#And I hadn’t drawn on paper in like 2 months

[maxyartwork]

got a new sketchbook😁

#I go back to college next week #And I hadn’t drawn on paper in like 2 months #so I’m now frantically drawing so I don’t embarrass myself in front of my artist friends in my art classes #art #digital art #fanart #artists on tumblr #drawing #illustration #dc #Robert Pattinson #tenet #Bruce Wayne #the batman #batman #battinson #traditional art #sketch #Pencil drawing #no

[letoasai]

Will work for food ~ part 2

Part 1 - Master list

Tim was anxious which wasn’t an emotion he often put into use. Even on a bad day he was calculating, overly prepared, and usually ran on caffeine. He was a young genius and a hell of a detective, but nerves probably didn’t care about his resume or personality quirks. 

He rubbed his thumb against the folded piece of paper kept hidden in his pocket. He’d examined it in the batcave but it held no clues of note. It was just a normal sheet of paper, and the ink could have been a pen from any local corner store. No DNA. No fingerprints. All the same, he kept it out of sight in public. 

Tim had been antsy about summoning Phantom, mostly because he felt like he was disrespectfully late. When he’d first laid eyes on the living form of the Ghost King, he’d felt a familiar ache. Neglect. He didn’t know if the king had neglected himself, or if the blame lay at someone else's feet, but he just couldn’t stand it. 

He’d offered food and company in an instant, the words popping out of his mouth before he could think them through. Despite that, he didn’t regret the offer. He could have done without the teasing from his siblings and teammates, but he didn’t regret the offer once. 

His only remorse was with the clean up efforts. The Infinite creature, Vortex, had left quite the destruction in his wake. Even with many extended members of the League assisting with clean up, it took ages. Search and rescues were active and humanitarian groups had arrived to offer aid but some things couldn’t be done in a weekend. 

The bats returning to Gotham didn’t offer much in the way of a break either. A Scarecrow outbreak with his fear toxin. Three different gangs in the middle of a turf war. A weapons smuggling ring being uncovered… It was one thing after another for a minute. 

When all was said and done it had been nearly two months before Tim had the opportunity to keep his promise. He was in his civvies, standing at the mouth of an alleyway across from a little italian place that looked cheap but was actually the best tasting, most authentic italian place in all of Gotham. Little hole in the wall places often were the best. 

The problem now was his ability to overthink things. Would he summon the king in a glow of green that would light up the street like a beacon? Would he arrive in his ghostly form, crown hovering above his hooded head? 

Phantom looked human enough but was he? Did he come from Earth originally? There were plenty of aliens that looked human. It would be rude to assume… 

What name did he use? Did he need to go full title? Why didn’t he ask more questions when he had the chance?

“King Phantom.” Tim muttered, deciding to just go for it. He still clutched the paper sigil out of sight. “Uh, Ghost King Phantom. King of the Infinite Realm. Um… Or was it High King…” 

“Just Phantom is fine.” 

Tim tensed, all of his hair standing on end at the voice directly behind him in the alley. He hadn’t made a sound but he needed to actively work to exhale and turn around to face his guest. There had been zero indication of his arrival, and he was thankfully, in his living form. 

He was in jeans and an over sized hoodie. Tim could just barely make out a faded NASA written in the front. That was a point in the direction of him possibly being a human from Earth. He wore shoes this time, beat up looking kicks that had seen better days. His hood was also drawn over his head, likely to hide his bony appearance. Tim did spy the tail of his braid over his shoulder though, his hair black to further prove he was in his living form. 

“You…scared the hell out of me.” Tim said, smiling after another hard exhale. “I am sorry it took so long, your Highness.” 

“Phantom.” He corrected, looking around the street and taking it all in. Tim could clock him making note of the turns down the street and the buildings with fire escapes even with his hood up. People just had certain body language when casing an area. “I figured it would be a while, if you summoned me at all. I was not going to hold you to a whim, Red Robin.” 

“I said i would…” Tim muttered. “Uh, it’s Tim, out of uniform. If you don’t mind.” 

“Tim.” He repeated. That softness to his voice remained, and honestly, Tim liked the cadence of it. He liked it as much as he was sure he never wanted to hear Phantom raise his voice. “I understand.” He hesitated only a beat. “You can call me Danny. Phantom is probably a silly thing to call someone in a city like this.” 

“Not if it’s your name.” 

“Danny is okay.” He said, and for whatever reason, Tim noticed now how he kept his hands in his pockets, likely to hide them too. Frail, skeletal looking hands would just frighten some people. “Food? For a favor?” 

“No favor involved. I invited you out.” Tim said. “I mean, maybe we can chat about stuff but you aren’t obligated to answer or anything.” 

Phantom…Danny nodded, shuffling for a moment and looking around again. The height of the buildings seemed to be a mild interest of his. “Where are we eating?” 

“Well, if you like Italian, we’re walking across the street.” He thought pasta and breads would be both filling and flavorful. It would also be something easily packed up for Danny to take with him. 

“I’ll eat anything.” Danny informed him. “I have no preferences after all this time.” He hesitated. “Or maybe i need to rediscover them, but anything will be fine.” 

“Let’s… let’s go then.” Tim said, walking with Danny at his side. He’d made a reservation which wasn’t strictly necessary at such a small place but it gave him the option of reserving a corner table to offer them a little more privacy. 

They walked in, the hostess greeting them with a smile before leading them to their table and leaving them with bread, water, and menus. There were a few other full tables but it wasn’t packed the way it would be in the evening. 

Danny kept his hood up, but it was Gotham and no one questioned the decision. They just left him in peace to not start a conflict with someone who wasn’t causing any trouble. He also kept his hands out of sight until the hostess had left. He sipped the water once and broke off only a little piece of the bread. He buttered it and ate on it while flipping open the menu. 

Tim didn’t know if he was reading the English or Italian parts of the menu but it didn’t matter. Being fluent in reading an Earth language was another check mark for this being his place of origin. 

“Can i…” Tim hummed, keeping in mind that he was speaking with royalty and act a little less like Bruce interrogating a suspect. “Can i ask a couple questions?” 

Danny looked up at him, Tim only barely able to make out some of his features passed the unnatural shadows his hood provided. “Sure.” 

Tim smiled, not even bothering with the menu since he knew what he was getting. “You’re the King of a realm, but was Earth your place of origin?” 

“Yes, but not this Earth.” 

Dimensions! Tim filed that away for later. “You can travel to any of them?” 

“Within reason. Yes. I’m old, but not that old yet. Only eight or nine decades.” He tore another small piece of bread to eat. Tim assumed he was pacing himself. “They call me a baby Ancient still.” 

“That’s cool…” Tim muttered. “Are there many other Earths?” 

“The answer to that would never satisfy you.” Danny said softly. “Trust me. I am the Ancient of Space and i’m hardly satisfied with it.” 

There was a new fact for Tim to latch on. “What’s the-” He stopped when the waitress appeared. Both of them ordered, and Tim was certain he’d end up ordering more halfway through the meal so Danny could take more home with him.  

When the menus were taken and the waitress left again, Tim continued. “What’s the difference between being an Ancient of Space and being the Ghost King.” 

“When i died, or half died, it was my fate to one day become the Ancient of Space. I am that regardless. I won the title of Ghost King.” 

Tim dragged a hand down his face. “That’s…. Endlessly fascinating. I have so many questions.” He didn’t even know how to touch ‘half died’ yet. 

Danny hummed once and fiddled with the end of his braid. “Do i get to ask questions too?” 

“Of course.” 

Danny leaned forward, sipping at his water again. “This Earth has super heroes. That’s interesting. Mine didn’t. How long have you been a hero?” 

Tim nodded, figuring that would be the direction the questions would have wandered towards. They were far enough away from everyone in the restaurant that he didn’t worry about being heard. The music playing in the background also helped a great deal. 

“Hero might be a debate depending on who you ask. In Gotham we’re considered vigilanties. I first suited up at thirteen but it was really more like fourteen after a great deal of training.” 

Danny was quiet for a moment. “And how old are you now? I have trouble telling ages these days…” 

“Eighteen.” Tim said. 

“Young.” Danny muttered. “I was young too. Fourteen when i became the bridge. Sixteen before i really understood what it meant.” 

“The bridge?” 

“Balance. The living and the dead.” 

Tim huffed softly. “You wear a lot of hats, don’t you?”  

Danny made a quiet noise, and it took Tim a beat longer than normal to realize he was laughing. “I do, i wish i didn’t most of the time. It’s fine though.” 

“Just fine?” Tim asked after a beat. He knew a little about expectations and high standards that could weigh you down–both his own standards and other peoples. 

Danny nodded, one of his hands resting on the other. “I’ve seen things. Good things. Bad things. Things that will never happen. Things that have. It’s better i have certain powers because i have no desire to use them.” 

Aah. Tim understood that. “People who want too much power are dangerous.” 

“Exactly.” 

“The power of ruling an entire realm…” 

“Exactly.” 

Tim heaved a sigh. “Damn.” Maybe he should ask something less intense. “Did you enjoy the food we gave you last time? It was just some fast food but there was some worry it wasn’t good enough.” 

“It was great.” Danny said and he sounded sincere. “Nostalgic. It took me a few days to eat all of it. I know the Infinite Realm’s reputation, and it is a warranted reputation, but i’m… hard to offend. Little things are just little things.” 

“I’ll put them at ease then.” 

Danny was quiet for a moment, the silence not an oppressive one. “What is the difference between a hero and a vigilante?” 

“How people perceive us, i guess. Superman will always be seen as a hero. Wholesome and valiant and all that. Things in Gotham are altogether… shadier. Being a vigilante isn’t exactly legal and while we have our boundaries, we break the law all the time.” Tim said. They covered their own tracks well but it was fortunate that no one looked too closely at their activities. 

It didn’t bother Tim when he knew his reasons were still good. 

Danny made a thoughtful kind of noise. “I’m willing to bet Superman’s business isn’t purely legal either. This seems like a nice Earth though, despite whatever troubles you have.” 

“Some hero work is sanctioned by the government so it’s a fine line. Any of it could be argued.” Tim explained, and that was something Danny seemed to find fascinating. 

They paused their conversation again when the waitress appeared with their food, and Tim put in a second order for them to take when they left. The eyes Tim could feel on him told him that Danny already knew what they were for. 

He could hear Danny softly inhale and exhale as he looked at the plate in front of him that came accompanied with salad. He likely wouldn’t be able to eat even a fraction of it but the way he looked at it…. made Tim realize that he could see Danny’s face more clearly. The shadows that obscured his face from his hood had receded. He was still gaunt, but he eyed the food with so much joy. 

The first bite of –non fast food– food nearly seemed to overwhelm him in a good way. 

“You know,” Tim swung hard to change subjects. “We can do a bit of a food tour every time i summon you for lunch. Pizza. Chinese. Barbeque. There’s a great taco truck. We could get something homemade.” 

“You cook?” 

“Haa. No.” Tim said seriously. “But Al… my grandpa is an amazing cook and he seemed to think trading food for world saving services was very sensible but he was appalled that we offered you cheap fries and burgers. He’d honestly love to cook for you.” 

Danny smiled, this shy little look that shouldn’t have fit someone with the title of Ghost King but it sure fit Danny. “That could be nice. Decent home cooked meals are kind of mythological to me.” 

Tim nodded once, and knew better than to ask directly. “I didn’t have a very cuddly upbringing either. There was a lot of take-out involved.” 

“Your food ever come back to life and try to eat you instead?” Danny asked and Tim just stared. 

“I can’t…tell if that’s a real question or if you’re messing with me.” 

Danny smiled and was that a hint of fangs? “Dead serious.” 

Time groaned. “No, no you are a king. You are not making puns.” 

“Thinking i’m too mature for puns is a grave mistake.” Danny said without hesitation. 

“Noo.” Tim groaned, lips upturned into a smile. His brothers could never know about this. Dick would start a pun off and Jason’s morbid sense of humor about his own death…. Ugh, it would be bad. 

It did bring up the interesting question of Danny’s age. He said he’d been alive for decades but how did he mature. Was he still a teenager? Did he age slowly? Asking not only sounded like a bad idea, but Raven and Zatanna had both made sure he knew it was a question to not ask. 

They chatted, they ate, or well, Tim ate. Danny ate a bite every few minutes and looked thrilled about it but he was slowing down. Tim was looking forward to Danny being able to eat more with every visit. 

He flagged down the waitress, gesturing for a box and got a thumbs up in return. 

“You can take it with you.” Tim said when Danny was giving him a look. “It might be a couple days before i can call you again and this way you’ll have enough to eat every day.” 

“I can’t deny that.” Danny said. “You don’t have to keep summoning me.”

“I promised you lunches.” Tim said firmly. “And you said it yourself, you should eat more and spend more time in a living realm. You may as well take advantage of being summoned for food.” 

“Hm…” Danny played with the end of his braid again. “You do make a compelling argument. It’s nice to talk to someone without it being preceded by a brawl.” 

Tim stared, “What?” 

Danny just looked amused. “I’ll explain to you etiquette in the Infinite Realm sometime.” 

“Yeah?” 

The waitress returned with boxes for Danny to pack up his meal and the empty dishes were whisked away to make more room on the table while they waited for their to-go orders. 

They were almost startled when a second waitress reappeared with a few little dishes before they could begin speaking again. Everything was set in the middle of the table, presumably for them to share. There was a piece of white peach tart, a bowl of strawberry gelato, and a slice of frozen chocolate chip meringata. 

“Um…” Tim blinked. “We didn’t-”

The waitress chuckled. “It was ordered for you by another patron. Please enjoy.” She set down another set of utensils for them and walked away. 

Danny made a small sound in his throat. “Well i was full but how could i say no to a couple more bites…” 

“Wait.” Tim said, gaze subtly shifting around the room. Maybe he was trained to be paranoid, but it usually served him well. What he found almost instantly had his eye twitching. 

Not even halfway across the room sat a poorly disgusted Dick wearing large sunglasses, a fedora, and the world's least convincing mustache. When he saw Tim looking and grinned and raised his own wine glass. 

“I gotta kill my brother…” 

Danny sputtered out a laugh, so genuinely amused that Tim could definitely see his fangs as he laughed.

“That would make him my problem.” Danny pointed out, reaching for a spoon to try the gelato first. 

“I’m not seeing your point.” Tim said, delighted by Danny’s teasing. It was a rookie mistake to think one of his siblings wouldn’t find out about this. An absolute blunder that he hadn’t noticed Dick walking in after them at all. He’d never live it down. 

“Guess i’ll have to be more careful next time.” He added. 

Danny hummed again and seemed to have a fondness for the cold dessert. “I could always invite you to my realm sometime.” 

“Cool.” Tim said instantly. Ha, let them try to follow him then…

#dp x dc #dc x dp crossover #danny phantom #tim drake #dead tired #cameo appearance by Dick Grayson #This is a date

[munson-blurbs]

Single Dad!Eddie x Fem!ReaderSeries

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10

Summary: Grandma's funeral brings out a side of Ms. Sweetheart that Eddie hasn't ever seen, leaving the two of them questioning everything they've built up together.

Warnings: funeral service (I tried to keep it as neutral as possible so it could apply to any religion), mentions of cause of Grandma's death, failed attempt at sex, pretty much all angst sorry

WC: 5.1k

Chapter 10/20

Divider credit to @saradika Harris's note credit to @girlwiththerubyslippers

Eddie can’t remember the last time he went to a funeral. It might’ve been for one of Wayne’s friends, or a distant great-aunt twice removed. He doesn’t even own a proper suit for such an occasion; everything he’s wearing actually belongs to Wayne. He smooths down the creases in his black slacks; the material of anything other than worn denim is foreign against his legs. The elbows of his coat jacket are patched, and he slides his palms over them in embarrassment.

He takes a seat in one of the back rows, trying to remain as inconspicuous as possible while the other mourners file in. There’s a pit growing in his stomach as his gaze swoops to the coffin resting at the front of the room. The realization that Grandma was inside was almost too much for him to handle, and he’d only met her a month ago. He hadn’t known her when she was…herself, but he saw glimpses of her now and again. The last time he was over for a Wednesday night dinner, she rested her head on his shoulder as though she’d done it a million times. You’d mouthed sorry, but Eddie had simply smiled and let Grandma stay there as long as she wanted. If he was being honest, he felt special, knowing that she was comfortable with him.

Eddie’s eyes are only drawn from the casket when he sees you walk among your family. He immediately takes note of your face, normally soft and vibrant, now stoic and emotionless. It’s a sharp contrast to your relatives, who wear their grief through bloodshot eyes and tear-stained cheeks. The hymn playing in the background fades out as a man speaks up at the podium. 

Eddie’s barely listening, keeping his attention on you. He watches your mouth move as you recite the prayers along with the rest of your family, though he’s only half-listening to them. He’s never been one for organized religion, but he echoes the closing statement when everyone else does. 

That’s when you stand up, smoothing down your dress at the back of your thighs, and walk towards the front of the room. You’re clutching a piece of paper in your hand, which Eddie notices is slightly trembling. He locks eyes with you, dragging his teeth along his bottom lip and offers the smallest of encouraging smiles. You acknowledge it with a tiny nod in his direction before taking a deep breath and beginning the eulogy. 

“Um, h-hi.,” you start, stumbling over your words awkwardly. You clear your throat and try again. “Thank you all for coming to honor and remember Grandma. It’s evident that she meant a lot to so many people. 

“When I was writing this eulogy, I kept thinking about who she was as a person.” You don’t let your gaze drift from Eddie’s, and you could swear that he’s the only force keeping you from crumbling to the ground in a heap of grief. “For a lot of us, we wonder what ‘big thing’ will define our lives. The occasion that people will remember us by, you know? But with Grandma, there wasn’t one ‘big thing.’ Her life was a series of little kindnesses that she made sure to sprinkle into her everyday life. Like, when I was a kid, my dad broke his ankle. My mom couldn’t leave me home alone, so Grandma drove him to and from the hospital and stayed with him while he waited. She always took care of us. 

“One of my favorite memories is how she would bring me a bouquet of flowers after every dance recital I was in. She’d be waiting for me by the stage door with a big smile on her face, telling me what a great job I did, even if I totally messed up…she was the best. All she wanted was for the people she loved to be happy. 

“And that’s what I associate with Grandma—love. How much I loved her, and how much she loved us. Just a few weeks ago, she was sharing Oreos with the kid I tutor, and it reminded me of how she used to be with me.” At that line, Eddie feels his lip quiver, tears dampening his lashes, and he ducks his head to keep you from seeing him break. This time, it’s more for your sake than his, since you’re leaning on him to remain upright. “I encourage all of you to find the little kindnesses in life, and to be the kindness in someone’s day. 

“Grandma, you are already so missed. I hope you’re seeing the values you instilled in each of us. Rest easy. We’ll take it from here.” The only sounds in the entire room are the heels of your shoes clacking on the floor and sniffling from nearly everyone else in the congregation. You take your seat quietly, bowing your head as though trying to hide.

The rest of the service is a blur of hymns and prayers; nothing, Eddie notes, nearly as moving as the eulogy you gave. He barely notices when the people around him start moving, keeping a watchful eye on you. You’re trying to blend in amongst your black-clad relatives, but Eddie has no problem finding you. He cranes his neck just in time to see your family make a right through the doors, while you pivot left. 

Instinctively, his hands tuck into his pants pocket as he fumbles for his cigarettes and lighter. He has no idea what to say to you, no idea where to even begin. He needs a smoke or three to clear his head before he sees you and stammers out some half-witted acknowledgment of your loss. There’s no time for that; however, because as soon as he steps outside, he sees you sitting on the steps. It’s freezing outside, but your arms are bare, and Eddie can see the prickle of goosebumps lining your skin.

“What are you doing out here by yourself?” he asks, drawing your attention as he takes a seat next to you. He shrugs off his own jacket, placing it over your shoulders without a second thought. 

You offer him a sad smile, tugging the coat so it covers more of you. You didn’t realize how cold you were until you felt the contrast of his body heat. “Trying to avoid my family,” you admit, placing your hand over Eddie’s. “Could you take me home? I got a ride here from my uncle, but I really don’t want to go out to eat with everyone.” They’re probably arguing over where to get lunch right now, acting as though their matriarch isn’t about to be lowered into the ground.

“You sure?” Eddie’s eyebrows pinch together in concern. “I mean, I don’t mind, but I don’t want to take you away from them or anything.” He can picture the sneers he’ll receive, a pit forming in his stomach.

You remain unfazed to the conundrum he faces. “Trust me, you’d be doing me a favor. I can’t…” your voice catches, so you restart your sentence. “I can’t sit there while everyone’s smiling and laughing. That’s what happens when an old, sick person dies; people don’t even try to hide their relief. I need…I need to be alone.” You tuck your lips inside your mouth, attempting to bury your feelings.

Eddie nods, reaching over to take his keys out of the jacket you’re now wearing. “Yeah, no, I get it. We can get outta here.” He stands up, takes your hand in his to help you to your feet, and leads you to the car as inconspicuous as possible. The last thing either of you need is to be confronted by one of your relatives.

The two of you sit in the car quietly, without even the radio on. Eddie can’t remember the last time he’s had a silent car ride; he either has music playing, Harris yammering his ear off, or a combination of both. He keeps his hands at ten and two, internally debating whether or not to rest one on your knee. It wouldn’t be a sexual thing, not even close, but he doesn’t want you to get the wrong idea. His grip remains steady, the hum of the engine is the only sound.

You take this time to study him, taking in the crow’s feet that line the edges of his eyes, the tiny patch of stubble that he’d missed while shaving, the slight dimple in his chin. You try and turn before he can catch you, and though your efforts are fruitless, he doesn’t quite call you out on it. “Y’good?”

“Y-Yeah,” you stutter, smoothing a part of your dress that isn’t wrinkled. “Could you come inside for a little while? I thought I wanted to be by myself, but I really want you to stay.”

You really want him to stay. Not just that you need company, but you want him specifically. The notion sets all of Eddie’s nerve endings alight. “‘Course,” he replies, perhaps a bit too casually to cover up his excitement over the realization that he brings you some form of comfort.

