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captainsimagines · 3 years

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To Topple A Giant || Chapter Eight

Summary: You had made it your mission to destroy even the smallest evils. When the opportunity arises to finally take down your own family after years of gaining their trust, you reach for it. And so does Steve, the man who represents a symbol of everything you hate.

Pairing(s): Steve Rogers x Reader || Avengers x Reader

Part 8 of 10 ~ Mini-Series

Warnings: This story contains mature themes and discussions such as extreme canon violence, strong language, emotional angst, mentions of Endgame deaths and recoveries, sexual situations, and emotional/physical abuse. This is purely fanfiction.

Warnings in this Chapter: abusive parental relationship; extreme canon violence (gun violence, hand-to-hand, baton use, knives); strong language; mentions of drug smuggling, drugs, and human smuggling; mentions of blood and blood loss; major/minor character death (not the mains, don’t worry!); angst; gunshot wounds; heavy alcohol consumption

Word Count: 14,600+

A/N: Listen... you know damn well I had to put some American Pie lyrics in this. The reader’s and Jackeline’s relationship is not modeled after Nat and Yelena lol it was literally the biggest coincidence.

MedBay - The New Compound, 2024, 1:52 pm

“He did what?”

Bruce smiles sheepishly as he lugs Steve’s practically lifeless body onto one of those beige medical beds. Dr. Cho is pacing calmly around the room, getting her instruments cleaned and ready. She tries to ignore the way you’re crowding her, inspecting everything she touches and in turn is going to end up touching Steve.

“He took a bullet for someone.”

“And where is that someone?” you bite. You immediately want to apologize to Bruce for your tone but you’re distracted by the tiny groans of pain coming from the pale super soldier beside you. You have to look away to avoid whimpering yourself, but you can’t exactly make yourself deaf. “Don’t tell me he took a bullet for you.”

Bruce rolls his eyes and steps to the side as Dr. Cho begins cutting away Steve’s pants. “Everyone else is on vacation. He has no one here to take a bullet for besides. It was a shitty liquor store robbery and Steve was, of course, being a hero.”

“Where’s he hit?” you ask, heading over to grab a pair of gloves yourself. No one questions it.

“Femoral artery. Seems like he was plugging his own wound until he could get help.”

Dr. Cho is right. There’s a massive gash in his thigh that’s leaking excessively and the skin surrounding the wound is raised like Steve’s own fingers had plunged so deeply it left an imprint. Not only that, but his hand is covered in his blood. So is Bruce’s, you realize, because he had tried to plug the artery as well.

“How is he not dead yet?” Dr. Cho more mutters to herself than to you guys. Steve’s head is lolling to the side and his lips are an awful shade of white. His eyes are fluttering open and closed… open… closed… and he’s still mumbling random phrases. There’s a rough tug at the bottom of your stomach that pulls and pulls and there’s a weird urge to crawl onto the table to keep Steve warm.

“He needs blood,” you say, even though all parties in the room know that as fact.

Bruce, however, winces. “Sam’s not even in the state right now and I don’t think we have enough time to fly him-”

“Is he Sam’s blood type? What’s his blood type? Why can’t Bucky do it? Bucky’s in Brooklyn, he can be here in five minutes if he runs.”

Bruce starts rummaging through the upper level shelves and freezer cabinets. “Can’t mix the serums. We’ve tried.” He finally finds the blood bags, pulling them all out and spreading them across the clean tables. “It’s - shit - do we not have?”

Dr. Cho is now covered in blood, working as fast as she can to close the wound. “What’s his blood type?”

Bruce repeats it out loud and watches as Dr. Cho’s face falls. “I ran out yesterday. The blood drive isn’t until this weekend. I had a patient come in yesterday, I - I ran out yesterday.”

They seem to be having their own conversation with their eyes and are too focused on each other to see you already stripping your long-sleeve shirt and wrapping that horrible blue rubber band around your upper arm. “Me. Take mine.”

Bruce immediately shakes his head, stuttering as he tries to remove the rubber band. “Nu-uh, I don’t know if you know this but you’re human. I need two bags, three tops. I can’t just take it all from you right now!”

“Then get me some cookies and a juice box. I don’t care how much you have to take to make him speak a coherent sentence. Do me.”

Bruce hesitates but he rushes to the cabinets for the needles, vials, tubes, whatever - “No, do it direct.”

Your words startle the two doctors but they don’t question it. They hook you up and poke the needle in the first vein they find, attaching the tube instead of a single vial and direct it to Steve.

“You sure your blood matches?”

You give Bruce a pointed look as if that isn’t something written on your dog tags or on your weekly personal reports.

In the end, you’re told that you gave him the equivalent of two pints of blood. Not that you were awake for the second anyway but you vaguely remember Steve’s voice ringing in your ears. You’re not awake as he regains consciousness or to witness his very confused glare at seeing you in the bed next to him.

He swears he heard small mumblings… ‘If you die because of some highway robbery, Rogers --- I’m never gonna fucking stop bullying your grave --- haunt it’.... ‘Stay --- with me, please’.... ‘---supposed to apologize first’....

He tests the waters, mumbling a name he only says with annoyance nowadays. But now, it’s gently said. Soft, a whisper that sounds like a fractured hymn.

Present Day, 2025, 12:05 pm

There isn’t a set emotion in the world that seems appropriate. What are people supposed to feel when they’re singled out and chosen to suffer a life of pain? Self-hate? Pity for themselves? Anger? Sadness? Remorse? Nothing?

You really don’t know what you’re feeling. In the middle of rubbing vaseline on your newly acquired cuts and scrapes and bandaging yourself up, biting on a belt as Bucky set your shoulder back in place, and lying with Steve discussing everything and nothing all night after your promise - well, what the hell are you supposed to feel? As inevitable as it was considering he had ordered you shot before, the one feeling you know you feel is betrayed. Because even though Ernesto has proven himself evil time and time again, to his own flesh and blood, there was still a small part in your heart that didn’t think any parent truly wanted to inflict pain on their children. And your heart keeps proving itself wrong again and again.

“You just... jumped out of the car?”

Ramirez’s voice snaps you from your inner thoughts. He was let out of custody this morning. He’s currently filling in anyone who asks about the shipment, about Ernesto’s future plans, about the role he thought he had.

“Against my better judgment, but yeah.”

He chuckles and grins like he’s a kid hearing the best story ever told. “That’s what superheroes do. At least, what I’ve seen in the movies. John Wick, Bond, esos tipos.”

“I don’t know if I’ve mentioned this before, Omar,” there’s a teasing tone, “but I’m a fucking Avenger.”

That makes him laugh louder and in turn pulls one from you. “Ya se, ya se. I’ve known you since you were born. It’s weird hearing stories about you saving the world and jumping from bombed cars.”

“Mm, wait until you hear about that time I went into space and landed on another planet. Or time traveled. Take your pick.”

He’s stunned into silence and after a few more praises, he lets you return to typing out your report. There are plenty of other agents around for him to busy himself with. The base is tiny and not at all what you expected, but it’s secure enough to fit Torres, Sam, Bucky, and about fifteen other agents as they prepare for tonight. The plan you and Steve outlined was simple: attend the wedding, butter everyone up, send Steve away to help Ernesto retrieve and move the shipment, Scott and Sam will infiltrate, Bucky would be on standby to help you fight, and the rest of the team at base will begin arrests and sweeps. If everything goes according to plan, at least.

It’s easy to speak negatively about these things - there really were only two ways this could go.

You finish your report and go to stand, only realizing a minute later walking through the base that Ramirez is following you. You send him a funny look over your shoulder and he returns with a small smile of his own.

“Tengo preguntas!”

You stop and let him catch up. “Hmm?”

“Okay,” he starts, motioning his hands wordlessly until he could form them. “Are you and the Captain actually... juntos? Or just Avenger partners?”

“That’s personal, Omar,” you say with a roll of your eyes. “But I guess? That’s weird discussing with you.”

He nods in agreement. “It’s okay, I was just curious. So, him being mad was just an act? He doesn’t really hurt and threaten you, no?” He’s treading lightly, but you can already see the cartel mind turning. He would order Steve’s execution if he had to, even if he believed it to be morally wrong in some situations.

“Never. It was just an act for Ernesto.”

“Ah, Dios. Thank goodness.”

“Yeah, keep your men in line. It’s fine.”

He chuckles at that. “And the other Avengers?”

“They’re my family, Omar,” you grin wide, waking slower for the old man to keep up. “They would never hurt me.”

“That’s good, but not what I was asking.”

“Oh?”

“What are they like?”

Handing your report to one of the agents at a handful of monitors, you laugh loudly. “Do you want to meet them officially?”

“Aye, I know my daughters would like that...”

You raise an eyebrow.

“But I would like to meet them, too.”

“That’s what I thought. C’mon.”

The rest of the team are all relaxing and discussing the past days events in the lounge area, which is really just a glorified break room. Bucky’s still in his morning sweats same as Scott, Torres is already suited up, and both Sam and Steve are wearing their Avenger gear (minus Sam’s wings and Steve’s battered shield). Steve is the first one to notice you enter and he instantly gets up from his chair to greet you with a kiss on the cheek.

“Gross,” Bucky mumbles.

“You’ve been trying to get me a girl for over ninety years, Buck. And now that I’ve finally got someone who likes me back, you bully me for it?”

“Who’s bullin’? I said the same thing when Agent Carter smooched you in the weapon’s room and you thought you were alone.”

You pat Steve’s shoulder. “Think about it, Rogers. When Bucky settles down with someone, you have free reign.”

Steve pulls a thin smile and glances back at Bucky. “I’ll make them hate you.”

“Love and hate are the same thing, pal. It worked out for you two.”

“Okay, we’re done. Everyone, Omar wanted to formally introduce himself.”

Ramirez gives a shy wave. Torres returns it. It’s kind of hilarious to witness. Here you all are, Avengers and some standing over six feet with one of the most wanted drug lords in the world, and the all mighty drug lord is shy.

“I’m so sorry we got off on the wrong foot.” You notice how when Ramirez speaks to strangers or those he deems good people on his side, his accent is a little thicker. It’s like he wants to speak only in Spanish other than the Spanglish you were all accustomed to. “But it really is an honor to meet you all.”

Scott is the first to stand and shake his hand. “Sorry I pointed my gun at you, man. Habit.”

Ramirez chuckles, “Sorry I broke into your room.”

Steve interjects, “Thank you, though. For telling us what more we’re fighting for.”

Ramirez nods, a solemn look spreading over his face. “The minute I found out, I didn’t know who to tell. I’m lucky you were never truly on his side.”

“And what will you do after all this is over?” Bucky stands. “How do we know we can truly trust you?”

Ramirez sneaks a glance at you and you raise your hands. “Hey, I’ve got the same questions as him.”

Ramirez must know he isn’t getting out of this one because he answers quickly. “Drugs have a market where people choose. I just meet supply and demand protocols. I don’t do the unnecessary violence or blackmail. There is no need to. People will always want drugs.”

There’s a round of agreement throughout the small room. Ramirez continues, “But smuggling humans? There is no choice, nothing moral about it, it’s evil.”

“But people get addicted to drugs. They die from them everyday,” Sam argues.

“I produce and deal what you American’s call weed. Ernesto does the big stuff, as does White. I’m,” he laughs a little. “I’m their weed guy.”

“That is true,” you confirm. You’ve moved and packaged Ramirez’s product before. “Literally just weed.”

Everyone seems deep in thought, like their processing Ramirez’s words and the weight behind them. Ramirez ran with the big boys and was the biggest distributor of marijuana in Mexico and America alike, but he never messed with any other product. Besides producing, selling, and smuggling illegal weed, his only other crimes included conspiring with Ernesto on how to get the product over state lines.

“Okay,” Steve starts. “So how is tonight gonna work? We have to discuss that.”

Ramirez bows his head. “You’ve allowed me safety, you’ve listened to me speak, and you’re saving both my life and my daughter’s. If you must arrest me, then you arrest me.”

“The minute you’re transferred to a prison with less security, Ernesto’s men will get you,” you reason, already shaking your head no.

Ramirez gives a nonchalant shrug, “But you’ll get him and White. That’s all that matters.”

You look over to Steve for some other ideas, but like you he doesn’t have any. No one seems to have any.

Torres matches his shrug and his voice is small as he speaks, almost like his next idea is insane. “We can always put him in the Raft.”

Everyone’s eyes go wide.

“That’s where all the enhanced humans go, no?” Ramirez is stunned. “Do I count?”

“We’ve got no idea,” Steve rubs at his chin, looking at you for confirmation he knows you don’t have. “But it’s an idea.”

The plan is no longer singular. Fury had sent his best field agents for the job, the ones with the best aim, the ones with great strategic planning. Although you and Steve were still in charge, it was no longer just your mission. Your mission was to arrest the big three, big four when including Seda. That was it.

The plan goes like this: half the team will be focused on the venue itself, hidden in the shadows and monitoring the big three as well as your mics, and will aid you in the physical fight and arrests. Some are on the ground while others in the sky. Afterwards, they’ll sweep the estate and collect stolen property or priceless artworks. The other half is split into two, where one of those halves will be spread out for miles to capture anyone that might slip through, like guests who were on the most wanted list or guests that have helped Ernesto in the past. The other part of that half will intercept the shipment (once Steve radios in the location), save the hostages, and shut down the routes.

They instruct Ramirez to call Ernesto and to ask him if there’s a vegetarian menu offered. Ernesto responds with only a muttered groan and in a wild turn of events, asks if Ramirez can call you to make sure you arrive earlier than expected to make sure Jackeline walks down that aisle. He’s completely serious. Not only does Ramirez play along, but Ernesto doesn’t give any indication that he knows about the car bomb. So the team makes a judgement call: this was only Seda’s doing.

Ramirez is then told that the Raft is not an option; both the US and Mexican government want him and the only reason he hasn’t been arrested is because he still has many cards to play. The more he helps, the less time he’ll get.

One thing is known: this is the biggest mission anybody has been on in over two years.

Bucky remembers things in bits and pieces. Sometimes he’ll be minding his own business, enjoying this new world and the countless amenities it offers, and remember exactly where he was on the hottest day of the year in 1936. He remembers the blistering heat, boiling his once pale skin and giving him that beautiful olive he was now known for. He remembers the way his tongue dried almost instantly the moment he stepped outside and how he asked his next door neighbor, Ms. Kranshall, for a cup of water before work. He remembers her massive square glasses and how they nudged the tip of her nose as she nodded sweetly at him. He remembers her high but smoky voice and the way she patted his shoulder as he drank the cup down.

The first time he remembered Natalia was around the same time he remembered Steve. He sees a flash of ember in strands, speed almost matching his, and he sees those panicked green eyes he was once all too familiar with.

She was twelve when he first met her, forced to throw her around like a ragdoll until her ribs were bruised and her spirit broken. He went again and again, and when he wasn’t forced he would teach her how to fight properly and how to shield her most vulnerable areas. Scared as she was, she never showed it in those private moments, and decided to follow his lead in most things. And she learned to be fierce, no matter how hard he hit, and he still remembers the look in her eyes and the pull of her young face as they yanked him away for cryo before he could congratulate her on winning her first fight.

The first time he remembered you was when you leapt onto T’Challa’s back as the chase neared, tackling the young prince become king, and watched with sad eyes as both him and Steve climbed onto the jet for Siberia. He remembers your clumsy punches when you fought him with half his brain and how he kicked you so hard you flew. He also remembers how when you took that kick for Steve, the sound of his wail almost deafened the soldier.

Everytime he remembers something, a memory, no matter how strangled it may arise, the twinge in his chest is good. He’s remembering. He’s James Buchanan Barnes.

He feels that same twinge when a face full of freckles greets him at the entrance, documents raised above her head in a show of selfish glee, and a pep in her step that tells him she remembers him too.

“Sergeant Barnes!” Maribel gives a toothy grin. “Never thought I’d see you again!”

Bucky tilts his chin up and rests the tip of tongue between his incisors. “What? Hydra wasn’t enough for you, you gotta infiltrate the Mexican cartel, too?”

She scoffs playfully, “Other way ‘round.”

He snatches the documents from her hand and leads her inside. “I hope you got something here. Steve put a lotta faith in you.”

“Don’t you trust me?”

“Y/N does. That’s enough for me.”

Rolling her eyes, she snatches the documents back to turn the pages herself. “Follow me. We need to chat in private.”

“Shouldn’t we get-”

“I’d rather you know, and you tell them later. No audience.”

This causes Bucky to tense. He follows her in further and closes the door behind them both.

The left side of her face had less freckles back in 2012, he remembers, and now she’s covered in them.

Bucky remembers things slowly, but he remembers them.

It’s cold outside, air bruising your skin, and there are hundreds of goosebumps now erupting. You joke with yourself that in the end, you’ll most likely have to ask Steve for his jacket and ruin your overall look but hey, you’ll be warm. The wedding doesn’t start until five in the evening and it’s one’oclock right now, and there are white clouds in the sky instead of gray and the songs of some desperate birds searching for their lunch near your ears. It at least drowns out the constant noise of the agents hammering away at each other and preparing for tonight.

It makes your stomach roll: these agents are putting their lives at risk because of you.

You stepped through the discarded papers and tried not to leave your footprint anywhere important. His office was empty, left in a state of purgatory, and his lamp was still on. It’s like he stepped out for a minute.

You picked everything up: pens, computers, books, chairs. Under everything, there was dust.

He really did die.

As much as you wanted to step on his remains and spit on him, you couldn’t. The gash in your heart was still open and bleeding for everyone else and there was no room left for anger. You were indifferent, for lack of a better word. Frustrated?

A paper crumbles outside his office. No one had followed you in - a week after the snap and every single person on earth was still searching for loved ones or running from something - so no, no one else was supposed to be here. Mexico had been hit hard, it’s government shattered, and every cartel was picking up pieces or tearing the world further apart. There was no line anymore.

You twisted around and aimed your gun at the door, immediately lowering it when you saw Natasha raise her hands. She had this embarrassed smile on her face like she knew she had been caught.

“I meant to say hi over your mic. But you turned it off.”

You sighed deeply and dramatically shrugged your shoulders. “Well, I’m here. Guess who’s not.”

Natasha only nods and steps further into the room. She looks over the same things you did. “He’s gone? Good, good riddance.”

“But his death means nothing if trillions of others died also. It’s so fucking typical of him. If he’s going down, he takes everyone else with him.”

“He didn’t take them, Y/N.”

“I want to be happy,” you spit out through clenched teeth. “I want to feel relief. The fucking bastard is finally gone and I can’t even enjoy it properly.”

Natasha takes one more look at the hallway before letting her guard down almost completely. She envelopes you in a hug, squeezing tighter each time your breath hitches. “Hey, listen to me.”

“He’s gone.”

“I know,” Natasha’s voice is low and reminds you of the gentle hum of record static. “He’s gone and he can’t hurt you anymore.”

“But everyone-”

“No,” she pulls away and places both her palms over your neck. “He’s gone. He can’t hurt you anymore.”

It takes a while before you’re nodding along, repeating her words gently.

“You’re more than the pain he inflicted. You’re more than his name or crimes. You’re worth more than his impact ten times over. He can’t hurt you anymore. I know everyone’s gone, and we’re going to fight like hell to bring them back, but in this little moment, this little thread you can pull - pull it all out - he can’t hurt you anymore.”

She’s all muscle and bone and blood and real. What would you do without Natasha?

The grass beneath your bare feet calms you down. It’s tendrils are a little ticklish and there are droplets of silver morning water fog melting as they touch your skin. Focusing on the feeling isn’t enough to get you out of your own head and for a wild second, you think the God of Thunder is going to come up behind you and hold your hand. It’s peaceful out here, but what you wouldn’t give to see him again.

The day before Steve and Carol returned the stones, he had been here. He did as he promised: the second the flood of happiness extinguished like a Christmas candle, he found you settled in the mass of pillows with only instrumental music playing. He left for two cups of tea, sat in silence with you as you both drank, and whispered a strangled ‘I’m sorry’ as if you weren’t meant to hear it. Apologizing for someone who did come back, and you for someone who didn’t.

‘You know I don’t regret what we did. We brought everyone back.’

‘Don’t try and justify your sadness. Not at all, not with me.’ His voice was stern and his eyes serious.

‘I’m sorry he didn’t come back.’

His eyes had closed, as if he was expecting that apology, and he looked out the window where the sun was just barely rising, shining on him and him alone. ‘I’m sorry, too.’

There are footsteps, though. Heavy ones, footsteps that announce his upcoming presence on purpose so as to not startle anymore. Bucky was too generous for his own good.

“Had a visitor.”

You remain silent as Bucky sits next to you, looking up from his spot and expecting you to sit as well. “There’s water on the grass.”

“There’s water in the air in this godforsaken state, now sit down.” A push of laughter escapes your lungs but you follow his instructions anyway.

You sit in silence for a few minutes, admiring the way the pine trees bend slightly with the gusts of wind and how the birds have changed their pitch. You expect Bucky to speak first so you occupy that time by playing with the strands of wet grass.

“In 1997, I was taken out of cryo for a mission.”

You wince on accident. This wasn’t how you expected the conversation to start.

Bucky continues, “There was this man south of the border.” He points south to prove his point. “Hydra wanted to take him out because he was interfering with the drug routes they were monitoring.”

“Hydra controlled drug routes?”

“Hydra had their heads in plenty of places. They didn’t control them, but they did monitor them.”

You shake your head in understanding. “And this man?”

Bucky sighs heavily. His eyes are focused on the gentle yellows behind the trees instead of you. “He was told to take out another man traveling through and out one of these drug routes. He made a different call.”

“Who was your visitor?”

“Maribel.”

“Wha-?” You go to stand but Bucky gently pushes your left shoulder back down. “Why are you telling me this and not her?”

“She wanted me to tell you. And I guess, in turn, you tell Steve and the rest of the team.”

“Bucky,” your voice trembles on accident. “Tell me.”

“The man I was ordered to take out was Maribel’s brother.” He chuckles at your frantic shuffling and pushes you down again. He continues, “Hey, it’s okay. She never knew him and she doesn’t hate me for what I was.”

You don’t really believe him. But his face isn’t telling you otherwise. You're stuck between wanting to dig for more information and giving him a giant bear hug. “Did you… succeed?”

“The soldier ever rarely lost.”

Your face contorts. “Bucky…”

“He disobeyed orders, Hydra didn’t like that since it disrupted the drug routes, and so I was sent to help. Hydra didn’t seem to care about the man he let go, though.” Bucky shrugs and starts playing with the grass behind your hand. “The thing was, Maribel’s brother had been doing this a long time. Ernesto was on Hydra’s radar but in a good way. Maribel’s brother was also given very specific orders from one other person - their mother.”

The story pieces are all discarded haphazardly, pieces that are from different boxes and don’t seem to entangle properly.

“She told him to let the man go. Because this man was an American, and killing an American on Mexican soil was something that was impossible to hide from the claws of the law. So, this American made it back on US soil safely and was never heard from again. Until 1998, when he tried to re-enter Mexico under a false name but with one purpose. To see his newborn baby girl.”

The yellow behind the pine trees fades into orange.

“Are you saying-?”

“Maribel’s mother kept everything your mother left her when she tried to cross the border herself. Your real birth certificate, her real birth certificate, you.”

Bucky looks over finally, sad smile and all. “Maribel thinks, and now I think, that Ernesto isn’t your real father.”

There are so many questions formulating at the base of your skull that you don’t really take the time to absorb the news. “What did she bring you? What was in those papers?”

Bucky seems startled that your reaction wasn’t one of shock. “Like I said, Maribel’s mother kept a lotta things.” He pauses momentarily before speaking again. “Blood results was one of them. Still trying to authenticate them. The American was a doctor, after all.”

“A doctor,” you whisper.

“A doctor. He changed his name but he’s alive. Maribel’s checked.”

“Why would she tell me this now? Why now just hours before the wedding? Isn’t that why you guys didn’t tell me about what was really in the shipment?”

Bucky winces and his expression tells you he’s sorry.

You continue, “Why now? Why does it even matter anymore?”

He inspects you quickly, scanning your features for any signs of discomfort. “You’re okay? I thought this would surprise you more.”

The chuckle you release is dry, kind of harsh. “It actually answers a fuckload of questions. Like, number one, why he fucking hates me.”

His eyebrows scrunch together. “You think he knows?”

“If he doesn’t, then he’s a super fucking asshole instead of just a fucking asshole.”

Bucky pauses again and smiles up at the sky. The clouds are white and extra large today, and he suddenly remembers the taste of that mini popcorn he had bought and shared with his little sister Becca… Becks… while watching Snow White and the Seven Dwarves at the theater. The salt and butter had stuck to Becca’s fingers and she had wiped them on Bucky’s sweater. He remembers scolding her for that but giving her a napkin in between his giggle fit. He feels the same swell in the meat of his heart listening to you. “We don’t deserve you. You’re like the moon. Always there, shaping yourself into what that person needs, crater after crater beat into you and yet, you move the tides.”

The little snort that leaves your nose hurts a little. “That’s pretty damn poetic for this moment of ‘you’re not the father!’”

Bucky bites his lip and smiles toward the yellow and orange hues. “Like the moon.”

The hotel had replaced the door, no questions asked. The reason Sam decided to bust open the door instead of using the very functional key you had given Torres? No one knows. But the poor receptionist was told that you couldn’t possibly change rooms because this was top secret business and you absolutely wanted to slap Scott upside the head for worrying her. So they fixed the bolts and gave you all new keys.

Didn’t matter much anyway since you weren’t sleeping here tonight. You had already packed and made the beds.

You lay your dress and Steve’s dress attire on the respective beds. The dress sent over was a backless red silk, spaghetti strapped and slit on the left side - you’ve wanted to wear it since it arrived when Scott did.

Steve knocked before entering the room. You almost laughed at the gentlemanly aspect of it. “Thought for sure they’d have kept you for another hour at least.”

“I gotta change sometime. That your dress?” Steve shrugs off his uniform and climbs on top of his freshly made bed.

“That’s my dress. Sort of skimpy for a wedding, no?” You hold it up to show him the front and back.

“Does ‘skimpy’ mean bad?”

“Means slutty.”

He gives you this disappointed look, like he’s judging your vocabulary. “I wouldn’t use that word. So no.”

You silently apologize and move the dress over to the end of your bed. Everyone else was also getting ready for tonight. Agents were posing as local police, many infiltrated the wait staff, suits were being double-checked for any malfunctions. There was so much going on, but all was relaxed in your room. Steve smiles at you from his bed, head resting in his palm as he leans up to stare at you. It’s impossible not to blush under his stare, so you move to climb into his bed. You lay down with your feet to his head, the sides of your hips pressing together; just two upside down puzzle pieces. He chuckles and goes to lay on his back, right arm coming up to lay rested on top of your right thigh.

“All this week I thought I wasn’t ready.” You’ve had no more nightmares. “But I am. I’m ready to end this.”

He runs his fingers delicately along your thigh. “I’m ready to help.” He sighs deeply and cranes his neck to try and meet your gaze. “We’ll make sure they get maximum time.”

“You know that’s not our call.”

“Still.”

You rest for another few minutes, gentle touches calming you. His body is so warm, emitting sweet thoughts like the beginning of spring heat, and it’s impossible not to curl up into it. Steve breaks the comfortable silence, “What are you thinking about?”

You suck in a breath and tell him the truth. “That in the matter of like… five days, you and I are basically lovers now.”

“Lovers?”

“Lovers.”

He laughs out loud and goes to sit up. “I intend on taking you out when we get back home.”

Lifting your head, you rest on your elbows and grin at him. “Oh? And where are you planning on taking me?”

He thinks for a second before pressing his lips together and giving up. “I have to ask Peter or Wanda. I have no idea where you go during the day to eat.”

You laugh, “Seriously? I could’ve sworn you tagged along once or twice.”

“Nope. I always refused.”

You frown slightly, “Riiight.” Not wanting to rehash the reasons why, you try to soften any wrong feelings about what that implies. “I’m sure you’ve been, though. I take Bucky places, too. Ask him.”

“Mmm, I have my pride. Can’t have Bucky thinkin’ he knows more about my girl than I do.”

You smile largely now and hope no lipstick rubbed off on your teeth. “Your girl?”

Steve averts his eyes like he’s just now asking for your name and if you’d like to go dancing. There’s a beautiful scarlet glow painting his pale cheeks. “Like I said, I’m taking you out and asking properly.”

“We’ve already surpassed third base. I remember it vividly.”

His smile falls comically and he turns to grab a throw pillow to smack you with it a couple times. “Crude! Crude as always. Goddamn.”

“I’m sorry! Hey, I’m sorry!”

