#oh? like you’ve been saying you’ll do for four goddamn months?

[cetoddle-archive]

i want die

[junisfics]

1:44 AM* — Eren Jaeger

Pairing: Fuckboy! Eren x Reader

Word Count: 1.8k

Summary: You and Eren's relationship status has always been up in the air... but you'll always be the one he texts in the middle of the night looking to get his dick wet

Content: Unestablished Relationship, Mutual Pining, Love Confessions

Content Warnings: Smut/ Nsfw 18 + (Breeding Kink)

minors can read, but please don't interact (like, comment, reblog)

you hear your phone buzz a few times beside you, vibrating and shifting around on the wood of the nightstand as you turn yourself over to grab it.

‘come over’ ‘y/n, please’

two messages from eren jaeger. 1:44 in the morning. and although his messages were vague, you knew exactly what he wanted. it was the same thing he always wanted.

you sigh, unplugging your phone and rolling over to your back. if you were to scroll up, all the messages ever sent between you two would mirror the ones that were sent only moments ago. and even though you hated how he was using you to his own satisfaction, you could never tell him no. 

‘now?’ you reply, but you already know the answer.

‘yes’ ‘need you so bad’ 

his response sends butterflies erupting in your stomach and makes your face grow hot. you know it was a manipulation tactic, saying ‘you’ instead of ‘it. he had handfuls of other girls that would be more than willing to fulfill his late night needs. but it still makes your heart swell, it makes you feel special.

you slip out from under your sheets, swinging your legs over the side of your bed and tugging off your sweatpants and panties to replace them with pretty baby blue ones and a pair of light grey cotton shorts. you do the same with your tee-shirt, trading it for navy, straight-bottomed sweatshirt that was your dad’s in college.

you take a moment to brush your teeth before slipping on some shoes, grabbing your keys, and getting in your car to drive halfway across town to eren’s complex.

over time, eren has used his living-alone situation very much to his advantage. he’s also used his good looks to his advantage. so whenever he wants, he finds a girl, brings her home, and fucks her senseless until she comes crawling back for more.

but as much as they beg, eren almost never ever gives them seconds. and up until his sophomore year in college, there were only five other girls that he’d gotten with more than once. and until he met you, there was no one else who was consistently getting with him.

you had met him at a party, fucked him in his car, then expected it to be a one night stand type thing. but not even four days later, an unknown number had texted you asking to meet up again. and it was eren.

and ever since that party over a year ago, the hookups were consistently inconsistent. sometimes eren would want you twice a day, everyday, for a week straight. and sometimes he would go a month without messaging you.

and it made you so happy but so hurt at the same time; to have to go without him, someone you've fallen so badly in love with, for so long hurt terribly, but to always have him coming back for you made you swell with pride.

the moment you rap your knuckles against his door, it's swung open. and behind the door stands a shirtless and visibly flustered eren. his face was blushed red and his chest was heaving with every heavy inhale he took.

the moment he can get ahold of you, he does. eren grabs your arms and yanks you inside, only to close the door then press you up against it with his lips on yours.

you can't help but giggle against his lips, "well, hello to you too"

but eren responds by leaning down to grab your thighs and wrapping them around his waist, pressing your back up against the door and kissing you harder.

as surprising as it was, this wasn't new. eren has his moments where he would just want a quick fuck and that's all, he'd skip the small talk and just bend you over.

you can already feel his cock hard against the inside of your thigh, pressing through his sweatpants and grinding against you. you wonder how long he was like this before he texted you...

you let your hands come up to hold his face in your hands as you kiss him back, matching his desperation. your tongues are already sliding against each other, licking into your open mouths and swallowing down and escaping moans.

he was so desperate, so so desperate, you could almost feel his body trembling with arousal and desire. his grip was borderline painful, fingers digging into the soft flesh of your thighs and his teeth were knocking against your own. it was so rushed, so primal.

he pulls you off the door, still holding you against him and his face still in your hands as he blindly finds his way to his bedroom and drops you onto the bed, your back hits the mattress

eren crawls over you again, taking your neck in his right hand gently as he kisses you once more.

he grinds his hips against yours, sliding his clothed cock over your cunt, dragging the weight of it over your clit until you're whimpering at the sensation.

his left hand slides lower, down your torso and to your hip to grab ahold of your waistband.

"off, off now." he mutters, pushing at the fabric until you aid him in sliding it down your thighs.

once your shorts are off, he pushes his own pants just below his hips and frees his cock. he had went commando, no boxers, no briefs, no nothing under those sweatpants.

and once again you're wondering, 'how long has he been like this' and 'what was he doing before this'... but you know the answer.

his fingers on one hand nimbly grab the inner crease of your panties, pulling them aside while the other hand braces by your head as he slides the head of his cock through your accumulated arousal.

he only lets it slide over your clit a few times to watch you twitch beneath him before he brings it back down to your entrance and pushes inside you with one steady thrust.

"fuck me," he spits, head dropping forward to watch the way your hips tilt into his thrust. his hand beside your head hastily grabs the hem of your sweatshirt to push the waist of it up past your tits before coming back down next to you.

"oh my god," you whine, your right hand coming up to grab the wrist of his now planted hand, your other holding your sweater up your chest for him.

he could fuck you stupid every goddamn day of your life and you'd still never get used to the feeling of his cock filling you.

his arm shakes under the pressure of holding him up, and really only then does it hit you how badly he needed you.

"how — how long were you like this?" you breathe, circling your hips against his, your clit grinding against his pelvis.

"so fucking long. you have no idea what you do to me. 'was thinking about fucking you all day — god. m'fucking hand wasn't enough." he grunts, pulling himself out of you real slow, savoring the your cunt grips him, "the others weren't enough... needed you."

you can only let out a shaky moan at his response. it made your entire body run a degree hotter than it already was. never before has he so openly voiced his thoughts about you outside of sex, never before told you that he's thought about you while jerking himself off.

he slides his cock back in again, a low groan bubbling up from his throat as he does so. he'll never get over the way your body shakes as he reaches his hilt.

"yeah?" you encourage him to keep talking, wanting to hear him admit it again — needing to hear how much he wanted you, was desperate for you.

"fuck, yeah. you're the only one who takes my cock so well, they — god — they don't squeeze me the way you do." he groans, jaw dropping open as he finally picks up his pace

every thrust he takes he slightly increases his speed until his hips are slapping against yours and sending your pretty tits back and forth.

eren doesn't know where to look. he's stuck between watching your face melt in pleasure, watching your pretty little cunt stretch around his cock, or watching your pretty tits bounce in front of him. god you were so perfect for him.

"'s why i keep coming back to you," he pants, his free hand taking your jaw in his grasp as he brings his forehead against yours, "wanna be inside you forever, wanna see your stupid pretty face forever, wanna hear you beg for me forever."

"eren —" you cry, so overwhelmed both physically and mentally. you look into his beautiful jade eyes, watching his pupils dialate with lust — love — as he continues to fuck himself into you

"want this pussy to be mine, 's gonna be mine, y/n. you're gonna be mine." he says, his hold on your jaw growing tighter as he keeps pushing into you over and over and over.

"please, please — wanna be yours" you choke out these pathetic broken sobs that make eren's hearth ache so wonderfully. there were tears swelling on your lash line.

it was pathetic how wound up he's got you in minutes, but the way he's filling you, the way he's talking to you... it's all too too much

"love this cunt —" he breathes, eyes flitting to watch himself fill you, "love your pretty tits, love you. god, i love you — fuck — let me fill you, 'need to fill you, let me cum inside please."

your heart hurts. it hurt so fucking bad but so fucking god. it was all caught in your throat, swelling and choking you up.

you can only nod in his hand, those tears drip past your lashes and stream hot down your cheeks, "please, please cum inside, fill me up. make me yours, eren, i love you — 'always loved you"

your voice is raspy and you can barely hear yourself, but eren hears you. eren hears your confession and it sends him over the edge, and with a low groan, he pushes himself to the hilt and spills his release inside you

"god, yes," your moans are broken as you cum around his cock, squeezing him so nice and milking him of everything he's got

and your release is more than physical. it feels like a dam has broken over, been flooded and poured out to him. you were holding it in for so goddamn long and it's out.

eren holds you against him, holding you so tight because now he's got you.

JUNISFICS © 2021

[kiridarling]

𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐄 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐒.

katsuki bakugou | birthday gone wrong (aha), f!reader, baker!reader, pro hero!katsuki, blizzards, angst and smut, exhibitionism, cockwarming, begging, confessions. minors dni!

— 4.7k words

Wanna blow off some steam?

“Surprise!”

Katsuki jumps ten feet high, and the plastic grocery bags precariously balanced on each finger tear without a second thought. Apples hit the ground with a thud and the egg carton with a depressing slap; one that signifies the crack of at least half a dozen. Katsuki looks at the crowd, red-faced and livid, and Eijirou Kirishima intercepts the awkward silence with:

“Happy Birthday Bakubro! I know y—“

“Said that I didn’t want a fuckin’ party?” Katsuki growls, groceries forgotten on the forgotten. Eijirou looks guilty and chuckles, scratching the back of his head.

“W-Well, yeah, but—“

“Everybody out.”

People sigh, and you think you hear Denki whisper told you he’d kick us out. You hate to say that you foresaw a similar outcome. Katsuki’s never been one for people.

Especially you.

“Awe come on, Kacchan,” Izuku says with hands on his hips. “We came all this way! Just let us stay for a little bit.”

“Yeah!” Eijirou seems to cheer up once given a sliver of hope. “Plus, we got cake and stuff. And Just Dance.”

Katsuki narrows his eyes, but you know better—he’s always had a soft spot for the redhead. You all wait with baited breath, wondering if this entire evening was a bust, as Katsuki weighs his options in a pool of fallen groceries.

“One hour.”

Eijirou gasps so hard he chokes, and Katsuki’s generosity earns him applause from the audience. (Plus whoops and hollers from Denki and Mina.)

“And I mean it—y’all have sixty fuckin’ minutes before you’re gone without a goddamn trace. Kapeesh?”

“Kapeesh!”

Katsuki sighs, rubbing at his temples as he steps over the mess at the front door. You assume he’ll make Eijirou clean it up. “Whatever. Where’s the fuckin’ cake?”

Ah.

“In the kitchen, my good sir!” Denki says as he ushers the ash-blond into the said kitchen, the rest of the party hot on their heels. Eijirou grabs the cake from the fridge and you’re tense until the plate hits the marble of their island.

“Flavor?” Katsuki asks, raising an eyebrow.

“Uh, I dunno, [Y/N] made it,” Eijirou throws you under the bus, just like that, and you want to scoff at the way Katsuki freezes—if only for a moment. Eijirou’s oblivious as ever, “[Y/N]?”

“It’s red velvet,” you say, trying not to burn under Katsuki’s carmine eyes. You don’t know why he doesn’t look away.

“Frosting?”

“Buttercream.”

As if you’d give him anything else.

Eijirou tries his best to cram 26 candles into the cake before being forced to opt for 23 lest he ruin your decorations. Denki presses him to make a wish and Katsuki rolls his eyes as he blows out the candles. Eijirou wipes an invisible tear because ‘his boy is getting so old.’ Mina and Jiro cut the cake and people seem to enjoy it, and you think that maybe, reuniting with your high school friends after so long isn’t as bad as you thought it’d be.

Even if he said he never wanted to see you again.

“—due to the incoming blizzard, we highly suggest all those who reside in the red and orange zones stay inside until it passes; which should be around ten am tomorrow morning.”

You spoke too soon.

Katsuki turns to the crowd, and you know what he’s going to say before his lip curls.

“Out.”

“Kacchan, don’t be unreasonable!” Izuku says from his comfortable position on the couch. “We’d get caught in the storm if we leave now.”

“Not if you’re fuckin’ fast enough,” Katsuki growls, pulling the greenette’s to his feet by his hair. “Get out, I’m not bunking with you fuckers overnight.”

“Dude,” Denki points to the window, and if you hadn’t known any better, you would’ve thought the blizzard had already started. “If we leave now, we’ll literally die.”

“Die, then.”

Eijirou sighs, clapping his roommate on the back. “C’mon, man. You know we ca—“

There’s a whirr then a click, and the lights and tv die at once. You can’t see a thing but you definitely hear Katsuki shout:

“Motherfucker!”

Eijirou turns his phone flashlight on first; Katsuki’s busy angrily flicking at the light to no avail. You sigh, turning to the ash-blond (and ignoring those ugly fucking butterflies in your stomach.)

“It’s a blackout Katsuki. The lights aren’t going to work.”

“Don’t you think I fuckin’ know that, dumbass?” And your chest tightens because even though he’s not eighteen anymore, he sounds the same—but you aren’t sure why you expected him to sound so different either.

You lift an eyebrow (not that he can see it), “It doesn’t look like you do.”

Denki snorts at that, hollering about how you just owned the ash-blond as Katsuki yells at him to shut the fuck up. It’s...familiar and comfortable, like you’re all in high school again, before you had to worry about your friends dying in their line of work because you couldn’t be there with them.

Before you got injured.

“Well I mean, we have a few blankets,” Eijirou offers, and as your eyes slowly adjust to the dark, you’re convinced you see his figure cross the living room. “And like, sweatshirts if it gets too cold.”

“It’s already getting too cold,” Mina says, and you can’t help but agree. The quickly cooling room has the goosebumps raising on your shoulders, and you’re starting to regret forgetting your jacket at home.

“Okay! I don’t have that many, but,” Eijirou hollers from somewhere, before returning with a handful of cloth. He drops it onto the coffee table. “Plus Hanta and Denks left their hoodies here last time.”

“Oh shit, we did?” Hanta says, and you assume it’s his figure who starts digging through the clothes. “Totally thought I lost this, lol.”

“Did you just saw lol out loud?”

“I did.”

“Ooh Ei, do you still have that old Red Riot hoodie?” Mina asks, and all of a sudden, she’s all over the pile. She finds it before the redhead can answer and snatches it away with a gasp.

You watch the pile dissolve in the darkness, one by one, and by the time you reach for something, your palm hits the cool wood of the coffee table. Fuck.

“Oh [Y/N]! Do you need some of my blanket?” Mina offers, but the blanket is small, and wrapping it around both of your shoulders just renders it utterly useless. You shake your head after she tries for a while.

“It’s fine Mina, I’m not that cold,” you laugh, but she shakes her head vehemently.

“No! Girl c’mon, you look like you’re freezing!”

And, well. Freezing is a stretch. Sure, you’re a little cold, but you’ll live.

“Do you need my sweatshirt?” Eijirou asks, already pulling at the hem. You roll your eyes.

“I’m serious guys, it’s not that bad,” you say, waving your arms for emphasis. They all grumble but they give up, and you feel like you can finally relax.

Something soft and army green drops into your lap. You pick it up in confusion, before looking up to see who dropped it.

Katsuki looks down at you, face glowing white from the phone flashlights. His eyes pierce your soul nevertheless.

“I don’t ne—“

“Take it.”

Katsuki takes a seat next to you on the couch in his own hoodie. You don’t realize until you put it on that he gave you a sweatshirt themed after his own hero costume.

You can’t sleep.

You can’t sleep, and you’re sure it’s due to the temperature. The wind howls and it sounds like you’re in the eye of a tornado, loose branches knocking against the rattling glass, and upon looking through the window, you see nothing but stark white. You sigh, checking the time on your phone for the fiftieth time this hour. Yep. Still four am.

“Stop fuckin’ movin’, dumbass.”

You all decided to bunk in the living room for warmth. You’re surprised Katsuki stayed, though; you figured he would just head to his room and let you all fend for yourselves while he slept in a comfortable bed. But here he is, sleeping next to you on the cold fucking floor.

“Sorry,” you say, but it’s hard when your shivering and your jaw aches from stunting your chattering teeth. Katsuki and Eijirou only had a limited amount of sleeping bags, meaning you’ve got to share a blanket with the hulking ash-blond.

“You cold?” He grunts. You don’t know why he’s asking.

“No.”

Katsuki sighs, and you hear him adjust, the blanket sliding from your neck to your shoulder. “You’re a shit liar.”

You prop yourself up on your elbows to glare his way, and you look to notice Katsuki’s laying the same way.

“What’s your point?”

Katsuki doesn’t answer for a moment, but it doesn’t seem like he’s looking for an answer, either—his neon red eyes glow through the dark and straight into your soul, and the next time you shiver, it isn’t because of the temperature.

“You’re stubborn.”

You roll your eyes, scoffing, “Thought you figured that out senior year.”

Katsuki’s face flashes with an emotion you can’t quite pinpoint before it’s gone again. “Yeah. You’d think almost dying would fuckin’ fix that.”

You sigh. Looks like you’re having this conversation now, then.

“I didn’t almost die—“

“Yes, you fuckin’ did,” Katsuki snarls, and Denki almost stirs at his raised tone. “You took that bullet and you didn’t get up for months—“

“And then I woke up and everything was fine! Seriously Katsuki, what’s your problem? I lived.”

“My problem is that you shouldn’t have been there in the goddamn first place!” Katsuki says through grit teeth. You watch his temple roll underneath his hairline. “That was my fuckin’ fight. I don’t need some chick jumping in front of a bullet for me just ‘cause she thinks I can’t take it!”

You scoff, looking around to see if any of your other sleeping friends are listening because get a load of this guy. Naturally, they don’t respond.

“That’s what this is about? Oh, well I’m sorry I bruised your dignity because I didn’t want to see you get fucking shot!”

Katsuki chest inflates with disbelief before it deflates again, and he’s rolling his eyes before he says, “That’s not—you fuckin’ know that’s not what I meant.”

“Oh really?” You laugh, and goddammit Katsuki, you just had to bring it up, didn’t you? “Because waking up after two months to your best friend telling you to give up doesn’t preserve your dignity at all, huh?”

“I didn’t tell you to fu—“

“You said those exact words, Katsuki. You said give up, and you left the hospital.”

The ash-blond has nothing to say to that, because he knows that you know you’re right, and trying to jedi mind trick you into believing he isn’t an asshole won’t work.

“Well you fuckin’ listened,” he grumbles, more to himself than you, but enough emotion flares in your core to make you want to scream.

“I didn’t have a choice,” you say, huffing, before turning your back to him, deeming this conversation over. “Good night, Katsuki.”

There’s a lull and it has you convinced you’ve won, finally relaxing (as much as you can) onto the cold floor. At least arguing heated your blood up a bit.

“The fuck do you mean?”

You roll your eyes even though they’re closed before you hop back onto your forearms to give the ash-blond a nasty look. “What?”

“You...said you didn’t have a choice,” Katsuki says, and it’s the first time you think you’ve heard him sound weary. Unsure. “The fuck does that mean?”

“It means I had to give up on being a hero either way.”

Which sucked. Because you had spent the past four years of your life working your ass off to save others, and you wind up out of commission before you even got started. You...suppose you didn’t tell Katsuki the whole story. Well, you hadn’t had a chance to—today’s the first time speaking with him since you woke up in the hospital.

Katsuki eyes you out of his peripheral, but only for a second. “And that means...?”

“It means that if I land on my spine the wrong way, there’s a high chance I’ll be paralyzed from the waist down.” You growl, frustrated that it was easier to coax the truth out of you than you thought.

The bullet buried close to your spinal column. You had to do PT for months, relearning how to walk as you slowly regain your motor functions. That’s when you started to bake.

“Oh.”

The howling of the wind turns from somewhat soothing to aggravating as Katsuki’s unimpressive “oh” hangs heavy in the air, and you find yourself sighing, the puzzle pieces finally clicking in your head. “Stop it.”

“Stop what?” Katsuki asks—he’s still not looking at you.

“Blaming yourself,” you gesture to his figure, which is lax with depression, lacking its sturdiness and usual fire. “You didn’t shoot the gun.”

Katsuki snorts at that, running a hand through his hair, “I might as well.”

“Stop.”

“You got shot because of me,” Katsuki says as if it were a fact. “They were trying to kill me. Not you.”

“And they didn’t kill me. I’m here and you’re here. If I hadn’t been there, you’d be six feet under right now,” you reason. Katsuki shrugs because he’s just as stubborn as you are, and you figure he’s been carrying around this baggage for too many years.

“Does your back hurt often?”

“No,” you shake your head. “I mean sure, I get flare-ups sometimes, but it’s not too bad. Doesn’t really get in the way of baking as long as the table is high enough.”

Katsuki thinks for a moment, teeth worrying his bottom lip. “Is the table high enough? At your café.”

You shrug, failing to see where he’s going with this. “I have a platform thingy, so. It’s mostly for decorating cakes and things—“

“I’ll buy you a new one.”

“What?”

“I’ll buy you a new table,” Katsuki says, nodding to himself as if he was confirming the idea. “A higher one.”

It takes a second for his offer to process, but once it does, you’re fighting a smile. Still the same kid. “Kats, I don’t nee—“

“An—And if you need a new chair. I’ll pay for that shit too.”

You shake your head—mainly in disbelief, “I don’t need a chair, Katsuki.”

“Then what?” He asks, and it almost sounds desperate with the speed he rushed the sentence, “Y’need a car? That hunk of junk you drive could use some work.”

You ignore the jab, because your car works perfectly fine thank you very much, and snort at the suggestion of such an outrageous purchase.

“What? You tryna be my sugar daddy or something?” You joke. Katsuki gives you a look, and it's dead serious.

“D’ya need one?”

“I—no!” You laugh, and have to remind yourself to reel it in before you actually wake Denki up. “I’m fine financially I just—what’s gotten into you?”

“Nothin’.” Katsuki quickly grumbles, facing forwards again. “I just...”

You raise an eyebrow, “You just..?”

“I dunno. I dunno,” Katsuki shakes his head. You let him gather his thoughts in silence before he tries again. He doesn’t.

“Then fuck me.”

In your defense, your mouth moved before you thought it through.

Katsuki has an unreadable look on his face, but his voice is anything but steady when he says, “What?”

Fuck. Fuck.

“U-Uh, I mean,” you recoil. Stupid big mouth. “I—you—don’t worry about it.”

“You said you wanted to fuck me,” Katsuki deadpans. You choke.

“I—no, that’s not—“

“That’s exactly what you said.”

“No, I meant as in I’m pent up. Obviously,” you defend with a huff, crossing your arms on the pillow as you glare daggers his way. Katsuki matches your stare.

“Not as pent up as a Pro Hero,” he scoffs, lifting an eyebrow. You take it as a challenge.

You click your tongue in faux pity, “Awe, the number two hero Dynamight doesn’t get laid?”

“No fuckin’ time,” he grunts, though you don’t find much remorse in his voice.

“Well, you have time now,” you say, completely unsure of where this confidence is coming from. Either way, you’ll take it and run.

“I do,” Katsuki confirms, leaning in closer. He’s close enough that you can smell what’s leftover of his cologne, and see the hint of a grin that makes his upper cheek shine silver in the moonlight. You find yourself leaning in just as much as he does.

“Wanna blow off some steam?” You dare to question. Katsuki’s grin only grows wider.

“Thought you’d never ask.”

Katsuki’s kisses are surprisingly soft, you think, and so are his lips. But you don’t have much time to think about it as he pulls you in by the waist, quietly groaning into your mouth while he lays you down on your back.

“Always thought you were the prettiest fuckin’ thing,” he growls, trailing butterfly kisses down your neck. “‘M gonna make it up to you, yeah? Make you feel so fuckin’ good.”

