#to get better and better uh hurts. I’d uh rather be in pain making the comic than live never making it

[frozenjokes]

If It Ain’t Broke! [it’s extremely broken] Don’t Fix It! [it’s in desperate need of repairs]

“Hotguy, I have something I’d like to tell you.” Grian fluttered down to the scene, distracting Scar right as the villain across from him started to wind back.

Scar grunted as Puppeteer’s large forearm collided with his face, the hit in itself enough to make him see stars, but the following kick to the chest really did him in, falling back and hitting the pavement hard, knocking the place where his prosthetics started to meet skin. Pain like electricity shot up his spine, which, augh, ow, that was unlucky- oh fuck, he definitely landed wrong didn’t he, something was not right here. Hm. Well it was a good thing CuteGuy was here!

“Yeah,” he wheezed, though the word came out a little more like a whine, “Sure, uh, mind helping me out a little first though?”

“No,” Grian said all too simply, and out of the corner of Scar’s eye he saw the other hero cross his arms, looking thoughtful, “I’d rather do it like this. It’s easier, emotionally, if you’re preoccupied. You’ve got it.”

“What a coincidence,” Puppeteer sneered, bright green eyes lit like the fire in Scar’s back, “I also have quite a few things to say.” The snakes that made up her hair hissed as Puppeteer veered over him, Scar throwing up his hands in a weak defense. His back felt a little bit like it was caving in on itself and that electric pain wasn’t getting any better! Oh god. Was he even going to be able to stand? Fuck, what happened? Scar struggled to sit up with a strangled gasp, but Puppeteer kicked him right back down. “Do you have anything to say for yourself?”

Scar threw up his arms, frustration overwhelming his sense, “It’s not like snakes have any feelings for me to hurt, they’re called cold blooded for a reason!”

“That is not what cold blooded means you fucking imbecile!” Puppeteer seethed, “Reptiles are treated poorly enough as it is, we don’t need extremely influential superheroes going on TV and telling the world why it's okay to keep hitting them with their cars!”

“Wow, you said that?” Grian asked, judgment oozing off his voice, and Scar wanted to scream.

“I did not say that! I did not say ANYTHING CLOSE TO THAT. God forbid anyone be afraid of anything! Dare I say it, I think you may be overreact-“ Scar didn’t get to finish, Puppeteer’s hefty kick sending him tumbling in a movement that pulled a real shriek from his lips. His ears rang as his entire head seemed to buzz, his back and body equally numb as it was screaming in stark agony. What was happening??? Somewhere in Scar’s conscious mind, he heard Puppeteer, then Grian, sounding disappointed.

“..never screams for me like that. Damn. What’s your leg routine?”

Good god. He was doomed. He was going to die.

Scar didn’t have the mind to think of the words he needed to yell for help, but even then, he was pretty sure he couldn’t form them anyway, the only noises leaving his throat being muffled whines and groans, none of which Grian seemed to think was odd given that he made zero move to do anything about it. Grian was instead talking to Puppeteer like nothing was wrong- couldn’t either of them see his entire back had caved in? Unless it was internal. It was probably internal. But it FELT like it looked like his back had caved in. Help. Help. He tried to say words, but only tasted concrete. And blood. Decidedly both bad things.

“Geez, you’re really down in the dumps over the snake thing, huh. Whatever, as long as you’re listening,” Scar heard the shift of Grian’s voice, enough to know he was being talked to, but he failed to process any of the words, “So I’ve been thinking about it, and I’ve decided I would like to be friends. Yup! There we go. Friends. I think I’m ready to give it a shot at least, I mean, you’re going to be with Cub a bunch and Cub’s going to be with me and I was just thinking about some things he was saying to me.. I don’t know. Maybe I want to do this for him. Maybe I’m tired of feeling shitty about you. I don’t know exactly what’s going on in my brain, but I’ve made my decision, and I’m telling you so I can’t just back out or change my mind.”

Scar heard Grian’s footsteps, pacing, and gave up all hope of being rescued. He sobbed into the concrete, but Grian clearly didn’t hear him, rambling on, “Plus, I kinda like this gig! I like the theatrics, the costumes, and meeting all these weird new people, no offense Puppeteer, you’re killing it.”

“I know.”

“But I think I would like doing all these things with you, because even if you’re kind of a loser, I’ve come to the conclusion that superheroes are kinda like worse furries, which is to say, losers having a good time, they just also happen to work for the government and go on weird bad power trips and I- I mean, I’m not immune, obviously. But I want to engage with more of that good loser stuff, and I think you’re a prime candidate. You’re goofy. It’s your best quality.”

Scar wondered if he would ever receive the blessing of passing out, or if he was damned to lay here waiting to die forever. Had Grian decided to gouge his eyes out before speaking to him?

“And maybe, eventually, if you still like me or whatever, I may allow you to try and woo me just as you did to Cub. Take me out, charm me, whatever. Give it your best go.”

“Ah, so the media gossip surrounding you two is true?” Puppeteer spoke, reminding Scar that they were also still here and either not noticing or not caring about Scar’s condition.

“It’s not. We’re definitely not anything, just playing it up in the field. The attention is kind of fun I think, and obviously HotGuy thinks so too even if he’s too pouty to say it. Honestly, I’m kind of shocked. Thought he’d be jumping for joy by now.”

“Looks like he’s going through it over there, I dunno. Breathing pretty hard it looks like.”

“Oh, shit,” Grian paused, and Scar prayed he wasn’t about to leave, “Hey, you good?”

Silence. Well, besides Scar’s own labored breathing and moaning, but apparently none of these noises registered as out of the ordinary to Scar’s new least favorite people in the world. Grian, Puppeteer, and Death in that order. Scar barely registered the footsteps as they closed in on him, Grian saying something before touching, turning him over- ah, so the pain could get worse!

Talons dug into his side, and when Grian tried to lift him, finally, finally, his body graced him with sweet unconsciousness.

***

Scar chuckled to himself as he heard Grian’s anxious rambling from all the way down the hall, talking far too loudly for someone who presumably didn’t want to be heard.

“What do I do? I don’t know what to do. I just- two weeks, it’s been two weeks and he isn’t even out of the hospital yet! Does this happen a lot? How was I supposed to know this could happen? Hotguy doesn’t just go down for the count like this, he gets his ass beat, gets stitched back together and is fine the next day! Do you know how much worse I, personally, have done to him? He just got knocked on his ass! I thought he was fine! Two weeks!”

Scar heard the low rumble of Cub’s voice, probably telling Grian to quiet down since Scar didn’t hear him anymore other than the raised squeak of urgent whispers. However, the noise stopped abruptly as the pair of footsteps neared Scar’s room. The door was open, but Cub knocked anyway.

“Hey Scar, can we come in?”

“Sure, sure!” he bellowed, hoping the cheerful tone would curb Grian’s anxiety, mostly for his own sake. Spending the only hospital visit he could worm out of his bosses telling Grian ‘It Was Fine’ sounded like the least appealing way he could utilize this time. “Please! Come in, come in!”

Cub did so, looking as he as always did with that slight frown and relaxed shoulders. Which is to say, absolutely delighted to see him! Grian, just about as horrible at masking his feelings as it gets, waddled in behind him, lips pursed and wings puffed up to twice their size.

“I’m sorry-“

“Up bup bup!” Scar cut Grian off before he could say another word, “Shush, none of that. You’re fine, I’m fine, you coulda left me there for another week and I would have been fine, though, probably a little more upset with you! But ultimately, fine.”

“But I- we couldn’t even reach you. I couldn’t-“

Scar rolled his eyes, “They’re a little tight when it comes to security, I don’t get the luxury of internet access.”

“That’s kind of fucked.” Cub said, and Scar shrugged.

“Necessary, I’ve been told. There was a public statement on my socials, did you see it?”

“The announcement that you were taking some time off to travel and you’d be back with one of those awful merch calendars sometime next month? That’s not exactly an update- actually that’s a little more concerning than the truth!” Somehow, Grian’s wings managed to grow in size, and Scar couldn’t help but laugh.

“If I was dead they wouldn’t tell the world I went on vacation! And hey! The calendars are best sellers!”

But Grian was not to be distracted. “And if you were in critical condition?”

“I wasn’t in critical condition.”

“Are you sure?”

Scar huffed, patience running thin. “Cool it, Grian, it was just an accident. Something just got bumped the wrong way, that’s all. Things get a little fucky if something goes wrong in my back, it’s just painful, nothing that can’t be fixed. Now, if we don’t start playing a board game or a few games of cards in the next minute I’m going to really throw a fit, so please, I’ve got two hours before they want to prep me for my next surgery.”

That seemed to get Grian’s attention, wings twitching as he glanced toward a shelf full of the games Scar had collected over the years, as well as other knick knacks that had piled up in his glorified apartment of a hospital room. Mercifully, Grian hopped over to check it out without another word, hopefully realizing that arguing about Scar’s condition was not how he wanted to spend his time.

“What do you want to play?” Grian asked instead, and Scar hummed.

“Anything. I know them all. I could teach you something, but personally I’d rather just get right into it with something we all know.”

“I haven’t even heard of half of these,” Grian said, poking through the shelf with a curiosity that made Scar smile, gingerly lifting a couple of the games to look at the boxes and spinning them around.

“Me neither,” Cub mumbled, looking more thoughtful than concerned with being heard. But he didn’t move to look beside Grian, instead drifting next to Scar’s bed. Scar’s heart nearly exploded when Cub’s hand drifted over his in a silent question, and Scar took it eagerly. “You okay?”

Scar closed his eyes, “Happy to have visitors.”

“It’s been a while, hasn’t it,” Cub hummed, and Scar nodded. “You know when you’re going to be out? Maybe you’ll get your phone back sooner than that?”

Scar shook his head. “Don’t know, but I doubt I’ll be texting anyone until I’m fixed. Hopefully not any longer than a couple weeks; the tech is a little old and it can be finicky, so they really have to be careful when they work on it.”

“Why don’t they hire The Goat to work on it? He built it, didn’t he?” Grian turned away from the board games, and Scar felt the energy drain from his soul at the hint of snideness edging his tone. He just didn’t want to deal with it. Didn't want to talk about this.

“I don’t know what he told you, Grian, but that’s not true. Not really.”

“Is it not?” Grian narrowed his eyes, and Scar felt his own grip on Cub’s hand tighten. Cub looked wary, but didn’t speak. Too curious to say anything maybe, though that was Scar’s own cynicism speaking. Maybe it was twisting Grian’s tone as well, but Scar didn’t care all that much.

“Well I did ask, and apparently my parents did enlist his help briefly at the beginning of the process, but it was brief. The Goat did some work on my prosthetics, but the blueprints weren’t very good, hardly enough to build a solid foundation. Most everything he did got scrapped. So sure, you could say he worked on it, if being a pain in the ass and producing a faulty outline is ‘working on it.’”

“That’s not what I heard.”

“Grian,” Cub cut in, firm. “Drop it.”

Grian looked conflicted for a moment, stuck between his passion and the surprise of being interrupted so suddenly. Cub took advantage of the silence by tugging his hand away from Scar’s, making a beeline to the board games and plucking one off the shelf more decisively than Scar ever had in his life.

“Let’s play this. Then maybe if we have time, you can teach us another,” Cub looked back to Scar, voice even and mediating. Calm. The forceful kind that grabbed you by the throat, sat you down, and lowered your hackles.

“Ooh, I like that one,” Grian said, and a guilty glance back to Scar was really all the apology he needed. Grian got caught up. It happens. Happened to Scar more times than he could count, and it would happen again just as much. Scar didn’t want any big, sweeping gestures. He just wanted a break. To be normal, if only for a few hours. So he took a deep breath, exhaled, and let the smile return to his face.

“That sounds like fun.”

[speedforce-zoomies]

“Can I ask you a question?”

Janet turned to face her semi-regular visitor, an alternative version of her son, and boy, wasn’t that a sentence?

“Different from the ones I’ve been asking, I mean?”

“Oh course, birdie.”

It had been rather awkward for the both of them the first time Janet had instinctively used a pet name that she used for her own Tim, one that his Mother had also used for him.

He had blinked away tears so quickly that if she hadn’t known all versions of her son so dearly she would have thought she had imagined it.

From that point on she made sure to only call him Tim or Birdie, a pet based off his hero identity, (and it still took the breath out of her lungs to think about any version of her baby fighting criminals with nothing but a belt full of tools and a metal staff. Her fear for him was not at all canceled out by her pride). The name deemed safe since her own Tim was a civilian.

Though, even “Tim” got confusing sometimes when trying to differentiate between her son and the son of dead version of herself.

She had asked if it would perhaps be better to call him Jackson and he had frowned at the suggestion, suggesting Alvin or Carl as alternatives instead with a sudden, sly smirk and a snicker when he saw her expression.

He smiled at her now, a soft, gentle thing, that spoke of comfort but his eyes were sad.

“Do you think…” he paused, “Do you think, if things were reversed between our worlds and you had passed, sorry, this is, uh, um a pretty heavy question...”

Tim trailed off, eyes glued to the bare white wall across from him and Janet walked over and sat beside him, not touching, just silently offering support.

“It’s okay, it’s obviously burdening you, let me carry some of the weight. What’s on your mind, Birdie?”

“If it were you that had die-passed, and your Tim had access to trans-dimensional travel, would it… would it make you sad or hurt your feelings if your Tim was to visit my mom?”

Janet paused, thinking it over.

Tim didn’t look at her, allowing her to consider her words carefully.

“A little bit, I think. Not hurt, but sad, because of course my preference would be to be a part of his life. However, even if it would make me a little sad, it would mean the world to me that another Janet was able to open up her arms to my son, that he had found a way to ease his pain, even if just a little bit.”

He smiled at her and it was watery.

“You know, when I come to visit, I take the information you give me and I go though my Mama’s stuff, almost like I’m gathering clues here and putting the pieces together there.”

He paused, trying and failing to not fidget.

“I had no idea, about the Emily Dickinson poem, until you told me and then I went home and she had used that poem in a couple of her poems and social media posts.”

He leaned in to her space.

“It’s nice, getting to learn about her, even now that she’s gone… I appreciate you, you giving me the chance to do so.”

Janet gently bumped shoulders with him, “Of course, Birdie.”

“It also kind of feels weird,” he confessed, “to investigate my own mom like this.”

Janet hummed, and took a chance, “Well, you are two anthropologists’ son, investigating the dead is kind of in your blood.”

Tim choked out a laugh, “Yeah,” he huffed out, voice low and rough but still amused, “guess you’re right.”

He leaned back against the sofa, “She’d love that, I think, being an anthropological revelation.”

“I’d be flattered, certainly.”

Tim snickered at that.

“Do you think your Tim is gonna be an anthologist. Like you and his dad?”

Janet hummed, “Maybe. He enjoys coming out to digs on holidays and summer vacations. But he also enjoys his photography and he keeps making jokes, that I’m not entirely sure are actually jokes about becoming a professional skateboarder.”

Tim snorted in amusement, “Well, I’m rooting for him if he goes for it.”

Janet grinned. “I will too, if that’s his passion in life, though I will expect him to have a backup plan, of course.”

“Of course.” Tim agreed.

“Anything but vigilante!” She shook his shoulder gently, “I already have one of those to worry about!”

He laughed, and he didn’t sound like her own Tim when he laughed.

He sounded like her, or well, she thought, another version of me.

——

I wrote a lot of words just to say I’m not over Batman (2016) #134 & I never will be ^.^

[thefandomenchantress]

We’re all familiar with the Xander-Ace arm wrestling scene. A lot of people cite it as one of their favorite funny moments from the series. And yeah, it is pretty funny when you don’t think about it too much.

The joke is pretty much, “Haha, Ace is such a wimp! He’s totally freaking out about a minor injury like it’s a really big deal!”

I don’t know if it was just me, but I sort of had this internal notion that Ace must’ve mentioned that his hand really hurt or something, and the joke was that he was wimp because it was such a minor injury, and it probably didn’t hurt at all.

But, uh. He never says anything about his hand hurting. Here are the lines he says (not all of which are featured in a text box, since Teruko and Xander are talking over him):

“AAAAAHHHHHH MY HAANNNDDDD!!!!”

*falls on the ground, gets up, screams again*

“OH GOD! You’re gonna put me down like a horse with a broken leg!!!”

“I’d rather die than not be able to eat cereal with my hand!!!”

“I’M NEVER GONNA BE ABLE TO RACE AGAIN!!!!”