When he pulls into the apartment complex’s parking lot and shuts off the ignition, he takes the opportunity to hold your hand again. It’s so much different than when he held it a few days earlier on your date, when there was an atmosphere of joy and hope. Now it’s like he’s pulling you along, like his lead is what has you placing one heel-clad foot in front of the other.

You unlock the door, accidentally leaving the key within its latch, and Eddie quietly removes it and places it on the table. His fingers ghost your biceps to remove your–his–coat from your body, but you just pull it on farther like a safety blanket.

“Y’want coffee? ‘M gonna put on a pot,” you offer quietly, already heading over to the kitchen. You scoop out a serving of coffee grounds for you, inhaling the hazelnut scent before dumping it into the basket, glancing over at him for his response.

“Uh, yeah, sure,” he nods, and you put another scoop in before filling the carafe with tap water. With a flick of the power button, the Black + Decker rumbles and kicks on, and the drip drip drip of coffee fills the room.

You grab two mugs from the cupboard and place them on the counter. “How’d you even find out about the funeral?” 

Eddie walks over, though he feels as though he can’t get close enough. He just wants to hold you tight and never let go, but you’ve put up some sort of barrier that he can’t quite interpret. “Oh, um, I asked Byers. I hope you don’t mind–I tried calling you, but it said the line was disconnected.”

Your cheeks burn. “That was Grandma.” Eddie looks confused–rightfully so–and you elaborate. “The morning that she…she got annoyed with the phone ringing, so when I wasn’t looking, she took the scissors and cut the wire.”

Eddie’s jaw drops in disbelief. “You’re joking.”

“I wish I was. I left the house for a few minutes to get a new phone, and when I came back, she’d fallen asleep and…” you swallow thickly, rummaging through the refrigerator for the tiny carton of half-and-half, “…and she never woke up. First call I made with the new phone was to 9-1-1, but it was too late.” Too late. That’s what the EMTs told you: I’m sorry, but it’s too late. 

“Oh, Sweetheart. My sweet girl…” Eddie’s heart lurches, and he instinctively reaches out to you. One hand lays between your shoulder blades while the other rubs up and down your spine. He’s careful not to let it drop too low, never going past the small of your back. Though you’re pressed flush to his chest, there’s still a strange disconnect between you. 

Despite every urge you have to cling to him, you pull away and shove a teaspoon into the sugar bowl, sliding it towards him on the counter. “S’okay. I mean, it’s not, but…they said she’d had a heart attack. If I didn’t get the phone, I wouldn’t have been able to call for an ambulance anyway.” The dripping of the coffee maker slows as it finishes brewing. “Only thing I could do is go back in time and stop her from cutting the wires, and Melvald’s was all outta time machines,” you joke, but it falls flat.

Eddie frowns, crossing his arms over his chest as he leans against the countertop. “You don’t have to do this, y’know.”

“I’m sorry?”

“Pretend like you’re alright,” he explains, voice hardly louder than a whisper. He tucks a lock of hair behind his ear.

You feel an anger rising within you, though you’re unable to pinpoint its origin. “I am alright,” you insist through gritted teeth.

Eddie shakes his head, peering at you through his impossibly long eyelashes. “It’s okay to be sad–”

“Don’t you get it, Eddie?” You cut him off with a snap, slamming the coffee pot down so harshly that it almost cracks. “I’m not sad. I’m not relieved. I’m not anything. My grandma just died, and I don’t feel a goddamn thing! It’s like I’m some kind of monster.”

“Hey, hey, c’mere.” He hugs you again, holds you even tighter than before as he kisses the top of your head. “You’re not a monster, ‘kay? I promise you.”

You look up at him, not quite believing his words, but you press your lips to his. He kisses you back gently; timidly even, but you deepen it and graze his tongue with your own. Your left hand weaves its way through his messy curls and your right fumbles with his belt buckle, but you’re unable to unhook the clasp before he steps back.

“What’re you–” His eyes widen and he puts his hands up to avoid touching you, clearly confused by your behavior. If you had the capacity to be honest with yourself, you’d admit that you’re not sure why you’re doing this, either.

“Please, Eddie,” you beg, trying to reconnect your lips with his, but he just pulls away again. “Please, I…I need this. I need you.”

“If we sleep together for the first time right now, while you’re like this, you’ll regret it,” he says.

You don’t deny the accusation; instead, you double down on it. “Okay, so I’ll regret it! I’ll feel regret, but at least I’ll feel something!” Your trembling fingers brush against his shirt, trying to grab onto it and bring his body to you, but he turns with a scoff.

“You’d really be okay with that?” There’s unmistakeable anger in his tone, but it’s laced with something more than that; something that sounds more like hurt. “Regretting our first time together?”

“Didn’t we almost fuck on your couch the night we met? You didn’t even know my last name. You barely knew my first name.” Your words are biting, thick with malice. “When did you become so averse to meaningless sex?”

“Meaningless?” Eddie balks, digging his fingernails into his palms until they leave crescent-shaped marks. His lips contort into a perplexed grimace as he formulates a response. “I, um, I gotta go. I’ll call you–”

“Yeah, I’ve heard that line before, and I’m not falling for it again.” You can’t stop the words before they’re tumbling from your mouth, and you can’t take them back. “Shit, Eddie–”

“Just—don’t say anything else, ‘kay? I’m leaving.” He turns around, digging into his back pocket. “This is for you. From me and Harris.” He tosses a piece of notebook paper, folded into fourths, onto the end table and closes the door with a slam.

You stand there, dumbfounded at what just occurred–mostly at your own actions. When you move towards the paper, you realize that you’re still wearing Eddie’s suit jacket, and you yank it off and throw it to the ground, leaving it in a heap. You open the note and read, vision blurred from the tears threatening to spill over.

The innocent kindness of a little boy is all it takes for you to break down and cry, muffling your sobs in your palms though there isn’t anyone around to hear them. Grandma was gone. You’d chased Eddie away with the same vitriol he’d spewed at you that day at the record store. You’re really, truly alone.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” you chant to no one in particular. You’re sorry to Grandma, for leaving her home alone. You could’ve asked Jess to run out and get a new phone, but you’d needed a break from Grandma’s anger that was always directed towards you. That morning, after you’d discovered the cut phone line, there had been another argument over taking her medication, and she yelled “I HATE YOU!” at the top of her lungs. Then she sat at the table and ate a bowl of cereal like nothing had happened. Instead of taking a deep breath and brushing it off, you’d grabbed your keys and headed to RadioShack. You could’ve driven there, it would’ve made the trip much faster, but you’d decided to walk. The fresh air would do you good, you told yourself, pushing away the full truth of the matter: you’d desperately needed to be away from Grandma. When you got back, she was laying on the couch, and you would’ve sworn she was only sleeping…

You’re sorry to Eddie. Sorry that he’d wasted his time with someone who resorted to dredging up the past as soon as she felt an ounce of anger and rejection. Someone who insisted that he could trust her and then promptly shattered that rapport once he’d let his guard down.

And for a split second, you allow yourself to feel sorry for you. Sorry that you couldn’t even grieve properly without feeling like you didn’t deserve it, because if you were home, Grandma might still be alive. 

You look down at the card one more time, choking out a laugh through your tears at Harris’s offer to share his grandpa. It dawns on you that you’ll either have to stop tutoring him or continue to see Eddie on a weekly basis. Everyone who comes in contact with me gets entangled in my problems, you note miserably. Eddie’s finally getting his life together and I’m fucking it all up. He deserves better than me.

Maybe it’s a good idea to leave Hawkins and go back home, at least for the holidays. You’re not sure what type of celebrations the family will muster up, but it’s better than being alone with your thoughts. And if you never return, that might be best for everybody.

The bell above the drugstore door chimes as Eddie pushes his way in. He smoked out his remaining cigarettes on the drive over, and he’s desperate for another pack. He makes a beeline for the back wall, plucking his usual Camels from the display. “Perfect,” he mutters, though his lungs would certainly disagree.

As he shuffles towards the cashier, he spots a familiar face in one of the aisles. His lurking cowardice screams at him to run away, but he shoves it deep down and talks anyway. “H-Hey, man. How’s it going?”

Jeff turns around, first bewildered at who’s speaking to him, then tensing up when he sees Eddie standing before him. “Can’t complain. Just getting some of these prenatal vitamin things for Viv,” he replies tersely, shaking the bottle to emphasize his statement.

There’s an awkward silence before Eddie speaks again. “Look, um, I’m really sorry about what happened at our last show.” He rubs the back of his neck and winces at the memory. “What I said, what I didn’t say…you’re gonna be a great dad, dude. Like, the best. I was just jealous, but that’s not an excuse to be an asshole.”

“Jealous?” Jeff cocks an eyebrow incredulously, willing Eddie to continue.

“Yeah,” Eddie nods, shamefully averting his gaze. “You’re bringing a kid into a stable household, and I couldn’t do that for Harris. I don’t regret having him, of course, but I’ll always feel guilty about the shitshow he was born into.” He taps the pack of cigarettes on his palm, biting his lower lip to shut himself up. “Anyway, I gotta get home—”

“Eddie Munson?” He turns around to see a young woman standing behind him. Her low-cut top shows off the top of her breasts, cleavage pushed up by a bra, and her jeans hug every curve. She purses her pink-glossed lips together in a flirtatious smile.

“Y-Yeah?”

“I’m Lisa.” She says this like Eddie should already know this, and he’s embarrassed to admit to himself that he can’t place the name or face. “We hooked up last summer at the Hideout? In the men’s room?” Lisa lowers her voice seductively to whisper that detail. “I haven’t seen you there in a while.”

“Oh, yeah.” There have been multiple men’s room hook-ups, but he’s not about to play detective to figure out exactly who she is, so he plays along. “The band’s been on a bit of a…hiatus, I guess.” From his peripheral vision, he can see Jeff ducking his head, and his cheeks burn with the truth.

Lisa juts out her lower lip in an exaggerated pout, though Eddie knows it’s all for show. “That’s too bad.” She lets her hand rest on his chest, leaning into him and twirling a strand of his hair around a polished fingernail. “If you’re not busy tonight, I’d love to have you over for drinks and…dessert? Recreate that night at the bar, minus the urinal?”

Eddie moves her arms from his vicinity, putting a necessary space between them. “Um, n-nah. No thanks,” he clarifies. “I’m, uh, kinda involved with someone, so…”

She remains undaunted, a small chuckle escaping her throat. “I can keep a secret. She doesn’t have to know.” She takes another step forward to close the gap, and he’s so goddamn tempted, but he shakes it off. He doesn’t have a clue what’s going to happen between you and him, but he knows he’s not going to sabotage any potential relationship.

“Well, I’ll know,” he retorts, “and I’ll feel like shit about it.”

Lisa rolls her eyes. “Whatever. Your loss.” She pivots on one heel and mumbles something under her breath that Eddie doesn’t even bother to interpret.

Jeff looks at Eddie with an amused grin as he shifts his weight from one side to the other. “So, you’re involved with someone?” He knows from what Jess has told him that Eddie went on a date with you a few days ago, but he couldn’t gauge the seriousness of the situation.

“I think so. At least, I was, until about fifteen minutes ago.” He relents and fills Jeff in about everything that happened, from your conversation over steaming coffee mugs, to the amazing kiss you’d shared as snowflakes collected on your eyelashes, to the unexpected confrontation after Grandma’s funeral today.

Jeff sighs, but it’s one of sympathy, not exasperation. “You did the right thing,” he says finally.

“I don’t think anyone’s ever said that to me.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Jeff laughs, punching him playfully on the arm. “I’m serious. And you did the right thing just now, too, with that groupie.” He clears his throat. “Viv’s baby shower is in a couple weeks. Ladies only, y’know, but I could use some help loading all the gifts into the car. And we could grab some lunch beforehand, if you want.”

Eddie nods. “Yeah, that would be great. Might have to let Harris tag along, if that’s all right.” He doesn’t want to keep asking Wayne to babysit, no matter how much the old man insists that he doesn’t mind.

“Of course. You know that little man is always welcome.” Jeff says, walking towards the register. “I’ll call you with the details.”

Eddie hesitates, letting his friend pass him by a few paces before he calls out. “Jeff?”

“Yeah?”

“What do I do about…” Eddie trails off, unwilling to finish his sentence. He feels absolutely ridiculous having this conversation in the middle of the drugstore, but he’s desperate not to fuck this up further.

Jeff scratches at his stubble with his free hand, contemplating the options as only someone who’s been in a long-term relationship and hasn’t had to navigate the nuances of a fresh relationship in ages can. “Give her some time; a few days, at least. She’s going through a lot. She needs her space, y’know, to figure things out.”

It’s not the answer Eddie was hoping for; patience has never been his forte. He wishes that Jeff would have told him to chase after you, to go get the girl and make sure she knows how much she means to him. But he knows that his friend is right, and he acknowledges his response with a small smile. “Thanks, man.”

“See ya around, Ed.”

Eddie unlocks his apartment door, new pack of cigarettes in one hand and a pint of Ben & Jerry’s tucked under the other arm. He doesn’t usually splurge on ice cream, but every romantic comedy cliche has instructed him that it’s the perfect remedy for heartbreak. If that’s even what this is, he thinks, but he knows it’s true. After doing everything in his power to prevent it, he’d allowed you to break his heart. And as he shoves a spoon into the container of Devil’s Food Chocolate, it dawns on him that he’d do it all again.

He’d come to your rescue and pick the lock of Grandma’s bedroom door. He’d sit around the table and eat pizza with you, Harris, and Grandma every Wednesday night. He’d drive to your house with store-brand cookies and watch cheesy Thanksgiving movies with you just to see the smile on your face. He’d take you out for coffee and kiss you in the snow a thousand times over. And he’d go to Grandma’s funeral and drive you home and turn down your offer for sex and break his own fucking heart again and again if it meant protecting you.

He shimmies out of his starchy dress pants and unbuttons his shirt, leaving himself in just a white undershirt and his boxers as he sinks deeper into the sofa. He reaches over for the remote–now that he works when Harris is in school, he rarely has time to watch something that he actually enjoys–and notices the phone’s red flashing light indicating that he has a new voicemail.

He presses play with a clumsy finger on the button, expecting Wayne’s gruff voice or a reminder for an overdue bill. When he hears that it’s you, he sits up straight, nearly dropping his ice cream.

“Hi, Eddie. It’s me. I’m so sorry for what happened earlier. I’m sure you’re probably mad, but I just want you to know…it wouldn’t have been meaningless. It wasn’t meaningless the night we met when it was supposed to be meaningless.” You take a deep breath. “I’m going back home for the holidays. Um, I’m not sure when…if…I’m coming back, but before I leave, I had to apologize for what I said. You’re a great guy, Eddie. I hope you know that. Have, um, have a nice holiday. Okay, bye.”

Eddie remains still, a loud silence enveloping the room once the machine relays that he’s reached the end of new messages. He’s dissecting every word you’d uttered, replaying them over and over. 

It wasn’t meaningless the night we met when it was supposed to be meaningless. 

So you’d felt it, too; that spark much stronger than the usual lust that overcomes him during hookups. And while he’d tried to convince himself that he’d only asked you to cuddle, had you stay over out of post-sex, post-show delirium, he can’t deny the truth any longer.

He’d asked because he felt comfortable around you, like he could hold you forever and whisper secrets that scare him to even admit to himself. Maybe it was because you’d seen Harris’s car seat that night and hadn’t run for the hills, or maybe it was the way you’d kissed him like he was worth savoring. And the morning after, when he’d all but chased you out of the apartment…Christ, you didn’t deserve that.

I’m not sure when…if…I’m coming back. 

The ‘when’ he could handle, but that ‘if’ was a weight on his chest. He questions his actions for a moment–should he have slept with you? Showed you how wanted and cherished and safe you were with him? Given your mind a chance to wander from the grief choking it? But Jeff said he had done the right thing, and considering the man was engaged with a baby on the way, Eddie figured he had to know something about women.

You’re a great guy, Eddie. I hope you know that.

Is he? He’s certainly a better man than when you’d first met him, but is he actually a great guy? He’d bought you coffee and didn’t fuck you when you were too vulnerable to truly consent–is that what constitutes greatness, or is he just a step above a piece of shit?

And, of course, part of him is angry. Not only because you were so easily willing to use him–although that realization definitely stings–but mostly because you’d thought he’d want to. After everything you two had been through, did you truly believe that he’d be unbothered? That he’d throw away all of that progress just to get his dick wet? Is that how little you think of him? Eddie doesn’t want the answer.  

The ice cream is melting, so he forgoes the spoon and just takes a swig from the pint. He licks the chocolatey residue from his lips before standing up to put the carton in the freezer. Tacked onto the refrigerator is Harris’s picture from Halloween where Eddie and Ms. Sweetheart are holding hands.

He plucks it from under the magnet, staring at it intently. The memory of his son and his uncle asking him about you, that pretty like a princess remark, the unfurling realization that he felt things for you that he’d thought he was incapable of feeling. He never should have taken their ribbings, inadvertently getting his hopes up that there was something there worth pursuing.

Without thinking, Eddie crumples the paper in his fist, crushing the family portrait into a ball. “Shit,” he mutters, placing it on the table and smoothing it out as best as he can. His hands glide over the drawing, rubbing over every crease until it looks good as new and Harris will be none the wiser.

But Eddie knows what’s been destroyed. What he doesn’t know is whether or not it can be smoothed out.

--

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[vinvantae]

Unmasked

Part 2/16

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Word count - 2.8k

The nerves were washing over you like a tidal wave as you walked up the steps to the boardroom. You hadn’t felt this anxious since your debut and with no sleep under your belt, you were running purely on caffeine. All night had been filled with staring at the ceiling, running through all the plans the team had discussed with you and which one plan B was or if it was something else entirely. You were aware they had had meetings without you present, and it was these meetings that concerned you, there was no way to know what they had concocted behind closed doors without you to interject.

You were pleasantly surprised to see you weren’t the first one there, Charles was sitting on his phone - Ferrari cap discarded onto the table. The blinds had all been drawn and the overhead lights made it feel like a doctor’s office waiting room. He looked tired, you knew he went out for a few drinks with the other drivers last night so it didn’t phase you.

“Morning.” You said, the driver’s head lifting, a soft smile spreading across his face. “Wasn’t expecting to see you this morning.”

The smile shifted to an apologetic one. “Mattia just texted me ‘urgent meeting with thirty at 8:30’, so if you’re going to ask… I have no idea either.”

As you circled the table to sit beside him, he rose from his chair and pulled you into a hug. “Are you feeling any better today?”

You sunk into his arms, enjoying what would probably be one of your last moments of peace before the meeting. In the 3 seasons you’d been together now, the bond you shared with Charles was something you truly cherished. Despite your identity being a secret, he always tried to make sure to spend time with you whenever he could - bringing coffees to your driver room or hiding with you for a little while. He made you feel safe, so you were glad he was here.

“Not fantastic but I kind of apologised to Lewis but he just thought I was some random staff so didn’t quite have the impact I’d been hoping for.” You chuckled sadly, earning a gentle squeeze from your friend. “I just… the winter break is very much needed.”

“Perfect. You’re both already here.”

You watched as Mattia stepped into the room, followed closely by the rest of Team Thirty. This group had remained practically unchanged since you’d joined, only gaining Charles and a few others after you’d won your first championship- becoming the youngest WDC made keeping your identity a secret a whole extra task for them. Everyone held tablets and laptops as they sat around the table, you and Charles remaining alone on your side of the table.

“Can we just get right into it?” You said, picking at the skin around your fingers. “Which one is it? Are you gonna sub me out for a couple races to throw them off?”

They all exchanged glances before Mattia cleared his throat. “Well, plan B is actually something new we came up with… when Charles joined the team.”

Both of you frowned simultaneously, sparing a moment to glance at each other before Charles decided to speak up. “When… I joined?”

“Yes.” Mattia sat forward a little in his seat. “It wasn’t much of a possibility with Sebastian due to the age gap but you two… this could definitely work.”

“What could work? What are you talking about?”

Instead of saying anything else, Mattia pulled two stacks of paper out of his bag and slid them in front of you both. “We would like the two of you to pretend to be in a relationship because there’s no way that Charles’ girlfriend would be our mystery driver.”

You stared wide-eyes at the contract in front of you, detailing what the upcoming season would entail for you both. You would remain as a staff member for Ferrari but instead of being restricted where you could travel and with who - they had planned a full itinerary for the winter break. When and where you’d be with Charles, every day of every month. They had even crafted up mock instagram posts and stories for the two of you to post.

“The winter break provides us with the perfect opportunity to orchestrate a soft launch.” The social media manager weighed in. “You’ll both be posting from the same locations, glimpses of each other and then at the start of the reason you can announce the relationship by coming into the paddock together.”

“I’m… I’m not sure how I feel about this.” You admitted. “Charles shouldn’t be forced to date me - he’s a young, handsome guy. He shouldn’t be tied down by this fake commitment if-”

He cleared his throat, bringing your attention from Mattia and the team to him. “If it’ll help you, y/n. I’d do it… hey, could be fun right?”

Usually his smile would put you at ease but you couldn’t help but feel guilty. Charles’ knew he had ulterior motives but getting to spend time with you, in public? That wasn’t something he was just going to pass up on. He gave your shoulder a gentle squeeze and you returned his smile cautiously.

“Okay, but if Charles wants out at any point-”

“We’ll end the contract, but it will be under an NDA so you cannot say it was fake. We can just script it as a mutual, friendly breakup.” The social media manager spoke up again, clearly very proud of himself for crafting this plan. “And you and Charles are friends, right? So hopefully physical affection like hand holding in public or a kiss on the cheek will be easy to pass off as something more than platonic.”

It was then when the team left you and Charles to read the contract and details of the relationship. Whilst you weren't a Monaco native, you had come from money - it was one of the reasons, alongside your talent, you were able to land your seat whilst not only being a woman but being so young. You had competitively raced in GP3 and F2 respectively before ‘dropping off the face of the paddock’ to become a member of the Ferrari staff - it was an excuse far too many people bought too easily.

So, it wasn’t much of a surprise you’d be spending a large chunk of the break in Monaco, both of you had a place there so they wouldn’t have to splash on the accommodation but there was also a trip to Bali pencilled in towards the end before you’d have to return to Maranello for pre-season training.

