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killsaki · 1 year

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implode — there’s only so many feelings one can hold in, especially with bakugou blood in their veins.

bakugou katsuki x little sister!reader

6.7k | minors dni | read on ao3

cw / tw : incest, drugging, hinted noncon gangbang, scummy!denki+sero+kiri, aphrodisiac, weed, alcohol, fingering, creampie, reader calls bkg ‘bubba’.

is it hard being the sibling of a prohero?

of course! they disappear for days to weeks at a time—leaving for training, meetings, press events, and then for missions. you go from having them all to yourself, to sharing them with the world. from being their number one fan, to merely feeling like one amongst a million. and there’s so many things to worry about, from them going to work and never coming home, to a villain coming after you out of spite of being captured by said sibling.

those all sound logical answers to the question, normal ones. hence why you’ve practiced saying them so many times in case anyone ever asks.

but, truly, you knew most of those were things you’d never have to worry about. not when you’re the younger sister of none other than bakugou katsuki.

your brother being, well.. himself, was enough to keep any thoughts of danger from your mind. he was too fast, too strong, too skilled, too protective for anything to ever happen to either of you. but this peace of mind only gives room for you to dwell on other things.

like the social media ‘famous’ girls who just don’t shut up about how hot your brother is—which shouldn’t bother you so much, not in the stomach churning, phone gripping way that it does. and you could blame your intense reactions on the fact that you have to see it literally every time you try to scroll down your timeline, or that it’s just weird that your brother is suddenly getting so much attention.. but that's less believable than the first excuse to you.

and then there’s the out of context candids posted in tabloids of him saving civilians, who understandably look at him so longingly, and then there’s a picture painted of him as some kind of bachelor. to make matters worse, said online articles become almost impossible to escape no matter how much you try—partially thanks to your old school ‘friends’ sending them to you asking for all the details to share with their group chats, as if you’d tell them.

to top everything off, your brother, as doting as he is, never has time for you anymore. despite how you live with him, have your own room and bath in his unnecessarily large condo, and even have a card to his bank account for anything you could possibly need—still, you rarely see him. he’s so consumed in his work, from partols to missions, and when he’s not on the clock he’s forced to do press and modeling for whatever goodies they want to slap his picture onto.

and you could never hold that against him, not when he’s been working towards this his whole life. but still, having just a moment with him could cure all the thoughts that hang heavy in your mind daily. just a second to be reminded that your brother is yours, all alone. that you’re the only little sister he’ll ever have, the only girl he’ll ever need.

luckily for you, a day comes that your brother gets a day's break—more like he’s forced into a vacation as he never takes any days off. and he’s able to lounge about, meaning that he’s sitting on the couch in sweats and bouncing his leg waiting for someone to call his phone saying he can finally come to work as if being away from it was excruciating. you could giggle at the thought, what person besides katsuki would rather be out fighting petty criminals than relaxing on their own couch.

“did you hear me?” he questions, eyebrows furrowed slightly as he looks over at you.

you shake your head, too caught up in your thoughts to realize he was even speaking to you.

“the guys want me to go over for a bit. i won’t be gone long.” he repeats before turning back to his phone screen as he finishes typing.

your heart jumps into your throat. tonight was exactly what you’d been longing for, time with just the two of you, so you could reassure yourself the importance of the role you have in his life. so that you could have katsuki all to yourself. so that you could pretend for just a little while, that he’s just your brother again, not the hero you have to share with the world.

“i wanna go too.” you spit without thought.

he shoots you another look, lifting a brow as he blinks at you. “i want to come hang out too.” you say again as you chew at your lip, unable to back out of the situation your loud mouth has already gotten you into.

“no.” he replies back coldly, pushing himself from the couch before stretching his arms up, revealing the bottom of his toned stomach as he does so. “there’s going to be a lot of people, and drinking.” he looks at you out of the corner of his eyes before mumbling on. “and denki’s gonna be there.”

you snap your gaze up to him in confusion about the mention of a certain friend of his. but, he doesn’t let you get any questions out, heading off towards his room to get ready to leave. you pad right behind him, arms crossed while you walk, letting out huffs every few minutes just to remind him how you’re not going to give up. you sit on his bed as he collects an outfit to wear and little things he needs for a shower, noticing how he avoids making any glances in your direction.

it’s not until he’s already fully showered and starting to dress himself that he cracks, groaning as he looks at you.

“go fuckin’ get dressed.” he orders with out any actual malice in his tone. “once i get in the car, i’m leaving.”

your brother is many things, but a liar is not one.

so, you race to your room, tearing into your dresser to slip into that one outfit you’d been holding onto, hoping to wear the next time you’d gotten the chance to go on an outing with katsuki. though, you’d pictured something with more room for alone time, you suppose it would work at a party with his old friends too.

you’d just finished touching up what you need in the mirror as you hear his car engine start up, giving you only seconds to force yourself into your shoes and jog out to his car.

“you stay by my side until we leave.” he looks over at you, while you reach over your shoulder for the seatbelt, his crimson eyes squinted warningly. “i mean it.”

he didn’t mean it.

it’s not even half an hour after you arrive, barely finished shoving your way through the sweaty bodies crowded in someone’s living space, hardly enough time enough to adjust your ears to the shitty music and screams of laughter—something catches your brother's eye, to which he leaves you in the hands of his old classmate. ‘be back in a minute’, he says, pushing you into the red head’s side. but it’s not a minute, it’s been thirty and you haven’t managed to spot the blonde mess of a head, not even from your seat on the kitchen’s counter over the crowd merely feet away.

“what’s wrong?” kirishima raises his eyebrows slightly at you from behind his solo cup.

“just expected to be with kats’,” you huff, fingers twiddling with the end of your skirt. “kinda the only reason i came.”

he nods, glancing down into his drink before peering over his shoulder.

“want a sip?”

you know that you shouldn’t, how mad your brother will get at the both of you if he shows up to find you wasted and slung over his best friend.

“it’ll help you relax, at least until he gets back. i won’t let you drink too much, i promise.”

you can’t resist the small smile he gives. he’s so warm, safe. being with him is almost the same as being with katsuki, almost.

one sip turns into two cups, and suddenly it’s not just you and eijiro anymore. sero and denki showed up somewhere along the way. but, it’s fine, you think. they’re heroes alongside your brother, and they’ve known him long enough to know any better. only, in your slurred thoughts, that voice in the back of your mind starts to hope otherwise.

they’re all undoubtedly handsome, the three of them much taller than you despite the height difference amongst themselves, and all so strong. there’s sero with his shaggy black hair, signature grin and pretty ring clad fingers that grip the cup he’d been babysitting since he’d walked over. denki and his pretty pink lips he never stops running his tongue over, his slightly whiney voice and golden eyes that just get so much deeper when he looks at you. and then of course, kirishima, who’s just so unreasonably big, length and width—wait, that's… not the right words. but now you wonder—

“what are you smiling about?” the blonde asks from where he’s propped on the kitchen’s island across from you.

you shake your head, biting your lips when you realize how caught up in your thoughts you let yourself get with them still right in front of you.

“i was just thinking.” you let out, trying to look anywhere but at kirishima.

“thinking about?” the voice pipes in from beside you, resting his head on your arm as he leans back to look up at you. your heart races a bit when you can physically feel how close he’s gotten to you without you realizing.

“yeah, you’ve been so quiet. not really living up to the bakugou name.” sero shakes his head with fake disapproval.

“my brother’s not that loud.” you giggle, knowing it's a lie before it even hits your tongue. “i was just thinking about how i never see you guys, you’re so different than you were when i met you back at the graduation.” you sigh. “he never lets me go out with him when you guys invite him.”

you miss the look that hanta and kaminari share, how the corners of the blonde's mouth perk up for a split second before he paints on a confused expression.

“when do we invite him out?” he asks, tilting his head slightly when you look up at him.

you nearly mimic the movement when you register his words.

“always?..” you ask, but glancing at the dark haired man and the red head who share the same confused expression, you don't need an answer. “but he… i’m so confused.”

you can only blink, staring at the black side of the fridge, thinking back on the rare nights that he gets off with enough time to do anything besides shower and sleep. how he’d knock on your door, letting you know he was running over to one of ‘the guys’ house before it got too late. he was never gone too terribly long, but that’s just how your brother is. you always thought he literally only went to say hi and came home—wanting to get enough sleep for another full day of hero work. that’s the only thing that made any sense.

“hey, don’t worry about it.” kirishima’s large hand has somehow found its way to rub soothingly at your side, arm now wrapped behind your back.

“i’m sure he could’ve meant midoriya or something.” denki still wears a straight face, speaking with faulty concern.

sero stays quiet while he pulls out his phone, scrolling through something and finally starting to sip out of his cup.

“i should go try to find him.” you go to slide off the counter when denki speaks up again.

“i think you should stay with us.”

the words send a gut wrenching feeling to your core, your body screams to get away, but you fight it.

“why?” you dumbly ask, the smallest bit of curiosity keeping you.

“your brother’s busy.” he shrugs, bumping sero’s shoulder with his own.

the long fingers you were admiring minutes ago faint against yours as he hands you his phone, the screen showing a man you recognize unmistakingly as your brother, dressed in the outfit he’d worn tonight. his arm snug around some girl's lower back, ducked down with his mouth to her ear, the camera’s quality is shitty but even so, you can still see the way their bodies are pressed together. you feel your heart sink, though, you’re not entirely sure why.

you let yourself get slotted back into kirishima’s side, finding a sense of comfort in the weight of his arm around your shoulder as they walk you to the glass doors at the back of the house.

“don’t looked so bummed little baku’!” denki shoots you a grin. “we’ll keep you entertained for the night.”

the air is warm outside, not helping to cool your cheeks that are still hot from the alcohol. the four of you end up sitting on some cushioned benches near the middle of the yard, surrounded by small bushes. it’s much nicer than being inside, but you’re not entirely sure why they brought you out here. not until sero pulls out something rolled and a lighter. you watch as he puts it between his lips, lighting the end and inhaling til the end burns red without the flame. you forget to look away whenever he exhales, giving him the chance to catch you watching him.

“you want to hit it?” his voice suddenly sounds like silk, acting like ties as it’s doing everything to pull you in despite the way your nerves are still screaming at you.

“i’ve never smoked before.” you laugh awkwardly. “my brother would kill me.”

he flashes that big toothy grin, shaking his head for the who-knows-what time that night and you know you’re in for it whenever you see your brother again. but just for this second, you think it’ll be okay.. if he’s busy with some girl when he told you he’d be by your side for the night, then you can have fun with his cute friends.

“he doesn’t have to know.” sero pulls you back to the moment in front of you. “come here, i’ll teach you.”

you’re moving without thinking, giggling again at the way he shoo’s denki from beside him so that you can sit. he teaches you how to breathe it in easily, but how not to take too much. and you do exactly as he says, letting him put it on your lips, you pull in a slow but shallow drag. holding it until he tells you to let it out.

“good girl.” hanta smirks, the warmth of his hand holding your jaw as he moves the damp paper back to your mouth. “now do it again, just like that.”

you listen, thinking nothing of it. thinking nothing at all, actually. you can’t. the flood of warmth lingering in your veins from those drinks that you’re just realising were much stronger than you thought and the clouds now fogging your consciousness, too much to form any kind of thought.

“here, try this.” you hear from the side- no, in front of you. denki’s leaned over with a diamond shaped candy on his palm.

you hesitate, but not able to talk, body already working overtime to remember how to breathe properly.

“it’ll just make you feel good, i just took one too.” he reassures, gesturing again for you to grab it. if you could feel your body right now, you’d feel every single inch of it aching to run. you’d feel that same feeling in your stomach as it started to churn. maybe you would’ve listened this time. but instead all you can feel is the race in your chest as you eye the light blue against his pale skin.

“c’mon.” kirishima’s showing off his sharp teeth with how wide he’s grinning, trying his hardest to be just as reassuring as he was to get you to drink with him a while ago. “we’re your brother's best friends, you know we wouldn’t let anything happen to you.. even if he is busy.

you take another deep breath, nodding. right. katsuki wouldn’t let anything happen to you.

“let me.” denki’s suddenly standing over you, candy- pill pinched between his fingers, a grin just as big plastered on his face. “open up.”

you miss the devilish intent hiding behind those smiling faces. you miss the almost telepathic conversation they all have in the glances they share as you flutter your pretty eyes closed, letting your tongue fall out for denki to drop the pill on. it hits your taste, dissolving almost immediately. you swallow the bitter grainy bits, grimacing as you only have your spit to get it down with.

“give it just a few minutes.” the blonde speaks again, much more eagerly this time. which should alert you, all of this should.

you could blame it on the alcohol you have a low tolerance for, on the weed you’ve never smoked, on the fact you trust anyone who attaches their name to your brothers. but really, it’s because you’re dumb. you don’t think anything bad can ever happen to you. not like this. not when your brother is so close.

“it’s kinda warm out here.” you mumble, shifting uncomfortably on the padding. you feel the heat across your cheeks and down your neck, skipping to your stomach that warms slowly, trickling down between your legs and across your thighs. “think i want some water.”

you slowly push yourself to stand, body feeling heavy as you move. you don’t catch how they all follow right behind you, until sero—no, denki’s arm slinks its way around your waist as you walk. he pulls you away from the path back to the glass door and towards the gate in the big wooden fence.

“it’s too hot in there.” he tugs you again when you weakly attempt to pull away. “kirishima’s place isn’t too far from here. we can just hang out there while you cool off.”

you shake your head, mind racing to how badly you just want something to drink, and to be with katsuki. mentally cursing out the stupid girl in that picture for taking your brother away from you, for stealing his attention when you’re the one who needs it. and you curse yourself, for not listening to his warning when he said denki would be here.

“denki.” you drag your feet, doing anything to attempt a fight against the push of his much stronger hands. “what was that? the…” it’s hard to think, even harder to push those thoughts into words and say them aloud “the pill. what’d you give me?”