Listening to all of the voice lines again, it seems less like Ace is panicking because his hand is hurting, and more like he's panicking because of what may happen to him if his hand is indeed badly injured. So it's less so about the injury itself, and more about what may happen because of it.

He first, of course, panics over Xander being a threat. That's completely expected, since making Xander angry just broke a table and assumedly hurt him in some way or another.

The cereal line is a bit confusing, especially considering his secret. A while back I came up with an out-there theory that he said that in order to try and deflect any suspicion about his secret, since an eating disorder can weaken your bones and if he got hurt too easily, people might begin to suspect something. So he rather clumsily brought up the subject of how he did in fact eat food. If we consider the fact that he's lying here, then him saying he'd rather die than do something makes a lot more sense, since we know he doesn't mean that at all. But in hindsight I may have been overthinking it...Still, I can't think of a better explanation, other than dismissing it altogether as a throwaway joke that didn't have much thought put into it.

The last line is what really makes this interesting. Ace hates his talent and anything to do with it. And yet one of the things he's panicking about the most is how he may not be able to race after sustaining an injury. And I think that this moment probably gives us our earliest insight into just how far Ace will go in order to race. In his first FTE with Teruko, he claims he doesn't do much work at all for his talent, until his performance anxiety forces him to. By saying that, it makes it sound like his talent doesn't completely dominate his life.

But this scene, in the same exact episode of his FTE, quickly proves to the viewer just how desperate Ace is to continue his talent, to the point where his own well-being becomes less important than it. Ace's extreme reaction to being injured isn't because he's a wimp that can't deal with pain, it's because he's spiraling about what this could mean for his career and, therefore, his status as a failure. "What if this injury prevents me from racing?" is the question that comes first, causing him to panic instead of being able to focus on how bad the injury actually is.

...I guess the thing that made me want to write about this scene is just how...Smart it is. It does so much at once. On a first viewing, it's really funny, and it still is on other viewings. Yet in hindsight, it's easier to notice just how distressed Ace is, and that no one is taking that seriously. No one ever takes his fears seriously, and in the end his fears drove him to murder, proving how important they really were. Even if his worries seem silly from an outsider's perspective, they're very real to him. And that's something that no one in-universe could realize until it was too late. This scene does an amazing job summarizing just how the cast's attitude towards Ace helped push him to becoming a culprit.

...Or maybe I'm taking the silly arm-wrestling scene too seriously, haha.

[camillathe6th]

number 4? ^_^ 🩷

Hi!! Thank you so much--sorry, these got derailed by family time, but I'm back with a stupid-ass prompt. Wanted to try my hand at Nadeem and Una bantering next, so this is where we are. I think this counts as a kiss, even if SOME PEOPLE (Una) are making my job harder as usual.

4. (A kiss)... where it hurts

2089. (NADEEM)

Something pulls me back from the dark. Maybe it’s the hard jolt of the car under us, jostling my wound into night-pulsing pain. Maybe, most likely, really, it’s the clammy warmth of her ungloved hand, tense on my forehead, spreading into my hair, a hard hold, a rough caress.

All this took was dying, then.

Jokes later: first assess. Pillowed: my head on her stiff thighs. Stomach wound: open, quenched with cloth, still gushing. Lost consciousness, I did, but not for long. Good enough. Questions still: how did we get here? This car—how did she get a car?—, this backseat, this road, which road? It’s damaged, which means we're going south, every bump a very literal pain in my derriere. She’s tense under me, though, curbing some of the asphalt impacts before they reach me, keeping me still.

“You’re awake, jackass,” she states, suddenly, correctly. I open one eye. She’s wearing her mask still; I can only guess at the grim line of her mouth, the hard clenching of her teeth, but I can see what she’d want to hide, exactly what she’d want to hide: mirrors of the soul, eyes red and burning.

What, tears, for little old me? I close my eye again. Damn. Getting gutted feels sweet.

“I’m alive?” I check, just in case. Who knows—maybe my heaven is Una’s uncomfortably hard thighs under my cheek, just like this.

“No thanks to you,” she hisses, pulling at my hair, stopping just at the edge of painlessness. “Are you fucking insane?”

“And you’re alive,” I smile, sliding into the pulling, “very much thanks to me.”

“I don’t need you sacrificing yourself for me,” she barks. “Did you forget I’m the bodyguard?”

“Well? Then guard my body better, conscript.”

“Oh, sorry, I was working under the assumption that you had a brain.”

“I forgive you.” I’m generous like that. I open my eyes again: the gaze that meets mine is a punch to the gut, as heart-hammering as a tongue to my throat. “You didn’t stitch me up.”

She looks away first. Always first, my lovely coward.

“I can’t.”

“Come on. You know I tru—”

“No,” she snaps back, taut as a rubberband. “You’re fucked up, you stupid idiot. What did you want me to do, kill you faster? You need a real medic. We’re on the way.”

We’re on the way. What did she do to get this car? Downfade doesn't have cars. Who’s driving, and who’s waiting for us? Who did she call?

I know—I know who she called. She shouldn’t have done that.

“Una…,” I whisper, and touch her face, just a finger, just two, just a tugging back to me. Her frown is a dam, cracked and quaking. “I don’t understand… Why didn’t you just kiss it better?”

The frown-dam hardens, blissfully dark, a stronghold of comfort against sentiment.

“I don’t know, Nadeem. Why don’t I punch you in the dick?”

“Fine. If you insist. Let’s compromise—”

“Don’t.”

“—You can kiss me on the dick instead.”

“Thanks, but I don’t give losers head,” she fast-grabs my hand before it brushes her jaw. “Also, I’d rather drink acid.”

“Hey. Come on. I’m fairly sure I taste a little better.”

No mouth: can’t prove the quirking of her half-smile, but I catch it, the slight crinkle of her eyes, speaking of chuckling just bridled.

“Just as lethal is what I meant,” she mutters, settling my hand back on my chest, and getting trapped between my fingers for her trouble.

“Uh-oh.” I stroke the length of her index, from split knuckle to bitten nail. “You’re making metaphors. I must be dying.”

“Shut the fuck up. You’re not dying.”

“Would you cry?” I coo, honey-sweet.

“I would break your stupid face, asshole.”

“Wait. You mean you’d keep my corpse with you? That’s so romantic.”

She huffs: I win. I win, so I bring it—I bring it, her hand, split and bitten—to my mouth, and kiss the trembling away. This is where it hurts.

“Yeah,” she doesn’t blink, tensing. “You’d make a great punching bag.”

“But less fun without the enthusiastic moaning,” I hum, gratified, keeping her fist close. The world has slid back into the dark, but only because I must have closed my eyes, just for a little while. I can feel her pulse around me—her heart, her flesh, her breath, and the pain too, my pain, faraway, kept leashed by the tight stranglehold of her torn shirt.

Her voice is just a murmur now, spearing through the haze.

“I don’t want you sacrificing yourself for me, Nadeem.”

“You said that.” Almost that. The difference isn’t lost on me. “Are you going to say thank you, though?”

Her shifting is a—heart-leap, breath-theft, making me gasp, in pain and pleasure both—as she bends, bends over me, and cradles my head in the embrace of her arms, and clasps her burning cheek to mine, a mask-cloth away from contact. Against her Kevlared chest, I shiver, I press closer.

“No,” she mutters. “Fuck off.”

I snort, and give my mouth to the hollow of her throat, where her blood pumps as quick as mine.

“Good. You’re welcome, jaanu.”

Other prompts here.

[another-dr-another]

nov 13th, 2005

Maeda, narrating - …Ugh.

Maeda - ...Wait, I've got it!

Maeda - If Tsurugi thinks well of the blackeneds, then why would he dislike Higa? And why are these both strikes against him?

Maeda - Let’s see what Hatano thinks!

~*~

Maeda - Hatano… why does Tsurugi think well of the blackeneds?

Hatano - …Oh, uh-

Hatano - He always said stuff like… that they weren’t really bad people. Which, they chose to try and kill everyone, all because they deserve what they want, and they want it now, and they’re more important-

Hatano - Which, that’s another contradiction with Tsurugi, because why would you say you care about the group before anything else, then be number one fan of the people that are willing to chuck us all out?

Hatano - But, he said they weren’t wrong for the murder, and the attempt to kill us all, because they were upset, or whatever.

Hatano - Because the mastermind scared them, made them feel like they needed to- and you’d rather cuddle them than acknowledge that everyone else who was scared managed to not commit murder.

//As Hatano glares, Maeda is suddenly reminded of Tsurugi’s existence. He looks over for the first time in a good moment- and is a bit surprised by what he sees. Tsurugi’s still crying sure, tears rolling down his face in a steady flow… but he’s breathing hard. And the last time Maeda saw Tsurugi breathing hard like that was also the first- it was back in the dining hall, when he backhanded Hatano. 

Maeda - …It’s panic.

Maeda - …You’re wrong.

//It comes so easily, he must have said it to try and assuage Tsurugi. 

Maeda - You know, thinking of the fight… Hatano isn’t saying that Iranami’s death is Tsurugi’s fault anymore.

Maeda - I think that’s a good sign that she might be accepting what happened to Iranami.

Maeda - ….Pointing out that she was wrong about that part of things definitely won’t help though.

Maeda - Tsurugi’s point about the blackeneds was that they were acting out of fear and panic, right? Like you said?

Hatano - …Yeah?

Maeda - That’s what he thought about Higa, too. 

Maeda - Tsurugi believed that Higa’s… actions were, like…

Maeda - …Shit, I don’t know how to explain it.

Maeda - …Tsurugi?

//Tsurugi looks at Maeda.

Maeda - …

Tsurugi - …

//Maeda doesn’t look at anything but Tsurugi’s eyes. It’s all he can do. Tsurugi looks haunted.

Maeda, severely uncomfortable - …

Tomori - …Bigotry is a way of punching down to push yourself up.

Tomori - It’s sold to people under the idea that it’s everyone for themselves. Resources is limited, and in order to win, someone has to lose.

Tomori - Some people deserve to lose, or don’t deserve equal access to things- and those who have less did something to deserve it.

Tomori - He’s coping for… whatever issues he has by believing in something that says he’s inherently better. 

Maeda - …It’s fear of attack.

Maeda - Both Higa, and the blackened- fear of something happening, and getting hurt, so you strike first.

Tomori - Mhm…

Tsurugi - …

Tsurugi - I’d fit that pattern.

Maeda - Shit.

Hatano - Yeah! None of what you’ve said makes it look like Tsurugi isn’t the blackened.

Maeda - …

Maeda - Fuckkk.

Maeda - H…Honestly, I’m not sure how we even got to this topic.

Hatano - Tomori’s defending Tsurugi, and it’s just going to get her hurt when he finally shows his true colors. Or, it’ll be a pain to deal with, if he does just lie until the end.

Maeda - …Wait.

Maeda - If Tsurugi has it out for everyone, why would he confess?

Tomori - Exactly!

Maeda - We can’t say he killed Higa because he hated everyone, because then, we don’t have a reason for why he’s confessing.

Maeda - Admitting he murdered Higa just means that he gets to be executed.

Hatano - …So you agree. He murdered Higa.

Maeda - …Fuck!

//Tomori sighs.

Maeda - Damn it… if I defend Tsurugi’s character, then I’m proving his guilt.

Hatano - The way you’ve proved it, there’s two ways things have happened.

Hatano - Tsurugi’s a saint, and he’s the type of saint to get angry and commit homicide, or he’s an asshole, who’s giving us a false confession.

Hatano - Which, there’s no reason to give a false confession- so, time to start accepting Tsurugi’s the blackened.

Hatano - And whether he’s injured or not, there’s no injury that should be making you commit murder!

Maeda - …Wait, did we get to this from the concussion thing?

Hatano - …I guess?

Taira - What was more important to you than paying attention, Maeda?

Maeda - Damn…

Tomori - Hatano thinks Tsurugi might have a concussion.

Maeda - Why’d you bring that up Hatano?

Hatano - …It’s just objective?

Hatano - He hit his head. That could cause a lack of control.

Maeda - That… sounds oddly ingenuous.

Maeda - …I know the word ingenuous? Wh-Where did I learn that? 

Maeda - Ah- advanced lit- THE TRIAL.

Tsurugi - Damage to… GABAergic receptors…

Hatano - Speak up?

Tsurugi - …

//Tsurugi sways on his feet, and doesn’t respond.

Hatano - …

Maki - …There’s a lot of weird things going on right now.

Maki - Let’s work out if Tsurugi’s the blackened. That’s what matters.

Ōtori - Who thinks it’s him, but wants to discuss more before we vote?

//Maki, Tomori, Kobashikawa, and Ōtori raise their hands. Tomori hesitated.

Ōtori - Who’s currently against voting for Tsurugi?

//Maeda and Uehara raise their hands.

Ōtori - …The three of you that didn’t vote- you’d all be fine with voting for Tsurugi now?

//Hatano nods- Taira doesn’t react.

Maeda - She looks more like she’s waiting for an answer from us, than the other way around.

Tsurugi - Yes.

Ōtori - …Alright.

Ōtori - It’d be a majority vote for Tsurugi right now- but even without factoring in those that don’t want to vote for him, the majority of us would rather continue talking.

Ōtori - Maeda, Uehara: what are your reasons?

Uehara - …It isn’t right.

Ōtori - Why?

Uehara - …

Maeda - …I don’t like it, but I don’t have much more of an answer.

Kobashikawa - Maeda, I didn’t know that you thought it wasn’t him. I thought you just wanted to explore every option.

Maeda - …

Maeda - There’s just… something telling me we’re looking at something wrong.

Maeda - …I wish I meant that. Really, I just don’t want it to be him- but if I act like I believe it, I’ll find some way to mean what I’m saying.

Kobashikawa - …Hm.

Tomori - …

Tomori - ………

Maeda - …?

Maeda - Tomori looks… unsure.

//Maeda looks at Taira, waiting for her input.

Taira - …

//She seems… almost bored.

Maeda - Huh…

Ōtori - The motive works, and the method of death works. Tsurugi was nearby, and the timeline fits as well.

Maeda - …The timeline. 

Maeda - Does the timeline fit? I can’t think of anything that would make it not fit.

Ōtori - Is there any other factors we need to consider?

Maeda - …

Maeda - Let’s maybe talk about the motive a bit more-

Maeda - Not Tsurugi’s motive. The one Monokuma talked about.

Uehara - …

Tomori - …

Tsurugi - …

Maeda - …Someone has to speak up.

Maki - …

Ōtori - …

Kobashikawa - …

Maeda - Oh my god. I jinxed it.

Hatano - …

Taira - …

Maeda - …

Maeda - What the fuck!?

Taira - I don’t think anyone wants to.

Maki - …

Maki - Did the motive go off again, since there’s been two deaths?

Ōtori - Monokuma said two murders, though.

Kobashikawa - Could we ask it?

Tomori - …

Tomori - Monokuma?

Monokuma - I Am Not At Liberty To Discuss The Status Of The Motive With Any But A Student Directly Impacted.

Hatano - …

Tsurugi - …

Uehara - …

Maeda - Well, shit.

Maeda - I could be affected, and not even know it, since I don’t really know what the motive entailed.

Ōtori - That seems like a bust, then.

Maeda - R-Really? We can still discuss the motive, even if Monokuma won’t give us information- Monokuma never gives us information!

Maki - ...

Tomori - ...

Kobashikawa - ...

Hatano - Nobody else wants to, Maeda.

Maeda - Ugh... damn it- even if it isn't connected to the case, I wanted to know more.

Maki - ...

Maki - I think we should go ahead and reassemble the case.

Uehara - !...

Maeda - R-Really?!

Maki - I'm not saying we vote... but I think we should put out all our arguments, from A to B, to Higa dying.

Maki - We can see if anything's weak, or doesn't line up.

Tsurugi - ...

Tsurugi - I know what happened. There won't be an issue with the case.

Tsurugi - It's a flawless understanding. I murdered Higa.

Tsurugi - I don't think I should reconstruct the case, though...

Tsurugi - I'll leave it all to you.

~*~

Maeda, narrating - Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Maeda - I don't want to reconstruct the case. I think if we get that far, it'll be too easy- Tsurugi's probably right, we won't see an issue with the case.

Maeda - We'll feel defeated, and give up... and I don't want things to end here.

Maeda - What could I bring up that might keep the trial going?

