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lovekt · 6 months

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sleepy nights in november

pairing; lando norris x girlfriend!fem!reader

word count; 1.5k

synopsis; where practice goes on for a little longer than expected, and you’re extremely jetlagged. (based off of the las vegas gp fp2)

author’s note; this is my first completed fic ahhh! cant believe i actually finished something for once in my life this is a miracle

the library

LAS VEGAS WAS A BRIGHT CITY. So bright, and yet you were still battling with all-consuming darkness.

You’d arrived more than twelve hours ago. Cameras flashed, questions asked, your mind had been buzzing with excitement for the ever-anticipated Grand Prix at the new track. Hundreds of people; reporters, fans, drivers, bustled about. Drones and tripods followed your every move, microphones bursting your personal bubble, screaming people begging for their caps, shirts and babies to be signed. It crossed your mind more than once that you weren’t a driver, yet the cheers of sheer joy echoed when you walked by.

It was exhilarating, truly. You’d never imagined your life would turn out this way, your face being plastered onto live television, a banner across the bottom presenting you as Lando Norris’ girlfriend.

You’d arrived just in time for Free Practice 2, not getting a chance to find the man in orange before he was off and onto the track for the second time two hours later than scheduled. However, you were soon supplied with a pair of noise-cancelling headphones and a chair to get comfortable with.

It was colder than usual. Your eyes were permanently fixated on the screen above you. No matter how many times you’d watched your boyfriend race, in person or in the comfort of your shared home, it was never any less terrifying. The noises of pure acceleration, the sparks that would occasionally burst from the back of the car, the knowledge of what could happen and what’s already happened several times before. All of it was enough to keep you on your toes, wide awake, and alert every time.

Every single time, except this one.

The low hum of the engine through your headphones did nothing to help you stay focused, time finally beginning to creep its way back up to you. Your boyfriend’s voice calmly updating his engineers, the muffled chatter of the garage, all of it caused your mind to numb and breathing to begin evening out. It was so late. So, so late, and cold.

Your head suddenly lulled to the side causing your eyes to snap open, saving yourself before you slipped off the plastic foldable chair. God, you hoped the live broadcasting cameras were not allowing thousands of eyes to see you right now.

There were some eyes, though, that had seen you. The engineers dressed in orange pottering around were chuckling, they themselves trying to stay awake by toying with tools and fidgeting with other mechanical things that you didn’t understand. Most of them you were quite friendly with by now as you were a frequent member of the McLaren garage, and they all knew you were the one to go to whenever Lando needed a break. They were grateful to have you. An angry Lando is never a fun time.

Which is exactly why they decided to make an executive decision to save you from the concrete floor below. It was only a matter of time before you ended up hurting yourself.

The screen above you began blurring once more, eyes drooping against your will when a hand placed itself onto your shoulder. One of the engineers that Lando was particularly close with was smiling down at you, softly nudging you forward and guiding you to stand up. You looked at him, eyes glossy and brows furrowed, confused.

He sighed amusedly, “I think it’s time for bed.”

Slight slurred protests began to slip out of your lips but were stopped when you wobbled and had to grip onto the top of the chair for balance. The engineer’s hold on your arm tightened and your exhaustion was too heavy to resist as he began leading you towards the driver’s rooms.

You glanced back at the screen showing your boyfriend’s perspective of the car, not wanting to leave but knowing that it’s probably for the best. There wasn’t any action going on, every driver was tired, nobody was pulling any dangerous moves. It was safe enough to walk away, just for a little bit, just this once.

The door to Lando’s driver’s room was opened and you settled onto the small sofa in the corner, wrapping yourself in a papaya-coloured blanket. Darkness enveloped the room as the engineer flipped the switch, shutting the door quietly behind him and leaving you to your thoughts for all of two seconds before a soft voice filled your ears. You’d forgotten to take the headphones off.

Lando spoke to his team, his voice calm and soothing, almost as if he knew you were falling into the depths of unconsciousness in that moment. He was safe. You felt safe.

The second he’d hauled himself out of the car, helmet removed, and interviews finished up, he was on the search for you. Often, you would wander off as soon as the car had been parked, for a bathroom break or to have a quick snack, refusing to do it during the race.

He walked back to his room as fast as possible, weaving between hundreds of people who he didn’t bother giving the time of day. Usually, he would’ve stopped and had a little chat, but it was so, so late and his whole body felt like it was about to crumble. All he wanted was to find you, get changed and make the small trek back to your shared hotel room.

The door was unlocked when he arrived, a sure sign that you were inside and waiting. But when he opened the door ready to be greeted with a sweet kiss, all he was met with was complete darkness. Weird.

His hand reached for the switch and light flooded the room. Sure enough, there you were, cuddled up in his bright orange blanket and sound asleep. Your face was half covered and smushed into the arm rest, knees curled into yourself and a set of headphones askew on top of your mussed hair.

The smile that had etched itself onto his face grew when he noticed the headphones. You’d fallen asleep whilst listening to him talk, even when he wasn’t with you. Even when you were jetlagged, cold, and exhausted, you still made sure he was okay. His chest warmed at the thought.

Lando placed the bottle of water he was holding down onto the table beside him, trying his best to be as quiet as possible as he changed from his suit to a hoodie. You didn’t move a muscle, only light breaths filling the silent space.

You looked so peaceful, lashes fluttering every so often. The urge to try and squeeze himself onto the sofa with you was strong, but the more logical side of him told him that it was finally time to head back to the hotel, and if you stayed in that position much longer then your neck would be unbearably stiff by tomorrow morning. He loved you more than anything in the world, so he knew you well enough to know that you would be moaning to him about it once you’d woken up, and not the moaning that he enjoyed hearing.

Carefully, he brushed the tips of his fingers across your cheek, moving a few stray strands of hair. Your cheeks were warm, a contrast to Lando’s cool touch that caused you to pull your face away and tuck it further into the safety of his blanket. His lips twitched slightly. You would hate him for this now, but thank him later, he thought, as he swiftly curled his fingers around the edge of the blanket and pulled it down.

Your skin, exposed to the night air, broke out into goosebumps as you wrapped your arms tighter around yourself. Lando slowly rubbed his palm up and down your arm, bringing his lips to your forehead and kissing you softly.

Your eyelids fluttered open, pupils narrowing to the bright light of the room as an almost silent groan escaped you.

Your eyes darted around for a moment before landing on your boyfriend, crouched down beside you with his hand stroking your hair. He was smiling at you lovingly, eyes squinted and laced with a tinge of mischief. “G’morning, baby.”

You didn’t reply, instead choosing to open your mouth in a yawn directed straight at his face. He chuckled quietly.

“I think it’s time we get you to bed, hm?”

You rested your head back against the armrest, closing your eyes once more, “I’m already in bed.”

“I’m sure you are.” He said, before rising back up to his full height and slipping one hand underneath your neck, wrapping his arm around your shoulders, and the other around the back of your knees. Your hand instinctively curled around his bicep as you were lifted into the air, taking note in the back of your mind at how effortlessly he seemed to manoeuvre you.

As Lando began to carefully place you onto your feet, a wave of adoration filled you to the core. He’d just been working for hours straight, and yet here he was taking care of you. The love you had for this boy was absolutely unmatched.

And what better way to show him this than by using the little energy you had restored during your nap to rise onto your tiptoes and press a sweet kiss against his awaiting lips.

#lovekt writes #lando norris #lando norris x reader #lando norris x you #lando norris x y/n #ln4 #formula 1 #formula one #f1 x reader #f1 #formula one x reader #lando norris imagine #fluff #lando norris fluff

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yndrgrl · 10 months

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yandere! bakugou uses you to get to someone else, but ends up falling for you instead

long ass fic. fem! reader. regular! au. enemies to lovers. lowkey crack! fic. tsundere! bakugou.

warnings: nsfw, noncon/dubcon, manipulation, somnaphilia (idk how to spell it), degrading, bullying, spitting, public sex, hatefuck

a/n: requests are open :) (plz request something, idk what else to write about 😭)

---

"no." that's all you said. so flat, so robotic. that's all you wanted to say.

bakugou was a pushy man, however. "it wasn't a question."

"oh for real?" you gasped, putting both hands to your cheeks to show your faux shock. "no."

"listen, you're gonna help me win over uraraka-"

"no, i'm not, bakugou," you denied once more. you don't even know why he came to you in the first place. it was clear as day that uraraka had a major crush on izuku, & izuku liked uraraka just as much.

honestly, what surprised you the most is that bakugou even had a crush. i guess it makes sense that it would be on uraraka though.

"yes, you are because i have something over you," bakugou threatened lowly.

you scoffed, "oh, do you now?" there wasn't really much he could have over you that would make you help him-

he slammed a journal on the desk, a slam echoing throughout the library. it was your personal diary.

you lunged for your journal, but he snatched it & threw it into his bag. you screamed at him, "how'd you get that, you sicko?!" the only way he would've gotten that was by breaking into your dorm room.

"are you going to help me or not?"

yes, you could've bought a nicer, leather journal with handcrafted pieces of paper, glued recent pictures of your life & decorated the pages with washi tape, stickers, & colored markers, but you didn't want to start over yet. your journal is a year & a half old, every page nearly filled; it's a deep dive into your mind. every overwhelming event in your life, every good memory, every goal you strive to achieve is written down in that book. bakugou katsuki had that all in his possession.

that's why, two days after you found out what he has, you're sitting with your usual study group in your designated, outdoor study area-- plus bakugou. your bluetooth speaker played a playlist shared throughout the group. you sat on the edge with uraraka beside you & bakugou across from you.

"y/n," someone said, catching your attention; it was uraraka. "i didn't know you & bakugou were friends."

you wanted to laugh. you quickly told her, "we're not-"

"we're good friends," katsuki overlapped with his lie. his scowl upturned into the smallest smile when uraraka glanced up at him.

"oh wow, i had no idea! the two of you are so hard-headed, i wouldn't have expected the two of you to get along so great," she said back with a giggle. you loved uraraka, but she's too friendly sometimes.

bakugou, trying to play into the cool-bad-boy character, said, "yeah, well she makes it hard sometimes, but it helps when she has cute friends, i guess."

never in your life did you think you would hear big, tough bakugou flirt in your life.

they continued their conversation that you tuned out, rereading your notes & constructing plans on how to get your journal so you could expose him. everyone was invested in their own stuff. obviously, bakugou & uraraka were talking amongst themselves. momo was explaining to jirou & mina some math topic that they were sobbing about. tsu was on her laptop as she tried finishing a power point that was due the next day.

your chin was propped up by your hand, humming the song that started playing. "um, excuse me," a masculine voice called out. it caught the attention everyone at the table. you heard bakugou scoff, & you could only assume he rolled his eyes.

you looked up at the source of the voice. he was right in front of you, face red, cheeky smile. he was cute in the way that a puppy eager for a treat was. "you're y/n, right?"

"yeah, i am," you confirmed, matching his grin.

he introduced himself by saying his name & told you that he was in the hero-support program. he then said, "i just wanted to say that you're just really pretty."

compliments were one thing. compliments from complete strangers always messed you up though. "oh, th-thanks." you're so awkward.

"so like, maybe i could get your number, & we could go on a date or two?"

you glanced back at all your friends, who all had big smiles as a way of non-verbally saying, "get your manz, bitch!!"

bakugou on the other hand, had an expression of confusion & anger-- the anger was permanent though.

"i mean, i don't give out my phone number, but maybe we can snap or something?"

the guy nodded with enthusiasm, pulling out his phone to give you his username. "cool, well sorry for wasting your guys' time," the boy said to you friends before turning to you & saying, "i'll hit you up later?"

"can't wait," you replied back.

as soon as he was out of earshot, mina squealed, "oh my god! you're such a flirt!"

jirou teased, "you're so awkward, it's literally so funny."

"you're my pretty best friend," tsu croaked with a laugh.

"guys, nothing is gonna happen," you said with a blush. "i'm just gonna be his friend."

"how does it feel to be hit on for the first time, loser?" bakugou yawned, as if he's been hit on ten million times by fan girls & milfs or something.

mina retaliated, "what are you talking about? y/n gets hit on all the time!"

uraraka jumped in, "yeah, what's was that? guy number five?"

"y/n?" bakugou questioned, & all your friends nodded. "that thing? doubt it."

"what's there to doubt? you just saw it," you growled at him, he annoyed you so badly.

after that study session, he got uraraka's number like he hoped for, but he was more curious about you. he never realized until that day how often you do actually get men's attention. bakugou always assumed you were some bookworm, writer nerd who leeched off of his darling, uraraka for popularity & personality.

"i don't get it," bakugou muttered, staring at your figure across the cafeteria. he was surrounded by his friends, who all followed his gaze.

kirishima groaned, "dude, just ask uraraka out already." it was routine that bakugou would say something about how shitty nerd, deku, isn't good enough for her affections or how he would be a better match for her.

"no, it's not that," bakugou corrected, glare not breaking off of you. this caught kirishima, denki, sero, & mina -who sometimes sat with you as well- off guard.

"what are you talking about, bro," denki asked.

"i don't get it. she's not even that cute," bakugou scoffed, slouching back into the bench. his eyes finally tore away from you & awase from class 1-b.

"who?"

"y/n, i think," mina assumed, & when bakugou didn't deny it, they all knew she was right. "why does it even bother you?"

"it doesn't," he said, glancing back at you. awase left you, & in his place was the floating, fighting machine uraraka. he didn't feel the need to say anything about her though, but he felt like he had to. "she's weird, uraraka shouldn't even be friends with her."

"there it is," sero sighed, making all the others laugh.

"shut up," bakugou scowled at them. everyone was used to it, so they weren't that threatened.

"but seriously, bakubro, don't hate on y/n just cuz she's best friends with uraraka, & you're jealous," kirishima told him. he always did this to the blonde. he wasn't scared to tell him off.

bakugou, infuriated, yelled, "i'm not jealous of her, okay? it's just stupid how she has everyone wrapped around her finger, so don't be some dumb, y/n defenders. hop off her fuckin' dick."

"i'm just saying, man. she's super cool, has a useful quirk, & is an awesome fighter," kirishima said, holding his hands as a way to show he was backing down.

"if i were you, bakugou, i would be trying to be her friend," mina said.

mina's words played on repeat in bakugou's head for a week. it was driving him crazy. even though that bridge of being friends was already burned & he kept telling himself he doesn't care, he can't help but want to be closer to you.

he said it was all for uraraka in the end. after all, when they were texting the other day, she said that she would want a future partner to get along with her friends or else it'll be a deal breaker.

bakugou deduced that if he was on favorable terms with you that uraraka would fall for him-- & maybe you too. he felt himself physically jolt when he thought that. why in fucks name would he want you to fall for him? he thought for a second. it's not like he wants to be with you or anything, but he doesn't want you with anyone else.

he somehow found himself in front of your dorm door past curfew. bakugou, at this time, was usually asleep, dreaming about a life where him & uraraka lived happily ever after. however, tonight was different. he didn't feel like thinking about the short-haired brunette.

he doesn't even know why he's outside your door.

in his head, he rationalized that he just loves uraraka so much that he'd give up sleep to become your friend. it was such an urgent situation that he didn't even bother putting on shirt.

he fished in his sweatpants' pocket for a lock pick, the same one he used to break into your dorm the first time to steal your journal. bakugou jammed it into the lock, opening the door with ease. he shut the door carefully before stalking further into your room.

there you were on your bed. swaddled in your fluffy duvet, cuddling a stuffed animal. you must've felt his presence because your sleeping self started shifting & ended up kicking off your blanket. you ended up on your stomach, one leg crunched towards your side while the bottom leg laid straight. you faced away from bakugou.

his breath hitched, something inside him twitched. bakugou couldn't help but stare. he had to admit that you had the body of his dream girl. wait no, his dream girl was uraraka-

he cut his own thoughts off when he saw how your ass looked in that position. the blue hue from the moonlight flowed into the room because, for some reason, you felt no need to close your curtains. he could make the shape of you so clearly. he reached for you.

he told himself that he wouldn't be cheating on his soon-to-be lover. it's just a touch, a friendly touch that friends share with each other.

his fingertips ghosted over your exposed thighs. you were wearing nothing but thong & an oversized band tee. the gentle touches turned into full-palm caresses. her skin is so smooth, bakugou thought. he loomed closer to you, inhaling deeply. she smells so nice.

he climbed over you with the agility of a shadow. the bed didn't even creak. he kneeled over legs, & his hands found your plush ass. he kneaded your bare butt, shifting you so you were fully on your stomach. you remained unmoving; you usually take melatonin gummies right before bed anyways.

bakugou kept groping your ass while his cock hardened into its full length. his hands wandered, thumbs grazing over your entrance. he grasped you, & he spread your ass cheeks apart. you must be dreaming about something dirty because your thong was soaked.

bakugou readjusted himself so he was on level with your ass. "this is just what friends do," he hazily whispered to himself. "friends help friends get better."

he blew on the wet patch, watching your pussy twitch through your panties. bakugou waited for a second, trying to grasp at any sort of self-control but, when you subconsciously propped your ass higher for him, he couldn't help it. he mentally apologized to uraraka before he dove into your ass.

his tongue licked your clothed slit, & he felt how thin your thong truly was. he only got an inkling of what you tasted like, & he craved more. bakugou lapped you juices through your panties, dampening the light grey cloth into a darker shade. his jaw hinged open to allow his tongue to delve further down.

he found your clit through your thong. he pressed his tongue against you, & sleeping, unsuspecting you let out a moan. "oh fuck," bakugou whispered in response, diving back into your pussy.

he pulled your thong up. it rode higher in your ass, then the part the was covering your pussy disappeared between your lips.

he started eating you out again, groaning in pleasure when he finally got to touch your bare skin. he slurped your juices over & over.

bakugou didn't realize that he pulled his sweatpants & boxers down to his knees. he pulled away from your pussy, a string of your juices & his saliva connecting him to you.

on his knees, he positioned his big cock between your ass. a moment of clarity hit him, it wasn't right, he knew that deep down. you really didn't do anything to him.

your phone next to your pillow buzzed. he grabbed it, his hung cock still pressed against you. it was a message from uraraka that read, "wait what did you wanna tell me about bakugou earlier? you looked so concerned haha."

you were trying to tell him? what a fucking bitch, bakugou thought with pure hatred. you were trying to sabotage him with your words, your pretty little mouth, with your dumb, stupid body.

his rationality was once again thrown out of the door. uraraka would want me to show y/n her place, he thought. he climbed off of you. he had to show you what your mouth was meant for. your mouth wasn't meant for snitching, it was meant for sucking cock-- his cock.

bakugou turned your head & pulled it at the edge of the bed. thankfully, it's like your body already knew what was gonna happen, your mouth was already agape. he pushed his tip past your lips. your tongue lazily stroked against his length. he moved his dick in & out of your throat, & yet somehow you still remained motionless.

his control turned into animalistic thrusts, gagging you over & over, & you still stayed asleep. "fuckin' stupid bitch," he groaned, throwing his head back. your throat expanded with each thrust to accommodate his thickness & length.

spit & his precum spilled out of your mouth & onto your silk pillowcase. because you were sideways, his heavy balls slapped against your face, nose shoved into his pubes. you gargled & gagged in your sleep, but you still handled him so well.

his passionate angry finally swelled up & shot down your throat. even though he was cumming, he kept half-assed thrusting in your throat, coating every inch with white. all for uraraka, remember? because bakugou completely forgot what drove him to do what he just did.

the next day, as you entered the classroom, he heard you tell to uraraka about how the melatonin gummies really worked. "yeah, i was completely knocked out! i drooled so much, my pillow was drenched. it was disgusting."

"really? i know that they're good, but i never drooled that much. maybe you really needed that sleep."

as they passed bakugou's seat, uraraka waved at him with pink cheeks. "hey, bakugou."

"uraraka," he said back to her. he watched your smile drop into a frown, your eyes rolling. he was winning over uraraka, he knew that, but he didn't feel satisfied. he yearned the banter between the two of you more than uraraka's affections. "what was that, idiot?"

uraraka was shocked at first, thinking he was talking to her until she heard you shoot back, "shouldn't you be watching ochaco instead of me?" if he didn't know any better, it sounded like you were jealous.

"y/n, let's calm down," uraraka sheepishly suggested, but it only angered you more. why was she on that weirdo's side? why wasn't she on your side? even after you told her what he did to you, she didn't even care; in fact, she seemed flattered.

"yeah, calm down," bakugou chimed in with that disgusting, cocky smile, "go in the back & drool all over your desk."

"eavesdropping now? you really are obsessed," you huffed, marching towards your desk that was, in fact, in the back of the classroom. you thought uraraka was right behind you, but by the time you turned around to sit in your chair, you noticed her take a seat next to bakugou.

the bell rang, & in rolled your sleepy teacher, mr. aizawa. he called roll, held an hour long lecture while you took notes, then assigned a 4-page essay with three sites sources. after he was done, he questioned, "now that we're done with that, what is happening today?"

iida's hand shot up along with his entire body.

"go ahead, iida."

"the 1a students from ketsubutsu academy are training with us today." oh right, you completely forgot about that. you were not in the mood to socialize with those uptight, cocky rich kids today. even though you took the melatonin gummies the night before to ensure a goods night sleep, you got everything but that. you felt like you were melting all night, & now you just felt restless.