“They’re really going all out with this.” The Monegasque driver spoke first. “...Are you sure you're okay doing this? Because, I agreed to it because I want to help you out but I don’t want you to be uncomfortable with it either y/n.”

“I mean, it’s definitely better than some of the other plans they come up with. And hey, it means I get to spend more time with you and I might actually get to know some of the people I’m racing against, even if it is as your girlfriend.” You smiled softly. “I can’t thank you enough for having my back through all of this. I was really scared when Seb told me he was leaving but I’m glad it was you who came next.”

His cheeks flushed a little and he rubbed the back of his neck. “I couldn’t ever imagine how difficult it was to be Thirty but when I found out you were my age and a girl? I never wanted you to feel like I didn’t support you.”

You lent into his side and he draped his arm across his shoulder. When you’d first met, he hadn’t been as protective - because as Thirty, you were fearless, but with the constant fear of exposure you were a lot shyer beneath the helmet so overtime Charles found himself wanting to watch over you.

“If we’re going to spend time with the others, I should probably give you some warnings.” He chuckled a little, as you sat back up to read yours and Charles’ ‘backstory’.

“Oh yeah?” You raised a curious brow. “They that bad?”

“No it’s not that. Pierre is a massive gossip, lives for it. So anything that’s a little juicy he’s all over it… so we’ve got to be extra careful around him.” He explained. “Like, have you ever seen those gossip accounts? He’s all over them. He also loves Thirty speculation.”

You lent back in your chair and tilted your head. “Has he ever been close?”

“Not even slightly.” He smirked. “He’s a big fan of the theory that you’re Barrichello. Or like, just a bunch of different drivers.”

“That would be impossible to keep secret, one of them would spill for sure.” You reached across the table to grab a pen. “I do enjoy reading twitter theories, I won’t lie. But, now that there’s a larger female audience, there’s been a lot more Thirty is a Woman theories being thrown around.”

Charles flicked through his papers to find the dotted lines that had been marked for him. “Your name ever cropped up?”

“Once or twice. But I was never an F2 champion or anything so it gets brushed off pretty quickly.” You shrugged. “Someone did a full twitter thread on it being me and I cannot wait for the day that I get to show them that they were right.”

“That’s crazy.”

Before the two of you could share any more words, the rest of the team rejoined - the scraping of chairs against the floor and all eyes landing back on the pair of you really made it sink in what you were about to agree to.

“Do we have any questions?” Mattia asked, passing Charles a pen as the team lawyers came and stood either side of you both to make sure you signed where you needed to.

“…Just one, for how long?”

The team principal forced a smile. “As long as needed. I know you think you’re ready to be unmasked, y/n, but that’s not what is best for the team right now. We’re focusing on getting our groove back and we don’t need the uproar of having a female driver detract from that. Understood?”

Charles frowned, watching the way your shoulders slumped a little. That didn’t seem fair.

“Yes sir.”

“Okay, good. Now, please sign.”

Both of you scribbled your signatures on the contracts, and after crossing the t’s and dotting the i’s, Mattia stood up and shook each of your hands. “Congrats. You make a very sweet couple.”

Charles dared to risk a glance at you and saw your cheeks had flushed a pretty pink, a colour he’d paint murals with if he could. It was beautiful. You threw him a shy smile as you grabbed your jacket and bag from the chair beside you. As everyone filtered out of the room, you noticed the Monegasque hanging back.

“Everything okay, Charl?”

He nodded. “Yeah. I am, it’s just properly sinking in now…”

“It’s not too late to back out.” You said, giving his bicep a gentle squeeze. “I meant what I said.”

“No it’s not that. I just feel a little guilty about my part in keeping you hidden away, y/n. I think they should be proud to not only have a woman on the team but the world’s youngest champion.” He sighed softly, his blue eyes intense as he studied you. “I hope that they realise that soon.”

“Thank you. Just so you know, I’m going to tell Sebastian… he’s signed an NDA previously so I trust him.”

Charles smiled. “I definitely think you should. You deserve at least that.”

You opened your arms and he immediately wrapped his around you. “See you later?”

“My car is at the lot by the heliport. Let me drive you home when we get back to Monaco?” He hummed, pulling back just enough to look at you. “Seen as you are my girlfriend now and all.”

Your heart skipped a beat, girlfriend. “Yeah, that would be nice, thank you.”

It was always protocol for you to hang around the weekend HQ a little longer than anyone else just in case someone had leaked the timings of a Team Thirty meeting and they didn’t want you being seen with the rest of them. Instead, you said goodbye to Charles and slipped into a small corner office to ring Sebastian. Charles’ voice continued to ring in your ear.

Girlfriend.

You were Charles Leclerc’s girlfriend. You knew it was fake but it still seemed crazy to you - you had known of him for years, and you had seen the girls he had dated before. You had to admit that you were nervous, you were built like an F1 driver - not a stereotypical influencer.

After dialling Seb’s number, you lent back against the wall of the office - going back to nibble on the skin around your fingers that you had started to pick at while in the meeting.

“Hey kid, how did it go?” His voice instantly put you at ease. Anything that was wrong, Seb could always give you the right advice. You were never sure when he got so wise but you were glad he did.

“So, uhm, plan B was something else entirely.”

“Oh?”

You let out a nervous chuckle. “Yeah…”

“Y/n, what’s going on? You’re making me worried.” You could practically see the concerned Dad look on his face when you told him about the things that they did with Thirty.

“Charles and I are fake dating.”

The pause felt like a lifetime, it was almost as if you could hear Sebastian processing the words you had just said. It wasn’t like any of the plans they had come up with while he was still with the team and it was definitely in the top 3 of the most outlandish ideas that he had heard - and one of those ideas was to get you to start wearing stilts.

“I’m… wow, and Charles is okay with this?” He finally spoke.

“Yeah, he’s on board and as soon as he decides he’s had enough - it’s over.”

He paused again. “And are you on board? Because I know you, y/n, I know how long you’ve wanted to stop with the whole faceless thing…”

He was right, but you weren’t ready to fully admit it. “It’s not the right time yet. I want to focus on getting my third title and I can’t do that if they’re all cracking down on me.”

“Okay. Well, promise you’ll keep me in the loop? This isn’t just any old media routine, I don’t want you to get hurt if Charles or anyone else does something stupid… you’re about to be a WAG, y/n… that isn’t easy.”

“Oh because you’re an expert?” You teased.

“I’m not joking, y/n. People online can be really nasty, especially to WAGs.” He scolded lightly. “Just protect yourself okay?”

You sighed softly. “I’ll do my best. I’m going to Monaco tomorrow, let me know if you’ve got any time free for us to catch up properly? I’m sure I can convince them to let me add it to the itinerary they’ve made for us.”

“Of course.”

You both said your goodbyes and it was finally time for you to leave the motorhome and get back to the hotel to pack. Aside from Charles and yourself, you weren’t really expecting to see many drivers here the morning after the final race of the season - most opting to head straight home. The paddock was mostly full of staff packing up, ready to head back to their HQs but you couldn’t help but notice that Pierre was lurking around, a little too close to the headquarters with Charles, clearly hoping to get a glimpse of Thirty when they came out of the meeting. You could see him pointing to almost every man who came out of the building but when his eyes landed on you, his gaze simply flickered over you before asking about someone else.

Charles gave you a knowing look, Pierre proving just how clueless he really was. You fought back a smile and made your way back to the car park - walking passed them both without a word. The Monegasque didn’t miss the way Pierre looked at you once again, not as a potential Thirty but the same way he looked at any pretty girl in the paddock. Clueless.

“You guys have some attractive staff, you should introduce me.” He hummed.

The younger driver rolled his eyes. “I don’t think she’d be interested.”

“And you know that, how?” Pierre scoffed.

Charles simply shrugged. “Just have a feeling.”

He watched as you scanned your pass to leave the paddock, glancing back over your shoulder one final time and risking a smile at him. The recognisable flutters in his stomach reminded him of just how screwed he was - he needed to be professional, this was a contracted relationship.

But it was just a matter of time before his true feelings came to the surface, Charles just hoped that when that happened, maybe… just maybe… you’d feel the same too.

*********************************************

Next part >>>

Oooh drama. Hope you all enjoyed ❤️

Thank u to @carsgonyoom and @danielfuckingricciardo for letting me bounce ideas off of you and proof-reading! Love you both x

#Unmasked fic #f1 fic #f1 x reader #f1 x you #f1 #formula one #charles leclerc #charles leclerc x reader #leclerc x reader #x reader #charles leclerc x you

[kenposting]

New Guy Part 2! Ah!!!

Summary: Ken invites you over for dinner at his house - something you were greatly looking forward to! Until you noticed something was on his mind.

WC: 4.2k

AN: literally so many people asked me to write more and i just wanted to cry wtf .......... i just feel so silly like i just like him!!! and u guys like him too gosh i luv u guys!!!!!! wtf!!!

Read Part 1 here: New Guy

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀⋆˚✿˖°⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

Ken was off today and you really, really missed him. For some reason. He brought a sort of light to the diner that was just not there before he arrived. Sure, he made zero fucking sense 90% of the time, but he didn’t take himself too seriously, and that was incredibly refreshing. 

The girls you worked with snickered behind him often, though, and you did pick up on his face whenever he saw them laugh at a question he had or an encouraging comment he’d make. He really was trying his best, but it seemed no one took that into consideration. 

Perhaps that’s why he asked you to come over after your shift today. You never laughed at him, you always answered his questions no matter how simple they were, and you actually spoke to him like you respected him. Because you do! 

It was an odd feeling to keep looking up at the clock. You didn’t have class since it was now Summertime (and neither did he, as important as studying Beach was to him) and, upon realizing Summer meant a break from college, he very hurriedly asked if that meant he could “take you out sometime – but, you know, only if you wanted to, I mean, I don’t want to make you feel pressured or anything…” 

He was so cute for whatever reason and you found yourself unable to let that go – it’s like he wasn’t real; like he hadn’t been tainted by the rest of the world. He cried – literally cried – the last time you were late for a shift because he thought something bad had happened to you. You promised you’d make it up to him however he wanted and all he could think of was asking you to teach him how to ride a bike. You didn’t know why he was like… that… and you didn’t worry yourself trying to figure it out. 

The directions he gave you to his apartment were drawn in crayon on the back of a paper placemat from work. He made sure to include a tiny house and tiny diner and lots of arrows. He knew the way well, too; as if he had recited it to himself lots of times. Maybe he was scared to forget where he lived. Now that you thought about it, he never drove, only ever walked, and he did say he was new to town when you met him a few months back. 

His house was tiny and sweet, only six short blocks from where the two of you worked. You could tell he took great care tending to it, even just by observing the front yard. It was blocked off by a metal gate and seemed to be an older home, simple and freshly painted eggshell white. He had planted flowers around the outside beside the front step before the small patch of grass began. 

You couldn’t see it, obviously, but he had been pacing around inside for half an hour, nervous about seeing you. And you seeing him. Did he look okay? Was his house okay? He was just beside himself, which didn’t go away at all when he heard a gentle knock at the door.

“Hey, Ken!” 

He stood meekly in front of you as you opened the door, nervously folding and wringing his hands together, scared to do or say something that would make a bad impression. He was nearly hiding behind the door. This was silly since you worked with him almost every day (and hung out with him almost every evening). You noticed a shift over the last few weeks – like his bubbly demeanor had subsided a little. It was probably your coworkers getting to him. 

“Thanks for having me over. I like it so far!” 

He smiled sheepishly and looked at the ground, a blush arising on his cheeks as he seemed to regain a little bit of himself at your presence. 

“Thanks! I’ll show you the rest of my mo–” 

He stopped himself, brows furrowed, like he was going to say something out of habit, but remembered something and decided against it.

“My house, but it will probably only take, like, five seconds. It’s pretty small.” 

He stepped aside, holding the door open for you (something ‘gentlemanly’ he had learned from observing other couples at the diner – he was proud he noticed this). You saw his hands shaking, but you appreciated the confident gesture anyways. 

You stepped in beside him as he closed the door behind you, taking in the scenery. His house was… definitely… something. 

“My friend Gloria helped me find it and even paid for the deposit so I could live here and work! I paid her back, of course.” 

He was confident in his home, it came across in his tone of voice. He had surely made it his own. It was loud as hell. The walls were a bright pink color, but somehow it kind of worked. 

“They helped me paint it too! Gloria and her groom-husband and their daughter.” 

Brushing past his bizarre choice of words (but what’s new, it’s Ken), you surprisingly felt relief within yourself at hearing she was married. You hadn’t realized you were holding your breath on that one. 

Your eyes glanced around the place, taking in all of the little things that were so… him. It was like a frat house, but way nicer; cozier. He had shelving all around with little trinkets carefully placed everywhere, some of horses, some of small glass fish, and even some of tiny people. He had put so much thought into these scenes of humans just having fun, one shelf showing a scene of a bunch of friends playing beach volleyball and another showing guys in all black posed in various dance positions playing rock-paper-scissors. 

“Ken, this is so sweet. Did you make all this yourself?” 

He looked aside and blushed, shrugging off the compliment. 

The adjacent wall had framed photos of people dressed in what you assumed to be Halloween costumes. A scene of a fierce man in a gold tracksuit posed next to a blonde girl with a sparkly dress on, the framed photo sitting proudly next to a shot of a group of girls (and one boy) in a mock supreme court dressed in all pink jumpsuits. 

He opened his mouth to tell you about the people in the picture, but you watched as he teared up just thinking about them. It must’ve been a sensitive subject, so you thought it better to not ask. 

Above his (ridiculously messy) desk were tacked drawings on the wall. Crayon drawings. You saw him making them on his breaks. There were little doodles of horses, and some of people having fun at the beach, but mainly horses. You sensed a theme. 

“This section is for all the things people gave me when I came to the real world.” 

His voice was trembling a bit, like he missed them very dearly. Ignoring the ‘real world’ thing, you looked where he was gesturing to see a whole lot of unique and incredibly thoughtful gifts. A tiny disco ball, a small pink model car, a gag book called “Backflips for Dummies” where ‘dummies’ had been crossed out with marker and replaced with a handwritten ‘Ken’, a baby blue record player with matching pink headphones, a seashell, a tiny model campfire, a collection of various headbands, a pink first aid kit – it was just endless. He was clearly so very loved by these people. 

“And all of my furniture was made for me by carpenter Barbie!” 

The Barbie thing was ever-present in his descriptions of home. It didn’t bother you, really, but it was just… getting old. You knew it was just some bit, assuming he was calling his ex-girlfriends Barbies since his name was Ken. A classic joke, sure, but he had beaten it to death at this point. 

“Jeez, Ken, how many girls have you dated?” 

You were careful to come off playfully, never wanting to risk hurting his feelings. You got it, really. He was so sweet and charming, but it felt weird to hear about Carpenter Barbie and Lawyer Barbie – even Stereotypical Barbie. It wasn’t like him at all. His entire personality glowed with respect for everyone he's ever met, so why was he reducing his past loves to just their job title? 

“Oh… No, I haven’t ever… dated anyone before. Their names really were all Barbie, their careers were just how we’d all tell the difference when we were talking about them. I know things are different here. Even you – you’re not named Barbie.” 

You blinked at him. He knew you didn’t believe him, and it showed on his face, like he wanted so badly to just take your hand and introduce you to everyone. His genuineness was hard to pass over, but seriously? All of them were named Barbie? It didn’t make sense. And you supposed it didn’t have to. What did it matter – he lived here now, didn’t he?  

“It’s okay, Ken. Maybe I can meet them one day.” 

His ears pricked at that, stuffing that idea aside for later. It was Summertime, after all. Doesn’t everyone go on vacation for Summer? 

“Mmhm, I can take you!”

It was like he was trying not to fist-pump. He was always so animated. It was one of the very first things you noticed about him. “Anyways… I made dinner. I figured you’d be hungry after working so hard.” 

He stepped into his (tiny) dining area and for the first time, you got a good look at him. His house was kind of a lot – so much so that it had sort of overshadowed him, but as he stood there, the golden evening light from the window washing over him, you wondered how it had taken you so long to notice. 

He stood tall in the archway, wearing a gray pullover sweater, one you’d get at a university (but it had the Barbie logo embroidered on it). Light jeans were cuffed enough to show off his socks. He had swapped the usual white crew-style for patterned ones with little jellyfish all over them. His face was glowing in front of you and you felt yourself just wanting to leap towards him. He looked so cozy and soft and kind and handsome and – 

“I’m not sure what you like with it so I just kind of made everything…” 

You looked over his shoulder to see a rather extensive display of food. Still simple, though, nothing too extravagant, but it was clear he had put a lot of thought into everything. 

Most of his dishes were plastic (and heart-shaped) but you found that rather charming. He had made the same lunch your mom had made growing up, the one you had told him about just days before when he asked you what you’d be doing right now if you could be anywhere in the world. 

“Probably back home, but I’ve got rent to pay so I can’t travel for the Summer if it's longer than a day trip.” 

You remembered him looking so sad, like he was going to cry. The two of you were taking your lunch breaks together, as you did most days. You snacked while he drew horses with crayons on a napkin. He said he wasn’t hungry and that his head was hurting (probably because of the alcohol he’d ordered for the first time on your study date the night before). His cheek was squished, resting on his fist as he scribbled away, very focused. 

“What would you do at home?” 

“Have lunch with my mom at the kitchen table, soup and sandwiches. All the best things always happen at the kitchen table.” 

His face furrowed and scrunched as he put his whole heart into his drawing. His tongue even poked out a few times before he proudly showed it off to you. 

“My art teacher wants to put these in the gallery this weekend! She told me that my drawings perfectly capture the nostalgia of childhood, but I don’t know what those words mean.” 

You looked at him now, standing in front of you in his tiny little house, having prepared all of this just for you, remembering and holding on to everything you had passively told him. It was nearly maddening how kind he was – like you were just waiting for the other shoe to drop at any moment. There had to be a catch. There was no way this guy was real. 

He pulled a (baby blue) chair out, allowing you to sit first. You thanked him for putting all this work in, but he shrugged it off like it was nothing. It was like he was created just to serve the people around him. Even the girls at work that were mean to him – he’d pick up their shifts the second they didn’t feel like coming in and he spoke so highly of them, noting how they’d helped him to get the hang of his job. If only you could figure out this whole Barbie real-world thing, maybe you’d understand him a little better, but right now it all just seemed a little ridiculous – both the stories of his hometown and his chivalrous behavior. There was no way he was real. You’d pinch yourself to see if you’re dreaming, but that didn’t work the last twenty times, so really there’s no point. 

Seriously, though. What was his deal? You liked him so much – it just snuck up on you. You weren’t looking to be with anyone but you just couldn’t figure him out, and maybe you didn’t want to. Every guy you’d known had some bizarre at the least or toxic at the worst trait that came up eventually and you so desperately wanted him to be different. Now was as good a time as any to get it over with, rip the bandaid off, and be free of this false hope. 

“Hey, Ken…” 

“Hmm?” 

His mouth was full but he looked up at you immediately with a great intensity, like he was so concerned to make sure you were alright. His eyelashes fluttered as he blinked at you, waiting (literally) on the edge of his seat. The seats were too small for him. He kind of towered over most of the things in his house, actually. It was like this was a little dollhouse and he had barely begun to outgrow it. 

“What’s with all of the Barbie and Ken stuff?” 

He just looked at you, confused at your question. 

You sighed. 

“I mean, you always say Barbies and Kens instead of just saying women and men. And you always talk about how this… place, this world, is different from your own. I really like you and I’m really trying to understand it but I just don’t get it.” 

He blinked at you, brows furrowing as he nearly choked on his food and tried to gather some sort of answer that wouldn’t further confuse you. 

“You… you like me?” 

You realized what you had said just moments before. It came as a shock to the both of you. You did like him. You liked him so much it was starting to annoy you, actually. 

You nodded, frustrated, like you were searching for some sort of explanation that wouldn’t further confuse him. 

“I do, I like you a lot. I think about you all the time, you’re so silly I just love being around you, you’re ridiculously handsome it’s actually absurd, you’re so good at your job and so kind and you try so hard in school, I love your drawings, I love eating lunch with you, I just love… you. All of you” 

You watched as his lip quivered. He had been trying to hold it in all evening but he just couldn't anymore. 

“You like me?!” 

He bit down on the inside of his lip to stop the shaking. 

“I like you! And I’ve been wanting to tell you for so long but I’ve just never felt this way and… And I just feel like I never know what I’m doing. This place is so different than back home and I always want to take some initiative to show you how I feel but I’m just scared I’m going to bother you and that didn’t work back home and it’s so weird having my own house and–” 

He sighed, looking up at you. 

“This world – this place is so hard to live in.” 

You watched the look on his face. It’s the same face he makes when things get a little too overwhelming. You had seen it before, most recently after he walked right in to a sliding glass door, despreately trying to convince you that they just don’t have those where he’s from. Some things like that are just hard for him. 

You nodded, placing a hand on his. 

“This place is hard to live in. I’ve felt that way my whole life. Like I don’t really fit anywhere and everyone around me knows what they’re doing except me.” 

He nodded so desperately, like you were the first person to ever really understand him. 

“But… Ken, if this place is so hard to live in, why did you come here? And why did you stay?” 

“I came here to figure out why I did what I did.” 

There it was. He answered so quickly, like he had been waiting to tell you this since he met you. You knew it was coming sooner or later. There was no way he was as kind as he seemed, and he was about to tell you about some insane or horrible or creepy or despiciable thing he did to some poor girl before skipping town to ‘find himself’. You’d heard it all before. 

“I really liked this girl back home and she didn’t feel the same way. Not even like she didn’t like me, she just… it was like I was a bother to her, and I was. I waited for her to show up everywhere I’d go and I just wanted her to like me too, but not even romantically. Just like me, as a person, respect me, acknowledge me, validate me, reject me even. She didn’t even do that, she just…” 

He took a deep breath, steadying himself. Your jaw tightened, waiting to hear him say something he couldn’t ever take back. 

“Anyways… I didn’t mind that she didn’t like me, truly. I just hadn’t ever really thought about it before. Like we were meant to be together, but not in a good way – like it was planned and I couldn’t escape it. It was Barbie and Ken, there was no Just Ken.” 