He stops his attack and pulls you into his chest. He warms your back instantly. “So, you’ll let me take you out?”

“I really, really like french fries,” you hum lightly and tilt your head back to lean into his shoulder.

“That narrows it down, thanks.”

You chuckle due to his sarcastic tone. He rubs his hands up and down your arms. An idea formulates while in the warmth of his body. “You know what I really want to do after we finish with this?”

“What’s that?”

You tell him honestly. “Rent a cabin. Spend a Christmas there, maybe. Catch some fuckin’ fish. Experience the snow properly.”

His eyebrows furrow like he’s dissecting such a claim. “I… wasn’t expecting that.”

You shrug, “Sounds cool though, right?”

“Got room for one more?” He looks down to meet your gaze and there’s a glint of hope shimmering in the blue of his eyes.

“Nat… Natasha.”

Natasha took in a sharp exhale as she lifted her head from the desk, left cheek numb and pink. Steve shot her a funny grin and continued shaking her shoulder until she fully opened her eyes. She slaps his hand away with a huff of laughter.

“Come here to do your laundry? You know, there’s only so many times I can help prevent shrinking shirts.”

Steve scoffs, “I used to do laundry by hand. I can figure out a few buttons.”

“You would think.”

Steve rolls his eyes and bumps her shoulder with the palm of hand before speed-walking into the kitchen. “It’s one of those days.” He opens the high cabinets and pulls a few vodka bottles.

Natasha pushes down whatever was starting to eat at her. She calms her deep breaths and rises from her chair. No words needed to be exchanged. She makes her way over to pull two glasses from the same high cabinets.

Steve watches her a little hesitantly, but she has that lopsided smile that pinches through only one cheek and her eyes are the slightest bit swollen from her power nap, and Steve breathes a sigh of relief. She tilts her head to the other side of the kitchen, that lopsided grin gracing her bare feet. Steve fumbles through a few cleaning supplies and some plastic bags before he finds the bottle.

“I hid it after… after Thor had that meltdown a year ago.”

Now, he was second guessing. It was a small bottle, only half left, but half a bottle of Asgardian liquor was enough to knock the God on his knees. For Steve, a few sips would do the same. But he needed it, he needed it, god help him. It’s been four years, he needs it. “Be my designated driver?”

“How about you spend the night? Y/N wanted to start a new show anyway.”

“I’ll be passed the fuck out during the opening credits.”

“But you’ll be here.”

Steve sighs and pops open the bottle. Natasha puts her hand up to stop him from pouring, “Check under that sink again.”

His eyebrows pinch together but he does as instructed. More cleaning products… more cleaning products. He tilts his head to look at the corners and there it was: a small, pink paper airplane taped mid-flight. Steve hunched his shoulders to grab it and crawled out carefully. “You know, you’re not supposed to tell me where you hide them.”

“Well, I felt bad! I’ve found like fifteen of your blue ones and how many do you have of mine?”

“That’s besides the point-”

“Say it. You’ve found six.”

His cheeks turn hot. “I’m not here all the time.”

“Excuses.”

“I leave mine in good spots. You probably got better eyes or something.”

Natasha laughs, loud and from her chest. “Sure. But hey - I’ll promise you somethin’.”

Steve pours the Asgardian liquor into his glass and straight vodka into Natasha’s. “What do you have in mind?”

“You find more than me by the end of this year, and I’ll take that vacation.”

Steve takes his first sip and tries not to pull a hard face. “You’re on. But what if you win?”

Natasha raises her glass and clinks it with his. He wants to apologize for forgetting to toast but her eyes are playful and forgiving. “You come with me. I’m not the only one who needs it.”

“So, I win regardless?”

She takes a sip and pulls a funny face. “Easiest battle, don’t ya think?”

They’re off their right minds twenty minutes into drinking and the common area is chaos. Pillows are thrown, the TV somehow ends up with dozens of fingerprints, and they’ve broken a couple flower pots. The cushions of the couch know Natasha’s bare feet and Steve’s boots; the walls fail to constrict their loud singing; Rhodey has already snuck past them to get himself a snack undetected.

‘And so I cry sometimes when I’m lyin’ in bed, just to get it all out what’s in my head!’

‘Hit the high note, Rogers!’

‘When you do, I will!... I scream from the top of my lungs-’

‘What’s goin’ on? And I say, ‘hey!’ ‘hey!’ I say ‘hey!’ What’s goin’ on?’

Steve’s still clear-headed enough to twirl Natasha around. She’s flexible enough to climb onto his shoulders.

‘I pray every single day - for a revolution!’

She’s starting to slur her words and Steve wonders if that blond streak in her hair was there last week.

‘The story of my life! I take her home,

I drive all night to keep her warm and time,

Is frozen!

The story of my life, I give her hope,

I spend her love until she’s broke inside!

The story of my life.’

She can longer feel her toes but seeing Steve let go makes her so incredibly happy and breaks her heart. I needed this too, she thinks.

‘So, bye-bye, Miss American Pie

Drove my Chevy to the levee, but the levee was dry

And them good ol' boys were drinkin' whiskey and rye

Singin', "This'll be the day that I die

This'll be the day that I die!”’

She’s all muscle and bone and blood and real. What would Steve do without Natasha?

“You wanna come?”

“Sure. I’ll cut down the trees for wood. Have a real fireplace.” He’s serious, you realize. Like, really truly serious.

Your heart swells with excitement and some other feeling you can’t quite place. But it’s good, like really good. The sigh you release is full of sweet wonder. “A real Christmas tree.”

Steve tightens his grip around your arms. “December’s right around the corner. Trees should be ready and standing tall.”

It’s almost too much to imagine. You have the sudden urge to talk specifics, to plan out this vacation. A beautiful, rustic cabin with only a coffee maker brought from the outside century, knitted quilts, real snow, Steve’s body heat, Christmas lights… inviting Sam, Scott, Wanda, Peter, and Bucky down for Christmas dinner and presents. A whole sleepover filled with ghost stories, candle burning, board games, Christmas movies. You’re up and tucking your knees under yourself to look down at Steve in an instant. “You’d throw on that checkered shirt, grow out your beard even more, and chop down a few trees for me? With me?”

“There’s nowhere in the world I’d rather be,” Steve says, eyes crinkling. For a second, he’s worried you’ll realize that he’s quoted your letter. But that same moment, you’re giggling with excitement over your future plans.

“Well, we lasted a week here without killing each other. The holidays always hold a few surprises.”

Steve picks up another pillow.

Business is not conducted during the church service. It feels normal, with half the guests attending the service and watching the happy couple exchange vows, while the other half only arrives for the party.

Jackeline’s dress is modern with a mix of vintage - simple, with long sleeves of lace and fabric that isn’t entirely white but with hints of beige; the dress dips lower in the back than it does in the front, and it’s tight near the waist but loose as it drapes down her long legs. Her hair is left loose and her make-up is heavy, and she illuminates under the sun rays that burst through stained cathedral glass. You don’t even pay mind to Ernesto and Seda seated in the aisle in front of you - not when Jackeline looks the way she does.

As the service ends, Steve tells you to wait until most of the guests exit. The priest eyes him warily, inspecting his young face and build and obvious persona. He says nothing, but he places a gentle hand over the cross on his chest as he follows the guests out. Steve stands, and out of respect dips his fingers into the holy water provided near the heavy wooden doors. He signs the father, the son, and the holy ghost and dips his fingers in again to sign the same on you. With a silent thank you and tender wipe to your forehead, you don’t question it. He’s not Catholic, or at least you don’t think, but you know he does it for what’s to come. No matter your beliefs, he just wants something, someone, to protect you. You turn back to the cathedral and grip the door as you bend down to one knee and tip your head.

Everything is grander, that’s for sure. The decorations are tripled; the violet lights are reflecting like diamonds off every marble and glass surface; the chandelier’s are no longer gold sculptures but diamond; the clay flowers hanging from the ceiling yesterday are now a part of the centerpieces, squeezed in with the largest bouquet of roses and violets; the live bands (because of course there are two) are each still setting up as everyone is getting seated; and there are about fifty round tables circling the large dance floor. There’s still a nice view of the lake and the pine trees ahead, and the tarp was abandoned as there was no rain in the forecast. All in all, and there were a thousand other things you could focus on but didn’t have the energy to, everything was beautifully put together.

Jackeline wasn’t lying when she said half of Mexico was attending. Besides family, there were celebrities in attendance, famous musicians who were simply guests and not performing, family of some of the other biggest drug lords from both countries (minus Europe), and a couple politicians who dipped before the new couple even walked through the doors after seeing Steve. But Steve worked his magic like he had yesterday and had everyone eating out of the palm of hand in pure amazement. He even had a famous actress hanging off his shoulder in under three minutes. Walking away to go congratulate Jackeline, Steve doesn’t miss the quick, sarcastic flick of your middle finger aimed in his direction.

“You’d tell me if you needed my help, right?” Jackeline asks after a while, bottom lip dripping champagne. She wipes it gingerly, careful not to smudge her pink lipstick.

“I would if there was anything wrong,” you respond truthfully. She pauses to swallow her sip and squints. She follows your gaze to Steve, whose right arm is being tugged by a girl who looks about twelve with five multi-colored bows trailing down her french braid, and who is also trying hard not to blush at the very attractive actress he can’t seem to get rid of.

“You’re going to stop him, aren’t you?”

You glance to your left, but it isn’t really a question. Jackeline knows. “Yeah.”

She nods and tilts her chin up, eyes still on Steve. “Make him watch as you burn it down.” You know she’s referring to Ernesto. She continues, “Every last bit of it.”

Smiling down at your feet, you raise your glass at nothing in particular. Just to salute the night air and whoever is watching. A few seconds pass as you both watch the guests enjoy the music and appetizers. Jackeline shuffles in her heels but she doesn’t seem to want to leave your side just yet. “You run, you understand?”

She’s only momentarily startled by your words. “Okay.”

“I never meant to leave you here, Jackie. I just had to find a way out first.”

“You found a loophole,” she chuckles, but the next moment she’s serious. “There is no way out.”

“Might not be,” you admit, downing your glass in one shot. “But I know this. He can’t hurt you anymore.”

You don’t exchange more than a few words with Steve before he’s called by Ernesto’s men and motioned toward those massive dry lava rock doors; doors that don’t muffle sound but are strong enough to withstand a bullet wound. You watch him leave with them, and he shoots you a smile over his shoulder to simply look at you. Your eyes swell only slightly, burning the corners and blurring everything. He’s bright and brilliant, walking head first into Hell and shining like the bolts of Zeus.

Steve has faced giants before, from all backgrounds and all worlds. He has blocked their punches, taken near mortal injuries; stared them in the face with every ounce of anger and determination his cells could produce. There was always this whispered voice in his head that warned him of the last day he would pick up that shield. In 1945, the voice was loud and raging as he drove that nosediving plane into the Arctic. Over the last few years, however, the voice had quieted and let Steve ponder his fate himself. Steve swears the voice, or rather his own conscience, is getting tired.

He listens intently, responding only when spoken to, and prays his mic is picking up every bit of this conversation. Ernesto commanded the room as he screamed orders in both English and Spanish. His men fell in line; some as determined as the old man, some quiet, some bothered. Didn’t matter what the orders were. Steve noticed the few who would glance at one another and speak their distaste with their wandering eyes. And when Ernesto would speak directly to Steve, the same men would pinch their lips into a thin line and glare.

The shipment had arrived mid-conversation and as men were sent out to do their jobs, Ernesto kept Steve behind. I need you to stay with me until the shipment is secure and can be moved - you’re my bodyguard, Ernesto had told him, confident and only slightly bending his back in discomfort from the weight of the day. Steve agrees, and hears Bucky mention how they have eyes on the shipment from the sky.

Steve stays by Ernesto’s side even when Ramirez is called in. He��s prepared for a bloodbath, for two big men to cement their graves in this tiny office, but it doesn’t happen. Or at least, it doesn’t happen yet. Ernesto regards Ramirez as an old friend and finally trusts him enough to tell him what the shipment contained. Steve isn’t surprised, however, when Ernesto takes nasty satisfaction at Ramirez’s horrified expression. Because even though Ramirez had already known, the confirmation adds a multitude of terror. Steve can feel his palms sweating.

As expected, Ernesto tells Ramirez that he plans to use his lands for his gain. The safe thing to do would have been to agree, to nod along, and to live in the knowledge that the shipment most likely wouldn’t head out. But Ramirez, for some reason Steve can’t fathom, stands up and says no.

Steve understands now; the odd shaking of your shoulders even when your face was completely blank and emotions calm. He watches the beads of sweat drip from Ernesto’s forehead onto the tip of his nose; he watches the way his chest heaves as his voice becomes louder; he watches until he can’t take anymore and he enlarges the shield with Scott’s tech and tells Ernesto to move away from the other man. Steve understands now - the man really is scary, even if he wants to admit it or not.

“You really are a phenomenal actor.”

Swaying slowly, you try not to step on Seda’s feet as he guides you across the dance floor. The music is calmer than it was five minutes ago, the guests are enjoying dinner and conversing, and Steve had told you fifteen minutes ago that he would be right back. Ernesto had sent you a malicious wink, but you knew better. Steve’s name was written in blue and Ernesto’s real target had to be you.

“Acting with what? Acting that I enjoy this dance? Acting like I respect you?” Your upper lip twitches into a teasing smile. “Or acting like I don’t know it was you who planted that bomb?”

He matches your smile, looking down at you with a glint in his eyes. His grip around your waist tightens. “Acting like you’re really on our side.”

Lowering your voice just a fraction, you lean in, top of your head level with his chin. “I’m on Ernesto’s side. You almost had me and my Captain blown up.”

His left hand is settled on your shoulder and he uses the opportunity to dig his nails in. All around him, his men are watching. “How did you get away?”

You give a dry laugh. “You think that was my first bomb? It was childsplay.”

Seda scoffs, “You speak of this Avenger business like I don’t know who you are. You’re still that scared little girl who hid in her room when alien’s fell from the sky.”

“I may be. But there’s a difference between you and I. I actually stared them in this face and won.”

“The second time, maybe”

Sticks and stones, but goddamn did those words always hurt. Blame goes a long way but you and your team are used to keeping it close to home. “Why do you want me dead?”

His scowl deepens and the wrinkles by his eyes crinkle over each other as he squints down at you. “The Avengers are not secretly on our side. Tony Stark never was but Ernesto loves to tell people otherwise. Same about your Captain. You’ve been playing us for years.”

“What evidence do you even have? For years, we’ve done nothing but clear the roads for you,” you say, shaking your head in disbelief.

He unwraps his arm from around your waist and sets both hands around your upper arms. He’s pressing down as hard as he can but still loose enough not to draw unwanted attention. He breathes a sharp exhale, and the puff of air hits your cheeks. “I don’t know what happened to my men after you got what you deserved. They were good men and just like that, erased.” He smirks. “I know you had something to do with it.”

A guest with bright red hair laughs loudly to your side as she is twirled around by her partner. It’s not as vibrant as you’re used to, but you still imagine that lopsided smile you hadn’t seen in forever. “Does it matter? You know what they did, so why is my hypothetical revenge chastised?”

“Tell me right now that none of your Avenger friends did your dirty work. Tell me your Captain’s hands are clean.”

“I promise you, my Captain is clean.” Seda doesn’t show any signs of believing you. Still, your mouth twitches into a mocking smirk. “But our once mutual friends Tony and Natalia tell another story.”

“Am I supposed to believe that two people who are dead are responsible for this? Ironic,” he grits his teeth.

You repeat, clear and true. “My Captain is clean.”

He fakes a tiny gag but you know he means his disgust. “You turned over so quickly for him. For the heroes who destroyed the world. Pathetic.”

“You really need to stop underestimating me,” you practically order, voice full of warning and annoyance.

Seda continues, “Following orders from a fascist. Following orders from a country that only does harm.”

He turns you around as the dance instructs, a half-hearted waltz that didn’t have a beginning, middle, or end. You take that second to scan your surroundings and weigh your options. “I agree about the country part. But I don’t follow orders from the country, I follow them from my Captain.”

You’re facing him again and in those hellish eyes you see truth. “No, he’s a symbol of everything we hate. Of everything we need to destroy.”

“Touch Steve and I’ll blind you.”

His feet stop mid-step, as do yours. His eyes widen only a little, but it’s all the ammunition he needs. “I knew it.”

It’s barely a whisper, a tickle from a single strand of hair, but you catch it. No longer keeping it a secret, or rather a secret you didn’t care that you let slip, Seda now knows it was all a lie. All this time you had never referred to Steve as anything other than your Captain.

You feel the blunt head of a .22 press against your abdomen as Seda laughs, “You never could get a mission right.”

Twisting his arm and knocking the gun from his loose grip with your wrist was easy. So was catching the gun mid-air and elbowing him in the ribs. Seda falls to the floor in a state of shock, instinctively gripping his chest. You aim the gun at him and like you’ve seen in the movies, place the tip of your heel just below where his belly button would be. He releases a sharp breath and his eyes are challenging, practically begging you to dig deeper and get on with it.

You can hear the screaming and frantic murmuring from the guests surrounding you and the leveling of guns from Seda’s men. But you’re focused on the man trying so hard not to quiver beneath you, his nasty grin spreading wider.

“You’re alone,” he bites. “Your Steve is helping Ernesto right now, no? You’re alone.”

Your grin forms slowly, and you’re counting down the seconds you have until his men start firing, but you lean your upper body down slightly to make sure he hears you. “That’s never been a problem before. Don’t you remember?” You click back the safety as discreetly as possible. “I was trained by the Black Widow herself.”

You quickly raise the gun to shoot the closest of Seda’s men in between his collarbones, effectively starting the bloodshed. You jump out the way in a flash, rolling across the floor and behind a table. Tipping the table over is easy and it seems like a smart idea at first, until you realize the tables are all glass. The tablecloth had covered that detail, which sucks like hell, because now the bullets are shattering through and you’re forced to kick yourself away and run behind the pillars instead. The heels are kicked off at the same time you’re fishing underneath your dress.

A stray bullet hits the pillar’s side making you squeal. It makes you work faster, though.

Once you find the secure nano-tech ‘button’ (as Scott liked to call it), you strip as quickly as you can and slap the button on your bare shoulder. The nano-tech spirals and threads into itself as intricately as frost spreads on a window, shielding you in both metal and kevlar.

When a storm of bullets hits the pillar and cracks the marble, you’re forced to crouch and hope Seda’s .22 and the myriad of weapons you’re now equipped with are enough. Before your thoughts can creep into a ‘last man standing’ mode, a roar of wind sweeps across the estate and between the cracked pillars, causing your loose hair to slap your face and blind you for only a second. Quickly putting your hair up and pulling the metal batons from the back of your suit, you’re met with the best sight - one that was a little late, in your opinion.

“Kind of you to show up!”

Sam ignores your quip as he flies into three men at once, feet first with his wings extended with the might of a guardian angel. He immediately shields runaway guests who were caught in the middle. He takes the ones on his left, you take the ones on his right.

You let them swing first. They’re fast and pulling their punches and are clearly aiming for the end result of sticking you to the ground. But you’re quicker and deflect the punches. You manage to deliver a solid punch upward to crack the nose of one. As he reaches up as instinct, his ribs are open season.

He falls out cold easily after your batons do their damage and the next man isn’t nearly as fast as the first. He doesn’t move enough to his right to avoid the harsh kick to his sternum. Each ambitious kick to the chest seems to demolish the man’s protective wall he’s trying desperately to keep intact, but once you give your legs a break and switch back to the batons, he doesn’t stand a chance. There are bullets raining across the venue, but Sam is shielding you and deflecting them elsewhere. It allows you the freedom to rip into whoever you think deserves it.

You’ve got two men on your tail and after knocking their weapons from their hands, it seems like a fairer fight. The first doesn’t step back far enough to avoid your roundhouse kick and he falls hard on his ass, gasping for a lick of air. The second is closer, however, and manages to wrap you in a chokehold. Releasing yourself to fall deadweight for only a second, gravity tricks him and you use the momentum to kick up and fly over his shoulders. It’s hard to do without a wall to propel yourself off of. But your abs and thighs are clenched and you don’t quite think you’ll actually end up on this guy’s shoulders but you do. You don’t dwell on that moment of personal pride, though. Tightening your thighs, you use your upper body weight to lean downward and wring his neck. Once he’s down, you sweep your leg around across the floor to trip the other man who was just barely standing back up. With the .22, you fire point blank.

Detaching yourself from the gore has never been much of a challenge. Eyes rolling back and clouding, limbs dangling limp after having just been full of life, bodies thumping against the floor after eating your bullets - you don’t so much as grit your teeth anymore.

Sam is dealing with his own mess closer to where that poor cake is now destroyed, vanilla filling exposed and now two stories instead of four. The other cakes are no better. Sam pulls the trigger once more at someone charging at him and he averts his eyes. Sam, however, clenches his jaw.

“Where’s Seda?” you shout, firing at men who are jumping out from behind tables but giving away their location before they even surprise you.

“Lost him. I think he’s heading over to Steve!”

You look over the room and pray everyone got out safely. There are no civilians lying in their own puddle of blood, no guests begging for help, but you can never know for sure. “We need more hands. Where the hell are Scott and Bucky?”

A storm of bullets starts crashing into the tables and pillars beside you. Trying to duck doesn’t work and you’re grazed in the left arm. Sam tackles you behind the stage, wings extending further and out bending around you.

“I’ve been shot!”

Sam can’t help the laugh that erupts from his throat because of your dramatic tone. “You’ve been grazed. The nano-tech has already rebuilt itself.”

“I don’t care, I hate being shot. It’s not nice. I’ve been hit.”

“Dramatic.”

“Y/N?” a harsh whisper sounds from under the stage tables. Watching your eyes bulge paints a mournful expression on Jackeline’s face. Julian is right beside her, pistol out but not shooting. You wonder if he knows you’re the invader.

“What in the hell are you still doing in here? I told you to run!”

“I’m sorry,” Jackeline squeals as bullets continue firing. “Everyone crowded. I was scared so I just got down.”

“Sam.”

Sam nods, already reading your mind. You had to find Steve; you couldn’t stay here. But there’s bullets still blazing in your direction and you find yourself hopping on your ass slightly each time a bullet connects to the ground beside you. The nano-tech does great in deflecting the lead but it really isn’t an invitation to get shot more times. The graze on your arm is already starting to burn.

“Sam is going to guide you both out of here, alright? Julian, cover her. Sam will cover you.”

There’s a war going on behind Julian’s eyes. His face does a thousand things at once as he hears your orders and the scream of guns combined, but he nods. He grips Jackeline’s waist and pulls her in close, but before they can begin crawling Jackeline turns back to you.

“Mátalo. Okay? Para nosotras dos.” She’s got this fierce determination in her eyes and her accent is as thick as can be.

“Okay.”

Sam relays his location over his mic and who he has behind his wings, but before he can safely guide the married couple down the stage, a new wave of men enter and open fire. Sam’s wings can only take so much, and even though they’re vibranium, his suit is not. Ducking behind the table and reloading your gun, you then lift your head over to view the scene. It’s a mess and you could surely take them down hand-to-hand if you were close enough, but you’re stranded with your batons and seven bullets and a world of automatic machinery pointed at you.

The storm of bullets pauses and every single person looks up to the sky. You thank the Gods for no rain today because the absence of a tarp allows for the quinjet to settle over the chaos and create a much needed distraction. Sam takes his leave, wings still wrapped around your sister, and you do the same. Running from behind the stage with batons lit up and tazed, you knock out the closest men. They fall in a strangle of electricity, vibrating and convulsing as each shock travels through their veins, ultimately paralyzing them for however long it turns out to be. This gains the attention of almost everyone else but before they can train their weapons back toward you, the back of the quinjet opens. There were a few tables still standing and it seemed the super soldier liked them better than the flat floor.

The glass shatters from the impact of Bucky’s weight, glasses of champagne and plates with unfinished meals folding onto the shards. He’s dressed in his tactical gear and a dark navy blue jacket without a trusty sleeve. Even if the arm was covered and his hair was long rather than the short length it was now, the men would certainly know who just fell from the sky. Almost immediately, the men scatter. Bucky takes them down one by one, shot after shot, and decides to use his knives for the ones who don’t run. It’s tricky, but he manages to lodge his knives in the base of the spines of those who later changed their minds.

He catches your eye after you manage to snap the neck of one of the runners. He tilts his head toward the left and watches you run to give Steve the backup he needs.

The mansion seems longer, wider, just generally bigger as you rush through the rooms and halls to get to Steve. The stuffed exotic animals follow your gaze and you can’t ignore them for long. There are men following you and men leaving Ernesto. You duck behind the standing polar bear and wait until the footsteps sound farther. Checking the amount of bullets in your gun, just in case, you finally flick the safety off and run.

There’s really only one thing of importance floating around the padded confines of your skull - get Steve out. Another thing you two had in common: both sacrificial idiots. But there wasn’t any way that you would give up the chance to save his life, as he would yours. Didn’t matter if the man you were protecting him from was your father or not. It hadn’t really settled, hadn’t truly digested, and you didn’t think it ever would. Because for years, this man was your father. He was the only man with that title. He wasn’t fatherly, far from it, but he had the label and that’s what you were going to focus on. It made no difference.

You push the office door open and start stuttering over your words. You want to ask what happened, why there’s so much blood, whose blood it is, but all that comes is a fractured series of what the hell’s? The last syllables push through with necessary force, hardly intelligible, but exhaled at last.

Ernesto is kneeling with his head hanging low and his hands behind his back, defeated. But it isn’t Steve who’s holding a gun to the back of his head - it’s Seda.

No, Steve is in the corner clutching at his right hip and gritting his teeth, a wild look on his face that tells you he too was blindsided. He’s hurt. He’s gasping and wincing at the slightest of movements and it ignites the flame you’ll use to burn this world to the ground. It’s splitting your fucking ribs apart.

“Don’t move!” Seda yells, gun still locked on Ernesto’s head but eyes on you. “Put the gun down.”

“Seda-”

“Put the fucking gun down!”

Biting your tongue, you flip the gun in your hand so it’s facing downward and move to gently place it on the table. Flicking your eyes to where Steve is, you get your answer as to why he’s been so easily shot. His massive body and shield are draped over Ramirez, who is also disarmed and pissed.

The self-righteous idiot, you think, he’s always gotta save the little guy.

“We’re gonna talk about this like the gods we are, yeah?”

Your face pulls awkwardly, “Seda, what is happening?”

“Don’t act like you’ve been on this asshole’s side the entire time now,” Seda bites, shoving the head of the gun harshly into the base of Ernesto’s neck. “Go on, tell him.”

“The shipment was intercepted,” you tell him. But you’re not just telling Seda, no, it’s the first Steve is hearing the good news and it allows him to feel a bit of relief. “You’ve both lost.”

“What have you done?” Ernesto screams, cheeks vibrating and face red with anger. He pays no mind to the gun and dares to glare at you. “Tell me!”

The top of your lip greets a run of tears and snot and it isn’t until then that you realize your hands are shaking mid-air and your throat is closing. “My mission.”

Blood or not, this man had the power to tie your thoughts into knots. He only had this power at precious moments and sadly, this was turning out to be one of them.

Seda bites out a laugh - it’s wet and bloody and scares you half to Hell. “I’m not the only one here who wants to kill you. But I’m going to beat her to it. She brought you back, I can’t have that.”

“No!” You curse inwardly at your involuntary hiccup. “We’re not here to kill you!”

“Oh?” Seda raises the gun at you. “What’s the endgame? Que mas necesitas?”

“I don’t need anything. The shipment is intercepted. The estate is on lockdown. Your routes are down. You’re cornered. It’s over.” You let your shoulders drag just a little. “For both of you.”

Surprisingly, Seda doesn’t pull the trigger when Ernesto charges toward you. He doesn’t pull it when Ernesto wraps his hands around your throat, either.

It’s instinct for you to hold out your hand to stop Steve from doing what he does best. He’s already halfway up and wincing with each push to help you, to rip Ernesto from your capable body, but Seda clicks the gun in his direction. Steve watches the way your arm extends, all five fingers spread in a hopeless plea of ‘don’t you sacrifice yourself for me, don’t you dare’.

“I have done nothing but help you! I put food on the table and clothes on your worthless back! You spent my money!” Ernesto’s eyes are practically bulging and his thumbs are almost crushing your windpipe, but his placement is off. You can still breathe air, no matter how bruising his grip may be. “This is how you treat me? I should have killed you all those years ago. I should have ripped you limb by limb until your cries bled!”

“Please,” you whimper out, hand still extended toward Steve and the other attempting to push Ernesto by the chest.

“Please? Please? Te voy a matar aquí, ahora, porque siempre te lo mereciste!”