“i told you,” he smirks, glancing behind you and nodding one of the men over. “it’s just to make everything feel better.” stepping aside, kirishima’s heavy arm replaces denki’s, locking you under it and forcing you forward. your heart races at all the implications that could have. you don’t even notice you’re shaking until he wraps his other arm around you, bending his head down to graze the shell of your ear, whispering into it

“it’ll make things easier,” something about his tone makes you want to vomit. “just don’t think about it, pretty.”

“don’t get too friendly, dude, i’m the one who set this up.” denki bites, pulling his keys out as the four of you near a car. “there’s no way you get first.”

sero snickers again, sighing as kiri opens his mouth to snide back about how he’s been waiting two years and that you should at least get to pick that much. you can’t really make it out anymore, all you can hear is your own heartbeat banging in your ears.

you try and struggle out of his hold, which only makes them all laugh in turn and your heart falls into your stomach. you’re with pro heroes, if anything bad is going to happen to you here, at their hands, there's no way you’re going to fight your way out of it.

sero’s fingers wrap around the handle of the car’s back door when the voice booms out your name down the small hill the house is sitting on.

you can physically feel kirishima tense up and his heart start to race, you can hear the way sero and denki stop breathing in unison. you can even picture the way they all freeze without having to look, you can imagine the absolute fear in their face as they stand there, gaping at your brother.

his red eyes dig into you before taking a second to glance at the men around you.

“why do you look so fucked up?” he barks out, brows furrowing deeper with each step he takes towards you. “where the fuck were you guys about to go?”

he’s eyeing kirishima now, tugging you by your wrist out of the red head’s hold and into his own, gripping you as if he lets go, you'll get stolen away.

“she said it was hot in there.” kirishima shrugs awkwardly, face stiff.

“and who the fuck said you could take her anywhere?” bakugou tilts his head face twisted dumbfoundedly at the boldness his old friend suddenly seems to have.

“my place is just up the street she wanted to—“

“and why the fuck do you have her around denki?” you can feel bakugou’s skin grow hotter to the touch with each word he spits. or maybe it's you that’s getting hotter. god, it’s fucking hot.

“i didn’t drive.” he shrugs again, breaking eye contact to look over at the other blonde.

“she’s not a baby bakugou, she can be around whoever she wants.” kaminiari says smugly, like the idiot he is.

“i’ll kill you.” your brother doesn’t hesitate with this threat, and it wipes the smile off denki’s, raising his hands slightly in defence.

you use the hold he has on you to wrap your arm around his, feeling a great sense of relief pressed against him.

“he didn’t touch you did he?” katsuki’s voice is still gruff when he talks down to you, but you don’t mind it.

you know that he did technically touch you, but not enough to hurt anything. and if you answer truthfully it’ll just drag this out even longer, and all you want is to be wrapped around him. so, you shake your head, and you hope he doesn’t hear the way they all sigh in relief.

your brother doesn’t say anything else, just pulls you away towards where he’d parked. the second he turns around, you peek back at the men. kirishima has his head tossed back, hand over his chest as he takes in a deep breath, sero, leaned against the car shoulders shaking with laughter while denki curses and slams the driver side door shut.

“i’m hot katsu’” you whine when he unlocks the door for you.

“how much did he let you drink?” he scoffs, leaning across you and buckling your seatbelt for you as if you’re unable.

you huff, watching his strong arms reach over your body. his warm chest coming down to press into yours, that you find is so sensitive. so much so that a small whine escapes your throat before you’re able to register it he’s already pulled back looking down at you. one hand on the top of the car as he leans over, eyebrows pinched together.

“‘m just hot, bubba.” you assure, face burning in embarrassment and whatever else was setting your body on fire.

he immediately blasts the AC as soon as the car is on, and in the second that it satiates the burning under your skin, you remember.

“who was the girl?” you question, voice somewhere between shaking and slurring. you shouldn’t be asking, there’s no reason for you to do this right now—or at all. “the one you left me to go see.”

katsuki just stares ahead for a second before his jaw tightens.

“and where did you see me with a girl?” he asks blankly, like he already knows the answer.

“sero had a picture. they said you were busy, that’s why i stayed with them.” you answer truthfully, hoping he’d driven far enough to not want to turn back.

“i didn’t know her, sero at introduced us.” he scoffs, scowl resting on his face as he keeps his eyes focused on the drive.

the heat begins to dig into you again, the cool blow the ac’s aid only a temporary fix.

“why? why didn’t you come look for me? text me?” he asks, his short fuse burning already.

“you were busy.” you reply shortly, too focused on the ache going on in your lower half.

“and? if i knew that shit face was going to try fucking with you we would’ve left as soon as we got there.” he shakes his head, voice raising only slightly.

“you were with a girl, katsu! i didn’t want to interrupt.” you throw your head back against the cool leather, smoothing your hands out over your skirt, across the tops of your thighs as if that would help.

“you’re my little sister, that’s completely different.” he scrunches his face up as he glances between you and the road, the same thing he does anytime anyone says something he thinks is the slightest bit dumb.

“is it?” you ask.

“yes.” he snaps back.

“so if i wasn’t your little sister, you wouldn’t care?” you mumble, shifting at the warmth you feel start to spill into your panties. “or if i wouldn’t have come with you tonight, would you have left with her?”

he sighs, exasperated.

“what the fuck are you saying right now?” he keeps glancing at you, rushing a reply.

“why did you leave me to go see her?” you groan. “why didn’t you stay with me? why didn’t you wanna just be at home with me?”

he only gets your name and a curse out before you cut him off, the heat itching at you becoming too much.

“katsu’ ‘m so hot.” you mewl, raking your hands down your body, reveling in the momentary coolness under your own touch. you can feel the way he stiffens slightly next to you, but the previous tension is out the window, almost forgotten.

“i have the ac on.” he states, keeping his eyes on the road as you near the building the two of you call home.

“it’s inside katsu, ‘m hot on the inside.”

he stops the car with a jerk in the middle of the parking lot, snapping his head over towards you.

“what did they give you?” his question is sharp, voice filled with anger once again.

“denki gave me candy—no, a pill.” you toss your head side to side, thighs rubbing together mindlessly. “to make me ‘feel good’—make everything, no—something feel good that’s what they said, but i just hurt.”

you can hear death threats spill out his mouth as he watches you squirm in the seat.

“i’ll take you to the hospital.” he mutters, putting a hand on the shoulder of your seat to look behind him as starts to back out.

“no!” you whine, grabbing his hand and pulling it to your lap. “i don’t want doctors touching me.”

he keeps his eyes on you as you put his palm against your inner thigh, watching how you keen against the seat when his skin touches yours.

“want you to help me, bubba, please.” he pulls his hand from you, face contorted with.. something before he’s rubbing his palms over his face and pulling at his hair. you realize what you just asked and for the umpteenth time tonight, your heart sinks. but this time you're sure that if you stood, it’d be sitting on the seat underneath you.

“i’m—katsuki, i’m sorry.” you start to babble out apology after apology, which soon all runs together and becomes broken as you tear up, voice cracking every other word.

the blond throws his head back, hard. quickly changing gear and moving his car into a private parking spot. you’re still crying when he pulls your wrist, strength easily shifting you over the middle console of his car and into his lap.

“tell me that you need my help.” he blinks up at you, holding your waist just above his lap.

you nod, hoping it’ll suffice, but it doesn’t.

“i need you to help me, katsu—no one else can.” he drops you onto his lap, fingertips digging into the softness of your sides. “please, make it better.” you breathe, shakily.

he uses his hold to drag you across his lap, the friction making you drop your head onto his shoulder. pleasure shooting up your spine, small whines of his name getting lost in his neck as he keeps grinding you down onto him until your thighs start to shake, your moans turn into breathless whines and you’re crumbling against him as you make a mess all over his jeans…

the two of you sit in panting silence for a few minutes before he tells you to move, that you need a shower. and like you always do, you listen. following him inside and discarding your clothes from your still buzzing body in silence. but as soon as the showers water hits you, you’re burning again. the ache between your legs coming back stronger than before, the burn in your stomach twice as hot and the need is too much.

you don’t hesitate to make your way right back to his room, body still nude and dripping all over the floors as you do. but you don’t care—your brain and body only knows one thing right now and it’s that you need your brother.

“what are you doing?” he strains, turning his head back towards the drawer he was sorting through as soon as he takes in your naked body standing at his doorway.

“i still hurt, katsu.” you whisper, not caring if he heard you or not. just wanting him to give you more than what he gave earlier.

“i already helped.” you can hear pain in his voice and it makes you want to cry. you wish you didn’t put him in such a position, that you would’ve just been grateful and stayed home—but you need him, it’s all your mind and body can tell you, you need him.

“help again.” you practically demand, craving him too badly to be embarrassed or think much at all about what you were doing. your hands land on his shoulders and pull yourself up to kiss at his neck trying to entice him.

“i can’t.” he groans low, but doesn’t attempt to push you away, letting you drag your lips across all the skin you can reach.

you don’t say anything else, not until you manage to pull him down by his hair to look at you.

“make it better.. like you always do.”

it’s the pebble that cracks the glass, his hands grip your waist and all but throw you onto his mattress. you only have a moment to gasp before he’s hovering over you.

“say it again.” he commands, voice rough as one of his hands makes its way to the apex of your thighs. your eyes flutter at the vibration of his words against your chest, the knot in your stomach already tying itself.

“make me feel better, bubba, please.”

there was a reason behind why he’s left the condo the few times that he does get to sit in the house, a reason why he doesn’t want to be alone with you for too long. it’s not that he doesn’t have any restraint, but he’s known thatif something ever happened, where the little sister that has always been the exception his selfish attitude asked him to do anything like this—even without whatever the fuck it was that denki gave you—he’d do it.

he drags a heavy finger along your slit, up to your still swollen clit making you gasp against his lips as they ghost your own. he teases only for a second, not able to bare you being in pain when he’s there to do something about it, just like he’s always been. he uses your excessive slick to rub harsh circles over your clit, it sends your eyes rolling back, it’s so much more practiced than the pathetic frottage he pulled in the car.

“need more, katsu, please.” you push your hips into his hand with the little bit of strength you have, desperate for as much as he’ll give you.

he drops his forehead to your shoulder this time, looking down as he moves his fingertips to your entrance, pushing two in without warning. he immediately works away with them, curling into your swollen, most sensitive wall and fucking into you with a strength that could only be possessed by such a high ranking pro hero. your wetness sticks to his knuckles with every pull before it squelches obscenely loud when he pushes back in.

“kiss me, katsu.” you whine.

he brings his lips back to yours, red eyes flickering between both of your eyes for a moment, waiting for you to take it back. you don’t, instead, sliding your hands from where they sat on his shoulders up to twist into his hair.

“you can pretend ‘m someone else… just please kiss me.” his fingers pause their movement for a moment, and he pulls away. you start to whine, from the loss and out of fear you’d said something wrong again.

“why would you say that?” you trip over any word that hits your tongue. but you don’t need to speak, he does it for you. “i don’t need to do that,” his fingers pick their pace back up, drawing wonton moans from you that you wouldn’t be able to bite back if you tried. “not when i’ve always pretended everyone else was you.” he admits.

your heart leaps in your chest just as he presses his mouth into yours, the kiss is littered with teeth and spit—but neither of you can find a reason to care.

the familiar feeling starts to coil in your stomach, your hips moving on their own down on his hand to chase the feeling of ecstasy but it never comes, you cry out as the pressure fades.

“more.” you cry softly against his lips, keeping your eyes screwed shut so you don’t have to face any look that he might give you. “‘need you.”

but, he complies, tugging himself out of the sweats he’d thrown on after his shower and kicking them off to be dealt with later. he doesn’t waste any time teasing, rushing to give you what you want—what you need, to make his pretty little sister feel good the way he’s been cursing his brain for imaging for the longest time.

he lines the thick head of him up with your already stretched hole, dropping back down to your lips as he eases in. the pop of the head of him pulls a gasp from the both of you, but he doesn’t give you time to adjust to it, knowing with how you’ve been aching to be filled all night that you can handle the stretch. which is exactly what he gives you, his fingers were nothing in comparison to the girth of his cock.

it stings, making your eyes tear up, and drags whine after whine from your throat. katsuki catches them in his mouth, swallowing them and shushing you while he continues to push in until he’s at the hilt. you babble out senseless ‘thank you’s while he pulls back slightly, never separating your hips and his own by too much. his hips make a circular motion, grinding back into you slowly, pushing the trimmed light colored pubes at the base of him against your ever throbbing clit and making you squeal from the pleasure of it.

he repeats it over and over, curved length of him dragging along your g-spot until youre twitching, your mouth hangs open, sounds falling against his lips as he drinks all of them in. your hips rise every few strokes trying to meet him, to egg him on to go harder, to give you more without having to ask for it, but he just wont. keeping his slow, sensual pace, as if he was fucking you at his own leisure and not because you basically forced yourself onto him

“love you, bubba.” you whisper drunkenly, lips dragging across his soft ones as you speak.

his hips stutter at your words, strong arms move from holding himself over you to grabbing the underside of your knees and pulling them slightly, wrapping your legs around him. “ah- my katsu.”

“keep telling me.” he grunts, sliding his hand down to your waist where your thighs fold over them. “tell me i’m yours, say that you’re mine.”

he finally picks up his antagonizing pace, hips still swirling into yours, pubic hair scratching against your bud with each push. the head of him presses deep against that spongey spot with each sway, heavy balls sticking to your leaked juices as you chant out the i love you’s like a mantra, like it’s the only meaningful thing that you’ve ever said. it’s not long before your legs start to shake, his cock hitting all of the right nerves in your throbbing cunt.

“don’t stop.” he repeats when your mouth drops wide open, orgasm creeping up on you.

