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alluringjae · 3 years

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it’s a royal order - jjh

⤑ summary: one of your royal campaigns became a success, and your bodyguard jaehyun was there to see it all happen. it’s only fair to celebrate, right?

⤑ pairing: jaehyun x female reader

⤑ word count: 2k

⤑ genre: fluff, suggestive (dirty talk, jaehyun got a daddy kink, superiority complex!!), implied smut | bodyguard!jaehyun, princess!reader, slight enemies to lovers!au, modern royal!au (where south korea remains under monarchial power)

⤑ warnings: mentions of alcohol, drugs, family problems and therapy, explicit language

⤑ author’s note: this is definitely less emotional than all i do is wait! i got this idea from a show i really enjoyed before it got cancelled named the royals. specifically, i really liked the story of eleanor and jasper, which is the whole princess x bodyguard dynamic. the pining and tension, ugh! if you know this show or not, it doesn’t matter. anyways, thank you for the 30+ followers and 200 notes on aidiw! enjoy!

i need holy water because of this piece.

⤑ credits to jeongjaehyuns for the gif above uwu

⤑ leave me some feedback, constructive criticism or hellos!

“On behalf of the royal family, I would like to extend my utmost support for the Anti-School Violence campaign for all students to have a safer and more meaningful learning environment.” You proudly announced to the board of officials alongside other influential individuals in Korean society.

Being the only princess in the current royal line may have its pressures, but holding a strong, direct impact for a brighter future for the people motivated you to take advantage of your platform for the better. As the image of pure innocence and revamped women empowerment, you aimed to accomplish all the things your mother wished she could before her untimely death alongside your personal aspirations.

Expressing genuine joy with the campaign, with a tinge of desire to annoy the old-fashioned and closeminded officials, your prying eyes were more enamored by a certain man in the back clapping by the ballroom doors. You can’t help but act flustered whenever he witnessed you in a state of success and satisfaction.

This man went by the name Jeong Jaehyun, your trusted bodyguard since you were in your early twenties. 3 years later, he still stuck by your side and helped you endure all the darkness as a royal.

Back then, you went through a rebellious phase that was ruining the image of your family. Clubbing almost every night, drugs, skipping school, you even managed to get all assigned bodyguards to quit! The media ate up all your tricks, turning them into scandals. That was the plan, of course. You desired your own freedom from all the royal obligations because you didn’t ask to be born into that lifestyle. To all of your peers who wished to be in your footsteps, you would’ve impulsively passed your title to them. There’s so much deception that lies behind the glitz and glam of it all.

This unexpected change in your former untainted attitude came to the point that your father, the king himself, stepped in and personally assigned one of his men to get you in check. He figured that appointing a guard nearest your age may lessen the tension and mend you back together.

In the start, you absolutely despised him. There was no way to fool him when you were up to no good. He easily found your alcohol and drug stash which he disposed of on the spot and stood by your bedroom door every night so you wouldn’t sneak out past curfew (which your father also strictly implemented).

One big turning point in your relationship was when he rushed you to the royal hospital when you drank a cocktail that went unnoticeably spiked. To think that this was a typical social gathering with other royals and officials, you’re a constant target to many. You didn’t wake up for a few days, and the entire time, Jaehyun willingly stood by your bedside and outside your hospital room.

Since that and more instances your father insisted you get involved in royal affairs, you softened up. As cliché as it was, the more time spent with him, the more you knew about him and vice versa. He was the one that got you to fully open up about your grief towards your late mother, encouraging you to seek help. Turns out you weren’t as different as you thought despite your differing ranks in society when he also had a void for a missing parent. In his case, it was his father, who ditched his family for his mistress. Silently, you helped each other recover from your traumas alongside therapy. From dreading his presence, you started treating him more casually. Your father’s tactic of assigning a bodyguard around your age admittedly worked.

Oh, how time flies.

This campaign was the last thing on your weekend agenda, so you had the entire late afternoon and evening to yourself. Bowing one last time to the audience, you stepped down from the platform and accepted the soft hand of your bodyguard, who quickly made his way to you despite the flashing cameras. It was something he got used to as it is part of the job.

Once he successfully ushered you out of the ballroom, his hand still held yours. Nothing new, except this event was quite public and you didn’t want anyone to get any wrong ideas. Strolling down one of the many hallways in the palace became a pastime for the both of you, where no one can catch you. It was a safe haven within the destructive life of the Park kingdom.

“You did phenomenal as I expected, your highness.” Jaehyun complimented, recalling your panic the night before as the stage fright hit strong when you were reciting your speech to him over and over again.

“We are in private, Jaehyun. Must you really use those formalities with me?” You taunted, bobbing your head sideways mockingly. With him could you felt like a normal young adult, and you wouldn’t have it any other way. Jaehyun loved being frisky with you, catching you get irked up. And he was up to do it again.

“Hmm last time we strolled these halls, Yuta caught us making out after a successful meeting with the Prime Minister.”

You gasped at his statement, conscious of whoever may be in the vicinity. But before you could refute, your hand that was interlocked with his were mightily slammed against the white wall. You lost your breath for a moment, his warm body closely on yours. His free hand freely roamed up and down your covered waist. His lips were dangerously near your neck, where you’re sensitive. Your hips naturally grinded against him to release the pent-up tension.

“Something tells me you want to do it again, princess?” Now he’s just using your title as a pet name, but you couldn’t complain. It just hits differently when the situation was set up like this.

“I deserve it, don’t I? Got a lot of those hell-driven officials on my side for this round.” You raised both your brows cockily, licking your lips.

“Hell yeah, you do.” Finally, he rids of the tension and plants open kisses on your bare neck. Your throaty moans were uncontrollable, and you could care less.

“My princess,”

Kiss.

“So intelligent,”

Kiss.

“So benevolent,”

Kiss.

“So helpful,”

Kiss.

“But,” He changed his pace and direction, swollen lips near your ear.

“But?” You question naïvely. He scoffed, smirking at your antics of playing dumb.

“But a total slut for her bodyguard.” He dominantly planted his lips against yours, one of his veiny hands gripping on your waist and the other by the arch of your butt. He was hungry, needy even. Due to your shared schedules, it’s been a constant struggle to have proper alone time from the snooping eyes of Korean society. After all, it wasn’t in the norm for a princess to fall deep for her bodyguard. Nor were you sure you would be accepted by anyone. Yuta, the bodyguard of your oldest brother, the crowned prince Jinyoung, finding the both of you at that time was a total shock but didn’t care either.

All that mattered was that your feelings towards each other are real and strong. Accepted or not, you had each other.

All this lust put you in a daze, wanting much more than another smooch fest in the hallway. Tugging on his belt, he squeezed your butt tightly. You emitted a moan, which allowed his tongue access. No way could you keep your hands to yourself, touching his upper body and the flexing of his abdominal muscles from his button-up. You felt his now hard member poking through.

Analyzing your area, you were on the other side of the palace. Farther to your bedroom where numerous rendezvouses were made, one kink you’ve considered in the past amplified your mind. Considering this area was also the king’s side, and he was abroad for royal affairs, this was your chance.

“I have an idea, my love. You up for it?” You rose a brow at your lover, challenging him. Not one to overpower this man in bed, but always suggesting a way on how to spice it up.

“And what exactly does your feral brain want to do with me, princess?” His finger lifted your chin so you meet eye to eye. You can just see the fire still burning, and oh how you were ready to intensify it.

“The main ballroom, where my father and late mother’s throne rest, are a few doors away.” Your fingers signal him to lower his stance as his tall height was difficult to reach. With a sneaky smirk,

“Let me ride you in the king’s throne, my love.” Your lips brushed over his and sucked his bottom lip, tugging him by his belt. He groaned, squeezing your butt. “It’s a royal order.”

“Nasty, your highness. Insanely nasty, you are.” His hands hoisted your waist, boosting you up in his arms. You gasped with profanities, ravenously cut off by his lips again. His nails digging deep in your bare thighs, your legs naturally linked themselves around his torso while your arms passionately intertwined his broad neck.

In between kisses, he carried you to the said main ballroom. One of your wildest imaginations, just a second away. This room remained to be the only place without any guards stationed technological advancements or updated interior designs to preserve its traditional beauty. Dated as far as the 19th century, only special events were held and the highest of the high were allowed inside. Spacious, surrounded by gold linings majestic paintings of angels from above with a huge crystal chandelier right above the center. Right ahead, the original thrones that your ancestors, grandparents, and parents sat on when they were throned in its pure glory.

Pushing your lover on the king’s throne, the gold sun-like rays plastered behind the headrest, he cockily leaned back and manspread his legs for comfort. He rubbed his hands before patting his thigh, waiting for your submission. But you weren’t going to give in just yet.

Not when you prepared a mini-show just for him underneath your designer silk dress.

Jaehyun’s solemn eyes marveled over your gorgeous figure as you stripped down one strap after the other. Due to its silk fabric, it effortlessly dropped down to your figure to reveal a new set of black lace lingerie from your previous trip to Paris. Ages ago, Jaehyun unhesitatingly ripped your favorite ones during his birthday, so you decided to get a mature version of it. A version where your bra lifted your breasts more and undies hiked up to your waist to elongate your legs. Only for the eyes of yourself and the man in front of you, establishing that you were a powerful woman who can be absolutely anyone she can be. Princess, a normal young adult, or his slut, it’s up to you how you see yourself.

Jaehyun mumbled all the profanities he could think of at the moment. Looking like a divine angel when the sun from outside shuns behind you, his slacks tightening so much more than a while ago.

“All this for me?” He ogled shamelessly, undoing the buttons of his dress shirt and untying his necktie. “What did I do to deserve such regal treatment?”

You sneered at his comment, stepping out your dress in your heels and stationing right in front of his luring lap. “You’ve always been there for me, thick and thin. I think you deserve a reward, don’t you think?”

Lowering yourself to straddle him, his breath hissed when your damp core collided with his crotch. Distracted and caught in your trap, “I don’t think you answered my question, my love.”

Rather than a verbal response, he roughly pulled you back in for a kiss. His hands scattered to explore from your back down to your waist. Your hands messily ran through his hair, tugging on some when your body got too sensitive to his wild touches. The thrilling sounds of the two of you drowning in your fiery romance bounced throughout the ballroom, not minding if anyone passed by the hallways outside. It was a private room after all, and whatever happens here, stays here.

Rolling on his crotch while his lips trailed down to your collarbones, the quick snap of your bra wires echoed. The tight lift lessened as Jaehyun’s fingers dropped the straps, unveiling your bare chest covered in his marks.

“Enough playing, princess. Let daddy have some real fun with you.”

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hey-there-love · 3 years

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Apologize

Summary: Friday nights don’t have to be lame when Katsuki Bakugo is involved.

Content Warnings: Aged up, NSFW, 18+, Fem oral receiving, penetration, slight anal play, slight dacryphilia, slight spit play, choking, AU, Adult Language, Enter at your own risk.

WC: 3.1K

It was a boring Friday night alone. You were lost in one of your many textbooks studying for a big test on Monday when your phone notified that you had a snapchat. Assuming it was from your roommate Mina, who should have been busy with work, you grabbed your phone.

It was from Katsuki Bakugo. You rolled your eyes and threw your phone onto the pillow. Bakugo was your on and off again friend with benefits. On and off meaning you saw him when it was convenient to Bakugo and Bakugo only. Sadly, you came back each time because you genuinely liked the guy...

Plus it was the best sex of your life.

It was an unfortunate situation to say the least. In the moment when you were with him you were satisfied, but as you got back home you craved more. You were both alike in many ways. Rough around the edges, but soft once you opened up. Goal oriented, focused on your schooling and your futures. A fucked up sense of humor that matched toe to toe. You both came to a mutual agreement that you were meant to be friends early on, but lately you longed for more.

The thing about your situationship with Bakugo was on the rocks since he canceled on you a few nights ago to go out with his friends. Granted you didn’t owe each other anything, but canceling last minute really pissed you off.

After a few minutes of pondering about the Snapchat, you went against your better judgement and opened it.

Bakugo: What are you doing?

You sucked your teeth and debated on messaging him back. Tentatively you set your phone down, deciding to give him a taste of his own medicine and leaving him on read. You stuck your nose back in your textbook. About 10 minutes of note taking had passed and your phone had went off again. You glared and looked at the message.

Bakugo: Don’t ignore me shitty woman.

Your body fluttered. The part of your body that did was undetermined though. You scraped your brain of something wity to say back.

Y/N: What do you need? You’re interrupting my hot date.

He responded instantly, almost as if he was awaiting your response.

Bakugo: An actual date or your hand because you know I’m better than both.

You swallowed the lump that had formed in the back of your throat. He wasn’t exactly wrong. Bakugo was far more experienced in the handiwork than you were, but that’s exactly what a vibrator was for. You snapped a picture of the textbook in your lap and captioned it.

Y/N: His name is Pearson’s Guide to Anatomy and we’re madly in love.

At this point you gave up on studying because you were clearly distracted and laid down. Your message sat on delivered for a few minutes before he finally opened it. This time it was a picture. You looked at instantly. He snapped a picture of his roommate Kirishima grinning in front of the stove with a spatula in his hand.

Bakugo: Come eat and before you say no it wasn’t a question.

You fought the battle inside your brain. You were still pretty upset with him, but you hadn’t ate since breakfast so you were hungry. Plus...sex of course. You opted to send him a short message.

Y/N : Gimme 30 minutes asshole.

Bakugo replied with the thumbs up emoji and sent you into action. You had just taken a shower and thankfully something told you to shave your legs. You brushed your teeth quickly and brushed your hair back into a tight pony tail. Everything you needed was already in your purse. A toothbrush, a pair of underwear, deodorant, a few condoms, a charger, and body spray. ( AN: I always recommend keeping a mini spendanight bag in your purse just in case :) )

You spent a few minutes deciding what to wear before putting on a black lace bra and matching underwear. You opted for a pair of black sweats and long sleeve shirt. It was a little chilly out so you threw on a hoodie. Deciding you were finally ready you sent a message to Mina, alerting her of your absence.

Mina: Wear protection! ;) I get off at 2 if you need a ride home.

You laughed at your best friend’s response and began the short walk to Bakugo’s. There was a little bit of day light left so it was easy to navigate through his neighborhood.

Pretty soon you were standing in front of his building. You pressed the buzzer. Kirishima’s sing song voice sounded through the speaker. “Whooooo is it?” Clearly he knew it was you.

“Kiri let me in! I’m freaking freezing.” You whinned.

“That’s not the passworddddd.” He chided, laughing.

“Let her in dumbass.” You heard Bakugo growling in the background.

“Hey!” Kirishima cried and the door buzzed. You rode the elevator up to the third floor. You rasped on the front door. It was opened abruptly by Kirishima who rubbed the back of his head cautiously.

“Let me guess, he smacked you didn’t he?” You pondered and gave him a side hug.

“Yeah and it wasn’t very manly of him either.” He sighed and hugged you back.

“Keep it up and I’ll do it again, Shitty Hair.” Bakugo called from the kitchen. You shook your head and ruffled his hair.

Kirishima grinned and whispered in your ear, “I’m glad your here, he’s been in a mood all day.” You blushed majorly and looked down as he trailed off into the kitchen. It wasn’t a secret to your friend group what you and Bakugo were. Kirishima and Mina had walked in on you two multiple times, but it still wasn’t embarrassing.

You removed your shoes and padded into the kitchen. The aroma of deliciousness hit your nose instantly. Your stomach grumbled. “See I knew you were hungry.” Bakugo said finishing up the stir fry.

Your wrapped your arms around his waist tightly and laid your head on his back. “Shut up and feed me.” You mumbled.

“You want dinner or desert first?” He replied and rubbed your arm as he mixed up the food in the pan.

“Who said you were getting desert?”

“Please guys! Not infront of the stir fry! It’s innocent!” Kirishima groaned and shoved you two out of the way deciding it was done.

You both shot him a glare as he happily loaded his plate up with food. Bakugo fixed your plate and handed it to you. The three of you sat down on the couch in front of the tv. Kirishima put on a series he just started. You began to chatter about the show in between bites. Pretty soon you were done eating and he gave you a synopsis. Bakugo took your plates to the kitchen.

“Hold on wait, so wait. If he’s an international criminal why did he just turn himself in like that to help the agent?” You questioned, clearly enthralled by the show.

“That’s what I’m trying to figure out! There’s literally 7 seasons of this! I need answers.” Kirishima agreed.

“Bro what if that’s his like secretly his daughter? Like it makes sense why he’s so connected to her and protects her.” You said excitedly, slapping his leg.

“Dude. That actually makes hella sense.” He replied. Bakugo quietly sat down next to you and began to stroke your lower back, signaling it was time to retreat to his bedroom. You looked up at him with pleading eyes to finish the episode. He rolled his eyes and moved his hand to the back of the couch.

Pretty soon the credits rolled at the end of the episode. “I’m going to bed.” Bakugo announced and stood up.

“Ugh, lame.” Kirishima huffed. Bakugo walked into his bedroom without a word, leaving you two on the couch. You both looked at each other and shrugged.

“I’m definitely going to start watching whenever I get home. Text me about it tomorrow yeah?” You asked making your way to the room.

“For sure!” He called after you as you shut the door. You set your bag down next to the bed and sat down to check your phone. You heard the sink running and then the bathroom door opened revealing a shirtless Bakugo. Grey sweatpants hung off of his hips.

You licked your lips slightly as he turned off the lights and slinked to the bed. A candle faintly flicked in the corner, giving a slight orange glow to the room. “Damn that was like pulling teeth, Y/N” he said and laid down next to you.

“What? You weren’t interested in the show? It was good.” You replied, feeling your pulse quicken as he looked up at you through his lashes.

“I’ve been interested in something else for the past hour.” Bakugo sighed and wrapped his strong arm around your waist, pulling you towards him.

“And what would that be exactly?” You questioned and leaned back into the pillows. He quickly moved ontop of you and hovered over your lips.

“Getting inbetween your thighs.” He whispered. You sucked in a breath before his lips landed on yours. It was slow at first. Sweet closed mouth kisses turned into a passionate tongues mingling together. One of your hands began to run its way through his hair while the other traced the expanse of his bare back.

He groaned into your mouth and you pulled his hair lightly. His hand caressed up your neck until it grabbed your jaw holding you in place. Bakugo began to slowly grind against your sweet spot. Causing you to grow wetter than you already were. His freehand began to explore your body, running along your stomach and up to your bra.

Moans escaped as he began to stroke your nipple through the fabric. He lifted you up from the bed and removed your hoodie and shirt in a swift motion, throwing it somewhere off the bed. You weren’t too concerned at the moment of the location. The hand that gripped your jaw made its way down to your neck as he delicately squeezed the side of your throat.

He kissed down your neck until he made it to the area were your breast pooled ontop of your bra. He began to suck on the revealed flesh before pulling it down to free them. “You’ve got such nice tits, babygirl.” Bakugo growled and took a nipple into his mouth.

You mewled at the praise. He began to nip and suck at it, making sure to tweak and pinch the other in the same fashion. You bucked your hips to meet his, adding more friction to the equation. A few moments passed before he began trail down to the hem of your sweatpants.

Bakugo worked diligently sliding them down your legs before laying in between your thighs. You locked eyes as he started to speak, completely in a trance. “Allow me to formally apologize for canceling on you before.” You nodded slowly. He smiled devilishly and kissed your inner thighs.

The teasing was unreal. It made you so hot that you knew your panties were soaked. He planted a light kiss to your clothed clit. Using his index finger he stroked your pussy vertically with the tip. “You smell so good, Y/N. I can’t wait to taste you.” Bakugo growled. He pulled your panties to the side and slipped the finger in. You instantly clenched around him as he began to pump the tip teasingly.

You were a mess. The strokes were torchous, your mind swirled. “Look at you, grabbing my fucking finger and it’s barely even there.” You loved how vocal he was. He slowly pulled his digit out before entering it again, this time deeper inside you. Your juices cascaded down his hand.

“Shit.” Bakugo cursed and tore your underwear off. You were much too distracted to even worry about your thong being shredded. He added a second finger into the mix. He curled them up inside you, finding the spongy spot that sent you crazy.

Removing his fingers he held them up to the light, entranced by the stringy substance that coated them. “Open your mouth.” He demanded. You did as you were told, no questions asked. Bakugo inserted the two into your mouth. You swirled your tongue around and inbetween then, collecting your slick. He groaned as you sucked and bit down.

His mouth attacked your clit promptly. It was a relief you craved. There was no kitten licks about it. His tongue did figure 8’s around your cunt. You were a moaning mess, saying his name without a care in the world that Kirishima could hear you. Then he did something foreign that you never experienced before. His tongue trailed down your pussy until it found your tight, puckered hole.

You weren’t quite sure what was going on, but in the moment it didn’t matter. Bakugo had your trust completely and he knew it. He didn’t go too far though, just kissing and licking it slightly before focusing his attention back on your throbbing pussy. He plunged the two fingers into your hole again, but this time he fucked it.

The lewd sounds that came from your cunt were enough to make you blush. His free hand flew up to your pelvis and began to gently press down causing pressure. “You hear how loud your cunt is babygirl? You sound like your enjoying it.” Bakugo called. He bit down harshly on your thigh.

“Please Bakugo, please fuck me.” You begged, wrapping your leg around his shoulder.

“That’s not what you should call me Y/N. What’s my name?” He slowed down his pumps, but kept the pressure, making the pleasure the same level of intensity as before.

“Katsuki please!” You cried out. He grinned as you.

“I’m sorry Y/N, but I’m not done apologizing yet.” You threw your head back against the pillows as his mouth attacked you once more. His pace began to speed up again. You felt his fingers scissoring inside of you. Your release barreled towards you.

“I’m about to cum.” You whimpered, pushing his head closer to your cunt. His fingers pumped faster than before, hitting your g-spot every time. Your orgasm washed over you promptly as you moaned his name. Your once rigid body melted against the bed. You felt Bakugo climb up your body.

He grabbed your face and made you open your mouth. He spit the saliva and cum mixed fluid into your mouth before running his hand over your breasts again. You were putty and under his mercy.

“Still want me to fuck your brains out?” Bakugo questioned as he stroked himself through his sweats.

“Please.” You breathed out. He chuckled and stood up, removing his pants. His dick sprang free and slapped against his stomach. Precum pooled around the tip. He pulled a condom out of the drawer on the bed side table.

He noticed you staring at him, “See something you like?” Bakugo questioned as he rolled the condom onto his cock. You nodded sheepishly and spread your legs. He shook his head and then nestled inbetween your legs again as he kissed your lips sweetly. He began to rub the tip against your sensitivity, making you jump at the sensation.

“I’ll go slow this time, I promise.” Bakugo kissed your forehead and gently pressed into you, giving you inch by inch. You both hissed until he sank himself fully in your heat. “Shit, you’re always so tight for me baby.” He moaned rested his head on yours.

He began to thrust slowly allowing you to adjust to the pain. Bakugo was not small in the slightest, so you were grateful at the pace he set. He buried his head into your shoulder as profanities escaped his lips. “Fuck, Katsuki. You fill me up so good.” You moaned, scratching his back lightly.

This encouraged him to increase his speed, grinding his hips into yours until he filled you to the hilt. “You are mine. You’ll always fucking be mine Y/N.” He growled, nipping at your collarbone. The declaration made your heart soar, but it also gave you a sinking feeling in the back of your mind.

Bakugo threw your legs over his shoulders as he drilled deep into you. You felt tears prick in your eyes at the sensation as another orgasm began to build. He grasped your face, “Look me in the eyes when you cum because I know you’re close.” You nodded quickly. Tears flowed freely as your mouth hung open. The next orgasm hit you like a brick wall. You were pretty sure you screamed his name that time, but you couldn’t be too sure.

Once your body calmed down Bakugo pulled out, flipped you over onto your stomach and pulled your ass into the air. He slammed back into you. You attempted to jerk forward, but he gripped your hips tight. A loud smack landing against your ass for trying to run away.

You felt his warm saliva drip down to your puckered hole before he used his thumb to swirl it around. Unintentionally, you jerked again. He paused his actions. “You trust me right?” Bakugo panted and rubbed your cheek delicately.

“Yes, of course.” You whinned at the loss of rhythm. Another slap landed on you cheek.

“Okay, run away again,” he stated, “I’m fucking your ass.” That caused you to remain absolutely still. Granted after the experience before you didn’t mind the thought of it, but you we’re too spent for that tonight and you knew Katsuki Bakugo would make good on his promise. He began fucking you again, this time not as rough. He repeated his actions from earlier and teased your ass again before gently pressing his thumb in your tight rear.

You were grateful that you could shove your head into the pillow because the noises that came from you would have woken up the whole building. You mentally reminded yourself to apologize to Kirishima tomorrow. “Shit, I’m really fucking close babygirl.”

“Please Katsuki, please come inside of me.” You moaned, egging him on. That was all it took. His once steady, prominent strokes turned into sloppy thrusts as he filled the condom. Once he steadied, he removed himself as you collapsed. Bakugo rolled the condom off and threw it into the trash before falling in next to you.

You were both panting messes. Once you caught your breath you glanced over at him. “Apology accepted.”

“Shut up, shitty woman.” Bakugo laughed and kissed you cheek.

#bakugo x reader #bnha x reader #bnha #bakugou x y/n #bakugou katsuki #katsuki bakugo x reader #bakugou smut #bakugou x reader

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thebomb-thebird-andtheburntbitch · 3 years

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A World-- Unsure

dabi / f.reader

genre: real world to parallel world au? (is that an au? it’ll make sense dw), angst, pinning, fools to lovers? (or dabi is stubborn/scared as all get out)

warning(s): blood, violence/bar fight, descriptions of injuries, cursing (dabi and i both have a potty mouth oops)

w.count: 9.4k

synopsis: You were someone in the middle. You had no mega praise for heros to speak of, but you also had no ill will towards villains either- you had seen both sides. After a few years running a hidden, underground medical base for villains who needed treatment beneath the bar that you ran and owned, you’ve met your fair share of villains. It was odd to think of them as good people, since you depended on them a lot if you got yourself into a pinch. In fact, a lot of your patients became bar regulars on the public downlow. It’s not a big shock that you end up meeting Dabi.

a/n: teehee, first time writing for dabi! I’m pretty excited not gonna lie, since this idea was pretty interesting to think about. this is the first part of A World -- a two part series! I’ll be working on the next part asap, so hopefully it won’t be a horribly long wait- but we’ll see how my time management is in the long run lol. (also, the draft was like 8.6k, i dunno how i added a whole 800 more words)

-x-x-x-

You stood behind the bar, shining glasses as you set up the counter and glanced at the clock hanging on the wall just above the entrance of the small pub. You sighed as you set the glass down before taking the rag you were using and throwing it over your shoulder. It was quiet in the open room filled with circular tabs, rectangular booths and metal rimmed chairs- quiet except for the footsteps of employees prepping for opening.

Your black jeans hung on your waist as your white button up was slightly wrinkled, the long sleeves rolled as best as possible up to your elbows. Your hair up and out of the way so you wouldn’t be constantly fighting it when the rush started. There was a small, pocket apron around your waist with a pocket for a receipt book, a pen, some napkins and pain medicine just in case another headache walked in the door tonight and a few other odds and ends. The only other thing on your person was the new pair of steel toed boots you had indulged yourself to.

“Hey, Boss Lady,” one of your employees called. You looked around, seeing the one who called you peeking their head around from inside the rec room. The room itself was probably one of the most expensive rooms you’ve ever put together. A pool table in the middle of the room, dart boards on either side of the room, a small little entertainment center, a sofa and another mini bar inside run by a trusted bargirl you hired when you opened your pub doors for the first time.

“What is it?”

“Is the rec room rented out for the night? I heard some of the others saying it was.”

That was something else that was different about your little hole in the wall. Since you weren’t all that popular or big enough for a special vip area or an area in general for occasions like birthdays or anniversaries, your patrons could call and make reservations and get the rec room rented out. However, you only let the room be rented on Fridays, Saturdays and Wednesdays. The other days, it was open for anyone to come and go as they please so long as nothing is damaged.

It was Friday night. You couldn’t think of anyone renting it out tonight, but there was a group coming in tomorrow so long as they don’t cancel on you.

You shook your head. “No. It’s tomorrow when it’s rented. You’re clear to leave the dividing ropes put away.”

“Right on,” they thumbs upped you before retreating back into the room to prep and clean before opening.

7:45, a quarter ‘till eight- opening time. You cupped one hand around your mouth. “Hurry up and get your final prepping all done. Quarter ‘till!” Your employees all made some sort of response or sound back to you, signaling that they understood.

Part of you always felt a little guilty each opening night since you knew it wasn’t just regular citizens or the occasional hero off duty who frequented your pub. You knew of the bad people who walk in the doors, stay for a drink and leave without causing a ruckus. You knew of them, because, unknown to your employees, you had a second job.

