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hot-wiings · 3 years

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Messed the time line up. Shouto is younger, and Natsuo is older, than they actually are.

Edited: 12-30-2020

To this day I still miss and miss you. To this day I'm still encircled by the memories of us together. Had I caught you that day, no, had I stopped you that day. To this day would we still be friends? How would it be? Dear, my friend, how have you been? I'm doing great, you know, yeah. Dear my friend, I'll be honest. I still freaking hate you. Even now I remember the past days we were together. The time and countless days we went to Daegu together.

You exited your school, parents and other junior high graduates filing around you as you moved from the cool conditioned gym into the hot outdoor summer air. You walked down the steps, quickening your pace as you saw the back of an orange head, the head of your best friend, Touya Todoroki. You nearly tripped on the pretty dress your mom made you wear for the occasion as you reached him but he grabbed onto you and firmly held onto your arm and shoulder until he felt you were stable enough to stand on your own.

“Be careful, you're so clumsy.”

“I am not.”

He wasn't making fun of you, you knew this as you saw his smile. He was teasing you the way he did your entire friendship since you were kids, but you still felt the need to defend yourself as people exiting the school looked your way.

“How’s it feel to be a middle school graduate?”

“It feels great!”

Touya walked with you away from the school towards the parking lot where your parents were waiting for you both. You hoped your mother had the car on and running with the AC, you weren't sure you'd last another minute in this heat.

“Are you still planning on applying to UA?”

“Yes. My moms not exactly on board with it. She thinks I should go for something practical, apparently ‘the world has enough heroes already.”

You bit your lip and looked at the ground as your mind replayed that day with your mother. You left out the harsher details to Touya. Your mother had threw out all your applications to any hero schools she could find in your bedroom with the simple statement that you that you weren't cut out for the hero life. She and your father didn't believe in you, but that just motivated you to work harder.

“Are you still applying to UA?”

“My father- Yeah, I am. We have to go to the same high school or else I’d miss you.”

Touya and you had reached your car which thankfully was on. Your father gave you and Touya a curt nod from inside the car while your mother smiled at you both from where she was outside the vehicle, leaning against the door waiting for you.

“Are you coming with us Touya?”

Touya was hesitant as he looked across the lot where his mother, sister and brothers sat in his fathers expensive car. His father wasn't there and you couldn't recall seeing him in the audience as you were given your middle school education credentials. Touya never talked with you about it so you didn't know the extant, but you knew his father didn't play an active role in his life.

“No, I think my mom needs me home tonight.”

“Okay, don’t be afraid to drop by the house soon. You could help [Y/N] send out some high school applications to some practical schools.”

Your mother got in the car, leaving you to say goodbye to Touya. You couldn't help but roll your eyes at her new attempt of saying you shouldn't be a hero.

“[Y/N], don’t worry about your high school application. With the two of us, the world is nothing scary.”

That was a long time ago. You and Touya slowly lost contact over the summer. You looked for him at the UA hero exams, but he wasn't there. Sometimes you had to wonder if you had just called, would things have turned out differently.

‘With the two of us, the world is nothing scary’ we said, and now we walk two completely different paths, damn. Do you remember those days? Was it at Sinsa? The conversations we had over soju. The ambition we had of conquering the world. We were young and had big dreams, only twenty. Sudden cutting off contact. After a long while, after your parents' short call from an unknown number. I immediately ran there to check. Seoul Detention Center in Anyang was too far.

You felt weird as you sat in a small black chair bolted to the ground. You felt weird as you looked across the big, clear, plastic panel separating you from him. You felt weird as you picked up the phone attached to the wall that connected to the look alike phone on Touya’s side of the panel.

You hadn’t heard from Touya for a while after junior high graduation. Despite promising to stay in touch, you hadn’t. ‘With the two of us, the world is nothing scary’ what a joke, after junior high, you simply drifted apart from each other. You applied to UA, your dream school, and got in, but you had no clue to what Touya had chosen to do with his high school career, he had blocked you out of his life.

Truthfully, the drift between you wasn't one sided, you hadn't called him or tried making contact until after your first year at UA high had passed. Once you had tried to mend the gap, you couldn't, too much time had gone by. Contact had been lost for so long, your friendship fizzled. Even when you started interning for Touya’s father, Enji Todoroki, in your third year at UA high, you barely saw each other but rather his two younger brothers, one of which who Enji hoped to mold into a hero.

You hadn't heard from Touya in ages. You hadn’t heard from him until you received a call from his younger brother, Natsuo Todoroki, asking you to come to Japan’s detention center in Hosu city. Despite it being two in the morning, the young mans voice sounded urgent and you couldn't possibly say no.

“Why are you in here, Touya?”

“I fucked up. I fucked up bad.”

“What happened Touya? I’ll try to fix it, your dad will try to fix it. I just need to know what happened.”

A moment of silence passes and you can tell Touya is hesitant to admit to you why he was in there, why someone had decided to put him behind bars.

“You can’t fix it [Y/N], my dad won’t fix it. He thinks I need to learn my lesson.”

A red flashing light goes off above your plastic panel as well as a loud buzzer. A security guard comes over and informs Touya that his time with you is up, as he grabs onto Touya’s orange jumpsuit and pulls him away from his side of the plastic wall, all that can be hear is Touya yelling to you.

“I wish we never lost contact.”

You stood up from your chair, giving the next criminal and innocent time to talk. You walked out to the hall where you saw the younger Todoroki brother. The white, spiky haired male stood there waiting for you with a nervous look on his face.

“Thanks for calling me, Natsuo.”

“I thought you’d want to know, you used to be close.”

“We were...”

Natsuo awkwardly rubbed at the back of his neck, not sure of what to say in this situation. He wasn't sure if you needed comforting, or not, truthfully, Natsuo felt nervous around you.

“Would you mind keep me in the loop about his trial?”

“Yeah, I’ll text you with any updates.”

Natsuo smiled at you, and you couldn't help but try to return it. You grew up knowing Natsuo as Touya’s kid brother, you grew up with him being the annoying kid who tried to follow his older brother and his best friend around, but in this smile you saw Natsuo as a friend.

To this day I still miss and miss you. To this day I'm still encircled by the memories of us together. Had I caught you that day. No, had I stopped you that day. To this day would we still be friends? How would it be? Was it you who changed? Or was it me? Uh.I hate this flowing time, it's us who changed. Hey, I hate you, hey, I don't like you. Hey, even as I say these words, I miss you. The visit to Seoul Detention Center every week. I went all alone on that three-hour-long trip. The day of your trial, the day of your release.

You showed up at Touya’s trail hearing, his words to you that day hit you hard. You couldn’t help but put blame on yourself. If you had kept contact with him. If you had just called him, stopped by, or even written an email.

As you sat in between Shouto and Natsuo Todoroki your leg bounced up and down nervously, you hadn’t even realized it until Natsuo had grabbed your hand which had been resting in your lap as a way to comfort you. With one small squeeze from your newfound friend, you felt more at ease.

You knew the probability of Touya being found innocent was slim. you hadn’t spoken to any lawyers or read any official statements, but Natsuo had told you Touya had gotten into some dark shit, drugs and violence were included. He had fallen far since you both had loss contact. Here you were, a hero, a UA graduate, but your old friend was being interrogated on the stand. If you had just kept contact.

You squeezed Natsuo’s hand as you watched the jury pass down a white paper with their response to the judge. The judge unfolded it slowly and carefully read the words. With every passing moment your heart pounded harder.

“The jury finds Mr. Todoroki guilty of drug possession, grand larceny, and the use of a false identity. Five years in prison, and one year probation.”

Without even letting him say his goodbyes, the authorities dragged Touya out of the courtroom, but the look Touya shot you was word enough. He looked upset, but who wouldn't be after being sentenced. Still holding your hand, Natsuo pulled you out of the courthouse and navigated you both through the crowds of people exiting. Reporters were waiting on the courthouse steps, waiting for a chance to bombard the Todoroki family in their dire time of family crisis.

“Mr. Todoroki, is it true your brother was sentenced for murder?”

“No comment.”

Natsuo handled it well as he pulled you along with him to the Uber car he had called. The press could get so out of hand sometimes, his only concern was getting you and him away from them, he didn't even allow himself time to comprehend the bogus rumors being spread about his brother.

Once you were in the car he let go of you hand and ran his fingers though his white hair stress-fully. Murder? The press was just one of the many reasons Natsuo had chosen to pursue college instead of a career in heroics. Between his father and the reporters, that life style just seemed bad.

“Are you okay? The press can get crazy.”

“I’m alright. I’ve gotten quite used to the press since I’ve come to work for your fathers agency. A reporter once asked me if I was the number two hero’s affair woman.”

“Ha, reporters can be such jerks. They don’t even attempt to get the full story. They just assume.”

You were so consumed in each others presence, you’d forgotten about the dire circumstances of why you were together that day. Natsuo had that effect on you. He made you carefree and aloof. Forgetful of the bad things.

A light pink hue dusted Natsuo’s cheeks as he realized how close you and him were sitting next to each other. He adverted his gaze down to his hands. He was a college student now, not some dumb kid trying to follow around his older brother. He was an adult, yet he didn't know how to go about with the feelings he developed for you over the years.

He was lucky to even have your friendship. You used to think of him as Touya’s annoying little brother, yet you had a blossoming friendship now, you shared your deepest secrets. He couldn't sit back on his feelings, he had to shoot his shot. He fiddled with his hands as he looked up at you and proposed his question.

“Shouto and Fuyumi are riding home together, do you wanna stop and get coffee with me?”

You gave Natsuo a soft smile and grabbed one of his nervous, shaking hands.

“I’d really like that.”

I remember vividly it was winter with heavy snow like white tofu. And after a long time not seeing, you became a completely different person. With drowsy eyes, you asked, ‘Don't you want to try?’ I got angry and cursed at you. There's no way the you who were my only friend can return, and you became a monster. The you I used to know is gone and the me you used to know is gone. I know it's not just because of time that we changed. The me you knew is gone and the you I knew is gone.

Five years had gone and went by quickly. While it was hard with his brother in prison, Natsuo had coped by throwing himself into college and his relationship with you. Between your work at his fathers hero agency, and random drop byes to his college dorm room, Natsuo saw you everyday. He knew he loved you, you even had Endeavors stamp of approval, not that he wanted or felt he needed it.

Natsuo was ecstatic that his brother was getting out today, but he was nervous. He had begged you to be there with him once his brother came home. Not that he had to beg much, you had promised to be there as soon as he mentioned his brothers release.

Natsuo wrapped his arms around your waist from behind you and leaned his head in the crook of your neck. Much like his other siblings, Natsuo wasn't one for skin-ship, but over the years of your relationship he learned to like it. He even yearned for it from you.

“Do you think he’ll be excited to see me?”

You sat down the bag you had used to pipe icing on Touya’s cake and grabbed Natsuo’s hands that were wrapped around you. You could tell he was nervous, you could hear it in his voice.

“I’m sure he misses you. You and Fuyumi.”

“I tried visiting him, but he always turned me away... Maybe he’s angry that I didn’t push our father harder to bail him out.”

“Oh, baby... he’s not mad at you. He wouldn't let me visit either. I think he just didn't want us to see him in such a bad place.”

Natsuo placed a kiss on the side of your head before pulling away. You put a cover on the cake and turned around. With a soft smile you leaned up and kissed his cheek.

“Your brother loves and misses you, okay? I’m gonna wash up, don’t touch the cake.”

Natsuo pulls you back against him and presses his lips against your. It was chaste and quick, but it was enough to help calm him down his nerves. He was reverted back to the chill, aloof, Natsuo you knew and loved.

“No promises.”

You hadn't been in the bathroom long, but so much could happen in ten minutes. By the time you came back, you had found your boyfriend lumped on the couch, a sad shell from his usual chill self.

“Hey, what’s wrong?”

You sat down next to him and pulled his form against your side. You ran your fingers through his white tips, giving his scalp a nice massage. A calming technique you picked up over the course of your relationship.

“Touya’s home. He went right up to his old room. He said he didn't want to see any of us. He didn't want to see me.”

Natsuo’s words made Touya’s look nice. During his time in prison, Touya changed. He became a colder, meaner version of himself. The car ride home with his father didn't help. If it was up to Enji, he would've given his son a longer sentence. Touya hadn't meant to, but he took his aggression out on his younger brother.

“I’m gonna try to get him to come down.”

“Don’t, just give him space.”

“I want to talk to him... Besides, we put all that work in his cake, and he didn't even try it.”

His hand shot out and grabbed onto your wrist to stop you from leaving. He knew if you went up there you'd have words with him. You were to different now. You were on a straight and narrow track to becoming a great pro hero. His brother was on the dark and murky path of a criminal, that was a truth he didn't want to admit. He knew this, yet as you shot him a smile, that smile you gave the people you saved, that heroic smile he loved, he felt at ease. This was who you were, a hero. You had to confront Touya, and he couldn't prevent that.

It wasn't long before you were on your feet and rushing to Touya’s old bedroom door. You hesitated before you knocked. This room was full of so many memories. Sleep overs and hangouts. You weren't sure you were prepared to see your old friend.

You received no response to your knock so you barged right in. The room looked different from the last time you were in it in middle school, but it stayed the same from his duration at prison.

“If I didn’t answer, than don’t come in.”

Touya rolled over in his bed to face who ever came in uninvited. At first he was angry, upset. He just wanted to be alone. Five years in prison, separated from humanity was hard to cope with. It was difficult to readjust. When he saw you that anger dissipated. His dear old friend. He wished he never cut you out of his life.

“[Y/N].”

“Touya.”

You finally got a good look at him after all these years. He’d indefinitely gotten more mussels in prison, but he was still relatively lanky. As you inspected him you noticed the blotchy, redness of his eyes.

“Are you high right now.”

He was silent and avoided your eyes, but the way he looked and the smell was undeniable. Maybe it was the hero in you, but you felt furious as you watched him.

“You just got back from prison and you're already getting baked? Drugs are what landed you in prison in the first place! Do you want to go back there?”

You weren't yelling, but scolding him. Still, Touya became agitated as you gave him a lecture. How could you sit there and judge him when you had been working for his father. The opposite of a hero.

“You don’t get the right to lecture me about what I can do in the comfort of my home. Your just my fathers employee, a crappy old friend.”

You were simply ready to deck him when Natsuo walked in and grabbed your hand to calm you. Though you weren't loud, he, Fuyumi, and Shouto could hear you all from the living room. Touya hated himself for what he said. You were more than that, so much more. He just kept misdirecting his anger.

“[Y/N] has every right to lecture you. She is my girlfriend, and she’s played a big role in our lives since you got put away. I don’t want you talking to her like that.”

Natsuo rarely argued with his elder brother. He looked up to the guy, he idolized him. This post prison Touya wasn't the man he looked up to. He wasn't the Touya he grew up with.

“Aren’t you the least bit ashamed? I look up to you, Shouto looks up to you, Fuyumi looks up to you. Or at least we did. We don’t know you anymore, and quite frankly, I don’t want Shouto around you, he’s still an impressionable teenager.”

It's not just because of time that we changed and I feel so empty. To this day I still miss and miss you. To this day I'm still encircled by the memories of us together. Had I caught you that day. No, had I stopped you that day. To this day would we still be friends? How would it be? To this day I still miss and miss you. To this day I'm still encircled by the memories of us together. Had I caught you that day. No, had I stopped you that day. To this day would we still be friends? How would it be? How would it be?

Touya hadn't talked to his brothers in weeks, despite being free to roam about in the world with the liberty to go anywhere he wants. Natsuo stayed true to his word of not wanting Shouto around him. Shouto stayed at the dorms, and on the weekends he stayed with you and Natsuo at your apartment. Endeavor didn't really care where Shouto was as long as he showed up at the training sessions.

Natsuo really had to grow up and act as a parent when Touya went away. Heaven knows Enji wasn't a real parent.

While he hadn't talked to his brothers, that didn't mean he hadn't seen them. Touya got bored of being in the house, and had rather not be there when Enji was around. He took a walk in the park, and he’d be lying if he said he hadn't known you'd be there on a picnic.

He stayed off to the side where you and Natsuo couldn't see him. It killed him to watch you. You were so happy with Natsuo. You were so happy with his brother. The way you laughed and kissed. How he fed you and hugged you from behind. You were so domestic together, so content.

He wanted that to be him. He always dreamed that he would grow up to be a hero, to be a hero with you. One day you’d date. One day you’d get married. His father discouraged him, he said he wasn't cut out to be a hero, so he listened. Touya felt he wasn't good enough so he cut you out of his life. But he was wrong, he was so wrong, you made him better. It was too late now, he fucked up and went to jail, he left his siblings to clean up after him, and you were in the loving arms of his brother. He was nothing but a criminal.

Touya didn't have anyone now. He pushed everyone away. he was a criminal, a problem child, a villain. Everything the news made him out to be. He was all alone, and he blamed Endeavor. Maybe that’s why when the Hero Killer video came out he felt compelled to follow him.

“Dear my friend, I'm sorry to let you down. I’m sorry I wasn't good enough.”

Touya hated himself for pushing you away. He hated himself for leaving his siblings alone. More so, he hated Endeavor for pushing him to believe that he wasn't worth your while, that he wasn't worthy of being a hero. He hated Endeavor, and he would get revenge.

“Dear my friend, I’m sorry for leaving, but you'll be happy with him.”

It took years for Touya to push everyone away, but it took seconds for Dabi to light his room on fire. It took years to build up his hatred and anger for his father, but it seconds for Dabi to slip out the door and claim a new life for Touya.

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let-it-raines · 3 years

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Walking the Baseline (Year: 2015)

Summary: This should be the happiest he’s been in years, but it’s not. He and Emma already had wildly different schedules, but now that she’s no longer on tour, it feels like they barely see each other. When they do, it’s for a day here, a week there, two if they’re lucky. That’s no way to live when his girlfriend is carrying their baby and freaking out about it more than he is.

If only he could have a bloody break from tennis to focus on his personal life for once.

He’s got to be careful what he asks for.

Rating: Teen +

a/n: Hello again! I know these have been slow going, but I’m here with another installment! This may or may not be the last one. I haven’t decided on that yet, so we’ll see what happens there as I know there are many more things that could be told in this universe but don’t know how much motivation I have to write them 😘

ao3: 2012 | 2013 | 2014 | 2015 (CURRENT) | 2016 (original one-shot) |

-/-

November 2014.

Shit.

“This is bad,” Rob says from across the room, as if that isn’t the most obvious bit of information on the planet right now. “What are you going to do, mate?”

He wants to do a myriad of things, but he can’t right now.

“Play my match and then call Emma and make sure she’s okay.” Killian shrugs and bends down at the knees to squat against the wall. He hits the timer on his phone for a minute, and he tries to focus on that instead of the news Ariel just texted him.

He’s not doing great at that. All these years of being able to block life out before a match have suddenly deteriorated.

“Do you want to call her now?” Robin prods.

“She won’t answer if I call now. Watch.” Killian exits out of the timer and hits Emma’s number on his phone. It rings and rings and rings, and she never answers. He stands from his squat and tries again. Still, no answer. “Emma, darling,” he speaks into the phone, “I’m about to play, so I can’t talk to you anytime soon. I love you. Everything is alright, yeah? We knew this was going to happen at some point, but I’m sorry it happened this way. I’ll call you as soon as I can. You and the babe stay safe, alright?”

“Do you think that’s going to do any good?”

“No,” Killian answers honestly, “it’s not. She’s going to be freaking the hell out, and nothing is going to calm her down, certainly not me.”

He thumbs through his phone once more, looking through his texts and clicking on the links Ariel sent him. It’s pictures of Emma in her neighborhood, which is supposed to be private. That is a lie, though, because someone managed to take pictures of Emma walking to get her mail, her clothes tight enough that the roundness of her stomach is obvious, especially compared to how she usually looks.

It’s not good. Not good at all.

After the US Open, Emma stopped playing, telling the WTA she was out for the rest of the season on injury. A few people know because of how often Emma has to get drug tested, but it’s all been a well-kept secret.

That is no longer true.

Bloody hell.

“Mr. Jones,” the tournament director says when he pokes his head in the warm-up room, “it’s time to go.”

“Aye, I’ll be right there.” He stands from his squat and stretches out his legs, jumping up and down a few times before grabbing his racket bag from the floor. “Rob, get Ariel to try calling Emma while I’m playing. She’s more likely to talk to her than any of us.”

“I’ll try.” Rob nods and claps his hand over Killian’s back. “Good luck in your match. I know it’s a rubber, but don’t be a loser.”

Killian blows air out of his nose with his laugh. “I’ll try not to be a loser. My fucking motto for life.”

-/-

Killian isn’t a loser that day, but he is out of the tournament. He hates the season-ending final, how it’s a round robin event. He lost the same amount of matches as the man who got to advance to the semi-finals but because he lost three more games, he’s packing his bags to go home.

(Though, he didn’t hate it when he won it years ago, but now is not the time to think of his own hypocrisy.)

To his home here in London, half an hour away from the tournament, instead of back in America with Emma. It’s been odd staying here for the past two weeks. For so long, he was used to living here alone. Sure, Ariel and Rob would pop in, especially after Milah, but it was his home. It was a place to sleep and shower and watch television between having to constantly be on the road and in the air. Then Emma came along and though she’s here less frequently, she’s made her mark.

Some of her clothes litter his closet, her mugs fill his cabinets, blankets she has bought are in the baskets in his den. She hasn’t been here since mid-September when they needed to get away for a little while, but she’s still everywhere. Killian has been finding her bobby pins in his carpet the entire time he’s been here.

The only thing of Emma’s that isn’t here is Emma.

The sun has set outside, darkness taking over, and though it’s past midnight in America, Killian presses Emma’s name on his phone as he sets the timer on the oven for his dinner.

“Hello?”

“Now, tell me why you’ll answer your phone at one in the morning but not during daylight hours?”

“Because I’m a stubborn ass with no real sense of time.”

Killian huffs and moves to his living room, plopping down on the couch. “Now, I thought that was me.”

“It is. We both are. It’s why we’re dating.”

“Is that the only reason?”

“Well, I could say other things, but I’m trying to work on my dirty jokes, trying to say fewer of them.”

“Oh, you should never do that. I like when you’re dirty.” Emma’s silent on the other end of the line, and Killian waits for her to speak, to make another joke, to ask him if he could litter this conversation with innuendos. When she doesn’t, he decides it’s better to bite the bullet now than to drag it out. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“I want to change what I was wearing to get the mail this morning,” Emma says through gritted teeth. “I don’t know how I could have been so damn stupid.”

“It’s a private area. You thought you were safe. It’s understandable, love. Don’t beat yourself up about it. You were going to have to tell everyone eventually.”

“Eventually being the key word.” She whistles, and if he had to guess, she’s sitting in bed with a tub of icing in her lap and one of her favorite shows on the television. She’ll beat herself up about the icing tomorrow even if she shouldn’t. “Mary Margaret took my phone for a little while so I couldn’t check anything online. That’s why I didn’t answer you when you called earlier. It’s been…a day. I’m sorry you didn’t make it to the semi-finals.”

“Yeah, me too,” he tells her, allowing himself to wallow for a moment. “I get to come home to you sooner, though.”

“I’ve saved the tree for you to help me put up. And Mary Margaret has started on the sides for Thanksgiving. There’s going to be so much food for you to pig out on before off-season training starts.”

He can hear the smile now. Good.

“There’s nothing I’m looking forward to more. I’ve heard there’s such a thing as a dad bod, and I fully intend on getting one this holiday season.”

Emma blows air out her nose. “You and I both know that’s not true. You’re too vain for that.”

“I am devilishly handsome, aren’t I?”

“I’ll let you keep thinking that. Killian?”

“Yeah, sweetheart?”

“I’m fine. I mean, I’ll be fine. This entire…situation has sucked, but I’m slowly coming around to it. What happens, happens, and I’ll deal with it. If I can get through half the things I’ve gotten through, I can get through a human being growing inside of me and the world knowing about it. I think the hardest part is how bored I am. Do you have any idea what it’s like to constantly be on the move and then for it to suddenly stop?”

“No, I don’t.” He pulls a blanket over his lap to warm him. “I hope I never find out.”

“I hope you don’t either.” Emma yawns, and the corners of Killian’s lips tug up. Maybe this means she’ll try to sleep instead of staying up worrying all night. “I think I’m going to go to sleep. Or at least try.”

“Goodnight, Swan. I love you.”

“Yeah, you too.”

-/-

Killian gets two weeks off in Florida for Thanksgiving and to have a break from training. It’s lovely to do nothing if only for a moment (he would be horrible having to take the extended break like Emma) and to spend it with Emma and her family, but then it’s back to practice and tweaking his game during the off-season.

Rob and Nemo work him harder than they ever have, bemoaning him about his slow legs and his age – he’s nearly twenty-nine, which was once considered ancient in his sport – but he keeps pushing through. Hours are spent on the court and in the gym, and the rest of his days are spent with Emma, going on walks and watching TV in their house. She’s still practicing and going to the gym, even if those are modified to how they were before, and if Killian closes his eyes, it’s almost like normal.

But then, slowly, December passes, Christmas lights everywhere fading a little every day, and Killian is packing several suitcases for the month he’s going to spend in Australia. Three years ago, Australia is where it all began for them, and it’s odd to be going without Emma.

She’s made a rule that most of their conversations have to be about things other than the baby. Part of it is because Mary Margaret overloaded Emma with baby talk. It was constantly about names and clothing and what color the nursery should be painted. If it wasn’t that, it was book after book about pregnancy, hormone changes, and the many processes that happen when giving birth.

Even for Killian, who isn’t particular about medical procedures, that was too much. He loves Mary Margaret as much as Emma does, and while she’s great most of the time, it all has been a little much.

The media attention has been too.

Thus, Emma’s rules. Their lives are supposed to go on as normal with the occasional conversation about the baby, usually when it’s absolutely necessary or when it’s late at night and they’re in bed or lounging on the couch watching TV and Killian’s hand finds Emma’s ever-growing stomach.

He thinks that’s what’s so bloody difficult for him as he zips up his suitcase. He’s going to be gone for a month, and in that month, everything can and will change.

Killian is missing seeing his child grow and missing being with his girlfriend, and as much as he loves what he does, as passionate as he is about having the fucking best job in the world, he would trade it all to not have to give up so much of their lives.

Emma would never let him.

She’d slap him if she knew he was even having these thoughts.

“Do you like this jacket?” Emma asks as she shuffles through their closet next to him. “I mean, I like that it’s red, but do you think it’s too bold?”

Killian turns and looks, glancing up and down at Emma. “I like the red leather.”

Emma nods and smiles, looking at herself in the mirror and tugging the coat over her stomach. “One day again, it’ll zip up.” She rolls her eyes and then begins to take it off, but Killian stops and walks toward her, running his fingers over the lapels until she’s flush against him.

“One day,” he echoes before dipping his head to her neck and running his lips across her jaw, “but for now, I think it’s fine to not have you covered up.”

Emma cranes her neck and makes a nose he’s going to memorize and take with him all the way to Australia. “That was a horrible line. You need to be a better flirt. This isn’t working for me at all.”

His hand falls from her shoulder and slowly makes its way to her ass before he has a firm grip. She makes that noise again, and Killian smirks against her neck.

“Well,” he drawls, making his accent as thick as he can as he nibbles at her ear, “I have forty-five minutes before I have to go. What do you say I use about fifteen of those focusing on you?”

“You’re ridiculous.”

“Is that a yes?”

“Oh, absolutely. I want to take in as much of you as I can while I can.”

“Dirty,” he whispers in her ear before kissing her and walking her out of the closet and back to the bedroom.

-/-

January 2015.

ES: Good luck today, babe! Or tomorrow. I’m not really sure what time it is in Australia, but I do know I will not be awake for your match.

Killian laughs at his phone. He’s been here three weeks, and Emma still hasn’t gotten the time difference down. He figured she wouldn’t be too bad with it since she makes this trip every year, but according to David, he changed all of Emma’s clocks and she never really knows the difference after the first two days.

It’s technically yesterday afternoon back home, or at least it was when she sent this, and he texts her back, thanking her and promising to call after his practice.

He’s got the first night session match in RLA tonight for his quarterfinal match, and if that weren’t three in the morning back home, he knows Emma would be up for it.

He wouldn’t ask anyone to be awake at that ungodly hour for him.

“Have you finished your hair yet?” Ariel asks.

She’s sitting on his bed in his hotel room, has been for an hour even though he definitely did not invite her over, and he’s had to listen to her rambling about sponsorship pitches and contract negotiations and all the things he hates the entire time. So he’s spending a little extra time messing with his hair and shaving his beard. She’s used to this, of course, and probably knows the exact amount of time it’ll take him to get ready better than he does.

“Not quite, love.”

“You know you’re going to put it under a hat and get it all sweaty, right? It doesn’t matter what it looks like.”

Killian shakes his head and puts his razor down before walking out of the bathroom to peek his head over at Ariel. “Are you really that bored that you can’t find something else to do other than bother me?”

She sits up and props herself on her elbows, her red hair flowing down her back, but a small bit gets stuck in her eye. She quickly blows it off. “It’s a big match day, and you’re nervous. I’ve been sent here to keep you occupied so you can’t think about how nervous you are or how much you miss Emma or how much you want to write an entire book of poetry about how much you love her.”

“I have never said that last part,” he counters.

“But you’ve thought it, Mr. Darcy. You and your big ole heart and your obsession with your girlfriend and your baby.”

Killian chuckles and leans against the wall. He crosses his arms over his chest and arches a brow. “Am I not supposed to be in love with my girlfriend and our child?”

Ariel shrugs. “I just think that for someone who loves a woman that much, there might be a ring and a question rattling around somewhere.”

His eyes roll, and outwardly, he deals with the question with annoyance. Inwardly, his heart quickens and he thinks some things he’s been trying not to.

Some things that, well, shake him to his core and make his breathing a little more difficult than normal.

He and Emma have talked about marriage, but it’s always been brief, seemingly inconsequential. It’s something they’d consider a long way down the road, maybe when their lives are normal, when they can profess their love to each other without any professional blowbacks.

With how the game is progressing and how long players are starting to play now, and more than just the top guys, he doesn’t know when that’ll be.

Killian loves Emma. Emma loves him. They’ve both made each other better people and committed to each other and to their unborn daughter, and Killian doesn’t see that ever changing, marriage license or not.

“A,” he whispers, his fingers tapping over his bicep, “Whatever happens with us is as much up to Emma as it is to me. We like how things are now, and I can write a book of poetry on our love no matter if she is my wife or not.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know. I just want to go to that wedding. I feel like it would be the party of a lifetime.”

“Tell you what, I’ll take you to the party of a lifetime when I win this damn tournament. We’ll go clubbing like we both don’t go to bed for ten when we can.”

Ariel winks. “You’ve got yourself a deal. Now, come on, we’ve got things to do, and you’re making us late with all your unnecessary primping.”

“Because I’m that damn good-looking and should accentuate it when I can.”

Ariel rises from the bed wand comes over to pat his shoulder. “Whatever you tell yourself to sleep that night.”

-/-

Killian runs through his practice with ease, and he feels good. He’s seeing the ball clearly, doesn’t feel any aches in his body, and though his opponent has handed Killian’s ass to him on a silver platter many times, he’s feeling good about tonight.

Until he isn’t.

It’s the second set when it happens.

Killian is up a set and has two break points to solidify a lead when he’s running down a forehand and loses his footing on the court. His ankle is the first thing to twist, and before he can think, he’s propelling forward toward the ground.

For the entirety of his life, Killian has been told not to fall on his wrists. It’s the first thing any athlete learns. Hell, it’s the first thing anyone learns, but instinct takes over him in that moment. He’s trying to keep from landing flat on his face, and so he lands on his left wrist.

His fucking left wrist, which has caused him trouble his entire career.

Now, though, as he sits on his courtside chair and the tournament medical examiner touches him, he knows this is worse than any injury he’s had in the past.

Fucking hell, he has to pull out of the tournament.

He doesn’t know if he’s going to be able to play for the rest of the season.

Shit.

Should have fallen on his face and knocked out his teeth. He could still play with no teeth.

-/-

“It’s a fracture,” a doctor tells him that night as he sits in a hospital bed in nothing but one of those awful paper gowns. “You’ll want to consult with your physicians back in Britain, but I’d say a ten-week recovery at the least, six months at most.”

“That’s not exactly a short time span,” Killian grumbles. “You can’t give me something more exact?”

He shrugs. “I think it’ll most likely be about three months for you, but you won’t know until you start playing again. It’s more the rehab than the recovery that I would worry about.”

“Thank you, Dr. Weissman,” Rob tells the doc, dismissing him before Killian can take the piss out of the man for doing his job. Dr. Weissman nods and leaves the room, and all that’s left are Killian, Rob, and Ariel. Nemo is back at the hotel, probably watching the video of Killian ruining their season over and over again. “How are you feeling, Jones?”

“Just peachy,” he lies, flashing them his brightest smile before it falls. He pushes his hair back and yanks at the strands, pulling hard enough for it to hurt. “Fuck.”

What has he done to himself?

People are playing longer now, but what if he isn’t one of those? What if this is the injury that begins the slow deterioration of his career? The one that whittles him away from a great player to a star trying too hard to hang onto his shine?

He hates himself for even thinking that because it’s conceited and self-loathing and all the other things he’s tried not to be lately. He was the one who had to talk Emma through something similar, to tell her that the pregnancy wouldn’t be the end of her career, that one day she’d be standing at the top of the podium again with a shiny trophy in hand.

It all felt so convincing when he was telling her that.

But he’s also an asshole who can seldom take his own advice.

And what Emma is going through is much harder than what he is, so how dare he even compare the two situations?

Seriously.

Fuck.

-/-

February 2015.

David picks him up at the airport in Florida, but it could have been a stranger and Killian wouldn’t know the difference. He’s been moping on a plane for twenty-four hours and doesn’t notice much of anything.

That is until he walks in the front door of his home and is wrapped in the tightest embrace he’s ever felt. Emma, like always, smells of vanilla and flowers, and he inhales her scent. It’s been a month without it, and he never wants to lose it again. Her hand comes into his hair, scratching down to his skull, and she pulls him as close as possible, her stomach pressed between them. She’s seven months along now, was six when he left, and the difference feels almost impossible to describe.

He tries not to think of all he’s missed, not when he’s back in her arms once more.

What a beautiful place to be.

He’s thought that his world was falling apart, that he had no control over anything, and it was one disaster after another.

