside of you later, sweetheart," he whispers, feeling you instantly start to squirm against his lap.

His dirty talk always gets to you. The way his voice gets all raspy and needy just does things to your body that no other guy ever could.

"Is that right?" you tease him, bringing your lips dangerously close to him.

"Mhm," he hums against your lips, then closes the gap between the two of you.

He loves when you play with his hair, so you do. You can feel him getting excited underneath you, so you continue. One of his hands wraps around your throat and the other goes down to your ass, making you moan.

"Yo, Rafe, get a fucking room, man," Topper groans.

Rafe smirks against your lips and pulls away, gently setting you down beside him again. You try not to be mad that Topper interrupted the first ounce of attention your boyfriend has shown you tonight. Rafe leans forward to cut another line, so you stand and look around for a bathroom. When he doesn't notice you get up, you decide to just run really quick to one and then come back.

You walk from the living room into a kitchen, then see a little hallway that looks like it probably contains a bathroom. Once you get down the dimly lit hallway, you feel a hand on your arm, roughly yanking you around.

"What the fuck are you doing going off on your own?" Rafe snaps at you, his grip on your arm tightening. You can feel his nails digging into your flesh, making you wince.

"Rafe, you're hurting me," you tell him softly, gently trying to move your arm out of his grasp.

"You need to tell me when you have to go to the bathroom," he says harshly, then releases our arm.

"I'm sorry," you mumble, looking down at the floor. He brings his hand up and grabs your cheek, pulling your head up to look at him.

"C'mon," he tells you, "I'll take you."

He reaches down and takes your hand, leading you down the hallway and stopping at a random door. There's one guy waiting outside of it, who Rafe pats on the back once the two of you approach.

"Find another one," Rafe tells him.

The guy turns around and looks at Rafe like he's crazy, his eyes glancing over to you for a second. Protectively, Rafe's grip tightens around your hand.

"Dude, I've been waiting for a while. The line was long when I got here," the guy tells him, watching Rafe sarcastically smile.

"Interesting story, bro. Move along. Now," Rafe's voice is harsh.

The guy rolls his eyes and pushes past the two of you, deciding he doesn't have to go bad enough to put up with Rafe being an asshole. Rafe moves in front of the door, pulling you with him, and bangs on the door.

"Time's up," he yells, continuing to pound on the door.

The door opens up a second later, the guy Rafe had removed from the living room with his eyes earlier stepping out. Of course, you think.

"Ah, if it isn't the guy who likes to stare at my girl," Rafe grins devilishly.

"Rafe-" you start, wanting to tell him to let it go.

"Go inside, baby. I'll be right here when you're done."

He drags his hand toward the door, which in turn drags you toward the door. He lets go as soon as you're in the bathroom, then leans in and shuts the door for you. You can hear Rafe sizing up that poor guy outside, but you choose not to listen. You use the bathroom and then wash your hands quickly, trying your best to hurry so you can save that guy.

When you pull the door open again, Rafe is leaning against the doorframe with his phone in his hand. He looks up at you when you come out and doesn't speak, he just wraps his arm around your waist and leads you away, still looking at his phone.

When you get into the kitchen, Rafe suddenly pushes you up against the wall with no warning. He leans forward and grabs onto your cheeks, bringing his mouth up to yours roughly and kissing you. He quickly picks you up and wraps your legs around his waist, keeping you pinned up against the wall. You kiss him back, loving the way his hands feel all over your body. If you're honest, you're growing impatient for the night to end. You really just want Rafe to take you home and fuck you.

Rafe pulls away after a few minutes, gently setting you back down on the floor and taking his hand in yours again.

"You're mine, don't you forget it," he tells you, his voice demanding. You nod and reach up to wipe your lip, which seems to be covered in Rafe's saliva.

You watch Rafe's gaze as it lingers around the guy from the bathroom, who had just seen Rafe's explosive display of affection. You sigh, knowing that entire thing was just a way of Rafe to mark his territory.

"We're gonna go get Topper's keys," Rafe tells you, "I can't wait any longer. I need you, right now."

You give Rafe a real smile this time and nod your head, following him as he leads you through the crowd. After promising Topper you two wouldn't fuck in his Jeep, he hands Rafe his keys so you two can leave. Rafe tightens his grip around your hand as he pulls you back to the kitchen. He purposely walks past that guy again, muttering something in his ear as you two pass that you can't hear. When you look back, the guy looks disgusted.

When you two get back to Topper's Jeep, you're surprised when Rafe opens up the back door for you to get in.

"Why am I getting in the back?" you ask him.

He smirks, "We're getting in the back."

You look at the devious look on his face and figure out what he's up to, so you raise your eyebrow at him.

"You promised Topper we wouldn't fuck in his Jeep," you remind him.

Rafe rolls his eyes, "Yeah, and last month Topper promised me he wouldn't bend my nine iron when he beat up that Pogue on the golf course with my club. Trust me, baby. He owes me."

You sigh but do as you're told, watching Rafe's smirk only grow when you climb inside. No matter what that boy puts you through at these parties, the sex always makes up for it.

[sparklingchim]

better together; f | pjm

pairing: jimin x wife!reader

word count: 1.9k

genre: fluff, dad!jimin, married couple, slice of life au

warnings: oc is pregnant, nothing else unless you hate children ?

summary: just a casual day with your husband jimin and your little boy jihoon.

a/n: hello! this is a fic i wrote a while ago and thought about sharing it now🥰 there are a few more chapters that i wrote in that universe but they still need to be edited. i hope you like it!!❤

masterlist

Kick...kick...kick...

,,Why are you so active today, my little bean?" you coo, rubbing your belly and feeling the tiny kicks from your 7 month old baby girl in your womb.

,,Baby?" you hear the sound of your 2 year old little baby boy, who is sitting next to you, on his high baby chair. His pastel blue elephant bib is draped around his neck, already soiled with the chicken soup rice porridge your feeding him - even though he only ate approximately 3 spoons of it yet.

,,Your baby sister is moving," you tell him and he excitedly stretches his grabby hands, aiming for your bump, completely ignoring the spoon that he was about to latch his mouth on.

Of course his short chubby arms can't quite reach it, so you grab him from his baby stool and place him on your lap. He automatically brings both his hands on your stomach, roaming them all over your bump and anticipating the movements of his baby sister.

Both of your hands have a firm hold on his back and keep him safe on your lap, because Jihoon tends to get dynamic and thrilled at random times - especially when it had something to do with his still unborn sister. Jihoon loved feeling her kicks, even going so far to refuse to sleep sometimes and clinging onto your womb to not miss anything his sister does.

,,Ohhh," his stunned voice breaks the silence, his eyes going wide as he feels his sibling moving. You laugh at his reaction, one hand pushing his soft hair from his forehead.

When you attempt to sit him back into his baby chair, he whines in displeasure, putting pressure on your stomach with his small hands. You sigh in defeat, not wanting to make him sad because you don't let him rub your belly.

For a few seconds you let him be, granting him the glee he earns from being the closest as possible as he is able to be with his sister. The way Jihoons whole focus is solely fixated on his baby sister makes your heart swell in pure fondness. He couldn't wait for her birth just like Jimin and you.

You don't forget to feed him though. You grab a spoonful of Jihoon's porridge behind him and hold the spoon in front of his lips, waiting for him to open his tiny plump lips - that he definitely got from his dad - but his eyes are remain on your bump, not caring about the food presented in front of him. You slightly raise your hips up, causing his body to bounce on your lap to draw his attention towards you - but nothing. Jihoon simply doesn't care.

,,Jihoon-ah," you scold him with a stern tone  since he's obviously ignoring you.

He looks up at you, with those big brown eyes and your heart lights up at his innocent face.

You hold the spoon closer to his mouth, but still, he doesn't attempt to part his lips, only backing away with his head.

,,No," he says and pushes your hand away with his much smaller hand. You quirk an eyebrow up at his behaviour.

You don't get to berate him again, when you hear the door opening and then closing shut again. You both immediately get excited - well, your excitement isn't really shown outside compared to Jihoon, who seeks to get off your lap and eagerly wants to rush off to his dad. His feet slowly sink down to the floor with your protecting hands around his little body and then his chubby legs sprint to the hallway, desperately wanting to greet his dad.

You hope he won't fall, because that accident happened a lot of times already - always ending up with some sobbing, teary eyes and clinging onto either Jimin or you. Your little boy let his delight go too overboard sometimes and only reserved little care into his surroundings. You'd have to teach him to be more aware of that.

,,Hello little guy," you hear Jimin's voice echoing from the hall.

,,Daddy!" Jihoon exclaims, giggling afterwards because Jimin probably spooned him up and snuggled his face into Jihoon's neck.

You just sit there, a warm smile on your lips, and don't make an attempt to get up to greet your husband too, because your feet are killing you today.

A few seconds later, Jimin enters the kitchen with Jihoon in his arms. Jihoon wrapped his arms and leg around Jimin's upper body, like a little koala bear and you chuckle at that sight. Jimin tilts his head down and places a tender kiss to your lips.

Even though Jimin was only away for 3 hours - because he had some meeting at the company - you missed his presence at home. And I seems like your not the only one who missed him, since Jihoon is practically glued to his daddys body.

,,You three are good?" Jimin asks, taking a seat beside you, while rubbing your belly in soft strokes.

,,We're all fine.", you assure him with a sincere smile. Jimin kisses you again. You just look so adorable right now.

You look at the back of Jihoon's head. Jimin's hand is placed on his back to hold him closely.

,,But Jihoonie still has to eat, right?" you say and look expectantly at his back, waiting for a reaction to your words. Jimin's gaze shoot to Jihoon's - still full - bowl and frowns.

Jihoon wiggles his body and then muffles a tiny 'No' into Jimins shoulder.

Jimin chuckles but then quickly asks ,,What's the matter, baby?" He softly nudges Jihoons head with his shoulder, wanting to see his face. Jihoon looks up to his dad, his lips forming a little pout.

,,You're shirt is stained with his food.", you giggle, after seeing the mess that Jihoons bib caused on Jimin dark shirt. He peers his eyes to the stain but doesn't say anything to that. Jimin and you were already used to dirty clothes since your little boy couldn't stop creating a mess every five minutes.

,,How come you don't want to eat anymore when it seems like you apparently enjoyed it?" Jimin asks the little boy.

You sigh and stand up. Jihoon needs to eat something and if he won't continue eating this meal, then you're going to cook something else. He was already fussy when you sat him down on the baby chair earlier and you don't want to deal with whines if your going to resist on making him eat that food.

You groan slightly when your feet carries your whole body weight and instantly place your hand on your side to steady yourself. Your bump got really big.

,,No, no, baby. I've got this, sit down. I can cook something for him," Jimin says, standing up with Jihoon in his arms and puts a hand on your shoulder. You look up at him, wanting to say that it's okay, but he's faster.

,,Your feet hurt, right? Let me run you a bath, love," he says, putting Jihoon on his baby chair and whispering ,,Wait for daddy, okay?" Jimin places a quick kiss on his head. Then he bends down a bit and you feel one of his hand on the back of your knees.

,,I can walk Jimin, don't carry me," you retort, your weight making you a little insecure. Of course he doesn't listen to you and in one swift motion your in his arms. He naturally watched out not to discomfort you or the baby, while proceeding to lifting you in his arms. You hear Jihoon giggling behind you, entertained by the sight of his mommy getting carried by his daddy like a baby.

,,Your dad is so strong, Jihoonie," Jimin calls out while walking to the bathroom.

Jihoon only laughs more at that comment yelling a ,,Me too!"

,,You're saying I'm fat?" you ask hurt, swatting his chest.

,,No, no! Of course you're not fat, baby. I'm just playing with Jihoonie," he panics, looking worried and concerned, because he knows that your hormones are getting the better hand of you these days. But it weren't your hormones this time. You almost laugh at his panicked face, but you decide to hold it in and not try to sooth him. Maybe you just have a little demon inside you that likes teasing Jimin, but you think it's fine for all those times he used to tease you for something.

,,You better be," you mutter and feel his lips pressing a soft kiss on your cheek.

He slowly lets you slide of his hold and you sit on the closed toilet lid, watching him as he runs water into the tub. Jimin tests the temperature of the water and hums quietly when he is satisfied with it. Then he puts some liquid inside to create bubbles and a delicious smell.

,,No bath bombs this time, I have to buy some again," Jimin says and you only nod. The fact that he even noticed that there were no bath bombs left made you want to cry. Maybe now the hormones were actually kicking in.

,,Thank you," you answer, never missing a chance to thank him for his care and thoughtfulness he's showing every day.

Jimin turns around, a lovely smile already tugging at his lips and widening once he takes me into sight.

,,You need me to help you?" he asks carefully. You shake your head as an answer.

,,No, go and feed Jihoon, your mini-me is starving," you reply. Jimin rolls his eyes at your exaggeration.

,,My mini-me is not starving," he makes clear and his eyes soften at the cute nickname you both - actually you - created for your little baby boy. Jihoon has so many of Jimins features- his nose, his lips and his eye colour are just like Jimins. You both always said how you wanted tiny replications of both of you running around the house once you'd get married, but now that it actually happened, it's scary how a tiny Jimin waddles though the house, always giggling after he'd done something he'd surely wasn't allowed to do.

,,Mommy!", Jihoon exclaims in that moment and you raise a brow up.

,,Hurry up, he's waiting," you say, swaying both your hands to shoo him away.

,,He just yelled your name. Shouldn't I be the one he's missing after coming home from a meeting?", he pouts, but doesn't wait for an answer as he leaves the bathroom.

You smile at his question. Suddenly you feel the need to snuggle your little Jihoon in your arms since he shouted your name, because he's alone, but you have to take a little break from today and his daddy is on his way to him anyway.

,,Daddy's coming!", you hear Jimin shout and you start discarding your clothes on the floor.