A second job that had a lot to do with the large, concrete basement of your pub that you refused to tell them about. It wouldn’t be a great business move if you just told people you let villains sneak into your pub to go into the basement where you had a large array of (stolen) medical equipment to treat their injuries.

-x-x-x-

It was well into the midnight rush of the night when the door opened again. The loud combination of everyone’s murmurs and the smell of every type of alcohol someone could name off filtered through the air and almost made you pull out your medicine. After three years running this place, one would think you’d become accustomed to the smells combined with the noise. To no avail.

You had stepped back away from the bar, your back close to the shelves behind you lined with bottles, cups, glasses, and a small old-style antenna radio that, despite being turned on, wasn’t heard over the ruckus.

Heading to the opposite side of the bar after being paged by some random man for a neat glass of whiskey. You snagged a glass, grabbing a bottle of the cheapest brand you could find- because this man’s lack of manners towards a lady, bargirl or not, didn’t impress you. Pouring the liquor into the glass like it was second nature, you reached under the bar to scoop out a sphere of ice to drop into the glass.

Sliding it over to the already tipsy looking man, you were called- more politely this time- from another patron for a bottle of beer. Smiling at him and signaling to him that you heard him, you trotted over to the mini fridge under the bar and grabbed the brand he requested.

As you carefully, and skillfully, popped the tab off with the bar’s edge, you placed the bottle on a coaster and slid it over to him, tapping the bar top with your hand and serving him with a smile. He thanked you, which you were appreciative of, before he turned to his friend next to him and continued conversing.

Moving back to the middle of the bar, you noticed a few empty glasses in front of empty bar stools with bills pinned under them. Taking the bills and pocketing them, you took the glasses and stashed them below the bar in a small tub you kept in a metal cart for easily putting dirty dishes for later.

As you wiped down the bar top, you saw another person, clad in a full black get-up slide into a bar stool that was recently left vacant. They weren’t far from you, just a few feet, but you could smell the scent of smoke on them. You sighed, knowing exactly who it was. Anyone would think that the man who just sat down was just a heavy smoker- and he was, but not so much recently so he claims- but you knew better.

He lifted his arm to rest his elbow on the bar, his chin resting in his palm as you felt him stare at you.

You didn’t say a thing to him, only got a glass off the shelf behind you, mixed some coke with some rum and added a scoop of ice, before placing the glass on some napkins and sliding it towards him.

“Like usual?” You asked, retracting your hand as he had already started to pick up the glass to sip on it.

“Like usual,” he confirmed. This particular man had a deep voice, always laced with a small rough sound- more rough when he’s tired or just plain exhausted. It was a side effect of the smoking and other smoke-like quirks of his personality. “You seem busy tonight.”

“We’re always busy on Fridays, nothing unusual about that. It’s the start of the weekend, everyone wants to drink.” You threw your cleaning rag over your shoulder, shouting to a call of another bar sitting patron as you felt the black, clad, mask covered man’s eyes on your. “You gonna stick around all night, or are you gonna drink and go this time?”

He pulled his mask down to uncover his mouth, dark scars showing under the hood of his jacket just long enough to take a sip, and pull it back over his face. Setting the glass down, he let out a breath and circled his finger along the rim.

“I think I’ll stick around, just to annoy you.” You could hear the smirk on his face as you held back an eye roll for professionalism’s sake.

“How courteous, thank you so very much.” He chuckled at your reply as you left your place in front of him to tend to others paging you left and right. He pushed his curled hand into his cheek as he watched you pad back and forth behind the long bar. You should be grateful he at least planned on paying tonight.

He remained on his barstool the next few hours, only shifting to look around, take a short spin on the stool, or stand to stretch his hunched body before sitting back down. Each time his glass was close to empty, you’d knock your knuckles on the bar top- a signal asking if he wanted a refill- and he'd either knock back or keep the glass away from you as a form of saying yes or no.

Though, it wouldn’t be a proper Friday night mid-shift without something going wrong.

You weren’t sure why, but when 2 am started rolling around, you always grew weary of your patrons. It was the prime time for tipsy, or smashed, people to start trouble. Whether with you, or with other paying customers, or even your employees. Out of all options, you wished they’d pester you so you don’t have to deal with someone else being harassed. Though, even when it did happen to you- which was often since your place was stuck behind a wooden, polished bar- you didn’t ever appreciate it.

You glanced around the filled room and saw a few familiar faces of villains you had treated before who decided to stay in your good graces.

Them being there did make you feel a bit better about you own safety since you knew if something were to happen, they’d jump up to throw down on your behalf, even if you could handle yourself plenty well.

You were once again wiping down the wood of your bar for the gazillionth time this evening when some scumbag, a smashed man who was well over your age, stumbled his way to the bar and slumped himself into a stool and leaned over the counter like some hunchbacked gargoyle.

He reached over the bar to start to fiddle with the beer spigots that lined the end of it. Before he could create a giant mess in the tray beneath them and onto the floor, you rushed over and slapped his hands away.

Instead of hissing at your stinging slaps, he whistled at your actions to keep your property away from him grime hands as you rolled your eyes.

“Sir, keep your hands off of the bar tools.” You reached over and grabbed the half empty bottle of beer from his hands before you poured the rest of the alcohol out of it and tossed it under the bar into the bin where it clinked together with the other beer bottles you’ve tossed tonight. “I’m cutting you off. Sober up, leave your payment and get out before I have you thrown out.”

From down the bar, you knew the scarred man in black was watching you. Whenever this kind of scene went down, you could feel his and all the other familiar eyes on you. For villains, they sure were people of action and debt. Made you feel bad for calling them villains- if you didn’t think about the crimes they most definitely committed on a day-to-day basis.

The drunk man slurred what you assumed was probably something close to reluctance at you cutting him off for the night and your swift decision to kick him out after he paid what he owed.

Persistently reaching over to try and yank on the spigots again, you once again slapped his hands away, going a step further and grabbing his wrists and tossing them away back over to his side of the bar.

“I won’t ask you again, sir.”

Your familiar scarred man set down his drink, the contents in it empty as the remaining, semi-melted ice cubes fell together in satisfying clinks against the glass.

It was times like now where you wished the quirk laws would allow you to use your quirk publicly without a permit or license because of riffraff like this oh-so-lovely hammered gentleman. You were one to break the rules anyways, so you would if push came to shove regardless and you knew that your customers would keep their mouths shut about it.

You’ve gone many a night with bar fights and tassels and not a single cop was called because you could handle the situation yourself, or your trusty villain’s had your back. Your little pub and you were a bend in the rules with a great camouflage jacket over your head and trustful patrons willing to keep a secret or get so drunk they don’t remember what happened. Either option suited you well.

You weren't a hero, nor a villain. You were in the middle- a civilian with some spare time and no interest in sharing what you did the time you're not running your pub.

The man stood from his stool the moment you turned your back to him and not only did he shove his arm against three different beer spigots in a clumsy fall against the bar, but he partly climbed over the bar, reached towards you and yanked you back by your shoulder just so he could get a solid slap on your ass.

The shriek you let out wasn’t loud, it was more of shock of what was happening, followed by instant disgust. Your rear stung at the strength the disgusting man used to slap it before he was drunkenly laughing, his gross breath wafting towards you from his half climbed over body.

Before you could take care of the situation yourself, he was yanked back off to his side of the bar onto his wobbly feet. The instant his feet hit the tile and his chin even twitched to look around to see what yanked him back, glass shattered across his face.

The scarred man who had silently kept you company tonight- and previous nights before that- had grabbed the back of the man’s shirt, yanked him back and away from you as you righted the beer spigots that had already created a big enough mess and smashed his empty, rum glass against the side of his head.

The drunk man hit the ground, grabbing and holding his head as blood dripped from the side of his face and ear. The scarred man looked down at him, shaking his hand about, the purple scars of his wrist showing as he shook the limb. The glass seemed to nick his palm a bit upon impact, but nothing compared to the nasty wound on the drunk’s face.

As the drunk lay on the ground, groaning and bleeding, your defender bent to riffle through his pocket and nabbed his wallet. Pulling out both a card and a wad of cash, he held both towards you.

“What’s his tab?” His rough voice was stern as you just sighed.

You plucked bills from his hand, a handful of twenties, before you put it into your pocket. You looked around, seeing a table from the corner lift a bill in his hand before he waved it at you. You nodded- they were signaling they had his bill. They then held up four fingers and then a fist. A four dollar tab. You decided that you’d keep the extra as a bonus and maybe tip your workers as well for his behavior.

“He’s good to go.” You said as the scarred man put the card back into his wallet and shoved it back into his jacket pocket. He then picked the drunk off the tile and shoved him out the doors before making his way back to the bar.

He stepped over his glass and ice mess as he toed at a larger piece of glass that used to be the bottom of it. He then looked at you with a shrug. You could practically seem the smirk on his face before he spoke.

“My bad.”

Instead of saying anything, you placed a small plastic tub on the bar top and slid it towards him. You flicked your eyes down and he just sighed. Squatting, he picked up his mess of glass and ice the best he could before he gave the tub back to you to throw away. You had already gotten a start on the beer mess that made your nose twitch at the stench.

You always hated the smell of beer.

“Smells like piss,” you muttered to yourself. The scarred man heard you loud and clear though and he stifled a laugh at your annoyance. Once you had it more or less cleaned, you glanced at the closed fist of the man’s cut up hand. You saw small beads of red drop onto your bar. You pushed a handful of napkins towards him to squeeze into his palm. “Come down when we close. We’ll get your hand properly cleaned up.”

He didn’t argue. Just chuckled as he took a sip out of his water bottle you had placed in front of him as he shut the napkins in his grip tightly.

“Sure thing, sweetheart.”

-x-x-x-

4 am: closing time. You sigh as you bid your final employee farewell before you locked the door behind them. You sighed as you walked back to the bar, untying your apron from your waist on the way. You emptied the pockets and placed whatever was inside on the bar top. There was only one person left in the bar, in the same stool he had been in all night.

You thumbed through the bills in your pockets, rounding to behind the bar and unlocking the always locked money drawer just under the far end of the counter where a small card swipe sat for patrons not paying with cash.

Tucking your cash safely away and locking the drawer shut you stashed the key on the keyring with all your other keys in the pocket of your jeans. You pulled your phone from your back pocket and checked the time. About half after now.

“Okay,” you spoke, the man already standing. “Come around the bar and we’ll head down.”

He followed your lead, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his large jacket with his hood still on even in the new found privacy. You walked back into the kitchen and beyond to a small landing that had an unlabeled door and then a separate staircase leading upward past a different doorframe. He looked up the stairs, knowing full well that beyond them lays your apartment.

Part of him was envious that you lived in your place of work. Technically, he could live in his, but he had his own separate place of peace away for breathers. He could only deal with his comrades for so long in a single span of time.

You unlocked the unlabeled door that you told everyone who asked was just a closet for your personal belongings that didn’t fit up in the apartment. Opening it, another set of stairs that lead down was beyond it.

Descending them, the man followed and shut the door behind him. He locked it when it was shut at his back. There was a different entrance to the basement he was descending into outside the bar anyways for the people who knew it was there and needed it.

At the bottom, you flipped on the lights to the large, open room. It wasn’t a giant space, but it was large enough to move around and there was a sofa, a work bench you used as a counter for coffee and random objects, tables and chairs for your patients waiting comfortably. There were two rooms off two of the left side of the main ‘waiting room’ and one to the right- all solitary rooms for overnight patients. The furthest back room had no door and just past the frame was a storage room of medicine, wraps, gauze, antiseptics, salves- just whatever you could get your hands on.

You’re even occasionally gifted treatment items from past clients in hopes to repay the debt they feel they may owe you.

You point towards the long, hard top operating table in the back as you make your way to one of the shelves on the wall. You kept all the basic first aid out in the open since they were easy to replace.

“Go sit,” you direct as the man flipped off his hood and unzipped his jacket. His white tank top was wrinkle from being inside the stuffy jacket all night and he adjusted his belt to sit comfortably and not pull on his belt loops to dig into his hips. Ruffling his black hair, he made his way to the table to lean against it.

You were soon in front of him, hand out towards him asking for his own to inspect.

“You’re always causing some sort of scene every time you come by. You realize it’s getting old, right Dabi?”

The face stapled, scarred pyro-villain just grinned down at you, chest jolting with a scoff of amusement as you pulled the blood beaded napkins he held in his hand since you gave it to him away. Then, you poked around with tweezers pulling small pieces of glass away from his skin.

“Don’t lie. You love when I come by. Besides, someone’s gotta keep you on your toes.”

“I don’t need to be ‘kept on my toes’,” you tutted, making sure there were no pieces of glass left in his palm. When there appeared to be none, you started dabbing the small cuts with antiseptic as he just kept leisurely leaning on your table. “If you keep coming here and just to get all cut up, I’m going to start charging you for not only your drinks, but all the patching up I do to you too.”

“Oh, you’d never,” he mused. He knew you all too well and he also knew that even if he were here daily for scratching his knee or getting a paper cut, you’d never have the heart to charge him anything when it came to treatment.

Maybe he took advantage of that, maybe he didn’t.

It didn’t help that he knew you had the hots for him- I mean, you did tell him about how you felt weeks ago; straight o his face no less. He just brushed it all off, knowing good and well that he and relationships in general just didn’t work out. Besides, he was someone the public knew the face of and he wasn’t just someone to pass on the street and forget the face of.

Dabi rejected you, you knew he would, but he let you down as easy as he could. You just simply wanted to put your feelings out there so nothing would be awkward in the future. It stung sure, but you felt more open with your feelings not bottled up in secrecy.

You wrapped his hand in gauze and called it good enough, placing all your things back where they were. Dabi looked at his hand, flipping it back and forth as he inspected how neatly you’ve gotten at wrapping bandages since the very first time.

“Not bad,” he hummed. The first time he heard of you and came to get treated, you had to treat a nasty gash on his leg and you were clumsily with your bandaging since he was already covered in scars. You were so confused on if you could cover them or not and if you did, if there was a special way. You leaved quickly though.

“Not like you could do any better. You don’t really need any more stitches or staples than you already have.”

“Don’t act like you don’t think they’re sexy,” he teased as he stood up straight, plunging his hands into his pants pockets as he began to follow you around the basement room to room like a dog. You soon left your basement, going back up the stairs, opening the door and leaving before going up the second set of stairs leading up to your apartment.

Dabi followed you the entire way with a shit eating grin on his face.

You sighed as you unlocked your apartment door and looked over your shoulder and down to the burnt man just behind you on lower stair steps.

“Do you need something?”

“Yeah. Inside.”

You cursed under your breath, going inside and him following knowing that you couldn’t argue him out of it. He often did this, getting treated and then going up to your apartment. In fact, there was a time when he would pick your lock and let himself in, so you ended up making him a copy so he could just stop doing it.

He may not be good in relationships and definitely not looking for one, on top of rejecting you, but he could very well enjoy his evenings pestering you instead. they were two distinctly different situations.

Kicking off his boots and fumbling with his jacket, he hung it on the coat wrack- not willing to be yelled at by you for making your home a mess with his junk again- and let himself in. He immediately made a beeline for your living room and plopped himself on your couch like he owned the place and paid your bills.

You had ventured to the kitchen before you went to the living room and tossed him something. Catching it, he saw a poptart in his hand, still wrapped in it’s aluminum wrapping.

“Eat. I’m taking a shower.” He shrugged as you turned and headed to shower as he flipped on your television and let himself finally relax.

It was odd, being around you and in your home. He didn’t even feel this relaxed and loose in his own apartment by himself. Where he lived was nothing fancy and it was cheap, but it was his and the location was kept on the downlow just like he needed. Spending time with the league was fine and dandy, but they could be so damned irritating sometimes, so he didn’t dare even try and nap at the base.

He let his head fall back against the couch and he took deep breaths.

On occasions like this, he did feel a bit guilty. It’s not like he was actually taking advantage of your feelings or your kindness to do what he wanted, you were just too nice for your own good and let him. Don’t get him wrong, you would scold him if he did something you didn’t like- like leaving his jacket on the floor- so it wasn’t like you didn’t want him here.

Dabi could hear your shower running just barely under the sound of the tv’s noise. Sometimes, he’d find himself thinking back to when you told him how you felt and how easily you accepted the fact he said no.

He was just coming back from another stupid league mission and had a pretty nasty cut behind his left shoulder. You were cleaning the blood off his skin, trying not to snag your rags in any staples before you were smearing something onto the wound, making him sigh in of relief of the cooling sensation.

It was when you were pasting a gauze pad on his shoulder and patching it on securely when you blurted out that you liked him. All he did when you said that was laugh at you, to which your silence that followed explained that you weren’t joking and were in fact serious. He looked at you with a face you hadn’t seen before, a look of vulnerability for just a moment, before it shifted to one of seriousness.

“I’m not interested. Sorry, doll.” You nodded at his quick rejection. Though you accepted it fairly easily, he could still see the slight furrow of your brow and dip in your lips with his rejection. You may have even seen his rejection coming, but hearing it still had to be a blow to your heart.

He was glad the relationship between you two hadn’t changed regardless of how you felt and how he said no. You still put up with his bullshit and he still hung around like a fly you couldn’t smash under a flyswatter because it kept evading the strikes. It was still comfortable here- in your place.

Dabi stood from the couch, moving to your window only to lean out when he pulled his cigarettes from his pocket and lit one. You had really gotten on his ass once when you caught him smoking in the middle of your living room without a window even open. You told him to smoke out a window, or go outside to contaminate his lungs claiming you dealt with the smell of smoke enough during bar hours.

Flicking a small, blue flame with his index finger, he lit the stick and huffed. Nicotine really accompanied his quirk- it was like he and cigarettes were just meant to be since he himself was a human-sized lighter.

He heard the door to your bathroom open and soon you stepped out with grey sweat and a cheap, cutoff shirt that just barely exposed your stomach on, towel drying your hair. You looked at him, water still barely dripping off your eyelashes and hair strands untouched by the towel.

“Glad to see you’re listening to me,” you told him as you nodded towards the smoke that he took a draw from. He puffed the smoke out the window as he turned around to lean against the open pane. His hand out the window to keep the crumbling ash from dropping inside.

“I can behave sometimes too, you know.”

You scoffed at him, turning to grab a water bottle from your fridge in the kitchen and returning to the living room. “Yeah, not likely.” You sat on the couch to mindlessly watch whatever channel the tv was on and once Dabi and finished smoking, he shut the window and rejoined you on the couch. His arm was resting on the back of the couch as you had pulled out your phone and began to scroll through apps and occasionally looking back up to the tv.

It was moments like this where the uncertainty really hit him.

It was this- these comfortable situations- that frightened him. He was a bad person, a person who’s done bad things and will continue to do bad things. He used to sit around your apartment and bug you with questions. Had you ever ratted anyone out? Were you really a completely secretive person when it came to your unofficial side job? Were you really someone to be trusted? Why did you do what you did in the first place?

Now, he didn’t ask anything anymore. He grimaced at himself. Maybe he was letting himself get too comfortable here.

“I’m going away for a while,” he suddenly blurted out. You glanced up at him from your phone.

“Have some big job or something coming up?”

“Yeah,” he lied, “some league stuff I gotta deal with.”

“Any idea how long you’ll be gone?”

“No idea. Probably a few weeks I bet.” Dabi couldn’t stop himself from lying to you and he got irritated at himself for feeling even the slightest bit bad for doing so. This was the only way though, the only way to try and get back to the rough, guarded villain he was supposed to always be.

Dabi had to get away from you for a while.

“Well,” you started, looking back down. He looked at you, seeing you frown just a bit- he bit his cheek. “Stay safe. If you need any patching up when you get back, you know where to find me.”

He lowered his chin, his eyes lidding as he hardened his resolve. His decision was final, and he had to follow through with it. He looked back to the tv, trying to bask in theses few final moments.

“Yeah, sure.”

-x-x-x-

Dabi’s irritated. He’s been irritated actually.

He’s sitting at the bar, not your bar, but the bar in the league’s headquarters. He sat slouched in a stool as Kurogiri- as usual- stood behind the bar. The glass of some brown liquor that Dabi had nursed for the past hour started to taste like static to him. He missed your bar’s liquor- the revelation made him more irritated.

The entire reason he’s avoided going to your pub and always looked around corners in the city to make sure you wouldn’t bump into him by accident was so he could squash whatever the fuck he was feeling when he was around you down into dust. Though, theses recent last couple days had proven that his plan was backfiring.

Instead of forgetting what it felt like to be comfortable and content and relaxed, he was missing it. He was missing the air of serene you always carried everywhere you went and he dared to say he yearned for it again.

Dabi clicked his tongue as he pushed his forehead into his palm when Shigiraki had walked into the bar from wherever he had been before. Seeing the hunched over excuse of a comrade, he groaned. The leader had often heard of your patchwork jobs for villains. He himself had even met with you once- not for any injuries he had sustained, but for a simple meeting to exchange greetings with potential allies. Anything helped for his cause.

Shigiraki also knew that Dabi often frequented your pub, and for whatever reason he hadn’t been recently. His sour mood as of late paired with his lack of attendance to your business and attention was too easy to put together.

“I’m really sick of you moping around here,” the leader complained. Dabi lifted his forehead from his palm and glared across the room to the leader who now took a seat one stool away from Dabi. “Go be a killjoy somewhere else.”

“Oh, piss off.”

His mood began to spiral rapidly when Toga and Twice had come into the bar as well, coming back from wherever the fuck they had been. Toga- trying her best to get on Dabi’s every nerve- was told by Kurogiri that his mood was unpleasant because he hadn’t been to a specific bar in town for some time now.

Dabi felt offended that Kurogiri connected his bad mood to the bar and not you.

“Maybe I should kick the crap outta you myself, so you can go back to what's-her-name and then maybe you’ll finally lose the attitude.” Okay, that one earned the hand-fetishist leader a growl from the pyromaniac. It only made Shigiraki scoff in a small victory, knowing that everyone around the league could see that his sour mood was solely revolving around you- or lack thereof.

Toga, ever on the hunt for new ‘friends’, immediately jumped at the idea of finally going to the mystery lady who heals everyone just because she has a kind heart. An idea that Dabi shut down without so much as batting an eyelash.

“But, why not!” Toga whined. Dabi rolled his eyes. Villain or not, Toga was just a high schooler with more than enough psychotic tendencies to warrant concern. If he had it his way- you’d never even get the chance to set your eyes on the blonde, twin-bunned psycho.

The constant chartering centering in on him and you began to grate on his nerves and before long he was stomping up to his feet and out the bar door. Shigiraki just scoffed as Toga pouted. Twice was simply mocking and jesting at the burned man who ‘just ran away’.

Dabi had had enough. He was going back to your pub- but it wasn’t going to be because he missed you. He just wanted a drink in peace and fucking quiet. At least away from those idiots.

-x-x-x-

Dabi had slithered his way into your bar- pushing his way in with a group so that when you shouted from your place behind the bar to greet them in and to tell them to just find a seat, you wouldn’t recognize him. He had stopped by his apartment before making his way here to change into clothes he hoped you wouldn’t recognize him in either.

The large, indigo tinted turtle neck he wore was way too large on his torso. The neck was horribly stretched out and pulled up as far as it could be to cover his jaw and mouth so that he didn’t have to wear the mask he knew you would recognize.. He traded his normal jacket with a different one he’d kept around for city crawling as he had it half way zipped up and the hood flipped up to hide his hair and scarred ears. Keeping his chin down, he used the shadow of his hood and the shadows the pub lights casted to keep the scars just under his eyes more or less out of sight.

He grumbled at himself. Why was he going to such lengths to make sure you didn’t see him in the first place? In the past, he wouldn’t have gone to the lengths to stay on the downlow in public like this; he would’ve just gone back home and crashed or drank alone or something of the sort. You probably weren’t even under the impression he was back from the mission you thought he was on.

He slid into a booth in the back corner where he could still see you working behind the bar. Pacing back and forth, talking and serving patrons and just doing your general work. It felt strange seeing you work from all the way in the back instead of in his usual barstool, front row seat. He bit his tongue when he caught himself almost missing his up close proximity to you.

He was soon slid a bottle of beer- even if he didn’t really like the taste- as he nursed it. He’d occasionally scan the bar to see what kind of business you had tonight. When he wasn’t, he was scrolling mindlessly on his phone with glances up to the bar every so often. He felt uneasy when you weren’t in his sights, even with you so close by.

An hour after he had entered the pub, the doors had opened roughly enough to make tables turn their heads or hush up their conversations to see who had just made the racket coming in. Dabi glanced, pulling his hood back just a bit to see past the fabric of it.

A group of three men had walked into the pub. Gruff looking fellas, but nothing all that special. They started scanning the pub area, looking from tables, to faces, to chairs, all the way to the bar. The flame user didn’t appreciate the snarl on the middle man’s face when his eyes landed on you busting the bar top with your rag.

Shutting the door behind them, the three of them split apart, one heading towards the rec room and another heading in Dabi’s side of the bar. The middle man marched up towards the bar and instead of taking a seat- opted to lean on the bar between two already seated patrons. They ended up leaving their bills and scurrying out of the joint.

You took their payment and bit your tongue to keep from telling the obviously trouble-looking newcomer off for running off your customers. In fact, you completely disregarded him.

Once your bills were collected and placed into your apron pocket, you looked at the middle man leaning on the bar square in the eyes. You held unamused eye contact with him for a beat before you shut your eyes and easily turned away from him.

Clearly unhappy with the attention he so desperately wanted, he reached over the bar and yanked on the back of your work button up. You let out a shocked, choked gasp as you dropped the glass you had in your hand. The sound of shattering glass echoed around the pub as it became completely silent.

Dabi jumped from his booth, standing at his table instead of leisurely sitting like he had been as he watched the man reach out for your shirt. He growled under his breath when he yanked you back towards him over the bar.

This trouble-seeker was new to your pub, you could tell this the moment he came in with his two buddies. He didn’t know of the amount of eyes on him now that he had gained the attention he wanted. And he didn’t know how many of those eyes were villains ready to take him out.

You coughed as he tried dragging you completely over the bar just by your shirt collar. Your lower back pushed painfully into the wooden edge of the bar as your heels came off the floor, your toes being the only leverage you had left on your side of the bar top.

You wanted to swing your elbow back and pop the son of a bitch in the nose, but you had to keep all ten of your fingers on the front of your collar to keep it from painfully pulling against your throat. You attempted to unbutton the top buttons for a window of breath, but you didn’t get the chance to before you were dropped.

“Hey!” A voice you had recognized from a past medical visit came from behind you and the man yanking on your shirt. He had groaned as he dropped you, your unsteady toes combined with your heels slamming back down to the floor and your spine dragging down the edge of the bar all made you drop to the floor. You hunched over on the floor, gagging as you pulled on your shirt’s fabric away from your neck- the hemming all stretched out and well ruined by now.

The bar felt like walls that encased around your slumped over body and you soon felt someone hop over the bar and rub your back. Looking up with teary eyes from your lack of breath, you recognized the female criminal you had treated a handful of times before. She soothed you behind the bar as it sounded like pure chaos erupted from beyond the bar.

The short screams and shouts of whatever customer didn’t feel like fighting and fleeing. you even heard your employees ducking out- as you instructed them to do when bar fights broke out. You did not want to feel out accident reports, so your rules of running when things get nasty was non-negotiable.

You were content to just stay sitting on the floor, catching your breath until the fighting was done. You knew those who were fighting against the law were already defending you and your pub- they would take care of it.

It was their safe space and these thugs had just tried disrupting that space.

It was only when a plume of fire shot out from what looked like to be the back corner of your pub did you jump to your feet. Leaning against the bar with the villainess at your side, holding you to make sure you didn’t tumble over, you saw Dabi.

“Dabi?!” You were shocked to see him. He hadn’t been around due to his work (so he told you), and you were confused on why he was here now. Why was he wearing clothes you hadn’t seen before and when did he get here?

He was quick to jump into the fray, mixing in with forces to drive the stupid thugs out of your pub, but not without beating them within an inch of their life first. Between tables being thrown, chairs knocked over, fire bursting then dispersing and fist and legs flying- it was hard to keep up with what was actually happening.

What you did see though, was from the rec room someone coming out and pointing their fingers out towards your villains- your allies. Their fingertips started to open and sharp, needle like tips were ready to be fired out of them.

You climbed over the bar, the villainess calling out to you to not get involved. You stumbled into a chair, holding yourself up as you shouted over the commotion.

“Hey! Get behind a wall or table!” You pointed to the man under the rec room doorway. “Don’t let whatever he’s gonna shoot out of his fingers hit you!” You were ready to duck back behind a table when you were shoved in the chest by the third man you saw enter with the thugs earlier. He just appeared from no where it seemed when he struck you.

