#why does Mad World have a fucking dance beat. please

[3scythes]

what I love about the 80s as a decade is that some of the music they were bumping in the club had the most depressing, miserable lyrics you’ve ever heard. “How Soon Is Now” literally had Morrissey being like “I went to the club and I was miserable and then went home alone and wanted to die” and the song was somehow a club favorite.

[nyx-thedragon]

EVEN MORE NEWSIES THOUGHTS RAAHHHHH

noted down a bunch of things while watching again, so strap in for a bit of a long post!

1- reiterating that i love mr kloppman so much omg

2- mush has his fucking hat on before a shirt what's wrong with him /silly

3- "get the lead outta your pants" is such a fun phrase why don't we use it anymore

4- choreo for "carrying the banner" looks so fun

5- jack mocking davey's scoff i love them so bad

6- young christian bale as jack kelly is so charming

7- why is there just a boxing match going on?

8- medda complimenting les's acting skills <33

9- why is there a trolley on fire? why did they set one on fire?

10- "you can meet my folks" this is literally the first day you met him ???

11- esther jacobs is so pretty wow

12- second hand embarrassment/cringing when jack is telling sarah about what words make a headline good

13- les sleep singing and sounding good, i see you kid

14- "why don't you stay here tonight?" bro put the heart eyes away for a second my god

15- "when i dream on my own / i'm alone but i ain't lonely" <333333 love these lyrics

16- will forever be mad about livesies taking away jack's whole cowboy shtick it's so fun why would they take that away

17- how does jack just know how to ride a horse?? was he taught by someone when he was younger??

18- race & jack siblingism real !!

19- johnathon why do you work for pulitzer he doesn't appreciate you like he should

20- i love how natural the dialogue feels in the entire movie. it doesn't feel or sound like they memorized a script

21- "give him some room, let him think" les jacobs you precious little boy

22- jack and davey just make a great team to lead the strike. davey has the words and jack has the confidence and loud voice

23- "no! we can't beat up kids in the street, it'll give us a bad name!" "can't get any worse"

24- davey going from "i was joking" about the strike to helping organize and getting so into it i love him

25- davey wandering through the other newsies during "the world will know" love him (i have no clue why this stood out to me enough that i felt i had to note it down)

26- davey, again with the heart eyes. you're staring longingly at jack. please have some decorum

27- shoutout to denton for helping the boys. love our man denton

28- boots putting his ear up to the door trying to hear something i love him that's so silly

29- the look jack gives davey when he laughs at jack and les being kicked out of The World building

30- "no pictures" "sure" and then there ends up being a picture

31- spot conlon calling jack "jackie boy" oh i feel like they have some history. like friends when they were younger or something. or they've just known each other for a long time

32- mush and race little dance moment during "sieze the day" <3

now would be a great time to take a breather, drink some water, look somewhere other than the screen for a bit to give your eyes a rest

33- jack and davey are always so touchy with each other my god boys can you keep your hands to yourselves for five seconds please (/affectionate)

34- jack already trusts davey enough to let him hold the rope while he dangles like 50 feet in the air. they've barely known each other for two days these boys are lowkey down bad

35- jack and crutchy are brothers for real !!! i love them !!!!

36- snyder hitting the side of the bed to get that one kid to take his hat off why did he do that why did the hat need to be off ??

37- love how the brooklyn newsies' thing is slingshots it's so fun and cool

38- where did these boys learn how to tap dance

39- crutchy you gotta get better at lying, man

40- dude kloppman really is like these boys' father i just love him so much he seems so sweet

41- sarah jacobs why do you not find it a little weird for jack to sleep right outside your window all night?? i know you know him, but that's still a bit odd

42- "this rabble he's roused" pulitzer that's a great line, i gotta hand it to ya

43- love spot conlon's little walking stick/cane

44- the way the boys all love medda and hype her up <333

45- i need warden snyder dead and i need to be the one to do it oh my god i hate him so much!!!!

46- dutchy and specs are always around each other, as far as i remember seeing. they are a pair, do not separate

47- are davey and sarah twins? i've seen people online and in fics say that they are but it's not said in the movie and i am very curious if this is canon or a fanon thing that everyone has agreed on?

48- pulitzer gesticulates a lot. he's a hand-talker

49- "i don't understand" "i don't understand either but just get outta here!"

50- haven't said this before but i love davey's curly hair

51- weasel actually says "tisk tisk" (tsk tsk) he's such a weirdo for that

52- i also need weasel and the delanceys dead and i need to be the one to do it

53- roosevelt calling denton "denty" they're besties bro that's so fun

54- kloppman taking over weasel's job (edit: upon rewatching the movie again, i have realized that it is, in fact, not kloppman who takes over weasel’s job at the end of the movie. my apologies)

whoo. okay. less than the last one. that's good. i hope y'all enjoyed reading my thoughts and getting a little glimpse into my brain. and if someone could tell me the answer to my "are sarah and davey twins" question i will love you forever please i am very curious.

anyway, drink water, get some rest, and i will see you all later. stay cool

[wildbornsiren]

Kinktober Day 18: Shotgunning || Frankie Morales/F!Reader

Shotgunning Summary: Sharing a smoke and kisses with Frankie.  722 words (Female/AFAB reader) Warnings: Cigarette use.  Notes: For #kinktober2022. Reminder that these will not have part twos, or continuations. Please follow @wbslibrary​ since tag lists are gone. (I appreciate ya’ll so much but it was stressing me out, and I was worried I’d miss someone). Comments and sharing let me know you love me, likes are appreciated. Thank you so very much for reading. It’s so appreciated and means the most.

The club was crowded, a sweaty, writhing mass of bodies and limbs. The bass line of the music thumped and buzzed in your bones, the sweet taste of your drink lingering on your tongue. Your body is beaded with sweat, the brush of hands and the beat urging you higher. It was rare for you to venture out—let alone go to a dance club. You had dragged Frankie along, plying one of your oldest friends with alcohol and the promise of a night out.

Frankie’s arms were draped around you, pulling you against him. He was humming along with the song. Every touch, subtle roll of his hips against yours, the brush of sweat damp curls against your forehead when he leans in closer still sends sparks of pleasure coursing through you. He smells like cheap tequila and spicy aftershave, chapped lips brushing your cheek, those warm brown eyes closing when he does so. It was almost too much. His body warm and pliant, moving against yours. It was a dangerous line the two of you walked, coming close but never quite connecting. Your hands land on his hips, pulling him flush against you. His moan vibrates through his chest, the sound rough against your ear. His head drops to your neck, the rough scrape of his stubble against heated skin making you shiver with need. You swallow hard, pulling away reluctantly. “I need some air.” You point toward the back door, and he nods. You navigate the mad crush of people and step into the slightly cooler night air. It was, however, easier to breathe. You exhale shakily, leaning against the brick wall of the building. Pressing the heels of your palms to your eyes hard enough that starburst explode in your vision you bite your lower lip trying to keep the needy sound that had been growing in your chest for the past ten minutes from slipping out. It was getting more and more difficult to ignore your growing infatuation with Frankie. You could feel his touch burned against your skin, and when you sniff your shirt curiously, you can smell his cologne. “Fuck.” You spit out ignoring the curious glances of a pair of women who were going back into the club. “Everything alright?” Frankie is leaning against the wall next to you. He’s flushed, chest rising and falling rapidly. He pushes a hand through sweaty hair, before he’s placing his baseball cap back on his head.  He offers you a bottle of water, and you take it. Ice cold, the condensation dripping onto your shirt when you take a sip. “It’s been a while since I’ve been out.” “I keep asking you.” He says softly. “You always turn me down.” “I know. I just…” you shrug. “Life you know?” “That’s why we dance, preciosa.” He says. “Forget the world for a little while.” Easily, Frankie takes the water from you, taking a couple of gulps before returning it to you. “Do you mind?” A pack of Marlboro reds was in his hand. You shake your head, and he taps one out, holding it between his lips as he strikes a match, lighting the cigarette. He takes a long pull, tipping his head back to blow smoke into the air. Maybe it was the strawberry daquiris, maybe it was the music, maybe it was the memory of his fingers brushing against the sliver of skin at the small of your back as the two of you danced together. “Can I ask you something?” “Yeah.” “Why haven’t you kissed me?” He chuckles softly, the end of his cigarette flaring red when he inhales. “Ask me, preciosa, and I’ll give you what you need.” You watch him as he smokes, searching for any sort of malicious teasing. “Besame por favor.” It’s clumsy, and feels awkward, but you’re rewarded by a slow grin. “¿Quieres un beso?” Frankie pushes off the wall, standing before you. He leans in, arm braced above your head. “All you had to do was tell me.” He takes another drag of the cigarette, and you reach up, hand landing on the back of his neck, pulling him down. His lips brush against yours. You inhale the smoke when it curls out from his parted lips. “Fuck,” he murmurs softly before he’s closing the distance, kissing you softly.

[daenqyu]

— doing their eyeliner at 12AM

includes: bakugou, kaminari, kirishima, and hawks

warnings: suggestive (LOTS of making out)

a/n: did i write this just because i love doing my eyeliner and i really want to sit on a guy’s lap while i do his???? maybe. but that’s none of your business 🙄☝️

bakugou katsuki

it’s canon that he wears eyeliner and even if it wasn’t,,, he’d still try it at least ONCE

in this case you had to ask him

well more like beg him 

“babe please, i promise i’ll make a good work!” 

“how? you suck at doing yours”

you scoff before punching his arm, making him let out a hiss as he glares at you

“i don’t you idiot, now can you shut up and stay still for a second?”

of course he ends up giving in bc come on, he’d do anything just to make you happy and if that meant letting you put makeup on him at 12AM because you thought he’d look ‘pretty’ then so be it

bakugou doesn’t voice out any of this though 

instead, he keeps complaining and even tickles your sides from time to time just to get on your nerves

“bakugou,” he frowns when his last name falls from your lips, not liking how it sounded at all. “stop fucking moving or i’ll stap your eye.”

“tch, stop telling me what to do, dumbass.”

but he does stop

after all, he didn’t really want you to get mad at him

he entertains himself by tapping his fingers against your thighs to the beat of the music playing from your speaker 

his touch makes butterflies flutter in your stomach, but you ignore them and continue to draw on his eyelids 

you decide to keep it simple; just a very defined line that’s not too thick, but enough so that it’s visible 

“okay, i’m done”

after you put the eyeliner down and notice bakugou’s eyes were focused on you, you completely forget how to breathe

the black makes his vermilion eyes look even brighter and in contrast with his blonde hair...he simply looks beautiful 

he takes your silence as a bad sign and thinks you probably did fuck up, but when he looks at himself in his phone camera, the makeup looks fine to him so,

why the heck weren’t you saying anything?

“what is it? do you not like it?”

didn’t like it? couldn’t he see you were practically salivating bc of him?

“uh no, you look really good actually,” you look away before continuing, not trusting yourself to look at him while you said the next words. “you look pretty”

bakugou is a little surprised by the compliment, but he wastes no time before teasing you

he leans in, and once he’s close enough, he takes your chin so you’re looking directly at him

a smirk takes over his lips when your eyes avoid his

“what’s got you so shy?” he teases

“i’m not”

“then look at me” 

you didn’t want him to know how big of an effect he had on you, so you turn your head around and face him, even tho you’re flustered beyond belief

his eyes slowly look down at your lips and then back to your eyes, making you a little anxious as to what could happen, but bakugou decides to drags it out

just to have some fun of his own

he places one of his hands on the back of your neck, gently pulling you forward until your noses are almost touching 

the other one caresses your cheek softly, then his fingers slowly trace out your jaw, eyes still stuck on your own 

it’s infuriating really

the way his fingers carefully touch your lips, applying a bit more pressure on his thumb that’s touching your lower lip so he can open your mouth ever so slightly 

the way he acts as if he has all the time in the world, as if he could do this all day

and you know he can

but you don’t 

so you lean in to close the distance with a deep kiss

it’s messy and sloppy; his tongue clashing with your own as his hands roam all over your body to feel you

you end up sitting on his lap, lips still connected and hands all over each other

you pull away, chest heaving as rough breaths leave your mouth and smirk when you notice bakugou is looking at you 

his hair is messy thanks to your gripping and the eyeliner fits him so nicely

for a moment you almost can’t believe he’s your boyfriend 

“have i ever told you how handsome i think you are?” you ask him with a goofy smile on your face, fingers playing with the ends of his hair

“hm, once or twice but you can always remind me again” 

“let me just show you”

he quirks an eyebrow at your implication, licking his lips as his eyes darken

“oh? bold, aren’t we now?”

“learned from the best”

“fuck yeah you did”

to keep it short, you guys didn’t sleep a lot that night 🏃‍♀️🏃‍♀️

kaminari denki

he was DEFINITELY the one that came up with the idea

something just tells me he probably spends 90% of his time scrolling through tiktok 

and if he feels like it, maybe he’ll even posts some of his own

so it’s no surprise that he’s caught up with all the trends and challenges

and even dances (which surprisingly, he’s damn good at)

i’m guessing you guys already know what i’m trying to get at

he had seen way too many tiktoks of couples doing their partner’s eyeliner and he thought it was the coolest thing ever

not only was he curious to see how the makeup would look on him, but he also just wanted an excuse to spend more time with you

he had been thinking about it for a few weeks now, but couldn’t seem to find the perfect moment to ask you

until one night you guys were having a sleepover on your dorm and a video of said trend pops up on his ‘fyp’

you’re cuddling, your head against his chest as his fingers trace random pattern on your back, when he brings it up

“hey babe?”

you hum in response, eyes fluttering open to look up at kaminari

he smiles before pecking your lips, thinking about how beautiful you look all cuddled up next to him

“do you think you could do my eyeliner real quick?”

the question takes you by surprise,

tho you’re used to yout boyfriend being quite spontaneous and random at times, so you don’t really question it

instead, you nod and move out of the bed to get the makeup product, which sits on your vanity

“where should i sit?”

he asks you once you walk over to him, but you simply smile before taking a seat on his lap

you position your legs on either side of his hips so you’re in a straddling position and kaminari almost forgets all about the makeup because of this

but can you really blame him?

you just look so perfect like this

he has to physically stop himself from flipping you over and kissing you all he wants

and you giggle when you notice a pout forming on his face

“what’s wrong?”

“nothing”

“you sure?”

“yeah, just hurry up and do it so i can kiss you”

you laugh, “yes sir”

when you start, he can’t help but giggle at the feeling and you have to hold his face in place so he would stop moving

he gets used to it after a while 

almost even falls asleep from how soft your other hand felt on his cheek

since you know kaminari likes to be a little extra, you attempt to draw a lighting bolt right below one of the lines

it’s not the best, but it looks decent enough so you decide to leave it there

but when you finish, you feel like something is missing; like it could be better

then you have the fantastic idea to use eyeshadow

kaminari feels you getting up from his lap and he whines 

“where are you going?”

“hold on, i’m feeling inspired right now”

“okay?”

he doesn’t understand what you mean at all, but he lets you be

you take a random eyeshadow palette and make sure it has a nice black color on it

then you reposition yourself on his lap

“open your eyes and look up”

he does as he’s told and you proceed to put some more black on his lower lash line and waterline (not too much)

when kaminari doesn’t feel your touch on his face anymore, he looks down at you with a smile, which inevitably makes you smile too

“how do i look?”

you chuckle lowly, examining his eyes once more 

he always looks gorgeous, but the eyeliner just...makes him hit different

and the fact he’s wearing one of his chokers doesn’t make it any better

he looks straight out of alt tiktok

“you, my beautiful boyfriend, look very attractive”

he smirks at your teasing tone, “oh? is that so?”

“i’m afraid it is” 

he doesn’t even bother looking in the mirror because all he could think about was kissing you

and that’s what he does

he holds your face with both of his hands before pulling you in to kiss you

his lips feel hot and so does your whole body when he grips your hips

after a few more kisses, he pulls away and looks at you with excited eyes

“can i do yours now?”

you chuckle at his cuteness before nodding and letting him draw on your face

it’s not perfect, but hey! baby tried his best and that’s all that matters

besides he looks so proud of himself, telling you how cute you look and how lucky he is to call you his

“you look soooo pretty! i mean you always do, of course, but you look even prettier which i didn’t know was humanly possible yet here you are”

he ends up going on a rant about all the things he loves about you and you’re pretty sure you have hearts in your eyes by the time he ends

“i love you”

“i love you too, my pretty girl”

kirishima eijirou:

this man has absolutely tried on eyeliner at least once in his life

has it been good? probably not

but he likes it and thinks it looks very cool

sometimes you do yours and kirishima lives for it

he likes the way it compliments the shape of your eyes and how happy you get when you get the line right from the first try

whenever you’re getting ready and he’s with you, he doesn’t take his eyes off you

a smile spreading across his lips when he sees you bite down on your lower lip in concentration, your fingers skillfully tracing the marker on your eyelids 

and that’s when the idea pops in his head

he ponders on it for a while tho, not sure how to bring it up or if you’d be up to do it

it takes him a few days before he asks you and when he does, he looks all nervous 

you’re both hanging out in his dorm cuddling as you just finished watching a movie

a yawn leaves your lips and you stretch your arms, looking at the time on your phone screen

it reads 12:33 AM 

you hum, moving your head up to look at kirishima from your place on his lap

he looks down at you and offers you a sweet smile before placing a quick kiss on your lips

“i should get going,” he pouts at your words, his hold on your waist tightening so you couldn’t stand up and you giggle, turning around completely so you’re facing him

you wrap your hands around his neck to pull him closer, just until your lips touch

you teasingly smirk at him before kissing his cheek and he frowns

“what? don’t you like my kisses?” you pout at him 

kirishima scoffs at your stupid question and grabs your jaw gently, looking you in the eyes

“stop being a tease”

you roll your eyes, “you’re so impatient”

nevertheless you comply and connect your lips with his, your hands now slightly massaging his nape

he hums against your mouth, prompting you to keep going

before things can go any further tho, you pull away 

he huffs childishly, not liking the way you kept leaving him hanging

“i seriously should get going,” you press one last peck on his lips. “don’t wanna risk getting caught here” 

“then just stay the night”

“baby i already did yesterday”

“uhh your point?”

you chuckle, “good try babe”

you attempt to stand up but once again your boyfriend stops you from doing so

you open your mouth to ask him what’s up 

but he beats you to it

“actually, i wanted to ask you something” he’s looking away from you and that makes you a little nervous, not having a clue about what he wanted to talk about 

you nod, silently telling him to keep going

“could you...do my eyeliner?” a blush creeps onto his neck, his eyes still not meeting yours and you think he looks adorable. before you can answer him, he talks again. “but i mean only if you want to cause’ i know it’s kinda hard so it’s okay if you don’t but i think i’d be really cool and-”

“oh my god eijirou it’s okay!” he finally shuts up and looks at you with big eyes

“it is?”

“hm, i’m more than happy to do it,” he lets out a sigh after hearing your comforting words and you kiss his nose. “besides you’ll look super manly”

if kirishima was already head over heels for you, then now he just wanted to straight up marry you

you got up and started to look around in kirishima’s bathroom drawer since sometimes you left some of your stuff behind just in case

luckily, the eyeliner was there

after you took it, you sat in front of kirishima once again, your legs crossed and you moved closer to him

he kept still and let you get comfortable, looking down at your lips briefly when you got a bit too close

“close your eyes”

and so he did

like i mentioned before, you’re a bit experienced with this since you practice on yourself quite a lot

so it doesn’t take you too much time

the line you drew was a bit thicker than normal but not too much

and instead of doing a straight line, you did it a bit more upwards

“and done!” you say happily while retracting your hand from kirishima’s face

he opens his eyes and offers you a grin

the action is small and meaningless, but it somehow makes you nervous

the makeup really suits him and you can’t help but admire him for a while 

by admiring i mean shamelessly checking him out

of course he notices it

and he teases you about it

“does it look good?”

“yeah,” you answer while looking away, trying to hide how flustered you are. “really good”

he hums before placing his hands on your waist and sitting you down on his lap, making you look at him with a surprised expression on your face

one of his hands stays on your waist while the other travels up to hold your face

you let out a heavy breath at his actions, feeling your heart thumping against your chest

his fingers caress your cheek softly and you lean in to his touch, loving the way he was always so gentle with you

without any warning, kirishima smashes his lips against your own

your eyes widen for a moment, not expecting this at all, but you close them when you feel his tongue touching your lower lip

you open your mouth and let him take the lead, a whimper coming out of you when you feel his hand wrap around your neck, pressing slightly

he pulls away with a smirk, both of your chests heaving from the lack of air

“still wanna leave?”

you sigh while moving your head, yet a smile was evident on your face, “i guess i can stay”

“atta girl”

takami keigo (hawks):

another one who canonically wears eyeliner !!

unlike bakugou (who does his eyeliner to cover up the gap between his mask and eyes), keigo does his solemnly because he thinks it looks good on him

wait, let me rephrase that

he knows it looks good on him

it’s part of his morning routine, he does it every time before going to work

so sometimes while you’re both getting ready for the day, you see him doing it

you open the bathroom door sleepily, barely managing to keep your eyes open

you walk over to the sink next to keigo’s and splash water on your face to wake yourself up

beside you, keigo smiles at your antics

he thinks you look the cutest in the mornings, especially when you’re grumpy

feeling his eyes on your figure, you turn around to face him with a raised brow

“why are you looking at me like that?”

“like what?”

“like i have something on my face”

he laughs at your attitude and walks over to place a kiss on your cheek

his lips feel warm against your cheek and it makes you smile

“good morning to you too” his says teasingly

“morning birdy” your tone matches his and he rolls his eyes playfully before pulling away from you to finish doing his eye makeup

you brush your teeth quickly while thinking about what you were gonna have for breakfast, and whether keigo had time to eat with you or not

once you finish, you place your toothbrush on its place and look over to your right

only to be met with the number two hero doing his eyeliner

in one hand he holds a feather of his against his eyelid, as if to help him do a straight line, and with the other he holds the actual makeup product

he has a concentrated look on his face, his brows slightly furrowed

and you look at him with nothing but adoration in your eyes

he looks so effortlessly beautiful

his golden locks are messy, yet perfectly in place and his wings rest by his side

he has his hero costume on, except for his coat

meaning his muscular arms are in full display for you to see

you don’t realize you’re staring until keigo finally finishes the second eye, and puts down the eyeliner

he smirks at you through the mirror and you look away, embarrassment clear on your face 

“come on, i made us breakfast”

instead of teasing you, like you thought he would, he simply grabs your hand and leads you to the dining table

your heart swells for the man and you look at the two plates in awe, “you did this?”

“is it so hard to believe?”

you roll your eyes before turning around and kissing him, a soft “thank you” leaving your lips as you pull away

that morning you can’t help but keep stealing glances at your boyfriend’s flawless eyeliner

and later that night, when you’re both cuddled up in each other’s arms  watching a movie, you get the sudden brilliant idea

“hey babe, can i do your eyeliner?”

keigo doesn’t even question you, he just nods before pressing a kiss to your neck and you giggle happily

you stand up to get the eyeliner from your shared bathroom and once you return, you take a seat right in front of him

“do you even know what you’re doing?” 

