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whatdoeseverybodywant · 2 months ago

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What We Used to Be - Jey Uso x Black!OC

I do NOT give permission for my work to be translated or reposted on here or any other site, even if you give me credit. DO NOT REPOST MY FICS

❤ Reblogs, comments, likes, and feedback ALWAYS appreciated ❤

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Main Masterlist

This will remain a ONESHOT, no part twos ❤️

April 11th 2017

JaiFelix_WWE

liked by trinity_fatu, sashabankswwe, and 300,000 others

JaiFelix_WWE: If you're not watching Smackdown tonight, what are you doing??!

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user: dreaming about us being together

trinity_fatu : JAI- JAI 💖

carmellawwe: looking good girl!

jonathanfatu: can u delete this plz! got my wife licking her phone!

↪JaiFelix_WWE: @jonathanfatu LMAO!

Jaiania held her breath as she walked past Josh and his twin brother Jon. She kept her head down, hoping they didn’t notice her walking by them. She absolutely did not want to have a conversation with either of them - especially Josh -. After their failed relationship and trainwreck of a breakup, she would rather play in traffic than have a conversation with him.

She almost made it past them without being noticed. “Damn girl you just gon walk right past us.” That was Jon. Jaiania forced a smile on her face and turned around to face them.

“Oh, hey.” She said, keeping her eyes on Jon. “Didn’t see you there.” She shrugged when he gave her a ‘yeah right’ look. Josh crossed his arms over his chest and rolled his eyes when he realized that she was trying her hardest to not look in his direction.

This is awkward she thought as she rocked back on her heels before pointing in the direction she was walking.

“I gotta go. Nice seeing you though,” She said to Jon, still ignoring Joshua’s presence.

She hurried down the hallway feeling their eyes on her.

Jon turned to his brother once she rounded the corner. “Look at what you did,” He said, smacking Josh on his chest. Josh rolled his eyes.

“I ain't do shit. Come on, we gotta get ready.” Josh did not want to hear that bullshit. He was in the wrong just as much as she was but since everyone loved Jaiania he took all the blame.

Jaiaina groaned as she saw Jon and Josh walking her way a couple of hours later. This must be my lucky day, two times in one night, she thought bitterly. She could normally avoid Jon and Josh but they seemed to be everywhere she was today.

“Congratulations guys.” She said referring to the Smackdown tag team titles they had just won from Chad Gable and Jason Jordan.

“Thank you, Jai,” Jon said, trying to give her a sweaty hug. She pretended to throw up and moved away from him. “Is your arm okay tho? That rinpost spot looked pretty rough.”

“I’m totally fine.” Jaiaina lied. “Looked way worse than it actually was.” She said, smiling at him.

“Yeet!” He said, making Jaiaina roll her eyes. “We goin’ out to celebrate our big win tonight, you in?”

Jaiaina let her eyes cut over to Josh who thankfully wasn’t looking at her. “Uh. I can’t. I have plans already.” That got Josh’s attention. He looked up from his phone and squinted his eyes at her. He wasn't normally one for gossip but he had heard some things about Jaiaina and another one of their co-workers recently.

“So the rumors are true huh?” He said with a scoff. “You move on fast.” Jaiaina cut her eyes back over to him and glared.

“Excuse me?” She asked, crossing her arms over her chest.

Josh sucked his teeth and narrowed his eyes at her. “You heard me.”

Jon let his eyes ping pong between the two of them. He knew he needed to stop them before they became explosive. “Uce, come on. It ain’t worth it. ” Jon said trying to pull his brother along but Josh wasn’t budging. “Josh, stop. Let’s go Uce”

“Yeah, I think that's a good idea,” Jaiaina said as she rolled her eyes and turned to walk away from them. 6 months of silence and the first thing he said to her is something about some bullshit ass rumors?! Pathetic

“And then he had the nerve to talk about me moving on too fast,” Jaiaina said to Trinity and Carmella as they sat in the VIP section of a club. “I mean, he broke up with me. What does he care if I moved on or not.” She said as she downed another shot. Carmelle and Trinity shared a look but didn’t say anything. “And what fucking rumors?!” She turned to her best friends. “Yall heard rumors about me?” She let out a scoff and rolled her eyes when they both nodded.

“Yeah, but we obviously don't believe it,” Carmella said.

“What's the rumor though?”

Carmella shrugged and sipped her drink. “Something about you and AJ”

Jaiaina's eyes widened. “AJ STYLES?!” She asked louder than necessary. “Ew, what the fuck. Where did that fucking come from?”

Carmella sighed. “Okay, here's what I know. Apparently, someone saw you and him leaving a hotel room together a couple of weeks ago.”

Jaiaina scoffed and rolled her eyes. “Do these people know that he’s married and I would never do that to Wendy or his children?” She sighed. “And Josh knows that Allen was my mentor during my time in TNA.”

“Girl you know how Josh is. He’s being an ass because he misses you.” Trinity said and Jaiaina rolled her eyes.

“Yeah well, he shouldn’t believe rumors about me.”

“And you miss him too, right?” Trinity questioned.

Jaiania rolled her eyes. “Of course I miss him, I never said I didn’t.”

“ Do you still love him?”

Jaiaian took another sip of her drink before answering. “Yes I still love him, but it is extremely obvious that he never did. We break up and the first thing he does is go fuck on one of our coworkers? That’s foul. Now every time I walk past that hoe she got a fucking smirk on her face that I wanna smack off. ”

Trinity and Carmella found themselves nodding along with Jaiaina’s statement. It was an extremely foul thing for Josh to do.

“I still don’t know what possessed him to do that. “

“I do.” Jaiaina rolled her eyes. “He been wanting to fuck Dasha. Surprised he didn’t do it while we were dating.”

Trinity rolled her eyes at her friend. “Josh may have been an asshole but we all know he wouldn’t cheat on you.”

Jaiaina hummed as she took a sip of her drink. She then eyed her friend. “Shouldn’t you be out celebrating with your husband?”

“Oh, about that.”

Jai narrowed her eyes at Trinity before letting out a gasp. “You didn’t !”

“I’m sorry! I know we already planned this girl's night and I didn’t wanna flake on y'all.”

Jai scoffed and turned towards Carmella who was already looking at her with guilty eyes.

“I invited Corey too.”

Jaiaina had to stop herself from throwing a temper tantrum. “You guys” she whined. “Girls night mean just girls.” She pouted.

Trinity and Carmella burst into laughter. “We’re sorry! But look, we can have a girl's night once we go back to Florida. Just us.”

“Fine,” Jaiaina said, still pouting. Just as she was about to take another sip of her drink, Jon, Josh and… Dasha fucking Jackson. Jaiaina scoffed and adverted her eyes from the couple.

“I’m sorry,” Trin whispered as stood and greeted her husband and Corey purposely ignoring Josh and Dasha. Carmella did the same and Jaiania couldn’t have been more grateful for her friends.

Don’t let it get to you, Don’t let it get to you. She repeated in her head as Dasha made a point of showing she was Josh’s girl now by placing a kiss on his lips. Once Dasha looked in her direction, Jaiaina stood from her seat and walked over to the bar. The drama was something she did not need nor want tonight.

She let out a heavy sigh as she leaned against the bar. She had successfully gone months without being in the same space as Josh because it hurt. It hurt to look at him and not be with him. She said some foul things the day they broke up and so did he, but she never expected him to literally go and fuck another woman THE SAME NIGHT.

“C’mon, you too pretty to be frowning.” Jaiaina had to stop herself from swinging on the slimeball that just slithered his way next to her. She turned her head to the side to face him and he smiled thinking he got her attention. She cringed at the food he had stuck in his teeth.

“Thank you,” She said referring to the compliment. “But, uh no thanks.” She said referring to his advances. The bartender set down her rum punch, Jaiaina grabbed the drink and tried to walk away but the guy grabbed her arm.

“Don’t be fucking rude.” He scoffed. “You didn’t even ask me my name.”

“That’s cause I don’t wanna know your name!” She said, trying to pull her arm out of his grasp. Just from how tight his grip was, she knew she was going to have a bruise. “Let go of me!”

“Don’t be such a bitch!” He spat at her, Just as Jai was lifting her knee to hit him in his balls, he was forcefully grabbed, which caused him to release her arm.

“The fuck is you doin’?!”

Jaiaina let out a gasp as Josh pushed the slimeball down to the ground. By now, more than half of the bar had turned their attention to them. “Don’t put ya’ fucking hands on her like that. Fuck is wrong witchu?!”

Slimy McSlimerson tried to kick his feet at Josh but Josh sidestepped them and then kicked slimeball in his face, knocking him onto his back. Slimy let out a groan as he started to hold his now broken nose.

“You alright?” The bartender asked coming around the bar and taking Jai’s arm in his hands, inspecting it. “You want me to call the cops?”

Josh gently pulled Jaiaina away from the bartender, making him drop her arm. Jaiaina’s eyebrows furrowed together as Josh wrapped his arm around her and pulled her closer, tucking her into his side. “Nah, we good,” Josh said eyeing Slimy on the ground. Josh was tempted to knock Slimy’s teeth down his throat but decided against it as he led Jai out of the club and into the night's cool air.

Jaiaina said nothing as she let Josh lead her outside. She momentarily allowed herself to lean into his familiar touch before remembering their current situation. “I’m fine now.” She said, taking another step away from him. “You can go back into the bar.”

“And leave you out here?” He asked. “Bab–Jaiaina, you shaking.”

“Okay, so send Trin or Mella out here. Go back inside.” Josh sucked bus teeth and pulled off his black bomber jacket he was wearing and handed it to her.

“Just take the damn jacket Jai”

“I don’t want your damn jacket, Joshua. And I damn sure didn’t need your help back there. I had it.”

Josh scoffed and grabbed her arm, making them both look down at the purple bruise that was forming. “Yeah okay.” He snorted. He hated that she was so stubborn. “You can hate me all you want Jaiaina. But if you gon’ wait out here in the damn cold, take the damn jacket.”

Jaiaina huffed and snatched the jacket out of his hands. “Happy?” She asked with a sarcastic smile and she slid her arms into the jacket.

“Very.” Just as he said that the side door to the bar opened and her group of friends and Dasha spilled out. Dasha eyed the jacket and then narrowed her eyes at Josh, who was still looking at Jaiaina.

“Girl! Are you okay?!” Trinity cried out as she and Leah rushed over to their best friend. Jai broke eye contact with Josh and turned her head towards her friends.

“I’m fine. Just some weirdo who doesn’t understand the meaning of No.”

Trinity, being the emotional drunk wrapped her arms around Jai’s head and pulled her down, so Jai’s head was resting on her breast. “I’m so sorry I wasn’t there to help you friend.” She whispered as a few tears slipped down her face. Jon and Josh sucked their teeth.

“Man, Trin get off her.” Jai let out a soft laugh as Jon pulled Trinity away from her.

“Did I ruin the mood? Or can we go back in?” Jaiaina asked.

“Hell no! You didn’t ruin the mood! C’mon!” Leah said as she grabbed Trinity’s and Jaiaina’s hands and started to lead them inside.

“Actually. I’m not in the party spirit anymore… We’re gonna head back to the hotel. Dasha said as she walked over to Josh. Jaiaina hated the way her heart tightened in her chest. Jaiaina watched as Dasha slipped her hand into Josh’s, her fingers curling around his in that intimate, effortless way that people who were in love did.

“Are you sure you don’t want to stay for a bit longer?” Josh asked, his voice soft but laced with that familiar warmth Jaiaina had once loved.

Dasha's hand tightened around his. “I’m sure. Come on, let’s go.” There was a finality to her words that Jaiaina couldn’t ignore.

Jaiaina’s chest tightened. It shouldn’t hurt this much. It shouldn’t hurt at all.

She and Josh had broken up for a reason—no matter how hard it had been. She told herself she was over it. Jaiaina forced herself to look away from the couple.

“I think I'm gonna head back too. I forgot I have an early flight to Birmingham in the morning.”

Birmingham? Josh arched his eyebrow at the mention of Birmingham. He knew there was only one reason why she was going there, which meant she lied to Jon earlier when he asked about her arm.

Trinity and Leah shot her playful glares, but their smiles quickly softened into teasing hugs. After making Jaiaina promise to hang out once all three of them were in Florida, Jon, Trin, Leah and Corey walked back inside the bar.

Jaiaina stood there awkwardly. She pulled her phone out of her clutch and ordered an Uber. She could feel Josh and Dasha’s eyes on her.

“Oh, your jacket,” Dasha said as their Uber pulled up.

“She can keep it. It’s cold as hell out here Baby.” Baby.. just hearing that Josh had a nickname for Dasha made Jaiaina sick to her stomach.

“It’s fine..” Jaiaina trailed off as she took the jack off and handed it back to Josh. “I should have brought out my own coat.”

“Yeah, you should have.” Dasha scoffed and snatched the jacket out of Jai’s hands.

Be the bigger person Jaiaina thought, don’t beat this bitch’s ass.

“C’mon man, you ain't have to snatch it,” Josh muttered as he walked towards the Uber. Dasha rolled her eyes and stomped after him.

“Well, why did you give her your jacket? Could have let the hoe freeze for all I care.”

Jaiaina gritted her teeth as the door to the Uber slammed shut and they drove away. She closed her eyes and tried to remember the deep breathing exercises her therapist told her to do. Forcing herself to take slow, deliberate breaths in and out. In through the nose, out through the mouth...

It didn’t work. Not this time.

Dasha was so lucky that Jaiaina actually enjoyed her job, cause Jai would have BEEN beat her ass by now.

Jaiaina’s head had barely hit the pillow before three sharp, rhythmic knocks echoed through the room. Her stomach twisted into knots at the sound of the knocks.

There was only one person in the whole world that knew three was her safe number. Sighing, she threw the covers off of her, grabbed her pink Versace robe, and opened the door.

“Why did you lie to twin earlier?” Jaiaina blinked.

What?” she scoffed, a quick laugh escaping her. “What are you talking about?”

“Earlier, Jon asked about your arm. You said you were fine but you not. Why you going to Birmingham in the morning.”

“What I have going on in my life doesn’t concern you anymore Joshua,” Jaiaina said firmly, trying to shut down the conversation before it could go any further.

“Don’t do that.” He muttered, his eyes never leaving hers. “Don’t act like you weren’t a major part of my life.”

“I was. Not anymore Joshua. Go back to Dasha and leave me alone.”

Josh’s jaw tightened as he took a deep breath trying to compose himself. “Look, I know –”

“No,” Jaiaina said as she started to shake her head. “I’m not doing this with you.” Josh looked confused as she started to close the door in his face, at the last second, he put his foot in between the door and the fame. Jaiaine huffed as he easily overpowered her and gently pushed her away from the door.

She stomped over to the bed and threw herself down on it, while Josh shut the door behind her and went to sit in the armchair that was placed between the bed and the window.

“Josh, it's been six months since we last talked. Let’s just go back to that.”

“I don’t want to. I fucking miss you Jaiaina.”

Jaiaina laughed making Josh scoff.

“The hell so funny?”

“YOU!” She exclaimed as she jumped from the bed and pointed at him. “You think you can just come swoop in like some type of Superman after what you did?! Fuck off, Joshua!”

“Jai, I know I said some fucked up shit but -”

“Said?! No nigga. It's about what you did!” She cut him off. “The fact that you fucked that bitch the same night we broke up was foul as hell Joshua!”

“Woah!” He called out, jumping to his feet. “I ain't do no shit like that. Fuck is you talking about.”

Jaiaina let out a humorless laugh. “Yeah okay.” She said mockingly with a roll of her eyes. “The bitch already told anybody who would listen. The same night you walked out of our hotel room, you went to her! And you fucked her.” Jaiaina couldn’t hold it back anymore, the tears that threatened to spill since the bar came flowing down her face.

"Jai, I swear to you, that's ain’t what happened," Josh said, his voice low and urgent. He took a step towards her, but Jaiaina backed away, shaking her head.

“Don’t Joshua. Just leave.”

“Hell no. I’m not going anywhere. I lost you once, I’m not doing It again.”

Jaiaina childishly covered her ears. “I’m not listening to any of the bullshit you are spewing tonight Joshua!” She uncovered her ears and narrowed her eyes at Josh. “Okay let's just say, you didn’t have sex with her the same night. You’re still with her now! And don’t deny it, I heard you call her baby.” When Josh didn’t deny it, Jaiaina felt her heart break even more. “Please just go. Go back to your girlfriend and go back to ignoring me.” She whispered as she lowered her eyes to the ground.

Jaiaina heard him sniffle but she didn’t lift her head to look at him. “I never wanted to hurt you Jai.” Jaiaina didn’t say anything back, she didn’t have anything to say. She was exhausted. She just wanted to go to sleep and forget all about Josh by the morning.

Josh sighed and started walking towards the door, the silence between them was too much. It was suffocating. He wanted to fix it. He wanted to make things right. But he didn’t know how. With one last glance at Jaiaina, he turned and walked out the door.

As soon as the door shut, Jaiaina broke down, she covered her mouth with her hand to try and hide her sobs. Outside, Josh leaned against the closed door, his forehead pressed against the cool wood. He could hear Jaiaina's muffled cries through the thin barrier, and each sob felt like a knife twisting in his gut. He wanted nothing more than to burst back in, to take her in his arms and explain everything. But he knew she wouldn't listen, not now.

April 18th 2017

Birmingham, Alabama

Jaiaina knew it was stupid to go through this surgery alone, but WWE provided the best doctors so she knew she was in good hands.

Waking up from surgery was a feeling she would never get used to. She let out a groan at the dull ache in her right shoulder and immediately she heard someone shh her and place a straw at her lips. The comforting sensation of the water helped clear some of the haze, but as she blinked her eyes open, the shock of who was sitting next to her hit her like a ton of bricks.

“I gotchu, relax.”

“What are you doing here?” She whispered, her voice scratchy and weak from the anesthesia.

“Making sure you alright and not alone.”

“Josh please –”

He shushed her again. “I broke whatever I had with Dasha off. Imma be truthful and say that yeah, I got with her to fuck with you after I heard the rumor about you and AJ but, I did not have sex with her that same night. To be honest, I never had sex with her, I haven’t had sex with anybody since you.”

Jaiaina’s jaw dropped open. She didn’t know how to respond to that. She had spent the past six months hating Josh because she thought he was a slimy asshole. She didn’t know how to feel right now.

“Josh I-” She started,

“I’m not asking you to forgive me, Jaiaina,” Josh continued, his voice soft but firm. “Not right away. Aight? I know I messed up, and I know it’s not gonna be easy. But I’m willing to work this out, but only if you want to.”

Jaiaina stared into his eyes, no matter how hard she tried she would never get rid of the love she had for this man. It was a big relief to finally hear the truth about the night that they broke up but he still hurt her by ignoring her for six months.

“Please.” He whispered. “I always seen you in my life. Always seen you as the mother of my kids. Just give me one more chance.”

Jaiaina’s breath caught in her throat. This was the most vulnerable she had ever seen him in the three years they had dated.

“Okay,” She whispered, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath. “But I swear on everything I love, this is your LAST chance.”

Josh's face lit up with a mixture of relief and hope. He gently took Jaiaina's hand, careful not to disturb the IV line. “I promise you, I won't mess this up again. I love you too damn much.”

Jaiaina stared at him for a second before a small smile came across her face. “I love you too.”

Authors Note: I'm sorry if this sucked 😮‍💨😫

I've had this halfway written for about a year and just decided to say fuck it and finish it. I really do hope you all enjoy it! ❤️

Side Note:

Jaiaina had torn rotator cuff.

Josh definitely bribed and threatened an intern to tell him what was wrong with Jaiaina LOL!

🏷️: @paigereeder @harmshake @empressdede @theninthwonder @jaethaone

@mzv11 @shantinextdoor @sheydnni @xmonetsworld @christinabae

@southerngirl41 @reci1996 @alyyaanna @li-da-savage @kill-the-artiste

@trashbin-nie @adoreesun @shayaaaaaaa @bebesobrielo @bookuce

@rianasixx @kat3457 @queeny23 @privateeyed95 @cyberdejos2

@justazzi @jstarr86 @sabrina-carpenter-stan-account @vampygomez @msbigredmachine

@ashykneee @callmekayd @yana3sworld @romansthrone @alichesmi

@amandairene88 @scarlettnoir01 @bonni-98 @sassginamillls @rebelrel0987

@aikosilo @vibessonvibes @magnificentbouquetmusic @tbmotw @nayys-world

#wwe #jey uso #jey uso x black reader #jey uso x reader #jey uso x black oc #jey uso x fem reader #jey uso x you #jey uso x y/n #jey uso x black fem reader #wwe x black oc #wwe x black reader #wwe x reader #wwe angst #jey uso angst

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killerandhealerqueen · 7 months ago

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twenty questions for fic writers!

Thank you for the tag @sunriseverse! Always love doing these

how many works do you have on ao3?

As of right now, 284. 154 of those are Killer and Healer fics, to the surprise of nobody

2. what's your total ao3 word count?

We are currently at 3,030,755. I tend to write long oneshots and decently long multichapters so I'm not surprised my word count is as high as it is. Again, majority of these words come from Killer and Healer because there is just something about them that makes my brain go brrr

3. what fandoms do you write for?

Most Killer and Healer at this point, but sometimes I'll write an S.C.I. fic and I'm also going to dip my toes into F1 rpf. Currently working on my first fic now

4. top five fics by kudos

I agree with Corset, I'm not a fan of the kudos for my overall (since they're fics I don't care about and since I'm not in those fandoms anymore), so I'm also gonna go with my kudos from 2024 恨君不似江楼月 | Killer and Healer 231 kudos, m, WIP, yuezhi, junchun 药剂师日记 | The Apothecary Diaries 111 kudos, t, 89k, yuezhi Oil and Water 105 kudos, m, 91.5k, eric/ryan Stay the Night By My Side 48 kudos, t, 1096, qiubing Big White Cat Cuddles 47 kudos, gen, 2.7k

5. do you respond to comments?

Always. Always, always, always

6. what is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

On the rare as fuck occasion that i've actually writing MCD, my fic Promise to Keep for Chinese Paladin 4. I too am shocked that I wrote MCD because I normally write happy endings, but I was actually okay with how canon ended so...I was fine with the MCD (cried like a bitch while writing it tho)

7. what's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

All of my fics minus Promise to Keep

8. do you get hate on fics?

Oh, I did once...and it turned into a whole post that I made on here because if they had gone just after the fic/me, I would have just deleted it and moved on (while simmering with rage) but no, they went after my readers and insulted them and NO ONE goes after my readers

9. do you write smut?

No I do not. Never have, never will. It squicks me, so I don't. I can read it, can't write it

10. craziest crossover?

Eh...I did a big crossover back in 2020 between s.c.i, history 3: trapped, and guardian. That fic was fun

11. have you ever had a fic stolen?

Yeah, back in 2020 when I was working on my fic The Untamed Moments, someone was copying it word for fucking word over on Wattpad in Spanish. One of my readers at the time noticed it and I shut that shit down real quick. So...word to the wise. Don't steal my fics or I will end you

12. have you ever had a fic translated?

I have! My fic So This Is What Love Feels Like was translated to Vietnamese. I was very honored

13. have you ever co-written a fic before?

In the past...wouldn't do it again. I like brainstorming fics with people but at the end of the day, I need to be the one writing the fic. And my style is so different from others that you could definitely tell if a fic was co-written

14. all time favorite ship?

Yuezhi. Hands down. But man, Lestappen is getting up there...

15. what's a wip you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

God permitting, the Killer and Healer rewrite. Same with my Kei x Yaku fic. Problem is, I keep getting distracted by other wips and ideas so I like...haven't gotten around to finishing them. The rewrite I know is going to take me a while, but the Kei x Yaku fic I just gotta sit down and work on/crank out or I'll lose my hyperfixation with it and want to either abandon it or delete it. And I don't want to do either, so I gotta get back into it

16. what are your writing strengths?

Dialogue/making characters still feel in character, no matter the au, if that makes sense. I've been told my dialogue is great

17. what are your writing weaknesses?

TOO MANY GOD DAMN WIPS/WIP IDEAS

18. thoughts on dialogue in another language?

I will only ever use dialogue in another language if I know what I'm writing in another language. Things might also cross over, like "hyung" or "gege" or stuff like that because it just sounds better but other than that, I don't use dialogue in another language unless i'm 100% sure of the meaning

19. first fandom you wrote in?

Dragonball

20. favorite fic you've written?

How dare you...I love all of my fics, even the ones for the fandoms I'm no longer a part of. No, I won't choose. You can't make me

Tagging: @hyperbolicgrinch @theotherwhybietoldmeso @clawbehavior @fourth-quartet and any other writing mutual who wants to give this a go

#tag game #twenty questions for fic writers

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sajaffery · 1 year ago

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..3....

there has to be a better title availible then that? I have to continue the series I suppose but i’m not officially blocked anymore. i dont think i am. i’m writing everyday, its shit, but its still writing. so im not a blocked writer anymore I’m just a shit writer now. its still progress if you ask me, eventually i’ll progress to being a mediocre writer and then i’ll die. because everyone dies and because the next step up is a good writer and to predict myself becoming a great writer would be immodest and i’m nothing if not modest. i broke another rule didnt i. i promised to write one of these everyday and i havent. this is my first...post (yech) in a week nearly. maybe two weeks. I cant remember now, i would have to go back to the old posts and then i would have broken two rules. technically the first one isnt a rule. it was a promise I guess. a mission statement if you think i’m a ponce, which you probably do, but if you do then you wont have reached this part yet, you would have clicked onto something else by now, in which case fuck you (dont worry its only there for dramatic effect), even though i dont blame you i can still hate you. i dont really, i just wanted to get rid of you and if you havent clicked off by now you will definietely will now. if you havent then youre just a glutton for punishment in which case welcome brother! have seat, let me get you a drink because we are gonna get along just fine. I’m adding hastags onto this so we’ll be able to find more people just like us, S&M seems to be a popular tag but i wont be adding that, i have enough weirdos following me who only seem to be intrested in half naked man. sorry new message from tumblr. i have no followers. awsome! i am so glad, freedom at last! i can finally be myself. i can finally let go and speak my mind. its so easy to say that but if i really think about it it can be exteremely confusing because it will essentially depend on where my mind is at that particular moment becuase there will be times i will just feel like screaming and shouting at and everything and everyone (which will be no one since it is the only time i wll truly let this happen) and other times there will essentially be no noticable change in me at all. except my clothes will come off ofcourse. of course! who in their right mind would possibly choose to remain clothed if they didnt have to. i totally understand people who move to naked communes and choose to spend the rest of their lives with all their bits hanging out. clothes are just another form of prison arnt they? a confinement designed to make you self concious of yourr real self. to hold you in and keep you hidden from the real word. why havent i moved to a naked commune uet? its fair questuon there are plenty of them around arnt there? atleast i think there are, thats certainly the impression television gives you. everyother person seems to be oving to a naked comune in bad movies and rubbish television shows. i dont wwatch bad movies and rubbish tv mind you, i just like keeping up with whats happening. sort ofna of like a cautionary....oh shit shit fuck fuck fuckity mutherfucker! my fucking laptopn just froze so i had to hold on kickeing and screaming to my train of thought in the fear that i might losee it have nothing to talk to you about, like that i bit i just wrote a little while ago about the state of your mind and when youll see a difference while letting go. that was so boring, i apologise for that, i wish i could delete it, but i cant ofcourse, see previous posts for details as to why, i wish there was a way to just put up a cautionary sign when you come onto this......webpage...(it is not a blog mutherfucker!) oh comon! my fucking laptop keeps freezing.