“mine! you’re mine!” you cry as your vision turns white and your walls spasm around him. “‘m yours, all yours, bubba.” you whimper as the ache in your cunt becomes the pain of overstimulation.

your words and the steady throb of your clamping cunt ultimately bringing him to his end with you. you feel the heat simmer down as he fills you, warmth spilling out even as his cock still plugs you. and you couldn’t be more thankful for denki being such a scumbag.

you don’t have enough strength to stay awake past that, all of your energy left with the last orgasm. at some point you wake up, you’re clean between your thighs and cuddled up on your brother's warm chest. you shift only an inch and you could feel him jump awake to pull you closer, leaving a kiss on the top of your head before you drift back to sleep with small smiles on both of your faces—happy to be your brother’s girl.

a / n : obligatory bkgs little sis tag : @vampireloverz <33 thank you stevie for inspiring me to write this in first place!!!! +++ happy birthday to The Guy !!!

reblogs + feedback appreciated !

#bakugou smut #bakugou katsuki smut #my hero smut #mha smut #bnha smut #boku no hero smut #my hero academia smut #bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #my hero x reader #mha x reader #bnha x reader #boku no hero x reader #lets how long i keep this up #this is so good fr tho you should read it and praise me

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 1 month

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Dirty Work 50

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as bullying, familial discord/abuse, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You start a new gig and find one of your clients to be hard to please.

Characters: Loki

Note: 50 chapters?!

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

You don't sleep, you just lay in an achy stupour. The sun limns the door as Loki's shadow darkens beneath it. He sat there all night, you could hear him, leaning against it, sighing, sometimes pleading for you to come out.

He groans as the door shifts with him. He exhales and you hear some cracking as he moves. He must be just as stiff as you.

“Pet,” he taps on the wood, “are you over your tantrum?”

His words sting. He speaks to you like a child. You wish he'd leave you alone, let you out, just disappear!

He stands with another long groan and you feel him leaning on the door. He jiggles the handle then hits the wood in frustration. He hisses. Good, you hope it hurts.

Tears spring as you feel guilty just as quickly as that spiteful thought rose. You don't want to hurt anyone. You never have. You just want to be.

“You cannot lock me out forever. I must clean up,” he demands.

You don't argue. You don't mention he has another bathroom. Two even. You don't have the energy.

“Must you persist in this stubbornness?” He snaps.

All he ever has for you is criticism. Just like your father. And you're just the same useless girl.

You don’t answer. You get up, keeping your back to the door. You tell him over and over to leave you alone. It doesn’t work. So you’ll just ignore him.

You go to the tub and crank on the faucet, the water splashing down loudly as you flinch as the sudden gush. You hear a thump on the door but focus on testing the temperature of the water with your fingers. You don’t listen to see if he goes, to you he’s just not there.

You strip off the camisole nightie and step into the tub before it fills. You lay in the burgeoning depths as it slowly rises over you. Goosebumps rise on your body yet the water offers little warmth for you. Even as it steams up to your shoulders.

You sit forward to twist off the tap and lay back with a sigh. You wet your hands and drag them over your forehead, the water trickling down to dampen the bandage across your nose. You don’t know what you’re doing or what to do. You never really did have much of a plan. Life was always just day to day. Survival.

Your lashes close as dampness lingers on them, fueled by a new flow from within. Your tears trickle out and you sniffle. Your mind wanders to a woman you never knew.

Was this what it was like for her? Confusing? Scary? Or did she love your father? Was he different when it was only her?

How can you even begin to know her when you don’t even know yourself? You are not your mother’s daughter. You are no one’s. You are no one.

You don’t languish long in the tub. You drain it and sit shivering on the toilet lid, wrapped in a thick cotton towel. You stare at your hands and think but you’re empty. You can’t live inside your mind, just like you can’t live inside this room.

You stand up and storm towards the door. You stop short and gulp. You won’t let him lock you up. Not any longer. Maybe your mother was a brave woman and maybe you can be too.

You flip back the lock and pull the door open. The bedroom is empty. He’s gone. You deflate. Just as you found a semblance of courage.

You cross to the other door. The handle won’t turn. You expect as much, just like you should’ve expected him to leave before he could hear you.

You back up and peer around. Your eyes narrow on the window and you tilt your head. You can go too.

You rush over to the closet and push the door open. You search through the hanging garments clumsily, hangers whining on the bar. You pull down a plain black blouse and equally simple pants. You dress as you peek over and over at the door. You don’t have shoes but you don’t care. You double up socks and go to the window.

What do you even care about shoes? You don’t have anything.

You hook your fingers into the notches along the bottom of the window and lift. It doesn’t budge. You whimper as your knuckles ache from the effort. You pout at the glass, contemplating the best way to shatter it. Your gaze wanders up to the latch at the top. Oh, it’s locked!

You slide the lock back and try again. It opens. You can barely believe it. A way out, but what comes after. You don’t have to think of that now.

You poke your head out and peek around the green lawn. The birds tweet and the trees sway with the breeze. You stick your arms out next and rest your stomach against the sill. You lift one knee and haul yourself over the ledge, dragging your other leg out awkwardly.

The roof is steep and offers little traction. As you manage to crawl onto the slope, your head spins from the drop just below the eaves. Don’t look down, that’s the first rule right. You search for a safer descent than the vision of yourself plummeting to the ground.

Just along the far side of the house, just at the corner, the ivy lines a faded trellis. You can try to ladder down on that and if not, you’ll turn back and act like nothing happened at all. No, there’s no going back. Just go.

You move carefully, turning to face the house. Your fingers grip beneath the bricks as you place your feet against the shingles, little grip through the socks. That was a bad idea.

As you inch along, flush to the roof, wriggling bit by bit, you hear the low hum of an engine. You don’t think much of it, it’s probably just a passerby. You focus on your own flight. You won’t have a car, just your feet. How far can you get?

The sudden ring of the gate frightens you. You jerk and nearly lose your bearing. You whimper and slide down to the eaves. The metal trough is tenuous as best as you feel your weight testing the bolts. Your heart pounds in your ears.

The bell rings again but you don’t let it faze you again. You’re nearly there, just a little further.

“What on earth–” Loki’s voice makes you flinch.

The eaves creak and tremble under you as you curl your fingers over the shingles. You glance over fearfully, surprised by your discovery and all too aware of your treacherous escape. Loki’s nostrils flare as he glares out the window at you.

“Get back here! Are you mad, you’re going to get–”

The gate bell once more pierces the air and a sudden crack sounds from behind you. You slip down the shingles with a yelp, grasping at the roof as your feet meet only air. Your catch yourself on the edge, just barely, and whine as you dangle over the grass.

“Gods!” Loki blusters as you hang perilously.

Your heartbeat blocks out the noises all around you. The birds’ songs fade and the rippling leaves quiet. It’s only you and the horrid drop below. Don’t look down, you repeat. You’ve seen the movies, that’s the worst mistake you can make.

“Pet, don’t panic,” Loki clambers down the front steps as he calls to you, “just hang on. I have you, darling.”

You squeak as your arms burn and your fingers throb. You’re not that strong. You don’t think you can hold yourself. You hear him running as a car door shuts.

“Hello?” Frigga’s voice carries over the lawn, “is everything alr–” She gasps, “oh, dear, what is going on? Loki, let me in.”

“Mother, one thing at a time,” Loki’s voice fades away as you hear him running.

“Oh my,” Frigga remarks, “dear, you just want to hold on. Try not to move too much, you’ll lose your grip.”

You close your eyes and focus on just that. Her advice is little help but you don’t even have the ability to tell her that. You’re terrified and weak. You feel your fingers about to give. You wrestle with your own mind, it would be easier to just let go and let what happens happen.

“Here, here,” Loki hollers as a metal rattle accompanies him.

Your eyes stay sealed as you fear even a glimpse of your ground. You whimper and whine, eyes once more wet and leaking. Something hits the roof not far from you and you hear a strange tempo, steady but harried. A hand closes around your wrist.

“He’s got you, honey,” Frigga shouts from the gate.

You don’t react. Loki grunts and his arm wraps around your back. You let your eyes open just a crack and look over at him. He urges you to him as he leans over the side of a ladder.

“Get your foot here,” he directs you to the rung above his own feet, “come, darling, come, I’ve got you.”

You follow his direction. Your adrenaline swells over and leaves you hollow. He gets you onto the ladder, just in front of him, and he takes a step down. You cling to the rungs as he continues until he’s stood on the grass.

“Go on, I’ve got a hold on the ladder,” he assures you.

You push your foot back and shakily dip it down. You put it on the next step before you dare to move the other. Your descent is slow and shaky. He helps you onto solid ground with his hands on your hips.

As you pull away and face him, you find his expression pinched. You push your lips out and mop up your tears, “I’m sorry, I–”

“Not now, I must deal with my mother first,” he hisses.

You wince and nod, pressing your tight fists to your cheeks. He gives you a long look and he rolls his shoulders. “Straighten yourself up, pet. Do you want her to see you in such a state?”

You shake your head and heave. He spins on his heel and marches away. You swipe away the last of your tears and swallow your sobs. You follow him, jittering as your legs move at a staggered pace. It’s almost as if they aren’t your own.

“Mother, you weren’t invited,” Loki accuses, “and we are not currently receiving guests.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. What is going on here? Why was she hanging from the roof like a cat on a clothesline, Loki?”

“It is my concern, I don’t need you sticking your nose in–”

“Don’t speak to me as such, I am your mother,” her tone sharpens as you wobble towards them, “now you let me in, that poor thing must be frightened and you’re not even comforting her.”

“She is not yours to worry about,” he rebuffs.

“Nonsense, you left so fast, you didn’t let us the chance–”

“Go,” he snarls.

“Loki,” you babble as your legs fold, your sight splotchy and off kilter. As you crumble into the gravel he turns. He rushes towards you as you hold yourself up on your hands, slumping over the drive.

“Pet, it’s alright, I’ve got you,” he hooks his arm around you, “you should go inside.”

“Please… I don’t feel good,” you utter.

“Let me in, son,” Frigga demands urgently, “I can help her.”

“Just like you helped her before–”

“You know we had no idea,” she barks, more viciously than you could ever imagine her sounding.

“Loki, please,” you lean into him and tilt your head up, it lolls dangerously on your neck, “please, let her in.”

He considers you, his features drawn but no longer in anger. You see the fear he’s been holding onto. You reach to touch his shoulder and wilt into him.

“Please, I’ll stay,” you sniffle, “if you let her in. I won’t try to run again.”

He sucks in a breath and looks over his shoulder. He huffs and turns back to you. He scoops you off the ground and stands with a grunt.

“Mother, I trust you can wait until I get her somewhere safe?”

“Not long or I shall knock this gate down,” she sneers, “but perhaps I’ll let him take the wheel. Your father won’t hesitate.”

“Father…” Loki echoes.

“Oh, he’s here too, I told him to stay in the car thinking I might talk some sense into you,” she bites out, “imagine if I told him what I’ve walked up upon.”

“Let me get her inside,” Loki says tersely.

He carries you towards the house. You drone and sink into his arms. You don’t know what you were thinking. You don’t know what came over you. You need sleep, your temples are like drums; boom, boom, boom.

“I’m tired,” your murmur.

“I know, pet, I know,” he brings you up the steps and through the front door. As he comes to the stairs, you reach out and grab the banister, latching on with all your strength. He stops.

“Please, don’t,” you bat your eyes and pout at him, a glisten in your vision, “don’t lock me away or I’ll jump next time.”

He waves and his throat tightens, “don’t talk like that.”

“It’s the truth,” you eke out. “I only… I only ever wanted to see the garden, you know?”

He lowers his eyes guiltily and frowns. He backs away from the stairs and instead, carries you into the den. He lays you on the sofa and puts a pillow behind your head. You relax, happy to at least be out of the room. Still, your prison remains.

“We will talk later but first, my parents,” he strokes your forehead before he stands straight.

“I could make tea,” you offer and try to sit up.

“You will not move,” he points a long finger at you, “not one inch. Do you want tea?”

You look at him. Is he really asking?

“Yes,” you squeak.

He nods, “very well, you will have tea. Stay,” he wags his finger again, “first, I will fetch my mother and father, then tea.”

You try to smile, “thank you.”

“Hm, curse the hour,” he sneers under his breath, “I could do with something a bit stronger.”

He leaves you with that remark, striding out rigidly as his fingers twiddle at his side. You feel the same dread as him about your guest. You’re in no state to receive them, and in less to be reminded of the last time you met.