“shut up, i do my makeup too, you know?”

keigo laughs, “i’m just teasing baby”

“you’re mean”

he leans in towards you, pulling you closer by your hips until his lips hover over yours

unconsciously, your eyes look down at his lips, wondering whether he was gonna kiss you or not

but being the little shit he is, keigo doesn’t 

“you should hurry up,” his lips are still inches away from yours, but he doesn’t plan on closing the gap any time soon. “i wanna finish the movie”

this fucker

you clear your throat and move away from him, enough so that you can actually do the makeup, but his hands stay on your hips

you try your best to do it the exact same way he does it

a sharp, straight line that covers part of his outer v and also a small portion of his inner corner

giving his eyes a cat like shaped form

to add your own touch, you draw two small hearts on both sides of his cheekbones 

“m’kay, you can open your eyes now”

and when he does, your breath literally hitches in your throat

of course it’s not the first time you’ve seen him wearing eyeliner

but your faces are still close and his amber eyes are stuck on yours and you just feel like you’re about to explode

your reaction doesn’t go unnoticed by keigo and he smirks 

“i take it you like how it looks?” his tone is flirty and it makes you snap from your trance

you smile at him, softly tracing the two hearts with your fingers, “hm, you look lovely”

“oh really?”

“yeah”

“not as lovely as you, i bet”

and before you can even disagree with him, he presses his lips against yours

you let out a soft moan when he moves you so you’re sitting on his lap and his tongue explores your mouth ever so passionately

keigo takes his sweet time kissing you, taking in every little sound you make and the way your hips slowly move against his thigh

when you pull away, your lips are swollen and you have some spit coating them

which is enough to make keigo go crazy, but before actually doing something, he takes the eyeliner on his hand

you furrow your eyebrows at his action

“what are you doing?”

“well it’s my turn now”

“why do you oh so suddenly want to do my eyeliner?”

he smiles, leaning down to whisper in your ear, “because i wanna see how it’ll look when i make you cry it off”

your eyes widen at his words, but you make no attempt to stop him

keigo kept his promise and he indeed made you cry all of your eyeliner off 😁👍🏼

[julesclues]

Helloo how are you? I was wondering if you could do a jj smut in which him & reader are having rOuGh seggs but it's from jj’s pov. It’s ok if you’re not comfortable with it<3

You’re Mine

Warnings: smut, rough sex, oral (f receiving), choking, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it please), jealous! jj, 18+ themes

Word count: 1.93k

Pairing(s): JJ Maybank x reader

A/n: this is my first time writing smut, so I hope it’s good!

Summary: JJ and y/n are dating but when she starts talking to some random touron at a party, JJ gets jealous and reminds her who she really belongs to. (JJ’s perspective)

I watched as John B twirled Sarah to the beat of the music. Kiara and Pope were at the bar drinking God knows what. It sure made them get drunk quick though. As for y/n, I watched her intensely as she danced alone, in the middle of everyone. A goddess was an understatement. I downed my beer and made my way to her. I felt myself getting hard by just watching her. The way she swayed her hips with not a care in the world made me wonder how I managed to find a woman like her. Why she would even think about being with someone like me.

As I made my way to her, I saw a man approach her. He had blue eyes, a bit darker than mine, and a bit of a stubble lingering on his face. He was obviously drunk, but y/n being the oblivious beauty she is, thought he was just being friendly. I felt my fist tighten as my knuckles turned white with jealously. He wasn’t touching her or doing anything to her, but his intentions were obvious. At least to me they were. I got closer to listen to their conversation, but made sure not to involve myself just yet.

“Ya from around here?” His hard accent asked her. I rolled my eyes at his cliche attempt to get into her pants. “Yeah,” y/n chuckled. “Born and raised.” Her answers were short and sweet, I knew she was just trying to be friendly. I trusted her to not cheat on me, of course. But I didn’t trust him to not make a move. “So, you single?” He asks, getting closer to her. I felt my blood boiling. “No,” you say awkwardly. “I- uh. I have a boyfriend.” He hums in understanding but still moves closer to her. “What he doesn’t know won’t kill him, right?” He puts his hand on her shoulder, and that’s why I finally interfere. “Y/n, baby,” I say, spinning her around to look at me. Her eyes lit up as she looked at me. God, she was beautiful.

“This the boyfriend?” The guy asks, and she turn to him. “Yeah,” she answers nonchalantly. “Come on, we’re getting out of here,” I say roughly. Before leaving though, I make sure the guy knows that she’s mine. “Don’t talk to her again, got it?” I hiss. He rolls his eyes and walks away without a word. I pull y/n all the way to her house and slam the door shut. She jumps a bit, knowing I was angry. “I hate that guy,” I admit, pacing back and forth. All she does is chuckle, making me stop and look up at her. “It’s fine JJ,” she says, trying to reassure me. But for some reason, that made me more mad. “You saying you liked how he was trying to get in your pants?” I ask, getting close to her. She blinks a couple times, her eyes flickering to my lips and back up to my eyes.

“N-no,” she stutters, squeezing her thighs together. I smirk, eyes roaming her beautiful body. She had on tight leather pants that I loved so much, with a deep v-neck shirt that was once mine. “I don’t believe you,” I whisper, as I start to kiss her neck. She moans ever so slightly into my ear, which sounded like pure bliss to me. I attack the other side of her neck now, pushing her slightly to trap her body against mine and the wall. “JJ,” she moans, but I silence her by kissing her harshly. She runs her fingers through my hair, tugging at it a bit. She drives me crazy.

I grab her hands and pin them to the wall, making her grunt with pleasure. “No touching princess. I don’t think you deserve it after what you did today.” She whines in disappointment which just fuels my need for her. I go back to kissing her neck just to hear those little whimpers I always longed for. “Up,” I command, and she obeys, jumping while wrapping her legs around my waist. I grab her ass, squeezing and carrying her to the bedroom. I throw her on the bed and she props herself up with her forearms, eyes scanning my body and I rip of my shirt. “You’re gonna be a good girl, right?” I ask, crawling on top of her and pinning her arms down. “Yes JJ! Anything for you,” she moans, as I grab her shirt and rip it off her body. I look down and realize she had no bra on. “I thought you were a good girl?” I question, as her face turns a bit red. I don’t give her time to respond though, as I bring my mouth to her breast. “JJ!” She moans in pure delight. As my mouth attacks her right nipple, my hand massages the left one.

She arches her back in pleasure, making her clothed core rub against mine, making me moan against her chest. The vibrations make her groan, causing me to smirk. Halting my actions, she whimpers as her nipples harden. I kiss down her stomach, leading to her core. I start to unbutton her pants and she lifts her hips so I had no resistance in taking them off. Her panties slip down with her pants, and I stare at her glistening pussy. I threw her pants somewhere across the room, not really caring at this point. I was painfully hard already, but had to make sure she knew who she truly belonged to. “God, you’re so fucking hot,” I admit and she giggles. “But you’ve been bad y/n. Talking to that excuse of a man. Not realizing he was flirting with you. I’ll show you who you belong to. I’ll make sure everyone knows who you belong to.” I lick my lips in anticipation and dive down to taste her.

I start to lick her folds, making her moan and shiver. “Oh, JJ!” I’ll never get tired of hearing her moan my name. My tongue swirls around her clit as she throws her hands in my hair and pulls a bit. As good as it feels, I throw her hands off my head and pin it above hers. “No touching,” I whisper and go back to tasting her. Using my free hand, I insert two fingers into her, but give her no time to adjust. “Fuck!” She moans loudly, arching her back. I thrust my fingers into her at a fast pace, while my tongue leaves wet circles against her clit. “Oh g-god! Pl-please don’t stop!” She moans and stutters. I felt her getting closer and closer with each thrust. Her legs start to shake and I feel her hands turn into fists. But before she could cum, I stopped completely and looked up at her. I removed my fingers and brought them to her mouth. “Suck,” I command, but she keeps her mouth closed.

I pull on her hair, making her gasp, and insert my fingers into her mouth, making her taste herself. “You said you were going to be a good girl,” I say in disappointment and lust. She twirls her tongue around my fingers as I keep talking. “But so far, you haven’t been. If you want to cum princess, then you better listen to me, got it?” All she did was nod in response, moaning just a little bit. I remove my fingers from my mouth and take off the bottom half of my clothing. Her breathing became more erratic as she stared down at my cock. I smirked, feeling confident. She grabs my cock in impulse, making me moan and throw my head back. “Shit,” I groan, but throw her hands off. “No touching,” I grunt. She whines and I get back on top of her.

I align my dick with her entrance, rubbing up and down her folds. “Stop teasing baby, p-please,” she begs. “What do you want princess?” I ask her, and she grinds against my cock. “Princess,” I warn, and she bites her lip. “I want you JJ.” I smirk and shake my head. “You want me to what, y/n?” She groans in frustration, just wanting me already. It was fun to watch her long for me. “I want you to fuck me JJ! Please, fuck me until I can’t walk.” My cock twitches at her words. “As you wish princess.” I roughly slam into her, not giving her time to adjust as I start to thrust in and out of her. She gasps loudly, grabbing onto my shoulders and clawing her nails down my back because of the pleasure. “Oh! JJ! Yes!” She repeats my name like a mantra, causing me to go faster and harder.

I put my hand on her throat, and she moans. “F-fuck yes! Choke me harder.” I moan at her words, pushing down on her neck harder. I make sure not to hurt her, but it was obviously she liked it a lot. I felt her pussy clench against my dick, which made me throw my head back. Each vein caressed her walls like we were made for each other. I felt her getting close, since I didn’t let her cum before. “Shit! I-I’m gonna cum!” She groans, but I squeeze her throat slightly. “Not yet princess. I tell you when to cum, got it?” She whines, not being able to respond. I loved watching her try hard not to cum for me. How badly she tried to obey me. “Be the good little girl you say you are,” I moan. She squeezes her eyes shut and opens her mouth. Her breathing became more erratic, making me only fuck her harder.

My thrusts started to become more sloppy as I felt myself wanting to explode in her. “Y/n! Fucking shit! You feel so good around me baby. Never going to talk to another guy again.” She moans loudly at my words, desperate to cum. I feel my orgasm approaching, as I stare down at her beauty. Her breast bounce with each thrust. This was definitely a moment I’ll think about while self-pleasuring.

“Such a good girl! F-fuck. Cum for me y/n. Do it baby. Cum around my cock!” Instantly, she moans load and claws against my back. I feel her milk my cock as her orgasm runs through her aggressively. My thrusts don’t stop though, as I help her ride through her orgasm. Though she had cum, I wasn’t giving up just yet. I started going faster, as the headboard of her bed shook violently. “JJ!” She screams, clenching her thighs together. I push them open though and hold them there. I don’t think she even knew she was that flexible. “Ah! O-oh fuck! I’m gonna cum again!” She screams, gripping the bed sheets with immense pleasure. “Cum with me y/n! Tell everyone w-who you belong to!”

I cum in her as she cums too, screaming my name. I thrust a couple more times, helping her ride out her high. After I hear her moans quiet down, I roll off of her and lay next to her. The room was silent, apart from her erratic breathing and my panting. “If I had known me talking to a guy would lead to this, I would’ve done it more often,” she jokes, making me look at her instead of the ceiling. I chuckle as she bites her lip. “JJ that was..” her voice fades, as she looks down and smirks. “That was fucking amazing.” I smile and climb back on top of her.

“I’m just getting started princess.”

[tth-pdf]

Burning for love; JJK [03]

Contents: Smut, little bit of dirty talk, supernatural themes, romance, fluff, unedited.

Pairing: Werewolf!alpha!jungkook x omega!reader

Summary: A handsome man is hunting you in the dreams world, making every day more difficult to repress the need to come find him in the middle of the night to submit yourself to his every wish.

Requests: ON

A/N: Hello angels, sorry for the LONG wait, was so busy with school and depressing myself, but here it is, I tried to do my best and please also remember that English is not my first language be kind (😩), sorry for any grammar mistake, enjoy it and take care besties! 💖

Jungkook was insatiable, he just couldn’t seem to get enough of you, he has already fuck you senseless on the kitchen counter, the sofa, the living room floor, the restroom sink, simply everywhere, but he seem to want more and more and more, he wanted so much that you could hardly believe it.

Right now you were waking up, feeling incredibly good, feeling like everything was fine, but those emotions were gone as soon as common sense started to come back to you. Yesterday, Jungkook’s hands everywhere, that incredible first orgasm, but the one who made it happen… His scent, his bright eyes, strong arms making you feel like you can do it all, but above all the interest he had in you, what makes you feel on cloud nine it’s the way he seemed to be mesmerized by your expressions and sounds, knowing right where to touch without a doubt. Almost every space in your skin was painted by the ferocity with which he seems to love you, that marks on your skin being the carnal representation of your wonderful night but insecurities started to rise right at this moment, your mother will be mad, she will yell at you that in the pack were more suitable omegas for alpha Jungkook, the nasty glances and the possibility that some of the females in the pack may try to take what is yours, damn, the mere thought of it makes your eyes turn bright red provoked by the sudden rage coursing through your body. Immediately sensing the unpleasant feelings in you Jungkook comes out of the bathroom, wet hair and drops of water running down his body, making your mouth water, so just like magic your body and inner wolf instruct you to crawl to the end of the bed and touch him, to offer yourself to him, second thoughts completely forgotten by now so you follow your instincts and touch and admire from his hard abdomen to caressing his broad shoulders and just show him that look in your eyes, the one he knows like the back of his hand consequence of all the hours spent admiring and getting to know your body.

“Little girl woke up hungry?”

A hand of his goes to your waist and the other caress your cheek and just like fire can light up the darkest place your senses explode inside of you and once again everything feels a hundred times more, all the textures around you, you can hear the sounds of children and women playing in the distance, even the steps of the smallest animal but his deep chuckle brings you to him again and you feel like melting. Even kneeling at the edge of the bed he is much taller than you, (like a shelter for the most difficult moments in life), warm and golden skin beneath your fingertips and the delicious beating of his heart calming all your nerves and insecurities.

You look right back at him with the same intensity, different shades of golden dancing in your eyes while his are different shades of deep purple, the connection between both of you more palpable than never, trying not to break the eye contact you turn your face to his nearest scent gland, which means is his wrist, basking yourself in his delicious aroma.

“I see what you are at puppy, but I’m afraid that I can only deal with you once before I leave”

His last words hit you hard making you feel like drowning and desperate from one moment to another.

“Are you leaving?, I thought that this days… Were for us”

He can see your teary eyes making him wish he had never said that, breaking his heart a little.

“Don’t be like that baby, I will make sure to end that meeting as soon as I can to come back to your arms but you will have to be a good girl and wait here”

You know he is in a hurry but you can not help but want submit to his wonderful hands and simply seduce him to have him eating out of the palm of your hand, have him only for yourself and memorize all his features.

“You promised it, you said you were going to make me a priority always, you lied to me”

You weren’t usually like this, but when he is around your common sense flies out of the window, so while you're throwing a tantrum and moving uncontrollably under his body he grows impatient and his alpha instincts kick in, putting with undeniably force both your wrists above your head and growls, the signal he’s giving you to submit, the air in the bedroom changing its way.

“Pretty girls know how to wait and to obey their alphas, I already told you I was sorry puppy and remember that I don’t fucking owe apologies to anyone, if I knew this wasn’t important I would have told them to fuck up, you should know your place baby, but good news for you, I’m feeling like even though you have been a little bit of a bad girl you deserve to remember me all over this pretty skin while I’m gone, isn’t that what my puppy wanted, huh?”

He manhandles you until you’re comfortably seated en his strong tights, holding his gaze you can see all the things he wants you to know, all that shit that cannot be said, all the things that are not expressed in a good way by putting them into words, so instead you will use your bond and body.

“Sit on my dick slow baby, make it hurt so you have something to remember, get yourself full of my pups”

And you do as you are told, you slip right where you belong to, starting to bounce yourself slow and hard but even though it feels like heaven you feel like you’re going to die because he doesn’t touch you, he is just watching.

“Touch me please or I’m going to hit you hard”

He laughs but you know he's holding back the urge to order you around.

“I love when my little girl turns all bossy”

You wiggle your hips not exactly knowing where to look but what makes you let out a loud moan of his name is the way he thrusts his incredible hips harder than you had planned, tip of his touching the spongy spot that makes you meet god in person.

“If I’m not gonna have you for a while at least show me that fierce side of you one more time baby, gods above, look at you, bouncing tits and pretty face with an even prettier voice filling my ears of pretty sounds, fuck puppy, turn around and see yourself on the mirror”

You tell him to wait a second because you want to remember him like this, beneath your body and that playful smirk but when you do turn a little your face to see the image that bites back at you is incredible, you even smile don’t exactly recognizing you but looking damn hot on top of your man. You can’t with the feelings so the first thing that comes to your mind is to grab a hold of some of his beautiful locks of hair and tug hard, enough for him to gain some more lustful rage and suddenly slam you in the mirror that both of you were looking a moment ago with such excitement, what brings you back to reality of the pleasure that does nothing but increase is the manly hand grabbing at your jaw, making it open slightly, enough for him to spit on it. And you fucking love it.

“That’s a good mate baby, swallow it all and show me”

All this time he hasn’t stopped that sinful hips of his so at this time it’s starting to hurt and you begin to loose all your grips but you now that he will catch you anyways.

All you are feeling is incredible, you fell full, satisfied. Your throat feels hoarse but it doesn’t matter as you held gazes once again, but it’s the whole moment, your own bubble. Watching his pretty eyes you realize that you have won in live, entirely.

“You don’t have a fucking idea of how bad I want to mount you everywhere until I know you are really pregnant, hell baby I love you so fucking much”

He is right in front of your face, both of your moths open but your not kissing, now he’s the one grabbing your hair into a fist but he can do whatever he wants with you right now and all you will say is thank you.

You’re both touching the finish lines and it’s then that you wonder if this is how it will always be, hot, sweaty and just incredible.

He kiss you right at the final, where both of you have reached the peak, smiling at each other like fools but entirely living the dream.

[...]

You know that Jungkook told you to not leave the room until he was back but you were really hungry and needing some fresh air, so knowing that maybe everyone was serving him in that meeting you dared to head for the nearest kitchen to just grab something and come back. You are happy when no one approach you on the way, focusing on the task to make you a quick drink and cut up some fruit.

You feel happy and complete, at ease with the environment despite missing your alpha a bit, but your clothes and body still smell like him so that’s something for now. That’s the same reason why you don’t hear the pretty and stealthy she-wolf approaching the kitchen, watching you closely.

“It stinks in here, you must have had a very good night young lady”

You jump a little because you are not supposed to see anybody in the sensitive state in which you now find yourself.

“Sorry, I wasn’t supposed to be here”

You murmured your words shyly so low that if it were not for the incredible senses of the lycanthrope body, the girl would have miss it.

She chuckles lightly and by her smell you know that she is a rare breed of a female alpha, but right now every smell its simply too much, almost unpleasant.

“No worries baby, no one else is here but me”

She is a little intimidating to be honest and It’s evident that she knows clearly what to do to get what she wants.

“I should… Probably go”

You try to rush towards the exit in order to feel protected inside the four walls where everything smells like Jungkook but just as you are about to walk through the door the pretty girl grabs you a little hard enough to make you let out a whimper. And it’s that exact moment that lets you know that something is awfully wrong, that you should have never left the room.

“Where are you going?, let me talk to you for a moment, I never had the pleasure of knowing you formally”

You know that she can her your heart beating uncontrollably and smell the fear mixed with nerves.

“Don’t be scared pretty thing just wanted to chat with you”

There’s something strange in her, something that you can’t quite put your finger on.

“This shouldn’t be happening, I’m sorry but I really should get back to-”

While interrupting you she is also forcing you to sit on the small benches that are situated in the kitchen only to bring you to a full state of discomfort and nervousness.

“Is Jungkook really into you honey?”

The sudden questions makes you blink twice and hold a breath, this seems like a pointless conversation, she didn’t even try to do some more small talk .

“Pardon…?”

“Oh my, was I too direct?”

You still don’t see the clarity of the conversation because to your eyes she looks like a lunatic, asking questions about of nowhere.

“Honey, it’s just… Have you never heard what is whispered around the pack, about him and the pretty girl of the Kim pack or even worse… The boy with the deadly beauty from the Park family”

You do have heard the rumors, they were too strong when you were younger and more naive.

“I’m afraid that… I can’t help you with anything, I should really go…”

She puts his body in front of yours so that both of her arms are locked on the wall behind you, blocking any way out.

“Damn, just listen to me for a fucking second, I thought that you knew what was best for you”

You sit still because her harsh words came out more like an alpha command and you just couldn’t fight your true nature.

“Good girl”

You would never imagined that such a mundane phrase would disgust you so much.

“I know you don’t like me wolfie but I have been very well aware of the second thoughts that run at full speed in your little head about the bond that you share with that man”

if you had one wish, you would ask to disappear from this awful situation, if only you had listened to your alpha��

“I don’t understand what you want from me, please just let me go, I’m not going to tell Jungkook”

The female alpha just laughs a little, like you have said to her the funniest thing ever.

“He and I are at the same rank honey and of course you will not tell him anything, I have something that might interest you.”

Your posture is defensive but when she says that she backs a little and you take the opportunity to relax only little bit, a new look of curiosity in your angelic and innocent features.

“I don’t want to upset you honey but look at yourself for a second and tell me if you see yourself as the perfect representation of a good mate for someone like him”

She can easily see the insecurity cross your features because if anything has been bothering you since you found out about the bond it is that.

“I have the perfect solution to all of your concerns baby, there’s someone far more suited to take your place. Look at your neck, he hasn’t even marked you, but really, don’t worry and don’t overthink it, he will be in good hands. I know someone who can make the arrangements, all safe and of course you will be having a far more suited alpha”

It’s really stupid, but you actually think about it, as if all the previous moments with him didn't matter. At the end of the day all you're looking for is his well-being and happiness, isn't it?

People are going to talk, that's for sure, but you could assure him better commentaries and a better future, even if it's not by your side, but what will happen with the few moments that both of you have shared?

“In case you were wondering… No, you will not remember, everything will be gone as soon as the bond is broken. Just think about it for a second, remember all your insecurities and the bad feelings while being his mate, that must be annoying, let yourself be happy, both of you”

You are deep in your thoughts so you miss the way her canines grow in size and that dangerous gleam in her eyes.

“I… I’ll do it”

Call yourself a fool, but that tempting offer was enough for you to maybe, just maybe get yourself a better life, but above all a better life and opportunities for him… Or at least that was what your insecure brain thought.

Tag list: @min-nicoleee, @in-a-way-that-i-should-not, @imluckybitches, @teresaisla, @anachikartadze, @jeonwiixard, @seagulljjk

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[wandsolsen]

Champagne Problems

Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Summary: In which Wanda rejected your marriage proposal, inspired by Taylor Swift's song Champagne Problems.

Warnings: pure angst, cursing.

Word Count: 1.8k

↳ Please, be aware that English isn't my first language, fell free to tell me if there are any mistakes.

You booked the midnight train for a reason, you wanted to contemplate your pain with your head against the train window.