As his uninjured arm run up and down Emma’s back and he continues to breathe in her scent and her warmth, he’s reminded that his world, the most important one, is more solid than it’s been since he lost Liam.

If his brother could see him in this moment, even when his mind and body are at low points, Killian would hope that Liam would be proud of Killian’s accomplishments instead of disappointed in Killian’s failures.

“I missed you,” Emma whispers against his cheek.

“I missed you, too, Swan. You have no idea how much.”

“Are you okay?”

“I will be.” His hand comes to rest in her ponytail. “I promise I will be.”

-/-

The world seems to stop for the both of them, and it’s not just because Killian spends his first week at home moping in bed, watching more TV than he has in years. Emma joins him, lounging with her legs crossed over his, basically using his body to make herself comfortable when her back is sore, and if it weren’t for food delivery services, they likely wouldn’t eat. Well, at the very least, they wouldn’t eat any proper meals. Emma’s doctor wouldn’t like that.

Killian’s doctor, on the other hand, has encouraged him to stay active but to rest his wrist. He’s not supposed to pick up a racket except to lightly hit a few forehands, and he definitely isn’t supposed to do any weight work in the gym lest he wants his arms to become horribly unbalanced.

It’s a change in lifestyle, and Killian hates it.

He obviously still hates himself because he spends a hell of a lot of time online looking at articles and tweets about the Australian Open. Half of them are about him, half are about the eventually winners, and a small sprinkling are about how Emma couldn’t defend her title because of her pregnancy.

That sends him into another spiral, and in the darkness of their bedroom, he reads article after article about how Emma Swan will never come back to the game, about how she’s ruined her career, about how if she does come back, she shouldn’t have a protected ranking because pregnancy is not an injury and does not merit any help in building back a ranking.

Absolute bullshit.

How is the WTA the largest sports organization for women and yet it has no pregnancy protections for its players?

That sets him off more than anything else, and as Killian reads article after article and tweet after tweet, and he hopes to God that Emma hasn’t spent her nights reading this like he has.

What kind of darkness has he stumbled into, and how does he get out of it?

“Get up.”

Killian groans and rolls over, burying his face in his pillow and trying to go back to the sleep he didn’t know he’d fallen into. His head is screaming at him.

“KJ, get up.” He feels Emma’s hands on him, shaking his shoulders, but he ignores her. The last thing he wants to do is open his eyes and get out of bed. “My water broke.”

He immediately flips over and sits up, staring at Emma who is standing over the bed with her arms crossed over her chest. “Are you serious? What are you doing just standing there? Have you called your doctor? It’s too soon for your water to have broken.”

Her eyes roll. “My water did not break. It’s noon, and you’re still in bed. Get up.”

“Now, that’s just cruel. You nearly gave me a heart attack.”

“I didn’t expect for you to be coherent enough to really listen.” Emma sits down on the edge of the bed and leans in to kiss his cheek and brush his hair back. “I’m sorry if I scared you.”

“Now I’m never going to believe you if you tell me your water has broken.”

Emma shrugs. “Next time I say it, I promise I will mean it.” Her hands wander down his side, moving over his collarbones and through tufts of hair on his chest. She’s always fond of doing that. “Look, I get the moping and the internet doom scrolling. I’ve been through that, and I support you doing whatever you need to do.”

“I feel like there’s a but coming.”

“But,” Emma continues, “this baby girl is coming in two months, possibly less, and I don’t know if you’ve looked in the nursery since you got home, but it’s all boxes and disassembled furniture.”

“You didn’t get to all that while I was gone?” She yanks on his hair, and he grits his teeth to keep from yelping. “Only teasing, love.”

“Yeah, well, I didn’t get to it. All of this baby stuff freaks me out and after putting together one railing for the crib and having a hormonal meltdown because I didn’t want it to be my fault if the crib fell apart while she was sleeping in it, I stopped. Figured it’d be better if you were here.”

“So that it’d be my fault if the crib fell apart?”

“Exactly.” She tilts her head toward the bedroom door. “I made you coffee, so get your ass out of bed and lend me a hand.”

He raises his broken, wrapped up wrist. “Was that pun intended?”

“Believe it or not, no.” She leans in to kiss his cheek once more. “I’m not going to kick you while you’re down.”

“You’re just going to kick me out of bed.”

“Exactly.”

His legs slowly drag him out of bed and to the kitchen, where he takes the pain medication he’s allowed to take, downs some water, and drinks his coffee. It’ll be awhile before the caffeine and medication kick in, so he tries to blink himself awake to get rid of the sleepiness and the pain.

It doesn’t work.

He does, however.

Emma’s been up for awhile and has moved all the boxes in the nursery into their own sections. It’s just as chaotic as it was before, but it at least looks a little more put together. Killian settles down in front of the crib, reads through the instructions, and he starts piecing things together while Emma works on the dresser. She flits around the room, helping him when he needs it, and as much as he’d like to say they finish quickly, they don’t. It takes them all morning just to do those two pieces of furniture and for him to fix the roller on the glider, and he’s exhausted.

Maybe he can convince Emma to take a nap with him later.

After he exercises. He has to move a little today. His body hasn’t been this stiff on a non-tournament day in ages.

Okay, so maybe nap first, then exercise. That sounds like a better plan.

“What the bloody hell is this doing in here?” Killian asks. He bends down and picks up Emma’s gold medal, dangling it on his arm, which is a much safer space than the floor under a stack of books where it was.

“Oh, yeah,” Emma hums, “Mary Margaret wanted me to display that in here.”

“Why?”

“Well, she wanted me to put some of my trophies in here, but I said that was weird and probably a little dangerous. But then she suggested we do, like, this little wall collage of some things about us for her. That’s the achievement I’m proudest of, at least professionally, and I figured it would be kind of badass for my kid to know her mom was an Olympian.”

“Is,” Killian corrects while he walks toward Emma and tucks some strands of hair behind her ear. “Her mom is an Olympian. Present tense.”

Emma shakes her head and looks away, eyelids covering those beautiful green eyes of hers. “Was. I don’t know if I’ll ever get back to competition, Killian. I’ve been reading what exactly my body is going to go through, which, big mistake by the way, and I don’t know how I’m going to get back into competition shape to work my way back up to the top. I spent most of my life conditioning my body to be an athlete. I don’t think it knows how to be a mom and an athlete.”

“You’re always going to be an Olympian and an athlete,” he promises, meaning every word, “and it’s not going to be easy getting back. The cards are fucking stacked against you. But if there’s anyone who can persevere through hardship, it’s you. And me and the babe will be right here with you.”

“Except you’ll probably be back on tour traveling again. Hopefully your wrist will be healed soon, way before she comes.”

Killian leans forward and dips his head down to rest his forehead against Emma’s. “I’m staying with the two of you for as long as I can. Can’t get rid of me that easily, Swan. You’re stuck with me for life.”

“That isn’t as appealing sounding as you think it is.”

Killian tilts his head back with laughter before kissing Emma’s temple. He still hasn’t brushed his teeth this morning and has some major coffee breath. He’s surprised she hasn’t kicked him out of the house yet. She surely will if he attempts to kiss her.

“Let’s install these shelves and then go take a nap, yeah? Get rid of all our fears for a little while with sleeping. Maybe we’ll even go for a walk tonight since the neighborhood is now extra secure.”

“Sounds like a plan, KJ. Oh,” Emma gasps, moving away from him and reaching into a basket to pull out an old book. “I meant to tell you this, but I was shopping for books online and I found one from when I was a kid. I used to read it in the foster system, and I don’t know, it would bring me comfort. I thought maybe it would be a good name for her.”

She hands him the book, and he looks over the cover, reading the words written in large print.

“Olivia,” he whispers, sounding out the name on his tongue. “Olivia Swan-Jones.”

He can’t wait to meet her.

And he can’t wait for her to see what a badass her mom is, and how Emma is definitely going to stand at the top of that podium again.

Hopefully he is too.

-/-

tag list: @capthamm @qualitycoffeethings @klynn-stormz @scarletslippers @jrob64 @snowbellewells @therealstartraveller776 @thejollyroger-writer @sherifemma @galaxyzxstark @galadriel26 @idristardis @karenfrommisthaven @teamhook @spartanguard @searchingwardrobes @jamif @shireness-says @ultimiflos @nikkiemms @onepunintendid @bluewildcatfanatic @superchocovian @killianswannn @carpedzem @captainkillianswanjones @mayquita @marrtinski @mayquita @mariakov81 @jennjenn615 @onceuponaprincessworld @a-faekindagirl @scientificapricot @xellewoods @ultraluckycatnd @stahlop @kmomof4 @tiganasummertree @singersdd @tornadoamy @cluttermind @lfh1226-linda @itsfabianadocarmo @iam2307 @ilovemesomekillianjones @kktabjones @jonesfandomfanatic @ouatxxxxx

#walking the baseline #cs fic #cs ff #cs fanfic #cs fanfiction #captain swan fic #captain swan fanfic #captain swan ff #captain swan fanfiction #Captain Swan

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notyetneedcoffee · 4 years

Text

No Secrets, Part 1

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader, Bucky Barnes x Reader (???)

Warnings: None in this section

“West quadrant all clear,” Natasha’s voice came across the coms.

“There’s still a few runners on the loose out here.” Stark reported. “Wilson, there’s a pair headed your way.”

“On it.”

“Y/N, Report.” Cap swept the east side of the warehouse. “I’ve got nothing else here.”

“Standby.” You whispered. A technician and an armed soldier were loading equipment into crates. “Two hostiles on the load dock over here.”

“I’ll be there in twenty seconds.” Bucky’s voice chimed in.

You mentally rolled your eyes. Why did he always have to rush in an take over whenever you had a situation? Sliding around pallets of equipment cases, you managed to get almost behind the two. Shooting the equipment could be bad, considering this was an experimental research and testing facility. None of you knew what this stuff actually did yet.

The armed soldier turned toward the technician. You took the opportunity, shooting him down. The technician drew a strange looking weapon, firing with unexpected speed. A piece of equipment behind you blew apart. You landed on your side shooting back, dropping the tech.

Just as Bucky turned the corner, the broken device behind you exploded. He watched you collapse and rushed to your side. “Y/N is down!”

“What!” Steve responded at the same time Stark barked “Report!”

“An explosion” He knelt beside you looking for damage but didn’t see anything. You began to stir. “No obvious wounds. She’s coming around.”

“It’s a good thing she’s got a hard head.” Tony’s voice came through the com.

You were on the ground, Bucky suddenly above you looking worried. As soon as you focused on him, the blue eyes went cold, pissed. “What the hell were you thinking? I told you I was coming?”

“I’m fine.” You argued sitting up, though wondering if you’d just passed out. “I got both of them.”

‘Fine my ass. You went down like a bag of rocks. Scared the shit out of me.’

“Didn’t know you cared, Barnes.” You scoffed, getting to your feet.

“What?” He grabbed your arm, glaring at you. ‘Damn it. Why do you have to be so difficult? I just want to pack you up and get you out of here. Somewhere safe.’

“I’m not trying to, okay? What is wrong with you?” You glared back.

“Trying to what?” Bucky faced you full on, eyes hard, hand tightening on your arm.

“Not trying to be difficult. Why are...”

Bucky ripped the com unit out of his ear and reached up to take the one out of yours despite your protest. “Y/N, Look at me.” You pushed every bit of annoyance you had into your stare. ‘I think that device did something to you.’

Just before you began to argue the realization that Bucky’s lips had not moved sunk in. “What the hell?”

“That thing. Whatever it gave off.” Bucky’s eye went wide. “You can hear what I’m thinking.”

“Oh, shit.”

‘Yeah, oh shit.’ You distinctly heard his voice in your head. ‘I’m so fucked.’

“Why?’ Your eyebrow quirked up as Bucky handed you back you com.

He replaced his own in his ear. “Banner. We have a situation. I’m bringing Y/N back to the jet.”

“What’s going on?” Steve’s voice cut in before Bruce could respond.

“The device that blew did, I don’t know, something to her mind.”

“I’m right here.” You barked. “Stop talking around me.”

“What’s wrong? She sounds like her normal charming self.” Stark chimed in.

“She, ah,” Bucky looked sideways at you. “She’s hearing my thoughts.”

There was a long moment of silence on the coms. Then everyone spoke at once.

“Get her to the jet!”

“What!”

“How the hell?”

“Are you serious?”

“Children!” Tony shouted. “Barnes, get her to the jet. Banner, it might not be a bad idea to sedate her until we can run a full battery of tests at the lab. I’m heading in to get a look at that device.”

“Come on, Doll.” Bucky grabbed you by the arm and practically dragged you through the facility. ‘Let’s knock you out before you hear something you shouldn’t.’

“Really?”

Bucky gave you a pleading look and you found yourself relenting. Fine. When you reached the jet, Bruce had earbuds in, listening to opera. He led you to one of the recycling seats and performed a quick perfunctory exam and then set up an IV. “I’m going to give you a sedative. We’ll wake you up in the lab. Okay?”

“Yeah,” you sighed. “Whatever.”

‘Sorry.’ Bucky looked at you with mournful eyes.

“I hate this.” You grumbled, already feeling the effects.

“You know that Nat and Tony, hell any of us, are not comfortable with the idea of someone without control reading our minds.” Bucky actually took your hand in his. ‘It’ll be okay. I’ll stay right here.’

The noise woke you before the light. They were familiar voices. Steve, Bucky, Bruce, and Tony were arguing. Some loud, some not. It was strange. You fought to open your eyes. They felt heavy, sticky. The drugs. That’s right.

“Hey.” You croaked, swallowed, and tried again. “Hey, guys. Take it outside.”

“Y/N.” Steve leaned over you. “How you feeling?”

“Fuzzy.”

‘No shit, they’ve kept you under for six days.’ Bucky was taking your other hand, a scowl on his face. You gave him a look, but he shook his head slightly.

“What’s going on?” You asked.

“It appears you were hit with a massive surge from the whatever that device was. It flooded you with an energy with a signature similar to what we saw from the Mind Stone. We can’t really test anything beyond computer simulations because the explosion completely burned out the device.” Bruce explained. “What we can say, is the abnormal readings in your brain have been steadily decreasing by 1.7% a day.”

“A day.” You repeated. “What day is it, exactly?"

‘Damn. Damn. Damn.’ Bruce looked at you, head tipped low. “The fifteenth.”

‘Should’ve kept her under.’ Tony looked on nervously. ‘Fuck. Did she hear that? Shit. What now? She looks pissed.’

‘So sorry. Never should have let it go so long.’ Steve watched your face, holding your hand.

‘I’ll beat the hell out of them for this. Not right keeping you under when there’s nothing wrong with you.’ Bucky squeezed your other hand.

“So, I’m what? A security risk. You don’t want me picking up on stray thoughts that I shouldn’t.”

‘Oh, thank fucking god!’ Tony gave you a sad smile that was completely contradictory to celebratory tune in his mind. “Something like that.”

“We figure since you were only picking up on Barnes while you were at the warehouse, and the nearest person was about two hundred meters away, we could just...” Bruce began explaining.

“Sequester me by myself somewhere until this wears off.” You pulled your hands away from the boys, crossing your arms. “For what? Two, three months? Alone. Great.”

‘Over my dead body, you don’t get to lock her up ‘cause your uncomfortable, asshole.’ Bucky’s stray thought nearly made you smile.

“I’ve got an amazing place all lined up. Just twenty minutes from the compound and it’s been all tricked out with the best stuff.” Tony spoke a million words a minute. “Movies, streaming, video conferencing, gaming, a full library. Amazing kitchen. AI. The scenery is cool. Stuff can be delivery. Shop all you want, I got you covered. Just consider it a paid vacation.”

‘It’s too long.’ Steve was staring out the window. ‘Don’t want you gone that long.’

“I’ll come weekly and run a check.” Bruce added. ‘This sucks.’

“So, ah, here’s all the info.” Stark handed you a tablet. “Pack up and stay in touch. Um, sorry kid.” He left with Bruce on his heels.

“Great.” You swung your feet out of bed. “Well, you boys going to run away too?”

‘Don’t wanna, Doll.’ Bucky stepped up, rubbing your shoulder. “I don’t care what these assholes think. We’ll figure something out. I’m going to go fuel up your car, okay?”

You nodded and he left. Bucky had always been a friend, but what he didn’t say made you adore him even more. Ever since joining the team, he and Steve were your first and closest friends. A gentle chant of ‘in and out’ made you realize Steve was working very hard to keep his mind blank by focusing on his breathing.

“Steve.” You got up, a bit wobbly.

‘Damn it.’ His arm came around your side to support you immediately. “I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have let this go on for so long. Are you okay?” Steve’s eye’s filled with concern. ‘You don’t look okay. God, I screwed up.’

“I’ll be okay.” You leaned into him, wrapping your arms around his waist. “It’s just a lot and I’m still a little, I don’t know, disoriented.”

He squeezed you. “I’m sorry.”

“Stop apologizing. You didn’t do anything wrong.” You spoke into his chest.

“I should have fought harder to wake you up sooner. I don’t like this idea of sending you away.” Steve gave you a squeeze. ‘I don’t want you to go anywhere. We can stay just like this.’

Something tightened in your chest. A nervous flutter danced across your belly. Just to test the feeling, you turned into Steve’s embrace fully, tipping your head up and burying your nose in his neck. You murmured. “It sucks but, I’ll be okay.”

‘Oh god,’ Steve gave you a tighter squeeze. ‘She feels so good. So damn good. Not about you, Rogers. Get it together.’ He held you back from him. “Are you going to be okay getting ready? Do you help?”

You stared into his eyes for a long moment, wondering why you never realized there was an attraction there before. He was focusing on making sure you would be okay. It was so sweet. Still, random thoughts burst through. ‘It may be months.’ ‘Kiss her.’ ‘So beautiful.’ ‘Don’t be an idiot.’

“I’ll be okay, Steve.” You touched his cheek. “How about I call you as soon as I get there?”

“Please.”

“You can call any time.”

“I will.” He smiled, a bit shy. “I suppose it’s evident I how much I want to.”

You just smiled back. ��Let’s talk about when I don’t have an unfair advantage.”

He hugged you close once more. “I’m going to miss you.”

“Yeah,” You sighed. “I’ll miss you, too.”

He left to let you get dressed. As you pulled on the pants for the scrubs, you had to fight back a giggle as you heard. ‘Smooth, Rogers. Sniff her hair like that. Idiot. Gonna miss her smell. I hate this. Should have kissed her. Idiot.’

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#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers fic #steve rogers fanfic #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes fanfic #steve rogers fanfiction

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lushjin · 4 years

Text

Young & Free|

Masterlist

Genre/Warnings: Smut & angst. Multiple sex scenes, creampie, fingering, oral (male & female receiving), violence, drinking, use of drugs, gambling,& alludes to gang activity.

Pairing: Taehyung x Reader

Word Count: 15k

Summary: You live in a perfect little bubble, sheltered from the rest of the world. Your life seems to change when you meet a mysterious guy on the bad side of town.

The party had started long ago, but somehow you were still here babysitting your best friend. You loved her, but you weren’t sure if it was worth going to a party on this side of town. Especially since you had to watch her like a hawk the whole time. Maybe if you’d just gone to the club by campus, you wouldn’t need to keep such a close eye on her.

“You’re being a party pooper y/n,” Eunji slurs before taking another gulp of her drink.

“I’m not being a party pooper. I'm just tired. Can we please go home now?”

“Don’t be a bore, be a whore!” She starts chanting, and the group nearby joins in. You feel your cheeks heat up immediately. It takes everything in you to not dump her ass and go home.

“Eunji, please. You’ve had enough to drink.” You plead. You attempt to take away her red solo cup, but she smacks your hand away.

“Fine,” you huff. You’ve had enough, and you weren’t just going to leave Eunji at the party, but you definitely needed some fresh air. “I’ll be back.” You yell into Eunji’s ear over the loud music. She just gestures for you to go. You really wish you would have never come out.

When you go outside, the cold wind hits you. Fall is coming soon. You should’ve dressed a bit warmer, but usually, modesty isn’t your choice when you go out.

You lean against the wall of the house, your back pressing into the cold bricks. You take out your phone to check if you have any missed messages.

Lisa: hey I missed you tonight

where did you guys go?

Usually Saturday nights, you went clubbing with your roommates, but for some reason tonight, you agreed to go to a house party on the other side of town.

You: party on the Southside

Lisa: omg pls be careful!

Your roommate was right to worry. The crime rate was a lot higher on the Southside, and it was just a sketchy place in general. Before you can respond to Lisa, you’re distracted by a noise you hear. It sounds like leaves crunching, and it’s too dark to see anybody. Your heart starts to race as you notice a figure moving towards you. Run run! You think, but your body stays frozen. You really hope this isn’t how you die. You’ve heard so many horror stories about the Southside. Your mind starts to think of every bad scenario that could possibly happen.

Suddenly the figure comes closer to your line of vision. Still, you cannot make out the face, but you can tell it’s a man. You gasp when he moves closer to you.

“Did I scare you?” The figure says in a deep voice. Finally, you are able to see the face of the man that stands in front of you now.

Even in the dark, his features are sharp. His dark curly hair covers his eyes. He takes a cigarette between his lips and then proceeds to light it.

“Uh— kinda.” You finally say after you take a moment to realize what just happened. Which was actually nothing. You’re sure you look like a fool, but still, you feel uneasy in his presence.

“Sorry.” He takes a drag of the cigarette, turning his head to the side before blowing out a cloud of smoke.

“I guess you’re not from around here.” He speaks again.

“No.” You admit you’re not even sure why you’re still here talking to him. You should be back inside where your Eunji is.

“Northside girl?”

“How’d you know?”

“Just a hunch.” He shrugs before taking another hit. “So, what's a Northside girl like you doing over here?” He blows out smoke again.

“Why wouldn’t I be here?” You try to sound as strong and confident as you can. Not letting your voice waver.

“Usually pretty uptight girls like you don’t hang out places like this.”

“You don’t know me.” You defend annoyed by his comments.

“Right, so let me guess. You’re here because you wanna rebel, huh?” He asks condescendingly. He eyes you up and down, and you can feel his gaze burn right through you.

“You’re wrong. I’m only here because my friend invited me.”

“Ah, so she’s the one who wants to rebel. You’re just the one who came along. Am I right?”

“I guess.”

“Well, if I were you, I wouldn’t hang out here alone.” He takes another drag of his cigarette. Then steps on it to finally put it out. “You’re lucky, it’s just me. Any other guy would’ve seen this as an opportunity.” He says.

“Uh, I better get going now.” You don’t know how else to get yourself out of this situation.

“Just be careful.” He warns, and you respond with a nod.

You move through the crowd in search of Eunji. There are too many people around, making it difficult for you to find her. It’s such a tight squeeze that you bump into someone. You turn around to apologize, but before you can, the person is quickly snaking their arm around your waist, pulling your back flush against their body. You try to pull away, but their grip becomes tighter.

“Baby, where are you off to in such a rush? Don’t you know it’s rude to run into someone.” He whispers venomously into your ear.

“Let go of me.” You say, struggling to get out of their grip. Their lips ghost your neck, and you pull away even harder.

“Jin Hyung, get off of her.” You hear a familiar deep voice.

“You’re no fun Taehyung, I’m just having a good time right, darling?” The sleazeball asks you. You attempt to pull away again. Your eyes coming in contact with the guy from outside. Taehyung, you guess his name is.

“Let go of her Hyung; she’s mine.” He barks, and suddenly the arms that were tightly wrapped around you let go.

“Boo, you always get all the good ones,” Jin complains, ultimately giving up and moving on.

“Are you ok?” Taehyung asks.

“Yeah— I’m fine.”

“I told you to be careful.” He berates you. “This isn’t a place for a girl like you.” You knew he was right, you didn’t belong here. You needed to find Eunji and get out of here.

“Where’s your friend?” Taehyung asks with a stern look on his face.

“I don’t know, I can’t find her.”

“I’ll help you, then you need to get out of here.” Taehyung offers his assistance.

Twenty minutes later, you find Eunji drunk and unwilling to go home. If it weren’t for Taehyung, you don’t know how you would’ve gotten her out of there. He picks her up and puts her over his shoulder. Once you get outside, he sets her down. You weren’t sure why he was so nice to you, but you were grateful for it. Or else you would’ve never gotten Eunji out of there and in a cab. Before you can thank Taehyung, he’s already gone.

It was a strange night, and you couldn’t wait to go home.

“Eunji, how could you!” You yell at her. Causing your hungover friend to wince. It’s the next day, and Eunji has finally sobered. You're so ready to give her a piece of your mind.

“I’m sorry y/n I didn’t realize I got that drunk.” She lamely apologizes.

“You could’ve gotten rapped, Eunji!!” You exclaim. “We were on the Southside, which is dangerous enough as it is. We should’ve just gone to the club instead.”

“Yeah, but then I wouldn’t have been able to see Jungkook!” Eunji complains.

“If he liked you that much, he would’ve gone to the club with us instead, and not left you at some random party.” Jungkook was one of the few people on campus that was from the Southside. He was stringing Eunji along, but she’s too blinded by love to see it.

“I wanted to go, I didn’t think he would just leave me.” You can see the tears welling up in her eyes as she speaks. “I’m sorry, y/n.” She lowers her head in shame.

“It’s okay.” You forgive her bringing her in for a hug. She should’ve never gotten involved with Jungkook. Dating a Southsider was just asking for trouble. Her tears stream down her face as she lets you envelop her in a hug.

A few days later, you’re walking to your class. When you notice Jungkook. You hadn’t seen him since that fateful night. He leans against his pickup truck with some girl pressed up against him. Of course, he was seeing someone else. How typical. You stare at them from a distance. Watching carefully as Jungkook stuck his tongue down her throat.

If you were more confident, you’d go tell him off, but who are you kidding? He’s a Southsider, you’d never build the courage up to tell him off. So instead you keep walking. Hoping he doesn’t notice as you pass by.

“So, I thought we could wear matching costumes!” Your roommate Yara suggests. You sit at the table surrounded by your roommates. You pick at your salad tossing the leafy greens around with your fork. You’d much rather be eating with something carbs, but Lisa is on a new health kick.

“Yeah!” Eunji and Lisa agree in unison.

“What do you say, y/n?” Eunji asks, looking at you from across the table. The other girls look at you expectantly.

“Um— sure,” you agree.

The three girls share a look before looking back at you. “Is everything ok, y/n?” Yara asks.

“Just tired is all.” You lie. The truth was all your mind could think of was Jungkook with that other girl. You went back and forth with yourself, deciding if it was the right thing to tell Eunji. You were conflicted, and this information you acquired was eating you up.

“Oh well, maybe you should get to bed early and get some rest. Then tomorrow we can go shopping for the Halloween party!” Yara smiles at you, patting your arm. She picks up your plate for you and takes it to the sink.

You bid the girls goodnight, and you're off to bed. Sometime around 2am you wake up from a nightmare. It was a normal thing you experienced. You didn’t want to be alone, and usually, when you had nightmares, you always went to Eunji’s room. Vice versa.

You pad down the dark hallway towards Eunji’s room. You see the light glow from the cracks of her door, which tells you she’s awake. It’s strange for her to be up at this time. Maybe she’s cramming for a test, you think. You have second thoughts about going in, but you decide to anyway.

You push the door open, and you poke your head in the room. Before you can make out the scene before you in the dim lighting, you hear strange noises, like panting. Your mind doesn’t register it right away, so you stay put. Finally, your eyes land on your roommate's bed, and what you see causes you to shriek. Jungkook balls deep in your friend. His hips that were pounding mercilessly came to a sudden halt. Your friend looks over Jungkook’s shoulder in horror.

“Get out!” Eunji yells at you, and you are quick to leave her room. Your cheeks heat up in embarrassment as you run back to your room.

“Holy shit.” You say to yourself as you enter your room. You wish you would’ve gone with your gut feeling and didn’t go in. Now the image of Jungkook fucking your best friend was forever imprinted in your mind.

The next day you wake up with a headache from lack of sleep. After that incident last night, you couldn’t coax yourself to sleep for a while. Getting a grand total of 3 hours of sleep. You start to get ready for class dressing in comfortable high waisted loose-fitting jeans, and an oversized shirt that you tucked in at the front. You grab your bag and head out the door.

Once you’re home later, you’re plopping yourself onto the couch. Kicking off your shoes messily. Which you know Yara will be on your ass about later. But right now, you could care less. All you cared about was sleep. You didn’t even have the strength to go to your bed. You shut your eyes and fall fast asleep.

“Y/n,” you hear a voice call out to you. You feel them shake your body.

“Mmm, five more minutes.” Your groan sleepily with your eyes still closed.

“Y/n, wake up. You fell asleep on the couch. It’s like 8pm.” You recognize the voice to belong to Eunji. You open your eyes finally, squinting until your eyes adjust to the light.

“Wow, I didn’t think I’d pass out for that long.” You say as you sit up.

“It’s ok, you needed the rest anyway,” Eunji speaks purposefully avoiding eye contact.

“Are things weird now?” You ask your friend, and she finally looks at you.

“I don’t know, are they?”

You sigh because you know what you have to tell her. “Eunji—,” you start off and pause for a moment, thinking of how to word this. “I saw Jungkook the other day with another girl.” You hold your breath waiting for her response.

“Oh,” she frowned furrowing her eyebrows. She takes a second before she speaks. “When?” She questions.

“Yesterday.” She deflates at your answer. He had been with someone the same day he was with her. You knew it had to hurt, and you felt so sorry for her. You reach out to squeeze her hand, and she pulls away. “Eunji?” You call out her name, confused as to why she’s looking at you like she’s upset with you.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” She spits. Her back straightens, and her arms cross in front of her chest.

“I-I didn’t have a chance to.” You admit.

“Really?” She scoffs. “Y/n, you could’ve saved me the pain of sleeping with him if you just would’ve told me straight away.”

“I’m sorry, Eunji. I didn’t know what to do.”

She frowns and shakes her head. “I’m sorry y/n I’m taking out my anger on the wrong person.”

“It’s ok, babe.” You forgive her and go in for a hug.

“So, what should we be?” Lisa asks as you walk through the mall. The Halloween party was in two days, and you hadn’t chosen your costumes yet.

“I don’t get why we have to dress up,” Eunji complains.

“Because it’s fun!” Yara says, not convincing anyone. The only reason you all dressed up for Halloween was for her.

“Well, I think we should be something unconventional.” You suggest as you walk into the costume store.

“So, not slutty bunnies?” Lisa asks as if that was actually going to be her suggestion.

“Hmm,” Yara pauses to browse the racks. “How about slutty nun?!” She suggests as she picks out a skimpy black nun dress from the rack.

“Ooh ya, and we can pair it with fishnet stockings!” Lisa says, pleased with her idea.

“Is this really what you guys want to go as?” You ask, not too convinced with the idea of doing a slutty theme.

“Oh c’mon y/n, it will be fun! We’ll actually be sisters!!” Yara exclaims.

Ultimately you agree on being a slutty nun. You go ahead and purchase your costume. The outfit itself consists of a short, skin-tight black dress. Paired with fishnet stockings, a nun headdress, and a gold cross necklace.

Two days later you’re in your bedroom getting dressed for the party. You pull up the tight dress over your hips, and you hope it zips.

“Yara!” You call for your roommate, and she comes straight away. “Can you help me, zip?” You ask.

“Of course!” She sings happily, helping you pull the dress up the rest of the way. She clutches onto it before pulling the zipper up. “Perfect! You look so hot!”

“Thanks,” you say, and you don’t know why but you blush at her compliment.

“I’m gonna go finish getting ready,” Yara says, and she’s on her way out of your room.

You finish getting ready, applying some makeup, and adding on your accessories. You take a look at yourself in the mirror, and you have to admit you do look hot. You smooth your dress over one more time before grabbing your purse. You wait in the living area until the rest of the girls are ready.

“So, where is this party anyway?” You ask as you stand on the curb waiting for your Uber to arrive. It’s already starting to get cold, and you begin to shiver. Maybe you should’ve brought a jacket. Oh well, hopefully, you’ll warm up soon.

“Uh, I don’t know, actually. I think it’s actually close to the south side.” Lisa says as she stares at the maps app on her phone.

“Why the hell would the party be all the way down there?” Yara asks, she’s nervous as ever.

“I guess they couldn’t find anywhere else to throw it at.” Lisa shrugs, and Yara just sighs.

“Well, let’s be safe!” Yara exclaims. “And let’s not get too wasted.” She says, and you all look at Eunji.

“Hey!” She frowns. “It was only a couple times!” Eunji swears.

“Sure,” the rest of you say in unison.

Soon the Uber is picking you up. The guy seems a bit shady. He eyes you guys up and down. Probably his dream come true, a car full of slutty nuns.

“Be safe.” He comments as you guys step out of the car, and you don’t miss the way his eyes linger. You shiver in disgust.

“What a creep,” Eunji whispers as if the man could still hear her.

The house is huge but a bit run down. You enter holding hands with Eunji as Yara and Lisa lead the way.

“If we split up at some point, let’s agree to meet at the front of the house at 1am,” Yara says. She’s usually the more responsible one. You could say she’s the mother of the group.

“Isn’t that too early?” Eunji complains. Sure Eunji seemed like a sweet girl, but man did she like to party. She went harder than the rest of you usually did. Nevertheless, you still agree on meeting at 1am.

Soon the house starts to fill up more. Pretty much half of the school was at this party. While the other half was at some Halloween party at a fraternity back on campus. After freshman year. You all agreed that you’d never go back to a frat party ever again.

You have a few drinks, and soon enough, you’re feeling good. The bass booms through your body as you dance up against Eunji. There’s something in the air that seems to shift. Everyone who was dancing happily and drunk suddenly comes to a halt. Your body is still pressed close to Eunji. You turn to look over your shoulder, and that’s when you notice the familiar dark curly locks, and you realize it’s the guy from the other night. Taehyung was his name, you think. His gaze penetrates right through you. Everyone stares at his group as they walk into the house. The crowd backing up as the head deeper into the house.

“Hey, who invited south siders?” You hear a voice yell from across the room. Quickly your body tenses, and you stay close to Eunji. The music lowers, and everything goes radio silent.

When Jungkook appears from behind the group, that’s when the party goes back to normal. Jungkook and a few other Southsiders were the only ones really welcomed by your classmates. When Eunji notices Jungkook, she’s leaving your side. With a weak apology. Of course, you think. She must be a masochist to go back to Jungkook.

Soon the rest of the Southsiders start to disperse heading to different areas of the house, but not Taehyung. Instead, he strides over to you. You reel with anticipation as he slowly makes his way towards you.