#loki #dark loki #dark!loki #loki x reader #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #series #au #maid au #dirty work #avengers #thor #mcu #marvel

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ponett · 9 months

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with the fallout of bandai namco's idiotic "it's up to interpretation" bs, do you think that it's possible to enjoy queer media made in a corporate environment in addition to independent works? is it even worthwhile to attempt making queer media in a corporate environment? i find it special how well the g-witch production team managed to tell the story they wanted even with the challenges and pressures they faced, but i have to admit that independent works like slarpg are always going to more completely tell queer stories. as someone who has resonated with both slarpg and g-witch, i was curious to know your perspective.

i'm probably less cynical about this than a lot of my peers are - not that i can blame anyone for feeling cynical about queer rep from corporate-owned media. (we've been through so many First Ever Gay Disney Characters at this point, and lord knows blizzard loves to tease that another overwatch character might be gay every year or so as a PR move.) unfortunately it's just extremely hard to get something like a full season of an animated series funded and produced independently, so the artists looking to enter these fields and pour their hearts and souls into meaningful queer stories as a full-time job don't have many options

going indie gives you theoretically endless creative freedom to tell your stories without corporate censorship, but it's also a massive gamble. only an extreme minority of indie creatives in any medium are actually able to make a living. the fact that i came out the other side of slarpg's development with enough money that i can keep being a full-time indie instead of being in massive debt makes me one of the lucky ones. and even with my modest success, i sure as hell don't have the money to hire a whole team, which limits the scope of what i can make. so i can't turn my nose up at the queer people writing disney channel cartoons where they can't say the word "gay" out loud. they have health insurance, i don't. for most people, what i do is simply not an option

with the corporate-produced Queer Stories i enjoy, i'm often able to squint and see what the creatives were trying to do, wishing that they could have done more while understanding that they probably had to fight tooth and nail for what's there

in the realm of children's animation in particular, i'm thankful that the people working at these studios ARE fighting for more, because it means that kids today have so many more positive queer stories to relate with. i didn't have a single gay character i felt i could relate to until i read scott pilgrim at age 16 and saw wallace wells. before that, i felt so alone in the world. i denied who i was for years because it felt like there would be no place for me. i didn't know anyone openly gay in real life, growing up in the south, and in fiction gay people either existed as the butt of a joke or not at all. the fact that queer kids are now able to see people like themselves in so many shows means something, even if we still have a long way to go and the big studios continue to be a major obstacle

on the subject of g-witch, i'm honestly unfazed by the statement from bandai-namco. i guess i wish they could've let suletta and miorine kiss, but like... the text of the show is extremely blunt about them being a couple by the end. it's not up for debate. and it's not like a gundam series having a meaningful story in spite of the wishes of the toy-producing overlords is anything new, this is just our latest example

all that being said, i do think people should branch out more and explore more weird indie shit if they want more wholeheartedly, openly queer stories. people gotta suck it up and embrace more outsider art instead of only valuing things with studio-level production values. start looking at ren'py visual novels, rpg maker games, obscure webcomics, zines drawn in sharpie, artists on bandcamp who aren't signed to a label, all that jazz. maybe part of the reason why i'm not more fazed by the state of affairs with corporate-funded fiction is that i'm constantly surrounded by furry artists who are telling their own little gay stories

#tamamayfox #ask

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theloveinc · 7 months

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deku x reader - succession!au, uhhhhh............... deku has a thought abt parenthood. it's bad.

(warning - short, talk of pregnancy but no actual gender of reader mentioned, mild talk of stds, drugs, sleeping around.... etc.?)

“I want a baby,“ your boss, Deku, the near-CEO of media conglomerate AllMightco, says randomly one day, halfway through your lunch break (that he demanded you spend with him), and in the middle of your well-earned silence after a long conversation about whether Bakugo needs antidepressants.

You can only gape at his words, close but not too close to where he’s seated at one of the little armchairs he has in his office for any business casual meetings that require somewhere cozy to sit in spite of any fighting words that may be spit (and for fucking, you’re rather quite aware).

“Maybe it’d be… good for me. I love kids and, I think, I think,” he continues, stuttering like he always does when he’s nervous, excited, high, his tone questioning despite his making of it a statement. “it would give me a break from work?”

All you can do is laugh at the question, dryly, in disbelief, unsure of whether he’s being serious or just sharing some secret, wistful dream. You decide to tell him the truth either way.

“You can’t have a baby just because you want time off.”

He ignores you, though.

“I have all this money, and what for…?” he waves his shaky hands, “I could have a family. I’d change diapers and buy toys and take them to the beach.”

(Though just last week, he was fighting the board for more funds, screaming in that raspy voice he always develops after working through the night that he’d give up any and all vacation time for the foreseeable future if it meant keeping Toshinori Yagi in a position, any position, at the company for the next five years.)

You throw your laptop aside and stand up from your wilted salad and grapefruit soda that’s now sweating on the coffee table to walk around the edges of his desk. You throw a leg over one sharp corner, the exposed part of your ankle brushing his knee as you address him directly.

“And who would be having this child, Deku?“ you ask. “An ex? A surrogate? Ocha—“

He gives you those eyes, slouching down into himself, reaching out to pull your butt of his table and grip the back of your thighs to pull you in between his legs. You can feel the length of his overgrown green curls brushing your fingertips as you put your hands on his stiff shoulders to keep yourself from falling right into him.

“Me? Izuku,” you clarify, (though you always call him Deku), “me? What do you think? I’m just gonna say yes, no warning, no nothing? We’re not even dating, sweetie.”

—and just last week Kirishima offered to drive you to the clinic with him to tested, though you’re not going to bring that up now, even if you know Deku already knows you’re sleeping around. He is too.

He closes his eyes, resting the back of his head against the heavy, red leather of his office chair. The stubble on his face is more noticeable than ever; he even has a little knick under his chin from shaving, and you move to brush your thumb against it as he swallows thickly.

“I’m just tired,” he says, blinking his dark lashes into the bags under his eyes,

“I know, baby. But a child is not way to fix that” you say. The for anyone part, you just think.

Deku pouts. He sighs. Then his face relaxes and he sags, his hands falling off you to lay limp in his lap, the silence in the room stretching like salt water taffy from the pier.

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jmdbjk · 4 months

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Episode 2: Adolescence

Beyond the Star, produced by HYBE Media Studio

They begin by conveying how important concerts are for them. Concerts. Not performances. Concerts.

They thought they “made it” in 2016 when they booked the Olympic Gymnastics Arena for a concert. It was the dream venue for idols at the time and are amazed they are performing there and never imagined they’d have a concert that big.

During the interviews where they are expressing their thoughts about what performing during concerts means to them, we see footage of different concerts illustrating what they are trying to explain.

Hobi harkens back to their first concert in October 2014 for The Red Bullet tour, at Seoul’s AX Korea with 6,000 in attendance. He says they didn’t care about how many hundreds or thousands were there, they were just so thankful for the fans who came to see them.

Attendance rose at each progressive concert. Their fourth concert in 2015 had 13,500 in attendance at the Seoul Olympic Handball Gymnasium, and their fifth concert in May 2016 at the Olympic Gymnastics Arena, mentioned at the beginning of this episode, had 25,000 in the audience. They were in awe at how huge it was when they first arrive at that venue, looking out at the empty seats before they began rehearsing.

They were always so emotional during their ending ments, so thankful for what they were experiencing after knowing how hard they’d worked from debut up until the end of each one of those concerts.

In the early years, the hearts of those young men were bursting with passion and to see so many fans supporting them had to be an overwhelming relief, its no surprise their emotions overflowed.

Though they finally saw their hard work being appreciated, the joy was tempered with having to deal with pushback.

One of the things I noticed that was not mentioned yet in Episode 1 was how much pushback, bullying, negativity and hate they received from their peers and other fans outside their team and company from the very first day.

Working their asses off to fulfill their dreams while being faced with all that makes it even more amazing that they stuck with it.

It was them against the entire kpop industry. We all know how much BTS is hated by other kpop fandoms. We see it daily on the X timeline. The jealousy is real, it's destructive and it's dangerous.

BTS is untouchable now but in 2013, Jungkook was 15 years old. A CHILD! Jin was 20! BigHit had no money. There was a point after debut when they were asked to move out of the dorm because the company couldn't afford it anymore. Underdogs is an understatement, truly what the hell did they think they were doing up against all these established kpop groups, their fandoms and the big 3 companies?

Now, in Episode 2, we start to hear how the guys handled all this. For some of them, they did not handle it very well. Namjoon talks about his panic attacks and how he avoids the internet and going online during a song/album release.

In Episode 1 we saw Hobi and Jin so thrilled and excited, anxiously waiting and monitoring online their very first album release at midnight on June 13, 2013 and for Namjoon to tell us now he can’t enjoy the thrill of that is so devastating to me.

When an artist sends their art out into the world, it is like a living part of themselves, an extension of themselves that they lay bare to the world. The visceral reaction of panic when seeing people hate you for it…and the amount of courage it takes to ignore that and keep going and make more art to release into the world…I challenge anyone to show me they have THAT amount of courage.

And I implore you to understand the depths these guys LOVE their fans ESPECIALLY BEFORE THEY WERE BIG to keep doing it in spite of the hate.

Yoongi was incredibly diplomatic when he says “we had a lot of unreasonable controversies.” I would have said "we had a lot of total fucking bullshit that meant nothing thrown at us by a bunch of stupid butt hurt people." There, I fixed it for you, Yoongi.

They had a ludicrous amount of people gunning for them, hating them for being successful, hating them for being different. Jealousy drives people to do the most hateful things.

Jimin says, “having to deny the bad rumors was always so upsetting.”

Namjoon recieved death threats during the Red Bullet Tour. Early on they were accused of chart manipulation because they sold so many albums. This is the company had no money, there was no money to spend on chart manipulation!

They were accused of plagiarism and brought to court and were exonerated because it wasn't true.

Jimin received death threats at the end of the Wings Tour.

Being the humans that they are, with feelings and emotions, Yoongi says they and the fans were getting desperate and spiteful in the face of all this backlash and hate.

The fan song “2! 3!” was an anomaly. It is somewhat somber for a song dedicated to fans. Most fan songs are light and cheery. But this song fit the emotions BTS was experiencing and bonded them closer with their fans and was again, another instance of the members being sincere and genuine in their expressions.

The emotional scenes of BTS standing on stage, Army singing the lyrics back at them, waving their purple plastic bagged Army bombs, has to be one of the best memories for them. A truly bonding moment between artist and fan.

December 2016, Mnet Asian Music Awards, they win Artist of the Year. It is their first major award. Yoongi says “in a movie, the ending credits are supposed to roll at this point.”

They’ve reached the top… as they knew it. End of story... 2016? Nope.

Early the next year while they were on the Wings Tour, they were told they were going to the United States for the Billboard Music Awards. No other Korean act had ever done that before. They had no expectations for that trip. They had no idea what they were supposed to do when they got there.

It’s kinda cute seeing them prepare and wondering what to expect. They are so young and you can tell they are trying to figure out if they’re supposed to try to emulate the image of a western pop star.

When they get out of the van at the red carpet event, they all look around the back of the van to the other side of the street and see the fans screaming at them. They knew who the real fans were and they wondered what everyone else thought: perhaps people were just curious about who they were.

Namjoon wonders how different it may have been had they, the members, been a little more culturally proficient, meaning at that time, they were inexperienced, naive and ignorant about the impact they were making. It was all a big wonder to them at that point. They were thinking “do they even know who we are?”

Then they win Billboard’s Social Artist award, not a major award but still, it had been won by Justin Bieber for many years prior and now it was BTS’ opportunity to kick in the door. And they did. With all seven pairs of feet. Western artists began to take note and wanted to collaborate with them. The thorn in the western music industry's side had arrived in the form of this team of 7 and their fans.

Yoongi thought it was a one-off token award, but then they were invited to perform at the AMA’s. They can’t believe they’ve made it that far.

They are soaring and going places they never imagined they’d go. Everything seemed like a fairytale, the success, the adulation, the global attention…

But it was happening too fast, their young minds, their emotional development and sense of self never had a chance to mature and catch up to their work load and the pressures and expectations their image and success placed on them. They never had a chance to stop and assess themselves personally and consider if this level of fame was something they even wanted.

Literally, they never. stopped. working. When they say "we just kept running forward" that is not a euphemism, it is literal.

As soon as one event, concert, appearance, fan meet, photo shoot, shooting Run BTS, music shows, whatever was over, it was on to the next one...from plane to hotel to venue back to hotel back to plane, to be repeated over and over.

In mid-2017, by the time they talked about resting for a while, it was perilously close to being too late. They still had the rest of the Wings Tour to complete through December. Some of them had already considered quitting. Some did not possess the confidence to endure the burden. Some of them wondered if pausing was the right thing since they were doing so well.

They were confused by how they could be feeling like this after they’d worked so hard to get to this point.

The title of this episode is "Adolescence" and it pertained not only to the members who were just emerging from it and their careers that had gotten past the starting line and now riding an almost out of control rocket to stardom. It also was a point in time for the company trying to get its feet under it, for its leader Bang PD trying to steer this team, to figure out how to manage this worldwide sensation they'd created.

Bang PD had to learn how to deal with his team's enormous success as he watched them begin to burn out. He embraced a philosophy of focusing on the importance for an artist to have autonomy and be happy as a person which was not a thing in the kpop industry at that time. He was worried about their mental well being and their happiness. He suggested a break.

They knew there was an "end" coming eventually. End of contract, military... et al. They pondered the inability to enjoy the fruits of their hard work and that it couldn't "end" with them being unhappy.

We know in 2018 they renegotiated their contracts.

For a group as close as they were, as committed as they were to their careers and to each other, they had to come together and discuss how they were feeling while being burned out, they had to admit to each other they wanted to quit. We don’t know the nitty-gritty details of how it went down but they worked through it and re-committed to each other and their team.

They didn’t give up and that tells me not a single one of them are quitters.

My own personal thoughts are that they recognized they needed to stop at that specific point in time and regroup. They knew enlistment was coming eventually and the typical life-cycle of a kpop group had been about 7 years when idols aged and younger ones took their place. But they'd reached places in the stratosphere that none other had before. I think they paused, recalibrated and actually let themselves seriously think of a future after enlistment that would allow them to keep up this level of success, to keep pushing boundaries...and therefore they re-evaluated what was in that contract to include things that ensured their well-being so they could grow. That new contract was set to expire this year, well after Jin was supposed to be back from the military and most likely all of them. I am curious to know what that original 2018 contract planning included...

Anyway, I accidentally rambled a lot adding extra context and my own thoughts while watching this episode.

Review of Episode 3 next…

#bts beyond the star #jimin #jungkook #jin #taehyung #namjoon #hobi #yoongi

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delayed-affection · 9 months

Note

hi can you do a story for Turcotte? Maybe where the reader goes to one of his games and there are photos of here with him but they aren't public yet? that be awesome thank you! :)

Secrets Out

Navigation Oneshots

Alex Turcotte x fem!reader

A/n Sorry this took me so long to write

Warnings: none I think

Word count: 1.2k

Dating Alex had its ups and downs, one of the downs was that all of your social media timelines were taken over with him and hockey.

Going on tiktok you were bombarded with edits of your boyfriend, which you didn’t mind, but it would be other random players as well. Instagram was no different, your explore page was full of hockey posts.

With twitter you get random pushed notifications from random fan accounts talking about him or the team.

After sometime you have learned to just deal with it because it did have its ups sometimes especially when it came to updates on what/how he was doing while he was away.