You let out a strangled scream and are about to fight back. To save yourself and to end Steve’s suffering of watching you suffer, of watching his newfound hope dwindle right before him, when a gunshot erupts. Everyone screams, ears ringing, and there’s blood splattered all over your cheeks and neck, spots and leaks that trail down into the collar of your bodysuit. A heavy weight lands on you and knocks you back into the shelves. You hold Ernesto’s now limp body as best you can, knees locking painfully. There’s a massive hole where the top of his head should be and for the first time in years, you have to look away to keep from throwing up.

“Dejalo.”

You open and close your mouth but regret it when the taste of copper lands on your tongue. You follow Seda’s order and drop Ernesto to your feet, the thud sending a shiver up every single one of your vertebrae.

“Por qué hiciste eso?” you ask him, voice small. You choke on another hiccup.

“Don’t lie to me and say you weren’t going to do it yourself.”

You look over at Steve. His eyes are just as wide as yours and the same red specks, now turning brown, are tainting the flush pink skin of his beautiful neck.

“No,” you whisper. Steve hears your lost accent returning and it clutches at his heart.

“It was for the best.” Seda marches over to grab Ramirez by the tie, ripping him up from the ground and pointing the gun to his head. Steve lunges forward and Seda fires another bullet into the same hip.

“No!” Your throat is raw, scratched, and Steve hits the floor in another heap of muffled groans. Seda returns the aim on Ramirez.

“Imagine my surprise when I saw this one confronting Ernesto with your Captain. Imagine my fucking surprise when I tried to find all our passports, all our files, and nothing was here! Imagine my surprise when I saw that fucking idiot White being taken away by one of your agents!”

“Seda, please.” You were never much of a negotiator. It was always go in and let the others do the talking. Steve was the talker, he was the negotiator, but he was out of his element. He was always the enemy to Seda. He could never convince him otherwise.

“You’ve given me new purpose,” Seda grins and Ramirez is rather calm in his arms, like he accepts this. “Look at the crime scene. I’m using the gun Ramirez got from your team. My men are still loyal.”

He pauses and smiles with all teeth, blood in between most of them. “You shot Ernesto. You shot your Captain. You shot Omar.”

The frightened look on your face seems to fuel him even more. He continues, “We’ll never stop hunting you.”

“Try it,” Steve manages, standing up again and vaguely registering the flash of light to his right. His shield is no longer there. “You’ll have to kill me to win. You’ll have to kill all of us to win. Me, Y/N, Omar, Sam.” He breathes in deep but smiles. “The Winter Soldier.”

You swear Seda’s face pales but his grip around Ramirez’s waist only tightens. “Easy.”

“It won’t be,” you finally say, voice no longer wavering. There’s no plausible way Seda could win. But one thing is fact: whether they’re Seda’s or Ernesto’s men, they’ll never stop hunting you now. “You lost, Seda.”

All stills but there are shouts and the ring of gunshots still echoing near the lake.

“No,” Seda looks to you and to Ernesto’s body. “I didn’t.”

He aims the gun at you and fires.

Steve’s wail is grease to the fire in your soul and you accept whatever pain might hit. There’s space and then there isn’t. There’s emptiness and then there’s a space being filled by that horrid but lifesaving shield. There’s no one and then there’s Scott, blown up to his regular size with shield in hand and in front of you. The bullet bounces off the shield easily and hits the wall. You’re pushed into motion and in about two seconds, you’ve grabbed your gun again and do not hesitate to fire. The bullet hits Seda in his exposed chest and Ramirez fumbles to get the gun from him. Seda hits the floor and no one else follows.

The shot hits its target perfectly. Seda doesn’t so much as stutter.

“God,” Scott grumbles, eyes trying to focus on anything other than the pools of blood. “Was I late?”

You don’t pay any mind to Scott and rush over to Steve, where he’s barely holding himself up with his hip tilted on the edge of the desk. “Steve? Steve. Did he hit anything important?”

“Besides the fuckin’ meat of my stomach?”

There isn’t a way to see beneath the kevlar, but your fingers have a mind of their own as they try to dig in. “You know what I mean.”

Steve huffs a laugh and gently slaps your fingers away. “No, but motherfuck me Christ, I get shot way too much and it hurts no less.”

“Was the shield not enough? You had to sacrifice your one-hundred year old hips? Are you hit anywhere else?”

“I was caught off guard. What about you? I heard over the mics that you were shot and-”

“Are you two done?” Scott interrupts, clearing his throat awkwardly but half a mind still paying attention to his own mic.

It’s like you’re snapped back to reality. There’s not only Steve but others, alive and dead, and the smell of copper is all too familiar. “Sorry, I’m still in shock. I don’t really know how to proceed from here.”

“Y/N-” Scott tries, but you resume.

“We were supposed to arrest them. Just arrest them.”

“Okay, I think we should get you outta here,” Steve acts like he’s the one guiding you, but his weight is falling. You faintly register a phone ringing in the room but Steve, ever so persistent, is still acting like he is holding you up. He lunges forward with a sharp wince, and your hand immediately goes to his hip.

“Captain.”

Ramirez lowers his phone, call ended, and he wears an expression Steve recognizes immediately. It’s an expression that looks all too similar to Dugan’s when he relayed the news of enemy forces breaching their base. “...How many?”

“They’ve already sent the news to their men in Mexico.”

“Have they shut down the border?”

“It wouldn’t make a difference.”

“They don’t know two of their men are dead, so we can-“

Scott shakes his head, shield still in hand with specks of blood drying on the blue stripe. “They know White was arrested. That’s all they need. They’ll assume the rest, the worst.”

You sigh, “Seda was right.”

Scott literally pouts and he looks like he wants to wrap you in his arms. “No, don’t send yourself there.”

Steve, however, agrees with you. “If they know about White, then they know about Omar. Seda had time to tell his men.”

“Then we make sure he’s arrested and taken to a secure facility. We can keep an eye-” Scott starts, but you shut him down quickly.

“He’s wanted by the US government, not the Avengers. We can only transport him. We can’t guarantee his safety.”

Ramirez gives a small smile. “Mija, voy estar bien. No te preocupes.”

“I don’t know.”

Scott looks between the three of you. He places the shield against the wall near the door. He raises his eyebrows at Steve and looks to his wounds, but Steve waves him off. Reluctantly, Scott nods. “I’m gonna go check on Sam.”

There’s a pool of blood near your boots. You don’t want to know if it’s from the dead or from Steve.

“Doll, what are you thinking?”

He can’t hurt you anymore. “That I need you to go, too.”

Steve forgets about the pain in his hip and focuses solely on you. “What?”

“Go. If there’s one more thing you can do for me and my reckless family, go check on Sam.”

“You know I can’t leave you here alone with him.”

Your voice is steady and calm and it’s scaring Steve. It’s scaring him. “I promised myself that you wouldn’t be hurt by this mission. I stand by it.”

“I promise, Captain, I have no resentment. Whatever she does, I will follow,” Ramirez speaks, and Steve doesn’t even pay him a glance.

“I can’t just go.”

“Steve,” you interlock your fingers behind his neck. “Please. Listen to me.” He looks so confused, a million questions flying through his mind and almost escaping those sweet pink lips. Fierce, you whisper for only him. “He can’t hurt me anymore. He can’t hurt me anymore.”

He relishes the feeling of your soft hands behind his neck. They’re bloody, but yours. His neck is bloody, but you don’t seem to care. “Two minutes.”

“Two minutes,” you confirm.

He pulls from your hold and turns to leave. He picks up the shield. Before he leaves, he grips the doorway and looks over his shoulder, eyebrows pinched and jaw tense. “Two minutes, I swear to Almighty Christ, Y/N. I’m coming back for you.”

You smirk, the dim light from the office lamps creating nothing short of a sparkle in your eyes. “I don’t expect anything less, Rogers.”

Steve hesitates for a moment and then he walks away. Once his footsteps are no longer heard, you turn back to Ramirez. There’s a voice in your head telling you this was a bad idea and that you were an idiot to have your back turned on him for so long, but Ramirez is simply leaning on one of the chairs and grimacing at the bloody scene before him.

“Remember when Ernesto bought you that car when you were thirteen? And then another when your brother crashed it?”

Your nose pinches, “I don’t feel like reminiscing when he’s lying right there.”

“Do you remember what you told me when he bought you that second car? The sports one?”

You sigh. Ramirez was clearly going to continue speaking. “‘No lo quiero. Soy una niña. Get rid of it.’”

“And I did.”

“You did.”

He smiles, and for the first time you notice all the gray hair dusting his head, the most by his temples. There's a limp in his step too but you can’t remember if he had before or after the wedding. “I’ll get rid of this.”

“What?” you blink, unsure if you heard him right.

“I’m already a traitor. If I spin this, you can continue the mission. You can arrest even more of his men. They’ll come after me instead of you.”

It’s what he’s been trained to do. It’s what he’s done since he transported his first shipment. It’s what he’s done time and time again for Ernesto, for Seda, for some of his own careless men. He’s numb to it, just as you were a few days ago, but now you can’t stop thinking about the aftermath. Where would he put their bodies? Would they be buried here or back in Mexico? Would people really care if Ernesto was dead? They didn’t seem to care when he was snapped out of existence. But Ramirez has this sag in his shoulders that tells you he’s already calculating the best way to wrap the bodies and how deep he plans on sending them… or burning them. Burning them was always easier.

“They’ll come after your family. Your daughters.”

He shakes his head, “I’ve ensured their safety. They’re safe.”

Against your better judgement, you tap your mic discreetly and turn it off. “I can’t let you take one for the team.”

He chuckles, “I’m a part of your team? I’m an Avenger?”

You can’t help but laugh with him. It’s not a light moment, but it’s a moment nonetheless. “Sure, Omar. But we don’t trade lives.”

“I had this coming.”

“No, you didn’t. You don’t.” Straining your ears and shutting your eyes, you mumble a quick prayer in hope that this plan of yours worked. You pass Ramirez your own gun and speak low. “Go.”

He’s shocked and he stutters. “Que haces? Que esta pasando?”

“There’s no one on the east side right now. All the guests were moved to the front. It’s clear. But not for long.” Pushing him to the door, you make sure he’s not leaving any bloody footprints behind. He’s clear. “Go.”

“This will kill us both.”

“But it will give us a head start.”

“No puedo hacer eso! No quiero hacer eso.”

“Omar, they’re not going to protect you once you’re charged. I can’t protect you then. So I need you to go.” You reach into your suit and pluck that random Roman coin you had stolen just a few days earlier. It was a token of good luck but you didn’t need it anymore. You avoid looking at the carving for fear that the likeness to Steve will make you change your mind. You place it in Ramirez’s hand and clench his fist shut. “If there’s one thing you can do for my stupid, anti-hero mentality, go.”

“Que hago con esto?”

“No me llamas. But let me find this.”

He looks at you with pity. It’s so much pity and understanding for your situation that you have to look away. “I owe you my life.”

Eyesight now on the wall over his shoulder, you offer him a thin smile. “You wouldn’t be the first.”

He stumbles at first, unsure if this is really happening, and finally passes by. “Y/N.”

You figure it’d be pretty rude not to answer. You turn slowly. He continues, face somber and head shaking with so much pity. “The amount of Hell that’s coming...”

It’s funny, really. You shoot him that famous smile you were known for. It tricks him like it’s supposed to. “I’m already going to Hell for the lives I’ve taken and the crimes I’ve committed. But the journey to my fate has been worth it.”

The estate is being swept as quickly as possible. There are agents dressing wounds, reading rights, snapping photos, on the phone, etc. It’s organized chaos and there’s so much happening but it’s never impossible to catch Steve’s side profile in a crowd. His nose is pinched up and he’s dealing with his wounds himself. No one is even looking at him.

Speed walking to him, you hook your arm in his and turn him around. He’s too tall, and your toes strain as you rise on them, but you wrap your arms around his neck anyway. He returns the gesture and squeezes you as hard as you’re squeezing him. After a few seconds, he whispers quietly.

“Where’d Ramirez go?”

If he saw your eyes, he would know you were lying. You keep your arms in place. “He got away.”

He tries to push you away but fails. “Y/N.”

“He got away,” you repeat. Slowly, regretfully, you pull back. “We should go.”

There’s a horrible crease in between his eyebrows and he knows he’s caught you in a lie, but he also knows that if there was one thing he knew most about you, it was that you were just as stubborn as he was. Quick with wit, always asking to be punched, and stubborn to the point it made strangers worry. So he doesn’t question it, and turns with you in the direction of the jet. “Maribel has the safehouse set up. Montana.”

“You sure you can make it to the jet? Should I get Bucky to come with us?”

The quinjet is empty except for a few supplies, a medical bag, and Friday. There are only two seats and by the way Steve’s bending over to show his true pain, you’d be flying it. Once you land, you can fish out those bullets.

“No one else.” Steve bites. He can’t risk anyone else - hell, he doesn’t even want to risk you. “I’ll protect you.”

You board the jet and watch as the trees sway in rhythm to the movements of everyone doing their job. It’s dark, and you push the fact that you’re so horribly night blind to the back of your skull, and it’s starting to eat away at you that the mission didn’t really go as planned. No one seems to notice yet that you never brought them the two main players they were hoping for. It only makes you close the quinjet faster. You sit Steve down in one of the seats and kneel before him. “And I you.”

If anyone asked, Steve would lie and say he was tearing up because of the bullets piercing his skin in half. To protect and be protected.

“Let’s go.”

TAGLIST: @dumb-ass-writer @justab-eautifulmess @supraveng @mycosmicparadise @missnighttigress

#steve rogers x reader #reader x steve rogers #avengers x reader #reader x avengers #Steve Rogers #steve rogers fanfiction #to topple #a giant #by Moni #captainsimagines #mob fanfic #trigger warnings listed #enemies to lovers #friends to enemies to lovers #mini-series #part eight #chapter eight #marvel fanfiction #marvel masterlist

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guiltgoreglory · 3 years

Text

Heat Waves (Chapter 2: An Ego Check)

(Very) Brief Summary: Reader is a government contractor joining the team in Benghazi. (Eventual Tanto x Reader) (2626 words)

Chapter 1

Tagging: @abitofpablo @kimburgss @ceyruh

You watched as the dust clouds trailed behind the buggy. The rest of the trip you all sat in silence, taking in the events that had just occurred. When you saw the base from a distance you decided it was safe to holster your weapons. You wiped the sweat of your palms on your thighs as you willed your heart to slow down, and so it did. The second you felt back at equilibrium, Rone took a quick turn into the base. To no surprise, it was the most conspicuous looking place you could have imagined. You expected better from the CIA. Several armed American guards stood at the gate which was surrounded by obvious cameras. You rolled your eyes knowing that if anyone wanted to target us, it wouldn’t be hard. One guy even wore a New York Yankee’s cap. It’s like they didn’t even try.

“Check the new rides. Gaddafi had a going-out-of-business sale on armored vehicles…” Rone gestured towards the Mercedes amongst several other high-end vehicles. He whistled. Leave it to Rone to keep the tone light. “Max-leveled armored, man. We got a great deal… We stole ‘em.” Rone stared down Jack with the biggest smirk plastered on his face. He seemed extremely proud of himself for that one. You watched as a similar smile tugged at the corners of Jack’s lips. You behaved similarly, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of a shitty joke.

You gathered your things as the car came to a stop. Rone hopped out, throwing the keys to another man wearing a vest, “Sat unattended at the airport.” His stride paused as he watched someone from afar. You followed his gaze until you saw the Chief. This was definitely going to be something, you didn’t know what, but you could feel the subordination getting ready to bubble out of Rone. “Hey, Chief,” Rone called, nonchalantly, almost mockingly. The Chief looked like any middle-aged man who worked in business. Blue blazer, khaki pants, glasses, the whole shebang. His posture screamed superiority complex, you knew from the get-go you wouldn’t get along, not like it mattered anyway.

“I don’t want to hear it, Tyrone.” He called back, shuffling his way back into the building. Rone strutted towards him, duffel in hand.

“No, no, I understand.” He turned his head for a moment, keeping out of the way of a car

driving past. “I see what you’re going for here,” he called, on the verge of yelling, “Secret spy base with fortified walls, gate cameras,” He fumbled to get his id badge in hand. “and blue-eyed Westerners! walking in and out of this place all day long.” He did a lovely spin for emphasis, pointing towards all the obvious Americans walking around the base. You followed close behind, knowing you were going to need to speak with him as soon as Tyrone was done tearing into him. “But if you want to avoid..” His words were cut off by the Chief slamming the squeaky metal door in your face. His voice dropped a decibel and he spoke, mostly to himself, “That’s so rude”. He placed his phone into the tray mounted on the wall beside the door, before scanning in his card to gain entry. “Can’t believe he just did that to me.” Your heart started to pick up once again. Nothing made you more frustrated than a cocky man being too good to have a goddamn conversation.

The door let out a loud buzz before Rone pushed open the entrance. “Chief, if you want to avoid an international incident,” He continued to track in the Chief’s footsteps, “you send me my guys when I ask for them.” Many of the agents sitting at their computers peeked up to watch the drama unfold. Some took a look at you, the new face, before returning to watch the catfight.

Finally, the man turned to look at Tyrone, squinting in disapproval like a man reprimanding his toddler. “Local faces need to resolve local conflicts, Tyrone.” Aka, your life means little to nothing to me; the incident was just a wrinkle in my daily schedule. He flipped mindlessly through papers within a manilla folder. Wow he’s so important look how busy he is. “We’re guests in this country.” You and Jack came to stand a few feet behind Rone, trying to stay close without poking the bear.

“We’re unwanted guests, Bob.” Rone rebutted. He’s not wrong.

“We’re spies, you’re security guards.. Your job is to keep us out of trouble, not get into it yourselves.” God, he’s pretentious. Rone flipped through some files pinned onto a pillar, looking through some photos of notable people of the region.

“Well help me do my job and give me my guys.” He didn’t bother giving the Chief the privilege of his eye-line as he continued to search through the photos. You heard a buzz, and quickly turned to see the other members of the squad you were now a part of. Perfect timing. You made eye contact with one of them, Chris Paronto. Based on your prior research everybody called him Tanto, the mischievous one. Just then the Chief said some absolute bullshit.

“Here’s what you guys are good at: working out, eating five hot meals a day. What you’re not so good at is doing what you’re told.” God, he was so fucking proud of himself. Look at you little man, showing off your power in front of your team. You let a little of your annoyance slip out.

“Ironic considering without us, everyone’s a sitting duck.” You whispered softly. The men all turned their heads towards you. Well, I guess now is as good a time as ever to get this over with.

“Excuse me? And who are you? Some ex-army nobody who can’t let go of the glory of war?”

Alright, time to rip off the bandaid. You stood a little taller, stepping closer to the Chief, just beside Rone. “Honestly... I’m someone out of your security clearance.” You said assertively. Jack shared a hesitant look with Rone.

“Bullshit.” He turned away from you, readying to remove himself from the conversation.

“Alright, I think it’s best if we get a phone call over with now.” You dropped your duffel onto the tile, squatting down beside it. The armed men gripped their guns just a little bit tighter. The Chief stood, watching you confused. You unzipped the bag, reaching in to wrap your hands around a satellite phone. You zipped it back up but left it on the ground for now.

“I don’t have time for this.” The Chief began to walk towards his office as you stood, clicking a number on speed-dial.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you. The director doesn’t like waiting.” You held the phone to your head, keeping a straight face. That definitely made him pause. He turned back towards you, squinting his little face up.

“Director of what?” He sighed.

“Director of the Central Intelligence Agency.” You responded casually as if you were telling him the forecast for the next week. You waited as the phone continued to ring.

Everyone stood in silence except for one guy. Tanto leaned over to whisper in Boon’s ear. “Who the fuck is she?”

Finally, a voice came over the line. “Y/N.”

“Good morning, Sir. We have arrived at the location.” Everyone had their eyes on you, curiosity getting the best of them.

“Any incidents?”

“One en route to base. Resolved without violence. I’ll have a report to you within the hour.”

“Great.” He took a deep breath and you could hear him adjust in his chair. “I take it you’d like me to speak with Bob.”

“That would be appreciated, Sir.”

“Alright hand me over.” You took steady, calculated steps towards the Chief, holding the phone out for him to take. He gently took it from your hand. His eyes bore holes into the crevices of the tiled floor.

“Hello..” The Chief said tentatively. You stepped back, giving him some room. You crossed your arms across your chest, shrugging in Rone’s direction. You could tell he was living for this. “Yes, Sir…. I understand, Sir. Of course…. Goodbye.” He stood like a dog with his tail between his legs. He stepped back towards you, holding out the phone. You took it gladly with a polite smile. Pressing the phone back to your ear you concluded with a quick farewell before going back to put your phone into the duffel. As you squatted beside it, you looked up towards the Chief.

“Are we good?” You said. You no longer wanted to squabble and your tone reflected as such.

“Yes.” He said curtly, returning to his office. The second the door closed, the chatter of the room returned back to normal. You turned back to the men of the team looking at Rone expectantly.

“Alrighty then.” Rone turned to walk towards their lounge and the guys began to follow. Tanto sucked in his lips, trying to stifle a chuckle. The burly man next to him, Boon, jabbed him in the side before moving towards the room. You waited for Jack, giving him a genuine, small smile before trailing behind.

“Well, that was fun.” Mark Geist, also known by the team as “Oz”, stated monotonously, walking into the room as he disassembled his rifle.

“He gets his jollies pushing around alphas because he can.” John Tiegen. Called “Tig”. He’s the brains. The first one to be stationed here. You stood in the corner watching as he placed his things into his cubby.

“We had this commander back in ranger school, he was a real cockbag…” Creative insult. Tanto began to remove his vest as he narrated on. You figured you’d be here for a minute so you pulled the straps of your cello case off of your shoulders placing it onto the floor, along with your duffel. Now that you were within the compound you took off the hijab, throwing it on top of the luggage. You flipped your head forward shaking out the matted hair before you pulled it into a bun. It was a mess but it did the job.

“So on our last night, me and a buddy, we stole his beret.” He placed his vest down on the table before plopping down onto the worn couch. “Whole barracks chubbed it.”

“Chubbed it?” Boon replied, his tone made you think he really didn’t want to know, whipping out his knife to fidget with.

“Yeah, rubbed our dicks on it.” Tanto replied, the widest smile crossing his face. He looked like the Cheshire cat as he reached for the gaming controller. You coughed, stifling your laugh before your face turned quizzical. He turned back towards you, noticing your reaction before giving you a quick up and down and returning to his game. You sauntered over to Jack to join in the awkwardness of being new. You tuned into Tig as he was beginning to talk work to Rone. He leaned forward over a desk that Rone was sitting at.

“Leader was a former Gitmo detainee.” They scanned the rugged laptop, you presumed that they were looking for who you’d tangoed with this morning.

“Yeah, those guys usually don’t hold a grudge.” Rone said in his usual sarcastic tone.

“Hey guys,” Oz’s voice pulled you from your concentration as you turned to face him with a friendly smile. “Mark Geist, Oz.”

“Pleasure.” Jack went to shake his hand and you followed suit.

“Ah guys I’m sorry.” Rone spun on his office chair to face the rest of the crew. “Everybody, this is Jack Silva. It’s our third contract together so he knows the drill. We met training SEALs at Coronado.”

Tanto turned back for a second. “How do you get them to balance that beach ball on their nose?” A few chuckles could be heard from the guys.

“It’s tough.” Jack’s shoulders relaxed slightly, letting himself become more comfortable around his new team.

“And this” He gestured his hand towards you. “is Y/N. She’s uhh..” He paused for a split second, trying to find the right word to describe you. “black-ops and apparently has the government at her fingertips so she’ll probably be of use.” You smirked, nodding your head towards the guys. Rone rose from his spot, spreading his arms across the room. “So we got three ex-Marines here and one ex-Army retard who likes to rub his dick on things.” Tanto stood proudly facing you two.

“Kris Paronto. Call me Tanto.” You both shook his hand. You found Tanto’s demeanor amusing, and much to your dismay, his confidence was undeniably attractive. Despite the tall crowd, he still somehow towered above them. You shared eye contact for a brief moment before turning towards Tig. Although he felt easy to get along with, you hoped his casual demeanor didn’t affect his work. In your experience, the joker usually got people killed. Despite this, what you had researched, he seemed to be doing alright so far.

“Hey. I’m Tig.” He waved towards you two.

“Tig’s been here the longest, so he’ll get you up to speed on the area,” Rone said, stabbing a red pin into a map. Looking in more detail you noticed it was the location of your incident. “This is Boon. Scout Sniper, Zen Master, Holder of Tanto’s leash.” He pointed to the man sitting in the sturdy armchair.

He looked up from his lap. “Welcome to Club Med.”

“It hasn’t rained since June. It’s not gonna rain again until September.” He walked right up to you two strolling past slowly. “You two will be double-bunked. Not me, because I’m in charge. Gym sucks,” damn “food’s actually good.” Lose, win.

Tig walked to the center of the room, a few feet from the three of you. “Base Chief is kinda a tool, but who knows, maybe now that you’re here he’ll be moderately tolerable.”

You shrugged. “No promises but if he gets too snippy I’ll whip out the phone again.”

“Maybe he just needs a new hat” Jack quipped. Tanto looked up from the TV to point appreciatively at Jack.

“Don’t encourage him,” Rone said as if talking about his puppy.

“Come on. He’s just a guy with a job to do.”Oz said. Based on the dynamic he was the dad of the group. Honest, serious, tough-love type of guy. Makes sense given he’s the sniper. “He’s playing his string out, but if you talk to him, Bob did some shit back in the day.” You’d heard it a million times, some badass joins the CIA works his way up until he’s practically just a desk jockey with a power problem. Didn’t gain him any sympathy from you.

“Alright, Jack, Y/N, this is the whiteboard that’s gonna run your life for the next sixty days.” You looked over the various points of the board as Jack made his way towards the couch. Given the limited space you preferred standing just behind, leaning your hip against the back. “I want you to check it every hour cause last-minute moves pop up every minute, such as... where shotgunning it in three hours.” Everyone in the room except you, Jack, and Rone let out an audible groan of annoyance. Tanto slapped his controller onto his lap, looking up to the ceiling. Before concentrating back on the game, he looked at you. You took this opportunity to raise an eyebrow in his direction given his childlike reaction to the news. He responded with a strong but blank stare. You rolled your eyes slightly, breaking eye contact to pay attention to Rone. You were used to being dispatched on the drop of the hat, acclimating to the schedule here probably wouldn’t be too much of a pain.

“Three hours. I’ll let you know when I’m briefed.”

#Tanto x Reader #Tanto/Reader #Tanto x Y/N #13 hours #pablo schreiber #Kris Paronto #Kris Paronto x Reader #Kris Paronto/Reader

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pleasancies · 3 years

Text

Escape Attempt #1

wordcount : 1.8k+

cw : self harm, mention of past torture, suicidal behavior

tropes : lab whump, lady whump, failed escape attempt, manhandling, whumper as caretaker, sensory overload, wound agitation, blood (everywhere)

***

Previous Chapter

John laid her on the infirmary bed, the white sheets instantly turning red. He left, and Professor Clayton replaced his absence with Lisette trailing behind. He had accompanied Avis to the institute, wrestled against five foot long greenery and walked over the pile of carcasses, yet his coat and pants doesn't look affected at all.

"Fenrir, I wager I never properly introduced myself."

"I've heard about you. Get lost."

Clayton glanced at Lisette. She hurried to the storage room. His side leaned against the bedframe. He reached for Avis's ankle. He held it in a vice grip. Plastic casing rubbed against gaping wound.

Avis grit her teeth, ended up voicing a guttural groan instead. Her voice was strained as she managed a 'stop'.

"I'll stop if you let me work on you. Cooperate."

"Just kill me and get it over with."

Clayton twisted his grip. The burning sensation multiplied. "It would be a mercy. Don't you understand? You lost the choice to kill yourself the moment you're trapped with us."

"Watch me," Avis said between grunts of pain. The edge of the wound on her ankle skinned raw. She tried catching Clayton's hand, but he had withdrawn his hold. He went into his pocket. The shock stunned Avis's like a slap to her face.

"Alright, try. Right in front of me. I'll help you even. Say the word, and I'll turn on your shock bracelet to full blast. You'll scream and writhe under this bed until you shit yourself. After I'm sure you're dead, I'll took your brain and put it inside a warbeast. I'll save the handful of memories that makes you you. The next thing you know, you're tearing your comrades limb from limb and there's nothing you can do about it."