Knocking you into a nearby table, you slid onto it before it tipped and you tumbled off of it when it fell. Groaning, you cursed under your breath. You were getting really fucking sick of being pushed around tonight. You got to your knees to get yourself back to your feet when you felt something push against your back and wrap around your shoulders, keeping you down.

Whatever was keeping you down and covered was warm. It covered your back and kept your shoulders encased. Reaching up, it was an arm that wrapped around your and it was someone’s chest that pushed against your back. Looking back you saw his scarred ears and neck before you saw his face. Not to mention the blast of burning blue that shot out opposite of his outstretched other arm.

“Dabi,” you gasped as you felt his body start to push more into yourself. You whined, his weight beginning to crush you. “Hey, get off me,” you huffed.

“Oh, you so owe me,” he chuckled before he fell against your completely. His arm dropped and the one that wrapped around you previous fell limp and released you. Rolling off to the side awkwardly to try and catch his fall to the tile, you saw a small needle sticking from his neck.

“Oh, shit” you muttered. Turning, you lifted a table to cover your back while the rest of the chaos kept going on behind you. Pushing him onto his back, he was out cold. Looking him over, you didn’t see any worrisome wounds on him- in fact he didn’t look wounded at all. It was only that needle in his neck. “No doubt from that guy’s quirk,” you mumbled as you inspected it.

Did he cover you so you didn’t get hit with the needle instead? You didn’t want to work yourself up into a frenzy at the thought of him taking a shot for you- but no matter how you looked at the situation, that was exactly what happened.

It was a small, thin like a sewing needle with a ball point on the back of it. Whatever this needle is coated in obviously knocked the pyro out. You peeked over the table to see the same man ready to shoot a second round from his fingertips.

“Take out the needle shooter! His needles will render you unconscious!” Your shouted leadership to take out one of the three low-level threats was clear and it was probably 20 minutes later when the three thugs were tied up and unconscious.

You sighed, finally feeling safe again in your busted and destroyed bar. You groaned for the umpteenth time knowing it was going to cost a fortune to get the tables repaired. Not to mention the seared wallpaper that peeled from the previous heat and broken glasses, frames and damaged light fixtures. You would have to close your doors for repairs for at least a month.

As you looked around, you moved from your sitting position to instead kneel at Dabi’s side.

“Can someone help me bring him downstairs? And lock the entrance.” Dabi was picked up and was soon being carried back behind the bar and through the doors, waiting for you to come unlock the way down as someone else had safely latched your pub doors shut. Your employees would understand if you just shot them a few texts.

Before you went into the back, you pointed at the unconscious needle shooter. “Also, bring him down too, but keep him tied up. I need to know what his quirk is so that I know exactly why he did and how to treat it. Anyone else who needs treatment, you can come down too.”

An hour later, you had Dabi’s unconscious body hooked up in one of your rooms to small machines to make sure he wasn’t dying. Whatever the needle was- you concluded that it at least wasn’t poisonous. You had taken it from his neck and had it run for tests. It wasn’t coated in anything, but the tip of it had released a sort of potion into his body from where he had been stores in the ball point end; but you weren’t sure what it was.

You moved away from your laptop on the small desk you had next to Dabi’s temporary bed. You leaned your elbow against the wood and stared at him.

“Until I figure out what exactly happened, I have no idea when he’ll wake up.” You frowned as worry began to churn in your stomach. It eased you that his life didn’t seem to be in danger, but that didn’t really help anything else. He was immobile and unresponsive until further notice as far as you knew.

You sighed getting up and searching for his phone. Finding it in his jacket pocket, you plucked it out and began to go through his contacts. You were glad you watched him punch in his lock code one day and held it in your memory.

Finding a contact under ‘Childish Leader’, you immediately began to ring it. You knew who Dabi worked under, and who this so called ‘childish leader’ was- you did meet with him one time after all. When the line picked up, you were greeted with a sigh.

“What,” a strained voice annoyingly greeted.

“You’ll want to come to the location I’m about to send you,” you started. You swore you heard the frown and confused brow drip on his face when it wasn’t Dabi’s voice that was on the phone. “Want to know what happened to Dabi? Then get your wrap quirked friend to get you over here, Shigaraki.”

You quickly ended the call, letting out a shaky breath and feeling your heart pound in your chest. Dabi only ever really complained about Shigaraki, and you had only met hi that one time for general introductions, so you didn’t know much about him. You hoped that just telling him what to do before sending him your coordinates would be enough to just get him to show up. You’d deal with the rest later.

You stood from your chair as you looked down at Dabi. He always looked quite peaceful sleeping- it was odd since he was always scowling when he was awake. He’d smirk and tease, sure, but you don’t think you’d ever seen a real smile on his face before.

You chuckled to yourself, touching his hair just once before you stopped- knowing he didn’t like you touching him like that. He wanted to keep you at arms length because of your feelings and you knew that- so unconscious or not, you had to keep his wants at the forefront of your mind.

A knock sounded at the door when you saw one of your allied villains come in. “Some guys are in the bar, asking for you. Some freak with a hand on his face and a gimp looking dude.” You almost laughed at the villain's description.

“Tell them I’ll be up in a moment.” The villain left as you looked once more at Dabi. You smiled down at him. “Thanks for the save, you reckless idiot.”

-x-x-x-

Dabi groaned as he rolled from his back to his side. He was only vaguely aware he was previously on his back ,which already annoyed him- he was not a back sleeper. He peeked his eyes open and stared at the ceiling above him.

That wasn’t his apartment ceiling? Sitting up, he rubbed his forehead, closing his eyes and taking a breath. His head pounded and he opened his eyes back up to see the room he was in. It wasn’t his apartment at all. He was in a bedroom, but he hadn’t seen this room before.

The last thing he remembered was jumping into a bar fight at your pub and then covering your back when that finger-freak tried shooting something out of his fingertip at you. He didn’t even realize his body moved until he felt the needle meant for you dart into his neck.

Rubbing at his neck, he felt no pain. Getting up, he looked around the room.

This room wasn’t yours- he’d seen it before- and it wasn’t anyone else’s he knew of. He wasn’t at the league HQ either, that run down place didn’t have rooms as well kept at this one. Surely you wouldn’t have pushed him off to some random villain until he woke up and this was some stranger’s room... right?

After a moment, he started getting nosy. As he opened more drawers and books and notepads, he got more and more confused. These were all things he was interested in. All the notebooks had his handwriting in them and his name was signed on papers and sticky notes scattered on a corkboard hanging on the wall. The phone on the bedside table and he unlocked with his passcode and started going through it- it was all his information just like normal, but something was off.

He felt off. He looked at his palms, the scars he’s had since he was younger still showing on his skin. Something nagged in the back of his head and he knew that he had to get answers and the best way to do that is to track you down.

Grabbing a jacket and zipping it up to his chin and placing sunglasses on his face, he left the room that was filled with, presumably his own things, but definitely not his things.

The roads and buildings all around were the same as he remembered. However, when he came to your pub’s building, it looked different. Shabby almost. Trying to go inside, the door was rusted and jammed. Jostling with the door wasn’t getting him anywhere and he knew if he tried to bust it down you’d have his ass on the wall for the damage.

Looking up, he saw the window that lead into the living room of your apartment. Walking around the building he started up the fire escape and carefully treaded the side of the building to the window before he shimmied it open from the outside and hopped inside.

“What the fuck?” The apartment that was once filled with your furniture and belongings was empty. Not just empty, but it was dusty, barren and isolated like no one had been in there for years. Jogging downstairs, he ran into the bar to find it the same way: empty.

No tables, no chairs, no booths. No bottles lining the dusty shelves and no frames of art or recreational items in the rec room. it even still had the old, tacky wallpaper instead of the wallpaper he remembered. The stench of dust filtered through his nose and made his throat burn- it was apparent that the place hadn’t been aired out in years.

Turning back, the door to the basement he had been in so many times wasn’t even there. When he left the building to go to the basement the backway, the backway in didn’t seem to exist either. It was like the basement he had spent so much time in with you patching him up was never there to begin with.

“This is fucking crazy,” he mumbled as he pulled his phone from his pocket. He wasn’t used to feeling whatever was bubbling in his chest. It was painful, like caltrops tearing apart his stomach and chest as he searching for your number in his contacts. He began to start walking back to where your apartment use to be, to go back inside the abandoned pub, when he dialed your phone. He was soon stuck in his tracks when he caught sight of his reflection in a window.

The window’s glass was cracked, barely held in place in the frame as he stared back at his reflection. Reaching up, he ran his scarred hand through his hair. His hair that wasn’t dyed black; his hair that was as white as his mothers.

“Where the fuck am I?” He breathed as he heard the monotone voice over the phone.

-I’m sorry, but the number you have dialed does not exist-

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hournites · 3 years

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A lot of ways to love you (teach me through your eyes)

Hournite Week Day 7: Love Languages

Summary: Words of Affirmation, Acts of Service, Gifts, Quality Time, Touch. Or, Rick, Beth, and their many languages of love.

Thank you for coming along on this first HN week journey with me! ❤️

~.~

Words of Affirmation

Beth found Rick by himself at the corner of their shared history class, carving his initials into the desk. She didn’t understand why he’d put himself there. It was like a brooding corner to be miserable.

“Hey,” she said, taking the seat in front of his desk. “What’s wrong?”

Rick dug deeper to splinter the wood. “They think I cheated on my chem test.”

Without asking, Beth unzipped Rick’s bag to pull out the test. Rick let her.

She gaped at him as she scanned over the F and comments from the teacher. He always treated Beth kindly when they passed in the halls, but she never actually had Mr. Geralds. Chemistry wasn’t her strong suit like Rick, but there wasn’t a doubt that she’d given some of the same answers with a great grade from the other science teacher. “Are you serious? That’s crazy. You’re going to contest that, right?”

“You’re not going to even ask if I did?”

“I know you didn’t, you’re too smart.”

“I used to steal shit,” he muttered under his breath and dropped his pencil. “Haven’t heard you say I’m too smart for that.”

Beth slipped his test into her folder to return to at a later time, right now focusing on Rick.

“Hey, that’s not fair.” When Rick wouldn’t meet her eyes, she leaned in closer. “Look at me.”

Rick did.

“You know you deserved a good grade. And you’ve done what you did to get by.” She glanced at the vandalism briefly. “There are people here who know you’re better than what the majority of the town thinks.” She lowered her voice to keep her next words between them. “You’re a hero. You’ve helped save everyone in this town. So show them who you really are.”

She smiled when he let out a small huff, she knew he was listening. “I’ll go to the principal’s office with you, and we can get Pat to vouch for us. We both know that for Chem you should be in AP.”

“It’s really not that big of a deal,” he lied, shifting uncomfortably from all her nice words.

“If it weren’t a big deal, you wouldn’t have done that.” She pointed at the roughened mess he’d made of the school desk. “I know you better than you think.”

Act of Service

“Has anyone seen Beth?”

Rick walked around the main area of Pat’s cabin. It was after 2 AM. Barbara and Jennie were making late-night comfort food in the kitchen. Pat was manning the first aid station, tending to Mike, Jakeem and Yolanda’s injuries from Sportsmaster. Courtney was bonding or something with the staff in some strange ritual she had after a life-threatening mission. Rick just stepped out of the shower, washing the grime from his arms and face.

“She’s upstairs, I think!” Yolanda called, holding her ribs from her seat on top of the table. Rick shook his head when Pat admonished her not to yell. Rick made it up the stairs two at a time, stopping when he found Beth with her packed school bag on the floor in front of the couch. She was searching through papers, openly crying. She hadn’t even taken her cape off yet.

Rick crouched down beside her. “Hey,” he said softly. She looked utterly exhausted. “Are you okay? You said you didn’t get hurt.”

“I’m not hurt.” She hiccuped, flipping through more papers, a little hysterical. It looked like it was for school. “I can’t find my math assignment. It’s due tomorrow morning.”

“Did you finish it?” he asked.

“I don’t remember.” She wiped at her tears as she cried harder. “I might’ve left it at home, I can’t find it. I’m too tired, I can’t think.”

“Yeah,” Rick agreed. His bones were weary but he had always felt the least affected after battling it out with the ISA. He suffered plenty of superficial cuts and bruises, but he hardly felt them because his hourglass really protected him. He couldn’t imagine the hit the night must’ve taken on Beth’s body. Pat was going to be driving them back to main Blue Valley at 4 or 5 o’clock in the morning to get them back to school. It wasn’t ideal, but it was a random Wednesday. It’s not like they had a choice.

“Did you ask Chuck?”

“No.” Her lip wobbled, face contorting into another sob. Rick regretted asking. It was clear she was far too drained. It would’ve been simple to have asked Chuck to scan her bag to find out, but she hadn’t thought of it.

“Okay, okay,” Rick said. “Go to bed. You’re not going to be able to do the homework now even if you found it.” Rick got up to get to the top of the stairs, calling down for Barbara.

When he returned, he helped her up and managed to get her to let go of her school bag. “We’ll look for it before we leave, okay?” Rick ran a hand through his damp hair, his own eyelids started to droop. “I promise you’ll get it done before school.”

Barb joined them upstairs and coaxed Beth to change out of her suit, leading her downstairs with her regular clothes and a promise of a warm bed and tea.

Rick followed to grab Chuck when Beth wasn’t looking, turning him on once alone to help identify if this alleged math homework was even in her bag. Together they found what she was talking about. Ten problems of pre-calc. She was right. It was rushed and not done.

Rick sighed, tucking it under his arm. He said goodnight to the rest and retired to his assigned room. He turned on the lamp on the desk where he first solved the code of his father’s journal, spreading out the assignment and using Chuck as a calculator. It dawned on him an hour later as he rubbed at his tired eyes how he would be staying up all night to finish homework that wasn’t even his.

Gifts

Beth was immersed in her book when two hands landed on her collarbone. She looked down, touching the skin at the opening of her shirt when she felt the weight of something new at the base of her throat.

“What’s this?”

Rick murmured in her ear from behind. “An early birthday present.”

She let out a soft gasp when he finished with the clasp. A tiny brass hourglass pendant with sand just like Hourman’s trickled steadily beside her rainbow pendant.

“Woah.” She glanced up at him. “You got me an hourglass?” She bit down on her lip, dread creeping into her mind when she realized this had to be expensive. She struggled to voice what she was feeling out loud, but Rick must’ve caught the complicated expression on her face. He smoothed his hand along the sleeve of her cardigan and reassured her the cost didn’t push him into any kind of financial ruin.

“Did you not realize I’ve been working for Pat before school? I had some spare cash. Trust me, there’s nothing better I’d spend my money on.”

The puzzle clicked into place. Beth had been meeting Rick at the Pit Stop every morning before school for what felt like months now. It made sense he was there to work on the cars. Beth felt her face heat up at his implicit soft-spoken confession. “Thank you,” she said in a whisper, still in awe. The necklace was beautiful and she felt fuzzy ever since his hands were on her neck. “I love it.”

His eyes, usually hardened and defensive, skilled at warding off unwanted attention, now creased at the corners. Gentle, quiet, yearning, he watched her accept his gift. “I’m glad.”

Impulsively she asked, “Could you unclasp the rainbow one?”

Rick did. The chain pooled in her palm. She shook her head, pushing it to his chest. “You should have it.”

His brows furrowed in response. “You want to give me your... rainbow necklace?”

She flushed when he said it like that. She toyed with her new one, looking at him from beneath her lashes. “Well…” she said. “I have something of you, now you can have a symbol of me.”

Rick let out a small laugh. Beth was pretty sure if this were anyone else he’d say it was stupid, so she couldn’t help the surge of pride when he nestled her necklace around his own neck.

“How does it look?”

It was actually twisted. She flattened it so it would look the way it was supposed to over the collar of his shirt. Rick didn’t complain, but it was bright and cheery and clashed with his entire self. Beth bit her lip, withholding another laugh, and took pity on him, changing her mind to tuck the necklace underneath. “Perfect now.”

“Beth, I hate to interrupt this moment but you will be late for school if you don’t leave the Pit Stop in the next five minutes.”

Chuck broke them out of their weird double transfixion. They both found themselves smiling shyly at each other, neither truly wanting to move.

“Come on,” he said after another few moments of them smiling at each other without moving. “Put your bike in my trunk. I’ll drive you.”

Quality Time

When Rick stopped by at Beth’s locker, she was talking to Charity, a new close friend she made over the summer volunteering at the Blue Valley Community Centre.

“Hey,” Rick greeted, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, waiting for Beth to visit.

“Hey,” Charity said back. She swept her blonde bangs out of her face to continue their conversation.

“Charity had a great idea that we should enter for the sustainability case competition,” Beth filled in.

“We’re going to need at least a month to prepare. I was thinking we could meet Tuesdays and Thursdays after school?”

Rick stuck a hand in his pocket, sullen. Thursdays were their days, unofficially. Not that they’ve ever said so out loud, but with JSA training afternoons the rest of the week, Beth working on a case competition their days off basically meant not getting to see her. Which was fine. It happened. Rick just wishes it didn’t have to.

“I can’t on Thursdays,” Beth told her. She glanced up at Rick to give him a smile. He straightened up, meeting her gaze with obvious surprise. “Those are our nights.”

Charity paused, watching the two with curious eyes.

“We can cancel,” Rick found himself saying and actually meaning it. “You don’t have to stay on my account.”

Beth’s nose scrunched up as she shook her head, mind already made. “Nah. Sorry Charity, Thursday doesn’t work for me. Take out your schedule, maybe we have a shared free period somewhere.”

“Oh, yeah, sure! Okay!”

Rick ducked his head to hide his smile as Charity fished through her bag for her agenda.

Touch

When Beth stumbled out of the cell she’d been bound in, she hadn’t realized just how long she’d been gone. She was hungry and exhausted and felt horrifically dirty in her soiled Dr. Mid-Nite suit, but then she got a glimpse of Hourman nearly pushing the others in his rush to get to her all she could feel was relief.

Rick cupped her face, eyes squeezed shut as he held her close, his thumbs brushed along her cheeks, under her dry eyes. She felt the buzz of adrenaline rushing through him just by being so near, but the way he touched her was gentle, so gentle.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you,” he whispered, a startling unfamiliar word to fall in succession like that, coming from Rick. His hands flew to the crown of her cowl, tugging it down to kiss her forehead again and again. “Thank you.”

I’m okay now, she tried to comfort him, though her words were choked, smothered out by the crushing weight of it all. He was crying as his lips brushed over her face. It wasn’t his stamina. The buzz, she felt. Rick was shaking. It hit her then, that maybe he wasn’t sure Beth was ever going to come back. Beth had scared him. He was scared.

Beth vaulted with her tired, numb legs, reaching to wrap her arms around his neck. Her mind went calm for the first time since before they left home, muscles relaxing as she let Rick scoop her up.

She was safe. She was home.

Beth was loved.

#hournite week #hournite #hournite week 21 #hournites fic #love languages #fluff #hurt/comfort #i'm proud of this one

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lifeinahole27 · 3 years

Text

CS ff: “Christmas Miss-mas” (au)

Summary: It’s been a year since they saw each other, after the previous year’s disastrous events, but what the two remember is hardly what it seems. One basement, three different events.

Rating: T

A/N: Hiiiii @ouatpost. I feel like you should’ve known it was me from the moment I went “Well, this is going to be laaaaate,” because that’s what I seem to do every damn year. BUT! I have this completed and just in the nick of time for the end of 2020! I hope you enjoy! I had much grander visions for this, but thanks to work (we have a trio of new employees we’re trying to wrangle and it’s uhhhhh not going well at all) and a slew of dumb complications (this morning’s was waking up to a pinched nerve in my neck) I was just happy to be able to get words on the page for you, hopefully in an order that pleases you, with some details you shared that you enjoy reading! It’s not as grand as I wanted, but I do hope it’s still to your liking. <3

Thank you @cssecretsanta2020 for another awesome year, and for knocking me back into my writing. You are a rockstar and deserve so many fruit baskets in gratitude.

-x-

Christmas Party 2019

As far as parties go, Mary Margaret and David Nolan’s Christmas Party has always been Emma’s favorite. For as long as she’s been a Storybrooke resident, there’s been a party to go to. Back when she was fifteen and freshly adopted by David’s mother, Ruth, the parties were a little different. They drank sparkling grape juice and hung out in the farmhouse’s basement.

That’s where David met Mary Margaret his senior year of high school, where they officially decided to start dating the week after, and where he asked her to marry him four years later.

When Ruth passed away the year after they were married, David moved back into the farmhouse with Mary Margaret, and the two of them began restoring the house. Now, after all these years, the house is exactly what the two of them have always wanted with the recent addition of a nursery for their upcoming child.

What does any of this have to do with Emma? Well, with David as her brother, she’s expected to be at the party every year. She also offered to help with whatever Mary Margaret needed since she’s due next month and she knows the expectant mother is going to go overboard as usual. And while she’s never had the urge or need to cancel in the past, she fervently wishes she could this year.

For the first time in a year, she’s going to be facing Killian – former best friend, complicated story… the man she thought was the love of her life, if she’s being 100% honest. Her stomach flutters, thinking about how David had casually mentioned Killian was back in town. They’ve done just fine avoiding each other since last year, but with Killian’s own invitation to the party implied, she knows that their streak is likely to end tonight.

In the event that this is the case, Emma has spared no attention to detail for her outfit. She’s strong. She’s independent. And she certainly doesn’t need a man in her life to make it valid. So what if she wants to remind Killian of everything he’s missing out on? The red dress hugs her body, and is probably lower cut than she usually wears around her brother, but she doesn’t care.

Makeup? Perfect. Hair? Flawless. Jewelry? The earrings are from Killian, and she tries to ignore the way that makes her feel as she secures the backing. With one last fluff of her hair and a quick check to make sure she didn’t get lipstick on her teeth, Emma takes a bracing breath and grabs her coat as she walks out of her apartment.

-x-

Alone in a room in Granny’s B&B, Killian stares at his reflection in the bathroom mirror with dread crossing his features. He checks his pocket watch one last time, knowing he has to leave if he’s to make it there fashionably late instead of just plain tardy.

It’s been almost a full year since he saw Emma last.

He can hardly remember a time before that where they went more than a week without seeing each other, not to mention talking or texting every day. For years, the two of them had been inseparable, since the first time they met. He braces himself on the edge of the sink as he thinks about the series of parties they’ve lived through together, looking at himself only once he feels the pain fade from his expression.

While he’s always looked forward to The Nolan Christmas Party in the past, he’s sure Emma wants nothing to do with him after what happened last year. He’s still not sure how exactly he went from total euphoria one moment to losing his best friend, the woman he loves, all in the next moment.

Loves.

Bloody hell, but it’s true. He still loves her with every dark corner of his heart, not that it matters much. Etched into his memory is the look she gave him after… just after.

With one last heavy sigh at the lost moments and memories, Killian checks his reflection for the last time. He looks like shit, as he confirms as he glances over his reflection. At least he went for a haircut and shaved down his beard before tonight. Liam had taken to calling him Chuck, after Tom Hanks’ character on Castaway, and asking him if he’d lost Wilson again.

Right. Time to face the past. He slips on his jacket and heads out the door.

Christmas Party 2015

It’s not every day you meet your equal in the basement of someone else’s house, but that’s how Killian and Emma meet.

Emma wanders down to the unfinished basement to quietly raid the cookies she knows Mary Margaret didn’t put out and finds a man sitting on the half-finished bar. By next year, Emma’s sure this area, too, will be up and running for the yearly party and she can’t wait.

But back to the stranger sitting in her brother’s basement.

“Hi there,” she says when she hits the bottom step.

His head jerks up and he lurches off the bar, glancing up to look at the door Emma shut behind her. “Bollocks,” he mutters, hanging his head again and dragging himself back to where he’d been sitting.

“What’s going on?” Emma asks, looking between the guy she still doesn’t know and the basement door. Was he waiting for someone else? Disappointed that it’s not another woman that wandered down here? Or man? She doesn’t know what he’s into, but far be it for her to judge.

“Welcome to the basement party. Population is now two, and you are also stuck down here.” He’s brooding, clearly, but he has to be lying.

Emma jogs back up the stairs and tries the door, surprised to find that the handle doesn’t budge. It’s locked. How is it locked? Why is it locked?

“David!” Emma yells out as she bangs on the door. “David, the door is locked!”

“He won’t hear you,” the man says from the bottom of the staircase. “The speaker seems to be precisely in a location that’s drowning out all sound from the door. And there’s too many people moving around for anyone to hear the ruckus I’ve been making against the ceiling for the last half hour.”

“Fuck. You’re not kidding?”

“Nope.”

“Great.”

“Aye. Well, nice to meet you, lass. I’m Killian Jones. I tagged along with Will.” He jumps off the bar again to hold out his hand to her.

“Emma Swan. Sister of the host. And apparently locked down in my brother’s basement with a complete stranger.”

“You can’t call us complete strangers if we already know each other’s names.”

“That’s flimsy logic, and you know it,” Emma says, crossing her arms after extracting her hand from his. He’s flirting with her? At a time like this?

“Ah, but now we’ve got time to get acquainted, it seems,” he says, holding out his arms to indicate the empty space they’re occupying.

She should be disappointed about missing the party, but it’s quickly obvious that all the good food is stashed down here, as are all of Emma’s favorite cookies. And while the bar and surrounding basement might not be finished yet, there’s a good selection of wine and beer already in stock. And, if she’s being honest with herself, he’s certainly nice to look at. She’s curious to see if the personality matches the looks.

Emma finds the cushions for the outdoor furniture and throws them on the floor as she and Killian graze the offerings like a picnic. They pass the time by talking shit about the people they don’t like at the party, and she’s surprised by how easily she gets along with him already.

As the time ticks by, she finds herself laughing, enjoying herself more than if she’d been upstairs getting shitfaced and avoiding said people she doesn’t like.

The music cuts out at 11pm, and while it would be the perfect opportunity for either one of the trapped guests to make noise to get rescued, both of them are fast asleep, stretched out on cushions with Killian’s suit jacket draped over Emma’s shoulders.

At 11:30pm when the last guests finally head out, David heads to the basement to get a fresh box of trash bags and finds Emma asleep with a man he only briefly met at the start of the party.

“Emma?”

She startles awake, sitting up and blinking at David in confusion.

“What are you doing down here?” he asks, noticing that Killian is still out solid.

“Killian and I got locked down here. Your door sucks,” Emma grumbles, just avoiding rubbing her eyes so she doesn’t smear her makeup. “Killian. Hey. Wake up.” With a few shoves of his shoulder, Emma rouses her companion. “David, I’m staying in the guest room. And you’re out of Malbec.”

“Noted,” David says, still very befuddled with everything going on. “Killian? Do you need to crash here for the night? I know you arrived with Will but he left with Belle over an hour ago.”

“I don’t want to impose,” Killian says, sounding more alert than Emma would’ve expected after how fast asleep he was.

“You’re not,” she tells him. “I’ll give you a ride home in the morning.”

It’s this, more than anything, which makes David raise his eyebrows in surprise. He hasn’t seen Emma take this fast to anyone… almost ever. Here she is falling asleep near and offering a ride to someone David knows by reputation alone. (Said reputation is a mixed bag from some questionable sources, so he will do his best to reserve judgement despite his protective instincts firing up.)

Even as David helps Killian get settled on the couch, Emma is puttering around with a blanket and pillow, explaining where everything is if Killian should need it. When David and Emma get upstairs to the entrance to both his bedroom (a single glance shows Mary Margaret face-down on the bed without even changing) and the guest room, he goes to ask the obvious, but Emma just smiles.

“Goodnight, David. Go tend to your wife,” she says with an affectionate smile. She hugs him and walks into the room, closing the door behind her.

What on Earth just happened? he wonders.

Christmas Party 2019

Getting to the Nolan household early means more than just helping set everything up. It also means getting to spend time with her sister-in-law before the chaos of the party begins.

Emma heads straight to the office on the first floor and hangs her coat on the rolling rack they have specifically for this purpose. She takes a deep breath and goes to find Mary Margaret to get the other woman off her feet as much as possible.

As they finish the party preparations, Emma happily listens to the town gossip and the baby updates.

“You know Killian will be here tonight, right?” Mary Margaret’s question is tentative. She doesn’t really know what happened between the two of them, but she’s never pushed. Emma is pretty sure she knows the depth of Emma’s feelings for Killian, so the fact that she a) never told him (notoriously bad secret-keeper that she is) and b) never harassed Emma for any information she didn’t willingly give has been a huge relief.

“I thought I’d heard that rumor,” Emma says, trying to keep her voice calm and even. She can do this. She can come face to face with the man she loves… Loved? She stops herself from sighing, not even sure if she managed to shuffle that into the past tense.

“I just wanted you to be prepared,” Mary Margaret says, still doing her best not to pry even though Emma can hear that note in her voice that screams of curiosity.