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seita · 4 years ago

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— better than (m.)

pairing : iwaizumi/reader

wordcount : 3.087

genre : fluff, smut, pwp

cw : college!au, athletic trainer!iwaizumi

tags : implied age gap (hes 27 reader is in college- age nkt specified. he's older tho), size kink, dom!iwa, pussy job (a lil bit), multiple orgasms, sensitivity kink (if u squint), squirting, fingering, creampie, aftercare.

note : this was just an excuse to write about how iwaizumi is better than any other boy <3 thank u to @toshisins for beta'ing this for me <3

+ summary : you're so tired of dumb college boys who hump and dump, with no stroke game, and can never even try to get you off. that is, until you meet 27 year old iwaizumi hajime.

When you first met Iwaizumi Hajime at the bar near your college campus, you noticed how good looking he was. Well, that was an understatement - he was tall, fit with tanned skin and a confident aura that made you weak in the knees.

You hadn't actually had the courage to approach him, however. Instead, you let some college boy buy you a cheap drink and take you home for some mediocre sex before kicking you out after not even 15 minutes of his reckless humping.

The second time you met him was at the same place. He was sitting at the bar, nursing a glass of whiskey that was almost empty. His back was to you and it gave you a wonderful view of his broad shoulders.

The mediocre lay from the last time you had been there attempted to chat you up again with false confidence, as if he had been the best fuck of your life. Naturally, you weren't having any of his bullshit - he tried to rub your clit like a scratch and sniff, forcing you to pry his hand away from it, there was no chance in hell you were giving him another second of your time. He definitely wasn't the type of guy who took rejection well, if not evident by the way he exploded and went off calling you a wide, colorful variety of names paired with numerous hurtful insults that had tears of humiliation filling your eyes.

“Hey now,” a smooth, deep voice had interrupted his very public spiel, “Don’t punish the girl for your own short comings, if she doesn't wanna fuck you again, don't you think that says more about your abilities as a man?”

The other man sputtered, muttering even more curses before storming out - probably not wanting to tussle with a guy who looked like he benched every second of his day.

There was something about Iwaizumi that just immediately had your heart skipping a beat over him. He was kind, a gentleman, and never seemed desperate or overbearing. He was confident and comfortable with himself and where he was in life.

You quickly learned that Iwaizumi was 27, almost 28 and worked as an athletic trainer so he traveled a lot.

For a while, your relationship seemed one sided with him. You'd text him and he’d reply but he rarely ever actually reached out to you. You tried flirting with him, asking him out for drinks, but it never seemed to pull him in.

It was frustrating. In basically no time at all, you had developed a stupid puppy dog crush on him. You felt like a middle school girl with a crush on a high school senior - like he was never going to give you the time of day. You were simply too young for him.

You eventually stopped trying with him, choosing to delete your message thread with him and continued on with your life.

You went through more college-boy hookups - all of them ending in disaster. Quite frankly, you were fed up with mediocre cock and being treated like shit when they were done with you. It wasn't a nice feeling, being kicked out after they didn't even bother trying to make you cum.

You couldn’t help but wonder what Iwaizumi would be like in bed. He was just so attractive, you knew he had gotten his dick wet more times than he could count. He definitely seemed the type who preferred relationships over hookups.

That's when it occurred to you.

You pulled out your phone and scoured your contacts. It had been a couple weeks since you spoke but you couldn't resist bugging him just one last time. You opened a new message thread with him and quickly typed the question that was now plaguing your mind.

“Do you have a girlfriend?”

It was the question that had changed the course of your relationship with him.

When you asked, it was like everything fell into place. Perhaps it finally relayed to him the interest you had. All that really mattered was the fact he suddenly began talking to you, starting conversations and even venturing into phone calls with you.

You lost all interest in those college boys you once hung out with and went home with to get laid. None of them made you feel the way Iwaizumi could with a simple text message. He was everything a girl could ask for and you were shocked he was single.

Which was why you were quick to ask him on a date, not caring if it made you look desperate -- you practically were. You would be damned if he went off the market while you were busy beating around the bush.

Going on a date with Iwaizumi was like a dream. You were so used to dates at sleazy bars for a couple of drinks just so they could hurry up and take you home for a quick fuck.

Iwaizumi took the time to take you on several dates -- dinner, movies, walks around town to obscure shops he thought you might like, before it finally led to the bedroom.

You had never been nervous with sex but with Iwaizumi it was different. The routine was dumb college boys who usually fawned over your tits for a few minutes before their hard ons became the center of their brain function.

You found yourself completely bare on his bed as he stood at the foot, fully clothed. The way his eyes raked across your body like a lion eyeing its next, delicious meal had you curling in on yourself shyly.

His lips quirked up as your arms came across your breasts, shielding them from his predatory gaze, “Oh now, you know better than that, don’t you? What kind of good girl hides herself, hm? Acted so eager for my cock all this time, now you wanna be shy?”

You gasp, cheeks flushing hot as you register his words -- he’d known you wanted him that badly all this time?

He clicks his tongue, “You didn’t think you were subtle did you? Bet you would have done anything to get your paws on my dick when I got off work early the other day, hm? Showed up at your apartment...you were starin’ real hard at me, I’m right aren’t I?”

You think that to that day, lashes fluttering against your cheeks at the memory. He was wearing loose gray sweats and a muscle tank top that showed his biceps flexing with every movement he made. Your eyes had immediately been drawn, however more down to his crotch instead. Where you could clearly see the outline of his cock through the material.

You had stuffed your little fingers in your cunt for hours that night, thinking about how big he looked -- even soft, couldn’t imagine if he was hard.

“Ah, there you go again,” he muses, snapping you out of your haze, “Maybe if you ask real pretty for me, I’ll give you just what you want.”

“Please,” you immediately gasp, “Want you so much Hajime, i-it hurts. Can’t stop thinkin’ about you…”

“It hurts?” he huffs, finally reaching up to pull his shirt off, leaving you to ogle his pecs and defined abs, which flex as he works on removing his jeans, “Needy little cunt hurts ‘cause you don’t have a nice, fat cock stuffing it full? Such a dramatic little baby. I just know your phone is full of some little college boys’ numbers...why don’t you give them a call?”

You shake your head, “Don’t want them! I just know they’re not as good as you, Hajime, please...please make me cum, I'll do anything?”

“Aw, those idiot little boys don’t know how to make a pretty girl like you cum, is that it?” he asks, climbing onto the bed, making the mattress dip beneath you as he slots himself between your thighs.

“No,” you pout, letting him spread your legs, hands under your knees to open you up to his greedy gaze.

“So compliant with me, you just need a real man to get you off, huh?” he smiles when you nod, “Don’t worry, I’ll take real good care of you.”

Oh, you knew. Just from the way he moved his hips against yours, parting your folds so the head of his cock glided from your clenching little hole, dragging your slick up to your clit -- you just knew that he knew what he was doing.

As you looked between your legs, you felt yourself gush at the sight. His cock was so big, long and fat, drooling precum over your slick little slit, making a mess. He wrapped his fist around his length, making you whimper as his fingers couldn’t even wrap around the girth of him. He slapped his cock against your cunt, groaning at the strings of your slick that clung to him.

“Such a messy cunt,” he sighs, making sure to spank your clit with the head of his cock, laughing breathlessly when your thighs jumped in response to the sudden stimulation, “So fucking eager for me, aren’t you?”

“Uhuh,” you sigh, arching your hips, “Want you to fuck, please, Hajime, need it so bad.”

Much to your dismay, he shakes his head, “Can’t just put it in, pretty baby,” the pet name makes you whimper, “It’ll hurt too much, want you to feel good, yeah?”

“I can handle it,” you breathlessly reassure, canting his hips upward once more to drag your clit against that ridge on the crown of his cock, “Jus’ put it in…”

He doesn’t respond this time but still makes no move to put his cock inside. You’re distracted, however, by the way he now focuses on playing with your clit. Using his cock, he drags the underside across the hard little bud, slaps it once with the tip and before you know it your body is seizing up and you cum.

You let out a string of curses, falling limp against the bed as he works you through the quick high.

“See, that was so easy,” he chuckles, “Those stupid little boys you’ve been letting screw you have no idea what they’re doing, do they? Little cunts so sensitive, I barely even had to do anything to make you cum.”

You’re still trembling when you come down, licking your lips as you give him a dopey little smile and a nod at his cooing. He can’t resist leaning down, and pressing his lips against yours almost desperately. You wrap your arms around his neck, holding him in a deep kiss while his hand finds its way between your legs, two fingers sliding easily into your slick little cunt.

You moan into his mouth, “Hajime ah! ...please, make me cum again.”

“Fuck, you’re so desperate for me,” he hisses through his teeth, “Clenching around my fingers so tight. If I crook my fingers...right here...I bet you’ll just…”

As if on cue, his fingertips hook on your g-spot and you squeal, legs kicking out as you gush around his fingers. He bites his lip and continues to fuck his fingers against that spot, watching your eyes roll back, mouth falling open in a silent cry as you cum for the second time in mere minutes.

“Y-You’re so good, Hajime…” you praise softly, “Fuck, please, give me your cock now!”

He laughs and sits up properly again, pulling his fingers from your cunt. He examines them for a second, slick with your cum and streaks of cream covering the digits before he pops them into his mouth with a moan, savoring the taste of you.

“Alright, baby,” he sighs after pulling out his fingers with a pop!. He grips you beneath the knees again and scoots closer until his tip prods at your entrance. You shudder at the feeling, “Relax for me, pretty girl, let me in…”

Iwaizumi begins pushing in, letting out a soft groan as the head finally buries itself in your cunt. You squeal at the feeling, pulling your knees closer to your chest. The sound of you moaning and whimpering just from his head has him throbbing almost painfully against your tender cunt.

“Almost there…” he huffs, grinning at the sight of your eyes rolling back, “Ah, does that feel good?”

“Yes!” you cry out, “Biggest cock I’ve ever had…’s full…”

“Yeah, baby? It feels so good to finally get your cunt filled with a nice, big cock huh?” he laughs when you nod eagerly, “It’s alright, baby. You won’t have to deal with any mediocre college boys anymore, yeah? This cock’s all yours now…you hear that? All yours.”

Your hand flies down between your legs, finding your clit. He watches with lidded eyes as you circle the little bud and squeal, keeping his hips still to let you cum around his cock nice and hard like you need.

“That’s it, pretty girl,” he hums, “Get yourself off, you know what you need...atta girl…”

You sigh happily at his praise, licking your lips and relax against the bed once more. He takes that as his hint that you were ready, pulling his hips back before roughly slamming back inside your sensitive cunt. It knocks the air from your lungs and you cry out, unable to hold back your noises as he fucks you senseless.

He uses his strength to keep you pinned, forcing your knees against your chest, leaving your cunt open and vulnerable to his pistoning cock. Iwaizumi is so big that the stretch burns every time he sinks back into you, the tip touching your cervix with every calculated thrust, making your entire body ache with the deep pain of it.

But it all feels so good, you’d never been fucked like that before. He knew exactly where to aim his cock, keeping his eyes fixed on your face to watch your reactions, gaze flicking down to where his cock stuffs your cunt full to watch you coat him in your cream whenever he grazes that sweet little spot deep inside you -- a spot no other man had ever tried to find before.

“Feel good?” he questions, though he knew the answer even before you cry it out.

“Ah, yes! Yes, yes, yes!” you sob, “I-It feels so good, Hajime! Fuck, you’re so good at fucking me! You make me feel like a virgin all over again!”

He grins, “Yeah, I know I am, baby.”

His cocky, confident response would have been a turn off with any other man, but with him -- it only made you moan. He had every right to be cocky, he knew just how to use his cock and it was exhilarating.

“You gotta cum again for me, pretty,” he pants, “Cum again, one more time, let go.”

Your throat burns from how much you scream for him, the messy noises coming from him fucking your sloppy cunt should be embarrassing -- you’ve never made such a mess before. You’ve never been so wet, creaming and gushing all the way down his balls.

He didn’t seem to mind, instead he seemed to only be turned on by it.

“I want you to squirt, can you do that for me? Make a pretty mess for me.”

You shake your head, “D-Don’t know how...Can’t.”

“Yes you can, baby,” he purrs, “I can make you, you know that I will.”

You didn’t but, you couldn’t help but nod -- immediately believing him and trusting him. He shifts his knees just slightly, changing his center of balance before his palm curls over your pubic bone, thumb effortlessly finding itself pressed against your clit.

The change in angle lets him hit your g-spot even more brutal than before. You’re immediately arching and crying out for him, eyes rolling back into your head as you feel your orgasm slam into you faster than you’d ever experienced.

Instead of slowing you down, he works you through it, keeping the same, animalistic pace and keeps his thumb pressed against your clit, the rough pad of his thumb has you ogling. If anything, the calloused hands of Iwaizumi proves to you how much of a real man he is, those college boys have nothing on him.

“Give it to me, c’mon,” he urges, clenching his teeth together from the effort it takes to keep going to this hard and fast pace.

“H-Haji…” you cut yourself off as you feel yourself get thrown over the edge again. This time, something feels different and you can’t help but sob, “Please! I-I’m gonna-!”

“That’s it, fuck!” he moans, pace stuttering when you squirt -- your cum splashing against his abs as you shudder and squeal, “Good fuckin’ girl, my good girl. Shit, where do you want me to cum?”

“I-Inside! Fuck, please! I need your cum!” you immediately sob, nails biting in his biceps where you reach out to grip him -- trembling and crying from overstimulation as he works towards his own high.

“You sure? Shit,” you nod, breathless pleas falling from your lips as he finally stills, spilling his load deep inside with a long, drawn-out groan.

Everything is still for a moment and then he’s pulling out with a hiss. You whine at the feeling of your cunt gaping, yearning for his cock again, as his cum leaks out.

He hums, “Sorry about that, let me get you cleaned up.”

You sigh, and close your eyes, trying to relax and let your body settle its trembling. He comes back and quietly works on cleaning the mess between your thighs.

“Alright, up you go,” he sighs, taking your arm and helping you to your feet. You whine and wobble for a second, making him laugh, “You good?”

“Y-Yeah…” you stumble a bit and lean against his dresser, looking for your discarded clothes.

He has his back to you as he strips his sheets. Suddenly, you feel shut out -- like you shouldn’t be there anymore.

He brushes past you to his closet, pulling out some fresh sheets. You feel silly, standing there naked while he gets ready for bed. You bend down and grab your panties, clumsily putting them on before moving to pick up your dress, where it’s crumpled on the floor.

“What’re you doing?” he laughs, “That won’t be comfortable to sleep in.”

“Huh?” you tilt your head to the side and he pauses fluffing his pillows.

“What...you didn’t think I was kicking you out, did you?” he asks and scoffs at the face you make.

“Well I...usually I…” you shift on your feet nervously and he frowns, walking up to you.

He cups your cheeks and makes you look at him, “Jesus, who have you been fucking?” he laughs and gently nudges you towards the bed, “Lay down before you fall over.”

Fighting back a smile, you do as you’re told and sit on the bed, watching as he puts on a fresh pair of sweats, waiting for him to join you. When he does, he immediately pulls you into his arms, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

“Take a nap, and then we’ll take a shower.”

“It’s 11 at night, it wouldn’t be a nap,” you counter with a giggle.

“Well,” he sighs, “Take a shower in the morning then, and then we can go get breakfast, yeah?”

You smile and relax against him, “Sounds good.”

#haikyuu smut #hq smut #iwaizumi smut #haikyuu x reader #hq x reader #iwaizumi x reader #iwaizumi hajime smut #hajime iwaizumi smut #iwaizumi hajime x reader #hajime iwaizumi x reader #afton.writes

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whirlybirbs · 4 years ago

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( another gif by @unearthlydust from this beautiful set ! )

✪ — VACANT MIRRORS ; B.B. | 3/?

summary: you find out about bucky’s past, he finds out about yours.

pairing: bucky barnes / f!reader

tags: set before & during tfatws, friends to lovers, therapy positive, trauma healing techniques, ptsd mentions, the normalization of anxiety disorders, and a good ol’ slow burn

word count: 6.4k, va va voom

a/n: oh look out here comes the plot, charactization, and growth between to pals who are maybe starting to feel a little something begin to take shape. but ignore that, there’s danger afoot. no spoilers for tfatws here!

( PREVIOUS | AO3 | MASTERLIST | NEXT )

“You know I have to ask these questions. It’s part of the check-in.”

“Yeah,” you fire back, flat enough to warrant Dr. Hart’s scowl to grow. You can’t see it over the phone, but you know the way her words whip around you means she’s upset, “I know.”

“If you’re not following the action plan set out by the judge,” she begins, leaning forward as her tone drops into a scalding hot sort of seriousness on the other end, “You will go to prison. You know this. So, do you want to spend ten years of your life behind bars? Are you trying to get yourself locked up? Come on.”

You can’t look up from your computer’s screen. Or maybe you can, but right now, there’s a dangerous mixture of anger and guilt and frustration boiling under your skin.

“I’m trying.”

“Trying isn’t good enough for the GRC,” Dr. Hart snaps, “You know this. They’re giving you a chance — they know you’re talented. You have the ability here to go straight, to earn a living, to finally make up for those years of blackhat work.”

“Everything I did,” you fire back, ripping your eyes up to meet Dr. Hart’s, “Was for others. I didn’t get a fucking penny.”

“You’re not Robin Hood,” she shakes her head as her tone softens, “We all make mistakes. But, everything has a consequence. You know this. And this conversation isn’t even considering the other charges.”

“You know the extortion case would never hold up in court.”

Dr. Hart sighs raggedly. “And I don’t intend on ever seeing it play out in court, because you’re going to follow the conditions of your pardon.”

“The GRC is a bunch of fascists—”

“Enough,” she snaps, “If you want to go and appeal your case with the judge, be my guest, but I can almost guarantee you’ll be perp-walked out of that Federal courtroom in cuffs.”

She’s right.

Dr. Hart is right.

Your knee is bouncing, up and down and up and down. You’re wound up around yourself, arms crossed tight, brows knotted. With a shaky exhale, you just nod. You breathe, and you remind yourself that she’s right. She’s right, she’s right, she’s right. It’s not worth it. Dipping yourself back into that world, the layer of the web beneath the surface, isn’t worth it.

The GRC is your way out.

Just be a good little girl and do as you're told.

“So, I’m going to ask you again,” Dr. Hart begins, pen clicking alive on the other end of the phone call, “...Have you engaged in any illegal activities online in the last seven days?”

◦ ◦ ◦ ◦

Inessa Sidrova’s photo stares up at him from its place on the speckled marble counter, stacked neatly next to his notebook where her name is scrawled in chicken scratch — between two other names: Zemo and Henrikson.

His laptop, technically on loan from the FBI, sits beside both.

(When Barnes had agreed in that closed doors meeting to the conditions of his pardon, a certain FBI agent by the name of Jimmy Woo had been rather insistent that Barnes needed a personal computer in order to carry out his portion of the conditions insofar as tracking down the remaining HYDRA pawns in the States. Woo had also insisted, to the agreement of Dr. Raynor, that a personal computer would help better acclimate Barnes to the new world he’d been dropped into.

Woo was even nice enough to take an hour of his own time to show Bucky enough to get started — but was whisked away for some investigation out in New Jersey.)

Bucky rubs the cold vibranium of his left palm into his eye, then exhales long and slow.

He’s done all he can. And still, no leads on the woman.

Rounding the kitchen island, he digs his cell from his pocket. He goes back to staring at that text — the one he’d laughed out loud at the moment it lit up his phone — and he can feel that ol’ bite of anxiousness creep into his arms. His fingertips tingle.

On the television, a laugh track plays over a clip of The Three Stooges. Blue eyes flick upward, and he partially wishes a ladder would put him out of his own self-induced misery.

Outside, the antics of a Saturday night in Brooklyn roll on.

In the last few days he’s parsed through his thoughts enough to realize it’s not telling you that scares him — no, it’s telling you the truth. The whole truth. All of it. After all, the good comes with a lot of bad; the sort of bad you chain in a chest and sink in the ocean. And Bucky finds that, even still, the good is questionable at best. The good is… small. Microscopic. Completely and totally tainted by the fuckin’ decades of brainwashed, war dog bullshit.

He groans and drops his head back against the wall.

He tries, for the next twenty minutes, to formulate some sort of reply to your text message. But, half the battle is figuring out what to say, and the other half is actually typing it out. This whole flip phone purchase was really starting to sting like regret — and as much as Bucky loved technology back before the war, and all the magical possibilities it held, he can’t help but feel like an ornery old man now.

It’s the change. Steve was right. Too much change.

He can’t find the space button and he can’t figure out how to delete the random 3 he’d accidentally punched in — so, with a grumpy huff of disapproval, Bucky simply dials your number.

You pick up on the third ring.

“Don’t you know it’s Saturday?” your voice is a welcomed sound, “The History Channel is running a bunch of old war documentaries you might enjoy, grandpa.”

Bucky snorts, fiddling with the hem of his hoodie. “What makes you think I’d wanna watch that shit?”

“Everyone knows that old men like two things,” your voice is light, half-distracted from the sounds of it, “World War Two, or grilling. And honestly, you don’t strike me as the grilling type.”

“I like a good burger.”

“Yeah?” you snort, and Bucky can hear you shift your phone from one ear to the other, “Is that why you called? To hint at being hungry?”

“No,” he exhales, looking out the window, “No, I was trying to reply to your text but I can’t find the fuckin’ space button. Calling is easier.”

“Oh my god—”

“Shut up,” he barks with a laugh, sitting up, “Don’t even start — are you hungry?”

“Almost always, why?”

“Got any plans tonight?”

“... You do know who you’re asking, right?”

Bucky grins, a little boyish and a little tired. “Good point. Loser.”

“Oh, shut up. You’re the one calling me to hangout,” you snort, leaning to prop your feet up on your desk and lean back. Your chair wheels backwards, far enough for you to get a good look down the street. It’s a nice night, cool enough, and it seems like the whole borough is awake, “But, I’m only hanging out if you tell me what the fuck is up with court mandated therapy. I can’t wait another three days.”

Your anxiety has been pricked the last few days over it.

“... Do I get to pick the place?”

You roll your eyes. “Fine.”

“Great,” he exhales tightly, “I hope you’re in the mood for sushi.”

◦ ◦ ◦ ◦

Izzy’s is busy, but there’s privacy in the bustle.

Bucky had buzzed your apartment’s ringer and you’d flown down the stairs, looking… alive. The sort of alive that was new — like a fresh bud beginning to bloom in spring. It had made him grin, and he’d watched you push a tress of hair behind your ear as you decided it was warm enough for no jacket tonight. The light of the crosswalk sign lit you up like a star.

He was sweating.

Dr. Raynor was right — that was it, of course it was — that it was getting too warm for his usual outfit. So, he’d settled on the next best thing: a sweatshirt that was big enough and black enough that he could bury himself in it. His hands are tucked neatly into the pockets.

No gloves tonight.

He feels naked.

He shoulders the door and holds it open with the toe of his boot as you duck towards the back of the restaurant. There’s a booth in the back by a large bamboo plant — you weave through the place with a new found confidence. There’s anxiousness in your shoulders but it melts when you look back at Bucky. Like a watchful guard dog, he nods.

You settle into the booth, toss your jacket in the corner, and smirk.

“I get out sometimes,” Bucky remarks before you can even say anything. He shifts in the booth and reaches up to scratch his cheek with his right hand, “Not often, but I do.”

“I didn’t say anything...”

“You were going to,” he nearly smirks back, his brows raised as he adjusts the chopsticks on the table, “I know that look.”

You snort, nudging his boot under the table. That works a huffed little laugh out the man across from you. Almost immediately you can sense anxiousness rolling off him — it’s the tightness in his mouth that gives him away, the way he’s fussing with the soy sauce dish and trying to get it to line up perfectly with the marbling on the table. Worry flashes in your eyes.

“Bucky.”

He raises his head.

“You alright?” you ask quietly.

“You have to promise not to flip out.”

Your brows knot tightly — but before you can even question what the fuck he means, he’s casually dropping his other hand onto the table.

And you almost don’t notice at first. Your brain fills the gaps in, figuring it’s his glove. But, then you blink and his hand catches the light and you realize it’s not leather. It’s glittering obsidian, garnished with gold, and it’s moving. Flexing. Seams bending and warping and there’s a gentle hum coming from the appendages and you squint because he’s tapping his fingers on the table and there’s a metallic tik-tik-tik that meets your ears.

Then, your eyes jump to his face.

He looks pained.

You’re confused.

And then you’re not.

“You’re —”

You slap a hand over your own mouth. You have to promise not to flip out. Your eyes are eighty miles wide and your jaw is falling open and you’re leaning forward, whispering in a rushed tone because what the fuck.

“You’re that Bucky?!”

Oh, you feel stupid.

The hostess appears, suddenly. You snap backwards in the booth, Bucky tucks his hand away, and you both muster forced smiles to the waitress. She’s young. Pretty. Her name-tag says Sarah.

She asks about drinks.

Bucky gets a beer.

Slowly, you knock your knuckles against the table and drop your head into your hand. The look on your face is exhausted. “Do you guys have Mai Tais?”

The answer is yes. And you’re glad. Because you’re going to fucking need it.

The two of you are quiet until the drinks come — avoiding one anothers gazes for completely different reasons. Bucky is sheepish, a bit mortified, like he always is when people recognize him. It’s why he shaved his fuckin’ head. It worked well enough but… the arm was usually a dead giveaway.

Meanwhile, you’re wondering if you could shave your own head and disappear. Because there’s no easy way to explain the weird elation swirling in your chest right now.

Bucky’s first to speak. His beer is in his good hand. He inhales quickly, eyes darting to you as he leans forward and whispers incredulously. He speaks quickly and his words are pointed with an edge of curiosity.

“...What do you mean ‘that Bucky’?”

“Y’know, I knew there was a reason you acted like you needed a senior citizen discount. And you know exactly what I mean,” you rush out all while waving your Mai Tai and jabbing the side with the umbrella towards him, “Listen, this is a lot to take in, Mr. Avenger.”

“I am not an Avenger—”

“You helped reverse the Snap. You’re the Winter Soldier. That makes you an Avenger—”

Bucky’s shaking his head, eye screwed shut tightly because the sudden equation to his past self being considered a hero is like being socked in the mouth. He stutters over his words and shakes his head more vigorously, like he’s trying not to hear what you’re saying.

“I am not the Winter Soldier. Not anymore. And it’s not like I’m not on the fuckin’ roster, doll—”

You hold a finger up, stopping him there, and take a long sip of your sunset colored drink. You swallow. You exhale. Bucky swigs his beer.

“One, don’t call me doll,” you say curtly, then raise a second finger. You lean in and squint, “Two… Christ, the haircut really makes a big difference, doesn’t it?”

“That’s what everyone keeps saying,” he sighs raggedly, dismissing your scrutiny.

You puff your cheeks out and exhale. Leaning back in the booth, you try not to feel so fucking insane.

“...I can never have you over now.”

Bucky’s brows narrow quickly and his eyes snap to yours. “What?”

“I can’t have you over,” you explain slower with your eyes rooted to the soy sauce in the corner, “Because I don’t think I could ever handle you seeing my signed and framed Captain America poster from his USO tour in 1943.”