Avis didn't bother to hide the fear in her face. It was abhorrent. Even the most pro-monarchy man she met would squirm with the idea. She think back to the warbeast she'd slain. Their eyes, does it ever glowed the way a human would? The bout of nausea was back. Avis covered her mouth, swallowing a gulp of saliva.

Lisette was back. She was carrying a table filled with medical kit. There's a thin smile on her face. A cross between smug and content. Did she heard?

Professor Clayton doesn't wait for permission. He took a small screwdriver, methodically disassemble the ankle bracelet. The man is practically oozing with competence. His steps were hurried but certain. Years of experience in researching alien technology shows clearly in the lines of his face and the coat he wears.

Meanwhile, Lisette worked on her smaller scrapes and bruises. She cleaned her up, dabbing a soaked rag across her bloodied face. She started from the top, wiping up Avis's blood matted hair first. Cool water dripped from her neck. Avis supressed a shiver. The intern nurse's fascination to her scars and peculiarities had died down. Lisette didn't even seem to care if she is alive. She grab a clump of hair, pulling it from the base of the scalp. All that for Avis to lift her chin.

"Cut it out, Lise."

"Stop what? I'm taking care of you."

Avis let it slide. Frustration welled deep inside of her. She let Lisette tug at her shoulder, poke and prod the bruises on her back like it was nothing. Her fingers somehow managed to find every point her body hurt most and make it worse. She hated it, the way people would play others like a toy if they could get away with it. She looked down on the bed, watching her shaking fingers. Avis wasn't feeling particularly cold, but her hands just wouldn't let up. She wondered how they distributed their tasks or what Lisette and John will do after their internship.

"What's wrong?" Lisette asked.

"My hands."

Lisette frowned. Concern crossed her face. Even Clayton stopped.

It was Avis turn to ask now. "What's wrong with me?" As if anyone would give a straight answer.

"Nothing. The trigger serum wasn't exactly a full success is all." Clayton draw a small incision on her ankle. The pain was dulled. It flared slightly as he fully opened the second layer of bracelet clinging on to her skin. "The Fenrir formula adjusts it's effects depending on the host. You'll always get the same enhancements of course, but each of it's potency differs in each person. You and the first Fenrir weren't the same, obviously. Not even similar. We need to run some basic test first before your reeducation. During your reeducation, we'll recalibrate the trigger serum. And then, you'll go through this test again. Ready as ever."

The professor dips a wad of cotton to a small jar. He gently dabbed it against the skin. The oily fluid runs againt the burning wound, causing Avis to wince.

"Now, now, don't flinch. I assure you, your next test will be so much more this would feel like a gentle stroke in comparison."

Avis scowled at her doctor. Fucking fantastic. Another round of tests, surgeries, physically molding her into the perfect hound. And a long session of brainwashing, mentally shaping her until she could strangle her comrades and derive joy out of the act. Avis needs to escape. And she doesn't even know which research facility they held her in. Empire's Defense Department my foot, practically every Institute is made for them. It's simply the easiest way to gain funding.

Clayton and Lisette left shortly after. The entire session with John passed like a dream. He was strangely sheepish. Unlike yesterday, he doesn't bother to strap her arms and legs. Avis was too tired to notice. Or even think. She slept.

A couple of days have passed when her hands and legs stop feeling like stone. It was midday. There's no other patients but her. One nurse stationed near the door. The same one she'd seen when Lisette brought her here to recover from her bruised ribs. It doesn't took long for her to notice Avis was staring.

"Yes, Avis? Anything you need?"

"Uh, some water please." Avis looked away, heat growing in her cheeks. Is she really that obvious? Embarrasing. Valerie was nice. She was the only one who called her with her real name. Shame knotted in her gut. Just a minute ago she was thinking how to incapacitate her. If only Valerie knew the reason why Avis was staring at her.

Valerie set the glass to her bedside. "Next time, talk."

Avis mouthed a thank you. She stared at her drink, unwilling to touch it. The beige walls of the infirmary looks a lot like the first hospital she got into as a patient. It was a strike that had gone awry. She was separated from her friends. The Empire's officers doesn't care if she was young or a woman. She could still remember the faint taste of rubber boots in her tongue. Her broken leg had healed a long time ago, but the dull ache in her foot stays every winter. Back then, Emmett and Sherman hadn't joined their organization. James got arrested. Their old friends like Thomas and Mike were either too injured or busy dealing with the fallout. Nancy alone had to hold her in a bridal carry.

"Well? Aren't you going to drink that?"

"Sorry, Valerie. Just zoned out a bit."

The infirmary nurse sat beside her. "Had something on your mind?"

"Yeah, actually. Do you think I should be reeducated?"

"I'm not an expert opinion on that. You should consult your handler."

"No, I'm not asking for you to revoke my probationary status. I just want to know your personal opinion."

Valerie pursed her lips, her face drawn in concern. She glanced at the camera in the ceiling. It's too unreliable to pick up sounds or even the movement of her lips.

"I'm conflicted to be be honest. You... you did a lot of bad things to other people, but when I got to know you better, it's obvious that you're just lost. Those Heretical men used and abused you. You're one of the good ones, Avis."

"Thanks," Avis said. Her heart sanked. "I'm really sorry, though."

Before Valerie could react, she swung the glass to her face.

***

There are two major types of pain. Acute or chronic. There are other classifications based on what caused it for or how debilitating it is, but it was irrelevant. In the context of Avis triggers, there's three. All of them present in her current situation.

She was backed to a corner. The soldiers were split in two. A small squad were standing at the bottom of the stairs, while a couple of them guard the door she sneaked out from. Drops of blood trailed her departure. It formed a line, then a puddle below her wrist. Avis cradled her bleeding hand. A piece of tape still stuck on the edge of her wound. Her hand is throbbing, a continous pulse that quickens alongside her heart rate.

A man started to climb towards her and Avis brings her hand on the edge of the wound. Clawing at the edges.

"Stop," she said. "Took one step closer and I'll fucking eat you." She hissed, partly due to pain and a spontaneous urge to do so. The hiss turned to a groan as she dip her fingers in. The floor sways slightly under her feet. Red stained her hospital gown.

This is manageable, she insist. What was she thinking? She doesn't even know where she is. It's fine! People had run away without figuring out where are they are. But she's escaping an military complex. Stupid, reckless! But she doesn't have a choice right? Barnes had warned her. Clayton had fucking taunted her.

Avis shield her eyes from the light, blood running through her face. The buzz of fluorescent lamp almost drowned the murmur of conversation between soldiers. Her senses grew sharper with every hurt she inflicted. A dull ache growing on the base of her nails, gums, and joints. This time the transformation was slower. Passive, even. Slow enough, she could understand the change in her mindset. Her stomach was already empty before she did her escape, but now the hunger pangs were almost unbearable.

Avis taunted between gasps of breath, "Go on, shoot me like an animal."

The door at the bottom of stairs swings open. Someone spoke, and the voice sends a chill to her spine.

"Don't listen to her. She can't hurt you. She's not under the trigger serum."

Professor Clayton strides up the stairs. Avis's legs scrambles backward but there's only solid concrete behind her. His eye settled on her arms.

"You pulled off your IV. Are you afraid of needles?"

"No, just don't want to be drugged again. It's what you do. You'll wait until I let my guard down before testing."

Avis glowered. The armed guards advanced to protect Professor Clayton. Nothing they give is safe. Anything could be drugged. Food, medicine, even the air she breathed.

"The test wasn't due for a week. But I could speed things up for you. How about the day after tomorrow? How does that sound?"

She tackled him, but there was no power in her arms. Avis collapse on his chest, her vision darkened. Gravity rapidly dragging her feet. The last thing she remembered was her nails, puncturing Clayton's shirt and flesh.

Next Chapter

#whump fic #lab whump #lady whump #failed escape attempt #whumper as caretaker #manhandling #sensory overload #suicide cw #self harm cw #past torture #injury whump #bleeding out #wound agitation

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februaryberries · 4 years

Text

Study (?) tips that you don’t see on every study post

Hi gamers, I just finished my first year at college/university!!

This year was really a struggle for me because I was trying to get the help I needed for my mental health, and I did not succeed until literally the week before finals spring term. I just got diagnosed w ADHD and put on meds (thank god) and I’m excited for the next year to come.

Though this year was absolutely grueling I did discover some little tips that can really help ! This is coming from my experience w ADHD but it could relate to other neurodiverse learners as well ! Even if you are neurotypical some of these might help !!

This post got really long so I’m gonna put it under the cut but, main Idea is bolded w a more in depth explanation underneath ( for those like me who see a block of text and go running)

In no particular order:

If you can/are up for it take a class before noon even if you are not a morning person. I am NOT saying take an 8am when u regularly go to bed at 4am! Bc that is dumb bb pls get some sleep. In my experience once I go to class my brain is like “oh things are happening now, it is actually a day and not just existing in a timeless hellscape.”

Once I am out of bed/out of my room I am at least mildly more productive for the rest of the day. Going to a class before noon means you are up and doing things for the day and early enough that you still have light. This ties into the next one

Start while it’s still light out!! At least for me I gain so much happiness from natural light/sunlight, and it is very hard for me to do things let alone START things once it’s dark out because my brain is like nope the day is over now. Plus in the fall/winter days days are getting shorter and shorter so it’s important to make use of as much daylight as you can. I feel like a plant w how much I rely on light to survive but it really does help!

Put on ‘Real People’ clothes. This is something that really helps me, even if it’s just like, jeans and a turtleneck, maybe tucked in w a belt. I’ve found that when I put on academic-y clothes or like Adult clothes it helps me switch my brain into school mode. It’s kinda like putting on a uniform for work? If I’m in too loose of clothes or like pyjamas for example, I’m much less likely to be able to switch my brain into productive mode. For me especially its when i’m wearing tighter clothing rather than baggy ones? Like i said a turtleneck which like the sleeves are fitted to my arms, and jeans or pants that are fitted to my legs. I think it helps because it makes me more aware of my body in the space? Idk. figure out what real people clothes feel like to you, and then have a couple of go to outfits you can slip on when you’ve been in a hoodie and sweatpants all day and really need to get some work done.

On that note, put on shoes. For me along w the tight clothing, I do better in shoes, specifically ones that lace up and can be tight. Like hightop converse, or boots, or even dress shoes w laces. I think in a way my body needs to be contained so I can focus on something? I’m not sure why I feel like that but i’ve learned to work w it. Putting on shoes for me helps because

1. I’m not distracted by what I’m putting my bare feet on (i cannot stand wearing socks unless im wearing shoes so yes bare feet)

2. I’m not getting distracted by my floor n the fact that hey maybe i should sweep bc there are some crumbs sticking to my feet now.

And 3. You put on shoes when you are going to go outside and go somewhere. It’s like putting pyjamas on to go to bed, you’re brain associates those items with doing something, so putting on shoes can signal to your brain hey we are doing something now, and that something is work.

Talk to your teachers !! I understand sometimes you have a teacher from hell and honestly idk what to tell you at that point but in a lot of cases teachers can be very understanding !! The amount of support I’ve gotten from my teachers this year is absolutely insane and 100% the only thing that made it so I didn’t get kicked out of college. Like reaching out to your teachers shows that you care! if you have to take a mental health day sometimes let them know !! i would always let my teacher know that I really wanted to be in class but I just couldn’t handle it that day. They also can help connect you to resources you didn’t know about !

Look into what resources your school has !! I was talking about how next year is gonna go now that I’ve been diagnosed and such with my friend, and how I was gonna contact the DRC (disability resource center) and she didn’t know you could get support for having ADHD!! Like I know you can get extensions on due dates, attendance forgiveness, and even potentially note taking assistance when you have ADHD and talk to them. even if you are medicated it doesn’t 100% solve everything and there are still ways to get support! Whether its study groups, writing centers/support, tutoring, or even contacting your drc or whatever your school has, it can really help!! I’m definitely going to take advantage of these resources if I can next year !

Find a place outside you can go to clear your head (or have a mental breakdown)

I can’t even begin to count the amount of times i’ve been freaking out over something or stressed out of my mind and my room started to feel to stuffy and claustrophobic and i just needed to get OUT. try to make sure it’s somewhere safe and close that you can go to even at night. (maybe try to shoot a text to your best friend that you’re out and if you don’t let them know you’re home by a certain time to start raising alarm, your safety is the most important) I tend to like to be up high because i’m further away from people, and the streets and I’m closer to the sky.

My go to thinking/breakdown spot is the roof of the parking garage a block away. It has stairs that are easy access and the top levels are usually empty even during the day. It really helps me to just go out and listen to music and collect my thoughts sometimes. My head can start going a million directions at lightspeed and I need to stop and be present, and being outside helps. It’s a good way to regroup.

Spend 10 minutes picking up your desk/work space. I tend to let my room get cluttered and messy and out of control a lot, to the point where I know it’s going to take at least a couple hours to get it clean again. It is also hard to focus when you’re in a messy environment. I would stress myself out and be like “well i HAVE to clean my whole room because I can’t focus if my space isnt clean I cant start until I clean” and then I would put all of my productive energy into cleaning, and get maybe halfway done before burning out and going to bed.

You’re never going to get any work done if you keep in this mindset. So instead just spend 10 minutes picking up the garbage off your desk, put the dishes in the kitchen, and put things back in their place. Then you will have enough space to work on your assignment and that space will be free of clutter so it won’t be as stressful.

DRINK WATER DRINK WATER DRINK WATER

Have a water bottle in front of you when you’re studying/in class. I get fidgety a lot when i’m in class/studying (thank u adhd) and so having a water bottle is a way for me to fidget I guess? Depending on the water bottle, you have little steps you have to do to drink that help u fidget,

for example: pick it up, take off the lid, drink, put the lid back on, set it down.

Or pick up, push button that opens drink hole (?), set back down.

When I have a water bottle on my desk it satisfies my need to do something with my body and comes with the bonus of staying hydrated, without me having to lose focus doing something else. Also you won’t get distracted by a sore throat or the realization that you are really thirsty.

Pay attention to why you’re not paying attention. Not everything that works for me is going to work for you, so you have to figure out what works for you. I started to notice that I would be uncomfortable or feel funny working when I was in baggy clothes and that helped me figure out I needed to wear real people clothes. If you find yourself getting distracted, take note of what is distracting you. maybe try literally making a list of things that distract you, so then you can identify patterns and how to combat them !

That’s all I have for now, I hope some of these could maybe help? All of these have helped me actually complete an assignment occasionally, and somehow keep my ass in college. I just want to say that my experience is my own and things that work for me aren’t going to work on every one. college can be really tough, especially your first year when you’re trying to figure everything out. I may not have all the answers but feel free to shoot me a message!! i’m here for you if you want to ramble about an assignment you’re fed up with or a teacher you hate or anything thats bothering you !! Everyone’s college (and life) experience is different so don’t feel bad if yours doesn’t look the same as the people around you ! Remember to take care of yourselves !!!

Have a good day :)

#mine #study tips #college tips #study advice #adhd tips #?#studyblr #study #bullet journal #bujo #dark academia #light academia #I'm fucking trying academia #notes #muji #college advice #idk how to tag #i hope these kinda sorta make sense lol

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girlpornparadise · 4 years

Text

Chances (pt2)

Pairing: Esteban/f!Reader (There is a New World Somewhere - Maurice Compte)

Word Count: ~2000

Smut warning: We got there, there’s smut.

Personal ramble: I know he’s a broken mess, but I love him so much. He’s still my disaster angel, I can fix him, I swear!

Part 1 is here

Friday can't come soon enough, but the anticipation comes with a dose of dread.

Make dinner? What were you thinking? Why did you pick your weakest domestic skill to showcase? That was dumb.

You decide to make a stir-fry and a chocolate cake. You figure you can't mess them up too badly.

You rush out of work a bit early to give yourself ample time to assemble a passable home cooked meal. Trying your best not to make blue soup of the matter, you go about cooking like one of those women in an infomercial who just can't get anything right. Buzzing around the kitchen with just enough competence, you manage to finish the stir-fry and get the cake out of the oven before it has a chance to burn.

You have just enough time to get out of your comparatively dowdy work clothes and into those jeans that hug your butt and a t-shirt that is just a little too low cut.

As you are straightening the settings on the table and the pillows on the couch, the doorbell rings and you almost jump out of your skin.

He stands at your door, bottle of wine in hand. He too has opted for jeans that probably hug his butt perfectly, and a shirt that's too low cut, his being a button up that is not nearly buttoned up enough.

The peak at his perfect pecs distracts you and you take just a little too long to say "Please, come in." You worry he noticed, but fortunately he's too much of a gentleman to call you out on it.

He sets the bottle down on the dining room table and excuses himself to the bathroom. You fill the plates in the kitchen and bring them to the table just as he's sitting down.

"This smells delicious." He observes, and you hope that the remark is genuine and not just polite.

Once you seat yourself he pours you a glass of wine with the skill of a bartender, and you are left to assume that he probably was one in a past life. A Jack of all trades it would seem.

As you both tuck into the meal, he asks you about your day and you ask him the same in return. He peppers in a few charming anecdotes he probably uses on what you imagine to be many dates, but they make you smile nonetheless. He asks enough about you to keep the conversation flowing, and you open up about yourself as the wine relaxes you.

When dinner is finished you both take your wine over to the couch. You rest it on the coffee table and when you return from the kitchen you are carrying 2 slices of chocolate cake.

"I'm impressed." He says taking the small plate from you.

"Well, we are celebrating after all." You say as you sit down beside him.

He raises his eyebrows in question.

"I finally submitted my proposal today."

"Congratulations. That's great news." He says covering his mouth when he realized he started talking with a mouthful of cake.

"I couldn't have done it without you." You smile. And the smile he offers in return is soft and kind and it makes you want to brush away the crumbs in his beard that frame that perfect smile.

You both finish your cake and he wipes away those crumbs with a napkin, but the smile still remains.

Like the cake, his eyes are deep and brown and chocolatey and they look at you warmly. The silence of anticipation has settled over you both and all you can do is notice each other's subtle movements. Breathing steadily, shifting slightly in your seat, glancing at each other's features and mapping the parts you especially like.

He lifts his hand and strokes down your cheek with the back of his forefinger. When it reaches your chin, he drags it towards himself, urging your jaw forward and tilting it slightly upwards. Your eyes lock onto his before both sets close as his lips lightly brush yours. Shifting his hand to cup your cheek, you both lean into the kiss. It's warm and soft and pleasantly moist. Your mouth parts open and his tongue slips inside, lapping gently against yours. He tastes like chocolate and wine and happiness. Your hand comes up and presses against his chest for balance and contact and you feel it rise and fall, matching the rhythm of his warm breath against your face. His hand shifts back into your hair and your ears thunder with your own heartbeat. You bring up your other hand and place it on the back of his neck, brushing lightly against his soft hairline. With one hand cupping your head and the other on your upper arm, he pulls you in tighter, grasping slightly to show his need.

You break away from his kiss momentarily to shift yourself closer to him and see the lust flickering in his eyes, matching your own. You take a deep breath and press your lips to his once more, eyes closed, taking in his sound, his scent, his taste.

You can tell he wants to move fast, and your desperation for his affection leaves you wanting the same, but you try to maintain enough control to keep kissing him without moving any further. You can feel his frustration build at your hesitation, and you relish it, feeling his desire in his every move.

He decides he's had enough and seizes control of you. As his hands grip your hips, you feel the strain of his biceps beneath your hands while he lifts you easily onto his lap. Once he positions you straddling him, he pulls you down to grind against him, and you feel his erection growing beneath you. His hands shift upwards to your lower back and yours tangle in the hair at the back of his head and the searing kiss continues.

You raise your chin and throw your head back slightly and he seizes the opportunity to kiss your exposed neck. But you've lost control and a quiet moan escapes you. He smirks against your neck and takes this as his cue to run his hands up under your shirt. They are warm and slightly calloused and as they reach the sensitive sides of your ribcage you shudder slightly from the tingle you feel. You assumed he was reaching for your chest, but his hands move to your back and unclasp your bra in a single movement. He bends his elbows upwards so his muscular forearms are parallel with the floor and in doing so lifts your shirt. You pull away from him to allow him to pull your shirt over your head and toss it aside. As you free yourself from your loosely hanging bra he takes the opportunity to remove his shirt.

Your eyes rake over his abs and chest and you audibly gasp at the perfection before you. As your eyes meet his again, his tongue darts out and retracts slowly. For a fraction of a second you are both still, taking in each other's forms and calming your breathing. The moment passes and suddenly his hands are cupping your breasts and your hands are grabbing his biceps to pull him closer. His thumbs swipe over your already hard nipples and you whimper at the exquisite feeling.

With his hands on your back for support, he raises himself off the couch, holding you to him. You squeeze your thighs around his hips and release them as he lays you down on the couch. His fingers find your fly and you watch as he deftly unbuttons it. He pinches the tab of your zipper and pulls it down. He does it slowly as he notices you're watching and smiles as you inhale sharply at the tease. Satisfied that he has your full attention he hooks his hands into your waistbands and yanks down your jeans and panties roughly while you arch your back to assist him. You watch him unhook them from your feet and toss them away.

You would feel very exposed and a little self conscious if you weren't marveling at his musculature with every movement he makes. He stands and undoes his jeans, and pulls them down and steps out of them. You expected that his boxers would be next but...

Omg, he isn't wearing any.

Your eyes go wide and he grins, having done this specifically for your benefit. It had the intended effect as you're practically dripping on the couch. Your eyes remain wide but focused on his thick erection and you lick your lips. Your eyes meet his again and he leans over you on the couch. Your legs spread to accommodate his wide hips and he rests his arms on either side of you.

Watching his eyes and feeling his weight on top of you, he shifts his hips to line up with your center. As he pushes himself forward, he parts you open. As each firm inch enters you, your mouth falls open but no sound comes out. In the silence you hear a very soft "oh fuck" pass his lips.

Your hands move to his neck and you use your thumbs to help guide his jaw downwards to your face. His tongue is pressed against yours and you feel enjoyably crushed by all of the pressure his body is exerting. He trails his mouth to nip at your jaw and he works his way up to scrape his teeth along your earlobe. It makes you moan and tremble.

You grip his shoulders, forearms pressed against his back and you can feel his muscles strain and relax with each ebb of his thrusts. With his mouth so close to your ear you can hear his broken sighs and muted moans. It makes your insides liquefy.

His thrusts begin to gain urgency and strength and your toes tense as his cock presses past your most sensitive spot. As your cries are louder and more frequent, he lifts himself up to look into your eyes. You squeeze yours shut at the intensity of his movements, but he puts his hand on your chin and tilts your head ever so slightly forward. It pulls your attention to his eyes and you are lost in his deep brown gaze. He ghosts his lips over yours and presses an almost chaste kiss to your cheek. You hum, your own lips pressed firmly together.

As you rock your hips more demandingly his thrusts keep pace. You're panting and shaking and he knows you are close. He bows his head next to yours and whispers in your ear. "You're so beautiful." It sends you reeling over the edge and your orgasm tears through your core, to your voice, to a thundering cry close to his ear. He lifts himself slightly as the thrusts continue their urgent pace. You watch his face tense and his eyes squeeze shut as his jaw drops open. He releases a grunting cry as he releases his cum into your quivering core, his final thrusts rocking you into the couch cushions.

Exhausted but glowing, you hum your satisfaction. He sits up, panting and runs his hand through his own hair. You smile up at him and he smiles back. After passing you some tissues, you sit up and settle yourself against his chest. He wraps an arm around you and you raise and fall with his heavy breathing. Once you both catch your breath, you sit up and he kisses you lightly on the lips.

"How about a shower?" you offer, and leaving your clothes strewn about the living room, you lead him by the hand to your bathroom.

#maurice compte #there is a new world somewhere #horacio carrillo x reader #nope still not him #but maybe someone will actually find the love of my life this way #love him!

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evendeadlmthehero · 5 years

Text

The Five Year Promise: A Night to Forget (1/10)

Summary: Y/N Stark, 20 year old superhero, makes a promise with a 16 year old Peter Parker after being cheated on, that if she hasn’t found love in the next 5 years, they’d finally go on a date. Then the snap happens. Y/N is gone and Peter isn’t.

Warnings: NSFW, swearing, angst

The Five Year Promise Masterlist

Part 2

2016, After the events of Civil War

“Harry,” you moaned as your nails scratched the surface of the skin on his back. Your toes curled as you were nearing the end.

You don’t know how this all started. All you know is that you and your boyfriend, Harry Osborne, were getting ready for your 6 month anniversary dinner at the most exclusive reasturant in New York.

You were wearing a red dress and apparently Harry had a fetish for red dresses. So here you are, makeup not as polished as it looked a few minutes and hair looking dishevelled.

“Patience babe,” Harry spoke as his eyes were screwed tight, thinking about the pressure between his hips. “I’m almost there.”

Your legs felt numb and you knew you were close. You were almost at climax before the door of your room was opened abruptly, making you quickly push Harry off you and dive under covers.

“I-,” Peter started, his face turning beet red as he realised what was going. Your hair was messy and both you and Harry were panting. It didn’t take a genius to guess what you were both up to. “Y-your Dad, Mr Stark, left to-to-“

“Fuck off Parker,” Harry cut him off, standing out of the bed in all his naked glory. “Can’t you see that we’re busy?”

Peter’s face went a darker shade of red, giving you a quick glance. You swear you could see his eyes glistening with tears but before you can make out exactly what it was, he quickly left the room, slamming the door with him.

Harry let out an infamous smirk, before turning around to you and walking towards you. “Now where were we?”

He leaned down to kiss you on your lips but you quickly moved your head to the side, causing him to kiss your cheek instead. “No Harry.”

“What do you mean no?” Harry scoffed, his eyes filling with rage, before realisation. He let out a bitter laugh before facing you. “Are you serious? You’re mad because I told Parker to fuck off?”

You got out of the bed and begun dressing up, picking up the shirt from the floor. “You have to be soft on him, he’s like a little boy. My dad is in love with him, he’d kill you if he found out you were rude to him.”

“He’d also kill me if he found out I’m fucking his daughter but that’s not stoping me,” Harry laughed, expecting a laugh from you, but it didn’t come out. You let out a sigh, shaking your head at his vulgar words and lack of respect for your father.

“Oh come on Y/N it was a joke!”

You rolled your eyes at him, wearing your shorts and hanging your red dress back in your wardrobe. “I’m going to go check up on him. One, to make sure he’s not crying because of you and two, to make sure he doesn’t tell dad what we were doing. He still thinks I’m a virgin.”

“Peter’s scared of me, of course he won’t tell,” Harry scoffed at you, watching you tie your hair up into a bun. “I mean he’s just an intern. I’m Y/N Stark’s boyfriend. He isn’t that important anyway.”

You let out a snort in your head at the comment. No one but your Dad and yourself, as well as some of the Avengers, knew who Peter Parker actually was.

“My Dad likes him more than he likes you,” you commented, turning around to look at him. “I’m going to check up on him.”

“Fine,” Harry spat out, getting up from your bed. You watched as he angrily put his suit back on. He chucked his tie around his neck and frustratedly shook his head at you.

“So much for 6 month anniversary. Go have fun being a fucking baby sitter.”

He looked at you one last time before leaving your room, slamming the door shut. You let out a sigh, closing your eyes for a minute.

Harry didn’t like Peter and vice versa. Harry was mad that your dad liked Peter more and Peter didn’t like Harry because he bullied the little kid and always made out in front of him with you to gross him out.

Or at least that’s why you thought Harry did it. The reason why Harry really did it is because he could sense that Peter had a crush on you so he did it to piss him off. And every time he did it, Peter would storm him, making him smirk in victory.

“F.R.I.D.A.Y, where’s Peter right now?” you asked her.

“In his room Ms Stark.”

You turn around, open the door of your room and leave, walking towards the direction of Peter’s temporary room that was set up just to make sure his Aunt really believed this is an internship.

A couple of months ago, Peter was found by your father and bought in to fight the other Avengers who had gone rouge. You were first apprehensive, with him still being a teenager, but then you remembered when you discovered quantum technology and fought in the battle of New York at 15 years old.

You were able to harness quantum particles into bands that you wore around your wrists to shoot energy blasts as strong as Wanda’s energy blasts. You then figured that if you put bands around your ankles, you could use the power and pressure of the energy blasts to fly; similarly to your father.

Your suit was inspired by Black Widow’s suit, because you loved her. She was like a mother figure to you, only tied to Pepper who took care of you 24/7 and called you everyday. Natasha inspired you a lot, as she was the first female avenger and always gave you advice and girl talk.

She loved you like you were her own and you loved her due to the lack of mother figures in your life. But during 2006 to 2012, you had gained two mothers and you were estactic.

However, instead of having your suit black, you made your suit white with blue outlining (because you loved Kim Possible as a child and her look in her movie). Your alias that people had created for you was Quasar, which you thought was an ugly name but got used to after a little google search on what it meant.