It was now that you actually took the time to really look at him. He’s gorgeous, his features are sharp, his eyes are big and brown, and they gloss over. And currently, they gape at you. He’s watching you as you start to move your body again dancing to the rhythm of the music. Your hips sway from side to side, and your hands move touching all over your body.

He doesn’t greet you when he reaches you. His body is close but not close enough to touch you. He leans into you. “And what are you supposed to be?” He asks his voice low and gravelly. Sending shivers throughout your body.

It was pretty obvious what you were. At least, so you thought. Either way, you tell him. “A nun.” You say breathlessly, and he just smirks.

Taehyung was reluctant to go to this party in the first place. He knew Northsiders threw lame parties anyway, it just wasn’t his scene.

“C’mon Tae, it’ll be fun. We’ll score some pristine virgin pussy.” Hoseok said as playfully smacked his younger friend with the back of his hand. Maybe getting virgin pussy was enough for him to agree to go. He wanted something different. So why not go to a party on the north side?

“I see,” Taehyung says, as his eyes pierce through you. He eyes you like a dog eyed a piece of meat. Like he could devour you in any second. That look made your core throb.

Taehyung isn’t much of a dancer, and to be honest, he’d much rather get you alone. He leans in closer his lips, ghosting your ear. “I’m going for a smoke.” He insinuates and that’s all he needs to say for you to follow him outside.

“So, what are you doing at a party like this?” Oh, how the tables had turned, you thought. You felt confident, especially now that you were on your own turf. You both sit on the worn-out patio furniture that you found in the backyard.

Taehyung takes out a spliff from his back pocket. “You smoke?” He asks, completely disregarding your question.

“Nah, cigarettes aren’t really my thing.” You say. You tried it once in high school, and you hated the taste.

“This isn’t a regular cig,” he says, taking the bud of the spliff between his lips.

“What is it then?” Taehyung has piqued your interest.

“It’s a weed cigarette.” He proceeds to light it.

You figured that’s what it was when he said it wasn’t a regular cigarette. Weed is something you've never tried before, but it was always something you were curious to try.

“I’ve never smoked weed before.” You sheepishly admit averting his gaze.

“I figured. Wanna try?” He takes the first hit then blows out a big puff of smoke. Unlike the time before he doesn’t move his head to the side. Instead, he blows the smoke directly into your face, and you begin to cough.

“Sorry,” he apologizes lamely. Either way, you accept it. He hands the spliff over to you. You take it between your thumb and your pointer finger. You hold it out in front of your lips, second-guessing on whether or not you should do this.

“Trust me, it’ll feel good.” Taehyung eases your doubts. Without thinking, you take the bud between your lips and take a small drag. Quickly you’re blowing out the smoke your lungs rejected. Causing you to go into a coughing fit.

Taehyung takes the spliff from you and then proceeds to pat your back. “Atta girl.” He watches as your eyes water, and you continue to cough.

“Fuck,” you say when you finally catch your breath.

“That will happen the first few times,” Taehyung tells you before he takes another hit. “But, you did good.” You don’t know why, but you glow at his compliment.

“Want another?” He asks, offering you the cigarette again. You didn’t feel anything yet, and your sure only one hit wasn’t going to do anything. So you agree and take another drag. This time you don’t cough, but you still feel the burn in the back of your throat.

A few more hits, and you’re feeling light. “Maybe this should be your last one.” He says as you take another hit. You were getting addicted to the feeling this high was giving you. “Easy there, tiger.” Taehyung takes the spliff away from you before you can take another hit. “Even if it’s just a spliff, it’s your first time. You have to take it slow, or else it will hit you all at once.”

Taehyung was right suddenly, you feel like you’re floating. All those hits you took finally taking in their full effect. In an attempt to ground yourself, you clutch onto the armrests.

“Feeling ok, there, champ?” Taehyung asks as he finishes off the spliff. He eyes you with a bit of concern. Hoping you’re not one of those types of girls who freak out when they’re high.

For some reason, the nickname irks you. “Don’t call me that. My name is y/n.” You snap still holding onto the armrest as if you’d fly away any second. Your mind starts to race. What kind of weed was this? You thought you were supposed to feel chill when getting high.

“Ok then, sorry y/n, you gonna tell me how you feel?” Taehyung starts to worry now. “You don’t look that good.” He says, and that’s probably not what you want to hear. But you were looking a little uneasy.

“I— I think it’s not working like it’s supposed to.” You say.

“Just relax. C’mon, breathe with me. In.” You both take a deep breath at the same time. “Out.” And then you both exhale. “You just gotta let it happen. Don’t overthink it. Or then you’ll get paranoid.”

You take Taehyung’s advice and try to calm yourself. You close your eyes and focus on your breathing. It seems to work because the anxiety starts to wear off.

“Feeling better?” Taehyung says when he notices, your body start to relax.

“It feels good.” You admit. Suddenly feeling like you’re on cloud nine. Your body is completely calm and heavy. You open your eyes and find Taehyung staring at you. The eyes that were once filled with worry dissipate. He looks at you with hunger in his eyes now.

You don’t realize it, but the way you sit in the chair totally lax. With your legs spread wide, you give him a full view of your cotton panties. He’s high, like hella high, high enough that he might do something stupid. Because man you were hot, and what was sad is that you probably didn’t even know it. Taeyhyung wanted to be the one to show you just how beautiful you really are. What the hell was he thinking? You were nothing but trouble for him. A guy like him didn’t belong with a girl like you. You are actually going somewhere in life. You have a bright future ahead of you. He couldn’t fuck that up for you.

“Taehyung,” you say in almost a moan, and he swears his cock stirs in his pants.

He clears his throat. “Uh- yeah?” You stare at him with hunger in your eyes now. Not so innocent as you seem. He starts to wonder if you were actually sitting like that on purpose.

“It feels so good,” you say in a breathy tone. You were soaring high, and there was no sign of you coming down anytime soon. You gawk at Taehyung as he sits in front of you with his jaw clenched. You could tell he wanted you, by the way his eyes shamelessly raked up and down your body. The dress you wore was skin tight, letting him see all your curves perfectly. You noticed where his eyes would constantly fall, which was between your legs. You’d be lying if you said you were unaware of the way you were sat. You could feel the cool breeze between your legs, but what you really wanted was Taehyung between your legs.

“Taehyung,” you call his name again. Your eyes lock, and you grip the chair harder under his intense gaze.

“Yep?”

“How does it feel like to have sex when you’re high?” You’re not sure what prompts you to ask this. Maybe it’s your inebriated state. Or probably how your panties start to feel damp from just looking at Taehyung.

A low chuckle emits from his throat. He cocks an eyebrow at you as you patiently wait for him to answer. “It feels fucking amazing.” He doesn’t lie. He’s done it countless times before, and every time was good.

Your heart starts to race and your core begins to ache. Your mind vividly starts to picture how sex with Taehyung would feel. You bet he’s big, so big that the stretch would sting a bit. You stare at his crotch now imagining what it would be like if he just took it out right now. Suddenly your legs snap shut your imagination getting to you. The ache is too much and you need any friction you can get, so you squeeze your thighs shamelessly in front of Taehyung. Which is now looking at you with desire in his eyes. He couldn’t believe the scene in front of him. He would have never expected a girl like you would be so turned on by him doing nothing at all. He guesses that’s what weed does to you. Heightens all your senses.

“I wanna know.” You finally say after a few quiet minutes pass by. “I— I wanna know what it feels like.” You admit to him your cheeks flushing, and if it wasn’t for the weed in your system right now, you would’ve never had the balls to say this.

“Feeling brave, aren’t we?” He patronizes you with a smirk on his face. There’s not a bone in Taehyung’s body that doesn’t want to fuck you. You look delicious in front of him, and all he wants is to fuck you until you can’t walk straight, but he can’t. He can’t just get a Northside girl high and fuck her. That’s just asking for trouble. Taehyung leans back in his chair and spreads his legs wide. He’s conflicted about whether or not to play your game. It’s a dangerous one, and he doesn’t want to lose.

Your hope was that Taehyung would show you. That he’d bend you over the glass patio table and fuck you until you felt euphoria.

“I’m just really high and horny.” You confess boldly. God, you really were high. Taehyung chokes on his own spit, not expecting you to go that far. The sweet innocent north side girl was just a facade.

“I can’t help you out there, babe.” Taehyung shuts you down. Ultimately deciding its best not to fuck around with a Northside girl.

“Why not?” Your lips form a pout.

“You’re high, like really high. I just can’t fuck you. It’s not right.”

“But, I’m asking for it, Taehyung.” Your voice is low and whiny. Just the tone he loves to hear. You’re driving him crazy.

If Taehyung wasn’t going to touch you, then you were going to touch yourself. You spread your legs wide again. Your hand dipping in between your thighs. The pads of your fingers run along the fabric of your underwear. Coaxing your arousal out of you. Damping the cotton fabric. You don’t break eye contact with Taehyung the whole time. He wets his lips before pulling them into a smug smile. You in fact were such a dirty girl he thought, and that made him hot all over.

“Fine, c‘mere.” He’s patting his thigh, offering his thigh as your seat. You’re getting up with shaky legs. Your body feels heavy, and you feel like it takes you ages just to walk over to Taehyung. “Face forward.” He instructs. You take a seat on his thigh. Your legs on either side. Your back is towards him, and his arm curls around your waist. He pulls you back closer to him so that your back rests against his chest. “Just relax,” Taehyung says in a soft voice.

Your heart is racing, so you begin to focus on your breathing again. The hand that isn’t wrapped around your waist finds itself between your thighs. His fingers run along your covered slit until he finds the nub that has you sighing. He presses light circles against your clit.

“Is this okay?” Taehyung needs to hear it one more time.

It’s more than okay, you think. “Yes,” you breathe, and he presses harder. You squeeze your eyes shut and focus on the pleasure that seeps through your body as his touch becomes harder.

He was completely right; it feels fucking amazing. If it felt this good just barely being touched, you could only imagine how it would feel with him stuffed inside you. The thought only makes thrust your hips into his touch.

“Ok, calm down now.” He says into your ear. You didn’t realize it, but you were actually thrusting your hips a lot faster than you thought. “I’ll give you what you want,” his promise is enough to soak your panties thoroughly.

His large hand slips underneath your panties. His bare touch on you causes you to shiver. He tests the water by sliding one finger at your weeping entrance.

“Oh god—.” It feels so good you can’t believe how much you’re affected by just one finger entering you.

Once he’s in all the way, he curls his finger, slowly beginning to thrust his finger. “How is it?” Taehyung asks. He couldn’t help but nuzzle into the crook of your neck. Taking in your sweet strawberry scent mixed with sweat.

“So good,” you moan. He’s getting you there quickly. You feel slightly light-headed when his second finger enters you. You grip onto the armrest as Taehyung’s pace quickens. You’re so far gone now, you’re just relishing in the pure pleasure that Taehyung is giving you.

It would be a great lie if Taehyung said he wasn’t affected by you. His cock twitches when your ass accidentally rubs against his crotch. Keep it in your pants Taehyung, keep it in your pants. He kept telling himself. It was so hard considering were complete putty in his hands right now. You’re tight around his fingers, and he can only imagine how your cunt would feel around his dick.

Your head falls back against Taehyung’s shoulder. You gasp out loud when you feel his finger brush against your sweet spot. “Holy shit,” you keen. The pressure between your legs quickly building. It becomes too much, the feeling is overwhelming. Taehyung's fingers are now mercilessly fucking into you, and your hips move unabashedly against his touch.

“Think you can take another?” Taehyung asks his voice low and gruff. All you could do is nod in response. You were in no condition to form proper sentences.

“Greedy girl, aren’t you?” Taehyung goads, but secretly he loves it. Taehyung’s third finger enters you. Slipping in with ease. With each pump of his fingers, you’re getting closer and closer to your release. He can feel your walls tighten, and he can tell you’re close. He moves his fingers rapidly, curling them so that they repeatedly hit your g spot.

“Taehyung!!!” You’re crying out your hand clamps onto his wrist. “Oh shit shit shit,” you bleat. Your walls convulse around Taehyung's delicious fingers.

“Atta girl cum around my fingers like the dirty girl you are.” Taehyung grunts getting lost in you. Without even noticing, he begins to rut his hips against your ass. Desperately seeking any friction, he can get.

The pressure is too much for you to handle. Suddenly it snaps like a rubber band. Pleasure oozing through your whole body. You’ve never come this hard in your entire life. Your chest heaves, and your muscles tense. Your eyes are rolling back, and you struggle to moan. Your hips rut against Taehyung’s hand, milking every last drop of your delicious orgasm. You rut until you can’t no more. Sensitivity quickly takes over, causing you to yank Taehyung’s hand out from between your legs. He opts just to wipe the stickiness on his black jeans.

“I just came, holy shit,” you pant still trying to wrap your mind around what just happened.

“I know,” Taehyung chuckles. He shifts in his seat, his erection becoming uncomfortable against his pants. “Need a minute?” He asks, sitting up straight in the chair. Your body still limp on his.

“Yeah,” you breathe. You attempt to collect yourself, but your body feels even heavier after your orgasm. You are so blissed out that you swear you could fall asleep on Taehyung right now.

Suddenly Taehyung hears footsteps you are still too far gone to even notice. “Uh- hey, we should get going.” He says.

“Can’t move,” you admit, your body slack.

The footsteps get closer, and Taehyung has no choice, but to get you off of him. You stand on your weak legs almost falling over, but Taehyung is quick to catch you.

“Y/n!” Yara calls out to you, her voice laced with worry. When she sees you, she runs up to you, grabbing out of Taehyung’s hold.

“What’s going on here?” Yara questions austerely as she pins Taehyung with a brash look.

Taheyung doesn’t really know how to respond. What was he going to say that he got her friend high and finger fucked until she cried? “We were just hanging.”

“Well, what the fuck is wrong with her?” Yara questions as she holds your wobbly body upright.

Just then, you start to laugh. This whole situation is so funny. If Yara would have come 60 seconds earlier, she would have found you in a very compromising position. For some reason, that makes you laugh.

“She’s high,” Taehyung states the obvious.

“Y/n honey, are you okay?” Yara asks you, cupping your face as she looks into your eyes. Which were completely blown out.

“Just peachy,” you smile brightly, and Yara just sighs.

“Need help?” Taheyung offers because it looks like she might need some help to get you out of here.

“No, I got.” Yara shoots Taehyung a dirty look. And he’s not sure why she’s blaming him for you getting high.

“Sure.” With that, Taehyung’s walking away. Even though a part of him felt like he should stay and help, but it was made very clear that his help wasn’t wanted.

The next morning you wake up with a massive headache, and your mouth feels dry. You lay on your bed, whining in pain. With your eyes still closed, you feel around for your phone until you find it. You peek through one eye to see the time displayed on the LED screen, it reads 2pm. Damn, you had knocked out for a long time. Reluctantly you pull yourself out of bed and head to the bathroom for a warm shower. As you shower pieces of last night, start to come back to you. The memories of Taehyung touching you flood in vividly. Your thighs press together at your thoughts. You begin to crave his touch again. Your fingers ghost where his fingers were just last night. The rest of your shower is spent thinking of Taehyung as you use your memories to get yourself off.

“What was that about last night?” Yara asks as she hands you a sandwich, and your mouth begins to water. You had eaten in hours, and it’s the first time you’ve had carbs in forever.

You take a big bite of the sandwich, washing it down with water before you answer. “Honestly, I don’t know.” You’re not sure what had gotten into you last night. You acted entirely out of character. You weren’t sure how to explain yourself.

“Y/n, you can’t just go around getting high with random guys,” she chastises. You knew she was right, but technically Taehyung wasn’t a completely random person.

“I knew him.” You say, and it’s not entirely a lie. You just didn’t mention just how much you knew him.

“You knew him?” Yara cocks an eyebrow in suspicion.

“Uh- yeah, I met him at a party on the Southside.”

“You what?” Her mouth drops at your revelation. “He’s a Southsider? Y/n, you were hanging alone with a Southsider?!”

“Calm down. He’s not that bad, and you see, I’m fine.” You say nonchalantly.

“You’re fine because I arrived just in time. Y/n, this isn’t like you?” As if she knew who you really were.

“I’m fine because he’s a good guy. You’re just too prejudiced to see it.” That was a bit cold, you have to admit. And you can tell by the look on Yara’s face.

“Whatever.” With that, she’s storming off to her bedroom. Leaving you to finish your food alone.

Jungkook slumps onto the couch. His head falls back as he feels the weed slowly take over. “So, what were you saying?” He asks Taehyung who is currently sitting next to him.

“I said how much do you know about—,” Taehyung pauses, trying hard to remember your name. Not that you weren’t memorable, because you definitely were. He was too far gone that night, and he’s sure you only mentioned it once. “Y/n?” He finally remembers.

“Hmm,” Jungkook hums as he thinks about what he knows about you. It wasn’t much, he knew that you were friends with Eunji, but other than that he knew squat. “Not much, I know she’s Eunji’s friend. She’s a quiet one. She’s never really talked much to me.” Jungkook says, taking another hit of the blunt before passing it to Taehyung. “Why do you ask?”

“I might’ve fingered her at the party last week,” Taehyung admits taking a huge hit, holding it in for a few seconds before exhaling.

“Nice,” Jungkook says, encouraging his friend's sexual encounter.

Taehyung wasn’t sure of what to make out of this situation. After that night he couldn’t forget you. He got off to the thought of you later that night and the days to come. It was like you encapsulated him. His thoughts only consumed of you lately, and he didn’t know why he found you so intriguing. Maybe it was because you were forbidden fruit.

“Want me to set you guys up?” Jungkook asks. His eyes closed, completely high off his ass.

“Nah.” Taehyung didn’t need Jungkook of all people to set him up.

“You sure? Because there’s a party this weekend and you can come with me if you want.” Jungkook offers.

Taehyung mulls the possibility of going to the party. “How do you know she’ll be there?” Taehyung asks.

“If Eunji’s going, then y/n’s going.”

Would he really go to another northside party again just to see you? Or was that too desperate? Taehyung was confused as to why he was feeling this way.

The next time you see Taehyung, it’s a Saturday night. The party is coming to an end, and you’ve been here long enough. Your limbs ache from dancing too much. You’re ready to go home soon. You’re about to collect your friends when you notice that familiar black curly head of hair. Your eyes zero in on his face. He sports a new tattoo on his face that reads “a shadow like me.” You have to admit your stomach leaps when you see him. You were disappointed at the thought of never seeing him again. You never expected him to show up to another northside party.

Naturally, you begin walking towards him. Pushing through the crowd until you’re face to face with him. “What are you doing here?” You breathe, and his hand curls around your neck, bringing you closer to him.

His forehead pressed against yours, and you feel his warm breath on you as he speaks. “I couldn’t stop thinking about you.” He admits, and you hold your breath as you anticipate his next move. His lips crash onto yours, and you finally get to taste him. His lips move feverishly against yours.

You stay like that for a while lips smacking, bodies grinding up against each other, and groping whatever you can get your hands on. The next thing you know, you’re in Taehyung's truck. His hands grazing your cheeks before he pulls you into another kiss. Eventually, you pull away, lungs burning for air. “I wanna make you feel good.” You say in a quiet voice. You look up at him with expectant eyes.

Taehyung stares at your swollen pink lips before answering. “How?” He’s intrigued by your offer.

“Anything,” your voice is shaky. “I just wanna return the favor.” It was only fair, you thought.

Taehyung contemplates whether or not he should or shouldn’t. He’s already gone this far, why not keep going? How is he supposed to deny you? Especially when you look at him through your lashes practically begging to touch him.

Your hands reach over the console, you palm him over his pants. Taehyung watches you with curiosity. You can feel him stiffen under your touch. For effect, you shrug off the straps of your dress off. Revealing your breasts to him. Nipples coming to a perk from the cool air. Taehyung shamelessly stares at your chest. Tent already forming in his pants.

You lean in closer, undoing his jeans. You can see how hard he is through his boxers, the outline of his dick prominent. Impatiently you take his cock out, and he’s rigid under your touch. You’re like a kid on Christmas, anxiously unwrapping your present. When his cock springs free, your eyes widen. He’s just as big as you imagined him to be, and he isn’t completely hard yet.

Your breasts hang low as you hover over Taehyung’s dick. Taehyung watches you intently as spit drivels from your mouth onto his hardening member. You use your saliva as a lubricant. Taking him in your hand and stroking him until he’s firm under your touch.

“You know,” Taehyung breathes hard through his nose. “When I first saw you, I never pegged you for such a dirty girl.” He grits his teeth when you squeeze the tip. “But here you are, spitting on my dick as you salivate over it.” His haughty smile makes your chest fill with pride.

You hold him at the base while your tongue teases the tip. Slowly licking up the prominent vein that bulges. Finally, your lips wrap around the sensitive head, and you begin to suck lightly. Taehyung draws a heavy sigh at the sensation. Slowly you bring as much as you can fit him into your mouth. Your mouth widening before your lips suction a seal, causing Taehyung to hiss. Your head begins to bob up and down. Taehyung doesn’t miss the opportunity to entangle his fingers in your hair, getting a good grip. Things start to get messy soon. Your saliva coating his whole dick, as you taste his bitter pre-cum on your tongue. Your hand is covered in your own spit as you jerk whatever you can’t fit in your mouth. Your wrist working a quick twisting motion.

“Fuck—,” Taehyung says as he tosses his head back against the headrest. He revels in the feeling of your mouth on his cock. “Who taught you to suck dick like that?” He questions with an exaggerated groan. All you can do is hum in response, causing Taehyung’s grip on you to become tighter.

“Shit— I’m gonna cum,” Taehyung warns. You pull away, jerking him with your fist. You look up at him, admiring the way he looks right now. Jaw clenched, eyes screwed shut. When he cums, it’s with a drawn-out groan. “Ahhh—,” he hisses as your hand grips him tighter. His cum spurts everywhere. Painting your face and dribbling down your fist. Taehyung lets out a sigh before looking down at the mess he’s made. God, you look so hot right now with his cum decorating your face. You were driving him crazy.

“Fuck, here you go,” he hands you a T-shirt that he has in his back seat. You use it to wipe off the cum on your face. Taehyung knows he’ll probably regret asking this, but you literally just blew his brains out, it’s the least he could do. “You need a ride home?”

Just then, your phone starts to vibrate. “Actually, it’s my friends. They’re looking for me, but uh, thanks anyway.” Suddenly there’s an awkward pause. Both of you not knowing what to say.

Taehyung can’t believe he’s going to ask you this, but he knows this isn’t the last time he wants to see you. “So uh- there’s this race next Friday night. Do you wanna come?”

Your stomach leaps at his invitation. You didn’t expect him to ask to see you again. And to be honest the thought of not seeing him disappointed you. “Yeah,” you say, trying to sound indifferent. When really you were freaking out inside.

“Cool, Jungkook’s gonna be there, so I’m sure your friend is going too.”

“Right, I’ll just hitch a ride with her.” You say, hoping Eunji's ok with you tagging along.

“Okay, so I’ll see you then.” Taehyung doesn’t understand what’s come over him. He’s usually not this awkward around girls. With that, you’re climbing out of Taehyung’s truck. Going off to find your friends.

As you walk home with Eunji after class a few days later. You try to figure out how to ask her if she’s going to the race. She doesn’t know that you’ve been seeing a Southsider. Although she shouldn’t be one to judge since she’s been dating a Southsider herself. An unfaithful one at that. You start to wonder if you’ll ever get to that point with Taehyung. Or was this just a fling. Was he even interested in you? Or did he just like to mess around?

“Anyways, I was thinking of maybe dropping my Psych class.” Eunji pulls you from your thoughts. She’s probably been babbling this whole time.

“Why?” You ask, pretending you’ve been paying attention.

“I just said, because I’m not sure if that’s the route I wanna take.” Eunji has always been so indecisive. Already changing her major twice.

“Oh, right.” You lie. “So, this weekend, do you have any plans?”

She walks particularly fast, and she doesn’t answer you right away. She knows you’re not a fan of Jungkook, so you assume she’s contemplating whether to tell you are not. Before you give her the chance to possibly lie, you go ahead and ask. “Are you going to the race with Jungkook?”

Her eyes widen slightly before she answers. “How’d you know about the race?”

“Taehyung told me about it, Jungkook’s friend.” You explain. “I- met him at a party a few weeks ago.”

“Oh, I see. Well, I guess you can come with if you want.” She offers.

“Yeah, I said I’d go with you. If that’s okay.”

“Yeah, it is.” You’re grateful she said yes. “I didn’t know you were seeing someone? You said his name is Taehyung, right?”

“Mhm, I’m not really seeing him. We just met at the Halloween party.” You say. You’re around the corner to your shared apartment. You want to cut the conversation short because you don’t want Yara to overhear. “Anyway, thanks for letting me come with.”

“Of course, babe.” She smiles at you sweetly. At least you could count on her not to judge you for wanting to see a southside boy.

Friday night, you start to panic about what you’re going to wear. It’s one of those times where you hate everything you have in your closet. You dig through your wardrobe, looking through it as if something new will magically appear. Ultimately you decide on a silk dress paired with stockings and a leather jacket.

At midnight when Eunji comes to your room to see if you’re ready. You’re a bit nervous about going to an illegal street race, but you push those thoughts away. You’re just excited to see Taehyung again, and you’re willing to go to the race to do so.

You meet at an abandoned parking lot somewhere in the southside. You have to admit you’re a bit scared being out in the southside so late. When you don’t see Taehyung right off the bat. You start to get nervous. You stick by Eunji’s side, and you can tell it annoys Jungkook. Soon though, you see Taehyung’s truck pull up. Your stomach flutters with excitement.

“I’ll catch up with you guys later.” You say to Eunji and Jungkook. But they’re too much in their own world to pay attention to you.

Taehyung gets out of his truck and as soon as he notices you he’s headed your way. He shamelessly checks you out, and you cheeks heat to a flush. He greets you with a simple ‘hey.’

“Hey,” you return lips pulling into a smile.

He pulls you in for a kiss, that’s enough to make your panties damp. You melt into the kiss, and his arms wrap around you. Inching towards the curve of your ass. He pulls you in even closer by his hold on your butt. To your dismay, eventually, he pulls away.

“I’ve got to say hi to some people, wanna come with?” You nod in response, and you follow his lead as he walks towards a group of guys. They currently stand around and lean on the cars. Smoking what smells like weed. When you walk up, Taehyung doesn’t bother to introduce you. Not like they care who you are because they totally ignore you. You watch as they all greet each other. They talk about stuff that you can’t quite piece together. Once Taehyung’s done, he’s grabbing you by the hand.

“C’mon.” He says as he leads you to an older BMW that looks like it’s been fixed up. A tall slim guy sits against the hood, beer in hand. Taehyung actually introduces you this time. You find out his name is Hoseok, and that he’s Taehyung’s friend. He barely greets you with a tight smile and a nod.

Soon the parking lot starts to fill with more cars. A lot of them you don’t know the names of. Then again you’re not really interested in cars. In fact, if any other guy asked you to a race, you would’ve declined, but there’s something about Taehyung that you can’t deny him. You watch as Taehyung smokes a cigarette while sipping a beer. He talks to Hoseok for a bit about some sort of deal that they’re doing. It makes you wonder what kind of business Taehyung is into.

The cars start to pull up in a line, side by side. You think the race will start soon. Taehyung slips one arm around your waist. Pulling you closer to his side. You can feel the warmth of his body, and your heart starts to race. When you look up at him, he’s completely focused on the cars as they rev their engines. Excitement looms over you as you see the cars begin to take off. Tires screech and rubber burns, leaving a cloud of smoke in their wake. You stand there and watch as Taehyung holds you tight. You feel an adrenaline rush, watching the cars zoom off. You guess the rush you felt was also the same feeling as being with Taehyung. He was forbidden, dangerous, and unpredictable. You shouldn’t be with him, but you just couldn’t help yourself.

“Fuck, Kihyun, better win this race.” Taehyung spits at the older man next to him.

“If he doesn’t, he owes us a fuck ton of money,” Hoseok says as he sips his beer.

“The bastard doesn’t have anything to his name. He won’t be able to give us shit.” Taehyung shakes his head. You’re not sure what they mean. You didn’t know who this Kihyun guy was and why it was so important for him to win. You assume Taehyung is betting on this race.

The cars run the first lap, and everyone starts to cheer. One more lap and you figure the race is done because the cheers become louder.

“Son of a bitch.” Hoseok grumbles, throwing the beer can on the ground, before smashing it with his foot. You take that as Kihyun lost the race. He walks off, leaving you and Taehyung alone.

“I’m assuming Kihyun didn’t win?” You break the silence.

“Definitely not.” Taehyung shakes his head.

Just then, you notice Changbin, an all-star athlete at your University with a pristine reputation. What was someone like him doing here?

“Who won?” You ask out of curiosity. You weren’t really paying attention, so you did get to see who came in first.

“The guy in the Porsche.” Taehyung gestures with his head to the direction of the car. That’s precisely where you see Changbin standing. With the guy who drove the car and won. The guy gets out of the car handing the keys over to Changbin.

“Wait, so who won? Changbin or the guy driving?” You’re confused as to why the guy was using Changbin’s car to race.

“Wait, you know that, kid?” Taehyung’s eyebrows furrow.

“Yeah, he goes to my school.” You explain.

“Of course, he does.” Taehyung scoffs, but you don’t push him about it anymore.

Next thing you know, you’re at a party. It’s at a rundown house, it's small and quaint. There aren't many people at the party.

“So, who are these people?” You ask into Taehyung’s ear. As you sit on his lap on a torn-up couch.

“Just a few people from my group.” He says vaguely. You want to ask more, but you know he won’t tell you anything.

You felt like you stood out. As if everyone knew you lived in the Northside. You figure somehow the word got out. You sip on the drink Taehyung made you, and you’re starting to ease up. The music’s boring and to be honest the parties kind of dull. Not like the first Southside party you went to, which was a total rager.

As if Taehyung can sense your boredom, he speaks into your ear. “Wanna get out of here?” Taehyung asks in a low suggestive voice.

“Yeah,” you agree in a breathy tone.

Before Taehyung can lead you to a bedroom or wherever he was going to take you. There’s a loud banging at the door. Suddenly everyone’s running out the back. Including you, because as soon as Taehyung hears the first knock. He’s already pulling you onto your feet, you both dash out the back along with everyone else. Well, at least with the people who were able to escape. Luckily Taehyung’s truck is a few houses down. Since the parking at the house was overcrowded. You run through a few backyards before you reach the truck.

“What the hell was that about?” You question as you pant once you’re in the truck.

“Don’t worry about it. At least we’re out of there.” Taehyung is speeding off without another word.

After that night, Taehyung never invited you to the Southside again.

‘

You spend the rest of the semester hanging out with Taehyung any chance you got. He’d always pick you on the outskirts of town, and he’d drive you around until there was no one in sight. Since meeting Taehyung, you got pretty comfortable with smoking weed. You’d sit in his truck hotboxing it, which eventually led to something sexual. Sex with Taehyung was amazing. He understood your body so well, and always satisfied your needs. He truly fucked like a pornstar. You could honestly say it was the best you’d ever had. You both hadn’t established whether you were in a relationship or not. But you assumed you were exclusive. You didn’t sleep with anybody else, and you made that clear to Taehyung. You also made him promise not to sleep with anyone since you weren’t using condoms. You only hoped that Taehying was keeping his promise. As for your friends, knowing about Taehyung. They didn’t, except for Eunji. It was like an unspoken rule that you and Eunji didn’t talk about your relationships. You didn’t pry on her relationship with Jungkook, and she didn’t pry about Taehyung.

“I wonder when we’ll actually fuck in an actual bed.” You complain as you climb into the back seat of Taehyung’s truck.

“I’ll rent us a hotel room if that’s what you're asking.” Taehyung shimmies down his jeans, the tip of his cock peeking out the waistband of his boxers, the head shiny with pre-cum. He’s already rock hard since your little makeout session from before.

“What am I a hooker?” You ask unimpressed.

“If that’s what you’re into. We can role-play.” Taehyung jokes. He knows you want him to bring you to his place for once, but he won’t let that happen. He’s driven you there once, but that was to “drop something off” you assume it had to do with his “business.” That he also won’t tell you about.

“I just wanna be wined and dined, ya know?” You lean down to situate yourself in your hands and knees. Pulling up your skirt over your ass. Dropping your back and displaying your plump ass for Taehyung.

“Wine and dined, huh?” Taehyung repeats, his hands going to grab at your ass cheeks. “We can arrange that,” he leans down from behind and begins to kiss up your spine, before continuing on.“At a hotel.” He smirks even though you can’t see him.

“Fine, at least let it be a nice one.” You bargain. Closing your eyes as Taehyung’s lips meet the juncture of your neck.

“Only the finest for this sweet little pussy,” he coos. His lips sucking pink marks into your neck, that you know, you’ll have to cover later.

You had definitely become more comfortable with Taehyung. He wasn’t as intimidating as he was when you first met him. You just had to get to know him to see he wasn’t a bad guy. Maybe he did questionable things, but you’d never know. He never liked to share that side of him.

Taehyung’s fingers on your folds is what brings you back from your thoughts. He teases, running his fingers along the slit. It’s a light and ticklish sensation. Soon enough, you’re sighing out loud when you feel his fingers dip into your core. You’re wet, but not wet enough. Two of his fingers feel inside of you. Not fucking you just yet. It’s enough though to get you wetter than you were before. When he finally decides to finger fuck you. You toss your head back and relish in the feeling of his fingers rubbing against your slick walls.

“Can you take another?” Taehyung asks, speeding up the pace of his fingers.

“Mhm,” you nod. With that, a third finger is delving in. You rock your hips backward, meeting every thrust of his fingers. And just like that, your arousal starts to flow out of you. The lewd squelching sounds filling the truck as Taehyung is knuckle deep.

“Oh God, Taehyung, I’m gonna come,” you warn.

“Don’t,” He commands. Taehyung knows you're close by the way your pussy has a death grip on his fingers.

“Why?” You whine you’re so close. You don’t understand why he doesn’t want you to.

He doesn’t answer, though. All he does is retract his fingers from your warm wet hole. Leaving you quaking and your pussy pulsating around nothing.

“Fuck, Taehyung.” You make a whining noise from your throat.

Taehyung places a soothing kiss on the small of your back. “Just wanted you to cum on my cock first.” He teases, rubbing your ass cheek before smacking it. Your body jolts forward, and you moan out loud. “You like that?” He asks.

“Yes,” you moan.