,,No, want mommy!", Jihoon yells back and you start laughing.

Apparently Jihoon wasn't satisfied with anything he got today.

[stellocchia]

I have no idea if your still taking Fic prompt ideas but I was listening to "I got no time" from The Living Tombstone, and I got a messed up fic idea of C!Dream stalking C!Tommy but worse, it takes place after C!Dream's escape and C!Tommy is living in the updated Tubbo house, but he realized C!Dream is in the house and is hunting him, and now he has to survive a night of C!Dream hunting him down, since in the morning, Sam Nook will be fully charged and will be able to save C!Tommy or something.

Anyways, I hope you have a good day/night! <3

(╯°□°）╯︵ ┻━┻

*nods* Ah yes, the FNAF x Dsmp crossover no one asked for but they're getting anyway.

Tommy was in bed. He was finally managing to relax after a whole day spent hiding behind Sam Nook and flinching at every single sound he heard.

His anxiety wasn't always that bad, but he'd woken up with a bad feeling in his stomach that morning. He hated how right his gut always was.

Sometime after midnight, he heard the front door of the house he was staying in creak open. It wasn't Sam Nook as he was still shut down and settled in his charging station and would stay like that until six am and no one else would think to visit him, especially not at night.

Slowly, Tommy got out of the bed and grabbed the flashlight and the sword he kept next to his bed. Slowly he inched downstairs. He made sure to keep out of the view of the front door, in case whoever had entered was still there. It had been a good idea it seemed, as he could still see the silhouette of the intruder in front of the door. The vague purple glow of their enchanted reflected on the white porcelain mask they were wearing and, just like that, Tommy knew he needed to hide.

He silently inched upstairs once more and hid behind Sam Nook's charging station. It was a good hiding spot as it made it impossible to see him unless someone specifically looked for him there but it was also easy to get out from in case someone did look there.

When Dream finally made his way into the room it had been thirty minutes already. He'd clearly taken his time to explore the downstairs meticulously, which didn't bode well for Tommy's hiding spot.

So, instead of waiting for Dream to get close enough to see him, he waited only until the man's back was facing him and he slipped out as quietly as he could.

He managed to sneak past him and headed downstairs. He thought of exiting the house altogether and running, but the door had been closed and he knew that the creaking of it would have been heard from upstairs if he tried opening it. He didn't have his armor with him, so if Dream decided to shoot him and kill him he'd have no defense. He was also slower than Dream, so if the man decided to hunt him down instead he'd have no chance.

All he could do was wait until six am for Sam Nook to turn on and kick the shit out of Dream. Hopefully, he knew the house well enough to evade the man until then.

He kept going like that switching between hiding places any time Dream got close. The man got more frantic as he went. Tommy hoped he'd give up sooner or later, but he never did. He seemed to be certain of Tommy's location. Sometimes he'd even call out to him with that singsong tone that haunted his nightmares.

"Oh, Tommy⁓ I know you're here. You can't hide forever"

He was so close. It was five fifty-five am when he tripped and crashed on the hardwood floor with a loud 'thud' right as he was getting out of his hiding place behind the charging station. Dream swirled around immediately. Tommy tried to get up and scamper away, but Dream's netherite axe came down in front of him blocking his path.

"Dream please, please don't-" Tommy tried begging. It had never done him any good with the other man, but it was worth a try still. Dream chuckled darkly in response.

"After you made me run around in circles for almost six fucking hours? You'll be lucky if I don't cut one of your legs off before killing you" Dream stalked forward and grabbed him by the forearm with one hand while grabbing the axe with the other.

"Dream don't- please, we're friends right? I don't- please don't-" there were tears falling down his face now.

Dream cocked his head to the side as if he'd just said particularly dumb. "Of course, we are, Tommy. Why would you doubt it?"

Tommy almost wanted to scream at him. To yell that a friend wouldn't do this to him. A friend wouldn't break into his house at night to murder him. A friend wouldn't just hurt him like this. But that would have only made things worse because Dream didn't like being questioned.

Tommy was about to spout out some more generic pleas hoping to buy just a bit more time when the clock on top of Sam Nook's charging station dinged. It was apparently unexpected enough for Dream to get momentarily distracted and slightly loosen his hold on him. Tommy immediately took the opportunity to scramble off and out of the room. He didn't run downstairs though.

That seemed to confuse Dream further. He'd turned around to watch him and was clearly about to mock him for wasting his last chance at an escape when a blade appeared through his chest perforating his heart if he even had one. The blade retracted and Dream's body flopped to the ground unmoving.

HOSTILE ENTITY REMOVED. PERIMETER SECURED. GOOD MORNING TOMMYINNIT! DID YOU SLEEP WELL?

Tommy released a small hysterical laugh before running to Sam Nook and hugging him tightly.

They'd have to get rid of the body soon, but, for the time being, the only thing Tommy could think about was how much he needed that small comfort.

[yannowhatigiveup]

A Blinded Kiss

I haven’t posted anything recently so I dug around in my WIPs to see if anything was even worth posting and I found this that I made a while ago. It certainly isn’t the best but it isn’t the worst out of all my other WIPs.

"Is this really necessary?" The bluenette asked, eyeing a blindfold given by her brotherly figure.

"Of course it is Pixie!" An older man with two-toned hair replied, way too over enthusiastic about the whole situation. "It's a great way to find your way around the manor”

"And it's a great family bonding experience too!" Another man in the room replied, even more enthusiastic than the first.

"Fine, I'll do it Jay" the blue-eyed girl huffed, twirling the blindfold between her fingers. "What are the rules again, Dick?"

Dick beamed at the girl before answering. "Well Mari, it's simple. Put the blindfold on, count to fifty, spin around and try to steal a hug from anyone in the manor"

"So I have to walk around the manor blindfolded and try to sneak up on you? You know that's impossible!" Marinette exclaimed, she would not go around the house looking like a touch-starved fool.

"That's exactly why we're doing it" Jason replied, shrugging his shoulders. "It'll last a long time."

After a few seconds, the blue-eyed girl sighed, giving in to both Jason and Dick. "Fine, if that's what makes you happy" Marinette wrapped the matte-black fabric tightly around her eyes, already struggling within the first few seconds. She began counting and she heard the two scuffling away, smiling while being able to tell which direction they went in. In the mean time, Marinette debated her options.

'Both Jason and Dick would be the ideal choices but they'll be able to hear me from a mile away. Tim would be the most logical one since he's half asleep, but where does he even go in this maze? God knows where Alfred is, Mr Wayne is scary. Damian-' She paused her train of thoughts, granted Marinette had only met him a few days ago but that didn't stop the crush she had heavily try to cease. 'He'd probably hear me from a mile away as well. This game is so unfair'

Soon enough, Marinette reached fifty and spun herself around, she used a bit too much force than needed so now not only was she blinded but she lost her sense of direction. Giving herself a minute to recover, the bluenette began to walk. Using her improved senses, thanks to the miraculous, Mari was slowly able to create a theoretical map in her mind, though it did take much more energy than she desired.

"Fighting an akuma is easier than this" The bluenette muttered as she hit her thigh along the corner of a wall.

Even though she was using her enhanced abilities, she'd pump into a corner or a wall every now and again, the amount of times increased when her energy was being used. After wondering a hall for what seemed like hours, the bluenette came to a staircase, one that she ever so carefully used to get to a higher floor. Once she did, she kept a hand on one of the walls, using it as a guide. Soon enough, her hand came to what felt like a doorframe. The door was closed she could tell but it was recent used due to the fact that the doorknob was warm. Making sure not to intrude, she knocked on said door, she almost missed the muffled 'come in' had she not been paying attention. Marinette opened the door, went in and quickly shut it behind her, taking a deep breath.

"Okay I hope you don't mind but which room is this and whose in the room? Dick and Jason thought it would be a good idea to walk around the manor blindfolded while trying to sneak up on them" The bluenette huffed, only to freeze when she heard a familiar chuckle.

"I've heard, you're in my room, It's Damian just to clarify" 'Sh-' "So, what task must be fulfilled to give you permission to take the blindfold off? I doubt you want to keep it on any longer" Marinette giggled.

"You're right, I would probably get lost of I continue. Um, I have to 'steal a hug' apparently"

"So you have to hug someone without them inspecting it" Damian came to that conclusion to which the bluenette nodded her head.

"Yeah that's basically it, hey do you have anywhere I could sit down? I'm getting tired..."

"Of course, my bed is five steps to your front and two steps to your right, make yourself comfortable" She wasn't sure how red she had gotten but she obliged anyway. Had she not been wearing the blindfold, she would've seen Damian smiling at her flustered state. Giving herself a moment to regain her energy, Marinette turned to where she presumed Damian was working at his desk. "Can I hug you? Jay never said I couldn't ask the person first. I-I won't if you don't want me to! I just wanted to ask so..."

She heard the boy thoughtfully hum before he made his way over to her. From what she could tell, Damian was now in front of Marinette, looming over her.

"Did Todd or Grayson say it had to be a hug?" Marinette tilted her head in confusion and thoughtfulness, that had never crossed her mind before.

"W-"

"What happens if I kiss you instead?"

The bluenette didn’t reply with words as she knew how terrible her words would be in her flustered state. But she wanted this, her heart longed for it in a way it never did for anyone else. Instead, she nodded, giving the green-eyed boy permission to do as he wished.

She felt his hand lightly tilt her chin up towards, where she presumed, his face was. Then he pressed his lips onto hers, his other had behind her head, tugging at the fabric around her eyes. Marinette felt bliss, she was glad that no one else would interrupt this moment. Shivers went down her spine as she felt Damian’s hands travel up from behind her neck and to wear the blindfold was knotted, gently tugging at the binding. She was glad that when her face was free from the fabric that comprised her vision, the first thing in her line of eyesight were Damian's deep emerald eyes, the shimmered the same way they had when she first laid eyes on him, she'd been enraptured ever since. The boy, however, was smirking as he noticed the pink that dusted her face. Without a moment passing, she threw herself the green-eyed boy, delivering a hug. As she pulled away, her hands cupped his face and she returned his embrace with one of her own. When she pulled away once more, she smiled in satisfaction at his flustered expression.

"When did you realise you had feelings for me?" Marinette asked softly, her forehead pressed against his trying to regain her breath.

"That's a very easy question" Damian stared lovingly into her eyes. "I fell the moment I saw you take down that Akuma three times your size" Her eyes widened.

"You know about me being Ladybug?"

"The same way you know I'm Robin"

They both smiled, creating a truce to not reveal anything.

"Well I better get going, see you later." She got up from the bed and opened the door, only to turn around and say "Je t'aime mon cœur" before exiting the room, leaving a blushing Damian.

Marinette walked back down the stairs, the piece of cloth in hand and small love-struck smile on her face. When she entered the main living room, she came face to face with the owner of the manor.

"Oh hello Mr Wayne"

"Hello Marinette, I see you managed to get the blindfold off" The older man gestured towards the piece of fabric in her hand. "And please, do call me Bruce. Who did you end up surprising with a hug then?"

She smiled brightly before replying. "Damian"

His usual formal demeanor broke for a moment but Bruce quickly picked the pieces back up. "He didn't attack you or injure you in any shape or form?"

Marinette decided to play the oblivious little girl. "No..? Why, does he do it often?" Her head titled in confusion.

"Nothing it doesn't matter" Bruce simply sighed and shook his head. "Also, there's something I'd like to discuss with you at dinner, if you don't mind"

"No not at all, I'll see you at dinner then?" Bruce nodded and left, leaving Marinette alone in the room, waiting for her honorary older brother and his brother to come in. Which they did but only after some time, it was hilarious to see them crouched down, talking to each other in hushed voices. They flinched as she cleared her throat, both slowly turning towards the sound to find a smug looking Marinette and a blindfold whipped around her finger.

"I win"

~~~

Most of the occupants at the table were either in an all out war or were about to be, except for Marinette and an exasperated Bruce Wayne.

"So Marinette" The eldest Wayne began, silencing the rest of the table. "I hope you don't mind me asking but when you were off searching for Jason, you mentioned attacks that have been occurring in Paris, is this true?"

No one failed to notice the girl flinch. "Yeah it's true"

"...how bad are the attacks? In your opinion"

"Well it depends on how strong the person's emotions are really. If their emotions are strong, then the Akuma is strong too"

"What's the strongest akuma that Paris has seen?" It was Tim who asked and memories of the event began swimming through her mind, she got rid of them with a shake of her head.

"The deadliest akuma Paris has experienced was an akuma called 'Syren'. She's a regular person but, as an akuma, she managed to kill around 2 million people. But don't worry! Ladybug's cure managed to bring them back to life"

"D-did... did you die, Pixie?" Jason asked, his anger mixed with worry was boiling over and luckily simmered after seeing her shake her head.

"Do you think the heroes of Paris would let heroes from the Justice League come over to help?"

Marinette contemplated for a moment, should she really risk the heroes getting akumatized? "I think they would but I wouldn't know"

Bruce nodded while Jason leaned over the table to talk closer to his honorary little-sister. "Why didn't you tell me sooner?"

"I didn't want to bother you"

"You're not a bother, Pixie" Jason smiled at the bluenette on the other side of the table. "You never are and you never will be"

~~~

Marinette returned to Paris a few days later, in the mean time, Bruce and the rest of the batfam were planning their visit to the City of Love. Soon enough, the vigilantes were boarded on the plane. Their flight to Paris was relatively silent. After a few hours, they landed and the vigilantes waited on the Eiffel Tower, only to find out there was a battle going on. Before they could engage in the fight, they were engulfed with magical ladybugs that seemed to fix anything destroyed. As they were mesmerized by the cure, a certain spotted-heroine wobbly landed on the platform. Batman was first to notice.

"Ladybug" His voice caused the others to turn around. "Thank you for allowing us into your city"

Ladybug nodded, not uttering a single word.