{Something that Happened Last Night}

{Something that Happened This Morning}

{Reconstructing the Case Will Make an Issue Apparent}

[tinyvoicejill]

[Part two of this story] ----- “I can’t believe we’re gonna die.”

“I mean, I’d like to think we’d at least consider tearing your sweater before reaching that point.”

“I’d rather we die.”

“Uh huh, and our lives are worth sacrificing for your job as a…?”

Carson is struggling on her toes trying to relieve some of the pressure on her wrist. It’s worse for her than Greta - the sleeve doesn’t cling tight to her wrist, whereas Carson’s bracelet is pulled tight against her skin. Greta keeps a firm grip around Carson’s waist to try and help alleviate the pressure. Somehow, despite being in this ridiculous situation with her hand about to fall off probably, Carson remains optimistic in her efforts to keep their spirits up. It’s ridiculous. It’s amazing. Greta’s pretty sure she’d have gone crazy if not for Carson. “I’m a personal assistant to a fashion designer. I wanted to be a designer too one day, but now that my life is over I’m just hoping I don’t get sued into the dirt.” “Oh yeah? What made you want to go into that?” It’s a ploy to distract, and Greta embraces it. She details her entire life plan to her captive audience, and for a while that helps. Everytime she stops talking, though, the panic restarts. Carson doesn’t seem to notice. “That’s so cool! It’s amazing how people can just do stuff like that, wow. And do you have a uh, a person that you share this with? Like, your life with?” In the entire time that Greta has known Carson (about twenty minutes, give or take) not once has she ever seemed nervous. Not until now. Panic subsides in Greta then, as the only distraction better than talking is flirting. “No. No girlfriend,” Greta says, and she can feel the way Carson swallows at that. “I am very single.” “Good. I mean, no I don’t mean… I-I’m single too!”

Greta feels like she’s been handed this opportunity on a silver platter. She’s been trying to hold her head tall and away from Carson to give her some space, but now she lets her face skim down the slightest bit, just enough to bump against Carson’s. She can hear the way Carson breathes in fast, can feel it in the way her grip tightens where it rests against Greta’s side.

“Guess we’re both single, then,” Greta says, and her nose brushes Carson’s. “Wonder what we should do while we wait for rescue?”

“I think you should take your top off.” That is not at all what she expected her to say. “Not even gonna buy me dinner first?” Greta teases back, and thinks about kissing her. Those thoughts stop when she sees the serious look on Carson’s face. The way she looks pained. “I’m sorry, I-I don’t want to make you uncomfortable,” Carson says quickly, like she thinks she’s offended Greta rather than turned her on. “It’s just… it’s really starting to hurt.” Greta looks up again to see Carson’s hand tangled up by her own. It’s purple now. She’s never seen a hand turn purple before.  “Oh shit, okay. Yes, okay, take my top off.” Greta tries to help with her free hand but stalls when she feels Carson stop tugging, her hand instead pressed to Greta’s stomach. “Sorry, I think I missed your undershirt-” “No undershirt,” Greta cuts in, earning a confused look from Carson. “Just the sweater.” “Oh. Okay! Cool,” Carson says, and her voice cracks. 

Greta can feel the way Carson’s hand lingers going up her abs - and okay, maybe Greta is flexing extra hard. So what! She’s worked hard as fuck to get this body, of course she’s gonna show it off - but slowly they manage to work her sweater up and over her body. Carson makes an embarrassing noise when Greta’s bra is revealed, which Greta revels in. She can feel the way Carson trembles pressed to her chest. Things are going swimmingly as they work the sweater up to her neck, her face, and she’s trying to pull her free hand out of the sleeve but it keeps getting caught and Carson’s trying to push the collar up over Greta’s face simultaneously but it gets stuck just above her nose, and she feels trapped and exposed then with her naked torso right in Carson’s face and now both arms once again tangled and trapped above her head and it doesn’t make sense why the sweater is so tight around her face until she remembers.

“Shit! I forgot there are buttons on the back of the collar, it’s not gonna fit. You gotta-” “Okay, okay.” Carson fumbles behind Greta’s head, trying to find the buttons, unintentionally jerking her head forward in her search. Their faces were so close already, so of course their lips brushed.

Greta whimpers, like a fucking loser. This is, unfortunately, the hottest thing that’s ever happened to her in her entire life. Greta is pinned against the door by a hot stranger who basically has her blindfolded with her hands tied above her head. What other choice is there if not to whimper and grind a little bit?

“Oh,” Carson breathes against her lips. “I-I’m sorry, I didn’t mean-” Whatever excuse she intended to say is lost in Greta’s searching mouth and quickly forgotten. Carson kisses her back with an enthusiasm that makes her feel like her bones are melting, like she might turn to mush on the floor if not for her hands tied tight and Carson’s body holding her steady. They kiss for so long and no time at all. Until the bathroom door slams and they hear a loud sigh followed by, “Look horndogs, we closed ten minutes ago. Can you go do this somewhere else?”

It takes a lot for them to convince the worker they are, in fact, both stuck. The manager has to take the door off its hinges, and Greta has to take Carson home with her.

The cashmere sweater somehow, despite the odds, survives.

[theshinysnivy1]

I hated PE. I’m not sure I’d call it traumatic— my teachers and peers were pretty much never mean— but I *hated* it. I was always one of the least physically capable kids in the entire class, always getting side stitches and feeling like my lungs were on fire when running, always jogging at the back of the pack when I could tell the people ahead of me weren’t putting in half the effort I was, always terrible at catching and throwing balls and such. I could barely do a push up, and eventually I couldn’t do a push up at all.

My exercise woes didn’t start with PE though— my parents tried to sign me up for various physical extracurriculars: ballet, yoga, gymnastics, soccer— anything to get me to actually move. But I was always terrible at everything, and I pretty much hated all of them by the end. Yoga was fine, but also very boring.

PE and sports and such made me feel bad about myself. People didn’t mock me for struggling more than everyone else, but when you’ve tried so many different things, through different years and classes and schools, and you are pretty much always the one who does worst— it uh, it kinda got to me, which I think is reasonable.

And then there’s the pain aspect. I get it, exercise hurts, but I’m not trying to be a track star, I’m trying to get through PE and theoretically I should be trying to learn how to stay healthy, right? I don’t think it’s unreasonable for me to stop running when my lungs start to feel like they’re on fire and there’s a splitting pain in my side, for frick’s sake.

… I wonder if they assumed I should have been able to do better than I was, because I was skinny. I wonder if I assumed that too.

Hmm. Maybe traumatic might actually be the right word considering that writing this kinda makes me want to cry and I haven’t had to take PE in over 5 years.

Luckily, by finding some very positive fitness YouTubers, and with time, I’m starting to feel better about exercise. I’m trying to remember the joy of running around playing games as a little kid rather than fantasizing about injuring myself to get out of running the upcoming 5K. I’m watching videos that tell me that if I can’t do an “easy” push-up I can just do push-ups on the wall, and god, I’d never thought about that before. I didn’t realize that was allowed.

I’m allowed to start where I am. That’s okay. There’s no pack of runners that I’m trailing behind, nobody with a clipboard asking me if I can do just one push-up, and I’m trying so so hard but I can’t.

Nobody will scold me if I do my push-ups against the wall.

Fuck.

I hate PE.

Negative experience with P.E. includes everything you could have disliked about it, such as teachers, relationship with peers, unaccommodated disabilities, the fact that it was graded, body image, etc.

–

We ask your questions so you don’t have to! Submit your questions to have them posted anonymously as polls.

[fanby-fckry]

Content Warning: Vent, food insecurity

I need to either convince Roommate #5 to drive me to return bottles or bite the bullet and start walking bags down to the store, myself. We’re going to need groceries, eventually, and have $7 in our bank account, yayyy.

I think there are enough bottles that, if I could get #5 to drive me, or manage several trips, myself, there’d be enough for groceries for the rest of the month, if we’re careful. CT upped our bottle return reward to 10¢ a bottle, and I can carry 4 bags, which’ll net me roughly $20 per trip. When #5 drives, we can get a good $100 out of it.

I’d been trying to eat healthier, actual fruits and/or vegetables, some things for my cholesterol my cardiologist recommended, but paycheck was short this month, so we’ve been a tightening our belts, and in fact, ran out, completely anyway.

We had to borrow money from my in-laws, money they expect back, as is their right, I guess, but honestly, if my son needed money for groceries, I think I would maybe make that a gift rather than a loan. Ulgh, this is why I don’t like asking them for things. I try to avoid it as much as possible, and I feel indebted when they so much as buy me a Christmas gift.

But whatever. If the paycheck comes in normal next month, then we can pay them back without too much issue.

We were just trying to feed 2 people on $300, and made the stupid mistake of impulsive takeout because the both of us were in pain and tired and neither felt up to cooking. Probably would’ve been better in the long run to have sleep for dinner and spend that money on groceries, but what’s done is done.

I’m kinda mooching food off the other roommates at this point. Mostly bread, peanut butter, and actual butter. But I don’t feel too bad about it because a.) survival trumps guilt 99% of the time for me, and b.) they mooch off of me when they don’t feel like driving to the grocery store, so it’s fine.

Still got some pasta and rice that’ll last a while, but probably not until next paycheck. Some frozen fruit I got last month, which I’ve been telling myself I will use wisely. Oatmeal, but idk how much. Fiancé has cup noodles, but I really cannot stand the texture of those, and I think I’ll wind up only being able to manage a few bites at a time if it comes down to that. So, not ideal.

I wish we’d bought canned beans. I could go for some beans. Maybe I will if I return bottles. The only grocery store in walking distance is expensive as fuck, but like, how much can they mark up canned fucking beans? Eh, probably a lot. I should wait until we have money to get groceries delivered from the cheaper place.

I have. Straight up stopped working out on an effort to conserve calories, but that’s not ideal. Especially for the whole ‘walk to return bottles’ thing. Walking that far is going to be a workout, and not doing my PT exercises in the meantime will increases the risk that it’ll hurt like a bitch and put me out of commission for a few days afterwards. But driving with #5 is going to be an exercise in restraint, lol. The worst place to be with him is in a car.

So uh, yeah. All around not having a great time right now.

[truckreincarnation]

I’d rather sleep than stay awake | Esmée | Trial 4.1

The face of their captor- the King reflected on the water as he stood happily was enough to make Esmée wish to stand and tear him apart where he stood. Her gaze could burn a hole through him and render his cape to ashes. This was a joke. It had to be. Two great friends of hers’ funeral was attended by the man who ordered their deaths. There was something deeply wrong with this place - that she always knew - but it always astounded her to see it in action. Her glare settling on his face for only a moment. 

At least until she looked over the room. Esmée immediately fell into a frown as she saw Luz’s and Frank’s now empty seats. It hurt, to say the least, but it was either to become a snivelling mess and be of no use or take her grief out in another way. So with a small sniffle, and a trained look, she starts.

“…First thing. I’m going to be a fucking wreck. Luz is one of my best friends here, I think. And I’d recently fallen into enjoying Frank’s company. I..” A beat, “I’m angry. My grief right now is unbridled anger. I won’t apologise for feeling my emotions. Luz wouldn’t want me to. I’m going to grieve in my own way. And I’m not letting my friends go unavenged.” 

Then, she sighs.

“So we gotta do this whole fuckin’. Figure it out bullshit again. Which is a pain. But I’ll…start with what I saw.” 

“I was talking to Tabby- she’s my weapon - for a good portion of the evening so I don’t know if anyone saw me. I was in the fancy lounge and pretty much dead to my surroundings as I got to know her more. So I can’t say much for that period, but from 7:30 onwards I was more aware.” 

“Frank was with me, I saw. When we were together it was pretty quiet, a simple thing of following as we went about our business so his restriction didn’t get him. I wanted to go to Lionesses room, so I went on my way and Frank followed. We got there at 7:32. If uh…anyone went to investigate there, the picture on the bed was of my making. If you removed it, please bring it back there. I also tended to the plants. Frank left me at around 7:50 while I stayed there.” 

“8:15 I left, then. Saw Frank now with Germain when I headed downstairs and made my way to the manor summoning circle. Passed Shin heading the opposite direction when I was walking there, it must’ve only been a few minutes passed quarter past. The walk isn’t that long.” 

“Got to the summoning circle. Saw Hero there. Stopped to talk. I was curious about the Dreams Domain now i’m kinda…embracing it. Against my better judgement. Still hate the damn thing but the more control I have the better. Agreed to train some more with him, too. We continued our discussion for quite some time, so I saw people head into the portal. Theophania around 8:32. And Avery around 9:07. For clarification they were coming from the Manor into the Great Tree. Same way I was heading before I started talking to Hero.” 

“I left back to the Great Tree only a few minutes after I saw Avery pass through. Around 9:10. I wanted to go back to the dorms so…well- I went to the dining hall then started towards the dorms using the west hallway. Saw Nams. Got to the room around 9:20 and started to settle in for bed. ‘Least til I got a message from Shin around 10 pm time.” Another beat, “..he told me when we investigated together that it was due to both a bondmate alert and hearing an explosion. I wasn’t at the manor, so I didn’t hear it. But if anyone did hear it- if you can give info to give a more acute timeframe, it’d be helpful.”

With that she grumbles. Her eyes trailing down once again.

“M'not bloody cut out for this…this sucks.”

[myherokatsuki]

THE LOVE YOU GET IS EQUAL TO THE LOVE YOU GIVE | PART THREE

Pairing: Bakugou Katsuki x f!Reader Warnings/Tags: 18+ mdni, aged up characters, arranged marriage, rough sex, unprotected sex, creampies, car handjob + fingering, angst continues Word Count: 4.5k

Summary: Things start to heat up between you and Katsuki and you think things are getting better, but when something happens to put you in the villain’s crosshairs, Bakugou finds it hard to open up to you, thinking he’s protecting you by keeping you in the dark.

Part One // Part Two // Part Three //

It had been a couple days since your failed attempt at dinner had interrupted your first real intimate moment with Katsuki since your wedding night, and you were determined to try again.  

Getting off work early, you stopped at the store on the way home and began cooking as soon as you returned, tying Katsuki’s apron around your waist and triple checking the recipe.  You wanted everything to be perfect for him when he got home.

To your surprise, everything was coming together well, and a delicious smell filled the kitchen instead of acrid smoke.  Incredibly pleased and rather proud of yourself, you checked your phone, grinning at the text from Bakugou that he was on his way.

However, as soon as your phone chimed with a second notification, your smile faltered.  

Kirishima: Hey, just thought I’d warn you.  Not exactly a great day for Baku-bro.

‘What happened?’ you quickly typed back, your stomach twisting uncomfortably.  ‘Is he alright??’

The seconds it took for Kirishima’s reply felt like ages and you stared at the three little dots with dread.

He had to be alright, you thought, trying to calm your racing heart.  He’d texted you, so he couldn’t be hurt.  His message was curt, but that’s just how he texts.

Kirishima: ‘uh… yes & no.  That civilian that got hurt last week on Bakugou’s watch… they didn’t make it.  He’s taking it hard.’

As soon as you read Kirishima’s message your heart dropped.  You could remember all too well the look on Katsuki’s face when you’d found out about it–pain, anger, but most of all… shame.  You knew how hard he pushed himself to be the best, so you knew how much this would wound him, this failure.  No one was harder on Katsuki than he was on himself, and you weren’t a hero, so you couldn’t possibly understand firsthand that pressure, but you could see it etched in every line on his face, written on every scar that littered his hard body, and feel it in every tense muscle you tried to work free.

Preoccupied with your worry over your husband, you jumped as the door opened and he walked in.  His heavy steps sounded weary and you slipped from the kitchen to meet him.

“Hey,” you murmured, leaning around the corner, and he paused in the midst of taking off his boots, his gaze hesitantly meeting yours.

“Hey,” he greeted gruffly, letting out a heavy sigh.

“I heard what happened…” you ventured, watching carefully.  You wanted nothing more than for him to seek comfort in your arms, to want you there with him instead of shutting you out, but you didn’t move, not wanting to crowd him.

At your words, Katsuki’s expression hardened and he looked up sharply, clenching and unclenching his fists.  “Yeah,” he muttered, taking a deep breath and your heart wrenched as he rapidly blinked away the tears that threatened to spill.  

“What’s that smell?” he asked instead, brows knitting as he sniffed the air, as if trying to distract himself while also not so subtly leading you away from the subject.

“I, uhm, I made dinner,” you answered, stepping aside so he could see it laid out on the table.