Again, as bizarre as this whole Barbie and Ken thing was, his tone of voice was incredibly convincing. 

“But there is just Ken. I am Ken – and that’s it, that's good, but I didn’t know what that meant or who I was without spending my days just pining for her. After all that she came here to the real world and I wanted to as well. I didn’t come for her, I came for me. And I stayed for you.” 

He was crying now, tears slowly falling from his eyes, like he had been waiting for ages to find the words to explain all of this. 

“I mean… I came here to study. The first time I visited I learned about Patriarchy–” 

“The patriarchy.” 

“Right, the patriarchy, and I felt respected and seen, but I didn’t really get it. I tried to figure it out, I really did, but I couldn’t even do beach here and I kept getting arrested and I just... I just felt worse and worse so I…” 

His lower lip was really shaking now, like he had done something unforgivable. 

“I came home without Barbie and I let her get kidnapped by Mattel and I told all the Kens about what I saw and… and–” 

He was holding back actual sobs. 

“And I turned her dream house into a mojo dojo casa house for Kens only and I made Barbieland into Kendom Land Land of the Men and I made her listen to me play the guitar for, like, ever and ever and I just feel so bad about it all.” 

He took a shaky breath in, still clearly upset about everything. 

“But she was so nice to me about it when we finally talked. And then she came here, so I did too. I signed up for school so I could figure out why I did that and how to help other people realize what they’re feeling before they do something like that too. I know it was wrong and really mean, but I can also see that I was sad and I just liked her and I felt invisible and I didn’t even have a house.” 

He didn’t even have a house? 

“But now I do have a house! And I love learning about Beach and horses but what I really want is to do everything I can to help other people understand why this system doesn’t work, no matter who’s in charge. It didn’t work in Barbieland and it surely doesn’t work here either. It’s all ridiculous and it benefits no one, including those in power. It’s not fair, to guys or girls, to you, even. You can’t even go home during Summer because they barely pay you as much as they pay me just because you’re a girl, and I just started! You trained me! It’s absurd!” 

None of this was making any sense logically, but emotionally, all of it tracked. You felt the same way. You came here to understand the unhealthy behaviors in yourself and to try to help fix the system any way you could. 

“I love my house so much. I’m doing everything I can to figure out how I did something so crazy to all of the Barbies, but I won’t let it make me cynical or cold or mean anymore. I love being alive and even though people make fun of me for crying or blushing too much or asking stupid questions, I love being alive. I know it’s silly, but I love it, I love all of it. Every time you compliment me or help me with something or show me something new I just feel like I’m gonna explode. I don’t understand it, but I never even felt this way about Barbie – I don’t even know if I liked her, really, I think I was just programmed to act like it. I love seeing the older people that come in to work, they love each other so much and I just… I want that. That’s real and I want something real. I want more than a long-term long-distance low-commitment casual girlfriend bride-wife – I want what I see every day here. Like my friend Gloria and her groom-husband and everyone we see at work and at school. You know how people come into the diner every day – literally every day! – just to eat together? And hold hands? And look at each other for so long and just talk and laugh? I have no idea what that’s like, but I want to know so bad. I want to have that. And I want you to have that – even if it’s not with me! Even if you don’t feel the same way, you deserve a good groom-husband more than anyone I’ve ever met, it's absurd that no one is taking care of you!” 

He sighed, closing his eyes. 

“Sorry, what I’m, trying to say is, I just… I don’t understand it but all I want to do is spend time with you. I tried to ask some people at school what to do about... this feeling but their answers were so mean, like you were an object I was entitled to just take for myself. I tried to ask our coworkers but they told me you wouldn’t like me anyways and I believed them. I just… I don’t want to be... patriarchal about it and I have no idea what I’m doing.” 

A quiet fell over the place. You watched as little dust bunnies glittered around him. He had soup on his shirt. 

“Ken, I… I don’t know what to say.” 

You smiled, letting out a gentle laugh. He laughed too. You had been holding your breath at everything he was saying, a blush creeping over your ears. He was blushing too, mostly at himself for going off a little, but also at you. He could stare at you for hours. Most days he’s telling himself not to, straining his eyes away from you at work. His heart just ached when you spoke so kindly to customers or your coworkers or him. Gosh, when you spoke to him. He just melted every time, turning away from you as quickly as possible so you wouldn’t see him fall apart, just bashful. 

“I think you know exactly what you’re doing. And you’re damn good at it, too. If you’d asked me I’d say you’re the most experienced human I know.” 

Relief was painted on his face, a sense of calm falling over the two of you like a gentle, quiet snowfall. You really were the only one that understood him, but moreover, he was the only one that understood you. 

“I don’t know what I’m doing either, Ken. I don’t think anyone does. Everyone is just pretending, I promise. I watch the way those same couples spend their days just… existing together. It’s like they don’t have a care in the world when they’re next to each other and I feel that way when I’m with you. I also don’t know what I’m doing, but I can learn. We can learn. We can figure it out. And I don’t really understand the Barbies or Kens or Real World stuff you’re talking about most days, but that doesn’t mean you can’t show me.” 

He looked so simple, sat right in front of you, and you watched as he smiled – like all of a sudden he wasn’t so confused anymore. 

“Do you know how to roller-blade?” 

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀⋆˚✿˖°⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

#ken #<3 #kenergy #barbie #ken x reader #just ken

[novasintheroom]

036. Heart Break

♡ Pairing - Vash x Reader

♡ Word count - 0.8k

♡ Warnings - mild angst

♡ Description: Vash's actions catch up to him in the form of a letter.

Part of the 150 Bullets drabble series on AO3.

Part 1 ---- Part 2 (you are here!)---- Part 3 ---- Part 4 ---- Part 5

The first letter comes three weeks and a day later.

“Got a letter for ya.”

Vash doesn’t look up from the shop’s window display of guns and bullets.

“Hey…hey!”

The man taps Vash’s shoulder. He finally flinches. “Who, me?” Vash turns, surprised to see someone just standing behind him. How far away was his mind?

The man looks him up and down. “You’re Vash, right?” He’s a thick man; stout. A broom mustache sweeps his upper lip. Small holster for a pistol at his hip. He isn’t reaching for it, but Vash keeps it in sight.

Vash lets out a nervous laugh. “Do I know you? I’m sorry, it’s been a minute since I last came to town!” A truth – it’s been almost twenty years.

A tomas-pulled wagon drives past and kicks up dust. The man – courier, Vash realizes, seeing the official symbol of an arrow with a letter on his hat – spits to the side, a hunk of tobacco splatting the dirt. “Friend o’ yers passed through a few days ago. Said to look out for someone like you if you came by.”

Again, the pistol is in sight. The man reaches for it. Vash tenses, ready to run and – the courier reaches into his back pocket, pulling out a small, folded envelope. Without preamble, the man hands it to Vash. “Tall, red coat, looks like a kicked puppy…yeah, gotta be you.”

Vash takes it like it will bite his fingers. It’s a dirty little thing, crinkled horribly on one corner and bent at the other three, but intact. In neat handwriting, his name scrawled across the front: “For – Vash S.”

The courier clears his throat and holds out a hand. Vash blinks at it, uncomprehending. “Twenty-six C-cents. For the parcel delivery.”

Oh. He’d forgotten that – he hadn’t gotten a letter in – “Ah, right, um, lemme just – “ He pats his pockets, inner, outer, and finally finds a few loose coins. They clink into outstretched palm, and he hopes it’s enough.

The courier counts, then recounts. He nods and hands back two C-cents. “Much obliged. See us at the post office if you want to send something back. Just down the road, by the toma range.” He ambles off, already setting sights on someone else in town. It’s just Vash and the letter now.

Carefully, he peels back the top of the envelope. His mind is awash with dread when the first pieces of curling letters meet his gaze: your handwriting. A piece of yellow paper is tucked into the folds, and he pulls it out.

It’s upside down, and he sees the slanted, scrawling handwriting first before he knows what it says. Flipping it around and right-side up, he reads over what you’ve written him.

Vash,

I get why you left. I wish you’d talked with me beforehand, but I get it. I tried following, but you know how to disappear.

You know you can trust me. I’ll keep all your secrets, don’t worry.

You’re my best friend. I think you’ll always be. Please be careful wherever you go. I’ve drawn a map on the back of my route for the next few months. Find me when you screw your head on right. I’ll gladly be waiting.

Forever yours,

______

There’re little circular wrinkles on the paper. Tear marks. You’d been crying when you’d written this. Vash sighs and holds the papers to his head. It has the faintest smell of apples to it from the lotion of your hands.

It’s tempting to feel his heart break. He takes a quick whiff, then turns the page over.

It’s a neat but crude drawing of the southernmost area of the region. You’ve got about fourteen towns marked down, with their names underneath and a trail of arrows winding between them with approximate dates. According to this, you’re at Trenton’s Hill, three towns over. You’ll be distributing library books and trying to set up new routes along the way. All to help the education of the people.

Good. That’s exactly what he wanted. You’re using your time and your degree as you should be, instead of following him around. He almost puts the paper in his pocket when he sees you wrote something at the bottom:

                P.S. – Did you hear about the guy who had his left side cut off? He’s all right now.

It startles a laugh out of him. Leave it to you to make a joke out of…well, whatever this situation is now. Again, he sighs. He won’t deny he’s missed you. But this is for the best. He looks again at Trenton’s Hill, and makes a mental note to go the opposite direction.

The letter goes in a pocket, and he goes on his way – sure to pull it out and look over the words again for nights to come.

dividers

#trigun #vash the stampede #trigun stampede #tristamp #writing #vash x reader #vash the stampede x reader #reader insert #self insert #nova writes #150 bullets

[bmodiwrites]

After the Battle of Star Court, Steve finds himself floundering. He's losing sleep and his mind without a solution in sight. As luck would have it, Steve stumbles upon a sign for art therapy classes. Not knowing they're going to change his life, Steve signs up. Fast forward a few months and Steve is apprenticing at a tattoo shop in Hawkins when his very existence gets turned upside down again. Can a flock of bats really bring two people together? Or are Eddie and Steve just that meant to be? Read chapter 1 to find out what Steve makes of his life when Eddie comes walking back into it.

Eager hands brought the book down where they both could see it. Her eyes flicked across the page, then grew two sizes wider. Before Steve could ask what she thought, Robin dragged the sketch pad a little closer to her face, looking at all the small details.

“This is a legit comic strip. Very badass of you, Steve. You made me into a hero!” Robin’s face was split open wide with an overwhelming smile.

Steve took the book back from her gently, flipping through a handful of the pages until he got to the beginning of the strip. He leaned in so Robin could see the sketches, too. “I’ve done eight panels so far. I’m putting you through every adventure I can think of. Seeing how you fare.”

“No shit. This is legit. Like, really good – “ Robin sounded breathless, almost as if she was impressed. “I knew you were taking art classes… but I didn’t expect you to be this talented. Or expressive.”

“I fell in love with the way shutting off and putting pencil to paper made me feel. When I’m not at work or with you, I’m drawing something. Aside from my natural talent,” Steve said, slapping the book jokingly, “I’ve had a lot of practice.”

“Steve, I’m impressed. Could you make this into a weekly thing? I like the idea of having a series drawn in my honor.” And though she meant those words as they were, Steve heard the affection they carried, too. She didn’t need to say she was moved for Steve to know she was. The way her eyes hadn’t left the page spoke the truth loudly enough. Or maybe their friendship was that easy to navigate. Steve didn’t doubt Robin a single bit.

She was his hero. Robin had to know that.

Read all of chapter 1 on AO3!

Tagging (please let me know if you want to be added to the taglist for chapter 2 by comment below!): @writer-in-theory, @zerokrox-blog, @whatthefuccck, @patchworkgargoyle

#steddie #stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #steve harrington x eddie munson #steve harrington/eddie munson #steve x eddie #steve/eddie #steddie fic #steddie fanfic #steddie fics #steddie au #tattoo artist steve #musician eddie #chapter 1 on ao3 #ao3 #bobbie writes #the architect of this cage

[huipinkhair]

Introverts - Zhang Hao x Reader

Chapter 2 - what the fuck do I do

Synopsis - Zhang Hao was made the student council vice president against his will, when all he wanted was to get through high school quietly. He found himself drawn to the shy member of a student-made band, and has been crushing on them for months. He knows he needs to get his shit together before they graduate and go their separate ways, but doesn’t know if he can break out of his shell in time, or even bother at all.

Taglist - @hwangsm1le @zerobaseonefics @mins-fins @big-uwu-stan @harus-simp @haesunflower

Written section at the end!! Don’t miss it! :) - 477 words 🖤

You take a seat at an empty desk in the library, your heartbeat pounding in your ears. Half of you wants to curl up in a ball and die at the thought of spending time like this with him. To be honest, you didn’t even know if he was coming, since he never replied to your text.

Only half.

While your lost in your mind, overthinking of everything that’s about to go wrong, you hear a chair being dragged next to you. You look up to see the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen, as he takes a seat next to you.

“Hey.” The vice president practically whispers, pulling his laptop out of his bag.

“…hi, thanks for this, by the way,” you respond, clicking your pen nervously.

“S’okay, I don’t know why hanbin couldn’t help you, he finished this homework days ago.” He shrugs, pulling the assignment up and squinting as he reads it through.

God, he’s handso- wait, huh?

“Oh? He told me he hadn’t finished it yet.. maybe he just didn’t want to help me,” you laugh half heartedly.

Hao freezes up, eyes going wide for just a moment before returning to his blank slate.

“I’ll ask him, that’s not really like him,” his eyebrows furrow, still focusing on his screen.

“Anyway, let me read through what you have so far,” he gestures towards your notebook. You slide it over to him and he picks it up to read.

You glance around the room, eyes occasionally landing on him. The way his hair practically covers his eyes, the way one of his shirt sleeves is rolled up, his beauty mark under his eye.

“Y/n? Are you listening?” He asks, eyebrow raised, snapping you out of your trance.

“Yes! Sorry! Uh, could you repeat that?”

“Well, the essay itself is very well written, honestly you’d probably get at least a B+ just like this. If I were you I’d just reword and expand on some sections, like this part here,” he points to a paragraph in your book with his pen, “you’re making a very good argument, but it’s too short, if you can expand on this you could get an A.” He finishes, running a hand through his hair and sitting back.

“Oh! Okay, thanks,” you nod, making a note to expand on that section later.

“You can do it now, if you want,” he mumbles, twirling his pen through his fingers, “and I can look at it after.”

“Oh, no, that’s okay, I don’t want to take up your time.” Heat rushing to your cheeks, you focus down on your paper, trying to avoid his eye.

“I don’t mind, I don’t have anything else planned today,” he starts typing on his laptop.

“Uh, yeah, okay, sounds good,” you stutter, beginning to write based on his advice.

Does he always smell that good?

#Introverts #Zhang Hao x Reader #ZB1 Zhang Hao #zerobaseonefics #huipinkhair

[novelcain]

OKAY! So when I was about 10/13 years old my mom took me to get a check up.. perfectly normal right? What could possibly go wrong.. oh yeah I was also there to get my shots.. I hate getting shots, always have always will.. it’s the syringe needles!! the fact that I know they have to be hollow enough for stuff to go in and out of the inside of those things is just wrong to me.. 😟 Anyway me and my Mom get there and everything SEEMS to be alright.. until the doctor comes back and says I have to get EVERY! SINGLE! SHOT! SINCE BIRTH!! OVER AGAIN!!!

Ya wanna know why??? BECAUSE THEY LOST ALL MY MEDICAL RECORDS!! ALL OF THEM!! 😡

Like okay yeah, shit happens I guess..

But.. my colorful, sugary sour Overlord.. They didn’t lose literally ALL my medical records once.. NOT twice!! NO no no no… BUT THREE FUCKING TIMES!!! In.. a.. row.. 😑 And all in the same Year.. I shit you not. 😤

Sssoooo yeah, I’m a bit traumatized and HATE going to the Doctor.. 😰

SO! 2020!! Covid shows up and I have to get a vaccine shot.. my Mom bless her heart comes with me, and I have to fill out the form… I spent an embarrassingly long time trying to write down my date of birth..

I was shaking so bad and ended up handing the paper & pen over to my Mom… Because I couldn’t remember which way the number 3 faced.. I was having a freaking mini panic attack.. at 21 🥲

I also had a panic attack & nearly fainted when I had to get my molars removed and the nurse showed up with the iv bag.. and I finally realized I was getting the syringe not the gas.. hadn’t panicked the whole time till that poor lady strolled in.. I think I scared her a lil when I started hyperventilating and asking my mom, wh-what what? What??? But it turned out okay!! That incident happened when I was about 18 I think..

🎃~

BRUH i know what you mean with the hating needles thing! I have had nothing but bad experiences with them. Like when I was younger I'd have to get allergy shots every week so I already HATED shots bc of that but then one day this super old bitch gave me my shot and literally stuck me so hard that the needle scraped my fucking bone! My bicep hurt for a whole month I couldn't do anything!

And then this one time I was in middle school and I had to get my blood drawn for testing, and some info about me I have always had very thick skin, and the nurse tried to use a butterfly needle but when she tried putting it in the damn thing broke against my skin! Anyways, everyone panicked for a hot sec and now it's in my file somewhere that they have to use big needles on me now! LIKE THE FUCK!?!?🤬🤬🤬

Ugh! If I sat here and told you all my needle stories we'd be here all day.

But my gods, how they gonna lose your damn records THREE FUCKIN TIMES!!!??? It's called a fuckin computer system you numb skulls! If it's really that hard to input the data yourselves then ffs just scan a pic of the records and save that!

Me: On behalf of my fruity heh subject, Skittle's gonna sue! *sprinkes dark matter on them bitches*

But fr tho same with the covid thing. In order to get my second vaccine I had to be drugged before going, and I STILL had a panic attack the whole time, not cause of my fear of needles tho. I mean it was a little bit because of the needles but mainly because of the agoraphobia. I think that was really the first instance of me being unable to function alone in public. I had to have Ritz and her mom there to talk for me and fill out the paper work cause I couldn't. I was shaking, I couldn't communicate outside of nodding to Ritz, and I couldn't even look at anyone other than Ritz. There were a few times I almost passed out inside of the clinic waiting room. I'm pretty sure now that I think about it that that was the last time I was out in public at all and that was almost 2 years ago. Definitely was NOT a good motivator to make me do it again lol. Sorry this is low key embarrassing for me to talk about and I honestly spent 30 minutes just deleting this and rewriting it over and over again before deciding to keep it

#🎃 anon #skittle answers #skittle rambles

[ismybloodholyenough]

Mushy May Day 2

Prompt: Crush/"I made this for you"

Pairing: Sunshine/Cumulus

Can also be found on ao3 under the same name

Cumulus sat back on her heels, admiring her work. Her hands ached and it had been too long since she’d gotten any food, but her project was finally done. She reached for her phone on her desk, snapping a quick picture of the overalls laid out in front of her before opening her texts.

Mountain: How’s it coming out?

Cumulus: Just finished it! Come and see it!!!!

She stood, setting down her phone so she could start cleaning up. Embroidery thread, needles, scissors, the embroidery hoop. She stowed them all neatly in her dresser, hiding everything under one of her less-worn shirts. It was only a few minutes before she heard a soft knock on her door.

“Come on in,” Cumulus said over her shoulder. She tucked the shirt back into place just as Mountain slipped into the room, shutting the door behind him. His gaze immediately fell upon the overalls splayed out on the floor beside Cumulus’ bed. His face lit up as he walked around them to get a better look.

“It looks so good! Sunny’s gonna love it!” Mountain knelt, tracing his fingers over the stitches. “You gonna wrap it up? I have some good wrapping paper if you need any.”

“I’ve already got some picked out, but thanks. And thank you so much for teaching me. I love how it came out,” Cumulus answered, smiling brightly.

“Yeah, it’s amazing! I love the bee trails,” Mountain said, still taking in every detail on the overalls. Cumulus smiled even wider, remembering how unsure she had been about that addition.

“That was Cirrus’ idea. I didn’t think I could make the details look good since they’re so small. But it turned out really well,” she said. “Oh, and before I forget.”

“Yeah?” Mountain lifted his head up, still tracing the patterns Cumulus had embroidered on the denim.

“Do you have any sunflowers in your greenhouse? I wanna match it up,” the air ghoulette explained. Mountain smiled, nodding.

“Yeah, let me go get them right now.” He stood to leave, opening and shutting the door just as quietly as he had come in. Now alone, Cumulus folded up the overalls, running her fingers over the soft threads. After months of hard work, she would finally be able to wrap her gift.

Choosing the wrapping paper hadn’t been hard. It was simple, fitting. A cute pattern of suns and clouds over a light blue sky. Cumulus made quick work of it, tucking the folds into themselves with the skill of someone used to giving gifts.

Once she was done, she picked up her phone again to text her girlfriend.

Cumulus: Eyes on Sunny?

No response. Cirrus was probably just busy. Cumulus dropped her phone onto her bed to look in the mirror instead. She fussed with her hair, adjusted her bracelets, switched out the ribbons she’d wrapped around her horns. She was nervous. It was so unusual for her to be so anxious. Normally, Cumulus was sure about everything she did. She was the guiding voice of the pack. The “mom friend” of the group, as she’d been called by some of the Siblings of Sin.

This uncertainty, this fear… it was weird. It’s not like she and Sunshine weren’t friends. They’d bonded immediately, drawn to each other from the moment the solar ghoulette was summoned. But lately it had become something more. For Cumulus, at least. She was scared to finally confess her feelings. Cirrus was helping her, and Mountain, too, but it was still the most nerve-wracking thing she’d done since her first Ritual.

Sunny was so sweet and fun and pretty. Their laugh was like a cool breeze on a hot day. She always made the best picnics, choosing exactly the right spot to get equal sun and shade. Cumulus was just in love with Sunshine, and it was just too much at this point. She had to get it out. She just didn’t want to mess it up. 

A buzzing from her phone drew her out of her thoughts. Cumulus picked it up to see that Cirrus had texted her back. 