"We were hoping, with your permission of course, that we could help you be rid of Hawkmoth once and for good" Again, Ladybug didn't reply. "Ladybug?"

When the heroine didn't respond, Batman glanced at Nightwing and the rest of his sons, clearly something was wrong. Unexpectedly, Robin took his glove off, approached the Ladybug-themed hero and placed his hand onto her forehead.

"You have a fever" he stated, his hand trailing down her face to cup her cheek. His family all shot him weird looks. She tiredly blinked at the vigilante, recognising him as Robin and allowed herself to fall into his arms, detransforming while doing so, leaving a burning hot Marinette.

"Dami?" He hummed. "Take me home, please..." She drifted off to sleep, comforted in her lover's arms. He glanced at his family, holding the bluenette close.

"Pixie...is Ladybug?" Red Hood's voice was first.

"You didn't know?" Robin's voice mocking confusion, enraging Red Hood that his youngest brother knew something about his sister that he didn't. Even more so that his demon brother was holding said sister,

"We should take her back home" Dick went over to feel the girl's forehead. "She's burning"

"Tikki?" Robin asked and a red creature flew out from one of Mari's pockets, startling most of the people there.

"I'll try to heal her on the way, follow me"

The floating red creature flew down from the Eiffel Tower, Robin and Marinette close behind. After some hesitation, the others followed, they ended up on top of a bakery. One by one, they entered through the trapdoor on the balcony, finding both Damian with his mask off and a weak looking Marinette. Despite her enfeebled state, the bluenette greeted each vigilante, her gaze landed on Jason.

"It's just a fever, I'll be fine"

Jason removed his helmet and ran a hand through his hair before both settled on his hips. "You don't look fine"

"I promise I am" She wasn't convincing, not at all.

"Fine" Jason huffed, he could never truly say no to the girl he viewed as his little sister. "But since when were you two a thing" He pointed at the two, his gaze resting maliciously on Damian.

"It's all thanks to you, you know" Marinette smirked at Jason's confusion. Tim snickered as he seemed to catch on to what she was saying.

"Had you not organized that 'blindfolded game', I doubt we would be together at this moment" Damian supplied the information, clearly unfazed by the burning rage in the eyes of his older brother.

"Baby Bird's all grown up" The eldest Wayne son overdramatized wiping a fake tear, Batman sighed at his two eldest sons while pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Get your fucking hands off her, Demon Brat!" Jason tried to lunge at Damian, only to be stopped by both Dick and Tim. Though his fury only grew when Marinette snuggled closer to the green-eyed boy, both smirked in victory over Jason's horrified appearance.

Marinette was now part of the family in more ways than one. Though they wish they had found out in better circumstances, they would be able to take down Hawkmoth once and for all, side by side, all together. And to think this all happened because of a silly blindfold game.

[the-goddess-of-mischief-writing]

New York High Rise {3}

Series summary; What does Steve think of what just happened? Well, not only will his next client get to know but also a dear friend of the mob boss.

Pairing: mob!Steve x mob!reader  

Rating: Mature

CHAPTER NO/ONESHOT: Chapter 3/5

Word; 6.2k

Warnings; canon type violence, death, anything you could expect from a mafia!au

Author; @the-goddess-of-mischief-writing

A/N: I just want to warn anyone, this chapter revolve around Steve and contains graphic scenes so if anyone feel like they may get triggered, I have now warned you. If you choose to read anyways it is YOUR choice.

SERIES MASTERLIST

Steve was fuming. He could practically feel the steam rising from the top of his head. This time, compared to earlier, it wasn't because of the feverish warmth inside the club. Nor the sunny season's air outside. It was because of the folder resting on the table.

The Canine boss could still hear the echoing slap the orderly stacked papers had done when landing on the table. Even your words reverberated in his head like an annoying tune he couldn't help but mutely sing in his mind.

This was not how he'd thought this meeting would go.

Steve had planned to get his will through, to expand his empire from Brooklyn to the most successful part of New York, Manhattan, your territory. But no. You'd decided to be as stubborn as a mule and as stuck up as the bureaucrats that he needed to handle in exclusive deals.

Now he understood why so many said your empire wasn't the usual kind, rather something new. You'd built your syndicate from the best, or worst in regard of how the Canine for the moment saw you, of two worlds.

"Bitch", you were long gone, so the growled curse aimed at you went unheard. However, the walls around Steve caught the profanity he uttered whilst snagging the folder from the table and pursued to head out of the room.

Only the guards stationed outside the corridor leading to the conference room was still in the club. Yet, the Canine boss paid them no mind as he stalked out of the private area, making them scramble to follow him. The rest of his party, even those previously undercover, must have either retreated for the night or waited outside. Concerning how Steve himself hadn't left yet, he suspected at least his most trusted team was waiting by the car.

Passing through the lobby, the mob boss frightened some of the staff lingering about. Not only thanks to the authority he always carried himself with but also his visible darkened features. However, Steve's attention didn't stray to the people following him with wary eyes. Instead, he looked straight forward, focusing on his guards where they lounged around the black Chrysler he'd arrived with a few hours earlier.

Seemingly, they had enough of an engaging conversation that they shared some laughs. But that changed the moment Steve stepped through the door a bouncer held open for him.

Usually, the Canine boss' hard exterior dissolved somewhat among his men, seeing how they'd become good comrades. Although now, when the dark-blonde man came out of the club looking like he could kill someone, their easy smiles and carefree stance immediately smartened up. Backs straightened and jaws clenched upon seeing the fury Steve not only emitted with a scowl but his whole body.

"How did it go?" One of the guards questioned, more out of courtesy than curiosity, concerning it was clear how it went. As suspected, he got nothing more than a glare from Steve, seeing how his anger hadn't flickered out the slightest, only heightened when feeling how his fingers clutched the folder in his hand even tighter. Your folder with your contract.

"Where's Barnes?" Some flinched by his bark of a question.

"He's still inside...", the rest of the answer fell on deaf ears as the blonde rounded the car, not caring too much where his head bodyguard was for the moment, only that he would hurry up to finish whatever he dealt with.

"As soon as he's back, we go", the driver, who had noticed the Canine boss and stepped out of the vehicle to hold open the door for him, didn't even get the chance to do what he intended. Steve all but tore open the backseat door and climbed into the car. Leaving the chauffeur to stand there and look at his boss in perplexity, as the Canine didn't more than touch the black leather seat before he slammed the door shut again.

That Steven had a temper everyone in his vicinity knew. But how he now acted reached not only a new level but contrasted heavily to how you'd appeared.

You'd left about ten minutes ago, looking indifferent to how everyone in Steven's patrol had seen you when first entering the designated conference room. That guard of yours had led you to the car parked mere ten feet from their own boss'. There, your chauffeur had greeted you with a smile and a few quiet words none besides you were meant to hear. Neither was your response, that likewise was accompanied with a smile, able to be distinguished.

As you stepped into your transport, none of the men trying to read your expressions noted anything more than a similar politeness Steve could show them once in their company. However, when comparing it to the state of their own boss once he exited, it was clear that the meeting didn't favour the Canine boss, but rather the Feline. And though none who had accompanied Steven knew what the two of you'd discussed concerning the meeting had been a closed-door discussion, they knew their boss hadn't brought anything with him earlier. So when spotting the portfolio that the mob boss had held in his hand, it only sealed the deal further.

That was why none of the guards nor the chauffeur intruded on the solitude Steve had sought inside the car, merely waiting for the right-hand man of the Canine boss to return so they could head to their next stop.

And it was good none did either, seeing how Steve mulled over everything that had happened with curses leaving him every five seconds. Additionally, anyone who would've opened the opposite backseat door would have got your folder smack in the forehead, seeing how the blonde man had thrown it as harshly and as far away from himself that he could, once in his own confinement.

He didn't need to hold the damned contract you'd offered him, even less open and study it, to know he would read it in your annoying voice. And that aggravated Steve even more.

It annoyed him that your voice echoed as a constant reminder in his mind. It annoyed him that you'd prepared a contract, which so obviously cried you hadn't even come here to listen to him in the first place. It annoyed him to such a fucking degree that you'd played him by a mere act of forced courtesy rather than a gentlemen move, to use your own words, that it felt like he could just tear the contract to shreds.

Still, he didn't.

The blonde man seethed, turning his head to look at the folder. 'If you don't sign it and have it delivered to me, I know you've declined my offer and this war will be ended in another way.' He knew you were serious about that, so perhaps that was why he hadn't left it behind in the conference room. Nonetheless, it had taken a great effort for Steve to push away every ounce of pride in his body to grab ahold of it. And when he finally held the stiff cartoon folder, it had almost felt like it burned him like some crucifix. No, it burned like a sign of defeat.

Joseph Rogers would never have done it, never admitted when he was defeated.

At the thought of his father, Steve's hand fisted where it rested on the armrest dividing the two seats in the back of the car. What would he say? He probably wouldn't have said anything, just walked out as you had done to him. A vibration deep in his chest made a low sound leave him at the realisation you actually played the game his father always had and Steve himself only thought he had.

Fittingly, or unfittingly in his own mind, the door connected to the other seat opened with a click to interrupt the abusive thoughts of his father.

Although pulled out of his mind, Steve didn't glance to see whoever plucked the folder occupying the seat beside him before they climbed in themselves. There was only one person that first and foremost would dare to be in his presence right now. On top of that, also knew he was the only one who didn't need to repeatedly ask for permission to join him.

Not even when he saw the person shift in his peripheral, from simply holding the folder to actually waving it slightly to catch his attention, clearly wanting to ask him a question, did Steve look towards them. Although, he did speak up.

"Not a word, Barnes", the Canine boss raised his fist, so it was levelled with his cheek as he said this. By now, his nails had dug into his palm and there was no question small crescent moons would be dented in his skin.

"Maybe I should've stayed, after all", the sentence was followed by a chuckle, the sound making Steve snap to watch the man sitting beside him.

"Didn't I say you should keep your mouth shut?" The blonde stared at the brunette. Who, unlike earlier, now had pulled his hair into a low bun in the nape of his neck. However, no matter the fury the Canine's cold blue eyes conveyed, Bucky Barnes saw no real threat.

"You often do, but you have so far not put a bullet in me", Bucky shrugged with an easy smile.

The mob boss remained silent as his head bodyguard leaned forwards far enough to knock on the wall beside the still open windshield that could separate the driver from those in the back seat.

"Close it up", Steve honestly thought the brunette would've given the chauffeur, who now had taken his place behind the wheel, directions of where to go. Gauging by his act, he must have done it before getting into the car. Hence, the driver did nothing but nod to signify he heard what the guard said before closing the visor, leaving whatever Steve knew Bucky wanted to talk to him about for only him to hear.

He felt the car rock to a gentle start, the road underneath the vehicle sending small vibrations throughout Steve. Tilting his head, he saw the scenery blur as he didn't concentrate on anything specific they drow by.

Despite the initial silence of the car ride, the blonde saw how the man beside him shifted, angling his body just slightly more his way. The minimal change of where Bucky attention laid told the mob boss he would initiate a conversation. And as on a cue, Bucky spoke. "So what happened? 'Cause clearly you scared half of your squad enough for them to want to take a week off".

He didn't redirect his gaze, fearing that his now fisted hand would connect with his friend's jaw if he didn't control himself. What happened? The question taunted in his mind, enough so that Steve clenched his jaw. Everything that shouldn't have happened.

"You have the folder", he gritted out, continuing to aimlessly stare out of the window, now concentrating on how the scenery changed from the narrow streets the nightclub had been located in to instead manifest the glittering sunset reflecting off the water in East River.

Beside him, he felt how Bucky shifted and shortly afterwards came the sounds of papers starting to be turned over. The head guard sat silent as he read the contract that not even the Canine had looked through.

The lack of verbal confirmation of Steve's evident loss in this meeting spurred the blonde, whether he wanted or not, to glance at the brunette.

Bucky's brows were furrowed. Consequently causing the grooves on his forehead, which always appeared when he pondered something, to become extremely visible. His features remained this way as his eyes scanned over the rows stitching together the contract. Then, for some reason, they changed.

From an expression showing the brunette tried to fathom the situation that had made Steve considerably harsher to anyone in his close vicinity, his face now fell and a smirk began to toy with his lips. On top of this, he let out a low whistle turning to the next page.

The smouldering anger in Steve's chest flared up to the same intensity it had burned with earlier. Back when he had sat in silence and glared at the folder inside the club. He ground his teeth together, feeling how they caught in each other's pointy edges.

"What?" He demanded to know what the man all of a sudden found so entertaining. Yet, the answer didn't come immediately. Instead, Bucky sat there with the same expression pinning his face while finishing the document in his grip.

Not until the brunette had closed the binder and waved it similarly to how he'd done when entering the car did his gaze meet Steve's. His eyes, also blue but slightly greyer in colour, was crinkled in the corners. The amusement, or whatever caused the mob boss nostrils to flare in agitation, was only further displayed by the shake of his head.

"She's good".

"What?" Bucky almost hadn't finished his nearly wordless reply before Steve barked his requirement of an explanation.

"Whether you want to admit it aloud or not, I know you think about it in that analysing brain of yours", the brunette begun, pushing the folder underneath the mob boss' arm on the armrest. Steve, who followed the act with disdain, shuffled in his seat directly afterwards so he wouldn't be touching the contract which you formerly had been carrying around.

Watching the blonde's action, Bucky only continued, now even less worried his words might be wrong and evoke further anger from the Canine. Of course, he might still get mad, though Bucky knew he at least was right. "She is good, Steve. If not shown by this contract, which I suggest you read, then at least how she's gotten to you".

The blonde man elected to ignore the last part of his bodyguard's sentence. Hence, only questioning the first part. "Why should I read it?"