Bucky’s face is deadpan. “You’re kidding.”

“I really wish I was,” you gripe, “It’s an original.”

“...You’re a Cap girl,” he says suddenly, leaning back with this look in his eye. It’s less of a question. You can’t pin it down. It looks like he's damn near traumatized.

Bucky thinks — honestly — that this is the cherry on top. Every girl back then was a Cap girl, too. It figures, now, in this new century where he’s making new friends that… as per usual, Steve gets the cake. That fuckin’ pint sized bastard.

He’ll have to tell him about this.

You yank your eyes up to Bucky’s face. His mortification is shifting to surprise to amusement. You’re fast to sit up, mouth opening to fire a retort — but Bucky’s suddenly really enjoying the look of pure horror on your face at the insinuation. He’s smirking. Plain as day. He swigs his beer.

“No, no—” you raise a finger, “No, stop it. Don’t make it fuckin’ weird, Bucky, it’s not like I have his name tattoo’d on my ass. And I knew a girl in college who did.”

His brows rise sharply and you’re finding you’re regretting everything that’s coming out of your mouth.

“Stop looking at me like that,” you guffaw, gesturing for him to show you his hand again, “I wanna see.”

Bucky sighs and plucks his hand from his hoodie pocket.

With a sort of tenderness Bucky wasn’t prepared to handle, you take his metallic hand into your own. There’s an immediate twinge — one that’s procured by flashes of violence from years of being a walking weapon. He breathes, and he reminds himself that this arm is not the same that tethered him to HYDRA all those years ago.

This arm is his, it is not him.

The sensation is different. He isn’t used to anyone touching him like this; he’s used to the feeling of flesh on the other end of a punch, or a throat caught in his palm. Not the gentle pass of your fingers, delicate and purposeful, over his knuckles.

You turn over his hand, eyes alight with curiosity — and Bucky, desperate to stamp out the hotness growing in his gut, moves quickly to flick your nose.

“Ow—”

“Don’t stare,” he says coyly, “It’s rude.”

The waitress is back. His hand is tucked away, and you wrestle the stupid expression off your face long enough to order a plate of assorted maki rolls and some fried tofu. Bucky orders what seems like his usual — shrimp tempura and spicy tuna rolls.

The waitress, Sarah, disappears with a smile.

You’re grinning.

“So… Does this make me the sidekick?” you whisper playfully.

“Shut up,” Bucky laughs, his lips almost darting into a smile.

You cock your head, pushing your chopsticks across the table with a horribly coy look on your face. It’s comical. “...I think this makes me the sidekick.”

“It — stop it — it does not make you the sidekick,” Bucky says slowly as he sips his beer and pins you in the booth across from him, “I’m not a hero. You’d have better luck asking Cap on that one.”

You grow silent. There’s a question hanging on your tongue. You’re wrestling with yourself — Bucky can see that much. He frowns.

“Spit it out, Goose.”

You blink. “Was that a Top Gun reference?”

“You wanted to be the sidekick.”

You wave it off, blinking into your Mai Tai. Your voice is quiet. Even as you speak, there’s a hesitancy akin to walking on eggshells. “What happened to Cap? Is he… alive? He’s gone off the grid. It’s, like, this massive conspiracy theory online.”

“He’s upstate.”

You blink.

“That’s ominous.”

Bucky shrugs. “Someday I’ll take you. It’s… nice.”

You go quiet. You freeze, drink halfway to your mouth. Bucky can’t help but smirk at that. His laugh is more of a scoff than anything.

“Relax, Miss America.”

“Shut up — do you mean that?”

“What, that I think you’re in love with Captain America?”

“No, you bastard, that you’ll take me. To meet him.”

Bucky’s words are easy. They roll off his tongue without a second thought. He feels… okay. Like this part is okay. Not as bad as he thought it could be. His anxiousness isn’t as heavy now. He feels like he isn’t losing you. But then again, he hasn’t gotten to the bad part yet.

“He’s my best friend,” Bucky explains plainly, “And so are you.”

The admission is warm. As easy as breathing. Two months in the making.

“Your only friend,” you say quietly, offering the joke as a cover for the softening tone that dances over your words. It’s affection, you realize, as you mimic his shrug, “But, go on.”

“Thanks for the reminder,” Bucky chirps, “But, yea, I mean it. He’d like you.”

You raise your chin, wiggling a bit in the booth. It’s pride — and as much as Bucky likes the look of it, he can’t handle the ridiculousness that comes along with it. But, it’s sort of comforting. He knows this playfulness, this easiness, it’s all because he’s him. You trust him. In.a way, it strikes Bucky with guilt. There are wall of his still built up high. Maybe they’re slowly coming down, but… he’s like a stray dog, slow to trust.

“Safe to say,” you breathe, “I have a few questions.”

“I figured as much.”

You sip your drink and swallow. You raise a hand. “But — I wanna know the boundaries. I don’t want to… I don’t want to pry about shit I have no business knowing, alright? It’s your life and even if we are friends, I don’t need to know everything.”

The relief is almost immediate. He thumbs the label of his beer.

“Ask anything. But I can’t promise I’ll be able to give you the answers.”

“And I’ll leave it at that,” you say sternly, propping your elbow up on the table and offering your pinky finger, “Until you want to talk about it. Promise.”

He crooks his pinky in yours, squeezing gently. You smile.

Sarah comes back with the food, and then Bucky offers his usual half-exhausted, half-amused smirk.

“You get three questions now. Then, we shut up and eat.”

You fold your hands neatly over themselves, eyeing your food as you try your best to sort out what questions come up with the most urgency. There’s… a lot. I mean, everyone knew about the Avengers — and everyone had their opinions. The Sokovia Accords, Lagos, the Blip… and SHIELD. Years of bullshit culminating around those who were considered the heroes. The kickback usually ended up on everyday citizens like you. After the initial amazement, the reality of it all set in.

But, to Bucky’s point, he wasn’t really an Avenger.

Nowadays, there really wasn’t a team at all. No up-state compound, no leader, no Stark and no Rogers.

You’re sure the GRC will try — that the military will try. Morale and hope and blah, blah, blah.

You narrow your eyes. “How old are you?”

It’s quick. “One hundred and six.”

“How’d they keep you alive that long?”

There’s a wince that flashes across his face like he’s been stabbed with a white hot poker in the ribs. You see a twitch of irritation bubble across his lips. Not with you. No, it’s that this question is still hard for him to answer. Bucky exhales sharply.

“Next question.”

You feel a pang of guilt flare in your chest. You move along.

“Who kept you alive that long?”

“The Russians. HYDRA, if you wanna get specific.”

You exhale and settle on the fact you now have more questions than answers. But, you nod and snatch up your chopsticks. Enough of the twenty questions game.

In all honesty, it’s not like Bucky’s existence was common knowledge. The Winter Soldier was known mostly, sure, to those who had floated in the same circles as him when he was nothing but a rabid cur on a choke chain. He can’t help but be a bit thankful for the minor erasure of his new self — sure, in the eyes of the U.S. government he was a high-level threat to be reintegrated as soon as possible and surveyed at all times. But, to the average New Yorker, he was just another person. Everyone was so used to seeing the heroes in their costumes with their bigger than life personas and…

Bucky was just Bucky.

Even he didn’t really know who that was. He was starting to.

His pardon had come with some flak from some of the more political news outlets but… somehow, the details of the Winter Soldier’s exact crimes were being kept silent. Probably to avoid panic. And, even then, the connection between the newly alive James Buchanan Barnes and The Winter Soldier hadn’t been made yet in the public eye. He was glad.

The haircut definitely helped.

It’s like he was a walking classified redaction.

Bucky has a sushi roll in his mouth when he finally speaks. “For such a Captain American fan, I’m surprised you didn’t recognize me.”

“Oh, you’re really not gonna let that go, huh?” you say as you chew, covering your mouth. You swallow and waggle your chopsticks at him, “Listen, it’s been a while since I’ve… y’know, had my Avengers phase. That was years ago. It was at its peak when I worked for SHIELD. And besides, you’re kinda new to the whole superhero scene.”

Bucky frowns. “You worked for SHIELD...?”

“For a year,” you say tightly, “Back before the collapse.”

“Only a year?”

“It was for my graduate program,” you wave it off, “I won out on the most competitive internship NYU had to offer. I was working within their cybersecurity division. I will say I spent more time trying to sort of email phishing scams than anything else, though. I’m sure they saw my record and wanted to keep me away from the juicy stuff.”

Bucky squints.

You offer a sheepish shrug.

“I got into trouble when I was younger,” you sip your drink and sigh, “I always liked computers. I used to spend all my time on forum sites just… reading and talking to people and figuring out how these sites actually worked, so learning how to write my own code was just the next step. When I was fifteen, I learned how to tap phones. At sixteen, I was hijacking my neighbor’s internet conenctions and remotely controlling his laptop.”

“Sounds like a good time.”

“Yea, well, he was a sitting Senator who was having an affair with the nanny,” you mutter, “And I was stupid enough to try and blackmail him for cash. I wish I could say I learned my lesson.”

Bucky exhales long and hard at that, like he knows where that snap of misguided judgement goes. It’s not like he’s passing judgement onto you, but… like he knows the feeling. And you manage to not feel so small, then — telling him this is easy. It’s not your favorite part of your life by any means, but Bucky is listening. Really listening.

He fiddles with the paper wrapper of the chopsticks.

“So, less a Goose and more a Kevin Poulsen type, huh?”

You snort. “For an old man, I’m surprised you know who that is. But, I wasn’t hacking into the Pentagon at seventeen. I was too busy doing community service.”

“HYDRA had their eyes on him in the 90s,” Bucky mumbles through a bite of spicy tuna, the memory popping into his mind and flying out before he can stop it, “I remember… I thought his username was stupid.”

“Oh, you didn’t like Dark Dante?”

“Like I said,” Bucky chortles, “Stupid.”

“You wouldn’t have liked mine, then,” you smirk lightly, “It’s worse.”

Bucky raises his brows, somehow doubting that entirely. “Really?”

“...I was hackrabb1t for a long time. Y’know, with a ‘one’ for the ‘i’,” you cringe, “People kept thinking I was a furry.”

There’s a pause. Bucky’s face is set in an unreadable emotion. It’s confusion mixed with amusement mixed with… something else. When he speaks, he clears his throat and tilts his head.

“It’s clever. But,” a pause, “What is a furry? I’ve been seeing that word all over PlentyOfFish.”

Your jaw flies open. You raise your hands as your head reels around. Bucky has a look on his face like he knows, he knows he shouldn’t have asked and he definitely shouldn’t have given you enough context to know where he’s seen that phrase before, because now you’re looking at him like he has seventeen heads and they’re all on fire.

“Y’know what, nevermind—”

“—Oh, no, no, there’s way too much to unpack here,” you lean forward, “You’re on PlentyOfFish?”

“ChristianMingle wasn’t really my speed — stop laughing.”

“Shut up — stop it, stop — this is too much,” you say with a high voice, “If you get catfished, I’m not helping you track the person down…”

“—What the hell is a catfish?” he nearly cries, raising both hands in a desperate shrug, “I don’t even know what any of these words mean.”

“Oh, you sweet, naive, innocent, man—”

“No, no, no, no,” he chirps, raising a finger with a deadly look of seriousness on his face, “No, I am not naive or sweet or any of the above. I’ll take ‘cute’, sure, but none a’ those.”

“Is that what the furries call you on PlentyOfFish? Cute?”

He drops his head back against the booth and stares at the ceiling.

“Our friendship was a mistake, rabbit.”

You choke out a laugh. “Shut up, you walking claw machine.”

You’re both laughing now — quieter but sustained and everytime you think you’ve calmed down enough to sip your Mai Tai, you just have to look at the distraught, scruffy man across from you to break into another fit of muffled laughter. Finally, after what feels like forever, you both manage to calm down enough to finish the plates in front of you.

There’s a warmth that’s settled in Bucky’s chest — it’s eaten away at the usual jitter in his legs, the anxious twitch of his fingers. It’s a different emotion. Acceptance, maybe. Comfort. Affection.

Then, while you’re piling the last bit of sushi rice into your mouth when your phone, set on the side of the table, begins to go off. It hums erratically, dancing in a circle, and all you do is stare at the name flashing across the screen. You’re smiling, hugging her. It’s from Jaimie’s wedding — out in some big, wide open orchard with the sun setting behind you. The picture there is old; you were both different people then.

Before… everything.

MOM Morristown, NJ

You scowl and stare.

Bucky blinks.

“You gonna get that?”

Quickly, you snap out of it. You reach and silence the buzzing with two quick taps. Quietly, you offer up a somber sigh.

“I never do.”

Bucky frowns again, this time with a worried look that digs deep into his eyebrows. You ignore it on purpose, pushing your plate away and leaning back in the booth. He knows what you’re doing — you’re avoiding his gaze, and therefore his own questions.

“Rabbit.”

“Oh, is that my new nickname, then?”

“It fits,” he chirps before crossing his arms, strategically hiding his metallic hand, “What’s up?”

You grow quiet — then it spills out.

“I can’t talk to her.”

“Why?”

You chew your lip. You bite your tongue and you hold back on the finer points of your anger — ones dredged up by the still present sting of your check-in with Dr. Hart this afternoon.

Here it comes.

“As a part of my pardon, I was ordered no-contact with my family,” you exhale, controlling the level of your voice, reciting the court papers you’d read over and over and over, “It was deemed that further contact would impact my progress towards reformed behavior and judgment.”

Bucky’s eyes are wide. His jaw is tight.

“What the fuck do you mean ‘pardon’?”

It’s your turn to cross your arms now, to ignore the sting of his look. It’s the kind that screams disappointment more than anything. You hate that you’re getting it from Bucky of all people.

“Like I said, I didn’t learn my lesson when I was a kid,” you shirk, “Last year I was arrested on a number of counts — I’d been evading the FBI, CIA, all of them, for years. I was doing it all for people like me. The ones who got left behind.”

Bucky’s tone is flat. It’s serious. His next sentence is less of a question, more of an order. The cadence is rhythmic and it reminds you of your brother the night he found out about the first time you’d been arrested; you decide, then, that Jaimie and Bucky would have gotten along.

“What did you do?”

“Whatever I could,” you wave your hands, “Identity theft, falsified documents, insurance fraud. Anything. There were people, like me, that in a blink, lost everything. Accidents, deaths, evictions and no one did anything for us. The insurance agencies wouldn’t cover damages related to The Snap. Life insurance policies, social security… It all got snatched up by people at the top while the system collapsed around us. I had to pay for my brother’s funeral out of pocket. And there were hundreds of thousands of people just like me, just trying to get by. And everything failed us.”

Bucky is stuck in silence. It’s like mud, dragging him to the bottom of a pond — the sort that’s dredged with misery. In an instant, his veins are on fire with an anger he hadn’t felt in a while. It manifests itself in the tightening of his jaw. He rubs his face and props his elbows up on the table.

“Why won’t they let you see your family?”

You fiddle with your napkin.

“My brother… His wife was on maternity leave when she disappeared in the Blip,” you mutter, “She came back to no job, a dead husband, and no home. Their apartment complex had been abandoned. She’s trying her best to make ends meet. She lives with my Mom in our old home. Neither of them can find work. They… The court thought that I’d be influenced to do something if I was around them.”

“What, like help?”

“They see me as a criminal,” you manage, “But I’m useful, so they’re keeping me around.”

Silence falls between the two of you once more — and the sad look on your face makes Bucky’s chest tight. He can see anxiety beginning to spill over; you’re wringing the napkin, fiddling with the edges. Suddenly, Bucky realizes you’re feeling exactly how he was an hour or so ago.

Your voice is soft. “I’m sorry. I was going to tell you.”

“Looks like we’re two birds of a feather,” he says, knocking the toe of your sneaker with his boot, “Listen, we all do stupid shit. I’ve got a lot worse weighing me down. I get it.”

You look up, sadness glistening in your expression like sun off a lake. It’s harsh. He wants to look away.

He doesn’t.

“... So, that means you’re good with computers?”

◦ ◦ ◦ ◦

That’s how you find yourself in Bucky’s Brooklyn apartment at almost midnight, wandering behind him in the long halls and watching curiously as he digs his key from his pocket and shoulders the door open.

It’s a small apartment. One bed, one bath, a kitchenette and that’s really it.

For its size, it’s hardly lived in.

You suppose it makes sense — Bucky didn’t have a lot of personal belongings, and with the hints he’d dropped about his life before The Blip, you were beginning to understand that he may have never really had that much to begin with.

There’s a blanket on the floor by the television and a single couch pillow. It’s tucked in the corner, behind a small sofa. There’s a chair in the living room, one from an old dining set. At the kitchen counter, there’s a stack of papers and a single laptop. Even though all the kitchen’s wares are older models, the bones of the apartment are good. Bare, but good.

You stop in the doorway to the bedroom and stare at the untouched bed. The sheets are tucked tightly in the corners — there’s something militaristic about it. Across the hall is the bathroom. It’s small. You can see a few amenities scattered across the sink’s top.

Being in here feels something like an open wound.

It was lonely. Quiet. Cold.

“We need to make a trip to HomeGoods,” you mumble as Bucky flicks on the lights, “I get the whole minimalist thing, but sheesh.”

“I don’t have a lot,” he says, kicking off his boots by the door and shrugging off his jacket, “And I don’t need a lot either.”

You watch as his shoulders sag a bit, like he can finally let down his guard just a little in his own space. It’s endearing. You perch yourself up on the kitchen counter as your eyes follow him; he moves to fling open a cabinet and grabs a mug. Then, he hesitates.

“You want tea?” he asks over his shoulder.

“Tea?”

“Dr. Raynor said,” Bucky reaches for a container of tea bags from the top shelf. His henley lifts enough to flash a bit of skin along his lower back and you swear you see a scar, “It would help with my anxiety.”

You swing your legs a little. “Then sure.”

“You can use my Captain America mug,” he chirps, laughing a little to himself, “Seeing as you’re such a big fan…”

“God, I regret even saying anything to you,” you spit as you hop down and lean around him to get a look at the mug, “Did you seriously buy that?”

“It was a gift.”

“Bullshit.”

Bucky snorts as you shake your head and wander backwards, eyeing the rest of his apartment with a bit of astonishment. It’s really nothing impressive — but, you suppose it makes sense. Whatever meager disbursement that the government was willing to give Bucky for his efforts in fixing the Snap was better than nothing.

Your gaze hangs on the blanket in the corner.

He watches you; and he notes the sore sadness that dissolves your posture at the sight of the nest in the corner. A bit of shame colors his cheeks as he heats up the water. When Bucky speaks, it’s slow.

“The bed was too soft. I couldn’t sleep on it,” he shifts from foot to foot and focuses on taking the tea bags out and methodically wrapping the strings around the handles, “Dr. Raynor said that’s a typical thing for soldiers to experience when they come home from war.”

You’re quiet for a while after that, only speaking when he rounds the counter with your tea. He offers it up with a tilt of the head.

“You never got to come home, though, right?”

“No,” comes the short reply as you both watch the lights outside the window, “No, I didn’t. Not until now.”

You nudge his arm with yours. You lean a bit. Bucky leans back.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” he manages after a sigh and sip of the tea, “I can’t just feel sorry for myself anymore. I’m trying to fix the wrongs I did — and that’s why I need your help.”

You quirk a brow. He reaches around you and grabs the stack of papers on the counter. With a steady grip, Bucky presents the photo of a woman who looks strikingly familiar. You can’t place her face, but there’s something about her that feels like a slap across the cheek. She’s young here, in a faded photo with tattered edges. Beside her is a man who is laughing. The photo is candid, and they’re both beautiful. They’re both wearing a uniform — but you can’t place the era or location.

You turn to Bucky for answers.

“Back in the 70s, at the height of the Cold War, HYDRA was working in tandem with the Russians to spy on American forces,” he offers easily, staring out the window, “The American HYDRA cell hadn’t yet been planted. This man, Andrei Kuznetzov, was a spy. He was feeding the Americans information on the Russian nuclear program. His wife, the one in the photo, was ordered to kill him. She refused.”

Bucky’s fingers twitch.

His words are soaked through with pain.

“I,” he continues, “killed him.”

You hold your breath. Then you spare him a mournful look.

“Inessa Sidrova went on to help form the same HYDRA cell that ended up taking over SHIELD here in America,” Bucky mumbles, “She’s dangerous. There’s others like her, ones who I helped create, all over the world. But, she’s my top priority. I just haven’t had much luck tracking her down.”

“That’s why you need my help.”

“I’m 106 years old,” Bucky deadpans, “The microfiches at the library were getting a little tedious.”

“But,” you chirp with a sly smirk, “You figured out how to set up a PlentyOfFish account?”

He shoulders you again as you sip your tea and laugh.

“Shoulda never said anything,” Bucky grumbles, “Dr. Raynor thought it was a good idea. Y’know, to get back out in the world.”

“I can promise you,” you say with a stern shake of the head, “The metal arm will get you plenty of chicks and dudes in due time.”

“Good to know,” Bucky replies as his words lilt with a playful sort of questioning that you purposefully ignore. You’re not feeding his ego today. Maybe tomorrow, after you take a crack at figuring out where this woman is.

It’s going to be a long night.

#vacant mirrors #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes x you #winter soldier imagine #tfatws imagine #bucky barnes #marvel imagine #bucky x reader

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illicitlimerence-writes · 4 years ago

Text

close friends | t. holland

pairing: tom holland x fem!reader word count: 3.1k warnings: some language, some angst if u squint. otherwise it's just fluff and tom being tom. didn't proofread this. a/n: so tumblr decided to be a little bitch and deleted this t w i c e. so i had to write this t h r e e times. this came up in my head after i got like three notifications that tom posted something on his ig story, and then it turned out he deleted them. as always, english isn't my first language so i'm sorry if this gets confusing bye. also, i was listening to cardigan by taylor swift as i wrote this.

my masterlist

so we all know tom sucks at instagram. that's a surprise to literally no one. no matter how many times you tried to teach him he still doesn't get it, and it was only a matter of time before he finally posted something he shouldn't have.

it was just one of those days, you missed him like hell. he was away filming the third spiderman, and you had to stay behind because of work.

naturally, you relied on face time and texts to survive and fill the void he left behind. you loved talking to him, listening as he rambled on and on about his adventures on set. a love-struck look on your face as you tried your hardest to stay awake despite the urge to close your eyes.

eventually, sleep took over you, and you drifted off with the sound of his voice lulling you to sleep. he stopped talking abruptly when he didn't hear your soft chuckling in reply to the story he was telling.

instead, he saw your sleeping figure, long steady breaths moving your chest up and down. and he cursed himself for making you stay up so late for him. he took one last look at you, taking a screenshot of your sleeping form.

he quickly hung up the video call and opened instagram instead, uploading the screenshot to his story,

'missing my favorite girl, thank you so much for everything you do for me. x @yourusername'

the next morning you woke up to the sound of your phone buzzing. at first, thought someone had died as one notification after another filled your screen. most of them came from instagram, so you opened that app first.

thousands upon thousands of mentions, tags and new followers. you frowned, and suddenly a text from your friend popped up at the top of your screen.

'omg just saw his story. so happy for u both'

who's story? what was going on?

you refreshed your timeline, and tom's icon appeared, a colorful circle around it. an odd feeling sank in your stomach. you tapped his icon and suddenly your screen was full of... you.

a picture of you, sleeping. tom's smiling form in a small rectangle on the bottom right corner.

oh god. you read the words he wrote, over and over again. your heart pounding in your chest, and a sudden wave of fear ran through your body. but then you read his words once more, and all you could feel was love. pure, unconditional affection.

sure, your families and closest friends knew about you, but you hadn't talked about making your relationship public yet, but there was nothing you could do now.

you sighed, leaning back on your pillows. a small chuckle left your throat.

you grabbed your phone once again, quickly facetiming tom. you knew he had an early call today, and you hoped you could catch him while he was still in his hotel.

it ran once, twice, and then you saw him, hair all over the place, bare chest. hands rubbing sleep off of his face.

"mornin', darling." he said, his raspy morning voice making you smile.

"hi, baby. did i wake you?" you asked, sitting up and crossing your legs.

"yeah but it's fine, princess. i did keep you up last night so it's only fair."

"i'm sorry about falling asleep on you, that was a really nice picture you took last night," you lifted one eyebrow, and watched as he smiled at you sheepishly.

"i thought you looked really pretty, you always look pretty," he said, grabbing the water bottle on his nightstand and taking a swing.

"thanks, i hope the whole world thinks so, too," you declared. leaning your chin on your fist, watching him expectantly.

he did not react like you had expected him to.

his breath hitched as he sipped his water, and suddenly all you could see was the cream-colored ceiling, as you heard him spitting out and coughing.

"tom! oh, my god! are you okay?" you asked, getting on your knees and holding your phone up to your face, "tommy?" you repeated when he finally stopped coughing, you could now hear his heavy breaths.

at last, you saw his curls appear from the bottom of the screen.

"wh-what did you just say?" his voice was rough, his chest heaving.

"are you okay?" you asked again.

"ye-yeah i'm fine. babe, what did you mean by 'the whole world'? did something happen?" he asked, frowning. you echoed his expression, watching him for a second.

“you posted a picture to your story,” you repeated, and he nodded.

“yeah, i posted it to my close friends, i-” he stopped mid-sentence, eyes growing comically wide. “oh shit, did i-” he caught himself off as he threw the phone to one side, you heard him fumbling around for his laptop and you snorted. “shit, baby, don’t tell me i posted it… fuck!” you couldn’t keep it in any longer, you broke out laughing.

“of course this is how the world finds out about us!” you continued giggling until your stomach hurt.

“fuck, princess i’m so sorry, i didn’t mean to, i swear i- why are you laughing!?”

“tommy, tommy! it’s okay, baby, don’t worry. i’m not mad,” you stopped once you noticed his pouting. “it’s fine, my love, i don’t mind. sure it’s unexpected, and a little sudden but i wouldn’t have it any other way. i knew what i was getting into when we started dating,” you told him honestly, wishing you were there to give him a hug and kiss him all over.

“darling, i’m really, really sorry. i swear i thought i tapped the green button like you told me to” he continued his sulking, nervous eyes glancing back and forth from his laptop screen to you.

“i know, baby, i know this is not your forte, and i really appreciate the sweet gesture, honestly. i love you so much,” you told him as you bit your lip. folding your legs to your chest, wrapping one around them.

“god, i love you. i swear i’ll make it up to you,” he ran his hand through his hair, giving you a quick peek of his bare chest.

“i’ll hold you to it,” you chuckled, you glanced to the clock on your nightstand, sighing when you saw the time. “i’ve gotta go,” you said as you stood up and stretched. a wicked idea ran through you head. “i’ve got like five meetings today, so i’ll probably be busy most of the day. just in case i don’t reply or something,” you made up you lie quickly. grabbing your laptop and opening a new tab.

“oh, okay. i’ll be on set until like 1 am, so we’ll talk tomorrow?” he asked, eyes bright. you nodded, biting your lip.

“definitely. i love you,” you blew him a kiss. he smiled, and you felt your heart swelling.