Taehyung would play with you more, but he’s feeling pretty restless today. Something happened with “work,” and he definitely won’t tell you. All you know is he’s had a pretty bad day, and all he wants to do is blow your back out. That being his exact words.

Taehyung finally releases his cock from the confines of his boxers. Letting spring out before taking it into his hand. He uses the hand that’s sticky with your arousal to stroke his dick. He brings the tip to your folds. Rubbing the head against them. He’s sighing at the sensation it causes to the sensitive tip.

Without even a warning, he’s plunging straight in. Causing your back to bow. “Unghhh,” you groan when Taehyung quickly draws back and thrusts forward with a heavy weight. Holy shit, he must’ve really had a bad day, you think.

His hands are on your hips, guiding you with every thrust. His hips consistently hitting your ass, leaving red marks behind.

“You like it when I fuck you hard?” Taehyung asks through a groan. And you nod profusely in response.

He’s fucking his frustrations out, and you feel it, deep inside you. The truck shakes with every movement. Soon the windows fog shielding you from the view of a prying eye. Your fingers dig into the leather seats. As you barely hold yourself up.

“I’m close,” Taehyung admits. Usually, he wouldn’t cum this fast, but either way, you embrace it.

“Oh—” you say at a particularly hard thrust. “Cum in Taehyung, please! Fuck— I need it!” You sob. You reach for your clit hurriedly rubbing at it. Hoping to get where Taehyung is soon.

“Fuck, you want my cum baby?” He asks as if you would deny him. He just loves the confirmation.

“Yes! Yes! Yes!” You chant. The pressure threatening to explode.

Taehyung’s thrusts are carnal, his hands leave bruises in their wake. Bruises that you have to explain when you’re changing in dressing rooms to your friends. You’ll lie, though, and they’ll probably see right through it.

“Fuck, you’re gonna take this dick and my cum you hear me?” Taehyung growls. His cock twitching inside of you, his end nearing soon.

“Oh fuck yeah—,” you sob, ready to take him all.

“For fuck sake,” Taehyung groans. With a few more hard thrusts, Taehyung is filling you up. His hips still as he lets his cum shoot into your pussy. You’re moaning when you feel his cum fill you up.

Knowing you haven’t cum yet Taehyung keeps fucking you. His cum threatens to spill out, but with every pump, his dick is pushing it back in. His cock coated with a mix of his cum and your sticky juices. He slides in and out so effortlessly, causing the most delicious sensation. With a hand on your clit and Taehyung’s relentless pounding, you cum with a strangled moan. You feel like the wind has been knocked out of you. Your muscle tense as you ride the wave of pleasure. Once it’s over, you gasp for air.

“Fuck,” Taehyung hisses as he pulls out, his sensitivity in overdrive now. “You okay?” He asks, panting. As if he hasn’t just fucked you into another dimension.

“Mhm,” you hum, slumping down on the leather seat.

You’re weak, but you still manage to clean yourself up. Taking the cum rag to wipe yourself before sliding your panties back on. With heavy bodies, you both get into the front seats. You sit there for a moment, recuperating. Eventually, Taehyung takes you home. And you can’t help but think of him for the rest of the night.

Taehyung has disappeared on you once before. He was M.I.A for a few days. No texts, calls, or anything. Then out of nowhere, he just reappeared like nothing had happened. Dismissing your worry as an overreaction. This time though, things felt different. It had been over a week with no sign of Taehyung. Jungkook has even been missing. Eunji was a mess, thinking it was Jungkook breaking up with her again. He made a habit of this. It made you wonder if that’s what Taehyung was doing to you. You didn’t think so, though. He was pretty straight forward you’re sure if he didn’t want you he’d just tell you, right? Something doesn’t sit right with you. You make the rash decision one night to go find Taehyung.

You know you shouldn’t be here alone, but Taehyung left you no choice. You walk into what seems to be an empty house after no one answers. The doors unlocked so you were able to come right in.

“Taehyung,” you call out, and no one responds. You look around the house, and it appears to be abandoned. You know it’s not, but it seems like whoever was here just picked up and left.

“Tae,” you call out once more. No response. Once you reach the glass sliding door at the back of the house, you can see two figures. You quietly open the door stepping out. You can hear a few curses, and when you come closer, you notice it’s Taehyung, and you think Changbin. You walk closer towards them. Their yells become louder.

When Taehyung’s fist comes in contact with Changbin’s jaw you wince. His fist is relentless. Each blow harder than the other. It takes you a moment to process what was happening. Once you come to your senses, you’re running towards Taehyung.

“Taehyung, stop!” You scream, pulling Taehyung off the younger man.

Taehyung turns around, looking at you with crazed eyes. “What the hell are you doing here, y/n?” He questions letting go of Changbin. His body drops limply to the ground.

You can’t seem to speak, you feel your throat tighten, and tears threaten to spill from your eyes. You were scared. Who was this person? This wasn’t the Taehyung, you know. Or at least you thought you knew.

Just then, Hoseok is walking out of the house. “What the fuck is going on here? I thought you were going to take care of it.” Hoseok’s voice is rough, scaring you even more.

“Hyung, I need you to take over.” Taehyung gestures to Changbin, who’s still lying on the floor. His body seems to be lifeless.

“Fine,” Hoseok spits. “Next time, keep your bitch in line.”

Taehyung’s bloody hands grab you by your wrist leading you back into the house.“Y/n, what the hell are you doing here?!”

“You— you didn’t answer my calls.” You stutter. You stare at Taehyung blood-stained hands.

“That’s no reason for you to come looking for me. What the fuck were you thinking?” Taehyung raises his voice, and it causes you to finally start crying. You let go, tears streaming down your face and all you can do is bow your head.

Taehyung has no sympathy for you. “C’mon.” His voice gruff laced with annoyance. He pulls you by your arm once again, leading you to the truck.

Once you’re on his truck, you find the strength to apologize. “I’m sorry.” Your voice is still scratchy from crying.

“Whatever, just don’t come looking for me again?” He grips the steering wheel harder.

“Ok.”

“You could've got fucking hurt y/n. Hoseok doesn’t fuck around. Plus, it’s too fucking late for you to be hanging around the southside so late by yourself.” Taehyung berates you. You can feel your tears come again.

The rest of the car ride is silent.

Taehyung pulls into your apartment complex. He puts the truck in park, and he sits there for a second. Finally, he sighs, lowering his head. “I’m sorry you had to see that shit.”

“You almost killed the guy Taehyung.” You sob.

Fuck, he really wishes you hadn’t shown up. “He’s going to be fine.” Taehyung dismisses you. He was only roughing up the guy, he thought.

“What did he do to deserve that Taehyung? He was innocent.” You knew Changbin hung around the southside sometimes, but you never expected him to get beat up by Taehyung of all people.

“Pfft, innocent?” Taehyung shakes his head. “The guys a piece of shit. He fucking robbed us. So I had to take care of it.”

Take care of it. The words ring inside your head.

“So what you were just gonna kill the guy?”

“What? No! Y/n, I don’t even have to explain myself to you.” He shakes his head again. “You know what, just get out.”

“What?” You feel like you’ve been punched in the gut. Your body moves slowly, slipping out of the raised truck.

“Go on,” Taehyung instructs. You listen and carry your heavy body back to your apartment.

The next morning your eyes are puffy from all the crying. You look at yourself in the mirror for just a second before quickly looking away. You needed a hot shower. Steam fills the bathroom as you scrub yourself clean. It’s hot and humid, and you feel like you’re being enveloped in heat. Somehow you find it comforting. Once you’re out of the shower, you dry off your wet skin, slipping into comfortable clothing.

“Y/n.” Yara knocks at your door.

“Come in.” You yell.

“Hey, I was wondering if you wanted to go to breakfast with the girls and me?” She asks sweetly, suspecting something is wrong.

“You guys go ahead. I’m not feeling well today. I just wanna stay at home.”

Yara just nods, going in for a quick hug. “If you need anything, just let me know.” You nod in response, and with that, she’s leaving your room.

You throw yourself back onto your bed. You check your phone, looking for messages from Taehyung. You know he wouldn’t text or call. Still, you can’t help but check. You toss your phone, and it lands somewhere on your bed. You roll over to your side face squishing into the soft pillow. Eventually, you fall back asleep again.

Thump Thump.

You’re woken by loud banging at your front door. You get up disoriented as you trudge to the front door. The girls must not be back yet, you think. Once you get there, you rub your eyes first before opening the door.

“Taehyung?” You’re face to face with the older man. His hair is damp, and his face is cut up. “What the hell happened?” He bleeds from his busted lip. You step aside, letting him in.

“They fucking got me.” Taehyung spits, he the bridge of his nose.

You’re quick to grab him some ice. “Come here.” You watch as Taehyung drags his feet toward the kitchen. He sits on the barstool at the island. And you walk over to him, pressing the ice against his bruised eye.

“Shit,” he hisses. Wincing at the cold sensation. He grabs ahold of your hand.

“Who got you?” You ask, letting Taehyung hold onto you as you ice his eye.

Taehyung takes a deep breath. He pulls the ice off him and lets go of your hand. “Fucking north siders.” He shakes his head. He’s pissed, beyond pissed actually. “Last night, after I dropped you off. I ran into a few of Changbin’s buddies. They ended up jumping me.”

“What? How?” You gasp. This was all your fault if you hadn’t gone looking for Taehyung none of this would’ve happened.

“They broke my fucking window. Pulled me out of my truck, beat me, and left me on the side of the road.” Your eyes widen as Taehyung explains to you what happened to him. How could something like possibly have happened on the North Side?

“Tae—,” your voice trails off. You feel so guilty that any of this happened. You should’ve just stayed out of it. If it wasn’t for you, Taehyung would never have been here, and this would’ve never happened to him.

For some reason, it drove Taehyung crazy the way you called out his name like that. Sure, you were a pain in his ass and caused him nothing but trouble since you came into his life, but he couldn’t help the way he felt when you looked at him like that.

“It’s whatever,” Taehyung says indifferently.

“Here, let me get you something to clean up the blood.” You walk towards the sink. And Taehyung can’t help but stare at your ass as you walk away. You slept in the skimpiest of short. Probably because they were comfortable, Taehyung thinks.

“Here,” you say when you’re in front of him again. You begin to wipe off the blood with a damp rag causing Taehyung to wince once again. “I’m sorry,” you frown, but you continue to clean him up.

“I should get going.” Taehyung pulls your hand away. “I only came by because I was finally conscious enough to move, and you were the closest place I could think of.”

“Wait, don’t go just yet.” You gesture for him to stay put. You go to the bathroom in search of some Vaseline or something to help with the cuts. “Here,” you say when you come back out.

“Vaseline?” Taehyung questions with a cocked brow.

“It will help close up the wounds,” you state. You take the jelly onto your fingers and lightly rub against the cuts on Taehyung's face. You stand in between his spread legs. You can feel his hot breath against your skin as you continue to rub Vaseline on him.

You missed being this close to Taehyung. Against your will, you pull away after applying the jelly on the last cut.

“Thanks,” Taehyung mutters. His eyes trained on your lips. There’s a moment where you both contemplate on whether or not to act on your desire. Taehyung is the first to choose. He leans in the rest of the way brushing his lips against yours. He leaves it to you to finish the kiss, and you do. Your lips pressing together then parted by Taehyung’s tongue. You can taste the blood on your tongue as your lips smack together.

You moan into the kiss, and instantly, Taehyung is picking you up. You wrap your legs around his waist, and his large hands cup over the swell of your ass, holding you up. He places you on the kitchen island, your legs spreading wide for him. He nestles in between them, his crotch pressing against yours. A slow grind with every movement if of the kiss. You missed Taehyung's touch. The way his hands grip onto you. The way his tongue tastes like stale cigarettes. A taste that you grew to love. Everything about Taehyung is hot. The way he stared at you with a hard gaze was enough to make your panties wet.

He’s hard between your thighs. As the outline of his cock grinds against your clothed cunt. You throw your head back as you break away from the kiss. Your lungs need air, and you gasp for it. You reveal the soft skin of your neck as your head tosses back. Taehyung takes the initiative to suck a mark onto your neck.

“Tae—,” you moan, your hand coming up to entangle into Taehyung’s curly locks.

“Mmm,” he groans into your neck. He grinds against you harder. Desperate and hungry to feel anything you’re willing to give. And right now, you’re eager to give it all. Desire fills your body with every thrust. Your core aching to be filled.

“Tell me to stop,” he grunts. And that’s the last thing you want him to do. “Tell me you don’t want this.” But you can’t lie to him. Because every fiber in your being yearns for Taehyung.

“Please,” you beg your hand, wrapping around his neck, pulling him closer. “Taehyung, I want it.” You admit to him whispering into his ear with a low voice. He was no good for you, but you couldn’t help it. You wanted him.

He’s pushing onto your back, and you shiver when your back presses against the cold countertop. Taehyung pushes your shirt up over your chest. His lips kissing and sucking the expanse of your tummy. Soon enough, he’s heading down south, kissing his way down. He’s quick to pull down your shorts and underwear until the slip off your dangling legs. Your ass is bare against the countertop, and you’re sure if your roommates knew what you were doing on their perfectly clean white marble top, they’d freak.

Taehyung crouches onto his knees. His head between your thighs. He sucks a hickey into your inner thigh. When his tongue is finally at your core, you arch your back into it. His tongue moves languidly against your folds. Slow and torturous, but enough to let pleasure bloom. Your body feels hot all over, and you can feel your body shine with perspiration. Taehyung grips onto your thighs, spreading them wide, using them as leverage.

Eventually, his tongue is lapping in your juices. His tongue curls with every drag. His wet muscle licking up your slit until he’s met with your swollen clit. Your body goes stiff as he begins to make out with your cunt. Sucking on your nub, causing you to grip onto his locks. His tongue and lips are enough to coax your arousal out of you. It drips out of your wet pussy down to the curve of your ass.

Taehyung breathes heavily as he buries himself in your pussy. You’re crying out loud, and you can feel the weight of his hand. He presses against your lower abdomen, keeping your hips still. Though your hips wanted to move freely. He loved how greedy you were for him, he wanted to give you everything you wanted.

“Please, Taehyung,” you plead in a whiny voice. All you needed was his fingers, and you’d come undone. He knows exactly what you want. Two digits dip into your leaking entrance. He curls them upward before he begins to pump them.

“Oh,” you mewl. You’re met with his mouth on your clit again. He sucks relentlessly, causing your hips to move unabashedly. He can no longer control the way your hips move, and he lets you have it.

Your moans become louder, and the room fills with the lewd noises of Taehyung slurping up your cunt. Time stops for a moment, and you’re coming undone. Your walls pulsing around his fingers. As you’re plunging straight into your orgasm. You slump back down onto the kitchen counter. Your body now welcoming the coolness of the marble countertop.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” Taehyung admires you as you lay there. Legs spread wide for him, your chest rising and falling, and your hair splayed all over the counter. You’re completely fucked out, and his chest swells because he knows he made you like this. A crying, panting mess for him, it was all for him.

“Taehyung fuck me please, I want it so bad.” You cry you want to feel him inside you. You want to feel complete.

Taehyung rises to his feet. His hands moving quickly to unbuckle his belt. He pushes down his pants and boxers in one go. His dick springs free, and your core begins to throb again. He’s taking his cock into his hand, rubbing the tip against your folds. You sit up to watch him, and he picks your legs up from the back of your thighs. Holding you as he finally pushes in. There’s no resistance whatsoever as your warm wet walls welcome him in.

“Ahh,” you huff feeling him stretch you open.

Taehyung’s hips begin to move. He has no mercy, he’s desperate to cum. His thrusts are short and hard. You feel the head of his dick continuously brush against your sweet spot.

“Off,” you say, tugging the hem of his shirt. And momentarily, he drops your legs. Lifting the shirt over his head and tossing it on the ground. Quickly his hands go back to lifting your legs to continue to fuck you.

His muscles flex with every moment. And now you can admire his tanned skin adorned with his tattoos. You run your hands over his chest and down his abs. Everything about Taehyung was so hot.

“Fuck your pussy feels so good, baby,” Taehyung says through gritted teeth. His hips moving erratically now. You lie back against the island again. Pulling up your shirt gives him a good view of your breast as they jiggle with every thrust.

A particularly hard thrust has your crying out. “There— don’t stop, please!” You beg. His dick hitting you perfectly that you can feel your orgasm building up again. You feel the weight of his hips on yours as he slides in and out.

Soon, the pressure is building up between your thighs. To steady yourself, you grip onto the edge of the island. Your back arches as your pussy takes a beating. You suck in a deep breath, and you let go. Your muscles begin to liquify. Letting your sweet release take over.

“Oh my god— I’m cumming!” You say gasping for air. You swear you blackout for a few seconds the pleasure being too much.

Taehyung is mumbling a few curses with every other thrust. Your walls spasming around his dick makes him groan. His cock engulfed in the sweet sea of your pussy. Taehyung’s balls begin to ache to release soon.

“God, I want your cum so bad.” You say in a drawn-out whine. Your walls are still so sensitive, but you push through.

Taehyung’s dick twitches inside you at your words. “Fuck baby, where do you want it?” He grunts.

Without a second thought, you beg for him to cum on you. You could care less where. You just wanted him to taint you with his cum.

With Taehyung’s end nearing, you wrap your legs around his torso, pulling him close to you. His thrust are shallow now with the close proximity you hold him at. His hands are on either side of your waist. Holding onto you as he pushes you against his thrusts. Your hands grip onto Taehyung’s bulging biceps, as thrusts become more relentless.

“Tell me you want it,” his voice hoarse. He just wants to hear it come from your mouth.

“I want it, so bad—,” you gasp for air, his thrust becoming incredibly hard. “Give it to me, Tae!” You sob, pleasure increasingly taking over your body again.

With your pleas, Taehyung is quickly pulling out of you. His hand pulls rapidly on his engorged cock. With a clenched jaw and muscles taught, he’s cumming all over your tummy. Ropes of cum shoot out, landing on your soft skin. He tugs on his dick between spurts dragging out every last bit of his orgasm. When he comes down, he’s gently letting go of you. His hands press against the cold marble. Leaning against his arms, his body slumps over yours. The tip of his cock rutting into the mess he’s made on you. His head hangs low, and you push away the strands that fall against his eyes. His usual intense gaze is gone as he only looks at you with soft eyes. You cup his face, and he leans down gingerly, placing one last kiss on your lips.

“You’re going to be the death of me,” whispers, his eyes shutting.

After your breath becomes steady again, you suddenly realize where you are. In your kitchen, almost completely bare. “Tae,” you say as you sit yourself up on the counter. “My roommates, they’ll be back soon.” You say, worried they’d come in at any second.

“Could we maybe shower?” Taehyung asks, looking at the state of both of you. You’re covered in his cum, and he’s covered with sweat and dirt from last night.

“Yeah, my rooms that way.” You point over to the slightly opened door of your room. Taehyung helps you off the counter, and you both head to your room.

You have to admit showering with Taehyung was nice. Having him lather soap all over your body felt amazing. Especially when he massaged your scalp, you swear you were cumming. It was such a sweet sentiment that you were sad when Taehyung was getting dressed to leave.

“Stay, please,” you say timidly. You hope with everything in you that Taehyung would agree. That instead of leaving, he’d stay and spend the day with you in bed.

“I can’t,” he says, his eyes averting yours.

“Why not Taehyung?” You can feel the familiar tightness start at your throat. Deep down you already knew why. You and Taehyung weren’t meant for each other. You came from opposite worlds. It didn’t make sense for you to be together. “Just for today Tae, please stay,” you plead one last time.

Taehyung looks down to where you currently lay on your bed. He’s so conflicted his mind is telling him one thing, but his heart is telling him another. Ultimately Taehyung decides to stay. Regardless of what your friends might think when they come home and find you two together. You both don’t know what will happen next, but all you know is that you have him here right now.

A/N: I really enjoyed writing this thank you to the anon that requested this prompt! Please let me know if you enjoyed it! Your feedback is greatly appreciated! (:

#bts smut #taehyung smut #bts fanfic #bts scenarios #taehyung #taehyung scenarios #taehyung angst #bts fic #bts #lushjin writes #ksmutclub

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my-emotional-self · 4 years

Text

The Soulmates Chapter 7

Moodboard by @princess-evans-addict

Pairings: Steve Rogers x OFC x Bucky Barnes

Warnings: swearing, fluff, smut, drug use

Summary: Being born with the words of two soulmates was rare, and you were one of them. You had no idea that when you started a new job as Pepper Potts’ personal assistant you would end up finding both of your soulmates. Things start off great, but what happens when Steve and Bucky find out about your double life and your side job?

The following morning, you still had to get some shopping done for your new outfits for work and much to your demise, Steve and Bucky didn’t want you going alone to the mall. As much as you tried, they tagged along.

“Umm, I’ll just meet you guys back here by the food court in an hour,” you stated, hurrying off before they could even respond.

You didn’t dare look behind you to see if they were following you and by the time you reached the store you were looking for, you sighed in relief to see they weren’t, in fact, following you. Entering the lingerie store, you began to search around the store before an associate came up to you.

“Nikita! It’s good to see you hun. Can I help you with anything?” she asked with a bright smile.

Yes, she used your stage name, only because you didn’t want to give out your real name and you always paid in cash at this store.

“Actually, I’m looking for a little something rock ‘n roll,” you replied. She gave you a wink before motioning to a section of the store in the back. There, you found yourself staring at a bunch of leather lingerie and you knew this was what you needed.

You grabbed a pair of red leather underwear off the rack and knew it would be perfect. “Let me know if you need help finding else,” the associate said before turning and helping the next customer.

After about twenty minutes of browsing, you found everything you needed, plus more, and went to check out.

Looking at your phone, you saw you had plenty of time and headed to a few more stores. Hot Topic was your next stop where you found some Metallica, Limp Bizkit and Linkin Park t-shirts. They would be easy to cut up and rather comfortable to wear on stage as you grabbed a few of each. The last stop you made was to a wig store, needing something new. You bought a long red wig, along with a short bobbed black wig.

~~~

“Do you see where she is going?” Steve said as he and Bucky watched you from a distance, hiding behind a few fake planted trees.

Bucky smiled, giving him a nod as he saw you walk into the lingerie store. “Oh yeah Stevie. We’re going to be in for some fun.”

Steve scrunched his brows, looking at his soulmate. “What do you mean?”

Bucky scoffed next to him, lowering his head. “Stevie. I have so much to teach you.” His brows furrowed even more as Bucky let out a loud chuckle. “Steve, she’s going into a lingerie store. That pretty much means nothing but sex.”

Steve’s mouth parted in an ‘o’ shape before turning his gaze back to the store. “But don’t you think it’s weird that she was in a hurry to go shopping by herself? I mean, I would have loved to go with her and shower her with any gifts she wanted to get.”

Bucky shrugged his shoulders, leaning his arms over the ledge of the bannister. “I don’t know. I mean, all girls are a little different. Maybe she doesn’t want us to spoil her with gifts,” he said, letting out a huff. “I know that’s what girls were like in our time, loving to be spoiled with presents and gifts. But today, some women like to be independent when it comes to that and maybe she’s like that too. You have to remember Stevie, we’re just starting to date and we still have a lot to figure out about her. She’s still pretty closed up when it comes to personal things such as her family.”

Steve nodded, clasping his hands together as he leaned his elbows along the ledge of the bannister along with Bucky. “I know. It’s just, something seems off with her. I just get this gut feeling that she’s not telling us the truth. Like with helping her friend at that night job. Something inside of me is telling me that she’s lying.”

“Do you want to confront her about it?”

Steve sighed, lowering his head. “I don’t know what I want to do about it.”

~~~

You met with the guys back at the food court and Steve quickly took your bags from you. At first you didn’t want to give the bags over to him, worried he would see what was inside, but he was relentless and you had to remember that Steve was a true gentleman and you handed over your bags to him.

The three of you went to a quaint little bistro for lunch before heading back to the compound. While you were used to dancing in very high heels, walking around in boots for hours was a different story and your feet were hurting.

“I’m going to take a bath if you don’t mind,” you said as you took your boots off; your hands massaging your feet.

“Go ahead and relax doll,” Bucky said, giving you a chaste kiss on your lips as Steve placed your shopping bags in the corner of the living room.

Heading into the bathroom, you locked the door and placed your purse on the counter and opened the small pocket on the inside. There, you saw the small bag of cocaine staring back at you. You knew this is why you didn’t want to take this drug home with you; why you didn’t want to leave the club with it. But you were in pain on your feet and you didn’t have any pain killers with you, so you decided to hell with it and took a quick hit.

Looking at yourself in the mirror, you felt your body begin to relax as you wiped your nose, closing the small baggie and placing it back in the pocket of your purse.

Shedding your clothing, you got into the tub and relaxed as it began to fill with the most amazing warm water you had ever imagined feeling coating your naked body. Giggles began to erupt from your mouth as you dropped a bath bomb into the water; your eyes growing wide as your fingers gently touched the bubbles; your high relaxing you that much more.

There was a knock on the door and you sat up, startled. The door opened to reveal Steve standing there; a sheepish grin on his face. “Hey beautiful. Bucky and I were wondering if we could shower while you bathed?”

Biting your lower lip, you gave him a nod. Both Bucky and Steve entered the bathroom and they began to shed their clothing as you lowered yourself into the tub; your legs clenching together at the sight of both of them naked in front of you.

You watched as Bucky turned on the shower before the two of them entered. The shower stall had glass walls and you inwardly groaned at the sight of them naked in front of you; water running down their toned bodies. The drugs in your system wasn’t doing anything to ease your discomfort between your legs as you felt ten times more turned on than usual.

Trying to focus on your own relaxation, it didn’t work as well as you wanted to as your eyes wandered to their bodies; naked and washing one another. You couldn’t help but feel excluded and with the confidence running through you, you got out of the tub and opened the shower stall; standing naked in front of your soulmates.

“I was feeling lonely,” you said shyly, looking up at them through your long lashes.

“C’mere doll,” Bucky husked out, pulling you into his embrace as his lips attached to yours. Your fingers combed through his shoulder length hair, earning a growl from him.

Steve came up behind you as you felt his cock beginning to harden at the base of your back; his own hands cupping your breasts. He was getting braver, that was for sure as you felt his fingers pinch your nipples making you buck your ass into him.

You pulled away from Bucky, gasping for air as your hands trailed down his hard chest. Lightly, you gripped his hard cock in your hands and began to stroke him. “Fuck doll,” Bucky grunted, his head falling back against the tiled wall as he closed his eyes, relishing in the feel of your hands on him.

“Take me from behind Steve,” you nearly begged as you began to bend at the waist so you could kiss Bucky’s stomach.

Immediately Steve gripped your hips as you parted your legs. “Shit, I don’t have a condom,” he spoke with concern, but you didn’t care at this point.

“It’s fine baby. Just pull out.”

That earned a groan from both your soulmates. Bucky’s hands tangled into your hair as you felt Steve’s hand at your lower back. Just as you took Bucky into your mouth, Steve slowly entered you from behind. You had never felt more grateful for a large shower than this moment right now.

You were completely full, from both ends and you were loving it. Bucky’s grip on your hair tightened, making you clench around Steve and he cussed. Between the sexual acts and the hot shower, it was getting harder to breath; the water washing the sweat from all of your heated bodies.

Steve’s hand snaked around your front, playing with your clit and you knew you weren’t going to last much longer. Wanting Bucky to come in your mouth at the same time as you came, you took your right hand and began to fondle his balls; a moan escaping your mouth as Steve hit a particularly wonderful spot inside you.

Your head was bobbing up and down with haste as you felt your orgasm approach. “I’m going to come doll,” Bucky rasped out, his breathing ragged as you picked up your pace, matching Steve’s. Your toes began to curl, using your left hand to brace against the shower wall as your orgasm rocked your body just as Bucky spilled his seed into your mouth.

“Fuck!” Steve roared behind you, finding his own release as you clenched around him. He pulled out of you as you felt him come on your backside; the water from the shower washing it away at once.

As Steve pulled out of you, you felt your knees grow weak from all the heat. With quick reflexes, Steve caught you before you could fall; your cocaine high now gone.

“Too….hot….,” you stammered out and the boys quickly shut the shower off and helped you out of the shower. They wrapped a large white fluffy towel around you and opened the door to the bathroom as you felt immediate relief from the cooler air of the apartment.