The reason for your suffering had a name, Wanda Maximoff.

You sat down in one of the seats, feeling the hurt in your chest burning hard just for thinking about her. The train wasn't too much crowned, however, it wasn't all empty. There were people talking and people sleeping, you were not sure which was worse.

People looked at you, certainly worried about how miserable you were.

You finally rested your head on the train window, looking at the view from the outside. Unintentionally, you remembered Wanda's hand holding yours as the two of you danced on the dance floor.

Wanda smiled at you, and she looked happy. But she wasn't, at least, not complete. Not happy enough to say yes.

However, nobody could ever have thought that she would say no.

You felt the tears coming out, your mouth trembled as you remembered. Your heart was made of glass and she let it drop it.

You had prepared a speech, but when you got down on your knees, you didn't find the expression of emotion and excitement that you had imagined she would had. Instead, you saw Wanda's body tense and fear in her green eyes.

You were speechless.

She didn't even let you ask, she ran away, leaving you there, on your knees and crestfallen on the dance floor.

You were so broken that you hadn't the strength to reach out to her, Wanda's love escaped beyond your reaches.

You saw the pity look that your family and friends gave to you. You had told them that you were going to propose Wanda that night, you couldn't keep it a secret.

You had bought Dom Pérignon and one of your family members had already popped the bottle in an early celebration, it was humiliating.

"Maybe it's just one of her...What does she call? Oh, yeah," Steve remembered before anyone could answer him. "her champagne problems." Steve was trying to calm you down, but he wasn't succeeding.

Fuck Wanda, you thought, your veins filled with angry. Fuck her and her champagne problems.

But even with all the fury you were feeling, Wanda's picture was still in your wallet along with your mom's ring.

You didn't hate her for leaving, you could never hate her.

You remembered the first time you made Wanda blush, it was in November.

You both met in college, and you thought you were the luckiest person in the world for having Wanda as your roommate. She was organized, friendly and didn't ask too many questions, everything a person could want from a roommate.

"Someone said to me that this door was once a madhouse." You said to her, wanting to make small talk.

"Well, it's made for me." Wanda made a joke, and you chuckled.

"A beautiful and intelligent woman like you in a madhouse? I find it hard to believe."

"Beautiful people do have problems too." Wanda's face was getting flush.

"I know, I know." You said. "I just wanted to praise you because, well, you're definitely one of the most beautiful girls on the campus."

And there it was, Wanda's face all red and her shy smile on her lips. You felt your heart beating faster than usual at that moment.

"So do you?" You continued.

"Do what?"

"Have problems."

"Just champagne problems." She answered.

"Champagne problems?" You asked, with your furrowed eyebrows.

"Yes, nothing meaningful or worth mention," She explained. "when compared to the others issues around the world."

"Well, champagne or not, they're still problems."

She thought about your words for a moment, but didn't say anything. Wanda continued to devalue her own problems, claiming that her issues were insignificant and there were worse things in the world.

Wanda was very reserved in the beginning, it was usually you who started the conversations. It didn't take long for you to fall in love with her.

I mean, how could you not? She was gorgeous and caring. Wanda was kinder than the most people you had ever met. She was a dream girl, with her hair loose and long, her sweet smile and her funny laugh. The way she was always up to help someone in need, and how she tried to empathize with everyone.

Wanda was absolutely flawless.

You only asked her out on a date when you were sure she wouldn't reject you.

Now, seeing from afar, you could see how stupid you were. You should have waited, just kneeling after knowing for sure that she would say yes.

But that's the problem.

You had sure that Wanda would say yes with tears dropping from her eyes. Then, your song would have played, you would have kissed her and held her hand tight while dancing. Your friends would have cheered with joy, and Wanda would have hugged you with a radiant smile on her face.

You let out a breath of pain. You now lived with only wishes. Because she dropped your hand while dancing, instead of holding tight.

Just champagne problems, she would say, about this dramatic situation.

You had a black Chevy that Wanda loved, she enjoyed riding in your car, even if you never go anywhere special. And when the car stopped running and you decided that was time to buy a better one, Wanda didn't let you. Often you saw her on the passenger seat murmuring whatever song was playing on the radio.

Nevertheless, the Chevy wasn't going anywhere. Just like your relationship.

Feeling tired of sitting there in this hurt, you left the train and went to the nearest hotel that you could find, you didn't want to come back home anytime soon.

You lived in a small town, your failed marriage proposal was probably spreading in the mouth of people like a disease.

Your turn on your phone, there were many messages and missed calls from your friends, but no one of them matters to you. Except one.

There was one voicemail from Wanda. Just that. She didn't send you a dozen messages like your friends, just a voicemail.

You set down on the bed, before listening to her voice for the last time.

Hey, Y/N, it's me, Wanda. I think I owed you an apology for leaving you out there standing. I-I can't do this, I'm sorry.

Wanda's voice was trembling, it sounded like she was crying. Why was she crying? She left you, not the other way around.

You didn't know it was possible for your heart to break more, but it did. The sound of her painful voice would haunt you forever.

I really can't give you a reason, I guess I never was ready for commitment. Sometimes you just don't know the answer until someone gets on their knees and asks you, you know?

There was a long pause, so long that you thought the message was over. However, Wanda's voice filled the room again:

You deserve someone better than me, you always had. Someone who is not fucked up in the head like me, someone who will never hurt you like I did. You'll find a real thing out there, she will pick up the pieces of your broken heart and she will patch up your tapestry that I shredded. She will be so perfect that you will not remeber me, or all my champagne problems.

Your vision was blurred because of the tears that fall uncontrollably from your face.

Ours... your friends called, they all are worried about you, please contact them.

There was another long pause.

I lov...

Your heart started to race at the words she was about to say, but Wanda gave up halfway, as if realizing that the words were not true.

Goodbye, Y/N.

And that was it.

Four years of relationship saying goodbye in a voicemail of less than five minutes.

Your throat burned from holding on to crying for so long, you wanted to scream until your vocal cords burst.

You loved her more than anything, and she left as if it were nothing. As if your love meant nothing.

You took the picture of Wanda that was still on your wallet, and tore it into several pieces before throwing it in the trash.

Eventually, the sleep caught you while you were crying in the hotel bed, similar to a friendly hug in the midst of so much pain.

━━━━━━ ᗢ ━━━━━━

You heard that Wanda left town, without looking back, on the same day that she rejected your proposal.

Wanda's sweet perfume was still impregnate, along with your memories with her, in every room of the house that the two of you used to live. You didn't manage to stay there, it didn't take long for you to sell the house and buy an apartment in the city center.

You sold your black Chevy, there was no one around to stop you.

You also sold Wanda's things that she left behind, you didn't want anything to remind you of her. Because after the end of the day, you were still mad at Wanda. For leaving, for didn't give you a good reason, for making your waste four years of your life.

"She would've made such a lovely bride, what a shame she's fucked in the head." That was probably the last thing that someone spoke about Wanda, before another big gossip emerge in your town and they eventually forgot the humiliation that she put you through.

At first, you stayed in your new apartment with your heart broken, just watching futile reality shows and eating junk food. Steve, your best friend, was there all the time giving you emotional support, even though he didn't always know how to say the right thing.

But eventually you had to face reality, after all, you suffering or not, life still went on.

It took two years before you were ready to fall in love again. And two years since you had heard from Wanda, you didn't know about her even on social media, since she had deleted them all.

It was as if Wanda had simply disappeared, little by little, she became a myth in your life, a ghost that haunted you from time to time. Not even your friends and family mentioned her name.

Sometimes you wondered if she really existed, if you haven't invented her in your head.

It was in a bar outside the town, that you met Natasha Romanoff. She was self-confident and carried a death look in her eyes, rigid on the outside, but soft on the inside. She had short red hair and was not very fond of wearing jewellery.

Totally different from Wanda.

Natasha was fun to be around, it was easy to understand her because she was always honest with you.

You started to date her on the very first day of summer. Then, after spending all the four seasons together, you started to carry your mom's ring in your pocket and Natasha's picture in your wallet.

And when you got on your knees, she didn't leave you crestfallen on the dance floor. She said yes, and held your hand tight while dancing.

However, in the end, Wanda was wrong.

You still remeber all her champagne problems.

[titan-fodder]

Prima Vista Part IV

[ previous ]

Rating: E (explicit; mdni) Pairing: Mike Zacharias x fem!reader wc: ~ 9.6k

Warning: a big helping of abandonment/daddy issues, lots of feelings, explicit sexual content A/N: y’all are gonna be so soft and then so mad lmao. 

The plan was to go to Mike's house then back to campus. You said you didn't have anything to do at your mom's, that a long phone call would suffice, which is why Mike is confused when you ask him if you can stop by before going back. It's an hour out of the way, but it's not like he has anything better to do, and he'd be lying if he said he wasn't curious about your humble beginnings. 

 The house is in a decent-looking neighborhood, small, nearly identical one-story homes surrounded by cracked sidewalks. He has to be careful not to trip as you make your way to the front porch, pots of dead or dying plants along the edges of it. You shove your key into the lock, twist and open, then motion for Mike to follow. 

 The den is dimly lit, ceiling fan above with only one working bulb. A crime show is playing on the TV but there's no one watching. There is, however, another light pouring from a back room, and as soon as you drop your bag on the couch, a head pokes out from the doorway. 

 "Baby girl!" A shrill voice cries, and Mike sees you grimace. "I thought you weren't coming by!" 

 A woman walks into the den wearing long, cotton shorts and an old tie-dye shirt then pulls you into a hug so tight that it makes you cough. 

 "Mom," you take a deep breath as if to refill your lungs with all the air that was pushed from them. "This is Mike."

 He holds out a hand and smiles, but all your mother does is stare with round eyes and blurt, "Oh, he's a big boy." 

 "My fucking god." You don't yell or whine, just pinch the bridge of your nose and mumble, "Just shake his hand please." 

 "Sorry, I'm sorry, just was not expecting… You didn't tell me how tall he was."

 "'Cause it doesn't matter. Why would I—nevermind," you cut yourself off, face falling flat just like your voice. 

 Mike isn't sure if he should be flattered or offended or embarrassed, so he just ignores the comment entirely and says, "Nice to meet you." 

 You make your escape to the back, dragging Mike with you before shutting your bedroom door and leaning against it. 

 "Mom is a little weird, but you'll always know where you stand with her," you tell him. "Also, sorry about the house. She’s a teacher, so she’s usually pretty beat at the end of the day. Not enough energy to do a lotta cleaning."

 "Didn't even notice," he reassures you. 

 Mike unpacks his bag next to you, and you gather the dirty clothes from both yours and his, balling them up and taking them with you out to the garage to throw into the washing machine. Mike should have done it at his parents', but as you were packing up that morning, his mother got all teary eyed and his dad just kept shaking your tiny hands and telling you to come back, so it just didn’t happen. 

 Back in the living room, your mom is sitting in an old rocking chair, and Mike thinks you'll take a seat on the adjacent couch, but instead you ask, "You need help with anything? Dishes or vacuuming or somethin'?"

 She looks up at you, fly-away hairs sticking out around her temples and forehead and responds, "It'd be nice if you could do the dishes. I just haven't gotten around to it."

 "Can do," you nod and walk into the kitchen, opening the dishwasher and making a displeased noise at the dirty plates and bowls inside. There's room for a few more, but once it's full and running, you just clean what's left in the sink by hand. Mike finds a towel, stands next to you, and holds his hand out for every scrubbed dish, drying it and placing it in the rack to hopefully be put up later. 

 "You hungry?" You ask when you're done and drying your hands. "It's almost one."

 "Uh, yeah. I could eat." 

 Truthfully, he's starving having only had a small breakfast at his parents'. He doesn't want to say that, though, doesn't want you making a big meal for him or apologizing for anything. 

 "Sandwiches okay?" 

 Something in your tone has him on edge. Your voice is too quiet, deflecting downward as if you're forcing each word from your mouth. 

 "Yeah," he nods. "If you get the stuff, I can make 'em." Mostly so that you can relax but also because there's no way he's gonna let you make him a fucking sandwich. 

 You shrug your shoulders, grab bread, lunchmeat, cheese, and condiments, then say, "You can make ours. I'll make mom's."

 He knows he's missing something, but he doesn't know what, and right now he's too afraid to ask. 

 He eats next to you on the couch, you and your mom watching TV as Mike tries to subtly glance around. Mounted shelves are decorated with dusty, mismatched figurines, cracks opening at the corners where the walls meet the roof. The brick fireplace is stacked high with plastic tubs and books, probably from your mother’s classroom, and the carpet has seen better days. 

 Mike isn't judging—not in the least—but he has a feeling he knows why being here puts you in a sour mood. The house feels lived in, cluttered and cozy and worn around the edges, but it's still empty somehow. 

 After the three of you are finished eating, you take the paper plates and dispose of them, then tell your mom that you'll be in your room. She gives you a soft smile that you struggle to return.

 It's a little more you in the bedroom, blue walls covered in old posters and collages, a quilt similar to the one in your dorm folded at the bottom of your bed. Your pillow cases are faded and covered in an old flower design that matches your sheets, and there's a small nightstand next to the headboard that's bare on top with wrinkled papers poking out of the bottom drawer. 

 "It's not much, but if you wanna snoop around like I always do, feel free." 

 Mike doesn't really want to, especially since you already seem so uncomfortable in what should be a safe space for you. The only thing he feels okay investigating is the old bookshelf next to your closet—mostly YA novels, some poetry books, an old set of The Lord of the Rings series, a textbook over rocks and minerals and another over volcanoes. Tucked away in the bottom shelf is a tiny booklet that looks like a photo album, and Mike has to fight the urge to pull it from its place and flip through the plastic pages. Anything to get to know you better. 

 You lay in bed, eyes locked on the ceiling, and Mike doesn't know what to do. There's a very small TV sitting on your dresser, an old DVD player next to it, so he figures he'll save both you and himself from talking by picking out a movie. 

 He fingers through them, not that there's a lot, just skims the spines until he pulls out a copy of Space Jam. You only glance at the screen when the intro starts, and Mike immediately zeroes in on the way your jaw sets and your brows furrow. 

 "I can pick something else," he tells you quietly. 

 You take a deep breath and shake your head. Slowly but surely your features begin to soften. 

 "'S'fine."

 "Are you sure?" 

 "Yeah. My, uh…" You swallow loud enough from Mike to hear, neck bobbing with the motion. "My dad and I used to watch it all the time."

 He doesn't know what to make of it or how to respond. In the months he's known you, Mike has never heard you mention your father a single time, and he's never asked in fear of what your response might be. 

 He moves your quilt to sit on the very edge of the bed, a little too tense as he heavily contemplates ignoring what you'd said and still switching movies. 

 "You can lay down, you know," you mumble. "I'm not gonna bite you."

 "You have before," he tries to act casual, but it comes out too stiffly.

 You laugh through your nose— "Suit yourself—" then get more comfortable on the mattress. 

 Michael Jordan gets pulled into a golf hole and the Loony Toons journey to retrieve his shoes from the real world. Mike is barely paying attention, more focused on the way your breathing evens out until it becomes slow and deep. 

 That's good. You could use a nap. 

 He watches you for a while, the way your eyelashes flutter against your cheeks and your lips part. You're all curled up on yourself, hands tucked under your chin, knees to your stomach, and Mike wants to slip behind you so badly, to pull you to his chest and lay with you until his heartbeat syncs with yours. 

 But first. 

 As carefully as he can, Mike stands from the bed and glides to the bookcase. He lowers himself in front of it, quickly finding what he's looking for and pulls it from the shelf. 

 It's a small little album, full of polaroids and old pictures cut in half. The first page sets the tone for the rest of the booklet, a photo of a very small you outside eating a popsicle next to a man that is most definitely your dad. You've got a similar facial structure as well as his coloring. Not to mention the expression he's wearing is one Mike has seen you make many times before. 

 The next picture is the two of you dressed up for an event. He's in a striped Polo and slacks while you're in a little checkered dress, a rose corsage on your tiny wrist. Some kind of father-daughter dance, Mike guesses. 

 Sitting on his lap at a fair, a chubby little boy a few years older than you standing close with a stuffed snake around his neck. A party where you're posed with an honestly frightening costume character. You in a bright, mesh jersey standing back to back with your dad, arms crossed, looking at the camera with your chins tilted upward. 

 They all look like good memories. The little boy in the fair picture appears several more times, and as he loses his baby fat, Mike sees the resemblance he shares with you and your father. It's too close to be a cousin—your eyes and mouths shaped the same—so he must be your brother. 

 Mike doesn't know how to feel about that because again, you've never uttered a word. As far as he knew, you were an only child, so why…

 He gets lost in the pages, watching you grow and pose mostly next to your dad. Smiles and laughs and silly faces with your tongues sticking out. Your mom is in some, brother in others, and then, you're in a cap and gown, grinning widely next to your dad who's beginning to gray at the temples. His own smile is barely there now, a ghost of what was seen in the previous photos. It's forced, it's sad, and it's the last picture in the book. 

 Mike's chest hurts. He wonders what happened, when exactly you'd lost him. Was it a quick goodbye, or had it been drawn out and painful? Had he been sick for a long time? He'd looked perfectly healthy in all the shots. Maybe a car accident that took both him and your brother…

 He flips to check for one last photo on the back of the page, but it's empty. However, tucked in a tiny, paper pocket is a folded up note that Mike stares at for a few solid minutes, debating the pros and cons of reading it. He knows he's already violated your privacy by looking through the album, and fuck, he's only been in your house for a couple hours at most—how has he already managed to tumble down such a humongous rabbit hole? 

 Your tiny snores reach his ears, and Mike gently pulls the note out, biting his lip as he unfolds it as quietly as possible. It's soft, like it's been read too many times, and the letters scribbled in all caps are beginning to fade, but the words are still legible. 

 It starts with your name, and then it's all apologies—sorry I can't stay, I have to leave, you don't understand how much this hurts me and so on. 

 Mike's eyebrows pull together the further he reads, blood pounding against the walls of his arteries, pulse picking up because he understands now.

 Your father wasn't in any sort of accident; he just left. 

 The letter ends with a gut-wrenching, You'll always be my little girl, and Mike nearly crumples the paper up to throw away. He resists somehow, simply folds it with shaky hands and slips it back into the pocket at the back of the album. 

 He's never been so mad at a stranger in his life. This must be it. This must be why you are—

 "Should've known you'd go straight for the photo album." 

 Your voice makes Mike's body jolt, his face heating as he turns to look at you with wide eyes. 

 "I'm so sorry. I didn't mean—"

 You wave him off and prop yourself up on an elbow. "It's whatever."

 But, it's not. It's this huge part of you that still affects you to this day. Mike is no psychologist, but he has a pretty good feeling this is the main reason you hold everyone at arm's length. 

 "Why didn't you ever tell me?" 

 "What's there to tell?" 

 Sitting up fully, your gaze moves to the screen just in time to see Michael Jordan step off of the spaceship and onto the baseball field. I Believe I Can Fly is playing, and you're gritting your teeth. 

 "It's not anything that comes up in normal conversation anyway. I wasn't just gonna hit you with it outta nowhere. Also," you look back to Mike, eyes still sleepy, lips pulling downward in a frown. "I'm not the only one who hid stuff about my family."

 Mike sighs and quietly tells you, "That's different," as he closes the album and slides it back into the row of books. 

 "Is it, though? Is it really?" 

 "I..." 

 Mike shuts his mouth and actually thinks on it. He wasn't trying to lie to you about his home life or his heritage. He's only half Greek on his mom's side, after all, and he's only been to the country to visit family a couple of times—once when he was a child and once right before college. The culture is a little different over there, but it all seems so natural to him, especially after being raised to speak the language. 

 Honestly, he didn't ever tell you because he didn't think to, but Mike can understand the shock of walking into his childhood home and getting thrown through that loop. It must have been jarring for you. 

 It's a positive aspect of his life, though. It's not something that's damaged him or made him cold toward others. And, he hates describing you in such a way, but it's true.

 At least it makes sense now. 

 "I guess not," he shrugs. He's not about to fight you on it. 

 You stare at him for a while, waking up a bit more as you rub your eyes and stretch. 

 Then, you flop back down on your pillows. 

 "So. Any questions, Zacharias?" 

 He's surprised that you're asking, and though he doesn't want to twist the metaphorical knife in your gut, he still replies honestly: "Too many."

 A long exhale through your nose, and then you're patting the mattress next to you and grumbling, "Fine, I'll do my best, but you gotta come up here."

 "Why? You gonna need to cuddle afterward?" He can't help but tease. 

 "Fuckin' maybe, dude! We're about to get into my god damn trauma so—"

 Mike is up on his feet and flying toward the bed. He isn't about to sabotage the one fucking moment you're opening yourself up. 

 "Alright, what first?" You ask, trying to look bored, but Mike can clearly see that you're nervous. 

 "He left." 

 "Yeah."

 And then he gets the full story. 

 Your dad was pretty perfect during your younger years—a bit of a workaholic but still good. He took you to dances like the one you'd both dressed for in the photograph. You'd spend days at amusement parks where he'd carry you on his shoulders. He coached the basketball team you'd played on as a child.

 "Not saying he played favorites, but I was definitely closer to him than my brother was."

 The brother who developed a drug problem at fourteen, who was always either out with his little addict friends or at home where he would just scream at you and your mom. 

 "He went to rehab a couple times, but it didn't stick." 

 He left home at seventeen and hasn't gotten in touch with you or your parents since. 

 "I keep thinking one day we'll get a call from the police saying they found his wallet on a fucking corpse, but who knows. Maybe he got clean. Maybe he started a family somewhere else. He'd be twenty-five now."

 "Were you ever close with him?"

 You shrug. "We spent a lot of time together when we were really little, but even back then he was kinda a mean kid."

 It very quickly circles back to your father. Mike still doesn't feel like he has all the answers, so he asks through the skin of his lip, "Why'd he leave?"

 At this point, you've got your head in his lap as he sits against the wall. He smooths your hair back from your face every once in a while, something his mom used to do to him when he was very young that always soothed him. 

 He hopes it's having the same effect on you, thinks it might be considering you've had your eyes closed for a while now, humming now and then as you talk. 

 "Honestly, I don't really know. I don't think he and my mom were ever in love. Like, they just kinda settled for each other," you sigh. "They didn't have a lot in common. They had different upbringings. But, they didn't fight or anything—not in front of us. They were good at hiding the hard times from me and my brother. They just didn't… click."

 Mike bites his tongue, wonders if that was hard to watch or if you'd been too naive to notice. 

 Then, there's his second train of thought that's really just the voice in his head screaming, we click, though! You and I work! But he keeps it to himself. This isn't about you and him. 

 "I think maybe dad had, like, a 'stay together for the kids' mentality 'cause as soon as I graduated, he was fuckin' gone. And, I mean gone. We went to a graduation party the next weekend that lasted a few hours—just me and mom—and when we got back his truck wasn't in the driveway and his drawers were empty. He left that note you read on my desk."

 Mike breathes. Just breathes. He tries to make sense of it, how someone could just do that without a real reason. There hadn't been any explanation in the letter, only apologies. 

 "Have you seen him since?" 