A hand hikes his sweatshirt above your chest before Katsuki’s latching onto the skin under your collarbone and sucking, teeth digging into your skin hard enough to bruise.

“Y-Yeah, that’s fine,” you whimper, intoxicated by the way Katsuki’s lips flush pink as he pulls away, eyes locked on the fresh hickey on your chest. They flicker up to you; he grins.

“Good?”

“Mhm.”

Katsuki hums at that, licking his lips before diving back in. You hiss when he bites too hard, prompting him to bite harder, but he always soothes it over with his tongue, topping each bruise with a kiss. You flinch when his lips wrap around your nipple and he chuckles at your meek whimper; a hand removes its grip on the sweatshirt in favor of sliding it up your thigh.

“Fuckin’ perfect,” Katsuki says once he pulls away, enjoying the sight of you writhing in anticipation. “And it’s all for me, ain’t it?”

“Yeah, ‘m all yours just—“ you kick a leg in frustration at the thumb playing with the hem of your panties, “—do something already.”

Katsuki raises an eyebrow, “Do what?”

You frown, huffing, “You know what.”

Katsuki shrugs, adjusting so he’s caging you to the floor. Ghosting a thumb over your panties, he says, “‘Course I do. You gotta ask nicely first.”

You tighten your hands into fists. He would.

“I’m no—“

“Beg, Princess,” Katsuki growls, his stare unwavering. He presses an inquisitive finger to your clit through your panties either as a promise or a threat—which, you’re not quite sure.

You crumble.

“I—fine, just—finger me.”

Katsuki doesn’t move. Asshole.

“Please.”

The ash-blond grins, finally pushing your panties to the side.

“Good girl.”

When Katsuki slides his first finger in, it’s much too easy, and you blame it on the foreplay. You shudder, hands moving to brace themselves on his big shoulders, and the ash-blond muffles a moan as your nails dig into his shoulders.

“Another,” you moan, bucking your hips into his palm. Katsuki’s heated gaze flickers from your body to your face.

“Already?” He chuckles, the rasp in his throat giving his arousal away. You nod—he clicks his tongue.

“Fuckin’ dirty.”

Two fingers feel like so much more than just one, and they have your eyebrows folding in a poor attempt to muffle a whimper. Katsuki’s fingers still move tentatively but they’re getting comfortable, curling and searching for that place that’ll make you tremble. And then he finds it.

“F-Fuck,” your body jolts, and Katsuki’s shushing you against the pillows.

“Keep your mouth shut, Princess,” he purrs, head dipping down to nip at your neck. It adjusts the angle ever so slightly, but enough to make you hiss, and he chuckles. “Unless you wanna get caught.”

“Oh yeah, because that sounds fun right now,” you snort towards the ceiling. Katsuki pulls away with an unimpressed look as his thumb comes down over your clit.

“Can’t wait to fuck the brat outta ya. Maybe then you’ll actually shut up for once, huh?” Katsuki inserts a third finger without you asking him to, and you gasp, clawing at his back.

“Shh, shh, shh,” he laughs against your mouth lowly, as if the light kisses will do anything but make more noise, “Good God sweetheart, you’re really pent up, aren’t ya?”

“Shit—I doubt you’re much better,” you try, scoffing at what you can see of his painfully hard cock in his sweatpants. Katsuki looks down before sending a huff your way, with a cute little blush dusted on his cheeks.

“Shut the fuck up,” he grunts, pulling out his fingers. You whine at the loss. “How d’ya want me to fuck you?”

You need to take a step back from how crude the question is. Right, sex.

“Right um,” you look around, trying to find the least obvious position—and one that doesn’t make a shit ton of noise. Laying on your side, you tuck an arm under the pillow, before turning around to Katsuki to suggest, “Cuddle-fucking?”

“Cuddle-fucking.”

“Yep,” you say with finality, popping the p. Making big grabby hands his way, you say, “C’mere, big guy.”

Katsuki rolls his eyes but moves behind you anyways, warm arms easily finding themselves around your waist under the blanket. After a few adjustments and ensuring you're both fully covered, Katsuki’s hard cock presses against your entrance as he hooks his head over your chin with a huff.

“This is so not on fuckin’ brand.”

“I don’t think fucking in a living room with sleeping friends is on-brand for a pro hero or a baker,” you say casually. Katsuki breaks out into a snort, pressing his face deeper into your neck.

“God, I fuckin’ missed you, ya know that?” He chortles. Your chest blooms with something it hasn’t in years, and for the first time, you find that you don’t mind.

“Don’t be such a dick and maybe I’ll stick around this time,” you quip with a smile he can’t see. Though you feel his against the base of your neck.

“Noted.”

Katsuki’s last words hang in the air, unusually heavy, and your eyes catch the snow beating against the window with a less than angry howl. Katsuki’s chest shudders against your back but he doesn’t move, hands frozen at your waist.

“Hey, I thought you were gon—“

“I’m getting to it,” Katsuki snaps, and you gasp as he starts to push inside. “So fuckin’ impatient, goddamn.”

He pulls you down until he fills you completely, and you suppress the urge to shout at the speed he did it with. Katsuki moves a hand to slap over your mouth.

“Shut the fuck up.”

You reach around to pinch him in the side with a huff, he calls you a bitch. It’s a little hard to hear you behind his hand as you say, “Then don’t catch me off guard like that, asshole.”

Katsuki snaps his hips and does exactly what you tell him not to do—prompting another surprised whine out of you and a dark chuckle from the ash-blond. His cheek presses into your jaw as he finds leverage in hiking your lower half up until your puffy cunt is level with his cock, and fucking you until you drool all over the pillow.

“What a pretty fuckin’ thing,” Katsuki grunts, and you can tell he struggles to keep quiet in the way his chest sporadically shudders. You have to grip the pillow for some semblance of purchase and Katsuki chuckles at watching you struggle, before he’s hiking your leg up to fuck you that much deeper.

“I always—always knew you’d sound so good,” he pants, the grip around your mouth bordering on clammy. You want to tell him that if he keeps making so much noise he’ll wake up everyone in this fucking room, but there isn’t much time between moans to get more than a word in. “Fuck baby, keep tightening around me like that, and I might fuckin’ cum.”

You find it amusing how close he is so quickly, until two fingers land on your clit and start rubbing in slow, small circles. Your walls flutter around him and Katsuki digs his teeth into your neck with a curse, his grip around your raised thigh contracting as he tries to hold on for as long as he can.

And that’s when Denki starts to move.

First, he rolls to the left. Which would’ve been fine, seeing as it’s in the opposite direction until he bops Eijirou straight on the nose and promptly rouses the redhead from his slumber. Katsuki’s hips still.

“O-Ow, dick,” Eijirou curses under his breath, quickly scrambling to his forearms. It’s hard to tell through the darkness, mostly because you’re squinting your eyes to feign sleep, but it seems like Eijirou rubs under his nose, only to blink back at a bloody hand.

“...Shit.”

Katsuki’s hips shift, ever so slightly, but enough to nestle his cock deeper and force you to bite back a whine. And another. And then another.

You try your hardest to be discreet when you reach to pinch Katsuki in the side, and he breathes a laugh down your neck.

“What?” He whispers, though it's more than a rasp than anything else. Good to know you’re not the only one struggling to not cum, here.

“You know 'what,'” you quickly hiss. But Katsuki’s hips don’t stop as Eijirou weighs his options to cure his bloody nose in the dark. The fingers on your clit return their usual pressure and you inhale sharply, nails digging into Katsuki’s forearm as your orgasm begins creeping up on you.

Eijirou sniffles and gets up, stumbling through the darkness to turn down the hall that leads to the bedrooms. Katsuki sees that as fucking freedom and his hips really start to pick up so much speed that you struggle to breathe through it all.

“‘M gonna cum,” Katsuki whimpers into your neck, burying his face deeper in a poor attempt to stunt any sound. “Fuck, fuck ‘m gonna cum, you close baby?”

“Y-Yeah jus’ a little more,” you whimper, eyes rolling as Katsuki finds some inhumane energy in him to fuck faster. He nods at that and bites into your shoulder with a growl, “C’mon, fuckin’ cream all over my cock—atta girl, fuck, fuck—“

Katsuki fills you up the moment you clench around his cock with a sigh, the weight of your orgasm knocking you forehead-first into your pillow as you bite the urge to squeal. Katsuki doesn't growl as much as you expect, moans breathy and light as his hips finally stutter to a stop—but you suppose some things have to change over the years.

Katsuki collapses next to you in pure exhaustion and you’re sure that’s his cum leaking down your thigh, but for some reason, you don’t really mind.

“Hey you,” he speaks first, eyes blazing red in the darkness. You snort.

“Hey, you.”

Katsuki chuckles with a stupidly giddy smile on his face, "Y'know, you still fuck really well."

You drop your head on his chest to snort, and his hands find their rightful place around your waist.

"Better than high school?"

"Yeah..." Katsuki grumbles, before his eyes narrow. "Wait—hey, yo—"

"I haven't fucked anyone since," you snuff the fire before it even starts, and Katsuki relaxes, though his eyes stay slim. He pulls you closer and you sigh—it's comfortable.

"Good," he grunts. And then after a pregnant silence: "I haven't either."

That's...strangely reassuring.

Your arms wriggle until they fold over his shoulders to play with the small hairs on the back of his neck, and he hums, eyes fluttering shut with a final peck on the lips. As Katsuki's breathing evens and the white of the snow dyes the highest points of his face white, you smile. He looks older.

You think he's asleep until he nudges your waist.

"Be my girlfriend."

You don't even hesitate.

"Okay."

By the time Eijirou comes stumbling down the hall, both you and Katsuki are passed out—with his body encompassing yours in the most intimate way, face tucked into your hickey-ridden neck as your arms and legs lock around his being. The redhead gives you both a soft smile as he passes, snorting to himself.

“Took them long enough.”

HAPPY BIRTHDAY THOTSUKI

[definitelyseven]

hurts so good | twelve (final)

summary: growing up with Park Jinyoung was never easy and things are about to get worse when you’ve been asked to marry him

one | two | three | four | five | six | seven | eight | nine | ten | eleven | twelve - final |

You sat down quietly across from him and next to your attorney. It had been three weeks since you last saw Jinyoung, three weeks since he agreed to the divorce. You only heard from him when he asked to meet to sign the papers.

“Thank you Mrs. Park for coming to meet us. My client said the both of you mutually agreed to sign today’s papers. Is that correct?” 

“Yes that’s correct,” you responded as Jinyoung’s lawyer slid over some papers. Your lawyer intercepts the papers and begins scanning the document. 

“My client is generously offering $20,000 a month for the next 40 years or a one time check of $10 million,” he revealed. You stared at Jinyoung in shock.

“No,” you denied. “No, I don’t want your money.”

“Mrs. Park, I urge you to reconsider this. It’s his responsibility to take care of you,” your lawyer reminded you.

“It’s Y/N and I can take care of myself,” you argued.

“How?” Jinyoung finally said. “You have no job, no house. Your father still gambles,” he exposed. 

“That is none of your concern. I will figure it out. I will find a job. I don’t want your money. I don’t want to owe you anything,” you continued to explain.

“Just take the fucking money, Y/N! Don’t be so stubborn,” he exclaimed. You glared at him. “I’m sorry,” he sighed, knowing he’s going to lose this battle against you.

“Moving on to the next thing-,” his lawyer began to speak before you interrupted him.

“I don’t want a single thing from him. I’m not interested in what else is on that list.” 

His lawyer looked over a Jinyoung, who had his arms crossed against his chest. He sighed again, nodding in agreement. He leans over to the table, “I want to talk to you alone.”

“No. My client will not be speaking with anyone without me present,” your lawyer declined.

“Don’t worry, we won’t be negotiating anything. My lawyer will leave to fix these papers, won’t you?” he instructed.

“Yes, that’s right. Mr. Lee, please follow me.”

“It’s alright. I’ll be okay,” you assured your lawyer. He nods leaving you alone with Jinyoung as he helps prepare the divorce papers. He stares at you in silence as you avoid his gaze. 

“You wanted to talk?” you asked him.

He sighed lightly before leaning forwards once again. “This may be the last time we ever speak to each other like this - face to face.”

You gave him a subtle smile, nodding in agreement. “I will always be thankful for you and your family. You saved us and that will never change, no matter what happens between us.”

“I appreciate that,” he said. “Father loved you, no matter how harsh he was.”

You smiled weakly, “He loved you too.”

There was another long silence between the both of you. Now that you think of it, you and Jinyoung never had a peaceful conversation before. If he wasn’t being mean to you, he was yelling at you. 

“I know Jisoo came to see you. I know she told you some stuff,” he said softly. “I should’ve been the one who told you and I’m sorry I never did. I’m sorry I never showed you.”

You held your breath. Never in a million years did you expect him to apologize.

“I hope the next person you love, you’ll be better to her than you were to me.”

His eyes began to swell, slightly turning pinkish. “She told me you thought I always loved her.” You looked down at your lap because you knew it was true even if they denied it. “Do you still believe that?”

“Look at where we’re at, Jinyoung. It doesn’t matter what I believe.” 

“It does! It does matter. I may have never showed or told you that I loved you but I never loved anyone else. Not once,” he confessed. 

“Every time we fought, you always ran to her. You always picked her, sided with her and I was the one in the way. What else was I supposed to think?” you questioned. 

Jinyoung sighed. “February 14, 2013.”

“W-what?,” you stuttered with tears in your eyes.

“It was our senior year of high school.” 

You remembered now. You had finally mustered enough courage to confess to Jinyoung. You hand-made heart shaped chocolates for him but he rejected you brutally even front of all your classmates.

“The night before - Jaebum stayed up all night making you chocolates. I overheard him confessing to the housekeeper that he was going to ask you to be his girlfriend. What gave him the right?” he asked, rhetorically.

“He never told me about this. I never received his chocolates,” you said, confused. 

“I was so angry at him. He took my father away from me and now he wanted you! He wanted to take everything...everyone away from me!” he shouted. “I knew I couldn’t let him have you so I had to beat him to it. I had to tell you I liked you before he did.”

“Then why did you reject me?” you asked. 

“I had this elaborate plan - to make you fall in love with me, to be together until Jaebum couldn’t handle it anymore and leave. But the moment I looked into your eyes that day, I didn’t have the guts to do it. I couldn’t confess to liking you out of spite,” he revealed. “But what I didn’t expect was for you to confess first.”

“You broke my heart then too.”

“I didn’t know if I liked you because I actually liked you or if I liked you to get back at Jaebum. You would’ve never forgiven me if you found out I confessed out of spite,” he said almost in tears. “I tried so hard to differentiate the two but I couldn’t, no matter how hard I tried. I didn’t know what to do and it drove me nuts. A couple of days later, it finally came to me. I thought if I was meaner to you, maybe...just maybe I would stop having those feelings for you. Maybe I could finally stop thinking about you.”

You stared at him quietly, taking in every word he said. Tears rolled down your face as the droplets of tears landed on the table. 

“It worked,” he chuckled, bitterly. “The meaner I was to you, the easier it was to forget you. And every time I did something nice for you, I had to do something ten times worse the next time. Seeing how much pain you were in...it broke me but it always reminded me that my intentions were never pure to begin with. That’s why I always went to Jisoo. I confided in her.”

“Why did you ask me to marry you then?”

“He had already beat me at marriage - marrying the girl Father chose. Nothing would hurt him more than knowing I had you and he could never. I admit I ended up using you,” he revealed as tears fall from the corner of his eyes. You lifted your head up, staring at the ceiling as tears continued to fall down the side of your cheeks. “I’m so sorry,” he apologized. 

“H-how can you say you love me when you used me?!” you sobbed. 

“I knew it was wrong! I regretted it instantly but it was too late. You needed the money...” he whimpered. “If I could go back and change it I would. I would’ve loved you properly, cherished you..” he begged. 

“God!” you whimpered to yourself. “Why did you do this to me?! I was happy! I had a boyfriend!” you cried, angrily.

“I know. I know. I’m so sorry,” he continued to apologize.

“I’m not some fucking reward you can claim when you feel like it! I loved you! I thought if I worked harder, tried harder, that you would start to love me! I was praying you’d change for me!” you continued to shout. “Are you that damaged that you had to break someone else to make yourself feel better?”

“I was 16! I never felt the way I felt for you with anyone in my life! How was I supposed to react? Tell me! What was I supposed to do?!” he shouted back.

You sobbed into your hand.

“I know this doesn’t justify all the shitty things I’ve done to you. You endured things no one should have to experience,” he explained.

“Why are you telling me this now?”

“Y/N, I’m telling you not because I want you to forgive me! I’m going to sign the papers regardless. All I wanted was to be honest about my feelings for once in my goddamn life,” he said. 

You blinked slowly, letting the remaining tears in your eyes fall. You took a deep breath in. “When were you able to tell?”

“Our wedding night,” he answered. “Watching you walk down the aisle in that white dress. You took my breath away and in that moment I knew. I knew I loved you this whole time. It was never about competing with Jaebum. I was just afraid to let myself fall in love.”

“If you loved me so much, why did you sleep with other women? Why did you cheat?”

“Because with them, I never had to worry about falling in love. They mean nothing to me,” he explained.

“But they don’t know that! They think you like them that’s why they sleep with you, Jinyoung.”

“They know I’m married.”

“To someone you don’t love. They think they can Mrs. Park one day,” you sighed. “Stop playing with people’s feelings. Don’t hurt anyone else,” you asked, nicely. You paused, “If there’s one last thing you can do for me is learn to let go. What your Father did to your Mother was unfair and cruel but you don’t have to repeat the pattern. Learn to love the people you’re supposed to love. You’ll find that you have more people on your side than you know.”

“Will you be?”

“Oh Jinyoung…” you called out as you reached for his hand. You gripped it tightly. “I will always be on your side even if I’m not physically there with you.”

There was a light knock on the door. You let go of Jinyoung’s hand and wiped the leftover tears on your cheeks away.

“Come in,” he called.

“The papers are finalized. All that’s left is your signature.” The lawyers handed you each a pen. You scanned through the document until you reached the bottom of the page.

“I know you don’t want money but it will always be here if you need it. You just call me, okay?” Jinyoung asked, softly. You nodded but you knew you would never be calling him.

You uncapped the pen and began signing with Jinyoung following suite until you reached the final page. 

This was it. No more Jinyoung.

“If we can do this over again, would you?” Jinyoung asked, spontaneously. “If you knew what you know now, would you still have said yes to me?”

You looked up from the papers and stared at him - taking in all his features one the last time. “Yes.” You scribbled your signature on the last page before standing up. “Goodbye Jinyoung. Take care.”

Four months. Four months of no pain, no tears, no Jinyoung. You moved away from the city to get away from the fast pace lifestyle, the busy streets and the people. You were content here. You spent your days helping an old couple sell fruit and pies in a small shop by a rest stop. The pay wasn’t nearly as much as a corporation but it didn’t matter to you. You could finally be yourself. You didn’t have to worry about being the perfect wife or worry if your husband loved you enough to come home that night. All that seemed trivial here. 

“How much are the apple pies?” you hear someone asked. You scurried out to the front to greet the customer. 

“They’re $5-” you began to respond before coming to a stop as you laid eyes on the man in front of you. “I- how did you know I was here?”

“I didn’t,” he responded. “I was taking your advice and finally letting go. I gave up my position at the company and decided to move here to live a more simple life.”

“Why here?”

“I-I don’t know...this was the first place I thought of,” he mumbled. “I guess I remembered you saying how much you wanted to move here when it was time to retire.”

“You remembered that?”

“Of course I do. I remember everything you told me even if it seemed like I wasn’t listening,” he explained. “So how much are the pies?”

“$5 each,” you said hesitantly as you handed him a pie.

“I honestly didn’t come here to purposely look for you. I know the last thing you wanted was to see me. I can leave if it bothers you,” he offered.

“No...who am I to not allow you to be here.”

“Okay then. I’ll see you around then,” he smiled before waving goodbye.

You returned the smile and watched him drive away. You thought you would be angry seeing him; maybe even feel hurt. But nothing. You didn’t feel any of those things. In fact, your heart raced at the sight of him. 

Maybe this was fate. Maybe it was God’s way of telling you this is your second chance. 

Whatever it was, no matter how it ends this time, you knew it wasn’t going to hurt as much as the first. 

[the-soliloquies-of-sadists]

#124

“A hundred bucks. Every Thursday afternoon for a couple months you strip down nearly naked and give me head. I’m going to have to charge you going forward....

“I just lost my construction job after 14 years. Fourteen fucking years! Those fuckers are selfish pieces of shit. Didn’t give any warning. Just fucking fired me, for ongoing anger issues of all things. Fucking bullshit. The decision came down from the owner himself. I never even met the fuckwad. Now I have to come up with the cash to pay for rent. You want my ten inches? Pay up! I ain’t free anymore. I see you driving that Mercedes S-Class. You can afford it. You’ve been begging me week over week, month over month, to fuck your cunt; pay me enough and I will tear your pussy to shreds. Same thing goes for sticking your face in my asscrack. Who does that? You queers are disgusting. But it’s your face not mine. And it’s your money, which will be mine. Hell, pay me enough, and I will fuck you so good all night.

“Damn, you are all excited. I’m excited too. I am getting fucking money for rent. Let’s do this. Give me your fucking wallet bitch…. Now!… See that was easy. You have one, two, three,… four hundred… thirty-five dollars here. Thanks. That will come in handy. You are going to have to pay me more for an all nightery. Well you have a shitload of platinum credit cards, so I know you can afford me.

“Is this your wife and two boys? I bet they don’t know you are a cum hungry whore who likes to suck the cocks of a hard working man at the vista point on the interstate…. Let’s see here. Proof of insurance for your Mercedes, a Land Rover, and a fucking King Ranch F-350. Oh hell yes you can afford me. What the hell do you do for a living?

“Your business card says… the fuck? What the fucking fuck? You work for McNeal Construction? You fucking bastard. Not just that! You are Tim McNeal. You’re the goddamned fucking owner. You’re the one that got me fired. Oh holy hell! This all changes now. There’s no fucking way I’m going to let you suck my dick. Fucking faggot. The balls on you! Get off your knees, get your clothes on, and get the fuck out of my sight.

“Ongoing anger issues my ass…. Ongoing?… Wait… Wait… You’ve been watching me on the job site for a while at the same time getting skull fucked by me here once a week? You’ve been begging to eat my ass and to rape your cunt all the while thinking I was too angry at work? Last week you got all excited when I lightly smacked you for scraping my cock with your teeth….

“Now it all makes sense. You wanted me to get aggressive with you here. You want me to treat you like shit? Well faggot, I have all the time in the world to do just that. Don’t understand why you fired me, but this is going to cost you. A lot more than four hundred thirty-five dollars. I own your fucking ass now.

“Get back on your fucking knees. Bow your fucking head. Is your pecker hard? Fuck it’s like steel. Start sucking on me. Take me to the nut, all the way down. Gag on it your fucking faggot. Pull off of me but keep your eyes down. Tell me that you are a cum guzzling faggot that wants me to fuck your cunt…. Good! Now look up at me. Look into my phone’s camera.

“OK, that’s my little insurance against you firing me again. So let me tell you how this will be. You are going to pay me my salary,… no double my salary. In return, I will skull fuck you and slam fuck your cunt. You’ll drink my piss. And yes you are going to get to eat my ass. And I don’t give a shit if it’s clean. Wow, that was an interesting slip of the tongue. Maybe I will give you a shit,… literally. That brought a smile to your face for some fucked up reason. This is going to be fun. Hell yes. But first, I need a new truck. A nice King Ranch of my own. A big man with a gigantic cock needs to have a big truck to ride in. Let’s go cunt. You’ll get my load when I get that title.”