The three of you cooled and dried off. Bucky handed you a pair of boxers and one of Steve’s shirts as your soulmates each put on a pair of boxers. Getting in the middle of the bed, Steve and Bucky snuggled up on either side of you and you fell asleep watching a movie; a smile on your face.

~~~

The following morning was Monday and Pepper was back in town. After showering and dressing in a pair of black skinny jeans, dark pink tank top and white cardigan, you made your way over to the main compound and grabbed coffee for yourself and Pepper.

Heading up the stairs, you saw Pepper already working away. Setting the coffee down in front of her, she looked up and smiled at you.

“Good morning Rosalie,” she said.

You smiled back, giving her a nod. “Morning Pepper. I hope you had a good trip,” you replied.

She took a sip of her coffee before responding. “Oh it was all business so it wasn’t too fun, but it went smoothly. How did Friday go? Steve and Bucky weren’t too demanding were they?”

You couldn’t help but chuckle, thinking back to not only Friday, but Saturday and yesterday too. But it soon dawned on you that you hadn’t exactly told Pepper that Steve and Bucky were your soulmates. Your heart began to speed up, worried what she would think. Would she fire you because she might think they would be a distraction? Already having to lie to your soulmates about your ‘double life’, you didn’t want to add anymore lies to your life.

“Umm, Pepper, there’s ah, there’s something I need to tell you…about Steve and Bucky.” You were nervously fidgeting as you chewed on your lower lip.

“Is it about being soulmates with them?” Pepper announced easily.

Your eyes snapped up to hers, mouth hanging open. “How…how did you know about that?”

She laughed lightly, shaking her head. “Oh Rosalie. Ever since your first day here and you met them, you are all they can talk about. They’ve already told the whole team about you and how they finally met their other soulmate.”

“You’re not mad?”

“Rosalie why would I be mad about that?”

You shrugged, looking down to the ground. “I don’t know. I didn’t know if maybe you thought they would be a distraction or not.”

She folded her hands on the table, giving you a soft smile. “This job is very laid back. Yes, this is Stark Industries we are talking about. But to be honest, we are all just one big family and I see you as part of our family now. And not just because you are the soulmate of Steve and Bucky. I’ve gotten to know you the past two weeks and you fit in so well. In fact, the rest of the team will be here next week so I actually need you to work on preparing for that. They are having a big team meeting all day so I will need you to order in catering for breakfast and lunch. You will also be sitting in on the meeting taking notes as well.”

You let out a breath of relief, giving your boss a nod. “Yeah, not a problem on at. I’ll go get started on that right now.”

Sitting down at your desk, you relaxed your shoulders and smiled. You had yet to meet anyone from the team, except for Steve, Bucky and Bruce. You were nervous to say the least, but excited to finally meet everyone. But those nerves were quickly replaced with dread. Tomorrow you started your new five days a week shift at the club and you didn’t know how the hell you would be able to keep up with everything. Worry etched across your face as you placed your head in your hands; elbows on the desk. Refusing to get out of your deal with Tommy, you were worried you would need to quit this job as it would be too much.

After too much thinking, you thought ‘fuck it’ and got to work. You would do whatever it took to work both jobs. You would do whatever it took to keep your night job a secret until it was all over.

TAG LIST CLOSED!

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fanficimagery · 5 years

Text

Because We Got High.

Relationship: Billy & Reader Warnings: Drug use (it’s just weed) & language. Words: 1,820 Tags: Fluff & humor.

Billy's been driving around for the last twenty minutes, music blaring and smoking cigarette after cigarette as he looks for Max. She was meant to be at one of her friends' houses, but the little shits apparently jumped from house to house without telling anyone. Everyone was meant to be at the Wheeler's- and boy was that fun having to see Karen Wheeler answer the door side-by-side with her husband, squirming and with pleading eyes to not utter a word of their previous flirtations- but the kids weren't there. So Billy drove to the Byers', and again no luck.

The Sinclair household only had one mouthy little girl that Billy briefly found amusing, and it was she who directed him to the Henderson's.

"Just walk right in," the little girl Erica had told him. "My brother and his friends will most likely ignore the doorbell and Ms. Henderson likes to chase her evening pills with alcohol."

"For being a kid, you know an awful lot about what Ms. Henderson does at night."

"I'm thirteen, you mullet wearing bastard." She had sassed him- actually sassed him before slamming the door in his face and all Billy could do was laugh about it.

The kid had fire and he liked it. It was rather refreshing.

Then having gotten back in his car, he memorized the directions to the Henderson household that Erica had given him and drove.

Pulling up outside the Henderson house, Billy stubs out his cigarette in the ashtray before cutting the engine and climbing out. The lights are all on inside, so he wastes no time stomping up to the front door and ringing the bell.

No answer.

He tries the door knob and it's locked.

"For fucks sake," Billy grumbles, growing agitated.

He then decides to pound on the door with a closed fist, but again there's no answer. There's a TV blaring somewhere inside, but he rather not start peeking through windows and risk the neighbors calling the cops on him. Instead he stomps around to the back of the house and is intent on pounding on the back door, yelling until someone answers him. But the moment he steps foot in the backyard, a strong familiar scent hits him full force and he stumbles to a stop before looking for the source.

Dusty and all his little friends had decided to come over and you knew there'd be no peace in order for you to watch a couple of movies as you had planned. They'd all congregated into Dustin's room which was just right next to yours and immediately they were a loud mess. So after making sure your mother was nice and tuckered out downstairs in front of the TV, you went back into your room and into your closet.

At the very top, very back of your closet was your secret stash of weed that was only smoked in emergency situations. And this? This was an emergency of boredom that you needed to quell right away.

So after making sure you had everything in your box, you tuck it under your arm and go back downstairs to exit the back door. In your backyard is the only thing left that reminds everyone of your fathers presence before he split- a large treehouse in the sturdiest tree that Dustin and his friends usually chilled out in when they weren't inside.

There's an actual staircase that wraps around the tree and you climb them all the way up to the house itself. Then plopping down in one of the bean bags, you set the box in your lap, open it up, and smile as you stare down at its contents.

After rolling a blunt and lighting up, you take a deep drag and let the smoke settle in your lungs before blowing it out. Drag after drag, your body starts to loosen up and you quickly find yourself sprawled on the floor of the treehouse.

You have more than enough weed for another blunt and you lazily start to roll another one.

Before you can light up, however, a voice stalls you.

"You do know the entire back yard smells like weed, right? You looking to be busted?"

Rolling over, you belly crawl to the door and look down. Standing in your backyard, looking far too handsome for his own good, is none other than Billy Hargrove. "You gonna be a narc, Hargrove?"

He walks over to the bottom of the stairs, eyes narrowing suspiciously. "Do I know you?"

"Nah. We don't have classes together, but you made an impression on all the little sheep at school. Name's Y/N. I'm Dustin's sister."

"Hmm." He glances at the house once more. "So can I just walk in and grab Max or..?"

"They got a D&D session going on, so good luck, man."

Billy huffs and turns around, stomping up to the back door and entering your house. You watch, lighting up your second blunt of the night and wait. A handful of minutes pass before Billy exits alone, looking a little more agitated than he had moments before.

Chuckling softly, you hold out the blunt so he can see the embers burning bright in the night. "Need a little relaxation while you wait? Come on up, Hargrove. I don't bite." Billy sighs but makes his way towards the stairs nonetheless. Laughing as he ducks to enter through the door, you roll onto your back and hold out the blunt towards him. "Welcome to Stoners Anonymous. I'm Y/N and I'll be your host this evening."

Billy's agitation is quickly wiped away and a smile takes place of his scowl. He takes the offered blunt and holds it to his lips, taking a long drag as he lets his head fall back and eyes close in pure bliss. Blowing out the smoke, he then takes a seat. "That's good. Who's your dealer?"

"A good customer never reveals her sources until at least the third smoking party."

"Whatever you say." He takes another hit, letting his gaze wander around the spacious treehouse. "You know, a good host usually has snacks for when the munchies hit."

On cue, your stomach rumbles and Billy chuckles as you groan. Cursing quietly, you sit up and crawl over to a stack of crates that act as a stand of cubbies. Pulling out a walkie talkie, you turn it on and hold down the button. "Calling all nerds. Calling all nerds. Take a break from D&D and bring me some noms. Over."

Billy grins, passing the blunt back to you. You take a drag as the walkie in hand crackles to life. "Are you high? Over." Someone giggles before it cuts out.

"As a kite. Now bring me some noms. Enough for two. Over."

"Two? How much did you smoke?!"

"Don't question me, Dusty, or I'm telling mom what really happened to Mews."

The walkie goes quiet, so Billy asks, "Mews?"

"Mhm," You distractedly nod. "Mom's cat that she fucking adored more than her own kids. My idiot brother brought home something feral and it ate Mews. We had to tell her, her beloved cat ran away."

"That's wild."

"Alright. What do you want? Over."

You first pump victoriously. "Pizza rolls."

Billy's nose wrinkles. "Screw that. You got cash? We'll drive and pick up burgers."

Your eyes widen as you beam at him. "You're my new favorite person! Here. Finish it," you tell him while passing the blunt back to him. "I'll go get some cash and shoes, and meet you out front."

Tossing the walkie aside, you watch as Billy picks it up to speak into it. "Cancel the rolls. Y/N and I are driving for food instead."

"Billy?!"

He smirks. "Hello, Maxine. Since you and your nerds are taking forever, I'm taking Y/N for food."

A bunch of rambling comes over the walkie and he clicks it off, tossing it on one of the bean bags. Then with the blunt between his lips, he exits the treehouse and saunters down the stairs.

By the time Billy makes it around front, you're standing rather impatiently in the middle of the sidewalk. All the kids are on the front stoop, glancing between you and him.

"So you two are friends?" Dustin asks. "Since when? You don't socialize, Y/N."

"Whatever. We officially met tonight. Shared a blunt and now we're the best of friends!"

"The best," he leers, coming up beside you and throwing an arm around your shoulders.

All the boys grimace.

"I don't like it." Dustin grumbles.

"Too bad. I didn't like Mike when he first came around."

"Hey!"

"No offense, Wheeler," you quickly amend. "And now look. I adore all you fuckin' gremlins, but that's about to change if you don't let me leave and get a burger."

"Fine!"

"Fine! Let's go, Hargrove."

Billy flicks the remainder of the blunt to the ground, smirking as he turns and leads you to his car. You readily open the passenger door and climb on in, waving at your brother and his friends who suspiciously keep watch of Billy. After settling in and Billy settling in as well, his engine roars to life and you laugh as AC/DC immediately blares at you.

He peels out in front of your house and you hang your right arm out the window to feel the wind rushing against it.

"Come on, Billy. Show me what your baby's got."

Glancing at you, Billy slowly smirks. He turns down one of the back roads, pressing harder on the gas and picking up speed. You laugh, leaning your head towards the opened window and letting your hair whip every which way. "Whoooo!" You scream.

As you settle back into your seat, your bright eyes land on Billy as he splits his attention between you and the road. "Where the hell have you been since I've been in Hawkins, Henderson?"

You waggle your eyebrows. "If you'd stop bullying Harrington, hot shot, you'd find me napping somewhere in the room."

He huffs. "Don't tell me you're fond of boy wonder?"

"Eh. Steve's decent." Billy scoffs. "No, I'm serious. If you boys would get over your egos or whatever shit is keeping you from actually being cool with each other, you'd see Steve is a hell of a lot more tolerable than Tommy. Because seriously, gross. You can do a lot better than Tommy, my dude."

"You talk a lot. I'm honestly surprised I've never met you before."

"Mhm. I think I'm possibly one of the last remaining females who hasn't taken you for a ride."

"Just name the time and place, sweetheart, and we'll rectify that."

"Smooth, Hargrove. Very smooth."

"I try."

"Well try driving faster because I've got a serious case of the munchies and if you don't feed me soon, I'm gonna get cranky."

He chuckles. "Whatever you say, Henderson. Whatever you say."

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zankivich · 4 years

Text

The Arrangement: CEO’s Son/Dom!Shawn x Black Sub Reader Chapter 13

Merry Chrismukkah or whatever you celebrate, or just happy Saturday if that’s what floats your boat. Shawn is still dumb. Perhaps dumber. But these are my babies and they deserve the best. Just keep that in mind okay? K bye.

*Shawn’s point of view*

The New Year was a wonderful way for very rich people to throw very elaborate parties to tell people how rich they were. In his early twenties, he’s been roped in by the booze and the women and the occasional party drug or two. Something about twenty-four made him crave the serenity of naps, staying in, and home cooked meals. It could have been the maturity of growing up, sure, but he wasn’t exactly that naive. All he had to do was wake up wrapped around her to know that the only thrill he was going to get was by being with her. Y/n was the least industry, industry person he’d ever met. So, when she told him she had no plans to attend not one even one of the many she’d been invited to, he wasn’t disappointed in the slightest. He was happy to stay in. Or so he thought.

They were going to see a movie at this theatre in Manhattan that always showed the upcoming independent films of the year before they ever made it to the indie film festival. He really liked indie films, so y/n bought them tickets for a matinee showing. While y/n was in the shower getting ready his phone began to buzz and he was left without a choice but to answer it for one specific reason. It was his father. Or the Devil. Semantics.

“Yes, dad?” He sighed.

“Your mother is flying in for our annual New Years Eve party. I need you to get her here on time, and make sure she takes the uppers and not the downers this time.”

“Dad, Mom hasn’t been on pills since 2014. Remember the whole rehab thing?” He huffed. “And I’m absolutely not coming to that thing this year.”

“You absolutely the fuck are. The entire senior management team will be here, and I won’t have you make me look bad because you insist on being a child. You’re coming and you’re bringing your mother.”

His hands turned to fists and he pulled the phone away from his mouth just long enough to curse his father back to hell for once.

“I already have plans, dad!”

“Cancel them! The party starts at nine, I expect you and your mother here by ten at the latest. Put on a suit for Christ’s sake too, none of that skinny jean bullshit.”

His dad hangs up without another world and he collapsed back onto the bed to question how he had managed to be conceived by one of the worst people ever. Really, what were the chances?

“Baby do you wanna do chinese for dinner after the movies?” y/n called from the bathroom.

And that’s when he began to cry.

“Boy, what in the hell is the matter with you now?”

He uncovered his arm from his face to see her standing at the entryway to the bathroom wrapped in a towel and looking as soft as cocoa butter. He really wanted to cry.

“You know the crime shows where the kids kill the parents and you’re like, holy shit that’s fucked up? Well I’m starting to sympathize with ‘em.”

“Sorry, that’s a little too close to white nonsense for me. Why, what happened?”

She stepped over to where he was on the bed and he sat up to fall a little pathetically into her arms. She smelled like flowers and that whole cocoa butter business he was thinking of earlier. Jesus, life was so unfair.

“My dad is making me pick up my mother and go to this stupid fucking new year’s eve party so he can pretend that they haven’t not lived together since before I graduated high school. No options. I’m going.” He reported glumly.

Her fingers were cool from having dried after the shower and she ran them soothingly through his scalp. He nestled himself more firmly against her and tried not to purr too loudly.

“Hmm, well that sucks. I guess there go our plans huh?”

He peered up at her, chin resting against her chest.

“Absolutely not. We’re gonna go see our movie and then we’ll...just go drink my dad’s booze and maybe find a janitor’s closet to fool around in.” He shrugged.

She snorted. “How romantic. I told you I’m not taking my underwear off in a janitor’s closet ever again, Shawn.”

“Who said you had to? I can get creative, baby.” He grinned.

“Of course you can. I think you’re forgetting the part where your dad doesn’t know we’re together.”

“Oh hell, who cares y/n. I’m not going without you. Why would I spend new year’s without my girlfriend?”

“Because...Manny is Satan and would try to ruin my career?”

“Hey, he wouldn’t. Y/n, I swear he wouldn’t do that to you.”

She smiled down at him sadly and scratched at his scalp again.

“I don’t really think you could make that promise, sweetheart. It’s okay. I’m not mad about it. I understand.”

“But I don’t! I want to spend the day with you, not at some dumb party! I had a whole plan about us making love in my bed with the curtains open while the fireworks went on, dammit. I hate him!”

Her chest began to shake and he realized that she was indeed laughing at him. There’s no love in this world.

“This isn’t funny.” He whined.

“It’s a little funny.”

No. Love.

***

“Hmm you look good enough to eat.” She murmured from behind him.

Her arms came to wrap around his waist and she reached up on the tips of her toes to rest her chin on his shoulder as he adjusted his suit. He could not have been less excited.

“Good enough to eat, not good enough to keep me home, aye?”

She rolled her eyes. “You are about as dramatic as they come you know that? I’m trying to keep the peace. Now you just make sure nobody touches what’s mine and you bring your ass home right after that ball drops.”

He turned in her grasp, pulling her more tightly against him. She was in nothing but his sweatshirt and a pair of underwear that surely would make him drool if he stared long enough. He loved her.

“What was it again that’s yours? I just wanna make sure I have all my bases covered when I inevitably get hit on.” He smirked.

She reached quickly for his jaw and tugged him forward so she could kiss him with dominance and love. Why in the entire hell was he going to this party?

“All of it.” She whispered eyes lifting up and down to drink him in. “You call me if you need a reminder.”

He nodded dumbly, lips parted and ready to drool.

“Yea. Okay.”

Leaving her is nearly impossible, especially knowing that he won’t have an ounce of fun the rest of the night. His mum is half way to sloppy drunk by the time he arrives to pick her up and the party's at stifling capacity by the time they arrive. But as long as his dad is happy that’s apparently all that matters. It’s all that ever matters.

“Look you just stand against this wall and I’ll go get you something with bubbles in it.”

His mum only giggled and leaned harder against the wall.

“Okay!”

He goes to the bar and gets her some cranberry juice mixed with soda water. She was drunk enough that it wouldn’t matter, and he was hopeful that by the end of the night she might sober enough for him to get her back to her hotel without incident. By the time he returns from the bar, he sees his dad wrapping his arm possessively around his mother. He starts talking to some old guy in a hat that isn’t doing enough to cover his balding head, and it’s about as sickening as can be. The worst part is that his mum completely plays into it. Her head rests on his shoulder. Her fingers play with his hair. They play the happy couple so well, it almost has him fooled. Almost.

There used to be a day when he would have tried to defend her honor, a day when he thought he was strong enough to fight his dad. He’d gotten knocked on his ass enough times to know that was simply not the case. And that’s how he ended up hiding in a corner with a double scotch texting his girlfriend while everyone around him looked like complete and total jackasses.

Shawn: I miss you. This is dumb. My dad is literally the worst.

y/n: You are so cute when you complain like a sixteen year old.

Shawn: I am delicate, y/n. You cannot be mean to me in my current state.

y/n: You poor, poor thing. What can I do to make it better?

Shawn: Rescue me?

y/n: We’ll see. Go place nice with the fragile men who never lived up their father’s visions for them.

Shawn: I think I’d rather die.

The party really is dead. It’s all the people who kiss his dad’s ass on a daily basis. Most of them were in their fifties or older. It wasn’t even the artists themselves, just the people who made money off of them. If he didn’t know any better he’d say it was his dad’s way of fundraising for investors. And he definitely knew better.

He’s sitting at the bar counting down the minutes until he gets to go home. It’s maybe thirty minutes until the ball drops, and everyone around him is hammered to pieces. He hasn’t seen his dad since he got there, and his mum was probably being dragged around by that asshole as nothing more than a trophy piece. God he wanted to go home. And then the elevator doors opened.

She’s wearing the dress that he bought her after he accidently ripped the other one. It’s black and sleek with a thigh slit that has his lips parting even now. Her hair is tied sleekly up in a bun and the second she steps into the room the entire atmosphere shifts. She’s gorgeous. Every inch of her. They lock eyes from across the room and he just knows that he’s beaming, couldn’t stop it even if he wanted. She’s here for him and no one else, and that means the world to him. She means the world to him.

He orders her her go-to drink and goes to find his girlfriend only to find that she’s already been stopped. It’s one of the guys from his dad’s team. He’s on the younger side, maybe in his early thirties, probably drives an eco friendly car or something. He’s dumb is the point. Dumb. And ugly. And stupid. And talking to his girlfriend.

“You look beautiful tonight. I didn’t expect to see you here. You and Manny don’t really get along.”

She giggled. Why was she giggling?

“That’s certainly one way to put it. But a good old-fashioned rivalry never hurt anyone, did it? Especially not when I win.” She grinned.

“You know…I find that kind of confidence in a woman to be incredibly sexy.”

Her eyes widened and he leaned in to place a hand on her waist. He made sure to step between them before it got that far.

“Vodka cran right?” He interjected pulling her not so subtly against him.

She rolled her eyes but smiled up at him.

“Yes, thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Who are you chatting with?”

“Shawn it’s Mike. We--We work together?”

He placed his hand on her lower back barely sparing him a glance as he led her away.

“Oh yea. Enjoy the party Mike!”

“You are not subtle in the slightest you know that?” She laughed.

“Yea, whatever. Only person who get’s to call my baby sexy is me, dammit.”

“I find your possessiveness to be both sexist and oddly stimulating. I will combat my feminist guide and get back to you.”

He snorted. “While you’re at it can you ask the feminist guide what it has to say about your whole, ‘it’s all mine’, shtick?”

“Hmm...you may have a point.”

He leads her onto the dance floor. Dancing is innocent. It can mean anything, and isn’t inherently tied to being in a relationship, so it acts as a safe space for the two of them. The party was too large for him to place eyes on his dad, so he had to just believe that they could occupy space together and be okay. No kissing. No waist touching. Certainly no ass touching. He really had to just hold onto his drink and soak her in. The good news is that soaking her in is better than not having her there at all. So he holds tight to the idea that he could have her there with him.

“You came here for me.” He murmured in her ear. “Why?”

She shrugs her shoulders and shimmies her hips to the beat of a Khalid song, ironically.

“You asked me to.”

“I know but...what about my dad?”

“Your dad is...always going to exist. No matter how long we’re together. If I let him stop me from enjoying New Year’s with you than I’m giving him power over our relationship. He doesn’t get to have that. Only we have that.”

It’s another one of those moments where if he looked back on his life, he could have identified it as a shift in their dynamic. This was y/n pulling down the final brick in the wall. She had chosen him fully and irrevocably in such a way that she was willing to go all in. His dad no longer matter mattered. Nothing really seemed to matter. Because they loved each other, and as long as they loved each other everything else would work out at some point. He had always been hers, but now he got to be her’s in broad daylight. Well, kind of.

They find a corner to shove themselves into away from the crowd. She crosses her legs and shows off more thigh than anyone has the right too, which reminds him that he hasn’t kissed her in hours. And so he sneaks a kiss on her cheek and hides his face in her neck, because he just wants to go home. He really wants to go home.

“I can’t touch you here.” He mumbled. “This is basically my own version of hell.”

She sighed. “Yea, I know. Usually your horniness is excessive, but this party is drier than Milania Trump’s pussy. Sheesh.”

He laughs because she’s funny and it makes him feel lighter, happier. He still doesn’t know how she does it.

“My dad is somewhere showing my mum off like she’s a thing and not a person. To him everything is a commodity, something for him to own and do with what he pleases.” He mumbled reaching for her hand. “I just want you to know that you could never be that for me. I would never, ever treat you like that.”

She smiled softly at him.

“I know. You’ve never treated me with anything but kindness, Shawn. You’re not your dad.”

He nodded. “See I know that, and yet still it feels good to be reminded sometimes.”

“You just let me know whenever you need reminding then.”

“Mkay. I will.”

“Shawn.”

The two of them looked up as his father ascended with his mother hanging onto him, eyes barely open. Y/n moved as far away from him as physically possible. He had to hide his face to pretend it didn’t hurt. It did hurt.

“What now?” He grumbled.

“Your mother is incompacitated. Take her home. Now.”

He stands up immediately, y/n remaining seated in her chair. She played coy incredibly well, bringing her drink to her lips and settling back deeper into her chair.

“Y/n,” Manny dipped his head. “So glad you could make it to our little suarey. Are you enjoying yourself?”

She smiled. “You know I was. I think I enjoyed myself so much that I’m gonna have to take a very long nap to deal with all the excitement.”

He catches the thinly veiled anger on his father’s face at Y/n taking the piss out of him as he reaches for his mum. She was in worse condition than he left her in, her eyes barely remaining open.

“Jesus, dad what did you do to her?” He hissed.

“She’s a grown ass woman fully capable of making her own decisions. Now get her out of here before she embarasses me further.”

“I do really enjoy the playful family banter. It’s sweet.” Y/n interjected. “And not incredibly cliche at all.”

He looked at her with pleading eyes to not make his father any angrier than he already was. If the look on his face was anything to go off though, his father wasn’t ever going to be happy when y/n was present. Manny sent y/n a scathing look before grumbling off to be with the rest of the crowd. His mum on the other hand was practically snoring on his shoulder. He hated the holidays.

“Looks like I’m gonna miss the ball drop. I gotta get her home.” He sighed.

“It’s okay. We can ring in the new year when you get back, okay?”

“Promise?”

She smiled up at him. “Promise.”

“K. I love you.”

“I love you too.”

Neither of them noticed Manny watching them from the bar. Nor had they noticed the way he had watched them the entire night. In fact as Shawn was pulling his mother towards the elevator, Manny was calling for the party planner for the event that night.

“Can you look up a name on the guest list for me?” He asked.

“Of course, sir.”

“y/f/n y/l/n. She on there?”

The party planner flicked through the list twice before shaking her head at Manny.

“No sir, I never sent any invitation to a y/f/n y/l/n.”

Manny looked back over at the couch where y/n and Shawn had been sitting. She was already gone.

“Yea, that’s what I thought.”

***

*y/n’s point of view*

The fact that Shawn becomes a regular at Lenny’s Tavern is only a testament to his love for music. He went every Friday it seemed, to the point where he turned out to be a celebrity of the pub. It was his place of joy. You never saw him smile harder then when he was up there with a guitar in his hands. It was a blend of covers and originals, and when he’s up there getting the entire crowd to scream sing “Hit Me Baby One More Time”, you know that there’s something special there. He knows how to command a room, at first with his presence, but now with his talent. Something that could take years to teach an artist, Shawn was sitting there with it by the boatload. And so every night is a little bittersweet, because you know Manny and you know if he has his way Shawn will never get anything more. But, the smile on his face every time he asks you to go is enough to have you taking the forty minute drive out the city on Fridays.

He jumps down from the stage to ravenous applause. The smile and the light in his eye is exceptional. You watch him get stopped by a few women, an increasing occurrence at Lenny’s Tavern, who asked to take a selfie with him. The smile that he puts on for them is more calculated, more mass sex appeal. Honestly, he was a music exec’s wet dream. And not because he’s good at it, but because he does it with this sort of authentic happiness that no amount of money can buy. He’s just got it.

“Did you like it babe? I tried the falsetto on the ‘suit and tie’ cover just like you said.” He beamed at you.

You wrapped your arms around his waist and kissed his nose.

“You sounded amazing. Just like you always do. My baby’s kind of a star.” You grinned.

“Yea, only because of you. Can you imagine my life if you’d been my manager instead of my dick of a dad?”

“You’d be wildly sucessful for sure...But I don’t fuck my clients so…”

He frowned. “Then let’s just stick with this reality, aye?”

“Sounds good to me. Let’s go get me a drink.”

He trailed you to the bar, his hands playfully on your ass and hips. His unwillingness to quit touching you was much appreciated in just about every instance of your lives together. Why go through life not being touched by your significant other? It just didn’t make sense.

“Hey Shawn!” Ronnie, the owner of the bar, called.

“Hey Ronnie, man, what’d you think of the set?”

“It was amazing! You’re always amazing, you pretty bastard, and you know it.”

You peered up at your boyfriend as you took a sip of your drink. His cheekbones were more sculpted than yours and perfectly flushed. His curls were like the swirl of an ice cream cone off pinterest. The fucker really was pretty. Rude.

“Hey, it’s just an honor to get up there man.”

“Really? Cause see I had one of my buddies from Atlantic come see your set and he asked me to give you his card, but if it’s all about the honor then…”

“What?!” Shawn and you screeched in unison.

Ronnie stared at the two of you with a big grin on his face.

“Yea! Same way I got our little Niall to where he’s at. When the sets are good, they come to check out the talent man. And you’re better than good. Here.”

Shawn took the card and stared down at it. You could see the fear, but also the light in his eyes. It was about as tragic as can be.

“No man, I--I can’t take this.” He mumbled handing the card back to Ronnie.

Ronnie refused it.

“Keep it. You deserve it man!” He exclaimed before walking away.

Shawn turned to you with wide eyes and a terrified look on his face that had you reaching to wrap his giant frame up in your arms.

“It’s okay. Hey, don’t stress yourself out. Just don’t call the number.”

“But my dad does so much work with Atlantic. Like five of his artists are co-signed through them. What if he finds out somehow?”

You shook your head. “He won’t cause you’re not going to call...unless that’s what you want.”

“Huh?”

You ran your hands up his arms and over his shoulders trying to quell some of the tension.

“Look I’m just saying that, yea you signed with your dad when you were fifteen but that contract expired the moment you became an adult. That’s probably why he asked you to work for the company the moment you turned eighteen, so that he could retain this hold he has over you.”

He frowned at you. “But...but my music.”

“I know baby. You made a lot of music that means a lot to you, and I want nothing more than for you to have ownice of it. All I’m saying is that if you can’t get the music back, that doesn’t mean you can never create again. It doesn’t even mean you can’t make music for a living. Any label would kill to sign you. I know because I’d be right there fighting with ‘em.”

He released this big breath, face twitching with anxiety. You could tell it was getting to him, that the moment was becoming too much. You didn’t really know how to ease him into it anymore than you already had.

“I don’t wanna talk about this anymore. I wanna go home.” He mumbled, face red.

“Okay, I can be okay with that. Let’s go home.”

“Can we go to your place?” He asked head dipping down closer to yours.

You smiled. “Of course.”

***

*Shawn’s point of view*

Everything makes sense when they’re making love. It’s something about the way she tastes, or maybe is the vibrations of her moans against his mouth when he kisses her throat. His head is never more clear than when she’s in his arms. He loves her. God does he love her. He wants her to have everything, all of him, infinitely. So that’s what she gets.

“Fuck! Oh my god!” She sobbed.

“You gonna cum for me?” He asks reaching to stroke her clit with his thumb.

She nodded recklessly her stomach tensing, thighs trembling.

“Please. Shawn, I need it so bad.”

He flips her onto her back, hand wrapping around the top of her head for leverage as he lays into her. Her body shakes for him and she claws at his back so hard there will be welts later. But it’s her pleasure. It’s the only thing in the world that matters to him when they’re in this space together. So he keeps moving, keeps moaning, keeps holding on for every second that he can if it means she’ll stare at him like he just blew her mind. He always wants to blow her mind. And she bursts for him like an overripe fruit in the summer heat, and he makes sure that he’s right there to slurp it up for her.

“I love you.” He groaned into her ear. “I love you so much.”

The doorbell ringing is literally the last thing in the world that he wants to hear. She’s still panting against his neck and he’s just supposed to get out of bed?

“Let it ring.” She mumbled lips tracing his nipple.

“Oh. My. God, woman.”

She giggled and the result was something so cute and soft on her face that he could feel his exhausted body peak in interest. The line between whether to dominate and whether to cuddle deeply into the sheets got more blurred by the second with her.

The doorbell rings again.

“Jesus Christ.” He muttered.

“Fuck...look just go answer it. I have to get ready for work soon anyway.”

He immediately began to pout.

“But baby...I didn’t finish my moves.” He whined.

She snorted. “You finished just fine for me, dear. Go get the door.”

He does what she asks. But not without whining the entire time dammit. She puts on his Jimi Hendrix t-shirt and walks off to his kitchen without underwear or a bra. Whoever was at the door probably deserved to die. He didn’t make the rules.

“This better be good!”

He yanked open the door to see his dad standing there with two starbucks cups in his hands and the grin of Satan.

“Dad.” He mumbled. “What--what the hell are you doing here?”

“It’s time to talk to son.” He smiled making his way past him to get into his apartment.

Oh for fuck’s sake.

“Look now really isn’t the time!”

“On the contrary, I don’t think there could be a better time. Ah! Good morning y/n!”

Sure enough there she stood in the middle of the room where the living room met the kitchen with a pan in her hand and the fear of god in her eyes.

“Y/n my...dad is here.” He stated glumly.

She rolled her eyes. “Yes, I’d managed to catch on, Shawn.”

“As much as I do enjoy watching the two of you prance around with no pants on, I think it’s time to get dressed. Shawn and I have some things to discuss. Take your time. I’ll wait.”

The room is dead silent. Y/n is looking at him like she’s contemplating hitting his dad over the head with the pan. Honestly, it’s not the worst visual he could come up with. Instead they walk side by side back to his bedroom. His hands are shaking and he tugs anxiously at his hair as he watches her get dressed. It’s impossible for him to wrap his head around this moment. Ten minutes ago they were making love, and now his dad knows about them. Just like that.

She tugs her shoes on and reaches for her keys and his heart spasms painfully in his chest. He’s got no choice but to reach for her.

“Hey,” He whispered hands still shaking as he gripped her waist. “I--I don’t know what’s going on right now. I’m freaking out y/n.”

She nodded. “Me too. It’s gonna be okay though. Just come to my place when it’s over. Whatever it is, we can work through it, y’know? That’s what we do.”

“I love you. More than anything. You know that right?”

She smiled at him sadly and ran her fingers through his hair to scratch at his scalp. It was the most calming gesture he could think of.

“I know. And I love you too. It’ll be okay. I wish I could be here with you in this, I do. But we’ll figure it out. I promise.”

He nodded solemnly letting his shoulders drop as she released him.

“Yea, okay.”

The last image he gets of her is when she walks through his front door without looking back. Her head was high, shoulders back, a lot like the first night he met her. Only now he knew better. Now he knew it was a part of her no doubt, but a constructed one too. With the presence of his dad, she suddenly needed to be a version of herself that no one could touch. Not even him. And so the last good image he gets of her is a version of her that’s not his, not hers. It exists outside of everything that they’ve become together in the months of their love. It’s a protective shell put up to hide. That’s the last image he gets.

***

*y/n’s point of view*

He doesn’t come over. And he doesn’t call. At first you thought maybe something happened. Maybe Manny shipped him off to Novasokia or some shit. But a woman left to sit in her apartment for hours can only come up with so much. By the time it was dark out, you got the feeling that he wasn’t coming over. All your text messages and calls had gone unanswered. You worried sick, and sad as all hell. You skipped work to wait around for him, and then couldn’t bring yourself to do anything but lie there all day. So when he doesn’t show up it’s a day wasted. And when you wake up the next morning to nothing? Not a facetime, an emoji, not even a fuck off? Your heart just sort of breaks.

“Hi, uh. I don’t really know what’s going on. And I don’t know what he could have said to you to make you not come over but...I’m scared, Shawn. I--I miss you. And I just want to know that you’re okay. Please call me. Bye.”

You showed up to work an absolute nervous wreck. It had taken you all morning to convince yourself not to go over to Shawns’ apartment. If he really didn't want to see you, then you probably owed that to him. The rational part of you was trying to come up with a solution. So, you convinced yourself that Shawn must’ve gotten into a really terrible fight with his dad and he had gone off somewhere to play music and blow off steam. It wasn’t the craziest scenario. In the time that you’d known him, Shawn had definitely fled the world to hide in a room somewhere with his guitar. This was just the first time, he’d shut you out too.

You walked onto the floor of your office and Tiana was waiting there with a hot tea for you and a very sad, anxious look on her face. It just so happened that you didn’t have the emotional capacity to deal with anyone else at the moment.

“Hey Ti,” You mumbled. “I just need the day okay? I’m gonna go work on some stuff, but I really don’t want to be bothered.”

“I know sis but… you’ve got a visitor.”