Emma just smiles, shaking her head and putting the finishing touches on the charcuterie board she’s been painstakingly assembling. “How’s that?” she asks when she’s done, taking a picture of the whole butcher’s block and going to show her so Mary Margaret doesn’t have to get up.

“Perfect. You know, in another life you could’ve been a party planner,” the other woman remarks, and Emma chuckles under her breath.

In another life, that’s what she wanted to do. But somehow, she found her niche in bail bonds, instead, enjoying the hunt a little more than she thought she would. Sure, it takes her away from home sometimes. She’s a member of multiple hotel preferred programs and top tier in all of them at this point.

There’s something about the chase that’s always thrilled her. It’s something new and exciting at every turn, and there’s something extra satisfying about catching people that otherwise thought they could slip away unnoticed from their bad deeds.

But thanks to her passion for details specifically at social gatherings, Emma easily plays co-host and makes sure to circulate once the guests start arriving.

She’s in the office hanging up Ruby’s coat when she turns and runs directly into someone. Someone that smells far too familiar, who feels familiar against where her hands are braced on his chest. Her stomach clenches for multiple reasons and she thinks about running, but something compels her to look up, to meet his eyes.

“Swan,” he whispers. His hand is on her waist from when they collided, and she can feel the warmth of his skin, longs for the way that hand has touched her with casual intimacy for so many years now.

“Killian.” Her voice is hoarse all of a sudden, and she swallows in order to continue, to say anything to him, to ask him why. “I can’t… I can’t do this,” she says instead, breaking away and exiting the room as quickly as she can.

-x-

He knew it wouldn’t be easy seeing her again, and had all hopes that he wouldn’t be met with hostility or hatred. Her sad confusion, however, may hurt even more. He doesn’t know how they ended up like this. He still replays last year over and over searching for the details that may unlock her radio silence for a whole bloody year but with how that night played out, he can only assume that what happened was a mistake to her.

Emma is still the most beautiful woman he’s ever met. No matter where she goes throughout the party, he can catch sight of her glowing and schmoozing. She’s a delight, a natural-born socialite without the reputation of one.

Multiple times, he finds her near. He doesn’t move when he notices her, too terrified of scaring her off. But sooner or later she realizes he’s close and swiftly finds herself a new task to attend to, thus leaving him lurking and definitely sulking in a corner.

Halfway through the event, he can’t take it anymore. It’s impossible being in proximity with Emma and not being able to talk to her and interact with her as he used to. Right after the party last year, he got called back to England. His brother, still living in London, had called to alert him of his father’s passing. The next year was an endless battle of selling off the old man’s house and possessions, and also celebrating the birth of Liam’s first child.

Since he was only able to come back for brief moments, Will had sublet his room in their apartment and Killian would stay at Granny’s when he would come back.

He was in town for Emma’s birthday, but he never saw her, never managed to text her, never heard from her…

Tonight? It’s obvious that what’s between them will never be fixed. Along with that, he fears his heart may never mend.

Christmas Party 2018

Emma was right - the finished basement is even better than she could’ve imagined. The difference between sitting down here this time and the first time is that she and Killian aren’t stuck. They’re just hiding out for a bit to escape the party. Around them are the remnants of a bottle of rum, a plate of cookies and chocolates, and way more cheesy potatoes than she meant to steal but she panicked.

“So what are we doing for New Years?” Emma asks as she leans back against the wall behind the bar. Now that the door to the upstairs doesn’t lock, they’ve taken to literally hiding from anyone that might find them. The bar is tall enough that someone would have to come around or lean over it to actually see them which works perfectly fine for her.

“Whatever your heart desires, love. As long as I get my cheeky kiss at midnight, you know I’m a happy man.”

She smiles, thinking of the previous year’s “cheeky kiss” which was truly a kiss on his cheek. There was no one she wanted to kiss at midnight, and Killian was standing next to her. And she couldn’t very well imagine another year without a New Years kiss so she grabbed his face and planted a bright red lipstick mark on his cheek above his beard. He’d worn that kiss the rest of the night.

“Yeah, yeah. You’ll get your kiss,” she remarks, turning to do it again but doesn’t anticipate that he’s turning towards her as well, and instead kisses him directly on the lips.

It was probably out of surprise that they sat there for a few seconds like that, lips pressed together. And then he kisses her back. He tastes like rum and chocolate as his tongue slips out to taste her lips, and she can’t help but sigh into the kiss.

His lips feel like she always imagined they would. She’s been curious in the past but what they have is far too precious for her to mess up with sex, so she never made a move. But there have been lonely nights where she pretended that their snuggling during movies was more than platonic, that holding his hand was something real. She’s woken up to his arm around her more times than she can count but the dream always fades by the time he opens his eyes and brings her back to reality.

This, however, is unearthing every desire and wish she’d ever had for what the two of them could become. This is giving her a vivid picture of snowed-in nights and lazy Sunday mornings. Of interrupting Killian’s work at his little desk in the corner of his room to climb into his lap and do her best to distract him. Of making him breakfast at the loft and giving up in order to be pulled into his embrace and tightly held against him.

As if he can hear her thoughts and is making up for lost time, she feels Killian’s hand snake around her waist to pull her closer, until her legs are thrown over his lap and they’re as close as they can be without her straddling him. The food around them is forgotten; the bottle of rum - thankfully capped - knocked over in their haste.

It’s right when their hands start decidedly less innocent wandering that Emma thinks that they should maybe slow down, especially since they’re still in the basement and the party's still going on above their heads.

“Wait,” she says, her voice husky as her hand caresses his cheek. He pulls back, as if startled to find that it was her he was making out with the whole time. If she had to label the expression on his face, it would have to be named Panic, and she starts to wonder why that might be.

“There you are! What are you two doing down here?” David’s voice from over the bar startles them out of the moment entirely.

Killian scrambles to stand up. “Not a thing, mate. Enjoying your sister’s favorite dish in some peace and quiet.” He at least has the decency to hold out a hand to help her up, but when she’s on her feet he already feels like he’s a million miles away.

“Emma? You okay?”

“I’m fine,” she says, forcing a smile and extracting her hand out of Killian’s and moving around the bar. “Need help with anything?”

David starts talking about wine and crackers and Emma moves on autopilot behind him, walking away from Killian and feeling her heart ice over as she does.

Nothing. It meant nothing to him, she thinks as they climb the stairs and move back to the party. So that’s what she would treat it as.

She doesn’t turn back to see Killian still bracing himself on the bar, his expression conflicted and longing.

Two days later, before she could figure out if things were going to go back to normal, she finds out Killian is gone. His few belongings are in the apartment storage and Will is subletting his room. She had dodged all his calls, but the fact that he left without a goodbye was telling enough.

And just like that, her best friendship and her heart were broken in the same instance.

Christmas Party 2019

He’s not even sure how long he’s been hidden away in the basement, only that he has no desire to make his way back to the party. Surely, there must be a way for him to sneak out without anyone noticing. It was a mistake to attend tonight.

With intent to do just that, to skulk out without catching attention, Killian moves to stand but promptly halts when he hears footsteps coming down the stairs. He pushes himself closer to the bar to hide in the shadows, willing the intruder to leave as quickly as possible.

He keeps his head tucked down to avoid being noticed, so imagine his surprise when it’s Emma’s voice that reaches his ears.

“Just had to go and take our hiding spot,” she says quietly, and he lifts his head to see her standing at the opening of the bar, a plate of cookies in one hand, a bowl of cheesy potatoes in the other, and a beer tucked beneath her arm.

She walks a little closer, stopping at the end of the bar and placing down her bounty before sliding onto the last barstool.

Taking it as a cue that she’s not going to run from him, Killian stands and rummages in the small fridge for a beer of his own.

“Not running this time?” He asks as he cracks it open.

“I’m too tired,” she says, propping her head up with the hand not picking at the cookies.

He takes a step closer, grabbing her bottle and popping off the cap.

“Thanks,” she murmurs, and hesitates just a moment more before she’s pushing her plate of cookies towards him.

They’re silent for a moment, the music just barely reaching their seclusion.

“You look beautiful tonight, Swan.”

There’s a hint of a smile, but she only dips her head in gratitude as she continues to graze.

“Listen, love. I still don’t know what’s happened between us, but I have been bloody miserable without you this last year. You add color to my life. Without you it’s been… so grey. So underwhelming. I miss you. Please - I’ll do whatever’s in my power to make things right again, but please let us be friends, at the very least.”

“I’m not nothing,” she responds after another moment. She’s looking him directly in the eyes this time and he sees a world of hurt and sadness there.

“What?”

“I’m not nothing. Never was. Never will be.”

“Of course you’re not nothing. Why would…”

And then he realizes it. Realizes exactly what he said at a most critical time between them.

“Oh, fuck me,” he mutters, rubbing his hand over his eyes. “Emma, that’s not what I meant. You most definitely aren’t nothing. You’re everything. You were - still are! - my everything.”

“Then why did you get so defensive with David?”

“I didn’t want to scare you. I’d finally had you in my arms where I wanted you. I didn’t want you running off.” He winces, giving her a sheepish look. “Which you did anyway, but I promise, love. You misunderstood. I wanted you to have time to process. I didn’t want your brother in our business so soon after that moment.”

“Why didn’t you come back? Why didn’t you try calling me?”

“I did. Before I left. I wanted nothing more than to see you before I went to London. So when you ignored my calls, I figured it was best to leave it at that. It’s why I stayed away so long.”

“I thought you thought it was a mistake. That kissing me was a mistake,” she admits.

“That kiss was the best bloody idea either of us ever had. It’s everything that came after that should’ve never happened.”

-x-

Hearing Killian admit that kissing her was definitely not a mistake goes a long way in healing Emma’s heart. It’s what helps her ease off the stool and move closer to where he’s standing until she’s right in front of him.

“Not a mistake?”

“No,” he answers promptly.

“Neither of us will be running?”

“Nope.”

“Good,” Emma says, closing the final inches between them and kissing him softly.

At the wrecked noise he makes, she’s lost to it all. What starts as a soft, simple kiss quickly turns heady. Her hands end up along his face and into his hair while his hand is on her lower back, urging her closer.

“Did you drive?” Emma asks, her hand dropping down to his tie.

“Aye. And other than this beer I haven’t been drinking.”

“To my place?”

He doesn’t respond with words, instead bending to kiss her again before they come up with their plan to escape.

In the morning, Emma wakes up to Killian’s arm wrapped around her and everything finally feels like it’s back in place.

Christmas 2020

For the first time since Emma has lived in Storybrooke, the Nolan Christmas Party is cancelled.

Instead, everyone boots up their computers or phones, opting for facetime celebrations instead of in-person ones.

Cooped up in her tiny loft, Emma is just fine with this. A nice little spread of finger foods and cookies is on the coffee table, and Killian collapses next to her, already in his pajamas as she starts the call to David and Mary Margaret.

“Merry Christmas!” the other couple greets while baby Leo babbles happily in David’s lap.

“Happy Christmas,” Killian greets while Emma gives her own sentiments. She snuggles into his side as the call continues, feeling like she’s right where she’s meant to be.

And this time there’s no basement involved.

#cs fanfic #captain swan ff #cs ff au #cs secret santa 2020 #sarah writes ff

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league-of-thots · 4 years

Text

Cloudy Days and Summer Smiles - A BNHArem collab

Pairing: Aizawa x reader

Warnings: none (sfw), hurt and comfort, brief talking about abduction

Word Count: 4.6k

AN: I haven’t been able to do a collab in a while, but I was super excited to grab Aizawa for this one. If you want to see the other amazing works for the collab, click HERE. also a special thanks to @ikinabi for helping my dumbass with a banner, i love it so much red thank you <3. i hope you all enjoy this one

Date nights weren’t really a part of Shouta’s and your relationship. With him constantly working his ass off, and you also having to work, there wasn’t a lot of time that the two of you could spend going out together. Not that you minded of course, snuggling up to your boyfriend and simply talking with him whenever the two of you had free time was probably your favourite thing in the world.

You’d noticed though, that despite there being a summer break in school, that the pressure on Shouta to perform more in hero work had kept his stress levels and exertion really high. It hurt you to see your boyfriend constantly exhausted, yet he wouldn’t drop any of the extra hero shifts he’d been given recently.

You knew why of course. You knew that he always wrapped up his self worth in his hero work and in passing on knowledge to students. Of course, that also made it more painful to see him work himself so hard, you know just how amazing he is, and yet he works himself to the bone trying to be better. So, you do your best to try to make things easier for him, going over to his apartment to tidy up sometimes, or making dinner there and leaving it on the stove for him to eat when he got home.

You swear that one day you’re going to find where he hid his stupid stash of fruit pouches, that he swears are nutritional enough to be a meal. No matter how much you wheedle him, or show him facts, or just be plainly worried for him, he has an irrational attachment to them. He needed good food, and he needed a lot of it, because he worked a hell of a lot. Now if only you could get that through his head.

So, it’s become another habit of yours to always bring over some healthy snacks, high in protein and salts to help him recover from tough work days and power through the next ones. You keep notice of things he likes or doesn’t like, and be sure to try and put some stashes of them in his cupboard so that he can see them before he goes to work. It’s made it a little better.

He’s started doing a similar set of things for you, bringing you coffees if he was in the area where you worked. Another favourite were the fruit smoothies he’d make when you were feeling a bit down. Although he wants to be there for you more, you understand that he’s always stretched thin across two jobs, and you always make sure that he knows how much you love him despite that.

You know that Shouta feels particularly upset when he has to cancel some of the few date nights the two of you have planned due to work. Of course, you don’t blame him, it’s a part of the man you fell in love with. You know you feel disappointed when it happens, but you always try to reassure him that it’s not because of him, its just the fact that you don’t get to see him. You hope it relieves some of the guilt he feels, because really, you’re proud of all his hard work, and love how steadfast he is all the time.

Though you wish he really would take better care of himself.

It was going to be a good weekend though, you were excited to spend it all with Shouta, who’d taken a weekend off for once. As soon as he’d gotten it confirmed, you’d started planning some little things the two of you could do together after not having seen each other for a few weeks. It had been tough, yes, but you’d made sure to call him every day or every other day two, and you’d made sure that you’d also dropped off some treats, putting them on his table so he’d actually notice them.

He’d always send you the cutest cat videos to you, making sure to send a cute little message, his own way of telling you thanks. It makes you feel warm inside, the little gestures bringing you happiness that would brighten your day a bit.

Anyways, to what you’d been planning. You knew that even on date nights that actually happened, Shouta always preferred lowkey events, something where the two of you could spend quality time with one another and just talk. You’d decided that you’d do your best to make a sweet little lunch for the two of you, and maybe even a dessert too. You’d looked up the weather and it was supposed to be sunny and partially cloudy, the perfect day for a picnic in the public gardens.

You put on some nice clothes you always had for the hot summer air, and start packing up a basket you’d bought a while ago and never actually had the chance to use. You were practically giddy with excitement. The last six times you’d tried to see him, he’d had to cancel, and no matter how much you tried to push down the feeling of being unimportant, it stuck around.

It wasn’t about you after all, it was about Shouta and the people he was helping. You can’t be so selfish about his time; you knew what his schedule was like before the two of you even started dating.

Yet you couldn’t quiet that little voice in your head that said you were never going to be the most important thing in his life. That he’d give you up for the chance to do more to help as many people as he could.

It burned shamefully within you, how could you distrust him, the one who showed his love for you in al his little gestures and acts of affection? But also, the times he’d snap, brush you off, act like it were a chore to actually be together… those things would keep you tossing and turning for long nights. You know that Shouta would reassure you and help you get over these feelings if you talked to him; you just couldn’t erase the fear that telling him would push him away.

Which is why you were so excited to see him again, you know that seeing him and talking with him will wipe away those fears, like waves crashing onto a sandy beach. You know you can get over this yourself, there’s no need to drag your boyfriend into stupid insecurities. Especially over ones founded just off of coincidences.

He has enough to worry about on his own, after all.

You pack up the salmon sushi and the other little bites of food with the meal, put the pastries in a little tin and add it into your basket. Grabbing a soft blanket, you fold it, place it on top of the blanket and grab the sunhat Shouta had gotten you after you’d pointed it out on a walk you’d been on. Smiling at yourself in the mirror, you grab the basket and head out to go meet him.

The gardens aren’t too far away from your house, and you enjoy a lazy walk, the sun warming you up. Near the gardens is a family park, and you hear children giggling and screaming in joy as they play with their parents. It softens your heart, and you feel you shoulders relax, not noticing them being tensed in the first place. Part of you imagines being one of those families with Shouta one day…

You find a small hill within the gardens, the grass rather long and waving in the breeze, hundreds of flowers with multiple types surrounding you. Setting out the blanket, and the food, you take a picture of the area. You send it to your boyfriend, and you know that he’ll recognize the place you are from your many walks together. So, you lie out, relaxing your arms behind your head and gazing up at the sky, where clouds are slowly covering the baby blue with grey.

Time passes, and you’re getting a little bit antsy. You’ve checked your phone, and you have no messages from Shouta, and it’s already been half an hour since the two of you were supposed to meet up. It wasn’t like him to not mention if he couldn’t make it. He always gave you a heads up in case something else had popped up. You sent him a quick text asking if he was alright, and if his plans were still the same.

You got no response, and as you neared an hour of waiting you gave into the hunger in your stomach and ate the lunch you’d packed. You still saved the dessert though, the thought of eating any sweets poisoned by the sickening feeling that was settling within your stomach.

You were worried, and called Shouta just to check in on him, but were greeted with a dial tone message. “Hey, Sho.” You start off a little quiet and you clear your throat. “I just wanted to check in on you, I haven’t heard from you all day, love. Just… let me know if you’re alright please. Love you.” You quickly hang up so he doesn’t hear your heavy sigh.

What if he just didn’t want to deal with you anymore? You know it’s illogical and yet… its too coincidental a timing for your brain to let it go. Plus, he’d never skipped out on a meet up between the two of you without saying anything, and it was throwing your world off balance. You feel a wetness on your face, and you look up to see that clouds had completely covered the sky, and rain had started falling down from them.

You laughed a little at the sight. Truly, this date was not supposed to happen, even the weather was showing you that. You leave one of the little plates of sushi out on the rock, not being able to bear taking it home on your own. You gather the now soaked blanket and the basket still full of treats you’d spent hours making.

The cold rain patters down your back and you shiver as you begin your movements back in the direction of your home.

You figure you’ll hear from Shouta soon. He might have completely neglected you on that day, but it was the first time anything like this had ever happened between the two of you. Maybe he’d just had a bad day, made a mistake. Maybe he’d forgotten to charge his phone, which had happened before. A few times you had answered your phone expecting to hear the loud voice of Hizashi, but receiving the soothing voice of your boyfriend.

So you’re not very worried when the rest of the afternoon goes by and Shouta hasn’t made any contact with you. You text Hizashi to see if maybe Shouta had been with him, but no luck on that front. Hizashi had the week off from hero work, and hadn’t heard from Shouta today either.

As more time went along, the more worried you got. All your insecurities started to bubble up, and all the mistakes you’d made in your relationship – even the small ones like forgetting he was lactose intolerant – started building up in your head. You’d probably driven him away with your constant affection, or maybe it had been the overbearing way you tried to help him. Maybe you weren’t pretty enough or good enough in bed for him, or maybe he just grew tired of you.

By the time you usually went to bed, you were an anxious mess. There were so many possibilities, and your anxiety was telling you that none of them were good. Surely somewhere you’d fucked up.

Knowing you have work tomorrow, you pop one of your sleeping aids and try desperately to get some semblance of rest. You know it’s going to be a rough night, but hopefully you can get enough rest that tomorrow will be bearable to you.

Three days later, and Shouta still hadn’t reached out to you. You felt heartbroken that he hadn’t yet, and felt unfairly abandoned. Neither of his friends had heard from him either, and you doubt that they were covering up from him either, because you’d heard the worried undertones of their voice. It terrified you to think that the closest people in his life had no idea where he was or what he was doing.

Unbidden images of your boyfriend bloody and broken in torn down places were constantly popping up into your brain. At this point, you just wanted to know if he was alive, because you’d gone to his apartment and there had been no sign of anyone having been there for a few days at least.

You tried to keep your mind away from that dark place, and yet it would keep circling back, as if to say that the worst-case scenario was happening right at that very moment.

It was driving you mad with worry, and you called the agency that Shouta was working for at the moment just in case they could tell you. Most of the time, you wouldn’t be allowed to know anything confidential. Even though you were the emergency contact for Shouta, you were still a civilian, and that meant that you were often left in the dark about certain conditions and events that your lover was a part of.

“Hello, this is Sleep-stroke Agency, how may I direct your call.” The woman’s voice on the other side of the line was smooth and had a soft tone. It soothed your nerves enough to allow you to pull yourself together to find the words you needed.

“Hi, um- this is Ms. Y/L/N. I’m the emergency contact for Aizawa Shouta, Eraserhead. He works for this agency at the moment.” You take another slow breath and let it out. “I’m calling because its been a few days since me, or his close hero friends had heard from him, and I was wondering if something had happened to him…” you taper off and you wait for the reply.

You hear some quick typing in the background, a little mumbling that you can’t make out until she stops and clears her voice with a rather pointed cough. “Ah, I’m really sorry, but I cannot tell you, dear. That’s classified information.”

“Can you at least tell me if he’s alive?” you plead with her, desperate. You should’ve known right away that something really major must’ve happened, how could you have ever doubted your Shouta?

“The rules are clear, Ms. There was an unexpected circumstance that arose and needed Eraserhead’s presence. I cannot tell you any more detail than that.” Her voice drops the professional tone for a few seconds. “I know how hard this can be, hun. Please try to hold yourself together until you get some concrete news.”

“Yes, of course. Thank you for your time.” You hang up and feel the energy drain from your body as you slump onto the couch.

Guilt and worry and fear were all mixing into this toxic combination as you sat with all your thoughts, and you soaked in them, unable to gather the strength to pull yourself out. If something had happened to him, something serious, when you were worried about how good the desserts would taste, or if he were going to break up with you… Well, you wouldn’t be able to forgive yourself for a long time.

In a daze you blindly call one of your friends, blearily noticing it’s the middle of the afternoon and she should be able to take your call. You needed some words of comfort right now, no matter who they’re from. You barely hear the hello she greets you with before you start sobbing into the phone uncontrollably.

It’s been two weeks now, although you can’t tell from feeling it. It seems like no time has passed since you’d made that phone call to Shouta’s agency, your life had become a daze. Somehow you managed to go to work and make three meals a day for yourself, but you couldn’t really recall what you’d been doing. If someone were to ask you what you’d been doing, all you’d be able to reply with is nothing, because all you could do at home was blearily look at the walls, ceiling, window… Without any clear news, you were shrouded in this cloud of uncertainty, completely helpless on deciding what you should actually do in response to this nightmare.

It was approaching your third anniversary, and you weren’t even sure if he was alive to celebrate it. That thought sobered you up, and you shakily made yourself some tea, to warm your hands which felt frozen at in your terror. You need something to ground you, something that will make everything feel real again, so you begin your breathing techniques. You listen to asmr, something that would often calm you.

Eventually, with you working at it, you manage to calm yourself, despite the odds stacked against you. Needing a distraction, you turn on the TV as you curl up in a blanket near the fireplace on the side of your living room. Sleep had become your enemy during the few weeks, although you wanted nothing but the sweet embrace of numbness it would give you.

You couldn’t sleep yet again, so you’d migrated to the couch to read a little bit and look over some of the news. Apparently, rompers were making a comeback, though you weren’t too surprised about that.

It was all in the name of distraction anyways. The TV had gotten stale, and you felt yourself dripping into that scattered and anxious headspace, so you had to change it up, keep everything else at bay until you had an idea of what to do.

It’s one in the morning when you hear the weak knock at the door, and instantly, you’re on high alert, your nerves tingling. You quickly make your way up to it and use the peephole to catch a glimpse of whoever would be knocking on your door this late. You nearly burst into tears right then and there upon seeing your boyfriend’s face, bruised and scratched, but whole.

You fumble with the locks in your haste to open it up, the desire to hold him, to make sure he was really there making your movements feel alien. “Shouta!” you cry as you finally fling it open, and you can see his eyes soften as he looks down at you.

“Hi there, kitten. Can I come in?” his voice is hoarse and a little bit shaky, but his words are clear as a summer sky. You immediately throw your arms around him, squeezing him tight against you, and his head comes down onto your shoulder as he wraps his own around you as well.

“Of course,” you say thickly, through new tears that threaten to spill from your eyes. “There’s always room in here for you, Sho.” You lead him into your living area, making him lie down on the couch while you sit on the floor by his head. You run your fingers through his hair, gently combing out the larger knots as you lay your head down onto his chest. His heart is thumping in a steady rhythm, and you start to relax as you realize that, no, this isn’t a dream. This is real, your boyfriend is alive and ok, though a little bit worse for wear.

The two of you sit in silence for a little bit, his eyes closing and his breathing relaxing as he leans into the hand tangled in his hair. It brings a soft smile to your face, and you file away the memory to be able to look back on.

“Shouta, I’m going to get you some tea if you’d like it.” You say softly, almost afraid to disturb the little bit of peace the two of you have made on your couch at 1 in the morning. His eyes open lazily and he nods his assent, and you go to get his favourite blend you have sitting in the top shelf with your other types.

Once the kettles done its work, you bring two cups over to coffee table. Shouta has already sat up and accepts the tea with a small smile as you move to sit beside him. The two of you drink in silence for a little while, not afraid to disturb anything, but simply to preserve the moment before talks need to happen.

As the two of you finish, he clears his throat. “I’m sorry for missing our picnic, love.” He says, rather gruffly, as if to hide the thick emotion knotting his words. “I- well I wasn’t expecting to have to go to another city.”

“Why did you, they said it was some classified mission, even Hizashi and Nemuri had no idea. They were scared, and honestly… that was terrifying.” You tell him the truth, because that’s how the two of you are, valuing clarity in your relationship.

He fiddles a little with the scarf that’s always present around his shoulders. “The whole thing was a setup. I got on the train early that morning and was knocked unconscious.” He starts in a monotone voice, factually, as if he were still processing it himself. “I didn’t even know how much time had passed until I’d woken up in the hospital two days ago. I was unconscious for most of my stay there, and they didn’t give me access to anything or anyone until they were sure I was clear.”

“Oh my god…” Your eyes had widened as you looked at him with horror, it sounded so much worse than he was saying. You pulled him close to you. He was trembling just barely beneath your grasp, a sign of just how intense the past couple of weeks had been for him. You try your best to be a rock for him, comforting him and listening to him talk about what he could. He didn’t go into graphic detail, but just the bare bones had you fighting back anger and sadness. He shouldn’t have had to go through that.

You help him get ready for sleep, bringing him some extra clothes and taking out the spare toothbrush you had for him. He thanks you with a swift kiss to your forehead, and you giggle before going back to the other room to clean up the dishes. You made the decision there, that you wouldn’t bring up your insecurities to him until he was back into the groove of daily life, and had time to recover.

After cleaning yourself up, you drag Shouta to bed, and the two of you fall asleep wrapped in each others arms.

About a month had passed since that night where Shouta had come to your doorstep early in the morning and wrecked. Since then things had begun their return to normalcy, something which both relieved you and at the same time made you a little nervous. You weren’t sure how to ever broach the topic you wanted to with him.

Which was illogical, as he would say. You know he takes you seriously, and that he’d want to put your fears at rest. But, part of you feels so guilty for even thinking of doubting him, and you don’t want to hurt him like that. You trust him more than anyone, you just had a lack of faith in yourself that was hard to ignore sometimes.

The opportunity came when he suggested the two of you tried to do the picnic once again, much to your delight. He’d asked softly if you would make the same meal again, he said it had looked delicious and he wanted to try it. You could only smile and agree, knowing how much he hated cooking himself, but loved yours heartily.

You’d done much the same thing as last time, though now, with a little trepidation just due to the fact that last time you’d tried this, Shouta had gotten kidnapped. But there was nothing else to do other than to shake yourself out of it and move forwards. So that’s what you did.

You made your way to the same area, heart pattering as you found the spot empty. He wasn’t there yet, that much was clear, but that was normal, he wasn’t a tardy man, but he also didn’t see the use of going to things earlier than he had planned.

Ten, fifteen, thirty minutes go buy, and with each passing minute, you feel your heart grow heavier. Why did such shitty things happen to you on what were supposed to be events filled with happiness? There are still no clouds in the sky though, and you look up and stare into the never ending blue. Maybe it just wasn’t meant to be, and you’d just have to live with that.

You don’t remember closing your eyes, but you do remember the soft laugh of your boyfriend waking you up. You open your eyes blearily to the beautiful sight of your boyfriend smiling happily and it brings a sleepy smile to your face.