"good, iida is correct," mr. aizawa confirmed. "they're already waiting in training facility a, so get dressed & be there in 10 minutes."

"yes sir!" & they all scurried out of the classroom.

your entire class entered the facility in their hero costumes. like mr. aizawa said, the visiting students were already there, stretching & warming up. mr. aizawa, once he noticed his entire class, announced that on the white board was everyone's names & assigned training group for the day.

everyone, including the other class, crowded around the board to find their names. "y/n!" your best friend, who you were extremely pissed off at, cheered. "we're all in the same group!" we... all?

you look at uraraka to see who she was referring to. "it's just my luck," you groaned, of course it was bakugou. "i just had to be put in a group with you!" you wanted to shout at everyone. you wanted to shout at uraraka for being swooned by a creep, you wanted to yell at mr. aizawa for putting you in a group with bakugou, & you wanted to scream, jump, yell, & hit bakugou over the head with a bat just for being the aggravating, prideful bastard he is.

"we just had to have a weak fuckin' nerd in your group?" he said to uraraka, but glanced to his side to meet your eye. your fuming expression really got him going. "there's no one more annoying than you-"

"are you y/n?" someone questioned. that just be the last person in your group.

you looked up at him, & with a half-hearted smile, you said, "i am."

"nice, i'm in your group," he told you, "i'm yo shindo. & i must admit, i was not excited for this whole group training thing until i saw a pretty girl like you was in my group."

oh, so he was a flirt? honestly, you didn't mind at all; you needed something to distract you & what's a better distraction than a buff playboy?

"honestly me too, but i think it'll be fun with you," you said back, but you overthought what you said. was it cringy?

bakugou was watching the whole exchange, brows furrowed, vein popping through his skin on his forehead. uraraka noticed, & because with the new-found knowledge that bakugou really liked her, she stroked his arm & asked, "are you okay?"

he looked at her with the same look of anger, now mixed with discomfort, & shrugged her off. "yeah, i'm fine."

he turned his attention back to you & shindo. bakugou's hands sparked ever so suddenly when he took in the scene in front of him. you were eating up all of shindo's praises & brags. your hands tried to squeeze around his biceps but you just couldn't connect your hands. "wow, your muscles are so big~ you must be strong."

"of course i am, i gotta be so i can impress pretty girls like you after all," he winked at you. for a moment, you glanced at bakugou, feeling his harsh glare, & he looked like he was about to explode. you didn't know why though, doesn't he have what he wanted already? he has uraraka right there, & yet he's still mad at you. he still owes you your journal too, so the two of you were not on good terms.

"sorry, i didn't mean to get carried away," you told shindo, pulling your hands away.

as the two of you walked towards uraraka & bakugou, shindo said, "i don't mind, you can touch me wherever, whenever."

you couldn't help but laugh out loud. "god, you're such a flirt!"

"you seem to love it though-"

"y/n, would you stop being a hoe for one second & train like you're supposed to?" bakugou said to you, hands stuffed inside his pockets, looking so nonchalant. you blinked a moment, & you waited for uraraka to say something or to rush by your side. she didn't do any of that

all she said was, with a giggle & eyes staring at bakugou, "that was mean." yeah, it was. it really was. the tips of your ears burned in humiliation, your palms became sweaty, & your breathing was uneven. after uraraka was done ogling bakugou, she looked at you, & her eyes widened. never in her entire childhood friendship did she see that expression on your face.

"dude, i don't know who think you are, but don't talk to her like that," shindo said, stepping forward & slightly in front of you. your tense shoulders relaxed just a bit-- someone is in your corner.

the amused bakugou turned pissed off when your new, little boy-toy went to your rescue, even though he knew you didn't need rescuing. "h-hey, let's save it for training, yeah-"

"i'll talk to y/n however i want, damn weak fuck," bakugou replied, copying his movements & stepping forward. "you're just like her: fucks anything that moves, huh?"

"bakugou-"

"that's it!" you shouted as you shoved bakugou away from shindo. the three of them -bakugou, uraraka, & shindo- were shocked to say the least. he pushed you too far all for entertainment & some obsession. "you're such a goddamn coward, you know that? all you are is a bully who's play-pretending to be a hero! you're such a control freak that, even after you stole my best friend, you still need to have something over me, so you won't give me back my stupid journal. & worst of all, you just stare & glare & act like i'm scum when you're the actual piece of shit! & you're not even ashamed! you want everyone to know! i hate you so much!"

after your tangent/rant, you walked away, quirk firing left & right. you didn't need to hear whatever bakugou was going to say next, it was probably be something so degrading that winds up in her next journal entry.

the three of the gawked at you, watching you walk straight to the state-of-the-art punching bags. uraraka was the first to speak. "i'll talk to her. i've never seen her that... mad. it was like she was a whole new person-"

"you guys are terrible classmates. there was no reason to say any of that. i'll go talk with her," shindo cut uraraka off. before either of them could do anything, bakugou was already strutting towards you, gauntlets sparking.

"who does she think she is?" they heard him utter. they were out of earshot, however, when he said, "making me fuckin' hard then walking away. damn tease."

he caught up to you in no time. you were almost to the punching bags when he grabbed your wrist, his hand was warm & a stinging sensation engulfed your wrist.

uraraka & shindo watched as the two of you screamed at each other, you shoving him, him glaring at you, you throwing a piece of your costume at him. honestly, it would've been comedic if it wasn't for bakugou pressing your buttons.

"what are they? toxic exes or something?" shindo questioned as they began to walk towards the fighting two.

"oh, no, not at all! i would've known," uraraka told him, "they're just... um... friends i think. maybe enemies."

"i can tell that much."

when the actual training began, you & bakugou tried to separate from each other. you were paired with shindo & him with uraraka. but, because of the conditioning & the way today's training was set up, it was inevitable that you two would interact again.

like at lunch, the two of you sat across each other at a table, eating your lunches. you didn't bother speaking, you didn't even want to see bakugou ever again, after all.

or at the water fountain, when he said, "hurry up." & so you took longer, even though you weren't thirsty anymore.

or when you had to rotate partners & bakugou was your only option. the two of you, against the rules, threw quirk-backed attacks each other.

& that's how you two ended up being excused early. while everyone else was getting better, you were locked out & forced to change back into your school uniform, & the only person with you was bakugou.

when you left the changing room, he was leaning against the wall-- almost like he was waiting for you. "you done being mad at me?"

"no, i'm not, & i'll never stop being mad at you," you said, walking right past him. he followed close behind you.

"listen, i didn't mean to embarrass you. i didn't know you'd get so pissy."

"what did you think was gonna happen?!"

"i don't know, okay?" the two of you were yelling at this point.

"you have ochaco, can you please just give me my journal & leave me alone? you two can be happy far, far away from me," you said, cursing yourself for choking up. you mentally prepared for the teasing & "witty" comebacks bakugou had in store.

instead, he asks, "are you jealous?"

"what?"

"are you jealous?"

you scoffed, opening the door to the dorm building. "don't flatter yourself, big guy."

"i'm being serious," he said to you as he leaned on the counter. you were so hungry that you didn't really care bakugou was watching you cook. "because i was."

"what are you getting at, bakugou?" you asked, putting a pot of water on the stove, bringing it to a boil.

"i was so jealous today," he said.

"of what?"

"of damn shindo kid," he responded back. your angered expression contorted into a puzzled one as you looked up at him. when you didn't reply, he continued, "if i knew stupid one liners got your attention, i would've been doing that sooner."

you couldn't believe what you were hearing. the guy who's been making the past few months hell was confessing something you never expected. "what about ochaco, hm? i thought you needed her to breath or something."

"yeah, i guess i liked her at first, & that's why i needed your help," he admitted. he then fished a journal, your journal, out of his bag & stood up. he walked towards you, hand outstretched with your beloved diary in his grasp. you reached out for it when he lifted it above your head with a taunting smirk. "but then i realized that i wanted you this entire time."

--nsfw starts here--

"you're just saying stupid things to get a rise out of me, bakugou," you rolled your eyes at him. you placed a hand on his chest as you jumped for your journal, fingers touching it ever so lightly. it was just out of reach.

you thought you had it, he brought the notebook down. however, you didn't have it. he threw it on the counter behind you, & the hand the was holding it snakes around your waist. his other hand grabbed your face, stroking your cheek as he kissed you.

you don't know why, but you found your arms around his neck, pulling him in closer. without breaking your lips apart, he pushed you against the counter, pinning you between his two arms now. his tongue, the tongue that craved you since that unknown night, licked your lips before fighting yours for dominance. his thigh was between your legs. he pressed your core against him, & you moaned.

bakugou shut off the burner during your kiss. he was expecting the two of you to escape into his room, but when you threw off his tie & unbuttoned his shirt eagerly, he knew he needed you right then & there.

the two of you broke your kiss, & he placed his head in the crook of your neck. "you get off on making me jealous, don't you? that's why you were flirting with stupid shindo?"

"wh-whatever, you jerk. you act like you weren't basically grinding on ochaco in front of me all the time?"

bakugou laughed into the nape of your neck. "grinding? all we did was talk."

"same fuckin' thing," you growled in frustration.

"i didn't know you were so jealous of her."

"oh, fuck off, asshole," you said. you were quickly shut up by him biting your sensitive spots all over your neck, sucking & licking to create hickeys.

he took off your tie & ripped open your shirt. he unhooked your bra, throwing it god knows where. "take this fuckin' thing off," he uttered, helping you out of your torn clothes.

"h-hey!"

"shut up, & take it. i'll buy you a new one," he said before fondling your breasts. you bit your lip as your grinded against his meaty thigh. your wetness, even though you had panties on, began staining his slacks.

"bakugou~" you whispered, voice shaking.

"it's katsuki tonight, dummy," he told you, turning you around & bending you over the counter. you brushed your journal out of the way as you pressed you tits onto the cold, granite countertop.

with three fingers, he pinched your pussy through your panties so his middle one snuck in between your lips. "stop being a tease & fuck me already." if only you knew.

"be patient, woman," scowled katsuki, smacking your ass. he set of small sparks when he hit your cheek. "you can't take this cock yet. i'm doing you a goddamn favor."

you doubted him, you really did. he was so cocky & arrogant, how could you not? "i can take your tiny dick any day, don't underestimate me."

katsuki let out a hearty, sarcastic laugh. "you really think so, dumb bitch?" he unclicked his belt, dropping his pants & boxers around his ankles. he started to grind against your ass, & you swore up & down it felt like deja vu.

you gasped as you felt his length between your ass. you've had dreams about cocks that big, sure, but you didn't know they actually existed. "wh-what the fuck?"

"what? still think you take me? still think i'm tiny, sweetheart?" katsuki taunted as he took off your panties. he pressed your thighs around his cock, the base of it stimulating your swollen clit. he thrusted gently; it was so against his brash, aggressive character.

you were not one to back down, so at least you stayed true to your character. "yeah, i can take your skinny ass dick-" you were cut off by katsuki spreading your ass & shoving his girthy length into your throbbing heat. you screamed, tongue hanging out of your mouth as you tried to adjust to him.

he wouldn't let you though. katsuki, once inside your tight pussy, started pounding you. he shoved his cock head into your g-spot over & over, making you quiver & pulsate around him. "sl-sl-slow d-down!" you begged between thrusts. in response, he pulled your head back with your hair. you arched uncomfortably; your pelvis was still against the edge of the counter, but your head was pulled so far back that you could see katsuki's face.

"you think you're all that? you think you can just flirt with all these other guys in front of me? you fuckin' slut," he spat into your mouth, not that it mattered since it mixed with your drool & fell out of your mouth & onto your cold body. "i own you now. i own this mouth, i own this pussy, i own this ass, i own you."

"f-f-"

"c'mon, pathetic whore. say it."

"fuck y-you, katsuki." oh, you were a brat through & through clearly.

katsuki has had enough of your retaliation. you were supposed to be a brainless bimbo begging for more, yet here you were, surprising him again. any bit of consciousness you had, he was going to fuck out if you.

he, without pulling out, let go of your hair & made you stand up. he grabbed both your legs & hoisted you into this air. his hands found their way behind your head, & you couldn't move. you were nothing more than a cum dumpster to him now. "you know, if anyone walks through that door, they're gonna see you folded in half, tears streaming down your face with my cock balls deep in your dripping pussy, & they'd realize how much of a slut you are, & they'd know that you're all mine."

you didn't mean to, but your pussy clenched around his cock tighter as more of your juices squirted onto the linoleum floor. "oh, you like that, princess?"

you moaned in response, eyes rolling to the back of your head when he praised you. "aw, how pathetic. you must love when i call you cute nicknames & tell you how good you're doing." with whatever head movement you had, you nodded.

"that's a shame because you've been nothing but dirty, i can't treat you like a good girl until you deserve it."

"p-please! i'll do anything!" you cried out, then you started twitch uncontrollably around him. a white, hot wave of pleasure washed over you as you creamed all over his cock. he wasn't done yet, he still abused your cervix, making you beg for him to stop, or at least slow down.

his thrusts turned rapid as he started to groan about how you were all his, how he wasn't going to let any other man look at you, how he would be the only one you ever think about. you knew that was all true. "y/n, you fuckin' bitch, i hate you & your pretty, little face. take it all," he yelled as he unloaded his load into your tight pussy.

you screamed in overwhelming pleasure, squirting all over him once again. the two of you caught your breaths. he set you down once his cock finally stopped twitched, & he spun you around to embrace you. "i'm so sorry, y/n. i promise i'll be the best boyfriend in the world, just give me a chance. i know we're enemies or whatever, but i don't wanna be that anymore, & i don't want to be whatever this is; just fucking like we hate each other then go our separate ways." you've never seen this side of katsuki before.

"i-i'd like that, i'd like to be your girlfriend."

you hated him. you hated how he made you feel. you hated how he infected your mind, how he ruined you for any other man. you hated how you knew you needed him.

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thexsilentxwordsmith · 9 months

Text

Daddy Dom!Simon "Ghost"Riley x Bratty!reader

Fandom: Call of Duty

Character(s): Simon "Ghost" Riley

Summary: As a new recruit, you should not have the gall to talk back to your superior officer like you do. He's tried it all, trying to work the insubordination out of you, but to no avail. Your antics have really gotten under his skin lately, but is it really because you won't listen and follow orders...or is there something more to it that he can't admit? The way his cock throbs might indicate the latter and what he thinks about as he touches himself might just speak to that as well.

Author's Note: As we wait for the next part of Lieutenant's Whore, have this as a treat! Something I just whipped up quick as I couldn't get the thought out of my mind 😏😘

Word Count: 3.3 k

Warnings:

Part 2:

Fucking hell, what was wrong with him? Something had crawled its way under Ghost’s skin today, sticking with him through to the evening now, and no matter how he tried to push the thoughts into the back of his mind they only seemed to lodge themselves more permanently in the foreground. No distraction or mundane daily task that took even most of his focus could ease the impact of influence on his mood as the thoughts constantly assaulted his mind. Even now as he stood in the bathroom of his private quarters, his anger at would not cease.

The screech of the shower handle turning sounded just beneath the heated phrases being whispered under his breath, the pipes coming to life with the distinct hiss of water as it pelted the floor of the shower. An earlier altercation had Ghost in a goddamn tizzy, his pulse elevated and his heartbeat in his ears as he undressed; perhaps being doused under the steady flow of the water would wash it all away.

“Fucking bloody slag,” he snapped as he pulled each article of clothing off one by one and dropped them onto the cool titled floor around his feet. Even his customary face covering he removed, wrenching it off and up over his head without a care as he was too absorbed in his rage which made everything feel far too binding. “Thinking that she can just speak to me like that. Goddammit, she knows exactly how to push each and every one of my fucking buttons.”

This wasn’t the first time he had encountered this very same problem, though this was the first time he had such a raw, visceral reaction to it. Usually he would let the disrespect go once he was away from the source, but today it just seemed to linger in an unhealthy amount until the Lieutenant could not see straight; his vision was only red.

He had not realized how much his skin was burning until he stepped under the stream of cool water, his chest getting hit first and making him grown at the sudden change in temperature. The soothing liquid rolled down the front of him, snaking its way through the shallow cracks left in his skin by the scars scattered across his pectorals and down his torso, but it did little to calm the fire still raging steadily inside.

The day you showed up on base with the newest set of recruits he knew by the way you unashamedly held his gaze when the others had immediately flinched and did not cower whenever he barked his orders would mean trouble and he hated to be right. Try as he might, there was no getting through your snarky, self-assured cocky attitude and most of his days were spent metaphorically pulling out his hair as no matter how many drills he had you run or sets of pull-ups or push-ups he had you complete, you could not be disciplined into obedience. A bitch like you was not easily broken and why you had not been discharged yet was a mystery; you must be more than worth the trouble.

A bawled fist slammed into the side of the shower, the percussive sound echoing and vibrating off the tight walls. “What the fuck is wrong with her?” he questioned aloud to no one. “Why can’t she just fucking listen, the little cunt? Why does she always have to pull that fucking shit?”

The wetness splashed over to his back as he took a step forward under the shower head, the engorged beads of water slithering their way down the curves of the muscles lining his shoulders and following the path to his ass and on towards his thighs and calves. Both of those bulky hands palmed the wall before him, allowing him to lean his torso forward and get the full length of his back under the water as his head hung limp. Heavy breaths, each one just as laboured as the last, continued even as he counted the water droplets falling down off his back and into the bottom of the shower as a way to ground himself, watching them slowly gather and swirl down the drain.

“I’ve tried it all,” he reassured himself, though even as the words left his lips, he knew that wasn’t entirely true. There was a whisper of a thought that reappeared just now that perhaps illustrated his true feelings about this problem. “Well, not exactly all.”

There was a spark of an idea that had appeared some weeks ago, one that he had not completely allowed himself to delve further into, one that had slunk its shrewd way at the edge of his thoughts. It had caught the cool and collected officer off guard at how his mind had conjured such a filthy concept… or that he did not outright despise that his imagination had led him there.

That exact day it happened he remembered well. The blazing sun and humid atmosphere had led to everyone being on edge, their bad attitudes matching the rising temperatures, and that meant the crude, underhanded remarks and balking that was a part of your usual repartee became even more grating on the Lieutenant’s nerves. With jaw sore from clenching so hard, the anger had finally reached its peak when you had told him to "make you" and with enough fury to make his presence suffocating to anyone within range, he stepped up aggressively into your face for the insubordination. There, standing with mere inches between you, your eyes ablaze with a fury for everything from the weather to the man barking orders before you, it happened.

It very well could have been the proximity of your bodies, the intense, dizzying heat, or the way the sweat around your neck slipped in glistening trails down your chest and caught his bird’s eye view as it nestled between the tops of your breasts. Maybe he had simply lost his goddamn mind due to the weather or the long hours he had been working lately or a random intrusive thought that caught him by surprise; whatever it was he could feel a stirring within the crotch of his pants in a sensation he had never felt towards you. His entire form froze in that moment and he was unable to do anything except stare straight ahead, even though the voice in his head was yelling at him to get it together, he paused long enough that by the smug expression on your face you felt you had gotten the last word and that was dangerous for him. The near two hundred push-ups forced upon you after that went by more easily than he would have liked; it was clear that that euphoric feeling you had from seemingly winning in that battle of wills against him was enough to see you through the strain on your arms and the pounding in your chest from the exertion of your punishment.

It was after that day that Ghost noticed a few strange happenings that only added fuel to the fire that had sparked to life inside him. Had your shirts always been so fucking tight or was it just the way they had always fit across your torso, pulling and straining at your chest as if it could barely contain it? Had your lips always been that juicy looking or were you just staying extra hydrated and he only caught you just after taking a drink so that your mouth mimicked another pair of lips that lay much, much lower down your body? You did not let up on your usual behavior of driving him up the goddamn wall, but did you always stand this close to him, brushing up against him randomly and somehow constantly bumping your plump ass on him whenever you bent over? It was believable as only an accident the first time it happened, but after he had to wonder.

And it only infuriated him more that the longer this went on the more he could not get you out of his head.

“Fucking slag, she probably does that shit on purpose just to screw with my head,” he growled angrily. His spine lengthened as he moved to stand up straighter, wiping the stray beads of water that had fallen into his eyes. The idea that had been born that day crept back into that devious mind of his once again and he chuckled maliciously as he indulged it a little. “If I had it my way, I know exactly how I’d like to make a little princess like her come to heel. She would regret ever trying to get my attention, especially when I fucking give it to her.”

Whenever he thought of you before this, it was with his teeth gritted and his fists balled so tight that his short nails cut into the skin of his palms, so what had changed? What right had his mind to pull this bullshit? Sure, the streamlined curves of your hips visible even through your bulky fatigues and the fullness of your perky tits were enough to draw even a lingering eye from time to time, but that was a far as he had allowed it to go until now. Now his thoughts were constantly on traveling back to those soft lips of yours and how he would kill to see how pretty they’d look wrapped around his cock or how he'd like to take you over his knee and spank that taut bare ass of yours until his handprintnwas fully visible, red and angry against your supple skin. Even the thought of your pussy entered his mind as it would probably be so tight it could barely be able to take all that he had to give. Bitchy girls always had the best equipment.