Your eyes widened and quickly moved to get to your office.

“Is it Shawn? Did he say anything to you?”

“Y/n it’s not Shawn!” She called after you. “It’s Manny.”

You froze where you stood peering at your office door with confusion.

“What?”

“He was already here when I got here. He said that he had something to tell you, and that you’d be interested in hearing from him.” She explained. “But, I can kick him out if you want. I--I didn’t know!”

You swallowed and turned back to your friend.

“No uh, it’s okay. I’ll just...I’ll go in there.”

There’s a moment where you stood outside your office and took a huge breath. The truth of the matter was Manny had scared you for years. In the midst of your come up in the industry there were plenty of men who didn’t like you. Didn’t like your ideas, didn’t like your success, didn’t like your unwillingness to bow down to them. That you’d grown used to. But Manny seemed to feel all of those things at a level that no one else did. And while plenty of men would be happy to see your down fall not too many of them would actively participate in making it happen. You had known from the day you met him that Manny was the guy who would.

Falling for Shawn hadn’t gotten rid of the fear, but what it had done was shift your priorities. Whatever was on the other side of that door needed to happen, because you needed Shawn in your life. You loved him too much to be without him, and he loved you too much too. You knew that. You had to believe those two facts or none of it mattered. So you schooled your face into the mask that you’d created long before that day, and you walked into your office to meet it head on. Because there were no other options.

“Manny, I wasn’t sure if you knew where our office was located.” You smiled upon entering the room. “I always figured it was too urban of a space for you, not enough upper east side, ya know.”

He sat on the edge of your desk a lot like Shawn had the first time he’d been there. If there was anything to be said about the resemblance of the too, it was that Shawn did look a lot like his father.

“Well you’re right about that, y/n. I don’t exactly slum it unless I have too. I figured today was a good enough occasion.”

And subtle racist remarks all before ten am. This ought to be a treat.

“What do you want, Manny?”

You sat down at your desk and of course he immediately stood up so that he could tower over you. Men. So incredibly predictable.

“It’s over y/n.”

You rolled your eyes at the dramatics.

“And do tell, what exactly is over Manny?”

“Whatever hold you had on my son. It’s done with.”

“Ahhh. That’s what this is about. You’re upset that he started thinking for himself, and that his hands were no longer glued to your ass. I’m sorry but that has nothing to do with me. He’s a grown man; he thinks for himself.”

Manny stuffed his hands in his pockets and began to walk around the room. In retrospect Shawn was just about as dramatic as his father, just less evil.

“I should’ve known when it first started that you’d dig your claws into him. His rush to get me to introduce you two. The sudden trips to Rome on my jet, of course. The push back at work. His disappearing all the time.” He sighed. “I just thought angry pussy was better pussy or something.”

Your anger gets the best of you and a break appears in the mask.

“Excuse me?”

“Well you two really just weren’t subtle at all now were you? Which was fine at first. I’m sure you’re perfectly fine in the sack y/n, but it’s not like he’d ever marry you into the family. But then you started putting your nose where it didn’t fucking belong. That stint at the pub where we found Niall. Did you really think I wasn’t going to hear about that?”

You were absolutely rattled inside, varying on disgust and rage alongside a kind of fear you hadn’t experienced in years. But you couldn’t let it show. You’d rather die than let it show.

“He’s talented. He’s the best I’ve seen in years and I’ve got three of this years top artists under my belt. To block that? To keep him hidden because of your own inadequacies? That’s pathetic and you know it.”

Manny chuckled. “Your generation is so incredibly naive. That’s business, honey. Shawn can do more for me outside of the spotlight than he can inside it. It’s as simple as that.”

“Oh for fuck’s sake. You old wrinkly white men and your archaic understanding of the world. That’s not business, that’s greed. That relentless, self-indulging, disgusting greed you sad, sad little man.”

The smile on Manny’s face dropped as well as the temperature in the room. You were without a doubt one of the only people in his life to challenge him. He didn’t like it at all.

“And what about what he wants? Doesn’t that matter at all?” You asked. “Doesn’t anything but your own self-interest matter to you at all?”

“Not even in the slightest. But it’s okay now. I’ve shifted my narrative in part because of you. So I thank you for that.”

“Jesus Christ you know you sound like a villain straight out of a Spy Kids movie, like at all times? Will you just get to the fucking point?”

“I’m gonna give Shawn his masters back.”

You paused. “What?”

“Yep. All two hundred songs. There his. He can do with them what he pleases. He’ll resign a contract with me of course, and I’ll give him the career he always wanted. He’ll realize that he’s nothing without me. And everyone lives happily ever after.”

“I’m just supposed to believe that a plan you cooked up when he was fifteen years old is over now? Just like that? What’s the catch here?”

Manny snapped his fingers and moved closer to you.

“Oh that’s right. My apologies. The catch is that he has to break up with you.”

At this your stomach and your heart and everything in between just dropped.

“What?”

“You heard me. Shawn can have everything that he’s ever wanted, every song he’s ever written, just as long as you’re not in the picture.” He smiled. “I know my son, y/n. And he will pick correctly and you will be but an unpleasant memory.”

It just ripped you to shreds. It was the culmination of everything that you knew about Shawn, and everything that you loved about him, being exactly the thing to take him from you. And it hurt. You were left utterly defenseless as if he’d ripped your carefully crafted mask right from your face. Your eyes watered, your throated tightened. This was it. This was the end. Manny had banked on your willingness to know Shawn, which meant he knew that you loved him. And perhaps that’s the part that hurts the most. That someone could take the goodness of your heart and use it against you in such a malicious way.

“Why...why would you do this?” You asked.

And he shrugged at you.

“I like to win y/n. And I always win. This time will be no different. And I’ll make sure of it.”

He left the room just as the tears spilled over your cheeks. Because in order for Manny to win, someone would have to lose. He had made sure that only one person would come out of this scathed. You lost.

***

Seeing him on the other side of your door makes the gaping hole where your heart used to be throb. His curls are wilder than ever. There are bags beneath his eyes that are unlike anything you’d ever seen. He looked exhausted and sad and really beautiful even then. When he sees you he pulls up a smile that is so pathetic it hurts. But, it’s honest. It’s him giving all of himself to you, even when there’s damn near nothing left. To look at him now was to be in pain. And so you had to remind yourself that preservation was a Black woman’s armor. It was all you had left.

He smiled sadly as you leaned against your door not inviting him inside.

“Hi.” He whispered waving in his favorite clappy hand like motion that usually made you smile.

Not today.

“Hi.”

“I can explain. And I am so, so sorry that I disappeared but--”

“There’s no need.” You interrupted.

He shook his head. “No, y/n, I swear to you that I didn’t mean to hurt you. I just needed time. I needed to clear my head and my fucking dad he--”

“I know. Shawn I know.” You mumbled. “He came to my office.”

Shawn’s eyes widened.

“He did what? What did he say to you?”

He reached for you and you stepped further behind the door causing Shawn to pause and stare at you. His face began to shift just as the puzzle pieces slid into place. As your lip trembled he raised his hands up in the air in a motion of defenselessness, as if he was waiting for you to spook and disappear at any moment. If only he knew.

“Y/n what’s going on?” He whispered, eyes wide open and scared. “Why won’t you let me touch you? W--Why can’t we go inside?”

You closed your eyes and breathed but it was pointless. The tears came in abundance now. His hand touched your cheek and you wished that it didn’t soothe you. Wouldn’t this all be easier if he didn’t soothe you so well.

“It’s over, Shawn.”

“What?” He mumbled, completely frozen into place. “What?”

You swallowed.

“It has to end. You and me, we’re done.”

“What are you talking about right now? Are you kidding me?” He sputtered. “I--love you. I love you with everything that I am, how could you say that to me?”

You shake your head to try and dispel some of the sadness with the hopes that you could even get through this whole. The problem was you already felt yourself splintering, and the more room you gave him to fight, the more damaged the both of you would be.

“I’m sorry, but that doesn’t matter right now.”

You can tell by the look on his face that you’re crushing him. This fact only ruins you further, only make the pain sizzle deep in your gut. You’ve got nothing left to give. You’ve gotta give it all to him so that he can go on and be okay. It’s for the best. It has to be.

“It does matter?! I love you! And you love me. And it doesn’t matter? Why are you doing this?!”

“Because it...it’s the only way to give you everything you’ve always wanted. And I love you enough to give you that. Goodbye Shawn.”

“Y/n, wait can’t we please just--”

You close the door in his face. Everything is blurry around the edges. You sink down to the floor and cover your ears as if it might cover the sounds of him pounding on your door. The two of you cry and sob for the other. You knows there’s no fixing this. It’s done.

***

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hermankopusortizorsumshite · 4 years

Text

You and Kozik were friends with benefits, at least that’s what you told yourself. He often visited and stayed the night, but he always left in the morning.

“Hey, I’m gonna head out.” He whispers, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“Okay, I’ll see you later.” You giggle, patting his hand as he headed towards the door. “Hemi?” You call, stopping him at the door. You run to him, wrapping your arms around his neck. “Why can’t you stay here?”

“I can’t. I’m done with Rev, man. Come with me.”

“I can’t. My job is here, my house.”

“I’m not leaving SAMCRO, sorry.”

“Just come with me.” He barks, grabbing the door handle.

“I can’t!”

“You don’t want to! Afraid your daddy will hate you? Disown you?” He shouts, pointing at you. Tears filled your eyes, you plant your hands on his chest.

“Just go! And don’t come back!” You shout, pushing him out the door and slamming it.

“This is over!” He shouts from outside before climbing onto his bike and flying down the road. About an hour passed by when she heard a bike pull up. Ignoring it, you went back to the laundry, folding one of his shirts and tossing it on the bed. The door creaked open, you figured it was Kozik coming in to apologize.

“Listen, I’m not in the mood, Kozik. Just go.” You call out, but he doesn’t respond. You found it odd and turned to find a Hispanic short masculine man with a gun pointed at you. “Aw shit.” You groan, an elbow swings up, knocking you unconscious.

“Clay Morrow, long time no hear. Listen, I need a few things from you, and I’ll give back an old lady. The new guy’s old lady.” A thick Spanish accent growled through the phone, and Clay’s eyes met Kozik’s back for only a moment before he stood up and headed toward the blonde.

“What do you need?” He asks, tapping Kozik’s shoulder.

“Money, and the drug business you got from Álvarez.”

“Dude, you leave your old lady unattended up in Tacoma?” He hushes to the blonde. Kozik lazily spins on the bar stool, flirting with the barkeep. “Kozik!” He barks, the blonde jumping. “You leave your old lady unattended in Tacoma?” He’s confused for a moment before his eyes slowly bulge. Sliding down onto his feet, he grabs the phone.

“Who are you?”

“It doesn’t matter. You listen, I have your little puta here, and if you plan on seeing her alive, you bring me what I need. Álvarez and twenty-thousand dollars.” The ransom was believable, but he couldn’t place it. He’d heard the voice before.

“How do I know you didn’t already kill her?” He challenges, praying to hear your voice. He hadn’t left on good terms, and even if you were through, he loved you.

“Aye, puta!” He hears a scuffle and loud thump, a groan coming from someone.

“He-hello?” You ask. He stared into Clay’s eyes and he expelled the breath he’d been holding. “Hello?” Your voice snapped him from his trance.

“Shit, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to leave like that. I’m sorry!” He shouts at you, seeing your ghost standing in front of him.

“Hemi.” You whisper. He heard the tiredness, the exhaustion and pain in your voice. It hurt his heart that you weren’t there with him.

“I got you, cupcake.” He chuckles, wiping his face down. The stress was eating him alive.

“Well Hemi, this little love story is great, but me and cupcake here have some talking to do, so how about you drop the bag with Álvarez at the park on Seventh, at noon. I’ll assume once Álvarez is alone with the backpack, we’ll proceed with giving her back.” The phone hangs up. Kozik shouts.

“No! Shit!” He drops the phone on the bar before he starts pacing the length of the bar.

“Quit before there’s a hole in the floor or you wear out the floor there.” Tig groans, taking a drink from his beer. “It’s not like she’s your old lady.”

“Shut up, man.” He huffs, pacing still.

“It’s not! She called and said you had a big fight before you left. You said it was over.” He chats, still nursing his beer. Kozik’s eyes meet the black-haired man’s in a fit of rage and shock.

“She called you?”

“She called the office maybe two hours ago, just wanted to make sure you made it here okay.” Tig shrugs, turning to face Kozik as he stood to head out. Kozik grabbed his shoulder.

“You didn’t think I should hear that? That I didn’t need to talk to her?” He barks, hands fidgeting as he stands there on the verge of a breakdown.

“She said not to tell you. She didn’t want to talk to you, I offered to come get you.” He states, putting his hands up in defense.

“She didn’t?” He whispers, wiggling his nose to keep from crying. He’d been so mean for no reason, just upset you wouldn’t putt everything down and come with him. He knew there was a reason he pressed you harder than normal. If he had just made you pack a bag, you’d be here at TM, ignoring him and angrily doing her painting. Her commission was currently a pitbull painted in pink, blue, and green, and she’d laid the base colors. He’d remembered the base colors well as she’d smeared them across his body before they made love all night.

“Shit!” He shouts, kicking the wall of the building, his fist connecting with the tin siding. “Why man!” He shouts, feeling the tears well up in his eyes. “I should have made her come with me.” He mutters against his Dyna.

“Hey cowboy.” A voice calls, heels clicking against the pavement as they got closer to him.

“Go away.” He whispers, feeling her help him to his feet.

“Puta! Wake up! If your amante makes it today, you’ll go home alive. If not, muerte.” He runs a finger along your throat, imagining a blade in its place.

“He’s a man of his word, he’ll be there. He’s not my old man, you moron.” You spit in his face, wiggling at the restraints. His hand cracked across your face, knocking you out once more, dragging you to his car and getting to the park at 11:56.

“Puta! Up!”

Kozik stood there, dropped the backpack with Álvarez and started back to his bike when he saw a girl humped over on the ground 20 yards from him. He headed towards her, to find her pretty battered and beaten up. Scooping you up, he carries you the van before heading back to his post. Your face so beaten, you were unrecognizable to him.

“Kozik.” You whispered, and caught Tara offguard. She gave a shriek, grabbing a scalpel and pointing it at you.

“Geez doc, don’t scare the poor girl.” Tig chuckles, trying to get some of the blood-crusted hair away to see your swollen green eyes looking at him.

“Tiggy.” You smile, grabbing his hand with your weak one.

“I see ya baby. It’s okay, hunny. We’ll call Kozik, tell him we got ya.”

“He brought me here.” You whisper, patting his fingers.

“I know. He didn’t recognize you. You’re pretty tore up, darlin’. Don’t worry though. It’s alright now.” He hushes, pressing a ghost of a kiss to your forehead. You hear a phone click open and hear Tig hush into the speaker, “you grabbed her, man. We got her. Let’s go.”

Kozik’s feet thudded towards the van, his heart pounding harder with every step closer. He didn’t want to get in the van. He didn’t want to see you. Tig slides the door open for him to get in. His eyes drop to you for a moment, finding your swollen, bruised green eyes looking at him. Your bottom lip was busted up and bruised pretty badly. His eyes charted every little thing wrong. Every bruise, every cut, every red spot.

“Shit.” He whispers, his eyes filling with tears once more. His heart putted a little, almost stopping when you gave him a little smile.

“I’m okay, Hemi.” You hush. You pat his hand, assuring him you were okay.

“It’s my fault, fuck, I’m sorry.” He whispers, hands hovering over you, afraid to touch.

“I’m okay, Hem.” He shakes his head, moving away from you and hugging his arms to himself.

A week passed, you had healed for the most part. Kozik had been scarce lately, since the napping. You chalked it up to busy, but something about it bothered you. You were heading to TM currently to confront him. Upon arrival, you find only a woman behind the bar and Tig at the bar, drinking.

“You seen Kozik?” You call as you head to the curly-haired man with a smile.

“Nah, he’s in the shop. Why? You here to rile him up?” He asks with a laugh, pulling you into a warm hug.

“No, just here to see him. Haven’t seen him since he took me home and posted some prospect panty-wetter at my house twenty-five eight.” You groan, reveling in the contact of another human being.

“I’m sorry, darlin’. He’s been pretty fucked up. Cried a lot, fought me a lot. He was scared out of his mind when he heard about you.” He informs, his hand resting on your back.

“He hasn’t really cried a lot, a lot.” The barkeep contributes. “We’ve slept together almost every night this week.” Your eyes meet hers, a fire lit behind your green irises.

“Hey, uh. You might wanna get outta here.” Tig warns her as you reach for a bottle. “Woah woah, don’t do this. Your not thinking right. Hey, listen. I’m gonna go get Kozik. You two obviously need to talk.” He disappeared from the bar for what seemed like seconds, and when you heard Kozik’s voice, you snapped. You lunged over the bar, grabbing the girl and dragging her into the open carpeted area by the pool table, grabbing a pool cue and hitting the girl with it.

“Christ Tig! You left them alone?” Kozik shouts as he rushes towards you. You swing the pool cue like a bat, connecting with his arm with a crack.

“Don’t touch me.”

“You just hit some chick! You expect me to do what?” He shouts, reaching for the stick in your hand.

“To leave me alone! You couldn’t come visit, and I gave you time because I thought maybe you needed it. My mistake.” You snarl, stabbing the pool stick at him to keep him away from you as you exit into the sunshine. “Yeah, I just assaulted some crow eater at the TM, Wayne. Hit her pretty hard with a pool cue. Send an officer to come get me, if you don’t I’m gonna kill this little smarmy bitch.” You hiss into the phone, sitting the pool cue on the ground next to you and pulling out a cigarette and a lighter.

“Listen, I needed some—“

“Different pussy? You stretch mine out too much?” You bark, raising your brows as you took another puff off your cigarette.

“No, no it’s not like that.”

“Oh! I’m sorry. I forgot that little rule, where you don’t want your bitch once another dick’s been in it. Is that right?” You ask, eyeing him dangerously. He was taken aback by the words that tumbled so effortlessly from your lips.

“Cupcake—“

“Don’t. Don’t call me that Herman. You lost that privilege. It’s Nell. You know it.  Use it.” It stung. It was like being shot. You hissing his given name at him like venom. You’d never said it in your life.

“No-“ The police showed up as you stood and headed toward the car, arms above your head.

“Turn and place your hands on the hood of the car, feet shoulder-length apart.” The officer states, patting you down and cuffing you, stuffing you into the back of the car. Kozik took towards the car, but Jax and Opie held him back.

“No!” He shouts, strangled and broken. He fell to the concrete. He’d just gotten you back, and now you were gone again. “No! I’m sorry! Let me go, man! Let me go get her!” He cries, the three men moving away from him to give him a moment. “That’s my old lady.” He whispers, his fists hitting the concrete. “I can’t protect her. I can’t make her happy.”

“Kozik, we need to talk about what she said.” Tig hushes, hauling him to his feet.

“That she left?” He hushes, reaching for your hand only for it to be replaced with a cold bottle of rum.

“Kozik, she said you wouldn’t want her once another guy’s dick was in her. Koz, we all talked. None of us had sex with her. Kozik I think that she was—“ Tig stopped, he couldn’t say it. Kozik’s eyes lifted from the bottle in his hand to the other man.

“No man,” he whispers.

“Raped.” Opie finished. Kozik swallowed hard, unable to breathe.

“No.” He growls, slamming the bottle into the bar, shattering it before standing and stalking out. He rode to the station, finding Wayne’s car in the parking lot.

“I gotta see Nell.” He hushes to the sheriff, his eyes flicking to the door and back to the man at the counter.

“I’m sorry, I can’t let you back there. She won’t let anyone post bail. Sorry, kid.” He shrugs. Kozik rolls his eyes and heads to another desk, grabbing a keyboard and smashing it into the counter, the desk monitor.

“Listen!” Wayne shouts, grabbing him and cuffing him. He gets tossed into the cell next to yours.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” You groan.

“I had to see you, Wayne wouldn’t let me.” He shrugs, sitting on the hard bench.

“So you did what?” You ask, sitting on your own bench.

“I smashed a keyboard and computer.” He chuckles, sliding against the adjoining wall.

“Typical.” You snort, sliding a little closer.

“Cupcake, when you said that I wouldn’t want you once another guy’s dick was—“

“Yeah, the little Mexican fucked me. So what?”

“It was assault, darlin’.”

“Kozik, you were banging some crow eating hooker, why does it have to be assault? Maybe I liked it?” You huff, covering your mouth to keep from crying.

“Cupcake, I’m sorry. Okay? I couldn’t feel worse. You didn’t like it. It‘s okay, and I’m sorry you ever thought that I left because of that, or that I would.” He hushes, reaching through the bars and grabbing your hand, squeezing it. “Don’t worry though. The guys are on it, gonna cut his dick off and superglue it to his forehead.” He laughs, and so do you. For a moment, he was concerned when you put your back against the bars, but you encouraged him to lean against you. Both your hands held the others through the bars and the two of you fell asleep.

“Wakey wakey lovebirds!” Tig laughs, watching the two of you groan as you come to life. The minute the two of you were released from your cells, Kozik’s arms snaked around you and gripped you tightly against his chest.

“Christ cupcake, it’s been a long damn week. Let’s just go home. Find a bed, and never leave it.” He growls against your skin, hefting you over one shoulder and patting a hand on you rear as he carried you out of the station like some kind of trophy. You were met by the MC and their women, cheering echoing and bikes roaring. Kozik drove you straight to his Charming apartment, carried you inside, and dropped you on the bed. In seconds he had three blankets, four pillows, a couple water bottles and a bag of chips. He dove into the mess covering both of you up and snuggling against you.

“I missed you so much, Hemi.” You hush, feeling tears of joy fill your eyes.

“I know, cupcake. I missed you too.” He whispers, trying to pull you closer to him.

#kozik #kozik!reader #herman kozik imagine #herman kozik x reader #sons of anarchy kozik #sons of anarchy imagine #sons of anarchy #soa #kozik soa

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grumpyhedgehogs · 4 years

Text

Home Coming

Summary: TUA AU, Vanya stays at the Academy with Luther.

Vanya stays.

She stays through Klaus taking off in the middle of the night, fear making his eyes wide and his teeth splitting his face in a grin too large to be nice. She stays through Allison gathering her belongings neatly into a shiny new suitcase and stepping into a taxi to the airport without a glance backward. She stays through Diego’s last tantrum and screaming match with their father and the door slamming so hard their family portrait is knocked off the wall.

Luther is left alone.

Vanya stays through it all.

Luther doesn’t know why Vanya sticks around. He knows why he can’t leave, sure. It’s simple: he has been raised to save the world. He cannot resist his calling, even if their siblings can shirk their responsibilities so easily. He’s a hero. He’s here to keep being a hero.

Vanya, though. He feels bad, a little, to call her nothing, but that’s what she is. She has nothing here. Staying is useless.

She stays anyway.

It goes like this: The mission alarm goes off when Luther is downstairs trying to distract himself from how big the Academy is. He goes upstairs and gets dressed and stands before Dad and is told what he must do. He goes. He saves the day. He comes back.

It goes like this: Vanya is playing her music and stops for the alarm. She watches from the doorway as Luther leaves. She waits for him when he comes back and makes him eat something. She leads him to Mom and helps patch him up. She places a palm over his forehead and pushes his hair back, every time, and looks in his eyes.

They go like this: “You did good,” Vanya says. She says this every time. She makes up for where their father lacks. Luther doesn’t look her in the eyes and he nods and he goes to bed.

They don’t go like this: Luther tells her what happened to him, the kick in the chest or the gunshot near his ear or the hands around his throat. Luther apologizes for the ache behind her eyes, in her music. Vanya hugs him. Luther asks why she stays. She smiles and he smiles and they are fine.

Vanya stays and plays her violin and it is sad, now, with the emptiness of the house seeping into her music. Or maybe it has always been so sad and Luther simply never noticed.

She plays and plays and plays and when he gets angry and yells and tells her to just go, to get out and don’t come back, she stops. She waits him out when Luther rages and asks her why she thinks she’d be useful staying here. She waits him out when he tells her she’ll never be a hero. She waits him out while he shouts that she was never part of this family.

She plays and she waits and when he’s done, wrung out and empty, she makes him a fluffernutter sandwich.

He only ever throws that tantrum the once, three years after everyone else left. The next morning, Luther wakes up to the strains of Bach floating through the air and stares at his model planes and cries, just a little. The tears sting at the cut on his temple, the one preventing Dad from placing his wires there like he thinks he’s clever.

Luther doesn’t know who he’s crying for.

Their father hates Vanya with more passion than he is capable of in any other venture.

They don’t talk about it.

They go like this, one night: Vanya applies to the New York Philharmonic. She gets a call back. Father slaps her and she falls.

Luther’s throat closes up.

They go like this, one night: Luther finds her in the wee hours of the morning, slumped in a tiny huddle in the corner of the hallway. She is wearing a sweatshirt that used to be Ben’s. It is too big on her. She is crying.

They go like this, one night: Luther sits beside her and tucks his legs up to his chest as best he can. Vanya doesn’t look up. She sniffles and Luther doesn’t know how to help.

“I’m sorry,” he says, and Vanya shakes her head.

“It’s not your fault.”

“It is,” Luther points out. She looks up, face red and blotchy and he shrugs. “A little bit.”

“Maybe a little bit,” Vanya says after looking at him for a long time. She looks away, at her hands curled in her sleeves. She sniffles again. “Thanks.”

“Please don’t thank me for not being a shitty person,” Luther says. It startles a wet giggle out of her.

Nerves make his hand shake when he flips his palm up, knuckles gazing the hardwood floor. It takes a moment, but Vanya fits her palm in his. He marvels, for a while, at the differences.

Her hand is thin and pale and cold. Her fingers are calloused like his, but he has a kink in his right pinkie knuckle where Diego broke it when they were ten. Her bones are defined and fragile and not useless at all when she fills her hands with music. Luther's are useless without something to punch. Her hands are important; his hands are perfunctory. Tools of the trade, both.

Vanya has always reminded Luther of a bird; she flits and flutters at the edges of his life, never quite able to settle down. She makes sweet music but cuts off at the first sign of movement. Her bones are so very delicate. He’s watched, for years, as her face sharpened under their father’s unrelenting thumb, as her cheekbones threatened to break through the paper-thin surface of her face, as her knuckles grew more defined and less pretty as a bird’s wings. Luther wishes, sometimes, that he could take her bones in his hands and smooth out her sharp edges, rub away the hollows in her cheeks with his thumbs, gentle some kind of warmth back into her skin. The cold set into them both a long time ago, but Luther is willing to help her fight it off.

They go like this, one night: “Why can’t I be good enough?” Vanya asks in a voice too small.

“I don’t know,” Luther says honestly. “I’m sorry. I don’t know.”

They go like this, one night: The bruise under Vanya’s eye darkens with the passing hours. Her hand stays in his. Luther could break her fingers with a single twitch and ruin her life forever.

She holds his hand like she has nothing to be afraid of.

Luther gets hurt; chemicals burn into his chest, his thoughts goes hazy, he barely makes it back home before collapsing on the front steps. The last thing he remembers is the fear in Vanya’s eyes as she leans over him and mouths his name.

He wakes up later--much later, apparently-- and Vanya is there. Vanya stayed.

It’s been weeks, she tells him. She gave him her blood so that their father could save his life from the chemical burns, she tells him. He’s lucky she’s around because the only other option was Pogo, she tells him, laughing. They share blood now, like a real family, she tells him, smiling.

She doesn’t tell him what their father had to do to save his life. She doesn’t tell him how she survived their father without him. Luther doesn’t ask.

She holds his hand in hers and pushes her own warmth back into him.

Maybe Vanya isn’t the one who needs saving, Luther thinks to himself, and holds her hand just a little tighter.

“It’s the new dosage,” Vanya gasps. She breathes harshly, in-out, in-out, in-out, into the toilet bowl.

Luther doesn’t know what to do.

Vanya’s hair is very long. Luther hesitates, but Vanya leans fathering into the toilet, groaning, so he reaches out and threads his fingers through her hair. He pulls it off her neck with a gentleness he’s only now learning. The nape of his sister’s neck is soaked with sweat.

She hacks dryly into the bowl twice, says, “I can’t--” and vomits again.

Luther waits her out. He’s learned more about patience in the past few years than he ever knew.

“What’s in those pills, Vanya?” Luther asks.

Vanya doesn’t seem to hear him. She shakes her head, coughing, wipes her mouth with the back of her hand. He is struck, again, by how very small she looks. “It’s fine, I’m just not used to the new dosage. I’ll get better in a few weeks, when I’ve been taking them for longer.”

“Vanya.”

She looks up and her eyes are wet. It’s suddenly a little harder to breathe.

“What’s in the pills?”

Vanya shrugs helplessly.

Luther goes to Pogo. Father is locked up tight in his study and Luther feels the skin on the back of his neck prickle at the thought of cameras watching him as he enters the library.

Pogo is sitting quietly beside the fire.

“Pogo,” Luther says. He waits for Pogo to jump and clutch at his chest and then settle down. Luther does not take a seat when Pogo offers it.

“Can I do something for you, Master Luther?”

“What’s wrong with Vanya’s medication?”

Pogo shifts. Luther’s teeth grind down hard. People think he’s so stupid, but it is very obvious this is not what Pogo wants to talk to him about. Which means it is what Luther needs to know.

“Miss Vanya has always been very nervous even as a child, and your father--”

“I didn’t ask what was wrong with Vanya.” Luther says. “I asked what was wrong with her pills.”

Pogo goes still. His face is different from a human’s, but not enough for Luther not to notice guilt. “Pogo.”

“Your father only wanted to help, Master Luther. The consequences of Vanya going unmedicated--”

A memory flashes in Luther’s mind, unbidden. Vanya, playing the violin when they were twelve, fingers clumsy, missing more notes than she hit. Vanya, at sixteen, her medication upped by their father that afternoon, speaking at the dinner table like her tongue was too thick for her mouth. Vanya, at twenty-two, dazed and confused when Luther found her in the garden in the middle of December without a coat on.

Vanya’s hand, so thin and fragile, hollow bird-bones in his meaty palm.

Pogo speaks of powers going unchecked and adolescent aggression and fear and control like a professor giving a lecture. Vanya is sleeping off the rest of the drugs upstairs. She doesn’t have to know what Luther knows.

Luther has heard enough.

His sister looks up at him with a bleary gaze when he shakes her awake. She’s slept for several hours. It’s the middle of the night. She wants to know what he’s doing here.

Luther almost shoots the question back at her, used to wondering about it by now. He doesn’t ask.

“If I told you a secret that would ruin your life,” Luther says instead, gripping her shoulder firmly, gently, “would you trust me to keep you safe?”

Vanya is awake now. Her face has always been so serious.

She thinks about it for a moment. Luther waits. Father’s study was surprisingly easy to break into; the doorknob wasn’t even reinforced steel. Dad’s journal is tucked into the backpack Luther took from Klaus’s old room, strung over his shoulder and comically small.

They don’t have a lot of time.

Luther waits for his sister anyway.

“Yes,” Vanya decides.

It feels like something unclenches in Luther’s chest.

“We’re leaving,” he tells her. “Only the essentials. We’re not coming back.”

Vanya looks at him. He asks her to hurry.

She does.

“Why did you never leave?”

The question burns his throat on the way up. Luther has been wondering this for a very long time, but as things got worse and worse, he couldn’t quite make himself say it. He doesn’t think he really wants to know.

Vanya looks out over the rooftops. The city lights reflect in her eyes, big as dinner plates. She’s still not alright. She may not be alright for a very long while. Luther takes her hand and she laces their fingers together. She doesn’t look away from the skyline. Dad’s journal sits abandoned in her lap, open to the last damning page. Luther is glad Allison is across the country right now.

The sunrise reflects in the tear tracks left on his sister’s face. He doesn’t try to wipe them away; sometimes, you need evidence of your own suffering.

The rest of her pills had rattled in her pocket when they got into the car. He wonders if Klaus could help her kick them. He wonders what she’ll look like, a Vanya with powers. A Vanya with feelings.

But that’s not quite true, is it? Vanya feels more than Luther could have ever guessed when they were children.

Luther looks out at the city too. New York seems much larger now.

“I didn’t want to leave you alone.”

Luther closes his eyes. It is easier to breathe out here.

#tua #The Umbrella Academy #vanya #vanya hargreeves #luther hargreeves #luther #tua luther #tua vanya #my writing #angst #hurt/comfort #abuse #tw: abuse #tw: minor violence #tw: violence #tw: victim blaming #happy ending #protective siblings

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atths--twice · 4 years

Text

Magic Fingers and Sunflowers

Day six of prompts/asks, but today is more of a passing comment ask than anything else. A fellow Phile mentioned how she loved on the run stories and well, this was one that I had been thinking about for a while and so,,, a story was born. I hope you all enjoy it,

Spring 2003

Scully looked in the rear view mirror with a smirk, as she watched Mulder leaning over the backseat, searching through the bags in the very back of their sedan. He sighed loudly, turning around to look at her.

“You’re sure they’re back there?” he asked, in a frustrated tone.

“Uh huh.”

“Well, I didn’t find them.”

“Then you weren’t looking hard enough.”

He leaned over the backseat again and she was treated to a wonderful view of his denim clad ass, as she flicked her eyes from the road and back to the rearview mirror.

“I still can’t find them,” came his muffled voice. “Oh no, wait. Here they are, I found them.” He righted himself and she hummed in displeasure, no longer able to see his ass.

“Do you want anything?” he asked, catching her eye in the rearview mirror.

“No, thanks. I’m fine. Well, maybe a bottle of water.”

“Oh, some water. That’s a good idea.”

He leaned back over the backseat and she made sure to watch him as much as she could, without putting them in danger.

Grabbing the water bottles, he crawled back over the seats and sat beside her, setting their bottles of water in the cupholders. He opened up the bag of sunflower seeds and popped one into his mouth, turning to her with a smile.

“So, where exactly are we?” he asked, spitting out the shells, and tossing them out the window. She shrugged and he gave her a look, shaking his head.

Opening the glove box, he took out the map and unfolded it with a heavy sigh, as she smiled.

“Somewhere near Dallas, right?” he asked and she shrugged again, honestly not sure where they were. “Scully…” He sighed again and she chuckled.

“As if it truly matters, Mulder. I know that we’re in Texas. Does that help you out at all?”

“Considering that Texas is super tiny?” he asked sarcastically. “Yes, that helps me out immensely, Scully.” He rolled his eyes, looking at the map again.

“Here we are,” he said, pointing to the map. “Huh…”

“What?” she asked, glancing at him.

“Well, I think we’re actually closer to Chaney than Dallas. Chaney, Scully. Maybe we should pop in and see if we could find your buck toothed boyfriend,” he said, looking at her out of the corner of his eye.

“Mulder… how many times must we discuss this? He was not buck toothed, and you know it.”

“I know nothing, aside from what I saw,” he said with a shrug.

“He did not have buck teeth, which I know you did see.”

“Say what you want, but the jury is still out on that,” he said, popping a few more sunflower seeds into his mouth. She shook her head, breathing out of her nose, as she pictured Sheriff Hartwell and his non-buck toothed smile.

“We should stop and stay there for the night,” he said, folding up the map and putting it back into the glove box.

“Why would we stay there? We can still drive for a few hours,” she said and he laughed.

“To quote you, Scully, ‘as if it truly matters,’” he said with a grin. “We have nowhere else to go, no place in particular to be, so why not?” He winked to her and she knew she would be relenting, but she wanted to tease him a bit more.

“I think we should just keep driving. We still have some hours of sunlight left,” she said with a shrug.

“That place had the magic fingers that you like,” he said, raising his eyebrows seductively.

“You mean like that one place did in Oklahoma? When it stopped, breaking down before I…?” she raised her eyebrows and he laughed.

“As though I didn’t help you out when that happened,” he reminded her and she took a deep breath at the memory of how he had done just that; making her toes curl as she moaned his name.

“We have all those quarters,” he said in a singsong voice.

“For showers. At campsites.”

“Or for beds with magic fingers…” He wiggled his eyebrows and her body responded. She took a deep breath to avoid pulling off the road and yanking him into the backseat.

“Turn left,” he said smugly and she turned on the blinker, glancing at him, her eyes roaming over his body.

Driving into the small town that they had come to years ago, was like a sense of déjà vu.

“Everything looks almost the same… except for the lack of vampires, of course,” he said and she laughed.

“Did you expect to find them walking around wearing their black cloaks?”

“They didn’t wear black cloaks, Scully, you know that.”

“Just like you know Sheriff Hartwell didn’t have buck teeth,” she said under her breath, turning down the main street and heading toward the motel.

“Woman…” he muttered and she smiled.

He volunteered to go in and get their room. She watched him walk in front of the car and to her left, again admiring the way his jeans fit him. When he walked inside, she looked around at the crappy motel, and shook her head.

“What had I called it? Oh right, the Davy Crockett Motor Court,” she whispered to herself, with a chuckle. “The Sam Houston Motor Lodge... God, it’s like stepping back in time.” She shook her head again and smiled.