Cirrus: Talking to Dew and Aeth. Picnic basket is almost done

Cumulus: Great. Omw out

Grabbing her canvas bag, Cumulus packed the gift, her phone, a blanket, and her sketchbook before making her way into the hall. She carefullysnuck into the common room, making sure Sunshine didn’t see her as she found Cirrus in the kitchen.

Her girlfriend smiled at her when she walked through the door, a woven basket sitting on the counter in front of her. Cumulus eyed the hint of a flower petal peeking out of the corner of the lidded basket. So Mountain had already brought the bouquet. Perfect.

“Good luck,” Cirrus whispered. Cumulus smiled back, taking the picnic basket and walking back into the common room. Sunshine was on the couch, still talking to Dew and Aether. The air ghoulette gave herself a moment to just watch, her breath catching as Dew said something that made Sunny laugh. They were so carefree, so beautiful. She would be happy to just watch Sunshine sing and laugh and love if that was what she wished, Cumulus thought.

Aether spotted Cumulus over Sunny’s shoulder. He looked at the tote bag on her shoulder, the picnic basket in her opposite hand, and the way she was staring at the solar ghoulette. A small smile formed on his face as he subtly winked at Cumulus, continuing his conversation with Dew.

“Hey Sunny,” Cumulus pushed out, much softer than she intended. Sunshine turned around, either ignoring or not noticing the uncharacteristically shy tone.

“What’s up?” the solar ghoulette asked.

“Do you… wanna go for a picnic?” Cumulus hesitated, hoping she didn’t sound too awkward. Fortunately, Sunshine didn’t seem to care. Their face lit up and she stood, looking at the basket Cirrus had so carefully prepared.

“Finally, someone wants to go outside! I’ve been begging these two to go for a walk or a swim or something cause it’s just so nice out! But they’d rather stay in and do… whatever they like to do.” Sunny frowned down at Aether and Dewdrop, who only smirked and ignored her. Cumulus laughed softly, walking around the couch to stand at the other ghoulette’s side.

“Shall we?” she asked. Sunshine simply turned to the door and opened it, letting Cumulus follow behind. Cumulus watched as they tilted their face up, closing their eyes and letting the sunlight wash over her. The air ghoulette’s heart rate picked up. Just a little.

The two of them walked for a while, Sunshine pointing out a few patches of wildflowers every now and then. They talked about everything, the upcoming summer tour, the new uniforms, the petty fights Swiss and Dew would always start. It was easy. It was nice. Cumulus was almost able to forget how nervous she was.

She was abruptly reminded, however, when their walk came to an end. Sunshine had found the perfect spot, a half-shaded clearing right next to a small creek. The sound of the running water brought Cumulus back to the task at hand. She set the basket down and fished the blanket from her bag. The two ghoulettes laid it down together, Sunny laughing when Cumulus had to create a windless bubble so it didn’t blow away.

Cumulus started unpacking the basket, carefully avoiding the sunflowers as she set out strawberries, raspberries, bread and cheese, and Aether’s signature brownies. The solar ghoulette was already popping strawberries into their mouth, grinning at the taste.

“Picked fresh from Primo’s garden this morning,” Cumulus admitted, smiling shyly.

“And did you get permission?” Sunny asked, already knowing the answer.

“I would never,” the air ghoulette replied with mock hurt. Sunny laughed, tipping her head back.

“Ok, so if I hear the menacing cracking of bones waddling over to the ghoul quarters, I shouldn’t point the old man in your direction,” Sunshine said.

“Exactly.” Cumulus finally laid all the food out, pulling the bouquet of sunflowers out and a small glass cup. The solar ghoulette’s gasped, eyes filled with childish joy as they saw the flowers. Cumulus only walked down to the stream to fill the glass, putting the long stems in the water as she came back.

“Alright, this has to be something. You can’t just tell me you wanted to go for a picnic. You brought flowers. What’s going on?” Sunshine asked, watching Cumulus’ hands as she lowered the makeshift vase to the blanket. The air ghoulette took a moment to sit down next to Sunny before answering.

“It’s your Summoning Day! I wanted to do a little celebration!” she explained. Sunshine let out a happy trill, her tail wagging against the cloth. Cumulus’ heart skipped a beat at that; she loved seeing them so happy. It was amazing. She found herself lost in the routine of eliciting those happy noises, trying to hear Sunny’s laugh again and again and again.

“I… there’s one more thing,” Cumulus squeaked, interrupting the story Sunny was telling.

“What?” they said, tilting her head. Cumulus reached for her bag again and retrieved the wrapped gift. Passing it to the solar ghoulette, she said, “I made this for you.”

Sunshine beamed at Cumulus. She wasted no time in unwrapping it, standing up to unfold the overalls. They sucked in their breath, taking in the embroidered sunflowers, bees, and leaves decorating the denim. Cumulus stared with held breath, trying to gauge the other’s reaction.

“Do you like it?” she asked quietly.

“Do I like it? It’s amazing! I love it!” Sunny said as she turned to Cumulus. They set the overalls on the blanket carefully and launched herself at the air ghoulette. The two of them fell back on the blanket with an oomph, and before she knew it, Cumulus was kissing Sunshine. The solar ghoulette chirped in surprise but kissed back, winding her arms around the air ghoulette’s neck.

When they pulled away, Sunshine’s cheeks were flushed, lips swollen. She smiled down at Cumulus, the noontime sun framing her face perfectly and creating a halo of light around their head.

“I- you- is this… ok?” Cumulus stammered. Sunshine just smiled even broader and leaned down again. Cumulus began purring, all anxiety washed away as she held Sunny tight. She couldn’t even really remember why she’d been nervous in the first place. Sunny loved the overalls. She loved the picnic. She loved the fact that Cumulus had put this all together. She loved Cumulus. And it seemed so obvious now.

Cumulus laughed, pulling away so she could plop a raspberry into the solar ghoulette’s mouth. They stared at each other, love and gratitude pouring from each other’s eyes. Yes, it was definitely obvious.

#the band ghost #nameless ghouls #cumulus ghoulette #sunshine ghoulette #mushy may #love confessions #crush #ficlet #also on ao3 #this is the cutest thing ive ever written HELP #ghouls in love

[aristocraticvision]

Chapter 335: Homecoming (Pt. 2)

Jack and his mother followed the Baron into the library. The room was one of Jackson’s least favorite in the old manor house. Despite his love of books, it had always felt much like his father: dark, formal and painfully restrained.

“I trust your journey was productive?” Price asked as they all took seats around the massive mahogany desk.

“Things went very well, father,” Jack said. “My new contract is quite satisfactory. Assuming the first book is successful – and my publishers believe it will be – I should come out of it quite well. They’ve also given me an advance on my next book, which will the first in a series of three volumes on the life of Charles von Hapsburg. If all goes well, I should have sufficient income to ensure my financial independence.”

“Good. Then perhaps this is a good time to discuss your living arrangements,” Price said. “Jonathan and Mary’s baby will be arriving soon, and Jarrod’s wedding is coming up next month, so the household will soon be expanding significantly,” Price said. “I thought now would be an opportune time for you to strike out on your own.”

Jack swallowed hard. While he was seeing some progress career-wise, he hadn’t planned on moving out until he knew his book was a success. But now, it appeared, he wouldn’t have that luxury.

“I … I wasn’t planning on it, but you make a valid point,” he replied. “I’ll start looking for a place immediately, and be out by the end of the month.”

“Oh, Jackson, you don’t ...” his mother began.

“Excellent,” Price interrupted. “Then I suppose we’re finished here.”

“Not quite,” Eliza said, forcefully. “If Jack is being forced to move, then I insist on him having Dellingham Cottage. I’d planned on leaving it to him anyway.”

“We can certainly discuss it, Eliza,” Price began.

“The cottage is mine, Price, not yours,” Eliza continued. “I’ll give it to whomever I please, without discussion.”

Price frowned as Eliza turned to her son.

“I’ll have the papers drawn up to transfer ownership to you,” she said. “It will be ready for you whenever you decide to move out.”

“Thank you, mother,” Jack said, smiling. “I’ve always been quite fond of the place.”

He stood. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I suppose I have plans to make.”

As the door closed, Price turned to his wife, coldly.

“Dellingham is a valuable piece of property, Eliza,” he said. “You should have discussed this with me.”

“Perhaps,” Eliza said, rising. “But Dellingham has been in my family for eight generations. It deserves to belong to someone who appreciates its history.”

“So be it, then,” Price replied, looking back to his work as his wife left the room. As soon as the door closed, Price began dialing.

“Montclair?” he said. “We need to meet right away. My bleeding heart of a wife just complicated our plans.”

CHAPTER 1 | BEGINNING OF PART 4 | PREV | NEXT

Continent of Oceana | History of Weston | History of Corwyn | History of Torenth | History of Allycia

#ts4 simblr #ts4 royalty #ts4 royal legacy #ts4 royal simblr #ts4 royal family #ts4 monarchy #ts4 story #Jack gets the boot #father failure #mother saves the day #Jack Flynn #Price and Eliza Flynn #Baron and Baroness Woodridge #back in Torenth #Price's plans #Chapter 335 part 2 #Homecoming #Oceana stories

[thora-jane]

I've Already Lost pt.ii (TASM! Peter x Reader)

(a/n): Hi again! I tried to write more of this but it still doesn't feel done. Either way, here's part 2! Little less angsty but it's not quite happy either. If you want to be tagged in this series or any of my other work, lmk. Thank you, and please comment/reblog since it lets me know if people want me to keep writing <3

Summary: It's the Monday after, and though you're trying to just make it through the day, things are far from normal.

Word count: 2,566

Previous | Next

It was the Monday after you ran from Peter’s apartment, and as much as you hated to go back to class, your mom wasn’t buying any fake sickness. So instead, as you walked up the steps to Midtown High, you prayed that you wouldn’t have to talk to Peter. What you needed was a miracle, since he sat next to you in 2 of your 3 shared classes, as well as lunch. As the bell rang for your first class, you looked at the seat next to you; empty.

You could have sworn you saw him with Gwen in the hallway earlier, but you may have imagined it. Either way, you sat through science rather bored and struggling to take notes. Why couldn’t Pete be here to kick your foot under your desk or lean over and scribble on your papers when you weren’t looking? First period felt like the longest 45 minutes of your life and you had a feeling things would most likely get worse.

Next came math, where you sat on the opposite side of the class from Peter. It was then that your heart sank. Because there he was, sitting behind Gwen, smiling as he doodled on the palm of her hand. You looked down at your own hand, it had been months since he had drawn or written anything on your palm or wrist. But you remembered how before Gwen came along, your hand looked like the side of a freight car, full of pictures and phrases and assorted swear words, and Peter writing his signature in different funky styles.

You shoved your hands in your pocket and glued your eyes to your desk, you pretended not to notice how their laughter turned into soft whispers you couldn’t make out from the front of the room. God, you hated math. You hated numbers. You hated this stupid desk and you hated this stupid school. And you hated stupid, stupid Peter Parker, who was going to skip every class you had alone together so he could avoid you. He was probably going to skip lunch too, the asshole.

Asshole.

Who were you kidding? You were an asshole. You ruined Pete’s life by running out like that. Why did you have to be so selfish? Couldn’t you just be happy that he was happy? Why did you have to go and ruin things?

Did Gwen know?

You dared a glance over your shoulder at them. When she caught you looking her way, Gwen smiled, giving a subtle half-wave so as to not get caught by the teacher. Peter, however, kept his gaze fixed up at the board. You could see his desk shaking from the way his leg was bouncing so violently, and his eyes almost looked as if they were frozen too stiffly into place.

He definitely hadn’t told her.

It seemed like hours had passed, but eventually, the bell rang. You hurried to gather your things and bolted out the door before Peter had the chance to stop you. He didn’t even try, but even if he wanted to, you made sure you got out too fast for him to even think about it.

Gwen however, had managed to weave her way through the hallways and fall into step with you.

“Hey, (y/n)? Is everything ok with you and Peter? Neither of you have been answering my texts,” Her voice seemed more filled with worry than accusatory. Of course. How could you have forgotten? You and Gwen had the same English class.

“Gwen…” you started before you checked the time. Your class was just down the hall and you still had 5 minutes, “I need to be honest with you.”

“(y/n), what happened?” Her hand was on your shoulder, and her brows knit together with concern.

“Pete and I have been friends for a long time,” You started, trying your best not to turn away and run, “And I guess somewhere along the way…shit,” you whispered under your breath, “somewhere along the way I developed feelings for him. And I finally told him Friday night. He didn’t seem too thrilled about it, and honestly, I don’t know what I was expecting. The whole point was I told him because it hurt a little to see you two together,” You paused, eyes widening as you looked up at her, “Not that I’m mad at you or anything. You’re really great and I’m glad Peter’s found someone that makes him so happy,” You shrugged, trying not to cover your face in your hands, “I just figure that if I stick around I’ll make things miserable for everyone. And now I’ve made things awkward with Peter, and I can understand if you hate me,” you looked back at her, preparing yourself for whatever horrible blow you’d receive.

“Oh,” she said quietly, nodding as she looked down at her shoes, “well that’s…unexpected.”

“I swear I wasn’t trying to like, get him to break up with you. I think I just need some time away from everyone to sort out how I feel. Who knows, maybe I’ll be over him by next week and we can pretend this whole thing never happened-”

“But you won’t,” She interrupted, “There’s no way you will be. And that’s ok,” she placed her hand on your shoulder again and nudged you forward, “I’m not going to apologize for dating Peter,” she paused, “But this sounds like something painful to go through. I’ve seen you and Pete. Feelings aside, you two are the closest I’ve ever seen friends. He used to talk about you all the time. He’s barely said anything to me at all today,” you reached the doorway of the classroom, but she stopped you before you could go in, “I’m not telling you what to do, and if you want to tell me to fuck of I won’t take it personally. But I think the sooner you and Pete can go back to being friends, the happier everyone will all be.”

You looked at her hand as she let it fall to her side, all the scribbled ‘I love you’s and ‘PP+GS’ spilling out from her palm onto the sides of her hand and wrist.

“I don’t think that’ll be any time in the near future,” you admitted softly before making your way to your desk. You weren’t sure, but you thought you might have heard her mumble;

“Maybe it’s for the best, then.”

Lunchtime rolled around, and you decided to skip the cafeteria entirely. Making sure the hallway was empty, you ducked into the janitor’s closet that had a stairway leading to the roof. You‘d gone up here for lunch a few times in your freshman year with Pete, and you both had a lot of fun before winter came and coated the roof with a thick layer of ice.

But this time the roof was completely clear, and you managed to find a spot where no teachers could see you from the windows. It was near the back of the building, by the massive trashcans and a pot-hole-filled drive you knew kids used to hook up in their parent’s cars or smoke weed by the chainlink fence. But nothing nefarious happened out here during a school day. At least nothing besides you eating lunch where you weren’t supposed to be.

You rooted through your backpack to find the food you had thrown in there before leaving this morning; a flattened granola bar, a sandwich that had been squished into an unnatural shape, and an apple that was only lightly bruised from your books. Peter usually took half your sandwich. And half your granola bar. All of a sudden you felt you had too much food. You weren’t that hungry anyway.

Against your best judgment, you scooted over to the edge of the building and let your feet dangle off the side, letting the cold shock your exposed ankles as you swung your feet back and forth.

*thunk*

Something heavy landed behind you, making you jump in your seat and nearly fall off the edge of the building. But before you could scream for help, you felt something latch on to the collar of your shirt and yank you backward, your back landing flat on the roof.

“Holy shit are you ok?” A voice asked, frantic.

“Yeah, I…I’m fine. Yeah, no worries.” you cleared your throat, rubbing your eyes before looking up from your spot.

Oh my god, “Oh my god! You’re-”

“Spiderman? The one and only!” He smiled. Or rather, you think he smiled. He sounded like he was smiling, “And you’re sitting by yourself on top of a building, that doesn’t seem right,” he added, walking over to sit at the edge with you, dangling his legs over the side casually, “What brings you to my neck of the woods?”

“Oh! Um…I…well I guess I sort of…” you stuttered, “I’m kind of avoiding people right now,” you looked down at the uneaten sandwich, picking it up and holding it out to him, “Hey do you want-”

“God, please. I’m starving,” he held his hand out as you tossed it to him, holding back a laugh, “you’d be surprised how much it takes to swing around the city all day,” he rolled up the bottom of his mask and took a bit of the sandwich, “Like, sometimes I feel like all I do is swing and eat, it’s insane.”

You nodded, taking a bite of your apple as you tried not to stare at the bit of exposed face he was showing, “Yeah I bet. Keeping yourself suspended that high up in the air? Your arms have gotta be insanely strong too,” you laugh, doing you best not to choke as you watched him flex in an overly-dramatic fashion.

“I appreciate the observation miss-” he interrupted himself, clearing his throat with a cough, “I’m sorry, what’s your name?”

“(y/n),” you smiled, “(Y/n) (y/l/n)-”

“Miss (y/l/n)! I do indeed try to stay in good shape to fight off criminals. It’s the least I can do to make sure the generous sandwich chefs such as yourself can sleep peacefully at night.”

“How kind of you, dashing young hero,” you chuckled turning the apple core over in your hand. You watched as he smiled widely, showing all his teeth, and -for a second- you could have sworn you might have caught him blushing, “So what’s New York’s One and Only Wall Crawler doing at Midtown High? They’d think you’d be working your 9-5 or stopping a lunch-time robbery,” You eyed him as he chomped down on his sandwich, looking out at the city skyline. Spiderman! You were having lunch with THE Spiderman! He was eating your sandwich! Making jokes! You were making him smile! Pete wasn’t gonna believe this-

Of course Pete wasn’t gonna believe this. You couldn’t tell him.

“Sometimes when I need to clear my mind I take a swing around the city. Check the alleyways for muggers or abandoned puppies and kittens. Swinging this direction I saw a student sitting on the roof and figured I should check in. I definitely wasn’t expecting a sandwich though. This is phenomenal! Is this like, organic peanut butter? What, did your grandmother hand make this jam? Chef’s kiss- hey, is everything alright?” Spiderman asked, leaning over and nudging your shoulder gently. You could feel your smile had disappeared, and you sighed, lying back on the roof with your feet still off the edge.

Against your best judgement, you took a deep breath an opened your mouth, “Is it alright if I tell you something? You have to promise not to tell anyone though,” you looked over at him, and noticed how he had shifted closer, laying back as well so your faces were only about a foot away.

“Hey, I keep my own secrets all the time, what’s someone else’s amiright?” He chuckled, but became quiet when he saw the more serious expression on your face, “Of course, (y/n).”

“So there’s this guy, right? And,” you paused, “So I have this friend,” you started again, but stopped, turning over all the possible words in your head.

“I’m in love with my best friend,” It was blunt, but it was the truth.

“You should tell him,” His voice was serious, and when you looked over at him, you could tell he meant it.

“I did. The one problem is he has a girlfriend. And they’re great. And he is quite literally in love with her,” You propped yourself up on your elbows and looked over at the garbage cans.

“Does the girlfriend know?” He asked, sitting up more with you.

“Yeah. I told her. She told me to get over it so we can be just friends again. She sai it was for the best.”

“Oh yikes,” he groaned, running a hand over his face.

“Yeah. And she’s not a bad person, but like…What if I want to just sit in my feelings? What if I don’t want to be friends again,” You looked over at Spiderman, feeling an ache in your chest, “What if I don’t want to be over him?”

He reached out, squeezing your hand in his, and for the first time in a few days, you felt a little less alone, “Maybe there are some heartbreaks that can't just be ‘gotten over,’” he offered.

“Exactly,” you nodded, “I’ve been in love with him for years. Every time he smiles I want to freeze time,” you closed your eyes, squeezing his hand back, “I’d do anything for him, but I don’t know if I can pretend I’d ever be ok with just being his friend.”

“Do you know if he loves you back?” he asked. And for a second, everything froze. Of course he didn’t love you back. He loved Gwen. He said so himself. Or at least, he said he thought he loved Gwen. But you weren’t trying to come between them, and the last thing you wanted was to build up hoped for an even greater heartbreak.

“No. But he doesn’t,” You dismissed him, squinting back up at the sky.

The bell rang, and you almost fell off the roof again, but Spiderman pulled you closer.

“I need to go. Here,” you handed him the granola bar, “Have this.”

“(y/n) I love…these. Thank you,” he nodded, “Are you gonna be ok?” he asked, wiping a tear from your nose you hadn’t noticed.

“Yeah,” you nodded, “I’ll be fine. Thanks, Spiderman-”

“Please, call me Spidey,” he interrupted, helping you to your feet, “and don’t mention it, that’s what your friendly neighborhood hero is for, helpin’ the neighbors!”

You laughed, pulling him into a hug, “Talk to you later?”

“I’ll see you around, (y/n),” he agreed, stepping back and giving a salute before jumping off the roof.

You watched as he pulled himself up by a web before he had a chance to hit the ground, letting out a whoop as he swung off down the street.

Maybe you could wait to talk to Peter again. There wasn’t any need to rush.

As you snuck out of the janitor’s closet and made your way to your next class, you felt your phone buzz in your pocket. All of a sudden the apple you ate felt much, much heavier.

It was Peter.

Sk8r Boy Pete:

hey

TAGS!: @di4na @loversclwb @vengefulsokovian

(a/n) Thank you for reading! If you want to be added to the taglist lmk. Also go drink some water and take some deep breaths, I'm proud of you! <3

#peter parker #tasm!peter parker imagine #andrew!peter x reader #tasm!peter parker x reader #tasm peter parker x reader #tasm peter parker #andrew garfield peter parker #peter parker x reader #tasm!spiderman x reader #tasm peter x reader #the amazing spider man

[todoshotoroki]

𝐼𝑡 𝑊𝑜𝑛’𝑡 𝐻𝑢𝑟𝑡 𝑡𝑜 𝑆𝑖𝑛 𝑎 𝐿𝑖𝑡𝑡𝑙𝑒

Warnings: smut, mutual masturbation, oral f receiving, f reader cheating on Bakugou x pervy Deku. 〤 Minors DNI

Word count: 2.6k

   I shouldn't. That’s exactly what ran through Izuku’s mind as his rough, scarred fingers traveled south, deciding to distract himself by staring up at the dark ceiling of his bedroom. What time was it now? If he had to guess, he’d say close to 2 am. I won't. He promised himself he wouldn’t play into this far away dream of his, it only made it harder to look you in the eye. That’s why his fingers played with the hem of his shirt, instead of slipping into the waistband of his shorts like they usually did at this time of night. But fuck, he really wanted too.