[helliontherapscallion]

Catching Up (Adrenaline Junkie Part 9)

Part 1     Part 2     Part 3     Part 4     Part 5     Part 6     Part 7     Part 8     Part 10     Part 11     Part 12     Part 13     Part 14     Part 15     Part 16     Part 17

Spotify Playlist (collaborative)

Warnings: swearing

Word count: 2,156         

“Did you kidnap a child?”

“I can ex- wait what? Of course I didn’t! Why would you think that?”

“Well, for starters, you just came home with a random kid! What were-”

“Dad. I didn’t kidnap anybody, especially Arthur,” you said exasperated. “It started when I was leaving the village.”

And so, you told your dad about how you met Arthur. Needless to say, he was furious. “(Y/n) (m/n) Minecraft, you yelled at a child? Not just a child, but an orphan that was so clearly in need of help?! I raised you better than that.”

“Dad, I know that yelling at kids is wrong. Just-just let me finish.”

He gave you a wicked side eye and nodded at you to continue. “So then he told me that he was alone. That he had no family. I couldn’t just leave him out there Dad. He would’ve been alone in the city. Hell, he’s been alone for god knows how long already” you ran a stressed hand through your already messy hair. “I’m sorry I didn’t ask you if he could crash here-”

“(Y/n).”

“-but he could’ve got hurt! The village’s dangerous at night-”

“(Y/n).”

“Do you know how many people get mugged there just in a day? God, I can’t imagine him getting hurt, he’s so young and-”

“(Y/n) (m/n) Minecraft.” Your hand froze in your hair. “...Yeah?”

“It was a good idea to bring him here. But there’s gotta be someone out there looking for him.”

“I really don’t think so Dad. You saw him when I brought him here, he looked like he didn’t get a proper bath in months! Even if he did have someone, I’d rather him be here instead of with the bastards that left him like that.”

He sighed. “You’re right. I remember when I found you when you were a baby. Your biological parents were awful, they ignored you. I found you on the porch, they must’ve left you there overnight. You were filthy and you were so small and fragile. I remember being so pissed that they treated you like that, but they never gave me their names.”

You squinted at him. “You’ve never told me that. You told me that you found me in an alleyway.”

“I didn’t want to tell you how I actually found you, it was never important for you to know.”

“What do you mean it’s not impor-” you stopped yourself. That’s not important right now. “We’re going to talk about this later. Right now, we need to talk about Arthur before he gets out of the shower.”

Glancing at the clock, you felt worry engulf your being. “Speaking of, he’s been in there a while, do you think he’s okay?” You felt your heart drop. “What if he slipped!” You stood up in a panic. Philza pulled you back onto the bed giving you a knowing look.

“He’s okay hun. Remember, he’s probably just enjoying the shower.”

You bounced your leg. “You’re right, you’re right… What’s with that look?”

“What look?”

“That look.”

“I just think-”

You heard a knock on your door and a small voice calling your name. Immediately jumping up and forgetting about the conversation, you opened your door. 

“Hey buddy, have a good shower?”

He yawned, rubbing at his eye with a closed fist. The pajamas he wore were slightly too big, but he would grow into them. His auburn hair that he came in the house with was now a brilliant copper color and you could now make out freckles dotting his pale cheeks.

“Mhm.”

You softly smiled at him and grabbed his hand leading him to Wilbur’s old room since it had the comfiest bed. You helped the small-statured boy into the large bed and he flopped down without pulling the covers over himself. You huffed in amusement, pulling the soft blankets out from under him and tucking him in.

You spoke in a calm voice, not wanting to disrupt the peace that engulfed the room. You gently brushed the hair out of his face. “Sleep well, Artie.”

As you stood up and turned to walk away, he grabbed the back of your shirt. Glancing back, you saw that he had his eyes groggily half-open and he stared at you blearily. “Stay?”

Oh, you couldn’t say no to that. Feeling your heart melt, you whispered “of course buddy.” You pulled up an old chair and sat next to the bedside holding his small hand in your larger one. He was out like a light. 

He was so small for his age. It was probably because of the malnutrition from being homeless, and that broke your heart. Your poor, poor baby.

…Wait.

Wait.

Your poor baby? What the fuck were you thinking? This child doesn’t even know you, you only met him earlier in the day. And yet, you already felt affectionate towards him. You wanted to protect him from danger. Why were you feeling like this?

You heard the door creak open and a small sliver of light streamed into the room. Philza poked his head through the small crack in the door. He smiled at you when he saw you sitting next to Arthur holding his hand as he slept. Reaching in an arm, he gestured for you to follow him before slipping out and closing the door.

Reluctantly, you slowly let go of the boy’s slender hand and quietly opened the nightstand drawer. You pulled out a pen and paper and wrote a quick note for him in the morning in your messy handwriting.

“Arthur, when you wake up, Philza and I’ll be downstairs making breakfast. Hope you like bacon and eggs : )

-(Y/n)”

You placed the paper on the nightstand where you hoped that Arthur would see when he woke up and quietly left the room. Philza leaning against the wall greeted you. He was smiling softly at you. He once again gestured for you to follow him downstairs.

Philza felt ecstatic that you were going to give him another grandson. Even if you would inevitably deny being a parental figure to Arthur, he knew that you were going to accept it sooner or later. He raised you, so he should know when you deeply care for someone. Arthur and you both shared a love for innovation and creativity, so he knew that you two would bond over that. He felt like soaring high in the sky. He was so happy that there’s going to be another addition to the family soon. 

He sat you down onto the couch and disappeared into the kitchen. A few moments later, he came back with two steaming mugs of hot chocolate. Your favorite.

“Thanks.”

“Anytime hun.”

You both sat in a comfortable silence on the couch and stared into the crackling flame in the fireplace. The fire swirled with various reds, oranges, and yellows illuminating the living room. You closed your eyes for a brief moment, savoring the flavor of the chocolate and the smell of smoke with the fire popping in the background. You felt relaxed.

“So, how’s Tommy and Wilbur? Are they adjusting well to L’manberg?”

“Oh, they’re thriving. Wilbur’s a natural leader so he’s in his element and Tommy’s always exploring with Tubbo. They get into trouble sometimes, but they always come back in one piece, so I’m not worried about them. They’re having fun.”

“And you?”

“I set up my new workshop next to the capitol building. I think I’m gonna start selling some of the stuff I make, I think it’d make a decent profit.”

“I think that’s a great idea. Ya know that the people in the village are crazy about you, right?”

You groaned, dragging your hand down your face tiredly. “How could I not? I hate it.”

“Why would you hate it? They really admire your work, you should appreciate that.”

“Dad, I do appreciate that they admire my work, but do you remember how they treated me when I first went there after I lost my wing? They treated me like a fucking outcast. And now they’re acting like they actually know me and that they were always friends with me. I know everybody deserves a second chance, but I can’t help but feel like they’re on thin ice.” 

“People change hun. Maybe they realize that how they treated you was wrong and they want to make amends?”

“That’s the thing. They’re only treating me like this only because of my inventions. I can only tolerate it for so long. I don’t even know why they’re treating me like this, I’m not special. I’m just another person.”

“...You aren’t gonna let a few two-faced people ruin your vacation, right?”

“No.”

His cheeks slowly stretched into a smile. “Why? Who are you?”

“I’m (y/n)?”

“I said who. Are. You?”

You spoke up a little more confidently, but kept your voice down. “I’m (y/n) (m/n) Minecraft.”

He quietly laughed. “Damn right you are. You’re ‘(Y/n) Minecraft, Conqueror of the Unknown’. You’re (y/n) goddamn Minecraft and don’t you forget it.”

You chuckled. “You read that book? ‘(Y/n) Minecraft, Conqueror of the Unknown’ was a bit too dramatic for my taste.”

“Why wouldn’t I read something all about my precious little inventor?” He drug out with an overly sweet tone.

“Dad, I’m 20 years old. I’m not little anymore.”

He slung an arm across your shoulders and pulled you into his side. “I know, I know, but you’ll always be my child.”

You sighed and leaned into him. You haven’t spent any time with him since you left the house to help Wilbur and Tommy fight for independence, so this felt nice. “I missed you Dad.”

“Not a day goes by where I don’t miss you or your brothers. It’s way too quiet around here without you four.”

“Do you remember when Tommy put green dye in the shampoo to try and prank me?”

An almost silent laugh reverberated throughout his chest, sounding slightly muffled. “Of course I do. It took at least a few weeks to get it off my skin and a full month after that to get it out of my hair.”

“You should’ve seen his face when I walked into the kitchen in the morning,” you deepen your voice. “‘If you’re not in the shower, then who is?’ Aaaannd then you walked into the kitchen looking like you lost a fight with a witch.” You snorted. “You didn’t know why everyone was staring at you.”

He huffed. “You guys didn’t even tell me until after breakfast.”

“Have you seen yourself in the mornings? You’re literally so grumpy. We didn’t have a death wish.”

“Hey, I’m not that bad in the morning, Mx. I-can’t-function-without-eight-hours-of-sleep.”

“At least I’m fully awake in the morning.”

“Oh, wow, what a zinger,” he said in a monotone voice.

You reached up to playfully slap his arm. “Shuddup.”

You both quietly laughed before the room fell back into a comfortable silence. You took a deep breath. “Arthur knows about The Warden. What it did to me”

You felt him tense up and heard his heart start to beat a little faster. He moved his arm away and leaned back to look you in the eyes.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. He said that he knew what happened and he needed my help. He… he said that The Warden took someone important to him.”

“Was it his paren-”

“I don’t know. I’m going to talk to him about it tomorrow.”

“Do you want me to talk to him with you?”

“I don’t know if Arthur’s comfortable with that yet. I’m not even sure if he trusts me enough to tell me.”

You grabbed your’s and Philza’s empty mugs and took them to the kitchen. You ran your hands down your face. You felt very drained after everything that happened today. You weren’t used to so much human interaction, let alone people staring at you like you were some kind of deity when you weren’t. You leaned against the sink and closed your eyes. 

“(Y/n), I’m turning in for the night. Is there anything you need before I go to bed?”

“No, thank you Dad.”

“Alright, goodnight. Love you.”

“Love you too.”

You heard his retreating footsteps gradually fade out and the room was thick with silence yet again. The darkness in the room was cut by the moonlight streaming in through the window. Your mind was racing as you remembered that you were going to have to talk to Arthur about The Warden soon. 

You hadn’t talked about The Warden for years and now you were being forced into it. You didn’t think you were ready. You wanted to move on with your life, but The Warden was inevitable. It was everywhere around you. It won’t ever leave you alone, will it?

You didn’t think you were going to get much sleep tonight.

Taglist (comment if you want to be added):

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[marauderundercover]

This Side of Normal Chapter Four

Previous

AO3

Technically, it was an accident. Well, more than technically. It was definitely a legitimate accident that Jason figured out their secret identities only a month after meeting them. Chat Noir’s should’ve been the easiest, given the fact that he saw the boy on nearly every billboard in Paris. However, it wasn’t the billboards that gave it away. It wasn’t even the ungodly number of times the kid’s perfume ad came on the tv. No, it was the shocked “Jason” that the boy spluttered out when he bumped into him in front of the school. Without a mask. Yeah. Not subtle at all. Ladybug’s just fell into place after that. What with the tiny dark-haired girl shooting him worried glances as she patted Chat’s back. Chat Noir. Adrien Agreste. Agreste. Gabriel Agreste. Hawkmoth- fuck. That’s why the kid seemed so down every time they worked on a plan to prove Gabriel was Hawkmoth. Shit. Well that settles it. Hawkmoth was going down, and he was going down soon. The kids could handle themselves, and with Jason willing to fight with them...Gabriel won’t know what hit him. 

----

“Oh god. Oh god. I messed up. He’s not gonna help us anymore and I messed up and-” Adrien rambles, a panicked expression taking over his face. 

“Adrien, it’s okay. Please breathe, it’s okay.” Marinette says lowly, gently rubbing his back. 

“He knows who Hawkmoth is, Mari. He’s gonna think I’m a bad guy too.” Adrien whispers, his eyes filling with tears. Marinette’s heart breaks as she looks at her best friend and the crushed look on his face. 

“Jason’s a good guy. He’s always making sure we eat enough and take care of our injuries, and he always asks if we’re getting enough sleep. He’s like….he’s like our big brother. He’s not going to abandon us just because he knows your dad is a major jerk.” Marinette says matter-of-factly. Adrien frowns, but nods. 

“What do we do?” He asks. Marinette scrunches her eyebrows, not understanding the question. “I mean, what do we do about him knowing? Do we ask him to leave Paris? Or do we just act like we don’t know that he knows who we are?” 

“I think we wait, see if he brings it up. I trust him, Adrien. I know that we haven’t known him for long, but he’s always had our best interest in mind. He cares about us, and as much as it hurts to say, I think he cares more than Master Fu did.” 

“Why do I feel like everything’s gonna change?” Adrien asks, his voice small as he curls in on himself. 

“Because it is. But it’s not necessarily a bad change.” Marinette says, hoping her voice sounds cheerier than she feels. She’s also felt the shift coming for awhile, felt the way the air seemed to spark with energy. Adrien frowns again and Marinette wraps him in a hug, knowing that no matter how good the change would be for the majority of Paris, her best friend would be hurt. He would suffer, and there was nothing that she could do to take away all of the hurt that is sure to come. No matter how badly she wanted to. 

----

Jason paced the length of the roof, trying to figure out a way to broach the subject of identities with the kids. He didn’t want them to stop trusting him, but he also didn’t want them to feel like they <i>had<i> to confirm it. He also really didn’t want them to ask him to leave. How was he supposed to be there for them if he wasn’t allowed to <i>be<i> there? Thinking back to earlier this afternoon, Jason huffs in annoyance when he remembers how young both of them looked. Three years. For three goddamned years these kids had fought something bigger than themselves, and they had done so alone. Alone, with no one but other kids to help until even that was taken away from them. Taking a few shaky breaths, Jason tries to calm himself. There’s no way in hell he’s gonna let himself be controlled by some asshole in a butterfly costume. No way he’ll let that asshole use him against those kids. Someone clearing their throat makes Jason’s eyes shoot open as he looks over where he heard the noise. He grins, hoping the kid isn’t overthinking too much.

“Chat may be a little late tonight. He got caught up with something in his civilian life.” Ladybug says, dressed in her usual training clothes and domino mask, her arms wrapped around herself like she’s trying to hold herself together. 

“You okay Pixie Pop?” Jason asks, frowning. She purses her lips and Jason can tell she’s weighing how much she should say. Taking a chance, Jason says “I saw you guys today.” The girl sucks in a deep breath and nods. 

“Yeah, yeah I know.” She says, and Jason gives her a minute to collect herself and decide if she wants to say anything else about it. “How much do you know? I know you saw us, but…”

“I know his name. And I know what you look like behind a mask.” Jason says, and the girl nods before she starts pacing. 

“I trust you, Jason. I really do. And I told Chat that it would be okay and that you care about us, but if there’s even a small chance of you being akumatized you’ve gotta go because even though I trust you, I can’t risk my identity and his identity and I’m sure you understand that. Especially with who we think Hawkmoth is because it’s already bad but if he found out it would be even more bad and now Chat is worried that you’ll hate him because of you know, everything, and that’s why he’s not here yet because he’s scared that you’ll look at him differently and-” Ladybug rants, stopping as Jason kneels down to be eye level with her. 

“Hey Pix, I’m gonna need you to breathe okay. I told you that I would help you guys, and I’m not gonna leave just because Chat Noir got the short end of the stick. I don’t hate him, and I’m sure as hell not gonna let myself be akumatized. I’m here for you, both of you. And I’m not gonna let some jackass in a butterfly costume chase me off from helping you guys.” He says, talking in the voice he used when he was talking to street kids as Red Hood. The voice that was meant to be calming, but not patronizing. The voice that was laced with concern, and the reassurance that whoever he was talking to didn’t have to run away. That they were safe. 

“You’re really not gonna leave?” She asks in a small voice. Jason shakes his head. 

“No, I’m here. And I’m not just gonna ditch you guys. If anything, finding out who he is just made me wanna get this done quicker. Get him outta that house.” Jason says, and Ladybug nods. 

“Did you- did you want to know my name?” She asks, and Jason instantly sees the worry in her posture. She’ll tell him, but he can tell that she doesn’t want to. At all. Not that he blames her. A lot sits on her shoulders. Jason shakes his head. 

“You can tell me after, if you want. But you don’t have to say anything now, okay Pixie?” Jason smiles softly as Ladybug’s shoulders instantly relax. She grins and pulls out her phone, probably to tell Chat Noir that it’s safe for him to come. The two wait in a comfortable silence for a few minutes before a soft thud announces the kid’s arrival. 

“Hi Jay.” The boy says quietly, curled in on himself as he obviously prepares to be yelled at. 

“Hey kiddo. I’m not mad at you, you know that, right?” Jason asks, making sure to keep his body language relaxed despite how much he wants to go and beat the shit out of Gabriel Agreste. 

“You don’t think I’m a monster?” Chat asks, and Jason shakes his head. 

“I’ve met monsters, kid. And you’re sure as hell not one.” He says. 

“But my father-”

“I don’t give a damn about that piece of shit. You’re not him. You’re the kid who thought he could fit twelve marshmallows in his mouth. You’re the kid who cheers on LB no matter what. You’re the kid who makes god awful jokes, seriously the only one with worse jokes is my brother. You’re the kid who stepped up and helped to protect Paris when no one else would. You’re a lot of things, but you’re not your father and you’re definitely not a monster.” Jason says. Chat- no, Adrien lets out a choked sob and rushes forward, wrapping his arms around him. Jason freezes for a minute, before wrapping his arms around the kid, watching for butterflies. It’d be just their luck for Gabriel to akumatize Adrien when he was finally letting himself cry. Jason glanced over at LB, noting that she was also watching the skies. After a few minutes, Adrien’s cries slow down to sniffles before he takes a step back, his cheeks bright red under his mask. 

“Uh, I- um, sorry about that.” He apologizes, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. 

“Don’t worry about it kid. What’re big brothers for?” Jason asks with a cheeky smirk. He snorts when he sees the kids’ eyebrows shoot up in surprise. 

“Did Buginette tell you about that?” Adrien asks, and this time it’s Jason’s turn for his eyebrows to shoot up. He glanced over at Ladybug, surprised to see her entire face bright red. 

“I er, um, no I didn’t.” She stammers out, looking everywhere but at Jason. 

“Tell me what?” Jason asks, still confused why the two were acting so weird. 

“Well, I, um, you see-” Adrien cuts off Ladybug. 

“She says you're our big brother.” Adrien says with a grin. Jason’s confused face is instantly replaced with a wide grin. 

“Well of course I am.” Jason says, unable to wipe the grin off his face. Jason snorted at the thought that Bruce was gonna have to get two more rooms ready at the manor (it was safer than Jason’s apartment and he was not about to put these two in any more danger than they’ve already been in for three years). 

“So big bro,” Adrien starts, his wide grin still stretched across his face. “What’s the plan?”

“We’re gonna get Hawkmoth’s miraculous. Tonight.”

Next

Let me know if you want to be added to the taglist. 

Taglist: @laurcad123

[gayacademicwriter]

a snippet | a monster in love | hero x villain

trigger warnings: daggers/blades, death, dead bodies, murder, mentions of alcohol, explosions, assassinations 

The hero looked down at the case file in disbelief, praying that this was a six-month-late April Fool’s joke. 

“You want me to do what?” 

“I want you,” their supervisor answered, ushering them back into the seat, “to seduce the villain.” 

“I know that,” the hero said, cross. “I just have the slight feeling we skipped a couple of steps here. Perhaps even a couple of staircases. Dare I say a few floors.” 

“Calm down.” 

“The first problem: we hate each other. How am I supposed to spend that much time around them when we can’t stand each other’s guts?” 

“You’ll be doing it as a civilian, not as a hero.” 

The hero blinked. “Oh, my God, you want me to reveal my civilian identity to this person?” 

“Not reveal,” the supervisor said carefully, “just meet up with the villain as a civilian, not as a hero.” 

“And where does it go from there, then?”

“Then, once you’re close enough to them, you bring them down. At least get us some information. Something worth the year you’ve got to put energy into it.” 

The hero shook their head, their tone bitter. “I don’t know if you’ve been reading too many romance stories or something lately, chief. This is not going to work.”

“Well, it’s direct orders, so it had better.” 

“Are they running out of ideas up there?” The hero tilted their head. The supervisor shrugged. 

“Hell if I know. Just carry out your mission, will you?” 

The hero sighed as they took the file, muttering under their breath as they walked out of the room. “This is not going to work.”

—

It had very much worked, to both the hero’s surprise and dismay. 

A year later and the villain was smiling at them over a glass of red wine, completely unawares as to the fact that they were the hero. They bought the hero’s story that their name was Quinn, and that they worked in the government with confidential information. They thought the hero’s parents lived four cities over, and the hero had to say that their parents were on a three-month-long cruise to avoid the villain meeting them. They believed the hero had a brother, Alex, and a sister, Robin. They believed the hero was in love with them. 

And now here they were, a year later, celebrating a one-year anniversary as a couple. The hero frequently wondered whether this was a fever dream. 

“You know,” the villain mused, swirling the wine around in their glass, “it’s just a miracle that I decided to go out that night, and that I even had the courage to ask you if you wanted a drink.” 

The hero, too, had learned a lot about the villain. They had learned through late-night walks that the villain frequented the east end of town, which they had relayed to their team some time later, and the villain’s base had been wiretapped and stuffed with cameras. They knew that the villain worked a lot with a scientist on the pretext of longstanding friendship after they had both majored in chemistry. In reality, they were workshopping drugs designed to make the consumer tell the truth. The villain had been working on a fucking truth serum. They discovered that the villain was well-acquainted and worked frequently with a doctor who had a history of having what might politely be classified as bad ethics. 

The villain was a monster. 

And they were totally, utterly, in love with “Quinn.”

“Yeah,” the hero laughed, forcing the nervousness out of their voice. “I’m so lucky to have met you. Really.” 

The villain smiled, and leaned forward, kissing them on the cheek. The hero giggled and blushed. 

The food came and the villain spoon-fed them some soup. They fed the villain a bite of their salmon. They paid the bill—the villain always tipped well, the hero had noted—and then they left, the villain’s arm wrapped around their waist. 

“Let’s go home, hmm?” The villain nipped at the hero’s ear. The hero nodded with a smile. 

They walked down the sidewalk, the stars above them gleaming, blinking in and out of existence when they passed streetlights. The hero’s heart was pounding. One year, and it was about to be over and done. 

They said hello to the doorman at the first floor of their apartment building. They walked to the apartment that they had shared for four months now. The villain unlocked the door, and walked inside. 

This was it. 

The hero stepped inside, closed the door and spun the villain against the wall. They might have chuckled had the point of the dagger that the hero had worn all night at their ribs not been aimed right at their heart. 

“One move, and you’re a goner.” 

“Quinn?” The villain’s voice was frozen as they watched the hero’s features, eyes steely and face expressionless. 