He came out of the door a couple of minutes later, a huge grin on his face and got in the car.

“I got them to give us the room you had before,” he said excitedly and she shook her head. Only he would be excited about something like that. She started the car and they drove to the room, backing in, in case a hasty retreat was needed.

Taking only the necessities from the car, they stepped into the room and she was hit with a wave of memories: how tired she had felt after that first autopsy, the ache in her feet, how her stomach had rumbled as she waited for the pizza to be delivered, and when Mulder had arrived, covered in mud.

“Whoa, the place is exactly the same, even down to the smell. It sure takes you back, huh?” he smiled and she nodded in agreement. The room definitely had a certain dank smell about it.

Setting their bags down, he searched the room, the bathroom, and the small closet. It had become standard procedure any place they stayed. They could never be too careful and they were always on their toes.

As he checked the room, she looked around. It was the same. The longhorn coat rack was still attached to the wall. The chairs that read “Howdy partner” were sitting against the wall. Even the bedding seemed to be the same. She was not sure if it made her feel good, or a bit creeped out.

“Phew, no vampires,” he said in relief, as he stepped out of the bathroom, a hand at his chest. She laughed as she shook her head and he pumped his eyebrows at her.

“Is that what you were looking for?” she asked, shaking her head.

“Of course,” he said, with a frown. “But, I’ve checked, and we’re in the clear. Man… I’m hungry. We should’ve gotten some food. Now we’ll have to go out again, ” he sighed.

“Or we could always order a pizza,” she suggested with a shrug and he looked at her aghast.

“Are you trying to get me drugged? Again?” he asked, grabbing the room key and stepping out the door.

“Can you dig it?” she teased in a low voice.

“Shut your mouth. I did not, Scully,” he said, with a mock sigh as he shook his head.

“Jury’s still out on that, as well as the buck teeth, it seems,” she said with a smirk, getting in the car as he locked the room door, laughing under his breath.

___________________

After a delicious meal of Mexican food and a couple of beers each, they returned to the motel.

Humming as he opened the door, she smiled at him, happy from the evening they had spent together. She stared at his profile and took a deep breath, shaking her head. God, he was handsome, so very sexy. How she waited so long to sleep with him, she would never understand.

“You and me both, Scully,” he said in a low voice and she realized she had said that out loud. His eyes roamed her body, as he pushed the door open, allowing her to enter first.

She was breathing hard as the door closed and locked, but when she heard the pile of change hit the dresser, she nearly forgot to breathe.

Turning around, she stared at him as he lifted his shirt over his head and dropped it to the floor. His hands went to the buttons on his jeans and she could see that he was already aroused. Desire coursed through her as she began to take off her own clothes, dropping them to the ground.

He stepped toward her, causing her to back up until her legs hit the bed and she sat down, scooting back further onto the bed. He grabbed a handful of quarters and walked to the side of the bed, setting them in neat stacks of four.

“Fifty cents for two minutes… I’ve got five dollars worth of quarters here. I think we’re good,” he said, climbing onto the bed and over her.

“Twenty minutes… yeah I think that will be sufficient,” she breathed, her core throbbing for him.

He kissed her, and her arms went around him as he lay on top of her. He was so warm and she could feel him hard against her, making her throb once again. His lips traveled down her body and she became wetter. His tongue trailed across her stomach and she gasped.

“Mulder…” she breathed and he kissed the scar from her bullet wound, and traveled back up her body.

He stopped at her breasts, taking his time at each of them, using only his mouth. He sucked at a nipple, and she arched into him. As he bit down lightly on the nipple, the bed suddenly began to shake violently.

She shouted out a laugh of surprise, and he lifted his head from her breast, his eyes wide in shock.

“Was it always this shaky?” he asked, his voice bouncing along with his body.

“I don’t know,” she said, watching his hair shaking as the bed seemed to speed up. They stared at each other and then they began to laugh.

“I put in a dollar's worth,” he said with chagrin, and she laughed even harder.

The vibrations slowed and they looked at each other with hope in their eyes. It was short-lived however, as the bed ramped up and she held tightly to him, fearful she would be bucked from the bed entirely.

“It’s only four minutes. Can we stand it?” he almost shouted, as the bed slowed and then sped up again.

“No!” she laughed and they moved, him pulling the comforter off the bed and laying it on the floor.

As they rose from the bed, their weight seemed to have been quieting the vibrations, because but once they were off, it became louder, the very screws of the headboard threatening to loosen.

Her head fell back as her body shook with laughter, the vibrations rising and falling in turn. Obviously something was wrong with it, and all she could do was laugh.

He pulled her to him and then down to the blanket on the floor. Surprisingly, or not, he had not lost any steam as they had left the bed. The bed continued to rumble and she could feel it down her spine and to her core.

Yes… this was much better…

The bed was finally silent, after running noisily for longer than the dollars worth of quarters. Mulder lay heavily upon her, both of them sweaty and tired, but happily so. She ran her fingers through his hair, smiling as she looked up at the ceiling.

“Is this what you saw when you lay here before?” she asked him. “All of these dots on the ceiling and that watermark above the bed?” He chuckled against her throat and she grinned wider.

“I was drugged, remember? I don’t remember much about that moment.”

“Aside from Ronnie coming at me like a flying squirrel?” she teased and he laughed.

“Aside from that, yeah.”

“Hmmm.”

The bed gave a sudden violent shake and they both froze, before she started to laugh.

“This was your idea. As if almost being killed by a “vampire” in this room wasn’t enough, we were almost attacked by a vibrating bed.”

“I can hear you putting air quotes around the word vampire, Scully,” he said, and she laughed. “But, yes the bed was a bit of a miscalculation.”

“A bit? A bit?” she said, tugging at his hair and making him look up at her. “I felt like I was laying on top of a jackhammer. It was just...” She demonstrated how it felt to shake around and he said nothing. “You know? It was so rough.”

“Sorry, I was distracted by the beautiful bouncing breasts in front of me,” he said, shaking his head, as if to clear it, causing her to laugh. He winked and kissed her before he pulled back and stood up.

“What are you doing?” she asked, shivering a little, at the loss of his warm body.

“I’m going to see if I can unplug the magic fingers,” he explained, walking over beside the bed. “If I can’t, well then…”

She turned on her side, her head resting on her elbow as she watched him search for the plug. Again she admired his ass, this time completely nude.

“I can’t find where the goddamn thing is plugged in,”he said, grabbing the pillows off the bed and tossing them toward her, the bed jerking once more.

“So, we’re sleeping on the floor tonight?” she asked, trying to stop her smile.

“It looks like it,” he said, pulling the sheets off the bed, and covering her. He turned out the lights, stepped over her, and lay down beside her, adjusting the pillows and blankets.

“And to think I wanted to keep driving…” she teased and he huffed.

“Shut up,” he breathed as the bed shook, causing her to giggle, and she laid her head on his chest.

They lay in silence, aside from the occasional shake of the bed, until she could not hold it in anymore.

“Who’s the black private dick who’s a sex machine with all the chicks?” she said in a deep voice.

“Scully…”

“No, Mulder… it’s SHAFT!” She sang in a high voice, before succumbing to giggles. He exhaled and then she felt him laughing, his chest moving.

“Go to sleep, Scully.”

“Shaft,” she sang again, laughing softly as she wrapped an arm around his waist.

“Woman…”

___________________

The next morning, a bit sore from their night on the floor, and tired from the bed shaking and waking them up, they showered and dressed, both moaning as they stretched their tight muscles.

She cleaned up their makeshift bed, as Mulder packed up their clothes and gathered the quarters from the bedside table. The bed shook again as he walked away and he jumped in surprise.

“Jesus Christ,” he exclaimed, staring at the bed, shaking his head as Scully laughed. “That scared the shit out of me.”

Still laughing, she got in the passenger seat as he put their bags in the car, and drove over to the office to drop off the key. She watched him walking away again and she smiled.

Driving out of town, he reached for her hand and she squeezed it as she looked out across the vast openness before them.

“Oh look at that,” she said, a few minutes out of town, leaning forward and looking to her left. “Wait, isn’t that the cemetery?” He turned his head and let out a breath of disbelief.

“Yeah, it is,” he said quietly, slowing down to a stop. He glanced at her and she smiled at him, letting go of his hand and opening her door.

They stood at the gateway to the cemetery and stared at each other, before Mulder pushed the gate open, its hinges creaking from lack of use, and they walked inside.

“What…?” Scully said, looking around. “How… how is this possible?” She reached out and touched a sunflower, one of many, the golden flowers reaching toward the sun.

Glancing at him, she found him standing in the middle of a large cluster of them, a happy and amused grin on his face.

“Mulder?”

“I think… I think I did this…” He looked at her, somewhat unsure, but almost certain, and she raised her eyebrows at him. “When I came out here on my own with the sheriff, I dropped sunflower seeds along the ground in here to slow the vampire down if he showed up. I don’t know… could I have done this?”

“I don’t know, but it’s entirely possible. However and why ever it happened, though, it’s here and I love it. It’s beautiful,” she said, walking over to him.

He nodded as they looked at the sunflowers that had grown in the cemetery. Meeting his eyes again, she grinned and he shook his head with a disbelieving smile.

She turned around and headed back to the car, Mulder trailing behind her. They walked through the gate, shutting it behind them with another squeaky screech.

“Mulder,” she said, turning to face him, but the words died on her lips, as she discovered him holding a couple of the stalks of beautiful sunflowers. Handing them to her with a shrug and a smile, she kissed his cheek as she took them from his hand.

“Mulder…” she said with a soft smile, looking at the flowers and then at the cemetery again. “Just look at what your overly knowledgeable brain created. It’s amazing.” He looked over his shoulder and nodded, looking back at her with a smile.

“Well, I am quite clever,” he replied with a wink and she laughed softly.

“Except when it comes to staying in once occupied rooms with malfunctioning vibrating beds,” she countered and he shrugged with a smile. “But look at what we would have missed, Mulder, if we had kept driving; happiness growing in an otherwise sad and desolate place.”

“So you’re admitting that I was right?”

“I wouldn’t go that far,” she replied, rolling her neck. “I have quite a few sore muscles who would disagree with your decision to stay here.” He laughed and she touched his chest as she stepped closer to him.

“But, a cemetery full of accidental sunflowers… that is a very you thing to do; adding a small amount of light into the darkness.” He shook his head as he touched her cheek and she smiled.

“Not me. Not hardly. But you, smiling at me that way, holding those sunflowers… well… that’s enough sunshine and happiness to power the earth.”

“Hmm…” she said, with a half smile. “I’m inclined to say that’s almost too much, but…” She looked down at the sunflowers and then back at him with a one shouldered shrug. “I’ll allow it.” He snorted with a smile, kissing her loudly as he smacked her on the ass.

“You’ll allow it… I swear woman…” he muttered as he pulled back, shaking his head and staring at her. She grinned and he kissed her again. “Come on, you. Bring that sunshine with us and let’s get going.”

She smiled and took his hand as they walked to the car, a happy light feeling in her heart. Some days, living the way they were at the moment, it took its toll on them both, and dragged them down.

But then, there were days like today. Days when finding a cemetery full of sunflowers, from seeds scattered years ago, absentmindedly but also hopefully, was enough to keep the worry and darkness at bay.

For a little while anyway.

She turned once more and looked at the cemetery with a smile. Only Mulder would have inadvertently created a patch of beauty in such a broken looking place.

Of course he would.

#xf fanfic #msr #on the run #reliving memories #teasing #love #happy #magic fingers #sexy times #sunflowers

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rosalie-roberts · 4 years

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( Danielle Campbell+ Female ) — have you seen Rosalie Roberts ? this twenty three year old is the next in line to Bishop Industries/ Night Club owner who resides in manhattan. She’s been living in nyc for nineteen years, and is known to be loyal and hardworking but can also be ruthless and manipulative if you cross them. people tend to associate them with thigh hight boots and crowns — ( Katie, 21, she/her, central ) @codstarters On July 22nd 1997 a baby girl was born in a nasty summer storm in Manhattan New York. The babies name was Rosalie, named after her grandmother’s favorite flower. Her parents marriage was already in shambles by their own malicious games with one another and the baby’s arrival was the couples Hail Mary. Unknown to the world that Rosalies mother had an affair and the babies father wasn’t Andrew Roberts. Her mother kept it a secret for her own selfish reasons as well as not wanting the news to become a scandal. Elijah, Rosalie’s older brother, was always looking out for the little girl and making sure she felt loved. Both of their parents had handed them off to nannies while they were off at socialite events or pursuing their own careers. Her parents were rarely home and when they were negativity only followed. Rosalie felt her mom could always find something to pick at that wasn’t good enough in her eyes. For her dad she didn’t think she was enough. Whatever she did he never gave her a second glance, a case he was working on was more important. In High School she joined anything and everything under the sun hoping that would be the thing that made her parents proud. Even to intern at her fathers law firm when she was old enough. Her Grandpa Roberts was the only parental figure she had in her life that was genuine. He didn’t want to overstep his boundaries and cause tension with his son Andrew. He did the best he could and Rose knows that. When she thinks back she wished he had fought a little harder for her and her brother. Her grandfather was the first person to notice the dancing talent his granddaughter possessed. He always joked to whoever would listen that Rosalie could dance before she could walk. He would always be front row at her dance competition and recitals. Rosalie would dance whenever and anywhere she could. Tragically her grandfather passed away in her sophomore year of high school. The two Roberts siblings became even closer while dealing with the hard loss. Another tragedy struck on May 10th 2016. It was the night of her big dance rectal and the amount of work that had gone into the production was astronomical. She wanted her older brother to come and see all the effort she had poured into her solo piece. He was currently in med school studying for his final and he needed to study. The young girl begged him to come back to the city that never sleeps. After her dance number Rosalie searched the crowd to see if she could spot her older brother. With no such luck she stepped off of that stage unaware her life was going to change forever. Her brother never made it back home. He had been hit by a drunk driver and killed on impact. Rose was devastated by the news, her cracked heart had completely shattered. Her once bubbly, selfless, compassionate personality changed. She had turned distant and cold. To deal with her pain she turned to the partying life. Where drugs and drinking and whatever else helped her to distract herself from her pain were her new best friends. After months of this behavior Rose knew she needed to get out. She packed a black duffel bag and left New York city. When Rose arrived to Chicago she only contacted a few people to let them know where she was and that she was okay. Rosalie went to business school and got a masters degree. Over the years she invested her money in different businesses and properties. She’s been back in New York for six months at first it was a good fresh start back. During that time she found out that her father wasn’t her birth father. That caused a dark cloud to come into her life once more. Instead of drowning her pain she has used it to fuel her. She’s gunning to take Bishop industries away from her mother. It had been her mothers dream to take over her fathers dynasty. For a hobby Rosalie opened up her own night club one that is symbolic to her own life. She needed a place to grieve without the judgement or worry from the people who cared for her. Ceux Qui Sont Tombe (Those who Fell) first two floors is what looks like to be an elegant, fancy night club. However there is a stair case that leads you to a different entrance. As you go down the stairs the colors of the stairs change from white stairs to black. The railings also change from white to gold, the atmosphere changing from a carefree to a much darker vibe. Once you reach the bottom of the stairs you will need to recite the nights password to let you access your dark and deepest desires. Each guest is required to wear a mask to hide their identities. The real question is are you a saint or a sinner? I’m Katie! I’m excited to get to know and interact with all of your lovely characters. I’m always down to plot so feel free to message me or like this and I’ll come to you.

#codintro #Rosalie's Bio #tw:Car accident #Tw:Drunk driver #tw: alcohol

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iphoenixrising · 5 years

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For 900 Followers! Sub!Tim III

So many babes asked me to go on with this little idea. I don’t know why I wanted to write it so much or even continue with a trope I’m very unfamiliar with, .but welp, I did the AOB too, so why not? The first two are on my AO3 so some of those comments were really just as nice.

As a side note, this is a LONG POST. And I may have added notes at the end so there’s no spoilers.

Bleary eyes open–

And things like “I’m going to take care of you,” resonate in his brain pan.

The last twenty-four hours slamming into his immediate consciousness is not conducive to good morning, Red.

Rather, his eyes move frantically around Dick Grayson’s bedroom in a poor attempt at a hopeful bout of crime fighting with some kind of hallucinogenic thrown in.

Fat chance.

A full bottle of water is sitting on the nightstand. His clothes are in a chair by the door.

The Dom supplements and chemical blockers are out of his system.

He’d gone down into Subspace safely for the first time in his life, knowing that by the ache in his body and bleary, half-memories of things like safe.

And now that the crisis is over, he’s back to being somewhat balanced, he’s going to get his ass chewed out and who knows what Dick might insist on after the big secret is out.

A spike of panic hits him in the chest, cold and sharp, and he needs to get moving to try getting a headstart on some damage control.

On silent feet, he throws his clothes on over the bruises and rope burns, noting he doesn’t have a phone, a comm, keys, or anything else that would be, you know, helpful.

Since he’s in Gotham, his only chance is to get to the Perch and get some tech under his belt, prepare before Dick tries do something he thinks is probably in Tim’s best fucking interest since now–

They know.

Random things going through his head while he dresses, mentally struggles to push himself up and away from the call of Subspace.

(If...if he was still here when Dick finally came back, maybe he would be nice and gentle, happy that he woke up still close to slipping over.)

(Or he might want to talk about things like we should find a Dom to take care of you. It’s for your own good, Timmy.)

(“You’ll learn to love it.”)

Dick might think he needs to go to hormone therapy, might make him register so an interested Dom could...could–

(It’s all about ownership, isn’t it, Tim?)

There’s too much “I won’t punish you like this,” that he doesn’t have enough evidence to know what Dick’s next move would be now that he wasn’t going to go catatonic and shit.

(You won’t be able to hide forever.)

What he does know, is that he needs some time to get himself together–

–and make a plan.

The window is up and he’s halfway out, heart in his throat when he picks up the sound of footsteps and a door opening. A strange bout of sudden panic climbs up out of his chest at the noise, and it’s enough to spook him into not to bother closing the window when he throws himself on the fire escape and starts to climb.

Panicky impulse is not necessarily a good motivator. Give it to someone with years of vigilantism and extensive martial arts training under his belt, and the decision-making process is fraught with more options and factors than the average person.

Which is why Tim Drake is taking a short-cut through the Red Hood’s usual stomping grounds in hopes to cut the route he’d need to take to his Gotham Perch by half. It’s a stupid move on his part, attracting too much attention by going via the rooftop express than making it down to the street to get lost in the shadows between lamp posts.

But before Hood had claimed this as one of his territories, back when Tim was the one wearing the tunic, the shuriken R on his shoulder gleaming in the night, back when things were simpler if not still bat-shit crazy (heh) because of things like psychopaths with delusions of grandeur and megalomaniac kinks, back when he was that Robin, he’d combed every inch of these rooftops, crouched down to eat power bars and drink grape Zestis in-between busting drug deals and kicking the shit out of purse snatchers.

Gotham was his first stomping grounds in the cape, so he knows all the good places to hide.

It’s why his battered blue and white DCs feel like boots when he lands it on Gold’s Pawn, takes the whole thing in five big strides, pushing up into gravity, flying for just a second, and landing it on the run-down laundry mat next door.

He crouch-walks to keep himself low as possible, moving in the shadows when he can, breathing in the night around him with senses painfully alert after the first easy drop into Subspace he’s ever had.

(Which he is absolutely not thinking about. Nope.)

The drop-off into an alley and corresponding sprint to the next dumpster are so he can hot-foot it up to the side of a bail bondsman, avoid a loose plank, and scale up with a few handholds in the brick that are all about forearm strength.

He’s running on adrenaline, paying attention to the path ahead, panting and too full of his own thoughts–

–that he doesn’t expect the whistle of a bolo sailing through the air, or the abrupt stop of it wrapping around his knees. Embarrassingly, he makes an eep before he hits the roof, fumbling enough to scrape his damn hands.

He flips over, already working the heavy weights of the bolo from around his knees, eyes darting to the shadows, wondering if Hood might have found him after all.

(How the fuck was he going to talk his way out of this one?)

But it’s Nightwing that steps out of the shadows, brows drawn above the domino, his mouth such a sharp downward slash that Tim cringes, automatically tries to make himself smaller.

“D-Don’t!” He tries hoarsely, fingers working faster, more frantic.

(If he was back up, he’d be out of this already – his panicky brain is telling him, and that just makes it even harder, and he can’t stop to think through what he could be facing next–)

“Stop. Now.”

And the bitter bile rises up in his chest when he responds to that voice, when he stops, has to wait.

He’s still too fresh coming off of Subspace, too long of not going down, that it’s ten times harder to resist.

“I’m not happy,” is low and dark from the Dominant in front of him, hands deceptively loose at his sides. “You aren’t ready to be out yet. I’m sure you’re fully aware of that, Tim.”

His hands are starting to shake because he still tries to fight, eyes fixed on booted feet coming toward him. His fingers curl into fists, but that’s as far as he can go.

“What if you dropped a few minutes ago? No grapple? No way to catch yourself? You obviously aren’t thinking rationally, which means you need to be taken down at least once more before you’re stable. Maybe even twice if I can get you there.”

A sob works it’s way up, and he has to clench his teeth against it, arms straining with the effort to just get his fucking hands to work.

“You were so good for me, and this? Running away? Such a big no-no.”

(“Don’t fight it. Don’t ever fight it.”)

He bites down hard, harder, needs the pain to break free. He has to get free.

(“I’m not going to punish you like this.” So, you’ll wait until I’m not dropping, right?)

“I understand why you didn’t come to me when you needed help,” and Nightwing is only two steps away, pauses when he notices blood on Tim’s chin, on how the chest under the oversized hoodie is rapidly rising and falling.

The choked sound could have been a laugh or a sob, telling the vigilante some of what he needs to know.

“You presented after Bruce was lost in time, didn’t you?” It’s deceptively soft, but the undertone is all Dom.

“Y-Yes,” he grits out grudgingly, unable to stop himself. “After I lost my spleen.”

There’s something there that makes Nightwing pause, the booted feet hesitating.

“I’m sorry.” Is softer than he wants to hear, than he wants to deal with while he’s fighting against his true nature. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you. I wasn’t there for so long, and it’s going to be hard to trust me now.”

It’s all a jumble of whatever, so he’s only got half an ear on the voice, trying to make it subtle when he lowers his clenched hands enough to wiggle one finger in the bolo’s rope around his knees from the back. He needs to get them loose enough to get away–

(from that voice, from that promise, from everything Dick represents to him right that second).

“But you need to at least try,” the older vigilante continues, takes one step forward, pausing again when Tim flinches violently back, is breathing too fast, too harshly, might work himself over into hyperventilation.

“Ssstop,” from between clenched teeth, “stop it.”

“My inner Dom would never let me leave a Sub in need, and I wouldn’t anyway because you, one of my partners, needs this. You need to submit. You can feel what your body is telling you, Tim.”

To run the fuck away and never look back.

And Nightwing slowly takes a knees, those whiteouts focusing on the Sub’s face hidden by the hood.

Luckily, Dick Grayson is a good Dom.

He’s the one that figured out B’s secret not long after getting the inner Dom senses when he presented. It all happened during the crazy span of time Clark had to vanish deep in the universe, and left B to keep things on Earth in line with the JLA while also doing the usual vigilante justice in Gotham.

Still in pixie boots, Dick had done everything to help shoulder the burden, but it wasn’t long when he started seeing the signs. When his Dark Knight was getting closer and closer to the edge. He’d overwork himself to the point of exhaustion, trying to keep from getting too violent with criminals and megalomaniacs. The struggle to keep himself at the top of his game, one step ahead of the baddies, the more intense brooding.

It killed Dick to watch B spiral, so he’d done his homework on Submissives, trying to put his first scene together that would be easy for both of them without ever acting as a Dom before.

Even back then, he was good at anticipating, and it was as simple as ordering his other Dad to shower and change into pajamas, to eat everything Alfred made him, and sleep for eight hours.

That was enough to balance them both out, to bring them closer as partners.

That might have been the first time he used the Dom Voice on Bruce, but it wasn’t the last. It was the high point of their partnership when Bruce finally gave in and let his Robin take him down when his Dom was busy and the world was closing in.

It had gone far in making him into a good Dom, able to talk down terrified Subs, to volunteer as a Service Dom, to separate out Dick Grayson’s Dom with all his personal preferences and the Dom that wants to give the Sub what he or she needs.

(It’s still a sore point with him, how he thought being Bruce’s stand-in Dom is what drove him to take away the tunic, because B couldn’t look at him the same, couldn’t see his sidekick after a while…)

He hoped he and Tim could at least come to an understanding. To be equals, partners again. And this revelation could be such a big step to making that happen. If he could make Tim believe in him, if he could give the third Robin a safe place to be able to let go.

He could make up for at least some of those old pains, maybe even earn Tim’s trust back again.

It was a solid plan, but not as easily executable as he’d thought, proven when he had caught the sound of the window opening, half-way into making something breakfast-y, his heart slammed hard when he’d taken off down to the hall to find his bed and bathroom empty.

A moment of panic hit Dick in the chest because Tim was still too vulnerable to the Dom Voice after the drop into Subspace while riding the dregs of withdraw–

He hadn’t had time to explain the plan to keep Tim from running. Hadn’t had the time to admit he’d had taken a blood sample to analyze once he’d finally un-tied the dazed Sub and let Tim sleep off however many days of insomnia he’d been riding. A call to Bruce while Tim was passed out cold in his bed to share the results, and they made a tentative plan.

He’d talked to Bart, Kon, and Cassie, asked them to come by tomorrow night, hopefully to see for themselves that Tim was getting better, more lucid and on-his-game. He thought making a point to bring some of the Titans to Gotham could have meant avoiding this very thing.

Tim’s usual deflection methods.

And as much as he doesn’t really want to, he’s going to have to put his foot down, and listen to his instincts on this one.

Blinking away the wetness in his eyes, Tim’s hands pause, and the sinking feeling in his chest that might N have a valid point weighs him down on the rooftop in Gotham, just as much as the bolo around his legs.

The Dom is doing that Bat-loom thing because he’s fucking concerned. Just looking up to see hands poised over his arms, waiting for permission, and everything in Tim sways closer when the Dom voice comes out–

(like when he’s told how good he is, how beautiful in ropes and restraints, how perfect he is when he just gives the fuck in)

–so, of course, when he insanely thinks he can’t have this means he has to push it and see if it’ll break.

“Trust? You want me to trust you, Dick? You think I don’t know you all want the same thing?” He grits his teeth to shut the Submissive in the depths of his brain pan the hell up, “fucking Doms. Want to punish me, Dick? Want to beat me until I bleed for you? Want to hit me until I’m a good little bitch?”

Some kind of tension bleeds out of Nightwing’s rigid spine. His hands flex and loosen, the deep frown gone when the vigilante sighs.

He finally moves then, pushes Tim’s hands away to work the bolo loose himself.

“Not all of us are assholes like that. I know you know I’m not like that.” And even when he gets the ropes loose, drops it beside them, the weights making a light thump, fingerstripes flash through the night act like impromptu manacles.

“Look at me.”

Even without the Dom voice this time, he can’t disobey. More because it’s Dick rather than the man that wrapped him in ropes and gave him what he needed to be able to go down without pain or force or fear.

“This is terrifying for you. No, I don’t really know, but there’s no other reason for you to run away from me than if you thought things were going to change, or if you thought I would give a crap about you being a Sub.” He taps his domino to raise the whiteouts, blue, blue eyes zeroing right in. “I would never, never punish you for protecting yourself, Tim, and that is exactly what you were doing. I hope, after you were able to go down for me, you’ll realize you don’t have to anymore.”

And since it’s Dick, the words his deep enough to make him suck in a breath, to ease down some of the blatant fears that came along with this little reveal.

Tim can’t look Nightwing in the face as blood rushes back in his lower legs when the bolo comes off, but blue and black kevlar is presses in tight against him so he can’t get up to run again.

“Hey, c’mon Detective. Use the evidence you’ve already got.” Is more gentle than he expected, making some of the steel in his spine soften.

“I...he-he told me,” and the words get caught up somewhere, stuck somewhere in the center of his chest because he’d never spoken about what happened when he was desperate, before synthetic supplements, before heavy mediation and self-dropping techniques.

(But he couldn’t only ever get himself down so far, only to skim the top of Subspace, still achy and half-manic after every attempt.)

“Well, well, well, lookit what we got here.”

Oh fuck. Oh fuck.

Nightwing is on his feet in a breath of movement, escrima sticks out automatically, knees bent and ready to lunge.

But the Red Hood just holds up both .45s, barrels pointed to the sky, and cocks out a hip. “Nice ta see ya, Baby Boy. Thought ya couldn’t be out t’night ‘causea some business.”

Tim already knows it’s too late to run, but the opportunity is one he really can’t pass up.

“Case, we were...we were working on a case. Hood. Hey man. How’s kicks? Any new baddies lately?”

“Slow night in Gotham, Timmers,” as he hops down off the high ledge and makes the walk over look good. “Good t’ see ya made it outta that last throw-down. I hate those DaDa fucks like ya wouldn’t believe.”

“Tell me about it,” he ignores Nightwing’s hand and clambers to his own feet, hoodie keeping his face on the down-low in case nosy reporters are snooping about the rooftops.

“Nah. Ain’t one a’ my best stories anyhow.” Hood puts a big hand to Tim’s shoulder, ducks down a little so the whiteouts can catch his eye, “‘sides, ya look like ya could fall the fuck over any minute now. Been balls deep in yer case means ya ain’t been sleepin’, right Timmy?”

“Yeah,” he makes his eyes meet the whiteouts, tries to play it off because he desperately doesn’t want to react to Jason Todd’s inner Dom (if anyone would know how to cause pain, it would be the vigilante that almost killed him more than once. They might be better now, might even work together sometimes, but he’s got no way of knowing how Jay would react to the truth). “Yeah, it’s been a rough couple of days.”

He internally cringes when the helmet perks.

“Seems that way since yer workin’ a case right after those fucks had yer team runnin’ ragged.” And the Red Hood takes a small step closer, a hand goes for Tim’s wrist, leather fingers overlapping. The tight hold makes his knees wobble, black eating at the edges of his vision (he’s between two Doms and the Submissive in him can’t help but want to drop to his knees for them, to be Good, to beg for their orders, to give himself over–).

Hood is saying something, but he can’t really hear the words, can only stare up at the whiteouts with his wrist held tight between them.

Your restraints would feel safe comes completely out of left fucking field and that panicky feeling is back, creeping up his throat, coppery in his mouth.

(I’m so screwed.)

Subtly, Nightwing slides a hand up to the back of Tim’s neck, thumb pressing at the right pressure point, helps flood his brain pan with the right endorphins, shaking him out of the daze.

“Yeah, lookit ya,” and the helmet shakes from side-to-side while the synths register the tisking. “Better get yer ass somewhere and sleep it off, Timmy. Ain’t ya still godda Perch in Gotham?”

“I’m taking him to my place,” N interjects, “so I can make sure he takes care of himself.”

Tim is with it enough to look at the Dom behind him, the threat of the hand on the back of his neck enough to keep him from protesting in front of Hood, but he can’t stop his body from tensing up when Nightwing takes just a tiny step closer to his back, the heat of him, the power and strength, the command an enticing pull and terrifying prospect in the same breath.

(“You’ll learn to love it.”

“I’ll never punish you for protecting yourself.”)

The synths are quiet for a long second, the Red Hood pulling off a little bit of that Bat-stillness.

“Hey Dickie, what case didja say ya were workin’ again?” Is off-handed, but if Tim knows anything about Jason Todd, it’s that very few things about him are accidental.

He opens his mouth to blurt out something that could be somewhat believable, but Nightwing beats him to it, “we’re looking into some shady dealings happening in a few care centers around town. Abusive Doms that like to ignore contracts if you know what I mean.”

It must have been the thing Hood needed to hear because the vigilante’s attention shifts, and he throws up a pointer finger in their direction, “s’at so, Big Wing? Ya need anyone else on ‘at, just lemme know. Motherfucking hate shitty Doms, you feel me here?”

Through the haze settling over him, fighting the urge to sink to his knees, Tim sucks in a surprised breath, not sure if he wants more information or to get the hell off this rooftop before he gives himself away.

“I mean, ya know what I’m sayin’. Some asshole ain’t gonna be what his Sub needs, ain’t gotta place workin’ a clinic. ‘At’s fer damn sure.”

“Agreed,” Nightwing replies quickly, “so we’re going through a lot of personnel files, you know? If we need another pair of eyes or hands in on it, we’re going to call you first.”

“Sounds righteous, boys. If ya need it, ya know how ta find me,” a two fingered salute before the gauntlet grapple fires into the night, “an’ fer fuck’s sake, Timmers. Get some damn sleep. Look like a fucking pile a’ shit warmed over.” With that parting shot, the Red Hood leaps off the roof, going back to patrol.

The second he swings off around the 7-11 on the corner, Tim lets out the breath he’d been holding in a woosh, and with it, the strength left in his knees.

“Stubborn ass,” Dick gripes, catching him easily enough, slides one of his arms over Kevlar and Nomac. “But you’re my stubborn ass, aren’t you?”

He might make a noise, something slurry and low, something that could have been bite me or bet me.

But he turns enough to catch those fingerstripes stark against the pale skin of his wrist, and something in him, something long buried and denied makes a knot warm in his belly, makes his mouth water, makes the random flash in the forefront of his brain pan–

Those fingerstripes in his mouth, opening him up, playing with the rope around his chest and shoulders, tapping on the gag in his mouth, feeding him bits of food, his tongue curling around them, following the motions of his Dom…

– “Timmy? Oh baby, you’re going down deep aren’t you?”

“N-No, no, I’m–” but somehow he’s sitting on Dick’s overstuffed couch, his shoes and hoodie removed, and Dick crouched at his side, holding a grape Zesti with a little straw sticking out. The top of the Nightwing suit is open to the waist, the top half pulled off to flop around Dick’s legs.

Fuck, how much time did he lose?

When he would have jerked up, tried to run his mouth for a little deflection tech, he’s pathetically at a loss for words when Dick’s free hand comes up to cup over his mouth, not letting the deflections come out–

And Dick keeping a hand over his mouth, muffling his moans, his screams, his sobs…

– and a thumb pressing gently into the pressure point in his wrist makes his eyes flutter enough to focus.

“That’s it. Open again for me. Such a good boy,” and his mouth drop open automatically, another piece of bagel with cream cheese for him to chew. He’s on Dick’s lap this time, not on the couch by himself, or kneeling at Dick’s feet, but just laying against the Dom’s chest with some sense of satisfaction when he chews, swallows, and opens up for the next bite.

“I know it’s hard to think right now, but you’re so perfect like this. Doing exactly what I wanted. My perfect Sub, doing so beautifully for me.”

He moans a little around the bite, warming at the praise, hands lose in his lap, gets to lick the extra cream cheese off Dick’s finger for the next bite.

“Mmhm. I’m going to let you stay down for a little while longer. You’re feeling really nice right now, and you need it, don’t you, baby? You haven’t let yourself have this nearly enough.”

He makes a soft noise in his chest, using words too much of a bother at the moment.

“I know, I know. But it’s okay. You’re safe here with me. You can let go when I’m here, Timmy, I promise. I’ll keep you safe.”

A few more bites and he gets a few drinks of some tart juice, the taste sharp and tart enough to make the haze around him lighten up, gives him enough awareness to turn his head and make sure he knows where they are this time.