However what you saw today wasn’t an really an up.

The day before

Alex had a game today and as any good girlfriend would do you went to support him. Wearing one of his jerseys on his request seeing as he supplied your ticket.

You would usually sit in the higher seating for a better view of the game but this time you’re sitting behind the bench. Perfect view of Alex for when he’s off the ice and going through the tunnel.

The seats around you quickly fill with fill with people. All of you watch as the guys warmup and interact with their fans.

There’s two girls next to you who start to fawn over the one and only Alex Turcotte as stops at the bench for a drink.

He shoots a smile your way, the girls next to you start giggling to themselves unable to keep in their excitement.

As he skates away they turn to you.

“He was totally checking you out.” One of them tells you.

You play dumb giving them a confused look, “Really?”

She lets out a slight chuckle, “Yes girl.”

You smile but shrug it off, “Probably because of the jersey.”

“I knew I should’ve bought that jersey.” The other mumbles to herself.

It’s half way through the first period when Alex is seated on the bench directly in front of you. A short intermission is taking place to clean up the ice.

The girls next to you are a couple overpriced drinks in and spark up a conversation with you.

“There’s your man.” They jokingly say

You can feel your face start to heat up, if only they knew how true that statement was.

“Maybe we can get him to turn around.” They rave, “See if he looks at you again.”

Now the glass isn’t sound proof nor was he deaf to loud conversation going on behind him.

“Should we bang on the glass?” They ask

You shake your head no, “It’s fine he probably wouldn’t even turn around.”

Just to spite you he turns around on queue with a shit eating grin on his face.

The girls start geeking out, the one closest to you excitedly shakes your shoulder.

The further one whips out their phone recording the interaction, “Do you think she’s cute?”

He checks you out and nods, making you blush and the girls go wild.

You had gotten up to go to the bathroom before the next period started.

The next little warm up started and Alex was just feeding into the girls antics.

The girl’s recording the team as they come out of the tunnel, turning the camera to him as he notices your disappearance.

The girls turn you take notice of your now empty seat.

“Where’s your girlfriend?” One of them shouts at him.

He throws his hands up in confusion.

“Do you want her number?” They ask

He laughs and turns around, taking a short lap on the ice.

Present day

When you decided to do your daily mindless scroll on Instagram the last thing you were expecting to see was the incident from the game.

The unexpectedness of it all caught you off guard, making your mind shift from its mindless scrolling mode to full attention.

The comments full of people asking who you were and when this was taken. Going over to your explorer with little scrolling you see different pages posting the video of the girls, you, and Alex.

You quickly put all your accounts onto private just in case anyone finds them. Not wanting to be harassed or bombarded with messages.

You knew the world would find out at some point but you thought it would be on your own accord. Not by some tipsy girls posts.

You send Alex a text telling him to come over when he can. He immediately reads it and in response calls you.

“What’s wrong?” He questions as soon as you answer.

“Nothing…” you trail, “Well something.”

You can hear him rustling around, “Are you okay?”, the worry in his voice carries.

“I’m fine.” You assure, “Its just that something happened and I’d like to talk about in person.”

“Okay, we can do that.” He replies, “I have a team meeting right now but I’ll come over when it’s done.”

When he got to your house the two of you spent half an hour looking at your phone. With you showing him the comments people were leaving about you and him, and how far the posts have spread.

He leans back on the couch with a sigh, “I could just say that I was playing along. And tell them to leave you alone.”

You toss your phone onto the other side of the couch, “You could.”

He puts his around around you, pulling you into his side, “Or… You know… We could officially go public.”

You slightly pull away to get a better look at him, “What?”

He shrugs nonchalantly, “They’ve already seen you and in the video they called you my girlfriend, so why not formally introduce you to them.”

You sit there for a second to think, is he being for real right now?

Worry fills his face, “Do you not want to? Because if I’m being honest with you, I was going to ask you before this happened. If you don’t want to that’s fine.”

You quickly put his worry to rest, “I do, I want to but what if they don’t like to me?”

He lets out a quiet scoff, “Who cares what they think? I like you, that’s all that matters.”

You let your head hang low as you recall all of the comments, “But they’re already saying things.”

“Look.” He says grabbing your face, “I know you not them. Whatever they say doesn’t matter. I’m coming home to you, I’m spending all my time with you. I love you, not them.”

He continues on, “So to hell with them and their comments. I love you and I’m with you, that’s what matters. If you don’t want to go public that’s fine. We’ll let them talk to themselves and make assumptions.”

He kisses you softly before saying, “I’ll do whatever you want to do.”

You take a deep breath, “Okay.”

His entire face lights up, “Really?”

You nod, “But not now let’s give it a week or so.”

He pulls you into a hug and places a kiss on your forehead, “Whatever you want baby.”

#alex turcotte #alex turcotte imagine #alex turcotte x reader #alex turcotte oneshot #alex turcotte x yn #nhl oneshot #nhl imagine #los angeles kings #la kings

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bluebellhairpin · 10 months

Text

Thou So Long Hast Mourn'd

Bruce Wayne X Batmom!Reader

Summary: After Jason's passing, your grief and anger combined causes you to leave Gotham - swearing only to return when you have a perfect chance to kill the Joker for what he did to your son. (Part 2 to 'Hell Hath No Fury')

Warnings: Loss and Grief (Mentions of a funeral and repeated mentions of Jason dying. We miss Mumma's Boy Jay a lot :( ). Bad coping mechanisms all round. Clark Kent acts as a marital buffer. (Reader is fem coded; has she/her pronouns; is referred to as ‘wife’ multiple times. Has the hero name of 'Valentine'.)

Listening to: 'Skyfall' By Adele - "I know I'd never be me without the security of your loving arms keeping me from harm."

Series Masterlist || Masterlist || Ko-Fi

Yes, thou shalt know, spite of thy past Distress, -

Jason’s funeral was attended by a very small number of people. Yourself, Bruce, Dick, and Alfred all front and center.

For days, weeks, the media pestered asking question after question. “A tragic accident.” Commissioner Gordon would reply. It became you answer too, like a well-rehearsed prayer.

A tragic accident. Tragic. Accidental tragedy. Accident.

Except it was no such accident. Someone killed Jason. A man, who still walked free, murdered your son.

Even now, a month after you buried the child, as you sat listening to rain pat against the window panes in Wayne Manor, you remembered what you’d told Bruce the night he brought Jason home for the last time.

“I’m going to kill him.” you said. “I’m going to kill the Joker.” You told Bruce you’d do what you’d vowed to never do again. You promised yourself to avenge your son, to make sure no one else would ever lose a child to that monster ever again.

Ever since that night you’d felt a wedge slide between you and Bruce. Dick, only sixteen and having lost the closest thing he had to a brother was feeling it - you could see it on his face, and they way he held his shoulders at dinner. How you were feeling, how little Bruce was doing about it - none of it was doing Dick any good.

Aside from the anger, you didn’t know how you were feeling. You never thought you’d ever be a mother - you had no idea what to do to help anyone. So you left.

Bruce was out on patrol - he dove into Batman head first, a bitter feeling in your stomach had you thinking he was compensating. Dick was out - gymnastic practice, which Alfred was in charge of tonight. You were left alone in a huge house, and you couldn’t stand to stay there any longer.

A small bag was packed with basics - clothes, cash, a few weapons from the cave, and a single family photo taken while on vacation just that past summer (stolen from its frame and folded into a jacket pocket close to your heart). As you walked past the main living space, you stopped, and looked up towards the item hanging above the fireplace.

The sword - Excalibur - a god-given gift to humankind to exact true justice, now resting as a collectors antique catching dust. You knew if you took it that you would be able to do what you needed to. During your time using it there was no greater pull than to execute Joker - yet something always stopped you.

You knew it was Bruce.

Even already, your own guilt over what you meant to do wouldn’t let you take it with you.

Naturally, on that night, Alfred brought Dick was home first. It was already nine thirty, and while Dick would be up for a long while, he knew the boy wasn’t sleeping proper anymore.

Alfred sent him up to his room anyway, reassuringly with a hand on his shoulder, telling him to go try and get some rest.

But Alfred knew something wasn’t right in the Manor the moment he stepped inside. It was too quiet. Like it had been empty as long as they’d been away - even though he knew full well you should’ve been there to keep the house alive.

Although not trained, the butler had a sixth sense for a lot of things - he was a natural at whatever he sent his mind to (in his youth it was acting, and hence so seeing through lies and reading rooms (for improvisation, obviously) went with it). He set out to find you. Looked in all the usual places, and the unusual ones, in the big rooms and the small ones.

In the last week or so you’d taken to spending time sitting in the walk-in-fridge. He worried about you a lot. While Dick still had school and his friends, and Bruce threw himself into Batman, you only really had yourself. It wasn’t healthy.

But no matter how much he looked, or where he looked, you were nowhere to be found - not in the house, nor in the grounds. You’d said nothing about going out when he left, he would’ve remembered. In a last ditch effort to find you, he looked in one last place.

But you hadn’t been in the Batcave since Jason came home.

It was there, as he walked down a set of stairs, that he noticed a piece of paper haphazardly taped to one of the center computer monitors.

He grabbed it, and flipped it open, reading quietly to himself the words inside, scrawled in your handwriting.

‘Bruce, Don’t look, you know I won’t let you find me. I’m going to do something you will hate me for - probably forever. I can’t keep living like this knowing Jason’s killer is out there killing more mother’s sons. Take care of Dickie. Don’t take Alfred for granted.’

The older man found himself sinking into the chair beside him.

He had a hunch this was coming - he wasn’t in the cave the night Bruce brought Jason home, instead at the time he was upstairs taking a call from an excited Dick who was recalling his day spent doing a treasure hunt around Blüdhaven for a school camp trip that lasted the whole week. Alfred had no idea how you first reacted - he didn’t know how Bruce reacted to your reaction.

He knew it wasn’t good. Especially since in your note you didn’t even say goodbye to your husband.

You’d been hiding in a place you knew Bruce wouldn’t ever look - he always hated visiting Metropolis, the city was too bright.

You knew no one there would snitch on you - most didn’t even recognize you, and the one person who did, conveniently the man who was the closest thing Bruce had to a best friend, wouldn’t ever snitch on you. Not for this.

‘I needed a break,’ you’d lied, ‘Couldn’t handle being in Gotham after…’ You never finished, and you knew Clark could see through a lie like glass - but the grief he could see. He could also see the anger simmering underneath. He never called you out for it though.

You’d been there a while, waiting, watching Gotham from a distance Bruce wouldn’t see you from. You kept tabs mostly on Batman - although interviews with Bruce having to explain where his wife went were entertaining (in a sick, satisfying way). Sometimes you were sick, others you were out of town, most times you ‘weren’t feeling up to it’ - the latter two would be closest to the truth, not that he’d know that.

You often looked fondly at whatever information came though about Dick - he took out the gymnastics first place for his age bracket in the Gotham state. The picture made your heart ache - his smile was wide and toothy, but even though your printed newspaper you could tell it wasn’t reaching his eyes.

Who you were watching most, though, was the Joker. You combed through old reports and new ones. Even called up Harley Quinn a few times, just to get a perspective on him from someone who was - at one point - much closer to him. She asked you why you wanted to know.

“I need to know.”

“O-kay. And where exactly have you been Val?” she’d said, voice crackling down the hotel landline, “You ain’t locking yourself up in that Mansion are ya?”

“No. I’m not in Gotham right now.”

“So what’s even the Joker to ya if you ain’t even here huh?”

“When I come back,” you said, “I’m going to kill him.”

You became a Joker expert in almost one night.

You got a late night visitor less than a week after that phone call. Clad in red and blue, with a gaudy cape and that stupid ringlet you and Bruce would always bitch about on late nights under bed covers.

You were a little happy to see Clark - you actually had nothing against him, it was all just in jest (or solidarity because Bruce was your husband). He was let in pretty quickly. Mostly to avoid questions from the nosey couple who’d been staying in the room next to yours for the past three days.

He stood around awkwardly while you watched him from the seat next to the room’s microwave, posture screaming Clark Kent, journalist, even though he looked like Superman, world-know superhero.

“I’m, uh -” he started after you stared at him hard, wordlessly willing him to speak, “- I’m worried. I think you should go back to Gotham soon. To Bruce, specifically.”

“And why’s that?” He looked at you like you’d just said you had Kryptonite in your pocket.

“Because you’re in trouble.”

“I’m here in Metropolis, I’m with you right now, I couldn’t be in less trouble if I tried.”

“You know I have super hearing.” he said sheepishly. It was like he was telling his Ma he ran over her peonies with a bicycle. You put two and two together quickly though.

“You’ve been spying on me?”

“For me!” He said, stepping back with his palms towards the sky, “I feel better about not telling Bruce if I know what’s going on with you.”

“And so what part of your spying brought you here tonight?” Both your arms and legs crossed, you could tell from his face he didn't mean for you to get so offensive so quickly.

“You were talking to Harley Quinn?”

“Oh that,” you scoffed with a wave of your hand, “Even Bruce does that. She’s not so bad. Taught me how to roller-skate you know.”

“About the Joker?”

“That happens often when my husband is being a pain in my ass,” you said, “Reminds me he could be much, much worse.” Clark motioned his head - ‘fair’, but then he returned serious once more. This time it wasn’t a question.

“You said you were going to kill him.”

You knew he couldn’t read your mind, but he could hear how your heartbeat picked up. He had to know you knew you’d been caught. He sat down on the edge of the bed, waiting for your answer in the most approachable way he knew in that moment.

“I’d be doing everyone a favor.”

“Bruce - I don’t know what he’d do. He could hate you.”

“I’m sure he hates me right now anyway.”

“You can’t believe that,” Clark said, looking up at you with blue eyes that almost looked like Bruce’s. “You don’t really believe he hates you right now?” You took a great interest in the patterned carpet. Clark said your name, and you reluctantly looked back at him.

“He misses you.”