“Shouta! You came.” You exclaim happily. He looks a bit confused at that.

“Of course I did, Y/N, why wouldn’t I?” Curse your still half-asleep brain. You didn’t want to bring it up like this.

“It’s nothing,” you try to brush it off, knowing it likely won’t work.

“Obviously not. Tell me what’s wrong.”

“It’s really stupid looking back on it…”

“I don’t care about that kitten, just be honest with me.”

“It’s not a slight on you at all though, okay? Keep that in mind please, Shouta.”

He looks confused for a second. “Of course.”

You take a deep breath. “It’s just that, it was really hard to see you for a few weeks before you had your unplanned trip.” He nods his agreement. “I knew it wasn’t the case, but I got worried that maybe I wasn’t interesting enough, or I was holding you back from things. Then you didn’t show for our date and I panicked a bit, thought you might’ve found a way to just move on from me. I know you’re the most amazing thing that’s happened to me in my life, and I’m just terrified of losing that.” You can’t look in his eyes the shame pulling your gaze down.

“Hey,” he says softly, pulling your head up gently, until you’re forced to look into his eyes. “I’m not going to fault you for having insecurities. Everyone has them.”

“I know, Sho, but you’ve been nothing short of amazing to me, and here I am doubting you.”

“Well, I don’t blame you. Sometimes it’s easy to get lost in thoughts and start to spiral into overthinking. But here’s the truth. I am in love with you. You make my days better, and give me something to look forwards to on long days and nights.” You smile up at him, eyes a little misty.

“Good thing I feel the same way then, huh?” you giggle, trying to pull a laugh out of him. You get a small smirk instead, which satisfies you.

He leans into you and presses a soft kiss on your lips, light and fully of love. When you chase after him, he pulls away a bit laughing, so you tackle him to the ground and start to pepper his face with kisses.

The sun is shining, the birds are singing, and its there you realize just how much you love him as he stares up at you like you’re the sun in the sky.

#jays writes #aizawa x reader #hurt and comfort #sfw

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queenofspades20 · 4 years

Text

Leave Him for Me

So this is my first fic. This is part of @evnscvll 3k challenge. I really enjoyed writing this. I hope you enjoy! Feedback is always welcome. This is just over 6.9k words.

Pairings: Tattoo!Artist Bucky x Lawyer!Reader; Brock Rumlow x Reader

Summary: Bucky is Reader’s new neighbor. She’s a prosecutor dating Brock. She and Bucky become friends and Bucky wants more.

Warnings: some angst, some fluff, some curse words, cheating (not reader), Brock being the jerk that he is. Words in italics are inner thoughts of characters.

Y/N was awoken by the sound of something dropping on the floor of the apartment above her. “What…” she wondered. Her dog, a 65 pound mixed-breed named Harley, jumped up and ran out of the room. “You’re ok, Bubba. No need to freak,” she said, as she looked at her phone. *7:10 a.m.* “Seriously?” Y/N whined. “They couldn’t wait 5 damn minutes more???”

Y/N figured she might as well get up for work and turned off her alarm. After brushing her teeth and hair, putting on a little bit of makeup, and getting dressed, Y/N grabbed the dog leash hanging on a hook by the front door. “Come on, Little Bear. Time for your walk.” Harley made a big show of stretching before walking over to her and allowing her to put his harness and leash on. Grabbing her keys and bag dispenser, Y/N and Harley walked outside. As they passed by the patio, there was a crash from the unit above.

A masculine voice came from the open sliding glass door, “Come on, Sam. Don’t drop the couch! I kind of need it! Besides, it’s probably terrorizing my new neighbor downstairs.”

“Oh my God, you’re so dramatic. I’m sure your neighbor is fine,” responded another voice.

Y/N laughed to herself. She hesitated for half a second before yelling out, “Actually, as she’s awake and outside with her dog, feel free to get any crashes done now.” Y/N heard scrambling from inside the apartment and a man with chestnut brown hair and the most striking blue eyes Y/N had ever seen popped his head over the railing. “Sorry if we woke you,” the man said bashfully. “I’m Bucky. I guess I’m your new neighbor. And this knucklehead is Sam, my sometimes friend and my new boss.” He gestured to the man standing next to him. The man smiled and waved. “Hello there.”

Y/N smiled, gave a little nod, and waved back. “I’m Y/N. And this little fluffernutter is Harley. Nice to meet you both.”

Bucky smiled back. “Nice to meet you two as well. Harley is a beautiful dog, though he’s got nothing on his owner’s beauty.”

Y/N felt her face heat up at the compliment. Damn, that was smooth, she thought to herself. “Um, thanks.” Y/N caught a glance at her watch and the time. “With that, I do need to get him walked and get to work. It was nice to meet you. If you need anything, feel free to stop by.”

Bucky smiled and winked. “I’ll keep that in mind. See you around, Y/N.”

Y/N bit her bottom lip to keep herself from smiling too wide. I have a boyfriend. I have a boyfriend. I have a boyfriend. She thought to herself. “Bye, Bucky. Sam.” She nodded at the men and continued her walk with Harley, who had sat down during the exchange in boredom. “Okay, Bubba, I’m done talking. We can walk again.” Harley jumped up and happily walked to go sniff at all the trees in the area.

When Y/N got to work, she ran into her best friend. “So, I got a new neighbor finally.” Wanda perked up and started firing questions. “Is it a man? Is he hot? Is he single? We need to set you up.”

“Uh, ma’am, I have a boyfriend. What do you mean ‘set me up’?”

Wanda rolled her eyes. “You’ve been dating Brock for 3 months, you haven’t said ‘I love you’ to each other, and he’s garbage.”

“He’s a lawyer. He’s not garbage.”

“He not garbage because he’s a lawyer. Bitch, you’re a lawyer and you’re not garbage. Brock is garbage because he puts down like everything you like. He makes fun of your love of Disney, he barely acknowledges you in public, and he’s awkward with Harley. That alone should be a deal-breaker.”

“Yes, he’s awkward with Harley, but he isn’t mean with him. And to be fair, Harley is awkward with pretty much everyone, except me. And the acknowledging in public: we work together. He doesn’t want people to gossip. Hell, I don’t want people to gossip. And I mean, my love of Disney can be a bit childish.”

“Girl, it is not. You enjoy something that brings back good memories. He shouldn’t make you feel guilty for enjoying something that doesn’t harm anyone.”

Y/N hesitated. “I guess.”

“You’re doing it again.”

“What?” Y/N rolled her eyes.

“You’re ignoring red flags. You deserve someone who makes you feel confident in the relationship. Not someone who tears you down. You’re a successful prosecutor. You’ve argued in the state supreme court, multiple times. You own your home. You have an awesome dog. You don’t need a loser like Brock.”

Y/N sighed. “Whatever. I need to get to court. I’ll check ya later.”

Y/N walked to her assigned courtroom. As she doubled-checked her docket to verify which cases were up, a shadow fell on the table. “Hi, Y/N.”

Y/N looked up. “Hey, Brock. You have cases in here today?”

Brock smiled and leaned closer to her ear. “No,” he whispered. “I just wanted to see my girlfriend. But while I’m here, haven’t I told you that you shouldn’t wear such a bold lipstick? It makes you look a bit… cheap.”

Y/N felt the smile fall off her face and tensed up. “Well, Brock, I like red lipstick. I think it looks good.”

“I’m just trying to help. You don’t need to be so defensive.” Brock rolled his eyes.

“I’ll see you later, Brock. We still on for dinner?”

Brock looked at his phone. “Actually, I have some work I need to get done. Let’s do it another night.”

Y/N tried to hide her disappointment. This was the third time in the past two weeks that Brock had rescheduled dinner because of work. She knew what his workload was like because they were in similar divisions, but it seemed like work had come up a lot for him. “You promised that you’d make up for cancelling three nights ago. That’s what tonight was about.”

“You’re always hounding me, Y/N. We have an important job. I need to get work done. We’ll just do it another night. It’s not that serious. You’re so moody today. Is it your time of the month or something?”

Y/N closed her eyes for a moment. I am a prosecutor. I cannot punch someone in the face in the middle of court. Though if I got a jury of all females, I could convince them it was justified. No. No, I must not punch him, no matter how strong the urge. Fight the urge. Do not rise to his barb. Y/N thought to herself. “No, Brock. I’m not happy because we’re supposed to be in a relationship and you keep blowing me off. You expect me to just clear my schedule for you, but then you ditch me whenever you see fit. Not a fan of the double-standard,” she stated with tension clear in her voice. Y/N clenched her jaw but otherwise, no one would know how upset she was. Thank God this job has taught me to have a good poker face. I cannot be seen as emotional at work. Why does he always do this when there’s an audience? Why does he do this in court?

“Well, my job is important, Y/N. You know how this job is. You’ve had to stay late before.”

“Yes, but if I have pre-existing plans, I work around those plans. There’s a thing called ‘work-life balance,’ Brock. You should learn it. You’ll burn yourself out at this rate.”

Brock huffed and looked down his nose at Y/N. “I won’t burn myself out. You know I’m trying to get into homicide. Don’t worry your pretty little head about my work habits. I gotta get to my courtroom.” With that parting shot, Brock left the courtroom.

The conversation with Brock put a damper on the rest of her day. As she walked up to her front door, she heard her name being called out from the balcony above her apartment. “Hey Y/N! Good day at work?” Bucky smiled down.

Y/N plastered a fake smile on her face. “It was fine. Thanks, Bucky. I’m happy to be home and I’m sure Harley is more than ready for his walk.”

Bucky bit his lip. “Can I join you guys? I got this place pretty quick but didn’t really look around.”

What’s the harm? Y/N thought to herself. “Sure. Just let me get changed and let me grab Harley. I’ll give you the DL on the area.”

Y/N quickly went inside and put on a pair of shorts and a tank top. She looked around for her fluffy roommate. “Come on, Bubba. Let’s get our walk on.” Harley started wagging his tail. As she walked out the door with Harley, she almost crashed into Bucky, who had his hand raised to knock on the door. “I’m sorry, Bucky! Didn’t expect you to be standing right there.”

“My fault for standing so close to the door. Shall we, my lady?” Bucky gallantly bowed and stuck his hand out. “Lead the way.”

Y/N chuckled. “Well, actually Harley leads. He’s the one who has business to attend to.” Harley looked back at his name being spoken and then huffed. “Oh yes, sir. I’m so sorry. We’re not moving fast enough for ya,” Y/N said sarcastically, while rolling her yes. She looked at Bucky. “He can be a bit of a drama queen. God forbid we don’t move at his pace.”

Bucky laughed. Y/N found herself staring at the way his eyes lit up. She quickly looked at Harley to make sure he wasn’t getting into anything or doing something that needed to be picked up. “So, what brought you here, Bucky? I hear a bit of a New York accent.”

Bucky looked a little surprised. “Good ear. I’m from Brooklyn. I’m a tattoo artist and I got a job down here with Sam. I was looking for a change after my best friend, Steve, decided to move to England to be with his girl.”

“Tattoos? That’s so cool! I’ve always wanted one, but can’t decide on what I want. Besides, I don’t think my boyfriend would approve.” Y/N said, speaking animatedly at the thought of getting a tattoo, but immediately deflating, knowing her boyfriend would make her feel horrible if she got one.

Bucky noticed how quickly Y/N went from excited to sad. Boyfriend sounds like a douche. If she were my girl, I’d encourage her to do what makes her happy. “Well, it’s your body. If you want one, you should totally get one. I bet you would look like a badass,” Bucky said gently, trying to lift Y/N’s spirits up.

Y/N half-smiled. “I know it’s my body. But sometimes it’s easier to not do something to avoid the headache of complaints. Like tonight, for example. He and I were supposed to have a date night. He had cancelled a few days ago because of work, but then gave me the same excuse for tonight. If I pushed it, I might have gotten him to come over, but then he would be complaining about work the whole time and how he needed to get stuff done. I don’t know.” Y/N sighed. “There’s not exactly a long line of guys wanting to date a 30-something year old lawyer. But let’s talk more about you. I’m pretty boring.”

“You’re a lawyer? What kind? I was wrong. A tattoo would make you more badass than you already are.” Bucky stared at her. How could she not see how great she actually is?

Y/N rolled her eyes with a smile. “I’m a prosecutor. Been at it for a few years. It has its days, but it’s not as interesting as you’d probably expect. The cases themselves can be interesting, but it’s a lot of arguing the same type of law over and over. Right now I handle defendants who appear in career criminal court, so guys with a lot of priors, usually violent.”

“That still sounds really cool. I could listen to you talk all day.”

“Well, you’d be the only one. Harley doesn’t even want to listen to me most of the time.” Y/N said with a laugh. Harley looked back at the two people who held his leash. He moved back and booped his nose against Bucky’s leg, looking for attention.

Bucky smiled, happy he made her laugh, and absentmindedly reached down to pet Harley’s head. “I mean it. You’re really nice. I mean, you could have yelled at me this morning for being so loud so early. You’re clearly smart, since you’re a lawyer. If you get tired of the boyfriend, I’ll gladly step up.” Bucky said quickly and looked away. He missed Y/N’s eyes widen is surprise, but heard her sharp intake of breath.

“That’s sweet of you to say to cheer me up, Bucky. As for this morning, well, missing out on 5 minutes’ worth of sleep isn’t a big deal. And it’s not like you meant to wake me up. I’m not going to be a jerk for something that’s an accident anyways.” Y/N looked at the time. “We should probably head back. I gotta feed Harley and I guess cook dinner.”

“I meant what I said, Y/N. I know we just met this morning, but you seem like someone I want in my life.”

Y/N smiled sadly. He’s just being nice. “Well, we are neighbors, so we’re in each other’s lives no matter what. I’m sorry for unloading on you. You don’t need that.”

“I’m here whenever you need me. That’s what neighbors are for, right?”

“If they’re good neighbors, sure. Thanks for walking with us, Bucky. You’re welcome to join us any time. He seems to like you. Also, just FYI, when I’m at work, Harley occasionally will howl, because he’s unhappy with me not being home at his beck and call. So, I’m sorry in advance if he disturbs you.”

“Like he could ever disturb me. He’s a good boy and dogs bark. I figured living in a dog-friendly complex that I would occasionally hear dogs.”

“That’s good. Some people don’t grasp that concept. And Harley really just howls when I’m not there. If I’m home, he’s quiet. I don’t think I’ve ever actually heard him bark at anything either. He’s not exactly a normal dog; definitely not a real guard dog.” Y/N started laughing. “He is scared of everything, except thunder and fireworks. The A/C turning on freaks him out, but thunder? He’s fine and will want to go for walks while there’s lightning and thunder. No sense of self-preservation.”

Bucky bent over, laughing heartily. “That’s…that’s crazy,” he wheezed out. Y/N joined in on laughing, recognizing her dog is definitely weird. After a few minutes, the laughter died down. Y/N wiped the tears from her eyes. “I needed a good laugh. Thank you for pointing out the ridiculousness that is my dog.”

“Any time, Doll.” Bucky said, still smiling.

At “doll,” Y/N felt a flutter in her stomach. I never feel that when Brock calls me babe. Maybe Wanda is right and I’m ignoring the red flags. But, then again, Bucky probably calls every girl “doll.” It probably doesn’t mean anything. “Hey, Doll. Since your plans got cancelled for the evening, would you be interested in hanging out with me? I’m not completely unpacked but I can order us a pizza or something.”

Y/N thought for a few moments before answer. “I appreciate the offer, Bucky, but I think I’m gonna spend the night in alone. How about we hang out another night? Maybe later this week?”

“Sounds like a plan. Enjoy the rest of your evening then.”

“Good night, Bucky.”

As Y/N walked into her apartment, she got lost in thought. She turned to look at her dog. “Harley, I think I’m in trouble. There’s no way someone as sweet and handsome as Bucky would really be interested in me. He probably just pitied me when I opened my stupid mouth.” Y/N sighed sadly. “At least we seem to have made a new friend. Always got plenty of room in my life for good friends.”

Before she knew it, a few months had passed and Y/N and Bucky began to spend a good amount of time together. Brock cancelled more dates, claiming work. It got to the point where he cancelled more than he actually made the dates. Y/N started visiting Bucky at the tattoo shop when that happened. Bucky got more and more frustrated every time it happened. After what seemed to be the tenth time it happened, Bucky had had enough.

“Doll, why do you put up with him? You deserve someone who will treat you as the goddess you are. I would never cancel on you. If you left him, I’d make sure you know just how much you are treasured, always.” Bucky ran his hands through his hair.

“Bucky…” Y/N started. “Brock takes his job seriously. We have large caseloads. There are times when we have to work nights and weekends.”

“That has never stopped you from making plans and keeping them. What about our weekly movie nights? You have never cancelled on me. And I know there were days you were in trial. You still showed up and didn’t make me feel as if you wanted to be anywhere else. You are someone who loves with their whole heart. Brock just takes and takes from you and what does he ever give back? He treats you like you’re at his beck and call and your life doesn’t matter. Hell, you keep talking about how you want to get a tattoo, yet he says things to hold you back. Stop letting him. Leave him. Leave him for me. I could make you so happy.” Bucky looked at Y/N with almost desperation in his eyes.

Y/N’s brow furrowed and her breathing started to get a little faster. She could feel the tears rising. She wanted Bucky, but her fear held her back. Bucky had wormed his way into her heart. Y/N wanted nothing more than to go into Bucky’s arms. But she could only hear Brock’s voice in her head. You’re too clingy. You suffocate people. You’re just not the relationship-type. You’re lucky I even want you. I’m the only one who would ever put up with you like that. Y/N looked at Bucky, who looked at her like she was the moon and the stars in the sky, and knew what she had to do. She nodded to herself, trying to steel her resolve.

“I’m sorry, Bucky. I think I need some time to think. I think it’s best if we take some time away from each other,” Y/N quietly said. It took everything in her to hold it together. She couldn’t even look at Bucky, for fear that she would completely break down. She felt a crushing pressure on her chest. “I’m so sorry.”

“Doll . . . “

Y/N stood up quickly and rushed out of the shop.

Sam, who had seen Y/N rush out, looked at Bucky. “What happened?”

“I pushed her too hard. I just . . . I just want to be with her. She’s amazing. She’s smart, kind, beautiful. Two weeks ago, I was having a bad day. She showed up on my doorstep with Harley and a plum tart she made from scratch. She knew from our texts that I was having a bad day, so she made me my favorite dessert and we watched movies. When you talk to her about her work, she’s the most confident person you could meet. She works so hard to get respect. But when it comes to her personal life? It’s like she’s a completely different person. It’s almost like she doesn’t think she’s worth being loved. I don’t get it.” Bucky felt completely empty. Thinking that she needed time away from him hurt. “What do I do? She’s my neighbor. How can I see her and not be with her?”

Sam looked thoughtful for a few moments. “Bucky, I think that girl is head over heels for you. But I think she’s confused because she has an asshole of a boyfriend and she doesn’t know how to stand up for herself in a relationship. I think you need to give her space and let her come back to you.”

“But do you think she will?” Bucky felt hopeless. He knew he was pushing her, but he just wanted to see her happy.

“I guess you’ll find out.” Sam clapped Bucky on his shoulder. “In the meantime, I say this as your boss, get back to work. You have a client here.”

Bucky rolled his eyes at Sam. “Fine.”

The next morning, Y/N rolled into work and found Wanda. “Hey ma’am,” Y/N said, sounding despondent.

“What happened? Did you finally dump Brock?”

“You ask that every morning and what is the answer every time?”

“No. But I know the day the answer is different is coming soon. I can feel it,” Wanda said with a smile.

Y/N sighed. “I told Bucky I needed time away from him.”

“Why would you do something so stupid?” Wanda yelled.

“He asked me to dump Brock and be with him. Wanda, I don’t know what to do. Brock isn’t who I want. I’m not even sure why I haven’t walked away. I can see it isn’t working. Hell, I barely see him these days.”

“Well, how about I make it easy for you? Brock is over there, talking to Tony from homicide. GO DUMP HIS SELFISH ASS!” Wanda pushed Y/N towards him. Y/N knew Wanda was right. She knew Bucky was right. She didn’t want to be with Brock. They hadn’t even had sex in weeks, Brock always claiming he was too tired or Y/N not feeling right. Y/N thought of Brock touching her and it made her feel as if spiders were crawling under her skin. She knew it was time to end things.

“Brock, can we talk?” Y/N asked, as she walked up to Brock.

“Y/N, I have to get to court. Can this wait?” Brock sounded irritated.

“No. This needs to be done now, while we don’t have an audience.” Y/N felt her strong in her decision. “Brock, this isn’t working. We need to end this.”

Brock sneered down at her. “What are you talking about? What us? Did you think we were anything? You were there to just warm my bed and you couldn’t even do that right. I’ve been sleeping with my ex pretty much since you and I started dating, if you want to call it that.”

Y/N felt confusion. “You. . . We . . . we’ve been in a relationship for six months. Sure it hasn’t been great as of late, but there’s no reason to act like we weren’t anything.”

Brock, looking around, grabbed Y/N’s upper arm tightly and dragged her into the nearest office. “Listen, you delusional bitch, we’re nothing. I was just using you. It looked good to the guys in homicide that I had a solid relationship. Tony just offered me the spot. I no longer have use for you. You were a means to an end, nothing more. Why you would think you actually meant anything to me or to anyone is beyond me. You were so desperate for attention that you actually believed that I would like you. You’re pathetic.”

Y/N felt the blood drain from her face and rush into her ears. Still can’t punch him. Still not allowed to punch him. DO NOT PUNCH HIM. Y/N looked at Brock for a few moments, nodded, and turned and walked away. She headed straight to her office, knowing she needed to get there before she broke down completely. Wanda rushed after her and closed the door to give them privacy. “What the hell did he say to you?” Wanda demanded. She had never seen Y/N look so lost.

“He used me to get into homicide. He never cared. I never mattered to him.” Y/N felt weak. “I should have seen this coming. I should have known better.”

Wanda’s mouth hung open. “I’m gonna kill him.” Wanda started to move towards the door. Y/N lunged at her friend and grabbed her hand.

“No, Wanda! He’s not worth it. I appreciate your fury on my behalf, but he’s not worth it. I told him I was ending things. What matters is it’s done.” Y/N looked imploringly at her friend. “I just can’t believe I stayed for so long.”

Wanda sighed. “Fine, but I’m gonna destroy his career.”

Y/N’s head cocked to the side. “What are you going to do?”

“Brock’s dumb ass forgets that I am very well connected in this office. He messed with my friend, I’ll make sure he won’t get the promotion he wants. Besides, we all know he isn’t the best attorney for the job. There are way better people for that spot, including you.” Wanda smiled devilishly.

“Wanda, he’ll mess up eventually. Men like him always do. This office is in a state of change anways. We’re getting a new big boss after the new year. Brock will get his. And because this office gossips worse than a bunch of middle school kids, I’m sure it’ll get out how he treated me and we all know people won’t take kindly to that. And I’m not going to deny that I would be good in homicide. Because I know you’ll try to kick my butt if I do.”

“Damn straight,” Wanda muttered.

Wanda looked at her friend thoughtfully. “So. . . can I give people enough of a gist that Brock will be ostracized? People like you a lot more than you think.”

Y/N stared at her friend. “I mean, he cheated on me pretty much the whole time we were together with his ex and used me to get himself into homicide. I don’t exactly want people know how pathetic I am. I can’t believe I dated him in the first place.”

When Y/N put it that way, Wanda could see why her friend didn’t want her to say anything. “Fine. I won’t spread the information around, but if I’m asked, can I tell the truth?”

“Well, yeah. There’s no reason to lie. I just don’t want that information volunteered. I wasn’t in love with Brock, never claimed to be, but damn it still hurts what he did. It’s like I meant less than nothing.”

Wanda nodded her agreement. “Well, now that you’ve dumped the loser, how about we get you set up with your hot neighbor that you spend all your time with?”

Y/N felt herself tear up and started wringing her hands. “Wanda, I screwed it up with him. He told me last night that he wanted me to leave Brock and choose him. I told him I needed time away from him and ran out of there. I just . . . Bucky has become a huge part of my life. He’s smart and handsome and caring and funny and, even though he’s a total asshole, what if Brock was right? What if I’m not the relationship-type? I mean, there must be a reason I’m almost in my mid-30s and have had only one relationship and look at how much of a disaster that was. I don’t think I could handle Bucky seeing me as too clingy. I couldn’t handle it if our relationship weren’t to work out.” Y/N felt lighter stating her fears, but still felt a gaping hole in her chest. The thought of life without Bucky seemed as if the world would never have color in it again.

Wanda looked at the lost look on her friend’s face and felt a few tears fall down her face. “Sweetie, you are worth everything. Bucky knows that and he would never see you any other way. I’ve seen you and him together. Every time you’re not looking at him, he’s looking at you. You should give a relationship with him a chance.”

“I think I need a few days at least to process everything. I feel like I’m going to explode out of my skin from everything that’s happened in the past 24 hours. I know I can’t wait too long to make a decision, but I also don’t want Bucky to think he’s a rebound. I don’t want to think he’s a rebound.”

“Y/N, he’s not a rebound. He’s not someone you moved on to because he showed you attention. He makes you laugh, he listens to you, he supports you. I think you need to move before it’s too late.” With that, Wanda stepped out of the office to give her friend the space to think about her words. Y/N luckily did not have to be anywhere that morning (a rarity to not have court), so she decided to keep her office door closed and focus on getting work done.

When she got home that evening, she saw the lights on in Bucky’s apartment. Every atom in her body was calling out to go to Bucky but she knew she needed to sort out her feelings.

Bucky saw Y/N walking to her door. Her face was void of makeup, her hair was in a loose bun, and Bucky thought she never looked more beautiful. He wanted nothing more than to go downstairs to talk to her, but he kept Sam’s words in his head. He decided to wait for her to come to him, so Bucky put on a movie and settled in for the night.

After a few weeks, Y/N started to feel more like herself. It didn’t take long for Tony to find out how Brock used her. Brock knew that Tony was her mentor in the office, but he underestimated their friendship. Tony stormed into her office and demanded to know the truth. Though she kept most of the information to herself, Tony was able to understand enough of what Brock did. While Tony couldn’t fire Brock like he wanted, he was able to deny Brock the promotion. Brock, in retaliation, tried to trash Y/N to anyone who would listen, but Y/N’s reputation preceded her and no one believed him. After a month, Brock quit and moved to another city.

Over the course of the month after things ended with Brock, Y/N would see Bucky around the complex but they kept distance from each other. Y/N appreciated Bucky giving her the space she needed, but she knew she had to make a big gesture to show Bucky she wanted him.

Y/N contacted the shop where Bucky worked and spoke with Sam. “Sam, I don’t know if Bucky told you about what happened,” Y/N started.

“He told me that he told you about his feelings and you asked for some time. I don’t blame you. He mentioned you have a boyfriend,” Sam stated. Y/N could tell he wasn’t judging her for her actions, but he sounded cautious.

“Had a boyfriend. I ended things the next day. Then found out some things about him and I needed time to get past it. I didn’t think it would be fair for Bucky for me to deal with that while trying to figure out exactly what I feel for Bucky.”

“Have you figured it out? He’s been a mopey mess without you.”

“Well, if it makes any difference, I’ve been miserable without Bucky. I didn’t realize how much time I actually spent with him.”

“You two were disgusting. Please tell me you’re going to put him out of his misery.”

Y/N chuckled. “Well, that’s actually what I want to talk to you about. I want to make an appointment with Bucky for my first tattoo, but I want it to be a surprise. Do you think we can make it happen?” Y/N asked hopefully. She waited with bated breath for Sam’s response.

“I think we can make it happen. What do you want to get? You realize that usually there’s a consult and then the actual appointment?”

Y/N felt excited. “I know that’s how it usually happens. I would love to get [your ideal first tattoo] on my left shoulder. Honestly, I know Bucky is a great artist and I trust him. He can design it however he wants. I mean, what’s the point of going to an artist if I’m going not let him be creative?”

Sam pulled the phone away from his ear and smirked at it. “I don’t know that I’ve ever heard someone say it that way before. I think it’ll make things easier to set up a surprise for him. I’ll use a different name for the appointment, so Bucky isn’t tipped off. I’ll email you the pricing. What day do you want to come in?”

“As soon as you can arrange it. I really want to put myself out of misery as well,” Y/N said with a laugh. “If during the week, any time after 7. Any time during the weekend.”

“Well, the soonest I can get you in is 3 days from now, on Thursday. Will you be able to wait that long?”

“Yeah. That’ll work.” Y/N felt an excitement she hadn’t felt in months.

Thursday came around and Y/N hadn’t seen Bucky in those days. She felt almost sick to her stomach with nerves. She felt her heart pounding in her chest. Will he reject me? Am I doing something stupid? What if I took too long? What if he no longer wants me? As Y/N walked up to the shop, she felt a tremble in her hands. Here goes nothing.