“You made all this yourself?” he asked, turning his gaze from the table to you, looking you up and down, lips still slightly downturned.  

You wished you knew what was going on behind that dour frown.  Was he mad?

“Yeah, I used what you taught me.  Wanted to surprise you,” you murmured, anticipation gripping you as he moved closer, still wearing his Dynamight uniform.

“Did all this for me?”

The words were barely a whisper and your breath hitched as he suddenly turned to you, large hands grasping your hips as he kissed you, tongue roughly invading your mouth.  Swallowing your surprised moan, Katsuki merely kissed you more insistently, practically tearing your clothes in his haste to undress you.

“Katsuki!” you gasped between searing kisses, skin burning in the wake of his hands on you.  It seemed as soon as he’d touched you, everything else had fallen away and all you wanted was him.  “What about dinner?” you managed to ask as he practically dragged you to the bedroom and pushed you down to the bed.

“It can wait,” he grunted, working his skin tight top off and unzipping his dark cargo pants to free his already throbbing length, leaving you panting in anticipation, your cunt practically dripping onto the sheets.

“It’ll get cold–”

“Shut up, woman.  Just–just need you right now,” he growled, lifting your legs to hook over his shoulders as he slid into you, bullying his head between your sloppy folds.  “Need you so bad,” he groaned, sinking into your heat, watching his cock disappear inch by inch inside you, sucked in as your walls squeezed deliciously around him.  When he bottomed out, he took a shaky breath, swallowing as his eyes met yours.

Need you.

The small voice in the back of your head that told you that fucking his feelings, his pain, away wouldn’t help was drowned out as soon as he’d uttered those words.  After all, this was what you wanted, wasn’t it?  For him to need you?

“Fuck me, Kat,” you murmured, catching his lips in a desperate kiss, and he moaned into your mouth–the sound too sinful–sending your head reeling before he even rut into you, growling like some wild thing as he began to fuck you relentlessly, pistoning into you with abandon.

The force of his thrusts and the demanding pace soon had your eyes rolling into the back of your head as your mouth fell open, unable to form words.  Katsuki’s fingers bit into your flesh, leaving bruises littered across your thighs, and with each thrust, your body rocked along with the bed, the headboard ramming rhythmically into the wall in time with each slap of his heavy balls against the curve of your ass.

“Take my cock so fuckin’ well, baby,” he grunted, eyelids fluttering as each movement grew sloppier, as if he could barely hold on.  “Look so hot all fucked out,” he panted, sweat rolling down his temple, plastering his hair to his forehead.  “God, you’re so fuckin’ tight, sq-squeezin’ me so tight, woman.  Just-just what I needed,” he babbled, face contorting as he hovered at the precipice, teetering with you.

“Gunna cum for me, hah?  Gunna cream all over my cock like a good girl?”

“Mhmm!” you nodded desperately, barely able to move as he held you down, pounding into you.  The cry that left your lips as your vision went blank sounded like his name, but you could barely focus as your orgasm washed you away.

Bakugou rode you through it, letting out a broken cry of his own as he filled you, shuddering as he emptied himself into your angel cunt, painting your cervix with his seed.  Collapsing forward, he caught himself, caging you under him as he caught his breath, lowering your aching thighs before pulling out, a thick glob of cum spilling from your ruined cunt to the sheets beneath.

You’d never felt so fucked out before and you knew you were going to feel this tomorrow, but you didn’t care.  You’d been wanting this so long.

It was as Katsuki sat up that you remembered why he’d been so desperate to lose himself in you, and your stomach dropped.

“You okay?” he asked, his question drawing your gaze back to him and you nodded silently, rolling toward him as he settled next to you.

“Are you?” you asked softly, and he froze for a moment.

“Course,” he muttered, avoiding your knowing gaze, instead pulling you against him and yanking the covers over you to keep you warm.

“Katsuki,” you breathed, and he stiffened uncomfortably at the way you said his name.  “Do you wanna talk about it…?”

“M’fine,” he insisted, his voice turning gruff.

“Kat–” you tried again, but he cut you off, sitting up.

“I said I’m fine, dumbass,” he repeated, pushing up from the bed.

“Where’re you going?” you asked, hating how scared you sounded, but he snorted softly, turning back to glance at you.

“Be right back,” he huffed, shoulders already tensing back up.  “Gunna warm up dinner and bring it in.  Can’t let it go to waste when you worked so hard on it.”

That evening, Katsuki fell asleep holding you, and though you felt warm and satiated your worries still plagued you.  In that moment it had felt so good.  You’d been craving his touch for so long, but now, though physically you were closer than ever, you still felt miles apart–his walls still firmly in place around his heart.

It killed you knowing that he’d merely shut his pain away, fucked it away, only to let it fester deep inside, where you couldn’t reach.  Every time one wall crumbled, he built up two more.

——

It was one of your husband’s rare days off and you’d suggested going out together to run your errands, wanting to take the opportunity to spend more time with him.  Though Katsuki had balked at the idea initially, wary of putting you in danger by being seen with him, you won in the end, insisting that you didn’t want to be hidden away forever.  

And besides, you wanted to spend the day with him.  That had taken him aback and he begrudgingly gave in, opening the car door for you.

The day seemed to sense your good mood and the sun shone brighter, coming out from behind the clouds as you made your way to the market.  It seemed everyone else had the same idea, the aisles more packed than usual.   

Not wanting to get separated, you slipped your hand in Katsuki’s which seemed to take him off guard and he faltered midstep, his head swinging toward you, ruby eyes widening.  For a moment you thought he was about to yank his hand free, but he merely cleared his throat and glanced away, his cheeks turning red.

“S’not too sweaty…?” he muttered and you shook your head, squeezing his hand tighter to reassure him.

As much as the gesture initially flustered him, you felt him begin to relax next to you, able to focus on the items he needed to grab without losing you in the crowd.  Besides, his warm hand enveloping yours soothed you too and you smiled to yourself as you followed him, helping point out things you needed.

Once you’d checked out and gotten away from a small group of gawking fans, Katsuki sought your hand as you headed back to the car.  Before you could get in, however, a mob of paparazzi rushed toward you, snapping your photos while a reporter pushed to the front, recording device outstretched.

“Dynamight!  Can I get a quick statement?” she called, her eyes lighting up hungrily as she took in your clasped hands.

Katsuki’s face, on the other hand, instantly darkened and he tried to step in front of you, shielding you from the cameras.  “No comment,” he growled, raising his hand against the flashes.  “Can’t you see I’m busy?”

“It’ll only take a sec,” the reporter insisted, hurrying to keep up as Katsuki walked away, pulling you with him, his expression tightening further.  “Dynamight, how do you feel knowing the villain you failed to apprehend is still at large and dangerous?  Do you have a plan for catching him?  Have you visited the family of the civilian that didn’t make it?  Are you planning on donating–”

Determined, the woman kept hurling question after question at him and you could see him tensing more with each word; each failure thrown back at him shaking him further.  Unable to take it any longer, you spun around, shoving your finger in the reporter’s face, your expression taking her aback. 

“I have a statement for you.  Why don’t you fuck off and harass someone else!” you snapped, your anger boiling over.  “Are you a pro hero?  Do you know what it’s like to risk your life every day to protect everyone else?”

You didn’t give her a chance to answer before shouldering on, the words spewing from your mouth faster than you could stop them.

“You don’t know the kind of pressure he carries on his shoulders every day—the pressure of constantly being perfect, of living his life for others, of putting everyone else first.  No one is harder on themselves than Katsuki.  If you think this isn’t eating him alive, then you’re wrong.  Just because he’s a hero doesn’t mean that he’s not still human!”

The reporter’s mouth had long since fallen agape, and it took her a moment to compose herself after your barrage.

“And wh-who are you?” she asked, looking you up and down in a new light.

“I’m Dynamight’s fuckin’ wife,” you spat, turning away without another word, your head held high and Katsuki’s hand tight in yours.

“You didn’t hafta do that, you know,” he murmured as soon as you were back in the car, but there was a hint of awe in his vermilion eyes as he watched you.

“It was nothing,” you shrugged.  “I didn’t like the way she was talking to you.”

Katsuki let out an amused snort.  “You’re pretty hot when you get riled up,” he admitted, flashing you one of his rare grins that make you weak.

“You’re saying I should go off on people more often?” you joked, your chest blooming with warmth at the sound of his husky laugh.

“Maybe you should.  Like it when you get feisty,” he replied, reaching across the center console to rest his hand atop your thigh, just below the hem of your skirt, his thumb caressing your skin while he kept his eyes carefully on the road.

Suddenly, breathing became difficult and you glanced over at him, watching his profile.  He seemed unfazed, but the bob of his adam’s apple as he swallowed thickly gave him away and you decided to take a gamble, parting your legs slightly before guiding his hand beneath your skirt.

Katsuki gave a start, but quickly recovered, groaning low in his throat as you led his fingers where you wanted them.  Without a word, he tugged the crotch of your panties aside, delving your folds as he drove on, turning a corner smoothly, one handed.

As soon as he touched you, your breath hitched and you spread your legs wider, begging for more.  When his thumb pressed against your throbbing clit, you let out a soft whine, bucking your hips instinctively and Katsuki echoed your needy sound.  Biting your lip, you slipped your hand into his lap as well, feeling his cock straining beneath the thick fabric of his jeans.

Knowing he was as turned on as you sent a fresh wave of arousal coursing through you and you hastily fumbled to free him from his confines, wanting to make him feel as good as he made you.

As soon as you wrapped your hand around his smooth length and swiped the pad of your thumb over his weeping tip, Katsuki’s leg jerked, his foot pressing down heavily on the pedal.  For a moment the engine revved loudly and you couldn’t help the giggle that burst from your lips at his reaction.

“Maybe we should finish this when we get home.  Don’t want to distract you too much,” you began to suggest, but Katsuki shook his head.

“No way, woman.  You started this and I ain’t stopping til we’re both satisfied.”

His fingers curled inside you, finding your spongy g-spot and you gasped loudly.

“You’re not worried about me making a mess all over your fancy leather seat?” you teased, grinding against the heel of his palm.

“It can be cleaned,” he huffed, massaging your sweet spot again.  “I want you to make a mess all over my fingers, y’little slut,” he growled, voice growing husky while his eyes darted to you meaningfully before snapping back to the road.

He’d never called you anything like that before, but you found that you liked it, your cunt clenching tighter around his fingers as a breathy moan slipped from your lips.

“Like that, huh?” he breathed and you answered by leaning over, pursing your lips to languidly spit onto his cute pink head.  Flicking your wrist you easily spread it over the mushroomed ridge and down his thick shaft.

“Fuck,” he hissed, bucking into your hand, though this time he was careful not to mash on the gas.  “If I weren’t driving right now–” he cut off his threat with a guttural moan as your hand sped up. 

By the time he pulled back into the garage, you’d made a sticky mess of his leather seat and his fingers, while he’d came in your hand, thick white ropes spurting high enough to stain his t-shirt.

“We should do that again sometime,” you laughed, shifting to clean yourself up.

“Like it when you start shit,” Katsuki murmured unexpectedly, catching your chin in his hand before leaning over to kiss you thoroughly.

“I’ll have to keep that in mind,” you all but whispered, feeling your cheeks warm as he finally pulled away.

For once you felt closer to him than ever, but you had to know it wouldn’t last long.

——

In the few months since you’d been married, Katsuki always texted you to let you know if he’d be late, and tonight was no different, but that had been hours ago and you were starting to worry.

The joy of the day before turned to ash in your mouth as you sat up to wait for him, wondering what could be keeping him, imagining all sorts of terrible scenarios as you drew your knees to your chest, hugging your arms around them.

Worry gnawed at your stomach til you felt sick and you flipped from channel to channel, hoping not to see Katsuki’s name on the screen.  Finally, unable to keep your eyes open any longer, you dozed off, the television at the end of your bed still droning on.

When the front door closed, you woke with a start, your heart in your throat as hope surged through you.

“Kat?” you called, frantically throwing back the covers, but he was through the bedroom door before you even left the bed.

“Kat–” you gasped again, melting into his embrace as he pulled you roughly into his arms, his mouth seeking yours almost frantically.

Before you knew what was happening he had you on your back and was fumbling with his belt, desperate to free his cock.  As much as your body protested, cunt throbbing with need, you pushed him back, breaking his searing kiss.

“S’wrong?  Did I hurt you?” Bakugou asked, staring at you in confusion, a wild light in his carmine eyes.

“No,” you breathed, shaking your head as you pushed yourself back up, taking his face between your hands.  “Are you alright?  What happened?  What kept you so late?” you continued, searching him for injuries, now noticing the jagged rip at his side, his hero costume obviously torn.

“It was nothing,” Bakugou muttered, pulling his top off and tossing it away before you could get a better look.  “Got held up by a villain,” he explained brusquely, trying once more to kiss you, to distract you.

“The same villain as before?” you asked, halting him with your hands pressed to his chest.

The way your husband growled in frustration was confirmation and you sighed heavily.

“What?” he asked, lips twisting further.  “What’s that face for?”

“I just–I wish you’d tell me what’s going on!  Katsuki, I’m here for you, but I can’t help you if you don’t let me in,” you cried, feeling your eyes well with hot tears.

“I don’t need your help.  I don’t need anyone’s help,” Bakugou countered, his hands balling into fists at his sides.  “I don’t need you to worry about me!”

You shook your head, scoffing incredulously.  “I worry about you because I love you, idiot,” you exclaimed, voice wavering dangerously, your tears threatening to fall. You’d never said those words aloud to him before, and this wasn’t how you’d envisioned that confession to go, but you continued on, trying to keep yourself together.

“Needing people to lean on doesn’t make you weak,” you insisted, hating that your cheeks were growing wet with tears, “and I don’t want you to only want me when you have a bad day and don’t want to face your feelings!”  

Your words hung heavily in the air and you quickly wiped at your eyes.

“That’s not the only time I want you,” Bakugou countered, huffing in disbelief.  “I want you all time, can’t you see how much it kills me to keep my hands to myself?  I’m protecting you, shielding you from all the terrible things I see on the job–”

“I don’t need that kind of protection!” you yelled back, all your frustration coming to a head.  “I don’t need you to shield me from that shit!  I’m stronger than you give me credit for.  I’m strong enough to share those burdens with you.  I’m strong enough for you to lean on!”

Bakugou stared at you for a long time, his inner turmoil clear on his face til his expression hardened and he turned away, striding to the door, sending panic shooting through you.  “Katsuki?  Katsuki!  Where are you going?” you called after him, voice cracking, barely able to breathe.

Had you pushed him too far? 

“Need to take a walk.  Gotta let off some fuckin’ steam,” he grunted, throwing a t-shirt over his head before storming out, not wanting to say anything else he’d regret.

——

Walking briskly to clear his head and the swirling thoughts that threatened to wrench him apart, Bakugou shoved his hands into his pockets.  With each furious stride his breath misted in the cool air, but he barely felt the chill, too worked up.

He’d never meant for any of this to happen–to hurt you.

When you’d defended him in front of those story hungry vultures the other day, it had felt so good.  The way your eyes had flashed and the fire in your voice had filled him with affection so strong it hurt, but it wasn’t worth it if it made you a target.

He knew he should have listened to his gut, to keep you hidden from prying eyes, to keep you safe.  That was his duty as a hero and as your husband, to keep you safe at any cost and his one moment of weakness had put you right in his enemy’s crosshairs.

Turning down an empty alley, Bakugou kicked over an empty garbage can, loosing an explosion at it with a guttural growl.

That was what he couldn’t tell you, that you’d been threatened personally, all because of your connection to him.  The villain had managed to slip through his fingers again, but not before warning him to keep an eye on his pretty little wife.

Wanna see if she’s as feisty in person as she is on camera.

If anything were to happen to you, Bakugou knew he’d never be able to forgive himself.  

By the time he returned home, having taken out his anger on some more unsuspecting trash cans, he stood in front of the door wondering if you were still awake and waiting for him or if you’d given up and gone to bed.

Pushing open the door slowly, Bakugou was careful not to make a sound as he entered and wearily toed off his boots.  Nearing your shared bedroom, however, he stopped in his tracks, his heart constricting at the sound of the broken sobs that met him.

“What am I doing wrong, Kiri?” you cried into the phone held to your ear, shoulders shaking as you tried to breathe, sniffling loudly.  “Why won’t he love me?”

Bakugou winced, pressing his back to the wall as he let your heart broken sobs wash over him, your question to his best friend piercing his chest.  He couldn’t hear what Kirishima said in response, but he could probably guess.