“You’re a goddamn monster. The truth serum? Doctor Brookes? The plans to blow up the apartment building because your ex lived there? The plans to assassinate your parents because they begged you not to do what you’re doing?” The hero shook their head. “I knew you were terrible. I didn’t think it was this bad.” 

The villain’s eyes narrowed. “Who are you?” 

“Take a guess,” the hero answered. 

“Hero.” 

The hero nodded. They were prepared for scathing words or a proclamation of a painfully slow death. 

“So it was a lie, then.” The villain exhaled. “Every hour. It was all just—leading up to this. You didn’t mean any of it. Any of the ‘I love you’s or the ‘I’m so glad I met you’s or the ‘You made my day better.’ You wanted to get close to me, and learn all my secrets. And then you wanted to kill me.

Is that why my base was wiretapped when I got back to it three weeks after our late-night walk? Is that why Cindy suddenly got arrested for some trumped-up charge that they published in the news? Is that why Brookes got his license revoked and he’s waiting for his trial? 

I let it all slide,” they said hoarsely. “I thought that maybe you were... who you really are. I had some hope that even if you were, maybe there was a chance. A sliver of a chance.” There were tears, now. “But there never was, was there.” 

The hero shook their head mutely. They had definitely not been prepared for that.

“Everything was a trick.” 

They nodded. 

“Say it. One more time,” they asked. “It was a nice lie while it lasted. Let me believe it until I die.” 

The hero swallowed, adjusting the angle of the dagger. “I love you.” 

The blade slide home. 

The villain had been a monster. But they had been a monster in love. 

Looking silently down at the dead body on the floor of the apartment, the hero wondered if it really was a comfort or not to know that the love was a lie just before they had died. 

— 

if you like my work, please consider buying me a coffee! 

[fruitcoops]

I was watching this video w Megan Rapinoe & Sue Bird (tumblr won’t let me link but it’s from 2 days ago on GQ- they ask each other questions but it’s like quiz style?) and didn’t know if you would want to do something similar for coops? Some of the stuff they said/how they acted reminded me of coops’ dynamic

Anon, this video was the perfect way to spend an evening. Both these women are my role models and they’re unbelievably cute together--go check out the video here if you have the chance! Their dynamic is a lot like how I imagine Coops, too! Sweater Weather credit goes to @lumosinlove!

“Hey, Lions, we’re back!” Sirius waved at the camera and tapped a short stack on notecards on his thighs. “I’m Captain Sirius Black of the Gryffindor Lions and I’m here with my fiancé, Remus Lupin, to do another couple game.”

“The response to our last few interviews was incredible and we had a great time,” Remus continued. “Miss Marlene McKinnon was kind enough to drag us back in here to answer even more questions!”

“Do you want to go first?”

“Sure.” Remus cleared his throat and pulled the first card. “What are my parents’ first names?”

“Hope and Lyall.”

“Easy peasy, lemon squeezy. What’s my hidden talent?”

“You can sing.”

“Does that count? I feel like most people know that now.”

“Hmm.” Sirius thought for a moment, drumming his fingers on his knees. “You can cook really well.”

“Thank you, baby. What’s my favorite accessory?”

Sirius brightened. “Your watch!”

“Yes!” Remus held it up to the camera—it was simple and elegant, with a leather band and a small face. He wore it with the clock against the inside of his wrist, just above his pulse point. “What is my dream travel destination or vacation?”

“Oh, that’s tough.” Sirius bit his lip in thought. “Seattle? Paris?”

“I do want to go to Seattle, but I’ve always wanted to go to Montreal,” Remus said. “You’ve seen my hometown, but I’ve never been to yours.”

Sirius frowned. “Really?”

“Really. What am I most afraid of?”

“I think…I think you’re most afraid of not being useful,” Sirius said after a moment. “For six years, your job was all about helping people, and it’s not now.”

Remus raised his eyebrows at the camera. “I was going to say the dentist’s office. Goddamn.”

“Sorry,” Sirius laughed. “Yeah, you don’t like medical facilities.”

“I mean, you weren’t wrong about the useful thing,” Remus said. “You still get a point for that. What’s my favorite music, song, or artist to listen to before a game?”

“You don’t have one.”

“That was quick. Half a bonus point for speed. When was our first date and what did we do?”

“Our first official date was just after All-Stars and we went to Sid’s, but we had been together for about three months at that point and just hung out at each other’s houses.”

Remus grinned. “Do you remember what day it was?”

“January 28th.” Sirius gave him a look. “I know for a fact you don’t know what day it was.”

“January 28th.”

“You only know that because I just said it!” Sirius smacked him playfully with his cards. “Next question.”

“What’s my favorite movie and TV show?”

“Jurassic Park and Avatar: The Last Airbender.”

He whistled the first part of the theme song as Sirius did the hand motions. “What’s my shoe size?”

“Oh, god,” Sirius muttered, staring down at the floor. “Eleven? Eleven and a half? You have smaller feet than I do, but not by much.”

“I’m a size ten.”

“Are you really?”

Remus pulled one sneaker off and handed it to him with a laugh. “Check for yourself. Oh, I’d love to know the answer to this one. How do you know when I’m mad at you?”

Sirius tossed his shoe back with a snort. “You make faces.”

Remus seemed surprised. “Do I?”

“Yeah. You’ve got a very expressive face and the second you’re pissed, it’s written all over it. It’s like—” Sirius pursed his lips and scrunched his nose slightly. “I can’t really do it, but anytime I see that I’m like, ‘oh, shit, what did I do?’ Also, you stop calling me baby.”

“That’s what I was going to say. What’s my favorite city to play in?”

“Not Florida.”

“Not fucking Florida,” Remus agreed with a grin.

“Gryffindor for sure.”

“Where was I born?” He gave Sirius a teasing look. “Do you know this time, or should I get my mom on the line?”

Sirius stuck his tongue out. “Madison, Wisconsin.”

Remus glanced at the camera. “We got asked this question in an interview a few months ago and he had to call my mom afterward because he forgot.”

“She made fun of me the whole time,” Sirius pouted.

“What is my favorite food? Oh, you’ll get this one for sure.” Sirius hesitated and Remus’ eyes widened. “Really?”

“I’m a little torn. It’s either my grilled cheese or your dad’s turkey-cranberry thing. Actually, I don’t think you know what your favorite food is.”

Remus nodded slowly. “That’s a really good point. My first thought was grilled cheese, but my dad makes the best postgame sandwiches. I’ll give you that. What’s my favorite hobby?”

“Reading.”

“What did I want to be when I was a kid?”

“A librarian, until you started playing hockey.”

Remus leaned over and high-fived him. “You’re on a roll, baby. What was my jersey number in college?”

“Number six.”

“The transition was so fucking easy,” Remus laughed. “Coach literally came up to me a month before practices started and went ‘hey, what was your old number?’ and I told him, and he looked down at his clipboard and went, ‘cool.’. I got my jersey two weeks later.”

“Is this your last question?”

“It is, indeed. What’s my full birth name?”

“Remus Jehosephat Lupin.”

“That is incorrect.”

“Close enough. It’s Remus John Lupin, which I find endlessly funny.”

“Why is it funny?” Marlene asked off-screen. Remus hid his face behind his notecards as Sirius laughed.

“Because it’s such a basic middle name! I love Hope and Lyall with my entire heart and they’re wonderful people, but they named their sons Remus and Julian and then I think they got stuck. Like, you’ve got these two very uncommon first names and they sort of went ‘fuck it. John and Michael. We’re done.’ It’s just so funny.”

“Whereas your parents went the extra mile and gave you and Reg goddamn supervillain names,” Remus snorted. “The drama of it all, my god.”

“Alright, alright, my turn.” Sirius leaned his elbows on his knees. “What is my favorite color?”

“Blue.”

“How do I like my coffee?”

Remus hissed between his teeth. “Ah, shit, you always make the coffee. With a lot of sugar, right? It’s black with sugar?”

“It can’t be black if it has sugar in it,” Sirius laughed. “But yes, I do put sugar in my coffee. What are three things I never leave the house without?”

“Keys, wallet, phone.”

“My favorite TV show?”

“Why are you going through these so fast? Uh, Avatar.”

“Did I ever have a job that wasn’t playing hockey?”

“Nope.” Remus frowned. “Were you allowed to get a job as a kid?”

“I was not. What’s my favorite ice cream flavor?”

“Cookies and cream.”

Sirius made a buzzer noise. “Incorrect.”

“Is it chocolate?”

“Yep. You get half a point for that. What’s the first meal I ever cooked for you?”

Remus gave him a look. “You don’t remember what you cooked for me, do you?”

“Refresh my memory?”

“No way!” He punched him lightly on the arm. “I’m not falling for my own tricks. Next question.”

“It’s kind of a repeat from earlier. How do you know when I’m mad at you?”

Remus fiddled with the edges of his cards. “You act all weird and Captain-y, and then you get quiet. Just cranky vibes all around.”

“Cranky vibes,” Sirius laughed. “Good to know. What are my favorite movie-watching snacks?”

“Popcorn and…Sweet Tarts?”

“Yes!” Sirius gave him a high-five. “Do you know what I like on my popcorn?”

“Butter and enough salt to kill a Victorian child.”

“Bonus point! What is—oh, shit!” He nearly fumbled the cards onto the floor. “What is my favorite movie of all time?”

“Indiana Jones.”

“Which one?”

“The one with Marian, because she reminds you of me.” Remus looked over at the camera. “I really don’t like snakes.”

“What is the first thing I do when I wake up in the morning?”

“Oh, I think this requires a demonstration. C’mere.”

“Does it really?” Sirius sighed as he laid down next to him.

“For sure.” Remus cuddled into his side and laid his head on his shoulder. “Alright, the key to a true Sirius Black wake-up is getting all four limbs wrapped around the other person like you’re trying to suffocate them with affection.”

“Okay—”

“And then,” Remus continued with a grin. “I go, ‘honey, wake up’—”

“You absolutely do not.”

“In my head, that’s what I say. It’s very sweet. To answer the question, the first thing Sirius does is this.” He buried his face in Sirius’ chest and groaned loudly, then dissolved into snickering as Sirius’ chest began to shake with suppressed laughter. “Stop it, you’re ruining the demonstration!”

“You forgot the part where I have to peel you off me with pliers and grease,” Sirius teased as they stood up, dusting themselves off. The camera crew applauded and they both bowed. “Alright, where were we? What am I most scared of?”

“Losing your friends and family,” Remus said. “Also, spiders and most bugs.”

“You forgot one.”

“Which one? The dish soap bubbles?”

“Losing you.”

A vibrant blush tinted Remus’ cheeks and ears, and he floundered for words. “Oh.”

“You still get the points, though,” Sirius said mildly. “What city do I like playing in the most?”

Remus paused for a moment longer, then shook his head to clear his thoughts. “Uh, Gryffindor. You like the crowd.”

“I do.” Sirius smiled at the camera. “To all the fans out there: you are incredible and there is nothing like skating out with everybody roaring so loud the windows shake. Who is my biggest hockey influence?”

“Now, or when you were younger?”

“Now.”

“It’s Dumo, right?”

Sirius nodded. “On and off the ice. What’s my proudest career moment?”

“Hmm, I wonder,” Remus said sarcastically. “Could it possibly be winning the Stanley Cup?”

“Just maybe,” Sirius laughed. “What’s my most famous celly, and which one’s my favorite?”

Remus grinned. “Lightning McQueen.”

“I hate it when you call it that.” Despite his words, Sirius was smiling. “It’s supposed to be cool!”

“Can you elaborate?” Marlene asked.

“I mean, most people who have seen him play know what I’m talking about,” Remus said, gesturing to the camera. “But Sirius’ famous celly is a double fist pump, and I call it the Lightning McQueen because it’s like ka-chow! It’s also his favorite one, though he dances when we’re skating alone or with a couple of the guys.”

“Shhh, they aren’t supposed to know that!” Sirius covered Remus’ mouth with his notecard. “This is the very last one. What is my biggest pet peeve?”

“When I leave my socks laying around the house.”

“Ding, ding, ding, we have a winner! That drives me fucking bonkers. Marley, who won?”

“It wasn’t a competition,” she said off-screen. “Just a Q & A.”

“Who got the most right?” Remus asked.

“You two are hopeless,” she muttered. There were a few beats of silence. “Remus won, with sixteen and a half out of seventeen. Sirius, you had fifteen and a half.”

“No.” Sirius groaned and dropped his head into his hands as Remus whooped.

“Hell yes!”

“My bonus points let you win.” He shook his head in disbelief. “I can’t believe this.”

Remus faced the camera with a victorious smile. “Thanks for joining us to witness my landslide victory—”

“It was one point.”

“And make sure to like and subscribe for more Lion Pride content! See you around, Lions.” They both mock-saluted, and the video ended.

[felix21im]

"Ice Cold", a Leon Kennedy x Reader fanfiction

As an Art and Design student all you want to do is just knuckle down and finish that one goddamn piece you've been working on for months. Too bad your time is constantly stolen by your Waiter job with minimal pay, but hey, at least the tips are good if you unbutton your shirt that one more time.

Masterlist

Chapter 7: The Journey

The next morning arrived as you packed the last things you thought you needed. Leon didn't actually tell you how long you would be away for, but you made sure to bring enough stuff if it was for say a week and besides you could always buy stuff while you were out there. It was the first time you ever left the country and you were really excited to go on a “vacation” with Leon, even though you knew this wasn't really one.

You didn't bother eating anything since it was still very early, the sun barely even shining yet, but it was also due to the nerves of flying. Now you were waiting for Leon to come pick you up. You couldn't even stand still while waiting so you went through and checked that you locked all of the doors, checking if everything was ready and the house to be left alone. Just as you went for another round the doorbell finally rang. Almost running your suitcase over, you went to open it. Before you stood Leon, looking just as tired as you but greeting you with a smile nevertheless. “Everything ready to go?” he asked, looking inside your home and pointing at the luggage.

You simply nodded and went to grab a backpack and another bag. “Would you mind taking the suitcase? I don't think I can hold any more stuff.” You lifted your arms showing Leon all the things you held. Leon gave you a smile and nodded and went to grab the big suitcase which stood behind you.

The two of you then went out of the apartment and you made sure to have everything you needed before locking the final door behind you. After that Leon showed you the way to the already waiting car. Next to it stood two tall men dressed in all black suits and wearing sunglasses. “Don’t worry about them, they look scarier than they are.” Leon winked at you as you continued your way. When you arrived at the big car one of the men went to grab the stuff you were carrying and put it in the car before opening the backdoor for you. You thanked him quietly as you sat down and he closed the door again. You saw Leon talking to the men before he joined you in the backseats as well. The two men then also went into the car, both sitting in front of you and Leon, one of them driving the car. “Try to get some sleep before we arrive at the airport, Buttercup. The time zone change will be hard to get used to, anyway. So try sleeping now or on the flight, alright?” You nodded and went closer to Leon to rest your head on his shoulder. He took your hand in his and you soon felt sleep take over your mind and body.

You felt a light shaking in your body before you slowly opened your eyes. By now the sun was shining and the bright light made you close your eyes again. “Hey, sleepyhead. We gotta get out, try your best to not fall asleep again otherwise you’ll be in the wrong timezone.” You heard Leon chuckle and you opened your eyes again, looking at him tired. You stretched and yawned before fixing your hair and getting ready to go. Leon already left the car and opened the door for you, making sure you wouldn't fall asleep again.

You groaned as you left the car and looked around, the area not looking like an airport at all. You looked at Leon questiongly. “I thought we were driving to an airport, Leon. Where are we? I mean, I have never been to one but this wasn't what I expected.” You motioned your hand to the area you were surrounded by. It looked like you were in the middle of nowhere, the car parking in an open area with no trees, buildings or any life in sight. All you could see was green grass and maybe some rocks. Leon scratched the back of his head. “Yea, I guess there was a change of plans. We can't fly with a normal plane. So now we have to wait for.. let's say a colleague to pick us up with a helicopter and then they’ll be taking us to a different airport. But don’t worry, Buttercup, this stuff sometimes happens. It's no big deal.”

You let out a huff and crossed your arms before your chest. “Alright, whatever you say Leon. As long as we get to Italy somehow I’m not worried.” Leon gave you a light smile before kissing your forehead.

To pass the time you pulled your phone out of your backpocket, scrolling through social media to see the latest trends online. Only a few minutes passed before you began hearing the sound of a helicopter closing in. You looked up towards the sky and you soon saw one coming from the horizon, eventually it slowly began descending down to the four of you. Leon lightly pulled you back a little bit, to make sure you wouldn't fly. Once the helicopter landed and the propellers came to a stop you were able to get in. Leon helped you get up and into it and you sat down. Afterwards Leon joined you, he gave you a pair of pilot headphones and closed the big door on his side. The two suited men also joined you, leaving their car alone in the middle of nowhere. Shortly after you all sat down in the helicopter its engine started again and you rose up to the sky. You gasped due to the sudden sensation and went to hold Leon's hand, surprised by the height you found yourself in. Leon had to laugh at your reaction but soon took you into his arms to calm you down. He wanted to say something but he thought that maybe the two bodyguards wouldn't want to hear such a dirty joke. Leon then mentioned that you should close your eyes to help with the nerves, which you then did. You still don't feel too awake so closing your eyes again, even if just for a short time, sounded like a good idea to you.

It felt like only a few minutes passed but it must have been a few hours, actually. You woke up again after feeling the helicopter landing on the ground again, shaking you awake. You slowly opened your eyes again, looking around. Leon and the others were already ready to leave, whilst you had to fully wake up first. You yawned and stretched before laying your headphones onto your seat after standing up. You then carefully jumped out of the helicopter and looked around. Leon and the men talked and also looked around in the place that finally looked like a real airport although it was still kind of small compared to what you have seen on TV. The sun was shining bright by now, heating up the area and the tarmac that you were standing on. Leon reached a hand out to you. "Come here, Buttercup. Our flight should arrive any minute now. Then we can finally get to Italy. You still wanna do this?"

"Of course I do! I can't wait any longer!" You answered Leon and looked at him excited. He gave you a smile and you put your hand in his. The two of you then walked towards the landing area, the helicopter starting again and soon leaving the place. The men followed you and Leon, both of them carrying your luggage. You didn't have to wait too long out in the sun before a small private plane arrived and stopped on the landing area. The door opened and small stairs invited you inside. Leon let you go in first, following you shortly after. The inside of the plane was very luxurious, but small. Enough for all of you but that's about it. There were two tiny tables next to the windows with some comfortable chairs in front of them. You took a seat and waited for Leon to sit down opposite of you. After he and the other men sat down the door closed again and the plane was ready for take off. "It's gonna be quite the long flight. If you wanna eat or drink anything just let me know. We got enough stuff in here." Leon winked at you and motioned to the back where the storage must be. You nodded as an answer but didn't feel like eating anything yet. You looked out of the window as the plane slowly started moving and soon rose up into the air. It was way more comfortable here than in the helicopter so you weren't as scared as before. You grabbed your backpack and got your phone, earphones and a book out of it. It wasn't much but at least you could pass some time reading or listening to music now.

After reading a few chapters of your book you decided to take a break from it. You looked at Leon who was sitting on the other side of the table, now also asleep. You smiled at him knowing he barely gets any sleep. You decided to lay your book to the side and got out your phone. You put on your earphones and scrolled through your music. Starting a random playlist you looked out the window and enjoyed the view. It was still sunny, only a few clouds in sight. After a few minutes you felt your eyes getting heavier again and soon you fell asleep once more that day.

You opened your eyes and your entire body shivered. “Leon..?” You mumbled as you sat up, you didn’t recognise where you were. Trees and brick walls were all you could see. As you hoisted yourself to your feet you felt a pain sweep through your head.

You stumbled through the grass in an attempt to figure out where you were, the last thing you remember was being on the plane with Leon.

You flinched at every sound you heard, that could be the sound of a bird or the leaves crunching under your feet.

You began to hear the sounds of an engine as you walked and you slowly made your way towards it. You peered your head around the wall and you saw a woman, she had frizzy hair and she was wearing what looked like hiking gear. She must have sensed you as she turned her head towards you. “Oh!” She waved her hand at you, signaling for you to join her. “You must be new around here, I’ve never seen you before.” She said.

You crouched down beside her at the engine. “I- uh. Where are we?”

“Oh, you’re REALLY new around here?” She chuckled, ignoring your question.

“Please, where are we?” You asked again.

“You’re… I'm not exactly sure where we are.” She replied. “But no one likes it here that’s for sure.” As she talked she was continually tampering with the engine, making it rev and spark. “Just make sure you ru-“ she was interrupted by the sound of another woman screaming. “Listen, I don’t have the answers to your questions.” She jumped onto her feet and began to walk away. “Make sure you run. Or you won’t make it out of here alive.”

You were confused on what she meant but by the time you caught up to where she ran she was gone. Unknowing on what to do you just continued with what that woman was previously doing, fiddling with the engine. You played with the wires to create sparks between them. As you did so the lights at the top of the engine began to flicker and the pumps began to speed up, eventually resulting in the engine starting up, resulting in the lights constantly staying lit.

Just as the lights began to light up you felt uneasy, your heart began to pound even though you weren't doing anything to cause it to. You looked around not seeing anything out of the ordinary, but you could hear someone running. Their footsteps got louder and louder, along with your own heartbeat. Unsure about what to do, you just started running without looking back again. It felt like your heart was about to explode as you collisioned with another person. You looked up in shock, recognizing the other person. “Leon! Oh my god, where are we? What is going on?” You asked him, completely out of breath. You looked him up and down, realizing he looked way yonger and was wearing a police uniform.

He just grabbed your arm and started running in another direction. “We don't have time to talk right now. Just go and hide somewhere safe, please.” He let go off your arm and went on running. You stood there, still confused and looked around. Your heartbeat was normal by now but you still felt weird with the whole situation. You slowly started walking around again and at some point you heard a loud bang and saw another of those generators glowing just ahead of you. You walked towards it, hoping to find Leon or the girl from earlier. But the closer you got the faster your heart was racing again. You saw someone running towards you, about your size and wearing a dark jacket. It was too late when you realized they were holding a knife in their hand and you went to turn. You were too slow and felt the knife hit your back. You let out a pained scream before continuing to run. Just when you thought you outrun them, they walked straight into you, sending you to the ground with another painful slash.

You tried crawling away but soon felt the person's grip around you, picking you up with a groan. You started wiggling and hitting them to free yourself from their grip but you failed. The next thing you felt was immense pain in your shoulder and your loud scream filled the area. You looked to your shoulder, seeing rotting metal protruding out of you. The pain was horrible as you tried to get yourself off, without success. You saw something growing around you but thankfully you couldn’t find out what it was because Leon came to pick you from the hook with ease. You groaned as you hit the ground and thanked him. “Didn’t I tell you to hide? This place is dangerous.”

You rubbed your shoulder as you looked at him. “Well, you could have told me what I was supposed to hide from, maybe then I would have! So please tell me what's going on here.”