“I’d stuff that little cunt so good, she’d never fucking disobey me again; make that mouth useful for something else other than swearin at me,” he smirked with a flash of his teeth as he could not stop the progress of his thoughts. “I’d keep her dicked down nice and proper until she’s followin me around like a lost pup beggin for a treat.”

Moving his head back so that his thick neck and pecks were now exposed to the water, he could not stop the onslaught of his imagination from drawing out this thought further. Pandora’s box was now open and there was no shutting that shit down. Ghost closed his eyes as he conjured images of the way he’d drag you to his room and rip you out of your fucking shirt, taking those beautiful, soft breasts into his mouth to bite, lick, and suck at the bright pink nipples that would be stiff as his mouth claimed them. Shite, how velvety they would feel between his lips, how pliable they would give in his teeth. He’d make you undress quickly the rest of the way for him under threat of punishment if you didn't follow orders and drag you to the shower to pull you in with him, your naked body slamming up harshly up against the wall of the shower as he overpowered you with his much larger one. He pictured your bare chest, the water flowing over the crest of your breasts as he picked you up just enough that your legs could wrap themselves around his thick torso to secure you to him before he thrust harshly and buried himself within you. What sounds would you make as he plowed through your petals and into your entrance? Would you whimper piteously as you folded like a good little girl; would you cry and swear out loudly as his girth stretch your core to capacity so that anyone within earshot could hear you taking him?

There was so question that he’d fuck you so good, making your back constantly slip and slide around all the damp surfaces as his overwhelming thrusts pounded into your cunt over and over again with a vigor that would not let up until that burning desire that has been building for weeks could finally be satisfied. A shiver ran up his spine as he imagined your finger nails clawing at his back, leaving read, angry marks as you held on for dear life. How they’d sting as the water washed over them; oh, it would hurt so, so good. The brief fantasy left his hand trembling and had his phallus springing to life with a sudden tightness that made him breathless.

This is how it had been since that day, though he had done everything in his power to not touch himself; if he did he knew that would mean his ruin. But that deep ache throbbing down below just between his legs was more than he could handle anymore and now that he had allowed himself to fantasize about what he could have, there was no getting rid of it expect by taking action.

His large hand moved down past the sparse light brown hair that covered his abdominals as it trailed down his body, the skin was already nice and lubricated from the water running its way down the length of him. Taking his lower lip between his teeth he bit down with a whimper as his long, calloused fingers brushed against the tip of his tender, engorged cock before he was able to take it fully into his grasp.

Goddamn what he would have given in that moment to make that fantasy a reality; he would have sold his soul to Satan himself for the feeling of you clenching down around him right now as his own hand paled in comparison to the fabricated assumptions in his mind.

"Fucking bitch, you’ve put me under your spell," Ghost growled in a raspy whisper, as if insulting you would somehow make his desperate need of you any less pathetic to himself.

Putting pressure in his grip he began to rub his length from base to tip in steady, even strokes. Deep, guttural grunts began to fill the bathroom as that beefy forearm worked itself forward and back over and over again. Goddammit he was so hard and tender it almost hurt to touch.

His mind's eye wandered back to visions of you perched on top of him now in his bed, riding him desperately into the scant bit of plushness he called a mattress, as his greedy hands clasped around your hips to force you to bob up and down on his dick as hard and as fast as he wished. Faster and faster he’d make your body work for him, shoving you as far down onto him as he could until your hips were grinding into one another; his perfect fuck toy. You’d be so out of your mind with evstasy, would you be able to form words? No, you’d only be able to muster a few simple mewls as he hit that perfect little button of pleasure inside you time and time again.

“Got you quiet now, yeah,” he groaned desperately at the vision as he licked his hungry lips. “You like that, princess? So fucking full on my cock you can hardly think straight? Come on now, use your words sweetheart. Tell me how much you like it; you’ve never had a problem speaking up before."

The imagined music of your moans emanating from your open mouth from his cock being buried deep within you made his skin tingle like an electrical current. The drawn out strokes from his hand began to become more sloppy as the images continued to flood their way into his thoughts. Again they wandered to conjure even more depraved things as he pictured himself taking control in the moment, grabbing you around the throat and flipping you on your back as he pinned your arms up above your head. He’d hold secure those slender wrists together with just one of his large hands so that he could have free reign to do whatever he wished without your interference. There would not be a single piece of flesh that did not know how he felt.

Ghost’s pace again quicken. “A-ah, fuck….!” he hissed. He was certain you had probably had guys before him, it was obvious a woman like you knew what she wanted, but there would absolutely be no one after; he’d make sure of that by leaving his mark anywhere he thought someone who try to touch.

His breathing faltered along with his strokes as he imagined hurriedly switching positions so that he would not have to pull out for long, propping your legs up on those broad shoulders so that he could push deeper into you down to the very end of his shaft until there was nothing left to give. Oh, the way he knew you would whine and buck against him as he bottomed out inside of you, but there would be no backing out now. That cunt now belonged to him and only him as if it had 'Property of Simon' tattooed across it.

Ghost had to swallow the saliva in his mouth that had gathered from that delicious bit of imagery. “Take it, take it all, sweetheart,” he panted. “Every last goddamn inch like the filthy fucking slag you are. That's it.”

You’d be whimpering, begging him to stop as the tears gathered in the corner of your eyes from the over-stimulation being almost to much to bear. So full, you’d be far too full with him and yet to really stop would be catastrophic as that delicious pressure setting you on a one way course directly towards your immediate release would end and that would be a far worse crime. He knew you wouldn’t want him to do anything except keep the rhythm steady and that is exactly what he intended to do, though he would wipe away a few of those stray droplet’s with his thumb as he continued to plow you; he was a gentlemen at his core after all.

“Look beautiful like this, luv,” he groaned under his breath. “On your back getting absolutely wrecked by me. Cry all you like, you know you can't get enough.”

Again he pounded his free fist into the side of the shower wall, this time from being so close to blowing that he could taste it in the back of his throat. More aggressively he yanked at his cock, the wet, sloppy sounds from skin working over moistened skin were loud and distinct over the sound of the running water from the shower head. That familiar fire was right there in the pit of his stomach as he envisioned the way you’d bear down on him as you came, fluttering around his cock as your orgasm overtook you in a violent burst that threatened to rip you apart.

“That’s it baby, that’s…it,” he stumbled over his words. It was there, right there; just a bit more and he’d be painting the walls.

The envisioned sound of your voice crying out his name in the throws of ecstasy was all he needed to finally finish with a bang. He grunted as the cheeks of his toned ass clenched while he milked every last fucking bit of cum that he could from himself. Knees began wobbling as they nearly buckled out from under him as the intensity of his release took all his strength and he had to brace his forearm against the wall to stop from slipping as the stroking of his hand slowed until it came to a stop. That arm propped up the exhausted mess of a hulking man as he breathed through his orgasm, wanting to ride out every last second he could.

The fruit of his endeavors were rinsed down into the bottom of the shower and were quickly whisked away, removing any evidence of the filthy thoughts that had plagued him minutes before, though their ghost still lingered in the back of his mind as if he had just awoken from a very good dream. There was a part of him that wished that all his desires for you had been sucked down the drain along with his cum, as this was certain to become am issue in a short amount of time, but he knew he would not be that lucky.

He craved you in a most unholy way and that meant at some point this little problem was going to come to a head. There was no telling what would happen to him when he saw you next now that he had entertained the full extent of his fantasies, but one thing he did know was that if there was a way to have you just as he wanted, he would find it...and God fucking help you when he did.

#simon ghost riley #ghost cod #ghost x reader #ghost mw2 #simon riley #cod mw2 #simon ghost riley smut #simon ghost x reader #simin ghost riley #simon ghost x you #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #ghost mwii

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envysparkler · 1 month

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Jason tucked himself deeper into his hoodie and tried not to shiver. His fingers were numb around the tire iron, more from panic than the chill in the air, and he felt like he was being turned to ice, inch by painful inch.

He could still see the cold look on Johnny Six-Fingers’ face, the reek of tobacco, the ultimatum ringing through the air and echoing inside his head.

Jason had a debt to pay, and Six-Fingers had gotten tired of waiting. Jason had one night to scrounge up two grand in cash, or he’d have to pay it off the usual way. By standing on street corners.

Six-Fingers didn’t care that Jason was only twelve and didn’t have any way to get a real job. He didn’t care that the money had all been funneled into the black hole of Jason’s mother’s hospital expenses. He didn’t care that the money hadn’t even worked, that Jason’s mom had died, wasting away with every breath, and Jason was left with no parents, no home, and a debt to one of Crime Alley’s most infamous money-lenders and pimps.

He didn’t care that there was no way Jason could scramble together two grand in cash in one fucking night.

The wind was biting on his cheeks and Jason took a few deep breaths as his eyes prickled. No. No. There—there had to be a way. Jason wasn’t going to become a whore. He’d find the two grand—he’d steal it if he had to, he wouldn’t become one of the empty-eyed men and women standing on the streets, lighting up to detach themselves from reality.

But it was late. Very late. No one was out on the streets this late at night, not when the Batman lurked. Most people in Gotham had better sense than to get in the way of a prowling nightmare of darkness and claws, lest they end up as another bloody body in a gutter.

Jason unfortunately had to sacrifice sense for speed. The one skill he was very good at was jacking tires, and they didn’t sell for much, but if he found a really good score, he could maybe bargain with Tony at the shop to get the two grand. He’d owe Tony then, but the mechanic would let him pay it off by working at the shop.

It was a horrible plan. It relied on Jason basically stumbling upon a pot of gold, and avoiding Gotham’s most infamous murderer while he was at it. Jason was usually careful to jack tires during the day—if Batman ever caught him, Jason would be seeing his own insides.

At the moment, it was a risk he was willing to take.

It was going to be fine. Everything was going to be fine. He was going to find some tires, sell them, get Six-Fingers his money, and then maybe his mom would come back to life and tuck him into bed. Jason exhaled harshly and tightened his fingers on the tire iron.

He needed to get the cash.

Crime Alley was quiet. The pubs had closed an hour ago, which left no one on the streets. There weren’t many cars here, and none of them had tires that would sell for more than a hundred bucks. Jason was consciously aware of his heart pounding in his ears, like a ticking clock counting down his fate.

Tick tock.

He had to find something.

Tick tock.

He wouldn’t become a whore. He wouldn’t.

Tick tock.

Please—he had to find something, please—

Tick tock.

He wanted his mom. He wanted his dad. He wanted someone, anyone, to tell him it was going to be okay.

Tick tock.

He wanted to find a car that was gleaming and dark and all tricked-up, with massive tires and novelty rims, and—oh shit, that was the Batmobile.

Fuck. Everyone knew of Batman’s tank of a car, how easily he evaded police and gangs and everyone, blasting through Gotham like he owned the goddamn city. And given that no one had been able to stop him even once in the last decade, he probably did.

Jason had already turned to flee before his mind caught up to his legs and reminded him that he hadn’t done anything illegal. Yet. Running would be suspicious.

He let himself casually ogle the car as he took inching steps backwards, his heart pounding so loud he was surprised it wasn’t echoing in the alley. Every fraction of his attention was focused on listening for a whisper of a cape, or perhaps the hiss of claws scything through air, his tire iron clutched firmly to his chest. He was going to get out of the alley calmly and carefully, and—and if Batman was prowling around Crime Alley, Jason’s chances of getting that two grand had just vanished, and he didn’t want to go back to Six Fingers, and—

Those…were nice tires. Fancy tires. The kind of tires that would totally be worth two grand. No sane person would want anything to do with Batman’s tires, but Tony did work for the Families too, and some of them could be interested in trophies.

If Jason actually managed to get the tires off without being murdered or having a heart attack.

He didn’t want to. He desperately didn’t want to. But the choice was between Batman and Six-Fingers, and Batman wasn’t here.

“You can do this,” he whispered to himself, his fingers twisting on the tire iron. Steady and careful. Silent and quick. “You have to do this.”

Jason checked one last time for shining claws and white eyes in the darkness, and got to work.

~#~

The combination of fear, dread, and panic helped Jason work faster than he ever had in his life. He unscrewed the bolts, kicked the tires off, and rolled them to the next alley to hide them below a stack of cardboard. It was going to be tricky to get them all the way to Tony’s shop, but first Jason had to get them off. The minutes ticked by, agonizingly slow, as his fingers grew clammier and his breaths grew shorter.

The world had narrowed down to his numb fingers, the bolts, the tires, and his distressingly loud heartbeat.

Jason, working away at the third tire, didn’t realize he had company until he heard the low growl, right behind him—“What are you doing?”

Nerves strained to the breaking point, Jason reacted on instinct. He jerked away from the tire, yanking the tire iron back with him, and shifted his grip as he spun and swung with the movement.

The tire iron crashed into a nightmare.

The nightmare staggered back with a grunt.

Jason allowed himself a split second to feel—oh no oh fuck oh no—before booking it.

There was a time to fight and a time to flee the fucking country, oh fuck, he attacked Batman, he was going to die, he didn’t want to die and the pulsing sound of his heartbeat was overridden by the too-loud sound of his shoes smacking against loose asphalt. He didn’t hear Batman, but he hadn’t heard the monster before he spoke up, and there was no fucking way Jason was looking back to check what’d happened.

Run, screamed every cell in his body, run and hide, adrenaline coursing through him and narrowing his focus on the desperate effort to get away.

If Jason had been slightly less panicked, he might’ve remembered that this alley was a dead-end before he nearly brained himself smacking against the brick wall.

Run, everything inside him insisted, and Jason clawed at the wall in an attempt to climb it, but there were no handholds, nowhere he could jam his fingers and hoist himself up. The chill down his spine grew to a sharp, vicious ache as the weight of silent regard grew heavier and heavier.

Jason stared blankly at the brick wall and felt his face begin to prickle.

He was going to die. It wasn’t a theoretical. Batman murdered criminals, everyone knew it, and no one could stop him. Certainly no one would care if he murdered Jason. Jason was dead, and every breath he took could be his last.

His face was wet, and he was trembling all over. He felt curiously detached from his body, like he was in a dream, and when he blinked, the world went dark for a stretching moment. He didn’t want to die. He didn’t want it to hurt. He desperately didn’t want to feel pain.

A footstep echoed right behind him.

“Please,” Jason’s voice said hollowly, the words spilling from his mouth without permission. Everything was blurry. “Make it quick.”

One punch of the claws through his back, and Batman could rip his heart out. It would be done. He couldn’t hear Batman move, but the presence behind him intensified, and the world retreated a little bit more when a gauntleted, clawed hand settled on his shoulder

A slash of razor-sharp metal through his throat would be equally fast. Jason let himself be maneuvered, let the threatening grip turn him around, let cold and bloody claws tip his chin up to look at Death.

It was terrifying. This was the last thing many people saw before they died. A hulking outline of shadows looming above them, a full-face mask with pointed ears and glowing white eyes, red glinting ever so darkly against the black armor.

“What’s your name?” the growl ground out, distorted and echoey. It sounded like what monsters in the closet were made of.

“Jason,” he forced out through trembling lips. Dead boys had no need of names. A fresh wave of prickling crawled across his face, and everything went blurry again.

“Where are your parents, Jason?” Oh, Batman was really pissed. Luckily, Jason had no family for the monster to take it out on.

“Dead.”

Something changed in Batman’s posture, a tightening that some instinctive part of Jason recognized as anger. There was nowhere to hide though, no kitchen table to crawl under with a dog to wait out the rage, and Jason just cowered against the brick wall.

“Who do you live with?”

“N-no one,” Jason stuttered. Batman was determined to vent his fury. Well, a little voice spoke up in his head, you did steal his tires. What did you expect?

Batman was silent for a stretching moment, studying him. Jason waited for his verdict, shivering despite his hoodie, cold with more than just the wind. When Batman spoke, it was worse than all the horrible things Jason was imagining.

“I will take you to a social worker,” intoned the low growl, and Jason felt a new kind of terror rush through his veins.

“No,” he said automatically, his mind screaming in horror—at least with Six-Fingers he would just be a whore, he wouldn’t be a pet, he wouldn’t be owned—“Please—please don’t—”

“Jason—”

Jason was aware that he was interrupting, aware that this was Batman he was arguing with, but Jason was dead anyway, what more did he have to lose? “Please,” he begged, dropping to his knees to plead for any mercy this nightmare possessed, “Please, just—just kill me, please, don’t—don’t give me to the traffickers, please, I’ll do anything.” Jason had to break off to shudder through a sob, but before he could resume begging, Batman was moving.

The Terror of Gotham knelt in front of him to look Jason in the eyes. The shock was enough to startle Jason into silence.

“Jason, I’m not going to kill you,” the growling voice said, “And I’m certainly not going to give you to traffickers.”

Jason…couldn’t tell which one of those was the lie.

“I know of a trusted foster parent that would give you a safe place to stay while I look into these traffickers,” Batman’s voice rang out firmly, “Would you like to stay with him?”

No, Jason would very much not like to stay with a buddy of Batman’s. It was a trap, that much was obvious, but Jason had no choice but to walk straight into it. This was Batman.

Jason nodded meekly, and took Batman’s proffered claw-tipped hand—slick with drying blood—to be pulled up to his feet. “You can wait in the car while I put the tires back on,” Batman said, opening the door to reveal the darkened interior.

Jason wanted to protest, wanted to take his chances to run at the opposite end of the alley, wanted to wheedle his way into getting the tires himself so he could escape, but those glowing white eyes had transfixed him, and Jason’s fingers were sticky with someone’s blood, and he didn’t feel up to arguing.

He silently got in the car. The tears didn’t stop.

#my snippets #jason&bruce #jason steals the tires au #in a world where batman kills

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bruh-myguy-what · 16 days

Text

Lovestruck

Pairing: Tech x Fem!Reader Requested by: @baddest-batchers Warnings: Massive fluff, I think I actually cried writing this?, I've not been handling the season finale well because I miss Tech a considerable amount, pining for reader from Tech's perspective, a lot of adorable emotions from our usually pragmatic boy Word Count: 2K Summary: While fixing the Marauder with you, Tech reflects on his feelings and he's completely enamored by you. A/N: I'm not handling Tech's death well. Whether it's his death or his just being CX-2, I don't really care, I miss him so desperately and this fic healed so many parts of my heart even though I actually wept while writing. I love that you requested this, friend! I hope it's exactly what you were looking for (or at least close!) and I absolutely agree, this was indeed a Tech prompt. All of these requests have been so wonderful and I cannot express how much it means that people like my writing enough to send in requests! Thanks guys!

Requests are open if you have anything you'd like to send in!

__________________________________________

It was an ordinary affair for you and Tech to work on the repairs for the Marauder simultaneously. There were consistent restorations that needed to be made and things to be updated, so having another experienced individual helped jog said matters along. Though the clone was hesitant at first, after months of rapport building, he was grateful.

Not only was he finding himself appreciative for the extra set of hands, but Tech discovered that he was quite enjoying your company. You were clever, agreeable, and understanding, along with that you seemed to always find his endless wealth of knowledge pleasant. The accurate way you managed the repairs of his ship, first by managing his hesitancy well and then demonstrating consideration for his methods before ever handling something he cared so much about, really surprised him. Your approach to his usually off-putting demeanor was a welcomed change in his life and the way you subtly encouraged him appeared to warm his heart in a way he hadn't previously encountered.

He'd found that his eyes lingered on you from afar longer than he realized, only noticing that he'd been staring when you'd look over and smile at him sweetly. The light in your eyes, whenever you'd smile at him, twinkled so effortlessly, almost as if there had been stars placed directly behind them solely to enchant him.

It was as if you were another creature entirely, one he'd never analyzed, one he knew nothing about- because everything you did fascinated him. All the ways in which you carried yourself, laughed with his brothers, tended to Omega, your wit, the charm you retained...it all was remarkable to him. He began to notice himself craving your attention. Tech dreamed of you laughing for him, smiling at him, every moment he was awake you invaded his thoughts.

So to have you crouched down beneath the hull of the Marauder, handing him parts and tools for repairs made him impossibly delighted. This was a life he could get used to, for a long time. The ability to bond with you- and only you- in this way for the rest of his short life, he would fight for it, no matter the threat. If this was what life could be for him after he and his brothers no longer needed to fight, he would be far and beyond content. He'd feel whole.

"The spanner now, please," Tech's smooth tone echoed back to him from off the metal hull.

Taking a moment to grab the tool, you placed it squarely in his hand, "Of course." Your voice was sweet as ever to his ears, the sensation of your fingers grazing his gloved palm sending tides of bliss to his heart. How he desired to remove his gloves to truly discern how your hand might feel in his. Odd thought, he knew, though nevertheless one he often had run through his mind. Other equivalent ones situated themselves among his standard reflections; such as how your cheeks might feel cradled in his palm, or how your eyes might sparkle even more at his displays of affection toward you.

These introspective ideas were not ones he had been programmed with, he understood that very well, but then again wasn't that the whole point of him and his brothers? They weren't droids. Even with protocol and planned executions, wasn't the beautiful part of having your own identity the potential for...emotion? Sentiments?

Love?

The brilliant clone pondered these notions for many hours during hyperspace travels, staring endlessly into the streaking atmosphere while everyone else lay in their bunks asleep. Upon his further analysis and pensive state, he conceded that he did, indeed, love you. Even though he expected it to never be possible, for him anyhow, it clearly was. And there it was, staring up at him with stunning eyes and an adorable smile- all wrapped up in one woman who waited for further instruction to aid his work.