Arrogance was a trait many shared once someone stepped on their pride, but never had Bucky witnessed such amounts of it exhibited by the Canine boss. His nose twitched in the corner as if the mere thought of opening the papers offended him. The mistrust in his voice showed he didn't believe what just was advised to him, nor that the words of you being competent could be true. All signs of denial, a damaged pride.

"Sometimes I wondered how you even could've come this far to rebuild your father's empire when you're so stubborn to see the truth at times", the comment made Steve cock his head.

"Is that a threat or a call for resignation, I hear?" Bucky simply rolled his eyes and turned to fully face the man, now giving him his undivided attention.

"I may have been here from the day you called me and asked me to join your plans, but believe me, working outside this world for some time, especially in the field I was in, you learn to see who is good at their job and not".

Although Bucky had known Steve ever since they were kids, essentially because their fathers had been partners when the Canine empire was worth more than its own power in gold, the two had fallen out of the regular touch they'd kept after Joseph had passed. Steve had remained close to his mother. While Bucky returned to have both his feet in the ordinary world.

His name had never been brought into the discussion of conviction or any kind of youth crimes, essentially thanks to his father never being proven guilty of the few charges raised against him. Another favour his old man thanked the former Canine boss for. For Bucky, it made things easy to find live his life as if he didn't know what went on underneath the city he walked in.

He went to school, took a degree in law. Which his father before passing as well, considered humorous. Though, Bucky didn't start working directly even if offered jobs. He'd been young and not really knowing which direction he would go. He had no mothers footsteps to follow, seeing how she'd passed before he even had a memory of her. His father shoes still felt too big to fill, so he decided to follow a path he felt natural.

Bucky joined the army. Not more than a few years and two trips. Nevertheless, it was easy pocket change concerning two factors. His father had urged him to take the same martial art classes as Steve's father had done to him. He'd also lived with one foot in the syndicate and the other outside during his whole childhood. The concept of order, planning and warfare wasn't anything alarmingly new to him.

Then he'd begun to explore more, starting to step into the low tier position as an intern at different firms. It was easy to get in, concerning his degree and quickly, he gained enough working experience to get a promotion. His former boss at the advocate company may have thought Bucky was a natural talent or a genius from school. But, it was all thanks to his upbringing he possed the requirements a higher position demanded.

It's mainly thanks to his years working within the judiciary before reconnecting with Steve and began working as his head guard Bucky knows you fall into the group of people who are good at what you do.

The blonde had sat silent this whole time, never breaking away from Bucky's stare. It made the brunette believe that his friend would settle whatever resent he had towards you personally and at least read through the arrangement you assembled for the greater of his empire. Apparently, he was wrong.

"But now you're not working with that anymore", Bucky actually let out a low scoff of annoyance.

"I'm working as a head personal guard for someone I'm swaying on keeping alive at the moment, I know. And I do this because we both know I'm better at the combat part than you, ever since we were kids", despite the jab, it was the mention of how the man, despite being roughly the same size as Steve, always had been slightly better at fighting then himself that made the blonde bite his inner cheek. "I also know that I'm still damn good at what used to be my former profession. Which, you actually also should know concerning you never shoo me out of the room when discussing with your official advisors of the plans to come", when he finally ended the point he wanted to prove, he cocked a brow at Steve, who now had furrowed his brows.

Bucky saw the ire still lingering in the blondes' eyes, making them go cold rather than warm. Nevertheless, he said nothing. The Canine boss simply gave the folder, which hadn't moved from its settlement no matter how much the two men gently had rocked with the turns of the car, one last glare before he altogether turned away as much as his seat let him.

The head bodyguard was close to letting the comment of how similar the mob boss, who'd made a name for himself lately of being indifferent to everything standing in his way, was to a rebellious child. Yet, in the end, he didn't, knowing the car ride would become even more atrocious than it already was set to be.

As suspected, the whole drive from the club to the luxurious hotel, where the Canine boss' next stop was, went by in complete silence. And, when they finally pulled up outside the building, the car had almost not stopped before Steve opened the door without a word. The brunette couldn't but let out a huff and follow the man out of the vehicle.

As Bucky tracked a few steps behind the blonde mob boss, he nodded to a few of the other bodyguards to follow as well. Whatever he might have remarked about considering to keep Steve alive was very much said as a dig at the moment to remind the man he might be written as his subordinate, but he was true to nature working side by side with him. After all, Steven was his friend and Bucky didn't desire to get his blood on his hands.

When the little party of Canines neared the entrance, both men stationed on each side of the doors opened them without further ado. Either they thought Steve looked like someone fitting to live here, or they could've been paid to do so. The brunette figured it was the latter concerning the overall safety measures, not only this hotel but the district in general upheld. Although, he didn't question it way too much as he now concentrated on the slightly denser crowd of people in the lobby.

Not only did they blend in quite well, concerning the people living at this hotel was flanked by at least two bodyguards each. Bucky also noticed how some of the former rigidity in Steve's shoulder lessened as he weaved through the lobby.

Though anyone else may find it excellent that the physical aspect of the blondes former irritation trickled off, it unsettled Bucky even further. Thus, having grown up with Steve, he knew that the silent seething anger was worse than the outgoing one. This, in other words, didn't bode particularly well.

However, even though the brunette had a raising suspicion, along with fear, that this visit the mob boss had decided to do after his meeting with you wouldn't have a good outcome, he had no chance to voice his worry. Essentially because the elevator they'd taken to reach the floor they were heading to now stopped.

Bucky was first to exit the elevator. Checking that the coast was clear before looking back to the Canine boss. He tried making the blonde meet his gaze, now seriously doubting if Steve was fit to meet the partner he'd had an escalating problem with the past weeks. Yet, the blue-eyed man kept his attention straight forward and didn't even spare his childhood friend a glance.

A thousand things were running through Steve's mind as he headed down the corridor, spotting the door his business partner was on the other side of.

He knew Bucky tried gaining his attention with the repetitive looks he threw his way. His most entrusted bodyguard and friend could read him like an open book. Thus knowing the silent facade that he'd put up was just that, a facade. Still, he continued to ignore him as he'd done ever since their conversation was over half an hour ago.

As the party stopped before the door, Steve decided to give the inclining nod to one of his other guards to step forwards and knock on the door.

Following three rapid knocks, a call of 'no cleaning' followed by a similar set of knockings later, footsteps could be heard near the door from the other side. A few seconds after, the door swung open, revealing a man currently trying to fasten his cufflinks.

"I said I didn't...". Even though the brunette's eyes had been cast down as he'd began to speak, the second they flickered up to watch, what the man must have assumed would be a hotel maid but rather was the Canine mob boss, he trailed off in his sentence.

"Good day Mr Jefferson", if the man's body hadn't already gone rigid, his shoulders bounced up even closer to his ears after Steve's greeting.

In a hurried attempt to smarten up, he completed his attempt of fastening the jewellery pin.

"Mr Rogers", he breathed out almost shakily while pulling a hand through his hair, some of the strands sticking to his scalp while others simply fell forwards once more. "Why do I owe the pleasure?"

Without answering, Steve stepped forwards, forcing the man to open the door wider.

As he walked into the pad, the blonde gazed around it uninterestingly. It was lavish. Probably like most rooms were in the hotel.

"I'm here to talk with you". Steve answered his associates question the second he heard the door closed. Taking the liberty, he sat down in the couch group occupying a vaster portion of the entry room's space. "Sit", with a wave of his hand, the Canine motioned to the sitting place at the other side of the dark oak table.

Jefferson, who glanced warily at the guards that had stationed themselves around the room -one by the window, another two directly behind Steve and the last lingering by the door out to the corridor- had no other choice than to follow the mob boss' directions.

Sitting down at the edge of the seat, he swallowed around the lump in his throat.

"How's business going?" The mob boss asked as he leaned against the couches backrest. One arm was slung over the ridge, fingers tapping against the material, while his other hand rested on his thigh.

"Bussines is going well".

"Good, always nice to hear companies you invest in are going strong", Steve hummed, noticing the minimal shift Jefferson did as he said this. "How's my money going?"

"Ah... t-that question is a little more complicated...".

Even though the brunette continued to ramble about all the different reasons his payments were late, or not even that, non-existing, the Canine boss didn't listen. He knew he was being screwed over by the man opposite him. He'd gotten the information weeks ago that the CEO of the company he's worked with since the beginning of the year wanted to change sides.

At first, it had been more of a rumour and he hadn't been able to dig up where Jefferson's company was heading. Then it became clear they would switch partners to one of the other godfather's around New York. However, even if Steve thought he didn't like how they tried doing so in the shadows while still upholding their deal, the worst thing was when he got to know who they shifted their alliance to. You.

Seeing how much unfavourable publicity you'd given his empire in the last few months was aggravating. However, listening to the man talking his ear off as if Steve hadn't already figured why exactly fifteen percentages of the profit capital was rolling into your account instead of his was the last drop.

Without even noticing it himself, Steve's hand that had rested upon his thigh raised and were tucked into his suit.

The metal handle he gripped wasn't cold anymore, not after having rested so close to his heart for over an hour. Nor did it get cooled down as he hastily pulled it out of its holster and aimed it at the man opposite him.

"I don't like rats, Landon", the use of the man's first name rather than surname would've made him quiet if the gun aimed his way already hadn't silenced him. "Pray you don't get reborn as one in your next life as well".

On the firearm, a silencer was mounted. So the characteristic bang sounded much more like a pop. Therefore, the noise of the gun was even less intimidating than the ricochet. However, neither of the telltale signs of a shot made Steve flinch, not even as he watched the bullet penetrate the space in-between his former associate's eyes, did he react.

As the mob boss stood, Jefferson's upper body slumped forward, hitting the table with a heavy thud and ugly clap as his head was the first thing that connected with it. No tears were trickling down his cheeks. Only a red streak that steadily created a near-invisible puddle on the mahogany table.

"Steve!" The silence and peace Steve found in watching the body was cut short by Bucky's voice.

The Canine glanced to his side, regarding how his head bodyguard rounded the couch and stood before him with one single step.

"What the fuck was that?" The brunette exclaimed, hand motioning to the dead body.

If any other person than Bucky would've done the same thing in this instance, they either would've ended up joining peaceful Mr Jefferson, or they wouldn't work within the Canine empire anymore. However, concerning that it now was his childhood friend staring at him in disbelief, Steve made sure none of the options was carried through.

"Problem-solving", Steve answered, about to take a step forwards but were stopped with a hand planting itself on his chest. He looked down before looking up with a cocked eyebrow.

"That ain't how we solve shit!"

"Not we, but I", Steve said, gripping Bucky's wrist, ripping it away from him. "You see, now both our problems are solved. He doesn't need to fear his cover being blown and I don't need to lose more money". That was all Steve said before taking a step around the brunette, whose eyes had narrowed considerably.

As most of his colleagues trailed after their boss, Bucky stayed back just a second longer, looking at the lifeless body giving a new sheen to the table whilst staining the carpet underneath. He'd known Steve had taken your conference badly and he also knew it hadn't been a good idea to have this appointment so shortly afterwards, especially when it was connected to you, but in such a different way. Still, he hadn't believed it would take this much of a turn.

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

"Damn that fucking thing!" Steve roared, not thinking when he swept his hands over his desk. Everything from pencils, an empty coffee cup and other things crashed to the floor. However, it wasn’t solely that which now was littering the ground. The papers of your contract had flown out of the folder as well.

Staring down at the mess of shattered glass and paper from his standing position. The Canine boss felt a sneer enter his features. Ever since returning home late last night, he'd been locked inside his study. Primary because it was the place no one dared to disturb him in, but also because he didn't feel like arguing with Bucky.

He knew that after the stunt, as he knew his friend and bodyguard would label his approach to the Jefferson problem, the brunette wanted to speak with him. Yet, with the residue anger of not only a restless night, one Steve had powered through thanks to copious amounts of coffee. But also the subject now taunting him on the floor, a conversation with his right-hand man would lead nowhere.

He and Bucky didn't often get into fights, but Steve was convinced this was one of the matters that could force such a confrontation. He'd still not gathered his bearings enough to admit that he needed to yield. Because that was what he would need to do.

The mob boss switched from watching the scattered pieces of the contract to instead stare straight into the oaken surface of his desk as he now leant on it, knuckles turning white from how strongly he held the countertop. By now, he'd read through the four-page agreement. Something that was a step in the right, or in Steve's regard wrong, direction.

He didn't want to admit it. But as Bucky had mentioned yesterday, it was a top-certified contract. He couldn't find any loopholes. No grey-zones. No area that he could play you on.

Steve knew that you would be hard to crack, but he hadn't anticipated this.

Despite knowing that you and the Felina empire had overtaken his father's grip on New York, he had underestimated you. A woman running the empire you did was so uncommon he thought you would have some weak spot regarding how you had no one else to look up to. Nor did you have any previous family connections to the underworld. Which honestly made your success even more astonishing. 

Almost so much it was questionable if you had done it yourself.

Steve had assumed you hadn't. Someone else must be the brain behind the operation, simply using you as a puppet. However, it seemed he'd made a tremendous mistake by assuming just that. It wasn't anyone else running your empire. You were involved in every little part of the well-oiled machine.

Once more, the canine boss let out an irritated noise, sounding more like a growl than a harsh sigh in his own ears.

He pushed off from the countertop and, in one motion, had side-stepped his chair. Now, with the room behind him, Steve stared out of the windows lining the wall furthest from the entrance. His arms had crossed over his chest and remained there as he stared out at the bay not far away.

Ferries and other boats travelled the waters. Breaking the tension and creating small waves. If it wasn't for this, it almost would've looked like they travelled through the city. Regarding how not only New York's but also Brooklyn's dusk lightning reflected in the water.

When the Canine boss finally felt the sight before him lessened the tension in his shoulders, a knock came from the door.

If his features ever had lightened, the sound immediately beckoned a furrow to take its place. Even more so when the door opened without him having given the person on the other side permission.