“i love you, too. good luck today!” he said as you reluctantly hung up the call.

you immediately got to work, calling your assistant and telling her you were taking a few personal weeks, and to email you in case of emergencies. next, you texted harry, asking him to call you once tom was busy on set.

you waited for the page to load, and once you had bought your one-way ticket to atlanta you hurriedly threw some pre-planned outfits into two suitcases, just in case. your phone rang and harry’s face popped up on your screen. you quickly answered the call, and let him know of your out-of-the-blue plan. he agreed to meet you at the airport and drive you to set. and because of your recent and sudden rise to fame, he suggested you wear all black and a cap. you followed his advice, throwing on some sunglasses as well, as you had seen tom do many times before.

once you reached the airport and checked-in, you bought some coffee and breakfast, as well as some food for the flight. you opened instagram, seeing all the messages and comments. you had seen how the fans reacted when their favorite celebrities announced a relationship, and you knew to expect the meanest comments, and even death threats. for your own sake and peace of mind, you allowed yourself to scroll until you read three of those, and closed the app.

once the plane took off, you tried to catch some sleep, preparing for the inevitable jet lag, but your mind kept buzzing from one scenario to another. so you took out your book and tried to read some chapters, putting in your earbuds, music playing quietly.

when you finally, finally landed, you stretched your legs and grabbed your bags, putting on the cap and sunglasses again, you spotted a familiar head of wild curls. you quickly approached harry.

“what happened to all black and a cap to go unnoticed?” you asked as he took one of your bags in his hands.

“think about it, two kids wearing black, a cap and sunglasses? people would think we’re up to no good.” he gave you a tight hug, you’d missed him almost as much as you’d missed tom.

he caught you up on everything he and tom had been doing these past months, you shifted in your seat in excitement, the sleep that was slowly taking over you on the plane had now disappeared from your body.

in what was probably a 15 -but to you felt like five- minute drive, you got to the hotel to leave your bags and take a quick shower. harry left you alone in tom’s room, making his way to his own room next door. he said he’d order something for you to eat whilst you got ready to see tom.

you took the quickest shower ever known to humankind, and when you walked out of the bathroom after using tom’s shampoo and conditioner, -you’d missed his smell all over you. the few forgotten hoodies and shirts that were once drenched in the smell of his soap and cologne, were now very faint.- you wrapped a bathrobe around your body, rummaging through tom’s clothes until you found one of his shirts.

you pulled it close to your face, sighing at the familiar scent you’d missed so much. you got dressed quickly, grabbing your now fully-charged phone and the key to tom’s room that harry had left on a coffee table. you knocked on harry’s door and he let you in.

“i just texted tom, he says they’ve got like three hours left.” you sat next to him on the couch, the table in front of you filled with food waiting to be devoured.

“my poor baby, they overwork him,” you pouted, reaching for one of the plates.

“it was his idea, said he’ll do anything that helps finish filming sooner.” you stopped chewing your food.

“wait, really?” you asked in disbelief, you knew tom loved his job, and you found it odd that he wanted to cut his time on set short.

“yeah, it’s been rough for him. not having you around, i mean, after he spent months with you. he’s been pretty distracted lately. messing up lines, he’s been waking up late and missing early calls...” your heart sank at the words. you ate the rest of your food with a knot in your stomach, cursing yourself for not getting there sooner. soon enough, you were back in the car, your leg bouncing up and down. you fell asleep on your way to set, waking up when harry parked the car and nudged your shoulder.

you stepped out carefully, your head turning back every few steps you took, in fear that tom might catch you. once you reached the stage where tom was filming, you flashed the visitor badge harry had given you to the guard and he let you both in. you walked in as you leaned down, your forehead against harry’s back, shielding you from the curious stares. harry told you to hide behind a giant box where they kept some lights whilst he spoke to the director.

although the box was big and tall enough to cover you completely, you crouched down, straining your ears for nearing footsteps. you heard two sets of feet approaching, your heartbeat racing.

you were met with your accomplice, a friendly-looking man behind him. you stood up as they approached you.

“this the girl?” the man asked, and harry nodded, “nice to meetcha, i’m jon.” you shook his hand, “okay, so we’ve cleared tom’s schedule for one week, we’ll need him back fully recharged and ready to work like it’s his first day on set, you’re welcome to stay as long as you like, if it means he’ll work better if you’re here you can stay until we're done. i really don’t mind, i just need my guy back.” you blinked at his words, nodding slowly. “we’ve got a couple hours left tonight, i’m all up for some cheesy reunion, but it’ll have to be when we’re finished, i can barely keep him focused as it is.”

with that he left, and harry led you to tom’s trailer, where you caught some sleep while you waited. like that morning, you woke up to your phone buzzing. you reached for it, sleep leaving your body as you read the text.

‘just finished filming for the night, i’m exhausted. miss u, love you. x.’

all rational thoughts left your head, you opened the door to tom’s trailer and sprinted out of there until you reached the set. your eyes finally, finally met his figure, and tears filled your eyes.

your legs moved on their own accord, you mumbled apologies as you crashed into people, but you didn’t care. tom had his back to you, and even though he wasn’t wearing the spiderman costume, you’d recognize that ass anywhere.

“tom!” you called out, stopping a few feet away from him. you saw him whipping his head around, eyes scanning the sea of people. you made your way up to him, “tommy!” you repeated, and he finally turned around.

his mouth wide opened in disbelief, arms twitching, feet running towards you as you did the same. you crashed into each other, your legs wrapping around him, arms around his neck, fingers curling on his soft hair. his hands running all over your back, your hair. pulling you as close as humanly possible.

whispers of ‘i love you’, ‘god, i missed you’, ‘never leave me again’, and ‘i promise’ were exchanged. you tightened your hold on his hair, pulling back to look at him.

“hi,” you whispered, your nose brushing his.

“hey,” he replied, burying his face on your neck again, pressing small kisses anywhere he could reach. his hands settled on the back of your thighs as he spun you two. you giggled, sniffling as a few tears escaped your eyes.

you could not care less about the people around you, all you could think about was the boy wrapped all over you, your favorite boy. tom led you back to his trailer, where you finally untangled yourself from him. he settled you down and you immediately wrapped your arms around his waist, pulling him close to you again.

you had been starved of his touch for so long, there was no way you were letting him go anytime soon.

after many kisses, touches, tears, promises and more kisses, you left for the hotel. harry had already left, getting a ride from another cast member to leave you two alone. at that moment you swore you’d make him godfather of your firstborn child.

as you waited for tom to step out of the shower -you would’ve joined him, but three showers in a day seemed kind of excessive-, you laid down on the bed, throwing the covers over your body, tom's scent engulfing you. you breathed in happily. you tapped on your phone, replying to some work emails when you received a text from harry.

‘i believe the ball is in your court. you’re welcome.’

next, you received a picture of you and tom. harry must’ve taken the picture when you and tom were too lost in each other to even notice anyone around you. in the picture, your legs are around tom, bodies pressed closed together, your noses touching as you stare lovingly into each other’s eyes. it was a beautiful picture. and the black and white filter harry had applied to it made it seem like one of those old pictures of wives reuniting with their spouses after the war.

you smiled, heart swelling with emotion as you contemplated your options. you hummed quietly, tapping the instagram logo and waiting for the app to load.

you quickly uploaded the picture harry sent you tagging both him and tom and adding a quick caption before you shut down your phone. you were drifting off to sleep when you felt familiar arms around you.

you leaned into tom’s touch, your back resting against his chest, legs tangling with his as he interlocked his fingers with your own.

“thank you so much for being here, my love. i love you,” tom whispered into your ear, pressing a kiss to your cheek.

“i’ll be here whenever you need me. i’ll always come back to you.” you turned around, facing him. you kissed the corner of his lips, and he cupped your cheek, his lips meeting yours in a slow kiss, filled with emotion. your fingers played with his fingers as you moved to straddle his waist. “i love you,” you broke the kiss reluctantly. as much as you both wanted to make love that night, you’d made it your top priority that tom took his time off to rest as much as he could, and that included that first night.

you gave him one last kiss, going back to your previous position. the familiar and comfortable weight of his arms around you, the feeling of his lips on your neck, his chest rising and falling against your back, you couldn’t ask for anything better.

the peaceful environment you had created suddenly burst like a bubble as tom’s phone pinged over and over again. you heard him grunting, arms reluctantly leaving you.

tom chuckled, putting his phone on do-not-disturb and throwing it somewhere on the bed.

“you’re perfect for me, my favorite girl.” you smiled, leaning into his touch as he kissed you all over. sleep quickly taking over both of you.

tom swore his heart stopped when he’d seen the picture you posted. you’d never looked more beautiful than when you were staring up at him, your bottom lip between your teeth. the words you wrote as a caption were the last thing on his brain as he finally succumbed to sleep.

‘i said, “i bet you can’t keep this a secret for five months.” he said, “darling, i won’t make it past three.” @ tomholland2013 it’s been 10 months, who won?’

edit: i just saw henry cavill's ig post and omg what is my life. pls respect celebrities' privacy and relationships.

#tom holland #tom holland imagine #tom holland fluff #tom holland smut #tom holland x reader #tom holland x you #tom holland x y/n #peter parker #peter parker imagine #peter parker fluff #peter parker smut #peter parker fic #peter parker fanfic #tom holland fic #tom holland fanfic #marvel #mcu #avengers imagine

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drabbleitout · 3 years ago

Text

Find the Word Tag Game

Tagged by: @spacetimewraithwrites cracking me up with relatable Warren over here My Words: head, high, hot, heart, hope, hurt Tagging: @ashen-crest, @winterandwords, @kaiusvnoir, @neshamahs, @concealeddarkness13, & @sleepy-night-child (unless uni is still trying to kill you) As always please don't feel pressured or rushed! Your Words: Run, Rush, Reach, Road, & Round

cw: Panic Attack, language, gun violence (the usual)

Head (y'all opting for Drunk Garnet this is what you get)

Beau hurried to get Garnet to the couch, kneeling down to start on his shoes. He knew, somehow, he had to get the drunken insomniac to sleep as soon as possible. Before he said anything else. “Hey, hey, hey,” Garnet continued to repetitively pat him on the head. “Yes?” Beau patiently asked, untying his shoes. “You got, uh, you uh, you got a girlfriend? Gotta boyfriend? A they/them? Do they know how to fight –answer quickly. Askin' for a friend.”

High

“Garnet’s been using my car, hasn’t he?” Ryker guessed, “I noticed Beau is a little tender with his right arm when he came in to get the keys this morning. Wouldn’t raise it as far. Something happen?” “Garnet wrecked his car in a high-speed pursuit trying to tag down a GodHead suspect. So, yes, he’s been using your car in your absence.” Ives made a sound similar to a sigh. “And Beau’s been working with him. What, did they get in a fight?” “Surprisingly not with one another.”

Hot

"Here," Beau leaned around Valetta, hand pressing against the instrument panel. He searched its computer, into its processes, finding the governor code and deleting it. The bike jerked, speeding exponentially causing Valetta to yelp. The drones opened fire. Beau sat himself up, doing what he could to guard her. "Holy shit Are they shooting at us??!" She crowded the handlebars. Beau lurched as a hot round entered his back. "Hold on," the bike whined as they cut over, revving wide open as they pulled onto the freeway. Beau wove his hand around again to the instrument panel, overriding and overclocking the bike. They picked up more speed.

Heart

It happened at night. According to brain function and heart rate, Ryker had yet to fall asleep. Ives monitored him, watching the panic attack surface before the gasping began. Deep breaths attempting to stave off the inevitable fight for air. "Ryker?" Ives tried softly, reaching out for him. He found his wrist, drifting down to his hand to be seized by a clammy grasp. Ryker fumbled to sit up, hitching with pain as he grabbed at blankets and sheets. Ives sat up with him, helping him get righted, never letting go of his hand. |Pax, brighten lights by 25%.| He ordered and the domotic system stirred from stasis to do so. Ryker’s face was pain. His eyes were screwed shut, brows crammed together, gasping shallow and ragged.

Hope(s)

The shirt was entirely too big, hanging halfway down to his knees making the shorts seem pointless. Beau grinned at his reflection in the mirror, making a show of flapping his arms to move the fabric. He sensed it held a smell, pulling the front to his face finding it pleasantly Garnet’s. Keeping it bunched, Beau peered into the mirror and, for a moment, didn’t recognize himself. At least, not as a Synthetic. There was so much of him exposed, pale arms and legs, glancing down to wiggle his toes. Even his HUD buffered a moment in hopes of identifying the face nuzzled in the jersey’s collar. Even just a moment he really was Beau, not B-Zero.

Hurt

Beau could only stare. From across the room, he could see the flowering plant was already sprouting new growth since his last visit. “Oh, fuck,” Garnet hissed, dodging around the couch as he hurried over. “I’m sorry, Beau. It’s okay. Look, if you don’t like it, that’s fine. I can use it for like… I dunno, something. You don’t have to like it.” “I like it,” he got himself to say. “You are a shit liar. Okay? I can see those lines on your face. I know you don’t like it.” “I do like it.” He defended, reaching up to absently feel his cheek. The stress lines were back. “Seriously, you’re not gonna hurt my feelings or anything. I didn’t even ask your opinion on it.” “I can’t explain it, but I like it,” Beau blurted. “Please don’t get rid of it. I like it.” He couldn’t look at Garnet, staring instead at the stand and his very happy plant.

#tag game #wip: tb #If you see Garnet's name in a scene there's gonna be bad language

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elsewhereuniversity · 4 years ago

Text

About Face

“Do you have any questions about your prescriptions today, uh…m-miss?” The pharmacist’s question is laced with assumptions about who you are. It’s not great, of course, but it’s also not worth your time to fight about today.

“No, I’m good,” your smile and voice are sugary-sweet, but your eyes are daggers as you take the bag and turn back towards the door. The heat and humidity are already staggering at 8 am and you are immediately made sticky by the brief walk to your car. As you start it up, there’s a brief chime of email-receiving from your phone, but you ignore it. Then there’s another ding, this time your lab-mate, Valerie, texting you.

Hey, u almost in? In like 30min. had to stop by pharmacy

K. Jill was looking for u. Also ugh that paper for tomorrow, I’m not even a birdsong person lol

Lol get over it, I had to read one of your fancy neuro papers last time. Did jill say what she needed me for?

Whatever lol. She didn’t say.

Ughhhhhhh

Jill, Dr. Dominguez, is your advisor, and you know you need to get her some figures and sections of your thesis soon, but these damn stats…well. There’s a reason you prefer spending your time traipsing off-trail through the wilderness over sitting in front of a computer all day. Not that this part isn’t interesting and important too, but come on.

Traffic is moving at a sluggish pace, of course, so you’re lost in contemplation and dread of the analyses you need to attempt running today, and the inevitable conversation with Dr. Dominguez that will have to happen at some point. As the traffic finally begins to move, you grit your teeth. Maybe it’s time to consider actually asking for help. I have no fucking clue how to do multivariate shit…You stare ahead as you inch forward, before a frustrating, jolting stop at a red light. Your eye is drawn to a kid crossing the road, wearing a grey hoodie. They look forlorn, for some reason you can’t entirely enumerate, and you glance back at them as the light finally turns.

The sun isn’t very high yet, so there are still some odd shadows stretching across the sidewalk, but you could’ve sworn that the kid had no face.

****

You manage to put the pharmacist and your grandma and the obviously-just-a-trick-of-the-light-I-mean-how-else-could-that-be faceless kid out of your mind for the rest of the morning and actually get some results you can work with from the analyses you’d been worried about. And when Dr. Dominguez pops into lab to talk to you, she is actually impressed at both the pace and quality of work you’ve delivered thus far. In fact, you’re feeling pretty damn good about everything, despite the earlier unpleasantness, so you decide to grab some lunch and hang out with some of the other grad students and lab techs.

Lunch-special sushi in hand, you plop yourself down at one of the rundown old tables in the work room. Valerie is there, along with Raul, one of the grad students from a micro lab down the hall, and Jackson, one of the general lab techs. Everyone says hi, but you’re only vaguely following the conversation as you dig into your spicy tuna roll. Something something TA stipends being cut. Which is such bullshit, of course, but nothing new. You’re just about to jump into the discussion when you get a Facebook notification. It’s your cousin, who tagged you in a post. You stare for a good five seconds at your phone.

Just remembering the good times with my cousin before he decided to be a transsexual.

And then a picture from when you were 14, a picture you’d thought you’d deleted from every conceivable online location. A picture that highlights pretty much every single aspect of your body that made staying in the closet completely untenable. Everything just always happens at once, huh.

“Fucking asshole,” you mutter, and are surprised to feel the hot prick of tears in your eyes.

“Becca, you alright?” Valerie asks, and you belatedly realize that everyone at the table heard you and is now staring. They think you were talking about one of them, or responding to something they said.

“Uh, yeah, sorry. Just something my cousin posted. She’s—she can be such a jerk. Don’t worry about it,” you say as you hastily wipe away the tears.

“What’d she do?” Jackson asks. Valerie glares at him so fiercely that he rolls his eyes and holds up his hands, “Just, like, if you wanna talk about it.”

You sigh. You’re not precisely going stealth, but you also don’t just talk to everyone about being trans. Have you actually come out to Jackson? Valerie knows, and Raul, but you don’t think you’ve ever directly talked to Jackson about it.

“It’s—it’s fine. Just, she posted a picture of me from before I came out, and I really hate thinking about any of it.” You speak with a bit more force than you intend.

“Why is that a big deal?” Jackson asks, taking a bite of his pasta. Valerie glares at him again and Raul just shakes his head.

“It’s just…it took me a long time to figure it out, and I don’t particularly like being reminded of that. And it’s not great for dysphoria, either.” You say this distractedly as you go to the post and untag yourself.

“That’s really rough,” Raul says, frowning.

“Sorry, what’s that word?” Jackson asks with a raised eyebrow, “I guess I just don’t get it? It’s just a kid picture of you, what’s it matter?”

And that does it. You stand abruptly, “I need to get back to the lab.” You hear Valerie and Raul berating Jackson as you walk away, but you’re just so very done. You toss the empty sushi container in the trash at the corner of the hallway, near one of the windows overlooking the main walkway through campus. And you nearly trip over your own feet as you swivel to double check something down below. A gray hoodie. A child with no face looking over their shoulder as they turn a corner.

****

You don’t mean to take the wrong street. It’s already been far too long a day between all of the inanity with your extended family and Jackson. And everything you tried to run after lunch was a bust, making you feel like Dr. Dominguez’s praise earlier was completely undeserved. Given all of that, you decided to get takeout again, even though you really should be cooking, so you’re walking to pick up your order. It is early evening, the shadows having elongated to embrace nearly everything, and while debating whether it’s even worth confronting your cousin about the jab, your feet simply take you the wrong way. You don’t even notice, until you’re standing in front of an empty park that’s three blocks over from where you should be. Or, wait.

Not empty. One lone figure, sitting quietly on one of the swings, wreathed in shadow.

You’ve been walking quite quickly, but over the course of a few steps have come almost to a stop. With a shiver, you glance around the area, but no parents or adults are in sight, and the figure looks young, even from a distance. 12, maybe? Maybe the kid lives in one of the nearby houses? Probably. Should you call someone? Who? Not the cops. They’d just as soon arrest or hurt the kid as help them. It isn’t that late, leaving the kid be is probably the most prudent course of action.

But. The kid feels…familiar. Even from a hundred meters, you can see that their shoulders are hunched, their hands are tight on the chains of the swing. The gentle creaking as those chains move with the slight shifts of the kid’s body is despondent in a way that is known to you, somehow. So, against your better judgement, you leave the sidewalk and walk across the damp grass to the edge of the playground. When you step onto the sand, the kid’s head jerks up and their shoulders tense further, raising almost to their ears. You stop walking and from the new angle a streetlight throws the kid’s grey hoodie into stark relief.

“Are-are you okay?” you have to clear your throat to get the words out and your voice sounds weak and tinny in the still, silent park.

The shoulders shrug. The kid is also wearing jean cutoffs, their scuffed sneakers unlaced.

“Do you need me to call someone?”

A sharp shake of the head, and then their hands release the chains and fall into their lap.

“Don’t need anything,” the kid’s voice is low, you can barely hear what they’re saying. Gingerly, you take the last few steps to the swing set and awkwardly settle into one of the worn rubber seats. Only after you have already done this do you think to question why you are so compelled to talk to this child who—maybe? how?—has been dogging you all day.

“I said I don’t need anything,” the kid says in an emotionless voice. Their face is still completely shadowed by their hood and shaggy hair.

“I just—look, kid, I think I’ve been where you are, and—”

The kid cuts across you, “I tried to tell them today. But I…couldn’t, I didn’t know how to, so I just ended up saying I like girly shoes and wanted some or whatever.”

Oh. So you were right. You know exactly what’s going on. In fact, you’re pretty sure you had that precise conversation, once.

“That’s tough,” you acknowledge, slowly pushing back in the swing, which creaks beneath you, “It took me a long time too.”

There’s silence. Then:

“That’s what I was worried about.”

You start and quickly glance over at the kid, who has finally turned to face you.

She doesn’t have a face, which, you suppose, really shouldn’t be a surprise. You weren’t seeing things, earlier. There’s just a smooth expanse of dark olive skin. The featureless head tilts to one side and she speaks again.

“I thought you might recognize me.” The voice is plaintive. With every word, you feel a sense of vertigo, like there is a mouth, somewhere, that is making those sounds, that it’s right in front of you, but you cannot perceive it.

You are breathing very rapidly, “I thought—how do you know me? What’s, I mean—”

“This?” the kid gestures at her face, “I don’t know, I can see but I can’t see myself, I dunno what’s going on. All I know is I was walking to the park and then I was here, or I mean, on the road this morning and saw you and I followed you and I just want to go home or just sleep or just melt away but I can’t, okay? There’s just nothing.”

Without noticing, you have sprung to your feet and are backing away from the faceless girl, the faceless girl who can’t tell her parents who she is. Who you are.

“I didn’t want to think about it,” you whisper. Why are you even responding to this? This is a hallucination, or a dream. You’re just reacting to the whole bullshit situation with your cousin and Jackson and that fucking pharmacy tech. Did you fall asleep back in the lab, is that it? You pinch yourself, but no luck, “I came out and that was what I needed. Okay? Why dwell on, on, on all of that shi—stuff that happened before?”

The girl is still sitting placidly in the swing, though her hands are once again clenched around the chains.

“I knew you were me, I guess. So I followed. I don’t think anyone else notices me either, not that that’s anything new,” The note of bitterness in her voice cuts you to the bone, “I thought maybe you—me, future me, whatever—would be able to…fix me? But nothing’s changed, has it?”

You’re backed up to the slide now, “Why are you doing this? What even are you?”

You slump against the side of slide, your knees suddenly weak, “This cannot—this is bullshit, I don’t know how you’re doing this, but—”

The faceless girl is in front of you now, hands jammed into the front pocket of her hoodie. She stands there, contemplating her future self, “I just want to understand,”

The kid, proto-Becca, or whatever or whoever she is, sure sounds like a kid desperately trying to make sense of something, and not some ghoulish nightmare creature.

“Just stop,” you say in a hoarse voice, “I just don’t want to think about it, I shouldn’t have to think about it, I just want to move forward.”

“Yeah,” proto-Becca abruptly falls to her knees, and draws them up to her chest. It takes a few seconds for you to understand the sounds that the kid is making are sobs.

You hug your own knees and contemplate getting up and running away and just forgetting about all of it: this faceless phantom of your childhood self, your relatives’ inability to accept your reality, the absurd, useless, pointless stats and analyses. You’re crying too, desperately trying to refocus on the here and now, instead of being drawn down into the rabbit hole of loneliness and regret and fear that always consumes you when you think too hard about those years in which it felt like your whole body was turning against you and you couldn’t find any satisfactory explanations for what you were feeling.

But the sounds of proto-Becca, of proto-you, sobbing into her knobbly knees bring you back to the present. Ironic, that. No matter what else, however she got here, whatever happened to her face, she’s a kid. She’s a kid. She’s. A. Kid. You were a kid.

You furiously wipe your eyes and nose and sit up, scooting a bit closer to proto-Becca.

“Hey, I’m sorry,” you say in as steady a voice as you can manage, “I was scared, and, and, and I lashed out. It’s not your fault, kid.”

She doesn’t lift her head, but the sobs are quieter.

“I mean, kid, no offense, but you don’t have a face. And somehow you’re me, right?” Okay, that came out meaner than you meant it to, “The truth is that I’ve done my best to forget pretty much everything that happened back when I was…you, I guess. But I can’t.”

She sniffles, “I’m trying to tell them, I am. But the boys at school, every time I try to talk to Mom or Dad I see those boys laughing and yelling and coming at me and I can’t, I don’t—know how I ended up here, or what to do about this or anything. I just want things to be normal.”

And, finally, you get it. Not why she’s here, or how, or what any of this means, but, at least, what to do. You’ve tried to help kids who were like you before. You’d never have told them that they needed to keep their feelings concealed, that they needed to not do anything so as to avoid reminding you of your own past. So why, then, are you doing it to yourself?

“Is it okay if I come sit next to you, maybe give you a hug?” you ask, as gently as you can.

You get a glimpse of the faceless face from behind the curtain of hair, “I—I think so?”

You get to your feet, a task far more laborious than you feel it should be, and cross to her. When you plop down by her side, she twitches, but it’s toward you. Slowly and carefully, you wrap an arm around her narrow shoulders, and hold her close. She’s still crying, and the hood has slipped from her dark curls.

“It’s okay that it’s taking time,” you say, “It’s really, really hard. I meant that. There’s…nothing out there. No one to explain to you, to, uh, us, what these feelings mean, really. I remember. I remember how much it feels like you’re just stuck in the same looped computer program. Endlessly completing the same actions with no idea why, only feeling like something isn’t right. And so scared of what happens if you do anything that breaks that loop.”

“That’s pretty much it,” she says with a note of wait, that wasn’t completely in my head???, “I don’t see how I can explain to anyone, especially Mom and Dad.”

“I think all you can do is be honest. There are some resources out there, although maybe they aren’t published yet,” you glance sideways at her, “But if you just…elucidate those feelings you’ve been sitting on, it at least opens the door to them comprehending.”

“I guess so,” she sighs, and then giggles, “But also, like, no offense, that was, like, a really freakin’ pretentious way to say that.”

You snort and ruffle her hair, “Whatever. Something for you to look forward to, then.”

She’s quiet for a bit and then, quick like a bird, she wraps her arms around you too, “So I’m gonna tell them, then?”

You shrug, “When you’re ready. Whenever that is. And I promise, you are no lesser if it takes a while. Okay?”

“But you’re still going to hate thinking about me, right? I mean, about how long it took me, you, to finally do it?” her head tilts.

You sigh, “I don’t know. It’s hard, I won’t pretend it isn’t. But I think I can at least say that it’s okay. That it’s not my, or your, fault.”

When you look up, her face appears. Smile first. Broad and full of braces, her quick and nervous brown eyes darting to your face and then back to her knees.

“You’ll be fine,” you say, giving her one last squeeze, “I’m the living proof, right?”

Her laugh lingers in the air as she fades away.