"Whatcha smiling at, silly?" A giggle brought him out of his reverie and he cleared his throat, handing the spanner back to you while muttering a quick 'my apologies'. "It's no big deal, you know I don't mind," another soft chuckle at his sudden behavior change. "Just curious what has you in such a good mood lately. You never smile this much- not that I'm complaining, of course. You look happy and I like that, it suits you." The smile he watched spread across your lips brightened your eyes so preciously that Tech felt as if his heart were going to lock up. You were absolutely breathtaking in the setting sunlight, the warm glow radiating your beauty.

It wasn't too long after your comment that he acknowledged he'd been staring once again. Tech blinked a few times, regaining his composure- sure to remember the planet's rotation cycle so he could bring you out into the setting sun one more time before leaving so he could truly memorize the way you looked in such a spectacular site. "I suppose it would be an alarming circumstance to see my sudden change in attitude if you are accustomed to my rather pragmatic and steadfast manner." He spoke slowly, trying to gauge his words carefully, looking back up at the repairs he was currently working on.

To say he was usually practical was an understatement and even he knew that, but he continued nevertheless- "Screwdriver, please."

A quick hum in reply from you and the tool was now in his hand, his heart buzzing at your lingering touch, making certain he had hold of the screwdriver before pulling away. "Though," Tech found himself speaking before he realized, hesitating after the word left his mouth.

Should he continue? Would you be uneasy at any admission of his affection, or even just simple favor, toward you?

He found himself suddenly apprehensive at the possibility that he could ruin the favorable conditions he'd found for himself with you. But with your reassuring voice, you spoke his worrying thoughts away, "though, what? Got too many thoughts running around that extraordinary mind of yours to just pick one?" The pleasantness in your prodding had a warm smile of his own spreading across his lips now while he worked against a stubborn bolt.

"Only a few at this very moment, so it would appear, mesh'la." Tech's reply was soft, soft enough that he thought only he'd heard himself until you stood beside him now. He glanced to see your head tilted with ever lovely, inquisitive eyes prompting him to continue his outspoken thought. Realigning his eyes to the bolt, Tech licked his lips anxiously, "Ah, I must have spoken aloud without realizing." He clarified softly, a burning sensation rising to his cheeks.

"Well now you gotta continue," you teased with a smile, "It's not every day that your genius mind only has a few thoughts in it to speak of."

Tech knew he was skating near a precarious edge, but the more you gazed at him expectantly, the less he cared and only desired for you to continue your total obliteration of his typical sensible behaviors. Taking a deep breath, the enhanced clone steadied himself before expressing, "At present, I have found that my foremost thoughts are exclusively about you. During the maturing of our relationship these last few months, it would seem that less and less of my thoughts are as constructive as they had been prior to our closeness, as troubling as that may sound." At your silence, Tech chanced lowering his arms to stand before you unimpeded by work, attention entirely yours.

The rise of your brows and the slight part in your lips made his heart thud painfully against his chest. Though, he noticed the sparkle in your eyes hadn't dissipated, perhaps he wasn't ruining anything as he thought he had been. "I am mindful that it may come across as peculiar, or eccentric, for me to have said that," Tech began cautiously, calculating your evolving expression. "Nevertheless, it is the truth. I...find you to be the most compelling woman that I have personally had the fortune of knowing. You are quite literally the only part of my life that I find myself frequently enchanted by." As he spoke, Tech found it easier to alleviate himself of the mountain of praises he'd been repeatedly considering when in your presence. He discovered he could continue voicing your worth, just as he could gaze at your beautiful face for an indefinable amount of time if only you'd allow him.

In the face of your silence, Tech cleared his throat once again to calm himself of his growing concern. "Though I'm aware of my capacity to express thoughts without stopping, I must say that your added input on this matter would prevent the inclination of my elevating heart rate."

"Tech..." The way his name left your lips did the contrary of what he had just requested, scrambling his heart rate instead. Tenderness touched the curve of your lips as you stepped forward close to him, directly into the space he usually reserved for only himself until he saw how much more exquisite you were when he had the opportunity to look down at you. This close he could see every mark, every small scar, the way the color of your eyes shifted as they glanced back and forth around his face.

"Stars," he breathed, "you are the most beautiful thing I have ever seen, mesh'la..." Tech muttered to himself in wonderment. As if no barrier had ever existed between you, Tech reached out to caress your face, marveling at how you reacted by pressing your cheek further into his touch. "If you were to provide me the honor of showing you my devotion, I would be certain to surpass any expectations you may put forth." Spellbound by the intimacy he'd found himself in with you, Tech longed for more. He yearned to feel the softness of your cheek on his skin, not through his filthy gloves. The way you deserved to be admired was wholly and profoundly, without any impediments. As his eyes danced between yours and the way your smile began to fade, Tech brushed his thumb along your cheek, cursing his GAR regulation blacks. You'd hardly said a word other than the sweet whisper of his name before you approached him, and even if this instance was all he'd ever receive from you, he'd relive the memory a hundred times over. Though he worried he'd said too much again.

Or maybe you were as entranced as he was, presently. "My dear, I don't mean to ruin this moment, however, I-" and before he could finish speaking you'd surged upward toward him, pressing your lips against his.

Astonishment rushed through the normally sharp clone as he felt the weight of your body pressed against his chest plate. After only a moment, though, Tech reacted- refusing to squander his opportunity to kiss you as he had dreamt many times over.

Wrapping his arms around your smaller figure, one hand came to rest between your shoulders and the other cradled your head affectionately, holding you as close as he could possibly have you. The plush of your lips brushed so flawlessly against his as he admired the softness they possessed. Tech knew upon impact that he would never tire of this, of the ability to hold you as he was, nor his newfound gift to kiss you.

You pulled away all too soon for his liking, the sigh escaping his lips sounding as pathetic to him as he was sure it sounded to you. Your smile was even more gorgeous than he'd seen it yet, though he was sure it was due to the recent discovery of just how incredible your smile tasted against his lips. Tech debated whether he should move at all for fear of you slipping away even sooner, but relented to adjust his goggles, matching your smile. "I believe that is a sufficient response to my yet posed question."

With yet another unpredictable act, you cuddled closer into his space, folding your arms in between your chest and his, and tucked your face into his neck. "I'll be happy to answer any others you may have with the same reply, whenever you need, handsome." You replied with a soft laugh.

Encompassing you once again within his embrace, Tech felt his cheeks warming, noting how the sun had disappeared beneath the horizon and he knew couldn't blame that for his reddened face. His breathy chuckle rumbled against his chest plate, "I shall keep that at the forefront of my thoughts."

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diettwistup · 3 days

Text

HALF OF YOU

PAIRINGS: tashi duncan x f!oc, art donaldson x f!oc, patrick zweig x f!oc

SUMMARY: No matter how bright Tashi Duncan shined, her best friend, Milan Mikaelson, wasn’t far behind. Though seeming second best, Milan would never let that define her career. Holding as much fame as Tashi, Milan encountered Patrick Zweig and Art Donaldson. Would this encounter change the trajectory of her life, and would it completely alter her relationship with Tashi Duncan?

WARNINGS: challengers spoilers, reader is milan mikaelson, sexual situations, language, angst, plot alterations.

WC: 5.1K

NOTES: hiiii!!! hope y’all enjoy this next chapter cuz it’s not my fave thing ever LOL. was also too lazy to proofread so sorry if there's errors. i’m also gonna be going on vacation with no internet for a little over a week so next update will be after that! thanks for reading luv u 💋

READ BEFORE THIS: INTRO and ONE

CHAPTER 2: DOUBLE TROUBLE

CHALLENGERS TOURNAMENT, NEW ROCHELLE - 2019, 1:00 PM

Gnawing on my bottom lip, I gripped my dress as Tashi got up and cursed before walking off, disappointed with Art’s performance.

“Where the hell do you think you’re going.” I shot and grabbed her wrist, eyeing her up as I took my sunglasses off.

Shaking my grasp off of her, she bent down and spoke dangerously close to my face.

“If he’s not gonna play tennis, then I don’t wanna see shit.” She seethed and walked off, brushing off her dress with each stride.

As I watched her go, I could feel a pair of eyes on me. Darting my attention back to the match, Art was already looking my way.

Shooting him a sad expression, I put my sunglasses back on, huffed, and sat back in my seat.

All he did was shake his head and rub the sweat off his face while Patrick smirked proudly.

He sure seems to love this.

Sighing, I raised one hand to my mouth to bite my nails, the nerves of the match taking over my entire being.

At the next serve, I carefully watched the strategic movements behind the boy’s every motion. They have always been outstanding players, and I furrowed my brows as I thought back to the first time I saw them play against each other.

The stupidity of Tashi and I, dumb enough to pin two best friends against each other. We should have never stepped foot in that godforsaken hotel room.

Shaking my head, I closed my eyes. The crowd's roar echoed around me as I thought back to the night that started it all.

The night that ruined it all.

THE BOY’S HOTEL- 2006, 12:00 AM

“What the actual fuck is wrong with you?!” I exclaimed to Tashi as we made our way to the boy's hotel room. “Why the fuck would you let them come down when you knew I was there?” I shot at her as I smacked her arm.

Tashi smacked me right back, making me let out a hiss and shoot a cold glare at her.

“I don’t know why you're acting like you don’t have a game. You’re the best at playing hard to get.” Tashi responded and shrugged as if it was as simple as adding two plus two.

“You’re a bitch.” I muttered and rolled my eyes as the hotel came into view. “What do you even plan on doing with these two.” I raised my brow at her and studied her expression to gauge what was going through her mind.

“What we usually do,” she responded, smiling at me. Hypnotize them with our charm and have a good time, of course,” She said proudly as if this was second nature for us.

I won’t say that Tash and I haven’t had our fair share of fun with boys, but something like this, with two boys who knew their way around the game themselves, was certainly daunting.

“Fine, but you should have heard how they talked about us at your match. It was disgusting.” I pretended to gag and placed a hand on her shoulder.

“Perfect, we already have them locked in then.” She nudged my arm before leading the way to the room.

Rolling my eyes, I smacked her again before following behind her.

On the way to the room, I got lost in my thoughts. How did we get ourselves into such a situation? I hope Tashi doesn’t expect us to have a foursome of any sort because I don’t have the patience to deal with a whole ordeal like that.

Approaching the door, Tashi stopped to let me walk ahead of her.

“Perfect, Mila, you can see your ass poking out of your shorts.” She smirked and gently patted it until I swatted at her hand with a laugh.

“Fuck off, let’s go,” I scolded, waiting for her to catch up, as she knew which room to go to.

Once we reached the door, Tashi knocked and softly bit her lip. Scuffling was immediately heard behind the door, signifying that the boys were startled by our appearance.

I moved to press my ear to the door with a slight smirk which Tashi returned as she did the same.

“They’re crazy…” I whispered to Tashi, to which she responded with a nod and a soft hum.

When we removed our ears from the door, it swung open so quickly I couldn’t make out the motion.

The boys stood at the door, looking extremely disheveled. Patrick wore boxers and an unbuttoned linen shirt that looked like it had been shoved in his tennis bag and forgotten. Also wearing boxers, Art wore a beater t-shirt that looked like it had never been in the wash and dryer a day in his life. Both of their hair was ruffled and unkempt, making it look like they had just gotten out of bed.

Raising an eyebrow, I was the first to speak. “What, did you two just get done fucking?” I questioned as I looked between them and placed my hands on my hips.

Patrick just burst out into laughter while Art spoke up.

“No…fuck no…” He muttered with a laugh as he patted Patrick on the back.

Drunk as sailors.

I nodded at this before resting my eyes and glancing at Tashi, who smiled fondly at the two, but I knew she was plotting.

“So, hi,” Tashi spoke calmly with a smile that immediately brought the boys back to Earth as they moved aside to let us in the room.

I had to stop myself from covering my nose as we entered the room.

Reeks of beer and cigarettes…typical boys.

Two beds pushed together were messily made. Beer cans, cigarette buds, and clothes were everywhere, though it looked like someone had tried to tidy up a bit.

That explains all the noise.

Patrick mindlessly spoke to Tashi as I continued to scan the room, not noticing that Art was eyeing me up. Turning my head, I caught his stare, which didn’t make him falter. He only continued to stare before coming up to me and handing me a beer.

“Didn’t know you were gonna come.” He spoke as he looked down at me through lidded eyes. Tipsy eyes. And, of course, he had a smirk, but it spoke I’m glad you came, really.

I continued to study his expression as I let my guard down a pinch. I shrugged nonchalantly as I took a long swig of the beer, knowing I would need it to get through the night.

“Had nothing else to do. Figured why not.” I spoke calmly as I let my eyes rake over his entire figure, drinking up his messy look which he really really pulled off. Never would I ever admit that for him to hear.

Or me.

“Well, glad you’re here.” Art said as he took the beer can from my lips and sipped it while he stared into my eyes, flickering to my lips for a moment.

I kept my eyes trained on his as I refused to back down in this staredown, showing that I couldn’t be swayed that quickly just because he was extremely attractive.

“You two, come sit,” Patrick spoke up from the ground by the bed where he sat with Tashi.

Nodding at this, I waited for Art to take his eyes off mine before I made any movement to sit. After a few seconds, he nodded and placed a hand on my lower back to walk me to where everyone was sitting.

I shivered slightly at this as I softly bit my bottom lip, hiding this motion from him, but I knew Tashi saw it by her smug little smile that said I told you so.

We haven’t even done anything, and I suddenly feel like I’m in the trenches.

The next couple minutes were used to discuss how Patrick and Art met each other and how Patrick, predictable enough, taught Art how to masturbate, all while we all took sips from the beer can that Art had given me when we first got here.

“Y’all are weird as fuck.” I snorted, a bit tipsy, wiping my mouth from my last gulp as I looked between the two boys who had red cheeks from a mix of alcohol and embarrassment, and can’t forget, two big smirks.

“No, Mila. I think it's a cute story.” Tashi nodded with a smile in an attempt to reassure the boys jokingly—a tactic she used to fully reel them in.

I rolled my eyes at this and fake glared at Tashi. “Only if you’re fucked in the head!” I laughed again while the rest of them laughed with me.

“Don’t tell me you two haven’t done anything weird like that,” Patrick said, making me whip my head to him before glancing back at Tashi.

“Yeah, you two have known each other since the womb. There’s no way you haven’t done nothing.” Art added and took a long swig of the beer can before passing it to Patrick, eyes trained on me for longer than I would have liked.

I shook my head with a small laugh before looking back to Tashi, who gave me an eyebrow in return, signaling something.

You ready?

…

I’m ready.

We nodded at each other before standing up and looking down at the boys.

“You guys aren’t leaving-“ Patrick started but stopped when he saw the two of us moving to sit on the edge of the bed.

My eyes locked with both of them briefly as I flashed the most innocent smile I could muster.

Here we go.

“Patrick, come sit by me…” Tashi spoke and patted the space to her left.

You didn’t have to tell him twice. He sprung up so fast he spilled the beer can everywhere on the carpet, but he couldn’t give a fuck.

As he sat down next to Tashi, my eyes locked onto Art’s. I did not need any words to tell him to sit by me.

He took the hint immediately, got up almost as fast as his best friend, and sat beside me, thigh already touching mine.

I turned to face him with lidded eyes and a small smile. I could hear his breath hitch as Adam’s apple bobbed, signifying that he took a small gulp. I softened my eyes to let him know it was okay to relax and that he could be comfortable around me.

Even though Tashi wanted to play with these boys like putty, I felt a little different about the situation.

As I tilted my head at Art slowly, I saw his face contort into a grin that radiated his comfort and need.

Leaning in slightly, I placed my hand on Art’s chest, noting how firm it felt through his thin shirt. Art mirrored my leaning in but instead placed a hand on my thigh. As I neared his lips, I teasingly pulled away as I felt Tashi pat my back. I smirked slightly at this and turned around as my lips met hers instead of Art’s.

It was an innocent kiss, a tactic to get these boys right where we wanted them. This action certainly answered their questions about us, and I hope it was worthwhile.

Once again, I could feel Art’s eyes piercing the back of my head, so I moved my hair off my shoulder and tapped the side of my neck so he would know what to do.

Almost immediately, his lips were latched onto my neck. I wondered for a moment if he was a vampire because of the way he was sucking on my neck. I figured he was searching for a blood vessel. Poor baby must have been deprived of any female touch, but the way his lips sucked profusely on my pulse point, I could tell this wasn’t his first rodeo.

Tashi and I pulled away from our innocent kiss and shot each other small smirks when we noticed that Patrick and Art were too lost in our necks to give a damn.

I tapped Art’s thigh so he would know to stop, which he reluctantly did. His lips were a bit swollen, and I couldn’t keep my eyes off them. Biting my lip, I reached up and brushed a finger across his bottom lip. As I did this, Art grabbed my hand and studied it before gently kissing my finger where my nail had broken. My eyes widened at this as my heart threatened to beat out of my chest.

Keep. your. composure.

Shaking out of my daze at his action, I smiled softly once again and leaned in slowly to connect our lips, hands on the back of his neck, threatening to tangle in his blonde curls.

Pillows. His lips feel like pillows.

The kiss was soft until his hand moved from my thigh to my waist. He pushed forward a bit until my back fully hit Tashi and tried to part my lips by biting my bottom one, but I pulled away before he could get that far.

Too easy.

Licking my lips to taste him, I turned back to Tashi, who placed her hand on my cheek to kiss me lightly again. As her lips melded with mine, I gingerly placed a hand on the base of Art’s jaw and slowly pulled him towards Tashi and me’s kiss. Immediately, I could feel Art’s lips meld with Tashi's, mine, and then Patrick’s, knowing that Tashi had done the same with him.

Now, the four of us were all kissing, making me slightly clench my thighs. Only slightly.

After about five seconds, I felt Tashi tap my back to signal me to pull away slowly.

As we both pulled away, Art and Patrick were full-on making out, not noticing that the two of us had abandoned the kiss. I glanced at Tashi with a smirk as she watched them in satisfaction.

It took everything in me not to giggle as I watched the two continue to eat each other's faces fervently.

Specifically Art.

After a beat, Tashi spoke up.

“Okay.” She said, which made the boys freeze and pull away from each other.

Immediately, they both looked at us in shock.

Got ‘em.

I tilted my head at Art as I gently reached my hand out to trace shapes on his thigh while he looked down at me like I had three heads.

“That was cute…” I mouthed to him with a soft smile as he continued to eye me up in shock mixed with a bit of awe.

“Well, we should get going before our parents freak out and wonder where we are,” Tashi says. I sit up as I follow suit, cutting any tension in the room.

Standing up from the bed, I chuckled to myself as I brushed off my clothes and fixed my hair. “It’s been fun,” I said, aiming my comment at Art. Thank you for having us,” I finished with a small, innocent smile as Tashi and I left.

“Wait!” Patrick said which stopped us in our tracks.

Turning around, Tashi and I shared matching grins that we quickly hid when we faced the boys.

Art spoke up next as he looked right at me. “What about your numbers?” He asked as he stared at me like a puppy deprived of dinner.

I crossed my arms and shrugged. “If you win tomorrow, I’ll give you my number,” I said plainly, as if it were the simplest thing in the world.

“And I’ll give you my number if you win tomorrow,” Tashi said to Patrick just as plainly as I did.

Both boys shot each other smirks before nodding in agreement.

Tashi and I said our goodbyes before leaving the hotel room. When we were out of earshot, we both started laughing.

“We have them wrapped around our pretty little fingers!” Tashi exclaimed as she wrapped an arm around my shoulder.

I laughed at this and wrapped an arm around her waist. “I really hope Art wins,” I said in a dreamy tone of voice as I thought back to his face, lips, chest, everything, really.

Tashi shook me back and forth with a smile as she exclaimed, “I’m just ready to watch some good fucking tennis!” She laughed, knowing that the two boys were really going to battle it out with this new prize put into motion.

STANFORD UNIVERSITY - 2007 5:00 PM

As I slowly trudged from the tennis court to the dining hall, I felt my arms giving out.

“Fuck this damn bag,” I whined and went to a nearby bench to take a breather and bask in the California sun.

Today’s practice was by far the worst of the semester. I worked with my coach on my serve to prepare for my upcoming match, where I would face an opponent ranked decently high in the state.

Closing my eyes and throwing my head back to catch the rays of the warm sun, I let out a groan. I probably looked like a corpse to every passerby, but just like Tashi, they knew me, so hopefully, they would just smile and wave.

“Rough practice?” An extremely familiar and captivating voice snapped me back to reality.

Opening my eyes, I was met with my favorite pair of light blue eyes—something he would never know. Of course, a smirk adorned his features, and his blonde curls were tucked into a backward red cap, most certainly saying “Stanford” on the flip side.

“Art…” I spoke almost breathlessly as I sat up, brushed a piece of hair out of my face, and used my other hand to block the sun that Art’s head almost blocked.

“Hey, can I sit?” he asked, shoving his hands into his pockets, and nodded to where my bag was on the bench.

Quickly moving it to sit in front of my feet, I patted the empty seat next to me. “Sure.” I smiled at him and tucked a piece of hair behind my ear.