He should be the one comforting you.

Your words from earlier hounded him—I love you—and he hated that he couldn’t say it back yet.  Not in the way you wanted.  But he did love you.

Apparently he wasn’t showing it well enough.

——

Determined to try to make up for the disaster of the night before, Bakugou woke early to make breakfast, dragging himself from the couch where he’d fallen asleep, not wanting to upset you further by trying to return to bed after storming out last night.

Once he’d finished, he piled up a tray, leaving it on your nightstand for when you woke.  Pausing to gently brush your hair from your peaceful face, he leaned down to press a soft kiss to your forehead and stroke your cheek before leaving, wishing he could do more–wishing he could find the words to apologize properly.

As he slumped back in his chair behind his paper strewn desk at the agency, Bakugou stifled a yawn, the night of poor sleep catching up to him.  At some point since your wedding he’d become unable to fall asleep without you laying next to him.  At some point, he’d grown to need your presence.

Not long after, Kirishima burst into his office, breathing heavily.  “Bakugou, what the hell happened last night?  Y/n called me—“ he began before Bakugou interrupted.

“I know… I heard her,” he said, cradling his head in his hands, finally letting his tough facade crack in front of his closest friend.  “I fucked up,” he mumbled and Kirishima let out a sigh, taking a seat across from him.

“You know… it’s not weak to be vulnerable around your wife.  She’s your partner, man.  Let her be your port in the storm, your anchor, y’know?”

“What’s with all the damn sailing references?” Bakugou muttered, raising his face to glare wearily across the desk at the redhead.

“Forget about that, just… she wants to be there for you.  Do you know how lucky you are?” Kirishima insisted, leaning forward.

“I know!” Bakugou grunted.  “Everytime I try to open up, though, the words disappear.”

“She trusts you.  Show her you trust her too.  Let her in,” Kirishima murmured, offering his friend a helpful grin.  

The rest of his shift, Bakugou thought on Kirishima’s advice, texting you to tell you he’d be home early, that he wanted to apologize, buying a large colourful bouquet on his way home.

Going over what he wanted to say to you under his breath, his blood froze as he reached to unlock the front door, noticing it was left ajar.  “Y/n?” he called hastily, chest tightening as he pushed the door open, fingers shaking.  

There was no answer.  

Rushing in without another thought, he called for you again, finding dinner half finished and signs of a struggle.  The bouquet fell from his hand as he spied the crumpled ransom note laying on the counter.  Time seemed to freeze while his eyes tore across the page, and the flowers finally hit the floor as he raced back out of the house.

[phoebeyates-archive]

Whilst it was evident that Jesse clearly said something he wasn’t meant to say, Phoebe was unsure how to navigate it. It seemed rude to ignore the tidbit of information fed to her, even if it was something he didn’t want to address. Also, she didn’t really have an opinion on his former career. Sure, she saw the good and bad in the profession, but every job had thay. And it wasn’t like she was with her more opinionated friends who’d help sway her own views. “My mom dated a cop once.” Was all she could supply, her only experience with law enforcement. “He, uh, escorted me home, and she went out with him for a few weeks.” 

Even though the bite of humor was gone from the barista joke, Phoebe decided just to go along with it, to hopefully disapparate the sudden awkward atmosphere. “I was always late, so I think all the diabetics headed over early before I poisoned them.” She jested, but there was no reviving that section of the conversation, it seemed.

“No, not really. We got into this debate, Eli and I, and I ended up going through his Spotify to see what he liked and noticed the only song of theirs I recognized. He doesn’t know I’m doing it, just thought to surprise him.” Truthfully the conversation, or rather, argument wasn’t as straight-forward as Phoebe made it seem. A lot of yelling over each other and a few age comments thrown in for good measure. But what Jesse didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him. She enjoyed music, sure, but Phoebe was also a creature of comfort, clinging onto the bands and artists that helped her get through high school, not caring if she seemed close-minded or basic for her tastes. However, she did perk up at his offer of a recommendation. “Yeah? Sure! I’d like that. It’s not like…just noise though, is it?” That was probably the only genre, if that even counted, Phoebe struggled to get herself into. A lot of loud instruments and vocals no one could understand. 

Mood music was probably a better way to put it. It also reminded her of how, that week before Christmas, she sat and listened to Evermore on repeat. Which she hadn’t done this time round, even if the titular album song had snuck into her weekly repeat again as of late. “It’s funny, how when we’re sad we want to listen to stuff that’d make us feel worse, right? It’s like…romanticizing it in a way? That’s what I read once. You’re supposed to like, put on some happy music and dance around or something.” Not that she tried it for herself, but it seemed like something that could work.

Whilst she didn’t necessarily regret saying hi to him now, Phoebe felt like there had been a shift. Maybe it was her, just plaguing everyone with her bad mood because work was uncharacteristically stressful and someone she considered her best friend was currently somewhere, if he hadn’t left town, hating her. But then Jesse offered another piece of himself, and Phoebe blinked in surprise.

“Oh.” She answered elegantly. At least, it put things into perspective, even though it was recommended to not compare your pain with others. “I’m so sorry to hear that, Jesse.” Phoebe racked her brain to try and figure out if he ever talked about his wife beforehand, if it was something she was supposed to know, a nugget of information that got lost in the chaos of her brain. “I…if there’s anything I can, let me know.” She doubted it. Being lucky enough to not have had to experience grief meant she was severely underqualified to help in any possible way. 

@jesseelmassalamy

"You know— you sign up thinking the job can't be that hard, it's just... making coffee," he went on, a smirk eased into shape the more he said. "Being a cop may have been—" It was sudden the way the words cut off and his expression fell instantly from amusement to a horror in his blue gaze.

Almost as if someone had called out his name, Jesse looked away and a worried brow displayed his frustration with himself at what he'd just let slip. It was so random, without though, just fell from his mouth like casual conversation. His stance shifted, weight balancing on another foot while he attempted to slow the spiral he was quickly headed down.

The disgraced former policeman cleared his throat and when his attention returned to Phoebe it was clear there was trouble in his gaze, but Jesse cleared his throat and nodded like nothing had just happened. As far as she might be concerned maybe nothing had.

"So, you got fired from being a barista? What happened— you put sugar in a diabetic's drink?" The humor wasn't the same at that point, even he felt it. Still, he let on a smile despite it not reaching his eyes.

Music was much easier to talk about. There was less chance to slip up and divulge something he never wanted another soul on the planet to know. Jesse's past was locked away for a reason.

"It'll sound just fine," he agreed. "I guess I'm just taking into account the progression of recording and what types of music would sound best on which listening platform. Something raw and pre-digital age would be best on vinyl, whereas club and dance music would be best on Spotify or Apple Music. Could also all depend on your sound system, as well." Of course, he was no expert, and the Boston native hoped his response was enough to cover up how shaken he was by his slip up.

"Is there a particular song you've been rec'd?" Precious was likely his favorite by the band, with Personal Jesus, Policy of Truth, and Enjoy the Silence following. Though, Jesse also remembered an incredible mashup of Depeche Mode's Precious and Disturbed's Down with the Sickness, and he wanted to share that brilliance if possible. "Whenever you've had a listen, let me know, I've got something I'd love to send your way."

The observations of the record in his hands coupled with his moods, past and present, would certainly lead Phoebe down the path of thought she'd gone. Was he okay? No. Would he ever be? That would remain to be seen.

"Sure, it's mood music, created during a time when people were working through hard and challenging times." Modern day blues was much of the same, just for whatever reason, didn't have the same appeal to Jesse. "Definitely helps me," he moved the record in his hands, "when I need to soothe and feel my pain." When he needed to emote.

Sometimes people needed to press on a bruise.

This whole exchange had gone from a pleasant run-in to Jesse being sure he was likely going to hunt down a bottle as soon as he left the store. He was unsure if the strain was visible on his face and body language, he'd gotten fairly good at masking it.

"Yeah, everything's fine, my— uhh," the barista wasn't sure he should be doing this, "my late wife's birthday is coming up. So, I'm just feeling a bit more than usual..." / @phoebeyates

[bellaramseysgf]

Tattoo (B.B)

Warning(s); dom!Brucey<3,,illusions to smut (no actual smut),Fluff!,counting rule (you’ll see)

Pairing(s); Bruce Banner X Girlfriend! Reader!

Summary; You got a tattoo without Bruce knowing.

A/n; I haven’t written anything for Bruce yet, this was originally an idea for Sam/Bucky but I think it turned out cute for brucey bruce!<3

••••••••••••

This whole thing started a few months ago, after your date night with Bruce you were talking about nonsense really, arguing about who was better at mathematics. It was definitely him. You passed a tattoo shop promoting couple tattoos.

“Hey, would you ever get a tattoo?” You asked and Bruce chuckled “uh, I don’t know. Not sure how I’d react to the pain” you nodded “why do you ask?” You shrugged “just curious I guess”

***

Curiosity got the best of you a few nights ago after one to many drinks with Nat you ended up in that same tattoo place. You vaguely remember the conversation with the person who did the tattoo. You woke up the next morning with not only your head but your hip hurting as well. When you looked in the mirror you gasped seeing Bruce’s name etched permanently into your skin in black ink.

“Oh god” you groaned, Bruce always said tattoos like that were stupid. ‘Why put their name on you? It could always end, what do you do then?’ You squeezed your eyes shut and sighed. This was it, your relationship was gonna end and you were gonna have evident proof of your ex on you.

You managed to keep the tattoo covered or hidden up until today, you were hanging out in the lab with Tony and Bruce. Really you were just distracting your boyfriend from his work, he was too busy admiring you to focus on the task at hand.

“Okay, stop distracting my helper, out you go” he pressed his hands on your hips to shove you towards the door and you winced as the tattoo was still slightly fresh, the swelling still there. They both looked at you and Tony pulled his hands away from your body. “What was that about?” Bruce asked eyebrow raising “nothing, just a little sore after my work out, I’ll just go” you said rather quickly turning on your heel to walk out.

“Babydoll.” Bruce called in his warning tone and you froze “turn around, bring your ass back over here, now.” He demanded and you turned around “really, I have plans with Wan, I should-” “do not make me come get you, one.” You chewed on your lips hearing the first number “Two…” he said eyes glaring “babydoll you know what happens at 3,don’t think just because Tony’s here I won’t do it” that had you moving quickly walking back over to the pair of them.

“You work out on fridays, it’s Tuesday. Spill” you waved your hands “really I’m just sore that’s all, maybe a warm bath will help” you said smiling innocently at him. Nat walked into the lab “hey, that Tattoo shop called apparently you left your rings-” Bruce’s eyes shot to nat and then back to you “I’ll come back” she said quickly leaving the room.

“A tattoo??” Bruce questioned and you smiled nervously “maybe…” your voice went higher then normal and Bruce shook his head. “Show me.” You shook your head “really, you’ll think it’s stupid Bruce, I-I was drunk I-” “I said show me babydoll, what’s with this attitude?” Bruce huffed switching the hand his pen was in and using his hand to pull up your shirt.

Bruce stared at the black ink that spelt his name for a minute before he slowly dropped your shirt back down. He was quiet, just staring at the spot that was not covered by your shirt. “You good? Tony asked and Bruce glanced at him nodding “yeah, great” bruce said eyes finally pulling up to meet yours.

“Excuse us Tony.” Bruce grabbed your arm and pulled you out of the lab and into the first empty hallway he found. You felt the wind almost knocked from your lungs as he pushed you against the wall. “Bruce, I’m sorry I know you don’t like it I’ll try to get it removed, it just needs to heel first-” your rambling was stopped my just lips on yours.

He kissed you with feral passion his lips hungrily pressing against yours as his tongue dominated yours. His hands dug into your upper waist making sure to stay away from your hips. Bruce pinned you to the wall with his own waiting your hands tangling into his hair as he finally pulled away from your lips just long enough for you to breathe before his lips were back on you. The routine continued for what felt like hours but it was only about 15 minutes

“You aren’t removing it.” He said once he finally broke from your lips one of his hands leaving your waist to grip your chin. “Do I make myself clear?” You nodded,dazed. “That’s my good girl,now go wait for me in my room.” He pecked your lips one last time before stepping away allowing you to walk off.

[finniestoncrane]

Let Me Soothe You

Dano!Riddler x AFAB!Reader, word count: 1.3k thank you @tomhiddlesmom for requesting something i needed at this very moment because i have digitally synced up and we are all suffering with period pains, so this is for the afab's, the folks with vaginas, the people who get periods because that shit fuckin sucks 💚 afab reader with gender neutral terms otherwise request info • prompt list • send me a request • kofi minors DNI!! 🔞 cw for nsfw stuff: self-image issues, mentions of period pains, chubby!eddie, comfort, kissing, nudity, period sex

On his way out of the apartment, backpack on, Eddie stopped to say goodbye. He had his thick, green jacket on, heavy backpack with him, which meant he’d be gone a while. Out with his friends, the ones he chatted to online a lot. You liked it when he went out, you didn’t push him to tell you any details, you were just glad he had finally found some friends. So you tried your hardest to push the pain from your face and reassure him you’d be fine without him for the evening.

“Are you ok?”

“Yeah! Go have fun!”

“You’re not ok, why would you lie to me?”

Instant guilt and regret, you tried to sit up straight on the sofa.

“No, Eddie, I’m really ok, I just ah…ah…oof…”

He was frozen in panic, dropping his backpack, which thudded with an odd metallic noise to the floor, and knelt in front of your doubled over body.

“Honestly, Eddie. I’m not lying, I’ll be totally ok. I’m just being…dramatic.”

“I don’t think you are…if something is up you should react. I’m going to stay in this even-”

“No, Eddie, don’t! Please go out and have fun, but on your way back if you could get some uh…pain medicine.”

“See! Please, tell me what’s wrong!”

It was hard to keep him like this, despite how oddly embarrassed you were. Seeing how concerned he was caused you a significant amount of distress too, and that only made your cramps worse.

“It’s…I have really bad cramps right now. And my back hurts. And my head hurts. And my skin is so sore and oily and dry too!? How is that fair? And my stomach is bloated, and I look horrible, and I feel horrible and everything is making me angry and if my stupid body cramps one more time I’m going to oooh…ow…I’m going to scream.”

“Oh. You’re period!”

“Urgh…yes.”

“You should have said, I can fix that! Or…I can make it tolerable at least…sorry.”

Staring into his eyes, his cheeks blushing at what he thought was his little faux pas, you took his cheeks in your hands and pressed them together, his glasses lifting up lightly as you pushed them in and wiggled them softly.

“Eddie, don’t be sorry. You’re the sweetest. But please, I would rather you went out and had fun with your friends!”

“With my…friends! Yes…They won’t mind. I can rearrange…I’d rather be here with you.”

“Really?”

He stood up and put his hand to his forehead, saluting you.

“It is my sworn duty as Edward Nashton, your boyfriend, to do boyfriend things like make you feel better.”

“You’re a dork.” You giggled and took the hand which he now held out for you, lifting you up from the sofa and wrapping himself around you, kicking his backpack under his desk. With his hands on you, he let his thumbs press gently into your lower back, moving them and finding his pace and pressure as he noted the soft moans of relief you let out. He tentatively soothed your skin, kissing your cheek and neck as he did so, never softening his hold on you.

“Ok, I can only do so much, I think I should run you a nice, hot bath.”

He left you to get undressed in the bedroom, smiling at you when you arrived wrapped in your towel, averting his eyes and clearing his throat as you dropped it to get into the bath, perfect temperature, your favourite bubble bath, a candle lit on the side.

“Can I do anything else for you right now?”

“You could get in with me.” You winked at him, only half-joking.

“I uh…I couldn’t fit in with you, I’m too big, I’d crush you.”

“Oh, Eddie come on!” You splashed at the bubbles, uncovering yourself under the water, giggling when you noticed his lingering stares. “There’s plenty of space for you.”

“I don’t think you want your relaxing bath ruined by me and my big butt getting in your way.”

“You don’t know me at all, do you Nashton?”

Pulling him in for an unexpected kiss, he lost his balance from where he sat on the edge, sliding in butt first, completely soaked on the bottom half.

“Eddie! I’m so sorry.” But you were stifling laughter. He looked adorable. Sopping wet, the splash covering his glasses and hair, his plain t-shirt he wore soaked through. Which, now that you noticed it, was skin tight, pressed against his stomach, his chest, clinging to all of his precious lumps and folds. You weren’t laughing anymore, you were licking your lips.