   It was difficult enough to resist his sexual fantasies about you, but deciding to become roommates with one of his best friends, and childhood crush, only made it that much harder, and he wondered why he put himself in these situations. Oh yeah. That's why.

   He could hear them. Your moans through the wall.

   The 2 bedroom apartment you two shared had paper thin walls, or it could have been that Deku purposely aligned his bed to be on the same wall as yours. Either way, You had a boyfriend. But still, every thought that ran through his mind was dirty.

   If only Kacchan knew of the things Izuku Midoryia thought of at night, there would be nothing stopping the explosive blonde from trying to kill him.

   Though Deku could feel his resolve slipping, the further his fingers slipped past the waistband of his shorts, the less he found himself caring. He knew it was wrong, he had absolutely no right to invade your privacy like this, especially just to further fuel his own addiction that was you. But all of those thoughts that had at first been restraining Izuku from taking things further, slowly morphed into guilt as he began to accept the fact that he was simply too deeply in love with you.

    Although he knew he’d forever be stuck in the friendzone, he couldn't help feeling blessed to be able to live with you. It made it easier to imagine spending your life together, waking up and having breakfast with you, starting your day just to come home to each other at night. It was only a shame that he could never wake up with you in his bed, but he didn't want to be too greedy. There had to be a line drawn somewhere.

   That line was drawn when Katsuki started showing up more often, about a month ago.

   Ever since then, the distance between the two of you was slowly, but gradually increasing. Izuku couldn't stand it, it physically hurt him not to see you every day. It pained him to know that the moaning on the other side of the wall wasn't because of him. Sure, Katsuki wasn't here tonight, you had to be touching yourself. But still, he wanted it to be him.

   Fuck, he could make you feel so good if you let him.

   On the one night Deku did overhear you and Bakugou having sex, he could tell you weren't enjoying yourself. He was sure you didn't like it rough, or at least, that’s what he told himself as he listened to your high pitched whines that night, engraving them into his memory. Given the chance, Izuku would take his very precious time with you while savoring every moment. “Y/n..” His fingertips grazed the wall as he whispered, as his dominant hand fully disappeared into his shorts.

   He wondered what you were thinking about. Was there any part of you that ever pictured it to be him with you in those scenarios? Did you think of him when your finger’s ended up not being able to reach to places he could?

   “Hff, hmph, mmh” The sounds you made grew a bit louder, and Izuku finally allowed himself the pleasure of wrapping his hand around his cock.

   You were trying to be quiet, he could hear your beautiful voice being muffled. Were you biting onto your pillow to conceal your moans? Please don't.. Please, louder, for me.. He always knew you were dirty, there was no way he wasn't crossing your mind right now. Even if all it ended up being trying not to let him hear you, he was still on your mind in this exact moment, and that was enough for Izuku’s cock to throb painfully hard in his pants.

   “Fuck, fuck, shit.. Mmph”

   Izuku pushed aside every remaining bit of guilt for the moment, and pulled his cock free from its confinements. You were getting close, he had spent too much time belittling himself for invading your privacy, so much so that he had to speed up the movements on his cock to catch up. He let out a low groan, and his bottom lip was caught between his teeth.

   His eyes closed, and his head leaned back into the pillows. He felt like he was high on every noise you made, so it didn't take him long to get close enough to his orgasm. Now, all he had to do was wait for you.

   Fuck, he’d wait as long as it takes.

   The rough hand tugged at the veiny length of his cock, using his index finger to tease the head of his cock and smear precum up and down his shaft. He could picture it, you in your bed just inches away from him, your back arching so beautifully. Izuku wondered what would happen if he accidentally let your name slip from his mouth. It was possible you could hear his moans, after all, he could hear yours.

   His hand gripped tighter around his cock, quickening its pace at the thought. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Tonight just had to be full of slip ups, he felt as if his body was completely throwing away its self restraint. “Fuck, Y/n” It was loud too. He didn't mean it, he wasn't supposed to let the intrusive, impulsive, naughty thought win. The second he did, he slapped his free hand over his mouth as tears pricked at the corner of his eyes. Instant regret. You’d probably tell him you're moving out tomorrow now.

   “Izuku-” You were cumming.

   Midoryia couldn't even begin to believe his ears as he came all over his chest, within seconds from the shockwave your voice had sent through him. The hand at his mouth fell to his side, desperately clutching onto the sheets beneath him for some form of support. “Shit- you- Y/n, you sound so pretty” He was sure if you hadn't heard him before, then you had to have heard him now. “So sexy, Angel”

   Izuku’s mind ran rampant with all the possibilities that could have been the reason for you to moan his name, but he found it hard to focus as the floodgates of his emotions were ripped open. Were you thinking of him beforehand? Had you been holding it back and it accidentally slipped out? Did you hear him and then fucking moan for him?

   Was it him saying your name that made you cum?

   He had to know.

   Deku didn't have time to think over his actions, nor did he realize you had suddenly went quiet on the other side of the wall. He was already out of bed, his feet stomping across the floor as he swung his door open. He stood right outside your bedroom door, staring at it while panting for breath as the rest of his face flushed red.

   “Y/n” His voice was a cautious, but gravelly whisper. He thickly swallowed down his nerves, and rested his forehead up against the door with a ‘thump’.

   It was silent still, forcing Izuku to overthink this entire situation. Did you really say his name? Or had he been so far into his fantasy that he just happened to make it up?

   Did he fuck up?

   He listened to the soft patter of your feet against the carpet, and he stepped back to see the door swing open in front of him. His breath hitched in his throat, and his eyes slowly widened as he licked his suddenly very dry lips at the irresistible sight. You stood in front of him, your hair messy, your cheeks flushed just as red as his. The only thing stopping Izuku from seeing your naked body was a thin, white sheet that you had bunched around your torso that just covered below your hips.

   Neither of you could say a word, Deku couldn't tear his gaze away from you, and you couldn't look him straight in the eyes, choosing to glance at everything but him.

   Slowly, experimentally, Izuku stepped forward to see if you would choose to let him into your bedroom or not. His heart was racing so quickly, he wondered if you could hear it or not, because at the moment, it was the only sound that filled his ears.

   His mouth ran dry once again as your grip on the door handle tightened, but you stepped to the side, allowing your roommate into your personal space. He closed the door, and turned to look at you. “Y/n..” He began, taking another step forward. Both of you were already sweating, and as Deku lifted his hand to cup your cheek and force you to look at him, the temperature of the room only grew.

   “P-please, don't think any less of me” His eyes scanned over your face once more, taking in your shocked expression before closing his eyes and passionately pressing his lips to yours. He knew this was all wrong, Kacchan was in love with you, he had to listen to his friend rant about how he wasn't sure about confessing to you or not. And when he finally did, Deku felt like he was pulling the rug beneath his feet.

   He didn't care right now.

   It didn't matter when you were in his arms, his mouth pressed into yours.

   Midoryia opened his mouth to run his bottom lip against yours, begging for entry as he slowly began to back the two of you up until the back of your knees hit the bed. The sound of wet lips slapping against each other was enough to fill the void of everything left unsaid, because Izuku’s teeth tugging desperately on your bottom lip felt too damn good.

   As your back fell into the messy, fluffy comforter underneath you, Deku’s hands landed on your hips, shoving you backwards until your head hit the pillows. He hovered over you the entire time, afraid to detach your lips from his and let you get away. As you reached your destination, your hands reached up to grip at his tousled green locks, gripping onto them tightly to pull his face away from yours.

   Izuku let out a small whine of protest as your lips parted with his, but with the way your hand pulled at his hair made everything in his body tell him to listen to you. “Izuku..” Your eyebrows furrowed, and your bottom lip was caught harshly between your teeth. Deku watched your expressions with a dreamy sigh through half-lidded eyes. “Talk to me baby”

   He leaned down, ghosting his lips along your jaw before settling a wet, sloppy one right behind your ear. “Tell me what you wanna say, I'll listen” He reveled in the way your eyes closed, and your mouth fell open as if you wanted to respond, but the feeling of his tongue and teeth scraping against your jawline was too distracting. He didn't even realize it when his hand ghosted up your inner thighs, slowly inching the sheet up your legs.

   “W-we shouldn't do this- what about- about Katsuki”

Ouch.

   Deku closed his eyes, slowly taking a brief inhale as he ceased his attack of sloppy kisses. “Forget about him” He whispered in your ear, nudging his nose against your jawline affectionately. “He won't know, he doesn't ever have to know” He tried his best to sound comforting, gentle, affirming.

   Maybe you just needed a little encouragement. He needed to show you what he could make you feel. “I just wanna make you feel so good Angel…” He confessed, his hand slipping underneath the sheet to ghost along your very sticky thighs. “Your already soaking wet for me, so dirty Y/n”

   He started his kisses once more, this time they began on your neck, slowly trailing down to your shoulder, then your collarbone. Soft little gasps left your lips, a fresh wave of cold air hitting you with each kiss of his that drifted lower than the last, before his lips ghosted along the sheet that had just barely been able to hide your nipples. “I just want to please you, pretty girl”

   “Zu-Izuku but i-i-”

   “Shh, baby, let me be your secret sin” His teeth gripped the sheet, just barely tilting his head back enough for it to fall down your sides when he let it go from his mouth. He groaned at the sight of your hard, perky nipples right in front of him. He looked up at you in a fuzzy haze, a small bit of drool falling off his tongue and onto your nipple as he panted from above you.

   “Y/n.. please, you have total and complete control of me..” Deku’s eyes travelled from your breasts to the lusted over look in your eyes. He could see how badly you wanted him, and was clear about how much he needed you at this point. He had come this far, to turn back and act like nothing happened now would kill him. “So just, let me show you how good you could have it with me”

   You let out a strangled, conflicted whimper in response, your body squirming nervously under your roommate’s intense gaze. “Okay, ‘Zuku- hhnmh-” Midoryia couldn't wait any longer, the second the new nickname fell from your lips, his tongue ran across your nipple that had already been soaked with his spit from simply hovering over you. You let out a gasp as his teeth gently nipped at the bud. “N-no marks, can’t let.. Him see- fuck, Izuku”

   Deku’s hand yanked the sheets from your body, completely airing you to the cold. No marks. He knew that, after all, it was his life on the line here. But something about you bringing him up again made him want to clear your head of any other thoughts but him. “Your skin is delicious” You looked embarrassed at his praise, and it only pushed him to go further.

   He looked up at you through dark, hooded green eyes as his tongue traced a line down the middle of your stomach. It was beautiful, better than his imagination as he felt you arch your back to press further into his mouth the closer he got to the precious place between your legs. He had yet to break eye contact, taking your legs and hiking them over his shoulders.

   His hot breath fanned across your clit, forcing you to bite the inside of your cheek in embarrassment and look away from the man between your thighs. “Hey” You yelped as his sharp teeth gently nipped the skin on your leg. “Don't look away from me, watch what I can do to you” As you met his gaze again, he leaned forward with a devious smile, and flattened his tongue to lick a long stripe up your sopping clit. “What I can do for you”

   Deku was more than satisfied to be between your legs, he knew he could die here, and if Kacchan ever did find out, Izuku would still be left with no regrets. His only regret would have been leaving this world without at least getting to taste you.

   “ ‘M gonna make you cum all over my face Angel, ‘m gonna make you mine forever”

   Yeah, with your legs wrapped around his head, suffocating him as you moaned and arched into his tongue and yanked at his curls like this, Izuku Midoriya would die a happy man.

𝐼𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑚𝑒𝑎𝑛𝑡𝑖𝑚𝑒, 𝑚𝑎𝑦𝑏𝑒 𝑦𝑜𝑢'𝑑 𝑙𝑖𝑘𝑒 𝑡𝑜 𝑝𝑖𝑐𝑘 𝑓𝑟𝑜𝑚 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑚𝑎𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑙𝑖𝑠𝑡 ♡

© all copy rights reserved, do not claim, copy, or repost

#deku #bakugou x reader #bakugo katsuki x reader #deku x you #deku x reader #deku smut #izuku midoriya #izuku #midoriya #izuku smut #izuku midoriya smut #midoriya izuku #midoriya x reader #bnha fluff #bnha smut #bhna x reader #bhna x you #bnha #smut #fanfic #fanfiction #deku fanfic #deku fanfiction #izuku fanfic #izuku midoriya fanfiction #midoriya smut #izuku midoryia #midoryia x reader #fluff #izuku fluff

[hotch-stufff]

Possibly a Hotch imagine where he is dating an artist and he finds her drawing him and Jack ?

Is That Me?

gif by nerddivision

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x reader

Warnings!: none, literally all fluff :), well ig kissing, curse word or two

Description: Hotch finds a drawing you did of him and Jack. Will you tell him how you feel, or brush it off as nothing?

Author's Note: I LOVED this request. I did switch it up a bit, reader is Hotch's best friend. Sorry, I just really wanted to throw a love confession in here!! Hope you guys enjoy reading and I hope its what you wanted!!

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

You loved to draw. You always have. It was one of your favorite things to do.

You would do it while doing paperwork, or on jet rides. You would draw to help calm you down, or even just to keep yourself busy.

Point is, you were always drawing something.

But you never drew people. Or atleast you never showed others your drawings of people. The whole team knew that.

They never turned out the way that you liked. You would always end up messing up a facial feature. Or you would draw the hands wrong. A number of things would go wrong.

That was until you decided to draw your boss, and best friend, Aaron Hotchner.

It was no secret to the team that you had somewhat of a crush on the man. You hadn't done a good job hiding it. But it was still very oblivious to the man in question.

He had quickly become one of your closest friends after you joined the team. You guys would often hang out at each other's houses on the weekends, or you would just sit around at the park with Jack.

You just loved spending time with eachother. Which had led to the feelings.

But of course you didn't know he had felt the same. The team did though. And of course they were going to meddle. Thats just who they are.

Anyways, you had gotten the idea for the drawing of Hotch about 4 weeks ago.

You had all been at Rossi's for a dinner, children included, and Hotch had been sitting there with Jack in his lap. He had this look of pure adoration as he listened to his son tell a story and he had this bueatiful smile adorning his face. You just couldn't look away.

Now, similar to Reid, you had a photographic memory. It wasn't the same as his eidic memory, but similar.

That image had stayed printed in your brain. You remembered that exactly moment, and it stayed there for 2 weeks before you began drawing.

There was a lot of erasing and starting over. But you kept going. The team would catch glimpses of the drawing, but never enough to know what it actually was. You especially made sure to keep it hidden from Hotch, only working on it in the office when his door was closed.

When you finished the drawing, you put it in the top drawer of your desk, knowing no one would go through it. You kept it there for weeks. Adding bits and pieces here and there to add to the beauty of the drawing. It had probably been one of your best pieces. But you kept it hidden.

Until of course, Morgan found it.

He had seen it in your desk when he went to borrow a pen, without pernission. He had taken it, and walked quickly to Garcia's office. They had been trying to get the two of you together for months.

"Babygirl, I think I just found how we can get them together." He had said walking in without knocking.

"Of course you did." And they worked out a plan, bringing in Prentiss, JJ, Spence, and Rossi.

After planning and then going over everything, everyone gathered in the bullpen. Morgan walked over to you, a little too chipper.

You gave him a suspicious look, co fused as to why he looked so giddy.

"Hey sugar, want me to take your paperwork up?" You looked down at the finished pile of paperwork, and back up at Morgan.

"Suuure." You slowly said. Still very suspicious, but allowing him to take the pile. Soon he was walking off, with his own paperwork as well, marching up to Hotch's office. He opened the door and disappeared from your sight.

With a roll of your eyes, and a lasting glance, you turned away. You had completely forgot about the whole interaction, and had gotten back to work.

You got bored with that quickly and about 2 hours later, you opened the top drawer of y I ur desk, so you could work on your drawing.

Only it wasn't there.

It was gone.

You began frantically searching each and every drawer. Opening and shutting each one as your rummaged through everything. You checked your bag, the trashcan, your floor. You went through each and every piece of paper on your desk.

But it was gone.

"Y/n, is everything okay?" Prentiss asked from across the desk.

"No. Um, I-I lost something."you were freaking out, if anyone saw that, it would be disastrous. You could lose your job, your friendship. And if Hotch every saw it, he would probably think it was creepy.

You continued to search looking through each like of paperwork.

But then you realized. You had sent a pile with Morgan.

Morgan had taken it to Hotch.

Hotch.

Son of a bitch!

You were up and out of your seat in less than a second, sprinting up to Hotch's office and throwing it open.

You expected Hotch to look up in shock. To glance at you. Something.

But he didn't.

He was staring at a piece of paper. With him on it.

How long he had been sitting there staring at it, you didn't know.

"Hotch." You whispered out. But he heard you none the less. He glanced up for a second before glancing back down.

"Is that me?" He asked. The silence that followed was deafening. You didn't answer him. You couldn't.

"Is that me Y/n?" He asked again.

"Yeah. Yes. I'm so sorry Hotch. You weren't supposed to see it." You looked up at him and your eyes locked. He had a tear rolling down his face.

"I-I love it. Its bueatiful." You stared at him waiting for the other show to drop, waiting for the but. Except it never came. He just stood from his desk, marched around it and smashed his lips against yours.

You let out a surprised noise and faltered backwards, but that just caused his to press you into the wall, kissing you harder. It was intimate and everything you had ever dreamed about. He cupped your face, deepening the kiss.

He broke away after a minute or two. You couldn't tell how long it was, the kiss had left you in a daze.

"I love it. I love you." He stuttered out breathlessly. You stared at him in awe. You hadn't expected this kind of reaction. Never in a million years did you think he would feel the same as you did.

"I love you too." You spoke softly. He smiled widely.

"The drawing is so perfect. Its bueatiful. No one has ever drawn me before. And you drew Jack, he looks, he's perfect. Its perfect, you are perfect. God I love y-" you cut him off with another kiss, smiling the entire time.

You were kissing Aaron Hotchner.

You loved Aaron Hotchner.

And he loved you too.

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

Thanks for reading! Requests are still open, so ask away! If you would like an idea of what to request, here is my prompt list, and if you would like to read more of my work, here is my masterlist.

#imagine #aaron hotchner x reader #fluff #reader insert #angst #hotch x reader #aaron hotchner #criminal minds #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds x reader

[cherienymphe]

Seeds of Tomorrow (Steve Rogers x Reader)

WARNINGS: NON-CON, murder, violence, arranged marriage, mentions of infidelity (does it still count if all parties are consenting?), mafia!Steve, side of Bucky x reader, jealous!Steve, Steve is the worst

DNI IF ANY OF THIS OFFENDS YOU

➥ {page breaks done by @whimsicalrogers​}

➥ Part 2 to Regrets of Yesterday

summary: your arranged marriage to the infamous Steve Rogers isn’t what you initially thought it would be, but things have worked out better than you could have imagined. However, your arrangement with your husband becomes complicated when feelings, and circumstances, that neither of you anticipated come into play.

~

You stewed over your news for days, unsure of how to navigate this. There was a brief moment where you struggled with who to tell first before the obvious answer slapped you in the face. Of course, Bucky was going to be who you went to first. You needed to figure out what the two of you would do about this, and depending on what that was, there might not be a need to even tell Steve.

Your first order of business was going to a doctor. Sure, your test, and the two more after it, was positive, but you needed more details than that. You needed to know how far along you were and if you were in good health. The day after your enlightening appointment, you called Bucky to let him know that you needed to see him.

You hadn’t seen him, nor Steve, in days. Not since you found out the news. You’d taken the time to cry and stress and mull over several courses of actions, several outcomes that could take place. Steve was gone the day you decided to meet Bucky, and for that, you were grateful. He’d been hanging around more and more as of late, and if that didn’t unnerve you, his attempts at making light conversation did. It never progressed passed a few exchanges through your closed door, and you wondered if his father was breathing down his neck about a son. What other reason could Steve possibly have for talking to you?

Bucky kissed your cheeks as soon as you slid into his limo, holding your hand in his lap as you sat beside him. He looked so excited to see you, and you wondered how long that would last. The conversation was light, Bucky only able to get one- or two-word answers out of you, and as he eyed you, you knew that he could tell that something was wrong.

He helped you out of your thick coat the minute you stepped inside of his house, and you rubbed your hands up and down your arms as he hung it up. He turned to look at you with a frown, hands resting on your shoulders.

“Somethings bothering you. Is it Steve?”

“…sort of. We need to talk…”

Your tone was grim, and Bucky’s face fell, but he guided you up the stairs, nonetheless. You sat down on his bed as he closed his bedroom door, reaching inside of your purse. You had tossed your pregnancy tests the minute you came back from the doctor with the slip of paper that confirmed your condition. Worry filled Bucky’s eyes as you handed it to him, and you watched as he hesitantly took it.

His blue eyes scanned over it, widening when he got to the middle, and you saw the way he paused before reading it again from the top. When he was done, his wide eyes met yours, and he took a cautious step towards you.

“You… You’re pregnant?”

You nodded at him.

“Just…a little over 3 months, and… I haven’t seen Pietro in 4 months so…”

“So it’s mine,” Bucky breathed, and you nodded.

You sharply inhaled when Bucky fell to his knees before you, wrapping his arms around you as he pressed his face into your stomach. You closed your eyes when he peppered kisses against you through the fabric, your hand reaching up to run through his dark hair.

“Bucky,” you said with a sad smile. “We have to talk about our options.”

He snapped his head up to meet your gaze, brows drawn together.

“What options? Y/N, this is our chance. You have to leave him now, and this will convince him to agree,” he replied.

Your lips parted, and you blinked as realization hit you. A part of you, one you didn’t want to acknowledge, swelled at his words.

“You want to keep it…?”

Bucky tilted his head at you.

“Don’t you?”

You thought about it as he continued.

“If it wasn’t for Steve…if it was just you and me… Would you want to keep this baby?”

“Of course,” you answered without hesitation because Steve was your only concern.

He threw you a small smile.

“Then we are keeping it,” he whispered.

“…but…what about Steve? What if he doesn’t agree to a divorce? What if he’s angry?”