Over the summer, I would never allow myself to be so forward with Art Donaldson. I couldn’t speak for my present self, though. Since Patrick won the match, he and Tashi started dating after he scored her number. I, of course, was too upset to act like I didn’t give a damn about not being able to give Art my number. Tashi insisted that to keep their passion and drive for tennis alive, I keep up my end of the deal and don’t give Art my number. Hesitantly, I agreed as I knew how easily a stimulus like that can create great results. Since the match, Art and I have never spoken except for the occasional hello when passing by each other on the tennis court or dining hall. This moment was the first time I could speak with him since everything, and since I may have developed a slight…crush.

“So,” He started and turned his body on the bench to face me fully. “How have you been?” He tilted his head and tapped the back of the bench while studying my face.

Inhaling a sharp breath, I turned my body to face him fully, bringing one leg up and letting the other drape off the side of the bench.

“Do you want an honest answer?” I chuckled softly as I moved my hands to remove my hair from its braids.

In turn, Art laughed gently while smirking at me. His stare narrowed as he studied my face, acting like I was an old friend he had known for years.

“Well, if the honest answer is terrible and cruel, then I’m not so sure.” He responded and immediately matched my energy.

Damn you, Donaldson.

“Hey.” I softly laughed as I moved my dangling leg to kick his gently while I finished taking my hair out.

I wondered for a beat how I wanted to summarize months of memories, feelings, and experiences into one sentence, and this made me sigh.

“It’s been rough. Majoring in biology and the grueling tennis schedule makes me wanna rip my hair out.” I spoke in a low tone as I ironically and subconsciously began to play with a strand of my hair.

“I feel smothered.” I finished and silently cursed myself for acting so vulnerable.

That was three sentences, Milan. Not one.

As I stared at Art almost helplessly, his eyes softened.

“I feel the same way, trust me.” He chuckled softly before removing his hat and running a hand through his hair. “It really sucks, but it’s gonna be worth it,” He ended his thought before putting his hat back on.

“Fuck, and I thought I was the only one. Quite naive of me.” I laughed before looking back up at the sun. “It’s whatever, though. You’re right, and everything will come into place and be worth it.” I continued as I looked anywhere but at Art’s piercing stare.

Silence. He didn’t respond. He didn’t laugh. He did nothing except stare. Stare in a heavy silence that brought me back to the night in that damn hotel room.

After a few beats, I returned to my senses, slowly stood up from the bench, and brushed my skirt off.

“Well, I didn’t mean to stay here for long, so I’m gonna head off.” I went to pick up my bag as I spoke disappointedly.

I couldn’t allow myself to fall into the trenches. I needed to focus on my studies and tennis. Hard work makes everything worthwhile, and a boy isn’t part of that everything right now.

“Wait, Milan,” Art spoke up and grabbed my wrist, his grip as firm as it would be if he held his racket.

This made me freeze in my tracks. What the hell did he think he was doing?

My eyes slowly met Art’s as I parted my lips to speak, but nothing came out, so he spoke for me.

“It’s been months, Milan,” he started, his grip on my wrist still firm, his eyes scanning my face for any hints of discomfort.

“I know we only really talked with each other that one night and had no time to get to know each other, but I would like to get to know you better.” He didn’t falter. Not once. I don’t even think he blinked.

My lips had gone dry, and my voice, for some reason, grew hoarse.

“Art…” I slowly began as I looked down at his hand, gripping my wrists. “The four of us had a deal…” I made sure to tread lightly with a severe tone.

Two feet and ten toes on the ground. Don’t falter. Don’t give in.

“They’re a happy fucking couple, Milan. I doubt they give two shits.” He stated matter-of-factly as I felt his thumb rub up and down on my wrist.

How naive.

Biting my lip in thought, I began an internal battle with myself. I wanted this so bad. And I could tell Art wanted it just as bad as I did—possibly more.

I deserve a win other than tennis.

Sighing, I removed my arm from his grasp and moved to my tennis bag to look for a piece of paper. Instead, I found a piece of muscle tape and a small pencil. Quickly scribbling down my number, I could feel Art trying to see what I was doing.

“Here,” I said with slightly red cheeks as I stood back up and handed him the piece of muscle tape. “Don’t go blowing up my phone now,” I playfully scolded before picking up my bag and walking past him, glancing at the triumphant smile playing on his perfect features.

Perfect? …yeah.

Before I began my trek to the dining hall, I touched Art’s shoulder and whispered in his ear.

“I didn’t want to admit it, but I really wanna get to know you more, too.”

NEXT DAY, STANFORD DORMS 11:00 AM

MEET ME IN THE DINING HALL FOR LUNCH?

My eyes stared at the text in utter disbelief. Art certainly didn’t take any time once he got what he’d been craving all summer.

“Why do you look so shocked?” Tashi laughed from the foot of my bed as she hit my leg.

Fuck.

My eyes looked to her as I shut my phone, put it next to me, and picked my computer back up to pretend to look at my study guide for an upcoming biology quiz.

“My mom sent me a weird text,” I laughed awkwardly before covering my face with my computer.

“Are you fucking with me?” Tashi laughed as I heard her moving up towards my side of the bed.

She shut my computer to look at my face, which was for sure red as a tomato.

“You’re lying,” she smirked before sitting on her knees and clapping her hands. What is it? A boy? A girl?” She persisted as she grabbed my leg and widely smiled at me.

I rolled my eyes at this before clicking my tongue. “Why are you so dead set on the fact that I was texting someone romantically?” I crossed my arms and bit the inside of my cheek, probably a dead giveaway.

Tashi’s face fell as her brows furrowed, and she crossed her arms, mimicking me.

“You’re joking, right?” She started before studying my stern expression. “We’ve known each other for what, eighteen fucking years?” She used this as a tactic to crack me. “I know your every expression and what it means. I could write a thesaurus on you if I wanted to.” She stated as she sucked on her teeth, brows still furrowed.

I stared at her sternly for a few beats before sighing and turning my head to look anywhere but at her.

“Fine, you got me…” I trailed before uncrossing my arms to fumble with my fingers. “but this is the first time I’ve received a text, so it’s not important.” I put my hands up and looked at her as an explanation as to why she shouldn’t ask questions.

I should know better.

Tashi’s annoyed face instantly turned into a happy one as she bounced on the bed and continuously hit my leg.

“Who is the lucky guy? or girl…” She tilted her head with a goofy smile, which she would only show me.

“It’s a boy…” I sighed before turning my head to look at my closest, as it suddenly looked very interesting.

No matter how long I had known Tashi, I couldn’t gauge how she would react to this. She’s a very pushy person who likes everything to go her way, but I’m hoping that since it’s me, she will react differently.

She shrieked and shook my legs back and forth with a giggle.

She’ll be so disappointed.

“Who is it? Is it that cute boy I caught you practicing with the other week? Or that one boy that you sometimes study with from your Chemistry class? Or maybe it's that random guy from the baseball team I saw you talking within the dining hall last week?” She fired off in a millisecond as I stared at her in utter disbelief.

“Okay, first of all, how did you know about all of those? And second of all, the first guy is gay, the second guy has a girlfriend, and the last one was giving my pencil back to me after using it for a quiz we took in statistics.” I responded as I rolled my eyes so hard I thought the whites of them would turn permanent.

“I’m your best friend. I know everything.” She spoke eerily with wide eyes before breaking into a smirk. “So, come on! Tell me who it is!” She bounced repeatedly on the bed and shook me back and forth until I finally had enough.

“Fine!” I exclaimed and threw my hands up in the air.

Fuck it.

“It was Art, alright.” I threw my hands up as I bit the bullet and came clean.

Tashi’s face dropped almost instantly as his name fell off my lips. She wasn’t happy. Not at all.

“What the fuck do you mean?” She laughed in disbelief as she shook her head and moved her hands from my legs.

I immediately sat up more and moved towards her.

“I saw him after practice yesterday, and we got to talk,” I explained as I bit the inside of my cheek in anticipation. “He asked for my number, and I figured since everything happened months ago, there would be no issue…” I trailed off and looked her straight in the eyes with a pleading expression.

Tashi just stared at me and shook her head slowly.

“We had a deal with them…” She stared at me with an accusatory face.

“Tash, I know,” I exclaimed and grabbed her hands. “But you knew I liked him more than what happened in that hotel room. Plus, you and Patrick are happy, so why should it matter?” I asked and shook my head as I gripped her hands.

She stared at me as if I kicked her puppy and gasped in her throat. “Um, to keep their passion alive? To ensure they both strive for better and strengthen their relationship with tennis?” She spoke as if it was plain as day.

Furrowing my brows, I slowly shook my head and parted my lips, shocked.

“Is tennis all you care about?”

I shouldn’t have said that.

My words echoed in my mind as I retracted my hands from Tashi’s and bit my lip, feeling defeated. Her stare pierced into my soul as she looked away from me and placed her hands on her thighs.

“If this is what you want, go ahead. I can’t and won’t stop you.” She spoke slowly before eyeing me.

Fuck, I messed up.

“But never think for a second that I care about tennis more than you.” She choked out as she looked at the picture of us in fifth grade sitting on my bedside table.

At this, my eyes widened, and I nodded slowly as a single tear slid down my cheek. Moving towards Tashi, I wrapped my arms around her waist and hugged her.

“Pinky promise?” I whispered into her neck while she returned the hug.

“Pinky promise.” She responded and grabbed my hand to interlock our pinkies.

261 notes · View notes

shattersstar · 10 months

Text

jealousy.

pairing: bodyguard!jason todd x reader

prompt: you’re mine by phantogram

a/n: 2/3 <33 enjoy

—

The hum of the bathroom fan seemed to echo in your ears as you watched Jason behind you in the mirror. His fingers toyed gently with the fabric of your dress, trying to free your long sweeping necklace from the fabric. It had gotten caught, pulling tight on your throat until Jason unclasped it. It left no mark, but it seemed Jason couldn’t help himself when his thumb smoothed over the side of your neck before taking you by the elbow to the secluded washroom. The stalls were empty, but he still locked the door. Perhaps embarrassed by his display of affection, his lack of professionalism partially exposed to the bustling room. You twisted around to look at the chain now dangling from the back of your dress, huffing at the sight. Jason didn’t say anything as he shuffled you to the sinks, the lights around the stretching mirror were much brighter.

“This is probably the most aggravating thing I’ve ever done.” He mumbled, quickly meeting your gaze in the mirror with a warm grin. You returned it with an airy laugh.

“On the job or in life?”

He paused for a moment, “Maybe both.” You laughed again.

The sounds of the party livened up at that moment, a flurries of claps as the band swung into a faster paced song. You turned your head to the door, but did not miss the excitement. You were content with your quiet moment, Jason’s hands toying and tugging on you with care. He let out another huff before squatting beside you, you looked down at him, wondering how the chains looped themselves into the fabric like so, but appreciating the care he took in not to ruin the dress nor the necklace.

“You can just break it y’know.” You decided suddenly, watching him peer up at you with a confused expression.

“Okay, I’m not that aggravated.” He reasoned before standing back at his full height. You hummed, looking back to the mirror and taking in your appearance. You were tired, legs aching from standing around all night talking with people you only half cared for. The small group of friends you had come with vanished an hour earlier, and while you were content in Jason’s company, the night itself was dragging on. You were ready to head home, but appearances had you here for another two hours at least. And Jason might have been hired as your body guard, but he was also getting paid to make sure you attended events on top of keeping you safe. Normally it was easy to bear the smiles and mindless chitchat, but Jason had been so bold tonight, you knew it the moment his grin turned wolfish at the sight of you dressed for the casino event.

While he often lurked in corners, against walls and surveying the crowd while you mingled, he had no issue keeping himself close by tonight. Always in distance to reach over and graze the curve of your elbow to get your attention, or send you glances when someone said something of note. You were sure Jason’s close proximity was partially because on top of the fundraiser, the casino floor was open to their usual patrons. Slots singing and voices calling cards turned to dull chatter, as drunk bodies flowed through the sprawling space. He was on edge, but you knew it wasn’t just the event. From the moment he picked you up from your apartment and ogled at you without a care, to his brave touches, thumb brushing against the overheated skin of your neck and all, but dragging you to the bathroom to fix something so minute—Jason wanted a moment alone with you as badly as you wanted one with him. It made you smile, wishing the ache in your legs or the pounding starting to grow in your head would vanish.

It was a hectic space that had drained your social battery like no other. You huffed, bending at the hips to rest your elbows on the counter while Jason let out a low sigh that almost sounded like a whistle. “Hey, watch it.” He muttered, hands noticeable not tugging at your dress any longer. You dipped your head forward, nose almost pressing to the cool marble before you tried to sneak a glance at Jason in the mirror. You locked eyes immediately and a small smile pulled at the corners of your mouth. You were never one to challenge his professionalism so boldly, but you two were locked away from prying eyes, and you both couldn’t deny his composure was faltering earlier.

“My feet hurt.” You reasoned, earning a quick dry laugh. Did it really call for you to be bent over in front him when you could just take off your shoes or sit on the counter, no of course not, but Jason didn’t seem to be in an arguing mood with your flimsy logical as he shifted to your side. One of his hands smoothing over the curve of your hip before the other roamed over your partially bare back, flattening his palm against the skin. He pressed his thumb to the centre of your spine, glancing sideways at you in the mirror with a glint in his eyes that was anything, but angry. It was teasing and warm because while you both knew he did enjoy his job, Jason loved breaking rules more than anything. At his heart, core level—whatever—Jason loved forgetting his role as solely a protector, and being something more when no one was around. He wanted to indulge in a life he didn’t have access to for so long, as well you. Indulge in your beautiful body and dangerous scheming eyes. You felt so real and good under his fingertips, even if his touches remained innocent.

He squeezed your waist before his fingers brushed over the chain, “This goddamn necklace,” He grumbled, yanking on it lightly before you leaned into the movement. “Fuck.” He breathed even quieter and you grinned a little wildly against your forearm before pushing yourself back up. You stood at your full height and shook out each of your ankles before Jason managed to unloop the last link.

“Thank you.” You said as he placed it in your hand. Jason only leaned his forehead into your shoulderblade, lips pressing a kiss to the bare skin as a response. You were about to lean your head against his when Jason bit down on your shoulder for a quick second. You yelped and slapped his arm while he mended the bite with another kiss. You only waved him off with an amused grin, tossing your bothersome necklace into your bag before letting Jason lead you out of the bathroom.

Your quiet moment was over, senses overwhelmed once you stepped back onto the casino floor. Your friends were finally in sight, calling you over with laughter bubbling from their mouths already. You turned around to let Jason know where you were headed when you realized he wasn’t behind you. You felt lost for a minute, struck with a minor sense of panic before your eyes fell on him. A few paces behind and arm being held by an older woman who seemed rather friendly. Any thought of reuniting with your friends vanished as you found yourself being compelled towards the duo. Jason caught sight of you in his peripheral, sending you an unreadable expression that had you stop a few feet away. The woman seemed to notice your presence only then, glancing over at you which seemed to snap Jason out of whatever revere she had put him in.

“This is an old client—“

“Don’t call me old!” She teased, slapping the arm she held playfully and making something in your mouth go sour. “Jason was just telling me about his work since coming back to Gotham, you don’t mind if I steal him for a few minutes more? Old friends catching up and all that?”

You blinked between the two of them, half waiting to Jason to interject or someone to shoot you dead, “Uh—no, its no problem.”

“I’ll walk you to your car, you said you were heading out right?” Jason urged, any boyish charm from your private moment gone as he spoke in that calculated voice you had grown used to.

You stood there for a moment, nodding to yourself before boycotting a formal goodbye and heading back towards your friends. You did glance back over your shoulder, expecting to find Jason watching you, but he was leaned in close, speaking into her ear as they headed towards the exit. It made your jaw click, something inside of you turning icy cold. You didn’t know why that made you feel so strange, so possessive and annoyed. She was just someone he used to work for, and you were bound to run into an old employer of his. It all made logical sense and yet you were so undeniably jealous, your friends could read something was wrong clearly on your face.

“Hey, is everything okay? You look pissed.” One of them asked, you couldn’t even tell who in the sea of voices and thoughts rushing your head.

“Yeah, some old client was just all over my bodyguard it was weird.” You explained, trying to sound more confused than hurt.

“Oh we saw that, are you like gonna be okay? Safe I mean?” You only nodded, it was too much to explain all the levels of protocol and security Jason established for moments he couldn’t be near by.

“Well at least its out in the open now.”

“What is?” You asked, still reeling when their next words broke something inside of you.

“I mean c’mon, your bodyguard is so fine, like holy hell he’s unreal.” They all erupted with laughter, agreeing with the statement while you were surprised this had never come up before. Though, stating the obvious—that you were now accompanied by a gorgeous man—would bring up questions, raise things you weren’t ready to lie about. You didn’t even know if you could, let alone wanted to lie to your loved ones. And for how long? Your throat felt thick, too many variables swirled around your head to think straight. You needed air, water, your bed—anything.

“Yeah, I get that a lot—I’ll uh be right back I need a drink—“ You left without another word, leaving a piece of honesty with your friends before the conversation could devolve into anything more. It was true that so many middled aged women fawned over how handsome Jason was, how lucky you were too. Your parent’s friends were particularly insufferable in that regard, but it had always been innocent. Funny even, but knowing your friends had an eye on him, and old clients jumped at the chance to touch and talk to him made it harder to hide your jealousy. The possessive side of you that wanted to scream that no one would ever get to see the side of Jason you did, no one brought that out of him like you did because he told you so. You were the only one Jason’s ever been more than just a bodyguard for, and you know if you stopped paying him, he wouldn’t only stay with you romantically, but he’d still protect you.

You wanted to throw that in everyone’s face, but as you weaved through the crowd towards the second floor bar, you wondered if Jason felt any of this too. You knew what he had told you, and what you felt, but did anger and jealousy toil in him at the secret you two were bound to keep. Was it hard for him to see you dressed up and flirted with, to always be kept at a distance. You were always able to give more of yourself to him, the job demanded that, but did it bother him that boundaries he had to keep? You felt so incredibly selfish and blind for being so upset with him, for being so enraptured in your own feelings you felt wildly inconsiderate of Jason’s. You were beyond distracted, unaware of Jason’s presence catching sight of your figure at the top of the steps, or the fact you were stepping on the hem of your dress. You didn’t fall, but stumbled forward, one of your knees hitting the carpeted floor with enough force it could bruise.

You cursed, hands pressing into the ground as you tried to push yourself up before you even really finished tripping. One of the bartenders had made their way over, but you didn’t even acknowledge the hand extended out to you before another grasped your elbow. You nearly jumped at the touch of their cold hands on your bare skin, but when Jason’s concerned expression fell into view, your angry crumpled almost entirely. He helped you stand to your full height, keeping his hand on you while you kicked the fabric from underneath your feet. His free hand gathered the excess fabric of your skirt, lifting the hem to your ankles while linking your arms. He sent a nod and thanks to the bartender before turning to you.

He led you towards the bar, nose brushing your hairline, “Are you okay?” You pulled away, only minimally to take in his expression, find what you had refused to see before. Jason’s brows furrowed at your action, “What?” He asked, stern, but earnestly confused.

Nervous even.

You looked away, unable to find your voice as he let go of you. He pulled out one of the bar stools for you before taking a seat in the one next to you. He sat facing you, long legs brushing the fabric billowing down the side of your chair.

“Did something ha—“

“No, nothing like that. Nothing to worry about.” You found yourself speaking, hand darting out to rest on his knee as you did. You didn’t want him to be focused on work right now, and you knew you couldn’t ask that of Jason, not here, but making him worry pointlessly was just cruel. “Who was that woman?” You asked instead, testing the waters. You didn’t want your jealousy to bleed into your voice for the sake of your embarrassment and Jason’s emotional burden. He didn’t need to grapple with your somewhat unbridled anger at a person you had met once and one he seemed to have a good relationship with no less.

“An old client, like I said.” He huffed, the irritation lacing Jason’s tone didn’t help quell the anger he had nearly extinguished with his mere presence earlier.

“Oh…kay.” You responded tentatively, letting your hand slip from his leg as you turned your attention to the bar top.

He huffed again, “What?”

“I dunno know, thought you would have more to say. Explain.” You shrugged, trying to keep Jason out of your periphery, but he beckoned you with his intense gaze alone. The quick look you sent him made your heart rate pick up, anger rolled off of him in waves as your approach suddenly blew up in your face.

“Explain? Explain what? Myself? Did I do something where I have to explain myself to—“

“No, no, no thats not what I meant Jay.”

“Then what did you mean? Hmm?” You groaned in the back of your throat before turning to face him properly, your legs pressed into his as you looked at him straight on.

“She seemed really possessive over you and it bothered me. I wanted to know if you had anything to say about that and I’m sorry I asked like an ass. It was just…weird for me.” You explained, doing your best to hold his gaze and honour his anger. “I’m not saying I’m justified in how I feel, but its just how I feel.”

“What do you mean?” He asked quieter, leaning forward. Your brows twitched at the question before Jason specified, “How do you feel?”

“Oh, yeah, well, y’know…” You gestured vaguely, making him breathe out a laugh that brought a smile to your face before embarrassment started to settle in. “Sort of, equally or more so possessive of you.”