 You open your eyes and reply, "Nope," popping the 'p'. "I don't know where he is, and he hasn't reached out. Mom made the drive to my grandma's—his mom—but she said she didn't know where he was either. Pretty sure she was covering for him, though. She was always kind of a bitch. You know, save for the whole paying for my college and all."

 Mike snorts at this, not that there's anything funny about the situation. It's just his first reaction. 

 You ignore it, moving on with an, "Anyway."

 "Anyway," he mimics. 

 "I don't know if you've noticed in the short time you've been here, but my mom is a little… off. Not super good at taking care of herself."

 "Is this why?" 

 "Clever boy," you show a bitter smile. "I didn't really understand since they weren't, like, in love or whatever, but… I think it was the betrayal more than anything. Like, it came outta nowhere, a big ol' slap in the face."

 "Plus, he left you behind," Mike adds, as if you don't already know. 

 Looking up at him, you raise your eyebrows and smirk. "And, now you know about my abandonment issues." The last part comes out in high-pitched, melodic syllables, a little song that would be funny if Mike didn't know it was a coping mechanism. It most definitely is, though. He can tell that you're the type to mask every issue with humor and sarcasm. It's how you've been dealing with him for the last several months. 

 "So, that's my story," you conclude on an exhale. "Now you know all my dirty secrets."

 "For some reason I don't think that's all of them," Mike pets your hair again. "But, probably the important ones."

 "Mm. I guess."

 The rest of the day is really just spent killing time. You cook an easy dinner that you refuse to let Mike help with, then sit in the den with your mom just like you did at lunch. A medical show is playing. Then a reality show. Then a game show. None of you say much of anything, and it's painfully awkward for Mike now that he knows what happened, but he can power through a few days of this if it makes you feel better. 

 Hours pass until you can retreat, and moonlight shines through your bedroom window, not that Mike needs it. He's memorized your body at this point, knows where to touch without even seeing. He makes sure to be gentle, to suckle and blow on your pebbled nipples as you card fingers through his hair and breathe faster and faster. 

 Leaving love bites down your chest and stomach, he sucks on your skin, gently grazing his teeth over every bruise. Mike wants you to see them all the next day—not a staked claim, just something you can't ignore when you look in the mirror, evidence of his feelings in every mark. 

 When you're finally nice and relaxed, he spreads your legs and licks into you, trying not to be too rough with his beard, but a few swipes of it over your clit leave you shaking in his grasp. You whisper his name, the common one that everyone knows him by, but then, rolling off your tongue like a prayer, you call him, "Miche," and he can't help the rumble that rises in his chest. 

 It should be strange. That's the name only his family uses, the one he was born with. He only simplified it so that kids in school wouldn't ask questions or make fun of him, and after that, it just sort of stuck. But, here and now, falling from your lips, it's so soft. So intimate. 

 You whimper when he sucks on your folds, making them swell, making them sensitive. And then, he's pushing his tongue inside of you and humming happily at the taste. His nose is bumping against your clit, and Christ, you even smell good to him—that ripe, tangy aroma that has Mike going a little crazy. He has to make sure he doesn't get too carried away. You can't make very much noise even with the rattling of the air conditioner, but as he slowly slides a finger into your pussy, he hears you moan around the fist you're holding to your mouth. 

 He stretches you just enough to get you ready, then he holds himself over you and pushes into your wet cunt. Your eyes are open, locked with Mike's as your brow raises and your jaw drops. It's erotic, something you've never done with him before. You typically either gaze somewhere other than his face or keep your eyes squeezed shut. 

 Tonight, though, you've been vulnerable and apparently want to stay that way for a little while longer. 

 He bends to catch you in a kiss, lips and tongues moving just as slowly as his hips, and when you reach to tug at Mike's hair, he pants into your mouth. 

 Those words are there again, stuck in his throat but slowly crawling upward until they're just there, pouring from his tongue, "I lo—"

 Until you cut him off with a sharp, "Don't."

 He makes a noise of frustration, wants to protest because he's so deep inside of you, and you're holding onto him like you want him—truly want him, but you mutter once more against his lips, "Don't say it, Miche."

 So, he doesn't. He bottles the confession up and keeps it locked away, hoping like hell that one day you'll let him tell you. 

 After you climax and coat his cock in slick and cream, he gives a few more thrusts and comes inside of you, filling you with himself and wondering why you're so willing to accept him in that way but not in any other. 

 He's hurting again, like he did at his parents' as you walked around like you belonged there. Except it's worse now. 

 If you don't want him to say it, that means you don't want to say it back. 

 He stays with you for a few more minutes before pulling out. You leave to clean up, and while you're gone, Mike sits on the edge of the bed, head in his hands as he tries to get it all out of his system, whispering it out loud to himself: 

 I love you. I love you, I love you.  

 You still let him hold you as you fall asleep, gripping his hand until you can't anymore, and as Mike drifts off behind you, he has one last thought—Just let me.

* There’s only three weeks left of the semester when you head back to campus, and you intend to make the most of every passing day. 

 You pay better attention in class. You study harder in the library to prepare for final exams. You go to a few more Pi Alpha Kappa parties, making sure not to burn yourself out. And, you let Mike fuck your brains out every few days. Sometimes it’s late at night after those parties. Sometimes you're too tired after the nights of drinking and end up just going to bed only to wake up in the morning and have slow, sleepy sex. Sometimes it’s in the middle of the afternoon when you both have breaks between classes.

 Neither of you bring up anything that happened over the break—meeting families, details about your childhoods, how much you learned about one another in general.

 Most importantly, neither of you address that first night at your mom’s, the way Mike had basically worshiped your body, how he’d come so close to uttering the three words you least want to hear. 

 Thinking about it still makes your chest tighten, your heart beat faster. Sometimes when you’re sharing his bed with him, back pressed to his chest, large arm slung over your waist, you think about why it is you’re so vehemently against it. The two of you already act like a couple most of the time. You walk with each other to class when you can. You stick to each other’s sides at parties. You fuck like rabbits and don’t care who knows about it. 

 And, though you’re hesitant to admit it even to yourself, you’d be lying if you said you didn’t have feelings for him. Mike is your best friend at this point. He’s insanely hot. He’s goofy. He’s kind. Yeah, the frat boy persona he puts on around his friends is annoying, but you understand it a little better now. Plus, he always takes off the mask when he’s alone with you, giving both you and himself a break from it.

 You know your time with him is quickly coming to an end—for about two months, at least—and whenever you think too hard about it, it makes you pout and huff. You’re not looking forward to your summer classes without him, but he promises on several occasions that you can call him while he’s at his parents’ if you ever need help with the material.

 It’s impressive, the way he’s able to act like nothing happened. You know it must be troubling him, but it’s not like you can do anything to soothe him. If he was really upset with you, he would have stopped spending time with you, but he hasn’t. He just bottles it up, keeps smiling at you all crookedly, and keeps satisfying you in the bedroom (more than satisfying honestly. There’s really not a word to describe what he does).

 He’s back to getting along with everyone in the Pike house, everyone being Erwin. It’s a relief just because you don’t have to put up with the tension between them, but it’s also awkward. And, a little frightening. 

 The brothers have Smash Brothers tournaments and movie nights, a few date parties here and there, and it never fails that at some point during the evenings, you find your neck prickling as it always does when you feel someone staring at you. You always hope it’s Mike. Fuck, you wish it was him. But, when you glance up and around, it’s Erwin. Every time. His deep blue eyes are trained on you, the corner of his mouth twitching upward on one side. It doesn’t matter if he’s alone or if he’s got Maddie or some other girl sitting in his lap. He's fucking shameless, and it makes your stomach hurt.

 You keep your mouth shut for the sake of the friendship but also for the sake of Erwin’s pretty face. If he and Mike ever got into an actual fight, Erwin would probably be able to get a good few punches in, but you’re nearly positive Mike would end up destroying him in the long run. That could get him kicked out of school. That could get him thrown in jail. 

 Finals roll around, and you manage to pass all of them without issue, even getting grades above the class average. You feel fantastic, like your long term goals might actually be attainable. You have a long road ahead of you, but your GPA at the end of the year is more than enough to raise your confidence. 

 Mike asks you to come back to his house for the couple weeks between the end of the semester and the start of your summer courses, but you turn him down, too scared of what might happen while you’re there. Acting like a couple in front of his parents will only exacerbate his feelings as well as yours, and you’d like to avoid that as best you can. 

 Even now as you’re standing outside by the Jeep, he tries to persuade you one last time, almost pleading, “Are you sure you don’t wanna come?”

 “Miche, I’m sure,” you tell him, trying to stay stern, but it’s hard when his sea glass eyes light up at the sound of his real name. It’s a habit you’ve gotten into, a bad one considering how much he likes it. How much you like it. “I already told you I wanna spend the free time I have at mom’s. I need to check up on her and… Probably clean, honestly.”

 He lets out a little grunt of disappointment, then nods. “Yeah, I get it.”

 “You saw what she’s like,” you remind him. “Someone needs to drop in every once in a while to make sure she isn’t, like, wasting away or something.”

 “Makes sense. I’ll be bummed, though.”

 “Be bummed all you want,” you smile. “I’ll probably still bother you over break. A lot.”

 He sounds terribly sincere when he mumbles, “You never bother me.” It makes your stomach flip in the way you do not enjoy.

 Mike sighs, taking in one of those deep breaths that makes his broad chest rise then fall, calling attention to it and making you bite your bottom lip. 

 “Alright, I should get going,” he concedes, bending down to kiss you too deeply for simple friends with benefits. It doesn’t stop you from humming into his mouth and smiling against him. You hold him by the back of his neck as he pulls your body close to his, his voice muffled when he tells you mischievously, “Don’t forget to send pictures.”

 It makes you laugh, and you lean back to swipe your tongue over his lips so that he groans and chases after you. 

 “I promise I will. Perv.” The beating sun is nothing in comparison to the way your body heats at the thought. You’ve sent him nudes before, but the idea of him looking at them from hours away, fisting his cock as he admires your body through his phone… It makes seeing him off even harder.

 After a couple more softer kisses, Mike swings into the Wrangler and pulls out of the lot. You stand in his parking space and watch him until he’s out of sight, then walk back to your dorm, dragging your feet the whole way. 

 You only stay at your mom’s house for a week, and just like you predicted, you spend most of it cleaning. She thanks you the whole time but makes excuses in between. You just reassure her that you don’t mind even though you do. She really should see a therapist and sort out the depression she’s been stuck in for a few years now, but telling someone they need professional help is easier said than done. 

 Sleeping in your old bed is much harder this time around. You're all too aware of the weight that isn't behind you, and most nights you lay awake for at least a couple of hours trying to imagine it. 

 Like you’d promised, you send him a few pictures, some of them just lewd selfies with your tits pouring out of the cups of your bra, but others are of your naked body in the bathtub, sometimes a shot of you with your hand between your legs. It feels wrong to touch yourself in your childhood home, but it’s necessary, especially when Mike sends you a few pictures of his own—one with his torso on display, defined abs absolutely mouthwatering and the V of his hips suggestively leading into mesh shorts. Another is of him in the gray joggers he wears all the time, the ones that always show off his cock. 

 He’s so fucking hot it atually hurts, makes your pussy throb as you crave his touch. It’s an awful feeling honestly, but even worse than that is the way you miss him. You aren’t supposed to miss him. You’re just supposed to be friends who have sex. Nothing more than that.

 It's why you’re glad to go back to school. Your classes will distract you, keep you from thinking about him too much. The semester is shorter during the summer, so you have to work even harder than you do during fall and spring. You don’t really think it’ll be a problem since you’re trying to cram your brain full of anything other than Mike which is great motivation for studying. 

 Nothing is gonna get you off track, you tell yourself. Nothing will interfere with your studies. That’s the plan.

 Then, you meet Zeke Jaeger. 

* You're studying in the library. It seems like you spend most of your time here, nice and quiet and empty. The campus isn't nearly as busy in the summer as it is during the rest of the school year. No parties, no sporting events, just you alone with your books. 

 It's nice. Most of the time. A little boring but mostly nice. 

 Your eyes are getting tired, and when you check your phone, you realize why. It's almost eleven PM, meaning you've been studying for about six hours. You've had longer nights, usually spent on the phone getting quizzed on the information you're learning with a few breaks in between, but that wasn't the case tonight as Mike had to spend the day with family from out of town. 

 It's okay. You're supposed to be distancing yourself anyway. 

 Taking a deep breath, you pack up your books and slide your laptop into your bag, then stand and swing it over your shoulder. 

 The strap is too long. The bag swings too hard, and your heart sinks when you hear a little grunt followed by a, "Agh, hot!" 

 Turning with wide eyes, you immediately start apologizing, "I'm so sorry, oh my god, fuck, I'm so sorry!"

 A head of light blond hair looks up from the brown stain on his white t-shirt, icy blue eyes narrowed behind wire-rimmed glasses, but when he sees the mortification on your face, his own expression softens, and he chuckles. 

 "It's fine. You can calm down."

 You're still breathing heavily, guilt making your hands shake, but he really doesn't look angry. In fact, he's grinning now, eyebrows raised like he's amused. 

 The longer you stare at him, the more familiar he looks. You're pretty sure you've seen him before. Many times before, actually, and then it clicks that this guy is on the front page of the school website. You see him every fucking time you log in, looking much more stern than he does now. Baseball hat and jersey, mitt on one hand as he hides his other in it, and yeah, you know him. 

 "You're Zeke Jaeger."

 He makes a face, scrunching his nose up and squinting. "Yeeeeah, I guess I am."

 Best pitcher in the college league despite being a sophomore like you. He's beaten the records of some major league players. 

 You don't give a fuck about baseball, have never even been to any of the school's games, but you've been hearing about Zeke since the last season. You've learned to tune it out because, again, no shits given (and also you're much more partial to lacrosse now), but he's hard to ignore when he's staring you right in the face. 

 "Well, uh," you try to act casual. It's something you're pretty good at these days. "Cool."

 He snorts, picking his shirt off his chest to air it out like it'll help, then says, "I don't know your name, though."

 You run your tongue over your teeth, wondering why he cares, then introduce yourself. 

 "Oh, you're Zacharias' little girlfriend, aren't you?"

 Your stomach flips at the mention of him. 

 "We're not dating."

 Zeke cocks his head to the side. "No?"

 "No. Just friends."

 He hums but doesn't say anything, and your eyes are once again drawn to his chest as he fans over the stain. 

 "Okay, let me get you a new shirt or something," you try. 

 He laughs again. "I highly doubt you've got a men's shirt tucked in that bag of yours, sweetheart."

 "I—" you pout for a second, mumble, "Okay, yeah, fair point."

 "Another coffee, though," he muses out loud. "Wouldn't be the worst thing."

 You shoot him a finger gun and smack your lips. "On it. Where do you get coffee at eleven o'clock?"

 "I'll walk with you," he states more than offers. 

 Then, you're both leaving the library, leaving campus, and going to a little 24 hour cafe where you blow on lattes and cover the basics about each other—philosophy major, valedictorian of his high school class, playing baseball since age seven, etc. You should sleep. You should get ready for another long day of studying.  

 But it's hard to make good decisions when Zeke Jaeger is smirking at you from across the table like you're the most interesting thing he's ever seen. 

* Zeke gets your number that night. You're not exactly sure how, but he does. 

 Then he doesn’t text you for three days. It doesn’t bother you that much. You figure he has other things to focus on. He’s on campus to take a couple courses and practice for the upcoming season, so he’s probably just busy. If that night had just been a one-off, it’s fine with you. It was cool to talk to him, but your heart isn’t broken.

 These are all the thoughts and justifications running through your head when you’re in class on Tuesday and your phone lights up during the PowerPoint lecture. You glance down, expecting Mike or Hitch, but it’s an unknown number instead. Eyes flicking from the projection screen to your much tinier one, you slide to open the message and chew on your lip. 

 Hey, it’s Zeke. You have classes this afternoon?

 You do not. And, you are too quick to tell him that.

 He takes you to a little Mom and Pop restaurant, too far to walk so you end up riding in the black Bronco he drives, trying to convince yourself that it definitely does not make him any more attractive to you. Because you aren’t attracted to him in the first place. Right?

 You sit at a table for two eating paninis and fruit. Zeke asks how classes are going, you ask about practice, and as you talk, he gets that look in his eyes again, like you amuse him or interest him or something.

 It confuses you, and for a moment, you’re taken back to last fall at that first Pi Kappa Alpha party, the one you met Mike at when he tried to get you to shotgun a beer. God, he had been so obnoxious back then, always following you around and flirting and—

 “You listening, sweetheart?”

 Your eyes refocus on the man in front of you, his raised eyebrows and little smirk. “Looks like you’re a million miles away. Sorry if I’m boring you.”

 “No, no,” you try to defend. “I just zoned out for a second. Realized I, uh, got an answer wrong on the quiz I took today.”

 “That sucks,” he hums. “Anyway, I can stop talking about baseball.”

 “It’s okay. Just go over the last, like, ten seconds,” you say with a laugh, hoping your cheeks will stop burning sooner rather than later.

 Zeke chuckles and does just that, doesn’t seem irritated or put out. He tells you about how he has a new trainer this year to warm him up and make sure his throwing arm is in top shape. “I hope he’s as good as my last. Colt was always on it, knew exactly how hot to make the warm compresses and how cold to make the ice packs. Stuff like that. He learned my needs.”

 You both laugh, and if it was anyone else, you’d have an innuendo sliding off your tongue, but for some reason, you don’t think Zeke would want to hear it, like he’d be unimpressed with your vulgar humor. 

 Back at the college, he drives you to your dorm, explaining that he lives in the apartments on the other side of campus and wouldn’t want to make you walk that far. Then, as you slide out of the Bronco, he stops you with a smooth, “Hey,” that makes you look over your shoulder at him. “Make sure you save my number in your phone, okay? I’ll text you soon.”

 The way your stomach flips is worrisome, a feeling you’re only used to when you’re with…

 “Yeah, okay.”

 He grins widely and nods, then waits for you to get a good distance away from the car before driving off.

 No distractions, you’d said. It’ll be good for your focus, you’d said. 

 What a fucking joke. 

*

Mike has to help you with some homework that weekend. You can hear his smile through the phone, snort when he makes his little nerd jokes, then sigh when he gets to the actual subject and explains it to you without a problem. His brain is incredible, and when you think about it too hard, it makes you warm inside. 

 “You’re so fucking smart. Why don’t you let people know?”

 “Maybe I just want you to know,” he chuckles. “You think I wanna spend my days tutoring every idiot who needs help?”

 “Miche, did you just call me an idiot?”

 You hear another breathy laugh followed by a sigh. “I have many, many names for you, but ‘idiot’ isn’t one of them.”

 “Oh yeah?” You play. “And, what might those other names be?”

 He lists a few, all of them making your face flush and your body tingle, and before you know it, you’ve got your pants off and your fingers between your legs. You can hear Mike’s heavy breathing on the other end, the wet sound of his hand stroking his lubricated cock, and when you reach your climax, you moan out your usual, “Oh fuck, oh fuck, Miche.” 

 He tumbles down right behind you, panting and telling you in a voice of disbelief, “Jesus, it just keeps coming.” It makes the pulses of your orgasm even stronger, remembrance of all the times he’s painted you in white, and God, you are so ready for him to get back to the school.

 Then, there’s the voice in the back of your head that makes you think maybe it’s better that he’s gone for now, that he might not be too pleased that you’re spending time with another guy. But, it’s not like things with Zeke are going anywhere. You wouldn’t even call him a friend. You text on and off, have brunch or lunch or coffee depending on the time of day. 

 And, yeah, he calls you pet names, tells you that you look nice even when you’re just in leggings and a t-shirt, talks about his family and…

 Okay, it could potentially lead to something more, but it’s only been a week, and considering his golden boy status, he could have anyone he wants, so why would he even be interested in you in any way, shape, or form?

 Naturally, your thoughts circle back to Mike and the way he could have any girl on his arm, but he still chooses to spend time with you. To fuck you. To nearly confess his feelings to you. You have to wonder if you’re emitting some kind of scent or beacon, if there’s a sign hanging above your head with an arrow pointing down. Sports gods, come get a piece. 

 If only you’d never gone to that party. If you had just kept your head down like you had freshman year. Your life would be so much easier now.

 But now you’re in Zeke’s apartment listening to him rant about some philosopher you’ve never even heard of. He’s gesturing with his hands, flipping curling, blond bangs from his face, and whenever he pauses to think, he scratches his beard. He’s very fond of the white t-shirts and jeans get-up, sometimes switches it up and wears a button down under a sweater vest. Both looks are becoming of him no matter how much you try to deny it, but when he drops down onto the couch next to you and peers into your god damn soul with those piercing, blue eyes, you have to choke back a dreamy sigh.

 What is happening to you?

 “So, what do you think about it?” He asks, looking hopeful that you might have some insight on this matter.

 But, you simply laugh and shake your head. “Zeke,” you start. “I’m gonna be real honest with you here. I didn’t understand a fucking thing you just said.”

 You assume he’ll be disappointed, maybe tire of you since you can’t be as intellectually stimulating as he’d like you to, but Zeke exhales in a lighthearted sort of way, shows one of those amused smiles, and tells you, “You’re cute.”

 Anyone else and you would have snapped back, something along the lines of, don’t fucking patronize me, but with Zeke, all you can do is stare at him and let your lips part, silently asking for something you won’t speak out loud.

 His gaze moves to your mouth for a split second. That soft smile turns into one of his famous smirks. Then, he’s back on his feet and asking, “You wanna go to dinner?”

 You are more than relieved at the shift in atmosphere, but your heart is still beating too hard as you follow him downstairs and to his car. 

* Summer is passing quickly. Too quickly. The eleven week classes are kicking your ass, or are close to kicking your ass. Lucky for you, you have your own private tutor just a call or text away. Mike helps you, and you laugh and goof around, shoot off innuendo after innuendo, but the phone sex slows to a halt eventually. You tell him that you’re tired, and you are. It isn’t a lie. But, it also isn’t the full truth.

 Between classes when you could be resting, you’re eating out with Zeke. Or, watching him and the rest of the baseball team practice for the upcoming season. Or, sitting in his apartment, watching movies and chatting about all manner of things. Nothing important, of course—there’s no diving deep into your life story like you had done with Mike over Spring Break, but Zeke still learns the little things about you. Why you’re majoring in geosciences and how you became good friends with some of the Pike guys. You don’t give him the full details on that one—that you got blackout drunk and fucked Mike and just couldn’t stop. You don’t think Zeke would be interested in hearing about it anyway.

 You learn a bit about his dad and stepmom, the latter of whom he isn’t very fond of. He also has a little brother who’ll be attending the college starting this fall, and he’s interested in the Greek life. Naturally, you build PKA up. Even if there are some… Problematic people in the house, there are also a lot of really good guys. 

 “I’ll make sure to pass it along to him,” Zeke tells you one evening as you’re both sprawled on the couch, backs against the armrests as you face each other. It’s how he seems to prefer to sit when the TV isn’t on. When you asked him why, he had told you, “Just like looking at you,” and you didn’t know how to respond. You still don’t know how to respond.