He knew who it was, Bucky.

"What do you want?" Steve's voice was cold, harsh. 

"I want to speak with you", instantly, the mob boss noticed how his friend's voice didn't carry that joyous tone when he spoke to him as just that, friends. Bur rather the more levelled one, the professional one.

"I won't speak about Jefferson".

"Neither is that why I'm here", glancing over his shoulder upon hearing the rustle of paper, the Canine boss saw his guard pick up the pieces of the contract from the floor. He arranged them before putting them back into the folder. Contrary to how Steve would've caused the map to give away a whack when flinging it onto his desk. Bucky's hand followed through the whole movement. His fingers even resting upon the grey folder as it laid placid on the middle of the counter.

"I'm here to talk about the real problem", Steve turned to face the brunette. He didn't say anything. Still, Bucky knew that having gotten this much attention was a sign he either was about to be shot or given a limited amount to talk.

"I know this is hard for you, Steve... actually scratch that, it is hard for everyone who's supported you. But I'll be damned if you let everything we've worked for go to waste because you don't have it in you to lose a battle in favour of winning a later war"

All of a sudden, Bucky's face twisted as an unexpected crash echoed. His fist had smashed onto the table. Enough for the countertop to rattle.

“I love to give you the most personal advice I've ever had”, he started, not even holding back his pent up frustration. “Sign that fucking contract, pal". The canine boss' blue eyes narrowed as he met the stormy grey ones of the man before him.

"Get out", Bucky clenched his jaw and straightened himself.

"I'll be waiting for the call to come and pick it up", was the last thing the brunette said before swiftly turning on his heel and heading to the door.

Steve followed his oldest friend with his eyes until the door echoes shut behind him. Even after Bucky's footsteps were long gone, did the Canine boss stare forward. He did it simply because he didn't want to let his eyes flicker down to the contract, now turned to the last page where the paper waited for his signature.

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

A day later, Steve still stared at the folder resting un-signed on his desk. It was out of pure spite he hadn't signed it. To keep your victory at bay.

Two days later and he felt how the clock on his wall ticked louder than before. How the voices in his head escalated from whispering to shouting at him. 'Sign that fucking contract, pal.'

Three days later and Steve felt how time was running out.

Even if he didn't want to admit it aloud. To not sign would be foolish. Sure, he had the resources to continue this war. Hence, the short extra time the meeting and his delay in signing the contract had abled him to recoup. But still, his empire was lacking a significant piece his father's syndicate had, time. He needed more time to grow but wasn't given that. So yes, he could continue this battle, but he could not win it.

Therefore the mob boss gripped the pen and pressed the ink dipped tip to the dotted line.

His signature was darker than usual. More colour bleeding onto the paper. The curves of the letters were not as smooth as regular either. Instead, straighter, pointier. Forced.

Steve didn't look at his name shining back at him once he raised the pen and put it back in its stand. Instead, Steve stood and dialled a number on his phone. One tone was all it took before the person on the other end picked up.

"Get it out of my sight, Barnes", was all he said before instantly hanging up. The call had lasted four seconds. Even so, Steve deleted it from the history of his 'latest' list.

Shoving the phone into his pockets, the blonde man stood from his chair and headed to the office doors. He didn't look back once at the folder left behind on his desk. Not even when he closed the doors behind him.

Series taglist: @njrronaldo7​ @fanfic-love-show​ @gabycamargo22​ @fckdeusername​

[ohgodmyeyes]

Patience

Heavily implied Ferus x Anakin; 6.5k words; T-rated; hurt/comfort. (I really like this one.)

Summary: Anakin's guilt over Darra's death killed his marriage before it even began, and now it's killing him, too.

How many more times can he call on Ferus to clean up his messes for him before Ferus decides he's had enough?

...

"No, Anakin— I can't. I can't do it this time; I'm sorry."

"Ferus, please— sh-she's going to be here with them at noon, a-and—"

"I've already missed three of the last five practices because of this! If they think they can't even trust me to show up to the arena, they'll—"

"I know! I know, okay? But I can't do it by myself, and I don't have anyone else to call."

"Anakin, I told you last time that I can't keep—"

"I won't bother you again! Not after this! Christ, Ferus, please! You know she'll—"

"Fine! Fine, I'll be there in twenty minutes. But you have to promise me this time that you'll—"

"I will! I will; whatever you want! Just— just... hurry, okay? Please?"

"I'm already on my way, Anakin— I'll see you soon."

"O-okay. I'll be waiting."

"I know."

Anakin's phone hit the dusty carpet at his feet, landing with a muted thump. Face-up with its lockscreen lit, he couldn't help but wonder if the device didn't actually intend to mock him with the big, blatant 9:37 am situated prominently in the centre of the display.

He wanted to stand up from the sofa... but no matter how much we willed himself to try, he just couldn't seem to straighten out his legs.

Ferus was going to be furious with him if he couldn't even manage to answer the door when he arrived, and he knew it.

His eyes travelled across the surface of the coffee table in front of him; it was crowded, but his cigarettes and lighter— both bright-blue— stood out clearly, even in the dim light (Anakin nearly always kept his blinds shut). He took a smoke, stuck it in his mouth, and lit it; after that, he reached back over to the table, and picked up something else: A small photograph; wallet-sized, and unframed. One of those ones everybody's parents used to buy from their school every year, and line up on top of the refrigerator or television or fireplace.

This one was of a girl— a happy-looking, mousey-haired, teenage girl.

Anakin bit his lip and turned it over onto its face, because now that he wasn't quite so drunk as he'd been last night, he couldn't bring himself to look at it.

The rest of the table around the picture was littered with loose cigarette butts and miniature bottles of vodka; here and there, a beer can stood tall as if to break up the monotony of the landscape. All of the containers were empty, and all of the butts were burned right down to their melted filters: Anakin hadn't had a good night last night.

The back of the photo wasn't much better than the front, but it was easier not to look at Darra's hand-printed name than it was to try not to look at her face.

I'm sorry— I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry.

That's all he ever said to her anymore, whether he was drunk or not; still, he took out that damn picture and laid it out on the table every time he so much as thought of her. Anakin owed Darra that, didn't he?

She'd still be alive, after all, if he hadn't tried to drive her home that night— hammered drunk, and pumped full of adrenaline. He'd only tried it because he was the one who'd dragged her to the stupid graduation party in the first place; he was the one with the car, and the licence. When she'd asked him to get her out of there, desperation writ clear on her face, what else was he supposed to have done?

Anything. Anything else.

He'd ended up wrapping his little red car around a tree that night; Darra had broken her neck flying through the windshield and out onto the pavement, but Anakin had walked away virtually unscathed.

It was almost funny to him that, even all these years later, he still liked to drink.

"Okay," he said out loud, although even he wasn't sure why. Likely, it was intended to be self-motivational; however, Anakin remained just as immobilized after he finished saying it than he had been before.

All he could smell was smoke; smoke, and maybe some old food, although he couldn't begin to guess where he might have left something like that (unless, of course, the kitchen had grown so bad that the stench was wafting in from there). He was clothed, but his clothes were filthy; it was Saturday now, and he'd had them on since about Thursday morning.

...How the hell was it already Saturday, anyway?

Counting like a toddler on a set of shaky, calloused fingers, Anakin tried as he choked back his smoke to recount the past few days in his head. He'd started drinking Thursday evening after work, because he knew he wasn't going to have to go back until Monday; he had known to expect his kids on Saturday, but something had obviously gone wrong, and now—

Now, his living room was littered with garbage and bottles and misplaced items of just about every description, the air in his house was blue with smoke, and he was sure he looked precisely as terrible as he felt.

All that, and his kids were due to be here in less time than it would have taken Ferus to attend his hockey practice, if only he'd made it out the door that morning before Anakin had made his phone buzz.

At least, he thought, Ferus was used to him making his phone buzz.

"Okay," he repeated to himself, after a few more grateful lungfuls of smoke... and this time, he seemed to have a bit more luck with his legs: Stubbing out his cigarette (he even managed to do it in the ashtray), he grunted as he pulled himself to his feet, and reluctantly surveyed the mess in front of him.

Shit.

No— no 'shit'. Ferus is coming, remember?

Even Ferus said he can't keep doing this. Next time—

"Shut up." Anakin was no stranger to arguing with himself. "There won't be a 'next time', alright?" He didn't know if he really believed that or not; all he wanted was for his brain to pipe down.

He kicked at a half-crumpled beer can near his foot on the floor, and when its tinny rattle was all he could hear, he supposed it meant his talking back had worked.

Knock knock.

"Ferus."

Maybe he would be impressed instead of disappointed, Anakin thought— here he was, after all; up on his own two feet. That was better than last time, wasn't it?

...When the hell had Anakin Skywalker become a person who hoped against hope that someone would be 'impressed' with him for getting up and walking ten feet across a room to answer a goddamn door?

"Hey," he started in a near-mechanical fashion, desperate to ignore his own intrusive thoughts. "I really can't thank you enough for—"

"Not this time, Anakin."

Shit. "I— I didn't mean to—"

Ferus breezed right past, before Anakin could get another word in— as soon as there was enough room between himself and the open front door to do so. The first thing he did was wrinkle his nose in response to the rank odour of old smoke and stale food lingering in the air; the second thing he did was survey the space. His face was stony, and his shoulders were squared; to Anakin, he looked almost confrontational.

"At least it's not as bad as it was last time," he observed, even though he knew very well that wasn't saying very much.

Anakin didn't answer to that— what was there to say?

Immediately, Ferus started opening windows: Between the smoke and the acrid stench of whatever was rotting away in the kitchen, he felt he didn't have much of a choice.

"I've told you before," he said as he finished his walk around the perimeter of the room, "that if you're having a hard time, you need to tell her— be honest with her! I know you aren't together anymore, but—"

"If I could tell her about things like this," interrupted Anakin, motioning about at the mess, "then we would still be together. She doesn't understand; all she does is get angry. If she sees the house— sees me— this way, she'll take me right back to court. I... I might not see my kids for months." She hadn't always been so stringent, but over the years, Padmé's patience with Anakin and his struggles had worn thin. She wanted to go to work, raise her children, and see her friends— not babysit her sad, drunk husband.

Now that he was approaching thirty years of age, in fact, no one wanted to do that for Anakin anymore. Few ever did, except for Ferus, and even he'd grown increasingly distant since the start of the most recent spiral: It had all started almost a year ago, with Anakin quitting the hockey team; as far as Ferus could tell, there was still no end to it in sight.

He'd been there for Anakin as much as he could over the years: Sometimes that had been a lot and sometimes it had only been a little, but no matter what, it only ever got harder. Anakin made it that way, whether he meant to or not— like a heavy stone, inexplicably destined to be rolled uphill.

"If you're afraid of not being allowed to see your kids, Anakin..." Ferus trailed off; he sounded just exasperated enough that he knew he didn't need to finish. He didn't want to finish.

"I know," said Anakin, because he did— he did know. Swallowing hard in an effort to forgo the last sticky, useless vestiges of his own ego, he admitted, "I was going to a group, but..."

"But what?" Ferus demanded. Anakin had been in and out of about a dozen 'groups'.

"But... there were too many people. Every time I went to say something, I froze up— and— well, it—"

Ferus interrupted with a heavy sigh. "Whatever, Anakin," he said, with deliberate dismissiveness. "It doesn't matter. You called me here today to clean up for you, right?"

Anakin bit down on his lip. "Y-yeah— but it's not just—"

"Then I'll get cleaning." He walked off in the direction of the kitchen, then. Even though Anakin had only lived in it since his divorce, Ferus was quite familiar with the layout of his home: Again, this wasn't the first time he'd been called to fix things after one of his binges.

Ferus soon discovered (predictably) that the countertop needed as much work as the living room seemed to, if not more; several days worth of barely-picked-at food was stagnating in dishes all over every surface. The stove was near-invisible, and the sink might as well not have existed just then for how much there was stacked up inside of it.

There was a garbage can in the corner, but Ferus could hardly hazard a guess at the last time the bag inside had been changed.

Goddamnit, Anakin.

Ferus tightly clenched his own jaw as he bent to retrieve a big, plastic garbage bag from the cupboard beneath that tragically-overloaded sink; the one he hated that he was likely about to have to clean. He didn't like to be frustrated; not with Anakin, or anyone else— very likely (and somewhat juxtapositionally), his own inherent distaste for those types of feelings were what let him tolerate things like this as well as he did.

There was, however, only so much a person could take— even when that person happened to be Ferus Olin.

Anyway, cleaning Anakin's sink for him time after time didn't seem to be helping him very much. Briefly, Ferus wondered if he shouldn't just leave right then— if it might actually end up being better for Anakin (and everyone else) if his ex-wife were allowed to see for herself just how terribly he seemed to fall to pieces every few weeks.

...That thought, though, left his mind almost as quickly as it had invaded it. Even in the midst of his own irritation, Ferus couldn't bring himself to imagine the pain it would cause Anakin to have his children turned around on a dime, and marched back out to their mother's car on a day they were supposed to have visited.

Garbage bag in hand, he walked back out into the living room. Seeing Anakin standing there was, somehow, jarring; to view him head-to-toe was to be forced to acknowledge just how much of a toll nearly a decade's worth of guilt and grief had taken on him.

He was more pale (ashen, really) than Ferus could ever remember him being; skinnier, too; with dull, greasy hair far longer than anyone who knew Anakin would ever have presumed him to be comfortable with. His face was drawn, and his eyes were red— he didn't look well. It was then that Ferus came to understand that a large part of why he'd been so distant lately was (to his own deep and immediate regret) that Anakin had, quite simply, grown increasingly difficult to lay eyes on at as time had marched on.