Peter was fanboying the moment he met you, but not as much as he did when he met your dad. The boy lacked a father figure and used your father as the missing piece. And you couldn’t blame him, you knew exactly how it felt.

You finally make it to Peter’s door and knock on it carefully. “Peter?”

There was no reply so you let out a sigh. “Peter listen. I’m sorry about Harry. He can be a little rude and aggressive sometimes.”

“Then why are you with him?” You heard a little voice say behind the door.

You’re quiet for a secound, angry at yourself for letting Harry make Peter this upset. “Maybe when you’re my age, you’ll understand what love can do to you.”

The moment that left your lips, the door was pulled open and you were greeting by a tearful Parker boy. “Love? Is that what you call that between you guys?”

“Peter-“

“You mean when he forgets your birthday on the Y/B/D. Or how you don’t like those fancy restaurants he takes you to, you like Y/F/R. Or how- how sometimes you don’t like wearing revealing clothing because of your scars, but I guess he doesn’t mind as long as other boys don’t perv on you!” Peter rambled, his face getting redder by the minute.

At first, you were shocked he knew those things about you, with the last thing being the most personal. But then you saw the look on Peter’s face and realised this little kid saw you as a sister, and he just wanted to best for you. “Hey Peter, how about we go inside your room, yeah?”

Peter took a deep breath, trying to calm himself down, before swallowing nervously.

“Yeah,” he replied back in a tiny voice, wiping his tears with the sleeves of his shirt. He then moved to the side, letting you in his room.

You walk in, seeing posters of Star Wars and lego pieces scrambled on the floor. You smiled in your head, ‘classic Pete’, you thought.

You sat on Peter’s bed, nodding at him to come over. Peter stares at you for a while, thinking how beautiful you are. How smart you are. How funny you are.

He remembered the day he met you. He had landed down at Germany, where he’d soon fight Captain America. But before he did, he heard a knock on the door of his hotel room.

And there you were, with a beaming smile he’d never forget. You dressed up in a black leather jacket, sunglasses on your forehead and black jeans accompanied by black combat shoes. You were wearing a dark red singlet with a matching lipstick. To Peter, you were absolutely breathtaking.

“Hi, I’m Y/N Stark,” you stuck your hand out at the Parker boy while he looked at you dumbstruck. Because you were Y/N Stark.

Y/N Stark, named the top ten most hottest female celebrity in the world.

Y/N Stark, the girl everyone spoke about at his school.

Y/N Stark, the girl who discovered how to harness Quantum energy into bands, making her just as powerful, if not more, as Thor the god of thunder himself.

Y/N Stark, now standing outside his door with a smile on her face like it was nothing. “I-I- shit your Y/N Stark.”

And then you giggled. That kind of giggle that made Peter blush. That kind of giggle that made Peter realise he was going to lose his sanity with you around.

And now you were sitting on his bed, with his tear blotched eyes looking at you apprehensively. “C’mon spidey.”

He let out a little smile at that nickname before sitting beside you, his muscles a little tense. You laughed at him, hitting his shoulder playfully.

“Relax I’m not going to scold you.”

Peter let loose a little bit, but he was still tense. How could he not be? He just revealed the things he knew about her. Were you weirded out? Scared of him? He didn’t know and that had him panicked.

“Pete, I want you to know that you mean a lot to me,” you begun. Peter’s heart quickened at your words, but his body turned cold as he heard your next words.

“You’re like part of this family and I know family look out for each other. But Harry is good. He’s nice. And I know you two don’t get along. But that’s because he’s mad that dad likes you more,” you chuckled at that. “But I really like him Pete. I love him. And I hope you two get along one day because you two both mean the world to me. You’re more than Spider-Man and he’s more than the tough guy act he puts out..”

Peter sighed, looking down at his palms. He gave you a little nod, making you smile at him. He hated that he couldn’t tell you how he felt. He hated how there was an age gap between you two, and how you saw him as a little brother.

He wished he was older. Maybe, just maybe, he would have a chance with you. And if he did have that chance, he’d treat you like an angel. He’d treat you how you were meant to be treated and not like how Harry treated you.

Like a little token to show off to paparazzi and keep his little Osborn name in the news.

“Good night Pete,” you whispered as you got up from his bed, walking over to his door. Before you opened, an uncomfortable look plastered itself on your face. “And Peter?”

Peter looked up from his hands to look at her.

“Please don’t tell Dad what you saw?”

And in that comment, Peter felt like absolute shit. Like you only came here to make sure he wouldn’t say a word to her father, not because you actually cared.

‘Why would she care?’ He thought in his head. ‘She’s Y/N Stark. She’s a daughter of a billionaire, dating the son of another billionaire. I’m a kid who can’t give her what she deserves.’

“Yeah sure,” he replied instead, giving you a small smile. You smiled back, giving him one last look before leaving his room.

Leaving Peter on his own.

Taglist:

@kissingtrutharchives

@autobotgirl15-blog

@clockblobber

@im-a-stranger-thing

@isabella-bby

@spidermansmj14

@benevolentgemini

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@hollandinq

@lordofthunderthr

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bookocd · 3 years

Text

Light as Air Chapter 3

Here is the next installment of my Fenrys fanfic. If anyone has any prompts for me feel free to reach out and if anyone wants to be tagged for when I update, just let me know :)

Thank you so much for reading!

Tag List:

@wxstedhexrt

Summary:

In the aftermath of Kingdom of Ash, Fenrys finds himself connected with a mysteriously powerful fae female. With the confusion of her past and vast amount of power, the inner court becomes weary of Fenrys’s involvement. Fenrys is still reeling after Connall’s death and while joining Aelin’s court has been a dream, his nightmares are still plagued by Maeve. Vel will do anything to get the help she needs, but her past controls her emotions, and her hopes for the future clouds her judgement. Maybe together they can mend what has been broken, but Vel’s strange origins will continue to keep them apart.

Links:

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3:

The cloak, the gods-damned cloak covered everything. Her head was hanging low, engulfing her face in the shadow of her hood, except for a sliver of purple.

“Remove the cloak,” his growl tore through the silence. He didn’t understand his carnal need to see her, all of her.

The female’s body stiffened at the command, and Fenrys could tell that she was waging an internal war at whether or not to obey. He hoped she did, prayed she did.

Slowly, so slowly, her head bowed and deformed fingers reached toward the tie of her cloak. His whole body reacted to the contorted hands. His blood started to heat, red invaded his vision, and his jaw clenched hard enough to snap iron.

Everything cleared when the hood fell, and the rest of the blue fabric dripped off her shoulders like water, pooling at her feet.

Not one item of clothing fit her, the pants barely contained her muscles and cut her off mid shin, her shirt was tucked in, but it didn’t stop it from completely drowning out her top half, and the boots were fraying from years of wear.

All these thoughts ceased to exist when her head lifted. His eyes widened and he stopped breathing.

Her face was something created in his dreams, all angles, flecked with brown freckles across her nose and cheeks. Her hair was a deep black, with strands falling out of her braid near her pointed ears. Her eyes were even more striking, with sliver flecks shining in the morning sun. She was dark but light, roughly forged but soft featured, withered but flourishing, and he couldn’t take in her fast enough.

Her eyes dipped down and up, checking out his body, which would have amplified his grin, until she ended her browsing with an unimpressed look that left her shifting to put on hand on her sword. The movement shook him out of his stupor, and he stopped to take in all her weapons. She had a short sword with what looked to be golden bat wings on the hilt, various daggers strapped to her thighs and hips, and a great bow strapped to her back along with a leather quiver.

He couldn’t help but wonder how she could fight with her fingers and hands so contorted.

“Yes I know how to use them. All of them.” The female seemed to read his expression. Her voice was calming to him, it melted his bones, his soul.

“Alright golden boy, if you're done staring, can you tell me what you want.” The smirk on her face was delicious, but that voice he could listen to all day long. He actually considered closing his eyes as she spoke.

Her smirk faded when he moved closer. “What is your name sweetheart.”

She bristled at the term of endearment, like she hadn’t heard it before.

“I don’t see how that relevant.”

“What. Is. Your. Name.” He didn’t know why it was so important to hear her name, but he needed it.

She glared at him and didn’t seem inclined to tell him.

Wait, he thought, did she call me golden boy. His cocky grin turned more genuine and she flinched as though he had hit her.

Her body language turned into one ready to run. He couldn’t handle it, if she left again, so he started to talk.

“I felt your power the day of Aelin’s coronation, and was sent to see if you were a potential threat.” He didn’t know what made him lie, because is wasn’t power that drew him to this female and nobody had sent him.

For some reason she seemed to calm at the information, for some reason his lie soothed her.

She took a step forward and held her hand out. The fury that rose at the vision of her hands was doused the moment their hands met. Her skin was scarred and he could almost feel every bone, but she didn’t seem to be in pain, which made his shoulders sag in relief.

“You may call me Vel.”

He knew that wasn’t her name, he could feel it in his bones that she was lying. Every nerve was malfunctioning as their hands touched, and he couldn’t ignore it anymore.

Mate.

This is my mate.

It was obvious that she didn’t feel the bond, because she let go of his callused hand so easily when he could have held on for the rest of his immortal life.

It was also that moment that he felt the vastness of her power. It wasn’t flame, water, wind, or earth, but fluid. It had no form that he could feel, save for her, like it would become whatever she willed it to become. As of this moment, she willed it to be silent, like a slumbering giant.

His hand followed hers as they disconnected, but she didn’t seem to notice. She started to anxiously pick at her fingernails, unsure what to say next. It was the most perfect awkward silence he had ever been a part of.

Her anxiety melted away slowly, like she was becoming a different person, or deciding what role she wanted to play.

A coy smile played at her lips and her eyes devoured him. His physical reaction was sudden and he stopped himself from adjusting his leathers.

“So golden boy, have you decided if I’m a threat yet?” The innocent sounding question caught him off guard, but he hadn’t made a decision yet.

“Not yet.” With a pointed look to her various weapons. Her grin widened and he braced himself for her response.

“Well at least you’re smarter than you look.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure,” said a feline voice that came from behind him, with laughter in every word. Fenrys froze, knowing exactly who had spoke, and to her credit, Vel didn’t baulk at the female and male walking down the street. She did however, seem to radiate power, and he suddenly got very nervous.

Turning toward his queen and brother, he tried to block their view and gave them a warning look.

“Why don’t you introduce us to your friend?” Aelin apparently didn’t understand his warning gaze, but he could feel Vel behind him, feel her power slowly seeping into the ground and air surrounding them.

“I wouldn’t call us friends, so you can go now.” He tried to give the look to Rowan, but he was busy surveying the scene past his shoulder and ignoring Fenrys entirely.

Aelin looked as though she was going to responded, but Rowan put a hand out and halted their walk. Suddenly both their eyes widened and Rowan went slack jawed.

Fenrys saw the darkness slowly impeding his vision and turned.

Vel was standing, violet eyes shining and whole body shaking, in the middle of self-made darkness. Her hands were clenching and unclenching in a panicked motion. She looked physically sick, with sweat starting to bead on her forehead.

Fenrys took a step forward with her name on his lips, but was suddenly frozen.

—-

Vel’s shoulders were rapidly moving up and down, unable to stop the hyperventilating. She hadn’t been prepared for it. To see the queen.

As the darkness spread from her uncontrollably, spasms coursed through her body. It was as though her power was trying to protect her from any outside forces it deemed to be dangerous. This hadn’t happened with the golden male, who was staring at her, terror coating his gaze. The white haired male had a sword in one hand and the queen’s flames were covering her arms, both ready for a fight.

Stop, please stop, she tried to tell her self, tried to tell the others. It wasn’t until he took a step toward her that her power exploded from her freezing everything in sight, but not with ice, but literal time. She was the only one that could move, not any of the court members, not the crowd who had heard the commotion, not even the fucking queen.

Breathe, in and out. You control it. You own it. Her fathers words came crashing into her mind. His wrinkled tanned skin and big brown eyes, flashed before her. His smile, his laugh. Him sitting in the cellar with her, reading on the floor, because there was no room in the bed.

The darkness started to dissipate and dissolve, and one by one the people gained the ability to move once again.

She didn’t have the energy to feel scared or mortified by her lack of control. Gold flashed in her vision as her legs started to give out. She passed out with a warm hand on her cheek and onyx eyes peering into her soul, she couldn’t help but smile.

#sarah j maas #throne of glass #crown of midnight #heir of fire #queen of shadows #empire of storms #kingdom of ash #sjm fandom #fenrys moonbeam #aelin ashryver #rowan whitethorn

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lousimusician · 5 years

Text

Sex Pollen Part 3

Pairing: Peter Parker x Stark!Reader

Summary: You make your decision on how to help Peter.

Warning: Smut

A/N: HERE YOU GO, PART 3. ENJOY THE SMUT

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You groaned looking at the time on your clock.

1:00 am

You hadn't been able to sleep at all. The whole Peter situation keeping you up.

You knew what you wanted to do. It wasn't a difficult situation to make. You've had sex before (You were a Stark after all) and with it being Peter the decision was even easier to make.

It just still felt like you would be taking advantage of Peter somehow.

You sighed, sitting up, letting the sheets fall off your body.

You pushed the sheets away, swinging your legs over the side of the bed and getting up, deciding to head to the lab.

You stood outside, seeing that the plant was gone, and your dad and Bruce were pulling an all nighter, as you expected.

You lightly knocked, before letting yourself in.

Tony looked over at you. "I thought I told you to stay in your room?" He said, quirking an eyebrow.

You rolled your eyes. "I just wanted to know if you guys made any progress, you've been down here for hours."

"Well," Bruce said, looking up from the microscope he had been peering down. "We took a few samples of the plants, and just a few hours ago, we got samples of Peter."

You nodded, walking over to Bruce, and looking at the three microscopes that were set up, with an array of swabs just to the side. Bruce had been going on about something, but you ignored him, taking it upon yourself to see the samples.

The first one was a blood sample, but to your disappointment it looked perfectly normal.

You moved to the next one. A cheek swab. And once again the cells looked normal.

The next one was a little personal, but given the situation, you suppose it was necessary, because it was a sperm sample. And once again.

It. Was. Normal.

You furrowed your eyebrows.

"What the hell?" You said, turning to Bruce. "Everything is fine. Do you guys really have nothing?"

"I wouldn't say nothing."

You raised an eyebrow. "Oh really? Then what did you find?"

"I mean technically..." He looked like he was in thought. "Okay, yeah it's nothing, but we still have plenty more samples to go over."

You rolled your eyes. "How does he look, then? Is he getting any better?"

"He's fine, go back to bed." Your dad muttered, looking down into his own microscope.

"Fine may be pushing it Tony. He's worse than before. I don't think he's going to be able to get any sleep tonight. Which well then cause even more problems if he's sleep deprived and-" His ramblings were cut off by Tony.

"Bruce, seriously?" He said shooting him a look. "Can't you tell when I'm trying to parent? Stop scaring my daughter, you'll put ideas in her head." He looked at you now. "Now, Peter's going to be okay, we're figuring this out. It's just taking longer than expected. Now will you please go to bed, it's past your bedtime."

"I don't have a bedtime." You muttered, making your dad shoot you a look. "But fine, I'll go."

"Thank you."

"Yeah whatever." You sighed, walking out of the lab.

You went back upstairs only instead of going to your own room, you went to Natasha's.

It swung open, Nat standing in the doorway not looking tired in the slightest, it seemed like she had been up all night too.

You took a deep breath, ignoring your reddening cheeks. "Talk to Peter and get me his consent."

She quirked an eyebrow, "You seem rather eager now."

"They have nothing, Peter seems perfectly fine by a scientific stand point. They've been down there for hours, I don't understand why they can't find anything, and Peter's probably getting worse and we still don't know how this could affect him-." You ranted.

"Okay, let's calm down first. Now you're sure you're okay with this decision?"

"Yeah, I mean I'm not a virgin, and I am very much attracted to Peter."

She nodded. "Alright then, I'll talk to him. Wait- what about birth control-"

"It's fine, I'm on the pill." You said, cutting her off.

"Why did I even bother asking, you are a Stark after all." She said with a teasing grin.

"Oh shut up." You blushed, shaking your head. "But thanks for helping me. Now, I need to go overrun F.R.I.D.A.Y's commands so she doesn't tell my dad where I am if he asks. So if he agrees can you tell him it might take me a while to get there."

"Of course." Nat said, stepping out of the doorway and pulling her door shut.

"Okay, thanks again." You said before running off to hack your dad's AI.

~~~~

Natasha stalked down the hallway to Peter's room. Anyone who had a room down that same hallway had left, finding it impossible to sleep due to the noises he was making.

She approached the door, already hearing him panting on the other side. Nat sighed, feeling bad for him. She gently knocked against the door.

"D-dr. Banner?" She heard him say.

"Guess again."

"Ms. Romanoff?" He asked in surprise.

"Yeah. Listen I heard you were having a hard time.(Y/N) is worried about you."

Peter groaned, cock twitching just from the sound of your name.

Nat ignored it, continuing what she was saying. "It also looks like Tony and Bruce aren't making a lot of progress..So basically...what do you think about fixing this the way those aliens usually do?"

"W-what! N-no, I can't do that to h-her. It's n-not fair."

"Pete, it was her decision. She thought about it and decided it's okay on her end, she just sent me here to get your consent."

It was silent on his end for a few beats. "...I-I don't know. She's my friend."

She sighed. "You kids are impossible sometimes." She muttered to herself. "Yeah a friend who has an unbearably obvious crush on you and I know you like her too. So maybe if your smart you might get a relationship out of this...And look, she's sure she wants to do this. So don't worry about her alright? Just think about yourself, do you want this?"

"Well y-yeah, but-"

"Good. Then I'm sending her up, alright?"

"...O-okay." Peter said in a small voice.

"She may be a while though, she has to make sure F.R.I.D.A.Y doesn't tell her dad what you two are going to be up to."

He groaned, a flush of embarrassment taking over. "I hadn't even thought about M-mr. Stark. H-he's going to kill me."

"Still better than this stupid plant torturing you. I'm going to find (Y/N) now, hold tight."

Peter hummed as Nat walked away, hearing her receding footsteps.

~~~~~~~~

"He said yes."

You jumped up out of your seat. You had been sitting in front of your dad's computer, where you had started overriding F.R.I.D.A.Y's commands.

You quickly turned around to face Nat. "H-he said yes?" You asked, wide eyed.

She nodded. "Having second thoughts?"

"No, no." You swallowed. "I think it just sank in what I agreed to do."

"And you're still up for this?" She asked, walking over to look at the screen of your dad's computer.

"Y-yeah." You said, shakily turning back around to continue what you were doing. "I still want to help him." You said as you frowned at the screen and groaned. "It looks like my dad went through extra precautions so I can't mess with F.R.I.D.A.Y like I did last time. This is gonna take longer than I thought."

By the time you had finished it was already 2:15 am. You didn't even know if Peter was able to fall asleep, until you found yourself standing on the other side of his bedroom door. He was a panting and moaning mess in there and you knew he had to be touching himself.

You swallowed harshly, slightly nervous, you raised a closed fist to lightly knock on his door. But he hadn't acknowledged you, his moans drowning out the noise of your knocking. So, you took it upon yourself to enter.

You took a deep breath you shut your eyes and silently opened the door and shut it closed behind you once you were inside.

His moans were louder now that the door wasn't in the way to muffle his sounds. You slowly peeked your eyes open and the sight made you suck in a sharp breath.

His arm was thrown haphazardly across his face, covering his eyes, mouth wide open as almost every lewd sound you had eved heard slipped past them. But what really made your breathing uneven and face flushing, was the sight of him jerking himself off. You squeezed your legs together at watching his had sliding up and down and hips bucking.

Even for you, who wasn't exactly new to sexual experiences found this extremely erotic.

His deep groan of your name made you snap back to reality, and you realized that you should probably let him know you were there.

With another deep breath you prepared yourself for what was about to happen, and cleared your throat loudly, gaining his attention.

He stopped his movements, and his eyes flew to your figure.

"(Y-Y/N)." He breathed out, pulling the bed sheet over his lower body, no doubt trying to have some decency, and scrambling to sit up against the headboard.

"H-hi." You said in a small voice. "How are you feeling?"

"Awful." He whined, his head already getting fuzzy by your presence. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry for all of this."

"Hey shh." you said, trying to calm him down. You walked closer to him so you now stood next to the headboard. You brushed back the damp curls from his forehead. "You have absolutely nothing to be sorry for, this isn't your fault Peter."

Peter shut his eyes tightly, averting your stare, just focusing on your touch. "I just- I feel like I'm going c-crazy- and I- and I don't know how long I can c-control myself around you." He said, nearly on the edge of tears, making your heart clench. "And if you knew the things I thought about today you'd h-hate me."

"Peter look at me." You said firmly.

Peter relented, eyes fluttering open and they immediately went to you and raked down your body. Noticing the fact that you weren't wearing a bra under your thin tank top, and your shorts that hugged you so perfectly.

Your hand went to his jaw and lifted it up so he could look you in the eye. "I need you to calm down Peter and know that I'm here to help you." You climbed onto the bed and swung a leg over his lap so you were straddling him now, causing his breath to hitch. Peter sat up straighter, body tense, hands flying to touch your bare thighs. "So." You continued. "Stop feeling guilty and maybe we can try some of those things you thought of today."

He groaned, head falling into your neck, smelling once again all those amazing scents that lingered on you. "This is gonna ruin our f-friendship."

You bit your lip. "I think I can live with that." You whispered before pulling his head back to press your lips to his.

He stopped you though, lips almost touching. "W-wait." He stuttered, and with the sanity that was still left in him asked, "Are you sure you want to do this?"

You smirked, and let out a short laugh, "You talk too much Parker." You said before crashing your lips against his.

The effect was immediate as he fell into that familiar haze from earlier that day where the only thing he could possibly think about was fucking you so hard you wouldn't be able to walk for days. Peter gripped your waist and flipped you over, so he was now seated between your thighs. He reconnected your lips, the sheets now a tangled mess between the two of you.

And everything seemed to happen at once, he began grinding his hips against you making you let out a surprised yelp and his hands gripped the bottom of your tank top, pulling it up and over your head. One hand gripping your hip while the other began massaging a breast.

Overwhelmed by the sensations you let out a high pitched whine into the kiss, and he took this opening to practically shove his tongue down your throat.

He pulled away, panting, as he worked to untangle the sheet around his legs. "You wouldn't believe the things I imagined doing to you today." He said breathlessly. He finally kicked the rest of the bed sheet to the foot of the bed, head turning to look down at your own flushed and breathless expression. "Fuck- you're so fucking pretty." He roughly ground against you, eliciting another moan from you. "And you make the prettiest noises."

His hands now grabbed the hem of your shorts, pulling them down with your panties. His eyes lingered on your pussy and he licked his lips, eyes flicking back to your own.

"Peter~" You said so desperately he was sure he was hallucinating again.

He leaned over you, pressing his lips onto your neck, kissing and biting as he worked a hand between you two.

His fingers making it's way between your folds. You immediately bucked your hips into his touch, giving him the most wanton moan he's ever heard. He groaned, "You're so wet." He panted as he slipped a finger into you, making you jump.

"Ahh~ holy shit-" A shiver of pleasure wracked down your spine, toes curling into the mattress and hands gripping the bed sheets tightly.

His thumb pressed against your clit, rubbing tight circles, and he slipped another finger into you and curling them. Your head was thrown back into the pillow as your back arched off the bed. Peter panted against your ear, whispering the dirtiest things you've ever heard and you couldn't tell if it was because of the pollen or he actually had this in him.

He continued to thrust his fingers faster and faster, telling that you were getting closer. "C'mon princess I wanna feel you cum around my fingers. You're squeezing them so fucking tight." He groaned. "I can't wait to fuck this pretty pussy." You practically screamed as his fingers hit you perfectly.

"W-who the fuck... knew Peter P-Parker could talk... so d-dirty." You said in between pants.

He smirked down at you. "Now look who talks too much." He panted. "Cum for me princess." And not long after, you did. Back arched and mouth slack in a silent scream while Peter continued to work you through your first orgasm of the night. "That's it pretty girl, just like that." He moaned feeling you clench around his fingers.

Once you came down you were left a panting mess, you jumped as Peter pulled his fingers out because of how sensitive you were. He sat up looking down at you, adjusting you so you lined up with his cock.

"I know you're sensitive princess, but I'm not even close to being done with you." You nodded wordlessly before he pushed into you, the both of you groaning at the sensation.

Peter finally felt some of the relief he had been craving the whole day. He started off with a rough pace, gripping your hips so tight you were sure there would be bruises. You had quickly been rendered a moaning mess, not being able to think clearly enough to form any words.

He brought a hand up to lean against the headboard, giving him more leverage as he changed the angle slightly. "You have no idea how ....crazy you've been driving me all day." He grunted. "How fucking ...hard I had been all day ....because of you."

"Fuck~" You moaned. "I-I'm sorry...I... didn't come.. s-sooner

"Doesn't matter,....you're here now." He said picking up his pace even further, the headboard creaking under his hold, wood starting to splinter.

He quickly pulled out and flipped you over, and pulled you up by your hips before thrusting into you again. He leaned over you, his chest flush with your back an arm wound around your waist, holding you tight against him. "You're so fucking tight, feel so fucking good around my cock." Your face was buried into the pillow to muffle your moans. Peter reached up, gripping your hair with his free hand, and pulling your head up, you hissed at the tight pull on your hair. "Wanna hear you, pretty girl." He groaned against your ear. He moved the arm that was wrapped tightly around your waist, bringing his hand down to your clit, making your body jerk at the sudden contact and clench around him tighter.

You let out a whine acken to a sob, overwhelmed by the pleasure. "P-Peter!" You cried out.

He moaned at your cries for him. "You're doing so good. Such a good fucking girl. I want you to cum all over my cock princess."

And with that you came with a scream of his name falling from your lips. The pleasure so intense you saw white. He continued to thrust into you through your orgasm until he came himself. Moaning your name and curses against your ear.

You whimpered as you came down, body shaking.

He pulled away, turning you over again to admire the fucked out expression on your face. He leaned over you, connecting your lips again and you kissed back lazily completely exhausted and sore already.

But while Peter felt some relief he still needed more because he was hard again in seconds. Although, his mind was slightly less fuzzy, on a positive note.

He pulled back, looking down at you again. His hand brushed back the hair from your face. "You're not tired are you."

"N-no." You lied, because while you were, you'd let him take you over and over again as many times as he needed to.

He hummed, a grin painting his lips. "Good." He said, fingers going back to your clit and gently rubbing, your body jerking at the touch. "Because I plan on making sure you won't be able to walk for the next few days."

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yeojaa · 4 years

Text

TO THE MOON AND BACK - ft. ???

You feel winded and you're not sure why. Like you'd been walking on cloud nine and were now falling through the atmosphere, plummeting toward the ground at incredible speeds. When you speak, it doesn't really sound like you. "Yes." Because he was exactly right - you were a hopeless romantic. Always had been. It was hard not to be when your parents were childhood sweethearts and love was the thing you'd been chasing your whole life.

alt summary. You use your one brain cell for love. It doesn’t always end well.

pairing. who knows, honestly. the obvious ones are kim taehyung and jeon jungkook, though.

tags. blind date, strangers, strangers to friends, strangers to lovers, getting to know each other, alternate universe, alternate universe - modern setting, romantic comedy.

rating. general (for now?)

word count. ~6000

chapter 1.

You weren't sure what you were doing here.

Sure, you'd signed the waiver, your favourite pen leaving a messy blue scrawl across the crisp weight. You'd acknowledged all of the terms and dated the bottom left-hand corner, humming quietly to yourself as you'd done so. You'd read the document once, then twice for good measure, politely asking for a copy of it when the petite assistant had come to take the pages off your hands.

But you still weren't sure what had brought you here, to this exact place at this exact time.

Standing in the spacious studio with a dozen hangers hung over your arms, ready to air your life for millions to see. Were you really ready for this - whatever it was?

You shift your weight from one foot to the other, suddenly nervous. Your fingers are experiencing a strange tingling sensation you only recognize from times of stress - waiting for your results after an exam, the minutes after a first date, any time your umma calls without messaging first. It's descending down the tips of your fingers, shooting like electricity through the live wire of your bones. Suddenly, every minute movement of your neck feels like it takes all the strength in the world and your chest feels like it might explode from the labour of your breaths.

"Ready?" It's the assistant again, bouncing toward you in her Fila Disrupters. Very stylish. She's staring up at you expectantly, though that shifts quickly to concern when you don't immediately respond. "... Are you okay?"