 “Eren thinkin’ about joining any sports?” You ask now. “Does baseball run in the family or anything?”

 Zeke snorts. “Kid couldn’t hit a baseball even if it was on one of the t-ball stands.”

 “I’ll take that as a ‘no’, then.”

 “I would say he’s more academically inclined, but,” Zeke sighs. “That would be a lie.”

 You can never tell if he actually likes his brother. Most of the time he complains about him, but every once in a while he’ll bring up something cute Eren did as a little boy, and you see a fond glimmer in his light eyes. 

 “Anyway,” Zeke waves off the subject and transitions to a new one—one that makes your stomach drop. “Are you gonna tell Zacharias about us?”

 You choke on your own spit, leaning forward to cough a couple times, then challenge him with a nervous laugh, “I wasn’t aware there was anything to tell him.”

 Zeke tilts his head, mouth pulling up as he raises his eyebrows. “Come on,” he chuckles.

 “Come on, what?” You frown. If you were with Mike, you both would have died at that. Come on my face, you can hear him say, and you have to fight a smile because there’s absolutely no way you could explain that to the man in front of you.

 “You don’t have to play coy, sweetheart. We both know there’s something going on between us.” He says it with such confidence that even if he wasn’t right you wouldn’t be able to argue with him. The assumption should annoy you, should make you scoff and leave, but instead you sit there staring, caught up in his gaze and cocky grin.

 “I—”

 “It’s okay, you know. Not like you’re alone in this.”

 Those questions swim through your mind again, all the insecurities that you’ve been sorting through with Mike, but now that voice is louder because that sense of trust hasn’t formed yet. You’ve only connected with Zeke over meals and movies. It sounds domestic, but despite your apparently obvious attraction to him, you still don’t feel like you really know him. 

 But, he draws you in, like a moth to a flame. You can’t help it. There’s just something about him that makes you want him to like you, like you want to impress him, like you want to be good for him. You’ve been trying to ignore those thoughts, but they’re much harder to fight now that you’re sitting in front of him, taking in his wavy hair and pale blue eyes, that ever present smirk on his face, the curve of his neck that disappears into his shirt.

 He could just want sex. He could just want a fling. Wait for everyone to get back on campus and drop you for another girl. You tell yourself you wouldn’t care; you’re good at keeping things casual.

 Wouldn’t it be fun to be his arm candy for a while, though? Let people look at you and whisper louder than they did when they’d see you and Mike together? You don’t care about status, about being in the spotlight. It’s more for the experience, dating someone who could teach you things.

 Mike teaches you things, that voice pops up again. He’s been helping you with your work for almost a year now. You can’t just overlook that. 

 “What, are you weighing the pros and cons over there or something?”

 You snort. “Maybe. We still don’t really know each other all that well, Zeke.”

 “Might I remind you that we’ve been hanging out all summer? Did you honestly think it wouldn’t lead to anything more?”

 “Honestly,” you mimic, “I never thought you’d be interested.”

 “Why wouldn’t I be?” His brow furrows like he’s genuinely confused. “You’re smart. You’re funny. You’re cute.” 

 God, you can’t even count how many times he’s called you ‘cute’, how many times it’s made you blush over the last several weeks, just like it does now.

 Then, he pushes, “Do you not find me at—”

 “Of course I do,” you cut him off. “I don’t know who doesn’t, which is exactly why I don’t know where this is coming from.”

 Zeke sighs like he’s annoyed, then turns the hand on his thigh palm up and beckons you with two fingers. “Come here.”

 “What?”

 “Come here.”

 Your blood pressure spikes, breaths coming in little puffs that have no way of getting to your brain. It’s probably why you obey, rolling to your knees and clumsily crawling over to him. You stop short, right between his bent knees, but Zeke sits up, straightens his legs, and pulls you into his lap.

 More of that precious air leaves your lungs as you exhale too sharply, staring at him with huge eyes. You don’t know what’s happening, can’t believe it’s happening. It doesn’t feel real even as you rest your hands on his shoulders, even when he holds your hips and pulls you so that your full weight is on him, but fuck, you can’t say anything. You can’t make a sound. All you can do is wait for him to make his next move.

 “Why do you look scared?” His voice is just above a whisper, but at this proximity you can hear him without a problem. 

 “I don’t have a lot of experience sitting in men’s laps,” you manage, trying to keep your usual careless tone, but you doubt it works.

 “For some reason I don’t believe that.”

 You rear back, actually offended. “Excuse m—”

 That ire, however, melts away as quickly as it arose. Zeke slides fingers up your waist, all the way to the back of your neck to bring your face to his—your lips to his. 

 He feels different, not at all what you’re used to. His kiss is more demanding, hungry, and God, you still can’t breathe, can’t think straight because his tongue is moving past your lips, and you’re letting it, letting him taste you as your fingertips dig into the flesh of his shoulders. You lift yourself from him just a little only for Zeke to pull you back down with the hand still gripping your hip. He makes sure you feel him when he grinds up into you, the zipper of his jeans rubbing you through your little shorts so that you gasp into his mouth. 

 You both stay like that for what feels like a fucking eternity, biting and sucking on lips, stroking over each others’ tongues until you absolutely have to break apart. You’re panting now, body still tense on top of his, and Zeke stares at you with half-lidded eyes and shows the ghost of a smile.

 “Oh, I’m gonna have so much fun with you.”

 The statement sets you on fire, so much so that all you can do is whimper quietly and lean in for more. 

  And, as you get lost in Zeke Jaeger, you decide for yourself.

I need to tell Mike

[ next ]

[nastybuckybarnes]

Joke’s on You

Pairing: Bucky X Reader

Summary: Bucky’s fuckboy tendencies get the better of him. But you show him you’re not gonna be tossed around like a toy. This time, he gets the shit end of the stick.

Warnings: Language, Angst, Smut, Fighting, Angst, 

Word Count: 4.3K

A/N: Okay fellas. Here she is. The third instalment of Gangsta. Now, this one can be read in the series or as a standalone. Based on Charlotte Lawerence’s ‘Joke’s on You’ (Both regular and acoustic.) and also on Love the Way you Lie obvi cause angst and toxic relationships hehe. I’ve got the next part almost fully written and lemme warn y’all, it’s a tearjerker. So good luck!

Gangsta

I see Red

Jokes On You

Habits (Coming soon)

~*~

“Hey, Steve.” He nods at you, arm resting on the back of the seat just behind your shoulders. “Waitin’ for him?” You nod, lips pursed as you cross your arms on the table.

The club is loud, music thumping under your feet and people chattering all around you. Your eyes scour the club, looking for James.

You feel Steve stiffen a moment before you find him, and then you realize why Steve reacted the way he did.

Bucky’s standing at the bar, flirting and chatting up a busty brunette waitress. You grind your teeth together, watching the way he looks her up and down.

“I’m sure he’s just being friendly?” Steve offers, cringing when you turn your glare on him.

“That’s the problem. If I ever get that friendly with a guy I’ll never hear the end of it. I fucking hate that this is such a double standard. I’m not gonna just sit around and watch him get with random bitches. Not anymore.” You make to stand up, halting when Steve grabs your hand.

“At least dance with me. Not someone that he’s gonna kill for no reason.” You ponder this, glancing over to your boyfriend once more and making your mind up quickly. The brunette is leaning in, her lips almost touching his face.

You grab Steve’s hand and haul him towards the dance floor, ignoring the way you can feel Bucky’s eyes on you. You spin around in Steve’s arms, pressing your back against his front and moving your hips against him.

He grips your waist, his head resting over your shoulder, lips just barely brushing the shell of your ear.

You slowly open your eyes, looking over to where Bucky’s sitting, his jaw clenched and his eyes focused on you.

The waitress is gone for the moment, but two glasses sit on the counter beside him, one of them stained with red lipstick.

He raises his eyebrows at you and you cock your head to the side before reaching over your shoulder and grabbing a handful of Steve’s hair. Bucky’s eyes flash a warning at him and you only roll your eyes in return, before tugging Steve’s head down and craning your neck back to smash your lips against his.

He’s stunned for a minute, before kissing you back with passion, his teeth grazing over your bottom lip. His hands trail up your body, cupping your breasts through the thin material of your dress and groping them roughly.

You pull away after a moment, panting hard. When you open your eye they immediately flicker to Bucky, a frown crossing your face when you see him once again talking to the brunette.

Huffing a frustrated breath, you tug out of Steve’s arms and strut over to the bar, smiling sweetly at your boyfriend.

He hardly glances at you, only giving you attention when you clear your throat.

“I uh... I should get back to my table,” the waitress says, smiling at Bucky before walking away. His eyes stay on her backside and you scoff.

“Really, James?” He shrugs, playing it cool when all he wants to do is bend you over the counter and fuck you until the only thing you remember is his name.

“Yeah. Maybe don’t come home tonight. She and I are really hitting it off. She’s got a tongue stud and said she’d let me see her nipple rings.”

You scoff again, shaking your head at him.

“Yeah, whatever. When you’re done being a prick let me know. I’m staying with Steve tonight. Maybe when you grow up a bit and can talk about whatever doubts you’re having about our relationship, then I’ll come home. But not before then.”

He watches you walk away, his heart aching and his mind racing. He doesn’t want to let you get away, but he has no choice. He can’t need you. He doesn’t want to need you. And yet here he is, needing you.

You walk up to Steve, your anger evident on your face.

“He being a dick again?” He asks, shaking his head in disappointment.

“Of fucking course he is! When is he not? God, sometimes I forget why we got together.” Steve chuckles, his hands holding your waist. “Because you guys are a match made in heaven? C’mon. I’ll take you home. I’m sure he’s just gonna get shitfaced then bum a ride from some poor defenceless college kid.” You nod, taking a deep breath but deciding that Steve’s probably right.

As you’re turning to the door, you see none other than your boyfriend leaving, one hand on the ass of the waitress as the two of them leave the club together.

“Jesus Christ he’s leaving with her,” you hiss, turning to glare at Steve.

“He’s an idiot. I’ll take you home.” You shake your head, determined to make a point.

“No. Take me to your place. He gets to go with a random bitch, fine. I’m going home with someone else too.” Steve sighs, knowing better than to argue with you when you’re in a mood like this.

The ride to his house is silent, the tension thick in the car as you stew in your anger.

Too many times has Bucky done this, pushed you away and fucked other girls, only to get mad at you whenever you attempt to do the same.

Fucking random guys would only get them killed, exactly how Steve said, however, Bucky cares too much about his best friend to kill him. Beat him to a pulp? Sure. But Bucky could never kill Steve.

As soon as you’re in Steve’s apartment you’re on him, mouth pressed tightly against his and hands pushing his jacket off of his shoulders. He pauses for a moment, pulling away to look at you carefully.

“Are you sure you wanna do this? You know he’s gonna find out.” You roll your eyes and step out of your dress, kicking it aside and standing bare in front of the blond.

“He can go fuck himself after fucking that waitress. If he does. And if he doesn't then he’ll finally know how I’ve felt all those times when he’s come home smelling like another woman.” Steve ponders this for a moment longer before grabbing you by the waist and pulling you tight against his body.

His kisses are fierce, all teeth and tongue and power and you allow yourself to get lost in the feeling. All thoughts of Bucky are shoved aside. He’s not a priority to you tonight.

No. The only thing on your mind is revenge.

And by God does Steve make it taste sweet.

~*~

Your head is pounding and you swear you feel like you’ve swallowed sand.

The sound of a door opening makes you pry your lids open, glancing over to the sound. Steve offers you a smile, a glass of water and a couple of pills in his hands.

You sit up and rub your face before grabbing the water and painkillers, downing them both quickly then groaning.

“Where’s my phone?” You croak, holding your hand out expectantly.

Steve hesitates and you feel the atmosphere change. You lift your head and look at him, brows drawn together.

“Give it to me now.” He sighs and pulls your phone out of his back pocket, tossing it over to you.

You catch it effortlessly, turning it on while your heart beats in your throat.

Your world crumbles slightly at the sight of your lock screen.

Zero notifications from him.

Not a text.

Not one single phone call.

Nothing.

You grind your teeth together and toss the blankets off of yourself, marching over to Steve’s dresser and grabbing a pair of his sweatpants and a t-shirt that’s at least two sizes too small for him.

“Give me your keys,” you demand, marching out of the room with murder on your mind.

Steve grabs your arm but you yank out of his grip.

“Think about what you’re doing before you do it, (Y/n). Please.” You take a few deep breaths then shake your head.

“I’m just gonna go talk to him. If he’s not serious about us then neither am I. I just want to see...” You trail off and Steve sighs, handing you the keys to his Ferrari.

“If you so much as scratch the paint I’ll-” “Yeah, yeah you’ll kill me I know. It’s fine I’ll just buy you a new one.”

You’re out the door before he can say anything else, keys jammed in the car’s ignition.

Steve would have a heart attack if he saw the way you were treating his baby.

And he would die on the spot if he saw the way you drove.

By the time you’re outside the apartment you and Bucky share, you’ve had some time to cool down.

That doesn't stop you from grabbing a knife out of the glove box though.

You hold it loosely in your dominant hand as you walk into the building then up through the elevator, the trip taking far more time than usual.

But then you’re outside of your apartment, ready to have a serious conversation about where the two of you stand with regards to your relationship.

You unlock the door and push your way into the apartment, stopping right in the doorway when you see not one but two people in your home.

A piece of your heart shatters and any semblance of composure is left a step behind you.

Bucky looks like a deer in headlights, his mind foggy, but yours is working just as well as it usually does, if not better.

The waitress from the night before stands before you in your boyfriend’s shirt, a confused look on her face.

You hold the knife tighter in your grasp and pounce, the blade just nicking her throat before Bucky yanks her out of the way.

She lets out a terrified scream, stumbling to the ground and scrambling away from you.

Before you can get her again Bucky’s got your arms pinned to your sides, his metal arm holding tightly to the arm that has the knife.

“Grace, you should probably leave,” He says softly, his eyes focused on the look of pure betrayal on your face.

The waitress gets up and gathers her things quickly, her eyes on you.

You eye her with nothing but pure hatred in your gaze, straining against his hold.

He doesn’t loosen his grip until she’s safely out the door, only then does he let you go.

But what a mistake.

Your anger is now directed at him and you swipe your blade up at him, catching the apple of his cheek and leaving an angry red slice across his pretty face.

“Fuck!” He jumps back, one hand coming up to the wound while the other extends defensively in front of himself.

You don’t follow him like he thought you would. No, instead you toss the knife aside and turn away from him.

He’s utterly confused at your behaviour. It’s not like anything you’ve ever done before.

He was prepared for anger, for wrath like no other. But this? This is new territory and he hates that.

You pour yourself a glass of whiskey and bring it over to the couch, plopping down and grabbing your phone out of your pocket. Bucky approaches you slowly as if you’re an animal ready to lash out at any moment. But you don’t.

“Baby?”  He asks softly, waiting for the anger.

But he gets nothing in reply.

“I’d be using my time more wisely if I were you,” you say stoically, eyes on your phone as you fight tears.

“W-what do you mean?” He’s never felt genuine fear for his life before now.

“You have twenty-eight minutes left to get your shit and get out. Whatever’s left after that is getting burned. If you’re still here then you will also be on that list of things that will be getting burned.”

He’s shocked.

“What do you mean?” He repeats, taking a few hesitant steps closer to your figure. The way that you stay so unbothered, eyes on your phone as if he means nothing to you, it’s beyond concerning.

“I’m not going to repeat myself. It’s up to you if you want to take me seriously or not.” He’s not sure what to do, but he knows that he pushed you too far, if only from the way that you don’t give a single fuck about him.

“I-I’m sorry,” he tries, voice low and hands raised in surrender and fear, hoping to appeal to your human side.

Unfortunately for him, your human side is long gone.

“Mhm,” is all you say in reply, taking another sip of your drink and trying to remember where you keep the propane.

He starts moving then, packing up a bag that’s enough to last him a few days. He’s not sure if he should believe that you’ll actually burn his things, but he grabs all his valuables just in case.

The remaining twenty-five minutes go by far too quickly, and then he’s standing at the door, watching you rise to your feet with the utmost grace.

He watches as you start gathering up little knickknacks, stray socks and books of his, a bunch of pictures, a set of ridiculously expensive champagne glasses, and the necklace he got you for your last birthday. You toss it all into a cardboard box then head into the next room to gather more things.

His curiosity and want to preserve what little he can of the relationship gets the better of him and he hesitantly creeps his way over to the box, grabbing the pictures and the necklace.

A bullet narrowly misses his hand and he almost drops his belongings in his haste to get out of the line of fire, but you’ve got the barrel pointed directly at him again, finger hovering dangerously over the trigger.

“I told you: half an hour. You’re done. Get out. If I ever see you again, I’ll kill you.” He says nothing. Instead, he grabs his belongings and leaves without so much as a second glance.

~*~

“Have you tried talking to her? She seemed pretty pissed when she left my place.” Bucky glares at his friend, “You fucking asshole, don’t even try to give me advice, you’re the one who ruined this in the first place.”

Steve raises his brows and downs his scotch then actually laughs at his friend, the sound getting slightly drowned out by the noises in the bar

“Do I need to remind you who left the club first? You took that waitress home before (Y/n) and I even left. That’s the only reason I took her home. She would’ve fucked anybody in that club and then you would’ve gone and made a mess that I would’ve had to clean up. I took her home cause you and I both know I’ll take good care of her and won’t treat her like shit. She deserves the world, Buck, and you treat her like a piece of garbage.”

The brunet is silent as his friend tells him what he knows is true but really just doesn’t want to accept.

“That woman loves you, Buck. To the moon and back. With her whole fucking heart and soul and you stomp on it every damn chance you get. If she wasn’t so damn in love with you, I’d take her out. Wine and dine her real nice, just how she deserves. I’d show her what it’s like to be loved.”

The glass shatters in the brunet’s hand as he listens to his best friend talk about the way he’d treat the woman he loves.

“I get it! I’m a fucking idiot. I’ll go talk to her.” He drops a couple of bills on the table then marches out of the bar, trying to keep his composure and his confidence on the drive to the apartment.

He’s not sure what he’s going to say, but he knows he needs to apologize. He needs to tell you that he loves you and that you’re the only one he wants.

Hesitant knuckles knock against the door and he feels stupid. It’s his place too.

When he gets no reply he pushes the door open, his stomach dropping and his heart clenching tight in his chest.

It’s empty.

No furniture, no decorations, and not one single sign of you.

“(Y/n)?!” He calls, hand darting to the gun tucked into his pants as he explores the empty penthouse.

“(Y/n)?” His voice is softer but more desperate, the reality of the situation hitting him like a punch in the gut.

You’re gone.

He lost you. And he’s not sure if he’s gonna be able to get you back.

~*~

You shoulder your way into the tiny shithole that you’re calling home, brows drawn together and shoulders heavy with exhaustion.

“Love the new place.” You’ve got a gun raised and aimed at the voice, heart racing in your chest at the fact that you didn’t even realize they were here.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” You demand, not lowering your weapon as you walk into the living room.

He’s seated on the couch, eyes staring straight through the window across from him.

“You left,” is all he says.

You want to scoff.

Scratch that; you want to shout. To yell and scream and beat him to a bloody pulp. You want to ask him why. Why he hurt you so badly and why he acts like he did nothing.

Instead, you walk past him and set your gun on the table.

“Why did you leave?” His voice is closer than before, his feet silent as they carry him towards you. You’re in your bedroom, raking your hands through your hair as you try to handle the situation.

“Why?” He asks again, two metal fingers just hardly brushing against your bicep. You yank yourself away from him, eyes full of rage and betrayal as you glare at him.

“Don’t you fucking dare touch me! You have no fucking right!” He takes a moment to look you over, a frown on his face as he sees how upset you are.

This isn’t how this usually goes. Usually, the two of you shout and scream at each other, then fuck all the anger out.

But not this time.

No, this time it’s different. Because there’s more than just anger on your face.

The look of pain, of absolute agony on your face, has his heart shattering in his chest.

“Doll... I’ll never be able to apologize for what I did. I just...”  “You just what, Bucky?” You never call him that. Exhaustion laces your voice and your shoulders slump forward.

“You just what? You wanted to hurt me again? Well congrats, you did a great job. Now please leave. I don't want to see you. Not now and not ever fucking again.” He shakes his head as you turn away from him again.

“No, no you don’t mean that. We’re good together. We’re so fucking good together. You’re the Lois Lane to my Superman. You’re everything I’ve ever wanted.”

His words are dripping with desperation and truth. He’s scared, terrified that this is the end. But he’s talked you back before, he can do it again.

“I’ve been hurt before, Buck. And when I saw... that... it felt like there was a knife in my fucking throat. Like someone was stabbing me in the chest and in the back all at the same time. I couldn’t breathe and I couldn’t fight. And you know what? I’m done fighting. I’m done fighting you, I’m done fighting for you and, I’m so fucking done fighting for us. It’s not worth it anymore.”

He shakes his head but you continue, not giving him a moment to speak.

“We’re not good together. We’re toxic. We’re so fucking toxic but you love it. You love that I hate you because I always come crawling back. You never let me leave, you’ve never ever told me you loved me. It’s always been me. I was the only one who ever tried to salvage our relationship and I’m done doing that.”

He shakes his head, swallowing the sorrow and bile in his throat at the way your voice breaks, the way you crack and splinter and shatter right before his very own eyes.

And it’s his fault. He caused this. He's the one who hurt you.

“Doll I love you. So fucking much. I feel so fucking ashamed for everything I’ve done and the way that I’ve acted.” You scoff, shaking your head at him, “as you fucking should. I’m not going to comfort you. You see me crumbling, see me in pain, and all you've ever done is stand by and watch the show. I won’t let you. Not anymore.”

You sniffle and scrub a tear off of your cheek, your voice shaking as you start speaking again.

“I love you. So much that I can fucking hardly breathe when I’m with you. And when I fell in love with you... it hit me out of the blue. Out of fucking nowhere. I never wanted t-to hurt you or to make you upset. Now I can’t even look at you. You said you’d be my ride or die but you have never been there when I’ve needed you.”

His eyes are red-rimmed and his heart is in his stomach. This isn’t happening. It can’t be happening.

“B-But I can change. Just give me another chance, please, doll. I swear things will be different this time.”

You shake your head angrily, furious that you’re having to have this conversation with him.

“No! You don’t get it! You don’t get another chance, this isn’t a game! You lied again and now you’re going to fucking watch me walk out of your life and I’m not going to fucking look back!”

“Baby, please. Just... I just... I need you so much. I know I wasn’t there for you and I know it wasn’t you and it was me but your temper’s just as bad as mine is and we’re both stubborn as hell and so fucking crazy. Our relationship isn’t as bad as it seems and I love you too much for you to walk away. Come home, we can try again.”

You’re crying now, arms crossed tightly over your chest in a pathetic attempt at protecting yourself

“You’re a broken record, Bucky. Playing the same damn thing over and over again. You don’t mean a word you’re saying.”

He winds up and his fist slams into the wall, a large hole gaping in the drywall.

There goes your damage deposit.

Tears are streaking down his face and his chest is heaving as emotions wrack through his body, tearing him limb from limb and setting him on fire.