#transroadwarrior #stories #long post #about face #body horror #of the faceless variety #trans #transphobia #briefly #becca #proto becca #submission

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tooruluv · 4 years ago

Text

Tooru Oikawa x F!Reader ( part 6 )

❝ my love for him is much like winter, a skeleton for the world to see. too bad he never liked the cold. ❞

description: being the neighbor and lifelong best friend of tooru oikawa definitely had it’s perks. you were never an outcast, always had a seat at lunch, got into volleyball games for free. the problem was, however, that being in love with him outweighed those perks. you would never tell him that, though, even if it hurt like hell.

genre: best friends to lovers, angst, unrequited love, fluff if you squint hard enough

word count: 2,182

warnings/notes: didn’t know yall were SIMPS for kuroo... anyway here’s more angst for y’all

tag list: @afuckingunicornn @maii-flowers @clandestinerays @brownandchill @readeretal @wedojustbevibin @shigarakiskitten @shittykawaa @saeranoppa @srirachibi

prev | next

“I brought the good nacho popcorn seasoning!” Kuroo told you as he rummaged around inside of his bag.

Tetsurou Kuroo had become a close friend in a short amount of time (it seems as though that was something happening to you often, these days). The “mall date” was full of conversation and laughter. You found out he was an only child, played volleyball himself and went to some camp, that he’s never had a girlfriend, and that he’s actually very funny. He grew on you.

You both sat on the couch, claiming it from your parents as you usually do on Saturday nights. This time, it was just with a different boy. Your parents didn’t mind.

Kuroo tossed the bottle to you once he found it. You caught it, and immediately started to pour it into the bowl that was full of popcorn and m&m’s.

Not too long after, the both of you had a scary movie on. You both sat on the couch, the bowl on the table in front of you. He sat with one leg tucked under his outstretched one, his arms crossed into his hoodie pockets. You sat next to him, a couple inches between so you don’t rub your leg against his. Your legs were brought to your chest.

“Are you cold?” Kuroo asked you, leaning forward to get a better look at your face.

“Just a little.”

Before you could protest, he took his hoodie off and held it out for you. You were about to deny his offer when he decided to lean back and literally shove the thing onto your head.

You were giggling when you pulled your arms through. “Thank you, but I could’ve just grabbed a blanket.”

“Nah, it’s fine.” He turned his attention back to the TV. Was that a blush? “You look good in red.”

You couldn’t help but smile. You moved closer to him, your body flush with his. His arm wrapped around your shoulder, something you hadn’t felt in a minute, and both of you smiled as someone got killed on screen.

Tooru Oikawa had always been your safety net. He was the one you went to for absolutely everything, even if it was a minor inconvenience. He was the one you called if you were lost, the one you exchanged looks with when the teacher would say something that could be passed as an innuendo, the one you would go to if you had a splinter or broken nail. And that safety would go both ways.

He would always show up in the middle of the night, or ask you to join him on the occasional Monday for you to watch him practice when he’s supposed to have the day off, or even facetime you just because.

Yet, this time, when you received a very drunk call from Oikawa, it didn’t feel normal.

You missed the call (it was at five in the morning), but you were left a very long voicemail from the boy.

“Nut!~” He slurred into the phone, basically directly onto the speaker. “Hello love. Hi. I drank a lot tonight. By myself. Very good. I should do this more often.”

You smiled to yourself. Oikawa hated being drunk, he would always make a point to never drink whenever he had the opportunity to. It was cute, the slurred and soft-spoken version of Oikawa you were receiving.

“I just wanted to say. I miss you. A lot. That’s why I came over the other day. I have so much I want to tell you but I…” Something muffled the speaker, and you couldn’t hear what exactly he was saying after that. Until, “Yeah, I just miss you a lot. I sleep now.”

You listened to it again.

Iwaizumi sent you a text Sunday. You were at dinner with your parents, out at some restaurant for the night. You went to the bathroom to read it (your parents had a rule: no phones at the dinner table if you’re eating as a family).

“I told my parents.” It said.

“You don’t drink.” You said to Oikawa Monday morning. You didn’t look at him, both of you at your lockers. He sent you a look.

“I don’t drink.” He repeated.

You finally shut your locker and looked up at him. The first time in a long time that you were talking. He seemed taller, thinner.

“Why were you drunk this weekend?”

Oikawa’s eyes wouldn’t meet yours. He shook his head. “I wasn’t.”

“You’re lying to me now?”

He shut his locker and started to walk down the hall. Before he could get far, you stepped in front of him and cut him off. He stopped.

“I got a voicemail from you.” You told him, and his eyes shot to yours. “I miss you, too. I don’t know why you won’t talk to me, but I miss you too.”

For a moment, it was just the both of you standing alone in the hallway. Like nothing else really mattered. He was finding the right words to say, and you waited for him to reply. Your chest was aching, and you wanted to throw the word “love” at him right then.

“I…I miss you a lot.” He finally said. You held back a smile. “But, um, can we talk? Later?”

“Yeah, yeah of course.” You were too eager, you knew. “We can talk later.”

Oikawa sent you a smile, something you missed, and your eyes found his tie. Before thinking, you reached up to tighten it. He chuckled.

“Yeah, I can’t fucking get this shit right.” He told you, letting you bring him closer to push it up. “Sana’s been fixing it at breakfast but I was running late this morning so we didn’t go.”

“Good thing I’m always here, huh?”

You walked next to Iwaizumi and Matsukawa on the way to lunch (the library). They were holding hands, openly smiling and giggling and being gay. You loved it.

“What was it like?” You asked them as you sat at the usual table.

“When I told my mom that I liked guys and I think I’m bisexual, do you want to know what she said?” Iwaizumi asked you. You nodded. “She said, and I quote, “well I can’t blame you, I like guys too”. I was so nervous for nothing. My dad even told me that it was okay and he’s fine with it as long as I’m happy, he just didn’t want to hear the details.”

“Your mom is iconic.”

Tooru Oikawa was not someone who could hide in a crowd. You could always pick him out of everyone, always spot him through the human traffic. It also helped that he was tall.

That being said, you found him instantly.

He wanted to meet at a park, as he was watching his nephew and his older brother was at work. You joined, of course, and you always found his nephew adorable.

You sat on the bench next to him. The very first time you have ever felt uncomfortable enough to sit further away from him. He noticed.

“We almost kissed.” He finally said, eyes following his nephew on the playset. He seemed tense, back straight and hands clasped together.

“Yeah.” You twisted your fingers in your lap. “Almost.”

“I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have anything to apologize for.” You were forgiven weeks ago.

“I do, though.” Oikawa finally looked at you. “I almost kissed you when I just became official with Sana the night before. I shouldn’t have done that. And I’m sorry.”

“I wasn’t upset about you almost kissing me.” You told him, staring at him. “I was never mad at that. It’s you ignoring me and avoiding me like the plague that I don’t particularly enjoy.”

“Right.” He bit the inside of his mouth. “I just…I couldn’t really…I felt really guilty. Having enough feelings to kiss you, but standing hand in hand with Sana. I haven’t told her about it.”

“I haven’t either.”

“Yeah, you two are close.”

“She’s very nice, and good company.” You told him. “You chose a good one.”

“Thank you.”

“I’m sorry, too.”

He blinked a couple of times, like his eyes would fix what he heard. “What are you apologizing for?”

“Everything. Me and Iwa talked some shit about you.”

“I’m not surprised, I’ve been acting like a dick.”

“Ah, we prefer the word asshole.”

You both chuckled, and you ducked your head. His eyes were back on his nephew, who waved at you both from the top of the castle.

“Listen, I’m not going to push you to be my friend again.” You said. “If I make you uncomfortable or make you question your relationship, I’m not going to be mad at you.”

“Be your friend again.” He mumbled, shaking his head like it was the most ridiculous thing he had ever heard. “I never considered us not being friends. And you would never make me uncomfortable, ever. I just…”

“I know.” You stood up. His eyes jumped to you, head tilting up. “Let me know when you figure out whatever you need to figure out. Until then, I’m still right next door and a drunk call away.”

His mouth gaped as if you offended him, but there was a smile behind it. “God damn it, nut, just delete the voicemail!”

“No, I think I’ll keep it.” You brought your phone out and played it. His drunken slur came over the speakers. “Nut! Hello love. Hi!” you mocked him as his voice played.

Oikawa stood up, face red. “Oh my god! Stop! That’s embarrassing!”

He chased you as you continued to mimic him over the voicemail. You didn’t know every word, of course, but you knew when he was going to say certain things. You laughed as he chased you onto the playground.

“Takeru! Help!” you called, holding the phone up so Oikawa couldn’t get it.

“No, Takeru!” he called for his nephew. “Give me the phone, she’s a traitor!”

“Nice try, Uncle.” Takeru grabbed your phone and shook it from his spot on the very top. “She already told me that you were the spy for the English. We must take you to jail! Thank you, Auntie, for the valuable information. We will promote you to Head Knight.”

You giggled at Oikawa’s surprised and embarrassed face. You mouthed “Head Knight” at him, pointing at yourself. He rolled his eyes, but kept smiling at you.

You wore Kuroo’s hoodie the next time you met up with him. A fun fact about Kuroo: the man loves coffee. So, you weren’t surprised when he asked to meet at a coffee shop around the corner from where you buy alcohol. You wonder what he would say if you told him about buying shit from there.

“Damn, that hoodie looks familiar.” He told you when you sat across from him.

“Yeah, it’s comfy.” You said, smiling. “A pretty cool dude let me borrow it.”

“Ah, he let you keep it.” He corrected, hands already around a warm cup of black coffee.

You raised a brow. “I guess I’ll keep it then.”

“So…” Sana threw a piece of candy into the air to catch in her mouth. “You and Kuroo?”

This time, it was Iwaizumi and Sana at your house. Your two best friends. It was a strange combo, to you, as you always separated them in your head. But they actually got along quite easily, immediately started to roast and complain about Oikawa.

The three of you were in your bedroom. You sat on your bed, Iwaizumi on the floor by the door, and Sana sat in your desk chair. You were playing a game: try to catch the candy in your mouth. So far, Iwaizumi was winning (he hadn’t missed a single one, even if your throws were trash).

“What about me and Kuroo?”

“Oh, come on,” Sana scoffed, shaking her head. “You have been spending a lot of time with him. Spill.”

“There’s nothing to spill.” You caught a piece she threw up for you. As you chewed, “We’re very good friends. He’s cool.”

“Alright that’s it. Who is it?”

“Who is what?” you blinked.

“The other boy.”

You gulped, looking quickly at Iwaizumi. He just looked at you, wide eyed and confused.

“You told me that you’ve had a thing for another boy for a long time but he doesn’t feel the same.” Sana continued, her attention fully on you. “And he’s obviously the reason that you’re not going for Kuroo. You’re in love with someone else, and you’re throwing away a perfectly good relationship with someone who actually likes you.” She leaned forward. “So, I’ll ask again. Who is the boy?”

You didn’t say anything, your silence the only answer you could give. Iwaizumi’s eyes went back and forth between you two, staying just as silent.

“Who is it?” Sana asked again, held tilted. When you looked at the floor, it was like a rush of realization dawned on her. The air turned tense, but not negative. Like you couldn’t breathe.

“Oh.”

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narcissasdaffodil · 3 years ago

Text

Day 2: @writersmonth

Prompt: Cold

Tag list: @ariendiel @eskiix @follies-fixture @kiki-the-creator @simonsmontjoy

Marisol got ready for the party. She was ready for her summer to start for real, it felt strange to have finished five years of school already. She only had her A Levels to go, and Lottie was leaving for college which meant that she wouldn’t see her in school anymore. Dating her best friend was one of the best decisions possible, she was so happy with her. Not even her sister Isabel could ruin that feeling for her.

They had finished school early on a Friday due to the leavers’ do, and she had rushed home to get ready for the after party. Lucie was going to pick her up, and they were going to go together. She was strangely excited, she felt butterflies multiplying in her stomach.

She changed out of her uniform, putting it in the washing basket. She grabbed a black jumper, t-shirt and a short skirt, choosing to keep her outfit simple. Her skirt was shorter than she was used to, and she decided to not wear tights with it due to it being warm outside. She left her hair loose, neatening up her fringe. She studied herself in the mirror, choosing to put on a little lipgloss and mascara. She put her phone in a small bag, pushing her glasses up her nose. Lucie was expected to be here around seven ish, and she was nearly ready already. She grabbed a pair of boots from under the bed and slipped them on.

In no time at all, she heard a knock at the door and grabbed her bag, slipping it over her shoulder. She grabbed her key and rushed downstairs, opening the door. Lucie smiled at her, the other girl made her feel slightly insecure and overdressed. Lucie was just in a strappy top and a wraparound skirt, and she found herself feeling too hot in her clothes.

“You look lovely! You won’t need the jumper, it’s going to be hot in the house. House parties tend to be, anyway.”

Marisol quickly took it off, bringing it back to her room and left it there. Part of her wanted to keep it, she did get cold easily, but she talked herself out of it. She ran a brush through her hair, and grabbed her bag, leaving again and locking the door behind her.

Her parents were both out with Isabel, they only cared about her sister’s results. You were nothing but a ghost to them, and you’d given up trying to pretend otherwise. You were perfect, but it was never entirely enough.

Marisol shook her head, snapping out of her thoughts. She learnt to smile and nod, pretending to be listening to Lucie talk. Her heartbeat was echoing in her ears and she couldn’t ignore the feeling that she wasn’t meant to go to this party. Lottie had asked her, and she would follow the other girl anywhere.

“Umm...will Hannah be here? I know Isabel isn’t, but I hope Hannah isn’t either.” Marisol asked, accidentally cutting off Lucie.

“Hannah’s probably coming. But I’ll watch out for you anyway, don’t worry. Besides, Lottie’s not friends with her, so as long as you stay with her, you’ll be fine. I know you haven’t been to one of these parties before, but you’ll enjoy this one, believe me.”

Marisol nodded in response, forcing a smile to her face. “Okay, I’ll take your word for it.”

She felt a strange omen in the air and shivered. She was already getting cold, but she knew she couldn’t turn back now. Lucie grabbed her hand and squeezed it. “We’re here. Lottie’s probably already there.” Lucie raised her hand and knocked on the door.

When it opened, the immediate sound of pounding music took Marisol by surprise and she blinked. Lucie had already disappeared into the party and Marisol followed, keeping her head up and scanning for Lottie.

The house was packed, pretty much everyone in her year was inside. She decided to go to the kitchen first and made her way through the door. A conversation halted as she walked through the door, and her breath caught in her throat. Oh shit. Not Olivia. You made a complete fool of yourself in front of her in French, she even had to switch partners as you couldn’t speak without stuttering.

“So...you showed your face here then. I didn’t expect that you would, you’re too much of a teacher’s pet for that. I don’t understand how you’re dating Lottie of all people, you two are polar opposites.” Olivia laughed, shifting long dark hair over her shoulder.

Marisol’s mouth opened and shut, and she blushed. She cursed how awkward she was, just the sight of Olivia was enough to make her small again. It was humiliating to not even be able to do a full sentence around her.

“H...have you seen Lottie? I’m just l...looking for her.” Marisol forced the words from her throat, not making eye contact with Olivia. Olivia giggled in response, turning to her friend. Both of them were laughing and Marisol felt her stomach churn in response. Something about the look in their eyes was wild, and it made her uncomfortable.

“No. Keep looking, you’re bound to find her.” Both of them cracked up again as Marisol made her way into the living room, dodging through groups of people. There were a lot of people dancing, but no one she could recognise as being Lottie. She noticed a tall blonde standing together with her sister and she looked away, making her way outside. Stay away from Isabel. And if Astrid’s friends with Isabel, that adds her. Neither of them would help with this stupid mess.

It was cold, and she shivered. There was only a cluster of smokers and she hurried back inside again. She was panicking slightly and hurried back into the kitchen.

“Just go upstairs if you’re desperate to find Lottie. She’s definitely there.” Olivia called over to her. There was a smirk on her face, which Marisol tried not to focus on.

She hurried upstairs, nearly tripping over a kissing couple on the stairs. She opened the first door she noticed when upstairs and stopped in her tracks. No. No, it can’t be her. It must be another blonde with Hannah, right?

As she tried to reassure herself, she felt her heart shattering in her chest. She moved forward, eyes fixated on the kissing couple. She felt tears spill down her cheeks and she covered her mouth, muffling her sobs.

“We’re over. I can’t believe you’d cheat on me with her, I thought better of you. My worst enemy, really!” Marisol’s voice was all over the place, and she refused to look directly at Lottie and Hannah. She turned on her heel, tripping over the doorstop and came down hard on the floor as she wiped out. She wasn’t hurt, just her pride and her heart. She curled herself into a ball, shaking violently.

Hannah laughed at her, she had separated from Lottie. She had snapped photos of Marisol in her state, and disappeared with her phone. Lottie was about to follow her, but went up to Marisol and put her hand on her shoulder. Marisol flinched away.

“L… leave me alone! You play with people’s feelings, did I ever mean anything to you? No, I don’t want to know… You betrayed me, I’m certain I mean nothing to you.” Marisol’s words were muffled from her sobs and the curtain of hair in front of her face.

Lottie sighed. “Mari, come on. It was one drunk kiss. Nothing else.”

Marisol forced herself to stand up, brushing down her skirt. Her phone beeped in her bag, and she noticed she was tagged in a video with a set of photos, showing how much of a mess she was. Without her realising, someone had been recording the moment her life fell completely apart.

She shivered, her teeth clicking together. She hurried downstairs, disappearing outside and ignoring the other people at the party. It felt like all of them were staring at her, were enjoying her misery.

She hurried back home, sneaking into her house and curled up on her bed. She quickly blocked Lottie on social media and blocked her number, deleting it from her contacts. She wished her friendship with Lottie could be deleted as easily, but she was stuck with it being a permanent stain on her heart. You were so stupid to believe for a minute that she was different. She never cared about you, you meant nothing to her.

#litg #love island the game #litgs2 #litg fanfic #litg marisol #marisol x lottie #marilottie #one foot in front of the other #fanfic #lottie x hannah #litg lottie #writersmonth2021

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thequeenb · 4 years ago

Text

Guilty Pleasure

I hate how the Professor gets diamond scenes every time so here i am

Poppy x MC

Warning: Smut

I couldn't stop thinking about her, the way she was on top of me and the way she said my name like a damn prayer. Everytime i closed my eyes images of that amazing night came back to my mind and all i can do is let it take over me

The way her blonde hair was like an angel's halo above her head, the wicked smile she gave me before kissing me fiercely, everything about that night was perfect except for the fact that it was really a one time thing.

Deep inside me i wanted her to bluff, i wanted her to just break these icy walls and reach out to me but she uploaded that video and since then sleep wasn't in my everyday routine. I sit hours thinking about 'what if's' and how things would be if one small thing wasn't done by me or her.

I sigh because here i am looking at my celling dramatically like these stupid movies. I cross my arms too stubborn to admit my feelings but deep down i know i have to find a way and talk to her but what could i even say? Thank you for ruining my life? No too melodramatic..We need to talk? No she will slam the door in my face. How about 'Long time no see?' wow i am really bad at this

I groan against my pillow running out of patience and ideas. Honestly what the fuck am i doing? She is a piece of shit after all but i can't help but see beyond her evilness.

I stand up putting on my favourite skirt and a crop top, if i go to my enemy's dorm at 3:00 am you better expect me to look perfect. I apply her favourite cherry lip gloss and i spray my strong perfume on my neck and clothes. I am really doing this

After a while of sneaking around like i am in a mafia movie i finally approach the Zeta building. The lights in Poppy's room are on so that means she isn't asleep score!

Surprisingly the door is open and then i watch Chloe and Veronica going out walking towards the exit door, okay weird moving on! I step inside and i am amazed everytime even though i have been here 3 times. The marble floor doesn't help me here because of the damn heels that i wear, thank you stilettos

Glancing around to see if anyone is around i run for the stairs and oh wow these stairs are pretty but so many. Finally i arrive on the top floor and i linger outside of Poppy's room. Now what dumbass? I roll my eyes thinking if i should knock or just leave, there is still time to leave huh?

Before i overthink about this i knock at the door softly and not long after Poppy is standing before me..with her silk robe?

"What are you doing here!" Her eyes go wide but i am too focused on that robe its really nice and--

Wowowow. I feel her nails dig into my skin as she grabs my arm dragging me inside the room. She closes the door quickly, turning around to face me

"Just because we had fun the other night doesn't mean you can be seen here!" I can hear the frustration in her voice, is she embarrassed of me?

"Way to welcome me" i roll my eyes soothing my hand, she really does have long nails, no wonder she wanted to use a vibrator

"Can you be quick, I don't want you near my room, its trashy enough"

Oh there we go again with the pathetic insults. This time it feels different because no one is around so why she still acts so cold with me?

"If you are here for the video then i cant delete it now, you always found ways to--"

Without a single sign of hesitation my mouth opens and for the first time i don't control my own words "I like you"

I place my perfectly manicured hand over my mouth shocked at what i just said. Oh no no no no this is so embarrassing! She gasps but quickly recover and the look that she gave me.. its beyond indescribable. I can't tell if its desire or anger but before she can respond a knock on the door interrupt us

I thank God this happen because I don't think i could handle whatever she was going to say.

"Poppy? I forgot my wallet here are you in here?" I can hear Chloe's voice from the other side if the door and we both freeze..oh no

"Get in the closet now" Poppy says pushing me towards her giant closet but i stop her holding her hands firmly

"Hell no, i won't be in the closet again i was already throughout my teenage years"

She rolls her eyes trying so hard not to laugh and so i look around quickly as my eye catch a glimpse of a wooden desk on the other side of the room. I smile to myself thinking what i want to do exactly so i just get comfortably under her big desk

All i can hear is Veronica's and Chloe's voices and a door closing, great i am trapped there is no coming back from this without getting embarrassed

"What took you so long" Chloe says getting inside the room

"You know a text warning me you will come here would be appreciated, i could be asleep" Poppy says clearly annoyed

"But you aren't are you?" Veronica responds and i can already imagine how angry she must be

I hear footsteps approaching the desk and i start sweating. If any of the girls find me here there is not really a good excuse is there? I was just cleaning? No Bea focus

Poppy seems to notice because suddenly her legs are one breath away from my face. She sit in her red leather chair elegantly crossing her legs, what a bummer.

"So you found your wallet you shall be dismissed" she says waving a hand at the girls but little did she know

The bed is placed across from the desk and i assume they both sat there. Poppy is like a ticking bomb ready to explode and i size all the possibilities that i have, should i tease her or should i be a good girl?

My morals have a literal fight before i know exactly what i want to do. I place my palms on her legs working my way up her center. At first i thought she would close her legs even more but to my surprise she opens them wide

"Oh my god this amazing! My YouTube video got 5 million views" Veronica says excitedly but after that everything fades away as i admire every inch of Poppy's body

She is dripping wet making me wonder what kind of thoughts was she having. She sits a little more comfortably giving me better access, this is really happening

I run my tongue all over her thighs always avoiding the place where she needs me the most. I watch her as she grips at the chair tighter and i smirk to myself for my success

"Are you listening Pops?" Chloe asks

"Oooh..yes i do i am just daydreaming about my next shopping spree" she manages to say but her voice was breathy and oh my god so hot to listen to

I finally connect with her center and she looks down at me. We lock eyes and all i can see is stars. I can see the deep desire in her eyes, the hunger is consuming her. In response i place my free hand beneath my skirt and inside my underwear

I can see her frustration but then they have to interrupt us again

"So which bag are you buying? Because i wouldn't want to match with you, last time--"

"Buy whatever you want!" She says basically moaning and i can imagine Chloe's confusion written all over her face

I find a steady rhythm as my tongue slides hard against her. I match my movements so we can both finish at the same time and i go faster letting Poppy know i am close to--

"Oooooh ye--" Poppy stops halfway through the sentence and the room falls silent

"Oh no my nail broke!!!" She says instead and i bite her thigh in warning

"Oh yikes we should go, i am not in the mood for angry Poppy" Veronica says and excitement runs through my body

"Yes ta ta! I want to be alone now" Poppy responds and i hear the door open then close

We are finally alone aren't we Miss Min-Sinclair?

"You naughty girl" i say coming out from my hiding spot

Poppy is breathing hard, her eyes filled with passion "You are going to pay for this"

Before i can find a cocky response i am bent over the desk within seconds and my mind goes blank

"Do you think you can play with fire and not get burned?" Her tone is so harsh but at the same time so incredibly sexy. I feel her lifting up my skirt and a low moan escapes my lips

"This is for embarrassing me Infront of the whole school" and just like that her palm hits hard my back side. Is this really happening?

"This is for uploading the screenshots" and again she spanks me hard but this time i call out her name loudly

She soothes my skin after each spank, she is affectionate after all isn't she? Every nerve on my body surrender to her touch and all i can do is repeat her name like a prayer

"Oh Poppy!!!"

"And this..this is for making me fall head over the heels for you" the moment her palm meets my backside i drive completely crazy. Her words still repeat themselves through my head and its enough to send a chill down my spine

She finally turns me around but she wastes no time throwing her arms around my neck

"I couldn't stop thinking about this" she breathes against my lips and i grip at her waist tighter

"Well i am not done showing you how much i like you" i respond smirking at her

Poppy smiles and i can finally feel like we are on the same page. We spend all the night screaming eachother's names and honestly? This is worth so much more than a stupid crown because this, this is hell and paradise at once.

Tag list: @lolimugly @origmansello @greatestflirt-hero @mvalentine @otakufangirl-12 @sugarplumpnhoneybun @princessstellaris @indecisive-choices @i-loveeveryone @kiara-36 @ognenniyvolk @somewillwin @it-lives-in-braidwood-manor @ghalind @sergeant-pepper-loves-choices @dibberdipper @tyrils-star @nydeiri @justastranger-passing

#play choices #pb choices #queen b #poppy min sinclair #choices fanfiction #poppy x mc #queen b poppy #choices fic #playchoices #choices #my fics

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seita · 5 years ago

Text

— little miss perfect | tamaki amajiki (m.)

pairing: tamaki amajiki/f!reader

genre: angst, fluff, smut

wordcount: 𝟼,𝟷𝟻𝟷

tags: forbidden love!au, high society!au, rich!au, arranged marriage!au

note: i posted this a little bit ago but tumblr took it out of the tags so i had to delete it ): i hope it doesn't do it again...

— the life you lived was one of rules; who you hung out with, what you ate, how you sat at the dinner table. nothing was under your control. but when you find yourself falling in love with a man you shouldn't, you find yourself desperate to break the rules.

masterlist | rules

You sighed, letting your eyes wander around the ballroom packed with pretentious people wearing expensive gowns and suits. The chatter was too loud to hear even your own thoughts and you scowled, feeling a headache coming on.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw the familiar looming figure of Enji Todoroki making his way in your direction. Before he could reach you, however, you slipped between the numerous people to make your way to the bar that was set up on the opposite end of the room.

Glancing over your shoulder, you let out a sigh of relief when you realized the man wasn’t following you.

The bastard had been trying since you turned 18 to arrange a marriage between you and his youngest son Shoto Todoroki ― even though the two of you were vehemently against it. But the man didn’t know how to take no for an answer and proceeded to harass you every chance he got, which was typically at functions such as the one you were currently attending.

You had long since lost sight of your parents, not that you cared. Typically they would keep you by their side to show you off and introduce you to potential suitors in hopes of making connections through marriage.

The very idea made you scoff.

As you took the drink offered from the bartender, you gave him a soft thanks before turning around. Spinning on your heel, you let out a sharp gasp when you bumped face-first into a firm chest. The jolt caused your drink to slosh over the rim and onto your hand.

You cursed, stepping back as you looked up at the wide-eyed man before you. He wore a rapidly reddening blush that burnt all the way up to his cute elf ears.