It wasn't because he was ugly— no matter what Anakin did to himself, he could never have been ugly— but rather, because he didn't seem 'right'. He didn't seem like Anakin. At the very least, he wasn't who Ferus had come to know him to be, and witnessing his decline was, above all else, painful.

Even right now— from several feet away— Ferus was quite sure he could smell the days of grime that had built up on his body as he'd sat and drank, sprawled out on his gross, old couch.

"You should go upstairs and have a shower," he said, almost certainly more tersely than he actually intended. "I'll start taking care of things down here." That was, after all, how it had worked every other time he'd been called for this.

Anakin nodded, exactly as aware as Ferus of just how badly he needed to scrub himself down. After a brief moment of silent hesitation, he turned on his heel and walked off in the direction of the narrow staircase at the far end of the room. As he did, Ferus watched him; again, it hurt to do: From this angle, Anakin looked too old; almost gaunt beneath his clothes, with lines on his face and even a few subtle streaks of grey in his hair.

...In another way, though, he looked altogether too young: Like he hadn't aged (or, for that matter, grown) since the day he'd killed Darra.

He didn't 'kill' Darra.

He didn't mean to kill her.

By the time Anakin was trudging his way up the stairs (maybe for the first time that week), Ferus was glad not to be facing him.

He knew he shouldn't blame Anakin for what happened that night; he knew nobody else should, either— but it was, to an extent, unavoidable. He did it anyway (although he certainly wasn't the only one), and Anakin was all too aware of it. Her death had driven a silent wedge between them, and their relationship had never quite recovered. Ferus often theorized that it was a large part of why Anakin had run so readily into Padmé's arms after high school.

That endeavour, however well-intended, had always been destined to fail. Anakin had been broken beyond measure by then; too broken, anyway, for a single person to be able to pick up all of the pieces. Ferus had, in essence, left Padmé to do that all alone— was it really any wonder it hadn't worked out for them?

It hadn't all been Ferus' fault, of course, and he did know that, even if he didn't always feel it. Anakin had, frankly, been too young to get married— too young to have babies, and certainly too young to get divorced. Although fatherhood obviously brought him great joy (if it didn't, he would never have embarrassed himself by phoning anyone about this at all), it also took more from him than Ferus sometimes suspected he had to give.

He waited until he heard the shower upstairs begin to squeal before he started loading trash from the table into the bag. He couldn't help but shake his head as he did; the sheer volume of cigarette butts and liquor containers was, to him, patently morbid. Was Anakin trying to die?

He didn't have a right to that, Ferus thought bitterly. Not when he still had his kids; not when he still had people (or, one person, at least) who would come to him when he called. Darra never even got a chance to have anything like that.

Doesn't that mean anything to him?!

In his frustration, Ferus found himself being a bit less careful with what he was grabbing from the table— handfuls of trash went into the bag all at once; bottles and cigarette wrappers and loose bits of all manner of crap. As the dirty, semi-lacquered surface started to become visible again, he almost didn't notice when he happened to pick up something that wasn't garbage.

It was a good thing he did notice— because not only would Anakin never have forgiven Ferus for throwing out one of the only remaining photos of Darra in his possession, it was quite likely that Ferus wouldn't have forgiven himself, either.

"I don't know why you do this to yourself, Anakin," he muttered anyway, setting down the trash bag. He didn't actually look at the photo as he walked it over to a shelf at the edge of the room, and put it up out of harm's way: Why the hell would he have looked at it?

Looking at Darra wasn't going to bring her back.

The shower upstairs was still running; by now, Ferus could smell Anakin's soap as its scent wafted down the stairs. Graciously, it seemed to be helping displace some of the stale smoke that had built up in the living room—encouraging it out the newly-opened windows, and replacing it with something more palatable.

Anakin had been using the same soap for years; the familiarity of it was enough to dissolve Ferus' irritation (for now, at least) while he went back to work on the coffee table. Anyway, if he'd truly been upset with Anakin for this, would he really have shown up to help?

...Maybe.

He supposed that since he was already here, it didn't particularly matter anymore what he'd been feeling when he'd made the decision to show up.

Ferus would rather have been shooting pucks at Tru right now— he and Anakin had once done that together, alongside Ben and a number of other assorted alumni of their local high school; however, Anakin hadn't played hockey for a long time, now. Anyway, Tru hadn't spoken to him in any meaningful capacity since the accident with Darra; likewise, Anakin hadn't been close with Ben for years.

When she died, they had all died— all in their own ways.

Maybe Anakin's death was simply the ugliest. Maybe that was why it stood out.

The shower had stopped by then, and Ferus had moved onto the floor. He knew he couldn't vacuum the carpet until he'd at least picked up a few of the bigger chunks of clothing and garbage scattered about it. He managed to make a bit of progress before he heard Anakin's footsteps; segueing first into the hallway above him, and then starting heavily back down the stairs.

"Why aren't you dressed?" he asked, when Anakin appeared at the threshold of the living room with a towel wrapped around his waist.

"I don't have any clean clothes," he answered simply. He didn't even seem embarrassed to admit it, which somehow made it all the more sad.

Ferus sighed— sighed, and tried not to react to the sight of Anakin clad in a saggy, threadbare strip of terrycloth (it felt like a long time since he'd seen him in just a towel).

"My hockey bag is in my car," he said. "I have clean sweatpants, and a clean shirt in there, too— if you want, you can borrow them."

"I, um— that wouldn't... bother you?" Now Anakin did look ashamed, if only a little bit.

"Of course it wouldn't. We used to share clothes all the time, didn't we?"

Anakin nodded. The two had, in fact, once made quite a habit out of exchanging t-shirts and hoodies. "You, um— you don't mind going to get them, then...?"

"I'll be right back," said Ferus, setting the trash bag down in front of Anakin. "Try to pick up a couple of things while I'm gone, alright?"

"...Alright."

As Ferus walked out to his car, he couldn't help but wonder if the clothes he had in his bag would even fit Anakin properly. For someone who sat around drinking on most of his days off, he was disconcertingly thin; he supposed it must be a consequence of all that prepared-but-uneaten food he'd detected rotting away in the kitchen. He and Anakin had once shared dinners together— lots of them. Before he'd gotten married; sometimes even after that too, if Padmé was busy and her husband was lonely.

Ferus hadn't had dinner with Anakin for almost as long as he'd gone without seeing him in a towel.

Maybe it was something he ought to try again sometime.

"Here," he said, thrusting a soft, mostly-black bundle into Anakin's arms once he'd closed up his car, and made his way back into the house. "Go and put these on— you'll have to tie the pants up tight."

"Thanks," said Anakin. "I'll wash them and give them back; I—"

"Don't worry about it right now, okay? Just go and get dressed. I'll vacuum, and start gathering up laundry; once you've put yourself together, you can help with the kitchen." Ferus started to go back to the mess on the living room floor (there was even a small, dried-up puddle of what looked like vomit near the couch; that would require a bit of extra attention), but paused for a moment before fully turning his back.

"What?" asked Anakin. Of course he had noticed.

"...Nothing," replied Ferus. Anything else he had to say right now would have been inherently distracting; Anakin didn't need that. Anakin needed to get dressed.

"...O-okay," he conceded. "Okay, I... uh, I'll be right back, then." He wanted more than anything to prod Ferus (it had been a long time since the two had spoken meaningfully), but even he knew the time wasn't right— in less than two hours, he had to be a father.

He could always talk to Ferus later on... couldn't he?

It was too late to ask, because Ferus was already back at work filling up that garbage bag.

Anakin, in retreating back upstairs momentarily, found that Ferus' supposition had been correct: The pants were, indeed, too big; pulling the drawstring tight only seemed to do so much to rectify the issue. It made him feel insecure, but insecurity was just another luxury he didn't have time for today. After combing his hair through with his fingers, he tugged the shirt over his head— unable to keep from noticing that it bore the bright, cheerful emblem of the team they both used to play for.

The team whose practice Ferus is missing right now to help your sorry, drunk ass.

"Shut up. Not now."

Okay— but it's true.

The shirt was about as baggy as the pants, but that was alright. Ferus had always been a litter taller than Anakin, and Anakin had always liked clothes he could hide in. Back in high school— before what had happened to Darra; before he'd ever met Padmé— Ferus' hooded sweatshirts had been some of his favourite things to wear.

He probably still had one or two of them laying around, he thought... but his closet was as much a mess as the lower half of his house; he knew he wouldn't have had time to find one of them, even if he'd tried.

Another day, maybe.

Anakin's next descent into the living room was, to his dismay, marked by a brief-but-intense flash of abject terror: It expanded like fresh ice in his gut as he raced against his own angry body to get to the coffee table, whose spotlessly-clean surface was the source of his disconcert.

Ferus had left the room— presumably to go off and get the vacuum cleaner.

Unsure as to whether he was about to vomit or fall down, Anakin gripped the back of the couch.

"She's fine."

"I— I didn't—"

"I put her up on your bookshelf," said Ferus calmly, approaching Anakin where he stood by the sofa, vacuum in hand. "But... you know you should really get a frame for her, right?" If he'd been annoyed with Anakin for dwelling on the photo before, he wasn't anymore.

Anakin didn't look up from the surface of the coffee table. He didn't know why he was surprised that Ferus seemed to understand what he'd been doing— probably, it was because they hadn't talked about it in so damn long.

That made it even more difficult for him to confess to him, "If I put her in a frame, I... I won't be able to see her name anymore."

"...What?"

"Her name— on the back. She wrote it there for me; if I put it in a frame, I won't be able to flip it over and see it whenever I want."

Ferus was only barely successful in fighting his urge to sigh (later on, he'd be glad he had managed). "Why do you want to 'see' it, Anakin?" he asked. Ferus' voice was, inherently, more sharp than it was soft; he'd never been a gentle speaker, necessarily, but he tried hard to be one right now for his friend's sake. He didn't want his exasperation to show— not the full extent of it. "Why do you want to see Darra?"

"I miss her," said Anakin flatly. He sounded just the way he had when he'd answered the door; as though his words were a pre-programmed response to just the kind of question Ferus was posing him.

"You can't beat yourself up over her forever," Ferus pointed out. "You can't keep beating yourself in the head with this, and expecting—"

"Everyone else does."

"That isn't true! You—"

"Yes it is!" Anakin shouted, even though shouting hurt his head. "Tru and Ben both blame me; so do Darra's friends— and her mom and dad, not to mention everyone else we went to school with!" Anakin finally did look up at Ferus, then. "No one treats me normally anymore," he said, "and they haven't for years."

"You barely treat yourself normally anymore, Anakin!" There was that exasperation he'd been trying so hard to tamp down. "No one knows what to do with you; all we can do anymore is stand by and watch you get worse! You don't let us do anything else!"

"Th-this— this is why I stopped going to hockey," croaked Anakin, surprising even himself with the way his voice caught in his throat. He meant to say more, but he couldn't; his chest had already tightened, and his eyes were rapidly filling up with tears.

Ferus regretted saying anything about the picture at all beyond revealing that it was safe; alas, it seemed too late to remedy that. What was he supposed to say now? Anakin hadn't been able to solve this for ten years; Ferus certainly wasn't about to fix it in the span of a few minutes on a single, panicked, hung-over morning.

If he had that particular superpower, he'd have used it a long time ago.

"I— I'm sorry, Anakin," he tried. "I didn't mean—"

He stopped speaking when he realized that it didn't matter what he 'meant'. Anakin couldn't hear him anymore, because Anakin had started to cry.

When was the last time Ferus had seen Anakin cry?

The tears didn't come quietly; rather, Anakin's sobs made him shudder and heave, grateful he was still gripping the back of the sofa with his hand. When he started to double over anyway, he quickly resigned himself to hitting the floor— nothing he hadn't done before; nothing, even, that Ferus hadn't previously witnessed him do.

The confusion that overtook him when his knees failed to impact the carpeted hardwood was almost enough to shock him out of his fit.

Almost.

"Wh-what— what a-are... y-you—"

"Shh."

"F-Ferus, I— I don't—"

"Quiet," Ferus whispered, unafraid of bearing Anakin's entire weight against his chest. If anything, it was too easy to hold him up. "Just be quiet, alright? I'm sorry I said anything— I'm sorry I ever brought it up."

He felt Anakin shake his head ruefully against his breastbone.

"No," he shouted! muffled, into Ferus' shirt. "No, you— you're right; right about everything, a-and I— I—"

Anakin couldn't seem to finish a sentence; Ferus, for his part, dug his fingers into his old friend's back as a wave of conflicting emotions crashed into him: Relief, first, because this was as honest as the two had been with one another in an exceptionally long time; fear, too, because he didn't know where the hell to go from this point. His phone buzzed from inside his pocket— an alarm, he knew, telling him that hockey practice was starting. It made him jump anyway.

"Anakin," he said, taking an inordinately deep breath in an attempt to maintain his own composure. "Anakin, it's eleven o'clock— your kids are going to be—"

"I know! And if I— i-i-if I c-can't even c-clean up for them, th-then—"

"You can clean up for them, though! I've seen you do it; I've helped you do it!" Carefully, Ferus moved to peel Anakin's head away from his chest. He wanted to look at his face, no matter how difficult it was. Something told him he was going to be seeing a lot more of it, in the weeks and months to follow.

Anakin shook his head again, looking up at Ferus through his own wet hair and tears. "No," he protested. "Not this time! I... I just can't— you're right; it's too bad this time, I need—"

"You need to let me help you, Anakin! Not just help you clean; not just help you hide things from Padmé! You'll let me in long enough to do this," he emphasized, daring to take a hand from Anakin to motion at the room around them, "but you always throw me out before I have a chance to even try to figure out what else you need!" He could feel tears of his own, now; they were gathering at the very edges of his eyes, making him angry at himself. "You do that, and then you get mad at me for not understanding!"

"Ferus—"

"How can I understand?!"

"F— Ferus—"

"How can I?!"