“Jealous?”

You cringed a little at the sentiment, but nodded nonetheless. “And I know I shouldn’t be, but my friends said something stupid too and its just like…your you and I’ve known that, but it was just like that reality kept slapping me in the face.“

“And then you tripped.” Jason added.

You laughed this time, “Yeah, then I nearly ate shit on the stairs.”

“Are you worried about me—us?” He mumbled after a beat of silence that felt like peace slowly returning to your chest.

“No, I honestly felt shittier for feeling jealous than actually feeling it. It doesn’t happen often and its usually not that serious, today has just been a lot, but I don’t know how you feel about all of this.” You wanted everything swirling around your mind to be aired out now.

“How I feel?” Jason echoed, something surprised hidden in his tone. It made your heart break from him just slightly, bleeding for him as it often did. “You mean jealous?”

You nodded, wanting him to have the space to say what he wanted to say. Instead Jason barked out a laugh, almost surprised you were bringing this up. Your brows twitched and you were worried he was mad again. You opened your mouth to speak, but the glint in his eyes mirrored the one he had wore all evening. Jason was pushing out of his chair and helping you out of yours before you could comprehend, letting him lead you deeper into the casino it seemed, some hallway you were sure was reserved for staff, but deserted nonetheless.

You leaned against the wall, while Jason hovered in the centre of the hall. It seemed like the distance was calculated, purposeful. You gestured for him to speak, but all Jason did was let out a low chuckle, gaze falling to the ground between your bodies while he shook his head. “Jay we don’t have to talk about this—“

“But you want too?” God—he was full of questions today. He still wouldn’t look at you and for the first time ever you couldn’t read him. It was what had drawn Jason to you, how quickly you saw through him and all his shit. It made him smile when he thought about it, but you wouldn’t be able to see that anyways.

“I wanted to be honest, it crossed my mind heavily that I was being kinda inconsiderate towards you and your feelings. Sure I hate the…distance between us sometimes, but I never thought about how it difficult it is for you.”

He was silent, the tense air swollen with your palpable anxiety as a long moment passed. Jason stood staring at the floor, while you reeled, had you pissed him off, had he never considered this, had you misread something?

And then he spoke, low and slow, like he was unsure how the words fit in his mouth. “Baby I spend every second jealous at these fucking events. Every person who gets to be around you for longer than five minutes is someone I hope tests me—and that woman? Don’t ever be jealous of her, or any client that I used to work for, their the reason I left Gotham and,” He took a breath, shifting closer while you stared at Jason with wide eyes. “And you’re the reason I stay.”

You opened your mouth once, than twice before realizing you didn’t have the words to respond. Only a saucer eyed stare, and heavy breaths were offered. Jason took that as an invitation to keep going, his dress shoes nudging yours as he moved closer. “And its sweet—so fucking sweet—you’re worried about me, about how I feel, but sweetheart, as long as I’m the person taking you home—I don’t care,” Jason crowded your space, nose brushing yours as your hands found the lapels of his suit. You smoothed over them, trying so hard not to wrinkle the fabric in yours fists as his nose brushed your bottom lip.

“No one gets to see the side of you that I do.” You murmured, urging his eyes back up to yours. They were alight with something dangerous, but his grin, crooked and conniving told you enough. You had hit the mark, had understood what he felt so clearly because you felt it too.

He breathed out a chuckle, “Exactly.”

Then Jason kissed you, and while you two had kissed before, this was something else, something words felt too simple for. It was a travesty to have to keep Jason at a distance when he felt so real under your palms and his mouth tasted so good against yours. His hand found its way to your jaw, tilting your head back as his fingers massaged the skin there. You were pressed into the wall, but didn’t mind the cold against your back as he continued to kiss you open. His teeth found your bottom lip, tugging before he mended his harshness with an opened mouth kiss. He licked his way into your mouth then, his hold on your jaw tightening ever so slightly as he let himself explore, kiss you without inhibition or care. You knew this moment wouldn’t last, that the job would come first and you’d spend another hour miserable and wanton.

The thought threatened to sour your mood, but you were to wrapped up in Jason’s mouth moving against yours to let it. You fumbled with your clutch as he continued his assault, pressing softer kisses to your lips before trailing to where his fingers held onto you. His tongue slid over your jaw, making your knees shudder before he left a wet kiss there. You managed to open your bag without sight, Jason preoccupied with his ministrations to notice you wound the long chain of your necklace around your hand a few times before yanking with the other one. The twinkling sound of gold loops raining onto the marble floor broke Jason out of his revere as your necklace seemingly shattered. He stepped back, as more fell, splayed out on the floor and individual or broken sections of the chain now caught in the skirt.

Jason’s gaze snapped from the ground to your eyes. “You didn—“

“I did, lets go tip whoever has to clean this an obscene amount of money and go home.” You stepped over the mess, trying not to laugh as more loops rolled over your dress. Jason stayed silent as he wrapped his hand around your arm before following diligently behind you as you made your last rounds of the night. Pointedly avoiding your friends who you just needed a breather from before apologizing to the casino manager for the mess. You played your part perfectly, garnering all the sympathy and sad farewells before deflating into Jason’s car. You glanced over to him as he got in the driver seat, wasting no time before his hand found your thigh and the car was cruising down the highway. You placed your hand over his and felt all the tension drift from your shoulders as Jason’s words rang through your head. This was all he needed after every night, you real underneath his palm and next to him in his car, spending the night god knows where, together.

#yikes this one is long #jason todd x reader #jason todd imagine #red hood x reader #red hood imagine #dc x reader #dc imagine #writing #bodyguard au

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toournextadventure · 1 year

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l'appel du vide

a/n: this request was phenomenal, and I had the best time ever with it, so good luck pals

Word Count: 1.5k Warnings: violence, blood mention, swearing, Wednesday feeling Emotions Pairing: Wednesday Addams x Reader (Masterlist)

You shouldn’t have done it. You knew you shouldn’t have done it. Wednesday had told you time and time again to not do it. So why had you? What part of your tiny brain had told you to get in the way when you knew it would get you hurt or killed? She had warned you of Crackstone's power and how your wily wit and charm wouldn’t get you anywhere with him.

And yet you went ahead and did it anyway. You half-wolfed out and punched and caught his attention. Wednesday knew you wouldn't stand a chance, and you didn't when he tossed you through the fire. It gave Wednesday the perfect opportunity to stab him through his black heart. That should have been the end of it.

Then Thornhill came by with a gun of all things and you just had to step in front of it before that horrifying *bang* echoed through the quad. What did you think you were doing? Not once had Wednesday ever asked you to do anything like that for her, she had even done her best to push you away. But now you were singed and bleeding out on the ground and-

-oh. Oh you were dying. You were bleeding out in the quad and Wednesday was just standing there. Her feet had rooted themselves into the concrete as she heard your wet gasps, saw the tears fall from your eyes, watched you claw at the ground because you were drowning in your own blood and she couldn't fucking move.

A single whimper escaped your lips, and Wednesday could hear it even through the crackling fire and rubble falling from the torn up quad. She could hear it even through the buzzing of Eugene’s bees and the pitiful sounds coming from Thornhill a few feet away. She could hear it louder than her own voice as she told Eugene to leave.

Her feet felt trapped by lead as she still stood there, looking down at you and watching crimson blood - which she usually adored - fall from the corner of your mouth. Your blood left a stain on your skin and why didn’t Wednesday think it was beautiful? It should have been. She had never cowered away from blood before, but seeing yours flow so freely? It made her sick.

Bianca got to you before Wednesday could even remind her body to breathe. She got to you first and pressed her hands against your abdomen so hard; did she not care if you hurt? The noise you let out would haunt Wednesday for the rest of her life. But Wednesday could just stand there and watch as your blood continued to flow around Bianca’s fingers. Did it make her feel unclean? Tainted? Would she ever be able to completely scrub your blood off of her skin and feel okay again?

“Addams.”

That was Bianca’s voice, she knew that much. It didn’t change the fact that there was something wrong with Wednesday. Never in her life had she ever shied away from blood and destruction and death. She had enjoyed taking down Crackstone, had gotten a thrill out of stabbing the blade into his black heart. But your blood, and your death? It was… it was terrifying.

“Wednesday, get down here.”

A siren song. It was a low blow, but a very small part at the back of Wednesday’s brain was relieved. A siren song took all decisions away to stay rooted to the spot and just watch you die. You were dying. Wednesday fell to her knees on the other side of you. The flagstone dug into her knees, ripping her skirt and splitting her skin, leaving her warm from the blood; yours or hers, she couldn’t differentiate.

“Can you put pressure on this?” Bianca asked. Her voice sounded muffled, watery, far away. Wednesday gave a singular nod, not daring to take her eyes off of your pained expression. “I’ll go get help.”

For what was probably the first time in Wednesday’s life, she hesitated. She hesitated because what would your slick, bloody body feel like under her fingers? What would she do if she touched you and found you dead? Death was supposed to bring her comfort, not dread, and yet she couldn’t bring herself to try everything in her power to save you.

It took her too long to lock her fingers and put her hands on your abdomen. The moment she touched the blood - your blood - she nearly ripped them away and pulled them back to her own body. But she didn’t. It’s like science class, she thought as she tried to ignore how hard it was to keep her hands in one spot. Except it wasn’t like science, and you weren’t some frog who was in the wrong place at the wrong time. You were someone she cared for, and you were dying, and each second felt more and more useless because now you were coughing up blood between your pathetic whimpers.

Wednesday felt something warm and wet on her cheeks and she hoped it was your blood and not her own tears because Wednesday Addams did not cry. Not for anyone, not for you even though the life draining from your body sent a prickling sensation behind her eyes and a tightness in her chest. She did not cry because it would mean that you meant something to her, and no one could never know she cared for you and wanted you to live.

Her heart froze in her chest when she felt your hand, slick and weak, rest on top of both of hers. It was a feeble attempt at pulling her hands away and she didn’t give in. But the gesture, the feel of your skin both cold from blood loss and hot from the blood itself, sent a new fear straight through her heart and down her spine. You were dying. You were dying and she couldn’t even say anything to comfort you.

“If you die before I admit I love you, I’ll never let your soul rest in peace.” It was a threat, and an empty one at that, but you were dying and you wouldn’t stop. You couldn’t die, not on her, not on anyone. She had pushed everyone else away but you weren’t supposed to actually leave. What happened to all those promises that you were with her forever? That nothing could come between you if you had any say in it?

“Promise me you won’t die.” The words felt like scalding ash in her mouth and boiling acid in her stomach. She didn’t even know why she had said it, it had just come out. An impossible promise for you to make let alone keep. But she needed you to make it anyway. “Please.”

You squeezed her hands, a pathetic attempt, but your silent words were heard loud and clear. You were dying, but you promised her you wouldn’t, so you would be okay. Wednesday trusted that you would be okay because you promised her you would be. And no one broke a promise to Wednesday Addams.

She was so focused on you, on the shortening of your breaths, of the nearly indiscernible movement of your chest that she didn’t see anyone approaching. A pair of hands wrapped around her waist and tried to pull her back, and the adrenaline shot through her veins. They couldn’t take her away from you, not when she was holding your life in her hands, not when you had promised not to die.

“Wednesday, let them take her.” Enid? What was she doing there? Couldn’t she see you were dying? Couldn’t she see how serious this was, that this was no time to be pulling away?

But Wednesday fell back into Enid and watched through a haze as they - she couldn’t see who “they” were - took over, lifting you and carrying you and taking you away from her. Why would they take you away from her? Why would they take you where she couldn’t follow? Didn’t they know she needed you? She needed you like a fish needed water, like a heart needed blood, she needed you.

Wednesday Addams needed you, and just the admittance of that fact finally broke her and she let Enid hold her as those hot salty tears finally fell down her cheeks.

"It'll take time, but she'll recover." The doctors had promised a full recovery. That was really all Wednesday could have ever asked for, more than she could have asked for. They were making sure you kept your promise that you wouldn’t die, you wouldn’t leave her there. She sat at your bedside and watched over you like the grim reaper, except she was there to keep you alive.

“I love you too.” Your voice was scratchy and painful sounding and weak, so very weak after so long without talking. Wednesday’s eyes shot up and she met yours, bloodshot and hazy and drug-filled. But they were open, and they were looking right at her even if only partly. Wednesday didn’t say anything, she just reached out and grabbed your hand and gave it a gentle squeeze.

She was thankful when your eyes closed again because then you couldn’t see the silent tears falling from her eyes.

#requests #wednesday addams x reader #wednesday x reader #wednesday addams imagine

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shigarakis-cumdump · 1 month

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Hi! I was wondering if you could do a wholesome Shigaraki headcannon.

I wanna know how he tells y/n his feelings for them, and the journey of how he developed them. I think it's such a cute idea, and I would love to read your input on it!

(If you like what you read, consider supporting me on Ao3!)

Title: A Villain's Origin of Love

Summary: A short hc of how Shigaraki came to fall in love with you. He was never good with words, and a crush didn't help.

Cw: none

Word Count: 1k

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

When you first joined the Liberation, Shigaraki hated you. He figured you were just another fan that would leave the second things became serious, just like they all did. He would observe you from a distance, never even introducing himself to you since he figured it was a waste of time. When you stuck around after a few months, you were already well acquainted with everyone, except for him.

The other members would rave about you, telling him funny things you did and how thoughtful you were of the other members. He knew this, or course; having watched you for the better part of 3 months helped him understand just who you were.

His skepticism started to fade when he saw you helping Toga after a battle. Usually, everyone would patch themselves up, but you jumped in to help her and other members before even helping yourself. He admired your selflessness. Another time, he watched you from behind the door as you were blissfully humming while you patched up Touya’s clothes he had destroyed a day prior. Shigaraki felt something when he saw you in these quiet moments, and he didn’t like the feeling. He felt warm on the inside, something he had never felt before. Surely he was distancing himself enough, so why was he feeling this? Was it some type of quirk you had and didn’t mention?

“Um, Shigaraki sir?” He was taken out of his thoughts by the sound of your voice echoing from the room. When he looked up, he saw you staring at him, a slight smile on your face.

“What are you doing?” He asked, opening the door and stepping towards you.

“Oh, just repairing Dabi’s jacket. Did you need something repaired as well? Or need me for a mission?” You asked.

“N-No, just don’t fuck it up, I don’t want another singed member walking around.” He replied as he quickly left. Shigaraki got back to his room and cursed himself for not taking you up on your offer. He wanted to talk to you, but he was nervous. The leader of the biggest villain organization was nervous to talk to a girl of all things. Not having a reason to talk to you, he looked around his room for something, anything, he could give you to fix, just so he could stay in the room and watch you, at the very least.

After not finding anything, he takes his coat off and rips it apart in several places. Heading back to your room, he hears you talking with someone on the other side of the door. He lost his chance to get you alone to talk to you. He leaves his coat outside your door and decides to take a walk around the base.

It’s been hours and instead of thinking of battle plans, all that fills his mind are thoughts of you. He remembers the day you tried talking to him when you first joined and he ignored you, mentally beating himself up over it. He got to know how kind you were, and as selfish as it was, wanted some of that for himself. He found you pretty too, not that his ego would let him admit that. He started to imagine a life where it was just you and him, living normally amongst society, no villainy, just-

“Shigaraki!”

The sound of your voice made him come to a standstill. Turning around, he saw you running up to him with his coat.

“I finished patching up your coat for you! I saw you left it outside my door,” you tell him.

“Thanks,” he says, hesitant to take it back, scared the conversation might end. “What are you doing right now?”

“Well I just finished with your coat, so nothing, I suppose. Why, did you need something?”

“You’ve been here for a while and I never got the chance to talk to you.”

You smile and start to walk alongside him, “Talk to me about what?”

He sighs, taking his coat, “I don’t know,” he pauses, “just, about you, I guess.” He clears his throat, only being able to stare at the ground.

The two of you talk for hours, walking all around the base as you lose track of time. He got to know more about you, your life before the Liberation, and why you decided to join. It was safe to say he was falling for you, but there was no way he was going to tell you that. Not now, at least.

After that, the two of you became friends, and you would help him with things. In return, you would find little gifts scattered around the base with a poorly written note saying, “for Y/N, from Tomura.” You would always thank him the next time you saw him, and you noticed the way he would look at you with love in his eyes, the shy mannerisms he would display when around you, and you thought it was cute. But lord knows you could never ask the leader of a villain organization to be with you, it was out of line.

Thankfully, Shigaraki was already a step ahead of you. He told you to meet him in his office one night with no other details. Usually, he would talk to you when he saw you, but the whole day he had been ignoring you and avoiding you like the plague. Your mind was filled with anxiety, nervous he would say you did something wrong and exile you out of the Liberation. However, when you knocked on his door that night, he opened it and you saw a teddy bear and heart shaped necklace with an engraved “T” on it in his hands.

“Y/N,” he starts, trying his best to maintain eye contact as his face beamed bright red, “you know I’m not good with words, but.. Do you want to be with me? Be my girlfriend?”

You chuckle at his confession, your face now matching the shade of his. “Yes, Tomura, I thought you would never ask.”

#sfw #shigaraki hc #shigaraki #shigaraki drabble #shigaraki x reader #shigaraki tomura #shigarakiscumdumpwrites #shigarakiscumdumpasks #shigarakiscumdumpanswers

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annwe24 · 15 days

Text

KINDRED serie

LUCIFER MORNINGSTAR X READER

Part 1

Summary: The past still haunts him as a painful reminder of being played at love. Even with such opportunity, Lucifer refuses to open up his heart.

People often say death is the well-deserved eternal rest after a life of hardship. That, unfortunately, has been proven wrong. Hell is like a punch in the face for those who seek escapism in the afterlife, leaving undone business to the living. So why the Hell would sinners be able to redeem themselves in the first place? Lucifer frustratedly thinks to himself. He is totally baffled at the idea. Even, hypothetically at best, they somehow made it into heaven, would they be accepted? However, seeing how determined his daughter is, it would break his heart to not support her only grand goal in life. He hates how he cares enough to awkwardly pour tea into your teacup with a shaky pinky at the moment. Charlie has been pushing him to leave his usual working desk to spend time socializing. It's a bonding exercise, she said. Given how well-mannered you usually are, he is glad she chose you instead of the other sinners. Ah, you. Always so caring, always so polite, always so-

Your Majesty, your tea is getting cold.

Coughing loudly, he drinks all the tea in his cup at once and silently cringes at himself.

Sorry, I’ve been having too many thoughts these days. Many things, you know.

Is there any way I can help? I noticed you’ve been so paranoid lately, I’m just worried but of course! You don't have to agree to that just because I ask you but please don't feel pressured to keep everything to yourself because I know-

Hey, it's alright! I understand your sentiment.

He softly cuts you off seeing that you are getting worked up. You always have this rather odd excitement for helping people. Your kindness stands out too much compared to others, something almost too pure. A question he's been asking himself lately is how did you end up here. It has been fun contemplating the possibilities during his free time, imagining your sweet face distorts into madness. Wait, what? Sweet face?

…

The fuck is your problem? He knows good people, even a rarity, still exist in this hellhole. Not all good people end up in Heaven, something Lucifer has long accepted. The problem is your goodness is absurd. Ever since your arrival at the hotel, it is clear that you are one of the most eager helpers, going as far as taking Charlie’s exercises almost too seriously. It irritates him to no end how you are so easily exploited.

He noticed many guests at the hotel use you as an errand runner unknowingly from time to time. There is certainly no malicious intent underneath, they themselves don't even realize that. It’s just that you are too easy, too gullible. Angel Dust is one glaring example. He has been known to ask you to fetch him stuff when he is “too fragile and sore due to overwork”. In reality, he sleeps through the afternoon and just gets too lazy. Lucifer can't help but find you suspicious. Afterall, who is going to trust someone in Hell, suffers memory loss, no identity and came to this hotel saying they wanted “a second chance”. He is determined to see through your facade, peeling you out like an onion.

Ouch!

A loud yelp followed by the squeaks of a hundred rubber ducks echo though his mansion. He quickly puts down the boiling kettle and dashes to his room. Piles of rubber ducks scatter across his room with you being the center of it all, dumbfounded. Panic reaches your eyes as you stand up hastily and say small “sorry” over and over. You look like you're about to cry.

Lucifer calmly squeezes through piles of rubber duck to get to you and places an assuring hand on your shoulder:

It’s nothing I can't fix. Here!

With a snap of his finger, the ducks magically fly back into place and the room starts to look like a room fit for a king rather than a depressed single dad. Lucifer is quite pleased with your wide-eye expression. Letting out a sigh, he guides you over to the tea table where you two would spend the rest of the afternoon. This kind of “date” has been going on for a while under the encouragement of Charlie. She is ecstatic to see her father finally be able to find someone to confide in and is a sinner. Although Lucifer can hang around the hotel whenever he feels like it, he prefers somewhere more private and quiet so that no one judges him. He hates being judged. It reminds him of his time in Heaven which he absolutely wants to forget. This is where Hell steps in. The place is literally his playground, albeit a bit grotesque, but at least he is free.