He was fumbling with his glasses, trying to brush his wet, matted hair away from his forehead, smiling at the situation, as you leaned forward, letting yourself lie on top of him, wet, sticking to him, kissing him as he let out a soft moan of surprise, his arms around you again. He started shivering though, and you leant back, trying to apologise, but he wouldn’t hear it.

“No, it’s ok! I better go get changed though. You stay here, enjoy your bath.”

But as soon as he had left the room, you got out, wrapped in your towel, following him, hugging him from behind, letting your hands glide over his bare stomach and chest.

“Hey! What a waste of a bath.” He kissed your nose as he turned around.

“I know, but what I want most is to be with you. That would make me feel much better.”

“How are the cramps?”

“Still there. Determined.”

“Is there anything else that works for them?”

“Uh…depends how adventurous you feel.”

He had an inquisitive, but nervous look on his face. Although, that was how he often looked, his natural expression of curiosity mixed with anxiety.

“Orgasms. Orgasms help. But I get it if you’re not interested in-EDDIE!”

You were on your back in the bed, Eddie on top of you, his soft, warm skin meeting yours as he pressed kisses down your chest, over your stomach and to your lower abdomen, trying to soothe the pain with his love and affection. Ravishing you. It was his skill. He was so romantic, passionate, the way he kissed and touched was tender and filled with adoration, worship.

He let his fingers drift to your entrance, looking up to meet your eyes briefly.

“I know, it doesn’t take much like this. Permanently in pain, permanently horny.”

Eddie let out a groan as he made his way back up your body with his lips, settling his head between your neck and shoulder, biting the skin gently and licking with his tongue as he pressed his tip to you, moving slower than he usually did, pressing in and out gently and with a fair amount of caution.

“I’m not wounded, Eddie. You can…just be natural.”

He growled into your ear.

“You’re the boss then.”

He ground his hips down onto you, pushing himself inside, breath shuddering as you tensed around him, stretching for him, wrapping your legs around his lower back to hold him closer. His mouth at your chest, he took your nipple between his lips, then his teeth, softly holding it as he dragged his tongue across it, flicking quickly, kissing and sucking in alternatives, moaning in response to your soft groans and whimpers.

“Eddie…Eddie…”

“This is…this is good…this is…you’re so…”

“I’m so close…please, Eddie…”

Sensing you close to the edge, he let his thumb press down on your clit, rubbing it as he thrust, cumming quickly after you as you came around him, panting into your ear, letting lazy, sloppy kisses fall onto your cheek, your neck, your shoulder.

“Do you…do you feel better?”

Holding him close as he lay there, still inside of you, his soft body on top like a hot water bottle, soothing your pain and making you feel so loved, so safe and comfortable.

“I feel perfect, Eddie.”

[starryhyuck]

pretty girl. (m)

pairing: alpha!jaemin x reader

words: 4.3k+

summary: you hate that jaemin follows you around every full moon. you’re determined to know the reason why, but you end up getting more than you asked for.

genre: fluff, smut

warnings: large amounts of cum, manhandling, breeding, knotting, overstimulation, fingering, hair pulling, rough sex, oral sex

“It’s dangerous for you to be out here.”

You blink twice at Jaemin, who is hovering protectively over your form. As your best friend, Jaemin’s always been cautious of you because of his alpha instincts. This oddly includes finding him in your apartment on random days, cooking you dinner because you ‘can’t make it yourself,’ walking you around campus and glaring at anyone who glances your way, and finally, following you to places he should never be at anyways. Tonight falls under the last category, where you were itching to have a nice time with some of your group partners in your Economics class. You all collectively agreed that grabbing drinks at the nearby bar on campus was a good idea. Everything was going perfectly until Jaemin came storming into the bar, almost pushing one of your friends from his spot next to you.

You awkwardly clear your throat, laughing breathily as you stand, trying to move Jaemin away from the table. You can feel the heavy stares of your classmates on your back, and you try your best to ignore it. Once you’re out of earshot, you mumble lowly to him.

“Uh, Jaem, why are you here?”

He frowns at you. The expression on his face is clearly one of disappointment. “It’s a full moon. You shouldn’t be out here, especially if there are other alphas lurking around.”

You tend to frequently forget that Jaemin gets extremely clingy when the full moon rises, and he often perceives most of the population as a threat to your life. In fact, you’re both very good friends with Jeno, another fellow alpha on campus. Jeno’s shown time after time that he has absolutely no interest in you, but when the full moon appears, Jaemin’s convinced that Jeno wants to kidnap you and keep you locked in his dorm forever.

You sigh. “Jaemin, I’m fine. I’m just hanging out with my friends. There are no alphas around, I promise.”

His frown grows deeper. “I passed two of them on the way here. They could have easily hurt you.”

“How about you have a drink with us?” You offer, knowing his worries aren’t subsiding anytime soon. “You can relax and make sure I’m safe.”

The tension in his shoulders loosen at your suggestion, and he hesitantly agrees. You order a beer for him and he reluctantly follows you back to the table. Your friends are eyeing him warily.

“Everyone, this is Jaemin,” you introduce awkwardly. “Is it okay if he joins us?”

Jeongyeon is the first to speak, despite everyone’s reluctance. “Sure, the more the merrier!”

You toss her a grateful smile and Jaemin slides in next to you, unaware of the looks he’s receiving. Luckily, Seulgi launches into a discussion about her day before anyone else can comment. It isn’t long before Chanwoo leans over to whisper in your ear, causing Jaemin to stiffen beside you.

“Is your friend okay? He looks like he hates all of us.”

You brush off Chanwoo’s question. “He’s fine, just tense. Rough time in the semester, you know?”

Chanwoo nods but doesn’t seem convinced by your answer. No one else approaches you about Jaemin for the rest of the time, and the boy next to you chooses to remain silent. You bid goodbye to the group at the end of the night with Jaemin giving subtle nods to each of them. He still hovers protectively over you on the walk back to the campus dorms.

“You really didn’t have to come out tonight,” you mumble to your best friend as he walks alongside you. “I was fine on my own.”

“You’re not fine on nights like these,” he responds, and you can hear the frustration in his tone. “You don’t know what’s out there.”

You huff and stop in your tracks, turning around to face him. You cross your arms over your chest.

“No one is going to hurt me! No one has ever tried to hurt me on a full moon, it’s just your imagination! It’s annoying how much you follow me around, Jaemin, seriously.”

He’s visibly hurt by your outburst and you instantly feel regret. You can almost feel him shutting you away, and it pulls at your chest. He motions to your dorm, which is only a few feet away from where you’re standing.

“Good night. I hope you sleep well.”

“Jaemin-“

You watch as your best friend scurries down the sidewalk, not sparing a single glance back at you.

—

You startle Jeno the next day, pounding on his door and ignoring the glares you’re receiving in his hallway. The boy sleepily opens the door up for you, hair sticking out in multiple directions. He mumbles something under his breath and you ignore him, pushing through and entering his room.

“Well, come on in,” he hisses sarcastically.

You have no time to humor him. “Are alphas usually super clingy and annoying?”

He pauses at the question, closing the door slowly. You raise an eyebrow at his hesitation.

“Um, is this about Jaemin?”

“Maybe,” you drawl, watching Jeno carefully. He definitely knows something he’s not telling you about. “And what if it was?”

“Then I would say you need to talk to Jaemin.”

You roll your eyes. “Jeno!”

“What?” He retorts, avoiding your eyes as much as possible. “It’s not my place to say.”

“I don’t care if it’s your place or not,” you say, frustrated by your lack of alpha knowledge. You’ve tried to learn more since Jaemin presented himself, but it was difficult since many alpha secrets were kept between alphas only. “I need to know what’s going on with him. He’s been following me around every full moon like he’s expecting me to get mugged or something!”

Jeno exhales loudly. “He hasn’t talked to you? About anything?”

You huff. “Jeno, if I needed answers, I wouldn’t be standing here with you.”

The more you talk, the more Jeno grows uncomfortable. It almost seems like it pains him to say anything about Jaemin without him present, and it’s getting on your nerves. Jaemin usually never keeps secrets from you and it must be pretty big if Jeno is barely holding himself together.

Jeno finally speaks after you watch him run circles in his head. “What do you know about mates? Alpha mates?”

You frown, tilting your head to the side. “Mates? I didn’t even know alphas had mates.”

“They’re chosen specifically by an alpha. Someone the alpha has a connection to, someone they would like to spend the rest of their life with.”

He’s still not making any sense to you. Does Jaemin have a mate? Is it someone you know?

Jeno can see the gears spinning and he scoffs. He whispers something under his breath that you can’t hear.

“You need to talk to Jaemin about this. I really can’t say any more.”

You spare Jeno the interrogation and leave his room, thoughts swirling in your head. He’s given you everything and nothing at once, and you don’t even know if Jaemin will offer anything better. You trek over to his dorm anyways, on a mission.

His eyes soften when he sees you behind the door. It tugs at your heartstrings and he motions for you to come inside. The awkward tension drowns the room and you sway on your feet.

“I’m sorry,” he says first. “I know I made you uncomfortable by being with your friends last night, and I should’ve stayed away. I just get very worried around the full moon because-“

“What are alpha mates?”

Jaemin chokes, not expecting your question. You watch as he gathers himself again, and this time, he can’t bear to look at you.

“Where did you hear that from?”

“Jeno.”

Jaemin curses lowly. You frown, your gaze never faltering. You can practically see him trying to come up with some type of excuse.

“Jaemin, I want the truth.”

He sighs. “Can you sit down? Please?”

You reluctantly follow his request, taking a seat on his bed. He paces around the room, looking more nervous than you’ve ever seen him before. You begin to grow antsy while watching him.

“If you don’t want to tell me, that’s fine.”

His head snaps up to look at you, heart breaking at the dejected look on your face. He shakes his head and takes a seat next to you.

“I do, I want to tell you everything. I just want you to have a choice first,” he states, staring at you as if you hold all the answers.

You frown and shake your head. “What choice? You’re not making any sense.”

“I, uh, I unknowingly bonded myself to you. You became my mate, and I realized it too late. We spent too much time together and I should have taken a step back before it got too serious. I was just- I’m never in the correct headspace when I’m around you, and it causes me to impulsively make decisions. I can’t break the bond unless I wish to die a slow death, but if you want me to, I can try.”

You’re spiraling. Your brain is short circuiting, and you’re unsure of what to say in response. Your best friend has just confessed that he bonded himself to you for life, which probably runs deeper than marriage. If you reject him, he’ll die a painful death.

Wonderful.

Jaemin starts freaking out, standing back up and resuming his pacing. “Fuck, I shouldn’t have said anything. I should have left weeks ago, I shouldn’t even be bothering you with this. Listen, we can forget this ever happened. I’ll just- I’ll figure something out. Surely, I can break the bond-“

“Jaemin,” you say timidly. He stops in his tracks at the sound of your voice. “I think I’m okay with being your mate. I mean, I’d rather have it be you than anyone else. Not like you’re my second choice or anything! I just-“

He kneels down, his hands resting on the expanse of your thighs, causing you to jolt at the contact. His hands feel oddly warm, and it’s sending a plethora of dirty thoughts to your head.

“I don’t want you to do this because you feel bad,” he speaks softly. “If you don’t want this, we don’t have to do it. It’s my fault, and I’ll pay the price.”

You protest. “No, I’m doing this because I want to-“

“It’s a big decision-“

“I know that, and I-“

“I hardly think you’ve thought through this carefully-“

“Don’t tell me what I haven’t done-“

“I’ll just move away. It’ll be easier for the both of us that way.”

“Jaemin,” you hiss, placing your hands on his shoulders to stop him. “Can you quit being so difficult? I’m telling you I want to be with you and your rejection is making me feel upset.”

His expression falls. “I didn’t mean to make you upset. I don’t want to cage you in, that’s all.”

“You aren’t caging me in,” you promise him. “Can you tell me what being a mate entails?”

He flushes deep red, and you grow anxious once again. He removes his hands from your thighs and you silently wish he kept them there. He stands again, avoiding your questioning gaze.

“Um, well, technically- I mean, it’s just-“

“Jaemin,” you say sternly. “Stop dancing around the subject.”

He clears his throat. “Technically, we’re not fully mated yet. In order to complete the bonding process, we need to- um, well, we need to-“

“Jaemin!”

“We need to fuck!”

That definitely floors you. You blink at him, not believing what he said. You haven’t slept with anyone in months. You’re not going to lie — you’ve thought about Jaemin in that way a handful of times, mostly when it’s late at night and you’re left with an imaginative mind. You didn’t realize it could ever become a reality.

He starts rambling again. “Of course, I don’t want to make you do anything you’re uncomfortable with. I can’t imagine me putting my dick anywhere near you is appealing at the moment, so we can probably just forget it and-“

You say his name again to bring him out of his thoughts. “Can we try?”

He sputters, more than the last time. “W-What?”

“I mean, it can’t hurt, right? I trust you.”

“U-Uh, um, uh, I-“ He short circuits in front of you, struggling to find coherent words.

You don’t give him time to second guess again, immediately falling to your knees and reaching for the band of his sweatpants.

“Woah, woah, wait, let me just-“

Your mouth waters when you pull his cock out from his briefs, the tip already red and leaking. You don’t know if it’s because he’s an alpha, but his cock is absurdly large and thick. You can barely wrap your hand around the base and the thought of taking him into your mouth is daunting, but you would regret it if you didn’t try. You take an experimental lick, watching the way Jaemin struggles above you.

“Slow down, we don’t have to do this now-“

You ignore him again, enveloping the tip in your mouth as he releases a long groan. Your eyes flutter shut, pushing him deeper and deeper into your throat. You run your tongue along the base of his cock, licking and swallowing him. He’s barely holding on to the last string of his control, and you can tell by the way his hands are clenched at his sides.

You decide to push him further, casually deepthroating him and locking your gaze with his. The sound of you choking on him snaps him awake, and it isn’t long before he’s gripping your hair and throwing you on his bed. You squeal at the force of his movements. He pushes you on your stomach, fingers gripping the flesh of your ass.

He hisses in your ear. “You’re going to be a good girl for your alpha, aren’t you?”

“I’ll be good, alpha,” you keen. “I’m good for you.”

“Yeah?” He grunts, watching as you arch your back. “You’ve been waiting a long time for me, haven’t you?”

“So long,” you practically sob. “Just want my alpha to make me feel good.”

You hear the rip of your skirt and he tears the fabric of your top, tossing both items across the room. He’s feral at this point and you have no intention of stopping him. It feels electrifying to have him this close to you, touching you in all the places you never thought before.

Even though he’s your best friend, it feels as if he’s been doing this with you for years. He doesn’t feel like a stranger as he grabs your waist, finger running up and down your clothed slit.

“Aw, pretty girl, look at how wet you are for me,” he muses, pulling your underwear down to fully see you. “So beautiful. Is this all for me?”

“Yes,” you whimper. “All for you, just for you.”

You see stars when he sinks his finger into you, moaning at his touch. You hear him murmur behind you.

“So so perfect, so pretty and wet. You’re so good for your alpha.”

You flourish under Jaemin’s praises, his eyes observing as you submit further to him. You wish you read more on the subject of alphas and their mates. The way Jaemin’s touching you is sending your mind into overdrive, and you’re not even sure what to do when you hear the slick of your cunt as he slides another finger into you. He’s cooing at you, chanting how you’re such a ‘good girl’ for him.

You shut your eyes as he builds a steady pace with his fingers, brushing against your sweet spot. You moan loudly, not registering the volume of your voice. He doesn’t seem to mind you being loud either.

“Such pretty noises,” he hums, digging his other hand into your side and picking up the pace inside of you. You cry and squirm away from him, but he holds you in place. “I imagined for so long what you would sound like. Full moons were the worst. I couldn’t bear the thought of someone else being able to see you like this, touch you like this. You drove me insane.”

“J-Jaemin,” you whimper, getting closer and closer to snapping.

He hums again in response. “Almost there, sweet girl? You’re so pliant for me, so easy to fuck. But it’s all for me and only me, isn’t that right?”

“Yes, yes, only for you, alpha,” you whisper, fingers gripping the sheets as you near the edge.

“Pretty little pussy you have, I can’t wait to knot you. You’re going to take my knot so well, aren’t you? I chose you to take it, and to stuff your cunt full of my cum. I wonder how I could fit my cock into you, you seem too small to take it, pretty girl.”