“You’re not even listening to me! Don't you hear the sincerity in my voice! I told you this was my fault! I know it’s all my fault! Next time-”

“Next time?!” You actually laugh, though the two of you know there’s no humour behind it. “You don’t get a ‘next time’! We’re done! We’re fucking done!”

“No! You’re not listening to me! All I want is to have you back home! I’m tired of these fucking games! Come home!”

He reaches for you, hands grasping your waist, and you shimmy out of his grip and back up in the bedroom, absolutely fuming at the audacity this man has.

“This isn’t a fucking game, James! If you ever come near me again I will tie you to that fucking bed and set this place on fire! I will show you exactly how you’ve made me felt and by the end of it you’ll be begging me to kill you!”

The two of you stand facing off with each other, tears falling and eyes narrowed, but you won’t give in.

Not this time.

After a few very long minutes his shoulders sag and his entire demeanour changes as he accepts defeat. As he realizes that you’re not giving in this time.

He lost.

He lost you.

“Alright. If that’s what you want, fine.” He turns around and walks towards the front door, each step sending a sharp fiery pain through his chest.

He hesitates when he gets to the door, eyes squeezed shut as he waits, hopes, and prays for you to stop him.

But you say nothing. You only watch him, wait for him to leave and take all his lies and deceit away.

He pulls the door open, steps through, and turns around, red eyes focused solely on you.

You muster up your courage and take calculated steps through the apartment towards the front door.

His heart jumps up into his throat, lips parting to apologize and to thank you for giving him another chance, but he doesn’t get a word out.

No, you close the door in his face and leave him standing alone on the other side, your decision having been made.

His movements are mechanical as he makes his way to his car, keys in the ignition and foot on the gas.

It can’t be real.

It can’t be.

He finds himself back in your old apartment, eyes on the absolute nothingness, a perfect representation of your relationship.

A strangled sob leaves his lips, and then another one. And another until they’re consuming him and he’s on the floor, unable to breathe or move.

No, he curls up in the fetal position, hunched in on himself, and screams your name. He curses himself, his friends, his stupidity.

He deserves this. He knows that.

He’s a lost cause.

Loving him was a mistake on your part.

But that doesn’t make the hurt go away.

Fuck, he wants the hurt to go away.

[supercorpkid]

Mind Controlled – The Series.

Part 2 – Pull the trigger.

Supercorp, Kara Danvers x Daughter!Reader, Lena Luthor x Daughter!Reader, Alex Danvers x Niece!Reader, Lex Luthor x Niece!Reader.

Word count: 2300.

Warning: Injuries, violence, pain, angst.

Previously on the series - part 1

You land on the same room, on the same building, waiting for Lex's voice to come out of the speaker with further instructions. You’re ready to do whatever he asks from you.

“You’re back, my bösewicht.” You hear his voice sometime later. “I presume you have done a good job leaving your mothers wrecked?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Such an obedient little monster. A Super with a Luthor’s brain. Why has no one thought about this before? Oh yes, I have. But they called me a mad man for it, and yet here you are.” And there you are. Standing still, staring at a wall, waiting for more orders. “In that stupid outfit, dear Lord, why would anyone be dressed in those stupid clothes?”

You look down on your super suit. You do look stupid. This stupid skirt, horrible boots, long sleeve shirt so tight if you were human, it would mark your skin. It makes you so sick you want to rip it off of your body.

“Nevertheless, with you playing pet for me, I can do whatever I want even still in jail.” The static comes again, but Lex doesn’t stop talking. “I should’ve known Lena would be greedy and want a smart and powerful kid. But I hadn’t had confirmation, that was until mother came here to visit and told me all about you. So impressed with her little granddaughter.” He lets out a chuckle. “I can’t imagine how infuriated she’ll be once she finds out it was her, who gave me the idea to mind control you.”

You think about Lillian, and how impressed she is with you. You give yourself a cocky smile. She should be impressed, you are impressive.

“Kryptonians might have strong minds, but Luthors? We’re unfortunately just humans. So my bright sister didn’t think that having a powerful kryptonian daughter with a susceptible mind wasn’t a good idea?” He scoffs. "Oh, Lena. You may try, but you will never be smart like me.”

There’s a loud breathing sound.

“That’s enough of chatting. I have better things for you to do, my bösewicht. You’ll break me out of jail when it’s time, but first-” There’s a wicked little pause. “Let’s destroy the Super name.”

Your body is suddenly filled with rage and wrath. You want to destroy everything. You want to drop a bomb in everyone’s head. You want to make them suffer.

“That’s it. Use your rage. Destroy National City, scare them, let them see you in your worst form. Let them fear the Supers, and then, come for me.”

“Yes, sir.”

You fly off the window, looking for a place to start. You want to cause damage, you want them to be scared of you, whoever they may be.

You start off by using your heat vision to draw the ‘House of El’ symbol in the middle of the park, so they know who’s responsible for all that it is coming their way. You watch the grass burning, the form coming along and your heart beats fast, enthusiastic.

You didn’t even start the destruction part yet, and this already feels fulfilling. You know exactly where to go next.

You fly to your training center and you look down. This stupid-ass place gives you no good memories at all. You got beat up, got yelled at, got annoyed every time your powers didn’t work like they were supposed to, got angry at people looking at you thinking you weren’t good enough. You remember their disapproving looks; you remember the tiniest of sighs you’ve heard.

Fuck them all.

Your heat vision hits the ground, and your heart gets heavy, but your powers never stop. You can almost taste the feeling of being a disappointment in your mouth. And it gets you incredibly proud of yourself. You want to disappoint them. Them being proud of you means nothing at all.

You look down on the entire place up in flames. This is the right thing. Destroying this place will send them a message. You are not their little pet anymore. They can’t keep you under a leash, pretending you’re not powerful and fucking special. You’re so fucking special, even Lex wants your powers.

It’s not long until Supergirl flies in front of you. You smirk at her looking down. There’s a powerful feeling cursing through your veins. You know she can see it too. Your hair blowing in the wind, your stupid super suit moving almost in slow motion, your eyes burning of rage with little flames dancing in the dark of your enlarged pupils.

“I believe you owe me an apology.” It’s the first thing you say, after unclenching your jaw. “You called me weak.” You spit, disgusted. “You were mistaken.”

“Deeply.” Kara agrees looking down, and you notice the cars from the DEO stopping, people getting out of them in desperation, trying to put out the fire. That makes you so happy. She looks back at you. “Is this what this whole thing is about? You’re trying to prove to me you’re strong, after all this time?”

“Trying?” You scoff, then your face goes back to a frown. “I don’t need to prove myself. Especially not to someone who uses her powers to stop bank robberies instead of having the world under her firm grip.”

“I know you’re not my daughter.” Kara comes a little bit closer; you don’t move. You’re not scared of her, but she should be scared of you. “Are you bizarro?”

“You’re too far consumed in this battle of ego to see right in front of you.” You tilt your head, letting a creepy smile dangle on your lips. “Don’t you recognize your little one, mommy?”

“If that’s the case, then I have to stop you either way, little one.” Kara does her whole superhero pose and you laugh at her.

“You can’t. You don’t have the stomach.” You look down to the ground and you see Lena there. “I see, you won’t be the one doing it. Clean hands, right? Let the Luthor hurt the Kryptonian. It’s the natural order of things.”

“I’m sorry, my love. It has to be done.” Supergirl flies towards you in one motion. You still try to fly away, but she is a little faster, so she grabs you easily. You push her, punch her, you even pull her hair, but she doesn’t let go.

She lands on the floor with you wrapped in her arms, and Lena comes closer. Kryptonite gun in hand. Soon, you’re surrounded by agents with their own guns. Supergirl lets you go, flying above you, but not leaving, in case you decide to make a run for it.

You look at Lena. Gun in hand. You listen to her heartbeat going crazy and you smile at her.

Let’s play, mom.

“Do it.” You dare. “I want to see you pull that trigger. I want to see you hurt your own daughter with Kryptonite.”

“I don’t want to do this, baby.” Lena assures you, taking a small step towards you. “I promise you, I’ll figure out what’s going on with you. You just have to come with me.”

“You’ve always known, haven’t you?” You lock eyes with watery green eyes behind the gun. “You’ve always known someday the Luthor genes would shine through. Because no matter how good the Super gene is, the Luthor one is worse. So, so bad. Rotten to the core. You’ve always known I wouldn’t be able to resist.”

“I’ve told you before. We are not Luthors. We are Luthor-Danvers, and that means something. Please, stand down. Let me look at you.”

“Tell me to stand down one more time and I’ll throw-” You look at one guy on your left and point at him. “That guy into space.”

“Baby.” It’s Lena’s last try, you can see it in her face. You can see the way her finger presses lightly at the trigger. You also hear how that makes everyone else do the exact same movement.

“I’m not going to run away. But I won’t surrender, either.” You defy her. “If you want me to go with you, then you have to do it. You have to pull the trigger and you have to live with the guilt all your life.”

“I’m sorry it has come to this, baby.” But her face doesn’t hold much sentiment, nor does she lower her weapon. “But you know I have to do this. You can’t go on pulling stunts like this. You can’t keep thinking there are no consequences to your actions.”

“You are not sorry.” You smirk. “Don’t try to play me for a fool, Lena.” It’s the way her name leaves your mouth that makes her flinch. “I know you’re dying to pull that trigger and be the one who tamed a Kryptonian once again. It’s what all Luthors want in the end.”

She pulls the trigger, making you fall on the floor in pain, after a blast of kryptonite hits your chest.

“You should be so satisfied now.” You whimper. Kryptonite filling your body. “You’ve used kryptonite on your wife, and now on your daughter. It’s a full circle, isn’t it?” You spit out your words.

Lena puts you in handcuffs that strip you off of your powers, and strokes your cheeks gently. Eyes full of tears and instant regret.

“I’m bringing you back, my baby. I promise you.” She whispers delicately, like she’s not even talking to you anymore, but maybe to the memory she has of you.

But the two agents that come from behind you don’t pick you up delicately. In fact, they seem very pissed at you, and you’re shoved into the back of a van where Alex is.

“Aunt Alex.” You start with your bitchy tone and Alex breathes deep.

“Listen kiddo, I’m not in the mood.” She shakes her head, upset. “You just caused us millions of dollars in damages, Kara is a wreck, and don’t even get me started on Lena.” Alex raises her eyes from her tablet. “I know you’re not yourself, that’s why I don’t give a fuck about this. You start talking? That gag goes in your mouth in a second. Don’t think you can play me like you did with your moms.”

“I think the story would be really different if Lena hadn’t cuffed me and stripped me off of my powers.” You raise an eyebrow, not breaking eye contact. “You’re scared of me too.”

“Have you looked at yourself in the mirror?” Alex smiles unbothered. “I’ve dealt with things much worse, and much scarier than you and your babyface.” She grabs the gag and looks at you. “Now shut it, or I’ll make you.”

You decide to shut up. Your quarrel isn’t with Alex and the last thing you want it’s to be shut up. The best course of action is going willingly, and working something up in the DEO, because you know for sure there is where they’re taking you.

It’s Alex who shoves you inside of a cell, when you get there. Locks the glass door, and turns on some red sun lamps. You bite your mouth at the idea of it. They are very scared of you; they keep finding ways to strip you off of your powers.

It takes a few minutes until you hear talking on the other side of the glass. You can’t see them, or hear them well enough, but there’s one voice that stands out. You bitch grin to yourself.

Let’s play, momma.

"Mommy” You use your best and sweetest voice. Kara comes closer to the glass cell, and you stare at her from the other side. You want to destroy this place brick by brick until there’s nothing left, but you know if you’re aggressive about it, they won’t let you out. “Please, let me out. Can you open the door, please?"

"Kid, I'm sorry but we have to understand what's-" Kara starts, but you interrupt her.

"I'm begging you, please, please mommy." You drop on your knees. Tears falling from your eyes, and that act allures a crowd. Lena and Alex soon join Kara on the other side.

"Baby, I'm sorry." Kara gasps, and you watch Lena’s hand squeezing her shoulder reassuring. “You know I want to-”

"You said you would protect me. This isn't protection.” Your tears stop falling, you’re angry again. The act isn’t working. You clench your fist, using all the strength you have, trying to focus so the anger doesn’t consume you. You feel the palms of your hands burning, with nails digging into your flesh. “Please, this isn’t fair. Mom, please, do something.”

"I swear this is for your own good." Lena takes a deep breath, not buying into what you’re saying. Great. You’re done faking either way.

“FUCK YOU! LET ME OUT OF THIS CELL!” You bang on the cell, screaming as loud as you can. You see your blood leaving hand-shaped marks on the glass. Your scream is loud, but the banging is louder.

“Baby, please, you have to calm down.” You hear Kara’s voice trying to sooth you. It gets you angrier.

"FUCK YOU TOO! LET ME OUT! LET ME OUT NOW!" They look at the blood splashed onto the glass. Your face is burning red, and Kara flinches at the sight of you. Lena doesn't, so you know your best shot is with your momma. "Kara, I swear if you don't open this cell right now, I will hate you until the day I die."

“That’s enough.” You hear Alex’s voice and the glass turns black. You can’t see them on the outside, and you know they can’t see inside either. You can’t hear their voices, so you suspect they’re not listening to your unrelenting yell anymore.

Fuck. You need a new escape plan.

[doyumacy]

RIDE OUT - 9

ʏᴜᴛᴀ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ x ᴍᴀʀᴋ ʟᴇᴇ

ɢᴇɴʀᴇ: ꜱᴍᴜᴛ, ᴅʀᴀᴍᴀ, ᴀᴄᴛɪᴏɴ

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: ꜱᴜɢɢᴇꜱᴛɪᴠᴇ ᴛᴀʟᴋ,  ʟᴀɴɢᴜᴀɢᴇ

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 2,7k

ᴛᴀɢʟɪꜱᴛ: @coffee-prince-kyungsoo@xcharlottemikaelsonx@marksquare@tomorrowxforever@yoongsicles @neococo7 @angels-from-california @ahgastayzen @hiraarri @uhyikesbro

"yes yes yes yes," you moan as yuta eats you out.

"y/n, you look amazing. your face flushed, your lips as red as cherries, and your pussy, well i have no words for that." your face flushes even more from the compliment.

yuta adds a third finger and you roll your eyes. "fuck, i'm gonna cum." you whine.

"come for us, baby," you hear mark whispering in your ear. “let us see how beautiful you look when you cum.”

you wake up startled. your forehead is full of sweat and your hair is sticking to the back of your it. you swallow slowly as you sit on the bed and try to control your breathing. you don’t even realise you are panting.

what the hell was that? why is your mind tricking you in that way and making you have wet dreams about these two men? as if it isn’t hard enough.

you run a hand through your hair and get up from the bed going downstairs. it seems that johnny and jisung aren’t up yet. you need to focus on something else or your mind won’t stop replaying your steamy dream, and that’s the last thing you need right now.

you make breakfast and then get ready to open the shop. luckily, jungwoo has arrived earlier and he has already opened. you enter the shop and spot jaehyun talking to jungwoo about some switches.

“good morning,” you mutter.

jaehyun turns, surprised as if he isn’t expecting you. jungwoo smiles at you. “you're early today, y/n.”

“couldn’ts sleep,” you shrug and walk next to jaehyun. “i recommend the red one. it’s a better fit for your car.” you tell jaehyun.

he nods. “thanks.” he rubs his nape. “do you think we can talk?”

“i’ll be… at the office,” jungwoo gives you privacy and locks himself in the small office.

you turn your face to jaehyun. “what do you need?”

jaehyun sighs and rests his hands on the counter. “i didn’t know anything about it. i found out he was alive like almost two months ago…” he scrunches his face. “i’m sorry.”

you slowly nod. “i know.”

jaehyun frowns. “hold on, you’re not gonna yell at me or something?”

“you want me to yell at you?” you ask him.

“no, but… i thought you hated me and didn’t want to be my friend anymore,” jaehyun exhales in relief.

“dude, i had your dick in my mouth,” you remind him. “nothing can beat that.”

jaehyun laughs. “so, are we good?”

“yeah,” you reply to him. “but if you ever lie to me again i will chop off your balls.”

“you are a sadist.”

“stop whining and come here,” you open your arms.

jaehyun goes around the counter and hugs you. “i also knew you wouldn’t last too much time upset at me.”

you squint your eyes and look at him when he pulls away. “i can still regret it.”

“you won’t, and you know why? because i am your best friend and you need to rant about the situation,” he beams proudly.

“well, you’re right,” you murmur. “my mind is fucking me up and i don’t know what to do.”

jaehyun wraps an arm around your shoulder. “listen, y/n, fuck your mind. listen to your heart, does it beat faster when you see mark or when you see yuta?”

“beats pretty much in the same way for both,” you groan. “i’m even having wet dreams with them, jaehyun!” you rest your head on his shoulder. “i’m sick.”

“well, my advice is go poly!” he smiles and you stare at him. “yeah, never mind. that wouldn’t work. yuta is too possessive.”

“i just remembered why i never ask you for advice,” you sigh.

jaehyun giggles. “you want me to be real honest?” you nod. “you like mark and maybe there are more feelings there involved, but how do you feel about yuta? you might still have feelings for him?”

you pinch your nose. “it’s… complicated? weird? i mean, i never felt like that for anyone before. yuta is… the love of my life?”

jaehyun shrugs. “could be yes, but that doesn’t mean he’s your only love of your life. you still can have one more, or two, or three…”

“could you please run me over?” you sigh dramatically.

jaehyun chuckles. “y/n, i’m serious. you need to make your mind up before someone gets hurt.”

“that doesn’t help either,” you groan, pushing him away.

you are walking down the santa monica pier with mark at your side. after he picked you up that afternoon, he told you he'd take you to your favorite place. you never revealed him that, but replied he got a little help from jisung.

you are walking close together, shoulders brushing. and mark desperately wants to hold your hand. he ends up taking your hand into yours and you smile slightly squeezing his hand.

“the sun is setting.” you say. mark drags his eyes away from you and focuses on the water. the way the waves move toward the skyline.

the sunset reflects onto the water, pinks, oranges, and purples all blending with blue. It’s beautiful.

“it’s breathtaking.” he states, turning his head to look back at you.

“yeah. it's my favorite part of the day," you say, sounding awed. mark smiles at you, big and lopsided.

“i feel the same way,” he confesses, staring at you.

you blush and decide to avoid his eyes. you two stand there in silence for a while, holding hands. once it’s nearly dark, mark and you walk to the pacific park entrance and he smiles looking at the colorful roller coaster. “let’s ride it.”

"that looks,” you pause as you look up and watch the cart fly along the metal, the occupants all screeching with excitement as they were flipped upside down and around sharp curves, “interesting.”

"come on!" he takes your hand, yanking you towards the line.

how are you supposed to say to mark you're scared of roller coaster and you have never rode one? but you can't. he looks so excited and so thrilled about it that your heart melts.

you don't have to wait long before you are next to load onto the cart. mark looks over and sees that you are biting your bottom lip as the previous passengers file out of their seats.

“y/n, you don’t have to do it if you don’t want to,” mark looks at you.

“no, I want to do this.”

“good,” mark nods, “because it’s our turn.”

mark helps your with placing the seatbelt on, laughing when he realizes that you never wear a seatbelt when you drive but somehow you trust it. when the ride operators come around and pushes the metal bar onto your laps, you squint down at it and tilted your head.

“do they really expect this to stop us from falling out?” you whisper and yank on the bar a couple times, making the whole cart shake.

“come on baby, you know about physics,” mark reaches over and places one hand on top of you to stop the shaking.

"i know nothing about physics," you frown, looking at him.

"you do," he holds your hand. "just relax, baby. if we fall, we won't know."

you groan and squeeze at his hand. "i'm gonna yank your hair off."

mark chuckles and when the car begins moving forward, the grip that you have on the bar tightens. you begin creeping up the first hill, and mark looks over at you to try and calm your nerves.

“why don't you ride roller coasters?”

you rub your forehead. “my best friend died on a roller coaster. this shit collapsed and she died."

"oh shit, y/n... i'm sorry," mark stares at you and groans. "fuck, i'm sorry. i'll talk to guys so we can get off ri-"

mark stops talking when he sees you laughing and throw your head back. he cocks an eyebrow. "what's so funny, baby?"

"i'm shitting on you, mark," you wipe your eyes.

mark squints his eyes and pulls away from you. the roller coaster stops once you're on the highest point. you refuse to look down because you don't want to see the sea and how tall you are. mark slightly moves, making the cart move. you hiss at him. "stop, mark."

"what?" he smiles at you, moving again.

you whine and you grip at the bar. "mark!" you groan. "stop it or i swear to god i'm gonna run your over with my car."

mark laughs and he comes near you. "you're so cute when you get mad."

"and i'll get cuter when i chop off your balls," you stare at him.

he pouts. "truce?"

"fine. but dinner's on you."

after leaving the pier, mark takes you to his favorite restaurant. he then takes you home and parks right outside. he turns to you and smirks. "i had a great time."

"yeah well, wish i could i say the same," you joke.

mark laughs and leans to give you a kiss. you kiss him back and he grabs your jaw to kiss you better. you pull away and smile tilting your head to the side. "just a simple kiss for you, lee."

mark nods. "as my girl wishes."

you roll your eyes. "you can be very cheesy sometimes, did you know?"

"yep." he winks at you.

you sigh. "i can't stand you."

"too bad. you're already so into me."

"just... go home, mark." you giggle and give him a final kiss. he nods and kisses you back. "text me when you get there."

(...)

on a saturday night, doyoung ask you, no, demands you to be at a party he's throwing. you don't want to go, but you can't risk screwing yuta's plan.

you arrive at the party’s locations and you find some known faces. you spot doyoung talking to a red haired man and you assume he’s his friend. you turn around, walking through the drunk and high people dancing. you have a cup in your hand, but you’re not drinking. you need to keep your head clear in case something happens.

as you’re trying to make your way to the bar so you can take a seat, you meet with someone’s chest. you look up and your eyes  wide open. it’s jisung.

what the hell is he doing there?

“what in the world are you doing here?” you hiss at him.

“my friend invited me,” he shrugs.

“are you stupid, jisung?” you look at him. “this is doyoung’s party!”

“w-what?” he stutters. “i didn’t know. my friend just told me to come, but i can’t find her anywhere.”

“tell your… friend you had to go.” you advise him. “please. i don’t want doyoung to see you.”

“too late.”

“why?” you frown.

“he’s walking to us.”

you suddenly feel an arm around your shoulders and doyoung pulls you closer to him. he smiles. “who is this young man, y/n?”

you gulp. “he’s my uhm… my brother.”

doyoung smiles looking at jisung and extends his hand. “nice to meet you. i’m doyoung.”

jisung looks at you and then eyes doyoung’s hand. he slightly shakes it. “hi. i uhm… i’m jisung.”

“jisung.” doyoung nods. “i’ll remember that name.”

you remove doyoung’s arm and get away from him. “we’re actually leaving.”

“already?” doyoung cocks an eyebrow. “but the party just started.”

“i have homework,” jisung suddenly says.