As she stepped into the shop, she saw Sam at the counter. “Hey, girl. You ready?”

“As I’ll ever be.”

“Hey, Buck. Your 7pm is here.” Sam was careful to not use your name. He pulled out his phone, pretending to be checking something. He wanted to record Bucky’s reaction to seeing her there for a tattoo. He was hoping for a reaction he could use for ammo against Bucky later.

As Bucky came around the corner, he saw Y/N standing there. He could feel how nervous she was. Y/N was biting her lip and had a small smile. “Surprise,” Y/N said with a small shrug. “I thought you should be the one to give me my first tattoo.”

Bucky strode right up to Y/N and hugged her tight. “I’m so sorry I pushed you, Doll,” he said into her hair. “I’ve missed you so much.” He could feel the tension leave her body as her arms wrapped around his waist and felt his shirt get a little wet.

“I wasn’t sure if you would want to see me after how I left last time.”

“You’re my best girl. I always want to see you.” Bucky smiled down at her. He felt happy for the first time in weeks. “Now, since you’re here for your appointment. Let’s get started.”

“I can’t wait to see what you came up with.”

“I can’t believe you’re giving me so much freedom.”

“Well, Bucky, I trust you. You would never let me down.” Y/N hoped Bucky understood she was talking about more than just the tattoo.

Bucky led Y/N back to the room and got the stencil out. “What do you think?”

“Oh my God, Bucky. It’s perfect! It’s better than anything I could imagine.” Y/N was gushing. It was truly the perfect first tattoo.

“Let’s get this placed and make sure it’s where you want it.” Bucky adjusted the tank top Y/N was wearing to make sure there was plenty of room and that none of the ink would get on her shirt. After placing the stencil and getting approval from Y/N, Bucky had her sit down on the chair. He got the ink set up and inserted the needle into the machine.

“You ready, Doll?” Bucky asked, as he moved behind Y/N.

“Bring it on, Baby.” Y/N smiled over her shoulder at Bucky.

Bucky turned on the machine and the buzzing sound filled the room. Y/N felt Bucky’s hand just to the right of where the tattoo was going to be. The first touch of the needle to her skin stung. It felt like a long scratch, nowhere near as painful as she expected. “You okay, Doll?”

“Yeah. Thanks, Bucky.”

After a few minutes of silence, Bucky decided to speak up while focusing on the line work. “So, if you’re getting a tattoo, that means one of two things happened. Either you decided to get the tattoo no matter what Brock says or Brock is no longer in the picture.”

“I broke up with him the day after I last saw you. It hadn’t been working for a long time, if it ever worked at all. According to him, I was just a means to an end.”

Bucky paused for a moment before continuing on with the tattoo. “What do you mean a means to an end?” Y/N could hear the tension in Bucky’s voice.

“He was using me to get into the homicide unit. Apparently, they wanted someone who had a more stable home life and since I’m good with most of the people in there, he set his sights on me. This, of course, all came out after I told him I was done. He quit the office not long after. Because lawyers gossip more than a bunch of middle school kids, it got out and people didn’t take kindly to him doing that to me. He didn’t get the promotion.”

Bucky felt relieved to hear that he was no longer in the picture, but felt sad that Y/N didn’t come to him sooner. “I’m sorry you went through that, Doll. Why didn’t you talk to me when it happened?”

“I needed to sort myself out. I really like you, Bucky. I knew Brock wasn’t the guy for me. But I also didn’t think a guy like you would really want to be with someone like me.”

As Bucky switched out the needle for shading, he felt at a loss for words. “What are you talking about, Doll?”

“Bucky, I’ve never been good with relationships. Hell, Brock was technically my first boyfriend. He’s not the first to tell me that I’m not relationship material. I figured there was something wrong with me. I mean, when multiple people tell you you’re not worth it, it’s kind of hard to ignore.”

Bucky couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “Y/N, Doll, in no way are you not relationship material. You’re kind and smart and so beautiful I forgot to breathe the first time I saw you. Those guys were complete idiots.”

Y/N started to tear up. “So, you would still be interested in giving us a try?”

Bucky turned off the machine and moved in front of her. He looked deep into her eyes. “Nothing would make me happier. You’re my best girl.”

Y/N gave him a watery smile. She leaned forward and kissed his cheek. She could feel the stubble against her lips. The smell of his cologne enveloped her like a warm hug. Bucky looked like he had won the lottery. “So, how’s the tattoo looking, Bucky Bear?”

Bucky chuckled as he moved back behind her. “Got a bit more to do. You doing okay? Do you need a break?”

“Nah. You gotta finish up so we can plan our first date.”

Bucky felt his face heat up. “Way to motivate me, Doll.”

Y/N chuckled. “Well, I gotta come up with something. Unless you’d like for me to come up with something else?”

“I don’t think my heart could handle it, Doll. You are trouble.”

Y/N had to bite her lip to prevent herself from laughing. “Only for you, Bucky Bear.”

Bucky smiled and resumed tattooing. After a little while, he set the machine down. “Ok, Doll. Let’s clean this up and you can check out your new tattoo.” He wiped down the skin gently. He helped Y/N stand up and move in front of the mirror. “What do you think?”

Y/N stared at it for a few minutes, her face not giving anything away. Bucky began to feel nervous when she didn’t say anything. “Doll?”

Y/N looked back at Bucky. She slid her arms around his neck and pulled him close. She whispered into his ear, “it’s a good thing I love it or our date would be pretty awkward.” She placed a kiss just below his earlobe.

Bucky felt a tremor go down his spine and chuckled. “Little shit. You scared me for a moment.”

Y/N had a cheeky smile. “Well, gotta keep you on your toes. Would hate for you to get bored of me.”

“There is no chance of that ever happening, Doll.” Bucky lifted her chin towards him. He leaned down and brushed his lips against hers. As he started to pull away, Y/N followed and crashed her lips against his. She slid her hand to the nape of his neck to hold him to her. Bucky moved his hands to her hips and squeezed. The move caused Y/N to gasp, which allowed Bucky to slide his tongue into her mouth. Y/N felt as if the world went away and all that was left was her and Bucky. They continued to kiss until the need to breathe caused them to part.

As they looked into each other’s eyes, Y/N felt the butterflies in her stomach she had felt the first time she met Bucky. “So, how about that date?”

#bucky x y/n #bucky barnes x reader #brock rumlow x reader #tattoo!artist bucky #lawyer!reader #bucky x reader

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katherinewilliams221b · 3 years

Text

For A Greater Good 13/18

not my gif. just the text- Threats

Summary: Kate Williams, young healer and member of the Order, joins Durmstrang’s staff at Dumbledore’s request. Her mission? Find a Death Eater and survive long enough to tell the story. Set in 1996.

Pairing: Charlie Weasley x ofc/mc

Masterlist

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [Part 4] [Part 5]

[Part 6] [Part 7] [Part 8] [Part 9] [Part 10]

[Part 11] [Part 12]

Warnings: mentions of drug abuse

The first storm of May left the school in a darkness Kate never saw before. The temperature had abruptly dropped; the exams were getting closer and the Quidditch game that week had been cancelled as a result of an avalanche that had reached the castle grounds.

Ranunculus glacialis; Draba lactea; Dryas octopetala; Cicerbita alpina... she was reading the different plants stuck together with Spello-tape and correctly classified that she had hung on the walls of the classroom. The herbarium project had been successful even among the most reluctant students; so much they begged to go to the lake and expand their works of art with aquatic plants.

With a proud smile, Kate looked out the window of the herbology class, following the comings and goings of the students who passed by and lamented their lost quidditch match.

In the distance, Mer Yankelevich was coming from the lake, wearing a large hood to protect herself from the rain.

Her gaze turned to the column. Astrid Rhode and Libor Marek were talking beside it. The teacher must have felt eyes resting on him, for he scanned his surroundings. Realising that it was Kate who was watching him, he turned his attention back to Rhode, who glanced at her as well. “In my experience,” the curse-breaker from Iceland than Rhode had hired had said, “someone has tried to break a curse that does not exist.”

In another time and in another school, all eyes would have been on Kate. Now, free of that burden, she turned to see if her students had finished copying on their scrolls the Herbivicus charm used to make plants grow at high speed.

“I know that the attempt to make the umbrella flowers germinate has not turned out as we expected. They are very obstinate flowers, but we must be even more stubborn. This Friday, we will change the fertiliser we have been using for a more refined one”.

Thunder rumbled on the castle walls and some children began to get restless.

“Perhaps they don’t like this weather,” she joked before climbing onto the platform where her desk was placed. “When we get the optimal conditions for their germination, we’ll practice the spell until they come into bloom. However, and this is very important, we must not let the flowers open yet. We want to prevent them from pollinating naturally before we select them.”

Micael Angelov raised his hand. “What about the fanged geraniums?”

“I’ve been doing several tests and they germinate properly. They are easy to control and that is why we will be working on them after getting at least ten healthy umbrella flowers...”

The classroom door blasted open, revealing a hooded figure. All the sheets and scrolls in the class were scattered with the gust of wind that came in with the stranger. Thinking that it was Mer Yankelevich, she went to the door to ask for explanations, but Corentin’s face stopped her. Surprised, Kate aired her wand to close the door and stop the cold coming in.

The librarian lowered his hood and immediately apologised to the students, who began to whisper.

“I must talk to you,” he murmured.

“Can it wait until the end of the class?”

Corentin nodded and headed for the end of the classroom where he stood on a corner without looking away from the window. He kept looking outside until the bells indicated the end of the lesson.

“Let me know if you want to go to the greenhouse before Friday and I’ll open the door for you. Jon, you must give me the list of your inventory, ah! Wait! I have your works on the mandrakes corrected, on Wednesday we will comment on it... Be careful outside!”

When the class was free of students, Kate approached Corentin, who was looking at her with a sly smile.

“You are getting more comfortable here.”

“What’s going on?”

“Last night someone went through my desk. Don’t worry, they were unsuccessful. I have the plans well in hand, but that shows that someone has the same goal as us.”

“And also that they have been spying on us.” She waited a moment and added, “This is not a good sign, Corentin.”

“I advise we continue with our... project.” With one hand, he gestured to the windows, and the curtains closed, leaving them in almost total darkness, except for the candlesticks on the ceiling.

He shook his sleeve, and from a black smoke the different scrolls that made up Nerida Vulchanova’s maps appeared.

Kate had some candles levitated, providing light and some warmth around them. From her desk, she took out seven books on magic walls, curses, portals and doors, and as every day since the discovery of Nerida’s painting, they began their study session.

After a couple of hours, Kate dropped her head on the desk with a thud.

“I have superposed all the rooms, corners and nooks of these plans, and they are all dead ends.”

“And there is nothing in these books that works... There are spells, incantations, words and words that say wonderful things and nothing at the same time. It’s like reading a blank page...”

“Did you wake up poetic today?”

“What do you think is inside?” Her voice sounded a little nasal, as she had her entire face smashed against a book, “One of the Deathly Hallows?”

“I doubt it, it’s not known if Grindelwald got any in his time at school and I don’t think, in case he had the elder wand, he came here to hide it.”

She raised her head and scanned the desk “Let me see the room behind the portrait again.”

Corentin gave her the plans, forming the rectangle that represented the secret room.

“If you look closely, there is no passageway connecting the trophy room to this place, and I have been trying to match it to one of these, but nothing convinces me.”

“We lack information.”

“That’s obvious. But there are no other documents than the ones we have here. There is a possibility that Vulchanova destroyed them.”

“No...” she trailed off. She checked several sheets and held one that was blank. Only a triangle adorned one corner. “My grandmother was a Muggle...”

Corentin raised an eyebrow. “I don’t want you to take this as a lack of interest, but what does it have to do with this?”

“When I was a child, I was not allowed to see my grandparents. One of the conditions for allowing my parents to marry was to cut off contact with that branch of the family, and in return, the Williams offered my grandmother protection from anti-Muggle politics.”

“I’m sure this is going somewhere...”

“Of course my mother didn’t cut off contact. I was very young, but I remember the distinctive smell of...” she sniffed the parchment and a hint of a smirk appeared on her face, “lemonade.”

“I really try to follow you.”

“My mother wrote letters that, in the eyes of wizards, were empty. Muggles have a technique for making invisible ink.”

She extended her arm to one candle and held the paper so close to the flame that Corentin leaned over in his seat for fear that she would burn it.

As Kate moved the parchment, several lines appeared in a copper colour, which Kate recognised perfectly.

“Fascinating.”

Kate chuckled and left the parchment on the table. “I don’t think Vulchanova intended you to live in a controlling regime in order to decipher her map. Just that you knew a little about alchemy.” She pointed to the triangle in the lower corner. Corentin’s eyes shone with excitement.

He grabbed the missing piece of the map and spent long minutes trying to fit the lines over the fragment they already had. Meanwhile, Kate was trying out different pieces of parchment and new lines appeared on the existing maps as she drew them closer to the fire.

“Look,” said Corentin, “it can be accessed in several ways.” From where Nerida’s painting was, two paths branched out showing two tunnels leading to the room.

Kate gasped. By turning one of the sheets of paper, she made the newly discovered lines coincide with others drawn in ink.

Corentin imitated the procedure of heating the scrolls and, as if in a perfectly synchronised dance, they fitted each parchment with the previous one, forming a map of the ground floor that occupied the whole desk.

When Kate placed the last paper, a golden light emanated from one corner. The light moved through the junction between the papers, forking and coming together until it disappeared. Corentin raised a corner, noting with fascination and surprise that they now had a single plan of the castle.

“Wait! It’s disappearing!”

Corentin brought the map closer to the candles and the rooms and passages reappeared, making both of them sigh in relief. “With the Muggle trick that doesn’t happen.”

“Maybe she thought she had to give it a magic twist.”

After tidying up the room, Corentin left Kate thinking about their more-than-suspicious meetings.. They had to be more careful from that moment on; if someone was watching them, they could get into trouble.

The storm had subsided, and instead of the sky it was Kate’s stomach that was roaring.

Corentin had taken her students’ books back to the library, so she exhaled happily that she could go directly to the dining hall. As she opened the curtains, she came face to face with Libor Marek, sitting on the outside stone wall.

“Good afternoon,” she greeted as she closed the door behind her.

“I thought you’d never get out.”

“Have you... been waiting for me?”

“No. There are rumours that Karkarov has returned to the grounds... I’m here on Rhode’s orders. When the students are eating, the guards reinforce the doors and this area is left empty...”

“I don’t see you too worried.”

Marek huffed and began a thorough inspection of his wand. “I will not hunt down the man who gave me a job.”

“Igor Karkarov...?”

“Yes.” He did not look up. Kate waited for him to say something else, but concluded that she would have to force him.

“Who else did he hire?”

“And how would I know that? I was the last to arrive. Well, Hodges came later, but that was Rhode’s doing.” He shook his head and put his wand up his sleeve before looking around. “I’m going to eat.”

“Didn’t she tell you to stand guard?”

Marek walked up to her and in a raspy voice said, “I would stop whatever it is that you’re doing .”

The difference in height gave Kate some security, but she chose not to adjust her stance to one of defiance; the last thing she wanted was to duel that man again. “Watch your back.”

Marek squinted and left her standing in the cold, wondering if he was referring to himself or someone else.

The rest of the week proved uneventful. After the discovery of Nerida’s complete map, Kate avoided the library as part of an unspoken agreement with Corentin. The librarian, for his part, did not contact her until Thursday afternoon when they enjoyed each other’s company with some tea and biscuits.

Only one sentence was exchanged about their research and that was Corentin commenting nothing out of the ordinary had happened and that only Sheyi Mawut approached the library to borrow a book on batting techniques.

Friday’s class in the greenhouse was fruitful; Kate’s students managed to germinate seven umbrella flowers with the new fertiliser, eight according to the children, who took the flower grew in such a way that it shot up into the air, opening a gap in the greenhouse roof, as a success.

Kate proposed a prize for whoever found the flower when it fell.

The path to her room after the class was full of obstacles; the students, motivated by the proximity of the competition, practiced their spells and incantations in the corridor or moved in groups to see the lists of participants.

Amidst robes and hats, Kate spotted Leron Angelov’s head in the distance. She had no intention of worrying about him until she saw him stagger down the hall. He rested both hands on a door and dropped his head forward.

There were students everywhere, but Kate could perfectly see Cassandra Steiner make her way through to Leron. She opened the door and pushed him into the room.

With firm steps she advanced to the classroom at the end of the corridor and without waiting a second more, she muttered Alohomora, and burst inside.

Like a niffler caught in the middle of a robbery, Cassandra looked up with big eyes. Her expression hardened instantly. She waved her wand to where Kate was and she heard the click of the door closing.

Without her eyes off Leron Angelov, she moved closer to get a better look.

He seemed to be standing in a strange position. His eyelids were not fully closed, his arms hung like two dead weights on either side of his torso and his legs... his legs did not touch the ground.

He floated in the air, without a broom, without a spell. His posture was grotesque, and Kate looked at him in horror because even though she saw no rope, he seemed to be hanging.

“Is... is he dead?” she asked with a trembling voice. She sought the healer’s gaze, but she was busy airing out the desks in the centre to create a larger table. “Steiner, is he dead?”

“No. Shut up. Help me with him.”

Both healers grabbed Angelov’s body and turned it in the air until it was in a horizontal position.

“Hold him against the table.” Kate obeyed and put her hands on Leron’s chest. She had to use a lot of strength as the body insisted on levitating.

Meanwhile, Cassandra moved around the makeshift table, uttering a spell repeatedly. Angelov’s hands and ankles were quickly anchored to the wood.

“You can let go.” She informed, before heading for the windows and starting to close the curtains.

Kate watched his eyes move behind the eyelids, and small wrinkles appeared on his forehead from time to time. As a good healer, she followed the inspection, looking for symptoms that could explain the teacher’s unusual situation.

The buttons on his left sleeve were open, revealing a red and bruised arm. By removing the sleeve completely, she discovered what Leron Angelov had been hiding.

Puncture marks covered the inside of his elbow, made so fiercely that a wound had begun to form.

Kate let go of a slow breath and reached into the pockets of his tunic.

“You won’t find anything,” announced Cassandra, “I’ve already taken care of it.”

“What is it that makes him be like this?”

“Something called Billywig.” Kate exhaled at the news. She should have deduced that before. She watched as Cassandra opened a small chest, containing several rows of vials, and grabbed one. “Although you already knew…”

“What do you mean?”

“Don’t try to fool me. Didn’t Rhode ask you to spy on him? To catch him in the act?”

“I’m pretty sure that Rhode doesn’t know about this.” Steiner stared at her.

“Does he sting himself in the greenhouse?”

“Not since you started using it. Thanks for that, by the way, since you started playing teacher, it has been impossible for us to keep track of him.”

Kate frowned. “Us? Who is ‘us’?”

“You’d better get out of here, things are going to get ugly.” As if on cue, Angelov’s body moved. He opened his eyes, injected with blood, and tried to get rid of his bonds with a force that did not seem like his body.

Cassandra forced the contents of a vial into his mouth until it was empty. In a few moments, Leron fell asleep.

“Calming draught?”

“Do me a favour and stop meddling in matters that don’t concern you.” Kate ignored Cassandra’s attempts to keep her in the dark.

“Steiner, who else knows about this?” she asked with a solemnity unbecoming of the situation. “I need you to trust me.”

She wasn’t entirely convinced, but gave her an answer, anyway.

“Jorgensen. No one else can know about this, understood? If you tell anyone, I will make sure you never set foot in this school again.”

“I wasn’t planning to do that anyway...” she replied, referring to the part about revealing his secret, but also valid for the latter statement. “May I ask... why do you keep the vials... locked up?”

“Because these potions are not part of the school’s inventory. When Igor Karkarov was here, there was no problem; Rhode implemented a budget for ingredients that Jorgensen has to meet.”

“Don’t you grow your own ingredients?”

“I thought you’d noticed that you’re the first person to use the greenhouse in a decade. Kent sometimes picks some herbs from the forest, but it’s not usual.”

“But why do you have them at the hospital wing?”

“Kent and I buy what we need for the potions, he brews them, and we used to keep them in my room until Rhode started bringing in people from the British ministry, guards, inspectors... so we moved them to a place where they wouldn’t ask questions.”

Kate looked at Leron, who was becoming agitated again. “Kent hasn’t found a formula that won’t make us waste so many potions. For now, this is what we can do.”

“Beats his son, you know?” Kate accused.

“When he’s under the influence of the Billywig liquid, he’s not aware of his actions. Giving him so much calming draught doesn’t help his memory either. Micael went into his room. I hadn’t had time to tie him up and his hand slipped out. He went after him for a while, to make sure he said nothing. Most of the time he doesn’t even go near him.”

“That doesn’t speak in his favour either.”

“I didn’t say he was going to win an award for being father of the year.”

“Why are you doing this? Isn’t it better that he’s in a hospital and not teaching?”

“Look where we are, Williams. Many of us have known each other forever. We take care of each other here.”

“And Micael? Do you take care of him too?”

“Of course we do.”

“What about the sticky box that was with the bottles?” Cassandra rolled her eyes, irritated by the interrogation.

“I pick up the billywigs that Leron leaves all over the place and give them to Jorgensen. What’s left of them is useful in some potions.”

Leron awoke with a start, and the mediwizard came to his aid immediately. When he saw Kate, he gripped Cassandra’s wrist.

“Don’t worry. She knows.” Cassandra got rid of the magical bonds and he stood up slowly. He groped the ground and after a while managed to stand up without floating. He eyed Kate as she aired her wand at the tables, making them return to their original place. She felt his mind on her, and she purposely avoided his stare.

“My wife passed away some years ago.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.” She still didn’t look at him.

“I have the feeling that you’re not” at that she raised her head.

“Why is that?”

“Because of the way you looked at me at the staff meeting. With utter...disgust. You have a very expressive face, even when you think you are concealing it.”

“Your perception of me is based on your own experiences.”

“No. No, I know when a person doesn’t like me. And I could say the same thing to you.” A heavy silence fell over them. Kate watched as Cassandra organised her things.

“My son has good grades in Herbology. I didn’t think that could happen.”

“I am not giving him special treatment just because he’s a professor’s son.”

“I meant nothing of the sort. Just implying that you are.... You know how to connect with children. You... talk with them. Right?”

“Yeah, that’s...how you often interact.”

“I’m not sure if you have a wicked sense of humour or you just really despise me.”

“Everyone, at one time or another, loses a loved one. Sometimes prematurely. That doesn’t give us the right to compromise the safety of those who are still alive.”

“Who are you?”

“Excuse me?”

“You appeared out of nowhere. In the middle of the school year, and in a few months you became a teacher and the talk of the town. I hear your name everywhere, from everyone’s lips. And every time I turn around, you are there. One might think... you are up to something.”

“What exactly are you accusing me of?”

“Just an observation. But let me give you a piece of advice...”

“No. I won’t tell anyone about your condition if that’s what you’re worried about. But If you hit Micael again I swear....”

“You shouldn’t be threatening me.”

Kate found herself positively conflicted. She meant it when she said she didn’t want to betray their trust, and as a healer she wanted to help him in any way she could. However, the need to protect the boy was competing with her compassion for his father.

Abstracted by her own thoughts, Cassandra’s voice went unnoticed and only caught the last few sentences.

“We’ll get out first. Rhode will be coming to give the Dark Arts lesson now. Don’t tell her about this.” With one last look, they disappeared out the door, leaving Kate alone with her conscience.

She took a few steps towards the wall and exhaled as she let herself fall back slightly. She rested her head on the stone and closed her eyes, seeking the only thing that could comfort her at that moment.

Charlie.

Perhaps if she concentrated enough, she could connect with his mind as she had done the night they spoke through the flu net. She visualised his freckles when the sun hit them, the movement of his fingers when he drew. She tried to remember his laughter...

Kate?

She opened her eyes suddenly. Astrid Rhode looked at her with concern.

“Williams, are you all right?”

No, she hadn’t said her name before. A little upset at her cowardice preventing her from talking to Charlie in a way she would never have imagined. She peeled off the wall and nodded fervently.

“Yes! Yes... “

“Is there anything you should tell me?”

“Nothing at the moment, no. Although... I wanted to ask you: why did you send Professor Marek to stand guard at the back of the castle?”

Rhode raised her eyebrows. “I have done no such thing. Why would I?”

[Part 14]

Tag List: @eldritchscreech @meteora-fc @cazreadsstuff @the-navistar-carol

@am-i-space

#charlie weasley #charlie x jacob's sibling #charlie weasley fanfiction #charlie weasley x mc #charlie weasley x ofc #charlie weasley x oc #Kate Williams #durmstrang #for a greater good series

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georgemackayhey · 4 years

Text

Like Real People Do

“Hii can you do an imagine, "Your first time with George" maybe as an insecure/uneasy reader"

"Can you pleeaaassse write more nsfw stuff? More Than A Night Out gave me my rights"

Alright yall, heed the 18+ warning!

Seriously, I really don't want to block anyone (I love yall!) On that note... I wouldn't say this theme is my strong suit, nor have I been in a good headspace, but boy did I try my best ♡

w/c: 3k

───※ ·❆· ※───

You didn't date.

You called off meeting up with strangers in bars and listening to them tell half-assed life stories, embellishing in hopes they'd get to have their way with you in the same evening.

You were happy to mingle among friends on weekends and at parties, but going home alone felt safe. Keeping to yourself was the best bet, having learned your lesson by now. You recalled more unpleasant domestic experiences than ones that left you daydreaming of more. So you simply stayed single.

Some of your friends didn't regard your limits, tricking you into double dates and the like. Other friends understood but still gushed over their brothers and cousins in hopes you'd be intrigued by their qualities and demand to be introduced with wedding rings on standby.

And then there were the friends who never asked or bothered you about it at all. George was one of those friends.

He was your ride to your friend groups monthly movie theater meet up's. And he always let you take home his leftovers after dinners he wasted chatting with your mutual friends about books and culture.

In turn, you let George borrow your favorite albums. And you'd always saved him a seat in the back of bars you had to show up to for friend's birthday parties, while they threw themselves between strangers on the dance floor. Times like then were when you got to know George best.

And during the last month of summer, George invited everyone to take over a beach house big enough for your ever-expanding group and more. Apparently some of his distant family owned the property but were hardly ever in the area to enjoy it. So they gave George a spare key, and insisted he treated the place like his own.

And thankfully, then, between your friends racing to the shore in the witching hour, and when everyone split up into pairs for the evening, George kept you company. You made a habit of joining each other on the rickety front porch, sharing a drink, and usually sitting in silence.

But there were nights you talked about the constellations you could see above the roaring ocean. And where you'd like to live if you had an unlimited budget. Where you'd come from and what you wanted, and didn't.

You went home to the most dreary September of all time. You used to adore the solitude of your dull apartment. But you missed waking up to your friend's laughter, having someone, if not many more, to enjoy market runs and mealtimes with. You had never felt more lonely. And you couldn't stop thinking of George.

When he came round to give you a lift to the movie theater, your usual ride together was quiet. The silence between you was heavy- you wondered if he noticed. You sat together in a boring film. Or maybe it was the best of all time. You could only focus on how close George was to you, how you'd recognized the feeling of his company. You wondered how to ask him to come around more often, without sounding pathetically desperate.

Luckily birthday parties and Halloween bashes kept coming. And you kept finding quiet places to listen to George tell his stories. And he would always share his drink, and ask about your family, and how you were doing.

One night when he invited everyone around to his flat and only a couple of your friends managed to show up, they headed out soon after dinner. You were left alone in George's kitchen to help clean up and wonder what to do with the rest of the early blue evening.

And even though your heart beat in your throat, and everything you thought to say sounded stupid in your head, you determined it was time.

During a much too easy card game at Georges table, when a conversation about some of the horrifically silly things George had witnessed you manage in the past; you decided to stop testing the waters, and address them.

"I can't believe you put up with me." You grinned, peering past your hand of playing cards to the guy sat beside you.

"I just like you," George answered simply, his ocean eye flickering up to meet yours for a beat.

"Really?" You asked, pushing for him to say more, hoping he got the hint.

"I really do." George grinned shyly, turning his attention back to his hand of playing cards he kept accidentally giving you glimpses of. You watched George bite his lip and fiddle with the cards as if he were arranging them just so.

"What if... I like you too?" It wasn't just his tousled yellow hair, or the way his smile was warmer than a ray of sun. It was his lame jokes. His soft answers. Him.

"You don't date." George rose a brow, keeping his eyes turned away. He wasn't bittered or mocking. He was accepting. George laid down his cards, to a game you weren't focused on at all anymore.

"I like you, George." You admit in a hush. His stunning eyes met yours. He seemed to consider your words, and much more. He started to speak a couple of times as he searched your features.