Anakin didn't have an answer for Ferus— not then. How was he supposed to help him understand? After so many years of awkward silence and walking on eggshells, how was he supposed to know how to do anything else?

"I... I don't know. I don't know, Ferus— I'm sorry."

Ferus didn't know either... but once again, it had been years and years since he'd felt so close to finding out. He wanted to sit Anakin down and get him talking; in a very big way, this was the perfect time to do it.

...In a much, much bigger way, though, it truly wasn't— and that was because Anakin had more than just himself to worry about these days.

Ferus had been steeling himself against one thing or another for most of his life: He did it against his own long-repressed empathy and affection just then, telling Anakin with an utterly feigned air of authority, "That's fine— that's fine; you don't have to know right now."

Whether he truly understood his choice or not, Ferus had already decided that he wasn't going to leave today just because Anakin's house was clean. That meant they had plenty of time to figure it out together... as long as Anakin would talk to him later.

He hoped Anakin would talk to him later.

"B-but—"

"No," said Ferus. "No buts. Your kitchen is a mess, there's puke to scrape out of your rug, and your kids are on their way— the only thing you need to know right now is how you want them to see their dad when they get here. Do you understand?"

Anakin's stomach clenched, and he found himself having to repress one final, heaving sob before he could will himself to separate entirely from Ferus... who had, by now, been buttressing him for a rather extended period of time.

He did it, though— he did it, and once he was standing under his own power again, he bit down on his lip and nodded.

"I do," he said. "I... I do."

"Good— then go into the kitchen, and start throwing things out while I take care of your carpet. If we don't stop until we're finished, we might just be able to make this place look okay in time for Luke and Leia."

Hearing his kids' names spoken out loud seemed to be the last little spark Anakin needed to ignite his motivation: He came unstuck from the floor, then... that newly-bare coffee table in front of the couch finally having become a source of relief rather than fear.

Darra is as safe as she's ever going to be, his brain reminded him, far more gently than it had told him anything else that day. Leave her, just for now— Ferus is right.

It seemed he really was... because once Anakin started scraping old food into the trash, loading up his dishwasher, and soaking his pots, he felt significantly more capable than he had when he'd woken up. Not better, necessarily... but certainly more apt, if nothing else.

He'd desperately needed the boost of confidence.

"I still don't know how I'm going to be 'on' for them," he confessed, when the two finally met in the living room to survey the house at the tail-end of their mutual cleaning endeavour. Ferus had just ascended from the basement, having loaded some laundry into the washer; Anakin had just put the finishing touches on the kitchen.

"What do you mean 'on'? They're your kids." Driven purely by old instinct, he took Anakin's hand in his; held it tight. It felt as natural as anything.

Anakin didn't pull away, because why would he have? Ferus hadn't held his hand in years; so many that he'd barely realized how much he'd missed it. He also couldn't help but laugh: Ferus didn't understand, because he didn't have children of his own. "That's exactly it," he said. "They are my kids. They're six years old; they're going to want to talk, play, and have fun... and because I was an idiot all week, I still feel too much like shit to be what they need me to be."

Ferus thought.

"...We could take them to a movie together," he offered tentatively. That fake authority he'd been injecting into his voice back before Anakin had begun to come around was all but gone, right along with his own initial desire to leave.

If anything, he was now far more frightened of being sent away than he was at the notion of staying behind to help.

"You can sit in the dark for a little while," he went on, when Anakin didn't answer him right away. "And drink some water, too. I'll do the driving, and the kids will think it's all for fun; by the time we get back here, you'll feel a lot better." With his eyes instead of his mouth, Ferus added to that, If you're as tired as you look, you can even rest your head on my shoulder for a while and try to fall asleep— just like you always used to. Few things had felt better to Ferus, back when he'd still been nineteen.

Anakin was a bit slow sometimes, but he wasn't stupid: He more than understood. Although he smiled, Ferus' offer was nearly enough to start him crying again; the only thing that stopped it was a noise— one that seemed sudden, but really wasn't.

He turned his head, because he could hear the gravel in the driveway crunching beneath the tires of what he already knew to be his ex-wife's little green sedan. (It did not escape him that the sound would never have wafted through the front window so clearly, had Ferus not had the prescience to open it when he'd arrived.)

"...Ferus," he said, voice catching in his throat yet again as somebody outside opened and shut one of the car's doors. "I... I think a movie is a good idea, but I— I... I'm also still sorry for—"

"Don't be." Ferus squeezed Anakin's hand one last time, then released it in favour of motioning towards the front door, as if to usher him in its direction. "You don't have time for 'sorry' right now, remember?"

Anakin nodded. "...Still," he said, grasping the knob, "I know I need to make this up to you, and I will— I promise."

Briefly, Ferus paused to think. "...If you really want to make it up to me," he proposed with an admittedly sly smile, "then you can do it by coming to the game on Wednesday. How does that sound?" He felt especially satisfied with himself, because he knew Anakin didn't have time to argue with him. Besides— during their initial phone conversation, he had promised to do 'anything' in return for Ferus' help.

"I— Ferus, you know I haven't been to the arena in—"

Just then, there was a knock at the door: It was quick and enthusiastic, almost certainly belonging to either Luke or Leia (but probably Luke).

Anakin half-sighed, and— feeling for all intents and purposes as though he didn't have any other options available to him— reluctantly agreed to Ferus' condition. "...Fine," he said, "I'll come by, but I really don't think—"

It didn't matter what Anakin thought, though, because he'd already begun to open the door... and as soon as the gap was wide enough for Luke and Leia to slide in past one another, they did: Calling out greetings to both their dad and to their newly-grinning 'uncle' Ferus beside him— whose presence, of course, they didn't think twice about as they bounded into the freshly-tidied living room, immediately taking it upon themselves to make it their own.

They had no idea what it (or their dad) had looked like mere hours before... and now, thanks to Ferus, they wouldn't have to. All Luke and Leia needed to know about their dad today was that he loved them, and (hockey or no hockey) Ferus was going to make sure that his love for them was all they got to see this weekend.

Anything else he and Anakin needed to worry about, they could worry about it later on— together, the way they always should have.

[katsukithme]

First Aid

Pairing: Katsuki Bakugou x reader

Summary: Your pro hero boyfriend is annoyingly opposed to first aid, and you have to get a little persuasive.

Warnings: Language, suggestive themes, lil bit spicy!! Not smut but like I’m easing into it. Mentions of injury.

Word count: about 1.9k :)

A/N: idek what this is man I am just h word on main for angry blonde firecracker man

**Character is aged up to at least 20**

You've about had it with this man. This absolute stubborn child of a man. If his bottom lip weren't already split, right now you'd be very highly considering doing it yourself.

You both were crowded into your small bathroom in your apartment, first aid supplies strewn across what little counter space you had, a few knocked onto the tile floor. You'd learned very early on in your relationship that keeping a first aid kit on deck was essential to dating Katsuki Bakugou. If only the bastard would sit still so you could actually use it.

It was a feat in and of itself that you managed to get him in here for the first aid in the first place. It was like luring a cat into the bathroom right before a bath. He knew what was coming... and it took bribery of course. But he was here, hips leaning against the edge of the sink, arms crossed over his bare chest as he faces you. You were standing in front of him (conveniently between him and the door), antiseptic in one hand and a bandage in the other, desperately trying to clean the cuts that littered his skin.

"Katsuki, come on! Quit moving around!" You say sternly, trying once again to dab the cloth over the wide gash that reached from his collarbone to his shoulder. It had stopped bleeding a while ago, but it looked pretty gnarly. And you'd be damned if you didn't at least disinfect it.

"I told you, I don't need first aid! I'm not even hurt." He retorts, indignantly avoiding every move you make towards him. Finally you throw down the bandage with a loud groan.

"We do this every time! How many times do I have to tell you? If you don't clean them they could get infected!" You demand, hands on your hips.

"Tch. As if I'd ever let something like that happen to me." He was operating with one singular braincell, you were sure of it. And the braincell was sitting in the 'stubborn asshole' part of Katsuki's brain.

"You- it's not... Jesus christ. It's not something you let happen! It'll only take a minute to clean them up, I promise."

He doesn't seem the least bit convinced, brows drawn together in such a deep scowl. It was exactly the sort of face a mother would scold you for, saying it'd get stuck that way.

Sometimes for him, you really thought it did.

"You said it'd take just a minute last time. And it absolutely fuckin' did not." He gripes and you throw your hands up in exasperation. It was like talking to a brick wall.

"Because you kept moving!" He rolls his eyes and stands up from the counter, pushing past you gently to go towards the door.

"Whatever. I don't need first aid." He growls out. Your hands ball into fists and your face sets into a hard expression. You'd had enough... no more good cop.

Before he turns the door handle you say just one more thing- and it stops him dead in his tracks.

"Bakugou Katsuki, if you don't come over here and sit your ass down so I can treat your wounds, so help me god I won't fuck you for a month."

He freezes, hand still holding the doorknob. He turns slowly to look at you over his shoulder, expecting to find any sort of lie, a trace of a fracturing exterior so he knew you didn't mean it. Instead, all he was met with was a stone cold glare.

He scoffs. "You're bluffing." He tries, and your arms cross over your chest.

"Try me. Go ahead, leave the bathroom. Get used to fucking your hand, it'll be the only action you see."

He was tempted of course to just leave. The odds of you bluffing were pretty high... he wasn't stupid, he knew it was just as much of a punishment for you as it would be for him. But the look in your eyes– it was threatening. Kind of hot, but he'd keep that to himself. The threat of an agonizing dry spell was too risky for him to point that out.

"Fuck. Fine..." he relents. And he takes his hand slowly off the doorknob.

You smirk triumphantly as he trudged slowly back into the bathroom, scowl still set into his face with no signs of leaving any time soon. You take a few steps back, however many the right space would allow so you could direct him. As much as he despised it, your threat had him wrapped around your little finger. More than usual.

You jut out your chin once towards the toilet, which had the lid closed. "Sit, asshole. Lemme fix you up." You say, tone firm but just a little soft around the edges as he finally starts to do as you say.

He plops himself down on the seat with a grumble under his breath, something along the lines of 'this is cruel and unusual punishment, but he sits nonetheless. And he was almost pouting with that expression on his face. It was cute... even if he was acting like an child. You decide to make the ordeal a little sweeter for the man, even if he was being unruly. With antiseptic in one hand and a bandage in the other, you give a soft push to his chest so he'd sit back and make space for you.

It was a cramped sort of space, not super ideal for his comfort or yours. But he always had space for you. He cocks a brow curiously as you move him, but says nothing when he realizes you're going to take a seat. How could he say no? Even he'd admit, he liked having you so close. Even if you're tending to injuries that really weren't that bad.

You straddle his thighs as settle in on his lap, shifting just a little to get comfortable. His hands immediately find your hips, keeping you nice and close. Once he seemed contented enough, you get to work cleaning him up.

It's quiet in the bathroom as you tend to the wounds, the only sounds being that of your first aid ministrations and your mingled breathing. He watches you intently, taking in every little mannerism and facial expression, hands tracing absentminded circles into your hips. His fingertips were barely beneath the hem of your shirt, seeking out the warmth of your bare skin to keep him entertained while you treat his minor injuries.

Finally once most of the scratches and such were taken care of, you turn to the cut on his lip, eyes meeting that intense vermillion gaze. He was uncharacteristically quiet, but you knew it was much more than that.

Katsuki wasn't really a man of words. He didn't express his undying love every five minutes, and you didn't expect him to. Instead he showed it in actions, in unspoken words found shining in his eyes. In a small quirk of his lips when you laugh, or an affectionate eye roll when you do something dumb. Showed it in the way he kissed you. In the way he'd lay you down and give it to you nice and good, just the way you liked.

You lightly dab at the wound on his lip, being careful not to hurt him since it was still pretty fresh. He doesn't seem even slightly fazed.

"Gotta be more careful, and lemme do this for you. Can't have you getting more hurt because you're bein' stubborn." You mumble, averting your eyes from that deep stare to eye the plush of his split bottom lip while you cleaned him up. If you made eye contact any longer, he'd have the satisfaction of making you blush.

He grunts softly, pulling you a little closer on his lap. "I was gonna let you." He mumbles, and it makes you roll your eyes. And his lips quirk up just a bit.

"You were not. You were gonna walk right out that door if I didn't threaten to take away sex." You mumble, and one of his hands starts to trace up your spine, effectively arching you against his chest.

"Maybe. But if I hadn't, you wouldn't be on my lap, would you?" He snarks, but his voice is all soft. You put your first aid supplies down on the counter and turn your eyes back to his once again, and he was grinning. He almost looked smug.

"Ah, shut up. Didn't have to sit here. Did it for you." He snorts in response, strong arms wrapping firmly around your waist.

"Sure you were." He was sarcastic, but his tone was still fond. "You like bein' this close just as much as I do, ass." You wrinkle your nose at him and push at his chest in retaliation, but it only makes him draw you in closer.

"You're the ass. Wouldn't sit still, wouldn't shut up till I said I wouldn't fuck you. Think with your dick, huh?" You tease, and his lips raise in a half playful snarl. Large palms slide over your hips to grab handfuls of your ass, keeping you right up against him.

"Shut the fuck up. You like when I think with my dick. Gets you all hot for me." He mumbles, lips barely brushing yours when he leans in close. You could feel the heat in your cheeks at the comment, spreading to the tips of your ears. He always did know just what to say to get you wrapped around his finger.

"What," he continues, dragging your hips forward against his own and you choke back a gasp. "Suddenly you're all quiet? Bet t's'cause I'm right. But I dunno, maybe I'm just thinking with my dick." You have to struggle not to whine as his hands guide you back and forth across his lap, and by god the friction was going to kill you. Your hands clutch to hard muscled shoulders, aching to gain back some semblance of self control.

But it was hard to keep sane around Katsuki. Damn near impossible.