Bucky pressed his lips together, a small smirk dancing along them.

“He’ll agree to the divorce, doll. I know Steve better than anyone. He isn’t going to want to raise someone else’s kid. He’s not going to pass on his legacy to a child that isn’t his, and he’s definitely not going to want to deal with all the questions that will surely come when he doesn’t pass his legacy onto a kid that everyone thinks is his.”

You considered this.

“People will figure it out. People will talk. Steve likes his reputation…his image… He’ll give you the divorce. He might be angry that he has to go through this whole marriage process again, he might even throw some dirt on your name, but he’ll let you leave,” he continued.

Bucky stood, hands clasping yours as you looked up at him. A slow nervous smile made its way onto your lips, and a shaky laugh escaped you.

“So…we’re doing this?”

Bucky joined you before pulling you up, yanking you closer until his lips met yours. You hummed into this kiss, wrapping your arms around his neck as he wrapped his arms around you.

“You’re pregnant,” he breathed in awe as he pulled away.

He shook his head in slight disbelief, but his smile was the largest you’d ever seen on him.

“You’re pregnant,” he murmured again just before he kissed you again.

His hands made quick work of getting you out of your dress as he moved you back. You both fell onto the bed in a heap, you giggling because Bucky’s lips and fingers just refused to stay in one place, and him growling in frustration because he couldn’t get you naked fast enough.

“You’re going to get so big…so round,” he moaned, pressing his lips to your collarbone.

“Stop,” you begged, heat warming your face at the thought.

“Never,” he breathed, his bare chest grazing yours as he looked at you.

His eyes flitted over your face, drinking you in like he was trying to memorize every detail. He reached up to brush his fingers over your face, across your lips, ghosting over your jaw. He softly pressed his lips to yours as he slid inside of you, your back arching at the feel. You exhaled into his mouth, lips parting as he sank into you to the hilt.

“You have never looked more beautiful than you do now,” he whispered, pulling his hips back before pressing into you again.

You wrapped your arms around him, lips parted as soft moans climbed out of them.

“I can’t wait to call you my wife,” he murmured, just before swallowing your moans with a kiss.

You spent just about all day with Bucky, losing count of how many times you came undone for him. In between, he made sure to bring you food and water, not wanting a repeat of the last gala you went to. Your blissful mood waned however, when you neared your house. Bucky rubbed the back of your hand with his fingers, eyeing you.

“Do you want me to come with you?”

You shook your head.

“No. I think it’s best if I do this alone,” you told him.

His expression was unreadable when you looked at him, and he sighed.

“I’ll wait outside then,” he said.

You tilted your head, a soft look on your face as you rested your other hand on his cheek.

“You don’t have to do that,” you replied, shaking your head.

Bucky smirked, but it lacked humor, and you watched the way he eyed the big house through the tinted windows.

“You don’t know Steve like I know Steve.”

His words gave you pause, and you worriedly eyed him.

“Yes, he inherited the business from his father, but it takes a certain kind of man to keep it up and running, especially as well as he does.”

You frowned at him, and his eyes met yours.

“The truth is, you don’t know your husband, at all. You don’t know what he’s capable of, so yes,” he said, making your eyes widen as he reached for his gun and placed it in his lap. “I will wait right outside.”

You were suddenly very nervous, much more than you were before, and you realized that you would have to be way more gentle with the news than you realized. You nodded at Bucky, accepting his quick kiss before allowing him to help you out of the limo. A biting wind hit your cheek, making you wince as you tightened your coat around you. Part of you wished that Steve wasn’t home, but you knew the odds of that were slim.

You were proven right when you walked through the door.

He was leaning back into the couch, ankle resting on the opposite knee as he mulled over some paperwork in his hands. He glanced up at you when you slowly made your way into the living room, blue eyes quickly scanning over your frame.

“You weren’t here when I got back,” he said, eyes returning to the papers before him.

“No,” you said, shaking your head. “I was…with a friend.”

He cut his eyes to you, and there was that look again. The one he’d given you the night of the gala, but it was gone as quickly as it came. He didn’t give a proper response, merely humming. There were a few seconds of silence before you swallowed.

“Steve, we need to talk.”

You watched as he paused, setting the papers down on the coffee table before looking to you. His expression was unreadable, but that same old cold look was in his eye. You weren’t accustomed to being on the receiving end of it, at least not for this long, and your heart fluttered.

“My only purpose is to…give birth to an heir, correct?”

You could tell that Steve wasn’t expecting that to come out of your mouth, and he frowned a bit before nodding.

“Yes. Maybe 2 more children after that, but that is why you’re here.”

You nodded.

“…and so…anyone could do that, right? If a baby is all you need then any woman could do that for you? It doesn’t have to be me?”

He didn’t respond right away, and you watched as his eyes narrowed ever so slightly. He swiftly stood, large hands resting on his hips as he eyed you. You couldn’t tell what he was thinking, and God, did you hate that.

“This conversation is hypothetical…?” he eventually asked although it sounded more like a demand.

Hesitantly, you shook your head at him. You watched as his nostrils flared, jaw clenching as he watched you take off your ring. It was big and shiny and ostentatious in every way. It had never been your style, and you knew there was no shortage of women who’d cut your finger off just to have it. His gaze was icy as you held it up towards him.

“What is the meaning of this?”

You took a deep breath, and Steve’s eyes followed the action.

“I’m asking you to find another woman to give you what you need. I’m sure there’s a whole line of them plotting on my downfall, no idea that…you were never mine to begin with,” you told him.

He took a step towards you, visibly upset now, but you stood your ground.

“We have an arrangement-.”

“Yes, and I’m asking you to find another woman for your arrangement. I’m sorry for the inconvenience, but it should be easy for you. It can’t be me, Steve,” you whispered. “Not anymore.”

He scoffed, a mocking smirk on his lips as he glared at you.

“Why? Because you can’t handle it anymore?”

“Excuse me?” you said, blinking in confusion.

He neared you, but you were so taken aback by the turn in conversation that you didn’t move.

“You knew what this marriage entailed the very first day. I made it very clear, and I thought that we were both on the same page,” he started.

“I know. We were-!”

“Clearly not, because here you are, standing before me, throwing in the towel because my lifestyle is getting to you. Because you can’t handle it,” he sneered.

You frowned at him, understanding hitting you, and you blinked a few times. You shook your head at him.

“No, Steve. That’s…that’s not what this is about, at all,” you told him.

He tilted his head.

“Isn’t it? Have the lonely nights gotten to you? I told you that you were just as free to-.”

“I know that! Steve, that isn’t what-!”

“Or is this some grand scheme of yours?” he sneered, making you rear back. “…do you think you can threaten me into being with you and only you? You think this little performance, this ultimatum will force me to give up a lifestyle I have been accustomed to for years?”

“No, of course not. That’s not what I’m-.”

“I’m calling your bluff, Mrs. Rogers,” he said, turning his back on you. “So, you can put that ring back on and either suffer in silence or get-.”

“I’m pregnant!”

Steve froze, and you sighed, disappointed with how this conversation was going. You had a plan, damnit! You had a way you were going to go about this, and then Steve just went and ruined all of that. He turned to face you, lips parted and brows furrowed as he mulled over your confession. He pressed his lips together, face suddenly taut as he ran his eyes over you, and you squirmed under his shocked gaze.

“This isn’t about other women or ultimatums or whatever. I’m pregnant, Steve…and it’s obviously not yours, hence the little dilemma I find myself in,” you continued.

“Pregnant,” he murmured, more to himself than you, but you nodded anyway.

“…and…Bucky he-.”

“Bucky?”

His eyes bulged, tone incredulous as he took a step towards you. You swallowed, lips pressed together as he blinked, putting two and two together.

“…as in…my Bucky? James?”

You looked away, feeling a bit guilty that it was his best friend of all people. You knew this was a lot of information to take in, and you didn’t envy Steve in this moment, but you knew that he was just shocked is all. You were pregnant with someone else’s child, Bucky’s child, and should things go your way, he’d have to go through the process all over again of finding a wife. You knew this was frustrating for him.

“Yes. Bucky wants me to keep it…and I agree,” you quietly continued.

Steve said nothing, just stared at you, face pinched. His hands flexed, and you took a step towards him. He stared you down, but his shoulders sagged a bit at the pleading look on your face.

“Let me be with him, Steve.”

His jaw ticked, tongue pressing to the inside of his cheek.

“You don’t need me. There’s no shortage of women who would happily take my place. Who could give you what you need,” you said.

He sharply inhaled, straightening as he looked away from you, and your heart sank.

“Steve, please. They get you, you get your son, and Bucky and I get each other. Everybody wins,” you explained.

He sharply cut his eyes to yours, gaze hard as he raised an eyebrow at you.

“Is that how you see it?”

His tone made you nervous, and you hurriedly grabbed his hand. He looked just as shocked as you felt because when was the last time you’d done so? Your wedding day? Almost two years ago?

“I’ve never asked you for anything. Never! Despite the fact that this marriage was not what I initially expected, despite the fact that I wasn’t keen on the idea of me and my husband seeing other people, I accepted it. I made the best of it…”

He simply stared at you, and you went on.

“Maybe it wasn’t the smartest idea to go to Bucky of all people. It definitely wasn’t smart to be as careless as we were, but I won’t apologize for it. I’ll apologize for inconveniencing you, for springing this on you, but I won’t apologize for falling in love. Especially not when I can be easily replaced,” you told him. “Say whatever you want. Say I ruined the marriage, say I was a complete bitch, I don’t care. Just…let me be with him, Steve. This is the only thing I’ve ever asked of you.”

Your heart felt like it was going to jump out of your chest at any moment, and all the while, Steve simply stared. Your eyes searched his for any kind of clue, anything that would tell you what he was thinking, but he simply looked towards the ceiling. His broad shoulders heaved as he released a long sigh, throat bobbing as he swallowed.

“…alright.”

You froze, eyes widening, and he lowered his head until his eyes met yours.

“I will…draw up the divorce papers tomorrow-.”

He didn’t even finish before you were throwing your arms around him, a million ‘thank yous’ escaping your lips.

“I don’t want anything, Steve. Nothing. Everything is yours just…thank you,” you breathed.

Steve was frozen for a moment, taken aback by your uncharacteristic display of affection. You supposed that you couldn’t blame him. The two of you had never hugged before. Reluctantly, he wrapped his own arms around you, briefly returning the gesture before you both let go. You smiled at him, a genuine gesture that you had never given him before, and his hands fell to his sides.

“Thank you, Steve,” you tearfully told him. “Thank you.”

You leaned in to press your lips to his cheek, but Steve turned his head, lips meeting yours. It was brief, and you pulled away in shock, but you didn’t think much of it. Maybe it was an accident, and even if it wasn’t, there was no harm in a simple kiss goodbye. Steve had given you everything you wanted, so you wouldn’t fault him for it.

You tightened your coat around you as you stepped away, thanking him again. You turned the minute you got to the living room entrance, sprinting for the door without hesitation. Bucky was leaning against the limo when you stepped outside, and your smile was wide as you headed straight for him. He caught you in his arms, lips finding yours the minute he pulled you into the car.

 “…we can come back to that later. What if it’s a boy?”

Bucky threw you a look across the table, and you chuckled, rolling your eyes.

“Of course. James Buchanan Barnes the 2nd,” you said, Bucky joining in as he took your hand.

“Are you nervous?”

You shook your head at him with a small smile.

“I don’t care what it is. As long as it’s healthy,” you told him, and he brushed his thumb over the back of your hand. “I know a male is preferred…in this line of business.”

Your voice grew small, and Bucky frowned at you, standing to help you stand.

“That’s true, but my family is not as old fashioned as Steve’s. A daughter could run this business just as easily as her father,” he said. “Hell, maybe better than her old man.”

You laughed with him as he helped you into your coat. You rested your hand on your swollen belly as he helped you outside. You were just at 5 months now, although it sometimes felt like 8, and you would be finding out the sex of the baby today. You were excited, and you couldn’t believe how much time had passed so quickly.

No one had been more surprised than you that Steve just…let you go. You remembered thinking that you would probably have to beg on your knees, hell, maybe even offer to blow him, but it seemed that Bucky really did know Steve best. He had been true to his word, drawing up the divorce papers almost immediately. You received them two days later and signing them was simple enough. You didn’t want anything, and Steve didn’t want anything from you. You sent them back to him as soon as your signature was on the paper, and you felt like a weight had been lifted from your shoulders.

Bucky, eager as always, wanted to marry you right away, but by the time all the planning and arranging had been made, you would be…well 5 months along. Where you are now, and you didn’t want to wear your wedding dress with a baby bump.

“Besides, wouldn’t it be cute to have our baby in the wedding pictures?” you had told him, and he was forced to agree that it was a cute idea.

Your doctor liked the sound of it too, and she was flattered to be invited to the wedding.

“We’ll have to see what my schedule is like, but I’d be honored to attend,” she said, eyes on the monitor.

Bucky’s hand was tight around yours as you both eyed the screen, and you watched as your doctor smiled.

“Everything still looks good since the last time you saw me, but there he is. Your healthy baby boy,” she told you, and your lips parted.

You leaned closer, eyes running over the screen in awe, and you felt Bucky’s lips against the top of your head.

“We’re not calling him junior,” you suddenly whispered, and Bucky chuckled into your hair.

“We’ll call him whatever you want, doll.”

The whole ride home was spent gushing about your son. His crib, his nursery, his clothes, schools, anything you could think of. Bucky hadn’t stopped grinning since you left the doctor, and he fucked you just a little bit more gentle that night.

When you woke up, you felt more well rested than you had in a while. Bucky’s side of the bed was empty, but it wasn’t unusual. Business called, but he regularly checked on you throughout the day whenever he was gone. You had a nice breakfast, thankful that the morning sickness chapter of your pregnancy was gone. Truth be told, you couldn’t wait for the hormones to kick in. Then Bucky would have no choice but to stay home and fuck you all day.

You were in the living room, reading one of your several baby books that Bucky had bought you, when the doorbell rang. You called to your housekeeper, telling him that you would get it before he had the chance to run all the way across the house. You hated making anyone’s job harder. With only some difficulty, you rose from the couch and made your way to the front door.

The figure through the decorative window seemed familiar to you, and your suspicions were confirmed when you looked through the peephole. Confusion filled you, but you unlocked the door anyway, prepared to tell Steve that Bucky wasn’t here. However, the minute you opened the door, he forced himself inside, gliding past you.

You hesitated for a second before closing the door, blinking as you turned around.

“Steve…Bucky’s not here,” you told him.

You were more than surprised to see him. You hadn’t seen him since the day you told him you were pregnant and hadn’t heard anything from him since you’d sent the divorce papers back. He and Bucky still worked together, running this city side by side, and from the way your fiancé talked, it seemed that they were as close as ever. You knew that Steve didn’t care about you, but you were still worried that some weird macho ego thing would get in the way of their friendship. You were relieved that wasn’t the case.

“I know that. I’m here…”

He had spun around to face you, words dying in his throat as he fully looked at you for the first time in months. His pink lips parted, blue eyes lowering to fall to your protruding stomach. Force of habit, you placed your hand on your belly, eyes wide and curious as you waited for him to finish.

“I’m here to see you,” he quietly finished.

Your brows furrowed,

“Oh! Okay then,” you said, stepping further into the living room.

You could feel his eyes on you as you cleaned up your mess, stacking your books and moving to put your empty mug in the sink. He was still in the same spot when you returned, cold eyes on you. It would have bothered you before, but you had long accepted that Steve was just like that with almost everyone.

As you sat down, you noticed some papers in his fist, and you curiously eyed them.

“What’s going on? Is this about Bucky?”

His jaw ticked at the mention of the dark-haired man, and he heaved a sigh.

“These,” he started, holding up the papers in his hand. “…are our divorce papers.”

You stared at him for a moment, a slight frown on your face as you registered what he said. When it finally clicked, you blinked, looking up at him with wide eyes.

“Our what? Steve, why do you still have those?”

He didn’t answer, and you called his name again.

“Why weren’t those sent off? Is something wrong with them? Did I miss a signature?”

You were positive that you hadn’t, but why else did he still have them? God, did this mean you had still been married to him this whole time? Were you still married to him? He didn’t respond right away, and he looked away from you, nostrils flaring.

“I can’t send them off,” he told you, making your heart drop to your stomach. “I won’t.”

You stood on shaky legs, looking at him like he’d lost his mind.

“You’re kidding…right?”

Steve simply stared at you in that impassive way that always made you feel like such a nuisance, and you scoffed.

“Why?” you quietly demanded. “Do you…do you want something from me? From Bucky? Money?”

It seemed insane because Steve was rich, but what else could he possibly want? That was the only logical reason for why he didn’t send those papers off. You huffed when you realized that he wasn’t even looking at you, his bright blue eyes focused on your bump. He took a step towards you, papers still clutched in his hand as he pointed at you.

“That baby should be mine.”

His words made your head spin, and you wondered if you heard him correctly. When your mind fully processed his statement, you felt like you were going to be sick.

“I’m…sorry?”

He took another step towards you, and when his eyes met yours again, you saw more emotion in them than you ever had. They were on fire, gaze intense as he stared you down, jaw clenched.

“That…baby…should…be…mine,” he slowly repeated, and you took a step back.

It took a while for you to respond.

“Are you…okay?”

You stared at him like he was high on something, confusion and dread clouding your thoughts. Was this a prank? Had Steve developed a sense of humor that you didn’t know about?

“You heard me,” he spat, and you nodded.

“Yes. I know. I’m just…trying to make sure I heard you correctly or maybe you didn’t say what you meant to say…?”

“…and why would you think that? Did I stutter? Do I look unsure of my words in any way?” he sneered.

You didn’t appreciate his tone, and you glared at your ex-husband. Well…estranged husband because thanks to him, you two were still married.

“Forgive me if I’m a little confused, Steve,” you snapped. “…but you don’t even like me, and I’m not talking romantically here. You don’t care for me as a person, and here you are saying that my baby…should be yours?”

He placed his hands on his hips, turning his head away as he exhaled.

“Where is this coming from?”

“Why him?” he suddenly asked, glaring at you. “Out of all of the men in this world that you could have fucked, why Bucky? Why him?”

He continued before you could respond.

“You could have fucked literally anyone else, and you chose my best-.”

“For your information, I did fuck literally anyone else I wanted to,” you threw at him, watching as he reared back. “…Bucky just happened to be the only one I fucked during the last 4 months of our marriage…and the one I fell in love with.”

He swallowed, and you sighed.

“Is he the problem? Is it because it’s your best friend and not some stranger you don’t have to see every day?”

You did feel a tad guilty about it, but there had never been any stipulations in your agreement outside of ‘don’t ask, don’t tell’ and never in the house. You certainly hadn’t expected to fall in love with Bucky, but it couldn’t be helped. How could you not when he was the complete opposite of your husband?

“He’s glowing.”

Your confusion must have been evident, because he continued without any prompting from you.

“Every time I see Bucky, he’s practically glowing. He looks the happiest I have ever seen him, all smiles and excitement and an air of peace that was never there before. It had started long before you dropped the bomb on me, and it was only after did I realize why.”

You frowned at him.

“You make him so happy. He’s almost unrecognizable in his joy…and its because of you…and I hate it,” he lowly admitted.

Your frown deepened as he glared at you.

“That happiness…that peace, it should be mine. That baby should be mine. You were mine first,” he said, and you scoffed.

“I was never yours. You made that perfectly clear not even five minutes into our marriage.”

“I regret that. I won’t lie to you. I’ve regretted that for some time now…”

He slowly started to pace before you, tongue pressing to the inside of his cheek.

“I had any woman I could want…and I was so miserable. They all started to sound the same, feel the same…and eventually, they all became faceless to me,” he quietly said.

His words reminded you of his odd behavior before everything seemed to hit the fan.

“…all except one.”

He turned to look at you, and you swallowed, crossing your arms over your chest.

“Ironically, the one I never had. The one who, as you so eloquently put it, was never mine.”

You nodded, a humorless chuckle escaping you.

“So you got tired of fucking anything that moved and decided to move onto me… You have some nerve, Steve.”

You shook your head at him.

“I know.”

“…and what if I decided that I didn’t want to move forward with you and only you? What if I had told you that I liked our little arrangement because, as you can see,” you said, gesturing around you. “…I like our little arrangement a lot.”

His nostrils flared.

“We would’ve crossed that bridge when we got there…”

“Looks like we’re at that bridge now.”

You both stared each other down for what felt like forever before he finally said what you’d been waiting for.

“I don’t want you to be with him.

“Well, that’s too damn bad! I’m with him. I’m having his baby, for crying out loud, we’re engaged,” you yelled, holding up your left hand.

Steve’s eyes simply passed over your ring like it didn’t matter, holding up the divorce papers as he raised an eyebrow at you.

“How will you marry him if you’re already married?”

Maybe the hormones were already kicking in because you felt yourself growing hot, tears springing forth as you glared at him.

“Why are you doing this to me?” you cried. “I’m happy! I’m so happy, and you are ruining this!”

Steve simply looked at you, not an ounce of remorse on his features, and you scoffed.

“You didn’t want me,” you spat.

He looked down, hands still placed on his hips. Your chest was heaving, and you were so angry you thought you’d give birth then and there.

“Do you remember? You barely looked at me on our wedding day, and the few times you acknowledged me during our marriage, I felt like a complete nuisance. A burden! You didn’t want me…but now you don’t want anyone else to have me?”

“I never said I was perfect.”

You briefly closed your eyes, holding back your tears.

“This is my chance to have a happy wedding, a happy marriage. You don’t have to be this selfish, you know? You don’t have to live up to your reputation.”

He didn’t respond, and your frustration and desperation grew.

“Steve!”

He merely shrugged at you, and you sneered at him.

“Fuck you,” you spat.

He sniffed, and you watched as he gripped the papers with both hands, making your eyes widen.

“Discuss it with Buck however you like, but you’re coming home-.”

“No,” you shrieked, rushing towards him as he tore the papers.

Your nails dug into his hands, trying to stop him, but the damage was already done. You slapped him, the sound echoing in the quiet house while your other hand gripped his collar. Without hesitation, Steve’s hand was around your throat, and your eyes widened at his harsh grip.