"So maybe... we can start slow..." You offered. You had never planned on opening up to anyone. But George had stuck around. He was always there when you needed him even when you hadn't known what you needed. He didn't make fun of your unreasonable anxieties and he always laughed at your jokes. Even the ones you knew weren't funny. You hadn't expected to ever let anyone close enough, you hadn't trusted anyone could feel like home. But before you could even decide, it was as if your heart grew a mind of its own and lept right out of your chest into George's orbit. So since he already seemed to have you, it seemed like common courtesy to at least let the guy know.

With a shy smile, George bore his brilliant blue eyes into yours, searching them for assurance. As you looked to each other you felt his knuckles brush yours, the back of his hand nervously creeping closer. George took one of his fingers and looped it around one of yours while he agreed that it would be silly for two people who felt the same way about each other to do nothing about it. So you did.

George started coming around when there wasn't any reason to, sometimes bringing take away, or asking you on walks around the park. Sometimes you'd sit in silence next to your favorite old tree and enjoy that last purple swirls in the dusk sky. And sometimes you'd watch films, one after another, pausing only to argue over the ending or make silly predictions. And times like then, you curled into George's side like a sleepy cat. He'd carded his warm hand through your hair as you drifted off, content.

You got snowed into his flat when you showed up a few hours before the first-holiday party of the season; to help bake treats for everyone. As ice froze everyone's doors shut, the party was swiftly canceled but your plans for the evening weren't ruined at all.

George set up his den with extra blankets, finding the holiday channel on the telly, standing to refill your cup of tea during commercials so you didn't have to move. He kissed you that night, soft and kind, and slow. You both fell asleep on the floor among the mess of all the blankets he owned, while snow piled up and over the window sills.

You spent New Year's Eve much like the past couple before, watching your wild group of pals take shots and dance to bad music. George listened to you talk as you waited for the new year to set in, and he kept one of his fingers looped around yours almost all night long.

When the snow started to melt and your group of friends started squeezing into their cut off jeans from the year before, George invited everyone back to the beach house. He set a date and sent out invitations in the mail like it was the damn 1800's. Most every rsvp got sent back with the box labeled "going "grossly marked up.

George offered to give you a lift there, a day early so he could stock up on emergency snacks and soaps and even more DVDs in case the rains came and ruined your fun on the shore. You agreed happily and walked through the isles of a department store together, picking out essentials based on how well you knew your group of friends who might need them.

And while you laughed and helped and listened, you grew increasingly more fucking terrified. Because you'd never spent so long enjoying one person's company. You were enamored with George yes, but what's more, was- you trusted him. You never thought it was possible. But you really did. And the thing that you were most scared of, was having to accept the possibility that he didn't feel the same way.

Things like this had gone wrong before. Granted, things had never gone remotely close to this right before, either. But you still prepared yourself to hurt. It was always a possibility you were too afraid of risking. But George was different. You somehow knew even if he hurt you, it would be the loveliest heartbreak you'd ever feel.

You got to the beach house, completely abandoned since the last time you left it. You found your someone's favorite lost t-shirt in one of the bathrooms, and a lot of dust on the shelves. After clearing away some of the cobwebs and unloading all your groceries to their respective places, night began to fall.

The sky was still blue enough to admire the roaring ocean from the front porch. George brought out a couple of drinks, and you sat there together like you had the summer before. Only now, it was a little too chilly. So you said goodnight to the scenery, making a note of spending extra time to soak up its beauty the next morning.

And on your way inside you joked about how someone was bound to forget to pack something they needed, or bring one of the things George asked them to. You were wrapped up in laughter as you turned out the lights and drifted to settle in.

When you headed to the bedroom where all your bags had been discarded, you scurried off to the ensuite shower. This was the room George stayed in last year, a space you'd never stepped foot near until tonight.

And when you stepped back out into the bedroom, you realized you didn't want to leave.

George was busy turning down his bed covers to the dim night light in a far off corner. A dark shine beamed in from the moon in the window next to the quilted bed, and George never looked more beautiful- perfectly tousled hair. Kind, sleepy eyes. Yeah, you'd let him break your heart.

"What?" He laughed in a warm low rumble, catching you staring. You bit back a chuckle and crossed the room to meet him.

"I just love you. That's all." You informed, circling one of your fingers around his, gazing up to the guy.

You'd said so in passing, during game nights he helped you win and in the middle of lunches he'd managed to talk you into ordering. But nothing prompted you now, and the statement held an all-new kind of weight.

"I love you, too," George whispered in turn, raising his other hand to your cheek.

"Can I stay in here? With you?" You asked, keeping your gaze set and your voice low even though no one else was around to hear.

"I'd like that." George assured with a tiny grin.

You clamored into the big bed, pointing out the window to the moon over the ocean. George eased in behind you, gazing all the same. You tangled your hands together staring out the window for a while, giggling over nothing every now and again. He was so impossibly close, so warm next to you.

"George." You turned your head slowly, catching his attention. He looked at you, silently wondering what you wanted. But somehow you didn't need to say.

Somehow he knew to lean in for a kiss, soft and sweet. When he pulled away, you could tell he didn't want to. When George looked at you, you could tell he longed for more, but still kept his distance, kept your meek nature in mind. He was too kind, too considerate. There weren't words to convey how you felt. You knew what came next. You wanted George.

You reached for his hand, and brought it to rest in the dip of your waist. He kept his eyes steady on yours while his thumb brushed over the skin exposed where your shirt had ridden up.

"Kiss me again?" You asked, barely a whisper. George leaned in, almost before you could finish asking, to press his mouth against yours. You grabbed a fist full of his shirt to pull him closer while George let his hand travel to the small of your back, holding you perfectly against him. He kissed you slow and deep like he was trying to put you in a trance.

Whether he meant to or not, you wondered if it worked, as you melted into the mattress all while lazily pulling him almost all the way on top of you. This was as far as you'd ever taken things with George, yanking at each other's clothes while you kissed until you couldn't breathe.

So when you gently pushed George away, he started to retract back to his side of the bed without putting up a fight. But you sat up too. And George watched on in wonder when you sheepishly slid into his lap, your knees on either side of his hips.

Without a word you pulled George's shirt up, silently suggesting he take it all the way off.

When he did, you didn't relish the sight long before you dove in for another kiss. His skin was burning, and you could feel his heart hammer when your hand traveled across his chest. You moved your kisses to his neck, reveling in the feeling of being so close. George kept one arm gently wrapped around you as your teeth grazed a spot under his ear that made his breath catch in his throat.

"Y/n. Are you- Do you..." George began, keeping his hold around you all the same. You pulled away, gazing to George through your lashes while your heart teetered on the edge.

"Do you not want to?" You worried. You were so finally sure. But George might not have been. So you prepared to be let down gently, knowing George would at least be kind enough to break your fall.

"Yes." George let out a breathy laugh, reaching to hold your head in both of his hands. "Of course I want to do this. But I know how you feel and if you don't-"

"I trust you, George." You nodded, searching his eyes while a smile bloomed across your face. You'd been so nervous for a moment like this to come true. But everything was different with George. He made you laugh when you never expected to, he made you think about things in ways you'd never even considered. He was so the one for you.

You wrapped your fingers around George's wrist, bringing his plus to your lips. You watched George's eyes flutter as you planted a small kiss there, before moving his hand to your hip.

"Just go slow." You nodded, watching George's eyes open to meet yours. You leaned your forehead against his while he nodded, making you laugh.

He decorated your cheeks with gentle pecks and moved his hands under the hem of your shirt as you leaned in to capture his lips with yours again. And because you spent a while that way, you weren't nervous to act upon taking things even further.

Kisses turned seering as George wrangled your shirt off. His lips traveled down your throat as you settled deeper into his lap, shocked by how easy this was. Your kisses grew longer and sloppier while your layers started to collect on the floor.

You impressed yourself by how effortlessly you reach to pull away George's trousers. He managed to kick them aside while you kept your lips on his, laughing between breaks for air.

But when he pulled you back into his lap, when his fingers danced around your waistband, you were suddenly swept up in the realization that this was happening. Like, really happening.

"Uh, wait a second." You halted in a shaky breath. You didn't want to stop, not completely. You just needed to assess things for a moment, to catch up with this new reality in which this wasn't upsetting or dull or any of the things being with anyone else ever was.

George stalled in an instant, nuzzling his head into the crook of your neck. "Do you want to stop?" He asked gently, hands firmly pressed against your back, eyes glowing right into yours.

"No way." You breathed with a grin. You knew it would be better than before, with George. Probably the best. It already was, you realized with a smile, encouraging George one more time. Your hips rolled against his, causing his heavenly sigh in your ear.

He wriggled you out of the last of your clothes and made you feel like a wonder of the world, tracing the shapes you were made up of with his pretty fingers. By the time you were laid against the pillows admiring the halo of light ringing around George's waves of hair, he asked again if you were sure about this.

"So long as you are." You swallowed.

"Of course I'm sure. God, I'm so sure." George pressed a kiss to your face between sentences, making you giggle and swoon all at once. "I've never been so sure of anyone but you. I'd like to keep it that way." George rambled, peppering a few more loving, gentle kisses to your cheek. "But if you want to stop for any reason, we'll stop. Just say so."

"Thank you, George." You grinned after a beat, knowing he really meant it. Recognizing how deeply he really cared for you, watching him search your face for validation. Watching George watch you, contentedly, like he had dozens of times before now. He gave you a slowly sleepy blink, ocean blue eyes shining brighter when they opened again.

George leaned closer, hovering over you with his eyes locked on yours. He molded a kiss to your lips before anything. Then to your cheek. Then his eyes fluttered to meet yours once more.

"Slow." You rose a brow, whispering a reminder, but it was really more of a green light for him to finally take the next step.

George repeated you, in a barely audible hush, soaking up the look in your eye. A lithe grin painted his lips while you held your breath. You accounted for the feeling of his fingers loosely tangled in your hair, his thumb brushing across your temple every now and again. You'd nearly forgotten everything else while swimming in those warm icy eyes of his. He didn't break you from your reverie when he gave a small nod. The gesture only settled you further, as you responded by lacing your fingers around the back of his neck.

George kept his hand nearly cradling your head as he pushed closer. His thumb brushing across the pulse of your temple was keeping you grounded while your heart threatened to soar into the clouds. While your breathing grew deeper, while he moved as close as he could until he couldn't anymore.

"You okay?" George asked, his voice beautifully strained.

"Uh-huh." You gazed at him through hooded eyes as you adjusted everything, including the realization that this was happening. He wasn't even moving yet. And he waited until you had to ask him to, with his head buried in your neck. After a couple of breaths, you looked to George, giving him a nod. He pressed his forehead against yours and moved his hips.

A tame, steady pace set in as you stopped George from asking if you were alright, again, assuring him you were really, very good. Your raspy encouragement must have given George the sound authority to go about awing you further.

He kept one hand against your temple while his other trailed down your side, fingers deliberately pressed into your skin as he brought your leg around his hip. George's strong-arm hooked under your back to keep you secured against him. He picked up the pace as your hands tangled in his hair, around his shoulder, holding on to the moment. To George.

You wondered why you waited so long to feel this damned good, while George spoke low in your ear. He listed off all the things he liked best about you, and why. He planted clumsy kisses to your lips. He made you see stars brighter than all the far off constellations you were used to pointing out from the shoreline. You seemed to float among them, above everything. Time slowed down while your heart sped up, somehow, and while everything around you faded into an impossibly dull background, you still had George.

His weight was warm and secure. His breath was hot on your neck. His voice was saccharine in your ear. When he eventually eased next to your side in a heap, the cool of the night was still shielded by him.

You snuggled to his chest, like an old sleepy cat while he kept repeating how he loved you. You said so too, as many times as you could manage before drifting to sleep all tangled together.

The next morning came slow. You made coffee and watched the sunrise above the waves from the porch. When your friends started showing up in pairs and trios and more, they all seemed sort of relieved to find you and George attached at the hip. They greeted you as if you'd always been a packaged deal, and they didn't bat an eye when you stuck together to roam the vast empty beach. There was no fighting over choosing partners when someone broke out a new board game that night. When your friends were all gathered around the dinner table, and all the extra snacks and gifts and surprises for the summer were stored away, you still had George.

Maybe things wouldn't always be so easy. There would likely be fights and upsets and questions that didn't always have answers. But George was worth it. You had him now, you loved him and he couldn't stop reminding how dearly he loved you. Nothing had ever hurt so good before. You decided to keep it that way.

───※ ·❆· ※───

#george mackay #george mackay x reader #george mackay imagine #george mackay fanfic

207 notes · View notes

queerbutstillhere-writes · 4 years

Text

Day 5: Quarantine

- You can't come over tomorrow.

~ what do you mean? "Can't"?

- Gotham is on quarantine. Mandatory. Only medical personel allowed out. Hell, even the JL grounded us.

• I'm seeing can't, but hearing "help me please"

- guys. This is serious.

• for you, maybe. Timmie, we can't get sick from Covid. Kon is alien, and my metabolism is just too fast for it.

- Bart..

~ he's right, Tim.

- Do not encourage him, Kon.

- you two are not allowed to come.

Tim sighed, staring at his laptop monitor. He’d been stuck in quarantine for several days now. Alone in his apartment. He could probably suit up and hightail it across town to get to the manor if he wanted, but being quarantined alone sounded far more appealing then bring quarantined in the manor with his siblings. Dick would probably drag him into nightly board (read: bored) games, Bruce would be constantly trying to bond, Damian would probably never stop insulting him. Duke and Cass would probably be fine, but Duke was easily roped into Dick's shenanigans, and Cass had that habit of creeping up on you.

No. Tim would survive being stuck alone, working on case files and reading news headlines. Today's news was singing the praises of Wayne Enterprises for their massive donations to research centers, the city, and for them paying for housing and healthcare for homeless. They were also praising Bruce for personally paying for the Covid testing and for paying for food and housing costs for those who couldn't afford it. Bruce had enough money to do so, so he might as well, right?

Amusingly, Tim had seen a headline from Star City about Red Hood and Arsenal highjacking a supply truck full of toilet paper and medical supplies and redistributing it among the poor and homeless, as well as stealing from some stores and making care packages for the homeless.

But now, his idiot boyfriends, severely upsetted by the fact that their Thursday date night had been cancelled, were texting and calling him non-stop, trying to convince him to let them come, finding out if he needed anything ("do you have food?" "Yes, Kon." "I'm talking real food, Tim. Not some Rice Krispies and a few boxes of cereal." "Conner."), and constantly fretting over him. Did he mention they kept whining about missing date night? Well they did. Even the suggestion that they could still hang out with each other didn't appease them. ("But we need our Robin! Our birdie!")

Tim Drake was a smart man. He was a good detective. If he had been at the manor, he'd probably be working with Bruce to develop faster testing, or figure out cures. But what Tim forgot, is how truly, truly, dumb his boyfriends are.

So he really shouldn't have been surprised to hear his door open on Thursday evening.

But yet, he was.

He shot up off his sofa, spinning towards the door. He hadn't changed in a day, and probably hadn't showered in three. His apartment was a mess and honestly he didn't remember what he had for breakfast that day. But yet he grabbed the nearest thing to him, an empty metal waterbottle, and brandished it as a weapon.

"Oh, I'm so scared," a chipper voice said, with a laugh.

"Bart?!" Tim exclaimed, half in shock and anger.

Standing in the entry way of his apartment was Bart Allen and Conner Kent. Conner was carrying several bags of groceries, and Bart had a couple jugs of milk and juice.

"What are you two doing?!" Tim hissed, glaring.

"Uh, visiting, duh?"

Bart zipped to the fridge, putting up his jugs, and then dumping a backpack that Tim hadn't noticed earlier onto the floor.

"Bart," Tim said, his tone dropping to his more commanding, Robin voice.

He noted Kon was also carrying a duffel bag. The man just smiled and then turned to walk into the kitchen.

"Nonono, I know what's going on here, you two aren't staying."

"Why not? We can't get it, and you're just gonna . . ." Bart motioned at the messy living room. "Besides, what if we quarantine ourselves with you."

"Well, because! Because. . . " Tim scowled at him.

He was starting to lose his energy to argue. And he was getting pretty lonely. And this . . . He wasn't wrong either. They could just quarantine together. . .

"And also, now if you need something, one of us can just zip over to metropolis and pick it up, or go do laundry at Clark and Lo's," Kon called from the kitchen.

"And if you do get sick! You'll have us to look after you!" Bart exclaimed, zipping over and kissing Tim before he could protest.

Tim glared at him from just a few inches away, then at Conner, who had moved to the doorway. They both just grinned at him.

"Fine. Fine! You can stay!" He exclaimed, defeated.

Bart whooped and kissed Tim again.

"Okay, first things first. You need to take a shower, man," Bart told him, wrinkling his nose. "Or else no cuddles."

Tim, touch starved as always, found himself immediately hating that idea.

"Also, we need to clean this place up. So, you go shower and brush your teeth and shave and stuff - or don't shave - and Kon and I will clean up and start supper!"

Tim huffed at him, but obeyed, heading towards the bathroom, stopping by Conner first to give him a quick kiss. Kon just grinned and pulled him in close, tweaking Tim's nose before kissing him. Then he shoved Tim towards the bathroom.

He went through the bedroom first, snagging some clean clothes, and then went into the bathroom. He quickly stripped and showered, making sure to clean his hair thoroughly, he shaved when he got out, and quickly brushed his teeth as instructed, because frankly, he didn't remember the last time he had done that and didn't want to make his boyfriends deal with that.

When he got back out, admittedly feeling a little better, he noted Bart and Kon's bags on his bed. He just sighed and shook his head, walking back to the main room. He could already smell the tomatoey scents of Italian food, and wondered what all those two had actually brought with them. There was some form of pop music playing, and he could hear Bart happily singing along to it, Kon chiming in occasionally with the choruses. Tim chuckled and looked around the living room.

They had cleaned up trash and dishes and fixed the pillows on the sofa. The curtains had been opened, and a candle was burning on the coffee table and all the glasses and mugs and plates had been removed. Tim walked over and leaned against the kitchen doorway, watching Bart dart around and cook, while Kon washed dishes.

"This that hot girl bummer anthem. Turn it up and throw a tantrum~" Bart sang, doing a little dance as he darted from the fridge back to the stove, throwing a few things into a sauce.

"What are you making?" Tim asked softly, but they both heard him.

"Hey! He's clean!" Bart announced cheerfully. "And I am making lasagna! Max's special recipe."

Tim hummed in response, grinning back at the speedster.

"So are you two going to eat me out of house and home by the end of tomorrow, or?"

Kon shot Tim a smirk. "Depends."

"Ugh, Kent! I meant food!"

Conner laughed, rinsing one last dish before drying his hands, walking over and pulling Tim up against his front.

"I never said that wasn't what I meant, did I?"

"No. . . But with you there's always some kind of innuendo."

Kon huffed in mock annoyance, before ducking his head and gently kissing Tim a few times. Tim tilted his face up and obliged, wrapping his arms around Kon's neck.

"I missed you," Kon mumbled lightly, his hands sneaking up Tim's soft cotton shirt that may or may not have belonged to Kon at some point.

"I missed you too," Tim responded instinctually, not really realizing exactly how true that was.

"Then why didn't you let us come sooner?" Bart's voice asked and then he was slipping between their arms, sandwiching himself between them.

Tim laughed, giving the pouting Bart a few kisses, turning him from pouty Bart to smiley Bart.

"Because I didn't want you guys getting sick."

"Tim we literally can't."

"Did you confirm that?"

"Yeah. I called Lex and asked. And you know as well as I do that Bart can't get sick from these things."

Tim sighed, looking down at Bart, then up at Kon. "Well either way, it's too late now."

Once the lasagna was in the oven, Bart made Tim help him finish cleaning, sweeping floors and dusting things, meanwhile Kon just sat by and gave unhelpful commentary and got occasionally whacked with cleaning supplies. Once the apartment was properly cleaned, and feeling much better, they decided to properly move Bart and Kon into Tim's room, even though they had stated they'd probably be leaving to get more clothes and such. And probably their dogs.

Tim sat on his bed and watched them unpack bathroom supplies and clothes and other various personal items. Phone chargers got plugged in his few remaining wall outlets and things got shoved into previously neat areas.

"Were you really gonna stay here all by your lonesome?" Bart asked, flopping down onto the bed next to Tim and idly bumping his thigh with his knee.

"It wouldn't have been forever, Bart. I was probably gonna go to the manor eventually."

"Ew, and be around your brothers?"

"They are my family, Bart."

"I know but still. . . "

Tim chuckled and shook his head fondly, moving to lay partially over Bart and softly kiss him.

"Wait, is Keystone even in quarantine yet?"

"Uhhh." Bart grinned sheepishly.

"Bartholomew!"

Bart just giggled a little. "I'm sorry, but I wanted to come too!"

Tim just shook his head and then dropped it to Bart's chest, laying on him and listening to his breathing.

"Hey, this looks like a cuddle pile in the making."

Both of them groaned when Kon flopped - gently - on top of Tim.

"Kon you big lug! Get off!" Tim whined, pushing up on his hands and knees, trying to dislodge Kon, who didn't move.

"Why, I thought you liked cuddle piles?" Kon giggled out, nuzzling at Tim's neck and causing him to squeak.

"Not when I'm being squished!"

Kon gave an over dramatic groan, but moved, rolling and pulling them both on top of him. It took a bit of squirming before they were comfortable, one on either side of Kon, heads on his shoulder, hands clasped on top of his stomach. They laid there and chatted idly, with no concern for anything that might interrupt their lives.

"Bart the oven is going off."

And just like that, Bart was gone. A couple seconds passed, then he was back, snuggling right up against Kon again.

"Where were we?"

Both Kon and Tim just started laughing.

Once dinner was ready, they sat on the sofa and binged a couple episodes of Broadchurch before settling into another cuddle pile. Their default form was cuddle pile. Then eventually Bart got bored with sitting still, so they turned on Mario Kart, played a few normal rounds to watch Kon and Bart suffer, then Tim turned on the mod he had made to make the game go super fast.

He had learned not to watch the screen while this was happening. That's how you got eye damage.

"I'm gonna go do a little patrolling," Kon said, standing after Bart had beat him, again.

"Oh. Okay. Be careful, give a call if you need any help," Tim said, looking up from his laptop.

"Yeah, if I need anything, I'll call Bart."

"Kon."

"Hey, you're grounded, remember?"

Tim sighed, stretching up so Kon could kiss him. Kon chuckled and did so, then bent over the back of the sofa to kiss Bart, before disappearing into the bedroom to change. Then he called a goodbye on the way out the window. Tim and Bart looked at each other.

"So what are we doing then?"

Tim shrugged vaguely and looked back at his laptop.

"Well I'm gonna keep playing my game then."

"Okay."

Bart left him alone for a solid twenty minutes, which was a bit of a record for him, then he was tugging on Tim's laptop, trying to steal it.

"Yes, Bart?"

"I wanna cuddle."

"Cuddle?"

Bart's silence cause Tim to look over, and found he was pouting. Tim chuckled and saved his files, setting the laptop on the floor, then moving so his back was on an armrest, and opened his arms for Bart. Bart practically dove forwards, laying between Tim's legs, head on his chest, arms around his stomach. Tim chuckled and adjusted a bit for his own comfort, then let himself relax with Bart.

Eventually they turned on a movie and just laid together, idly chatting. There would be plenty of time for work later, Tim decided. But for now, he'd spend time with Bart. He may be stuck with these two for months before restrictions laxed, but he would take every moment he could, just to spend time with them while he could.

Kon got back after a few hours, stumbling back through the window, and giving them a grin, but he didn't come over, just walked away into the bathroom, leaving the scent of soot and acid in his wake.

"He's stinky," Bart remarked, still laying on Tim's chest.

"Hmmn, stinky boy."

Bart sniggered. Tim had, at some point, set his laptop on Bart's ass and was still working. Was it the most effective or romantic? No. But Bart didn't mind and it was keeping Tim from getting bored.

Then his phone started ringing.

"Bart, grab that for me please?"

Bart quickly grabbed the phone from the coffee table before immediately settling back into place.

"Yello?"

"Hey, Timmy."

"Hi Dick, what's up?"

"Nothing, just wanted to check in and see how things were going with you."

Tim glanced down at Bart.

"I'm okay."

"Yeah? Just hanging out and working on cases, I assume?"

"Yeah, I'm working on that March case."

Dick hummed from across the line.

"Well, are you sure you don't want to come to the manor?"

"Yeah, I'm sure. Honestly I'm surprised you're there. I thought you'd be with Wally?"

There was a pause.

"I was going to, but he got directly exposed the day before he was supposed to come down, and he didn't want to risk it until he discovered if speedsters could actually catch it."

"Hmmn, I have it on good authority they can't."

"Is that so?"

"Yup."

"They're there with you, aren't they?"

Tim just grinned, even though Dick couldn't see it. His brother laughed.

"Tim, you scoundrel."

"Listen, I told them no, they wouldn't listen to me, and then when they showed up, it was too late because Bart like, immediately kissed me."

"Hell yeah I did."

Dick just laughed again. Tim could envision him fondly shaking his head.

"So, I'll let you go then, I'm sure you guys have some catching up to do, if you know what I mean."

"Oh my god, shut up," Tim laughed out, even as he started playing with Bart's hair.

"Just speaking the truth!"

"Goodbye, Dick."

"Bye, Timmy! Love you, stay safe!"

"You too!"

Tim hung up the phone and let it fall to the ground beside the sofa.

"Oh good, you're off. I didn't want to come do this with your brother still on the phone."

Tim tilted his head back to see a shirtless Kon standing over him, grinning, hair still dripping slightly from his shower. He bent down and deeply kissed Tim. Tim gave a surprised noise and reached a hand up, resting it on Kon's jaw. When he pulled away, leaving Tim breathless, he just grinned mischievously, then moved so he was closer to Bart.

"Bartie."

"Hmmn?" When the ginger picked his head up, Kon kissed him the same.

Bart just grinned at him after, and put his head back on Tim's chest.

"Do you guys want a snack, because I'm starving."

Tim watched Kon walk away, and just had to laugh.

It was lucky the three of them were huge cuddlers, because otherwise they would not have fit in Tim's queen sized bed. Not with Kon's huge shoulders. After their snacks, Bart had to literally steal Tim's laptop, and then Kon decided to carry him to the bathroom to get ready for bed, instead of just letting him walk.

As the three of them laid in bed, a few minutes later, more focused on lazily kissing then actually sleeping, Tim decided that if he was going to be quarantined anywhere, being in his apartment with his amazing, dumb, loving boyfriends couldn't be the worst solution. And it was, by far, preferable over going to the manor. So he would happily keep his mouth shut and let them fret over him. Because he loved them. And they loved him.

@core-disaster-week-2020 originally written for @unknownunseenunheard !!

#timkonbart week #core disaster week #core disaster #timkonbart #tim drake #conner kent #bart allen #covid #covid 19 #pandemic #covid pandemic #covid quarantine #dick grayson #queerbutstillhere writes

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excelsi-or · 4 years

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07/05/25 - i got you (woozi)

w.c. 1.4k (angst, hurt-comfort stuffs?)

A/N: GUYS, WE’VE NEARLY MADE IT TO THE END. THANKS TO THOSE WHO HAVE STUCK IT OUT WITH ME FOR NEARLY LIKE 3 OR 4 MONTHS.

April 29, 2025

May 7, 2025

“Have you seen him?”

“No, not since I left the studio,” Hansol says down the line. “Have you checked? He’s been working over time to impress the bosses.” He pauses. “When you do find him, let him know that they all really love him and already knew he was good at what he does.”

“Yeah.” She stares up at the clock above the TV. The new apartment is still bare and their furniture comes in the morning. Jihoon promised to be of use, which means that he should also be home to sleep. “It’s just… he hasn’t stayed at work late since you got him the job.”

“Bad habits. He’s probably just trying to prove himself.” She can practically see Hansol’s shrug. “I’m sure he’s fine, noona. But if you really want to check on him there, I think Bumzu hyung said he was going to stay late too. He might still be there.”

“Okay, I’ll text him.”

“Let me know if you find him.”

She frowns at Hansol’s choice of ‘if’ rather than ‘when’, but knows her best friend probably didn’t notice. She pushes herself off the couch and grabs a raincoat off one of the boxes near the door. Slipping into rain boots and patting her pockets for her essentials, she heads out the door.

Their new apartment is in a quieter area, which makes going out later at night a bit unsettling. However, a street over is the start of Itaewon, because the boys had had some say in the apartment hunting process. She breaks into the busy nightlife and heads towards the subway.

Two stops and a five-minute walk later, she spots Bumzu waiting for her. He holds the door open as she hurries past him.

“Hey,” she breathes, the cool spring air having taken her breath away.

Bumzu hums his greeting.

“Have you talked to him?”