“I-I’m so sorry!” he cried, reaching into his pocket to fish out a handkerchief, taking your glass from your hand to quickly wipe the mess on your skin away, “I didn’t realize I was standing so close, I’m sorry.”

“I-It’s okay…” you whispered, your tongue feeling heavy in your mouth at the sight of him.

He was tall with indigo hair that stuck up messily on the back of his head. Typically such a thing would be frowned upon ― people in high society desire to look their best, after all. Despite that, he wore a perfectly tailored tux and an expensive gold watch on his wrist. As he gazed down at his task of cleaning your hand, you noticed how long his eyelashes were as they brushed against his cheeks with every blink.

“There...I think I got it all,” he breathed, tucking the handkerchief away into his pocket without a care that it was wet with wine. At least it was white wine and not red, you mused, “You should probably wash your hands or it’ll dry your skin out or something.”

You raised a brow, not sure if such a thing could really happen. Still, you smiled and thanked him, breezing past him to find a bathroom. You still smelled like alcohol now so you needed to wash it off anyway.

When you returned to the ballroom, there was no sign of the attractive indigo hair colored man anywhere. Part of you was disappointed but you brushed it off as something silly. No point in pining after a man you spoke 10 words with after all.

You brushed off that chance meeting, not even paying it a second thought. In fact, you were certain you were either never going to meet him again or that you wouldn’t remember him even if you did.

It was wishful thinking on your end, however, because at yet another pointless high-society function, you caught sight of the messy haired man once more.

“Hey,” you greeted, making him turn away from the conversation he was having with a pretty periwinkle haired girl and tall, blonde man.

“Oh, it’s you,” he smiled, gaze softening from the guarded look he held when you’d greeted him.

From that look alone, you knew he was from a prominent family similar to yours. The type of family where you had to hold your tongue and be on guard for any shit that might come your way. It was an unpleasant, stressful existence.

“It’s me,” you smiled, nursing your glass with two hands, unsure of where to go from there, “I um...wondered what your name might be?”

He looked surprised for a second before smiling an ever-so-gentle smile, “Call me Tamaki.”

“I’m ______,” you introduced, reaching forward to shake his hand.

His grip was firm and practiced but his hand was a bit calloused from what you didn’t know. It still felt nice. His hand was bigger than yours, strong with long longers.

“These are my friends Nejire Hado and Mirio Togata,” he introduced, motioning to them.

You smiled in greeting, recognizing only the Hado name. Her family owned one of the biggest shipping companies in Japan. You wondered what Mirio and Tamaki did.

“Can I ask what your last name is?” Nejire asked.

Just as you were about to open your mouth to answer, you heard your name being called. You felt your blood freeze in your veins. You cringed, your distaste clearly written on your face to the three people standing in front of you.

“Mr. Todoroki,” you beamed fakely as you turned around, “How nice to see you!”

“My Shoto is looking for you,” he grumbled, arms crossed over his chest as he glared down at you.

“I doubt that,” you breathed.

“What was that?” he asked, brows furrowed.

“I said that’s great, I’ll go find him!” you bowed briefly before brushing past him to disappear into the crowd. Looking over your shoulder, you rolled your eyes when you were finally out of sight.

What a pain in the ass that man was.

You hummed as you swung your shopping bags by your side, enjoying the setting sun beaming on your skin. It was a rare day you got to have completely for yourself with no escorts or stupid functions to be seen. In celebration, you went out shopping with your parent’s credit card ― not that they’d ever even notice.

“Excuse me!” a soft voice called from behind.

On reflex, you paused and turned around, eyes wide as you caught the familiar form of Tamaki jogging towards you. He seemed surprised as he stopped in front of you, realizing who you were.

“You…” you mumbled, “You’re not stalking me or something right?”

Immediately his eyes burst red, shaking his head wildly, “N-No of course not! Why would you think that? It’s just coincidence I swear―”

“I’m kidding!” you laughed, patting his shoulder to calm him down, “What’s up?”

“You dropped this back there,” he sighed, scratching the back of his head almost nervously as he held up your folded handkerchief.

“Oh! Thank you!” you beamed, taking it from his hands.

There was a beat of silence, both of you standing there awkwardly unsure of what to say or what to do.

“Hey, you wanna get dinner or something?” you asked suddenly, obviously startling him.

“Wh-What?”

You shrugged, “You don’t have to. I figure since we’re both here, it’s almost dinner time...why not?”

He was quiet for a second, thinking it over before smiling with a soft nod, “Sure. Lead the way.”

“Oh, a gentleman,” you teased, enjoying the way his ears turned red in response.

He was a cute thing, wasn’t he? Shy and soft spoken yet still holding a strong disposition due to no doubt being raised in high society.

By the time the two of you were seated in the fancy restaurant, the sun had dipped beneath the horizon. The sky was cast a deep orange that was rapidly vanishing by the minute. The bright chandelier in the center of the room cast a relaxing light over the both of you. You moved automatically to fold the napkin over your lap with your hands folded over it. Tamaki moved the same way, flashing you a sheepish smile once the two of you were left in silence.

What you planned to be a nice, pleasant dinner ended up in a way you hadn’t expected.

In his bed.

His hand felt like heaven wrapped around your throat, giving just the smallest bit of pressure that made your head rush. He stared down at you with heated eyes, lip tucked between his teeth as he listened to the way you whimpered beneath him. You squeezed around his cock so tight he swore every time you came you almost took him with you.

Sweet Tamaki turned out to be one of the best lays of your life.

Little did you know, it was that little tumble in the sheets that would send your entire way of life ablaze.

You had no idea how it happened; what went from a casual one-night stand grew into weekly outings together to have lunch or dinner, sometimes breakfast if you could manage it eventually morphing into what you could only describe as love.

Whenever you laid your eyes on the messy-haired man, your heart raced and you felt a smile that you had no hope of fighting grow across your face. He seemed to be in the same boat, always having a deep need to touch you ― holding your hand in his, pressing a kiss to your forehead, or simply holding you in his lap.

The night you brought him to one of the famous, high-society functions as your date was the biggest mistake of your life.

“Are you nervous?” he asked teasingly, squeezing your hand in his larger one.

You beamed up at him, shaking your head, “No, of course not!” In fact, it was the opposite ― you were more than a little excited to finally reveal your relationship. Truthfully, you hadn’t thought about the possibility of it being something that could end badly. Your parents hadn’t known you were seeing anyone, it’s not like you were close enough to them to actually reveal much personal information about yourself.

Usually whenever you did, it turned into a lecture that ended with you crying into your pillow feeling like shit with their harsh words echoing in your mind.

However, that night, you found yourself torn from Tamaki’s grasp. Your parents held the most hateful scowls you’d ever seen them wear as they regarded Tamaki’s parents who glared in the exact same manner.

“What do you think you’re doing?!” your mother hissed, yanking on your arm to pull you away from your boyfriend.

“Wh-What?!” you cried, struggling to get out of her iron grip, “Let go!”

“Don’t make a scene,” she hissed, tugging you harsher.

“We’ll talk when we get home,” you father hummed, voice colder than usual.

You glanced over your shoulder to see Tamaki being dragged in the opposite direction with a similar look of despair on his face as he watched you vanish from sight ― the both of you locked in a state of confusion.

Once home, the air around both of your parents was terrifying. Instinctively, you sat on the couch in the lounge with your head down as the two of them paced back and forth, collecting their thoughts.

“How dare you make a fool of us like that, _____?!” your mother cried, making you flinch.

“I-I’m sorry but I don’t understand,” you muttered, keeping your voice meek to keep from angering them further.

Your father scoffed, ��Do you even know who that boy was?!”

“Tamaki Amajiki…” you replied quickly.

“Are you dating him or something?” your mother grilled, hands on his hips as she halted her pacing in front of you.

You nodded, not seeing a point in lying, “W-We’ve been together for about 6 months now…”

Your father scoffed, “You are never to see that boy again, do you understand me?”

“But why?” you asked, finally looking up.

Your parents looked bewildered, “You know we have nothing to do with that damn Amajiki family, ______. You are never to speak to their kind again.”

With that, they both stormed out of the room, leaving you more confused than before. You didn’t know that you were supposed to have nothing to do with them. It wasn’t like your parents told you anything, your older brother was the one in line to take over the family business so you rarely ever even got word of the goings on behind the scenes.

Your heart was aching as you went to bed that night, not sure what it was you were meant to do. You had texted Tamaki, seen he read your text but he never responded. It only made you hurt that much more and before you knew it, tears were dampening your pillow.

You had just about cried yourself to sleep when the sound of your balcony doors clicking open startled you upright.

“It’s just me,” Tamaki whispered, closing the doors as quietly as possible, drawing the curtains so no one could see in.

“Tamaki!” you whimpered, bolting out of bed to wrap your arms around his middle. He immediately wrapped his own around you and pressed a kiss to the top of your head, “They said I can’t see you anymore!”

His eyes softened, cupping your tear-stained cheeks to press a kiss against your forehead, “I know. Mine said the same to me.”

“I don’t understand why!” you whimpered, fresh tears falling down your cheeks.

He shook his head, “Our familiar apparently had...some old rivalry that turned sour.”

You scoffed, “That’s stupid. It doesn’t affect us, why should we suffer for it?”

He sighed, leading you towards the bed, “I agree. All we can do is fight it, right?”

“You mean…?” you looked hopefully at him with wide eyes and he smiled.

“I wouldn’t let something like this take you from me, _____,” he promised, moving to lay beside you, pulling the blankets over your forms, “I’ll be gone before the sun rises but for now...sleep, okay?”

You nodded, burying yourself in his chest, taking in the sweet scent you grew to adore. With his heart hammering rhythmically in your ear, you fell into a peaceful sleep you were sure you weren’t going to get that night.

Tamaki’s effect on you was just that; a sense of security. You weren’t sure if you’d ever be able to live without it now.

Things were a bit different with you and Tamaki once you discovered you weren’t supposed to be together. It was more difficult to get away in secret, your parents for once paying actual attention to what you did. Tamaki’s were doing the same.

You found yourself sneaking out of your window in the dead of night more than you ever thought you would. It was worth it, to see the sly grin on Tamaki’s face when you texted him to warn him you were outside.

The two of you made it work, though. Six months blossomed into ten; the two of you edging on a whole year together.

One night, however, as he crawled onto your balcony, you could tell something was off.

“What’s the matter?” you asked as he sat stiffly on your bed, your hand held tightly in his trembling ones.

“______,” he sighed, head hanging low.

Your heart ached in your chest through your anxiety. You waited for him to talk, watching the way he opened his mouth several times only to close it when he changed his mind.

“This is…” he sighed, shaking his head, “This can’t work anymore.”

Those words shattered your heart in your chest and you pulled your hand from his grasp. He didn’t fight to get it back, avoiding looking at what he knew were your tear-filled eyes.

“Wh-What happened?” you whispered, voice trembling.

He shook his head again, “All this sneaking around...what’s it going to get us?” he stood up, his back to you, “Whether we’re together for a year or 5 years...are we going to sneak around forever? We can’t do that.”

“You’re...you’re breaking up with me?” you asked pitifully.

He hesitated for a moment before nodding, “Eventually I need to be with someone I can be with. Our parents won’t let us do that...so there isn’t a point anymore. I’m sorry, _____…”

He moved to make his way to your balcony doors again when you bolted out of bed, wrapping your arms around his middle to keep him in place. He halted, letting you sob into his back, his heart breaking at the sound.

“Please don’t do this, Tama!” you cried, fisting his shirt, “I don’t want to lose you. You’re the only good thing I have ever gotten in my life. You know what this life is like! Everything about it is controlled and revolving around a stupid image but...with you I don’t have to worry about anything. I’ve never felt more free with anyone than I feel with you...Tamaki...please…”

Your brokenhearted confession spurred him into turning around, cupping your cheeks to pull you into a loving kiss. It made your head swim, your eyes fluttering shut as you deepened the kiss, losing yourself in the feeling of his arms around you.

He held you so desperately, like you would slip away from him any second. Part of you knew that that was exactly what would happen. Once the sun rose, that would be it ― he wouldn’t get to hold you in his arms ever again.

You pushed that thought out of your head, instead choosing to slide his shirt up until he had to break away from the kiss to tug it off.

He picked you up by the waist, spinning to deposit you on the bed. He crawled on top of you, burying his face in your neck to press soft kisses there. You angled your head back to give him all the room he needed.

He wanted so badly to mark you up, to leave you with something of his, but he couldn’t. Squeezing your eyes tight, you fought back tears as you clung to him, nails digging into his shoulders.

He reached down, pushing the hem of your silk nightgown over your hips. Sucking in a breath, he felt his cock harden rapidly at the sight of your pretty panties.

“You’re so pretty,” he breathed, meeting your lips for another kiss.

You cupped the back of his head, pulling him even closer, arching your hips up to grind against him. He let out of stuttering breath, gripping your hip to urge you to grind rougher.

“Please, Tama,” you begged, breathing ragged at the teasing pleasure you were receiving.

“What do you need?” he breathed, a tone you knew only you got to hear.

To everyone else, he was a timid and shy young man who had trouble maintaining eye contact for too long. But with you, being closed doors, while you shared sweet kisses and heated touches, you got a side of Tamaki no one else would get to experience.

“I need you, please,” you begged, reaching forward to pull at his belt.

It was obvious he had come straight to your place after being somewhere — perhaps dinner with his parents.

He nodded, leaning back to clumsily strip himself of his pants. He stumbled a bit, making him mutter out embarrassed apologies with bright red cheeks. Soon enough, he was on you again.

With experienced fingers, he helped strip you from your own clothes. Your nightgown came off to reveal your bare breasts, a sight Tamaki couldn't help but whimper at.

Leaning down, he enveloped one of your perked nipples in his mouth. You tugged at his head, letting out soft sighs as he switched to the other one. Wet with his saliva, the cooler air caused them to harden even more.

Feeling impatient, you began to push your panties down your hips. Tamaki, sensing your urgency, helped pull them free of your ankles, tossing them to be lost somewhere in the darkened room.

He cupped your cheek, bringing you in for yet another kiss. His lips were so soft, his kiss pouring every ounce of love he felt for you. His free hand found its way between your legs, parting your folds to graze over your clit.

You gasped into his mouth, arching your hips at his teasing touch. He smiled against your lips, circling the bud until your thighs trembled before easily sliding two digits into your clenching hole. He paused, letting you adjust to the minute stretch before angling his fingertips up to hit your sweet spot. He had long since memorized your body ― every erogenous zone, every sweet spot, it was all committed to memory.

Your body was a temple just for him and he treated it with so much care.

You were sure you would never have anyone like Tamaki Amajiki again. The thought made your heart ache and you squeezed your eyes shut to keep from crying.

He pulled his fingers free, holding them up to his face to see the way they glistened with your slick. Popping them in his mouth, he whimpered at your taste, wishing he could get on his knees and eat you out for this last time.

But the way you reached between his legs to bring the tip of his cock to your entrance let him know how desperate you were for him. Not wanting to keep you waiting, he easily slipped in with your assistance.

He sunk in to the base, let out a sharp groan as your walls squeezed him. Neither of you were willing to wait long ― he set a quick pace that brought you both great pleasure. Sweat coated your bodies and caused you to stick together. Neither of you really care, however.

You reached down to grab his hand, bringing it up to your breast. He smiled, thumbing your nipple before descending down to envelop its twin between his lips.

His tongue swirled around the bud, relishing in the way it made your walls squeeze him.

“F-Feels so good!” you whined, clawing at his back, no doubt leaving behind red scratches.

“Yeah?” he breathed, making sure to angle his hips just right to hit that spot he had memorized.

Your reaction was instantaneous, a sharp cry so loud he had to reach up to cover your mouth with his hand.

“Can’t be too loud,” he warned, his cock throbbing at the teary, pleasure-filled gaze you fixed him with.

He could feel your moans vibrating beneath his hand as he continued his sweet pace. Your walls squeezed him tight and he groaned, dipping down to press his face to your neck.

“Gonna cum,” your words were muffled but he managed to catch them.

He nodded, sitting back on his heels. His grip on your mouth moved to your throat, the long digits wrapping around your neck just the way you liked. In an instant, his pace doubled and his other hand found purchase on your pelvic bone, thumb extending out to rub at your swollen clit.

The hard bud throbbed beneath his touch as he circled it in time to his thrusts. His hand tightened against your throat, feeling your moans vibrate against his palm as you reached your high.

Your back arched and your eyes rolled back before fluttering closed. The pinch in your brow and the way your mouth hung silently open sent him over the edge, your own euphoria being enough to make him cum.

You squeezed his cock tight, milking everything he had to fill you up.

Everything came to a slow halt, Tamaki slowed his grinding before allowing his softened length to slip free. His cum dripped from your still spasming entrance, making a mess of your bedsheets. Neither of you cared, however, as he laid beside you.

“I love you,” you whispered against his chest, eyes fluttering with sleep.

“...I love you too,” he replied, kissing the top of your head.

As you drifted to sleep, you missed the flood of tears that dripped down his still flushed cheeks.

The next morning, the birds chirping from your open balcony door woke you up. Immediately, images of last night came to mind. You sat up, holding your sheets to your chest as you looked around.

Your nightgown and panties Tamaki had stripped you of were folded atop your dresser and there was no sign of your boyfriend.

Or rather...ex-boyfriend.

The thought made your heart clench and you couldn’t stop the stinging in your eyes.

It was really over.

Your parents miracuously, and unfortunately, noticed the rapid change in your demeanor. They grilled you on the cause, although they already knew it was related to your feelings for Tamaki. Over the course of the month since he disappeared from your bed without another word, you’d grown more withdrawn and lonely. The everyday, boring rule-filled life you lived losing the tiny glimmer of happiness Tamaki once provided.

“Is this about Tamaki’s engagement?” your mother asked one evening, making everything around you come to a screeching halt. Your eyes fell to her at the other end of the table. She wasn’t looking at you, shaking her head as she cut the steak on her plate, “It’s silly to be upset over something like that. I would have expected you to be over him by now.”

“I love him…” you confessed tearfully.

Your father scoffed, ��don’t be ridiculous. Love is pointless, you know that.”

“But I…” you were cut off by your mother’s sharp glare.

“You think your father and I love each other?” you fell silent at those words, “You’d be wise to let go of that stupid fantasy of marrying for love right now.”

“We’ll take care of that soon, don’t you worry,” your father threatened with a glare that let you know the conversation was over.

The man certainly lived up to his threat because the following week, you found yourself sitting at a table with Enji and Rei Todoroki. Shoto Todoroki sat stiffly to your right, fisting his dress pants with a cold look on his face.

“I’m glad you’ve finally seen reason,” Enji spoke in that ugly, superior tone that made your face morph to one of disgust. Glancing at Shoto, you saw his eyes narrowed at his father.

At least he seemed to hate him as well.

“Well, our daughter seems to need it,” your mother spoke in a sickly sweet tone, “She’s got this foolish idea of love in her silly head. So we decided your offer for marrying young Shoto couldn’t have happened at a better time!”

Enji nodded with his arms crossed over his puffed out chest, “Excellent. You won’t regret your decision. I’ll have the proper paperwork filed as soon as this weekend and we can begin the proper preperations.”

You heard Shoto sigh beside you as he stood up, placing a hand on your shoulder. You looked up to find a sorrowful look in his eyes that almost made you cry, “I’m sorry…”

With that soft sentiment whispered soft enough that no one could hear him, he held his hand out to you. You sighed and took it, allowing him to help you to your feet.

“_____ and I will take a walk,” Shoto announced, “I’d like to get to know her a bit more.”

“Excellent idea, dear,” Rei praised, though you couldn’t help but think the smile on her face was more than fake.

Shoto squeezed your hand, leading you out of the room. Once the two of you were safely away from the prying eyes of staff, hidden away in the garden, he released your hold.

“You fell in love with someone you weren’t supposed to, huh?” he mused, making you look up at him in shock. He chuckled softly, “Don’t worry, whatever you tell me is safe with me.”

“Yeah…” you whispered, frowning at the cobblestone ground, “I didn’t know I wasn’t supposed to be with him until we were already together. My parents keep telling me it’s stupid to be in love…”

“I understand,” he sighed, starting a slow pace walking around with his hands clasped behind his back. When you looked up at him, he was gazing at the moon, the light making the glassiness of his eyes even more visible than you would have thought, “I did the same thing.”

“Really?” you couldn’t help but ask.

He nodded, chin wobbling slightly before he spoke, “Her name was Momo. We were together for almost 3 years before she was married off to some guy before I even knew it was happening. She told me that it was never going to work between us anyway so we shouldn’t have even bothered,” he sighed, “I was pretty heartbroken.”

“It seems you still are,” you mused softly.

He chuckled, looking over at you finally with a sad smile, “That’s the life we live, isn’t it? Sad and lonely...nothing is truly ours, not even our love.”

Those words resonated in your heart, making you bite your lip to fight back tears. He stopped, taking your hand in his similar to how Tamaki had that last night you were together.

“Regardless of whether we are married or not,” he breathed, “I will never expect you to love me but...I will make sure you at least enjoy my company. I won’t let us become like our parents. We can at least have that bit of happiness to ourselves, right?”

“Shoto…” you breathed, the tears you had been fighting back finally coming forth.

He cupped the back of your head, bringing you in for a sweet hug, “Who knows...maybe if we’re lucky we’ll be able to love each other in the end…”

Those words faded into the night, neither of you sure if such a thing would ever be possible. Both of your hearts already belonged to other people. It was a painful existence but you could have wound up arranged to be wed to a worse man.

Shoto wasn’t bad, you knew that. He managed to make you feel happy when you were together ― which became more frequent the closer your wedding date grew. Of course, he didn’t make you anywhere near as happy as Tamaki did.

You desperately missed the closeness you felt with him. How it felt to be wrapped up in the strong arms of a man who loved you. Almost every night, you found yourself sleeping on a wet pillow.

The night before your wedding, you found yourself sitting in your bedroom with a dual haired man standing in the middle of it. It felt so strange; he was going to be your husband in just 12 hours but you still had another man on your mind.

You remembered how it felt to have Tamaki sneaking into your room late at night too.

“What’re you doing here?” you asked softly.

“You’ve been crying,” he pointed out, making you wince.

“I’m sorry…” you apologized, unsure what for.

“Why are you saying sorry?” he chuckled softly, walking closer to you.

“I’m crying because I’m marrying you tomorrow, that can’t feel very good,” you sighed.

He shook his head, hands tucked in his pockets, “I get it. That’s why I came here.”

“What do you mean?” you asked, wiping a stray tear away.

“_____,” he sighed, “Is it really worth it? What do you get out of doing what they say? You’re an adult...there’s nothing they can do to stop you from leaving. You have a good education and I’m sure Tamaki does as well,” his words had you pausing, “You might not wind up with as much money as you have now but at least you’ll have the freedom to be a person. I lost my chance by letting my parents control my life and take Momo away from me. But you still have a chance.”

“Are you saying…?”

He smiled, placing his hand on top of your head, “Be with Tamaki. Even if it’s just for a few months or a few years, you’ll know what it’s like to live your own life. I can’t even imagine what they could feel like. Aren’t you tired of living like this? With all these rules...they tell us who we can be friends with, what to eat, how to sit at the damn dinner table...we’re barely even people. We’re just a means of obtaining power. Our parents marry us to the most powerful families they can in hopes of getting an heir worth a damn. It’s bullshit.”

“Shoto…” you whispered, a new sense of life flowing through you, “What if he’s not willing to leave it all?”

He shrugged, “Then at least you can say you tried and...in the morning if it didn’t work then you can marry me and we’ll adopt a damn dog or something.”

“I’m allergic to dogs,” you countered.

“A fucking cat then,” the uncharacteristic curse had you giggling into your hand.

“Thank you, Shoto,” he took a step back as you stood up, “I’ll see you around.”

“We’ll see,” he replied, watching as you wrapped a measly bathrobe around yourself, not a care in the world about getting properly dressed.

You were out of breath by the time you made it to Tamaki’s. Your car was parked down the street to avoid attracting any attention. Tamaki’s bedroom light was on and you eagerly climbed the lattice that decorated the side of the house.

Peeking into his room, you could see that he was sitting at his desk, writing something. He tensed when he heard his balcony door open, spinning in his chair to gape at you.

“_____?” he gasped, jumping to his feet to shut the door and close the curtain. He gripped your arms, hissing when he felt your temperature, “It’s freezing out what the hell are you doing wearing that?”

You beamed at his care for you, throwing your arms around his shoulders. Immediately, his hands found purchase on your hips to hold you against him.

“Run away with me, Tama,” you breathed.

He froze, pulling away from you with wide eyes, “Wh-What?”

“Run away with me,” you repeated, fisting his shirt, “What’s really keeping us here? We can make it on our own, we have good educations and can get good jobs. We can be together and be happy without outside voices whispering in our ears. We can be normal people, Tamaki.”

He was quiet, loosening his grip on you to take a few steps back. He ran his hand through his hair with a sigh. The happiness and confidence you had built up quickly crashed and you found yourself feeling foolish.

Why would he want to leave everything behind for you? He was in the same position as you; due to be married soon. Hanging your head, you let out a sigh.

“It’s alright,” you whispered, shrugging your shoulders, “I get it’s something really big to ask. You don’t have to take me up on it. I just thought...I would see.”

He still didn’t say anything and you turned on your heel to make way for the balcony, “I’m um...getting married tomorrow so...I just thought you should know that I love you so much, Tama. Being with you was the best thing I ever had...even when I’m married with Shoto, I’ll never stop thinking of you, okay? I wish you the best in your own marriage.”

You got out to the balcony, swinging one leg over the rail to climb down when two strong arms pulled you back. You gasped when you fell to the ground, your weight pressed against Tamaki as he buried his face in your neck. It didn’t take you long to realize he was crying. His tears wet your shoulder as he squeezed you tight.

“Don’t go,” he cried, “The idea of you being with another man...it’s too much.”

“Tama…” you whispered, holding onto him in return.

“Let’s do it,” he sniffled, pulling back to gaze into your eyes. He leaned forwards and pressed his lips to yours, “I’ll pack a bag. Have you got a bag?”

“No,” you replied sheepishly, “I wasn’t sure if you would say yes so I didn’t want to assume.”

He chuckled, untangling himself from you before moving back into his room, tossing all sorts of clothes and valuables into his suitcase. You laughed as he talked about selling stuff for money.

Before long, he was packed and ready to go.

Once you were sitting inside your car, the heat blasting as you warmed your cold skin, he reached over and took your hand in his. You looked at him, finding that familiar look of love in his eyes that never failed to make your heart soar.

As he squeezed your hand, you just knew that everything was going to be just fine.

#bnha x reader #bnha smut #tamaki amajiki x reader #amajiki smut #bnha imagines #mha x reader #mha smut

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plasticnightmaredoll · 4 years ago

Photo

(artwork is a commission done by @stillfuckinbetterthanyou)

I guess because it’s my birthday soon and I’ve been obsessed with Arkhamverse Riddler lately, I came up with a kinky little drabble involving Enigma/Edward Nashton (Riddler before he was Riddler, basically) and my Arkham Origins o/c, Lorelei Jones.

This may not be part of the main fic involving them, but can be seen as a sort of “bonus” side story or a deleted scene even.

But it’s canon (well, for this Arkham Origins A/U at least).