"Yes. I'm sorry. I'm fine." To her relief, you answer her follow-up almost immediately, a chipper smile plastered across your face. It's a touch forced, the edges pressing your cheeks a little too far into your eyes, the tension in your jaw almost making it look like you're grimacing. Almost.

"Great! Come with me."

Your fingers fumble with the button of your jeans, missing the hole twice before a groan of frustration fills the enclosed space. You're so anxious you can feel the nervous energy filling you up like a balloon, dragging your poor body from the familiar weight of your bones. Your hands won't stop shaking and they're so cold. You can feel the chill through the denim of your pants when you rub your palms over your thighs in an effort to bring blood rushing back to them.

"Please come out when you're ready." The voice speaks over the public address system wired into the ceiling.

You glance up from your little dressing room, noting the soft yellow that now illuminates your space. It floods the walls you can barely make out over the top of your dressing stall. You notice, with some amusement, that it matches the yellow of your socks that rise above your ankles and disappear into the hem of pants.

"Relax. It'll be fun," you tell yourself before counting to three and trying your button again.

It slots into its rightful home on your first go. That must be a sign, right?

You exhale deeply, pushing all the air from your lungs as you face the mirror on the back of the door. You blink at your reflection, smoothing your fringe until it falls just right over the rim of your glasses, barely grazing your line of vision. You watch the way you chew your own lip, grateful you've got nothing but bubble-gum flavoured lip balm on, and nod. It's reminiscent of a child on their first day of school.

Then you force yourself out of the stall before you can talk yourself out of it, peeking around the corner of the door.

You're not sure what you'd been expecting but it definitely isn't this.

Because he's tall and broad, with shoulders that fall like a mountain range and a mop of dark hair. It curls over his ears and looks unkept but purposefully so, pushed behind his ears. The coat he wears fits across his back, hugging his silhouette as it falls to his knees. Plaid trousers hold his legs, cut directly above his bare ankle. He looks like a goddamn fashion model and you haven't even seen his face.

"Oh, hi." His voice is warm and heavy, like a weighted blanket or hot cocoa on Christmas Day.

It envelopes you in bass and makes your stomach flip in anticipation.

He's right across from you now, sliding into the high director's chair that sits directly opposite from where you are, half-pulled into your seat. He's as handsome as you would've imagined, the slope of his jaw and curve of his cheekbone seemingly carved by Michelangelo himself. Thin gold frames - eerily similar to yours - sit on the high bridge of his nose and behind them, eyes crinkle from the force of his big, boxy smile.

You find yourself at a loss for words for the second time in not very long, only managing a soft, "hello."

He seems to find that endearing, a soft laugh - one that very clearly echoes ha ha ha in the quiet room - drifting from where he sits. You feel your face flush, shifting through the colour wheel before landing on an embarrassingly vivid shade of magenta. You can see if in your reflection from behind his shoulder when you finally make yourself comfortable, only then meeting his open, curious stare.

"I like your pants." He gestures toward you as if he could be talking to anyone else, the diffused golden glow catching against the thin rings he wears.

"Thank you." You try not to mumble, offering a sweet albeit small smile in return. You're pleased with your choice and in turn, his compliment. You loved these jeans, had worn them for years since you'd bought them one summer in Tokyo. They hug you just right, sitting close to your waist and through your hips before relaxing into a chic 70's inspired straight flare. It doesn't matter that there's paint on the left knee - from that time you'd hosted a wine and paint night at your apartment - or that the frays on the hem are in dire need of trimming.

"Should we get started?" There he is, leading the conversation again. You feel a little bad, though that flies out the proverbial window when he's leveling you with another one of his smiles. It's hard to feel anything but child-like happiness when he looks like sunshine and middle school crushes.

You nod, turning your attention to your phone.

The screen reads START: PERCENT OF INTEREST FROM FIRST IMPRESSION. You immediately want to enter 100, your fingers moving to tap the requisite numbers before you're hesitating, hovering over the "1" as it taunts you. Was that too high? What if they showed him? Would he be turned off by how eager you were?

You're dragging your bottom lip through your teeth over and over again, stuck on a decision. Was he experiencing the same turmoil?

You steal a peek at him, hoping to be as covert as possible. He's staring straight at you, amusement written into the way his mouth twists, fighting back the laughter that sounds like music to your ears. His phone rests loosely in his right hand. Clearly, he's made his choice already.

You huff and enter 85, still not entirely happy with your decision by the time the next question pops up.

BASED ON OUTFIT 1 (SCHOOL), YOUR NAME IS _____, YOU ARE _____ YEARS OLD, AND YOU LIVE IN _____.

You had to guess his name? That was going to be impossible.

Or not, you think as his fingers glide across his screen, seemingly unfazed by the challenges currently presented. Maybe that was for the better, though. Maybe it would help you gain some sort of idea into who this stranger was, with his soft white tee shirt and expensive Hermès belt.

Even as you're filling out the answers, you can feel his eyes boring into your head like two little laser beams. You're sure that's why your cheeks are burning up and your have to retype your last answer three times, messing up the characters like you haven't spent your entire life writing them. How could he be so comfortable? His fingers aren't even twitching, instead leisurely curled between his legs as he studies you. He looks like he has nothing to hide, blinking innocently at you when you drag your gaze from his hands, his brown leather watch strap.

"Your name is Kim Nari." He's speaking seconds after you've pressed enter, alerted of the fact by the small chime of his phone. If he notices the way your brow furrows, he doesn't react, reading his answers with easy reassurance. "You're twenty-threeyears old and you live in Itaewon."

It brings you some sort of joy as you shake your head, hand raised with your thumb and forefinger curled in. "Three strikes and you're out." You laugh and then he's joining you, the sounds slotting easily together like a harmony. "My name is Cho Jiyeon." His words are forming the syllables silently, as if testing out the way it feels. You can't help but smile at that, nose scrunching as he does it again, repeating it like it's the most fascinating thing in the world. " I'm twenty-two and I live in Hongdae." You don't acknowledge the fact that he's technically right - your actual birthday is in a few days.

"I see." Your corrections are accepted as easily as he breathes. "Nice to meet you, Cho Jiyeon."

"Really, Nari?" You can't help but tease, manicured brow quirking curiously.

"You're pretty, so I thought you'd have a pretty name," he says plainly. You can't help but snort, hiding the sound behind your palms as laughter shakes your shoulders. Had he managed to compliment and insult you all at once? "You still have a pretty name."

Now it's his turn to laugh, your reaction of wild head shaking and face covering causing him to stifle his own into the back of his hand.

"It's your turn."

So it is. "Your name is Yun Taewoo and you're twenty-five?" The first two come as questions more than answers but you're almost certain of your last one. "You live in Cheongdam."

By his smirk, you're either terribly right or miserably wrong.

When his head tilts, you're reminded of a golden retriever or a teddy bear, his dark eyes twinkling at you from behind his spectacles. "My name is Kim Taehyung." You're not sure how you ever thought it would've been anything else by how well it fits him. "You're right, I'm twenty-five." Here comes the winner, you think. "And I also live in Hongdae."

Dammit dammit dammit.

Taehyung can see the disappointment in your eyes and his own are waning into crescent moons, dragged into the shape by his all-encompassing grin. "My parents live in Cheongdam, if that helps." It doesn't really, but you appreciate the effort, visibly relaxing at his concession. You've known each other for all of fifteen minutes and he's already worming his way into your silly little schoolgirl heart.

"It does. Thanks." You're giggling around your gratitude, allowing your eyes to trail pointedly at the timepiece on his wrist. It cost more than one of your semesters. "The Cartier was kind of a giveaway."

"But you recognized it," he teases back warmly.

"Touché."

"My turn again." A soft cough to clear his throat before he repeats the next question.

YOUR MAJOR IS _____, YOUR GPA IS _____, AND AT SCHOOL YOU ARE _____.

"Your major is art, your GPA is 3.1, and at school, you're an outsider."

You're not sure whether to be offended that you're seemingly so easy to read, a hand flying to your throat. "Are you following me?" You're asking before you can help it, earning a hearty laugh from Taehyung. He's shaking his head, awfully proud that he's just struck the nail on the head. "I'm actually doing a double major, so I'll give you that. My GPA is actually 3.9, though." You can't help your own pride from sneaking in, colouring your words in shades of gold as you beam. It only falters when you consider his last guess. "What makes you think I'm an outsider?"

Not that he was wrong, per se, but you're a little surprised. You'd never been unpopular but you just kept to yourself, drifting from different friend groups as you saw fit.

"You don't want to forced into a box, so you're an outsider. You choose to be."

You have no answer for that so you instead engage in a peculiar staring match until your eyes burn and you're blinking rapidly.

"Your major was business, your GPA was 3.5, and you were a total insider." Maybe it's the fact that he figured you out so easily that you feel uncertain about your own answers.

He shakes his head, ever the gentleman. "No, sorry. I was a fashion major and my GPA was 3.0." He pauses thoughtfully, considering the implications of being an inssa. He supposes you're right, though he'd never really thought of himself as one. Just someone that was well-liked and never turned away. "Good try, though." Again, encouragement. It makes you like him for more than his charming smile and fashion-sense.

"I'll get you next time."

"I'm sure you will," he returns without even a hint of sarcasm. "Next outfit?"

You nod, slipping from your seat and all but skipping into your dressing stall. As you disappear back inside, you catch his smile in the reflection of your door and bite back your own.

The nerves that had melted over the course of your conversation seem to have come back in full force, spreading warmth over your cheeks as you stare at yourself in the mirror.�� You've smoothed your hands over the soft corduroy of your skirt at least ten times now, straightening the hem this way and that in the pursuit of getting it to sit just right over your thighs.

"Just go back outside. He's nice. Stop freaking out." The reprimands are filling the small space and you feel almost overwhelmed. Outfit number two was supposed to be a date outfit and just the word had your hands clamming out, heat licking up the back of your neck.

It's not that you weren't used to dating - he was just really cute.

Adjusting the collar of your turtleneck - soft, black, draped in all the right places and tucked neatly into the waist of your skirt - you nod again. It's your little way of building yourself up before you're stepping back outside, arms sliding into the sleeves of your grey tartan blazer. You look good. Taehyung had even said so. You could do this.

No, no, no. You can't do this. Not when he looks like that.

He's beat you to his seat, an Adonis in black. Gone is the loose white shirt from earlier, replaced now by an inky top that sinks against his skin. The collar is open, the top two buttons undone to reveal the honeyed expanse of his chest. You're not sure whether you want to bury your face into it or his silky shirt and it takes you a moment to remind yourself that's terribly inappropriate.

"I like this look," you offer, hardly able to tear your eyes away from him as you settle back into your chair. You can't help but notice how he smiles, gloating like he's all too aware of his effect on you. He even readjusts, opening his arms to you as if to urge you on, when you continue to inspect his clothes.

The pants he wears are different now, an expensive textured fabric that hugs his thighs and drapes across his shins, falling just above his ankle like before. There's no visible sock line and his shoes - black calfskin loafers with little tassels across the tops - scream expensive. You'd hazard a guess they're Saint Laurent or Prada. The only thing carried over from his last outfit is his watch, now stacked with delicate silver chains and a single red yarn bracelet you'd noticed earlier. Even his hair is different, effortlessly styled and sweeping across his brow in soft, easy waves that beg to be touched.

"I like yours, too," he coos, that smug expression never faltering. You try not to blush beneath his stare, trapping your hands beneath your legs as you allow him the same courtesy.

Your thigh high socks sit just beneath where your palms rest, black a stark contrast to your skin and the brown of your skirt. Your toes wiggle experimentally in the boots you're wearing, the ever popular sock-style blending seamlessly with the material of your stockings. You can feel the lines of your rings where your skin is exposed, the same silver resting at the small of your throat in layered necklaces and at your ears in intricate loops.

He can't help but linger when the light catches the metal of your jewelry or when you shift nervously, thighs pressing together. More than a small part of him enjoys you squirming under his gaze. It's coquettish, even if it isn't meant to be.

"Do you want to go first?" The words break whatever spell you'd been under and you re-focus on the device in your lap. You nod before you've read the question thoroughly, flushing once you've had a chance to do so.

BASED ON OUTFIT 2 (DATE), YOU'VE RECEIVED _____ ROMANTIC CONFESSIONS AND HAVE BEEN IN A RELATIONSHIP _____ TIMES.

They really didn't beat around the bush, did they?

You're tapping out your response, pushing forward when you stop to think. It was just two numbers.

When the familiar ding of your phones breaks the relative silence, you look back up. Of course, he's already watching you, ever the active participant. "You, Kim Taehyung, have received more than twenty romantic confessions and you've been in a relationship more than ten times."

Something like surprises steals across his face, contorting his expression into one you hadn't seen yet.

"Wrong." There's no further elaboration and for a moment, you have the urge to apologize. Had you offended him? "I've received more than twenty romantic confessions but I've only been in a relationship twice."

Now it's your turn to be surprised, your eyebrows disappearing into your hairline. How did someone look like that and not date? It seemed like such a waste.

"Shocking, right?" Taehyung takes the words right out of your mouth but they feel wrong when uttered back at you. "Both relationships were long-term. Five and four years, respectively, so I never really had time to date anyone else." A hand adorned in Gucci rings cards through his silky mop of hair, smoothing it away from his forehead before it falls back into place perfectly. "Don't worry - I'm not offended you think I'm such a Casanova."

You can't help but scowl at his words. He's right and you're being called out so hard.

"You've probably had more than ten confessions and..." You're not sure whether he's really trying to remember what he'd written or if he's just drawing it out, teasing you mercilessly like its his newly discovered favourite pastime. "Five boyfriends?"

"Ah - you got those right!" You're not bothered by his accurate guesses this time. In fact, you clap as if his success somehow belongs to both of you. He finds that endearing. He likes the idea of the two of you as a team.

"Next one? Go ahead."

You double check your next answer, trying not to laugh when you remember what you'd entered.

YOU FEEL ATTRACTED TO SOMEONE WHO IS _____. YOU ARE ACTIVE/PASSIVE DURING THE DAY AND ACTIVE/PASSIVE AT NIGHT.

"Kim Taehyung," you meet his eyes when you say his name and for a second, you lose your train of thought. His lashes are so thick and dark and without his glasses on, you swear you can see the constellations in his irises. "Um." He snickers and you roll your eyes, rereading the small font on your device screen. "You are attracted to someone who shares your confidence and who will rise to challenges with you. You're active during the day and..." You don't dare look up. "You're also active during the night."

To your benefit, you both collapse into laughter, doubled over in your chairs as the double entendre sits salaciously between you.

"You're not wrong," he drawls, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively at you. If you were closer, you think you'd swat his arm or nudge his foot - anything to demonstrate that you think he's an absolute dork. "I want someone who can be my partner in crime and I'm active all the time." He leans heavily into the implication, dragging the "ah" in all out like he's trying to break it over his tongue.

"Okay, Casanova. Your turn."

He hums, not even bothering to look at his screen as he studies you, eyes ticking from the way your long, dark hair cascades over your shoulder to the wine-stain you'd pressed into your full lips. "You're attracted to someone who excites you and makes you feel wanted." By the way he's drinking you in, you think he could be talking about himself. "You're active in the day and passive at night."

When he says passive, it almost feels wrong. Dirty. Like it should be whispered into the shell of your ear and not spoken so casually from three feet away.

You have to remind yourself you're sitting in a studio, surrounded by production staff.

"I do like to sleep a lot." You manage once the flutter in your chest has subsided, allowing you to find your breath again. It still feels a little airy, a little like the wings of butterflies are tugging the words out of your chest. "But I think everyone wants to be desired, don't you? I don't think that's specific to me."

"Then why don't you tell me what kind of person you're attracted to?" He doesn't say it but you hear it in his voice - the unspoken question. Is it me?

You're not ready for that conversation, nor do you think this is the place to have it. "I think we should change."

The third time you exit your dressing stall, you're out before Taehyung is, giving you a moment's reprieve as you climb into your chair.

You're more comfortable than you have been, both mentally and physically, but it's nice to have these few extra moments of peace. He was just so much - it was hard to focus when he caught your stare or he did that thing with his tongue, pink gliding across his bottom lip. You were ready to take back some control. Hopefully his daily outfit was as casual as yours. You didn't think you could handle another peek of that chiseled frame.

God, when had you become so easy to please?

"That was quick." He's popping his head out of his room and gliding into his seat in what feels like one fluid motion. Well, he certainly seems spirited.

"What can I say? I'm fast." It's enough to make him chuckle because very clearly, you were not fast, but he wasn't about to call you on that. Not when you two were getting along so swimmingly. "Shall we get started?"

You don't even wait for his response before you're studying your phone again, considering the two latest questions.

BASED ON OUTFIT 3 (DAILY), WHAT YOU HEAR OFTEN FROM YOUR FRIENDS IS _____ AND WHAT YOU HEAR FROM YOUR PARENTS IS _____?

That was easy enough, you think, free hand fiddling with the pocket on your thigh. The cargo pants you wear sit easily on your hips, the beige material matching the seat. You're back in sneakers - all-white Converse with a small platform - and your glasses are perched on the bridge of your nose. You're aware of a draft on your shoulder, the soft wool of your camel and blush cardigan having drifted low across your shoulder.

You fill out your answer with ease, sparing Taehyung a glance when you're finished and realizing, much to your surprise, he's still typing.

"You can go first, when you're done."

The only indication he's heard you is the bob of his head so you take his preoccupation as time to admire his latest fashion choices.

Wide-legged trousers that look extremely comfortable, falling easily over backless Gucci loafers. His shirt is French-tucked, the drape of his taupe top relaxed. The watch remains where it has been, though the other jewelry that had previously accompanied it is gone. He's got a chic black beret pulled over his ears, causing strands at the nape of his neck to curl adorably. He looks every inch an off-duty model and you have to remind yourself to stop gawking when he begins speaking.

"What you hear most from your friends is 'don't forget' and what you hear most from your parents is 'did you eat?'"

You think his streak must be running out and he sees that reflected in your goofy smile, one of his own framing his face. "Nope. My friends say 'get some sleep' and my parents ask 'how is school?' Good try."

He shrugs, mouthing something like 'you win some, you lose some' before sliding his phone back into his pocket. "Go ahead."

"What Kim Taehyung hears the most from his friends is 'I can't believe it' and what he hears most from his parents is 'visit more often.'" You'd been reading your screen, lifting the words verbatim, so when you look up and catch his expression, you're startled. For the first time, Taehyung looks unsure, though it lasts only a fraction of a second before he's nodding, his sweet laughter sinking into your molars like honeycomb and cavities.

"Close enough. My friends usually say something like 'you're kidding me' but you're right about my parents."

Maybe that's why he looked so sad, you realize with a little twinge of guilt. You consider asking a follow-up but by the way he pulls his phone out, you know it's a conversation better left for another time. Like perhaps a second date.

YOUR ALCOHOL LIMIT IS _____ AND YOU SMOKE _____ A DAY.

He's already reading his answer to the second question by the time you tune in fully.

"Cho Jiyeon, your alcohol limit is two bottes of soju and you don't smoke." You wouldn't say he's exactly right but you relent, nodding in agreement.

"Between two and four, depending on the day." There's a story there and it intrigues him but he says nothing, instead waiting for your appraisal of his tolerance. He's ready to completely blow your mind. "Your limit is... four bottles? You definitely don't smoke."

It's with pride that Taehyung shakes his head, chest puffed out and lips pursed. "My tolerance is one - one shot." He can't help but laugh when you level him with disbelief. "I don't like the taste," he continues, completely unashamed. He's dealt with enough teasing from his closest friends so he's used to the incredulous stare you're currently giving him, unfazed as he beams at you.

"I never would've guessed," you quip, thoughtful.

"I'm full of surprises."

You think it's a promise, like the guarantee of buried treasure or calm in the eye of the storm. "I'm sure you are."

Your final change makes you feel like you're at home, despite the fact that you're nowhere close to it. It's nice to be in your pyjamas in the middle of the day, even if you didn't normally wear the set that currently sits on your body.

"Last one," you say to yourself, peering closely at your hair, your lips, the way your shorts feel a little shorter than usual.

Then you pull yourself out for the last time and plop yourself into your chair, smiling brightly at Taehyung when he exits in the same instant as you.

He's in silk pyjama bottoms, the navy a stark contrast against his feet - which are slotted into soft shearling slippers. The top looks oddly familiar, the white stirring a memory that you're not sure how to place. "Hey - I recognize this," you state uncertainly, gesticulating at his broad chest. He looks down and a smile so shy your heart could cry spreads across his face. Maybe you're wrong but it looks like the tips of his ears are suddenly red beneath his crown of softly mused strands.

"I don't normally sleep with a shirt on," he confesses, delicate fingers brushing the shoulder of his top. He's not quite meeting your eyes, that seem dusting of rouge seeping over his hollowed cheeks and across his temples.

"Oh," is all you can say, just as bashful.

As if to ease the unusual weight that's settled over the two of you, he speaks again, earnest. "I like your sweater."

You pick at the item in question, thumbing over the worn hem. It's incredibly soft from years of wear, a gift from your father when he'd visited for business years ago. The formerly vivid stitching on the first letter is starting to come undone, the remaining letters of HARVARD all in equal states of distress. Still, it's comforting and oversized, drowning you in its shape and making you look more diminutive than your lissome stature already does.

A leg draws up, about to pull to your chest, but then you think better of it. You're in shorts - worn jersey ones taken from a matching pyjama set you'd once gotten as a birthday gift - and you're reminded of how little they'd covered when standing, so you settle for crossing your ankles. The bears printed on your socks - three stacked at various levels across the top of your foot, your ankle, your calf - cross as well.

"Thanks."

"Do you want to go first this time?"

It's nice that he's so considerate. You nod, turning your attention to the last few questions. You realize, with the smallest hint of disappointment, that there are only two left.

BASED ON OUTFIT 4 (PYJAMAS), YOU WANT TO LIVE UNTIL _____ YEARS OLD. THE MOST IMPORTANT THING IN YOUR LIFE IS _____.

You're not sure whether it's the fact that your time with him is coming to an end or the questions themselves but you feel odd, a lump forming in your stomach. Whatever it is, you try to push it from your thoughts, ignoring the weight it carries in favour of giving further consideration to your answers.

"I think you want to live until ninety years old." That made sense, right? Most people wanted to live out there lives as long as they could, watching the generations span after them and basking in the pride of a life-well lived. "The most important thing in your life is growth." Okay, so maybe that was a bit of a stretch. Could you really know someone that well after only such a short period with them?

You think so, because after everything so far, you felt like you did.

"Ninety would be nice," he agrees after a moment, biting his bottom lip as he weighs his next words. "The most important thing in my life is being true to myself." So you were wrong - but that was also a really deep question. You feel like it's not fair and he can clearly see that when he grins, gracious and giving. "I think growth means staying honest to myself, though."

You think you could kiss him and absorb some of that sunny goodness.

"You want to live until you're ninety, too." A small part of you doubts he'd use the same age, that suspicion deepening when he doesn't even bother looking at his written answers. "The most important thing in Cho Jiyeon's life is love. Am I right?"

The reason you'd even agreed to appear on this silly video segment.

"What about age?" He prompts, not skipping a beat.

"I don't know," you answer honestly. "I don't think I'd mind when I died if I found love before that."

You're not sure whether the look Taehyung gives you is affectionate or pitying because you're not really looking at him, instead focused pointedly on the paint that coats your nails and the way your knuckles flex beneath your ministrations.

"Last one," he chirps, snapping you from your careful consideration of your own humanity.

You don't answer, instead rereading the last answer you'd filled out.

IF WE WERE LOVERS WHO BROKE UP, WE WOULD HAVE DATED BECAUSE OF _____ AND BROKEN UP BECAUSE OF _____.

It felt a little too close to home and yet, you were in the home stretch. You'd be held here in this little piece of forever until you answered.

He begins before you get a chance to, impossibly softer than he'd been previously. "If we were lovers who broke up, we would have dated because you felt like my other half." You have to remind yourself that it's all hypothetical but his voice is so alluring, like a lullaby you'd like to slip into dreamland listening to. Even the way he details your imaginary breakup is beguiling, low timbre hitting some chord in your heart you weren't aware existed. "We would have broken up because you'd always be chasing a vision of me - and not the real me."

Emotion wells in your chest and in your throat and behind your eyes and you have to swallow thickly, forcing the onslaught down before you're crying in front of the cameras and making a fool of yourself.

You'd written something silly but as you prepare to answer the same question, it feels far too inconsequential, like a child playing dress-up.

"If we were lovers, we would have dated because I was your muse." His mouth quirks at that, though you can't see from the way you're staring at your hands still and it's short-lived. "We would have broken up because I couldn't keep up with you." It's not what you'd originally opted for but it feels better. Right. Like it could be true, in some fantasy world where people like him ended up with people like you.

Silence drags on once you've finished speaking. You could hear a pin drop - and think you do. It might just be someone's pen slipping from their hand.

Your eyes meet, like kismet, after what feels like forever. He smiles and you can imagine that same, sad thing mirrored in your own expression.

"Please give us your percent of interest based on your final impression." The public address system again, tearing your little illusion to shreds. He's a stranger again, someone you've only met for the purpose of this YouTube video.

You glance down at your phone and without thinking, press that frightful "1" followed by two 0's. You see him enter his score.

And then the lights are fading from a rosy glow, replaced by the standard professional lighting. The curtains have closed and the production assistants are milling over, thanking you for your time and advising of when you might expect to see the video up. You're barely listening.

Because Taehyung's already gone.

notes. i've never written this much in one sitting. i hope you enjoy it! as always, feedback appreciated.

141 notes · View notes

datninjalyfe · 4 years

Text

Stay, Part 1: Chapter 4

Chapter 4: Punishment

Most of the ride back to U.A. was All Might talking about how he can’t believe one of his own students, one of the best, could sneak past the gates and find his way into a nightclub. It was like almost as awkward as having the sex talk with his father. The thought of it made him shiver. Still, if he was in the newspaper like his mom told him he was, All Might would likely find out anyway why he snuck out anyway. He told All Might he was there to see a girl and All Might chuckled.

“No girl is worth it.” All Might said. “Trust me.”

“Also, it was for—,” Katsuki was unable to find the right words. He stumbled until he just said, “—research.”

All Might was quiet for a moment and then cleared his throat. “Now you’re starting to sound like Midoriya.”

“I wish people would stop saying his name.” Katsuki admitted. “I wish he would just go away. This is his fault!”

All Might looked at him. “His fault?”

Katsuki didn’t want to talk about it. He’d said enough. Why was he being so self-destructive? It didn’t make sense. Was he gay? Or bi? He liked having sex with Camie last night, but it didn’t mean anything. It was just a fuck, empty and irrelevant. That was confirmed by the kiss. For a moment, he wondered what it would be like to kiss Izuku. His soft lips reaching for his. Stop! His mind yelled.

“I think you and Midoriya need to have a nice sit down and chat.”

Katsuki rolled his eyes. “I’m not sitting down in the same room with him.”

“You two used to be close. Proper rivals even. That’s what you both said after your fight last year. Now you won’t even be in the same room as him? What’s changed?”

“Everything’s changed and I just don’t know how to handle it in the way that people want me to. I have all this pressure already on me, but it’s like I don’t know how to do or say exactly what’s going on when he’s around. So, I snuck out and had meaningless sex with a girl I’d met maybe four times before that to see if I could even distract myself and it worked until I got myself arrested.”

Those words reminded him of the other two conversations: Yoyo saying, “It’s just love, regardless of who it is or what it stands for…It’s easier to be yourself than try and pretend to someone else.” and Aizawa saying, “Being different doesn’t give you the right to be mean to people.”

Those two images flashed through his brain as All Might continued, “I managed to talk everyone into letting you stay, but there will be consequences. In addition to the three days of house arrest Aizawa gave you, you’ll have another four weeks added to that. You’ll not be allowed to leave and when you enter the school, they’ll give you an ankle bracelet so they can track your movements. You’ll also have to train 3 times harder than everyone else with 100lbs of weight added to you. If your classmates run the mile, you run 3. You’ll also be given more school work until the teachers deem you can be a good, model student. I’m not here to tell you what to do, but if you pull another stunt like that, you can kiss being a pro hero good-bye. Just focus on what’s really important.”

On what’s really important. Katsuki repeated in his mind. The last image flashed through his head, but the image wasn’t of being a Pro Hero, or the insane of extra work he had—

—the image was of Deku.

“We’re here!” All Might said, trying to make it sound like he used to. “And oh, looks like Aizawa has your class lined up.”