The color of the walls and pulley system on the ceiling tells him they’re in Dick’s bedroom this time, and the suit hanging on the back of the door has absolutely nothing to do with their usual nightlife.

He gets a few minutes to take in the shine off the latex, the embedded rings stark silver against the black, the heavy hood with extra straps to go over the eyes and mouth, holes in the nose so the person inside could breathe.

“Another drink, Timmy. That’s it. My pretty Sub is almost ready, aren’t you?” Dick leans down just a little to talk lower into his ear. “You’re going to go down for me again, all the way, aren’t you? You’re going to let me see you like that again, how gorgeous you are when you’re in Subspace. And you’re going to be good and let me help you get there.”

But Tim shudders a little in the Dom’s hold, trying to think through the haze that just wants him to be pliant, that wants him to give in and make Dick happy, wants to do whatever he has to for Dick to keep saying he’s...he’s good.

But...But there was a reason he left in the first place, isn’t there?

“D-Dick, I…” but that felt wrong in his mouth, the words so hard to form when he feels almost woozy, wants to slide to his knees and kneel at Dick’s feet, wants to call him Sir and feel that attention fixed on him again.

The hand on his jaw is warm and the touch sends a thrill through his nerve endings, automatically lets him lean into the touch, eyes fluttering open–

(when did he close his eyes?)

–to the dark blue of Dick looking down at him critically, assessing, seeing more than Tim had let anyone but the occasional Titan in on.

“Oh,” the Dom breathes out very, very quietly, looking at the soft flush to Tim’s pale face, the way he’d immediately softened at skin-to-skin touch.

A new plans starts forming, his eyes darting to the latex suit he’d pulled out when it seemed like Tim needed another scene with sensory deprivation (not that the idea of putting his Sub in the suit wasn’t very appealing to his helpless kink – his mind going places featuring Tim in the suit writhing below him), but the automatic reaction makes him change his mind immediately.

He tests his theory, hand slowly moving so his palm spans the side of Tim’s throat, thumb back-and-forth over his jugular.

The vulnerable position doesn’t bring any self-preservation to the fore, just makes Tim’s mouth open for a soft sigh.

Touch-starved.

“Mmhm,” he draws out, low and deep, “you’re ready to get started now. I want you to stand up and strip down to your boxers. Fold your clothes neatly and put them on the bureau. Then, I want you to kneel and wait for me. Do you understand, Tim?”

He sees the sluggish movement of violet-blue eyes go to the suit on the back of the door, start to get fixed.

“I asked once, Tim. I don’t want to ask again.”

The hazey quality makes his movements more sloppy and sluggish, something he can’t focus on while he’s trying to do what his Dom wanted, half-terrified of punishment, half-excited at what his Dom might do to him this time, what could make the quality of his tone, the glaring warning (“I don’t want to ask again.”) change into something...else.

His hands are shaky by the time he’s done, laying his folded clothes neatly on the bureau. There a moment of panic, of fear, spearing his chest when he realizes he doesn’t know where to kneel. Sir didn’t tell him where.

(Close to the suit, by the bed, in the middle of the floor? If he gets it wrong, what will Sir do to him? If he asks, will he get punished anyway? He didn’t listen close enough the first time, must have missed it, because he’s bad at this, a bad Sub...)

His mouth goes dry and coppery, the air cool on his bare skin, goosebumps rising on his arms.

“S-Sir, where…?” Is trembly and tentative, so unlike the dangerous vigilante lurking under his skin, under the haze, under the need to do this, to be this.

To give in.

“Right by the bed, Timmy. That’s where I want you. Good boy for asking.” Sir calls absently while he’s in the bathroom, light on and door open, where he’d apparently gone while Tim was stripping down.

But the relief is a palpable thing, makes him stumble on the first step. But he focuses on sitting back on his heels, hands loose on his bare thighs, breathing through his nose.

He keeps his chin tilted down when Sir comes back with a white bottle in his hands, and opens the nightstand drawer, pulling out a set of leather cuffs.

“You’re doing perfectly. Stay right there while I get some things ready for you.”

But his eyes slide to the suit waiting, something about it just–

Dick pauses in rifling through the drawer, turning to look at him, really look even though he hadn’t heard a sound. Something here set off his inner sense.

“Tim,” is careful, curious. “Check in.”

But his eyes can’t leave the hood, the shiny zipper up the back, the straps over his mouth both soothing and stifling and his brain doesn’t know if he can take it right now, if he can calm down enough not to fight it. If it won’t choke him.

(That could be your punishment after all. No movement, can’t scream, can’t breathe, just a body tied down to be fucked or bled, just like he promised…)

Dick’s hand is warm on his jaw again, the touch turning him abruptly, breaking him out of a mental loop.

“What are your safewords?” The Dom Voice, the one thing that could really bring him back, make him focus.

“Red...Yellow...G-Green, Sir.”

“Good Boy,” low and slow, “now check in.”

He swallows softly, trembling with the possibility he’s getting himself in trouble by admitting, “...y-yellow.”

And as deep as he is, as the heavy haze settled over him pulls this part of him out, the one with the need to please, that wanted praise, terrified of fucking up, of being bad, being thrown away and abandoned and–

He cringes back, wincing like an animal waiting for the blow.

But the Dom doesn’t let him pull away, the grip on his jaw gets tight, giving him another spike of fear right in the center of his chest.

But Sir is unfailingly gentle when he says, “that’s right, baby. My. Good. Boy. I’m so proud of you for telling me the truth.”

The breath he’d been holding rushes out, leaving him trembling slightly, trying to concentrate on just staying still where Sir’s hand is holding his jaw.

“What do you need to calm down? Maybe a collar?”

“I…” his eyes go to the suit again, “th-that. The suit. I...I don’t know if I can– if I can do it this time? I...I’m sorry, I’m sorry, Sir, I–”

“That’s okay. I changed my mind about the suit, too. Maybe another time. I think you don’t need that to go down. I have something different planned.”

His shoulders and back relax with the tension he hadn’t realized he’d been carrying, but he keeps his jaw right in the palm of his Dom’s hand. “Th-thank-you, Sir.”

“You’re welcome,” is gentle, but still with an edge. “And now you know I expect you to use your safeword, Tim. You will use it when you need to, just like you needed to a few minutes ago and didn’t.”

“I,” and he blinks wetly, eyes suddenly hot, “I...Sir–”

“Mmhm. I already told you last time that you will safeword out, and you didn’t, did you, Tim?”

His breath is more of a gasp, a hiccup, and he has to blink again, try to keep his eyes from spilling over, “No. No Sir.”

“Tell me why.”

“I-I,” and he has to swallow, can’t close his eyes, or stop the tremble up his spine, “I was a-afraid you would punish me if I...if I said no.”

“Mmhm, and what did I tell you on the roof?” Is soft with a dangerous, low edge.

“That...that you wouldn’t punish me for protecting myself.” And it’s too late because one lone drop spills out, rolls down until Sir’s thumb rubs it away.

“That’s right. You will safeword out when something might hurt you. That is absolutely non-negotiable.” Dick’s tone is firm, an edge of anger that makes the Submissive in him shrink down because he’d made the Dom angry with him. “Rule number one, Tim. If you let me hurt you when you could have stopped me–”

Tim’s eyes widen, a shudder runs down his spine, because the cool, calm facade doesn’t touch those eyes, a promise of something dark lurking just under the surface.

(And it’s not too far out of the realm of possibilities that Sir’s been playing the Good Dom with him up until now. Being nice and attentive, caring and touching … but there’s something, something there that pulls at his instincts, makes it easier to submit each time...would it sting so good if Dick was the one using a crop on him this time?)

“–I will punish you. Do you understand?”

“Yes–yes, Sir,” and punish makes his spine snap ramrod straight, makes him tremble in the palm of Dick’s hand, makes him lower his eyes.

“Now, you are going to wear my cuffs again. I’m going to restrain you, and you are going to lay down on my bed on your belly.” Sir’s thumb swipes under his eye again before the hand is gone off his face, letting Tim drop his chin to his chest.

Dick watches the struggle for a few moments, the movement of eyes under the lids, the pink staining his nose and under his eyes, the rapid blinks to keep his eyes from spilling over. And even if he wants to do nothing more than drop to his knees and take Tim in his arms, to keep him held securely, to surround him in strength and support, to talk against the top of his head, to call him little brother and I’ll never let another Dom hurt you. Even if his arms ache, his chest tight with it, he knows that isn’t at all what the Submissive hiding inside Tim Drake, Red Robin, really needs.

He needs to understand where the boundaries are, not the ones imposed on him from the abusive Dom, but the real boundaries Submissive and Dominants set for any Scene (normally by way of contracts, which they will be having that conversation, Timmy, you can bet on it).

“Give me your wrist, sweetheart. I’m going to take care of you,” no room for questions or internal struggle. It’s the Dom in him taking care of his Sub in need.

The hand trembles but rises up without Tim lifting his face, and Dick very gently leans down to press his mouth against the throbbing pulse before fitting the thick leather cuff around and buckling it securely in place.

Without being told, Tim holds up the other one, the trembling moving down his wrists to his shoulders, and Dick can see how it’s starting to be too much, too overwhelming, knows where they need to go, how they need to stop all those riotous thoughts from controlling him.

“Good boy, Timmy. You look so good in my cuffs, just perfect.”

“Thank-you, Sir.”

“Now, up on my bed, sweetheart. I want to get your ankles.”

Even though he doesn’t want to, Dick steps back instead of helping his shaky Submissive, watches Tim crack his eyes open and turn to crawl on the bed, laying down on his belly with every muscle strung tight.

It’s fine. By the time he’s done, he’s going to make sure Tim falls into Subspace, soft and relaxed, eyes dazed and mouth pink, smiling up at him when he’s so sweet, so trusting, so perfect putting himself in Dick’s hands and giving the hell in.

He doesn’t give further instructions, just picks up the two remaining cuffs, runs his fingers gently down Tim’s calf until he gets to the ankle, wraps his long fingers around one and tightens down. The tense muscles relax just a little, just enough that he can tell, can take the sign for what it is, and fit the cuff, buckle it in place with the D-ring facing the right way. Dick repeats the process with the other ankle, working his Sub into it with his touch first before fitting the cuff and tightening it down.

The bottle he’d prepared and chain lengths he’d attached to the braces at the bottom of the bed are ready for step two.

It’s easy to keep one hand moving up and down his Sub’s lower leg while the other clips the chain on the D-ring at each ankle, moving up so he can make light circles on Tim’s back. He doesn’t need to tell Tim to stretch out his arms, the tentative movement puts the cuffs close enough to secure.

“That’s right. You know I’m going to take care of you, aren’t I, Tim?”

The body under his hand shudders, “yes, Sir.”

But, no, Dick isn’t convinced, but right now, he and Tim have all the time in the world.

He picks up the last thing he’d prepared. “Yes, I am. Now, open.”

His jaw trembles, but Tim closes his eyes and tries, tries, to believe. He opens up and the taste of silicone is like another checkpoint. This one has holes, is more breathable, and he holds still as the buckle is fastened and then, the silk comes over his eyes.

He just breathes out and lets it happen.

And it’s so beautiful when Tim stops fighting him again, starts to give in, is gingerly putting his submission in Dick’s hands.

It gets to him down deep where the Dominant wants his Sub to always be this loose, this giving, whether it’s after a few rounds with the riding crop or overstimulated with more orgasms than they thought possible.

Or, what plans to spend the next two hours doing.

“Shake your cuff, Tim,” is soft and dark when both hands start making easy strokes up and down his back. One disappears and comes back smelling like soft musk, is slick and warm and strong. It’s a crazy thing how he unconsciously arches into it, the touch light but still firm, his skin sensitive against it.

It takes a second for his brain to hear the gentle jingle-jingle-jingle.

Bell. Attached to the restraints.

“Shake it once for Red. Twice for Yellow.”

Tim might have made a noise, might have raised up when those fingers lightly brush over old scars. He might let out a soft noise through the because it’s starting to feel like too much, just being...touched.

While Tim tenses and relaxes, Dick tries to be easy about throwing a leg over Tim’s hips, using both hands to start working out all the tension, all the knots, all the tight tendons. Back when, he’d worked at the gym in the Haven, he’d had plenty experience rubbing out old injuries, not to mention his many, many superhero and vigilante besties that get hurt doing something stupid in the name of justice. He literally spent an hour on Wally’s calves and thighs once, and the guy passed right the hell out before Dick was even halfway done.

But this? Feeling how hard Tim falls for this, moaning out at being touched and tended, those noises helpless through his gag when the hard muscle finally gives under his hands, the way he sinks further into the bed between Dick’s thighs just gives him all the evidence he needs.

(Octopus Hold Protocol is a GO.)

So he settles back on his heels, sitting gingerly on the back of Tim’s thighs, gets himself in the mindset for the long haul, occasionally picking up the bottle to slick his hands with warming massage oil so he could move slow and firm, touching and rubbing and working his tense Submissive all the way down to the waistband of his boxers, then takes his time to work back up again.

It takes a few minutes of constant touch, of Dick’s hands on him, before the tension really starts melting away under the massage. The Dom finally moves down, starts on thighs and calves, rhythmic and soothing, taking satisfaction from each boneless flop when he’d worked out the entire leg, listening to the soft sounds, muffled but oh so enticing.

By the second or third time he’s reached the back of Tim’s neck, uses thumbs to work the vertebrae and around to the hinges of his jaw, Tim was making soft, satisfied noises.

Dick’s pretty sure if he removes the blindfold, those eyes would be dazed and soft and trusting, that Tim is down far enough to be in Subspace, completely lax in his restraints, hands open, flopped on the soft bedspread.

“That’s perfect, Pretty Bird,” when he just slows down to rubbing his thumbs down his Sub’s neck again, humming from his own high off the successful scene. “I want you to stay just like this.”

And since Dick’s an amazing detective, he’s completely right when Tim’s eyes are softly unfocused, don’t immediately seek out the boltholes and easy-getaways, but lazily blink up at him, relaxed and open and trusting.

He unconsciously brushes fingers over Tim’s cheeks, is enamoured when his palm is nuzzled and a big sigh lifts Tim’s chest a little, making the Dom roll with the rush of endorphins from a job well done.

“Beautiful,” Dick praises softly. “But it’s time to eat, sweetheart, and I want you to kneel for me, just like this. So soft and sweet while you’re down.”

He unclips ankles and then wrists, leaves Tim’s ankles free, but arms pulled behind him, the D-rings fastening his wrists together.

The gag comes out, but Tim’s too far down to fight and put on a mask, just leans into it when Dick wipes the saliva from his chin with a soft cloth.

“One more thing,” is the (his) collar buckled and snug, marking him. A leash clips to the ring right under the Good Boy, makes it easier somehow for Tim to find his balance when he stands with his arms fastened behind him, hazy and focused on Sir’s every move now that he can see.

Eat. Sir said it was time to eat, time to kneel. He can do that. He can be good and do that.

He follows a step behind, his body achy and loose, legs wobbly like Jello-O, but he’s never felt lighter.

It’s easy now when the real world is far, far away, and he can be here, in Sir’s apartment, following the rules, making Sir happy with him.

It’s easy to keep one foot in front of another, hoping for hands on his neck, his shoulders, his back. Wants to feel hands in his hair, wants to suck on the fingers feeding him, wants to lay against Sir’s leg again and just be.

He kneels without being told, going down too hard, too fast, hitting the wood floor hard with a sharp crack, still not jarring enough to pull him back up from this fuzzy contentment.

“Easy next time, Pretty Bird. I don’t like my Subs damaged unless it’s at my hand when they’re begging for it.” Sir uses the leash wrapped around his hand to pull Tim up to his feet, free hand tilting his face up, and Sir’s eyes are light blue, are pleased with him. “First, you’re going to get the snack I made for us. Then we’re going to eat and relax a little.”

“Yes, Sir,” is soft and happy, making the Dom hum as he unclips the leash and sits back on the couch to watch what his Sub is going to do.

He’s too far down to realize picking anything up with his hands isn’t going to work, but the basket on the counter has food inside and a handle, with a clean cloth laying over it. So he doesn’t think of anything else but opening his jaw and using his mouth to carry their snack over and kneel on the pillow by Sir’s feet just like he was told.

He doesn’t even wobble, just tilts his head back and offers the basket to Dick with his cheeks pink and hair an adorable mess, waiting for the next set of instructions.

“So smart, aren’t you?” Dick coos, taking the basket from his Sub’s mouth and gently running his fingers through the snarls. “You knew what I wanted you to do, didn’t you, Timmy? My clever little Sub.”

The fresh fruit and lunch meat is cool and easy to take from Dick’s fingers, makes his Dom happy, makes his Dom focus on him, give him attention he desperately craves. The satisfaction wells up in his chest, gives him the boldness to lick at Sir’s fingers, scrape his teeth gently against the tips, suck more than he needs to.

Some water for him and Dick flips on the television, The Trouble With Tribbles coming on.

“I’m going to catch up on paperwork, and I want you to stay right here with me. Got that, sweetheart?”

Tim is already moving when the hand on the back of his neck makes him list against the Dom’s leg, eyes half-mast watching the program.

“Yes, Sir. Going to stay with you.” He sighs in contentment, falls a little further under where everything is soft and nothing hurts. He doesn’t have to offer to help, doesn’t have to focus on his own cases, doesn’t have to be Tim or Red Robin. He doesn’t have to be the vigilante or the leader of the Titans, he can just fuzzily tune into the show while soft scritches punctuate when Sir writes.

After a little while, he gets questions and doesn’t even have to think about his answers really. It’s okay to tell his Dom whatever he wants to know, to tell the truth because that’s what Good Boys do.

And it feels so good like this when Sir calls him good, runs fingers through his hair absently even when his attention is fixed on the spiral notebook. Getting the attention even when Sir is busy makes warmth bloom in his chest, makes it easier to sink back down.

“Hm. If another Dom put restraints on you, would you like that?”

“Mmhm. Feels good, Sir. Like being held.”

“That’s good, baby. I’m so glad you’re telling me the truth.”

“I...I’m being good for you, Sir?”

“You absolutely are. My good boy, my Pretty Bird.”

He vaguely hears tisking and rubs his cheeks against his Dom’s thigh, hears, “hm. Still a lot of questions I don’t want to ask while you’re nice and relaxed. Maybe I’ll come visit you in the Tower one day when you can’t run from me.”

The Submissive in him reacts when Sir’s tone changes, hides his face in Dick’s leg, shoulders tensing.

The hand in his hair starts moving again, subtly sliding down to palm the back of his neck, and the grip gets just a little more firm. “Mmhm. Seems like you’re back enough to know I haven’t forgotten. Does that mean you’re to tell me why you ran out this morning?”

And maybe because he isn’t the vigilante, because he’s down far enough that lying to his Dom makes him cold and sick, makes his eyes burn, and he has to blink wetly to keep from getting Sir’s pants wet.

“You… you were going to punish me.”

“What? Tim,” and the hand on his neck isn’t gentle or coaxing, but firm enough that his head moves bonelessly on his neck, dazed, watery eyes looking up. “I already told you I wasn’t going to punish you.”

“ ‘Like this,’ you said.” And his chest stutters with a hard breath, “but I lied. For years. It...it’s going to eventually be time, and I...I–”

Would rather get it over with.

“Tim,” and Sir’s eyes are so blue, “one of these days, I am going to punish you. That’s going to happen. But, I will always, always tell you first. I will tell you when and why you’re being punished, and when you can finally talk to me about what that other Dom did to you, I will make sure I don’t make those same mistakes. Do you understand?”

He opens his mouth, eyes getting hot, the haze of Subspace fading because he doesn’t know if he can really believe it, believe in Dick, believe in something different than what the other Dom made him believe.

“Tim. Check in. Right now.”

“R-Red,” is hoarse, his eyes finally spilling over.

The hold is gone from his neck, and he can pull away, can pull back, the softness of Subspace, the safety in it abruptly fading away until he can at least start to think again.

Well, he can come back up enough to pull away from Dick’s leg, off the pillow where he’d been kneeling, scramble back in his boxers to the far wall while Dick watches him try to hide, try to stop the vulnerability in every twitch of muscle.

“That’s really not how I was hoping to bring you back up this time,” Dick admits softly, and tries to be easy when he stands, keeps his hands loose by his sides, footsteps light when he kneels by the trembling Submissive, one that didn’t have time to come back in his own time, one that probably feels nauseous and disoriented and afraid with the abrupt mental shift.

Eyes intent, Dick Grayson has had enough experiences with Submissives to know the effect of being forced back out of Subspace and leans over slowly, snags a soft throw off his chair to wrap around Tim’s back, ignoring the obvious flinch.

“But, it’s definitely time we talked.”

This time when Dick’s fingers tunnel through his hair, it’s easy and gentle, nails scratching lightly at his scalp, just like back when they were train surfing and vigilante-ing it up all over Gotham and the Haven and most of the world, it’s a comforting thing he’d almost totally forgotten about in the years he’d been on his own.

“N-no, I...no.”

“Yeah, sorry kiddo, but I’m not taking that for an answer. Not anymore.”

And as crazy as it is, he tries to fight it with weak, bound arms and his brain half-trapped in that warm place where nothing hurts, tries to remember Dick is a Dom and anything he says could very well be used against him, but it’s all for nothing when the older vigilante wrangles him off the floor and back in the niche of a lap (safe), wraps both arms around him to keep him from running.

The ending credits are playing in the background, forgotten while Dick gently rocks Tim in his arms, waiting for the shivers to stop.

“Before Jay showed up, you were about to tell me what that other Dom said to you,” is breathed out against his too-long hair. “Maybe we should get back to that, so I can tell you exactly what is bullshit and what is the truth. We can set some boundaries to make this easier for you.”

Clenching his fists against the comfort Dick is making him take, keeping his eyes closed so maybe he doesn’t lose his pride, Tim grits out, “I know the truth, Dick. I’ve helped pull Subs out of underground clubs and shit too.”

Like I really have to remind you. Robin, remember?

“No,” is drawn out a little, Dick’s nose close to his, “you’ve only see the absolute worst of us, Timmy. Unfortunately, vigilantes only get to see the douche bag Doms that hurt their Subs rather than the good ones that understand what a gift it is to have someone compatible trust them enough to submit.”

“The only thing Doms want from their Subs is to fuck them or punish them. You think I don’t know that?”

And oh. Oh, Timmy. Just wait until he finds the Dom that did this to you. “Did I do either of those things to you?”

“T-That doesn’t mean it still isn’t true–”

“It absolutely isn’t true. At all. Don’t get me wrong, there are some Doms that might only want that from their Subs, and it’s their job to find a Sub into that same scene, not to force their preferences on someone else. But as for all of us? Hell, no. Jay isn’t like that and neither is Roy or Donna or Gar or any other Dom I’ve ever met outside of ones I’ve arrested.”

Those eyes flutter open, look sharper, less hazy and compliant, “You hang around with heroes, Dick–”

“Hey! I have a social life outside of vigilantes and metas, Tim. I scene, and often. I was even a therapy Dom for a while, so no. It’s not just because of the people we meet in our nightlife.”

In his lap, Tim shivers, the ring at the bottom of his collar shiny in the light through the windows.

Carefully, Dick reaches behind him and thumbs the D-ring on the right cuff open, lets the other ring slip out so Tim can bring his arms around and hold himself under the blanket.

It’s another way he can help ease the transition out of Subspace.

“This is hard, sweetheart,” he continues softer, reaches under to wrap his fingers around a wrist above the cuff, “I know it is. You haven’t felt safe enough or had the space you need to explore what you like as a Submissive. Part of my job is to help you find out so you can say no when you need to. And I want to help. I want to help you so much. I don’t want you to be afraid to go down or to let go when you need to.”

It makes his heart ache when Tim turns his face away, hunches deeper into himself.

“I’m sorry. I know this isn’t...ideal for you. If there had been time, B and I would have tried to find a Dom you could trust, but you were too close to dropping too hard to wait.”

And he may or may not have lost his mind, both hands fisting in the throw around his bare upper body, when he abruptly blurts out, “I know self-dropping techniques. It’s how...how I’ve dealt with it until now. It’s why I’ve never needed one.”

“It’s not enough anymore, Timmy,” Dick counters gently, appealing to the detective in him, “if you were so far gone that you went down in the middle of a fight, and again on the rooftop, then that’s your proof self-dropping mediation isn’t working anymore. You need to go all the way down, just like you were able to do for me. Twice.”

“I...I can’t. Dick, I can’t–” because the prospect of someone else putting a collar on him, trying to take him down, could possibly learn all his secrets while he’s in Subspace (if someone other than Dick apparently, could even get him there), is someone he would have no choice but to trust, is enough to make him want to run all over again.

“For the time being,” Dick cuts him off, easily listing him to the side, manages to lift his legs on the coffee table and settle deeper in the couch with Tim laying heavily against his chest, head nudged under Dick’s chin, “you’re going to agree to come back here next weekend and let me take you down again. And you’re going to do it for your own health. Because no one would be happy if a Dom like Ra’s al Ghul catches on when you get triggered to drop in the middle of another fight.”

“Are you–?” And even though he feels like his brain is fried from coming up too fast, even though his heart is beating harder, his thoughts faster–

“I’m not saying that!” Dick’s eyes are wide when he looks down, “I’m not saying you should think I’m trying to get a Bond out of you when you haven’t had the chance to know what you really want. But, I am saying I’m going to be your Service Dom until you are comfortable and stable enough to find someone with the same wants in a scene as you. For the time being, I’m here to help you figure out what exactly you like.”

Tim lays his head in his hand and resists groaning because honestly, this is not how he saw tonight going. Like, at all, at all.

“I…” and he’s so close to blurting out how terrified he is of giving up control, of losing himself while he’s down in Subspace.

“It’s okay, Timmy. It’s just me, just Dick. Nothing changes this between us, not the fact you’re a Sub and I’m a Dom. Nothing changes the fact we’re friends and partners and kick-ass vigilantes. So, it’s okay, you can trust me.”

He’s so close to telling Dick exactly what he wants to know that it’s the first thing he can think of to keep Dick from finding out the worst secret–

(I would go down for you every time just to hear you tell me I’m yours.)

“I...I presented after I took over Wayne Enterprises,” is more hoarse than he expected, makes his chest tighter just to start saying the words out loud. “I’d given up on...it was a shock.”

Dick makes soft humming noises, gently slides his hand up in Tim’s hair and scratches his nails against the scalp.

“I was hoping I’d be a Null or a Switch, but a full-blown Sub was...” terrifying “...not what I expected.” He swallows, lets his eyes slide closed to be surrounded by darkness where he knew how to hide. “I knew I needed to get a handle on it, I needed help outside the team and the community, someone that could be discreet.”

With a sinking heart, Dick can make a few guesses as to why Tim had been adamant about keeping the secret to himself when Dick was in the cowl and Dami the new Robin. Those raw wounds still stood between them to this day, and for over a year, Dick had to wonder if they could ever come close to the partnership, the friendship, the comradery they’d once had.

(Dami was my Robin, but so were you Tim. Don’t you get that?)

“The clinic out by the Midtown Bypass,” is soft with memory, “not a lot of crime, pretty quiet when you compare it to the rest of the city. I used a pseud, got a list of Doms to choose from, and went in disguise.”

Thumb moves to the tender spot right at the base of his skull, moves in gentle, mesmerising circles, makes it easier for Tim to fall into his narrative without stopping, without hesitating.

“He wasn’t that much older than me, but his profile said he’d been a Service Dom for over a year, and the ratings were good. No comments, but positive stars. He looked...kind I guess, so I was stupid and didn’t make a contract, thought verbal agreement would be enough.”

(He looked like you. Tall, dark hair, blue eyes, nice smile. It’s stupid how I judged him based on what I started to want but couldn’t have from you.)

He sucks in a deep breath, eyes fluttering to keep the images at bay.

“He sat me down at the table in the room and started talking about the scene he’d planned for newly presented Subs. Said since I was older, he could go a little harder on me to make sure I was absolutely satisfied by the time I left. He said I’d need to go harder since I presented later than most people.”

“A-and he started out pretty easy. I got to keep my pants and an undershirt on, he let me pick music for the scene, told me his hard limits. It seemed to be...fine. No evidence to the contrary. I mean, even if he was a creep or something, I’m a vigilante, I could fight my way out if I had to.”

It’s shaky, the rawness of saying it out loud puts some strength back in Tim’s spine, shocked it comes out so easy when he’d never talked about it, never admitted any of it before today.

He comes closer to the surface, takes a deep, deep breath, and tests the octopus hold, pulling away just enough to be serious.

Dick lets him, and Tim pulls the throw closer around him and finds a perch on the other end of the couch, taking a second to close him eyes, focus on the floor under the coffee table.

He must have been quiet for long enough that just a blink and Dick is kneeling at his feet, bringing soft sweatpants up to his knees. He’s already got a shirt on, and makes it easier for the Dom to pull him standing long enough to bring the pants over his boxers, give him comfort and protection with just clothing.

The cup of coffee warms his palms and he drinks deeply, the confusing mass of wants and needs, fears and traumas starting to ease when he can put his brain in front of it.

With his own coffee, Dick is sitting sideways with less than a foot between them, the illusion of space.

“I’m guessing,” his old mentor and friend draws out, eyes strangely still intense, “you probably waited it out as long as you could, Timmy.”

He looks sideways, startled because he’s still floaty and flighty apparently, and blinks a few times, makes himself focus.

“The worst part,” comes out of somewhere deep in him, “is that he made perfect sense with what I was feeling at the time. I...I couldn’t move against him when it came down to it. I couldn’t pick his restraints and get myself free. He told me that this is what I was meant for, what Subs were supposed to be, and not to try fighting it. I wouldn’t win.” He blinks, his eyes feeling hot and heavy. “I mean, yeah, yeah. His first lesson was not to fight whatever my Dom wanted to do to me, never to say no. Second lesson was my Dom would punish me. No matter what, every Sub gets punished, and most Doms choose pain. Most of them enjoy it, and it’s the Sub’s job to give them what they enjoy.”

And he can feel the emotions emanating from Dick, even though the Dom is utterly still. He can feel how badly his vigilante partner wants to put on the black and blue suit, make some people that deserve it feel pain.

The Submissive in him wants to huddle into that strength, wants to trust Dick won’t hurt him, won’t use him, won’t be one of those Doms.

(But he hasn’t done anything awful, hasn’t been what that other Dom was, so he can trust Dick… can’t he?)

“He started with a ruler, then used his hand, rectangle paddle, oval paddle, belt, crop, and cane. I could barely walk out the next day, had to...” but those memories of having nowhere to go after leaving that clinic, a time when the Cave and the Manor weren’t home, weren’t safe makes him suck in a breath through his nose.

And it’s a hand gentle on his wrist, fingers circling without seeming like it’s suffocating–

(because he really believes if he pulls away, he knows Dick will probably let him go)

–that brings him out again. “So...it was the first time I kind of went under, and I hated every second of it. That’s why the chemical balancers and Dom supplements. Self-dropping meditation. It’s safer than trying again.”

Dick is oddly quiet and intense, the muscles of his biceps and thighs tense, but the hand on him is still loose, thumb moving over his pulse.

“So, you don’t have to...do this. It’s kind of you to offer, Dick, but I’ll figure it out again. My system is going to be clear in a few days and I can come up with another solution. But I appreciate–”

“Timmy, it’s not safe for you to go back on balancers and supplements, at least not for a while,” is gentle but still firm in a way that’s still shocking coming from Dick Grayson, a way that’s so different from the vigilante big brother he thought he’d lost for good, but still recently bullied his way in the Tower to start making Tim come back to Gotham again. (He’d totally claimed a couch in the communal room with unapologetic stubbornness. Pure exasperation from the Titans made him finally give in and literally take one for the team. He hadn’t imagined this is how that little sitch was going to end up...or the fact he’s got a room in the Manor again. Talk about a throwback.)

“When you’re balanced again, you’re going to go back to the Tower and rest for at least forty-eight hours. You can do analysis and work the back end on some of your cases, but no out and about until after that. The team can handle the field work for a few days.”

He blinks again, starts to open his mouth to argue, muscles tensing because he’s close enough to the surface, closer to himself to be able to fight.

“Hear me out,” and Dick somehow creeps just that much closer, “self-dropping and supplements will only take you so far, Timmy. Doms are the same way. We get the endorphins we need from having a scene. Sometimes it’s just about being touched, like we did today. Sometimes it’s about needing another person to make you stop, like we did first. For me, it’s being that person that can anticipate those needs, to be allowed to give my Sub these things.”

To keep from being admitting out loud how much he needed to be touched, how right Dick called it,, Tim sips his coffee again, glad to see his hands have stopped shaking.

“I just want you to completely understand what that Dom did to you was wrong. I didn’t make you tell me much while you were down because most of us respect Submissives, just like I respect you.”

And based on the evidence, he can’t call bullshit here. “All right. I see your point about not suiting up, I mean, I do feel less scattered than before.” Because he has to admit it to himself, how much better he feels after he’s gone down, how much calmer in that hidden part of his brain he tries to suppress. That if Dick really calls for that part of him again, how he’ll probably slide down to his knees, craving to be a good boy again. “I didn’t know it could…”

“You didn’t know it could work without pain or sex,” Dick fills in gently. “I hope you know it can be different, just like we’ve done so far.”

“I’d really like if you would listen to a few audio files while you’re working, just some lectures from an expert on Dom/Sub relationships. I really think–”

He pauses when Tim turns, eyes narrowed, clearer than he’d been since going down the first time, and the patient look is so very familiar. “By the time the Dominant and Submissive electives were available at my high school, I had already pretty much dropped out. Robin shit was going down in those years.”

And idea sparks in the back of Dick’s mind where the Dom is still hovering, is still intense, noting everything with his Sub, still angry he didn’t have enough time for more aftercare. If anything, an abused Sub deserved more cuddling and spoiling from a good Dominant, and watching Tim draw away, start putting the mask back on before he was ready, before he was able to come back up on his own terms, sweet and soft and balanced, ready to tackle the world.

It grates on him, makes him want one more chance to take the third Robin down so he doesn’t feel like he has to hide.

But the idea turns into a plan, on all the ways he should be showing his Submissive how their dynamic should be, how a healthy relationship between the orientations should work. How he could work punishments without pain while creating scenes to give Tim the freedom to explore his preferences.

Dick props his elbow on the back of the couch, and refuses to back off even an inch.

“Then give me a chance to show you, Tim. A blood test will prove you need to go down at least once a week for a while, then maybe stretch it out to once a month to get your system back to normal. Give me some of that time as your Service Dom to help you. Together, I can help you figure out what you need as a Submissive.”

And it’s so absolutely fucking unfair for Dick to look that intense, and Tim is sitting there never even thought he’d be facing a Dom actually pleading with him.

His brain still warming up, picking up on the possibilities of hitting a hard few nights and dropping in the middle of another fight, of Kon or Bart or Cassie getting hurt because he couldn’t keep himself together, because he was terrified of going down and being vulnerable.

“...okay. Okay. Until my system is back to normal, and I can either find another Dom or another option.” He swallows hard, wonders how much he’s going to end up regretting this.

But it’s almost comical to watch Dick’s tense shoulders relax, and the blinding smile come back to his face, already making Tim feel like he’s accomplished something just by giving in.

“Thank-you, sweetheart, that’s exactly what I was hoping to hear.” And just like that, the dynamic shifts between them, and the hand tightens down on his wrist again, “so why don’t we have one more try before bed? You could absolutely use it, and I have...another idea.”

It’s not until much later when the rope burns around his chest are just lightly stinging in a way that’s so right. It’s later when he’s buzzing off the easy fall into Subspace that seemed impossible even a day or so ago. It’s later when he’s lazily flopped in Dick’s bed, sipping juice from a straw, blinking up at the soft expression on his Dom’s face, something heavy-lidded and sated that the thought comes out of nowhere–

I really am going to regret this...once it’s over.

Spoiler AN: I’ve talked to some people about keeping the main story as a non-sexual submission on their part, but that is not to say I don’t have a doc with some beginnings of serious D/S play. So, that will probably be like one shots or something ;) But if you made it this far, thanks for reading babes <3

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