…

As time flies, the little hangouts between you and him occur more often. It has reached to a point that he finds his mansion eerie without your presence. You are not a talkative person nor a charmer, but you carry yourself with such sweetness that makes him feel peaceful, a warmth he has long forgotten. He wonders if the same happens to you. Do you find yourself incomplete without meeting him at least once a day? He certainly is not a mind reader but a keen observer at the very least. You seem to light up every time you see him, always looking, listening in his direction. He is scared. What if this was all a ploy you set up to get closer to the King, to have some kind of privilege down here? You are first and foremost still a sinner. Although he believes not everyone in Hell is bad, being in Hell means breaking some morals while you were alive. He can't handle another failed relationship. Not right now, not when Lilith still lingers hauntingly in the back of his mind, not when he can break at any moment and Charlie is the only thing that keeps him going. He can't let her get hurt too. She is just as fragile as him after the divorce.

Tonight’s hangout is just the same as every other hangout: comfortable silence. You are rolling on his king-size bed while fidgeting a rubber duck he especially made for you. You have been quite comfortable in his mansion, letting yourself go as if you were at home. As for Lucifer, he is at his working desk as usual. He likes it this way. Lucifer is not a chatter at heart and you are the same. After a while, you decided to break the silence:

What are you making today? You rolled over on the bed to face him.

Oh, just rubber duck, you know.

You have so many already. Why don't you make something new every then and there?

What do you like?

Huh?

What do you like? He asked, turning back to face you.

Well, um… I like stuffed animals? I guess?

Okay, it's a deal then! He said with a toothy grin.

Y-you don't have to!

It's alright. I’m running out of ideas anyways.

Thank you!! You say as you hug the rubber duck.

What am I doing? Lucifer silently thinks to himself.

#hazbin hotel lucifer #hazbin hotel x reader #lucifer imagine #lucifer magne #lucifer morningstar #lucifer morningstar fanfiction #lucifer morningstar imagine #lucifer morningstar x reader #lucifer x reader #hazbin lucifer #lucifer fluff #lucifer #hazbin hotel #hazbin fanfic #hazbin imagine #lucifer hazbin hotel #hazbin fanfiction #fanfic

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jordosprout · 19 days

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Hello! I have a fic idea where the reader has a sensory meltdown and even though the others try to help they don't really know what to do but then Tech comes in with all the know-how on how to approach/help.

Maybe it could be taking place during the race Tech did and the reader gets overwhelmed by the sound and the heat and anxiety and Tech comes in for the rescue after the race ends, or maybe on a mission and Hunter asks Tech to take you aside/back to the marauder and tells him that they have it handled.

I think it'd be cool if Tech silently brought out sensory items and waited patiently with you and then opens up about how he has the same issue but maybe he usually shuts down instead or has a meltdown alone. Sorry I had a few ideas I wanted to share, hope this ask isn't too overwhelming! <3

Alright, took me awhile but I finished your request! I ended up going with the race plot :) I apologize for the wait. I wanted to do my best to portray everything correctly.

Sprouting Within the Soul

Tech x GN!Reader SFW Comfort Fic (gender-neutral pronouns used, little physical description.) (Can be read as platonic)

Reader is a phytotoxin specialist and becomes a clone medic. Story takes place on Safa Toma where Tech comforts them during an autistic meltdown.

Warnings: Talk of overstimulation, stimming, meltdowns, and gentle praise.

Notes: Phytotoxin- plant poison. I'm still getting used to Tumblr so no fancy dividers yet :,) I am working on making some for personal use

WC: 3,955

Setting up readers' story, skip if wanted!

You didn’t enjoy medicine as much as you did vegetation. But the two interests mixed into a love for phytotoxin, and you found yourself as a specialist clone medic 2 months before you fled with Omega; working alongside her during that time. You grew deeply attached to the special little clone; knowing nothing could separate you.

She told you everything she could about the Clone Force 99; from their names all the way to their genetic mutations. And during one of those one-sided conversations, she told you about the inhibitor chips. This is what sparked your questions about the clones true purpose.

Your interactions with the boys themselves were brief. However, that would suddenly change.

Omega told you that she felt that Kamino was in danger, and you believed her immediately. It didn’t matter what it was that made her feel that way. You trusted Omega, and the thought of not knowing if she was safe scared you. You accompanied her, and her brothers, off-world; not a second guess in your mind.

Leaving the life you came accustomed to was hard. Especially when you were being so abruptly transitioned to a chaotic one. But the others, especially her brother Tech, did their best to ease you into the new life.

With Hunter and Echo being off on their own mission, it was just you Wrecker, Omega, and Tech today. A day you'd absorb every calm second you were given.

You were sitting beside Tech at the bar, him looking into poisonous plants for you.

You noticed that when he found out about your love for the subject, he took it personally. He took every moment he could to talk to you about the various flora of the universe. It wasn't a rare occurrence for him to share something you already knew. But that never mattered or annoyed you. You were just happy someone took part in your interests. Sometimes, he would tell you something that you surprisingly knew nothing of. Others, he would mention something you knew plenty about and you’d talk to him about it for hours.

It felt good having someone to talk to (or at) that clearly enjoyed it.

Just as he would offer you his ear, you would offer him yours. Always listening and enjoying whatever facts he had on his current interests. His passion for the things he knew made them all the more interesting. His voice and excitement would never get old to you.

Even though you felt seen by Tech, you still had moments of worrying you said something wrong. He never gave you a reason to think that you may have offended him, but you couldn’t help the anxiety. So you would often overexplain your intentions. He allowed you to say what you felt you needed to in order clear your intentions, and would then follow up in calm reassurance. He was always a source of calm patient energy, something you never got enough of.

But your day was swiftly stolen by a green Trandoshen. Cid, of course, had a last-minute mission for the four of you. You huffed to yourself, you just got comfortable watching Omega and Wrecker’s Mantell-Mix bet!

You were tracing circles with your finger on the countertop; cheek resting on its cool surface. Omega and Wrecker were playing Dejarik. Hearing them laugh and get competitive with each other made you smile.

“Hey I heard that! Don't get sassy with me Bacta Bunny. I have a mission for you and you're taking it!”

You scowled at the nickname, your reaction being noticed only by Omega, who looked at you briefly before looking at Cid. You found the nickname demeaning- as if all you were was the occasional medic the batch needed.

“Hunter and Echo aren't back from the other mission yet.” Omega told Cid, confused as to why they would do something without them.

“I would not call transporting 50 cases of nerf nuggets a ‘mission’. Nor is it a proper use of our skill set,” Tech added to Omega’s statement.

You rested your head into the palm of your hand, leaning into it, “Tech isn't wrong Cid. You're wasting what ya’ got. There are better uses of our skill y’know.”

“Yeah, well, your skill set will come in real useful on this one. Especially you, Muscles. You're gonna be my security crew.”

Your head lifted at that, “Hey now security for what? What did you do that requires security?”

Tech nodded in agreement, “We will require a more detailed briefing than that.”

“No time. The shuttle's waiting.” Cid dodged, already at the door. You disliked how secretive Cid was. Why couldn't she just tell you what you needed to know?

Wrecker tossed Omega her little helmet, and of course, Omega gave you all her usual wishful thinking.

“Maybe it'll be fun.”

“Heh, works for me.”

“Wrecker, you're saying that as if you're difficult to convince,” you bantered teasingly, you loved the big guy but you weren't wrong. He was easy to convince. He just grinned and gave you a mix of a laugh and grunt before following Omega.

You sat for a moment, wishing you could easily adapt the same way Wrecker and Omega did. But you couldn't help but feel anxious with the sudden change to your schedule.

Tech sighed and you gave him a small pat on the shoulder before jumping off your barstool.

It shouldn't be all that bad, should it?

As soon as your shuttle landed, you were met with muffled crowds and people.

‘Just a little noise. I can handle this’

“I am beginning to understand the need for added security in a place like this.” Tech mentioned to the group, taking in the nature of the people around him.

“Safa Toma can be a little rough around the edges if you don't know what you're doing. But lucky for us I know my way around. And if things get dicey, that's where you come in.”

You looked at the back of Omega’s head once Cid said that last sentence. You weren't particularly fond of how much danger she was constantly in. Yes, she's a clone like her brothers. And clones were indeed made to fight. But she's only a kid and is already dealing with so much. You placed your left hand on her right shoulder, and she gave you two pats in response. Something she always did to let you know she'd be fine.

But once you exited the building, and were blasted with Safa Toma’s boiling sun and restless crowds, you felt like you were the one who might not be fine. You took a deep breath to ground yourself, but the air dried out your nose making you more uncomfortable.

‘This shouldn't be a long mission. It's just security.’

The cheering got louder as you became surrounded by people, constantly getting bumped into. The machines on what appeared to be a race track flashed by directly in front of you, any loose hair you had whipped in the direction they flew towards; tickling your skin.

You stayed behind Omega and held your hands together, rubbing the flesh between your left hand’s pointer and thumb to soothe yourself.

“Whoa!” Omega was leaning on the rail, trying to take in everything happening on the track.

“It's called Riot Racing.” Cid said, clearly only talking to Omega.

One of the racers began shooting at an opponent ahead of it, resulting in the victim crashing into one of the walls.

“Wow! Did you see that?” Wrecker excitedly asked Omega. You glanced at Tech whose eyes were wide behind his goggles.

‘Well if Omega didn't Tech definitely did.’

“It appears anything goes out there.”

The PA system announcer began narrating the scene in front of all of you. Declaring the steal of the lead, that was apparently carried out by Cid’s racer.

You blindly followed Cid and the others after TAY-0’s win, falling slightly behind. You fixated on your hands, attempting to tune out the obnoxious droid in front of you. Any other day his quips would pull a small laugh from you. But the sun felt like it was getting hotter, and the crowd seemed louder and fuller. You didn't understand how Omega was handling it so well, she didn't have the climate-controlled armor her brothers did.

‘If Omega can handle it then why can't I?’

“Your ringer is a droid?” Tech queried Cid, getting what would barely count as a real answer from the droid instead.

“Oh, I'm so sorry. You have a problem with droids, human? You think you can make the split-second calculation to win out there? You want to challenge TAY-0?” the droid asked, defensively getting up in Tech's face. And of course, Tech gave little to no physical reaction.

“I do not have enough information about this sport to determine that at this time.”

“Then take a seat, spectacled spectator.”

Okay, you held in a snort with that one. That was really clever.

Wrecker on the other hand was quite upfront with his reaction, repeating TAY-0 and bumping Tech.

You sat against a wall as repairs were made to the droid's speeder. You chose to ignore what was going on for the time being. You weren't needed at the moment, so you should take advantage of that. You closed your eyes and pressed into the wall, trying to grasp all the peace you were given.

Which wasn't much apparently.

A large man found his way into the pit, three smaller men behind him. You stood after he greeted Cid, his tone making you realize he was the reason she needed security. And when he approached Omega you quickly made your way behind her next to Wrecker; all of your hands making their way to your designated blasters.

“Not gonna introduce me to your new crew?”

‘Why’s that matter to him?’

He gave a hearty laugh, “They're not gonna help you win.”

Cid stood up to Millegi, looking much shorter than she already did in front of him.

“Oh, I know I'm gonna win.”

After a few seconds of intimidation from Millegi, he offered a bet. It was frustrating how quickly Cid agreed. Of course, she'd take any chance she could to make some credits.

You spaced out for a moment before Cid insisted on hurrying up with the minor repairs. She was going to be much pushier now that credits were on the line.

You paced behind the others, feeling restless now being back at the track. You looked up only for a moment when Wrecker returned, then back to the ground. You could feel your patience for today running low. You were rather surprised to hear Tech say he didn't know who'd win. But you knew he'd figure it out eventually, he always does.

But when TAY-0 took damage, and Millegi’s racer won the round, you knew Millegi wouldn't be far.

So you rushed to help collect the pieces of TAY-0 from the track and held your guard for when he'd eventually show up.

And he did, of course, with Cid not having any credits to give him.

“Wanna step in here? I didn't bring you three for the company.”

And with your cue, you put on your helmet and hovered a hand over your blaster. Millegi's men were quick to point their own at you. Of course, Omega spoke up, “Wait how much does she owe?”

“More than you got, kid.”

“Well,” she paused for a moment, “we're not done yet.”

“Omega…” you whispered, “Don't. Stand down.”

“That's right. Looks like you're done to me.”

“One last race. If you win, we pay you double.”

You groaned into your helmet and shared looks between Tech and Wrecker. This could either go really well or really bad.

“If we win, we get Cid.”

“You don't know what you're getting into, kid.”

You followed in suit with the boys, Tech speaking up first, “I'm inclined to agree with him, Omega.”

“Yeah, I'm inclined too. We don't know anything about racing” Wrecker added, not at all slick about the confession.

“Omega this can very easily end very badly.” You told her worriedly

“They're gonna hurt Cid if we do nothing.”

You breathed in deeply through your nose. Omega was not one to lose determination. And you all knew that. You crossed your arms and stood behind her. If this is what she really wants to do, then you'll just have to stand with her.

“So we have a deal?”

“We race tomorrow. And I keep Cid as collateral.”

As his men collected Cid, Millegi gave a warning, “For your sakes, you better be able to pay up.”

You looked down at Omega, “I suppose that went well?”

After Omega spent some time on the speeder, you offered to take her place to get a break. She nodded and jumped down from the table, you taking her place.

“Do we really need to fix him right away? He isn't exactly pleasant company,” you joked slightly.

“Well, he is already partially operational. So it is a bit late now. Speaking of, with a few more adjustments, he may be capable of racing.”

TAY-0 was basically summoned by your conversation, “Uh, that is hilarious. I am more than capable. I am ready to– Where are my arms and legs!?” You laughed to yourself and looked up to finish the repairs that were left on the speeder. TAY-0 was entertaining, but he's also just… a lot.

Wrecker came into the pit and dropped off the rest of TAY-0's parts.

“No, that's not how you connect the servo. Let TAY-0 instruct you how to do this properly.”

You grinned at Tech’s response. What can you say? You enjoyed his sass.

Nightfall came, and Safa Toma was finally quieter and cooler. But you still felt uneasy. All day has been dealing with people and TAY-0, and now you have to sleep in the pit. You tossed in your sleeping bag, Wrecker and Omega already sleeping beside each other. You covered your eyes with your forearm, hoping the pressure would help you sleep.

You lifted it though when you heard rustling beside you.

“Hey Tech, finished working on TAY-0?”

“Yes, he is fully operational for tomorrow's race.”

You nodded and yawned before turning on your side. The ground was hard and the sleeping bag didn’t help as much as it should.

“Problem?” Tech asked, now behind you.

“Oh, no Tech I’m alright. Just been a long day and I didn’t realize how long we would be here for. But I’m alright.”

He shuffled, likely laying down himself. You knew he could sleep just about anywhere, and honestly, it’s a skill you were a bit jealous of.

“I understand. I am not a fan of sudden plans myself, let alone ones with little explanation. I may be used to dealing with them, but they are still difficult.”

You smiled to yourself. “I’m sure we won’t be here too long.”

“Hopefully not”

You wished Cid would have prepared you for where you would be in some way. It felt like you were being cooked underneath your gear and it was miserable. Even when you stayed behind in the pit, there was still all of the noise and the fact you were somewhere completely new with no way to get away.

Two days in a row of dry heat. Two days of screaming. Two days of an obnoxious amount of people and tense interactions. And it was getting to you. Normally it wouldn’t bother you, or at the very least if it did you’d be able to get away from everything. But not being able to escape made it feel like you were suffocating. And as Omega and Wrecker cheered along with the crowd, you slipped away to find quiet.

It proved to be a harder task than you thought it would be, that in itself made you feel worse. But after struggling to find a place to rest, you gave up and decided a place with no people would be enough. You couldn’t help tearing off your helmet and gear, slamming it to the ground as you took your frustrations out on it. You slumped against the first sturdy object you found. The shade was minimal, but it was there. At least you were alone.

After a few minutes, you faintly heard Tech’s name being chanted. And after 5 more standard minutes went by, your comlink beeped. You ignored it, only for it to beep again. And when it did, you tore it off and threw it as far as you could. You couldn’t stand the noise. Or any noise at this point of your mental state.

You covered your ears and held your eyes shut, blocking out as much as you could.

Tech was surprised when he exited his speeder and you weren’t with Wrecker or Omega. And when he asked about your whereabouts, they were surprised too, worrying him even more.

“They were behind me!” Worry and defensiveness laced Wrecker’s tone. They both knew that Safa Toma wasn’t a safe planet for someone to go off by themselves. And after Tech commed you twice with no response, he was definitely certain something wasn’t right.

“I will be back, I am going to track the com signal and check in.”

“I wanna come too!” Omega pleaded with Tech, but he shook his head.

“Negative. We do not know the situation. If assistance is required, then you will be notified.”

Omega didn’t like the idea of not going with, but listened anyway. Wrecker keeping her occupied until Cid and Millegi showed up.

Following your com signal, he eventually found you. He was relieved to see you were safe.

“Ah there you are.” You didn’t respond. At first Tech thought you just didn’t hear him, so he tried again.

“Problem?”

You said nothing, instead shifting where you sat. He said it again. But again, there was nothing. He approached.

He saw all of your gear strewn about on the ground around you. Then took a moment to study your body language. Your hands were over your ears, and your eyes were tightly shut. You made yourself small where you sat.

‘Oh’

He looked around to try and see what he could do to change your surroundings, but when he couldn’t find anything he chose to sit beside you. Your eyes were still squeezed shut, moisture at their corners as you snapped your fingers. Your body couldn’t decide between refusing stimuli or letting it out. He remembered the one-time use earplugs he kept on him for Hunter (or for himself), taking them out of a pocket and placing them next to you.

“Here,” he said softly, only saying what was necessary.

You grabbed them and placed them in your ears, taking in a shaky breath. You brought your knees to your face and pressed them into your eyes. Your hands were free to move about however they needed to.

He chose that simply offering his presence until you expressed you needed him would be best. He knew that sometimes interacting with others during a meltdown was hard. At least, it was for him. He grabbed his data pad from one of his many pockets to occupy himself while he gave you time. He would be there when you were ready, no matter how long that might be. It would be a few minutes before you said anything or acknowledged him in any way.

“Did you win?”

He looked up at you, your cheek resting on your knee as you looked in the opposite direction of Tech. Your sudden break of silence caught him off guard.

“Of course, was there any doubt?” He asked back. You shook your head no and smiled to yourself before frowning again.

“Can you hug me?” you asked him quietly. He hummed in confirmation before lifting the arm closest to you. Turning around and seeing his arm open for you, you leaned into his side. He squeezed you gently, giving you the pressure you needed in that moment.

You sat together, Tech finding his own comfort from the stress of the past two days with you. He rubbed your arm with his thumb before finding a strand of your hair to twist in his fingers. Breaking the silence when he felt you were ready.

“Why did you not say you were overstimulated?”

You rubbed the flesh between your thumb and finger, “I… I don’t know. I was embarrassed. Everyone else seemed fine and I was- am frustrated that I’m not. It bothers me.”

He looked down at you quizzically, “Why would you be embarrassed? It is completely normal to have different needs. Even clones are different from each other, in one way or another. It is expected.” He told you.

“I know that but it doesn’t feel like the kind of ‘different’ that just makes someone unique I guess. I feel weak, but I know I need to be strong for everybody.”

Tech was quiet for a moment to figure out the right thing to say. He knows how you’re feeling. He’s felt the same way. He took in a deep breath before he spoke, “Being autistic does not make you weak. The way you receive and process information in your brain is different. It is okay to allow yourself time for it to do that. I promise, it is okay to have these needs. I have them too.”

“You do?”

“I do. While I do not have meltdowns often, I frequently have shutdowns. That does not make me a less efficient soldier. Genetically modifying me to be autistic was not an accident. There are desirable traits in autistic people. For example, I have exceptional attention to detail. I have a strong memory that allows me to retain important information. I am loyal. Of course there is more. But I do not wish to come across as egotistical.”

You sat there with Tech’s words. You never thought about the fact that, perhaps, nothing was wrong with you. Just different. You looked up, looking just past Tech’s eyes but flicking to them slightly before asking, “What is there that is good about me?”

He quirked his usual half-smile and looked up into the sky, “For starters, you are empathetic, more so than some. While I am sure this may be difficult for you at times, it allows you to be more compassionate. You are honest and direct, making your transition into our force easier as you are too honest to be distrusted. You are passionate and determined. No matter how many times you fall, you get up and try a new approach. You are not only passionate with things, but with people. You have spent much time learning what our crew members like and dislike, and act accordingly. You are deeply passionate in your relationships and I admire that about you. I could continue if you would like.”

You shook your head, cheeks slightly warm at the praise you asked for.

You found yourself leaning deeper into Tech and he welcomed you. You loved that you were able to find comfort in the exceptional clone beside you. It felt good not having to be alone, and being not only understood but accepted. His armor cooled you but his presence warmed you to your core.

“Thank you Tech I-...I think I’m ready to go now.” You told him shifting away slightly to prep yourself to get up. He nodded and stood, offering a hand to help you to your feet. You smiled up at him softly, feeling something in your soul sprouting in his light.