Leon let out a sigh as he scanned the area and got out some bandages. “We don't really know what this is, but we do know that we have to repair those generators to get out. The person who hurt you is called Legion, they look really similar to us normal people so try to make sure the person you see is not holding a knife. And if they do have a knife: run as fast as you can unless you wanna end up on a hook again. If you get caught two more times you’re.. Well, dead. So try to finish the last two generators with us and get out of here.” While Leon explained the situation he also finished up your wound and you felt better instantly. “Follow me, there is a generator right around here. If we work together it will be done faster.” Leon started walking in one direction and you followed him, making sure the area was safe. The two of you then sat down at one of the generators and started working on it. Until it was finished nothing happened. You two didn't talk and just concentrated on doing your work. But just as the headlights started shining you two felt your heartbeats speeding up again. Leon looked around and then over to you. He motioned to you to go away before he too went into the dark again. Your breath was heavy and you still felt like someone was watching you even though your heartbeat normalized again. You walked around the dark area and looked for any other survivors or a generator to work on. But even after a few minutes you didn't find what you were looking for. Instead your heartbeat began fastening again as you walked by a small cabin. You went inside and looked around. There was no one in sight but your fast heartbeat still frightened you. You could soon hear footsteps outside the building and decided to hide. Thankfully you stood close to a bunch of red lockers, so you went into one quietly. You looked through the small space to make sure nobody came here to hurt you. But it was just your luck that the person who earlier stabbed you now stood in the middle of the shack and looked around. There were two other lockers, so you hoped they would not check the one you were in. The person started moving again, walking past every locker. You held your breath as they walked past yours, hoping they couldn't sense you. But they still stopped in front of it and the next thing you saw were the doors opening and the Legion grabbing you, again. You let out a surprised scream, trying to get away somehow. But there was no chance and so you found yourself on a hook again. You screamed as it pierced through your skin and looked around, hoping someone would come and rescue you. This time it was different though. The things that were forming the first time on the hook were now fully alive and trying to kill you. You used all your strength to keep it away from your body, moaning in pain and exhaustment. Just as you thought you couldn't continue to struggle anymore you felt someone picking you up from the hook. It was a different woman than the one in the beginning. She was wearing a suit and had dark hair. You thanked her as you thought about where you have seen her before. Then it hit you. “Jane? Jane Romero!”

You looked at her in surprise as she gave you a light smile. “Yep, that's me. Sorry I can't give you an autograph right now. We kinda have to get out of here and all.” You were shocked about how calm she was with the situation but followed her lead. There was no time for her to patch your wounds since you once again felt the presence of the Legion. “Go and run! I will distract them, you hear me?” Jane almost pushed you in the other direction and you started running. Your shoulder was still hurting and you couldn't hide your groans of pain. You went looking for Leon or anyone really to help you match the hole in your shoulder and get out of there. The more time passed the more panic filled your entire body. It seemed you were running in circles and no one was there with you anymore. You stopped running at some point and needed a minute to catch your breath. It felt like the whole world was spinning around you and you were brought back to reality too late. A knife found its way into your side, making you gasp. You almost fell over your own feet as you tried gaining some distance, but it was too late. Just a few meters later the knife hit you again, sending you to the ground. You remembered Leon's words about dying on the hook and panicked. You screamed for help but no one came to your rescue this time. But they couldn't have done anything to help, anyway. It was different this time. The Legion didn't come to pick you up and for a second you thought they would let you live. You tried crawling away as you suddenly felt movement behind you again. The Legion barely missed your head as they went for another stab.You turned around to guard yourself, which only ended up in your arm getting pierced. After attempting to push them away you tried to run but tripped and fell to the ground once more. You felt a deep stab in your leg as you were being pulled back to them. You turned around and screamed in agony as they stabbed you one more time, right in the chest. The last thing you felt was the knife gutting you from the chest to stomach and you gave into the darkness surrounding you, freeing you from the immense pain you were in.

You woke up, heavily breathing and covered in sweat. You looked around and pinched yourself to make sure you were actually awake this time. Realizing you were, you let out a relieved sigh. Leon was also awake by now, looking at you confused and raising an eyebrow. "Are you good? You look like you have seen a ghost." You let out a huff.

"Yea, I guess you could say that. I just had the weirdest nightmare…" You rubbed your forehead and looked outside again and then back to Leon. "What time is it? Or well, where are we now and when do we arrive?"

Leon checked his phone. "We're already flying over Italy right now. If everything continues to go so smoothly we should be at the airport in only a few minutes, maybe thirty. So you better get all your stuff and get ready for landing." Leon looked at the table. Your book and phone were laying on it, next to a plate and two glasses. Apparently Leon got hungry when you were asleep. You grabbed one of the glasses and took a big sip, exhausted from the long day and weird dream you just had. After that you put your book and earphones back into your backpack and relaxed the last few minutes in the plane.

Soon after an announcement filled the small area, reminding you to put on your seatbelts and get ready for landing. Just shortly after the announcement you felt the plane hit the ground and then slowing down to get ready to stop. After it came to a complete hold the door opened again and the stairs were ready to be used. You grabbed your stuff and got up with Leon to leave the plane. Outside stood a black car already awaiting you four. The men once again got your luggage and placed it in the car. You opened the back door and sat down, placing your backpack between your legs on the floor of the car. You let out a small sigh and then closed the door. Leon soon joined you and sat down next to you. Just shortly after the motor of the car started and you found yourselves on a highway. Even though it was just now getting dark outside you weren't tired, probably because you slept most of the day anyway. You leaned against the car window and looked outside. You always dreamt about leaving your hometown and seeing the world and Italy was always one of your biggest wishes to visit. So now that you were really here you almost couldn't believe it.

You passed multiple other cars and the scenery seemed to change every few minutes. It was either old looking towns, luxurious houses or fields filled with trees and animals. A smile rested on your face while you were mesmerized by the view. You didn't even realize that Leon was looking at you, smiling as well, until he spoke your name. You were brought back to reality and looked at him confused. “Huh? Did you say anything?” Leon let out a small laugh, shaking his head. “I just wanted to let you know that we will arrive shortly. I hope you like the hotel we got, but it seems you would be fine with anything here.” You two had to laugh about that, but Leon was right: you really liked everything here already and you were quite excited about seeing your hotel and the town.

Just moments later the car stopped in front of a building. As you left the car you let out a gasp. The building you stood before was huge and looked really extravagant and modern, but still had a touch of the typical old italian vibes. You felt an arm resting around your shoulders and looked up. “You like what you see?” Leon asked you.

For a second you were actually speechless. “I mean.. Yea! Definitely! But Leon, you could have told me it would be so luxurious.” You looked down at yourself and then at Leon. “I’m looking like some homeless person you just picked up on your way here while you´re wearing a fancy suit again.”

Leon let out a small laugh and patted your head. “You would be quite a pretty homeless person, Buttercup. I'm glad I picked you up then.” Leon winked at you before continuing to talk. “No, but really. Don’t you worry about that. At least you are wearing something comfortable. There will be more than enough moments where you have to wear something fancy again, alright? No one here will care anyway, they all have their own business to worry about.” You smiled at Leon and then nodded. It was good to be here with him and it was good to know that he supported you when feeling unsure. You grabbed his hand and soon walked into the hotel together. His bodyguards already checked in and showed you the way into your room before going into their own as well. The hallways were long and lots of decorations were on the walls. It felt like forever until you finally reached your room. Leon unlocked the door with his card and you two went inside. The room was just as big as everything else there. A big bed stood at the side next to a huge window, letting you look at the city. There was another door, probably leading to the bathroom. In the main room stood a table with four chairs, a TV with a comfortable looking sofa and more than enough other random things. You threw your backpack onto the sofa and fell into the bed backwards, now looking at the ceiling. Since the walls were so high up you almost didn't see the artwork that was carved into the ceiling. You felt the bed shifting and turned your head to the side. Leon sat down next to you and watched you. “I know you already slept a lot today but you should try to sleep now as well. It can be hard to adjust to the new time here but try your best. I have one free day tomorrow so we can look around the town and have breakfast outside this hotel if you want to.” You sat up and nodded. “Sounds like a great idea. I can't wait to see a bit of the city.” You stretched before standing up and going to your luggage. You searched for something to wear for the night and picked out an outfit for the next day, too. After that you went inside the bathroom and freshened yourself up a bit. You then headed back into bed and waited for Leon to join you.

You kept your eyes staring up at the ceiling as you attempted to go to sleep, Leon must have known that you were struggling. “You alright, Buttercup?” He asked you faintly, trying not to be loud when he was right next to you. You turned your head towards him, you didn't realise how close he was until your noses almost touched.

“I-” You struggled to find the right words. “I’m sad.” You admitted to him, earning a look of confusion from him. “I mean I'm happy for sure! But I'm sad that we’re only going to get a day together then I'm on my own for a while.”

He sighed as he sat up slightly, leaning on his arm as his body was turned towards you. His toned, muscular body, the hair that travels from the waistband of his sweatpants and then up his abs towards his chest. “Buttercup!” He waved his hand in front of your face, snapping you out of your trance. He laughed as he realised what you were staring at. “I’ll be gone for three days, Buttercup. Maybe five max…” He admitted. “Then afterwards this hot bod will be all yours.”

You let out a small laugh as you shook your head and punched him lightly. “I'm just kinda worried about you, I think. I mean, I knew what you were gonna do now, but it's different when I’m so close and yet won't be able to see or do anything with you.” You let out a small sigh as you looked into Leon's eyes.

“Don´t worry so much about me, Buttercup. Try and enjoy your time here, maybe you will even find some new friends, huh? Promise me you won't worry?”

“Promise..”

Leon seemed satisfied with that answer because he didn't say anything else about it. Instead you felt him shifting around and you chuckled at him as he climbed on top of you, kissing your face as he chuckled too, his stubble tickling you, causing you to laugh even more. He kissed you one more time before rolling to his side again. He held your hand as you saw how he closed his eyes. “Try sleeping now, alright? I don't want you to be tired when we have something planned for tomorrow.” You nodded in agreement and closed your eyes. Even though you weren't completely okay with the situation Leon was right: you should be fit for the day you have together tomorrow and try not to worry too much.

---

Taglist: @trinswhimsys @dixanadu @oppsie--channie

[disgruntledspacedad]

The Rules of Engagement (3/5)

The Better Love Series

pairing: Javier Peña x fem!reader/ofc (Ears)

summary: (slow-burn, sexual tension, angst, a little bit of h/c in later chapters) He’s a DEA agent. You work for Centra Spike. Peña’s not your boss, exactly, but you’ve been fwb long enough that certain people are starting to think of you as An Item, and that just won’t do. 

words: 3.4k 

warnings: 18+ for alcohol, language, smut, violence, body horror, general trauma. Please, please heed the warnings on this chapter, guys. It gets pretty intense.

a/n: Unbeta’d. I know I said this was going to be three chapters, but I lied. Sorry, my dudes - this one got away from me. Inspo credit goes to @tiffdawg​, as always.

part one | part two | part three | part four | part five

MASTERLIST

Well, fuck. You bite back a massive sigh.

You really, really don’t want to walk through that door.

It’s been a month, and you life has changed profoundly.

For one, you’re not at the office as much anymore - Stechner had made good on his promise to consider you for more flyovers, and boy, has Centra Spike been busy. Some new vigilante group is terrorizing Medellín, and while it’s not Search Bloc’s priority to go after them, they’ve undeniably kept Pablo and his sicarios busy. The radio frequencies are hot right now, and you’ve been doing eight, sometimes ten flights a week. 

You absolutely love it. The hours are less predictable and definitely more shitty, but listening to a radio from the cockpit of a plane is much more fun that listening to a radio in a stuffy basement office, so you consider it a fair trade.

It keeps your brain busy, too.

Your social life has taken a massive kick to the nuts. Ana is back at university, and you miss her more than you thought you would. You’ve reverted to communicating with Emilio with gestures and smiles more than words. It’s nice because he’s nice, but you miss actual conversation, stilted as it was. Ana wasn’t all that bad, either.

And then there’s Javi.

You haven’t spoken to him since That Morning, not even a polite 'how are you?' in the hallway. Granted, you’re not seeing him as often anymore, given your new position and hours, but then again, you haven’t exactly sought him out, either.

The memory claws at you every time you relive it - and you relive it often. That anger, that wounded expression. The slammed door, his retreating footsteps. Each time you’re in that building, the walls seem to close in on you, and you have to stop yourself from looking for him, actively keep your gaze from roaming straight to his desk.

God, as if you could make it more awkward.

You’d had one nasty conversation with Murphy about a week after the incident - you’d told him in no uncertain terms that he could either mind his own business or fuck right off, you didn’t care which. He’d left you be, throwing his hands in the air and muttering something about how “you two deserve each other.”

Asshole.

Still, that aborted conversation haunts you - so many aborted conversations haunt you - and you wonder what would have happened if you’d just taken the bull by the horns and addressed the issue with Javi head on.

I’m sorry you caught me rubbing one off on the morning after you almost died, Peña. I can assure you, it won’t happen again. Your friendship means the world to me.

Yeah, right.

God, though, but you miss him.

You miss him so much it aches, a gaping hole that reaches right down to the core of you, but there’s nothing to be done about it. You’d fucked this one completely and thoroughly - any chance of restoring your friendship had drained away with the shower-water, and the more time you spend fretting over it, the more awkward - and pathetic - it would be to say anything.

So, you’d cut your losses, held your head high, and tried not to waste too much time wishing you’d have just kept your fucking fantasies to yourself.

Now, though, you’ve got no choice.

You’d been on Centra Spike’s early morning flight, just another routine scan over Medellín. The shift wasn’t intended to be more than a training run for you, but as luck would have it, the Medellín cartel’d had a busy night, and you’d been caught in the crossfire.

Your plane had just touched down half an hour ago, and now you’re standing on the front steps of the embassy building, fingering a shoebox cassette player loaded with a freshly taped recording full of juicy intel destined for the desk of DEA Agent Javier Peña - an entire, private conversation featuring none other than Verdugo himself.

You’d know that voice anywhere. You’ve studied it for hours, what few snatches you’d been able to glean from the embassy archives. It’s almost as if Verdugo is smart enough to steer clear of the city, or to just avoid phone conversations all together, the absolute fuckwad.

Until early this morning.

On the plane, you’d intercepted a new signal and tapped in on a whim, intending to practice your Spanish more than anything, but what you’d overheard was a fucking gold mine of information.

Verdugo is in Medellín. The sicarios are getting ready to move Escobar. He didn’t say where - fucking bastard knows not to spill all of the beans in one conversation - but apparently the plan requires a rendezvous in El Centro first. Verdugo is en route, and will be there until the next morning.

You’d worked frantically all night, tracing and retracing the signal, triangulating potential addresses, then back-tracking to account for environmental distortion. Each calculation had led you to the same place - an unassuming little house right smack in the middle of Medellín.

Bingo.

“You take it in, Aarons.” Torres had declined your offer to do the honors. “It’s your intel.”

So here you are, bleary-eyed and running on less than two hours of sleep, cassette player clenched tightly to your chest, summoning up all of your courage just to go speak with your ex... well, ex whatever-the-fuck Peña is.

‘This is your job,’ you remind yourself fiercely. ‘You can do this.’

As pep-talks go, it isn’t very effective.

Fuck it. You toss your head back, wishing you’d had time to at least grab a cup of coffee on the way in, and breeze around the corner.

“Agent Peña.”

He glances up lazily, thoroughly uninterested in whatever you have to say. When he realizes it’s you, he blinks once, dropping his cigarette in the ashtray and sitting up to eyeball you with a wary expression.

"What can I do for you?” he asks cooly.

You remember him saying that once before, but the context was totally different.

You shake it off. “Centra Spike has new intel that you’ll want to see right away.”

He purses his lips, tilting his head to indicate the growing pile of bullshit on his desk. “You can leave it here.”

Oh, so that’s how it is, then?

“I can’t.” You pin him with a stare, and he meets your gaze evenly, raising his eyebrows in silent challenge. You clear your throat and clarify. “I won’t.”

He scoffs as you carefully rest cassette tape on his desk, along with a map of El Centro. “We intercepted a four minute conversation with Verdugo this morning. He’s here.” You point to the safe house on the map, which you’ve already circled in red ink. “Feo and Limón are with him. They’re leaving early tomorrow.”

Peña frowns down at the spot where your finger rests. “And can you corroborate that information?”

Oh, the motherfucker. “I verified his voice personally, Peña,” you say carefully, doing your damndest to keep the annoyance from your tone. It’s well within his right to ask questions, after all. “It’s a direct match for the audio samples we have.” You tap the tape for emphasis. “You’re welcome to listen for yourself.”

He doesn’t make a move for a long time. Something hot and painful burns in your gut as you wait.

God, he knows you, knows you better than anybody else in on this goddamned continent.  He knows that you know your shit, that you want to catch Escobar as desperately as he does. And this evidence that you have spread across his desk, recorded on tape and marked plainly in red ink, is irrefutable, undeniable - it’s a huge break. He knows that, too.

His apathy is palpable, and it’s driving you up the fucking wall.

When he finally glances up at you, it’s with a doubtful little smirk on his face. “Hmm.”

And oh, wow, you’re shocked by just how much that hurts.

All your life, from the moment you were born into a family of brothers, you’ve had to fight tooth and nail to be taken seriously. It was a fact of life as early as you can remember - ‘look after your sister,’ or, ’she’s just a girl,’ or ‘wow, you’re really great at math, for a woman!’ You’d settled on your career as an analyst because you’d wanted it, not because you’d had something to prove, but still, the military is a male-dominated field, and from the start, the odds had been stacked against you.  Landing this CIA gig had been the achievement of a fucking lifetime. Still, the bar is set high in the Colombia, and it’s set that much higher for a woman. You’re well aware of this; you’re reminded every single day.

Point being, you’re used to defending yourself and your abilities; it comes as natural as breathing.  

But until now, you’ve never had to fight this battle with Peña. He’d taken you at face value from the moment he'd laid eyes on you, treating you like just another operative. Sure, he might take a crack at you every now and again, but that's all in good fun, and you’ve never been one to shy away from a laugh.

Christ, you never realized just how much that respect meant to you until suddenly, it’s gone.

“If you have something to say about my skills and qualifications, Agent Peña, then I suggest you say it.” You lean over his desk, speaking quietly, enunciating each syllable with deadly precision. “Otherwise, I think we both know that it’s in the best interest of Search Bloc and the Colombian people that we collaborate quickly, so we can put boots on the ground and land this motherfucker behind bars where he belongs.”

Peña’s eyes narrow, and he cocks his head, studying you. You meet his gaze, biting back a snarl. You won’t back down. You won’t allow him to intimidate you.

When he nods sharply and reaches for his phone, you know you’ve won.

♠

Ten minutes later, you’re situated in a conference room with Peña, Steve Murphy, Martinez, and a couple of the other higher ups of Search Bloc whose names you haven’t memorized. Your maps are spread over the table, your tape displayed for all to see, and every eye is on you.

“Verdugo is here,” you say, leaning over the map to indicate the marked house. “He and his entourage arrived late last night, and they’re planning to leave early tomorrow morning.”

“Plenty of time to get a team together.” Murphy interjects, glancing between you and Peña with open curiosity.

You narrow your gaze at him. Drama-mongering bastard.

Peña’s not moving. He’s standing with his hip cocked toward the desk, frowning down at the map with his fingers curled to his chin like he’s totally oblivious to everything happening around him.

You know he’s not, though. That’s Javi’s thinking face, the one he makes when he wants people to shut the fuck up and forget about him until he can work something out. You’re pretty familiar with that one.

The others are babbling in Spanish, discussing logistics and the likelihood of this being another trap.

It’s not. You know this deep in your bones. You’d heard that conversation in real time, had translated, triangulated it.

This is legit.

You’ve just decided to leave them to it when Javi snaps his eyes open.

“I agree with Aarons,” he announces out of nowhere. You’re startled by the confidence in his tone. Curious, you glance up, but it’s difficult to get a read on him. He’s pinning every person in the room except you with a hard stare. “We need to move out now.”

Several of the others make noises of protest, but Peña shuts them all down, one by one. Finally, his eyes flicker up to meet yours, just for a brief second, but there’s something different in his gaze, something new and heavily guarded.

You think it might be an apology.

“Let’s end this.”

♠

He’s on a plane to Medellín within an hour, wearing that stupid bullet proof vest. For just a split second, you wish that you were going, too. You don’t have enough experience, though - you’re not an agent; you haven’t handled a gun since basic. You’d be useless in a real fight, a liability, even.

Still, you feel some ownership in this operation, today more than ever. You don’t even try to kid yourself about Javi anymore, either. Those fucking feelings haven’t faded in a month, not a bit, not even after the awkward conversation you’d had in his office.

‘But he stood up for you, too, afterward,’ something whispers in the back of your mind. You replay that little glance in the conference room over and over as you watch Search Bloc board the plane.

He’s looking for you this time, standing on the ramp with his eyes shaded like he knows you’ll be waiting. He doesn’t nod and you don’t wave, but you make eye contact for a lingering moment, and again, there’s something in his expression that you don’t recognize.

Then the plane takes off down the runway, and you feel as if your heart is swooping away with it.

♠

You volunteer for the late shift at work, monitoring the radio lines in case something comes up. It’s an unusually quiet night, as if all of Bogotá collectively holds its breath, and you mostly spend it watching the clock, calculating the hours in your head.

One to land in Medellín. Two more to mobilize the men. Another half to get in location.

From there, your speculation gets fuzzy. There’s no way to predict the outcome once Verdugo is engaged. Javi’s told you a million stories, each more unbelievable than the last - car chases and rooftop shootouts, standoffs in the street, a fistfight in a church sanctuary, bodies of children littering dark alleyways… you cut off the recollections. They aren’t doing you any favors.

Verdugo is a dangerous man. Anything could happen.

By seven am, your brain is mush and your eyes are hyper-focused in that bleary way that happens when you’ve gone too long without sleep. Your third cup of coffee has gone cold, and people are starting to trickle in. You wave half-heartedly to Torres as you slip out of your headset, rubbing your fingers over your scalp to ease the tension that comes from wearing heavy earphones all night. A shower sounds nice, you decide, and maybe a quick nap afterward.

Somebody will page you with news.

Getting out of the building does a lot to wake you up. There’s something oppressive about the CNP headquarters that seems to abate when you step into the streets of Bogotá. The city buzzes with life even in the early morning, and air is warm in a way that seems to energize rather than sedate. Optimism is easier to invoke as you walk down the street in broad daylight.

Javi had looked at you, at least. He’d listened. He’ll call in to the office as soon as he can. Your intel was good, and they’ve flushed out the rat, he’d promised you that.

Everything will be okay.

You round the corner of CRA 70 and Circular, waving to Emilio, who is working the register of the pharmacy today.

“Orejas!” He shouts, reaching below the counter to hold aloft another bottle of aguardiente. “¡Mira! Solo para ti!”

You grin back at him, raising your voice to shout a greeting, and then, with absolutely no warning, the store explodes.

A loud boom.

A whoosh of impossible heat.

A massive orange fireball billowing from the windows.

Your body flying, flying through the air.

Bright blue sky, and then darkness.

♠

You find yourself lying flat on your back in the middle of the street. Your ears are ringing. There’s a pat-pattering in the air, soft like falling rain.

You blink hard.

It’s not rain, you realize dizzily.

It’s fucking ash.

The air is dark with it, hot and heavy. It coats your tongue and stings your eyes. It’s hard to catch a breath. Your throat hurts, your chest aches. You cough weakly. The smell is terrible, acrid and bitter like burned metal. You can taste it on your tongue.

Slowly, you tense your muscles. Your chest is still burning, but there’s nothing sharp to suggest a serious injury. Your back is sore, your head fuzzy.

You sit up, wincing a little, relieved to realize that you’ve just had the wind knocked from you. You’ll have some bruises tomorrow, but that’s all.