The main fic will probably be called, “Break All of Our Stigma,” which is a line from Lady Gaga’s song, “Enigma” (Yes, I know, I know, I just lover her, ok? And the song actually kind of fits Lorelei and Edward). This side drabble is called, “Cake,” and while it does involve Lorelei helping Eddie celebrate his birthday, the “cake” in question isn’t a literal cake.

If you know what I mean 👀👀👀👀💦💦💦💦💦

I mean, there is a cake mentioned in the drabble, but the cake Eddie gets to feast on isn’t that cake.

*cough*

Anyway, here is part 1 of what will most likely be 3 parts. Part 1 is the lead in to eating the “cake,” part 2 will be “eating” the “cake,” and part 3 will be...well, you’ll figure that out ;)

Hey, if you think this is spicy, this is NOTHING compared to what I’m writing for Telltale Riddler. Imagine all of this but, like........................MORE PORN.

Very NSFT/NSFW content under the cut because Eddie and Lorelei are horny little fuckers 😘

Cake (part 1)

Summary: It’s Edward’s birthday and his lovely GCPD detective, Lorelei, decides to plan something special for him, including a cake. He tells her she needn’t spend so much effort on him, especially since she just wrapped up a rather exhausting case. However, she shushed him and told him he deserves, at the very least, an excellent cake for his special day. However, the “cake” she has ready for him isn’t what he’s expecting...not that he’s complaining.

Edward was more than ready to get to his apartment after a long, tiring, frustrating day at the always “glorious” GCPD. How was it that so many idiots worked in one place? Why were people in general so damn annoying? And stupid?

As he made his way down the hall, he felt some of the tension leave him as he knew his lovely detective was waiting for him. She’d already given him a birthday gift that morning (a green-striped scarf and dark green gloves, both of which he loved but he told her she didn’t need to spend her money on him), and now she had a cake prepared for him. Sharing some cake with her on his “special day” (he still didn’t see what the big deal was) sounded like the perfect way to unwind (even if she didn’t need to go through the trouble to make one for him). Perhaps it would be relaxing for her as well, chatting over something sweet and enjoying some peace after finishing a very tiring case? He hoped as much since, again, he didn’t want her to feel like she had to spend time or money on him like this.

“I’ll be in the kitchen,” Lorelei’s text had said in response to him as he left work, and when he entered the apartment, he heard her call out.

“In here, Darling,” she said.

“Be right there,” Edward replied as he hung up his scarf and coat, then placed his gloves in said coat’s left pocket.

Loosening his tie, he placed it on the back of a chair in the living room along with his vest and ID tag. Undoing a few buttons of his dress shirt and rolling up his sleeves, he made his way to the kitchen, a warm smile on his face as he prepared to greet his sublime lover.

Edward stopped dead in his tracks as soon as he saw Lorelei sitting on the kitchen table wearing nothing except a green garter belt with matching stockings and green high-heels. He could feel his face turning red as his mind struggled to come up with something to say, something that made sense considering his thoughts were all jumbled up at that moment.

“Where’s the cake?” he finally asked, and he mentally kicked himself for asking such a ridiculous question.

“Right here,” Lorelei said as she opened her legs for him. “Disappointed?”

“Not at all!” he said with a little nervous laugh. “Just...really surprised.”

‘Well, it is your birthday...surprises are bound to happen.”

“Indeed…”

“So, are you gonna come over here and enjoy your ‘cake’ or…?”

Edward’s legs seemed to move on their own as he quickly walked over to Lorelei, stepping between her spread thighs and grabbing her waist as he pressed his lips to hers in a deep, passionate kiss. She was so receptive, moaning into his mouth as she wrapped her legs around him to keep him close. How did he get this lucky? Why was he even this lucky? The way she treated him, it was like he was the sexiest man alive, and while he honestly wasn’t, he couldn’t help but soak up all the attention. It felt good -- she felt good. Ah, more than good. He couldn’t properly describe it, especially not while he was making out with her as she was practically naked and had just invited him to enjoy her...to put his face between her thighs and…

“So, did you expect to come home to an invitation to feast on my cunt?” Lorelei asked, slightly breathless, as Edward kissed and nipped at her neck.

His cock twitched in his trousers upon hearing that, and he bit back a moan.

“N-No,” he replied, moving to her collarbones.

“Disappointed it’s not a real cake?” she asked, and he could hear the smirk in her voice.

“Not one bit.”

“There is actually a small cake in the fridge for us to share. I literally finished icing it before you texted me to tell me you were coming home. We can have some now if you prefer?”

“No, it can wait...I mean, thank you but I...I, umm...want this other ‘cake’ first.”

“Which cake?”

Lorelei had the most devious grin on her face, and she couldn’t help but think of how adorable Edward looked blushing like crazy and acting a bit shy while still feeling incredibly turned on. Yes, he knew how to fuck her just right so she was reduced to a moaning, panting, mewling mess, but he was undeniably sweet. He gave as much as he took, you could say, and sometimes, he didn’t take nearly enough since he always focused on her. She had no idea what she did to deserve him but she wasn’t going to complain.

“Ummm…” Edward gave Lorelei a cute bashful smile as he slowly reached down between them and pressed his fingers between her slick folds. “This one.”

“You naughty little geek,” she teased with a giggle.

“I haven’t even gotten started yet,” he said, raising a brow and smirking, feeling more and more bold as the seconds ticked by. “This is hardly naughty.”

“Oh? Then what is naughty?”

“This.”

Edward slipped a finger inside Lorelei, meeting little resistance with how wet she was, and quickly inserted a second one, curling them both against her spot and making her shudder. He watched her eyes flutter closed as he carefully stroked her inner walls with his fingers, using his free hand to help guide her head down onto the table.

“Mmm...that’s more like it,” Lorelei purred as he continued to finger her at a steady pace. “But is that all you--Oh!” Her eyes shot open when she felt Edward’s thumb rub her clit. “Oh, fuck…”

But Edward wasn’t done yet.

He hadn’t failed to notice the green-gemmed nipple piercings Lorelei was wearing (she really knew exactly what turned him on, didn’t she?) and he leaned down and gently sucked on her right nipple. Her fingers threaded into his dark brown hair as a sigh escaped her, and when he lightly tugged on the nipple ring, she inhaled sharply, her fingers scratching at his scalp.

“Mmm...Eddie,” she panted, chewing on her lower lip. “That’s so good…”

Edward started to use his palm to stimulate Lorelei’s clit as his fingers moved more roughly against her g-spot. Coupling that with the way his mouth was teasing her breasts and Lorelei was no longer as chatty.

“Yes, yes, Eddie, fuck!” she moaned. “Just like that, please, fuck, fuck...ah, shit, fuck!”

Or rather, she wasn’t very coherent anymore.

As much as Edward was loving the sexy noises Lorelei was making, the feeling of her elegant fingers grabbing at his hair, and the lewd wet sounds caused by his fingers between her legs, he knew he had to stop or else this would all be over too soon.

“Sorry,” he said as he slipped his fingers out of Lorelei, causing her to whimper at the loss. “But we can’t let things end too quickly…”

Edward kissed his way between Lorelei’s breasts, up the side of her neck, along and jaw, and stopped at her lips. Their eyes met and they both couldn’t help but smile warmly at one another, her hands cupping his face. Time seemed to stop in that moment, and all he could think of was how much he loved her, how much he craved her, and how he’d give up anything and everything for her. Her thoughts were nearly the same as she delighted in the fact that her life had become so much brighter since she’d let him get close to her.

The kiss they shared was tender this time since neither of them were good at being very sentimental with words. It was enough, though -- or they hoped it was enough to convey how much they cared for one another. It didn’t take long for the kiss to become hungry, however, both of them practically gasping for air as they clung to each other and nearly refused to take proper breaths.

Lorelei’s fingers moved to Edward’s shirt, undoing the remaining buttons before tugging it out of his pants, watching him sit up and practically tear it off before pressing his now naked upper body against hers and kissing her hard. They were almost forgetting what they were even doing on the kitchen table, and when she reached down to grasp his erection through his pants, he hissed into her mouth and rutted against her palm. She hastily unfastened his belt and ripped it from the loops, then went right for the button and zipper of his trousers, allowing her to reach into his boxers and take hold of his cock.

“Ah, L-Lorelei!” he groaned as he lightly bucked against her hand.

Honestly, she wanted to beg Edward to just fuck her already, forgo this whole kinky surprise ‘cake’ thing and let him raw her, but no, no, she wanted to do this right. It took all she had to resist but she managed to get herself together so she could speak.

“You haven’t had your ‘cake’ yet,” Lorelei said as she removed her hand from Edward’s pants.

“You’re right,” Edward said, letting out a breathy laugh. “I want to taste you, Lorelei. Can I? Can I put my mouth on you?”

“It’s your birthday, Baby. Have at it!”

Edward flashed her a grin before giving her a sweet kiss and standing up.

“Let’s get you situated,” he said as he looked her over.

“Yes, Sir,” Lorelei said with a wink, and a shiver ran through Edward.

God, she was going to be the death of him and he didn’t have one complaint about that.

#edward nashton #edward nashton x oc #arkhamverse riddler #edward nigma #edward nigma x oc #arkham origins riddler #edward nygma #edward nygma x oc #riddler #riddler x o/c #nsft #fluff and smut

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cloudshapedpatch · 4 years ago

Text

take my money (take my heart, too)

the awkward julie & luke sugar daddy/baby au no one asked for

rated teen and up for swearing and semi-mature themes such as the concept of a sugar daddy/baby arrangement

no smut! insane tooth-rotting fluff tho

slow burn juke

and disaster lesbians flarrie side plot and (eventual) willex

also a coffee shop au because i said so

read on ao3 (chapter 1 and tag list below the cut)

* * * *

Julie is nervous. No, nervous is an understatement. Her knees bounce uncontrollably under the table, shaky fingers twirling the straw in her iced coffee. And the knot in her stomach seems to grow ever tighter.

She pulls out her phone to check the time for the third time this minute. How is it still 10:57 am? Just as she is about to put her phone back in her pocket, it buzzes with an incoming text from her best friend/roommate, Flynn.

Flynn: calm down

Julie smiles despite herself, turning around to look at her friend a few tables away. Thank goodness for her friend, willing to throw away a morning to make sure she is safe and comfortable on her blind date. She shoots Flynn a small smile. Flynn, to their credit, is taking their job very seriously, wearing an absurdly large sunhat and sunglasses, sipping on a mug of hot tea with a decoy book under her nose.

Julie turns to anxiously watch the baristas, moving around the small space with ease, mixing drinks hot and cold alike. Twirling around each other without even looking. And she lets her mind wander.

How had she gotten here? Waiting for a man whom she had never spoken to, let alone seen? And she isn’t counting their text messaging. Not really. Not even if they had been talking for weeks. Not even if they regularly stayed up well into the night just to keep talking to the other. Not even if he had her blushing furiously, toes curling from giddiness and hiding under her sheets, smiling at the flirtatious speech bubbles on her phone for longer than she’d like to admit.

Because that doesn’t count. She has never heard his voice. She has never seen what he looked like. Anyone could be a charmer, and she is undoubtedly nervous about who she might find walking through the door and towards her.

How had she gotten here? It is a simple question, and one she has the answer to. Doesn’t mean she likes it. She had made an offhand comment to Flynn at work one day. Julie is sick of working 12 hour days in the cafe (not this one. she would be dumb to meet a stranger in her workplace) and barely scraping by. She had joked she needed someone to fund her shopping sprees.

Flynn had suggested a sugar daddy.

Julie wants to bang her head on the table. Past Julie is an idiot. And now Present Julie is going to pay the price.

Why had she let Flynn convince her to download that dumb app?

(Because she has a virtually useless college degree, bills to pay, and school loans creeping up on her and she is cutting back every month. Living in L.A. isn’t cheap.

And, if she really lets herself think about it, Julie is lonely.)

She checks her phone again, pleased to find it is finally 11 am. He should be here any minute. Luke should be here any minute.

Is it a red flag that he had only been willing to share his first name? Should it have concerned her that he didn’t have a profile picture on his online dating account? Is she dumb for letting him change the subject every time she asked about his job? Solid ‘maybe’s to all of those, but! After they had started talking, they had instantly clicked. He loves music almost as much as she did, maybe even more. They bonded over that, and many other things.

This is fine.

She straightens her posture, glancing down at her dress to make sure all is in order. It’s baby blue with golden sunflowers all over, and she had slipped a cropped denim jacket on top, the one with patches of all her favorite bands. She fusses with the loose curls hanging by her face, her hair pulled into a half bun at the top of her head, leaving a clear view of her sunflower earrings. It’s the perfect outfit to be noticed in, she had told him she’d be wearing blue and sunflowers, certainly he wouldn’t miss her.

Whenever he decided to show up.

Wait. he would show up, wouldn’t he?

Of course he would.

...Right?

Before she can get too far down that rabbit hole, the chime above the door is jingling, and Julie has to fight hard not to turn and see who it is. The anticipation crawls up her spine and settles in her neck, jaw tingling.

A man comes in, approaching the counter with confidence in his step. One barista takes one look at him and gapes like a fish, turning to a coworker to nonchalantly point at him. Both girls look at each other and quietly squeal, letting one of the male cashiers help him.

Must be attractive, she thinks, and she isn’t disappointed by what she can see from the back. His sleeves are short, showing off his muscular arms and he’s tall. She’s always liked tall men.

Supposedly handsome stranger orders his drink and waits at the counter for it. One of the girls hands it to him with a gleeful smile. He accepts, then says something to her before the girl’s smile falters and points right at Julie.

Wait, she’s pointing at Julie?

Definitely handsome stranger follows her finger and lands on Julie, eyes scanning up and down her body (at least, what he can see from above the table), his face instantly lighting up in the most gorgeous smile she’s ever seen.

And then he’s turning back to say thank you and then making his way towards her and oh no what what what--

Because this isn’t her date. It can’t be, right? But Luke Patterson is stepping up to her booth, sliding into the seat across from her.

“Hey, you’re Julie, right?” His voice, sweet and thick as honey, and Julie would know that voice anywhere.

“Luke Patterson? You… you didn’t say--” She cuts herself off before she can say something foolish.

Because there is no way in hell she’d unknowingly put up her sugar baby services to Luke fucking Patterson. Not rockstar Luke Patterson. Not lead guitarist and singer and songwriter for her favorite band, Sunset Curve. Not literally in the Rock ‘n’ Roll Hall of Fame Luke Patterson.

“Yeah, about that… I am really sorry about not telling you. It’s just not something I like mentioning to everyone I meet, you know?”

She’s having a hard time processing what he’s saying. He’s so close. Why is he leaning on the table like that? Why is he so close?

“Yeah! Yeah, totally. That’s understandable.” She laughs nervously, taking a sip of her coffee to avoid speaking any further.

“This… this is okay, right? You’re not mad?”

“Mad?” This clears her mind a bit. She takes in the way his hands fiddle with the rings on his fingers, his shoulders raised, and while his smile is easygoing, his eyes say otherwise. Why would she be mad?

She expresses this to him, and he just looks at his hands.

“Well, because I wasn’t completely truthful with you. And I totally understand if you want to walk away.”

“No!” She says before she can filter herself. His eyebrows raise in amusement. “I mean, it’s fine! I was just… surprised, that’s all.”

And surprised is correct. Luke Patterson is the same Luke she’s been talking to for the last three weeks, the very same one who’s been making her laugh and who’d almost made her miss work last week because they had texted about everything and nothing until the sun came up.

He seems to like her answer. His smile never leaves his face.

“You seemed to recognize me. You a fan of Sunset Curve’s?”

And maybe it’s the way his cocky smile burns her cheeks, or just the fact that he’s talking to her. Panic sets in and she lies.

“Never heard of Sunset Swerve.”

“You knew my name.”

“You know it’s a household name, right?”

“Your jacket says otherwise.”

And shit. She had forgotten about the Sunset Curve patch right over her heart. In fact, it was the first patch she had put on the jacket. But he doesn’t need to know that.

“Fine. You caught me. I’m a Curver. Happy?”

And though she’s teasing, he couldn’t seem to be happier. Seriously, she’s worried his dopey grin is gonna break his face. Then an ugly, ugly thought rears its head in her mind.

“Wait. You let me gush about Sunset Curve so many times and you didn’t say anything?” Her sentence ends in a laugh.

“Oh, Julie, I wanted to so bad. You have no idea!”

Julie finds herself not really registering the second half of his sentence. She had missed it, the first time he said her name due to being starstruck, and her face warms a bit when she recalls just how good her name had sounded when he said it. Like a splash of cool water on a hot day. Like sap dripping fresh from a tree, glinting in the sunlight.

“Then why didn’t you?”

He sobers a bit at this, though his eyes still hold the same fire as before. “Well, I didn’t really want to go around announcing that. Can you imagine how many matches I’d get if I put that little tidbit in my bio?”

Julie laughs at this, the absurdity of it hitting her. Of course. He’d want someone who’d like him for him, not for his status, or name, or fame or money.

Oh. Shit. She was literally here for his money.

“For sure! Must’ve been hard.”

“Oh, not really. I matched with you on day one and deleted the app once we exchanged phone numbers.”

“Really?” Julie felt a little guilty for still having the app on her phone now, even after she was pretty sure Luke was a good match. There was still the possibility that mystery man was a total creep. If she’d have known who he was, on the other hand…

“Totally! I’ll be honest, my bandmates put me up to this, but once we started talking I just knew I had to meet you.”

Julie’s mind still feels a bit foggy, like she was dreaming. A fantastic dream, might she add.

“I’ve been really excited to meet you too. My best friend also convinced me to get the app. She’s actually over there.” Julie smiled, nudging her head over towards her friend, where they were certainly trying their best to eavesdrop.

“Brought a plus one, I see?” Luke chuckled, giving Flynn a wave. Flynn hid her already shielded eyes from view with her book.

“Hey, you gotta remember I was meeting someone whom I had never seen before, and the fact that I didn’t know your last name was not helping.”

Luke’s smile turned bashful again. “Ah. She’s backup.”

“Yep! But I think they’re good to go.” Julie whipped out her phone and sent Flynn a quick message, relieving her of her duties.

“You sure? I might kidnap you.”

“I’d let you kidnap me.”

Oh god. She so did not say that.

He seemed to think it was funny. At least she was amusing. At her own expense, maybe, but amusing nonetheless.

Amusing to Luke Patterson.

If she doesn’t stop saying his last name, she’ll go insane. This is just the dorky guy she’s been talking to. The one she’ll hopefully get to talk to tomorrow.

Despite the rocky start, Julie would say it was a successful date. Coffee turned into lunch at a nearby bistro, and he walked Julie to her car a few blocks away. She didn’t get to her apartment until after 4 o’clock, and Flynn was waiting with two glasses of wine in their shared living room. Julie is eager to spill all the details, and Flynn is the perfect listener, oohing and ahhing at all the right moments.

As Julie crawls into bed after her eventful day, her phone dings on her nightstand.

PayPal: Luke Patterson sent you $500.00 “I had a great time today :) hope to see you again soon!”

Well. If she had calmed down any, this just undid all of her efforts. A wave of guilt floods over her. The concept of a sugar daddy sort of seemed too outlandish to really fathom. But now she feels awful taking his money.

She’s really doing this, isn’t she?

Julie: you really didn’t have to

Luke: but i wanted to

Luke: it’s ok tho right?

Julie: i guess it’s fine, it’s just a lot of money

Luke: i realise how conceited this is going to sound but its no sweat off my back. just think of it as a gift

Gifts. She could live with that.

* * * *

taglist! @ladyblanche :)

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redhawtriot · 5 years ago

Text

Baby Boom (Bakugou x Reader)

Sooo... I think It’s the size of my tag list that was fucking this chapter up so much! Every time I have more than my previous chapter had, this chapter deletes itself from my page/drafts! I’ve contacted Tumblr about it, but don’t cross ur finger’s on that one lol. I am sorry if you weren't able to make the list!

(If you beta read for me you could read the chapters up to an entire day ahead of every else tho! If ur interested in that, just inbox me!)

HnM

Tip Jar ☕- Not expected but always appreciated💞

Month 1, Month 2 , Month 3,

--Month 4--

‘SLAM!’

The front door crashed shut like ammunition through cannon fire. The sharp bang clapped and echoed throughout the small, otherwise quiet living space, and soon, three roommates filed out of their respective rooms. One by one, they inched out to get a glimpse of the oncoming storm: Hurricane Katsuki.

Denki warily removed his gaming headpiece as Bakugou whipped past his bedroom door, “Oh hey, Bakugou! You sure disappeared outta nowhere. We coulda used the backup in squads! Where’d ya go, man!?”

The others listened carefully for the explosive blond’s answer, but got nothing short of an insult in return,

“None of your business, you damn idiots. GO DIE ALREADY!” and with that, Hurricane Katsuki simply slammed the door shut-- somehow even louder than before.

Kaminari, who had gotten the brunt of the explosion, was left wide eyed,

“Woah…”

Sero gave a low whistle as he shook his head at Bakugou’s shut door, “Looks like a wild Teenage Bakugou has entered the chat.”

Denki gave an abrupt, slightly uncomfortable chuckle at the remark, but soon gulped, giving his roommates a concerned gaze, “So… should we…” he trailed off.

Kirishima fervently nodded, stepping fully out into the hallway, “I’ll go check on him, guys.” He flexed before making his way to Bakugou’s room—a nervous habit he had picked up somewhere along the line to reassure himself before he dived headfirst into rough situations.

He looked back to his other two roommates one last time and threw a pleading glance as if to say “Wish me all of the luck” before giving a few slight knocks to the rage-secreting room, “Bakugou,” he called out, “You okay, buddy? I know that there is something up. There’s no point in hiding it…we can talk?”

No answer.

Kirishima gave a long sigh, “Well, when you finally want to talk about it, you know where to find me...”

The other roommates sighed as well before both retreating to their rooms and shutting their doors. Kiri turned to make his way back to his room as well, but only made it a few feet before Bakugou’s door sharply yanked open a few inches.

“Where are those other idiots?” Bakugou’s eyes were redder than their usual vermilion as he glared out from the cracked doorway. Kirishima gave a thick blink in surprise. Had he… had he been crying?

“They back in their rooms?” Bakugou said very lowly. His voice had an extra hint of raspiness weighing it down, Kirishima noticed.

“Y-Yeah.” Eijirou quickly replied, startled by the unseemly sight of his best friend, “They’re prolly back on the game by now.” Bakugou did not say another word as he threw his door open a few more inches and marched deeper into his room to stiffly throw himself on the edge of his bed. Kirishima cautiously followed him-- this was as good of an invitation as any in ‘Bakugou language.’

Bakugou sat, glaring seriously at the floor in front of him, as if it offended him, and his leg bounced nervously. The red head uncomfortably cleared his throat. ‘Holy shit, what the hell is going on…?’ Kirishima had never seen him do that before, “You.. uh.. you wanna talk about it, buddy?”

No answer.

Kirishima waited a few beats before releasing another sigh and shutting the door behind him so that he could make his way to the bed. He sat down next to his best friend and simply sat deep in the silence with him. The two waited for what seemed like hours before someone finally spoke up,

“I got a girl pregnant,” Bakugou said very flatly, still glaring at the floor and bouncing his leg.

Kirshima had to stifle the choke that erupted out of his throat as his own saliva sneaked into his larynx, “Ack! Achkaka!” His natural bodily functions were completely forgotten as his brain tried to compute the sudden and drastic information that was just thrown at him.

Bakugou?? Pregnant? He never thought he would hear the words in the same room, let alone the same sentence! The guy hardly ever did anything but work, work out and come home to play video games. He didn’t converse with people. He didn’t get girls pregnant. Girls didn’t even look at him!

In his coughing fit, Kirishima’s speech was also forgone, “I-I- uh.. man that.. wow I…” he tripped and tumbled over his words. He was dreaming. He had to be. Well, either that or he had wandered into some strange episode of the Twilight Zone or something.

Bakugou’s glare at the floor intensified, “I thought she might not be so bad… but I didn’t want to be with her like this,” Kirishima’s eyes widened at the underlying tone of hurt buried under his friend's words, and then they widened even further once he realized what he just said.

Had Bakugou fallen for someone for the first time?? And then his eyes widened the furthest as things finally began to click within his confused mind.

He sucked into a sharp gasp, “You mean that model!?”

Bakugou simply scoffed, finally relieving his glare form the ground and focusing his hot gaze on Kirishima, “Yeah, turns out she’s actually a fucking bitch.”

Kirishima’s jaw dropped, “BAKUGOU! That’s the mother of your child! You shouldn’t—”

“She didn’t remember the night at all. I was just another fuck toy for her,” Bakugou stood up and clenched his fists over and over again as if they itched to be slammed against something—tears welling up in his red-hot eyes, “Now tell me if the roles were reversed, how shitty it’d be then, huh?” Kirishima immediately shut his mouth from speaking up anymore as he allowed his friend to release his feelings. It wasn’t often that Bakugou built up enough to let things out this way.

Bakugou scoffed again as he began pacing the room, but Kirishima swore that it had the hint of a cry layered within it somewhere, “they might not even be mine since she likes that ‘fuck toy shit’ so much. That night meant nothing to her…” he threw his arm against the wall, effectively tearing a hole into it

Kirishima jumped a bit from the action as his mind briefly wandered to the security deposit on their lease. He pushed these thoughts away as Bakugou stiffly returned to the bed, his leg bouncing even more fervently than before.

Kirishima simply watched for a moment to allow his friend to simmer down before he spoke up very softly, “But you think it is yours though…”

Bakugou’s eyes snapped up to Kirishima’s, whose eyebrows were furrowed deeply into each other as he stared back.

In all his years of knowing Katsuki Bakugou, Kirishima would have never described his best friend with anything even resembling ‘gullible.’ His gut feeling and instinct were as sharp as ever and hardly ever wrong,

“Must be for a reason then…” he tried to look past the tears that filled up within his best friends eyes but they still left his heart feeling a little heavier than usual, “If you think it’s yours then I’ll have your back no matter what buddy. You’re not alone in this.”

“They.”

“What…” Kirishima eyebrows folded toward the center of his expression.

“She’s having fucking twins.”

“Holy Sh…” Kirishima quickly swallowed his words as he took in the forlorn expression plastered onto his friend’s face. There was no room for him to be shocked right now. He had to be Bakuous ‘rock’ so to speak, “I-I mean congratulations!”

Meanwhile you found yourself studying the woman in the reflection of your mirror. Your eyes trailed every detail of her swollen, red eyes. Then to her hair that was fuller than you had remembered—the beauty of bottled color maybe? You danced over the way that loose strands stuck to the slimy mess of tears and mucosa that had accumulated on your cheeks.

Nasty.

A sharp chuckle came out of you, spittle following not too shortly after, but as it reached your ears it resembled more of a cry.

Okay, that’s enough self loathing for one lifetime.

And with that, you moved away from the mirror; however, as you did so, your sight basically smacked the open cabinet of liquor bottles that you were eyeing earlier.

Okay…. Maybe not quite enough self loathing. Your mouth began watering at the delectable sight. It was a desert after a delicious four course meal. There was always room for more…

With a shake of your head, you brought your hand up to smack these thoughts out of your mind. What was wrong with you? You had been a lot of things in life, but were you really so low to bring yourself to effectively murdering your own children?

That’s what would happen if you drank, right?

You loudly groaned as more tears slipped from your eyes. You really didn’t know shit when it came to this pregnancy thing.