“homework?” doyoung laughs. “okay. young kid needs to finish his tasks.”

“thanks for having me,” you tell doyoung. “see you later.”

“uhm… g-goodbye.” jisung mutters.

you take jisung by the arm and walk out of the party. you both are shaking but try to act as nonchalant as possible.

doyoung watches you two leave and when he feels someone’s presence next to him, he doesn’t even flinch. “told you he’d come.”

doyoung takes a bale of cash and hands them to the person standing next to him. “how did you convince him?” he turns to them.

“he’s a man,” the person fixes their hair. “a bit of flirting and he was ready to leave his family.”

doyoung nods. “yves, right?”

“yes.”

“nice job. i’ll see you around.”

(...)

the days go by and you and johnny come to the agreement that jisung will not leave the house until the situation is fixed, as it is very risky and doyoung knows about his existence, although he still does not know the identity of 'jwi'.

one night, after mark drops you off he decides to walk to the door and when you two are having a mini make out session, yuta decides to show up.

the sensation you get is confusing. you feel you're cheating on yuta and that makes you feel guilty. but you also like mark, and the more you spend time with him, the more feelings you get for him.

on the other hand, you keep having dreams where the three of you are together and you hate it.

you slightly pull away from mark and look at yuta. he only stares at you. "good evening."

you press your lips together and mark's grip on your waist tightens. "is johnny inside?"

you nod. "yes. you can come in."

yuta shakes his head. "can you tell him i'm outside please? i just need to give him something."

"okay. i'll be right back," you murmur.

you get into your house looking for johnny. mark leans against the wall, with his hands inside his jeans pockets. yuta looks everywhere but at him and it's uncomfortable.

an awkward situation.

"so..." yuta breaks the silence. "you dating my wife."

mark stares at him and blinks. "yeah."

yuta nods, slowly crossing his arms on his chest. "enjoy the time you still have left with her."

mark scoffs, almost laughing. "you're that insecure you need to threat me? you need to work harder, buddy."

"you're allowed to think whatever you want, mark," yuta shrugs. "y/n loves me. don't tell me you don't see it."

"i don't because i'm sure about her feelings towards me," mark smiles.

"please mark, you'll end up believing she's over me and hurt yourself," yuta tilts his head to the side. "i'd recommend you to walk away for once."

"i'm not the type that walks away," mark spits, looking at him.

you and johnny show up at the door and johnny greets yuta. he hands him a black usb and tells him he needs to go. he approaches you and kiss your cheek goodbye. yuta smiles at you and before he turns around to leave, he winks at you. mark rolls his eyes and johnny feels awkwardly trapped.

mark says goodbye seconds later but he gives you a kiss on the mouth, making johnny feel more uncomfortable. his eyes go everywhere, trying to avoid the scene of you kissing mark. it's gross.

"okay, get a room now. i can see the tongues from here," johnny makes a disgusted face.

"goodnight, baby. sleep tight." mark kisses your forehead.

"you too," you smile at him.

mark says goodbye to johnny and you watch him get into his car. once you and Johnny are back inside the house, johnny rubs his cheek. "girl, you need to do something about it."

"about what?" you ask him.

"about the two desperate dicks that were outside minutes ago," johnny scoffs. "didnt you feel the tension between those two? i thought they would start beating each other at any second."

"I don't want to talk about it," you state.

"you always avoid talking about it, but you eventually will have to choose one." johnny cocks an eyebrow. "or maybe convince them to start a relationship with the three of you."

"you're so annoying, johnny. just... go away." you wave a hand to shoo him away.

"you can shoo me away but you know you need to choose one." he shrugs. "it's not fair and you know it."

you sigh. "i know."

[goodnightmemes]

DEXTER SEASON ONE SENTENCE STARTERS

❛ You're mine now, so do exactly as I say. ❜

❛ Open your eyes and look at what you did! ❜

❛ I'm a very neat monster. ❜

❛ Pretty fucking please with cheese on top. ❜

❛ You have a morbid sense of fun. ❜

❛ What happened changed something inside you. ❜

❛ If God is in the details, and if I believed in God, then he's in this room with me. ❜

❛ I can kill a man, dismember his body, and be home in time for "Letterman." But knowing what to say when my girlfriend's feeling insecure...I'm totally lost. ❜

❛ Neither you nor I is in complete control of our destinies. ❜

❛ There are no secrets in life, just hidden truths that lie beneath the surface. ❜

❛ Keeping my face pinched in sorrow for two hours straight is a real chore. ❜

❛ A whole life reduced to ashes. ❜

❛ I can't help it. I kill things. ❜

❛ When you take a man's life, you're not just killing him, you're snuffing out all the things he'll ever become. ❜

❛ Killing must serve a purpose. Otherwise it's murder. ❜

❛ You don't play by the rules. Why should I? ❜

❛ If I had a heart, it might be breaking right now. ❜

❛ I'm all for sending the message, but this ain't the way. ❜

❛ Scream and lose a tongue. ❜

❛ Death isn't the end. It's the beginning of a chain reaction that will catch you if you're not careful. ❜

❛ If I let someone get that close, they'd see who I really am, and I can't let that happen. ❜

❛ I like it here with you. You're the only person people hate more than me. ❜

❛ Sometimes, I'm not sure where _____'s vision of me ends and the real me starts. ❜

❛ Everyone hides who they are at least some of the time. ❜

❛ So I'm neither man nor beast. I'm something new entirely, with my own set of rules. ❜

❛ Stop grinning like a fucking psycho and get back to work. ❜

❛ Freedom's just another word for one more way to get fucked. ❜

❛ Maybe you should just learn the basics before you reinvent the damn wheel. ❜

❛ The problem with acting normal is normal people get into stupid situations like this. ❜

❛ Maybe if I don't blink, my eyes will tear up. ❜

❛ Under normal circumstances, I'd take that as a compliment. ❜

❛ Keeping the truth from the people closest to you is how you'll survive, and how you'll protect them if anything goes wrong. ❜

❛ Every time something goes a little bit right, something like this happens. ❜

❛ God, I feel like I need a shower just looking at this douche bag. ❜

❛ ____ will forgive me eventually. That's who she is - bighearted, kind, nothing like me. ❜

❛ The only sound I hear, the only sound in the entire world...is my heart beating. ❜

❛ I swear, after this case, I'm submitting your ass for psychiatric evaluation. ❜

❛ We hit the motherfucking mother lode. ❜

❛ When did you first notice it? This darkness inside the guy you fell for. ❜

❛ God, this is such a mess, and I've dragged you into it. ❜

❛ Just let me grab my heart up off the fucking floor. ❜

❛ Goddamn, you are fine when you're mad. ❜

❛ Fascination with serial killers is an American pastime. ❜

❛ All the expectations I had, all the promises of greatness, wiped out. ❜

❛ My circle of friends is down to one. ❜

❛ Don't kill anyone who doesn't deserve to die. ❜

❛ I'm empty...but I found a way to make it feel less bottomless. ❜

❛ You pretend the feelings are there for the world, and for the people around you. Who knows? Maybe one day they will be. ❜

❛ I always prided myself on being an outsider, but now, I feel the need to connect with someone. ❜

❛ Why do bloodstains always look like crustaceans to you? ❜

❛ To some people, death makes perfect sense. Life - now, that's the puzzle. ❜

❛ This is the only way I know how to keep you out of an electric chair. ❜

❛ It feels like... I hate saying this. It sounds so fucking cheesy. It feels like making love. ❜

❛ I do have another motive. It's called a paycheck. ❜

❛ For the first time in a long while, I saw how easy it would be for me to fall back into my old life. ❜

❛ I guess this matters to me. So if I talk about it and it goes away, I'm actually losing something. ❜

❛ There must have been a time in your life when you felt powerless. ❜

❛ I'm gonna tell you something that I've never told anyone before. I'm a serial killer. ❜

❛ You're awake. Shall we analyze your dreams? ❜

❛ Trauma can distort the memory. ❜

❛ Well, thanks for the vote of fucking confidence. ❜

❛ Death is the great unifier. ❜

❛ My fingerprints were all over it. I figured it was prudent to get rid of the evidence. ❜

❛ I know I should be sorry that we met under these circumstances, but truthfully, I think it was the best way to get to know you. ❜

❛ My concrete foundation is turning to shifting sand. ❜

❛ Something finally got to you. I guess you're human after all. ❜

❛ You can talk to me, you know? Just got to open your mouth and move it. ❜

❛ I can always see other people's problems more clearly than my own. ❜

❛ What'd the freak do this time, boil your goldfish? ❜

❛ Thanks, but unless you know an expert in repressed memories… ❜

❛ You are all the family that I have, and I barely know you. ❜

❛ How often does someone get a chance to help catch a bad guy, huh? ❜

❛ You've been a problem. It's time for you to go away. ❜

❛ So, this is doom. I've been the architect of so much of it. It's only fair I should know what all the fuss is all about. ❜

❛ Don't you dare! Not in front of my baby! ❜

❛ Close your eyes, _____. ❜

❛ I've never had much use for the concept of hell, but if hell exists, I'm in it. ❜

❛ It climbed inside me that day, and it's been with me ever since -- My dark passenger.

❛ Don't struggle. That never helps. ❜

❛ I'm compressing your carotid artery, and that is cutting off oxygen to your brain. In about 10 seconds, you'll be unconscious. ❜

❛ Does that make you feel anything? Anything at all? ❜

❛ If I'd have known that this would get you back in the same room with me, I would have gotten stabbed sooner. ❜

❛ I put myself out there. I set myself up to get hurt. ❜

❛ No wonder I felt so disconnected my entire life. If I did have emotions, I'd have to feel...this. ❜

❛ You're not a parent. You don't understand. You do anything to protect your kids. ❜

❛ It's who you know and who you blow. ❜

❛ If you came for an apology, you wasted a tank of gas. ❜

❛ I mean, a real hour, not one of your "let's stretch this out till 2:00 a.m. you might as well stay and have sex" hours. ❜

❛ I don't often make mistakes, but when I do, they haunt me. ❜

❛ So desperate to fall in love. ❜

❛ I've lived in darkness a long time. Over the years, my eyes adjusted until the dark became my world and I could see. ❜

❛ Surprise, motherfucker. ❜

❛ Spin me a story, asshole. ❜

❛ This is not the way I envisioned our family reunion. ❜

❛ You don't ever have to apologize to me. Not for who you are or anything you do. ❜

❛ Imagine how I felt when I tracked you down and found out you were exactly like me. ❜

❛ You can be yourself with me. Your real, genuine self. ❜

❛ You can't be a killer and a hero. It doesn't work that way! ❜

❛ I was so scared. I was so scared. ❜

❛ What am I, one of your victims now? ❜

❛ You should know this isn't easy for me. ❜

❛ You're the only one I ever wanted to set free. ❜

❛ Sorry. I can't hear any more...'cause you're right. ❜

❛ My devil danced with his demon, and the fiddler's tune isn't over. ❜

❛ I wonder what it would be like for everything inside me that's denied and unknown to be revealed. ❜

❛ This is what it must feel like to walk in full sunlight, my darkness revealed, my shadow self embraced. ❜

[nhlandotherimagines]

I Wish- Quinn Hughes

@natbarzal @anastasiyaigorevnadobrodevskaya @jonnytoews19 

Well here is blurb number 6 of my Up All Night series! I absolutely adore Quinn Hughes so writing this broke my heart! This is just pure angst and heartbreak, oh and some curse words so consider yourself warned!

Please let me know what you think! Thank you all so much for your continued support you’re amazing! ❤️

He takes your hand, I die a little. I watch your eyes and I'm in riddles. Why can't you look at me like that?

“Y/n here yet?” Elias asks, bumping his shoulder playfully into Quinn. Quinn’s face reddens at the question, and Elias’ smirk grows. The whole team knows Quinn is hopelessly in love with you, and they chirp him endlessly for it.

“Piss off Petey,” Quinn grumbles, “She should be here soon.” The boys threw a little get together for Quinn’s birthday, so of course they invited you. You and Quinn have become really close over the last year, so when Brock put together the invite list you were at the top.

“You should tell her.” Petey states, slipping away from Quinn. Almost as if on cue, you walk through the door. Quinn immediately lights up seeing you, however it doesn’t last long. He is sure he’s going to throw up, maybe even die, when he sees the man walking next to you. It is a guy Quinn has never met before, but judging by where his fingers are interlocked with yours, you are quite familiar with him.

“There he is! Happy Birthday Quinny!” You beam, dropping the mystery man’s hand to wrap both your arms around Quinn.

“Thanks Y/n/n, I’m glad you could make it.” He smiles down at you as you pull away. Sure it was the truth, but Quinn can’t help but fight the frown threatening to settle itself on his face.

The man beside you clears his throat as you pull away from Quinn. “Oh right! Quinn this is my boyfriend Jake, Jake this is Quinn!” You smile brightly up at Jake, and he smiles back. The two of you are so caught up in each other you don’t see Quinn’s face fall as he watches you.

Quinn can feel his world crumbling around him. The way you’re looking at this guy, your boyfriend, Quinn wants you to look at him like that. Until this point he had thought it was an option, that maybe you felt the same. Apparently he was wrong. “Nice to meet you Jake.”

When you walk by, I try to say it, but then I freeze, and never do it. My tongue gets tied, the words get trapped. I hear the beat of my heart getting louder, whenever I'm near you

“What?!” Elias’ eyes are practically bugging out of his head now, as he stares at Quinn in disbelief.

“She brought her boyfriend Petey.” Quinn states again, annoyance clear in his voice. Elias opens his mouth to speak, but Quinn quickly shuts him down. “Just quit it okay? There was no hope anyway, it’s fine.” Before Elias can protest, Quinn is walking away. His shoulders slump in defeat as he attempts to mingle with the people that have shown up for his party.

Quinn is sure this is the worst birthday he’s ever had. Sure, it was nice to spend some time with his friends, but he’s never felt this terrible before.

When Quinn finally sees you alone, you’re walking back from the washroom. As you walk past him, his mouth opens to speak. He wants to tell you how he feels, ask what your deal with Jake is, and tell you how bad he wishes it were him. As you smile at him, his heart hammers aggressively in his chest. He cannot form any sentences as you walk right past him, finding your way back to Jake. He was tongue tied, and there was nothing he could do.

But I see you with him slow dancing, tearing me apart 'cause you don't see. Whenever you kiss him, I'm breaking, Oh how I wish that was me

Brock and Elias try their best to keep Quinn entertained for the rest of the evening. Keeping him out of his own head, and his attention off of you. Their efforts, although for his best interest, don’t stop Quinn from watching you whenever you were in view. Jake’s hands gripping your hips, as the two of you swayed back and forth. The two of you slow dance, despite the hip hop beats that someone had playing through Quinn’s speakers, as if you had your own music playing that no one could hear.

It is rough for Quinn to keep the smile on his face as the steady stream of well wishes continues throughout the night. He does a great job of it though, that is until he hits his breaking point. After towing the line all night, on the verge of a breakdown, or perhaps a temper tantrum, Quinn breaks. That line snaps the moment Quinn watches your lips press to Jake’s. The kiss is short and sweet, but to Quinn it feels like it goes on forever. To him, that kiss solidifies the fact he will never have you.

So he drinks. A lot.

He looks at you, the way that I would. Does all the things, I know that I could. If only time, could just turn back

“Quinn slow down!” Brock pleads, trying to pull Quinn from the kitchen where he has spent the last five minutes taking shots. Quinn just shrugs him off pouring more, trying to rid the whole night from his memory. Trying to rid you from his memory. Brock knows he can’t talk any sense into Quinn, so he does the only thing he knows to.

“Y/n!” Brock calls out your name, and when you turn around, you see him running towards you in a panic. You send him a confused look encouraging him to tell you what is going on. “It’s Quinn. I need your help he won’t listen to me.”

When you see him it scares you. You’ve never seen him like this. Hell, no one has. He’s not drinking for fun, and just trying to keep up with the big guys. You’ve seen those times. This time is different, he’s alone, mumbling to himself and knocking back shots as fast as he can pour them.

“Quinn?” Your voice shakes as you place on hand on his shoulder, and use the other to stop him from pouring another shot. His head shoots up at the sound of your voice, eyes meeting yours. The hurt in his eyes is enough for you to have to fight back tears of your own. “I think you should stop.”

“Why do you care? Go back to your boyfriend,” he spits. The anger in his tone drops though, when he sees your face twist. “I’m just having fun.”

“No you aren’t. Talk to me Quinn, I DO care about you.” You plead, but he just shakes his head and let’s out a sad laugh.

“If you care, why him?” Quinn’s eyes are boring into your own, “I could do what he does. I want to. I can look at you like that, I could’ve been that guy! And if I could go back and change things I would.” You can only stare back at him in astonishment, unable to form any words. His confession hits you hard, you didn’t know. How could you?

When you think about it though, it is pretty obvious. Quinn has always complimented you, been the first to offer you help even if you didn’t need it, and always requested you as his plus one. You feel stupid for not having clued in before, and you feel bad for being the reason for your friend’s broken heart.

'Cause I got three little words that I've always been dying to tell you...

“Quinn, I’m sorry I didn’t know you liked me-“ you start, stammering slightly. You’re trying to form an apology without making matters worse, but Quinn cuts you off.

“I don’t like you Y/n.” There it is again, that venom in his words. Quinn was never one to get mad like this, and you don’t like it. His words, although angry, still confuse you.

“B-but you just said?” You hardly register the three men standing behind you now. Brock and Elias both trying to figure out what is happening, and Jake watching you closely.

“I don’t like you. I love you. Always have. Now if you’ll excuse me I have a bottle to get back to and I’m sure you haven’t forgotten that you have a boyfriend to get back to.” Quinn pulls his hand free from your grip on his wrist. Instead of pouring another shot though he brings the bottle up to his lips and turns to walk away.

“Quinn wait!” You call out to him, but he doesn’t stop. He just continues walking towards his room down the hall. “I loved you too you know?” Tears begin to slip down your face, and you know you’ve drawn a crowd but at this point you don’t care. You watch as Quinn freezes, his entire body going rigid, but he doesn’t respond or turn around.

“But you are Quinn-fucking-Hughes, and I’m just me! I counted myself lucky to even be able to call you a friend, so I couldn’t tell you how I felt. You could have any girl Quinn.” You watch him closely, trying to steady your breathing as you do so.

Quinn turns around, the wild look on his face is certainly not what you were expecting. “Well guess what! I don’t want any girl, I want you. But I guess that ships sailed huh?” He glances over your shoulder for a moment, and speaks again. “Take care of her Jake, she’s a good one.”

Without another word from anyone, Quinn is gone. The slamming and locking of his door, so loud that it’s heard over the music. In your attempt to save your friendship with Quinn, you lost him altogether. Now you’re left to wish; wish that this never happened.

[hurting-fictional-people]

Betrayal Story - part 5

This is it guys, this is why the characters got names! I hope y’all like it <3  

CW: branding, burning, forced to watch, emeto (pretty brief and only at the end), whumpee restrained to a table, nonsexual noncon touch, hurt no confort again but that will change eventually I promise lol

tagging  @thelazywitchphotographer @swift-perseides @whump-it-like-its-hot  @sunflower1000  @msrandonstuff @fromtheo-withlove  @boxofsilence  @lionhxartx @sometouchofmadness @paleassprince @livingforthewhump (let me know if you ever want me to stop or start tagging you ♡)

Part one is here, continued from here

-

Fire is strangely beautiful, Liam thinks, watching it flicker and dance in the hearth. A kind of painful beauty that hurts to see, the idea of touching it enough for gooseflesh to rise, but pretty nonetheless. 

He wishes he could be like fire. Not because of its beauty, but because it produces no shadow. No darkness comes from the flames, only light. And pain, when touched without notice. If he could be like that, only light and self-defense, maybe all of this wouldn’t hurt so much. Chase’s leaving, the dread of what each of his breaths might bring as time passes, the plummeting of his stomach every time he hears footsteps outside his room’s door. 

The flames crackle, and Liam wonders why it is he can’t shake the fear off, as he remembers the guards bursting into his room and pulling him out of bed, leading him outside as Liam pretended each step didn’t make him want to scream. That was minutes ago, and yet the fear still drums in tandem with his heart, pulsating turmoil into his bloodstream. Why feel fear when all it does is make things worse? Wouldn’t it be easier if he could just be at peace in those moments between pain, before it comes? But instead, his mind or his body or his soul decides to fill him with dread – only another layer of horror he cannot avoid.

Jonah was waiting for him when they brought Liam inside a weirdly cozy living room, leaning against the fireplace and watching Liam’s uncertain footsteps as he was pushed down to lie on a steel table placed in the middle of the room. Eyes glued to him as Liam was restrained until he could no longer move. His gaze went straight to the fireplace and stayed there since, watching the flames as memories of electricity, lighting up his every nerve until he nearly lost his voice to screaming, flashed before his eyes. The memory is still fresh enough to freeze him into not resisting. What a pitiful sight he must be.

“Hello there,” Jonah smiles, taking casual steps towards him and stopping by his side to watch from above, hands in his pockets as if having someone tied to a table in his living room is nothing out of the ordinary. “How are you today, Liam? Has your voice returned after our last encounter?”

He lifts his gaze to find the man’s eyes blinking innocently at him.

“You are sick,” Liam rasps out, shaky and small, but the words are there. He might be restrained and scared, but he is not broken. He isn’t. Right?

“That’s a yes, then. Very good, I like to hear you,” scream – he doesn’t even have to finish the sentence for the word to be heard. Liam feels sick. “Now let’s call our mutual friend, shall we?”

Liam narrows his eyes as Jonah types something on his phone. He can’t be talking about– 

“Chase!” Jonah says to the camera Liam only now notices a few paces away, held by another one of Jonah’s men. He tries to hear more, but Jonah comes so close to the camera and talks in such a low voice that all he grasps and holds on to is the name. 

Jaw clenched and stomach churning, Liam stares at the ceiling, letting the wave of bitter rage break against him without resistance. It wins the battle against fear for one moment, and that’s enough for him to seize it with every last bit of willpower. It is better to be angry than frightened, and he’s had enough of the latter for a lifetime.

The frantic beat of his heart turns into aching memories of Chase’s lies, promises of love he never intended to keep, each word meant to trick Liam into being a fool. Twice. Once months ago, then again when he genuinely, stupidly, hoped Chase would pick him instead of a job. Fucking ludicrous. 

But bitterness can only do so much to keep fear at bay, and when Jonah’s voice reaches his ears again, not even a minute later, it comes crashing back and flooding his veins with pointless adrenaline.

“He was a very good boy if you want to know. Just stood there, still and obedient as we buckled in the restraints,” he says to the camera, stopping beside Liam once more, placing a hand on his head. “Say hi to Chase, Liam boy.”

“Fuck you,” he spits. Fuck both of you, he means to complete, but Jonah’s hand is already closing on his hair, drawing out a pathetic little whimper from his lips.

“Language, Liam.”

He closes his eyes and waits for the hand to let go. It’s all he can do. Still, his hands twitch uselessly by his side, palms turned to the ceiling closing in fists, knuckles scraping against cold steel.