Sound slowly filters in. The hiss and crackle of flame. A shout in the distance. Further away, a wailing siren.

Reality slams into you all at once.

Emilio!

You stand, wobbling more than you think you should, but you push past it. Reality seems to pitch and roil, as if the ground is hitching its breath beneath you. Rubble coats the street, dust clouds the air.

Oh god.

A gaping, smoking crater is all that’s left of Emilio’s pharmacy. The windows are blown out of the businesses on either side, their outer walls bowing under the pressure. Your apartment on the top floor is demolished, the roof caving in, flames licking at the the collapsed floors.

You gasp one long, shuddering breath, taking it all in, and then you’re running, sort of, picking your way through hunks of concrete and twisted metal.

“Emilio! Emilio!”

Your voice is hoarse, the world hushed. Nothing sounds quite right. Your legs are shaking and you can’t catch your breath. Some of the rubble is hot to the touch, and you feel like you’re moving underwater, slow and awkward and stupid.

You approach what’s left of the store, and the smell hits you first. Like cooked meat - charred, greasy, heavy.

You press your hand to your mouth to stifle a scream.

You found Emilio. He’s pinned beneath part of the collapsed roof. You look away quickly, but not before you catch a glimpse of blackened flesh, of bone, blood, and pink frothy tissue.

Acid rises in your throat, and you stumble to your knees, stomach clenching painfully into your ribs as you vomit onto the street. It goes on and on, over and over for an eternity, tears and snot and bile and ash leaking mingled down your face until there is nothing left in you to expel.

The encroaching wail of a siren draws you to your senses. You glance up, suddenly painfully aware of your situation. The ceiling is arching above you, just to your right, and it’s creaking ominously. The fires are still burning, and your shirt is clinging painfully hot against your back. You stagger to your feet once again, dizzy, almost drunkenly. A small crowd has gathered, pointing and gawking, calling out to you in Spanish that you are far, far too overwhelmed to translate.

Gasping, you raise your hands and side-step away, careful of the debris that litters the street around you.

A firetruck arrives on the scene, squalling to a stop between you and the onlookers, and you leap at the opportunity, ducking down the nearest alleyway before anybody can follow.

♠

You aren’t sure how much time you waste in the alleyways of Bogotá.

Seconds?

Minutes?

The time after the explosion is all a blur, and you run until you literally can’t anymore, until you’re doubled over and wheezing, coughing, hacking, panting.

Some primal survival instinct clicks in your brain then, and suddenly, your mind is clear. You glance around, swiping at your cheeks and brushing the ash from your shirt.

Now what?

You take a shaking breath and think.

Okay, first order of business, you’re absolutely disgusting. You need a shower before you can even think about doing anything productive.

Your bathroom just went up in flames, along with all of your clothes. Your heart clenches as you think of Ana - she’s at university, so that’s out. The embassy has a nice bathroom, but no showers that you’re aware of.

There’s only one place you know to go, and that’s Javi’s apartment.

You glance up at the sky. The sun is still pretty low - it can’t have been more than an hour since you’d left work, and that was around seven am. Javi obviously isn’t home, and you don’t have a key, but if you hurry, there’s still a chance that you could catch Murphy before he leaves his flat.

It’s a long shot, but you decide there’s nothing to lose for trying.

[chxrrysangel]

I Need a Favor

Part One | Masterlist | Part Three

Summary || A talk with Wanda and Vision at the ice cream parlor gives you a grand idea. Now only to convince your partner to go along with it.

pairing || fakeboyfriend!bucky x black!ofc

word count || 1,730 words

Notes || Diana uses she/they pronouns

Warnings || brief mention of disordered eating, language

"I ruined everything Wanda. She's never gonna talk to me again, " I say while salty tear drops from my cheek into the soft serve below me.

I don't think I've cried this much since Nat and I got into the same university. At least that was a happy memory. Wanda wraps her arms around my body, trying her best to console me.

"Vision! Another cup of Cotton Candy over here!"

Vision, Wanda's boyfriend, pops up from behind the counter, blond hair sticking up in all directions. That's what happens when he's in distress, that man never stops touching his hair.

"But Wanda--". He attempts to argue with her. But when he sees the glare her features are sporting, the words quickly die in his throat.

"Alright."

Not a minute later, Vision wanders over to our table carrying a medium sized bowl on Cotton Candy ice cream, my favorite. The shop is closed now, the last customers leaving about 10 minutes ago. I probably shouldn't be eating my feelings considering I haven't always had the best relationship with food, but I'll cry about that later. Right now, I just need to wallow in the guilt of the mess I've made.

"So, what's the problem exactly Diana? Why are you so distraught right now?" I sigh and will the tears to subside enough for me to give the breakdown. Seeing me struggle to keep my composure, Wanda steps in and I thank the universe for her.

"They kissed Steve at a party a few weeks ago and now he thinks she has a crush on him. Whether she does or doesn't isn't important because he cornered her in the library earlier and now she has to figure out what to do ASAP. They don't want Nat to find out about Steve's "revelation". "

"Shit, Di. So there's nothing you can do? You have no dirt on 'im? Threaten him to keep the secret? Maybe call in a favor or something?"

Favor. Call in a favor.

"Oh my god, Vision you're a genius! I could literally kiss you right now! I mean, obviously I wouldn't. But, you get what I mean." I scramble to gather my things and throw a ten dollar bill on the tabletop.

"I'll see you guys later! I have to go do something!" I don't wait for their response before I'm hurdling out the door and running towards Jones Apartments.

~~~

I kind of forgot the distance between Jones Apartments and Wanda's Creamery. That is why by the time I reach them, I feel like someone could peel me off the sidewalk. I don't think I've ever been this out of breath in my entire life. Jesus Christ, how is Nat on the track team? I remind myself to ask her about her running routine while I sit on the curb, trying my best not to burst a lung.

"Diana?" My head perks up at the sound of my name, surprised to see the exact person I was looking for.

"James!"

"Diana, I told you not to call me that." I get up from the curb so we're more or less eye level. I don't exactly like being talked down to.

"Anyways James, I need to talk to you."

"No." James sidesteps around me, heading towards the swivel door entrance."

"And why not?" I chase after him, hoping that by following him, he'll get annoyed and let me speak so I can go home. It is a Friday after all, I'm sure he has something to do. Probably partying at the frat house. Let's be real here.

"Because, I don't want to." He doesn't wait for my response before he's walking down the corridor to the elevator. I don't know why he thinks he'll be able to escape me, it's not like I don't know his apartment number or anything.

"James--", he looks at me with an irritated expression,"Okay, okay. Bucky. I have a proposition for you.”

"And what about that exactly?"

"That's for a space with privacy. You never know who's listening." He sighs and rolls his eyes before motioning for me to follow. Gotcha. Hook, line, and sinker.

~~~~

"Absolutely fucking not."

"What do you mean?! I've barely said a thing!"

"It's Steve Rogers, that's enough for me to say no."

"C'mon Buck! Please! I will literally get on my hands and knees, and beg for you to say yes." He smirks at my words and I proceed to punch him in the arm.

"Ow! What was that for?"

"You know exactly what that was for. Anyways, I really, really need your help."

"I already said no. Now get out." I'm starting to get annoyed with him. He's so stubborn.

"James, will you cool it with the bad boy, angry man act! I know you, you fucking moron. You can't fool me with that one. " He stares at me from his seat on the kitchen counter.

"It's not an act."

"Right, because it's not like just 6 months ago you were laying in bed with me at my apartment crying to A Walk to Remember. You're a total baby."

His jaw ticks at my reminder. Ha, gotcha. During the spring of Sophomore year, I tutored James for a semester because he was in trouble of losing his spot on the baseball team. And as they're most valuable and skilled player, coach couldn't let that happen. He'd also lose his scholarship. At first he hated me, but over time we developed a pretty decent friendship. He's actually a really cool guy, and a total softie at that.

"Shut up."

"Ah, so you do remember us being friends at one point. Well, at least before you stopped returning my calls and unfollowed me on Instagram and Twitter."

"Sorry 'bout that." He smiles sheepishly, seemingly apologetic.

"You should be. Anyways, weren't you and Steve friends freshman year? I'd only know him for like a year and a half, but I distinctly remember that you two used to hang out."

"Yeah, we did. But that's in the past." He hops off the counter, opening the fridge to grab a beer. I watch him as he pops the top with his metal arm, the depth of its capabilities continuing to amaze me.

"Why, what happened? Did you guys fall out over a girl or something?," I ask with a laugh. He stays silent.

"Oh my god. You guys did break up over a girl. So, who's the lucky lady?" Again, he doesn't respond.

"Do I know her?" Ok, now I'm intrigued. Maybe a little bit nosy as well, but more intrigued. Inquisitive, if you will.

Again, my words are met with silence.

"Oo, so I do know her. Is it Nat?" He pause for just a millisecond, the same way I did at the party.

"Di, will you just drop it?"

"Oh my god!--" I jump out of my chair, squealing with excitement. "--So, it is Nat!" Wait, shit. It's Nat. Oh, this is bad.

"You think?" Did I say that out loud?

"Yes, you did. Now will you get out of my apartment please?"