"Fuck... you..." you breathe, trying to give him a glare but it comes off a little more wanton than you intended. His teeth graze your bottom lip, biting it gently and tugging outward before letting it back into place. His hips cant upwards, rolling into yours as he keeps you rooted firmly in place, and it tears a moan from your lips.

"Yeah? You wanna?" His voice has dipped down dangerously low in his throat, rumbling through his chest and sleeping into your bones. Between the movement of his hips and his mouthing along your jaw you felt as if you were going to combust.

"You're gonna be the death of me..." You can feel that damn shit eating grin against your jaw, and when your eyes meet deep vermillion you know you're a goner. He had you, hook line and sinker.

"Complain all you want, but you're whipped for me," he mumbles, one hand leaving the plush of your ass to cup the back of your neck, dragging you into a kind of kiss that made your toes curl, your knees shake. Hot and heavy, tongue and teeth.

Yeah, you were pretty whipped for Katsuki Bakugou... but he was just as whipped for you.

[ofpineapplesanddawns]

Maybe their first meeting? 👀 (Illogical Husbands)

I've been waiting for someone to ask for this, haha.

Warning: these two are feral fools, Ellie has all the brain cells

On with the fic!

--

Betty had suggested the city. Broadchurch, a small city on the coast of England, known for a rather depressing murder. Well, it was honestly better than trying to escape in London.

Bill was being a fool, hiding away from his problems like a damn coward, when he should be facing them head on. Easier said than done, really. He needed to escape, even if it was just for a few weeks.

Honestly, it was probably best for everyone if they didn't see his face right now, anyway. So, here Bill was, in some nowhere city in the UK, where no one had really seemed to know who he was.

Or at least not say anything to his face. He had gotten stares, and the woman at the hotel had commented that they didn't get a lot of Americans here, so... hence the stares. Better than jeers and glares, Bill supposed.

Fuck, he needed a coffee.

He had been in Broadchurch for three days now, and only done a little exploring, so he at least knew of one cafe. He'd grab a drink and then go for a walk, that might ease his troubling thoughts. He rounded a corner, too lost in his mind to hear two people talking, before he walked right into one of them.

"Shit!" Came a surprised voice, and Bill blinked, looking at a man on the ground.

Oh dear, Bill moved to help him up, opening his mouth to apologize, but nothing came out as he made eye contact with the man.

The man had the most tired eyes that Bill had ever seen, which was impressive, considering how Bill had been looking for days now. Good lord, the man was scowling at him, impressive for someone who looked like he had a whole leg in the grave.

Once he got the man up on his feet, Bill went to apologize, but instead said, "God, you look like your five minutes away from keeling over or having a heart attack."

Wow, he was not doing great these past few months, because aside from adultery and destroying his life, Bill was about to add murder to his list of personal problems he brought on himself.

If looks could kill, this stranger would have slaughtered the doctor ten times over. "I don't need to be hearing unwanted health comments from an American. Then again, I guess that's normal with you lot."

The woman who had been standing next to him shot the man a glare and punched his arm, telling him to shut up. But the damage was done, Bill felt a spark ignite the suppressed anger that had building up inside of him, and he was ready to explode.

"The same could be said about you." Bill sneered, jabbing a finger into the man's chest.

"You knocked me over!" The man shouted. "Then you decided to insult me! I've got every right to be pissed with you!"

"And I'm a man who is not in the mood for anyone's shit right now, especially from some skinny guy like you!" Bill wanted to punch him, and the same could be said about the stranger.

But the woman stepped in. "Enough! Sir," she turned to her companion, "don't start things with strangers! Last thing we need is more complaints about low tourism here! As for you!"

She pointed a finger in Bill's face, and he felt the anger die at the glare she was giving him. "I know he's a prick."

"Oi! I am your superior officer, Miller!" The man shouted, but this woman, Miller, ignored him.

"But that doesn't mean you should also be making things worse. Just apologize and we can move on with our lives."

Bill looked up at the man, who was still glaring at him. He wanted to tell the asshole off, vent his frustrations with a bit of physical violence, but he wasn’t going to do that. Bill wasn’t going to make more trouble for himself. "I'm sorry for running into you, I have a lot on my mind."

The man looked at him, then huffed, nodding, before turning around. "Apology accepted. Come on, Miller, we need to get back to the station."

Miller sighed, rolling her eyes before following, saying something about the man still owing her a tea. Bill watched them walk away with a raised eyebrow before something clicked for him.

Superior officer? Station?

Oh.

Oh shit.

"I almost decked a cop."

--

Not romantic at all, haha, but I did say that they didn't like each other at first. I'm not sure when they become friends though.

[multifandom-girlie]

𝐓𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧

Imagine requested by @theshyprincess​: Your his girlfriend and he is trying to train you to be a hunter but the sexual tension becomes too much

Pairings: Jeremy x Reader

Warnings: Smut

Do you know what it's like to have a undeniably good looking, incredibly strong vampire Hunter boyfriend ? No. Well let me explain it. It's like that sweet boy you date in highschool that's had sex alot but still asks if your okay continously all through out having sex with him. Yes it's sweet but it get's a little annoying after a while. That is what me and Jeremy are like. He's the sweetest guy on the earth but he's so overprotective. I mentioned the fact it was a little irritating him being so protective all the time and luckily it went well for me.

4 Months Ago-

“Jer ?”

“Yes baby ?”

“I just wanted to talk.”

“Okay..?”

“It's nothing bad, don't worry.”

“Okay. Stopped worrying, what's up ?”

“You know we promised when we first started dating how we would always be honest with each other about how we felt ? Even if it's how we make eachother feel ?”

“Yes..? Y/N, have I upset you or something ? I'm starting to worry again.”

“Jer, stop..it’s nothing bad. It's just that your really overprotective.”

“Well yeah, I know I'm a little protective over you but that's just cause I love you and I would do anything for you.”

“No Jer, you don't understand. Your too protective, sometimes yes it's very cute. You know when you get protective in front of other men but when you stop me going out the house after certain hours or how I always have too be around you. You literally stand outside the door when I'm peeing. I'm not saying I don't appreciate, I do. It's nice to know someone cares so much, but sometimes it's too much. I need my own space. You know I love being around you but I'm going crazy Jer.”

“That was alot to hear. I'm sorry Y/N but I didn't know I was so bad. It's just I care about you alot and you know why I'm so worried all the time. I'm a Hunter you know I can protect myself, you can't.”

“Well how about we make a deal ?”

“It depends.”

“If you let me have my own space, you know let me hang with people who aren't you all the time and dump my curfew....I will train with you, like you wanted me to months ago. I will activate my Hunter gene.”

“You promise you'll actually train ? Your won't just say this, so you can go for girls night or hang with Stefan ? You will actually train, if I back off a little ?”

“Yes, of course not and yes.”

“Okay. Deal.”

“Deal, I love you Jer !”

Present Time-

So here we were in the woods, getting ready for another session. We’ve been having 4 hour sessions with 3 five minute breaks...everyday for the last 4 months. I'm glad we are sticking to the deal. You know he has backed off, I've been for a year's worth of girl's nights already and me and Stefan even went on a road trip and couple times, without Jeremy. 

The only down side to sticking to the deal though was we weren't really as lovey dovey as usual. We haven't had many dates or movie nights. All our conversations are either us arguing-which although is very rare, it still happens-or it's talking about our sessions or what he's going to train me to do next. Also I think I'm going crazy. I love him for doing all this but god I'm so frustrated. We haven't had sex in 4 months and it's bloody killing me.

I'm just glad that our anniversary is approaching because I'm hoping he will halt for one day. I guess we'll see.

Anyway so last session there was a bit of a problem when we got home yesterday my pants ripped as I was putting them on...so I had to wear an old pair of joggers, let me tell you now it was scorching. It was not good, so after our session I showered and headed to the mall with Caroline. Who helped me find some new gym wear that wouldn't rip because my ass and hips were to big to fit into my bloody pants. I also decided to get a new sports bra aswell because my other ones too tight anyway.

Yesterday-

“How are you and Jeremy then ? Are the sessions going well ?”

“Yeah they are actually but that's the only thing that is.”

“What are you talking about ? Oh sweetie, no, I can smell the frustration all over you.”

“I haven't had sex in 4 months Care.”

“Omg sweetie. Oooo, I know what we can do. Get the sexiest gym wear we can find. See if that will make him lose concentration. If he doesn't even flinch, you need to tell him. There's no way he can look at you and not want to shag you.”

“Shag ? Care I think you've been hanging out at the Mikaelsons too much.”

“Shut up.”

15 minutes later-

“This is perfect !”

Present time- 

I changed into my new outfit I got. I'm going to be so pissed if he doesn't take the fucking hint.

I went outside to the car and we drove off. Jeremy didn't even spare me a glance. God he's lucky if I don't “accidently” punch him today. We got out the car and he immediately go into position. I jogged over. Nothing. 

Obviously I'm not going to make the cut for Baywatch anytime soon.

We walked towards eachother and I threw a punch only for it to be dodged. He grabbed my wrist and span me around so my back was to his chest, I elbowed him and jumped on his back surprising him. He fell on his stomach but lifted himself up, even with me straddled on his back. He flipped so I was on my back and held me down. At this point I knew he was distracted, he could taste the tension just as much as I could but I was determined to win this. So whilst he was admiring how submissive I most likely looked under him.  

With my knees bent, I flattened my feet on the ground. My hand gripped his hips and I thrusted my hips upwards. He flew forward and caught himself by propping his hands up above my head. I still had a tight hold of his hips and I twisted my own, so I could thread my knees in-between his legs. I wrapped my legs around him and rolled us over, so I was now on top.

Now I couldn't hide the smirk on my face, showing I was proud of myself. He had a proud grin on his face, that was the first time getting out from under him-minus in bed-and it wasn’t using a technique he taught me. I just thought it was a logical solution. 

His eyes projecting his admiration and mass of lust into mine. His hands reached up to cup my face and pulled me down into a loving kiss. As I pulled away, he caught sight of my breasts peeping out my bra. I felt one of his hand loosen on my hips and trail up my body. I grabbed his wrist pushed it away and walked to the car. As soon as I was about the open my door, I was grabbed and pushed against the back door behind mine. 

My breath caught in my throat, a little surprised at the action. He leaned down and kissed me on the lips ravenously. I wrapped my arms around his neck whilst one of his were raising my legs from the ground. I clenched them around his waist and tangled my feet together. Now above him a little, I continued to kiss him whilst tugging on the short locks of his mousy hair. 

He still had a strong hold of me as he stepped back and felt around the door for the handle. When he found it he jerked the handle and opened the door with ease. He gently laid me down in the back seats and got in closing the door.

I hoisted myself up and perched on his lap. He leaned in but instead of kissing my swollen lips again he bombarded my neck with sloppy kisses. He directed his mouth to my collar bone and starting sucking slightly aswell as kissing. I threw my head back in pleasure and huffed quietly. He then moved to my boobs and started to kiss the tops of them and down my cleavage before peeling my bra off and circling my nipples with the tip of his younger and gradually enveloping them with his mouth. 

I felt that he wasn't undressed enough for my liking so I lifted his shirt off his body over his head and threw it beside us. I will never get enough of this man's body. Damn. He placed his hands on my ass but a couple seconds later pulled away from my boobs.

“When di-how is it th-woah.”

I giggled a little and started blushing a little. 

“It’s thanks to your workouts.”

He grinned and tugged the waistband of my pants but struggled to slip them off my ass. I pulled them off myself, since I knew he didn't want to break them. He saw my white thong and groaned whilst throwing his head back. I giggled and pulled down the elastic waist shorts he had on. I palmed him through his boxers, earning a slight puff. I smirked and pulled down his boxers, down to his ankles.

I kissed up his thigh closer to his thick cock. A slight breath brushing his member. My lips hovering around the tip of cock and gradually wrapping around them, gently tightening the grip. 

The moisture of my lips making it easier to inhale is big member. The nib of my tongue orbiting the head of his penis and whilst doing so gathering the pre cum, he'd let discharged. I continued this action for a couple of minutes before driving his whole cock down my throat. I did this repeatedly for a minute or so. The head hitting my throat with every jolt.

He was getting closer and closer, I could tell because of the giddy pulsation his cock was performing in my mouth. He couldn't help but nudge his hips in my mouth a little more so I could finish him off. After he started that process my little hand began to pump the base of his cock whilst my tongue was toying with the tip. Instantaneously, a smooth white liquid shot down my throat.

I lifted myself up a bit and let him taste himself on my lips. He ripped the white thong I had on but apologised straight after. I giggled and kissed him lovingly again. I raised myself a little and positioned myself comfortably on top of him. His pink tip stroking my clit in upwards motions before seeking my entrance and slipping himself in.

I bit my lip and threw my head back in pleasure. Whereas his head fell into my chest and groaned. I started to raise myself and rapidly force myself back down again. Once he was fully encased in side of me, I hoisted myself up and forced myself back down getting faster and faster with every movement. 

Steam painting the windows. The heat compelling us to break a sweat. The moans, groans and slapping of skin the single things to be heard for miles. My own pace was becoming moderate, I didn't know how long I could keep going for especially since the work out we did not 15 minutes before.  He could undoubtedly sense that I was lacking energy, most likely because of the early start each morning too. So to murder the sense of guilt he was feeling, he grabbed a tighter hold on my hips and rammed his hips in an upwards motion. Pounding into me relentlessly.

“I’m so close Jer !”

“Go on baby.”

I promptly delivered my juices at a rapid speed. They drizzled down his dense cock and chased his second orgasm down. It didn't take long before he unleashed his orgasm. We sat there for a minute or two.

“I love you Y/N.”

“I love you Jer.”

Nothing could be more perfect in that moment.

Except that was truly wrong. 

No protection.

He didn't pull out.

We are both human.

Shit.

MASTERLIST