“I miss my son.” You bit back at him bitterly. His face remained hard. This was suddenly no longer Clark. You were talking to Superman now.

“I’m not sure how to say this kindly,” Clark said with a firm voice, “But you’re so focused on the child you lost that you’re abandoning the one that’s still here. Bruce misses you, but Dick misses you even more. He doesn’t need to lose another Mom.”

His stare was hard, stubborn - he wasn’t going to let up. Your stare was hard too - sour and angry, not because you didn't believe him, but because you knew how right he was.

“I think you can leave now.”

Two weeks later, after a late night grocery run that consisted mostly of chicken noodle cups and instant coffee, you found a lump of black sitting in the dark with its back against the door of your room.

Clark told Bruce.

He didn’t seem to notice your approach, but once you stood toe-to-toe with his polished Oxford shoes, you kicked his leg.

“Get up.”

His head of messy hair lifted, and when his brain fully processed you - his wife, finally! - standing before him, he almost jumped to his feet. Uncharacteristic of him outside his prior - and now ditched - playboy persona.

He breathed your name, stepping forward with hands outstretched as if to hug you. You took a step back. Clark, apparently hadn’t told him everything - if he had, he was taking it very, very well.

“Where’s Dick?”

“With Alfred,” he said, hands falling to his sides again after you hummed in acknowledgment. You both stood in silence for a while, before you gestured to a door with a full hand. He got the hint, stepping away, then taking the bags away from one hand as you fumbled for your keys.

The quiet continued as you let yourselves in, you sat the shopping on the bench, and he made himself at home at the table near the door. You sat back down in the microwave chair, the furthest place from him you could be while still staying in the room.

“Been keeping busy, Bruce?” you asked, he turned to fully face you in his seat.

“Not really,” he said, “I’ve been looking for you. Never thought you’d be here,” You almost smiled, thinking about how right you were for coming here. Almost.

“Heard you went to Saudi Arabia while I’ve been gone.”

“It was nothing. Really.”

“You couldn’t have been looking too hard if you were able to take a ‘nothing, really’ trip to the Arabian Mountains.”

“I’m not here to fight with you,” Bruce said, resting a palm on his knee, “I’m here to ask you to come home. We all miss you.” his last words came out very quietly. “It’s been months. Nothings going to get easier if you stay away.”

“Are you listening to yourself?” you said with a soft scoff, “He who literally spent every single night after Jason died away from home. He who spends every moment he can down in a dark damp cave rather than with his family - I don’t think you get to tell me where I should be.” You felt tears well in your eyes - hot and fat if they fell, but you willed yourself not to let them. Bruce’s shoulders softened, and he stood and walked closer slowly, coming to kneel before you with his fingers just touching yours.

“We both haven’t been doing well, have we?” his head shook and his voice was barely audible. It was like he was speaking to himself. His admission - finally, his own pride and stubbornness aside, and it made yours disappear like dust in the wind.

“You need to see my bathroom,” you said. His head cocked, a sly smile twitched onto his lips.

“Oh?” he said, “And what might I find there?” But you weren’t smiling. You were trying to be honest.

“Just go look.” you said, turning away from him, bringing your hand away. Telling him with your actions that you weren’t going to be talking until he did.

He stood, opening the bathroom door behind you and flicking on the light. You could feel how still he was. Taking in the room, and what was inside it.

All across the mirror and walls were taped up newspaper clippings and photos and articles printed off from the library, old and new, a few of him - Batman - but most of the Joker. Beside the toilet was a case - one he knew would hold parts of a rifle (parts he'd seen you pull apart and put back together in a minute flat) - and across the sink were knives and gun magazines.

Bruce stepped off the carpet and onto the tile. There was a little list in the center of the mirror, written in red and with the last line underlined.

‘Kill the Joker’.

When he returned to you, he was holding the list in one hand.

“When were you planning on doing this?” he asked. You weren’t able to meet his eyes when you answered.

“Whenever I go back to Gotham.” His body went rigid beside you. Audibly, he let out a breath.

“I’ve thought about it too. Just getting rid of him like that.” he admitted, voice quiet and with a rough edge, “But I know it won’t help. It won’t bring him back.”

“This isn’t about bringing him back. If I knew it could bring Jason back I’d have done it weeks ago.” You looked up at Bruce as you spoke, watching as his face crinkled in disbelief.

“You’re so serious about this.”

“How could you still think I’m not serious?” you said, standing to help convince yourself you weren’t as unsure as you felt. “I will do it. A time will come when that monster dies - wherever it is I will be standing by watching.”

He watched you. Analyzing your face and the way your eyes moved. His face set like stone, hard and sure and you knew he was much more upset now having found out than what he was when you were missing. He took a step back.

Bruce was moving towards the door.

“I won’t stop you. I couldn’t bear to.” he turned, hand on the door handle, “But Batman still will.”

As far as you knew, you’d made it back into Gotham City undetected.

You knew the route’s Bruce - no - Batman, took while out on patrol. You knew the surveillance he constantly would check. You knew because for years you’d helped him do it all.

Thankfully, you had a not-so-little little helper - Joker assassination aside, Harley was more than happy to put you up for a while. After you’d killed Joker you’d planned to turn tail and leave again - maybe hide someplace in Australia where no one barely goes. It wasn’t like you had to put up with her long anyway.

Harley was great, but you’d have to love her a whole lot to live with her longer than a week. But you weren’t planning to stay that long.

You’d tracked Joker to an apartment complex near Arkham - you knew he wouldn’t stay there forever, so you needed to act fast.

Your weapons of choice were clean and ready to go, your escape routes A through to D were memorized, a hood and bandana combo were acquired to hide your identity long enough for no one around to know it was you. By all means and definitions you were ready to go.

You left Harley’s place wordlessly. You were sure she didn’t even know you left.

A cloak and the shadows of night concealed you from most passersby. Slowly, slowly you stalked towards where you knew the Joker to be. When you climbed the fire escape to find your vantage point, you almost didn’t make it all the way there because you saw Him.

Sitting, lounging. Acting like there was not a single thing in the world to worry about. It made you so angry you could scream, claw your eyes out, you could do so many things all because that man couldn’t care less about your son dying.

In fact, you didn’t make it to your original vantage point.

You settled right there, three levels lower than planned, and took the rifle off your shoulder. Clipping on the scope, twisting the silencer on, packing the magazine in. Settled your body into a comfortable position, then raised the gun to look at your target through the scope.

With greasy green hair and yellow teeth, you watched him smile through the crosshairs. With a sneer you flicked the safety off. You were ready to take the shot.

A flash of red, green and yellow came in front of the Joker. You frowned, confused. Pulling the scope back you looked again with a wider range and saw something that made your heart drop. Someone was tied up and presented to him like a present.

The Joker had Robin.

Your Robin. Your son. Your Dick Grayson.

Suddenly this was more than just a chance to avenge Jason. A switch flicked inside your heart. This wasn’t a chance to avenge Jason anymore; this was you, saving the son you had left. This was you not giving that monster the chance to keep you in black.

The lethal rifle was ditched right there on the fire escape, not caring if a lowlife found it before you could return. The knives you’d stashed - ‘just in case’ - were now your swords. Their piercing blades becoming the only thing shielding those who stood in your way a feral beating from bare fists.

No one was standing in your way of taking Dick home safely.

Your veins pumped white hot, you saw red all over. This was not going to happen a second time. It wasn’t ever going to happen again.

A goon at the door stood in your way, he was met with a knee to the crotch and a wound to his shoulder to keep him down. More on the stairs were thrown over bannisters. One had his head smashed into the doorway of the Joker’s apartment. Another was given a hard elbow to the back of his neck.

You weren’t aiming to kill - you were aiming to get them out of your way, and keep them that way.

When you reached the room which window you saw through, there were only four other people aside from yourself, your son, and that murdering bastard. They all stayed quiet, goons waiting on a call to action from their boss. You missed the way Dick’s eyes widened as he realised his Mom was here. You were busy staring down the Joker, trying to make him feel just how much pure hate you had for him without a single word.

“Give me Robin,” you said, voice low, venomous. Dangerous.

“Well if you want him so bad, and since you asked nicely,” His smile spread wide and uncanny. “Come and get him.”

So you did.

Like a blur of back and blue, you had all four men either out cold or groaning on the floor. The Joker himself was under your kneeling form with his teeth now stained red and an eyes swollen shut.

“Listen well because I’ll only say it once.” You said, your hand a rough fist in his hair to make sure he looked into your eyes and saw exactly how much of a threat your promise was.

“I spared your life today. I will never do it again. I am not the Batman. The next time I find you trying to pull something with one of my Robin’s and you see me coming you'd better run the other way because I will kill you.”

After untying Dick, retrieving your abandoned gear, and throwing Joker into Arkham, you reconvened with Dick on a nearby rooftop.

You barely stood upright on two legs before he barreled into you, arms thrown around your waist with his face squished right into your collarbone. He’d grown taller in the time you’d been away. You felt tears fall as your arms wrapped around him in kind.

“I’ve missed you Mom.” he mumbled into your shirt, “Please don’t go away again. Please.”

A hand raised to the back of his head as you pressed your covered nose into his hair. You took a deep breath with your eyes closed, then opened them, peeling you both apart just enough to take in each other's faces. Even with his mask on you could see how much he was pleading with you to stay.

You brushed his hair away from his face - he needed a haircut soon.

You wanted to stay, you never wanted to leave him ever again, not after tonight. But would Bruce let you?

Out the corner of your eye you saw a black drop fall onto the rooftop a little ways off. Batman. He stood, tall and intimidating. In that moment you had half a mind to take a step back even though he made no move closer to you.

Instead you just held Dick a little tighter.

Bruce's hand reached out to you, palm open, outstretched, and empty. Waiting for you to take it.

“I think we can go home now.” he said, “We all can.” Like that, Batman disappeared. Bruce was here. You guessed he bluffed - when it came to you Bruce was always there.

Things were not going to go back to normal. They weren’t for a while. But the best thing you could do was stay together, all together. As a family.

Nothing was going to push that away from you again.

- And all those Ills which thou so long hast mourn'd;

#the adventures of batmom #bruce wayne x reader #bruce wayne x batmom #batman x reader #jason todd x batmom #dick grayson x batmom

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jaegeraether · 4 months

Text

Sunsets and footballers (Part 48)

Lucy Bronze x Reader (43) & Jordan Nobbs x Leah Williamson Mini (5)

Masterlist (other parts here)

((**Just a little one tonight...I've been busy. Also it's very emotional...Sorry!**))

“Tell me everything.”

Leah downed her second drink in a row. “The awards are going to start.”

“Not for another twenty minutes…”

The England Captain sighed and put her head in her hands for a minute or so, YFN leaving her to her thoughts until she was ready. She came back up with decisiveness, looking at YFN.

“The first I heard of Mark was when I was promoting my book last year. I was promoting it around social media and all that, and one of the things I did was a sort of sit down talk with JK Rowling about it. She’s a children’s author, my book is for children, it just made sense to everyone, including my publishing agency. Anyways, Joe’s team were confident that it would be a massive boost for her after the previous comments she’d made. They planned it so that doing this little interview with me would make people start to like her again and boost her reputations back up and… well Mark didn’t like that. He approached me without my team around and told me to make sure the interview never came out. I talked to my team and Joe’s team and they didn’t seem surprised he’d done that. My team told him no. The next thing I know, he approached me with a video of…” Leah closed her eyes and shook her head as if to rid herself of the memories.

“Leah you didn’t…” YFN stopped herself.

“No! No, I didn’t cheat on Jordan. The video was of Jordan and I, but you couldn’t tell it was her. You could definitely tell it was me.”

YFN heart sunk and she reached out to touch Leah’s arm reassuringly. “How.. how bad was it?”

YFN could see the tears forming in her eyes. She pulled her head back almost looking at the ceiling as she tried to keep them at bay and dabbed her eyes. “I’m sorry, this is relief more than anything. You’re the first person I’ve told.” She met YFN’s eyes again with a small smile that wasn’t fooling anyone. “It was bad. You can see most of me naked and the back of Jordan’s head between my legs, though it just looks like it could have been anyone. The problem was me obviously coming on camera. We were near a window in a high-rise so the only thing I can think of is drone footage… I didn’t see it…”

She was the first person she’d told. Leah had kept it all to herself. She squeezed her arm.

“It’s not illegal to video someone inside their home, but it’s a strong case for being unethical..”

“Yeah, my lawyers eventually worked that one out. But I didn’t want to drag Jordan down in my mess. I thought I was going down, and I..” she looked over at Jordan. “I didn’t want to drag her down with me. She deserves better.” She looked back at YFN. “You would have done the same for Lucy.. I know you would have.”

It all started making sense to her then. Leah’s talk to YFN when she was arguing with Lucy about ‘don’t fall into the trap of pretending it’s for the best when it’s not. I’ve made that mistake and can’t watch you do the same..’

Leah broke up with Jordan because of this. Because of Mark. Her eyes searched for him in the crowd as she spoke.

“So you broke up with Jordan because you were worried he would make it public and ruin your career and Jordan’s by association. It’s taken your lawyers a little over a year to win the rights to the video, so you’re trying to win Jordan back, and now he’s threatening to leak it out of spite?” Her words were said between gritted teeth.

Her eyes scanned over Lucy, only pausing long enough to see her look of curiosity and worry at the expression on YFN’s face which she guessed was fierce.

“That sums it up pretty well actu-“

Leah cut herself off when YFN stood and left, walking towards the man she’d finally spotted in the crowd. She didn’t care where she was.

“You!” She said, standing in front of him. “You like threatening people and ruining relationships, do you? What exactly do you want?”

Mark looked a little embarrassed and waved the people he was talking to away. “Leave us, I’ll find you.” He turned to YFN. “You want to do this here and now?”

“You fucking started it.”

A hand grabbed hold of her arm and she didn’t have to look to know it was Lucy.