#tbb tech #clone force 99 #the bad batch #star wars the bad batch #tbb wrecker #omega bad batch #tbb comfort #tech fluff #tech x reader #tech tbb #tech comfort #this took too long and i am moderately embarrassed #why is embarrassed spelled like that #oh god its 6:23 am i need to sleep #happy reading!!!!!!!!!!!!#autistic tech #autistic reader

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fictionaltrvlr-fics · 1 year

Text

let’s get out of here || b.b

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x/& GN!Reader

Summary: Reader has some self injurious behaviour and Bucky is there for them. Mind the warnings please <33

Warnings: self harm (over-excerise, split knuckles from a punching bag), mentions of low blood sugar from forgetting to eat a proper meal, Bucky physically stops them from hitting the bag by holding their arms (not forcing just helpful), some negative self-talk, emotional numbness, no y/n, gender neutral pronouns, reader has no physical descriptions. Comforting Bucky 🩵

Words: 1216

Masterlist | Request Guidelines

Today felt longer than usual. You were up before the sun, running drills, assisting in the lab, even fetching coffee which, you had insisted multiple times, was a waste of your talents- but you did it anyway because you loved the lot of them too much.

The SHIELD rep that had been sent over to train the unpowered team members was relentless. And “relentless,” of course, was the polite way of saying absolutely horrible. These military types tended to have the same philosophy: yell really loud and hope you fell in line.

You hated falling in line.

This blockhead had been screaming about orders and protocols and life and death, and somewhere along the line, your anger changed targets. You were still mad at him, of course. But the self-doubt got stronger; you weren’t as strong as the others, your reaction time was slower than you wanted it to be, you got too emotionally involved-

The day was long.

After the agent finally left, you picked yourself up from the locker room bench, straightened out your rumbled clothes, and got on with it. “It” being more errands and a distinct lack of eating proper meals.

By the time the evening rolled around you were thoroughly pissed. Your blood sugar was hovering around that special low line that gave you an ever-present headache and the urge to maim anyone that crossed your path.

You found yourself back in the training room, rolling your neck and shoulders, and squaring up with the heavy bags. The first three minutes were measured, calculated. Your hits were precise, the combo drills having done their job and ingrained themselves in your mind. Your knuckles started to sting through the wrappings, the sweat beading on your forehead and trailing down your back. You’re breathing was heavier, the dizziness encroaching. You’d already lost track of time, the distinct feeling of bruising knuckles entering your foggy mind.

Everything had faded, muted, as you kept going. The echoing sound of your fists hitting the bags pounded in your aching head, drowning out the voices in your mind.

So you didn’t notice him until he was right behind you. Even then, you barely flinch as you feel Bucky’s hands settle gently on your waist. You roll your eyes, ignoring his presence as you continue to hit the bag. He stays silent for a few moments, waiting for you to acknowledge him, until he finally gives up.

You feel his hands move from your waist to rest on your elbows, trying to make you stop. Still, you ignore him, your elbows jostling his hands as they follow the motion of your fists. You hear him mutter something softly, though you don’t quite make it out.

His hands close around your forearms, gently but unmoving, as he slowly pulls them back to your sides. His chin comes to rest decidedly on your shoulder, his head leaning against yours. Your chest is still heaving hard, fairly gasping for breath, but you’ve stopped trying to hit the bag. He stays silent as you catch your breath, his thumbs softly rubbing your forearms as he holds you.

"You okay?" His voice is barely audible, slightly gravely from disuse.

You pull your lip between your teeth, not saying anything, as you let your head fall back against him. The numbness in your core is unsettling, but you always enjoy his warmth. You feel him take a deep breath. You know he’s worried about you; he’s always worried about you. You thought it unfair, with the life he’d had, that he would worry so much about you.

As if he can sense your brewing anxiety, Bucky turns you around, his hands moving from your forearms to your shoulders, to your face so he can cup your cheeks gently, holding your face. His eyes flit across your features, and you feel as though he can read your mind like a book with the way he studies your face. Every tensed muscle, every breath, every time your eyebrow twitches. You’re transfixed by those slate-blue eyes currently stripping you of every disguise. You can pretend with the others. Not with him. Never with him.

You take a slightly shuddering breath and his eyes soften further as his hands move again, to your back, settled across your shoulders, and he pulls you to his chest. He nuzzles his cheek to your head as he holds you tightly, his hands running your back. The silence should be deafening; and in a way, you suppose, it is. But this is safety. This is home.

You feel him shift slightly as he presses a kiss to the top of your head, and you realize with dismay that you are holding back tears. Numb and crying. Not the best of mixes.

He pulls back and takes your hands in his, examining the reddened bandages you’d wrapped with. “Let’s get you patched up.” His voice is somehow right in your ear and a mile away at the same time, but you nod dully, thankful the tears chose not to fall and have receded for now.

You let him lead you to the benches that line the edge of the training room, sitting down as he retrieves the first aid kit from the wall. They kept the gym cool, which was fine when you were training, but was awful when you stopped. You shivered slightly as the sheen of sweat evaporated in the manufactured breeze. Your attention is drawn back to Bucky as he moves into your line of sight again, and your eyes follow him as he kneels in front of you and begins to unwrap your swelling hands.

Your eyes follow his movements and you can feel yourself coming back, the numbness fading. He sighs softly at the sight of your multicolored knuckles, the skin splitting on a few. His eyes meet yours and you somewhat expect judgement, but they show only concern. He knows you don’t want to talk, not yet, so he says nothing, only rubbing the non-injured part of your hand softly with his thumb.

“You need to be more careful,” he muses gently.

You chuckle lightly. “I know.”

Your eyes meet again and he’s smirking slightly. You mirror his expression, both of you leaving the real issues unspoken; the fact that this was intentional. That the pain was not accidental.

He knew you were working on it, and you were. You know he’ll bring it up later, when your head is clearer. You know he’ll follow you to your next therapy appointment.

His gaze has fallen back to your hands, wrapping them gently in clean bandages. He braces a hand in his knee as he stands up, offering you his hand.

“Let’s get out here.”

You grin. Bucky had gotten in the habit of whisking you away, driving along wooded roads, finding the ocean or a lake, some weird little restaurant, anything that was a change of scenery. It worked. Eventually, it always worked. Escaping with him was a welcome release from your mind.

He would make sure you were steady, remind you to eat, bring up yet again that maybe you should take Sarah’s offer and get away from everything for a while.

You took his hand and let him pull you up, his arm settling lightly across your shoulders as you walked out.

AN: please let me know if you have any suggestions or if I missed any warnings 🩵

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes comfort #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes & reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes #james bucky barnes #bucky barnes oneshot #bucky barnes fanfiction #marvel imagine #marvel fanfiction #marvel comfort #bucky barnes fic #marvel x reader

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grimbanes · 1 year

Text

Apple with Cinnamon. (3rd person pov).

Summary: Kaz Brekker x Healer!GN! reader - Y/N, amidst the chaos of a heist gone wrong, stumbles upon an injured Kaz Brekker, bleeding out rapidly in a dingy alleyway and choking on his words. They waste no time doing everything they can to keep him alive; neither knew why they did because kindness was a luxury nobody could afford in Ketterdam.

WC: 3k

TW: kaz's boundaries being pushed, mentions of his touch aversion, lots of blood and violence, somewhat heavy descriptions of wounds, panic attacks, usual six of crows warnings. sorry kazzy.

A/N: i wrote this in one sitting after thinking about how Y/N is always getting injured in heists. why not have it be reversed? kaz is stubborn. it's not proof read, we die like muzzen. im tempted to make another part but both can be read as stand alone pieces but this one can be read as strangers to friends or love interest, up to the reader.

┍━━━━━━━♔━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━┑

Desperation wasn’t in Y/N’s vocabulary. It was not something that crossed their mind. Desperation meant admitting to weakness and weakness cost you in the Barrel. Desperation meant needing someone and that was the last thing you wanted even if you were just roaming the streets of Ketterdam; ironically enough, desperation was the only word to describe the situation the Dregs seemed to have found themselves in. Just how was Y/N going to save Kaz ‘Dirtyhands’ Brekker from bleeding out all over the floor, possible concussion or worse, physical touch. They really didn’t want to lose their fingers for crowding his space.

Just how had they found themselves in an alleyway with the cruellest crime boss to crawl out of the harbour at this hour? Y/N could only stare at the man’s slouched figure against the wall, his infamous crow-headed cane laid across the floor beside his leg that caused his uneven walk. Blood dripped down the side of his face, his lips pulled into a grim downwards turn, that much they could see as they approached the hunched figure - his discomfort didn’t go unnoticed as he grit his teeth, barely conscious, hand pressed to a wound on his side and breathing desperately erratic. His fancy garb stained a delicate hue of rose and it was most definitely a shame.

“Excuse me,” Y/N’s voice called out softly, almost wishing to blow away with the cool evening breeze when more explosions thundered through the damp streets hailed by shrieking and gunfire echoing down abandoned lanes in the darkness of the evening. “Do you need help?”

The Bastard of the Barrel’s eyes barely flitted over to them, a wince strewn along the tired creases of his shadowed face, sparing a begrudging glance and not long after, there was a revolver pointed directly at Y/N’s chest. They still approached, even as the leader of the Dregs pulled down the hammer on his gun and barely mumbled something to them. It sounded almost like a ‘don’t touch me’. But they could see the way his hand trembled, pale fingers peeking through crimson streams and it was reminiscent of a DeKeppal oil.

“Please, I can help you, Mister Brekker,” They tried again, stepping closer until they stood over him. Y/N lowered their wicker basket, shopping long forgotten with the sudden emergency. They really did not know why they were showing the man kindness… they just had to. Nobody deserved to have that expression tearing them apart at the seams.

Truthfully, they did not like to use their power. It was too risky, too exposed, especially in Ketterdam. Y/N didn’t want to spend the rest of their life fighting for an army that meant little to them. They didn’t see the reward in healing hostages or fixing generals that treated them poorly or assisting sick royals who ate too much and drank their weight in fine wines. Better to stay hidden - that was until Kaz Brekker had collapsed in the alleyway only a few street turns from their home, stumbling mere steps from an explosion that had knocked him off of already unsteady feet.

“Go,” He mumbled, sweat beading up his brow and arm dropping, clearly not perceiving Y/N as a threat. For some reason, his gaze glanced to the exit behind them, but they didn’t mind that. Instead they got to their knees and rolled up the sleeves of their work shirt, tucking it around the elbow.

“You’re losing blood, Brekker. I’m not military trained but I’ll do my best,” They sincerely promised and connected their hands, closing their eyes and tapping into that Small Science that caused them grief daily, dulled their skin with lack of use and made them unable to stomach food on many days, even when they walked past food carts selling all manners of treats.

“I don’t want your science, I have business-” Brekker hissed, fingers trembling against the wound in his side and he gasped quietly, schooling his gaze as he panted in laboured breath after wheezing breath, stony eyes staring through sweat-covered strands of ebony. “To finish.”

Y/N didn’t listen as they concentrated as best they could given their surroundings. They tried to ignore the yelling of commands, the subtle gunfire, the many men and women skittering around for a place to hide. Luckily none dared such down that little alley that they had both tucked into. They pulled at skin, searching the bleeding man’s body and frowning as they realised they needed to be closer. They shuffled into his space, dropping one knee to the ground beside the man’s hand, careful not to kneel on his cane and carefully hovered their hands over the wound he was clutching with one hand, the other limp at his side now that he had dropped his gun.

They searched the wound, pulling the flesh at its very edges and willing it to pull closed, only to flinch upon the discovery of shrapnel lodged in his side and slowly edging deeper, daring to almost knick his lung and wedge itself there. Y/N would not let that happen - certainly not now, it would look as if they had intentionally killed Kaz Brekker and that was a bounty they certainly did not want over their head.

“Brekker, listen to me, Brekker,” They pleaded, wanting to turn his head to face him when his head lolled to the side, eyelids fluttering and his breathing shallow, the shadows beneath his eyes deepening with every passing second that you didn’t do something. “I need you awake, stay with me. Talk to me about anything. Tell me about your favourite book, your favourite song. What’s your favourite kind of food?”

Y/N’s voice seemed to do the trick, the unsteady, glossy gaze of the most notorious gang boss watching their hands as they moved to unbutton his waistcoat, trembling fingers pulling it open and his breathing only fastened, his chest heaving, eyes flickering from the hands to their face, jaw tensing and tongue seemingly heavy in his mouth.

“The Pale Library. Kruge being dropped on my desk. Apple pie,” Kaz began to list, a rasping voice that was heavy, grating and flinching away as sweat began to drip and mix with the river of cardinal staining his alabaster skin.

The Barrel boss’ taste in book had Y/N smiling to themself as they unbuttoned his shirt, pushing it aside and coming face to face with the deep, large gash along the man’s abdomen, just slightly to the side and lucky just beneath a lung. Hopefully it stayed that way, despite his hunched posture most definitely pushing the metal closer and closer. They didn’t know if they had the skill to save him if it punctured his lung. He’d either drown in his own blood or bleed out. Either way, they were determined to help him.

“So you like fairy tales? Is that apple with cinnamon?” They asked as they cringed for a moment, trying to keep him distracted as they dug their finger and thumb into the open wound that continued to seep and pour all over them, red staining every bit of their skin. They were not sure if it would even wash off. If this night would ever wash off. They continued to feel inside the wound, trying to feel for the metal shard, using their ability as best as they could but they could not soothe like a heartrender could.

Kaz trembled beneath them, deadly silent and shaking, shivering so much that he might as well have fallen into the harbour and caught a chill. He gasped, hands limp at his side and head dropping back down, unable to keep himself afloat. Y/N pulled the shrapnel messily from the wound and dropped it between them, immediately setting to work on sealing the worst of it. It would take time. It might take too long. No. It was fine. He was healing faster than they anticipated.

Y/N dared to steal a glance away from the closing wound to check up on the man’s face only to realise he had passed out, cheeks deathly pale and reminiscent of a ghost.

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They couldn’t believe that they had just dragged Dirtyhands through the Barrel, arms distressed where they had been hooked beneath his shoulders, his legs and heels dragging across the slick cobble in the dead of night as the fight began to cease, Stadwatch barking orders and hunting down anyone they could find in the streets. They were both lucky that they’d been able to drag him out of that alley just before it had been stormed. Y/N kept Brekker’s revolver clutched in their hand as they dragged him, cane tucked awkwardly in their wicker basket that was dangling awkwardly from their elbow. If he knew of it, he was sure he’d have their head for putting such a stain on his reputation.

He’d remained unconscious even as the healer dragged his still body three blocks, dozens of turns, only stirring when they had begged him to tell Y/N where to go. The mumbling of ‘the Slat’ was all they got before his eyelids twitched and his head dropped forward again, hair in his stupid face and arms as limp and useless as the rest of him.

“Stupid Bastard of the Barrel. I don’t even know you, I don’t even like you. You’re a criminal, a thief, a murderer, a con artist. You’re one cruel son of a bitch and I still couldn’t just mind my damn business,” Y/N mumbled more to themselves than to the unfortunate man in their clutches, they were sure it wasn’t going to do his leg any good, now that they knew it was broken bone beneath the scarred flesh. So he wasn’t born this way, they had thought silently.

It felt like hours when in reality it was only maybe 25 minutes before Y/N was dragging Kaz Brekker up the little steps of the Slat, back to the door and shoving it open with all their might. They could feel the sting in their shoulder blade as they stumbled backwards, landing on their tailbone and still clutching onto the unconscious man they were trying so damn hard to save for no apparent reason. All the frustration seemed to be finally catching up, tears unwillingly streaming down their face, soaked in someone else’s blood and so utterly stressed as they sniffled and hooked their hands back under Brekker’s form, dragging him completely into the building. Y/N’s body gave up, leaving them both sat at the floor, one sat up and clutching the Bastard of the Barrel unceremoniously to their chest, no strength left to keep moving his dead weight.

“Brekker, you’ve gotta wake up. I can’t do this on my own, they might kill me. I don’t know what to do.”

“What in the Saints?”

Y/N turned their head to the side, meeting eyes with a tall Zemeni man, hands on his revolvers and tweed jacket covered in dust, soot, debris of many kinds. He had cuts all over his beautiful face but seemed otherwise unscathed. Nothing life threatening. It didn’t take him long to rush forward, linking one of Brekker’s arms over his shoulder lifting the weight off of Y/N; they went with the moment anyway, staggering to their feet and helping drag the man to a table and throwing him onto it, back against the cold wood. Once he was placed, albeit unceremoniously, they stumbled into a seat, elbows propped on the table and head in their palms.

Saints, Y/N was exhausted.

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“Why are you staring at me, Jesper?” Kaz heard his own voice spit, hoarse and dry. It was the first words he’d spoken in who knew how long, his usual scowl hanging on his tired features the moment he opened his eyes. He scanned the room around him, a low frown on his bitten lips and brows taut with tension that easily mirrored the waves wracking through every fiber of his body.

“Oh, thank the Saints,” Jesper sighed from beside him, hands clutched in a prayer as he looked to the ceiling and then back down, hands resting on his revolvers and grand smile on his wonky mouth.

“Saints don’t stick their fingers into open wounds,” Kaz shot back, pushing himself up with one arm and pressing a hand to his head, the blistering headache unaided by the dim light. He vaguely registered that he was in the Slat, the events of all that transpired clawing at every crevice of his mind. He couldn’t be thankful about that. He didn’t want to be. He didn’t want to drown again. He didn’t want to think of it. All the same, he was breathing. He was alive. Kaz Brekker had made it through the night.

His eyes then fell upon a hunched over figure, head laid upon crossed arms that were gripped by bloodstained fingers, the entire surface of skin a rich shade of red that seeped into their clothes, sat in messy hair and splattered across gentle cheeks. The healer. His brows furrowed tighter, hand dropping to absentmindedly massage his aching leg and he stared. And stared. And stared. That was his blood.

“Been here all night, boss. Wouldn’t leave your side until you were stable and stitched. Cost ‘em a good deal of energy though, passed out as soon as you were sorted and hasn’t moved since. Still breathing though, poor little love,” Jesper recited, giving them a nudge with his hand but Kaz shook his head, unfamiliar feelings stirring inside his chest. Just let them rest, Jes.

“What happened?” He mumbled, fingers twitching and gloved. He briefly remembered warm fingers unbuttoning his shirt, smoothing his skin, a voice whispering kindly to him, then searing pain. He didn’t want to think of the rest, didn’t want to feel the water in his lungs and cold hands holding his head just beneath the surface of frozen waters.

Jesper shifted, arms folding and hands tucking beneath his armpits, lips pursing and he awkwardly shifted his weight from foot to foot, sheepishly shifting his gaze from his feet, to Kaz, then back to his feet, then back to Kaz.

“Razorgulls, maybe. Then Stadwatch, then whoever else. It’s still a mess, honestly. Everyone else is doing as good as can be, I suppose; Inej was here but went back out with Nina to do something. I don’t know. Wylan’s asleep. Someone planted explosives and somebody else accidentally… shot them,” He sheepishly pointed to himself with his thumbs, but the shame was evident.

“What about them?” Kaz nodded to the stranger still sleeping on his table, inches from where he sat on the table, legs outstretched.

“Y/N Y/L/N. Works in one of the printing shops, didn’t find anything about them being grisha though, so must have kept that hidden well or their boss is the only one who knows. The rest is a mystery other than the piss poor amount of kruge they get for the work they do.”

“That’s it?” Kaz’s tone sounded harsh, short, even to his own ears.

“That’s it.”

Kindness was not a thing that existed in the Barrel. In Ketterdam. In Kerch. In him. Kaz had a hard time truly trying to decipher this stranger’s motives. They had recognized him, calling him by name numerous times. There had never been any real malice, no fear either. Concern for his well-being, but not their own life. It was foolish. They could have gotten themselves killed all for what? To save the Dirtyhands and hope to reap the reward they must expect to come from it? He had half the mind to put a bullet in their head and dump them in the harbor before they even had a chance to see the benefits of all of their hard work. Kindness did not exist in Ketterdam and Kaz Brekker was a daily reminder of that fact.

But as the stranger known as Y/N Y/L/N stirred from their restless slumber, their eyes opening and meeting Kaz’s, he was reminded of the gentleness of their tone of voice, talking to him about books, about pie. Keeping him grounded even as he sank down and down and down and couldn’t breathe, feeling those hands shove him down faster and faster and the tide rushing over head, his brother staring up at him with lifeless eyes and the soft, slimy and cold feeling beneath his fingertips - warmth.

Kaz’s eyes snapped to the hand lightly hovering over his broken leg, just enough to stitch the gashes around his feet and ankles, only now noticing the shredded ends of his tailored trousers. The healer was at work again, a small yet tired smile on their face, tiredness present in fine lines across their face, beneath their eyes and soon they were staring back at him, cheeks flushed and hair a desperate mess, soaked with Brekker’s blood.

“You look better, much better. I’m so glad, Mister Brekker,” Y/N laughed breathlessly, and Kaz didn’t know how they were able to. He didn’t understand it and all he could do was sit there, noting that this stranger didn’t offer to fix the break in his bone, just the damage that must have been caused in the explosion and when they had apparently dragged him all the way back to the Slat.

“With cinnamon.” That was all he could muster his blank mind to say.

The pair exchanged a glance, one that lingered, one that had both of their lips pulling upwards slightly and tips of ears maybe turning a shade of pink.

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#kaz brekker x you #kaz brekker x y/n #kaz brekker x reader #kaz brekker #kaz brekker imagine

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