Katsuki got out of the car and saw 4 rows of his classmates bowing low before Aizawa, who’s hair was straight up. They were all panting, as if they’d just got punished too. “Oh good,” Aizawa said, turning around. Katsuki felt the heat from his chest leave him almost instantly. He couldn’t produce an ounce of sweat, but felt a cold chill run down his spine as Aizawa said, “You’re here.” He used his scarf and snatched Katsuki roughly, the binds almost cutting off the circulation in the air. He pulled Katsuki in so close, Katsuki swore he could feel Aizawa's anger. “Did All Might explain to you everything that will happen?” Aizawa held up an ankle bracelet. “You’ll go straight into the dorms where you’ll find weights you are to attach to your wrists during training after your house arrest. If I so much as hear that you’ve been thinking of leaving campus, your ass is grass. Do you understand everything I’m saying? Because clearly you didn’t get the memo last time.” Aizawa was fuming. “Oh, and I’m your homeroom teacher again.”

“You are?”

“I’m the only one who can deal with the dipshits like you and the ones who left to go find you—,” Aizawa held out his hand. “The front row of students decided to take it upon themselves to go get you after finding out you’d left the dorms. They’ll be suspended as well and not allowed to go to the dance.” Katsuki looked at the front row. Everyone was still bowing before Aizawa. It was the usual suspects: Kirishima, Todoroki—

—and Izuku.

“They came to find me?”

“Not sure how they would have found you, considering you went all the way to the Cloud City.” Aizawa said, his hair falling. Katsuki released a breath when he felt the warmth return to him.

The three of them looked ragged like they ran into villains, until he looked at Izuku’s ankle and attached was like the ankle bracelet that Katsuki also held in his hand. He was wearing a tank top too, like Katsuki was, and Katsuki could see the outline of his triceps. The sun started to rise, giving the sky a red tint. It made the green of Izuku’s eyes stand out even more. Deku’s green hair looked darker in the rise of morning, tangled and matted together.

“They tried to climb the back gate and probably would have managed to make it over until they met up with some of my colleagues and other members of faculty. Stupidly, like you, they decided to fight.”

Aizawa walked over to Kirishima and bent down to peer at him in the eyes, but Kirishima kept his gaze low, his body still bowing low. “They will receive the same punishment as you.” Aizawa raised his voice. “Until all of you learn your lesson. Is. That. Clear?!”

“Yes, sir!” They all shouted at once.

“Good, now, get out of my sight.” Aizawa said, walking away. They all moved from their position and stared at Katsuki. Most of the students when inside, but didn’t take their eyes off him until they got through the door.

Izuku was the first to move towards him, but stopped in his tracks when Todoroki gestured to Kirishima, whose shoulders moved up and down and the two of them went to go comfort him. Katsuki also started to move towards him, but the look Todoroki gave Katsuki blocked him. “Haven’t you done enough?”

“The fuck does that mean—?”

But that sentence was cut off when Katsuki saw Izuku. Katsuki definitely contemplated hitting Todoroki, but thought the better of it. Every single fucking one of them was clearly upset, but Kirishima was the one who spoke, “Dude, you went to a nightclub? To see—,” Kirishima turned his head so Katsuki couldn’t see him crying, but it was obvious he was. He sniffled loudly. “You knew how I felt about her. I literally can’t stop thinking about her,” Katsuki 100 percent understood how Kirishima felt. Not about Camie, but about Izuku, who stood less than 5 feet away from him. But he couldn’t just ignore Kirishima.

“Wait, this is about Camie?” Katsuki said. He looked at his shoes. It was Kirishima who had originally reintroduced the two, even if it was unintentional.

“Even just the way she talked to you. I would have killed someone to have her even look at me for more than 2 seconds. And last year, when you told me you got her number, I thought that this could be my chance to go ahead and just ask her out. But you two went to a nightclub and The Rage at that?” Kirishima wiped his face with his sleeve. He was also wearing an ankle bracelet. “I know what they do there, dude. Everyone in fucking Japan knows—,”

“Do you want me to apologize?” Katsuki snapped. His face reddened with anger and he tried to suppress his quirk. He closed his eyes, trying not to look at Kirishima’s face. He tried to be so manly all the time and Katsuki knew how hard it must’ve been for him to cry. They shouldn’t have come after me.

“You shouldn’t have left in the first place.” Kirishima yelled back, almost in response to Katsuki’s thought. “You’re out of control. We have all tried talking to you about what’s going on, but it’s getting to be too much to handle.”

Katsuki could hear his heart beating hard against his chest. He inhaled deeply and told the few that were still around to hear it, “Fine, you want me to apologize? I was angry and upset about the fight with Todoroki earlier. I feel left out of everyone’s business and—,” he opened his eyes and looked at Izuku. “—we’re all supposed to friends, but I’m no good at that. And Camie texted me at a bad time and I just wanted to leave for a few hours.”

“Kacchan.” the little flute said. Katsuki opened his eyes and peered up, looking into Izuku’s bright green eyes.

“It’ll take more than that to gain our trust back.” Todoroki said, shuffling back inside. The last three in the front yard was Kirishima, Katsuki and Izuku.

“I just…I’m sorry.” Kirishima said. “But Todoroki’s right, it’ll take more than that to get us to trust you again.” Kirishima smiled a bit, showing off his razor sharp teeth. “But it’s for sure a fucking good start.”

Izuku was the first to speak after a moment of silence, “Maybe we should head inside now.”

“Not yet. I have to talk to you.” Katsuki said to Izuku. “Alone. It’ll only take a second.” Kirishima smirked and patted Katsuki on the shoulder before heading inside. He and Izuku stood there, looking at each other. “You saw me leave, didn’t you, nerd?”

Izuku blushed. “It was actually Todoroki who saw you. Kacchan, we all thought—,” he stopped himself.

“Thought what?” Katsuki asked.

Izuku inhaled deeply and shook his head. “Kacchan, I’ve known you for so long. You’re really kind of arrogant and really stubborn when it comes to getting your way—,”

“Wow, what an explanation—,” Katsuki started, but Izuku yelled at him.

“I’m not fucking done, Kacchan.” Katsuki closed his mouth and gestured for Izuku to continue. “You’re stubborn. You’ve always been so confident, knowing exactly what you want and not letting anyone get in your way. But lately, it just seems like you’ve just lost it. We all, every one of us, have tried to talk to you, but you just won’t. And it’s different than before. It’s like the old you isn’t there anymore.” He paused before saying, “We thought you wanted to kill yourself. So, we went after you, but were stopped and it turned ugly. But then we explained what was going on, but by then it was kind of too late. You’d been arrested. People were posting up pictures and tagging all of us. The one of you at the nightclub and when Kirishima saw that the girl from the licensing exam was there, he shut down. We were so worried about you.” Another pause before he said, “I was really worried about you.”

Katsuki wanted to open his mouth to tell Izuku. To tell him how much he actually meant to him. That he didn’t and never deserved him. He wanted nothing more than to run up and kiss him all over his body. His heart pounded loudly in his chest. “Deku, I have to tell you something.” Izuku’s eyebrows shot up, indicating to Katsuki he was listening. Katsuki opened his mouth, but nothing came out. He didn’t know where to start or even how to begin to describe how he was feeling or why he was self-destructing. He just wanted Izuku to love him too. Say it, coward! “I can’t!”

Izuku became confused. “You can’t what?”

“Fuck.” Katsuki cursed. He covered his face with his hands for a moment, trying to wipe away all the disgrace that he felt. “Deku, I just—,” He looked around. They were still outside and the night was getting cold. Katsuki could see Izuku’s nipples poking through his tank top. He thought for a moment about his fantasy of Izuku licking his fingers and playing with them. Katsuki’s hands almost ignited instantly, but he grabbed his own arms stopping his quirk from getting out of hand, so to speak. He leaned forward, towards Izuku, whispering, “Not here.” he whispered and started walking inside. “You coming, nerd?”

Izuku followed him inside. The few people who were still awake and in the common area not saying a word to either of them as they both got onto the elevator. They said nothing and the light, sort of upbeat elevator music broke the silence between them. They got off on Katsuki’s floor and before Izuku could say no, Katsuki told him, “Come with me.” He walked down the hall and stopped at his door. He took a deep breath and unlocked it, inviting Izuku inside.

It was dark in the room, but the sunrise lit up from underneath the curtains. “You should probably put that on.” Izuku said. Put something on? Katsuki looked at what Izuku gestured too and it was the ankle bracelet. He picked it up and held it for a moment before Izuku said, “It’s kind of tricky, let me help.” Out of muscle memory, Katsuki took a step back, but then stopped himself. He held it out for Izuku to take and Izuku got on one knee and wrapped it around Katsuki’s ankle. Katsuki wanted to reach out, tangle his hair in his hands. He felt his dick start to get hard just thinking about the two of them being in the same room together. Izuku fumbled with it for about a minute before it made a click sound. “There.” he said, jumping back up. “Now you’re stuck with us!”

“Stuck with you.” Katsuki told him and Izuku giggled. Katsuki smiled too at the sound of Izuku’s laugh.

“You said you wanted to tell me something.” Izuku said, biting his lower lip. Katsuki gestured for him to sit on the bed and when he did, Katsuki sat down next to him.

Once again, silence filled the room. Occasionally, Katsuki would try to say something, but his mouth would close shut again. The two of them sat there calmly. Something felt so right about having Izuku in the room with him. A few times, he told himself to just kiss him, but thought the better of it after the events of today.

“Deku, there’s something you need to know,” Katsuki said, trying to look away from him, but Izuku’s eyes glowed in the dark. He made a sort of mhm sound. But he couldn’t bring himself to do it. Hot tears from the heat of his quirk filled the back of Katsuki’s eyes. Izuku reached out and touched Katsuki’s shoulder. The look on Izuku’s face wasn’t anger or frustration, but gentle with a subtle smile. They sat like that for a good minute before Izuku pulled on the tank top and Katsuki leaned forward. He wanted to lean forward to kiss him, to have their lips brush each other’s in a warm embrace. But after the evens of today, he thought the better of it. He put his head in the crook of Izuku’s neck deciding it would be better to wait until he was in the right head space. Izuku didn’t quite smell as nice as he did before—he smelled like musk and dirt, and a whole lot of outside, but Katsuki kind of liked it. They sat like that for a little while longer, and as the sun crept in beneath the curtains, Katsuki closed his eyes, not realizing how tired he was after today. Upon seeing that, Izuku laid down and Katsuki placed his head on his chest. Izuku winced a little in pain and Katsuki looked at all the scratches Izuku had on his arms for the first time. He couldn’t imagine how they must’ve felt, thinking that Katsuki would just end it all. For a moment, he pictured what it would be like to not have Izuku around, but he grabbed Izuku tighter at the thought. Izuku held him, lightly running his fingers through Katsuki’s hair, Katsuki trying to mimic the rise and fall of Izuku’s breathing. He placed an arm around Izuku’s abdomen and closely listened to rhythmic sound of his heart beating. They laid there, just holding each other until Katsuki finally opened his mouth and whispered, “Deku…”

But Izuku shook his head. “Go to sleep, Kacchan.”

At that, Katsuki drifted into a deep sleep.

(previous)(next)

#bakudeku #bakugou x midoriya #mha bakugou #mhadeku #katsudeku #izukatsu #katsuki x izuku #myfic #myficstay

15 notes · View notes

fanfiction-abyss · 4 years

Text

TBHK SONGFIC

This is my gift for my fellow ___ for a discord gift event! Hope you enjoy it!!

Akane Aoi x Hikari Minamoto:

STUPID CUPID

For all his life, Akane Aoi found himself struggling. He struggled to gain the love of his childhood bestfriend, struggled in his balancing order between his life and responsibilities as vice-president of the student council and keeping his duties as School Mystery No. 1. As his first year of high school started, he thought that he had it all in check, until he met her. Hikari Minamoto. Their meeting was by chance, he bumped into her while she was walking out of the student council room. She quickly bowed, spewed out an apology and ran off before he could blink. At first he thought she was a brave fan of Teru's who came to bother him, but the thought was quickly crossed off his mind as Teru explained who the girl was.

"That was my little sister. She was just dropping me off my lunch that I forgot. Usually it's Kou, but he's busy with his own mission." Akane nodded, busying himself by filing some papers, sweating under Teru's intensive stare. After finishing his filing, Akane nodded at Teru before heading to the door.

"Aoi." His sharp voice made Akane stop.

"Please be good to my siblings, if you ever see them around."

"I will, President Minamoto." The redhead silently cursed the president in his mind.

It wasn't until a week later that Hikari and Akane made contact once again.

"Ao-chan! I'd like you to meet someone! She's interested in joining the Gardening club!" Nene pulled a familiar blonde in front of Aio's desk, one thing Akane noticed was that she was wearing a middle school uniform.

"P-pleased to meet your acquaintance! I'm Hikari M-Minamoto, a third year in t-the middle school division and I'd like to join the club, as Senpai just explained!" Her voiced was rather meek and she had a rather heavy blush on her cheeks. Aoi, who Akane was standing next to, clasped her hands excitedly, sparkles bloomed as she cutely titled her head and smiled.

"That's great to hear, Minamoto-san! I'm Aoi Akane, thank you for showing interest in the club! We really need new members!" Hikari rubbed her arm and gazed at the ground.

"Y-You can call me by my first name... I don't mind. It's just... it's just that I don't want any unwanted confusion or attention, so..." She trailed off, her eyes swirling with embarrassment.

"I see, then you can call me Ao-chan, Hikari-chan!" Akane tensed, pushing up his glasses.

"... to think she's already in nickname basis with Ao-chan..." His mutterings grabbed the girl's attention.

"Is something wrong, Akane-kun?" Aoi asked sweetly, to which Akane shook his head.

I must stay poised and collected in front of President Minamoto's siblings or I won't hear the end of it from him...

Akane respectfully bowed towards Hikari.

"Pleasure to meet you, Minamoto-kohai. I'm Akane Aoi, if you don't know, I work with President Minamoto. " Hikari immediately bowed in respect, hitting her forehead on the top of the desk.

"I'm incredibly sorry for bumping into you last week, Aoi-Senpai, I didn't even formally apologize! I'm so, so sorry! Please let me make it up to you in some way or another!" The first years jumped, not expecting the sudden outbursts.

"Minamoto-kohai! It's quite alright-"

"Uwah! Hikari-chan are you alright?!" Nene had her hand up to her mouth in horror. The young girl, straightened up, showing a rather painful bruise of her forehead. Tears were welling up in the corner of her eyes.

"I-I'm fine, Senpai!"

"But-but you're crying!" Hikari covered her face and turned away.

"It's just that... I'm so embarrassed! I made a fool of myself in front of the upperclassmen!" Aoi patted the younger girls sibling in the back rather comforting.

"It's okay, Hikari-chan! You were just nervous, but for now, let's take you to the nurses office and check the bruise out."

"A-Ah! It's fine, Ao-Senpai! I'm, I'm used to worse, so this is nothing!" Aoi's and Nene's face visibly darkened with worry.

"W-worse?"

"A-Anyways, umm... about the club..." Face brightening, Aoi picked up her bag.

"If you don't mind, we can introduce you to the gardens! You can see what type of plants you want to take care of and you can meet the others as well, but first we have to change out of uniforms so they don't get dirty! Did you have an extra set of clothes?" Hikari lifted her bag and nodded, gaining approval from Aoi.

"Then, let's get moving! See ya, Akane-kun!" Akane watched the girls leave before making his way down the garden, hiding in his usual spot where he was able to watch what was going on. It took a few minutes before the girls came outside. Aoi was wearing her cute white sunhat, a pink tshirt and discolored shorts. Akane watched the new member with eyes of a hawk. She was wearing a white long sleeved shirt, black track pants, and her hair was pulled into a ponytail, allowing a purple good-luck amulet piercing in her left ear. It looked rather delinquent-like on her, which as far as Akane could tell, was not much her style. Aoi left and Nene walked with Hikari, touring her around, and stopping in front of Akane.

"And this is the decorative plants we take care of..." Nene trailed of, seeing the horrified expression of her junior, looking at the bush and letting out a terrified yelp.

"A-Akane-kun?! What are you doing?!" Akane's face was popping out of the plant, his glasses hid his eyes, but he was smiling.

"Oh, Nene-san, I'm just watching over Ao-chan, that's all!" Nene nodded, pulling Hikari close.

"Forgive him, Hikari-chan! He has a condition!" Before an answer escaped her mouth, Hikari tensed and turned, feeling dread.

This feeling... is it an apparition? Not to mention, didn't Ao-senpai head over there!?

"Eh, Hikari-chan, everything alright?" Nene's question was answered with a familiar shriek, causing the trios eyes to widen.

"Ao-chan/Ao-senpai!"

Hikari was the one who ran first, the other following close behind. They reached the toolshed and Hikari held her hand, stopping the others.

If it's an apparition, my upperclassmen will be in danger!

"I-I will go in there, you guys stay here! I'll go check and see!" Nene and Akane couldn't stop her as she dashed inside the tool shed. Stepping inside, Hikari felt the presence of a spirit, but she spotted Aoi first and kneeled next to her. It seemed that she was just passed out, the shards of a broken pot, probably dropped in surprise, thankfully didn't reach the older girl. Hikari focused her attention on the corner across from her, where the dark aura came from. A shivering child was huddled in the corner, its arms around its legs and head buried between its knees.

"I don't know what past you've lived, but that gives you no right to harm a human, so... I must exorcise you." A child's voice spoke out.

"Mother and I... used to play in the gardens all the time... are you my mommy?" With furrowed brows, Hikari clenched her hand, a spear made of lighting molded within. She took aim and threw the spear towards the corner, a gentle light and clean breeze fell upon the toolshed.

May you find peace in the afterlife...

"Senpais! Akane-senpai has fainted!" Akane and Nene immediately rushed in, both looking disheveled.

"We should take Ao-chan to the nurses, Akane-kun!" Akane nodded with Nene and picked Aoi up.

"Sorry to cut the tour short, but..."

"D-don't worry, senpai!" Nene smiled brightly at the young exorcist.

"Thank you for helping, Hikari-chan!" Blushing, Hikari waved goodbye to her seniors before making her way home.

Stupid Cupid you're a real mean guy

I'd like to clip your wings so you can't fly

I'm in love and it's a crying shame

And I know that you're the one to blame

Hey hey, set me free

Stupid Cupid stop picking on me

Ever since that day, Hikari began getting Akane's attention no matter where he went. It was only natural, after all, she saved his beloved Aoi. He would catch glimpses of her as he would walk the halls, or greet her whenever they made eye contact. He noticed details about her. Her eyes were always gentle no matter what, though she rarely talked, she had an energy that attracted people to her. And, another thing he noticed was that she would never judge others no matter what.

"Oh, hi, Aoi-senpai!" His hiding spot had been compromised once again. Akane sighed and crawled out the plant.

"How do you do, Minamoto-kohai?"

"I'm d-doing well... how... how about you?"

"I'm doing perfectly fine, Ao-chan is as bright as the sun, so everything is fine!" The girl giggled at his response, but quickly covered her mouth.

"Sorry... I wasn't laughing at you, I-I just think your affection for Ao-senpai is quite cute..." Akane shook his head, squatting next to her, watching as she dug up wholes in the soil to plant beans.

"It's alright." They stayed in silence, before Akane spoke out.

"What made you interested in the Gardening Club?"

"U-umm, I joined because... I just wanted to make my brothers jobs easier." Akane said nothing and stared at the girl, encouraging her to continue.

"W-Well, Teru-nii is always busy with student council work and keeping peace in the school. Kou takes care of the housework himself and won't let me help, so... I was thinking if I could at least plant veggies and fruits, I could make their life easier... plus just in case Tiara's interested in gardening, I could teach her..." Hikari's fond expression quickly turned into one of embarrassment.

"But now that I say it out loud it doesn't make any sense!" Akane huffed, fiddling with the red student council band on his arm.

"No, I think it's nice that you think about your siblings and the fact that you try to take care of them, it's admirable." Akane didn't know what went through his mind as the words spewed out of his mouth. Hikari stopped patting the dirt, her face turning redder than the tomatoes on a nearby vine, her eye were wide, but they didn't convey any negative emotion.

"I-I see, thank you... for thinking that..."

"Oh and Minamoto-kohai, you could call me by my first name, so that's in not confusing."

"Then you can call me by my f-first name too..."

"Alright, Hikari-san."

I can't do my homework and I can't think straight

I meet her every morning 'bout half past eight

I'm acting like a lovesick fool

You've even got me carrying your books to school

Hey hey, set me free

Stupid Cupid stop picking on me

After their conversation in the garden, their usual greeting turned into full blown conversations with each other. It wasn't noticable, but they began getting closer. Hikari thought about her new friend most of the time, even though it distracted her from studying. Akane who used to hate having to collect files and papers from teachers of the middle school division, began enjoying his walks, seeing that as soon as Akane and Hikari made eye contact, Hikari would join him and help him on his quest (or so she liked to call it). It wasn't noticable to anyone, until Akane stopped confessing to Aoi everytime he saw her. He would still watch her with loving eyes, but Aoi noticed something was different with Akane. It was one morning, where Aoi's suspicions were confirmed. It was early in the morning, when Aoi stepped into the sunlit classroom, Akane was already there, ruffling through a pile of papers.

"Goodmorning, Akane-kun!" Aoi smiled at her childhood friend, who looked up with a bright smile.

"Ah! Goodmorning Ao-chan! You look as beautiful as always!" He then turned his attention to the papers in front of him. He didn't even notice her scrutinizing gaze, until she was literally in his face. He leaned away in slight shock.

"Something wrong, Ao-chan?" The indigo haired girl put a finger on her chin and hummed.

"I don't know how to put it, but Akane-kun, are you over me?" Akane tensed and blushed.

"O-Of course no-" The image of a smiling Hikari flashed in his head, causing him to stop mid sentence. The vivid image caused him to relive the memory. It was when the beans she planted finally sprouted out of the ground. She quickly called him over and showed him the accomplishment with proud smile, her usually gentle voice was filled with excitement.

"Look, Akane-senpai!"

"Akane-kun?" Akane snapped out of his trance, gazing at Aoi.

"Ao-chan, I still love you, but it's not the same love as before!" Aoi giggle, putting her hands behind her.

"Thought so! So do you like Hikari-chan?"

"Huh?! Ao-chan how did-"

"It was quite obvious Akane-kun! You're never to good at hiding your feelings if you like someone! Plus, I wouldn't be called your childhood friend if I didn't notice!" Akane sighed and rested his forehead on his arms.

"I see..."

Thank god President Minamoto hasn't noticed my change of behavior, yet... I can only imagine what he'll do to me!

Akane revisited memories of being tied up like an animal and shivered.

"Then, Akane-kun, what do you plan to do...?" Aoi's unanswered question stuck with him throughout the day. What was he going to do? It felt weird thinking of Hikari all the time instead of Aoi. His affections now differed, he wanted to stay the same with Aoi, but with Hikari it was different. It felt as if he'd been struck by a cupid's arrow, which made a warm feeling resonate within his chest. It wasn't until he stood in front of Hikari's classroom door afterschool, that he had the answer.

I want to ask her out!

The classroom door opened and out came a blonde boy, the thing the caught Akane's attention was the red traffic-safety amulet on the boys right ear.

"See ya, sis!" He ran off the opposite hallway from Akane and Hikari ran out of the classroom looking the way Kou ran off.

"W-wait Kou!" Kou was long gone by now, making her slump her shoulders in defeat.

"He forgot his spirit staff... and here he was boasting about taking down the school mysteries..."

"Hikari-san?" Surprised, the girl yelped before covering her mouth.

"Akane-senpai?!"

"U-um... about what you were talking about..." She tensed, before clenching her fists.

"C-can we go somewhere p-p-private..."

"Sure..." Akane followed Hikari up the roof and gulped as she stood in front of him with a bowed head.

"A-A-Actually... I've been putting off this confession for a long time... but can you promise me that no matter what... you won't look at me differently..." Akane stood paralyzed, with a heavy blush and without waiting for an answer, she took a deep breath.

C-Confession...?

"I-I'm actually an exorcist! I come from a lineage of exorcists, so I'm not the only one! My older brothers are also exorcists, t-that's why you heard me talk about supernaturals and all that gibberish..." A cold wind blew past Akane as comical tears ran down his cheeks.

A-Ah, that type of confession..

Quickly composing himself, Akane put his hands on her shoulder and looked into her eyes, which were full of uncertainty.

"Don't worry, Hikari-san, if anything, it makes my view of you grow positively!" He gave her a sweet smile, that made her feet go jelly.

"C-can I h-hug you..?" Akane didn't hesitate to give approval and he felt warm arms wrap themselves around his chest, her head was rested near his heart, which now, the redhead realized, was pounding rapidly.

"T-thank you, senpai!" Akane slowly wrapped his hands around her frame, pulling her closer, if that was possible.

I'm content with this...

You mixed me up for good right from the very start

Hey now, go play Robin Hood with somebody else's heart

About a few weeks later, Akane realized that he was not content with how the relationship was progressing. He managed to get a grip on himself and managed to not gush about the girl that kept his mind busy, seeing as he was scared that he would scare Hikari off. He tried to be sensitive, but like someone flipped a switch, he couldn't contain himself. He was tired of hiding his affections from the girl that deserved it the most. Making up his mind, he decided to confess to her, and told Aoi, who cheered him up. As he walked through the halls, ignoring the gossiping whispers of another supernatural at school, he planned on confessing the next time he sees her.

You got me jumping like a crazy clown

And I don't feature what you're putting down

It was lunch, when he saw her, but not in the exact situation he preferred. In fact it was the opposite of an ideal situation. He was walking, passing by an abandoned music classroom, when he heard a low piano note resonate, the sound of the door slamming open and someone being thrown against the wall followed the sound. Akane turned, horror on his face when he saw Hikari crumpled on the ground, cuts and bruises on her skin. She shakily picked her head up, reddish eyes clashing with blue eyes.

"A-Akane-senpai, get out of here! It's supernatural!" A black, gooey hand held the doorframe, and a shadow loomed over the girl, causing her to scramble back on her feet. A goey hand was raised, ready to strike, but gloved hand kept it in place.

"A-Akane-senpai...?" Hikari took in his appearance, his outfit had changed black and white suit, a pocket watch pinned on his chest. His hair had slighty gotten longer and a low ponytail swayed behind him. With a growl, Akane clenched his hand, breaking off the supernatural's hand off, getting the black substance on his face.

"You filth! Don't ever touch Hikari-chan with your dirty hands, ever again!" With his other hand, Akane stabbed through the supernatural's main body, making it go limp before dissolving into this air.

"Akane-senpai... you're a school mystery?" Akane turned his attention to the girl and gave her a closed eye smile.

"Yeah, sorry for keeping it a secret from you... but more importantly, are you okay?" He took her face into his hands, rubbing his thumbs over her cheeks in a gentle and loving manner. His red eyes gleamed with adoration.

"We need to take you to the nurse's, don't bother resisting, it's best if your brothers find out." He took her wrist and began pulling her along, stopping when he felt her other hand tugging on his white vest.

"Thank you for saving me Akane-senpai..." Blue eyes were filled with warmth and the genuine smile dancing on her lips made Akane snap.

Well since I kissed her loving lips of wine

The thing that bothers me is that I like it fine

Hey hey, set me free

Stupid Cupid stop picking on me

With a hand under her chin, he gently pulled her chin up, closing his eyes, he leaned in and pressed his lips onto hers. Hikari tensed into the sweet kiss, before relaxing and softly pressing her lips back. A small smile sneaked its way on Akane's face through the kiss, before the two pulled away and looked at each other's eyes.

"If it's you, I wouldn't mind have to save you no matter how many times it is... "A moment of silence was shared between the two, as Hikari slid her hand into his and he wasted no time to gently grip it into a secure hold. Akane stroked her cheek once more, and pressed his forehead upon hers. He realized that for once, he felt at peace. Hikari squeezed his hand.

"After all, I love you more than anything else in this world..."

You got me jumping like a crazy clown

And I don't feature what you're putting down

Well since I kissed his loving lips of wine

The thing that bothers me is that I like it fine

Hey hey, set me free

Stupid Cupid stop picking on me

Hikari remembered when she realized she was in love with Akane. It had been a few weeks ago, she had complained about not having enough fertilizer for the soil, and the very next day, Akane showed up to the Gardening Club with a wheelbarrow full of it. It was a grand and sweet gesture, and just the memory of it let a few giggles escape from her mouth.

"Akane-kun, I love you too."

Hey hey, set me free

Stupid Cupid stop picking on me

I hope you like it and I'm sorry if any characters seem OOC! Also apologies for any editing mistakes!

31 notes · View notes

ninja-go-to-therapy · 4 years

Text

Devastated: Training, Day 1

Mama Mia (Here We Go Again)

I’m sorry in advance.