You hit against him as he forced you back, nose brushing yours as he ran his eyes over you. There was a darkness there that you were unfamiliar with, and you wondered if this was the reason Bucky had insisted on waiting for you that day. You wondered if this was the Steve he knew that you didn’t.

All of your thoughts came to a screeching halt when he pressed his lips against yours. His mouth completely covered yours, and shock coursed through you. You pushed against him, but his free arm simply curled around you, pressed your bump against him as he moved his mouth against yours in a brutal kiss. He groaned against your lips, and you shook in his hold, tears escaping now.

He only broke away from you when you both heard a noise, and you both turned to see Jarvis, your housekeeper, standing in the entranceway to the kitchen. His eyes were wide, and he looked unsure on what to do until his eyes met your fearful ones. Everything after that seemed to happen so fast.

Jarvis ran towards the phone while Steve let you go to reach into the inside pocket of his suit. You pushed yourself against him, fear gripping your frame as you fought to stop him from doing what you suspected. He had no qualms about shoving you away from him, and you barely caught yourself against the couch just as a gunshot rang in your ears.

You clutched your stomach, a scream climbing out of your throat before you snapped your mouth shut. Your stomach churned, and you were positive you were going to be sick. It was quiet save for your soft sobs, and when you hesitantly looked to Steve only to shake as you stared down the barrel of a gun.

“Steve,” you whispered.

He gestured in the direction of the stairs with the gun, blue eyes on you as he tilted his head.

“Up the stairs, sweetheart.”

You clenched your jaw, fear of so many things swirling in your head as you straightened.

“You’re not going to kill me,” you told him.

He wouldn’t, and you both knew it.

“You’re right. I’m not,” he said with a shrug, putting the gun away. “…but you’re still going to walk up those stairs. Baby or no baby, you can’t fight me off.”

He was right, and despite the fresh tears that hit your face, you slowly made your way towards the stairs. His steps were loud behind you, they always had been, and you always hated the sound of him walking throughout the house. You jumped when you felt his hand on the small of your back, and he shushed you.

“Easy,” he said, guiding you through the hallways.

It was clear that Steve was familiar with Bucky’s house, and while that wasn’t a surprise, his intentions, once they became clear, were. Your eyes widened when the master bedroom came into view, and you dug your heels into the floor. It was in vain.

Steve wrapped his arms around you, forcing you into the room despite your nails digging into the doorjamb to stop him. You were full on sobbing as you fought against him, elbowing him and hitting him anywhere you could reach. His hold was firm, and you were a trembling mess when he pushed you down onto the mattress.

“Is this where he fucks you every night?”

“Steve, please,” you begged, pushing against him.

One hand was pressed into your back, and you could hear him undressing himself with the other.

“…is this where he knocked you up? No, why would the two of you ever need a fancy hotel when you had his big house all to yourselves,” he sneered.

It took nothing for him to get you undressed. Dresses were the most comfortable things for you right now, and with a baby dancing on your bladder, underwear just got in the way more often than not. You were hysterical as Steve grazed his hand over your back, fingers dancing over your skin as he drank you in for the first time.

He flipped you, and you stared up at him with pleading eyes. One hand splayed along your chest, fingertips brushing your collarbone as he stepped between your legs, practically ignorant to the way you tried to keep them shut.

“Steve,” you pleaded again.

He ignored you, his free hand finding its way between your legs, playing you like an instrument. You squeezed your eyes shut at the feel, trying in vain to fight off the emotions he brought out of you. Your eyes snapped open when you felt him at your entrance, and you started to plead with him one last time when he pushed himself into you, making you swallow your words.

You had never even seen Steve without a shirt on, let alone naked, so you didn’t know what to expect. He was bigger than Bucky, and your body fought to adjust to him. A choked sob escaped you, and Steve merely groaned as he pressed himself against you. Through your blurry vision, you could see that his eyes were on you, hungrily taking you in as he pulled back.

He stopped when only the tip of him remained before snapping into you. You yelped, hand flying up to grip the one on your chest, nails pressing into his skin. His pace wasn’t brutal, but it wasn’t gentle either. The low moans that escaped his lips made your skin crawl, and you cried harder every time he pressed his hand against your stomach.

You pushed against him as he wiggled his hips, and fed up with all of your resistance, he gripped both of your hands and harshly pinned them beside your head. His lips were on your face now, tasting whatever he could. Your cheeks, your jaw, your mouth. You kept turning your head away, and eventually, he huffed.

“I doubt you’re like this with Bucky…”

You grimaced at the thought of your fiancé, his best friend, and more tears fell.

“Do you sing for him? I bet you squirm for him like a little puppy,” he sneered.

He moved, pressing his knees into the bed on either side of your thighs, hitting something in you that had your breath hitching. A smirk danced along his pink lips, a devious chuckle escaping him. He pressed into that spot over and over, forcing small whimpers to bubble in your throat.

“There she is,” he purred, leaning over to press his lips against your jaw. “I’ve thought about this for months. What you’d feel like…sound like…”

He grinded his hips against yours, and you gasped, heart fluttering as you clenched around him.

“Don’t be afraid to squeeze me, sweetheart. Milk me,” he murmured.

You shook your head, pushing against his wrists, but his hold was firm.

“When the time comes, I’m going to put a baby in you-.”

“No,” you yelped, squirming underneath him.

“I’m going to keep you pregnant…and you’ll never leave…”

You could feel him twitching, hips stuttering, and his breath grew shaky.

“I’m going to keep you full of my cum, and Bucky will never get his hands on you again.”

You fluttered around him as he came inside of you, choppy gasps escaping you as your head spun. You could feel the mess you were making of your sheets, and you wanted to cry again. Steve groaned when he pressed his lips to yours, and you turned your head away.

“I should have fucked a baby into you on our wedding night,” he breathed. “…but I’ll be sure to make up for lost time from here on out.”

You glared at him, and he simply smirked at you, that smirk only growing when the sound of the front door opening reached your ears.

~

tags:   @mcudarklibrary​​ @sherrybaby14​​ @harryspet​​ @xoxabs88xox​​ @darkficreposter​​ @opheliadawnwalker3​​ @honeychicanawrites​​  @nickyl316h​​ @captainchrisstan​​ @sebabestianstan101​​ @readermia​​ @villanellevi​​​ @lokislastlove​​​ @notyourtypicalrose​​​ @coconutqueen21​​​ @hurricanerin​​​ @buckybarnesplumwhore​​​ @quaksonhehe​​​ @nerdygirl8203​​​ @patzammit​​​ @mandiiblanche​​​ @cocoamoonmalfoy​​​ @gotnofucks​ @alexakeyloveloki​ @vogueworthy-barnes​ @supraveng​

#Dark Fic #dark!steve rogers #dark!steve x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #Steve Rogers #steve rogers x reader #Bucky Barnes #marvel fanfiction #mafia steve rogers #mafia!steve rogers #mafia!bucky #mafia au

[shorkbrian]

Okay so pro hero kiri has this big fat crush on his co worker! Reader who unintentionally rejecting his moves on her because she is so shy and awkward but slowly she shown some signs that she is into him so he changes tactics and acts more romantic which adds bonus points once he sees her blush when she reads the note attached to a deep red rose! fast forward to a couple of months of pinning and he is getting very frustrated especially with her enticing soft curves of her body so (1/2) 🌠 anon

oof okay listen!!!! open ur ears!!! I have something to say

(Warnings - stalking, Somnophilia, dubcon, NSFW, unsafe sex, blood from a bite wound but it’s very brief lol)

You’re a little paper pusher at his agency, you barely even interact with the big man, but he always makes time to swing by your desk and chat for a bit before he heads home.

Unfortunately, you’re about as smooth as a piece of burnt toast. His casual flirting goes right over your head, and you keep rejecting his advances and it’s so fucking frustrating. Can’t you see how hard he’s fallen for you? Kiri doesn’t understand why you look away whenever he bends down to rest his elbows on your desk, giving you the perfect view down his shirt to see his fat pecs (the man knows he’s got a banging’ body okay). He doesn’t get why you shy away from his touch when he tries to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear.

Kirishima can’t comprehend why you always turn him down when he mentions going out with you and some other co-workers (to make you feel more at-ease, he knows he can be intimidating) for drinks or a bite to eat.

He’s stressed - the man really wants to get to know you, but it’s like you’re completely oblivious to his intentions. He’s pretty sure you just see him as a goofy extroverted coworker that loves people. After all, he does stop and say hi to several other people every day as he makes his way over to your desk.

So Kirishima decides to up his game. Starts making his feelings obvious. He gets more touchy, perching on your desk to reach and rub your shoulders, laughing at your jokes and (gently) smacking a hand against your leg like a giggly schoolgirl. He talks about his workout routine and asks you if you think his muscles have been getting bigger. Could you check? Just with a hand around his bicep of course.

He buys a few gifts here and there; a cup of coffee for you with his number on the lid, a new pen when he noticed your favorite one broke, cute socks because he’s seen you wearing cute ones before, and he saw them and thought of you.

Each and every gift is accepted with the biggest blush he’s ever seen. You turn beet red, flush stretching down your neck and disappearing underneath your shirt. Kirishima chides himself for wanting to see how far the flush went, for wanting to rip off your shirt and bend you over right here and now.

But he didn’t like you just for your body, and he was willing to wait. 

Kirishima feels emboldened by the success of his other gifts, so he decides to write out his feeling in a note, get you a bunch of flowers, and present them to you Friday night. That way, you’d have time to think things over and process your own feelings before you saw Kiri again on Monday. To him, it seemed like the perfect plan.

And god, you were so cute when he gave you the flowers, he wanted to kiss you on the nose and then taste your lips, right then and there. 

But he didn’t.

He gave you a soft pat on the back before walking away. He was around the corner before he heard you gasp, which immediately made him backtrack and peek his head out so he could see you. Was it a good gasp? Or a bad gasp?

You had a little smile on your face, eyes twinkling as you read the note.

Kirishima pumped his fist, heart soaring. He finally got through to you.

Except he hadn’t.

On Monday, you didn’t say anything to him, hardly even looked at him. When he came by your desk to ask what you thought of the note, all he got was a fierce blush and mumbled sentences, before you bolted off to the bathroom.

It’s like he was back at square one. 

It made Kirishima feel... inadequate. His old middle-school insecurities came creeping back into his life. Was he not good enough? Was he just too boring and dull and you didn’t know how to tell him without hurting his feelings? What was wrong with him?

But he was an adult now, he could handle rejection.

The thing is, you weren’t rejecting him. 

You baked him cookies, dropping them off in his office while he was out, but they had your name on them and the most adorable little note, and Kirishima’s heart almost exploded. Plus, they tasted delicious. 

He got a text from you one night, a cute picture of a spiky red dog and a “this reminded me of you... Sleep well! <3″ and he spent the rest of the night imagining your wedding.

You kept showing signs that you were interested, yet you wouldn’t even look at him in person. Kirishima concluded that you were just too shy.

That was okay. He realized that the more time he gave you, the more you opened up to him. Maybe in a few months, the two of you could go on a date or something!

In the meantime, the man liked to check up on you, make sure you were safe. He was invested in you now, subtly following you home some nights to make sure nobody looked at you wrong.

He broke into your apartment quite often, but it was entirely justifiable! He wasn’t being a creep (okay, well, maybe just a little), he was just being a good friend, a good coworker. He had to make sure everything was safe, that no one could get in (other than him), that you hadn’t left a candle burning or the stove going. 

You slept like a rock, staying asleep even when Kirishima accidentally knocked a cup off your counter and broke it. To his surprise, there was no awakening, no screaming, yelling for him to get out or that he was a weirdo. Just you, snoring in your bed, a tiny bit of drool at the side of your mouth.

It was such a domestic scene, it warmed Kiri’s heart.

Sometimes the man liked to slip into bed beside you, frame creaking under his weight. It was a tight squeeze-he was a large man and your bed was made for one (1) person, but Kirishima didn’t mind. It just meant he got to press close to you, feel the warmth of your smaller body, hear your quite little huffs and snores and mumbles as you slept. 

He let himself relax, sink into the mattress. The next time he crawled into your bed, he let himself wrap an arm around you. The time after that, Kirishima felt brave enough to scooch under the covers, squeezing his eyes shut tight as he found that your pajamas consisted of a giant shirt and panties.

Bare legs.

Glad that he wasn’t a teenager anymore, he didn’t have to worry about cumming in his pants. Still, he found himself leaving your apartment with a chubbed-up cock more often than not.

You were just so soft. He wanted to touch all of you, to lick all over and get your plush flesh in-between his teeth. He wanted to bite into your shoulders as he fucked you into the mattress, pumping you with load after load of cum, until your stomach was swollen and you cried because you felt sick.

But Kirishima also wanted to hold you close, take showers together and wash your hair for you, make coffee in the morning and talk about last night’s episode of “Chopped”. He wanted to give you sappy smooches before getting to work, make you laugh with goofy jokes and give you hugs, pick you up and twirl you around whenever he saw you after being apart, no matter if it were days or minutes.

The nasty, dirty thoughts warred with the soft, gentle ones. Sometimes they mixed, Kirishima daydreaming of sweet, romantic sex. 

He just wanted you so bad.

One night, he’s crawled into bed with you like usual, rubbing a sock-clad foot over your bare legs, pressing chaste little kisses to the top of your head as he draws you into his arms. It was nigh impossible to wake you, so he felt no fear or apprehension in taking such bold actions.

Shuffling in your sleep, you throw a leg over his hip, snuggling deeper into the solid warmth that is his body. Kiri sighs, contented.

And then you start making noises.

Little huffs of breath, tiny whimpers, and when Kirishima looks down, your eyebrows are drawn up. You twitch against him, against the thick thigh that you had slung your leg over, and then repeat the motion. 

You’re.... You’re having a wet dream.

Kirishima lets out a shaky breath, trying to focus so he doesn’t crush your arm with his excited grip. You’re rutting against him steadily now, dragging your damp cunt against his leg, sighing at the friction, lips parted. 

His cock is rapidly hardening, and he wants to rub himself against your stomach, feel the cling of his shirt as he rucks it up with his rhythmic humping. But he doesn’t.

He’s a gentleman, he wouldn’t take advantage of you like that. You’re just having an unconscious reaction to a man being in your bed. Maybe further down the road, when he’s taken you on many romance-filled dates, then he can lay you down and whisper into your ear how much he loves you while the two of you make love.

The man is so taken with that fantasy that he almost misses the gentle gasp of a name falling from your lips.

But he didn’t, because it was his name.

A shiver ran through him; excitement? fear of you waking up? He didn’t know. When he checked your face, you were still asleep, letting out those little whimpers and moaning his name quietly.

God was real.

God was real, and he had made angels, and you were one of them. 

And lord forgive him, because Kirishima was about to sin.

How could he hold himself back? You were humping his leg, moaning his name and panting, in your sleep. You wanted him, you were just too shy to initiate or accept Kiri’s advances. 

Theres no way he’s holding himself back.

Covers are thrown off, Kirishima quickly detaching from you (oh how he missed your warmth immediately) to shuck off his clothes, almost falling on his face as he ripped off his socks. 

Then he’s looming over you, quickly pulling up your shirt, lifting your head gently, guiding your arms out. Your panties came off next, slid down your legs with shaky, excited hands.

Kirishima wanted to worship you. You were the most beautiful thing he had ever seen, laid there on the bed, whining in your sleep for him, thighs rubbing together. He felt himself salivating, jaw itching to open and clamp down, to eat you whole. He wanted all of you.

Climbing back on the bed, Kiri pumped his cock a few times, precum flowing from the tip helping to smooth the way. He was going to fuck you now. 

No preamble, the man just spread your legs, settling between them. A quick rub of your pussy with his fingers had him finding it already drenched, and he groaned quietly, the hand around his cock moving faster. 

He shifted back slightly, only far enough to lift your legs, pressing your thighs up and back towards your chest. Your breathing changed slightly, but Kirishima wasn’t paying attention to that now. He didn’t care if you woke up now, you had just been dreaming about him. He was your wet dream come true, you’d surely appreciate how good he was about to make you feel.

Lining up was a bit more difficult than Kirishima was used to - he’d never been this excited to fuck someone in his life, hands trembling, heart beating out of his chest, sweat slicking his skin. But then the tip of his fat cock slipped inside, stretching you open, and all was right in the world for Kirishima.

He wanted to slam home, to push and push until he was balls deep and his tip was kissing your cervix. But he held himself back - he hadn’t stretched you, and he didn’t like the idea of hurting you in that way, he wanted your first time with him to feel good.

So he went slow, pushing inside an inch, waiting. Pushing another inch, then waiting. Waiting waiting waiting, he almost couldn’t rein in his desires. But he did, for you.

“Kiri?” You mumbled, eyes fluttering open. Kirishima wasn’t expecting you to speak so clearly, hips jumping forward, seating himself the rest of the way inside your heavenly warmth as the man swore.

“Kiri?” Clearer now, with a hint of panic. Kirishima looked up, and you were fully awake now, looking at the man with wide eyes.

“Hey baby.” He whispered, smiling gently. Your hands rose, one resting against his bicep, the other settling on his chest, and he shivered at your touch, at the feel of your tiny little hands on his flesh. 

“What’s-? When did you....?” It was so cute, the confused scrunch of your face. You were still fighting the mist of sleep, blinking owlishly up at the man on top of you. Fear hadn’t kicked in, although it was simmering underneath the surface.

“Hey, shhh. Don’t worry, I’m here. Gonna make you feel the best, you’re my pretty little girl, know that? I’ve been waiting so long for you.” He whispered, swooping down for a gentle kiss.

You didn’t fight him, just accepted the lips pressing against yours with confusion. It probably felt like you were still in a dream, hazy and relaxed.

Kirishima couldn’t wait anymore, his cock was throbbing, your insides were molten and he felt like he was going to explode. He wanted, no, needed to move.

His first thrust was small, just a quick schlick out, and the same noise when he pushed back in. You were sopping wet, and the slide made it easy for him to move. Even more proof that you wanted this. 

You gasped, eyes fluttering closed as you pulled away from the kiss. Kiri huffed out a joyful, breathless laugh as he thrusted again, sparks of pleasure lighting up in his gut. 

“Mm, Kiri wait-” You moaned, nails digging into his bicep and chest. Kirishima ignored you, speeding up, trying to angle his hips to find your sweet spot. One of his hands held your hip, the other brushing your hair out of your eyes as he cooed at you. “Pretty baby, my beautiful girl. You’re making me feel amazing, love you so much. Feeling good? I can feel you trying to milk my cock. You want my cum?”

Dazed, assaulted by so many sensations straight out of sleep, you couldn’t exactly grasp what was going on. But Kirishima’s question snapped you fully awake, and you squirmed against his body. “No, no, don’t do that.” You mumbled.

“Shh, shh, you’re okay. I’m gonna pump you nice and full, you’ll feel all warm and round. Look so cute like this.” He grunted, going harder and harder with his hips.

Then he angled just right, striking your sweet spot, and you cried out in pleasure, bucking your hips involuntarily. “Mm, there we go. Feels good, doesn’t it honey?”

It was a rhetorical question - you were too busy writhing on Kirishima’s cock to answer, one of his hands pressing flat over your stomach to feel the subtle bulge of his cock as he fucked into your guts.

“Oh Kiri! Wait, I’m not-! Wait!” You whimpered, steadily reaching your orgasm. You didn’t want to cum, you needed to slow down and gather your wits, figure out what was happening and why Kirishima was here and when this had started and-

Kiri pulled out, quickly manhandling you as if you weighed nothing. He was so strong, it was easy for him to flip you onto your stomach, pulling you to your hands and knees. 

“Gonna fuck you full. You’re gonna take all of my cum, gonna get bred like a good girl, my good girl.” His teeth were clenched as he slid back home, hissing as your wet heat welcomed him. You whined at the pleasurable sensation, unable to stop your hips from fucking back, trying to take more of his cock. 

“Ohhh, fuck yeah, look at you. Knew you wanted this, wanted me. You’re so perfect, taking my cock so well. You like having my fat cock filling you up? Messing up your insides? Making you all wet and sloppy?”

His hand found its way to your clit, the area already wet from the copious amounts of slick and precum the two of you had produced. Kiri quickly began rubbing large circles over your button, thumb big and calloused and oh so good.

Kirishima’s other hand grabbed at your chest, attaching to your tit and pawing at you. He was quickly devolving into a feral man, animalistic in the way he fucked you, thrusts harsh and fast and too much but hitting you just right-

You cried out as you came, convulsing in the man’s arms at the strength of the orgasm he ripped from your body.

He didn’t take a second, spurred on by your orgams and the tightening of your cunt, and instinctively bit down on your shoulder, almost growling as he pounded into you.

“Fuck, fuck! Kiri ouch, fuck!” You yelped, his sharp teeth breaking skin.

The man paid you no heed, rabbiting his hips until he started to cum, his hot seed flowing into your pussy. His hips kept going, twitching as they slowed down until they stopped completely, both of you absolutely spent.

Nothing but the sounds of panting filled the air, and Kirishima finally unhooked his teeth from your shoulder, wincing at the stream of blood the started to roll down your back.

“Oh, baby m’sorry.” He mumbled, a bit drunk off the pleasure still coursing through his veins.  You collapsed forward, his arms no longer holding you up. 

Kirishima didn’t pull out as he laid down next to you, keeping your hips firmly cemented to his own so that none of his cum would escape, pulling you close to his body in the process. “Pretty baby, I love you. Thank you.”

It was just a dream, it had to be. You were left with no choice but to console yourself with that thought, unable (and unwilling) to think of any other possibilities. 

A wet tongue lapped at your back, Kirishima licking up the blood from the wound he inflicted. “I’ll be more gentle next time, I can be good with my teeth, I promise.”

You ignored him, letting your exhausted self flicker between awake and asleep, confused, disoriented, overwhelmed. 

What did he mean by “next time”?

#yandere kirishima eijirou #yandere kirishima eijiro #yandere kirishima #bnha kirishima #kirishima x reader #Kirishima Eijirou #mha kirishima #kirishima #yandere bnha #dark kirishima #tw dubcon #tw noncon