“YFN, don’t. It’s not worth it.” Leah pleaded from YFN’s other side, her hand also finding her arm as she murmured the next bit quietly. “Let the lawyers handle it.”

“I want to know,” she said, fists balled up. “What do you want?”

He looked around as if to make sure they weren’t making a scene before he bent down. “You know what I want. Joe-“

“Joe has nothing to do with us, and even if she did, we don’t represent whatever she did to hurt you. So leave us alone.”

Mark laughed. Actually laughed. “As if you don’t have enemies as well, YFN?”

“That’s enough,” Lucy growled over her shoulder.

“No,” he replied harshly with a glare at Lucy before his attention turned back to YFN. “This world is built on enemies. Take a think about those photos of you and your girlfriend at the airport, hm? I don’t live in Barcelona. None of the people who work for me do. So take a moment to rethink… do you have any enemies? Particularly ones in.. oh I don’t know… Barcelona?”

Her stomach dropped lower. The photos hadn’t been the best quality, and she’d wondered if they were taken from a phone. Of course they would have.

“K…Kristie?”

“Not so innocent, are you?”

Lucy took a step forward when they were interrupted.

“Lucy! Leah! It’s good to see you again!”

They turned and paled as William and Catherine approached. They looked stunning, William in a tux and Catherine in a dress.

The five of them composed themselves quickly enough that the tension went unnoticed.

Lucy greeted the pair first and then stepped back, placing a reassuring hand on YFN’s lower back. She was the only person who knew that Catherine was her ‘Joe’. Leah greeted them next with a textbook smile, teeth showing, followed by Jordan. Mark had managed to sneak away, but not before flashing YFN another look as if he’d won. She pretended not to see. After the pair greeted the three lionesses, William’s attention turned to her.

“YFN, right?” She curtsied slowly to get her thoughts together. How did he know who she was? Luckily he continued as he shook her hand with a smile. “You’re the manager of Lumos, the new company for women’s sports, yes?”

YFN nodded. “That’s me. Lovely to meet you.”

“Fantastic work. Absolutely fantastic. I’m into football myself, if you can’t tell,” he joked, gesturing to the three lionesses beside her. He stepped just far enough to the side for Catherine to give her a similar greeting. Gosh, she was good at pretending they didn’t know each other. YNF shook her hand also.

“William is a sports fan but even more so a football fanatic,” she explained as if she didn’t know. The eye roll really sold it.

YFN had done her research and knew that William was the President of the Football Association, amongst his other titles.

“Catherine spotted some football stars, knowing I couldn’t resist coming over and saying hello,” he grinned. Ah, that made sense. This was Catherine’s way of intervening. She must have seen. “Anything to get out whatever we were previously talking about.” He was cheeky, which was refreshing. “Have you heard of Lumos?”

Catherine nodded. “Yes, they seem like a wonderful new start up,” she turned to YFN. “Is it just for women’s football or will it be for other things?”

“Starting off with women’s football. Aiming to have full coverage over all leagues and internationals by the middle of next year. Following that we’ll expand to other female sports which are lacking attention like cricket and tennis, and from there we’ll see. As of right now its main purpose is to bridge that deficit of coverage of women’s sports.”

“That’s excellent,” William said. “And much needed. Women’s sports have a lot of supporters and it would give young girls better access to sportswomen to idolise growing up. I remember you all saying how difficult it was growing up without that..”

The lionesses nodded, and Leah stepped in as Captain, supporting her and mentioning how Lumos was already becoming very popular with the players around England.

They spoke for a little longer, the conversation made easy by William. He was great at talking in general and holding interest. They had to leave after five full minutes of conversation, apologising as they were expected to meet some more people before the awards started. YFN was fine with that, she had too much on her mind to be entertaining a conversation when she felt like she needed to be sick.

“Fucking Kristie,” Lucy growled when they’d left.

YFN didn’t say anything, the feeling of dread sitting there.

“What are you going to do?” Jordan asked softly.

“She violated her restraining order. I’m going to get airport footage of her there.”

YFN was almost zoned out, barely hearing as she tried to find Mark again. Kristie hovering around them left her nervous and scared, but she couldn’t get over the feeling that came with knowing what he’d done to Leah and Jordan without caring. Her eyes wandered but couldn’t find him and regardless, the trio wouldn’t have let her confront him again anyways.

“It’s not worth it,” Lucy said again. YFN looked at her harder than she ever had so she knew she was serious.

“Yes, it is.”

Her message got across and Lucy looked to Leah who was biting her lip. Jordan saw Leah hesitating and shook her head. She was done. She walked off. Lucy went to follow but YFN stopped her and her hand found Lucy’s, entwining their fingers. Lucy softened.

YFN turned to Leah. “We have ten minutes until we need to be seated, Leah.”

“I don’t deserve her,” she whispered. “I can’t drag her into this mess..”

“Leah…a mistake repeated more than once is a decision. Don’t make her decision for her again. Give her a choice, and give her the truth.”

Leah’s lips parted and her face fell as the words hit her hard. She nodded and walked over to Jordan. Lucy and YFN found a comfortable spot of their own and YFN told Lucy at the exact same time that Leah told Jordan. Lucy’s face fell and her head whipped around to find Mark, but was stopped by YFN catching her cheek with the palm of her hand.

“No, Luce. Not tonight.”

She planted a soft kiss to her cheek as Lucy calmed herself, turning to watch Leah tell Jordan. They’d never seen Jordan’s face drop so fast. She was distraught. Leah hadn’t left her because of her. Leah had left her to protect her. Jordan’s lips trembled and for the first time in a long time, she let Leah hold her, and stroke her back as she cried. Finally. Catharsis.

They’d all managed to tidy themselves up before the awards and they sat together in pairs, YFN noticing Leah’s hand was made open and available to Jordan which she eventually took. Their fingers laced together like Lucy’s and YFN’s while they listened to speeches and only then did she let herself relax and enjoy the fact that Lucy was here. She couldn’t help the looks of adoration.

“Your boxing class,” she murmured during a break.

“Pushed it to tomorrow,” Lucy smirked. “Figured some cardio on the day before El Clasico would be a good idea.”

YFN hummed her approval and gripped her bicep with her spare arm. “You came.”

“Of course I did, little one,” they shared a look, not really caring that they were in public. “Besides…I’m glad I did with this drama.”

“I’m glad you did too,” she sighed, her eyes finding Jordan and Leah again. “I really needed you tonight.”

She needed her every night, but she wasn’t about to admit that.

The awards were a nice distraction and they caught up with a few of the other lionesses: Alex Scott, Chloe Kelly, Mary Earps, Jill Scott and a few celebrities outside of football Leah introduced them to. After the drama of Mark, they’d all fallen into the enjoyment of the night and each other’s company. Most people left the venue quickly, however the four stayed and enjoyed the soft music and relaxed atmosphere as opposed to the chaos of the after party. YFN found herself slow dancing in Lucy’s arms, joined by several other couples who preferred that to a night club scene. They whispered sweet nothings to each other as they swayed, giving Leah and Jordan time to speak quietly at a table alone. Only when the conversation appeared to be ending, did they stop and join them.

They stopped for takeout on the way home, looking incredibly overdressed as they did so which amused them all. They sat and ate at the takeout place which was far too dirty for their clothes, but again, they were enjoying themselves and the company of each other. Somehow with all of her condiments, Lucy had managed to not drop any onto her outfit, and the trio let her know just how impressed they were. The table she’d been leaning over though…that needed a bucket and a mop. Her excuse was that she hadn’t eaten since lunch, though they knew her better than that.

They arrived back at Lucy’s house late, undressing, showering and getting into comfy clothes.

“I want to see it,” Jordan said.

Leah didn’t bother arguing. She knew she’d been wrong to keep it from her. She looked at YFN and Lucy who were already giving them space. It was none of their business.

Jordan watched the video with fear. It didn’t go for long, and it was exactly as Leah had described. They were in a high rise apartment they’d booked for a romantic night together in London. Leah was naked and propped up on pillows on the couch, and Jordan’s mouth was on her. It was impossible to tell it was Jordan as the couch arm cut off all of her body besides the head as it moved, her hands gripping Leah’s hips as she ate her. Leah was a mess at this point. Her hair was out and she was desperately chasing the high that Jordan was pushing her towards. She was a sweaty, moaning mess, unable to keep still, her hands finding Jordan wherever she could. The end of the video was Leah orgasming, her back arching and a whimper torn from her throat, her nipples excited and pointing to the ceiling. It was confronting to watch, even without sound.

They didn’t speak when it was done. Jordan handed her phone back wordlessly and Leah picked up her bag. Jordan walked her to the door. There hadn’t been any discussion on Leah not staying, it was just something they both knew was right.

“I love you,” Leah said from the doorstep, her bag slung over her shoulder. “I made a decision without involving you. I thought I was protecting you, but I took your choice away. I never stopped and will never stop loving you. I can’t change the past, but I can tell you here and now that I’ll give you everything, all of me, and I’ll never make a decision without you again. I’ve lost a year with you, and I can’t stand to lose another second. If you take me back and realise you can’t trust me….then I’ll bear that burden of pain and I need you to know that I’d never beg you to stay just for my feelings. I’d hold the door open and offer you everything I had, because you deserve everything, Jord. Just…think on it.”

Leah leant down slowly and kissed Jordan on the cheek one long, lingering kiss. Jordan’s head turned into her and their foreheads met, lips hovering over each others. Leah cupped her cheek and wiped away the tears that her words had drawn from Jordan. She was tempted to kiss her, but she was not going to make another mistake. It was Jordan’s choice from here on.

“You’re my person. I love you, Jord.”

And with that, Leah was gone, Jordan watching as she did. She watched her open her car door and toss her bag in. She watched her sit in her seat and put her seatbelt on. She watched her lips tremble as she exhaled her emotions, gripping the steering wheel. Her red eyes found Jordan on the doorstep with her arms wrapped around her body to shield herself from the cold. That should be her keeping her warm. She started the car as her own tears fell. Jordan watched until she could no longer see her car, her heart aching for those happy years with Leah again.

She went back inside and YFN was waiting for her with her arms out. Jordan planted herself there, letting her emotions out in loud sobs. Lucy came past and wrapped her arms around them both tightly, kissing Jordan on the head.

They ended up on the couch, Jordan crying herself to sleep in YFN’s arms, Lucy tucking a blanket over them. She settled herself on the adjacent side of the L-shaped modular couch, her head near theirs and her pinky finding YFN’s.

#woso #womens football #woso community #woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso soccer #engwnt #jordan nobbs #lionesses #lucy bronze #woso x reader #wsl #leah williamson #arsenal women #aston villa women #lucy bronze imagine #lucy bronze x reader

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eyesxxyou · 11 months

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Hobie Brown (Spider-Punk) x Reader!

You didn’t intend on moving to London. There was absolutely nothing about the place you desired to stick around for initially. This is only temporary, you told yourself. It’s not forever. That was all true for the first month of your stay in a city that seemed to be perpetually shaded in grey. Media did no justice for how unappealing the place was. Gloomy, rainy, and the air quality constantly had you choking.

All of that changed, however, when you met Spider-Man, the only appealing part of this forsaken city. You had known about him. Of course you did, the whole world knew about the webslinger with the electric guitar on his back. Attending protests, encouraging anarchy, denouncing all things government controlled. A hero of the people. Governments labeled him a terrorist, a disgrace to all things wholesome. Everyone with half a mind and oppressed in some way loved him.

But you met him. You knew him. Well- as well as one could know a masked punk rock hero. You could pick his voice out of a crowd in a country where everyone sounded exactly the same to you. The baritone of his voice as he hung off the balcony of your apartment— sorry, flat, as he insists you call it. “Ain’t in America anymore, love. It’s a flat.” But you could see behind his mask the way he smiled everytime you called it an apartment in spite of him. But he liked to hang out there, strum his guitar covered in peeling stickers and hum to the melody late into the night.

It started after he saved you from getting mugged. Your first week in London and already you were having the worst time of your life with a knife pointed at your throat. You didn’t try to fight it. You were already over it by then and simply wanted to find the path of least resistance to get home. Luckily for you, Spider-Man happened to be patrolling nearby, lurking on rooftops.

“Oi. that’s no way to treat a young lady is it?” You and your robber both looked up to see him with his mask half off, eating the rest of his churro before pulling his mask back down. He was so fast, you hardly saw his webs shoot out and yank the robber back. He jumped down from the roof, swinging his guitar around off his shoulder and grabbing it by the neck before smashing it against your assailant's head. It knocked him out immediately, left him slumped against the wall. A couple of webs here and there to keep him where he was before Spider-Man grabbed your bag and brought it over to you.

“There ya go, love.” He dropped the bag in your hands and adjusted your shawl. “Not the first time I’ve had to deal with this bloke. I keep telling him to stop robbing people on the street. The banks are a much better target." You simply stared at him, almost surprised by his punk rock style, the metal spikes creaking a mohawk down the back of his head. His sleeveless jacket, torn fabric, patches. He was tall and rather lanky but you could see the lean muscle hiding just beneath his unassuming statue.

"Oh-" he clicked his tongue. "Got a little nick on ya jaw, love." His hand reached out to touch the bleeding cut but you quickly covered it and coughed. "It's okay. I'll be okay." You assure him. It was probably then that he realized you're American and most likely recently moved to England. It was getting dark and you still didn't know your way around.

“I don’t know if you’re busy or not, but do you mind walking me home? I recently moved here and I'm still not sure what parts of London are safe or not.” It was a stretch to ask and you felt a bit stupid the moment the words left your lips. You could see him consider it or find the best way to let you down but in the end, he shrugged. “Why the hell not. What street?”

That was the beginning of your friendship if that’s what you could call it. He’d visit from time to time, crash at your place in the middle of the night, often sporting bloody patches on his suit that could equally be his or someone else's. He never took off his mask though and you never pressured him to do so.