The rest of this series, titled Damage, can be found on my masterlist, which is linked in my bio. If you want to know what’s going on, I recommend reading through that first.

HOWEVER! It should be noted that this is more of a spinoff series to that. Devastated is not canon to the events of Damage, but it can be assumed that everything that has happened so far in Damage has happened preceding this. Basically, this branches off into non-canon territory sometime after Cole has completely succumbed to the brainwashing going on here.

ESSENTIALLY: Devastated is a Damage AU.

Trigger Warnings: dehumanization, pet whump, Stockholm syndrome, creepy!whumper and just like… general uncomfy vibes associated with the aforementioned warnings. If that sounds like it would bother you, please don’t read!

2020 words

“Let go of me you bastard!” Kai yelled, struggling to the best of his ability. His hands and feet were bound, but he was ready to throw this guy around if he wasn’t in such a tight position.

Whatever jerk that was carrying him didn’t say anything in retaliation, he just kept walking wordlessly.

“What, are you too good to talk to the guy that you’re dragging through the middle of nowhere? What the hell do you even want?”

Whatever he’d been drugged with was beginning to wear off, and though his words were still slightly slurred, he didn’t back down. If he was lucky, he could stall for long enough until he was able to somehow get his feet free and then pummel this guy.

He was unceremoniously dropped, and he fell to the ground with a painful thud. Okay, that hurt.

Kai groaned, unable to sit up with his arms pinned under him and the drugs still in his system. From what he could tell, he was in a grassy clearing, though there was still some snow on the ground, next to some kind of... weird wooden pole.

Whatever jerk that had decided to kidnap him (not for long though, he was going to get out of here as soon as he could feel his toes again), proceeded to pick him up and hook his handcuffs over the pole.

He growled, kicking at him to the best of his ability, but the man stepped back before he was able to do any harm.

“Careful there, little stray, you could have hit me.” The man said, his voice calm and smooth as honey. He took a few more steps back, then held up his phone. If the way he was holding it was any indication, he was taking a picture.

“Fuck off,” Kai said, fixing the man with a fiery glare. If he could access his powers he’d fry this guy. How the hell was it that all the bad guys these days had vengestone cuffs? Was there some sort of Villain’s Equipment to Defeat a Ninja store he didn’t know about?

“You’re gonna be a difficult little thing, aren’t you?”

What the fuck was that supposed to mean? Of course he was going to be difficult, he wasn’t just going to watch while this dude did whatever the hell he wanted!

“Don’t worry, I can be patient. It’s the most important thing about this kind of work, you know.”

What kind of work was he referring to, exactly?

“Now, let's get you out of those pesky clothes.”

No way, not happening. Over his dead body.

When the guy tried to come closer, he kicked his legs out as violently as he could, nearly hitting him. The problem with trying to kick while your feet were bound and without feeling, though, was that it wasn’t very easy to do.

The guy didn’t look impressed. He tsked, pulling out a pocket knife. Kai didn’t have the energy to fight back further.

“Hold still,” he said, and gave no other warning before he sliced through the top of Kai’s shirt. The blade nicked his skin.

“Oops,” the guy said, though as it seemed to be with most villains, he didn’t really seem to care at all.

Kai’s shirt was in tatters on the ground before long.

The wound he’d been granted stung, but still, he’d had worse.

What was really bothering him was the strain on his arms from the way they were forced to hold him up.

“Let me down,” he said, and he didn’t sound very menacing with the way his tongue felt like lead, but he was sure he got the point across.

Snow began to fall, gentle and soft and not at all like it had last year. Last year was all harsh storms and almost blizzards, but this year was the calm after.

“Well, isn’t this just perfect?” His captor asked, looking up at the dark clouds above. “You’re going to stay out here for awhile until you’re ready to be more respectful.”

With that, he turned and walked straight inside the little house.

Whatever, as soon as Kai was able to feel his limbs, he was going to get off this stupid pole and get out of here.

The only problem was that he was shirtless, wearing thin pants, and it was snowing.

He shivered. He wished he could do more than awkwardly flop around to move, but whatever he’d been drugged with was powerful.

His teeth were chattering violently and it was one of the few things he could feel apart from the cold.

Where was he? Why — how — had this guy even taken him? Why couldn’t he remember anything from before he’d woken up?

He remembered going to bed the previous night, and then nothing. It had to be late afternoon by now, at least. What had happened?

Fuck, it was cold out here. If only he had his powers...

The wind picked up and the snow fell harder. If he was left out here very long he was going to get hypothermia or something. What were the symptoms of that again?

His body was shaking so hard it hurt. Each snowflake that landed on him almost burned.

Was it bad that the small bit of feeling he’d gained was going away?

This was some kind of hell, wasn’t it?

His body fell slack. He just didn’t have the energy to shiver anymore. He was going to die out here...

“Look at you...”

He would have jumped, had he the energy. When had his captor come back out?

“We wouldn’t want you to freeze out here, now would we?”

His eyelids were too heavy to focus on the way his eyes glinted or the way his voice dipped or the way the door was still open or the hell that more than definitely awaited him.

When had he gotten so tired? Hadn’t he just been asleep?

He was removed from the pole and, unable to support himself, toppled to the ground.

It was so cold...

“I’m going to make this plain and simple, little stray. You’re going to get in there, or you’ll die out here.”

He weakly craned his neck to see where “in there” was supposed to be, and—oh. This—this had to be a joke. There was no way he was serious, no one was that crazy.

“Not a fucking chance,” he said, and it was meant to come out confident and angry, if not slurred, not quiet and murmured.

Because that was a dog house. A legitimate fucking dog house. Granted, a nice looking one, but a dog house all the same.

What the fuck was this guy on?

“I’m going to tell you one more time. Get in, or die.”

He would much rather die.

When he made no move to do as he’d been told, his captor shook his head.

“Rescues are always so much harder to train... I don’t see why, but some people prefer them.”

What did that even mean?

Still, he was too tired to keep his eyes fully open, so he didn’t see whatever happened next.

His eyes slipped shut. He was so tired... he just needed a little nap...

“You see, pet? This is what happens when you’re bad. This poor little stray has chosen to die instead of following a simple instruction. I know you would never be so foolish, of course.”

Who was he talking to? Was someone else there...?

He blinked his eyes open, his vision blurry. It took a moment too long to figure out what he was looking at. Because that person, next to his captor, they almost looked like...

“Cole?”

Cole flinched back, apparently startled. He looked... scared.

His hands went to his neck, ghosting over — what the fuck, what the actual fuck? His brother had a collar around his neck. A collar. Like, a dog collar.

Suddenly, everything his captor had been saying was beginning to make sense.

“Ignore him, pet,” his captor murmured to Cole, who nodded.

What had he done to his brother?

“Last chance, mutt. Get in and live, or stay out here and die.”

Not a chance, he wasn’t going to do that, not with Cole here, not when he needed to help his brother and get them both out of here. Was this where he’d been all this time? With this sicko in the middle of nowhere? Being treated like an animal?

“No,” he growled, wishing more than anything he could call forth his fire and burn this guy to a crisp.

His captor looked at him for a long moment. He glared in retaliation, and the tension was so thick it could be cut with a knife. Finally, his captor sighed.

“Oh well, then.”

He turned to leave.

“Please just do it!”

His captor whipped his head around so fast he should have gotten whiplash. Cole’s eyes were wide, his hand covering his mouth like he could take it back. He looked terrified.

In this moment, Kai had a choice to make.

If he was going to get them both out of here... he needed to stay alive. And the only way to do that... was to obey. But only for now.

“What’s the one rule, pet, that I hold you to? The one rule?”

Cole removed his hand from his mouth, body trembling and eyes downcast. “No talking without permission.” He whispered.

“That’s right. What do you have to say for yourself?”

“I’m sorry Master, I didn’t mean to, I’m sorry, please forgive me, I’m sorry.”

Kai wanted to throw up from how readily Cole had begged forgiveness.

“Fine!” He yelled, successfully throwing the attention back on himself. “I’ll do it.” He mumbled.

His captor looked between him and Cole with a growing smile that no doubt meant it would get worse.

“Go on then,” his captor said, “get in.”

This was the absolute most demeaning thing he’d ever done in his life. But it was for Cole. It was all to save Cole.

Gritting his teeth, he pushed himself up, barely able to feel his limbs at all. He wouldn’t be able to stand.

The very last thing he wanted to do (aside from actually go through with this) was crawl. But he had no choice, and he certainly wasn’t asking for help.

“Go to hell,” he growled, pushing himself forward on the ground.

Cole didn’t look at him as he crawled, and he was thankful for that. He didn’t want him to see him like this.

He didn’t want to do this. He wanted to regain feeling in his body and snap these handcuffs off and rip that collar off his brother's neck and crush this psychopath’s skull.

But he couldn’t.

With a huff, he dragged himself into the doghouse. It was actually... kind of warm in here.

“That’s better,” his captor said, a dark grin on his face. He turned to Cole. “Go inside, pet. We’ll discuss your punishment as soon as I’m done with this mutt.”

Cole, like an obedient little puppy, turned to go inside. Kai wanted to be sick.

“Let me be very, very clear,” his captor said, approaching the doghouse and dropping into a crouch. “If you attempt to be a bad influence on my pet, there will be severe consequences. If you talk back again, there will be severe consequences. If you try to attack me again, there will be severe consequences. Are we clear?”

Kai glared at the man, wanting more than anything to break his stupid, perfect nose. But his hands were cuffed, and he wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction.

“Oh, and one more thing. I’m your trainer, little stray. Your teacher. You can call me Sir. Now, I’ll ask again. Are. We. Clear?”

As if. There was nothing this man could say that would get him to oblige.

His glare seemed to serve as an answer. His captor sighed, tsking.

“Well then,” he said, snapping a chain around Kai’s ankle. “I guess you can see how you like going to sleep without dinner.”

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timmisny · 4 years

Text

for most of high school i had an eating disorder. though you’d never expect it from me, i was obviously overweight.

i never did reach my goal. in fact, if anything i gained weight because of it.

before my ed, i was always content with my body. i was chubby, sure, but nothing that couldn’t be hidden by some high-wasted pants and an oversized t-shirt.

i was never bullied in high school. at least not by my peers. people were generally nice. my father, on the other hand, was a different story.

yes he was physically abusive. yes he dangled me by the hair at the top of the stairway when i was five. yes he left my 9th birthday to party and come home drunk and knock a dresser on top of me. yes he threw ceramic dishware at me just a few days ago for leaving my bike unlocked. and yes i am fucking traumatized.

but all those things, all those horrible things he did and continues to do, none of them can equate to the words he stabs into me.

i started to skip lunch and breakfast freshman year. i only wanted to lose a little weight, and id still eat dinner every night anyway. my dad had been beginning to point out my “tummy pocket”.

we bought a scale. we took turns weighing ourselves for some sick and twisted reason. my older sister was 5′1 and 125 lbs. i was 5′4 and 137 lbs. i was younger. my dad pointed this out.

sophomore year, i discovered ed tumblr. over the summer, i had forgotten about my losing weight goal and just tried to enjoy the vacation. by that point i was 145 lbs.

that disgusted me. i found thinspo, ana&mia, the whole shebang. i would starve myself for 4 days straight, and then binge. instead of going to lunch or study hall, i’d walk around the school, up and down stairs to burn more calories. chewing gum helped too. i became vegan to have an excuse not to eat with everyone else.

i was on and off with recovery. id say i was going to recover, but not because i thought there was something genuinely wrong with me, but because i was just hungry.

i was down to 115 by the end of december. and no one noticed, no one cared. so i gave up. i enjoyed life again. it was winter, and i couldnt flaunt my body anyway.

cut to junior year. i’m 155 lbs. as it turns out, starving yourself enables a response in your body that spares calories and decreases your metabolism. so although i was eating a regular, healthy amount, i gained a ton of weight.

my father had begun pointing this out. “you’re too fucking fat, meg.” “your ass is enormous.” “you’ve got to be heavier than i am!” “you gotta stop eating so much.” “you don’t stand a chance.”

so i became bulimic. anorexia had never really worked out for me, as i always ended up bingeing the calories i refused myself. my capillaries would burst around my eyes from the strain, a symptom known as petechiae, and i would wear sunglasses and completely make myself up to hide the little red dots.

that didnt work much. i often found myself gazing at my reflection in the toilet bowl. still fat, still ugly. it’s hard to look at yourself through chunks of undigested carrots.

senior year i gave up completely. i weigh 163 lbs and i would be lying if i said i loved myself. i don’t. i hate it. every time i try to think positively, every time i think im in full recovery, my father will say something about how i look and i will run to the bathroom to plunge a toothbrush down my throat.

my point is, you don’t know what people are going through. if making fun of fat people gets you off, then obviously you’re a dick. but also? parents do not realize how much they influence their children. i have never held anything close to love for my father, except for maybe hate, and yet at the first sign of disapproval, i chuck myself into a long spiral of self-loathing.

tldr: be who you want to be. appearance means nothing. fuck parents

#ed #long post #tony stark #its not actually about tony i just know that my friend sam has that tag blocked and i dont want her seeing this #stony #that tag too #sorry if you follow these tags #ok to rb

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nightowlfandom · 5 years

Text

Min Yoongi- More Than What We Are

REQUEST FROM PROMPT LIST- RIGHT HERE! (I also write for anime too wink wonk)

Okay so I don’t have a screenshot since this person sent me this request via the little chat message feature. If you have a request that hasn’t been posted, it’s probably in my drafts.

“Can you please do a scenario where yoongi is an idol who is having a fwb relationship with the reader but the reader wants more than fwb but Yoongi is confused with his feelings. You can end it as you like add a little bit of angst and smut. ;) 1, 15, 23, 89 Thank you. :) “

1- How miserable must i be before you’re satisfied.

15- We can’t all be a perfect pretty boy popstar

23- It was foolish of me to think you could ever want a relationship with me, forget it

89- Me? A jerk?...I didn’t know you felt that way...I’m-

Leggo!

Okay so if you didn’t know FWB means “Friends With Benefits”

Also I’m going to be posting a music playlist of songs I like to jam to while i write soon...as soon as I don’t get lazy and...ya ALSO YOU GUYS BETTER LOVE THIS ONE BECAUSE IT GAVE ME HELL TO SAVE AND POST.

...

You and Yoongi both fell back onto the bed. You took in a huge breath before exhaling with a little laugh. Yoongi let out an audible groan, followed by a few curses. You sat up in bed, looking down at him, who was still trying to breathe in a little.

“You okay there?” you asked, brushing your hair out of your face.

“Shit.” he smirked, biting his lip. “Yeah I’m good. I’m just-” Yoongi didn’t finish speaking. “Damn.”

As much as you wanted to be happy in this instance...you couldn’t. Yoongi would soon get up from your bed, look for his clothes, then leave. It was a cycle. A cycle that you wanted to break, however you had some trobules doing that.

“It looks like it’s about to rain.” you commented, staring outside your window. Before you could continue, you heard a crash of thunder. “Correction...it’s raining.”

“Yeah, I’d better go.” he slipped his pants on.

“You know you could chill for a bit, it isn’t gonna kill you.” you mumbled. You made sure he couldn’t see you roll your eyes.

“...You know why I can’t do that.” he said, totally oblivious to your tone.

“I’m aware.” you mumbled.

“See you later Y/N.” he winked as he exited your room, still in the midst of putting his shirt on.

“...Yeah...” you sighed. “See you later.” you mumbled, staring outside the window. The rain was your only companion now. You wondered if other girls had to go through this shit show.

Yoongi wasn’t your boyfriend, you wouldn’t even go as far as to say you two were really good friends. You were basically who he came to when he had a rough day, a terrible break-up, or was feeling lonely. You didn’t want to say “friends with benefits” absolutely not.The word ‘benefit’ would imply that you were also getting something from this sad excuse of a relationship, but in real life? All you got to do was make Yoongi feel better when he was upset then end up being a notch in his bedpost. At least that’s how it felt

It wouldn’t be that bad, if he didn’t treat you like he didn’t know these emotions were going through your head.

...

“Whatcha doin?” you peeked over Yoongi’s shoulder as he hunched over his writing pad.

“I’m having trouble.” he sighed. “Trying to write.” he shook his head, throwing his pen down. “So what do you feel like doing?”

“I dunno.” you shrugged. “What about you? We could go out somewhere?”

“Nah, that wouldn’t work” he shook his head.

“Why not?” you raised an eyebrow. “You asked me a question and I answered.”

“Y/N you know why...” Yoongi looked at you with a weird look.

“Wow, so now we can’t get food without it being a problem?” you rolled your eyes standing up straight.

“We said no dates Y/N...” Yoongi sighed, standing up as well. “Dates would insinuate that we’re together.”

“First of all friends can go out and get food together. Or is that concept too foreign to you?” you huffed.

“For us it’s different. Especially since you know how I am about catching feelings for people.” Yoongi waved you off. “Especially you.” he mumbled, however you were too in your own head to hear that part.

“Oh so having feelings for me is suddenly a negative thing?” you laughed, rolling your eyes.

“I don’t know why you’re so upset right now.” Yoongi argued, making you roll your eyes.

“If you don’t understand then we have nothing to talk about.” you turned away. “It’s above me.”

“Y/N-” Yoongi sighed. “You know what I mean. You know what would happen if we start getting to close.”

“You act like it’s a bad thing.” you scoffed. “Maybe for you it’s a negative. We’ve already got past the awkward fucking stage to just casual fucking-”

“Y/N we talked about this-”

“No, you talked and I listened to you drone on about how we can have the sex, without the relationship to avoid any confusion well you know that....I may have made a mistake but you know what-”

“Then why haven’t you cut things off with me if you had such an issue?” he glared, making you cross your arms.

“I loved you too much to cut you off...it was foolish of me to think you could ever want a relationship with me.”

“How do you know what I want?” he asked accusingly.

“If all you see me as if your fuck buddy then you obviously don’t see me as anything more!” you replied, crossing your arms. “You’ve made it very clear that your only interest in me is to-”

“You don’t know what I see you as, Y/N” Yoongi calmed down.

“Wel you wanna know what I see you ask? A selfish jerk who has no idea when he’s playing with people’s feelings.”

“Me?...You think I’m a jerk? I...I didn’t know you felt that way.”

“Well guess what, that’s not all you don’t know. Yoongi you have two options, make up your mind or find a new toy. If being in a relationship is such an issue for you then maybe this friendship isn’t going to work out if all you gain from it is seeing me naked.” you whipped around, grabbing your purse off the table before stomping out the door.

.... (Two weeks later)

“What the fuck was that bullshit?!” Yoongi followed you into your apartment. He hadn’t shut up since you drove the both of you home. Yoongi had gotten kicked out of the bar. Why? Well, you were supposed to be on a date with a kind and sweet guy from your friends job who she thought you’d like, but apparently Yoongi had saw you two and went mad. It went a little something like-

(Flashback)

“So anyways, there I am literally running and my sisters are laughing their asses off still wearing those creepy ghost costumes.” your date tried to contain himself from laughing. You were struggling to keep it all in and he told his story. You were were at a bar-club, one of your favorite chill spots.

“You’re kidding!!” you hugged your sides to try to keep from laughing.

“I swe-...Hey...are you alright? You seem like you’re thinking about a lot.” he commented, setting his drink down.

“No... it’s just.” you sighed. “I just got out of this major situation, or should I say ‘shit-uation’.” you sighed, shaking your head.”Maybe I’m still in it since I had left his house without another word.”

“Is it a guy?” he asked thoughtfully, making you nod your head. “Ah, still not over him?”

“No, it’s not that.” you shook your head. “He’s just very confusing and right...behind you?” you trailed off. Yoongi locked eyes with you and he didn’t look pleased as he stomped towards you and your date.

“Y/N, who the fuck is this?”

“My date, is there an issue?!” you asked with just as much, if not more venom.

You didn’t have time to register Yoongi starting an argument with your date followed by him dragging you out of the bar.

(end of flashback)

“I should be asking you the same thing!” you fired. “You literally ruined my date!”

“So you think you can just go and get all casual with some fucker so quickly?!?” he crossed his arms. “You had me worried sick! You didn’t call me for two weeks Y/N!!!”

“OH” you began. “SO YOU DON’T WANT A RELATIONSHIP WITH ME?- SO WHEN I FINALLY DECIDE TO GET OVER YOU AND GO ON A DATE WITH SOMEONE ELSE, NOW THERE’S AN ISSUE?!” you spat, making him scoff.

“I never said I didn’t want to be with you! I said I had some things to work out! Why would you want to go on a date with that asshole anyways!?!.”

“Oh so any guy that shows a genuine interest in me is now an asshole. That’s real rich Yoongi!”you snapped. “And you never once said you had things to work out!”

“He’s obviously some douchebag, have you seen the way he dresses!”

“Well, we can’t all be some perfect pretty boy popstar! So let me get this straight. You don’t want to be with me, but you also don’t want to be with anyone else. JUST HOW MISERABLE MUST I BE BEFORE YOU’RE SATISFIED!?” you snapped. “Why I ever let myself fall for you, I will never know.” you said. No, you weren’t going to cry. You weren’t going to let him see you sad or mopey.

You were fed up. You didn’t care if this ended with Yoongi walking out that door and never speaking to you again anymore. “I gave up so much to make you happy, to make sure you were always laughing even if it meant crying myself to sleep after you left...I was your stupid shoulder to cry on your stupid cheerleader your special friend.” you said, crossing your arms. “....and I’m not gonna do it anymore.” you spat.

“Y/N-”

“So.” you cut him off. “Do you...or do you not...want to be in a relationship with me?”

“Y/N-”

“You...have ten second to answer my question before I kick you out...I can’t keep doing this with you!” you began, scratching behind your ear.. “I wo-”

“Yes! Yes, I do want to be with you!” he cut you off. “I can’t stand being away from you, seeing you with that guy just drove me insane tha-.”

“I don’t believe you, I don’t believe that you’re serious.” you replied.

“Then tell me how to make you believe me!” his voice wavered. You had never heard that from him before, but it didn’t mean you automatically believed him.

“Prove it to me.” you crossed your arms. “Prove to me that you know me outside of-....are you even listening to me?”

Yoongi looked deep in thought, like he was trying to find a way to reply.

“Your favorite colors are (insert top 3 favorite colors). Your favorite korean food is black bean noodles. One time Namjoon tried to prank you by switching your sweet and sour pork with spicy pork.” he began.

“What?” you were taken aback at his reply. How did he know this?

“You scratch your ear when you’re about to lie. You ran away from a small dog one time because Hoseok told you that they hated the smell of that perfume you always wear when in reality it just wanted some of of the sauce you had spilled on your pants.” he began, which caught you way off guard.

“Yoongi...stop.” you began choking on your words, mainly from confusion.

“You stay up late writing for your blog and playing video games.”

“How did you know I have a blog?” you slowly asked. “I haven’t anyone about that.”

“Who do you think sends you asks everyday.“ he hid a smirk rising on his face. You were taken aback.

“S-so...you’re ‘UndercoverCoolGuy’ “ you said, filled with partial horror. “That’s embarrassing...”

“Mhm” he nodded. “You’ve always loved coffee cold brewed. Your favorite sweets are cookies. You scrunch your nose up and flare your nostrils when you’re thinking hard about something. You talk in your sleep sometimes.”

“How do you know?” you suddenly asked.

“Sometimes, I’ll sneak back in and watch you, just to make sure your sleeping well.” he confessed, his cheeks turning pink. “You enjoy dancers more than singers and rappers. You have to sleep with the fan on, you organize your clothes when you go shopping.” he continued.

“The reason I didn’t want to catch feelings for you wasn’t because...I don’t deserve you.I don’t deserve to be loved by you, to be treated well by you.” he sighed. “Like you said I’m just some pretty boy pop-star. Girls only like me because of my talents, my looks even but they don’t care about me.” he continued. “You have men dying to be with you, always ogling at you and asking you out, any one of them would be better than me. Anyone of them would be better for you than me. Even when I tried to push you away you still fell back in-”

“Shut up...” you finally said...”Just stop talking.” You didn’t need another word. You didn’t need to hear anything else. You threw your arms around Yoongi’s torso, pulling him into a hug. “Yoongi, you’re crying.” you chuckled a little.

“I am not!” he denied, touching his face and wiping his cheeks. “I’m just...sweaty. Shut up and come here.” he mumbled, pulling you back into his arms. “Stay the night with me”

*~*..........

“WOAH!” You had shot up, looking frantically around. You inhaled sharply, running a hand through your hair. Your head was pounding at the onslaught of emotions.

“Hey...You alright?” A groggy Yoongi grabbed your attention. You looked at the clock next to your bed. 3:47AM. “What’s wrong?”

“W-wow...” you sighed. “just a bunch of weird thoughts...going through my head.” you sighed, “Very confusing.”

You felt a kiss on your shoulder, hearing Yoongi laugh. “Hm, wanna talk about it?”

“Just about everything.” you raised an eyebrow. You shook your head at Yoongi’s weird expression.

“What?” he raised an eyebrows. “Like about...us?” he chuckled, wrapping his arms around you. “I told you-”

“I mean you also did say that there are men dying to be with me and that I don’t deserve you.” you giggled, you stuck your tongue out at him.

“Oh really?” he chuckled, pecking your lips. “You are weird sometimes, but...I like it.” You threw your arms around Yoongi’s torso, pulling him into a hug. You grabbed Yoongi’s shirt collar and pulled him towards you. You kissed Yoongi, throwing your arms around his neck. “But I meant every word, I half expected you to laugh in my face and leave.”

Yoongi wasted no time in wrapping his arms around your waist, pulling you closer to his body. Maybe this was a little different, but Yoongi has never kissed you like this before. He tangled you hair in his hands, running his fingertips through each strand. His other hand caressed your cheek. You tried to pull back to breathe a little but he pulled you back into his lips, moaning almost pleadingly as if he needed your lips on his, not that you minded.

You were yanked onto Yoongi’s lap just as you began to pull his shirt over his head. His body was warm, and heaving. His hands creeped under your shirt, but stopped. “No...we’re gonna do this right.”

Yoongi suddenly pinned you down onto your back, crashing his mouth over yours again. “I’m taking care of you from now on.” he whispered against your lips. “I’m gonna take you out every damn day, stay with you every fucking night, tend to your every needs needs...starting with-”

“Don’t say it.” you cut him off. “Yoongi you know how I feel about word and you know good and well that if you say it that I’ll-.”

“I’m gonna start with taking care of that sweet little pussy. “He cut you off with a sinister sounding chuckle. “What’s wrong Y/N...You don’t want me to tell you I’m gonna take care of that sweet. little. pussy? “ he cooed. “It’s the least i can do for making you wait so long.”

”You’re so vulgar!” you covered your face. His hands creeped under your clothes.

“Hm, I always am.” he laughed, yanking your jeans off. “Fuck, you better buckle up Y/N.”

“Um...what exactly are you planning.”

“Nothing much...it’s just gonna get messy.” he winked, yanking your panties down too. “For me anyways. So you’re gonna sit back and enjoy it”

Oh...oh shit was he gonna-

You were cut off by a lewd water sound echoing through the room, along with a huge shiver skyrocketing up your spine. You looked down to find Yoongi with his lips clasped to your clit. He must’ve noticed you looking because he began lashing his tongue against your hot flesh, flicking up your slit with each pass of his mouth.

Now he had never done that before.

You gripped onto the bed sheet, trying to stay quiet. You’re silent cries only urged Yoongi to make his movements more...well urgent. Yoongi once again, being the vulgar man he was sucked on your clit more harshly, this time moaning into your heat, just to send vibrations back down your spine. You felt his fingers slide into your tight hole, beginning to thrust into you.

“You’re so dirty.” you cried, almost arching into your back. “Smug B-bastard.”

“No I’d say the opposite. You on the other hand.” he chuckled. “It’s dripping down my chin.” he moaned. You watched as he licked his fingers. “But it’s dripping even more down your leg.”

“Stop it.” you covered your face, feeling your cheeks heat up intensely. “So vulgar.” you whined as Yoongi crawled over you, making sure to trail his togue over every slope of your skin.

“But you like it though.” he winked. “I’m not done with you yet.” he growled, hooking his arms around each of your thighs and yanking you closer to him.

“So uh...be honest with me. What’s the probability I’ll be able to walk in the morning.” you asked.

“Slim to none” he answered, yanking off his sweats.

“Thought so...” you replied, just as Yoongi pinned your arms over your head.

“I love you Y/N.” he mumbled before he took all of you.

(Lowkey have the urge to do some tsundere stuff....I dunno yet. Bro this was so hard to write I hope the request was what the ask wanted.)

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