“I guess this is a lesson for both of you, then. For Chase to not be a prick and for you to behave better, my pretty plaything.”

Eyes snapping open, he glares up at Jonah, feeling indignation bubble up inside of him.

Jonah doesn’t even see it. He is too busy looking at his phone with an unamused expression before handing it to one of the guards. 

Is he talking to Chase? Is Chase delighting in seeing Liam like this, helpless and scared?

The part of him that refuses to give up entirely shakes its head, remembers gentle touches and tender gazes that couldn’t possibly have been faked. The other part, the one that grows each day he spends in this hell, purses its lips and scoffs at his naiveness. If Chase cared, he wouldn’t have left him here. 

“You know, if it wasn’t for Chase, this wouldn’t be happening,” Jonah says, painful grip turning into deceivingly soft fingers that run through Liam’s hair in mock sympathy. “He knew what I’d do if he pissed me off. So here we are again. It is always him, isn’t it Liam? It doesn’t matter how far Chase goes, he’s always the one causing you hurt.”

He tries to fight it. Of all the things he’s been put through, he fights the tears that prick his eyes. And just like everything else, he loses. They fall in warm drops down his temples as he turns his head, looks away into the fire again. No shadows there, nothing like the darkness seeping through the cracks of his heart, tainting his soul.

“Now for the fun part,” Jonah declares, sauntering to the fireplace, crouching down in front of it. Something entirely too close to panic pools in Liam’s stomach as he gets back up, holding two iron rods he’d dismissed as fire pokers. As Jonah approaches him, he can see with disturbing clarity how wrong he’d been – the rods’ bright-orange tips shine in intricate shapes. Letter shapes.

“J-Jonah,” he breathes, more sob than word, “please, please don’t.”

Jonah smiles at him, and without saying a word hands one of the brands to a guard before placing himself beside Liam’s exposed arm.

He tries to breathe, beg, say something, but every rational thought disappears as Liam follows the blazing hot shapes with wide eyes, gasping for air that refuses to fill his lungs.

He is almost there, the please I’ll do anything hanging from the tip of his tongue when the branding iron is lowered onto the delicate skin above his wrist. 

Burn could never describe the pain that steals every last bit of himself Liam tries to hold on to. Fire sinks into his skin, into muscle and bones until it reaches whatever lies within, and destroys everything in its path. He screams, cries and wails senseless pleads, but nothing passes through the ocean of agony he’s drowned in. 

He barely notices when the brand is pulled away.

He does when the second one is pressed onto his other arm though. 

Liam writhes and sobs, but there’s no escape, no mercy to be begged for. Only pain to feel, nothing, no one else but pain and pain and pain that swallows and dissolves the world into searing flames that hold nothing of whatever beauty he thought he saw.

-

You know, what really makes me mad isn’t even your fucking stupid idea of keeping things from me. It’s the shit job you did deleting those files. Who do you think I am, Chase?

That was all that waited for Chase when his phone buzzed, along with a link to a live stream instead of a video. No recording this time, no certainty that at least while Chase watches, Liam isn’t in pain anymore. 

“Chase. I see you’re faster now. Pity you’re no smarter,” Jonah sighed as soon as he clicked on the link. “But I won’t go into how fucking idiotic it was of you to delete half the information I asked you to get me,” he hissed, low and angry enough for Chase to feel the words as bugs crawling along his skin, up and down, circling his throat, ready to squeeze. “What’s happening here today is entirely on you. I hope you see and hear and remember every bit of it, sweetheart.”

He felt like screaming when Jonah closed his hand in Liam’s hair and made him yelp. The impulse to clench his fist until it shattered the phone was strong enough for Chase to connect the live stream to the television in his living room and bite on his lip when the image expanded and Liam’s terror became so painfully obvious.

One minute later, Chase nearly threw the phone at the wall when he called the man and Jonah simply looked down at his muted cell phone on the other side of the screen and handed it to someone else.

“You know, if it wasn’t for Chase, this wouldn’t be happening,” Jonah said, and Chase seethed, half anger and half guilt boiling inside of him. “He knew what I’d do if he pissed me off. So here we are again. It is always him, isn’t it Liam? It doesn’t matter how far Chase goes, he’s always the one causing you hurt.”

Chase dropped the phone in time to avoid crushing it, but the desk chair didn’t escape his rage. Its broken pieces fell on the other side of the room, doing nothing to soothe the horror building up in his stomach.

And then Jonah grabbed the branding iron, and Chase’s heart missed a beat at the sight, eyes widening in tandem with Liam’s.

“J-Jonah,” Liam choked out, “please, please don’t.”

“Jonah,” Chase said too, unable to hold it in just like anything else in his life, even if he knew he was the only one listening. There was never such a thing as restraint when it came to Liam. If only Chase had seen it sooner. “No–“

When the iron descended on that soft, silky, perfect skin above the restraint circling Liam’s wrist, Chase fell on his couch, legs too weak to hold his weight. 

Liam screamed, loud and raw and utterly hopeless, back trying to arch and being pulled back down by too tight restraints before it even left the table. His body spasmed, trying to escape the blaze, but there was nowhere to go, and it took only a moment for the despair to turn into sobs and tears.

It didn’t last more than a few seconds, but those would star Chase’s nightmares forever. Jonah pulled the iron off Liam’s now bright red skin, and Chase couldn’t bear to look at the letter-shaped burn. He also couldn’t help it. 

When Jonah exchanged the used iron with the second one, Chase felt bile rise in the back of his throat. “Please, p-please, please,” Liam begged, so little Chase barely heard it, so dazed he didn’t think Liam did either. 

He echoed it though.

“No, please don’t.”

But no one heard him, and the second branding iron was pressed to the inside of Liam’s other arm, and his mouth opened in a silent scream Chase heard nonetheless.

By the time the second one is pulled away, Chase is kneeling on the floor, hands covering his mouth and tears threatening to overflow.

It is nothing compared to Liam, though. His mouth hangs open even as the iron stops touching skin, and soft sobs wrack his slim body as his glassy eyes leak a constant stream of tears into his hair.

Chase doesn’t even move when Jonah’s voice leaves the speakers again.

“So? Do you like it?” he asks, a manic grin stretched across his lips as he points to Liam and the camera walks toward him. 

It focuses on his face first. Sweat, tears, pure agony written all over it. His eyes lay open and unfocused, lost to the pain. The image slides down to his heaving chest, restrained arms, until it stops above both his wrists.

Chase turns to the side and vomits at the sight. 

Two bright red burns mar the perfect skin he had once worshipped with lips and tongue and feather-light touches that never felt like enough. 

Jonah chuckles, and the live stream ends in that ghastly image of two letters forever engraved on Liam’s skin. Flourished and elegant, a C stands out on his right arm and an R on the left one. His initials. Chase Raymond. 

Chase pukes again, and then curls up on the floor and weeps.

(next)

[glitterge1pen]

When You Open A Pudding Cup Is It Loud?

tw; for general body injuries (once again nothing too explicit) 

Keigo Takami x reader, sfw, fluff, word count 1,683

“It hurts”

“I know”

“It pisses me off”

“I know”

You move around the room, closing curtains but opening up windows. Wanting cool spring air, but not anyone to pry into the view of your apartment. The lights were off and only the sticky afternoon sun illuminated the room. Your tone with the currently exhausted man on your couch was between stern and affectionate. Like a sweet orange stinging a cut on the roof of someone's mouth.

Usually you were more attentive to Keigo when he wandered into your apartment like this. But today you had actually been able to catch the news. Coverage was relentless in showing the wounds on him. You had been in the shower during the height of whatever action was happening downtown, but you had seen enough.

You paced around your living room unable to turn the TV off, having to turn away to walk to your bedroom, to check the fridge, to make sure you turned the water off in the bathroom. You kept coming back to the TV. You thought about running out to where Keigo was. To drag him out there and onto an ambulance yourself. But you wouldn't make it in time.

He had been impaled with a knife of some sort fairly early in the fight. While the wound was at first, not as serious, Keigo had refused to back down, or stop, give himself a break, anything that would have allowed him to even attempt to try to help himself.

"You got any ice?"

You say nothing in response to him. When you grab the ice pack from the freezer you don't even hand it to him. You toss it sloppily onto his face.

"Hey! That fucking hurt!"

His voice is angry, confused, bitter, you grit your teeth and bite your tongue knowing you've done something wrong. You breathe in harshly, trying to steady your thoughts before opening your mouth. You don't want to do any more damage to him, that wasn't your intention.

"I shouldn't have done that"

You say as easily as you can, but your tone is flat and your lips are pressed into a tight line. Keigo lays with one arm off the couch, fingers pulling at the threads of carpet. His other arm is holding his injured side. It's been wrapped in bandages, he's been taken care of best he could have been by healthcare professionals. But there is still a battered look to him. His hair in disarray, bruises scattered over him, the blood dried on his lesser wounds.

The blood. If you close your eyes and seek out the scent you can smell it on him.

"Can you move the ice? I'm still pretty sore"

You do as he asks. When you move the ice you lay it down gently, making sure he's comfortable. You sit on the ground next to the couch. Your hand dancing around his in the carpet. He struggles to look at your hand so close to his. He settles for the ceiling.

"Are you mad at me or something?"

"Give me a second"

He does as you say. Waiting for you to speak. Eyes flicking to steal a glance at you and then back to the ceiling.

"I forget that this is how the world is sometimes. I've seen you beat up before. A lot. Remember when you got punched so hard part of your eyelid-

"Yeah, yeah, I remember, please don't make me relive that"

He says, relieved that you're loosening up into your usual self.

"I saw some of what happened today on the news."

This phrase of yours hangs in the air for longer than you want it to. Your next words are strained and you worry they give too much of yourself away.

"If things had gone a little differently, you wouldn't even be here,"

"I don't get it-"

"You don't"

You are firm. You are stating a fact, not retiring his point of view but opposing it. His eyes widen and he pushes himself up with his spare arm.

"If you had given yourself five minutes to get this,"

You poke at his side and he winces, breath racing through his teeth.

"Fixed up, you would have done better. If you had taken care of yourself better, things would have gone better"

He slowly lowers himself back down into the more comfortable position he was in before. You see his hand go to touch you, but it flicks down to the carpet again. You are afraid to move. You want to look at the kitchen stove, see how much time has passed, but you feel like moving will break the now peaceful silence. Keigo breaks it for you.

“I had it you know”

His words have their bite again. The puff of his voice. That playful prick of sound.

“Sure you did”

“What's that supposed to mean?”

“It means that I had to help you get on the couch”

His hand softly smacks the back of your head. You briefly lean into the touch. For a second too long the contact remains. His hand awkwardly moves to rest in the little space between you, the edge of the couch, and his leg. When you speak you can feel his hand there.

You sit with him as the afternoon fades into evening. The stress and havoc of that morning fading. The more you talk with him you don't even notice how you lean to rest your head on his leg. How his hand will nip at your shoulder.

There is a lull in the conversation and Kiego takes the opportunity if you have anything for him to eat.

“Should you even be eating?”

His reply is mumbled and quiet but you do hear ‘soft foods’. In the kitchen you decide to put on some music as you rummage through the cabinets and fridge. You don't have much he can eat. You could mash up some fruit for him, or you could give him a pudding cup.

“Do you like pudding?”

You ask.

“Is it chocolate?”

“Yeah,”

“Then I like pudding”

You get him a spoon and a glass of water. Standing over him on the couch there is the daunting realization that this won't be easy for him. You could watch him struggle to eat and ask for your help, or you could just help him yourself.

“Hey what song is this?”

He says as he pushes himself into the corner of your couch where he can lazily sit up. His body doing its best to not disturb the heavy wrap of bandages on his side.

“I've shown you this band like a million times”

“Show it to me again”

He says feigning a clueless quirk of the voice. You open the cup of pudding and put it in his free hand but you keep the spoon.

“You don't have to feed me-”

He's so earnest here, like he doesn't want you to do it, like he's scolding himself for making you even think you have to.

“And how exactly were you planning on feeding yourself?”

He pulls his mouth into an actual clueless smile this time.

“I didn't think that far”

You dip the spoon into the pudding cup and bring it up to his mouth. He looks at you blankly.

“You have to open your mouth if you want to eat”

His teeth scrape against the spoon. You try to get more pudding but Keigo moves the cup this way, and then that way. A laugh blows into his face and now you're aware how close you had gotten to him. You pull back.

More aggressive with the spoon you stab the cup. Some of that bite gets onto his lips. You go to swipe it off but his tongue licks the spot at the same time.

“Keigo! Gross!”

He rolls his eyes dramatically. This happens several more times. Him trying to lick your hand or bite the spoon before you can pull it away. You try the best to act exasperated but you laugh still.The one time he does bite the spoon, it's so hard that the pain surprises him and he chokes on the bite of pudding.

“Shit that hurt,”

You don't let him catch his breath all the way, you shove another bite of pudding in his mouth. He struggles to suppress his smile and chocolate smears his mouth again. This time you get to it first, using the back of your hand to brush it away. You see him gulp down so hard you think he might have choked again.

“That was the last of it”

You take the empty pudding cup away from him and offer the water. He simply nods. He's less resistant to your help this time. He lets you hold the bottle to his lips, you tell yourself not to shake as you hold his chin in place. You're careful with the water titling the glass as needed. He's gulping it down though.

“Holy shit you were thirsty, why didn't you ask for water earlier? Do you want more?”

“Yes”

You fill up the glass of water again. You worry that he should have been here resting, sleeping, not chatting with you for hours. This time you don't even think about your hand on his face. That is until you see him looking at you. His expression was one you hadn't seen from him before. You pour the water a little too fast and he chokes again.

“Do you know how to eat food or-’

“Hey that time it was your fault!”

You finish giving him the rest of the water, pretending to be more meticulous in the pour while you try not to catch his eyes again. Now that he's been hydrated he looks somehow more tired, like his body had just been waiting for water before he fell asleep. You shut off the music. Stuff a pillow under his head. Drape him in a blanket. You're about to head into your own bedroom when his tired voice pulls your attention back.

“Thanks. Really, thanks”

☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ .·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ .‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾

A/N: Having a physical form to exist in is the burden of both dead and living, anyways currently eating a fudge pop and trying to find good turnip prices in animal crossing. Also??? Me?? Posting on a week day??? What is this??? The beginning of a 2000s teen film were my life starts getting wacky and weird??? I need sleep jesus fucking christ. Peace and love or whatever they say <3

[katsukikitten]

Part 5

For once in your life, your eyes slowly open, only having been disturbed by warm morning sunlight. The soft comforter trapping your body heat and essentially you, as it pinned you to the soft mattress. You snuggle deeper into the sheets, breathing in the smell of clean linen and caramel.

Wait. Caramel?

With a jolt you jump from the bed, eyes wide as you look for the source of the scent. Patting down your jeans and shirt for at least one knife. You hardly remember what happened after dinner with his family. You remember booze, light conversation while feeling warm and floaty. Oh shit what was that passive that activated again? Rest assured?

"Info on rest assured." You grumble, voice soft from disuse. Your quirk happily pulls up a little informational box that you can see. Too sleepy to make the box private as it reads aloud to you.

"PASSIVE BUFF REST ASSURED. A newly unlocked buff that increases sleep quality and can only be activated around trusted individuals and safe places. Would you like a list?"

You stare at the question box with a flashing yes or no before you point with the tip of your knife to yes.

"Currently there is only one thing listed. Type : Individual Name: Bakugou Ka…."

"Oi." Someone calls from the front door of the apartment as you dismiss the information with a wave of your hand. He discards his boots at the door before making his way to his bedroom.

"You talking to yourself dumbass?" He says, blocking your only exit by leaning on the door jamb. He holds an iced coffee towards you, his eyes sharp as he adds.

"We need to talk about your file."

Crossing his arms you ignore his offer of iced appeasement, he sets it on the low dresser as you speak.

"It's not up for discussion."

"I'm your boss, I deserve to know."

"What you deserve to know is what's in that file. My whole life doesn't fit into a manila fucking folder. Quit asking questions."

"I'll ask what I want." He growls, "Because it's suspicious that you have this unbelievably complex quirk and yet I'm sure your top skills have nothing to do with stealing."

"If you're that concerned then ask the director of the program. I'm not the only secret 'reform'." You throw your hands into the air is exasperation

"He showed up dead shortly after you were inducted. Plus no one has any real record of what you've done. Not a single thing listed on what you've stolen."

"Talk to Deku then, he's next in line for that program, he ain't dead."

"He said he doesn't remember approving your file." He bites back and before you can retort strong fingers wrap around your wrist. His calloused pads brush over the cool metal of your bracelet.

"RECOGNIZED, BAKUGOU KATSUKI : NEW LIMITED ACCESS GRANTED. 1. Health and Condition status, upon request 2. Top five skills 3. Buffs that would benefit Bakugou Katuski. 4. Pending buffs to be activated by host. Please state a number."

"Two." "Cancel!" You try to shout over him but he beats you to it. The bracelet opens up a little box displaying your top five skills as of late.

"Stab resistance, poison resistance, what would a thief need those for? Stealth is number three and slight of hand is number five. Shit don't add up Princess." He glares while your nostrils flare, ripping your wrist away from his grip.

"You're really fucking pushing it…" He takes a step towards you while you step back as if it were part of a dance as you try so hard to keep your wrath in check.

"Am I? Like I said, shit ain't adding up. You have this bracelet that still has limited information to your quirk, support knows nothing of the recordings or god damn blocks you've placed on it and lastly…" Your knees hit the back of the back of the bed causing you to sit on the mattress. His rough palms come to lie flat against the fabric next to your thighs as he leans in. You fight to shrink back.

"Lastly, I deserve to know how an unnamed woman, who obviously knew you, turns up dead moments after I arrive on scene and then her body is gone in a matter of minutes. She poisoned you with a complex concoction that the lab in the agency has yet to figure out the formula to it and yet you knew the fucking antidote? What did you really do?"

Rage boils in your blood as you stare into his vermilion eyes. Like flipping a switch you turn ice cold, your breath mingles with his.

PASSIVE BUFF SHARP TONGUE ACTIVATED INSULTS DEALT WILL HAVE 39% MORE STING.

"You know what's funny? You don't see me asking how you became a manager with your shitty attitude. Nor do you see me asking how you manipulated and gaslit your way to the number one spot." You press your cheek against his as your lips graze his ear, "And you sure as hell don't see me asking how you're considered a hero at all after you told Izuku to kill himself in middle school."

The scars in his chest and stomach roar to life, demanding attention as his shirt scrapes against the sensitive skin. He takes a step back as if struck while the room begins to smell of smokey spiced caramel. His bones groan as his knuckles bloom white.

You smile as you stand, collecting your bag and the jacket he lent. Even grabbing the iced coffee he got you. Because why let it go to waste?

Cruelty slips onto your shoulders as nicely as his borrowed jacket while you pause at his bedroom door wanting nothing more than to leave him with terrible thoughts.

"Did you ever even apologize for that?"

Silence is your answer as you chuckle to yourself.

"Didn't think so."

You leave him with those nasty thoughts. Long gone as he still pants, pain shooting through his gut and lungs as it did all those fucking years ago.

As he moved without a second thought and placed himself in front of a stupid, dopey mop top boy who tried to hold up the weight of the world by himself.

With a guttural growl he looks over his destroyed room, as if a bomb went off.

He reaches for his phone dialing the number he never bothered to save.

"Meet me at our usual when you get off your stupid fucking shift. I know you've forgotten to eat you useless hero." The other line chimes in with a deep laugh as he adds.

"Okay Kaachan. I'll be there."

Izuku doesn't get invited out often and especially not by Bakugou. So the emerald haired boy decides to keep an eye on his oldest friend. Silently watching and not glancing too long as hot head huffs and puffs, taking another shot. The ash blonde's favorite spicy ramen goes untouched as the large man across from him slurps up his fourth bowl, covered in sweat and dirt from the day's work.

"You better get my fucking money's worth of this endless ramen bowl shit." He bites, slamming down another shot, fingers subconsciously finding the old scar on his chest. The action does not go unnoticed by his more docile friend. Izuku thanks the waiter as he starts on his fifth bowl.

"I'm starting to think you're mad about more than the endless ramen you ordered me." Bright emerald meet dark garnet eyes that glare, Bakugou's cheeks burn in his buzz.

"Fuck you. Nothin's wrong." Another deadly shot.

"That's your seventh. Kaachan you can't fool me. Your body language gives it away." Bakugou follows Izuku's eyes to his fingers. Quickly he removes his calloused pads from the divot. Angrily staring at the wall like a child who's been caught.

"Fuck you." He murmurs, silence settles over the pair in the far back corner of the restaurant. Bakugou's eyes glance over to Izuku who continues to eat, crimson bore into the scars on his arms from where the dumbass had broken them time and time again. His scars burn with your words, with the memory of what he's said in the past.

Too cruel and for what?

"You know I'm-" Bakugou starts but Izuku holds up a hand, wanting to spare his friend.

"I know, you've shown me everyday, even before you jumped in front of me, Kaachan. I've always known." He leaves it at that, in his heart he knows that Bakugou is sorry. He's seen it in every action since their first year at UA, he doesn't need to hear him say it.

What good are words when actions spoke louder?

"So what's bothering you? Worried over someone? You're dating Rogue now right?" Izuku asks, holding his chopsticks at a point while Bakugou takes another shot.

"Her file is what's bothering me. Deku, she doesn't have a fucking thing of her past. Not to mention you don't even remember signing off on her. Real responsible." Bakugou watches with a dull snarl as Izuku goes back to slurping his noodles.

"Ka...Kaachan." Izuku chokes, "Not fair. They put a lot of your desk too and I bet you don't remember half of it."

"I'd remember something like that. Just makes it that much more suspicious. Probably foraged by someone but the question is who…." Katsuki sets his head in his hand, staring at his orange broth.

"Well, did you ask her yourself?" Bakugou scoffs in response.

"Yea, and it didn't fucking turn out well." His finger finds his stomach this time, the ghastly white crater suddenly irritated by the fabric of his shirt. Izuku stops eating, he isn't stupid and easily connects the dots. The soft man thinks back a decade of his friend is the worst condition but more worried about him.

"Kaachan…" Deep jade eyes water a bit but Bakugou puts up a hand

"Don't." He barks, sighing.

"So you must really care about her if whatever she said affected you that much. You weren't even bothered when they were trying to 'cancel' you." Izuku taps Bakugou's bowl with his chopsticks, silently begging the blonde to eat. Hopping he'll take at least a bite to soak up some of that alcohol. Reluctantly deadly fingers pick up the sticks, gathering ramen between them but still undecided if he should eat.

His silence is answer enough for Izuku.

"I know my agency started the program. I'll look into it some more tomorrow. I'll be mostly office duty since I have so much paperwork anyway. But even if her past is dark Katsuki, what are you going to do? She may not have had any say in the matter, she doesn't give me that evil vibe."

Bakugou thinks back to you. How you fight, how you hold yourself.

How cute you were sleeping on his shoulder before he eased you onto his lap. How softly you snored in his bed. His stomach twists, Izuku's words and yours floating around his head.

"I guess I'll decide once I have more answers." With that the blonde decides to bring the spicy noodles to his lips.