You were sitting on your bed, sketching out pictures of beetles and mushrooms to hang up on your overcrowded walls while listening to Lauren Hill playing softly through your speakers when you heard a soft tap on your window. Living on the fourth floor meant it could only be one person. “The window’s unlocked.” You always leave it unlocked for him, got into the habit of it after his third visit.

The window slid open and in came the familiar hero (but don’t call him that to his face, he’ll take offense). “Oi, like what you’ve done with the place.” He looks around at your new decorations. Fake vines hanging from the ceiling, tapestries of fungi and bugs, a shelf full of plants with a grow light beaming down on them. “The earthy type. Sick. You should come to an environmental protest.” He leans his guitar up against the side of your bed and goes to examine your bookshelf.

“I would but knowing you, I’d end up arrested for being an accomplice to a crime.” You put your sketchbook down to the side and watched as he made his way over and sat on your bed right beside you. He tossed his arm across your shoulders. “What do you mean, love? That’s the best part.” You could feel your face warm, his face being so close to yours, only separated by a mask that you could so easily pull off. That would be wrong, a betrayal of the trust he obviously has with you.

There was something so freeing about his carefree attitude. It offered a level of freedom you’ve never experienced before. He didn’t judge, didn’t pry. You could tell him anything and his response would be, “rock on, fuck the system.” You could have intellectual conversations about society and structures with him and not have him give you puzzled looks or brush you off about being too serious.

To put it all simply. He was cool. The coolest person you know.

How stupid was it? To have a crush on someone you couldn’t even point out in a crowd without his mask being on or him making a scene as he does. Everywhere he went, he made it impossible to be ignored. He was so charming in the most blatant, blunt way. He told you how it was and didn’t hold punches and there was something so attractive about his honesty.

You think it’s because you know that his friendship is genuine. He wouldn’t have stuck around if he didn’t want to, wouldn’t visit you as often as he does if somewhere in that black heart of his he didn’t have a soft spot for you.

“You wanna go up onto the roof?” He scratched his exposed stomach as he was wearing the croptop you had made for him. A plain black shirt you had cut up and torn the sleeves off of before using bleach to paint on his spider logo. He absolutely loved it, wore it while out and about and asked you to make more for him, in return, he’d steal you some more decorations for your room because he “doesn’t believe in capitalism”.

You raise a brow at him. “How the hell am I supposed to get up to the roof?” You can almost see his smile through his mask. That’s the kind of smile you don’t want to see from a man bitten by a radioactive spider. He jumped up from your bed and took both of your hands in his. They were much larger than yours, warm and calloused you could tell through his gloves. He pulled you up from your bed. “You’re gonna hold on to my back while I climb up the side of the building.”

“You must be out of your goddamn mind.” You take your hands from his but your heart swoons as he chuckles. “Just a little bit.” He grabs his guitar and swings the strap around his neck so it hangs in front of him. “You trust me?” He stands at the window where he entered and looks at you. You wanted to tell him, “with my life” but you’d never say something so corny, never wear your heart so openly on your sleeve like that. You nod.

He chuckles. “Bad idea. Come on then.” And despite your reservations, you go to him and follow him out of the window onto the terrace. He had you hop onto his back, your legs wrapped around his waist and your arms around his neck, forearms pressed against his spiked collar. “You ready?”

“No.”

He began up the side of the wall on the tips of his fingers and the toes of his shoes. You didn’t know what you had expected but you didn’t expect the way your stomach dropped. You buried your face into his shoulder and took in a deep breath to calm yourself. “Got a fear of heights, do ya?” You hated the smugness in his tone and loved it all at the same time. “Fuck you.” You murmur. “I’m not afraid of heights, I’m afraid of your weird spider shit failing and we both fall to our deaths.”

“Oh, come off it, we’re already at the top.” He pulled the two of you up over the edge and onto the roof. It had gone by a lot faster than you had expected. You peeled yourself away from him and hopped down on solid land. The wind was strong up here, whipping at your face and pushing your hair so you could properly look over the city.

London wasn’t all so bad. Sometimes you get moments like this, sitting on the rooftop of your apartment building with the most admirable person in the world. He had his guitar in his lap, pulling at strings in a pleasant little tune. You look at him and after a second, he looks at you behind that hand-painted mask of his. He stopped playing his guitar. “What? Come out with it then.” It was just the two of you, right here, right now, in this small moment of time you may never get back. Why not just go for it?

You lean towards him and he makes no motion to move away as you hand reaches for his mask. He’s completely still as you grab it and pull it up just enough to reveal the lower half of his face. His pierced lips, his chin, his nose. But you don’t go further than that. If he wanted to show you his identity, he would have. You can respect that.

Leaning in to kiss him was the scariest part because at any moment he could reject you, laugh and tell you off. He doesn’t. He lets you press your lips against his in some timid attempt at affection. It was quick and almost frightened. You look away, trying to avoid his steady gaze.

“Oh love, that is not a kiss.” He reached out and grabbed your chin to kiss you again. It was harder this time, more passionate like something that’s been held back for far too long finally came to a climax. You could feel his lip ring against the seam of your lips and wanted nothing more than to take it into your mouth, bite his lips, have him all.

He reaches up and pulls off the rest of his mask in the middle of your kiss growing more and more heated, then his hands come to cradle your face, his thumbs stroking your cheeks with uncharacteristic tenderness. Or maybe it was characteristic for him and you’ve never seen such a gentle side of him.

When you part, your eyes flutter open and for the first time you see his whole face. He was somehow everything you thought he’d be. A slender face, high-set cheekbones, and deadpanned dark brown eyes painted in eyeliner against his waterline. Eyebrow piercings, dreadlocks that are more wild and chaotic than anything, just like him.

“Now, that was a kiss.

#spider punk fic #hobie brown fic #hobie brown #spiderman atsv #spiderman

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two-white-butterflies · 11 months

Text

illicit affairs | am. targaryen

Description: It was forbidden to fall for a man like him - but you were never the type to control the urges of your heart. Aemond Targaryen has been married to his wife Alys Strong for the past decade. It all started when he was 18, and she was 27. Pairing: Aemond Targaryen/Kpop!Reader Face Claim: Jennie Kim Rating: 16+ (dark suggestive themes, mentions of grooming, internet sexism, domestic abuse, child abuse and cyberbullying)

Everything about him was the color green - his scent of warm peaches and lemongrass, his eyes that had a hint of sea green in them, his zodiac sign - gemini and his crooked thinking that managed to lure you in. He was a married man - and the media would fry you at the tiniest sound of you being around him - but it wasn't enough to keep you apart. You move the blanket up your torso - covering your heavy breasts.

He looked innocent when he slept - his eyes were slightly narrowed, eyebrows merging into each other, and his mouth was slightly ajar. He was peaceful - completely oblivious of the world around you. Your hands snake towards his chest, providing him with a warm embrace.

You would give the world to be Alys Strong. You would kill to have him beside you every night without the fear of being caught. "Darling," he breathed - slowly stirring awake. He burned for you - he craved you in the nights that he wasn't starving. He loved you - but he wouldn't ruin himself for it. "Good morning," you hummed - inhaling his minty scent.

"What time it is?" he groaned, staring at the digital alarm clock on his bedside. It was 8am, and he could already hear the people moving around his trailer. "Filming will begin in a few hours," he breathed, reminding you that there could be other people around you. "A few hours more for us, then." you buried your face on the crook of his neck. It would be nice to forget about the world.

"You're right," he smiled - slithering his hands deeper into your waist. He doesn't know why he's cheating on his wife with you, when he could easily divorce his wife and be with you openly. He couldn't do it - he couldn't get rid of Alys. Alys has known him since he was six. She was his brother-in-law's sister, and she was part of their inner circle. His reputation would be ruined - with or without the knowledge of his infidelity.

In spite of the power that his wife held over him - he couldn't stop thinking about you. He couldn't stop visiting you. "How long are we going to keep doing this?" you inquired - itching for the feeling of release. You didn't want to be anyone's secret. You wanted to love him - and you knew that he wanted the same. "Please divorce her, she's doing more harm than good." you closed your eyes.

She's known him since he was a little boy - that was weird for you.

"We have a son, (Your Name), I don't think I can abandon him." he reasoned - trying to not show his fear of Alys. "Won't he be happier? You keep telling me that you're fighting with her all the time." you argue. You couldn't stand being his mistress.

He closed his eyes - taking a deep inhale.

"Please give me time to think about it." he begged.

aemonddefender it's funny how i suddenly support cheating now that aem's doing it

arthurkerry: BITCH WHATT?? -aemonddefender: someone from tiktok saw that y/n and aemond were walking around harrods (holding hands and laughing) -arthurkerry: I HATE Y/N'S DANCING BUT I KINDA LIKE HER NOW, everything to free aemond from his grandmother 😭

Y/N L/N AND AEMOND SMITH CHEATING RUMORS EXPLAINED.

Member of Blackpink Y/N L/N and Aemond Smith have both been trending over tiktok and twitter for the weekend because of an alleged fan that saw them together in a popular british shop. According to CelebrityGossip, the rumors started after a tiktok user posted a video of the alleged couple walking around in Harrods.

Aemond Smith is noted to be married to the infamous scandal baby of Lyonel Strong - but due to the pretty major age-gap and icky beginning of the relationship, his fans are not fond of his wife.

For more updates please follow us in www.celebritygossipmag.uk

y/nlikesflowers: 'Argentine' movie premiere afterparty. I had an amazing time with my cast members, I hope that ya'll love the movie. #Argentine #Y/NL/N #Movie2023 #Argentine2023

22,290 comments 826,284 likes

MirandaStockings: PLEASE CONFIRM THE RUMORS

Y/Nkorea: 예뻐요 언니 💗 - y/nlikesflowers: 감사합니다 🥰

almond'stoysreview: Let's get rid of Alys (translation for u: Alys라는 할머니를 없애자) -y/nlikesflowers: ㅋㅋㅋㅋ😭

aemonddefender BYE IT'S CONFIRMED so I'm going to make this ANNOUNCEMENT for Miss Y/N

Dear @y/nlikesflowers, pls take aemond and put him in your custody, amen. if you do this then we will all stream your comeback song and never make fun of your dancing again. yours forever and ever, aemond's fans.

Panic began to flood Aemond's features - seeing that his phone was currently bombarded by messages from his wife. His phone rings - and he picks up immediately, not spending another second. He was scared that his wife would yell at him - and threaten to keep his son away again. "What is this I'm reading about?" Alys' tone showed that she was fuming with rage. "What is it?" he tried his best to stay calm, but his hands began shaking. "That fucking girl you're working with - are you cheating on me?" Alys asked, voice growing dark and dim.

A sigh escaped his mouth - he couldn't lie to save himself.

"I think we should take some time off," he bit the inner corners of his cheeks. He wished that you were here beside him - comforting him. "Time off? We're fucking married and I'm stuck here with your son." her voice dripped with venom.

He clenches his fists - swearing that he'd regain his confidence and not cower underneath his wife's questioning. "Our son." he reminded, and that seemed to switch something deep in her psyche. "Fuck you." she yelled at the phone - screaming insults in her mother tongue. He had no doubt that she'd kill him. "Alys calm down," he stuttered, fearing that he'd do something to Aegon.

"No you calm the fuck down." she replied - gritting her teeth and throwing a piece of object in the other direction. "Are you drunk?" he inquired, knowing that she had violent tendencies. "Listen, if your mother doesn't pick Aegon up - then you're going to see him in the police station. I'm not a fucking nanny, you take care of your son." she cursed - trying to lower her voice by a few decibels.

The same panic began to rise through his lungs.

"Alys, don't you do a damn thing to my son!" his yelled - feeling his heart pump through his chest. His hands shakingly reach for his burner phone, dialing his mother's number - and praying to the gods that she'd pick up. "I'm not doing anything to him," her voice thinned - feigning innocence. "I'll fucking kill you, bitch." he threatened - and she hangs up.

"-I'll fucking kill you, bitch." he hears his voice echo through the screen, his PR Manager had that deadly glare on her face. Myrna clears her throat, turning the television off.

"The cheating rumors were alright - but this? Kill me, Aemond." she groaned, feeling a headache form in the back of her brain.

"You have to understand that she was about to hurt our son." he buried his face in his palms, still high from the adrenaline that last night gave him. He wasn't aware that Alys would double cross him - but that girl's anger brought her to do the deadliest of crimes.

"- but she didn't and now you're fighting a public trial. You're about to get cancelled, Aemond."

"I don't give a fuck about cancel culture, my son could've died."

"What do you want me to do? I can't salvage your reputation."

"Tell them the truth."

ALYS STRONG ATTEMPTS TO RUIN AEMOND SMITH'S REPUTATION.

In a recent interview with 'The Hollywood Gossip' a voice mail was given by an 'anonymous' source, but an insider claims that it was Alys Targaryen.

The Aem-Y/N cheating rumors have been viral since the start of this month, now the angry housewife is trying to burn bridges and ruin her husband's reputation. According to Mrs. Alicent Targaryen, Mrs. Alys Targaryen (or should we say, future Ms. Strong.) threatened to hurt her son if the rumors continued.

Police arrived on the scene past midnight and arrested Alys Targaryen.

For more updates please follow us in www.celebritygossipmag.uk

y/nlikesflowers: #flowers #chanel #khaki

4,890 comments 5,918,912 likes

magicmikeswallower: Thoughts about Alys Strong, senpai? - y/nlikesflowers: 보안 💗 (security)

AlysTargaryenOfficialUK: Replying to the comments about me reeks of childish behavior. If you are as mature as you make yourself seem, please stay away from married men. 😊 - the wife of the married man you're with. -y/nlikesflowers: 감옥에서 전화를 사용할 수 있습니까? 💗 (you're allowed to use phones in prison?) -AlysTargaryenOfficialUK: The same way you're allowed to sleep with married men 😊 -y/nlikesflowers: i could say a lot of things that could ruin your reputation, but i'd rather not. 나랑 문제가 있으면 법정에서 만나자 💗 (If you have a problem with me, let's meet in court.)

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