"Nope, we have much to discuss"

~~~

"So, what exactly do I get out of this besides a headache?"

"Ouch, James. I'm not that bad. So basically, I keep your secret that you ever liked Nat. You get to rub it in Steve's that your crush is a thing of the past. I get him off my back, and finally I figure out how to get you a date with Daisy when we fake break up."

"Ok, I can deal with this. We're gonna need a contract though."

"Oo, look at you using your brain. I guess my tutoring paid off." He pushes me, nearly sending me off the chair to my death.

"Hey, watch it cyborg! What good is a fake girlfriend if you kill them?" Bucky simply rolls his eyes, before pulling out a pen and paper from a side drawer.

"Okay, rule number one : don't tell a single soul. Not one. Got it?"

"Yes, dad," I respond whilst rolling my eyes. He stares at me for a second longer than necessary and I look at him questioningly.

"What?"

"Nothing. Rule two?"

"Um...we have to act decently couple-y. So that means kissing, you walk me to my classes, I go to your games, stuff like that."

"Okay, good point. Rule three, you have to indulge in some of the things I like. Especially my motorcycle."

"Uh uh. No fucking way am I willingly getting on that death trap."

He laughs at me. He fucking laughs at me. "y/n, it's not that bad I promise. I won't let you die."

"You don't know that."

"I promise, I won't let you die. " He smiles wide at me, enough for his dimples to poke out. He knows how much I love dimples. Well played, Barnes. Well played.

"Okay, put it as a conditional clause. While we're on that note, you have to indulge in my interests too. You have to let me braid your hair once in a while." His face drops in horror.

"Uh uh. Don't even try it Barnes. If I'm willing to put my life in your hands, I'm sure you'll survive some french braids and cornrows." He looks at me for a second before sighing in defeat, realizing I'm not gonna budge any time soon.

"Okay fine, anything else?"

"When are we gonna break up? Or, like what's our condition if it keeps going? We've gotta be believable here." The two of us sit in silence for a few moments, thinking of a time that would suit the earth-shattering demise of our passionate love story.

"Got it! You know that holiday banquet/fundraiser thing the dean throws just after New Years'? You know the one where everyone dresses up like it's the goddamn Met Gala? Well, that banquet has the most hookups of any public event this school has all year. You'd be an absolute moron to let your partner go without you. If we're still doing this by then, you have to go with me."

The banquet is four months from now, so there's absolutely no way in hell we'll still be doing this by that time. With that thought in mind, we shake hands and sign our names at the bottom.

"You've got yourself a deal Barnes."

[masonscig]

bittersweet

part two

pairing | felix x flor

word count | 3.2k

warnings | smut. minors dni.

author’s note | so i wanted to write like 2 more parts to this, but honestly... i feel like this turned out great. also yes, i probably should’ve made this a lot shorter, but the prompt got away from me as per usual. not proofread because i’m tired :/ this is for day seven of hot in wayhaven, aftercare!

•─────────────────•

Things have been weird since that night.

She just kind of went back to treating him exactly the same as she had before. She held him at arms’ length like she did with everyone she was wary of letting in.

He was sure that this time he’d made progress.

For the few months leading up till he almost throat fucked her in her dimly lit apartment, she’d been warming up to him.

He managed a few genuine smiles and laughs despite trying less hard to do so. He caught her watching him across the room during meetings, trainings, briefings… anytime they weren’t alone, he caught her staring at least once.

She’d even started asking about him. Any time he was late to a meeting, she bugged Mason with a punch to the shoulder or a scuff of her shoe against the toe of his own.

Didn’t matter how much progress he’d made if it’d just been ruined by one big fuck up on both of their ends.

This particular night, Felix is mulling over the events leading up to when she left, still trying to figure out where things went wrong.

He paces around the room once, twice, before plopping into his giant bean bag chair.

Before he can really settle in there, he’s restless again, jumping to his feet to cross the room once again, climbing into the hammock in the corner.

This isn’t right, either, he huffs to himself, rolling awkwardly out of the hammock and to the middle of the room, flinging himself onto his bed.

He picks up the Gameboy on his nightstand, tap-tap-tapping away on full volume until he hears a single loud thud against the wall across from him.

Abandoning his game of Galaga, he groans in frustration, rolling his eyes at Mason’s feeble attempts to silence him. Tossing the Gameboy to the foot of his bed, he opts instead to grab his tamagotchi, feeding his pet till he’s bored again.

He has lots of things. And these things keep him occupied and hold his attention for a while.

But none of them keep his attention long enough to satiate his wandering mind.

Flor’s been his main focus for a while, but it’s particularly bad this week since she’s taken a vacation for the first time since he’s met her.

It’s not even that she’s a hard worker – she’s just on such bad terms with the captain that she never bothered asking for days off when she knew she wouldn’t get them even if she had plans to get outta town.

Her being on vacation doesn’t bother him at all – it’s the way he’s got unfinished business and he can’t do anything about it.

He can’t seem to think of anything else without her creeping into the back of his mind one way or the other.

He twists off of the bed and walks to his dresser, where his phone’s charging on its surface.

He’s confused. He misses her, he’s angry at her, he wants her –

To say he’s confused is an understatement, really.

He’s been patient, he’s been kind, he’s been understanding – and for her to ignore him for the entire summer?

He’d been counting down the days till they got back to normal. He’s in the hundreds now, and there’s no end in sight.

There’s two endings if he decides to fix it tonight – he’s either getting treated better, or he moves on from her.

The latter option is a painful thought, one he doesn’t give himself time to digest before he taps the number at the top of his favorites.

The phone rings once, twice, and his finger hovers over the end call button. He’s so close to chickening out – this is an awful idea –

“What? Huh?” Flor asks, voice raspy and twinged with sleep. She yawns around her greeting, and he can picture her running a hand through her thick dyed hair. “Who is this?”

Does she really not even have his number saved?

“Uh, it’s Felix. I, um, this is a check in call,” he lies, tensing immediately.

Why’s that his knee jerk reaction? Two seconds into the call and he’s already making excuses instead of standing up for himself.

He really can’t help it, though. She’s so intimidating.

“It’s four thirty in the fucking morning,” she groans. “If you and your little team aren’t gonna respect my sleeping schedule consider any calls from this point on fucking rejected.”

“No, no, I, uh –”

He has no excuses. He can’t lie again… and she already sounds upset, and it’d make the rest of the call even more unpleasant.

“I lied. It’s not a check up,” he sits up in bed, nervously fiddling with the tamagotchi.

“Well then what is it?” She spits, clearly cranky and sleep deprived.

“I have some things I need to say to you, and… I, uh, I don’t know if you’ll like it,” he twists the keychain around his finger, but tosses his little friend to the end of his bed alongside his Gameboy. He needs to focus.

She’s silent. He knows he’s on limited time. 

“I… miss you.”

She goes silent, the static of the phone crackling because of both of their poor signals.

“Thanks.”

The one word response has him silently screaming at himself – he flings himself back on the bed, kicking his legs and flailing.

I miss you. Thanks.

The most embarrassing response he could’ve ever gotten.

“I was gonna say more than that. I’m just… gathering the courage,” he says, takes a deep breath, anchors himself.

“I don’t like how you’ve been treating me, Flor, honestly, and I think you owe me an apology.”

“Oh, I do,” she responds, a deadpan question, nearly mocking.

“Yeah, you do,” Felix bites back immediately, surprised even at himself with how forceful he’s being. “You almost fucked me at the beginning of summer, and now you’re not talking to me? I thought we were, I don’t know, friends at least? I know I’m not your Tina and I never will be, but I want to be there for you.”

“I’m not…” she trails off, and there’s a swishing sound like she’s shifting in bed. “Trying to avoid you, alright? It just seems like that, I guess.”

He can’t stop his hand from clenching into a tight fist, can’t stop it from shaking with rage, can’t stop the venom bubbling up his throat and dripping off his tongue.

“Don’t… tell me how to feel, Flor. I’m upset, so don’t try to downplay it, okay? I know you’re trying to avoid me, and that’s fine, I guess, as long as you, I dunno, let me move on.”

“Move on?” She asks, her tone (surprisingly) cushioned with sincerity.

“Yeah, I, uh,” he stands, striding across the room to the window, and back to the door, pacing (He’s wondering if she’s pacing too). “I like you a lot, but I have to protect myself, too, y’know? If you don’t want me around, you’ve gotta tell me so that I can stop, uh, investing too much of myself into… this.”

“Felix…” she sighs, and quiets. “I know you’re looking for answers, but I don’t have them. I don’t know.”

“So, what, that’s it then?”

“I… yeah. Yeah. That’s it.”

Flor sounds unsure, but he’s not gonna press her further. It hurts, but he has to move on or she’ll consume him in a fiery blaze.

He’s let the flames lick at him, but when it comes down to it, he can’t handle the inferno. He’s walking away before he gets burned, when all he wants to do is be engulfed by her.

It’s easier this way, in theory, but saying goodbye is harder than he’s ever anticipated.

“Bye, Flor. Sweet dreams.”

He disconnects before she can say another word, and he crumples onto his bed, pulling his knees to his chest.

He’s losing another person he cares about, and just like last time, he couldn’t do a damn thing about it.

Tears are falling freely now, and he angrily wipes them away with a rough backhand.

It’s not her fault. It’s not your fault. You’re just not compatible.

That’s what he tells himself, at least, as he’s drifting off to sleep. He’ll deal with Rebecca and Unit Bravo in the morning.

––––

Flor clutches the phone in her hand, her jaw tight.

She didn’t get the last word, and she sure as hell didn’t get to say what she wanted to say.

Felix was hurting and she couldn’t even manage kindness for one goddamn moment.

No one asks to be emotionally detached – it's just easier that way, for Flor, at least.

Wading through the mess of her apartment, she steps into the bare kitchen. Pours herself a cup of water. Chugs it to clear her head.

When that doesn’t do the trick, she takes a hefty shot of tequila. Bad idea, but the burn gives her a sense of clarity she doesn’t have when she’s completely sober.

You’ve been dragging your fucking feet for years now. Get the hell over it. Go to him. Be with him.

Every instinct she has is dragging her towards the front door where her car keys hang. Another bad idea, as per usual.

Before she can talk herself out of it, she shoots him a quick text. Come over. Please. We need to talk in person.

It’s not the wisest idea for her to face her problems head on, but the tiny, reasonable part of Flor’s mind is telling her she needs to fight for him instead of letting him slip through her fingers.

––––

He doesn’t see the text till an hour and a half after she’s sent it.

It’s just past six in the morning. The sun’s just barely creeping its way into his room, golden streaks across his wood floor.

He assumes she just wants the last word and that’s why she sent it – but an even louder part of him entertains the “what ifs” that are bouncing around his mind.

What if she wants to apologize? What if she wants to hear how I feel? And tell me where her head’s at? 

After going back and forth for a few minutes, impulse wins, and he’s tossing on a vibrant graphic tee and shorts before he sprints out the door. 

Nate’s the only one up, reading the newspaper and filling out the crossword puzzles in the soft lighting of the kitchen, and he shoots Felix a knowing look of encouragement.

Unit Bravo knows how infatuated Felix is with Flor, and they constantly flit between telling him to let her go and chasing after her.

Today’s a good day in that regard – Nate’s given his wordless blessing with nothing but a soft smile.

He’s at her place in ten minutes flat, staring up at the apartment like it’s a creaky, spooky haunted house.

His courage is thinning the closer he steps to her front door. His bones are gelatin, and his brain is equally as mushy.

It’s not an ideal state, but he doesn’t know when he’ll get another chance like this. Get the courage again like this.

Rapping his knuckles against the stained door, he waits. He rocks back on his heels, taps his feet, does anything he can to get the jitters out of his system.

When the door finally does open, his heart leaps at the sight of her.

Her hair’s a mess. Her leftover eyeliner is smudged all around her eyes. Her dark eyes are lined with red from lack of sleep. She looks exhausted.

“You came.”

“Yeah,” he breathes, and steps into her apartment when she gestures for him to come in.

She shuts the door behind him, and this time instead of shoving him up against the door to kiss him, she takes his hand.

Laces her fingers through his own, tugs him toward her couch.

He doesn’t know how to start this conversation, and from the looks of it, neither does she.

“What’s up?” He asks, simply, feeling like an idiot almost instantly for making things that casual.

“I’m…” she trails off, nearly black irises softening when she looks at him. He could live in those midnight pools.

“Sorry. I’m sorry.”

He raises both brows in surprise, and his gaze flits to their hands. She’s death gripping one of his hands with both of hers, her jaw set.

“Uh –”

“I’m getting to the why. I just don’t know how to say it –”

She grunts, shifting on the couch. “I’m not a nice person. You know that.”

“You’re nice in your own way,” he offers, rubbing a thumb over her knuckles.

“God, Felix, I’m a mean bitter bitch. Don’t sugar coat it,” she laughs. “I don’t really wanna be this way, but it’s easier than getting… invested in people.”

“Whaddaya mean?”

“It’s just easier to shut people out than to have expectations for them,” she starts, shrugging. “And having them expect things from you, too.”

“So, what you’re saying is, you don’t want us to have expectations for each other?” He asks.

“I’m gonna say this as bluntly and straight forward as I can, because I don’t think I can do anything else,” she answers after taking a deep, shaky breath.

“I like you. I’m attracted to you. I want you in my life,” she holds his eyes, speaking as earnestly as she can manage. “But I need you to be patient with me. I don’t know how to do… this. I don’t know how to get close to people anymore. Last time I did it was fucking toxic and I told myself never again.”

“Bobby,” he murmurs, and she nods.

“If you want me, too, we’ll both have to compromise,” she continues, stiffening a little like she’s bracing for impact. “I have to get used to the way you do things, and you’ll have to get used to the way I am, too. But I promise you, Felix, I’m gonna try.”

“Try what?” His voice is a little shaky, and she’s coming towards him, slowly closing the gap between them.

“I’m gonna try to love you, if you’ll try to love me,” she whispers, her jaw set again.

That’s all he needed to hear.

He closes his eyes and kisses her sweetly, softly, letting go of her hands so he can cup her face.

She’s so precious to him, so he cradles her face like the gem she is.

“Flor…” Her name’s a quiet promise as it falls from his lips.

I promise as long as you’re trying, I’ll try, too.

She clutches his hips as she kisses him, moaning sweetly into his mouth.

He doesn’t know when she starts slowly tugging his clothes off, but soon enough, they’re skin to skin, and he can’t tell where his body ends and hers begins.

She’s different this time, he notices. She’s more timid. Maybe she’s never been taken care of like this before.

As he bows his head between her legs, he can’t help but wonder if he’ll be her favorite or not.

She’s slack jawed and grasping at his head, squeezing her tattooed thighs around his face.

God, she’s beautiful, all spread out for him – she’s a gift of brown skin (and a pretty pink pussy).

She writhes and pants with each stroke of his tongue, his name broken and garbled on her lips.

When she tugs his head upwards to press sloppy kisses on his mouth, he knows she wants more.

“Flor…” he trails off, feeling sweat bead on the back of his neck. “Do you really wanna do this?”

“Only if you want to, doll.”

God, he can barely breathe. A proposition and a pet name. To most, that’s nothing. But to him, it’s the entire world.

She anchors herself on top of him and settles onto his cock, keeping direct eye contact while she stretches around him.

His eyes are fluttering shut, rolling back, and his head is threatening to loll to the side – she grabs his cheeks between her hand and tugs him back up, her half lidded eyes lustful and determined.

“I want to see you… watch me, and I’ll watch you,” she pants as she flexes her hips, his tip the only part inside of her, but she flexes again, taking all of him (every delicious inch).

“Fuck,” he curses, and she grins, bouncing against him.

He fists his hands at her hips, running a hand up her stomach to rest at the barbed wire tattoos lining her under boob. He can’t figure out what part of her he wants to touch so he opts for it all, squeezing, nipping, kissing every piece of skin his hands and mouth can cover.

“You feel so fucking good around me, doll – fuck me just like that,” she grunts as he bucks up into her.

He’s never been one to have a filthy mouth, but boy does he fucking love it.

The sun’s fully engulfing her living room at this point, the golden glow warming both of their exposed skin already, glistening in the Wayhaven sunrise.

She’s so pretty like this. She’s in her element like this, too. Confident.

The nervous, rigid version of herself was long gone.

She’s opening up to him. Albeit emotionally and physically, she’s trying. She’s blooming for him.

Flor means flower right? She’s finally in season, and it’s worth the wait.

––––

In the heat of it all, they’ve kicked all her clean laundry to the floor, but she grabbed a thin blanket from the top to cover them.

She’s cuddled up to him on the small couch, her head resting on his sweat slicked chest.

They’d been at it for a while when they both finally came. He didn’t expect her to want to cuddle, but they did.

“We probably need to clean up, huh?” she murmurs, soft kisses against his skin.

“Lemme take care of it,” he grins, crawling over her before she can protest.

He’s back in a flash with a damp towel and a bottle of water.

“Thanks,” she smiles, taking the bottle from him. When she tries to grab the damp towel, he holds it away from her.

“Can I clean you up?” He asks timidly.

Flor shrugs, mouth still on the bottle. “Okay.”

He bends to his knees and pulls the blanket away, dragging the cloth gently along her thighs, cleaning up the mess he’s made.

He folds the towel and rubs her stomach and thighs again, before kissing her knee. “You’re so pretty.”

Before he can stand up, she grabs his arm and tugs him back down for a long kiss.

When she pulls back, her eyes are shiny, soft. Midnight pools, and he’s submerged in them.

“I’ve never been fucked by someone who cares about me like you do.”

He grins and pulls her in for a kiss again.

“Well, get used to the feeling.”

He wants every messy, unpolished part of Flor he can get, from her crass humor to her sailor’s mouth.

This is the farthest they’ve ever taken things, yeah, but he’s willing to go further and further with her, as long as she’ll have him.

[dirtyhelen]

with you, a girl could get bolder (i just wanna be a little bit closer) - part one

PART ONE: can you feel it? (Series Masterlist) Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader Rating: Explicit (18+) Featuring: Smut; Angst; Sex Pollen/Aphrodisiacs; Dubious Consent; Loss of Virginity; First Time; Vaginal Sex; Cunnilingus; Creampie; Dirty Talk Words: 5484 Summary: For a single moment there is absolute silence as you and Bucky stare down at the broken glass and the silvery mist rising from it with shocking speed and volume. “Oh, fuck.” You and Bucky get hit with an extremely powerful aphrodisiac, resulting in some mind-blowing (but dubiously consensual) sex on a quinjet. And if sleeping with a coworker in a drug-fueled haze wasn’t bad enough, you’ve also had an unrequited crush on him for months. A/N: My first multi-chapter fic! My first attempt at something resembling a plot! There will be 3 parts, about 15k total. Titles are from Want You In My Room by Carly Rae Jepsen. Part 2 will be out next week!

________________________________________________________________

“Thanks, Steve,” you say as he sets your bag in one of the quinjet’s storage compartments. Ever the gentleman, he’d insisted on carrying your luggage for you, since he was headed the same way anyway. Just a few minutes ago the jet was bustling with technicians packing away carefully labelled silver briefcases, but now it’s just you, Steve, Bucky, and Bruce. Bucky is headed to Wakanda, summoned by Shuri with the promise of impressive new upgrades for his arm. The briefcases are samples of chemical solutions the Avengers recently confiscated from an enemy base. They’re also headed to Wakanda, to be examined in one of the country’s laboratories even Tony - begrudgingly – has to admit are more advanced than his own. Along the way, Bucky will be dropping you in Zurich to meet up with Pepper. She’s attending a fancy business retreat there and snagged you an invite under the guise of professional development and maintaining the relationship between Stark Industries and the Avengers. As though being married to Iron Man isn’t enough to cement that relationship. Really, she just hates being outnumbered by arrogant, misogynistic billionaires and wants the company. You’re certainly not complaining. A chance to eat ridiculously expensive food and shit talk gross old men in view of the Swiss Alps? Beats running around after the team, keeping track of a thousand conflicting schedules and chasing down late mission reports. You spend another minute or two idly chatting with Steve and Bruce as Bucky makes himself busy at the instrument panel. The jet can basically fly itself, but you suspect Bucky gets a bit of a thrill any time he gets to be in the cockpit, tech nerd that he is. “You sure you have everything?” Steve asks you with a teasing smirk. “It’s a whole two days, you know. Pretty sure that requires at least a dozen books.” “Oh, har-har,” you grumble. “God, you overpack one time and it turns into a whole thing!” “Didn’t you take like four pairs of shoes and two books for a day trip?” Bruce calls as he walks down the ramp, heading back to the lab, you’re sure. “It was three pairs and you can’t always rely on weather forecasts!” you shout after him. Steve jokingly rolls his eyes. “Of course. And the books?” “Two is a perfectly reasonable number of books to bring on a day trip,” you protest primly. “And if I recall correctly, you ended up borrowing one of those books on the way home, so you’re welcome.” “Fair enough,” Steve laughs, holding out his hands in mock concession and turning to say his goodbyes to Bucky, currently bent over the panel, confidently pressing buttons and flicking toggles. It gives you some comfort. You’re a bit of a nervous flier, but Bucky seems to know what he’s doing and the Avengers’ personal jet has to be a lot safer than any commercial plane you’ve ever been on anyway. Though it’s more than just the thought of crashing into the Atlantic ocean that has you on edge. Three hours. That’s approximately how long you’ll be confined with Bucky in a high-tech tin can. Three hours to sit in awkward silence, or worse, awkward conversation if your previous interactions are anything to go by. Chances are you’ll try to make small talk but somehow end up saying something stupid while Bucky just sort of looks at you like he’s wondering how you managed to get this job in the first place. It’s a reasonable question, to be fair, and one you’ve asked yourself at least once every day since you started. Not that you’re a notably skilled conversationalist in general, but around Bucky, you can barely manage to string two coherent sentences together. You can’t help it! You just like him so fucking much and you want him to like you even just a little, so you try to be cool and relaxed and chill. Like Natasha or Sam, the two people who, apart from Steve, he seems to actually be comfortable around. Unfortunately, you are neither cool nor relaxed and you definitely are not chill. No, you are a grab-bag of somewhat less attractive personality traits like excitable and dorky and perpetually-fucking-nervous, all wrapped up in sensible shoes and practical, un-sexy clothing. Basically the anti-Nat, or any person you can imagine Bucky being attracted to. So when you try to converse with him like a normal person you usually end up rambling on like an alien who watched one episode of Gilmore Girls and thought that was how humans really communicated with each other. Not exactly a turn on. Sadly, knowing you have absolutely no chance with him does nothing to stop your feelings. If anything it only makes them stronger somehow. No harm in letting yourself become totally obsessed with the guy since it’s not like you’ll ever tell him how you feel, therefore there’s no chance of rejection! Foolproof! Really though, you don’t know how you could have avoided falling for him anyway, even if you had tried. As a member of the team’s admin staff, you see them basically every day. Relaxing, training, doing press and charity events – everything but actually going on missions. After months of chatting during meetings, discussing schedules and events, and working in the same place they live, you’ve gotten to know them pretty well, you think. And despite Bucky’s taciturn demeanor, the White Wolf seems more like a puppy to you. Sure, his resting expression has a tendency to read as slightly murderous and he's undoubtedly deadly in the field, but there's another side to him too. Bucky is enthralled with all things technological. Whenever there’s a presentation on new tools for the team Bucky is there, bright-eyed and attentive, with thoughtful, clever questions on how it all works, and he’s not shy about making suggestions either. He shamelessly enjoys all things soft and cozy – fuzzy blankets, knit sweaters, his cat. Alpine was a stray Bucky found wandering the grounds of the compound. Now she wanders the residential wing instead, usually wherever Bucky is. He could be bitter and angry and cruel after everything he’s been through – and God knows he’d have every right – but he’s not. He has his bad days, of course. Days at a time where you hardly see him except for mandatory meetings or training, and then with dark shadows under his eyes and a heavy blankness that seems etched into his face. But most of the time it’s clear he wants to be part of the world. With his never-ending curiosity about all the things he missed, or never had the freedom to enjoy. With his dark, wry humor and the fond way he can’t help but look at Steve whenever he says something that must remind him of before the war. With the way he tries so goddamn hard to put some good back into the world, to make up for things that weren’t even his fault. You truly don’t understand how anyone could know him and not love him. You certainly never stood a chance. “See you, pal. Text me when you land.” Steve’s voice pulls you out of your thoughts and you realize you’ve been staring into nothing for longer than you realized. “Say hi to Pepper for me!” he calls to you as he leaves. And with that, it’s just you and Bucky. For the next three hours. +++ The awkward silence – apart from a quiet, “You ready?” from Bucky just before take-off – lasts all of ten minutes. That’s as long as you can go before the pressure to say something becomes irresistible. Being bad at talking to Bucky has never kept you from trying, unfortunately. “You excited to go back to Wakanda?” you ask. Bucky nods. “Yeah. It’ll be nice to see Shuri again.” He says it with a soft smile and you know he means it. He clearly has a deep affection and respect for her. “I bet. She seems ridiculously cool. Honestly, I wanna be her when I grow up,” you joke, then immediately cringe. I wanna be her when I grow up? Come on! Bucky laughs politely and the jet is once again silent. Bucky seems content to just sit with his thoughts, but the jet’s at cruising altitude now so you take the opportunity to get out of your seat and grab one of the only two books from your bag. Can’t say anything stupid if you’re too busy reading! Check and mate, Rogers. You’re elbow deep in toiletries and underwear, having decided blindly digging around would be preferable to actually taking the bag down and fully unzipping it, when you decide to try speaking again.   “So do you know what upgrades you’re getting? You know, for –” you gesture at your left arm, or try to, except you use the arm currently being eaten by your suitcase at the exact moment the jet hits a patch of turbulence, jostling you and your luggage. Bucky jumps up, darting over to steady you with a hand on your back. As a part of your mind becomes consumed with thoughts of, holy shit he’s touching me, you manage to wrench your arm out of your suitcase, sending it to knock against the silver briefcase next to it. The impact shifts the briefcase slightly. The next bump of the jet a moment later has it falling out of the storage unit entirely. The silver briefcases used by the Avengers to transport dangerous or delicate materials are very cleverly designed so that – properly clasped – they could be used as a football for an NFL game with no ill-effects. Which is how you know this case has very clearly not been properly clasped because as it falls it springs open, and a small vial of clear liquid hits the floor. And shatters. For a single moment there is absolute silence as you and Bucky stare down at the broken glass and the thin, silvery mist rising from it with shocking speed and volume, filling the space around your bodies. “Oh, fuck,” you breathe. Bucky snaps into action, grabbing you by the arm and tugging you toward the sleeping compartments in the back of the jet, calling for FRIDAY along the way. “Get us back to the compound now,” he orders. “And get Stark or Banner on the line.” He shoves you inside the nearest cabin, following and sliding the door shut behind him. Immediately he’s gripping you by the shoulders and turning you to face him. “Did any of it get on you? On your clothes?” he asks urgently, eyes scanning your body. “No! I mean, not the liquid, I don’t think. But what about that mist or vapour or whatever? What if we breathed it in?” You have no idea what was in that vial. “Oh God, we’re gonna die,” you moan, anxiously pacing the tiny room. “Or I am, anyway. You’ll probably be fine. Fuck. Oh my God. What if it’s like, some flesh-eating poison? Am I gonna turn into the Hulk?” Your heart races and you feel hot. You can’t tell if it’s just fear or something worse but whatever it is must show on your face because Bucky gently guides you to sit on the narrow bed as the call finally connects. “Hey, Bucky, what’s up?” It’s Bruce, thank God. You’re not sure you could handle even the briefest and most well-meaning witticism from Tony right now. Bucky very quickly briefs Bruce on the situation, finishing with, “Any idea what the fuck was in that case?” You can hear the anxiety in Bruce’s voice. “Shit, I don’t know. Not unless you have the label. And we didn’t really examine them, just packed them up.” “Fucking great!” you can’t help but interject, throwing your hands in the air and receiving a concerned look from Bucky in return “But listen, guys. You’re on your way back to the compound – FRIDAY says 30 minutes tops. I’ll have medical and biochem ready as soon as you touch down. And it’s already been what? Like five minutes? If nothing’s happened yet, you’re probably fine? Just sit tight and don’t leave the cabin. The doors seal airtight so nothing can get through.” And with that, Bruce hangs up to get everything ready for your return, leaving you and Bucky at opposite ends of an very small space. You’ve never been claustrophobic before but you must be developing the fear because the walls feel like they’re closing in and your heart feels like it’s about to beat its way out of your chest. “Okay, wow. Great. ‘Sit tight.’ That’s awesome, just awesome.” You look around the room, empty except for the bunk you’re sitting on. “What are we supposed to do now? Play twenty fucking questions?” Your relaxing weekend abroad has disappeared and apparently taken your brain-to-mouth filter with it. Between that, your racing heart, and the increasing heat spreading through your body you’re not entirely sure that you’re probably fine, but you’re chalking it up to anxiety because it’s not like there’s anything you can do about it anyway. Except sit tight. Looking up at Bucky you can see his cheeks have taken on a pink flush, but again, that’s probably just stress. Or maybe annoyance at having to be trapped in a tiny room with you and your panicked blathering for the next half hour. Sighing, he sinks to the floor, resting his back against the door and stretching out his legs in front of him. “Nothin’ to do but wait, doll.” Your eyes flash to his. Doll. He’s never called you that before. He’s never really called you anything before. Bucky seems to have noticed it too because he furrows his brows, looking like he’s just as surprised as you are. There’s a brief moment of eye contact before you both quickly look away, choosing not to address it. Probably just a habit, you think. A remnant of the Bucky that existed long before you were born, jumping out in a moment of stress. A heavy silence falls, leaving you both to your own thoughts. You try to focus on breathing, on staying calm, but your mind keeps straying and it feels like there’s too much energy in your body. Your skin practically itches with it and you squirm, unable to get comfortable but not sure exactly why. You can hear Bucky tapping his foot on the floor, the sound of him shifting around. You wonder if he feels it too. Bucky… Doll. The way it had fallen out of his mouth so casually, so easily. As though he’d said it to you a hundred times. You feel a spark bubble up inside you picturing Bucky’s flushed cheeks and that word. You imagine him saying it breathlessly, reverently, just before his lips touch yours. Or growling it out as he moves inside you… Fuck, doll, just like that. You nearly let out a whimper and you feel a rush of slick in your panties, shocking you out of your fantasy as you become uncomfortably aware of just how wet you are. That spreading heat flares even more than before and you realize you must have been dripping into your underwear for longer than just the last few seconds. There’s a deep throb of arousal in your core, stronger than anything you’ve felt before, like that unbearable energy under your skin has been pulled to settle deep inside you. It’s confusing – far too powerful to be the result of a vague, half-imagined fantasy. But even as you wonder at what’s happening, it’s like a fog settles over you, the confusion half-hearted, nothing compared to the growing urge to touch, to quell the burning fire inside you. Before you can even consciously register the movement, your hand is making its way to your pussy. Any shock or embarrassment at your wildly inappropriate behaviour is slow to appear and dulled when it does. Snatching your hand back just as it nears the apex of your thighs is like walking through deep water, like you have to convince yourself why you shouldn’t get off in front of a co-worker. Your eyes flash to Bucky, wondering if he’s seen, if he’s affected the same way you are, only to find his gaze already fixed on you, blue eyes blown nearly black. His fists are clenched at his sides and his lips are bitten red and spit-slick. He breathes in deep, nostrils flaring, and you realize he can smell you. It should be humiliating. You should be turning away in humiliation, but instead, you feel yourself get – somehow, impossibly – wetter and this time you can’t contain the helpless whimper when Bucky groans and licks his lips in response. It’s as if with that sound the floodgates have opened because in an instant you’re slipping off the bed and throwing yourself at him, desperate to be closer, as close as physically possible. You scramble on top of him, graceless and frantic, straddling his thighs and wrapping your arms around his neck. Bucky’s hands grip your ass, pulling you closer and grinding you down on his cock, pressing hard and hot against you even through your clothes. There’s a moment – a tiny fraction of a second – where you catch each other’s eyes. A pause, where you think you see something, some emotion on Bucky's face, but you don't have time to decipher it before he’s surging up to press his lips against yours and a bomb is set off inside you. You have no idea what you’re doing – your experiences up to now have been limited to a handful of lackluster kisses with people not worth remembering – but Bucky doesn’t seem to notice or mind. He holds your face firmly in his hands, turning your head to suit him as he licks into your mouth and you do your best to mimic his actions, clumsy in your mindless passion. He takes your bottom lip between his teeth and you gasp, rocking your hips against his, trying to get some friction on your throbbing clit. He thrusts up against you and you move together but it’s not enough. It’s clear whatever was in that vial has created a thirst in you that won’t be quenched by a heated make-out session and you pull away from Bucky's mouth, moaning as he tilts your head back to kiss your neck, licking and sucking at the tender skin. “More,” you gasp. “I need more.” You feel him nod against your throat and with one last, deep kiss to your lips Bucky grips you by the hips and lifts you off him, shifting to rest his weight on his heels before reaching to push your dress up over your waist. Almost all of your higher brain function is devoted to being as close to Bucky as possible but far in the back of your mind, there’s a small part of you that’s simply shocked at what’s happening, at the sensations coursing through your body. You have never felt this uninhibited in your entire life. You were a shy, anxious child who grew into a somewhat less shy, anxious adult, easily embarrassed and prone to overthinking. But now, with that silvery mist working its way through your system, you’ve never felt so shameless. Bucky is feverishly slipping off your shoes and tugging down your tights and you’re not thinking about how you haven’t shaved your legs in weeks or how you’re wearing an old pair of plain cotton panties or any of the dozens of worries that would be running through your head under normal circumstances. (Not that Bucky would be undressing you at all, under normal circumstances.) No. Instead of overthinking and paralyzing yourself with fear, you’re pulling your dress over your head and reaching back to unclasp your bra so you can get your own hands on your breasts. You could almost just sit and bask in this unfamiliar feeling of freedom if it weren’t for the hot ache in your core that threatens to burn you alive with every moment you go untouched. As soon as your tights have been pulled off and tossed aside, Bucky is shouldering your legs apart and leaning forward to press his nose against the wet patch on your panties, breathing deep. “Fuck, doll. I need to taste you.” You whimper as his tongue darts out to lick a wide stripe up the length of your covered cunt. His hands move to your hips and in an instant, your panties are torn from your body and his mouth is on your bare skin for the first time. You can’t help but gasp as he presses an open-mouthed kiss to your folds. His tongue licks up your opening and circles your clit before moving back down and slipping inside you, drinking up your slick. Bucky growls against your pussy. “So fucking good.” His tongue moves back to your clit and he laps at it in short, teasing flicks. You begin to buck helplessly and Bucky’s metal arm brackets your hips, holding you still for his mouth. He switches to deep, firm circles over your clit, alternating with wide laps over the whole of your cunt. You’re losing your mind, flat on your back with your legs thrown over Bucky’s shoulders, heels pressing into his back. You’ve never felt anything like this. You haven’t even come yet but it’s already more intense than any orgasm you’ve ever given yourself. You feel two fingers against your opening and you fight Bucky’s grip over your hipbones, trying to grind yourself down onto him. He chuckles at your efforts and presses just the tips of his fingers inside you. “So needy, huh? Just wanna be filled up, don’t you?” You have no idea how he’s able to tease right now when you're ready to fall to your knees and plead just for the chance at an orgasm. You whine, trying again to slide down onto his fingers but his metal arm keeps you from moving a single inch and you toss your head back with a wail. “Please, Bucky,” you sob. “I need it, I need you. Please.” You feel no embarrassment at your begging. The fire inside you is growing hotter and hotter. You need him. You need to be filled, fucked. You feel like you’ll die if he doesn’t fuck you now. The teasing tone drops out of Bucky’s voice and he presses messy kisses to your inner thighs. “I know, I know. I feel it too. Don’t worry, sweetheart, I’m gonna fill you up so good. Stuff you full. Gonna make you feel so good, make it better.” His fingers finally slip into you, sliding easily through your wetness. He starts thrusting and his tongue circles your clit again as his fingers curl. He focuses on your g-spot, stroking roughly as he pulls your clit into his mouth and sucks. You’re coming in seconds with a series of breathy moans, thighs clamped tightly around Bucky’s head. He doesn’t let up, only pulling away when you tug at his hair, the sensations too much. He kisses you, sliding his tongue against yours and you can taste yourself in his mouth. It reignites the fire your orgasm had dulled slightly and you pull away, about to plead for more, but it seems Bucky has finally reached his limit. His hands work at his belt and he shoves his jeans and briefs down just enough to free his cock. You’ve never really seen one in person before and maybe under different circumstances you’d take a moment to get familiar, but right now all you can do is spread your legs and beg. Bucky quickly positions himself above you, lining his cock up with your entrance. He drags the head along your pussy a couple times, groaning as he slicks himself up and begins to push into you. He’s bigger than anything you’ve ever had inside you hardly notice the sting. It’s nothing compared to the raging chorus inside you chanting more, more, more. In one single, hurried thrust he’s fully inside, your bodies pressed flush together. Bucky moans. “So fucking tight, fuck. You feel so goddamn good, doll,” he pants above you, leaning down for a filthy kiss, wet and open. “Fucking move, please,” you beg, hooking your legs around him and digging in your heels. Bucky growls into your mouth and pulls out almost entirely before thrusting back inside hard, pulling a sound from deep in your throat. He repeats the move a handful of times before settling into a harsh, pounding rhythm with his face buried in your neck. You cling to his back, senseless, unable to focus on anything but how good you feel. Your brain feels fuzzy and empty and every thrust drags his cock along your g-spot and it’s too much, too good. You’re a gasping, panting mess. It’s not long before his hips start to stutter, his rhythm breaking as he moans out above you. Your hand slides down your body to your clit and you rub firm circles around it. A few swipes and you’re coming, harder than you ever have in your life, with a high, keening moan. The tight squeezes of your cunt have Bucky coming too and you feel a warmth release inside you as he collapses against your chest. Neither of you moves for a long moment, your heavy, mingled breaths the only sound in the room. There’s still some lingering fog as you soak in the afterglow of your drug-intensified orgasm, but it seems like the chemical has run its course and clarity is quickly returning to you. The silence is broken by FRIDAY announcing your approach to one of the landing pads, and you feel the jet begin its descent a moment later. Her voice hits you like a slap in the face, a stark reminder of what’s really happening here, what you’ve just done. It seems Bucky feels the same, because he leans back just enough to look you in the eyes and a long moment of horrified recognition passes between you. Your breathing picks up again as panic surges through you. You start to squirm under his weight but he’s already moving. You wince as he pulls out of you, suddenly aware of a deep soreness between your legs. In seconds, Bucky has tucked himself back into his jeans, and he storms out of the cabin without a backward glance. So eager to get away from you he doesn’t seem to care that he might be walking directly into a toxic cloud. Like anything would be better than being trapped with you for another moment. You lay there on the floor, naked and shivering, with Bucky’s cum starting to leak out of you as you struggle to take a breath, all the anxiety and uncertainty the drug had masked flooding back to you at once. You force yourself to sit up and pull your clothes back on, cringing as you feel the mess between your legs seep into your tights. You hastily stuff your ruined panties in your pocket. You take a few deep breaths and try to still your shaking hands as you hear footsteps approaching the cabin. You’re given a respirator and guided off the jet into a throng of people awaiting your arrival, Bucky nowhere to be seen. White-coated staff swarm you and lead you inside. +++ You wish you could say the next several hours are a blur, but they are, unfortunately, exceptionally, horrifically clear. You’re taken through a decontamination shower, though you’re really not sure how much good it could do at this point, then poked and prodded with needles and swabs while having the most mortifying conversation of your life. You feel nearly choked with a shocking, burning shame. This morning you woke up nervous and excited for a weekend away, and now you’re telling a handful of strangers how you just had sex for the first time in an uncontrollable, frenzied state of lust with one of the Avengers. And as though it couldn’t be worse, it’s made all the more humiliating by the lingering throb of arousal thrumming through you the entire time. It seems whatever this drug is, the two orgasms you’ve already had weren’t enough to neutralize it, though at least you have enough self-control now to keep from shoving your hand down your pants in front of everyone in the room. Finally, after what seems like hours and unfortunately really is hours, you’re told to go home and rest. You’ve been given an emergency contraceptive, a pamphlet for the Employee Assistance Program, a number to call if you feel any strange symptoms, and told that someone will follow up with you in the next day or so. You feel numb as you enter your apartment, tugging off your med-bay issued scrubs on the way to the bathroom. You get yourself off in the shower, and though it’s the most joyless orgasm of your life, it seems to finally clear any lingering arousal from your system. Wincing at the tenderness between your legs, you scrub yourself clean under the hot spray, half wishing you could dissolve into a puddle and wash away down the drain with the soapy water. You’re getting ready for bed when your thoughts take a sudden turn to Bucky for the first time in hours. You’d been so overwhelmed by all the tests and questions, so cocooned in your own embarrassment you’d practically forgotten about him. Guilt rushes through you at your own selfish thoughtlessness. Feeling so sorry for yourself like you were the only victim. Like you were the victim at all. You’ve had a crush on Bucky for months, have spent more time than you’d like to admit imagining being with him in ways both innocent and obscene. But he’s never looked twice at you, barely speaks to you except for unavoidable work discussions. Not that you expect anything different. Someone like him would never want to be with you anywhere outside your daydreams. Except now he has been with you. Forced against his will to take part in some horrific act, because surely that’s how Bucky must see it, now the fog of uncontrollable lust has cleared. You had sex for the first time in decidedly unwanted conditions, but at least it was with someone you’re genuinely attracted to, someone you have feelings for. Bucky had been forced to have sex with someone he didn’t even like, much less desire. After everything he’s been through, how hard he’s worked to find a place where he can feel safe and in control of his own life – his own body. Only to have that control taken from him again in the most indecent way. Shame, viscous and thick, swells in your throat like sickness and your eyes fill with tears. No wonder Bucky ran out of the cabin the way he had. You feel so much worse because of your feelings for him. Dirty and wrong because you would have enjoyed the sex even without the drug. You know, deep down, it’s not your fault. You didn’t mean to knock the case over and you had no idea what was inside – not to mention you weren’t the one who forgot to latch it – but you can’t help but feel responsible for what happened and you wonder if Bucky feels the same. If he knows about your feelings and thinks you orchestrated the entire thing on purpose. You wouldn’t blame him if he did. And the rest of the team! If they don’t know already, they will soon enough. What if they blame you too? What if they’re disgusted by you? Anxiety spreads through your body from your pounding heart, filling your limbs. You can’t breathe, you can’t think. You feel boiling hot and ice cold all at once. Collapsing to your bedroom floor, you bring your hands to your thighs, digging your fingernails into the skin. The sharp pain distracts you from the heavy panic flooding your body enough to let you focus on breathing in, then out, repeating the words in your head until you feel your heart rate settle, the panic easing a little. You pull yourself up off the floor and push yourself through the motions of getting ready for bed. The intrusive thoughts are still there (everyone hates you. You’re going to lose your job. Are you sure you didn’t do it on purpose?) but you try to ignore them. There’s nothing you can do about anything right now and thinking yourself into a panic attack won’t do any good. You turn on an old episode of your favourite show and get in bed, tugging the covers up to your neck and focusing on the screen, allowing the familiar storylines to dull the intensity of your thoughts until you finally fall asleep. A/N: And that’s the end of Part 1! Thanks for reading and feel free to like, comment, and/or reblog and let me know what you thought! I spent a truly ridiculous amount of time trying to figure out the whole sex pollen aspect and I’m still not totally happy with it hahah but I hope it doesn’t seem too shoe-horned in 😝 Anything else that you’d like to see tagged/warned for, let me know!!

[moonlit-imagines]

Headcanons for being Diego Hargreeves’ child

Diego Hargreeves x child!reader

warnings: knifes, blood, guns, death mentions, mental hospital

a/n:

prompt: anonymous: “Hi! Could you please write a “The Umbrella Academy” Diego Hargreeves x daughter reader headcanon? I always think Diego is such a overprotective softie dad ♥️♥️”

deigo really said “?????”

how dad

but also he’d just the most loving dad anyone could ever ask for

✨it’s because he was never loved by his dad✨

“hi cutie, i love you, i love you, i love youuuuu”

he locked away all his weapons so that you couldn’t hurt yourself on them

but he always missed a few and he’d turn around and see you holding throwing knives and just FREAK OUT

“no, no, no, you may not have those! knives are for big boys like me, not babies”

“give back”

“‘give back?’ are you nuts?”

diego has conversations with lil you as if you know what the fuck he means dhshshhshs

as you got older, you became more interested in his “career”

“no, i dont care if you have powers or not! you have a bedtime, that means no vigilantism, you hear me?”

“if i say ‘no’ can i be a vigilante?”

“you know what? how about you clean up the gym for al so he doesn’t evict us?”

you did not sign up for this

you really wanted to meet your aunts and uncles, but you weren’t exactly sure they knew about you

i mean, you knew you had a cousin but everyone knew about her because aunt allison was a goshdarn celebrity

“dad, i want to meet the family!”

“no you don’t”

end of discussion

despite having a bedtime, you still watched movies late at night with your dad

he really liked marvel movies

“come on, that would never happen!”

“you come from a family of superpowered kids, a robot mom, and a monkey, and you’re upset about...a guy that shoots arrows?”

“maybe i am, what’re you gonna do about it?”

you ask about umbrella academy stories a lot, you your dad usually makes it about him

“and then i punched that guy in the face! and then i stabbed him in the leg because he was a dick! bet you’re friend’s dads arent as cool as me”

*yawning bc you’ve heard this story a million times*

you go to public school

you do have your dad’s last name

which occasionally gets recognized

“woah! wasn’t your dad a superhero?”

“i have no idea what youre talking about” :)

practicing your knife throwing while diego is away, him coming home to find his knifes stuck through various targets

so proud but he had to make sure you didn’t hurt yourself

you actually had to learn how to patch him up because he did come home a bit battered and bruised several times

“im okay, y/n. no need to freak”

“dad, there is literally blood dripping on the floor will you just sit down and stay still for five goddamn minutes?”

“woah, who the fuck taught you to cuss?”

watching the news at home when your grandfather was reportedly dead

you were actually very upset because you wanted to meet him so bad

even if he was a dick

your dad came home silent and you knew he knew

“you okay?”

“oh, yeah, im better than okay!”

finally getting the chance to meet your family

“who are you?” -allison

“im, uh, y/n. diego is my dad”

*jaw dropping*

and you know what? that happened four more times (plus ben but you didn’t get to see that)

“and you are?” -luther

“who’s the...the little one?” -klaus

“well, what do you know? diego’s a dad” -five

“don’t tell me that’s...no way” -ben

“you’re diego’s? wow, i can’t believe he didn’t tell anyone” -vanya

“i...i know who all of you are” -you

diego bragging about how perfect you are while everyone simultaneously rolls their eyes

“well, y/n, maybe one day we’ll schedule a playdate for you and claire” -allison

“‘playdate?’ how old do you think i am?...but yes i wanna meet her”

“god, you’re so much like diego, it’s unsettling”

you had been secretly training at al’s gym during your dad’s late night activities

so when trouble came your way, you were able to handle yourself pretty well

“where the hell did you learn that?”

“al showed me a few moves!”

“that old man? you’re kidding”

you met your grandmother, grace, who was tasked with keeping you safe at all times

you actually loved her sm

but there was something a bit off about her

besided the fact she was a robot

klaus snuck you out so that you two could have BoNdInG tImE

it wasn’t all bad

ben was a lil choked up that he got to meet one of his niblings

“they’re perfect”

“they just stabbed someone, buddy”

“who are you talking to?”

FIVE EVEN SCHEMED WITH YOU

“okay, y/n, i need you to curve something when i throw it, got that? right at that security guard”

“what are you throwing?”

“you’ll know when you see it, make your uncle five proud”

“IS THAT A GUN”

<3 family

running into patch!!

“hey, kid, i just saw your dad. i thought i told you to handcuff him to the radiator when you were away?”

“yeah, well, he wouldve chewed his hand off so here we are”

that was the last time you saw her :/

well, your dad was now a wanted man

“what happened to your arm?”

“no”

you actually didn’t expect this family reunion to go south like this

wait—yes you did

vanya has powers????

“i thought vanya was the one without powers?”

“yeah. so did we.”

diego straight up did not want you anywhere near that

but you, again, were his child and also fuck authority you do what you want

the vibe is almost getting shot several times

by hazel, cha cha, and “commission” guys?

going 2 ur auntie’s concert 😌✨

“y/n, hide in the bathroom and stay there until i come get you”

“dad, i love you, but no”

“y/n, i love you too, but yes”

“no”

“yes”

“NO”

“YES”

you won

but in the end (or not so much) you time traveled to...1961?

without any of your family

“this is...this is not good”

understatement of the year(s)

what was a kid like you gonna do in dallas, texas in 1961

no seriously, what

it was rough, but you managed to survive on your own

and open a paper in 1963 to find a mugshot of your dad

“son of a—”

visiting dad! (two years later)

“y/n? oh my god, y/n! shit, i missed you so much! why do you look different? you’re bigger, oh god. how long have you been here?”

“2 years, dad. you?”

his hair was so LONG

“2 months”

“christ, that’s it?!”

“i have to stop jfk from being assassinated”

“what makes you think that’s a good idea???”

“its the right thing to do, wanna help?”

“shit, i guess. as long as i dont end up here”

“no promises, people in the 60’s are crazy”

diego: 👁👄👁

you: 👀

running into five on the street soon after

“uncle five?”

“no time to talk”

“okay, asshole? i’ve been here for 2 years and you dont care?”

“two years, huh? i spent 45 years in a post apocalyptic world as a 13 year old and beyond”

“i didn’t say it was a competition, dude. you kinda dropped us all at different times. at least, me and dad. he—”

“is trying to kill lee harvey oswald, i know. come with me”

finally running into your other aunts and uncles, who were so excited to see you

you ran into their arms and they picked you off the ground and you felt closer than ever after only knowing them for 10 days

dad broke out

lila too

“im your new mom!”

“you’re what?”

diego dragged you along with him almost everywhere

he had missed you so much, but he keeps forgetting you kinda grew up without him for a while longer

meeting grandpa :)

“a grandchild, huh? how unfortunate”

“bitch”

“what did you just call me?”

“a bitch.”

your dad and basically the entire table trying to hold back laughter

reggie was stunned

cold hearted just like him <3 he didn’t know if he was offended or proud

this is so confusing

diego just disappeared off the face of the earth

and assassins were on your case

“the goddamn swedes are back oh shittt im gonna die”

“y/n, just curve their bullets”

“it’s not as easy as it sounds, klaus!”

you were doomed

theres too much to go over

apparently you died on a farm????

and then you didn’t??????

and your dad was almost apart of the commission

“hey, you okay, y/n?”

“i would like to take a nap please”

“yeah, me too”

“me three!” -klaus

yeah it was never that simple 😌💕 the end

taglist: @alwaysananglophile // @cullens-stuff // @lotsoffandomrecs // @takethebladeawayfromme // @that-nerd-tessa // @teenwaywardasgardian // @spidergirla5 // @sheridans-dynamos // @freya-xo // @johnmurphyisbisexual // @jay-is-groovy // @ravenmoore14 // @purpleskiesstorm // @abbiesthings // @thereagles // @ofthedewthesunlight //

[writerofblocks]

*sneaks this in* Bridget/Troy - things you said with no space between us (or) things you didn’t say at all

This was. From a long ass time ago. BUT ITS FINISHED NOW SO IM POSTING IT.

Sleepless in Stilwater

“Three.”

“Hmm?”

Troy held up three fingers. “That’s the third time you’ve yawned in as many minutes. And I’d be okay with that if you weren’t, you know, doin’ seventy on a forty-five mile an hour highway.”

Bridget broke eye contact with the road long enough to give him a sidelong glare that would wither a lesser man. “I’m not the only one doing their best Fast and the Furious impression out there,” she irritably shot back. A sports car rushed past them with an ear splitting squeal that made Troy jump, and she gestured at it. “See?”

Troy sunk back into the leather seat of the [insert car model here], returning her glare with one of his own. “That’s not the point and you know it. The point is I’d rather not end up a red smear on the pavement because my wheel man fell asleep at the goddamn wheel.”

“Oh, is that all I-” Her mouth cracked open into another face-splitting yawn; she barely managed to hide it behind her hand. “-all I am to you? Your wheel man?”

“Four. And don’t give me that crap, you’re the one that called dibs on driving.”

“I only called dibs cause you drive like a grandma on a broken scooter.”

“You mean I drive the speed limit.”

Bridget ignored him. “Besides,” she said, swerving around a semi-truck sharp enough to make him grab at the handle above the passenger window, “I’ve got places to be after this. Julius called me about a-” she let out another yawn. “-about a storage place, said the Rollerz keep their best wheels there.”

A smirk crossed Troy’s face. He waited until Bridget’s attention was on him before he held up five fingers and wiggled them. It was worth it to see the way her eyebrows dropped into a sharp V before she jabbed a finger in his direction. “Don’t you fucking say it.”

“Don’t need to say anything.”

The one finger swiftly flipped upward into giving him the bird as she returned her attention to the highway. “You’re lucky I don’t throw you out on the highway this second,” she growled, though a smile playing at the corners of her lips undercut the hostile tone.

Troy chuckled, then settled back in his seat enough to look out the car window. Stilwater was a shithole on a good day, but the oranges, purples, and blues of sunset colored the world into something more palpable to take in. Light bounced off the towering buildings of Downtown, harsh edges and cold, reflective glass softening under the gentle touch of twilight. But you could only watch buildings whiz by for so long. His gaze, as it so often did in these rare quiet moments, returned to her.

As much as he bitched about it, there was one thing he didn’t mind about Bridget being the go-to driver. It allowed him time to just… take her in. Look openly, without other people seeing and giving him crap for being lovestruck. Without her giving him crap for being lovestruck, because even after the months they’ve been together she still shied away from open affection more often than not. She cuts the sentiment with a joke, or by teasing him, or some combination of both. He doesn’t mind it- he wonders sometimes if he’s a glutton for punishment, given his career path and choice of romantic partner, but he doesn’t mind being so. Not with her around.

So he looks at her. The way her eyelids keep fluttering slightly, only for her to stubbornly hold them back open. The dark circles he’d think were black eyes if they weren’t only on her lower eyelids. She’s tapping her fingers on the steering wheel, jiggling the leg not in charge of the pedals. Any motion to tell her body it isn’t time to sleep yet. He’d make a joke about looking in a mirror if seeing it didn’t bother him so much.

That was the downside of being undercover. You got real good at seeing things people tried to hide. He had to say something. He opened his mouth, and...

“For real, though. You look like shit. Have you slept at all?”

And of course something stupid came out. Miracle of miracles, she scoffed instead of chucking him onto the highway. “Bold move to question my sleeping habits. How many used coffee mugs are on your desk again?”

Troy chose to ignore her words. “Look man, just-” He sighed, running a hand down his face. “-go home. Take a shower or something. Get some food. You need a break, Bridge.”

Bridget’s face was impassive, staring straight forward as she shifted the car into the express lane. “Can’t. Julius-”

Enough of this. “Did he tell you to do it tonight?” he asked, cutting her off before she could restate whatever bullshit task Julius had given her to do on top of everything else he’d piled on her. For fuck’s sake, sometimes it felt like she was carrying the whole gang by herself in between the tasks Julius sent down the pipeline and the duties she’d taken on herself to perform.

The glare she gave him could melt permafrost. “No.”

“Then do it tomorrow when you’re fresh.”

“I’m fresh enough,” she bit out. “You’re worrying way too much-”

The words burst from his chest before he could vet them. “I’m worrying the right goddamned amount for someone watching a person he cares about take way more shit on than she needs to.”

Bridget’s eyes went wide, whatever she’d been about to say dying in her open mouth.

Troy ran a hand through his hair. “I don’t know if this is some macho attempt to prove yourself or some shit, but you don’t have to do this. Slow down. Take care of yourself. Just- please.”

She was quiet for several minutes, eyes locked on the road as she slowed to match the speed of traffic. He’d almost given up on getting a response before she spoke again. “I won’t go to the storage place tonight. It’s-” She swallowed. “It’s late. Rollerz’ll be getting the cars out for races by now, there’s bound to be way more hanging around than during the day.”

He knows those justifications. Her saying he’s right without saying it directly. When she spoke again, her voice was careful. “Got anything else going on later?”

Manila folders scattered across a coffee table, a rapidly growing pile of cigarette stubs as he figures out the best way to ruin his friend’s lives-

“Nothing that can’t wait.”

When Bridget had first joined the Saints, Troy had thought her unreadable. It was easier now to read her once he knew what to look for. Her rubbing her thumb against the side of her index finger- something self soothing. Bouncing her leg- buying time to think. The lift of her head to look at him directly- she was searching him, weighing his reaction. “Feel like staying over?”

Always. “If you want me to.”

The tension in Bridget’s shoulders dissipated, and she gave him a small smile. “Of course I do, that’s why I asked,” she replied, punching him in the arm. “Dumbass.”

===

Rain tapped an improv jazz rhythm on the glass of Bridget’s bedroom window, and Troy couldn’t sleep. Blame the cigarettes, the coffee, the crippling anxiety and paranoia. The cause ultimately didn’t matter, the effect was the digital clock on Bridget’s bedside table hit 2AM and he was no closer to falling asleep than he was when he originally lay down. Bridget, though. Bridget had been asleep the moment her head touched the pillow. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t feel a moment of satisfying vindication.

He rolled over, resting a hand on her arm.

It was strange to see Bridget asleep. If Bridget was awake, she was moving- tapping her foot, shifting from side to side. She bounced her heels if a meeting went too long, rattling the table until he placed a hand on her thigh to get her to stop (among… other reasons). If she chose to talk, she talked with her whole body, her hands dancing in the air. Even when she was seated and still, a part of her still seemed to tremble with energy, anticipation and eagerness. Not now, though. Now she laid there, the rise and fall of her chest the only motion. Light drifted through the cracks in the blinds from the streetlight outside her window, resting softly on the freckles on her cheeks.

His hand traveled down her arm, into the dip of her waist, over the swell of her hip bone. Bridget wasn’t a paper-thin waif by any stretch of the imagination, but without the bulk of her sweatshirt to fill out her usual silhouette, she looked… smaller. More vulnerable. Which was ridiculous, he’d seen what she could do with a gun- hell, forget a gun, he’d seen the havoc she created with her fists alone- but somehow. Somehow that veneer was stripped away in the hazy orange light of a half-dead lamppost bulb, and the only thing left was a tired twenty-one year old who needed a hell of a lot more sleep than she was getting.

Christ. She really was twenty-one, wasn’t she? The face she wore around the other Saints made her seem older than that. It was all harsh angles and stony silences, only a twitch of a smile or a slight furrow in her brow betraying the emotions running electric through her veins. The uncertainty there at the beginning had long since suffocated under a rap sheet he hated to tally up in his head. It was a thing with no remorse, and little room for mercy.

And yet that face was forgotten in her sleep. The ever present tension slackened, releasing that hardened shell and letting it fall away in favor of something softer. She denied the existence of that softness, but he knew. He was allowed to know, he realized, warmth settling in his chest at the thought. Of all people, she’d offered that gift to him.

And it’s a gift you’ll lose soon.

The thought cut a sharp line through the haze, frozen against the warmth of the moment. Troy stilled, his hand resting on her waist. Somewhere in between the light on her cheeks and the slow, steady rise and fall of her chest, he’d forgotten what would be waiting for them. That as much as he tried to dodge and delay, the day Chief Monroe decided it was time to pull the plug on the Saints was coming sooner than later- and Bridget, ambitious and unknowing, was only hastening that end.

His sigh was frayed, thin and trailing off into nothing. This relationship was never going to last forever. He’d known that going in, had willingly condemned them both to heartbreak, but it hadn’t mattered then. That future had drowned in the affection in her gaze. The warmth of her laughter. The spark of her lips on his. But now…

Troy cupped Bridget’s cheek, pressing his forehead gently against hers as he closed his eyes. “I’m gonna miss you,” he whispered. He had to say it, just once. Even if she didn’t hear it- since she would never hear it- it needed to escape before it withered under his held tongue. It needed to exist, just for a moment, all his regrets pouring into that simple, weighted phrase.

At some point she’d wake up, either through him gently shaking her or her own merit. Either way she’d grouch at him for not waking her up sooner, blinking blearily at him in a hopelessly endearing way she’d punch him for if he ever mentioned it. She’d whip the covers off of both of them, laughing when he protests. Showers would follow, breakfast of some sort, and time would continue to march forward to that inevitable, heartbreaking point.

But that was a future they didn’t have to face yet. For now, they could stay like this- curling into each other, breath to breath and at peace.

For now, he’d save her a rude awakening.