“I-I can t-take it,” you struggle to get the words out, your brain turning a bit fuzzy. Once he brushes your sweet spot again, your body explodes and you sob loudly at the intensity of your orgasm. Jaemin praises you throughout it, eyes locked on your cunt gushing into his palm.

“So pretty, such a pretty girl. You came so much for me.”

As you float down from your high, you can hear the sound of Jaemin greedily licking his fingers. You nearly scream when you feel his tongue prod at your pussy.

“No, n-no, Jaem, please-“ you begin to beg, squeamish from the overstimulation, but it’s useless. He loves the taste of your cunt already, digging in like it’s his last meal.

Your body begins to ache and you slowly sink down on the bed, tired of arching your back. Jaemin doesn’t seem to mind, following you down as he slurps up your cunt. You’re mumbling incoherent noises as he sucks on your folds, and you can feel his smile when he plays with your clit.

“Alpha,” you whisper breathlessly. “Alpha, I can’t.”

He clicks his tongue. “I know you can. I chose you because you can. Take what I give you, pretty girl. I know you can be good for me.”

You lay there, boneless, as he dips his tongue into your entrance. You barely scream when your second orgasm rolls over you, the sound catching in your throat. He licks up the evidence and you try to wave your hand back to stop him. He gets the message, pulling back and wiping his chin with the back of his hand.

“You taste so sweet, pretty girl. I’ve never tasted a cunt that good before. All for me, right?”

“Yes,” you answer. “All for you, alpha.”

You hear him shifting behind you, and you see him toss his clothes over his shoulder. He picks you up and adjusts you until you’re seated on his lap, hovering just above his cock. He takes note of your sleepy gaze and smiles, kissing down your neck.

“Tired, sweet girl? Don’t want to take my cock anymore?”

You blearily blink. “No, no, I want to take your cock, alpha. Please give it to me.”

He chuckles at your compliance, eyes zeroing in on your glistening pussy. “You’ve been so good for me. Want your reward now?”

“Yes, yes, alpha.”

He suddenly turns serious, brushing your hair away and cupping your cheeks.

“This means forever. I want you to understand that.”

It’s a little frightening — the thought of being bound to someone forever. However, you’re willing to do anything for Jaemin, and you know he loves you. You’re blissfully happy at the thought of forever.

You nod, smiling. “Want to be with you, Jaem.”

He grins and presses a kiss to your lips. “Good girl.”

Your smile quickly turns into a gasp as he pushes you down on his cock. You scramble in his hold, fingers digging into his shoulders.

He shushes you softly. “It’s okay, pretty girl. I got you, trust me.”

Head thrown back and lips parted, you feel utterly fucked as Jaemin impales you. You weren’t even aware your cunt could stretch this far for him, taking him in. The stretch doesn’t hurt like you think it will, it feels surprisingly satisfying. You feel whole like this, finally connecting him to you.

Once he bottoms out, he gives you time to adjust. You don’t even realize you’re crying until he wipes stray tears from your cheek.

“You’re doing so well for me, sweet girl. Took my cock so well. I know you’ll take my knot like a champ too.”

You feel drunk on him despite the fact that his cock could split you in half. You take a few more seconds to yourself before you nod, giving him the okay to move.

He starts out gently, even though you can see him clenching his teeth trying to control himself. You decide to push him.

You lean in and whisper in his ear. “Fuck me good, alpha. Show me I’m yours, and yours only.”

He throws you back down onto the bed, growling at your submission. You cry when he drills into you, showing no mercy any longer. His cock is tearing you apart and you welcome it with open arms. His fingers dig roughly into your scalp, his other hand groping your breast.

“You like it when your alpha fucks you like this? You like it when I have control of you?” He practically growls at you, hips snapping into your thighs roughly. Your mouth hangs open, and if you were lucid, you would be embarrassed by the drool pooling at the side of your lips. He continues muttering obscenities at you, fueled by the feeling of your warm pussy wrapped around his cock. “Gonna fuck you until you can’t think of anyone else. Every time you touch yourself, you’re going to think about me. Only me. I’m going to make sure everyone knows you’re mine, make sure you’re pretty and pregnant for me.”

His fingers move from your breast into your mouth, and you subconsciously suck on the digits.

He snickers. “Look at you. Such a pretty fuck toy for me, taking my cock so well. You were made to be fucked, sweet girl. Made to take my cock and my cock only.”

You’re definitely out of coherent thoughts at this point. Jaemin flips you again, arching your back and you whimper at the ache. He drives into you harder and faster from behind, his balls slapping against your cunt in the most unholy way.

“Alpha, alpha, alpha,” you groan. “My alpha. So good, my alpha, so good. So big.”

“Need you to cum, sweet girl. Want to feel it. Give it to me, pretty girl.”

“Alpha, alpha,” you whimper, the coil in your stomach building and building. You soar when it snaps, and you swear you see white clouding your vision. You cry and cry, tears freely falling down your face as you clench around Jaemin.

You think you pass out for a few seconds. When you regain your strength, he’s flipped you on your side, gripping your ankle as he throws your foot over his shoulder. You let him do whatever he wants at this point, enjoying the way he presses against your clit every time he pushes in.

You can only hear parts of what he’s saying, a ringing sound still echoing in your ears.

“So good- such a pretty cunt- want to fuck you forever- going to show you off- beautiful- fucking pretty pussy- such a good girl for me.”

“J-Jaem,” you say, but you know he can’t hear you anymore. You think you have another orgasm, but the pleasure is mixing together too fast. You blackout again, waking up moments later to find Jaemin still fucking you senseless.

You’re on your back again with Jaemin hovering over you, pressing kisses down your neck. He’s muttering praises still, hands digging into your sides.

“Want to feel you forever. So good for me, pretty girl. You ready to take my knot?”

You lazily comb your fingers through his hair, feeling exhausted. “Please, alpha, give it to me.”

“Yeah?” He groans, pressing harder into you. “Want me?”

“I want you, I want you,” you echo, the familiar sensation pulsing through your veins.

He’s drilling faster now, pumping furiously into you as he chases his high. You think you’re screaming, but you can’t be entirely sure. You feel bad for whoever lives on Jaemin’s floor.

When he cums, you swear he’s been holding it in for years. His cum splashes against your walls as he empties himself inside of you. You squeeze around him again, finishing another orgasm.

It’s a few minutes later when you think it’s finally over. You start to relax, but the feeling is short lived. You sob when the base of Jaemin’s cock begins to swell, growing bigger and bigger.

“N-No, no, no, no-“

He shushes you. “It’s okay, pretty girl. You take my knot so well, I have so much cum for you.”

You swear you’ve lost your mind when Jaemin does, in fact, give you even more of his cum. It starts to leak out of your cunt because of the sheer amount, and he urges you through it with soft kisses. When he’s finally done, you feel like you’ve been fucked into the next century.

The only thing you can manage to say is, “You can’t fuck me again for three months, at least.”

He laughs at you and you try to throw him a serious look. He kisses your cheek.

“Oh, silly girl. What did I tell you before? I chose you because you’re made for me. You honestly don’t think I’m going to stop fucking you now, do you?”

Your eyes widen at his confession, and you shriek when he thrusts into you, his cock still hard.

“Such a pretty girl.”

[a-drop-of-nightshade]

He laughed, “You don’t have to make me a deal, I owe you for letting me hide, getting me a new RIG and everything.” He shrugged, “But I’d rather make it more even. I’ll help you with what you need, scars, grounding, anything and you can do the same for me, I think that’s fair.” He said with a smile. He didn’t fight as she took his hand, he did twitch a bit but he was a lot better than before, he did wince as she pulled his fingers out, the more his hand was straightened the more his hands shook, “I mean I’m kinda used to the pain to be honest so I don’t know where I’m really hurting anymore.” He laughed a bit.

“Alright then, can’t wait either it smells great.” He said before his fingers curled up again, he shifted the vest top be borrowed off Alice and just shifted to sit more comfortably, when she came back out he looked curious at the gloves, those things looked expensive. When she put them on him he chewed on his lip, he really didn’t deserve something like this, he couldn’t pay her back at this rate and he hated it. “Ah uh… I don’t really have feeling in my hands anymore, most the pain is deep so.” He laughed nervously, “And uh, got no temperature sense after having been burnt enough times.” He muttered awkwardly.

L paused then looked at Izzy, “You… want to know why the old cunt is after me?” He asked before tilting his head in thought and then sighing, “Its… a long story, kind of?” He paused then shifted to get a bit more comfortable on the couch, “basically I appeared here when I was 14 and got taken into custody and just shipped off to a facility somewhere on some world. Basically it was a company your grandpa owned and they had Necro’s that they were experimenting on along with humans and other shit. After some… shitty tests and experiments my body didn’t react well and so they said I was too weak for the experiments so they thought I’d be better off as… feed.” He paused and rubbed the scar on his face.

“Uh, basically they tried to feed me and a bunch of others to a brute, but also to see how the brute handled multiple targets. Um… I… tried to warn the people but… yeah that didn’t work so… well I killed it instead. Ran at it, went under its legs and got on its back to get to the weak spots.” He looked at her and smiled nervously, “They didn’t like that, but they also didn’t understand how I knew how to kill it.” He laughed and leaned back, “So they started putting me against other Necro’s, they started to force me to stay alive and try to spill what I knew. They put me through experiments as a form of torture to try and break me, I got drugged frequently, gassed too. So… yeah… I was forced to fight Necro’s for nearly 7 years after the brute, and I admitted I knew things, things they wanted… about the codex... So uh… during the time I was supposed to be transported closer to twatface for a full breakdown so he could get the information in my head I Uh, I faked being knocked out from the gas and then broke out and ran. Been running for 3 nearly 4 years now with the whole of the church of Unitology on my ass as well as Cuntson, so yeah. Fun.” He shrugged.

@izzyfromdeadspace

[sacredsorceress]

The Long Run || Bucky Barnes

pairing: bucky barnes x doctor!reader

summary: after discovering that you’re bucky’s secret girlfriend, sam invites you on a mission with them. when bucky gets injured and you save his life, you give him news that will change the both of your lives for the better and bucky has a very important question to ask you.

a/n: this is technically a part two to Who’s She?, but can be read w/o the first; reblogs and replies are super appreciated!

word count: 4.9k

warnings: blood, bucky getting shot, mentions of bucky nearly dying, mentions of pregnancy, some swearing, angst, fluff

Who’s She?

masterlist || request || taglist

“Absolutely not.” Bucky told Sam. “No way. We have to find someone else to do it.”

“I’m sorry- do you have any other secret girlfriends lined up?” Sam asked, crossing his arms. “Because from what I understand we’re supposed to be doing this all under the radar and you and I don’t exactly have a lot of friends right now.”

Bucky stood his ground, staring down the man in front of him. “I’m not bringing her into this.”

“You brought her into this as soon as you decided to date her and she knows that.”

Bucky scoffed, rolling his eyes before shoving his finger into Sam’s chest.

“You know- I knew I should have never brought you back to my house.” Bucky said. “I knew I should have let Romanoff have you instead of bringing Y/n into this.”

Sam sighed, stepping away from Bucky, understanding that he was putting him in a difficult situation. Not even a month ago when Sam was shot during a mission, Bucky had brought him and Natasha Romanoff back to your shared home so you could patch him up. Until then, you had remained a secret to them- Bucky being sure to never even mention your name. He kept your relationship a secret from not only the world, but the team to ensure your safety. The last thing he could ever bare despite everything he had been through was for you to get hurt- especially if it was because of him.

Sam could understand. He would be lying if he said he wasn’t afraid of the people around him getting hurt because of his choices. A part of him was envious of Bucky for being able to keep you such a secret, ensuring your safety. He understood that Bucky risked his only sense of normalcy to save him and that you- a stranger to him until that night- risked your safety to help him.

He knew he could only ask so much, but he also knew that you were the best choice.

“I get it, Buck.” Sam told him finally, placing his hand on his shoulder. “I know why you’re worried, but she’ll be fine. If I thought there was any way she could get hurt, I wouldn’t even suggest it, but she’ll be so far away-”

Bucky shook his head, crossing his arms.

“I’m not calling her. Find someone else.” Bucky told him finally, seating himself in a flimsy folding chair across the room.

“Fine.” Sam threw his hands up in the air in defeat. “I guess I’ll just find someone else to be our getaway driver.”

With that, Sam left the room, making a phone call through the door.

A half an hour filled with silence later, Sam and Bucky heard a car pull up outside the small abandoned building. Quickly glancing at each other, they both stood up, making their way out of the room and towards the entrance of the building. Without opening the door they heard knocking coming from the other side. Just as Bucky’s hand went to pull on the door handle, Sam’s hand stopped him, holding his wrist.

“Before-”

Glancing from Sam’s hand on his wrist to his eyes, Bucky furrowed his eyebrows. “Who did you call?”

“Look, b-before you get mad-” Sam attempted to reason.

That was enough for Bucky to pull Sam’s hand off of his wrist and yank open the door. On the other side he was immediately met with your face staring back at him.

Before you could even open your mouth to greet him, Bucky spun around to face Sam.

“What the fuck did I tell you?” Bucky asked, raising his voice. “I told you not to do one thing and you just go ahead and call my girlfriend.”

“There was no other choice-”

“How did you even call her?” He asked, voice still raised, cutting Sam off.

Finally Sam loosened up at the question, turning to look between you and Bucky. “Listen, that’s your own fault. Who doesn’t have a phone password?”

At that, Bucky threw his hands up in the air, turning to face you instead. You smiled, shrugging.

“I told you to put a passcode, baby.”

Looking at your smiling face, Bucky softened up, lowering his voice. He could hardly ever be mad at you.

“Doll, you shouldn’t have come.” He sighed. “You should go back home. Go enjoy your day off. We can handle this on our own.”

You had known your boyfriend long enough to know that he was only speaking out of love for you. The kind of love that drove him to keep you a secret for so long from even his own friends in order to protect you. Although you understood how he wanted to protect you, you also understood that Sam wouldn’t have called you if there were other choices on the table.

“Buck, it’s okay.” You assured him, tugging on his jacket to pull him closer. “Sam said that I’d be fine. Let me help.”

Glancing at your face and looking into what one could only call your “puppy dog eyes” he cursed to himself, knowing he couldn’t resist giving in for you.

“Okay. Fine.” He sighed. “But only if you stay in the car.”

Smiling you tugged on his jacket once more, pulling him down to give him a quick peck on the cheek. “Thank you, Buck.”

“I’m going to regret this aren’t I?”

And he did.

When he, Sam and an injured Natasha Romanoff were running out of an exploding building while agents continued to chase after them still shooting, he was truly regretting ever letting you come on this mission- even though you were only there to serve as their getaway driver and first aid kit for Agent Romanoff.

When you felt the rumble of the explosion shake your car and heard the gunshots going off you jumped in your seat, firmly grasping the wheel. You quickly glanced over your shoulder to see your boyfriend, Sam and Natasha running in your direction and you hovered your foot over the gas, shifting the car into drive.

“Go!” Sam shouted as soon as he got one foot in the door after pushing Natasha inside.

The second your boyfriend slid into the passenger seat you hit the gas at full speed, but before you could speed far enough away you heard one last gunshot sound off before you heard Bucky shout from his seat, swinging the door shut.

Still speeding away at the fastest speed you had ever gone in your life, you turned to face your boyfriend, feeling your heart race in your chest.

“Buck-” You started but before his full name could even slip out of your mouth you could see blood begin to soak the bottom of his shirt. “Oh my god!” You shouted.

“It’s fine-” He attempted to calm you down, groaning while holding his abdomen.

Hearing the commotion, Sam gripped Bucky’s seat, pulling himself up from the back seat to look at Bucky’s wound.

“Shit!” Sam swore.

As soon as the words slipped out of his mouth, Bucky swatted him away.

“You’re not helping, Sam!” He grunted, squeezing his eyes shut and throwing his head back.

“Oh my God. Is it bad?” You asked shakily, meeting Sam’s eyes in the rearview mirror. “It’s bad isn’t it, Sam?”

All you saw was Sam’s eyes wide, staring right back at you in the mirror. Glancing between your gaze in the mirror and Bucky looking over his shoulder glaring at him, Sam shook his head.

“Uh-” He started.

Feeling your hands begin to tremble on the wheel, you glanced back at Sam.

“Sam just tell me-”

“Sam you better shut the hell up!” Bucky shouted.