Your mind briefly wondered to Baby Notes Vol 1. You should probably take the time to actually read through it a little. Skimming it wouldn’t kill you.

Physically.

The sudden pounding at your door snapped you almost immediately out of your thoughts.

“Y/N?? Y/N, it’s me!”

With a final pathetic sigh you found yourself gathering up all the alcohol from the cabinets that you could into your arms and placing them in the bathtub before jotting over to the door.

As soon as you opened it Deku barged in and gripped you softly, “I came as soon as you called! What’s up, what's wrong?! Are you okay??” His eyes frantically danced around your wet eyes and red sockets before he allowed them to roam all over you, checking for injury.

He wouldn’t ever think that Kacchan was the type of guy to put his hands on you, especially with how much he’s grown since high school, but the nagging voice in the back of Izuku’s mind fervently reminded him of all of the bruises and burns and numberless emotional scars he accumulated with he was quirkless from his childhood friend.

And here was a woman he deeply cared about-- quirkless—having to spend time alone with said childhood friend.

“What’s wrong??” Izuku found himself repeating as his hands mindlessly wiped the fluid from your cheeks. As soon as he committed the action, however, his face ran completely red and he quickly released you from his grip, so that he could get a grip of himself.

You didn’t notice his slip up, and if you did you sure as hell didn’t care at the moment. There were more pressing matters at hand. Two to be exact, “Twins,” you simply said to him as tears began flowing down your cheeks more furiously.

“Huh? Oh… Oh.” Izuku’s eyes went wide as your words sunk in. As soon as he threw you an obviously apologetic glance you threw yourself into his chest and sobbed throwing him a bit off guard as he barely caught you in his arms.

Izuku’s eyes nervously roamed around your home as if he were searching for the right thing to say to you, but as he made contact with an open pantry in your kitchen, his jaw dropped-- your alcohol pantry.

It was far less full than it had been the last time that he visited, “Y/N… What’s with the… have you been drinking?” he pulled you away from his chest and looked seriously into your eyes.

The sight honestly kind of scared you a little—like a 15-year-old being caught with their first beer-- that is, until you remembered that you were innocent as fuck, “No,” you gave a slight chuckle through your tears at the sudden surge of intimidation, “I need your help getting rid of it.”

You walked away from Izuku for a moment, leaving him confused and a bit wary of where this was going, until you returned with a hammer—leaving him even more concerned,

You were aiming for bad ass Harley Quinn vibes, but you were sure that with a dried trail of tears on your cheeks and the force smile splitting your face you came across like more of a psycho ass Harley Quinn. Furthermore, the look on Deku’s face screamed that you were correct (also it screamed ‘GET THIS GIRL IN A STRAIGHT JACKET!’).

“What are you gonna do with THAT?” Izuku squealed.

“I need to get my favorite bottles out of the house. Stat. and you're gonna help me.” At your words, Deku gave a gigantic sigh of relief, but still kept his eyes glued on the hammer in your hands. You noticed and shrugged a bit, “Smashing things is also really cathartic. I am sure you of all people can agree with that.”

“Heh… Yeah. But are you sure this is okay? I mean, I don't want to raise your blood pressure or anything because--”

“Deku. Less talk, more smash,” you threw a towel in your tub to make clean up a little easier, and so you didn't knock a chunk of tile on your bathtub. You gave Deku one last glance. He was still looking very uncertain, but you threw him a short smile before bringing the hammer down onto a bottle of tequila. The bottle instantly shattered, sending bits of glass throughout your tub. You looked up to give Deku an excited glance, and surprisingly, he returned one right back.

“See? Not so bad!”

But you spoke too soon as the scent kicked you in the fucking nose. It was too far to turn back now. You choked down your nausea and handed Deku the Hammer, “You go ahead and get started. I’ll go get another weapon-- I mean… tool,” you corrected yourself after he sent you a terrified stare.

As you made your way back to the after grabbing your second weapon-- I mean tool a sudden thought crossed your mind. Without hesitation, you pulled your phone out and dialed in,

“Hello?”

“Yes. How may I help you today?” Dr. Yamakawa sounded from the other line.

“It’s Y/N…Y/N L/N…” you trailed off, hoping that you wouldn't have to say the ‘p word’ or anything relating to it.

His old ass better take the hint. To your dismay, his old ass did not take the hint, and a long pause of awkward silence filled the air.

You pursed your lips together in annoyance, “Mama Bakugou,” you clarified through gritted teeth, still dancing around the fact that you were a maternity patient of his.

“Ohhhhh!” He exclaimed, causing your face to fall into an expression of disappointment as he continued, “What can I do for you, Mama Bakugou?!”

This mf. You internally ground and fought the urge to facepalm, “Well. I need you to write a doctors note for me.”

“For…?”

“Work?”

“For your pregnancy? Dear, why don’t you just take maternity leave for that?”

“No.” In the moment you shook your head even knowing that he couldn't see you, “I need a few weeks more before I can tell my job about this… situation. I’m a model. They own me through a contract and I didn't exactly add two roommates to the lease on my body...”

There was a pause on the other line, causing your heart to lurch a bit, but things soon went back to normal when he finally spoke up, “I’ll see what I can do. I’ll email you something.”

You gave one final thanks (and an internal ‘yessss’) before making your way back to the bathroom, “Hey Deku, sorry it took me so long I was just--” you froze at the sight in front of you. The shirt that Izuku wore was completely drenched in liquid and your tub had a gigantic hole on the side.

Your lips fumbled over themselves as you gawked at the spectacle. Deku could only send you a nervous laugh,

“Uh, hahaaa… Can we be done now? This… this burns,” he rapidly blinked the liquid from his eyes as he glances back down to the lot of broken bottles in your tub before throwing your one more pleading glance.

You choked down a laugh, causing it to flee from you in the form of a snort, “Someone had some pent up aggression, huh?”

In response, his face delved into a deep shade of red, “I.. uh..” he had no idea how to answer you when you looked at him like that-- your lips curved into a stunning smirk of a smile. Izuku promptly cleared his throat, “C-can I take a shower?”

“Obviously not that one-- you're totally fixing that by the way Mr. Big Shot Hero,” with a laugh you swiftly made your way to him and carefully grabbed the hammer from his grasp, looking up to see his face dive even deeper into crismon. You flashed a smile at the display. He really was adorable as hell.

You took in his face bit by bit-- his soft, blushed skin, his freckles cheeks, his round eyes. As you digested his expression you swore you could see an entire forest within his stare. Suddenly your heart pinged.

“Uh, Y/N,” Izuku interrupted your thoughts, causing your heart to throb for a different reason as you suddenly realized the proximity of the two of you. You stepped back so fast that your head spun. At least, you hoped that was why your head was spinning,

“You can use my shower.” you said very abruptly as you turned away from him,gesturing him to follow you to your bedroom.

Your bedroom. Your hear throbbed once more. Deep down, you hoped that you were about to have a heart attack or something; however, something within you told you that that probably was not the case. You swallowed hard.

What the fuck was happening?

‘KNOCK kNOCK KNOCK’

The next morning you found yourself stirring awake to a loud succession of banging. Your eyes fluttered open for a moment only before they snapped back shut. The magnet drawing them together and you closer to sleep was much stronger than whatever noise was trying to wake you up, “Mhmfmfm…” you muttered as you rolled over on the couch and pulled the blanket over your head.

Izuku, however, was not one to ignore such an obvious noise and he found himself trudging off of the other sofa he slept on to answer whoever was banging on the door.

‘KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK!’

“Coming!” the green haired man tiredly called out as he launched himself toward the front door and swung it open.

The astounded face on the other side of the entrance soon mirrored his own.

“Kacchan!” Izuku exclaimed.

Bakugou’s shocked expression very quickly contorted into one of pure rage, “What the hell is going on here?!” He screamed causing you to jolt awake as you threw the blanket over your head. You found yourself fumbling up as Bakugou continued to scream pointed to Deku, “The fuck is he here for??”

You made your way over to the two men- one seemingly terrified, and the other obviously enraged. As your head began lifting from the daze of sleep, you crossed your arms and glared at Bakugou, “He spent the night helping me with something,” you shook your head, trying to free yourself from the oncoming headache, “Hey, better question: why are you here?”

Bakugou seemed to swallow his own tongue as his jaw clenched shut, “I wanted to… uh…” he glared at the ground as he tried to find his next words. Shit. why was this so fucking hard? He should have never listened to that Shitty Hair and come over here. Bakugou scoffed to himself before redirecting his stern gaze back toward you, “Come with me.”

You could only blink.

What kind of caveman talk…You tilted your head as you fleetingly threw a confused glance toward Deku, who only shrugged in response.

Bakugou quickly grew tired of yours and Dekus silent conversation, “You wanna hang out or not??” he growled before throwing another heated finger toward Deku, “And he can’t come.”

“I was just heading out anyways. It’s no big deal really!” Izuku defensively threw his hands up as if to show Bakugou that he was no threat at all. He went to gather a few of his belongings from the sofa he slept on before throwing Bakugou one more gaze-- this one a lot more astute.

A majority of Midoriya’s mind told him that there was nothing to worry about at all, but there was still a small section of him that couldn't shake the memories of how Bakugou treated him as a quirkless child. Izuku knew that he would never hurt you! But… just in case…

“You take care of her Kacchan,” the tone came off pleadingly but the look in his eyes was a bit stern. You had never seen this portion of Deku before and it almost instantly caused your chest to thud, harshly reminding you of last night’s sensations. Shit.

“Don't tell me what the fuck to do, Deku. Those are my kids in there. Not yours. You just remember that,” Bakugou scoffed, causing Izuku’s expression to falter ever so slightly before he fixed it again.

Your jaw dropped at the sheer bluntness of his statement, “Kacchan, what the f--”

“I guess you’re right, Kacchan,” Izuku began, “Sorry if I crossed a boundary,” he smiled at Bakugou-- who only huffed in return-- and quickly turned to you, making the tightness in your chest worse, “Bye, Y/N!” Izuku smiled, almost too innocently, considering the raging war in your gut at the moment.

You smiled back-- a feeble attempt at masking the inner turmoil ravaging your insides. “Peace, bb,” you gave him a weak hug before gesturing him out of your home. You threw him one final smile before shutting the door. You instantly whipped your head back around the the blonde brat behind you, “What. The. Fuck!?”

“I already told you. I want to hang out.”

“Are you fucking allergic to texting or some shit??” you yelled, “You just waltz in like you own the damn place and demand me to ‘Ohhh ahhh wo-man! come with me, wo-man’,” you renacthed his prehistoric behavior.

Bakugou felt his muscles tighten in response to your taunting. Your loud nature, mixed with the confrontational behavior was reminding him way too much of his own mother. He swore on his life that he would never end up with a woman like her and yet, here he was standing in front of her fucking carbon copy. The thought made him sick as he groaned in frustration,

“Shitty hair was fucking wrong!” Bakugou spat, causing your eyebrows to furrow in confusion as he continued, “The last thing I want to do is hang out with a bitching hag like you!!”

Your jaw dropped, “Excuse me??” You have heard pretty much every other insult in the book hurdled at you, but ‘hag’ was never one of them. You laughed, “I wasn’t a hag when you fucked me all night, huh?!”

“Yeah? I don't know what was wrong with me then. You are way different when I am not pumped full of alcohol, apparently.”

Your laughter immediately ceased, “Whatever. you came up to me and confessed your love like a raging SIMP, and now all of a sudden I’m a bitch?

“Fuck! Well, I got to know you past a pretty, stupid, fucking face!”

You blinked in shock. The unfamiliar feeling of your heart sinking into the pit of your stomach overwhelmed you as hurt surrounded your face. Practically your entire life, being beautiful has been a mask of sorts for your overwhelming failures. Still, here this man was-- practically a stranger-- seeing past your facade, looking directly into the steaming pile of shit that you truly were. Your eyes suddenly became warm as tears filled them,

“Then why the fuck are you even here, asshole?? TO PISS ME OFF?” you shouted, throwing your hands by your side and clenching them so tightly that your nails dug into your skin.

“BECAUSE I WANTED TO KNOW ALL OF YOU!” he screamed back. The shocking words fled out from under his harsh tone and stunned you as your brain processed them. You felt your fist unfurl a bit as he continued, “I wanted to know you. Good and bad. Bitchy and not. You're carrying my children… I want to know them,” he finished, almost defeated. This tell of emotion was obviously the last thing he wanted to be doing, you could tell.

Still, it meant a lot for some reason that he felt that he could do this with you “Oh,” you breath out, unable to articulate much else.

“Oh?!” he angrily repeated. Bakugou felt his face shrivel in disgust. He just poured out his being to you once more for you to trample on it like a fucking gymnast mat. However, as Bakugou formed his mouth to say something else, you halted him,

“Go… have a seat,” you gestured to the couch, blinking the accumulating liquid in your eyes away. The blond could only shoot a lone eyebrow up in response, causing you to sigh in exasperation, “Well, Are you just gonna stand there looking like that, or what?” he gave you one final scoff before making his way to one of your couches and seating himself comfortably, propping one of his feet on your coffee table as he glared at the non functioning television.

“Welcome, I guess. I am sure you’ll have no issue making yourself comfortable,” you deadpanned, eyeing his propped up legs, “I’ll go make us some… tea?” you suggested , but no answer came from him, “Tea it is.”

You rolled your eyes before trudging away. You always loved green tea, but for some reason the smell had been killing you lately, so you opted for peppermint tea instead. It was inferior by, far, but it matched the inferior, pathetic life that you had adopted recently.

Jeez. How much self deprecation can you fit into one week? Would this have any effect on the babies? If so, they’d probably come out singing RnB or some shit in the maternity ward. They’d have already stressed dyed hair and an entire Tumblr dedicated to sad aesthetics before they reached their first birthday, for god's sake.

You vehemently shook your head to once again get rid of the oncoming headache that snuck in with these disgusting thoughts, “So Kacchan!” you called out as you walked back to the living room, “What do you wanna know?”

“Don’t call me that,” he simply barked.

“What?”

“Don’t call me that name. I fucking hate it.”

You snorted and took a seat next to his glaring figure. You tried not to notice how he shifted further away from you as you sat down, “I am sure Deku disliked being called worthless his whole life too,” you smirked up at him, “I bet he fucking hated it.”

The atmosphere seemed to once more shift into a much heavier tone after your statement and the room fell quiet for a few beats. Bakugou’s small glare morphed into a much more forced one. It was as if he was trying to use the glare to hide another feeling, you noticed.

Finally, he spoke, “How much do you know.”

You tilted your head into another shrug, “Enough to know that you probably hate the fact that I am quirkless.”

His face contorted into one of pure disgust as the glareful mask he wore faded away like yesterday’s lunch. “I don’t give a fuck,” he argued, but the look you sent him showed no sign of believing it. Bakugou’s disgust deepened, but he made sure to control it enough to where you didn't know that it was directed towards himself.

“Oh really? Let’s see if you can keep that same energy when one of your kids pops out without that flashy quirk of yours,” Of course his face fell, just as you suspected it would. Just like it had for multiple other men you had told.

Most men’s pride utterly shrivels into dust as soon as the pretty girl in front of them-- the one that they fantasize about having a dream life with-- ends up telling them that they are quirkless. As soon as the words fall out of your mouth, the men's dreamy gaze effectively shatters alongside their hopes and dreams concerning you.

Nobody wants to pass weakness onto their children.

“You know what? I think I’ll go first,” you snapped him out of the uncomfortable, uncharacteristic silence, and he gave you an irritated, questioning glance, “You wanted to play 20 questions with me, or whatever. No limitations, okay? And I have the first question for you,” you explained before sending him a challenging gaze, “How could someone so full of hate truly aspire to be a hero?”

You expected him to blow up at you-- to scream, and yell and argue that you were wrong.

Yet.

The slightly apologetic, yet stern look on his face threw you for an absolute loop, “I wanted to win.” he simply answered. Somehow his matter of a factness was worse for you than any furious defensive scenario you had conjured in your mind, but as you went to open your mouth with a roll of your eyes, he halted you,

“That was when I was younger, “ he sharply clarified, “I wanted to win more than anything. To be better than everyone else—and that hasn’t changed but there's more to it now. I have to protect the people I care about—like my idiot roommates—I want to make sure we all come home safe by the end of the night.”

Once again he had thrown you off with a surprisingly normal non-caveman response, “That was actually…”

“My turn,” Bakugou abruptly cut you off, “How many men the you fuck this past few months?”

Your jaw dropped.

And back to Neanderthal you mother fucking guess! “Are you fucking kiddin—”

“You said no limitations,” he gruffly stated.

You bit your tongue and shot him a glare that could match his own before giving a sharp sigh, “Four during the last year. You were the last and the only one during the month I… conceived,” you swallowed as the word left a bitter taste in your mouth, “My turn. What about you?”

“What.”

“How many women the past year?”

“Why the hell does it matter?” Bakugou argued. Your eyes shot down to his body as it shifted around even further from you. From his body language you could tell that his answer was sure to be outrageously high.

He was an extremely attractive guy after all. Those rippling arms were nothing to fuck around with. His red hot eyes could melt steel beams with a passing glance. The chisel of his permanently hardened expression could slice through even the most secured of panties.

Yes. and there was no denying that he was a sex god in his own right.

It also didn't help that his temperament sucked, so you doubted he had had many long term relationships. He had all of the ingredients of a man whore stirring within him.

“I’m just curious,” you shrugged.

Bakugou threw his glare away from you for a moment as he contemplated on whether or not to answer your stupid question. He had his own questions to ask you still so he guessed that he didn't really have a choice if he wanted his answers,“...One.”

Your jaw dropped, “Seriously?” as his face fell into a furious shade of red you were smacked with a sudden realization,

“Kacchan, did you... lose your virginity to m...?” He glared even further away from you, but you could still see his ears falling even deeper into red-- effectively giving you your answer, “Oh my…” he trailed off. No wonder he was so fucking head over heels for you! Through your discomfort a horribly timed joke flew past your lips,

“You knocked her up on the first try huh? You’ve got some super swimmers,” you half laughed, but Bakugou obviously didn't find anything funny about it as he snarled angrily as you,

“Shut up!” he barked, throwing a pillow at you, “My turn. What’s up with you and that shitty Deku?”

The pillow hit you, but it was really his question that had smacked you in the face. Your chest thudded, and you prayed to whoever was listening that he couldn't see the racing of your heart, “He’s just a friend! A really good friend to me. Probably my first actual friend ever,” you said this as a joke, but obviously forgot who you were talking to.

“You didn’t make any in high school?” Bakugou’s face twisted up disbelievingly.

“Never went. Couldn’t afford the tuition...” now it was you who was uncomfortably shifting from him.

“Your parents didn’t help you out?”

“Slow down there, buckaroo,” you laughed, but his face remained as stern as ever as you continued, “That’s like three questions In a row for you. My turn.”

Luckily he caught the hint and didn't press upon the subject any further.

Through the night, you found out a lot of things about him. He was actually younger than you by a few years at twenty years old. His parents were both fashion designers (probably the biggest fucking shock to you considering his choice of black shirts and flannels) and that he was working on making his own hero agency since he had already climbed up the ranks in Japan.

Your game, however, was cut short by the growling of your stomach.

Bakugou almost immediately stood up, surprising you as he walked to your kitchen. Well, you did say ‘make yourself at home’ but this was a little upfront wasn't it? He soon yelled to you from the kitchen as you sat in shock still, “What do you have to eat in this shit hole?!”

Shit hole? You glance around at the decorations and clean atmosphere that you pride yourself on. That jerk. Your house was not a shit hole! “You can eat shit if you want. I’m not hungry.”

“The hell are you talking about? I just heard your stomach growling.”

You shrugged, “Just indigestion. I get a lot of stomach issues with these things inside of me,” the sudden clanging of pots and pan in your kitchen startled you, “What the hell are you doing??” you called out before marching to your kitchen.

You found him rummaging through your cabinets, stopping momentarily to judgmentally eye your still plentiful liquor cabinet for a moment before moving on, “You can starve yourself all you fucking want, but you're not fucking starving my kids.”

Your breath hitched in your throat at his accusation, “I’m not starving.”

“You think I’m fucking blind?”

“I have to stay in shape for work. Just like you I am sure,” you walked up to him and grabbed a bicep for demonstration, but he quickly threw your hand away from him as his face fell into a bout of shock. He quickly regained himself,

“Whatever,” he grunted before swinging open your refrigerator.

“What are y—Hey!” you yelped as he began haphazardly throwing food onto one of your counters.

“Is all you have in here rabbit food? Jesus fucking Christ,” he ignored your cries and began throwing certain items together and heating up a pot of water.

You couldn't help but blink at the display. He seemed pretty natural in the kitchen and that in itself was unnatural considering his caveman persona, “You... cook?” you felt uneasy.

“You don’t?”

Honestly, your diet consisted of salads and ramen since you were 15, so cooking wasn't a necessity. You reluctantly shook your head at him.

He looked completely disappointed and disgusted with you but, hey, what else is new? Bakugou scoffed, “Well you’re gonna have to learn how now. Pay attention.”

You rolled your eyes at him. If you wanted fucking Gordon Ramsey bitching you around in the kitchen you would have clicked on that stupid ad that always popped up on your Youtube. Then again, Bakugou was more of a Guy Fieri with that spiky hair of his.

Whatever.

You guessed learning how to cook one meal wouldn't be too terrible,

“What are you stirring the water for if you didn’t put anything in it yet?”

“It helps it heat up faster, idiot.”

“Do you actually throw the noodles on the wall to see if they’re finished?”

Bakugou threw you a frown, “If you’re a fucking dumbass,” he said, moving you aside as he began stirring a saucer filled with vegetables. He completely disregarded your yelp as he moved you as a parade of thoughts bombarded his mind.

He would have to come over more and keep you and his kids fed if you truly didn’t know how to cook. He scoffed and his stirring hand more slightly more erratically with frustration. What kind of grown woman didn't know how to cook pasta?

His thoughts were halted by a loud squelch that sounded through the air. He immediately threw his gaze up to the wall in front of his face and his expression fell at the sight. He growled, snapping his gaze back toward you by the pot of pasta, “WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU?!” his furious glare danced between you and the wet noodle that stuck to the wall.

“I wanted to see if it would actually stick! Don’t get your balls in a twist, it was one noodle!”

“So damn wasteful,” Bakugou ground his teeth as he frustratedly scrapped the starchy pasta off of your wall. He opened his mouth to tell you just this, but immediately snapped it back shut as he felt something being thrown at his head, “that better not be what I think it is…” he snarled through his teeth as he eyed food dangling from one of the spines of his hair.

“Don’t worry, Kacchan. It’s not a worm,” you laughed, but your giddiness was soon cut off as a hot noodle was thrown back in your direction. You could only blink as it stuck itself on your nose.

“Hmph,” the corners of Bakugou’s lips slowly curled into a smirk, “It’s a good look on you, noodle face,” You laughed but once again was cut off. The brief sound of his laugh coinciding with your own shocked you.

His smile slowly died down as he caught wind of you gawking at him. He cleared his throat, “Are you done being a child? I’m ready to enjoy my good ass cooking.”

However, you didn't answer him as you once again found a smile creeping onto your face. He rolled his eyes and began making himself a plate of food, but he quickly grew tired of you smiling at him like some bimbo,

“What?!” He snapped, “You want another noodle to the face.”

You shook your head as you shuffled past him to serve yourself a plate, “No.. just you have a nice laugh.”

He scoffed, “That all you're eating?” he completely disregarded your comment but you decided to let it die too,

“I don’t see you with any food on your plate,” you shrugged, “I’d be more worried about yourself if I were you,” you winked at him before setting down at the table.

The night went pretty well after that. So well, in fact, that the two of you decided to have “parental meetings” every few days so that Bakugou could teach you how to cook. You ended up learning how to make 10 more dishes within the next three weeks.

Bakugou and you didn't exactly become close, but there were far less screaming matches than there had been in your first few meetings. You still didn't know him very well, but he wasn't necessarily a stranger anymore.

It was… nice.

The next check up came very quickly because of your lack of employment and your dates-- err um… “parental meetings” with Bakugou.

“Your twins should be about the size of avocados now! We’ll check again with a routine ultrasound. We do have the DNA tests in for you all so I’ll just go and run for those real quick.. well walk briskly. You don’t do an awful lot of running at my age.”

“I don’t do an awful lot of running now,” you joked, and Bakugou sent you a stern glare that screamed, ‘don’t encourage him.’ you shrugged as the doctor walked out of the room.

It was silent for what seemed like forever. You and Bakugou still weren't very good at sparking conversations, but eventually he spoke up as you laid back on the exam table, “You're really fucking showing now.”

You brows instantly came together, high fiving each other in your state of being roasted, “Thanks...” you deadpanned.

The look on your face sent a wave of hurt through the blond’s heart.

What the hell. It was like he felt your hurt. For the first time in a long time, Bakugou actually regretted his choice of words. He glared at the ground as he attempted to change the subject, “You’ve been eating, right?”

“How else Would I be sitting here, looking fat and talking to you, Kacchan.”

“I told you don’t call me that,” he paused, as if he were really considering his next statement, “Call me Katsuki,” he finally dragged out.

You rolled your eyes, “Okay, Kacchan.”

Just as Bakugou open his mouth the no doubt scream at you, Dr. Yamakawa entered the room,

“Mama Bakugou! We have some really good news. Everything seems fine with the twins according to the DNA testing. One is a little small right now, but it’s completely normal for there to be a dominant twin so to speak. No genetic abnormalities or health concerns,” you saw Bakgou visibly stiffen at this before relaxing as the doctor continued, “’Cept for you.”

You shook your head, blinking heavily as if you’d just been punched in the brow, “Me?”

“You do have a concerning BMI—you tend to lean a little towards underweight. I understand you are in the profession of modeling correct,” he said very, curtly, “You need to add more calories to your daily intake. You wont need to ‘eat for three” as they say, but you do need to put on some substantial pounds or you will risk a premature birth..”

You had no fucking idea what to say to that. ‘Nice?’ ‘Cool beans.’ ‘fucking just give me the mother of the year award already!’ You felt your chest tighten and suddenly you realized you hadn't been breathing. You sucked in abruptly, causing the doctor to take a step towards you,

“You're looking a little flushed there, Mama Bakugou.”

“Well how else is she supposed to respond when you tell her like that, old man?!” Bakugou snapped, causing both you and the doctor to gawk at him.

“Kacchan! What the fuck don’t talk to him like that, jerk!”

Bakugou scoffed, throwing his glare, much more pouty this time-- to the jar of cotton balls on the counter of the office.

“It wouldn't help either of you to sugar coat this, son,” the doctor sighed, “You have made it this far along in her pregnancy. Miscarriage is substantially less likely but if you want to give these babies a better chance, I’d suggest higher caloric intake.”

Needless to say, Bakugou did not leave the doctor's office that day a very pleasant man. He would angrily stalk ahead of you a for a few moments before pausing and grumbling about how ‘fucking slow’ you were as you caught up before the cycle would start all over again. You could only take this for so long, however,

“What!?” you yelled suddenly as the grumbling phase of his cycle began once more, “Will you stop fucking brooding already and speak your mind—”

He instantly snapped his face towards your own to stare into your eyes. You fumbled back a bit as the intense vermilion bore into you. You opened your mouth to speak but his serious expression exclaimed something before yours could,

“I wanna move in with you.”

You paused. You couldn't have fucking heard that right.

He… wants to...

“What…?” you mouthed.

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