Realizing that you had driven for long and far enough that the men that were chasing you were no longer still following you, you slammed on the brakes. You heard the grunts of Sam and a incoherent Natasha in the backseat and the muffled shout of pain from your boyfriend besides you. As soon as the car came to a stop, you threw your door open, climbing out of the car and stomping to the passenger side door, swinging it open.

When your eyes met Bucky’s he just shook his head, eyes wide. He knew that no matter how many things you saw in your time as a doctor that it would inevitably hit you differently to see him so badly wounded and he couldn’t bare to see you so upset.

“Bucky,” You said, laying your hands on top of his bloodied ones. “Let me see it.”

He shook his head again.

“Doll-”

“James.” You stated more firmly, gripping his hands. “Take your hands off.”

Knowing that this argument couldn’t go on for much longer without him caving in, he lifted his hands from his wound and when you laid your eyes on the bloodied section of his abdomen you couldn’t help but gasp knowing your boyfriend was injured this badly.

“That bad, huh?” He asked, groaning again.

You had seen plenty of injuries this bad, but you had been in a hospital and they hadn’t been on your boyfriend- the man you swore was the love of your life. Pulling your hands away from the wound, you could feel them begin to tremble as the horror of what was happening washed over your body, gluing you to your spot. When you looked up, rather than looking at Bucky, your eyes met Sam’s who was still sat in the back seat.

Seeing your eyes wide and your hands shaking Sam immediately made his way out of the vehicle to stand by your side. Your boyfriend’s eyes were still squeezed shut in pain and as you stoood watching him you felt Sam’s hands land on your shoulders to turn you to face him instead.

“Y/n?” Sam asked, trying to get you to focus your attention on him. “Y/n you need to breathe.”

You shook your head, staring at him with your eyes wide. You could barely choke the words out. “I-”

“Y/n listen to me.” He said, gently shaking your shoulders. “You need to calm down so you can fix this-”

As soon as the words slipped out of his mouth, you could feel your heart racing in your chest. How could he expect you to do this?

“No, no Sam I can’t-” You told him.

Resilient as ever Sam nodded his head. “Yes you can.” He said. “You have to. The next hospital isn’t for another thirty miles- it’s you or nothing. You can do this, Y/n. You fixed me and you came for Natasha-”

“That’s different.” You sighed.

“I know that, but there’s no other way.”

You rung your trembling hands, looking between Sam and your boyfriend still groaning in the passenger seat of the vehicle.

As you looked at him all you could think about was how you couldn’t lose him- especially not now. You needed him. You didn’t know what you would do without him. You knew Sam was right too- that if it weren’t for you doing something, he wouldn’t survive. You couldn’t allow that to happen. 

Taking a long, deep breath you looked up at Sam.

“Okay.” You nodded.

Sam released you from his grip. “Okay?” He asked, making sure you were willing to help his friend and when you nodded once more he smiled. “Okay. What can I do to help?”

You instructed Sam to go fetch the supplies that you had brought and stored in the trunk when he asked you to come in the case that Natasha would need medical aid after being held hostage by the organization they had just saved her from. Although she was barely coherent on the backseat, you knew that she would be okay compared to your partner who was currently bleeding out in the front seat.

While Sam fetched your supplies, you tugged on the hem of your boyfriend’s shirt, trying to ease it over his head.

“C’mon baby.” You cooed. “The shirt needs to come off.”

In too much pain to speak, he lifted his arms slightly, just enough for you to pull his shirt off of his torso and over his head. When you did, however his dog tags came off with it, slipping into his lap. Just when you were about to turn around to take the kit from Sam, you felt the familiar touch of cool metal grasp your wrist.

When you turned around you first met Bucky’s eyes before following his gaze down to his hand that was balled into a fist, the chain of his dog tag slipping through his fingers.

“What-”

“Take them.” He told you, sighing from the pain. “I want you to take them, Y/n.”

Staring at his dog tags and the solemn look on his face, you could feel your heart practically stop beating in your chest. Bucky had lived a long, complicated life- longer than most, but stolen from him at the same time. He had been given these same dog tags when he was sent to fight in World War II. Although a part of him had died during the war, he had survived to live decades more, the dog tags staying with him.

As he attempted to hand them to you, you realized that although he didn’t admit it- he was sure he was going to die in that moment. He had survived for over a century and because of this one bullet that he could’ve escaped from if he was just an inch to the right he thought he was living through his final moments. The dog tags had survived along with him all this time and you couldn’t bare the thought that he decided that now was the time to give them away.

“Buck, no.” You shook your head. “I can’t take those. You’re going to be okay-”

“Doll.” He said. “Just take them.”

You took his vibranium wrist in your hand and pulled it away from your arm.

“You’re not dying on my watch, okay?” You said finally, turning around to take the kit from Sam. “Now... there’s no easy way to say this... this is going to hurt.”

Bucky couldn’t help but throw you a lopsided smile at your resilience.

“How bad can it be?”

It was bad.

Due to you performing all of this on the field, you hadn’t been able to numb Bucky’s pain at all. Even though he had been through what he thought until now was the most horrible pain a human could ever experience, he could barely sit still throughout the entire thing. As soon as the first shout escaped from his mouth, you had stopped in the middle of what you were doing, glancing over your shoulder at Sam. Without even a word coming out of your mouth you and Bucky watched as Sam undid the belt from around his waist.

“Woah, wait-” Bucky began but before he could even finish, Sam was holding his belt in his hand, offering it to Bucky.

“Here.” Sam told him.

“What- I’m not putting this in my mouth.” Bucky said.

“Man, just put it in your mouth-”

“I am not putting this thing in my mouth, Sam. There has to be something else I can bite down on-”

You shook your head, sighing to yourself as you snatched the belt from Sam’s hand, slipping it into your boyfriend’s mouth. Eyes wide and not in a position to argue, he bit down silently.

“There.”

As soon as you placed the belt in his mouth, you went back to work on his abdomen. As you performed the procedure, removing the bullet and stitching up the wound, you could hear your boyfriend’s muffled shouting. You couldn’t help but cringe and feel hurt knowing how much pain he was in, but you also knew that there was no other way and you had to put him through this so he could come out the other side.

The pain was so bad at one point, however, that after a particularly nasty yell, followed by his legs jolting you looked up to see Bucky swing out his free hand to Sam which Sam took wordlessly. You felt guilty, but you couldn’t help but laugh when while you were still working on stitching up the wound you heard Sam shout.

“Y- you’re crushing my hand! Stop... squeezing.. so hard.”

When you finally finished, pulling your hands away from the freshly stitched wound, you glanced up at Bucky. You could tell immediately that he looked exhausted, slipping his hand out of Sam’s and opening his mouth to let the belt drop onto his lap.

“You can rest now, baby.” You told him, standing up from your kneeling position, wiping your bloodied hands on the cloth that Sam handed you. “Rest.”

As soon as you told him too, Bucky couldn’t help but allow himself to fall into a deep sleep.

When he woke again, he immediately realized that he was laying in a hospital bed and was hyper aware of the needles sticking out of his flesh arm.

His eyes immediately landed on your figure, standing on the other side of a glass wall speaking with a doctor. Suddenly the memories came flooding back into his memory of him getting shot and you saving him with the supplies you had on hand on the side of some abandoned, dirt road. Along with the memories flowing back into his mind, he could feel his chest become full, remembering how you had just saved his life- that you fought against your own fears of hurting him to save him. He had always known that you gave his life meaning, but as he sat there in his bed he realized that he was alive because of you.

Snapping him out of his own thoughts, Bucky heard a voice speak up beside him.

“How are you feeling-”

Before Sam could even finish his sentence, however, Bucky cut him off.

“I need you to do something for me.” Bucky told him, sitting up in his bed with a grunt, still sore.

When Sam heard the urgency in his friend’s tone of voice, he leaned over in his seat, pulling his chair closer to the side of Bucky’s bed.

“What is it?” He asked furrowing his eyebrows.

Bucky knew that he couldn’t wait any longer and he didn’t want to either.

“I need you to go to my apartment.” Bucky told him, giving him instructions. “In the bedroom there’s a safe. The code’s my birthday and I need you to get-”

“Woah, woah, woah.” Sam shook his head. “Slow down. What do you need from a safe right now? Incase you forgot you were just shot.”

This situation was probably the last one Bucky thought he would find himself in when he had first planned the event seven months ago, but he couldn’t stand the idea of waiting any longer. He could barely believe the words coming out of his mouth as he told Sam.

“The ring.”

Upon the two words that Bucky had just said, Sam’s eyebrows creased even more, attempting to understand the words Bucky had just told him. When it finally clicked, Sam leaned back in his seat throwing his hands up in the air.

“A what? Wait.” Sam said and Bucky was almost beginning to regret his decision as a smile began to play on his partner’s face. “You... you have a ring?”

Glancing at where you were still standing to make sure you didn’t hear what the two men were discussing, Bucky turned to face Sam nodding.

“Yeah, a ring.” He said.

Sam shook his head. “You’re going to propose?” He asked, then looked around the room. “Right now?”

Bucky knew that the hospital room he was in wasn’t exactly the ideal situation and when he bought the ring months ago he had ran through all the ideas in the book from a restaurant to a vacation, but he could never decide. In this moment, though, he knew that now was the time to ask.

“Yeah.” Bucky nodded.

Sam just smiled standing up from his seat. “Okay, okay.” He said, patting down his pockets. “I’m gonna go get it- God! I can’t believe this is happening, man!”

Hearing the door to the room open, Bucky glared at his friend, halting himself from having more words slip out of his mouth. Sam nodded, giving his friend a thumbs up before running out of the room.

When your boyfriend’s eyes landed on you and noticed you glancing between Sam and him while laughing, he rolled his eyes.

“What was that about?” You laughed, gesturing towards his friend running out the door.

Keeping his cool as always, Bucky shrugged. “It’s Sam.”

You smiled making your way over to the side of the bed and when you did, Bucky reached his arms out for you. When you sat yourself on the side of the bed next to him, you felt his hands rest on your waist while you played with the dog tags that were once again lying on his chest.

“I was so scared you were going to die, Buck.” You said in a hushed voice.

Seeing the downcast look exhibited on your features, he felt his heart break knowing that you almost lost each other.

“I thought I was.” He said. “The feeling was worse than... worse than when I fell.”

You sighed at his confession, taking one of his hands off of your waist- instead lacing your fingers with his.

“I- I can’t do this without you.” You told him, your eyes not yet meeting his, just staring at your fingers interlaced. “I couldn’t let you die, Buck. I need you here.”

“I know, doll-”

“No.” You cut him off, looking up to allow your eyes to meet his blue ones- the same ones you always got so lost in. “You don’t know. There’s... there’s something I need to tell you.”

Bucky’s mind began racing from the best case scenarios to the worst case scenarios. Were you dying? Did you not love him anymore? Did you find out about the ring? Oh God, maybe you did and he would have to tell you now even if he was still waiting on Sam to bring him the ring.

“I have something to tell you too.” He said, squeezing your hand.

You, however, shook your head. “No, Buck, let me go first. I have to get this off my chest. You almost died and the thought of you never finding out almost killed me.”

Instead of cutting in again, Bucky just nodded his head, seeing how serious you were.

He watched as you took a deep breath and a smile began to make its way onto your face.

“I’m pregnant.”

Bucky could of sworn to God that his heart stopped in that moment and it was confirmed by the beeping of the heart monitor beside him. His eyes went wide and he was praying that his mouth didn’t drop as he tried to process the information you had just told him.

You were pregnant. He was going to be a father. He was going to share a child with you- the best thing to have ever happened to him.

Going with his gut and leading with his heart, before his brain could stop him he finally asked.

“Marry me.”

Unlike your boyfriend, you didn’t need a heart monitor to tell you that your heart skipped a beat before racing immediately after.

You would be lying if you said you hadn’t thought about marrying Bucky so often it almost felt like a memory. To hear the words finally slip out of his mouth, you couldn’t believe it was finally happening to you.

Until you realized what situation the two of you were in.

He didn’t ask you out of love- he asked you out of commitment- or that was at least what you thought.

The light drained from your face as you scoffed pushing yourself off of his bed.

“Really, James?” You asked.

Confused by your reaction, Bucky stiffened in his seat on the bed, furrowing his eyebrows.

“What?” He asked.

You couldn’t help, but laugh at his naivety.

“You’re kidding me, right?” You scoffed once again. “You know- I thought you had moved past all this old-fashioned stuff. It’s not the 40′s anymore, Buck. You don’t have to marry me because you think you ‘knocked me up’ or whatever. Don’t let little old me hold you down.”

“Woah- what the fuck?” Bucky asked in a raised voice, genuinely shocked.

“-Because I don’t want you marrying me because you feel like you have to.” You continued. “I’d want you to marry me for me.”

“Do you think I want to marry you because you’re pregnant?” He asked.

Cooling down and wringing your hands, you nodded. “Yeah.”

You could tell just by looking at him that he was hurt not just by his gunshot wound that was still healing, but by your words.

He found it hard to believe that you could possibly think that he would only want to marry you out of circumstance and not because he had an undying love for you or because he couldn’t see himself living life without you by his side. You were the first thing he thought about every moment when he woke up and the last thing he thought about when he went to bed every night. You practically made the world spin round so how could you possibly believe that he wouldn’t want to marry you out of pure love and devotion to you?

Before he had the chance to say any of that though, the door to the hospital room behind you swung open and Sam stood in the doorway. Sensing the tension in the room he eyed the two of you.

“Did I... miss something?” He asked, focusing his attention on Bucky.

You shook your head, wrapping yourself in your arms. Just when you were about to excuse yourself from the room, you saw Sam holding his hand suspiciously behind his back.

“What’s that?” You asked, pointing at him.

Sam decided that the wall behind you was very interesting in that moment as he avoided looking at you. “Nothing.”

You eyed him warily and watched as his gaze fell on Bucky still sat in the hospital bed.

“Sam...” You said.

“What?” He replied. “There’s nothing behind my back. I just... like... putting my hand... there.”

You watched your boyfriend sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose.

Glancing between the two men, you reached behind Sam’s back and stole the box from his hands. As soon as your eyes met the small, black velvet box you felt all the air escape your body. You looked at your boyfriend before opening the box.

Inside sat a beautiful diamond ring.

“... Buck?” You asked, slowly stepping towards him.

He gave you a soft smile. “If you don’t like it you can tell me. I picked it out with Steve-”

“You picked it out with Steve?” You asked, smiling. “That means...”

“Yeah.” He smiled. “Picked it out seven months ago... before...”

You knew what he meant- before his best friend decided to leave the modern age to go back to the forties, leaving Bucky here. Although you knew is was a hard topic to discuss, knowing the truth lifted a weight off of your chest. He didn’t propose to you in the heat of the moment because you were pregnant- he had been planning on proposing to you for over half a year. Not only was he planning on proposing for that long, but before you told him you were pregnant he must of asked Sam to pick up the ring.

You felt guilty for yelling at him earlier and for believing that he didn’t have your best intentions in mind, but overall you were just so overjoyed to know that you were going to spend the rest of your life with the man in front of you.

“I love you.” You told him in a hushed voice, sitting yourself back down on the side of his bed.

“Is that a yes?” He asked, gently taking the box out of your hand.

You couldn't help but smile.

“Yes.” You laughed. “Of course I’ll marry you.”

Although Bucky Barnes was known for his infamous glare, he couldn’t help but smile in that moment, the pieces in his life finally falling into place after all this time. He couldn’t possibly be happier.

When he finally tore his eyes away from your smiling face that he swore would rival any goddess’, he shakily took the ring out of the box, took your left hand in his vibranium one and slipped the diamond engagement ring over your ring finger.

Before you could let him say another word, you leaned forward, cupping his face in your hands and kissed him. You couldn’t help but laugh into the kiss, so filled with love and joy that you could barely contain it.

When you finally pulled away, you still couldn’t help the smile that spread across your face, so wide it almost hurt your cheeks.

As the smile fell from your boyfriend’s face you furrowed your eyebrows.

“What is it?” You asked him, fiddling with engagement ring on your finger.

“Did....” He began glancing between a still silent Sam and you. “Did you agree to go on a mission when you knew you were pregnant?”

Instead of meeting your boyfriend- no- fiancé’s eyes, you decided to admire your ring. “Uh...”

Bucky didn’t have a chance to press you further on the topic when the other man standing beside you’s voice rang through the room.

“Wait! You’re pregnant?”