“Door’s shut.” Bumzu leads her onto the elevator. “And every time I open the door, his headphones are on. He didn’t even come out for dinner.”

She watches the elevator numbers light up in succession. The fact that Hansol was able to get both Bumzu and Jihoons jobs at his company was a massive favour that the man refuses to be reimbursed for. Bumzu and Jihoon continue to pester her about what Hansol actually wants. Continually, she reassures them that Hansol really doesn’t want anything.

They step off the elevator on the fourth floor.

“See if you can get him to talk.” Bumzu walks her to Jihoon’s new studio near the end of the hall. She hasn’t visited it yet.

Upon entering, her eyes widen at the blue neon lights around the room. It gives the room a sexy vibe. Sitting at the computer at the opposite end of the room, with his dark hair pushed up at weird angles because of the headphones, is Jihoon.

She makes her way over and peers over his shoulder. That’s when she notices the box of tissues and the soft sniffling noises. She frowns and taps his shoulder.

Jihoon nearly jumps out of his skin as he spins in his seat. His eyes are out of focus and it takes a second for him to register her. She lifts an eyebrow in concern.

“Jagi? What are you,” he swallows, “doing here?”

“Well, I was sort of concerned because you weren’t home yet and weren’t answering your messages.”

“Oh.”

She grabs the extra rolling chair in the room and pulls it in front of him. She peers closely at him, her hands clasped in her lap. “What’s going on?”

Jihoon stares at her.

“Are you mad at me?”

He shakes his head.

“Are you… busy working on something?”

Jihoon glances back at the computer screen. “Nothing that I can’t work on tomorrow,” he mumbles.

“Okay… are you… worried about something?”

Jihoon is a simple man. He either sleeps too late because he’s working on music or he’s mad at her. There aren’t too many other reasons as to why Jihoon wouldn’t want to come home to her.

He swallows hard and her eyes widen as she watches his eyes begin to water. He buries his face in his hands and turns away from her. Her brow furrows and she reaches for him. She can’t get him close enough, so she stands and wraps her arms around him. Almost instinctively, because Jihoon hasn’t cried in front of her in ages, he wraps his arms around her waist and buries his face into her stomach.

“I got you, I got you,” she murmurs. Her hands run up and down his back. She hums a soft melody that she’d heard Hansol working on a while ago when she’d gone to visit him and Seungkwan.

Jihoon’s hands grip the back of her jacket and she hugs him tighter.

When his crying subsides, she tugs him towards the couch in his studio. Her arms remain around him and his head buries into her shoulder at a weird angle, as he’s taller than her. She awkwardly manages to wiggle out of her raincoat so that she isn’t getting him wet. Jihoon’s arms are so tight around her waist, he’s near squeezing the life out of her.

“What’s going on?” she manages to ask.

“My mom called.”

Her mind flits to worst-case scenario. She assumes it’s about his father.

“She’s…” Oh god. “She’s sick.”

“Sick?” A ball grows in her throat. “Sick how?”

“She has breast cancer.”

Her heart stops and her hands freeze on Jihoon’s back. Jihoon tenses in her arms and immediately, she sucks up her shock and returns to comforting him. “What stage?”

“Second.”

She lets out a sigh of relief, though she isn’t sure Jihoon noticed. Second is better than third. They can deal with second. They can deal with this. “You’re okay. Is that why you didn’t want to come home? You didn’t want me to hear you crying?”

Jihoon doesn’t answer, just hugs her together.

“I’ve got you,” she murmurs into his hair. She kisses his head. “We’ll go visit her tomorrow. Is she at the hospital in Busan?”

“Visit?” he mumbles. He sits up, his eyes swollen. She lifts a hand to his cheek and swipes at his tears with her thumb. “But our furniture.”

She rolls her eyes with a small smile. “I can get some of the boys to deal with it. Or we can cancel and get them to deliver it a different day. Let’s visit her tomorrow. She’ll be happy to see you.”

Jihoon sniffles.

“Your mom can get through this, Jihoonie,” she whispers, pecking his nose. “She’s a tough woman.”

“But…”

“Don’t doubt her. You haven’t even seen her,” she says gently. She decides steering his mind away will probably be better than thinking about it further tonight. He’ll already have trouble sleeping. “Now come on. Save your projects and we can get home.”

Jihoon takes a steadying breath, and with her help, he gets to his feet.

Immediately, she fires off texts in the group chat she uses when planning Jihoon’s birthday parties about something coming up with Jihoon’s family and needing to go to Busan. Almost immediately, the replies come in.

Seungkwan (1:10)

Isn’t your furniture coming in tomorrow?

Do you need me to wait for it?

Mingyu (1:11)

Wonwoo hyung is sleeping, but we can pitch in after work to set it all up.

Soonyoung (1:11)

I can help Seungkwanie out. I don’t have to be in the studio until the late afternoon for classes.

Seungcheol (1:11)

Hannie’s sleeping, but I’ll let him know to be at your place in the morning.

Do you guys need us to unpack too?

How long will you be in Busan?

She answers their questions, thanks them, and then turns her attention to Jihoon. He shuffles towards her, head ducked, hat on his head and raincoat on. She holds her hands out to him and he pulls her to her feet. When she turns to grab her coat, she nearly face plants into the couch at Jihoon’s sudden back hug. His face slots into the back of her neck, his breath warming her skin.

“Thank you.”

Next: May 20, 2025

#woozi imagines #woozi scenarios #woozi #seventeen scenarios #seventeen imagines #seventeen #svt #lee jihoon scenarios #tabilrn

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ecoamerica · 2 months

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youtube

Watch the 2024 American Climate Leadership Awards for High School Students now: https://youtu.be/5C-bb9PoRLc

The recording is now available on ecoAmerica's YouTube channel for viewers to be inspired by student climate leaders! Join Aishah-Nyeta Brown & Jerome Foster II and be inspired by student climate leaders as we recognize the High School Student finalists. Watch now to find out which student received the $25,000 grand prize and top recognition!

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stovetuna · 4 years

Note

Imagine Steve/Avengers walking in to Tony entertaining two soldiers in the common room and being really confused because Tony??? Despises the military??? But then find out that those two soldiers are actually from the “fun-vee” way back in IM 1 and Tony’s fitting them with prosthetics.

ahhh this has been stuck in my head for DAYS anon! I don’t necessarily agree with the assessment that Tony hates the military, per se (doing business with the military and the military industrial complex, however, and all that that toxic shit entails, definitely yes), BUT it’s such a heartbreaking/warming concept I had to run with it! I think I got it right with Air Force vs Army, but the movie was kinda vague—I’m going off of the fact that the driver said “I’m an airman,” which you would not say if you were in the Army.

and since the airmen (and woman) Tony was traveling with in the Fun-Vee are canonically deceased, I thought I’d have Tony do something…well, Extremely Tony™ to compensate…

(::whispers:: also we’re just gonna pretend that the Bucky-killed-Tony’s-parents-revelations of Cap 2/3 aren’t a thing in this vaguely alternate MCU universe. la-di-da, la-di-da…)

***

It’s not surprising to walk into the Avengers common area and see Tony Stark working on something no one can quite comprehend. That’s par for the course, really, as commonplace as days that end in Y. Machines, phones, tablets, watches, the toaster after Hulk pressed the cancel button a little too hard—they’ve seen Tony futzing with just about everything that exists in the Tower (and some things that don’t—couldn’t—exist anywhere else except where Tony is).

What the team isn’t expecting when the elevator doors open onto the communal floor that sunny Tuesday afternoon is a living room scattered with men and women in various states of modest undress, all of whom immediately pivot in place to take stock of the new arrivals. Three men, one woman, and in the middle of their protective circle is Tony, eyes blazing with the same thrill of invention he often gets in the lab, a pair of needle-nose pliers clenched in his teeth.

Steve in particular notices the way Tony looks, because he’s developed a bad habit of doing that over the past year and change, and he’s kind of helpless at this point. Tony’s backlit by the afternoon sun, preoccupied with whatever he’s doing with the strange woman’s arm to distraction, and Steve can’t be judged too harshly—anyone with eyes would drag theirs over the exposed muscles of Tony’s arms, the shift and flex of his shoulders, the firm taper of his waist, the pronounced curve of his a—

“Are we, uh, interrupting something?” Clint has to shout to be heard above the music blasting from all corners of the room.

Tony looks up from his work and waves his free hand, the one that isn’t wrist-deep in what looks remarkably like a prosthetic arm. He makes a ‘cut it off’ motion to his neck before taking the pliers out of his mouth while FRIDAY lowers the rock music to a dull background hum.

“Hey! Sorry, I tried to keep it to the lab, but these guys wanted to see where the Avengers hang out, and I couldn’t say no.”

Steve tears his eyes away from Tony (who should really work the sweaty-and-disheveled-mechanic look more often) to take in the others in the room with him. It’s a panorama of people, and the first thing Steve notices, besides their more obvious differences, is how comfortable they all are with each other, to the point that walking in on this moment feels invasive, almost rude.

The four are all of remarkably different builds and backgrounds, not a similarity between them: an African American man, no taller than Steve was before the serum, sits on the couch; a white man, thin as a rake and twice as tall, is reaching for a glass of water on the coffee table; an Asian American man, whose shoulders are somehow even broader than Steve’s, stands rigidly next to Tony, arms folded across his chest; and the lone woman, whose glossy black hair is wound tightly in a bun at the back of her head. Steve notes the beautifully elaborate Native American tattoo covering the expanse of her shoulders and upper back.

Then Steve notices the high-and-tights, the form-fitting, drab beige shirts they’re all wearing, the combat boots lined up behind the loveseat, and he realizes, much like he did with Sam that morning in DC, oh—these are my people.

“Ah, well, welcome to the octagon!” Clint says with an easy smile, stepping forward to shake hands and say hello like a normal human being. Natasha gives Steve one of her looks before she and Sam follow him into the living room—I don’t know any more than you do.

Bruce, Wanda, and Vision stay behind with Steve to let the first wave through. Steve watches his teammates greet the airmen without fanfare, welcoming strangers into their private midst like it’s routine.

“Didn’t know y’all would be around, else we would’ve stayed outta sight.”

Sam laughs, clapping the sitting man on the shoulder. “Dude, if Tony told us you were here, I would have come downstairs and bugged you, myself.”

“Sure, PJ—you just wanted to see what real Air Force muscle looks like,” the man grins, flexing his barrel chest hard enough to strain his shirt. Sam guffaws and gives him a friendly punch to the shoulder, which the man returns in kind with a fist to the kidney.

Clint is already deep in conversation with the redheaded beanpole, who talks so fast it’s dizzying; Natasha is standing next to the third man, keeping her eyes forward, and together they watch Tony disappear back into his work, muttering things back and forth to each other, so quiet even Steve can’t hear.

“I think all is clear,” Vision says smoothly, drifting forward with Wanda, who is visibly fascinated by the woman’s tattoo until she steps into the throng and sees something that makes her face fall.

Steve moves forward, curious and worried in equal measure. Bruce is hot on his heels.

“—I mean it’s crazy right? It’s crazy, Tony Stark, Tony Stark calls us up out of the blue one day and says ‘You’ll be waiting six months to a year for a decent repair job, let alone a complete replacement, and I owe you guys, come on by Avengers Tower—”

Redhead is gabbing excitedly, gesticulating like Tony does when he’s in the mad depths of an invention binge. Steve sees the glint of metal and hears the whir of mechanisms working smoothly together in tandem and realizes both of the man’s hands are prosthetic.

“Oh man! Oh, man! Captain, sir, wow, it’s—fuck, shit, my mama would kill me for swearing in front of you, fucking—shit, sorry, fuck—ah, damn it!”

Steve smiles and introduces himself—Corporal Bill Levee, apparently, is just as talkative up close. For all that his hand is made of metal, his grip feels remarkably, tangibly real.

While Bill goes back to talking compound bows with Hawkeye, Steve looks at the man on the couch. Sam and Vision are now sitting on either side of him: both of his legs end at mid-thigh, and in their place are what look like brand-new metal limbs, designed to match his proportions exactly. The metal is dark, shiny, beautiful. He looks thrilled. He looks even more excited when Steve approaches, leaps to his feet and doesn’t even balk at the fact that Steve is a head and change taller than him and a superhero—he just steps right up to Steve and jabs him once in the shoulder with a grin.

“Captain Rogers,” he says, and sticks out his hand. Steve shakes it. The man points a thumb at himself: “Captain Freddy Harrison. A little after your time, sir, but an honor to meet you regardless.”

Bill is still talking a mile a minute behind him; Freddy sits back down on the couch and lets Steve continue his “Captain America Meet-and-Greet” but makes him promise to come back and swap stories, which Steve does, happily, even as his mind whirls. How does Tony know these people? Why are they here? Where did these prosthetics come from?

Bruce has joined Natasha, standing apart from the rest to talk to her and her new friend. Steve stops to say hello, as is only right, waiting until he’s entered the man’s line of sight to do so. Only then does he realize that the man has no line of sight, because both of his eyes are prosthetic.

“I’m not completely blind, Captain,” he says, voice low but good-humored. Next to him, Natasha smothers a smile behind her hand.

“Steve, this is Sergeant Daniel Kwon,” Bruce offers. The sergeant smirks and extends a hand—the eyes in his sockets look incredibly lifelike, but don’t move even a fraction of a millimeter. They gleam, still, with an uncanny sense of knowing. Steve has a sneaking suspicion they see more than enough and match his original eyes perfectly.

“I’ll still make an exception in your case, Sergeant Kwon,” Steve replies, shaking his hand, “for not saluting a ranking officer.”

Dan chuckles under his breath.

“Let’s see your battlefield commission and then we’ll talk rank, sir,” he says.

“Ugh, men.”

Steve turns around, and there’s Tony, flipping shut a panel high on the woman’s left arm with a smile. He pockets the pliers and drags the back of his forearm across his glistening forehead. Somewhere in the back of Steve’s mind, a saxophone is blaring.

Honestly, the intrusive thoughts he could deal with, but the fact that Tony looks this good after hours of hard labor really isn’t fair.

“Seriously, barely two minutes in and you military guys are at it like frat bros at a kegger.” Tony looks sidelong at the woman, who rolls her shoulders with a pop and a groan. “How do you manage?”

“Easy,” she says, “I let them drink until they pass out and then I run back to the women’s barracks with all their clothes so they have to walk across the TOC butt-naked.”

“I think we need to compare our respective strategies,” Natasha says, taking Wanda’s arm on her way to greet the other woman. “This is Wanda; I’m Natasha.”

The woman turns to face them. Her features are striking in a way that makes Steve think of old friends from the war, men he met on those rare occasions he had leave. He’d listen to Native American Code Talkers tell stories of land and legacy and home, stories older than anything Steve had ever known. He’d never been so humbled.

“Delores,” she replies, shaking their hands. “But please, call me Del, or I’ll never hear the end of it.”

Steve looks at Tony, who giggles—giggles—and mouths ‘Umbridge.’ Del must have ears like a bat, because she smacks him smartly with her prosthetic arm and Tony yelps before devolving into outright laughter. Steve could watch and listen to Tony laugh—that big, gut-wrenching cackle Tony thinks is unattractive but Steve thinks makes Tony look like happiness personified—all day.

The conversation devolves quickly from there, and within a couple of excitable minutes, the airmen are eager to get a look at the Avengers’ game room. They pile into the elevator, talking animatedly over each others’ heads, placing bets and picking teams as the doors close.

In their wake, Steve’s ears are buzzing, and he realizes with a jolt that he’s now alone. With Tony.

It happens often enough that the fact itself isn’t jarring, but something about being alone with disheveled-frazzled-happy-sweaty Tony sets Steve’s nerves on high alert. Tony is loose-limbed and relaxed, moving in and out of Steve’s space as he picks his way around the living room barefoot, looking for discarded tools.

“There you are,” he coos at a tiny device that looks remarkably like a laser pointer. Knowing Tony, it’s probably a real laser. He pockets it, assumably to put away later (or fish out of the laundry at the last minute).

“Who are those people, Tony?”

“Friends of friends,” Tony replies. Steve also knows Tony well enough to recognize his I am being deliberately vague voice when he hears it.

“Uh-huh.” Steve sits on the arm of the sofa, legs stretched out in front of him. “And who are they really?”

“Who wants to know?”

“Me,” Steve says gently, scratching his palms with dulled fingernails. “They’re strangers, and they’re in our home. I think if you were in my shoes you’d want to know.”

Tony stoops to pick up and pocket what looks like a dissected nine-volt battery. Steve kind of wants to ask, but he’s too distracted by Tony’s ass in those black Levis to ask any cogent questions. Seriously, he wonders, are those painted on?

Only when Tony sighs, and quite heavily, that Steve realizes this was more than just a friendly house call (of sorts) on Tony’s part. He watches Tony stand up, facing the floor-to-ceiling windows bright with the glow of sunset, and admires the way Tony suits the view so perfectly. He looks good all the time, but like this—skin burnished gold, brown eyes honeyed by the light—he’s something else. Someone Steve wants, desperately, but like most things in his life, knows he’s not allowed to have. Tony Stark is beyond him in so many ways. Reaching for him seems futile, so Steve stays on the ground, and looks.

Tony fidgets nervously with a mini Phillips Head screwdriver, twiddling it in his long, clever fingers as he stares out the windows at the city sprawled out beneath them.

“They’re from the same company as the guys in the convoy I was with when I—when they—” his voice sputters out before he can say the words. Steve doesn’t push. He doesn’t say anything. He just waits for Tony to gather himself. It’s one of the hardest lessons he’s had to learn about Tony Stark—sometimes it’s better to let him get a handle on himself, rather than jump in and try to handle Tony for him. It doesn’t change the fact that Steve wants nothing more than to hold his hand, now that it’s hanging at his side like its string was just cut. “A while back I dug into Air Force records, talked to Rhodey, got some names. Five people died in the hit that was meant for me. I figured, the least I could do was find five of their closest buddies who needed help.”

Tony glances back at Steve—the little smile on his lips could break Steve’s heart if he let it.

“And I’ve heard you talk about how convoluted the VA is when it comes to services and benefits and whatnot. I figured, my tech probably took their limbs, I should cut out the middle man and give them new ones, myself.”

Something in Steve’s heart shifts irrevocably before kicking into a whole new gear. By the end of the sentence, Steve knows he’s going to do something incredibly rash, the only question is when.

Funny—ten minutes ago he was coming back from a team exercise, prepared to give Tony a friendly but firm talking-to about missing it, and instead here he is, breathless, heart racing, sitting and listening to Tony talk humbly about fixing people because he knows it’s the right thing to do. Because it’s the least he can do. And isn’t that the wildest understatement Steve’s ever heard?

As if anything about Tony Stark could ever possibly be least.

“You built them all those prosthetics?”

“Top of the line!” Tony smirks, saluting Steve with his Phillips Head. “Nothing more high tech in any of them than a heart rate monitor and some other odds and ends—no rocket launcher eyes, don’t worry. I kept my baser urges in check with these.”

“It’s good,” Steve blurts out, too loud and too fast. Tony inhales sharply, fingers clenching around the screwdriver hard enough his knuckles go white. Steve feels his face go hot and groans. “I mean, what you did—what you’re doing—is good, Tony. It’s really generous of you to do that for those guys.”

Steve crosses his arms across his chest to make himself feel safer, more contained. If he doesn’t, who knows where these ridiculous feelings might go. He feels silly enough as it is, blushing and stammering while dressed in his uniform, sans helmet. Even Tony’s probably wondering why he’s wasting his time talking to a red-white-and-blue fossil when he could be downstairs destroying Clint and the others at pool or showing the airmen around the tower, giving them the bells-and-whistles tour.

Tony looks at the floor, away from Steve. Steve feels it like a physical thing, Tony pulling away, retreating, wanting to hide. Amazing, how a man who almost literally wears his heart on his sleeve still thinks he doesn’t have one.

“Yeah, well,” Tony mutters, “it’s good practice, anyways.”

Steve’s thoughts grind to a halt.

“Practice for what?”

Tony starts moving around, shuffling back and forth across the living room floor, looking for something that probably isn’t there. Steve knows when Tony is avoiding eye contact with him—it happens often enough.

“Just a pet project, nothing major. Hey, have you seen my cable knife anywhere?”

“Did you leave it on the floor? Tony…”

“I know, I know, the only thing worse is Legos, but I was busy! You can’t blame me for—OW FUCK!”

Like a shot, Steve is up and holding on to Tony so he doesn’t hop backwards into the glass coffee table. One arm wrapped around his back and the other hand on his bicep, Steve steadies Tony as Tony searches underfoot for whatever hurt him.

He comes up with a magnet the size of a dime.

“Ha,” Tony wheezes. “Speaking of Legos.” He drops it into his pocket along with the laser pointer and whatever else is in there and hangs his head. Rubbing his brow, Tony says: “God. I could sleep for a week after today.”

Steve keeps holding Tony. He should let go, but opportunities like this so rarely present themselves. Plus, Tony feels so good under his hands, strong and warm and just small enough to envelope in a hug if Steve let himself, if Tony wanted him to, and Tony does look dead on his (adorable, bare) feet…

“What else have you been working on today? This pet project?”

“Hah?” Tony breathes, still wincing slightly from stepping on the magnet. “Oh yeah. For Bucky, when you find him. Ow, motherfucker, that hurt…”

The thing about being in Tony Stark’s presence is, it’s so easy to lose the plot. Tony’s mind moves faster than Steve could ever hope to match, mentally or physically; he’s always one pace behind, catching up. It’s fine, though; he actually kind of likes it, being challenged the way Tony challenges him, delighting in the push-pull of their banter and debates, the way Tony teaches him about science and tech and the 21st century without being condescending. Steve gets to a point where he thinks he knows Tony, how he operates, how his brain works—then moments like this happen, and it’s like he’s sprinted smack into a brick wall.

“What?”

“Bucky, you said—are you designing a new arm? For Bucky?”

Tony seems to notice their position at that exact moment. Steve feels him blaze with heat where his hands are touching Tony’s bare skin.

“Uh. Maybe?” At Steve’s look, Tony bites his lip and sighs. “Fine. Yeah, I am. Can you blame me? The thought of Sputnik wandering around the tower with that Cold War-era paperweight hanging off him when I’ve got brand-spanking-new, finely-tuned StarkTech all but ready to go? Perish, Steve, perish the thought.”

Tony is smiling up at him from his place in Steve’s arms, relaxed now, almost leaning into him, and all Steve can think is, he belongs here.

“What’s that face?” Tony asks, curious but still smiling. He pokes Steve in the middle of the forehead with a cheeky grin. “Keep frowning like that, your face’ll stick.”

When, apparently, is right now.

When Steve reaches up and takes Tony’s hand, he gets to watch Tony’s thoughts run into the wall, for once.

When he weaves their fingers together, he gets to watch Tony’s mouth click shut and his eyes go wide. Super-hearing means he can count the beats of Tony’s racing heart without having to feel them. Steve’s telegraphing every movement, every feeling, as much as he possibly can now that words seem to have escaped him.

He must manage okay, because the look that passes over Tony’s face is the same one Steve’s seen in the mirror a thousand times since the day he realized he was halfway in love with Tony Stark: wonder, one part lost, one part found.

When he leans down, slowly, Steve gets to watch Tony’s beautiful eyes flicker and shut. He counts the dark lashes where they rest on Tony’s high cheekbones, breathes in his smell and listens to the shudder in his exhale before drawing him in for a kiss that draws everything else to a quiet, blissful blank.

When Tony pushes his fingers up into Steve’s hair, scratching lightly at the nape of his neck, Steve drops his arms around Tony’s waist and pulls him in close with a soft groan. He’s warm and messy and still holding that damn screwdriver, but he kisses Steve soft and eager like it’s the only thing he wants to do for the rest of his life, folds himself into Steve’s embrace like he wants to build a home right there in his arms.

One day Steve will tell him he already did, a long time ago, and it wasn’t the least of anything.

***

more fics on AO3!

#rachel writes fic #I really should slow it down but this one would NOT leave me alone!#tony stark #steve rogers #stevetony #superhusbands #stony #stony fic #stovetuna #prompt fill #this is EXTREMELY SOFT #hopefully it makes up for the angst of the last one ;____;#also lol @ myself thinking ‘this one will be shorter’!!#UGH I FORGOT AIR FORCE RANKS ARE DIFFERENT DAMN IT!#blame my late night brain

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5-seconds-of-bucky · 4 years

Text

All The Kisses

A/N: I really like this one.

Summary: All the types of kisses you share with Shawn throughout your relationship

Word Count: 2.2k+

Warnings: Some swearing and brief mentions of an anxiety attack. Very, very fluffy.

The First Kiss

You were just sitting next to each other on the ground and doing homework. Music was playing softly from your laptop and not much was said as you both worked on your Chemistry labs.

“Can you check this equation for me?” Shawn asked, pushing his notebook towards you. He smiled when you looked up from your notebook with big eyes, having not heard what he asked.

“What?” You brushed a loose strand from your ponytail back. He swore you had never looked cuter.

“Equation. Check,” he chuckled.

“Oh, sure.” You scanned over the numbers, erasing a two he had placed in front of Hydrogen, “Hydrogen has a subscript of two when it’s alone, so you don’t need the two in front.”

“Thanks.” His smile was soft and you swore you could have kissed him right then.

Last First Kiss started playing and you sang along quietly, when Shawn asked you, “Y/N, have you had your first kiss yet?”

“Shawn, you’re my best friend. Trust me, you’d be the first to know if I did.” You weren’t really fazed by the question, but Shawn seemed somewhat shocked by your answer.

“Have you been on a date?”

“Nope.” You rolled your eyes and let out a playful sigh. “Oh, I am such a poor, lonely soul.” You placed your hand to your heart and made a dramatic frown. Shawn laughed.

“I could be your last first kiss, “ he stated with a glint in his eyes.

“Stop plagiarizing One Direction. Write your own songs.”

“I have!”

“Exactly! Use them!” You both laughed. Shawn watched you as your face returned to a more restful expression. The hair that fell in front of your face did little to block the small smile still resting on your face. “What are you staring at?”

“Just how beautiful you are.” You blushed profusely. Your best friend who you happened to have a decent sized crush on just called you cute? No way.

“What are you talking about?” You tried to brush off the comment, but every thought of it made you blush even more.

“You’re so pretty. I have no idea how you haven’t had your first kiss or even been on a date, but I’m gonna change that.” Before you could respond, his lips were on yours. It was short and sweet, but it left you breathless.

Shawn started at your shocked expression, worried he had done something wrong. “I’m so sorry, I should have asked-” He was cut off by you cupping his cheeks and pulling him in again. He smiled. Nothing could beat this moment.

Top of the Head Kisses

“I don’t know how I failed it,” You exclaimed through tears. You were leaning against your car, a hand covering your tearstained face. “I worked so hard.”

“I know baby. I know,” Shawn said softly as he pulled you into his chest. His right hand went around your waist while his left held your head to his chest. He had seen you study for a whole week. You had gone to the teacher every day after school, having to cancel some of your plans with him. It didn’t make sense that you had spent all this time trying and failed anyways.

“I hate history,” You mumbled, wrapping your arms around him and pressing you head further into his chest, as if it would keep you safe from the tortuous grade.

“It’s alright babe. It’s just one grade. It won’t kill you.” “It dropped my grade four points.”

“It’s all going to work out. We can figure out where you went wrong so you can prepare for the next one, alright?”

“Okay.”

You stayed there for a few more minutes, enjoying the company of your boyfriend. He placed his head on top of yours and you smiled.

“You’re the best boyfriend ever. You know that right?”

“Yeah.” His smile reached the side of his face when he heard you laugh. “You’re the best girlfriend.” He put his lips on the top of your head, staying there for a second before kissing it. “I love you.”

“Love you too.”

“Y/N, can you come over here?” Shawn asked from the doorway that lead outside. You were at your parents house and there was a campfire set up outside, waiting for everyone to gather around.

“Yeah, just let us finish this round,” you said dismissively. You and your brothers were playing Mario Carts and you were about to win when you got hit by someone’s power up. “Who did that?”

Both of your brothers laughed and you sent a glare in their direction. “You’ve got to be kidding me! How did you win that one?” one of them asked.

“Skills, baby.”

“One more round.”

“You’re on.”

“Y/N,” Shawn chuckled from the doorway, walking towards your place on the couch.

“What, babe?”

“There’s a fire outside. Come on, let’s go.” The hand he had stuck in his pocket fumbled with the case he had been carrying around for a while. “I have something important to ask.”

“You can just ask me here.” Your eyes never left the screen in front of you as you talked to him.

“You have to come outside.”

“It’s gonna have to wait then.”

Shawn shook his head. It was going to take a lot to get you outside. “You’re crazy,” was all he mumbled before leaving a kiss on the top of your head. You leaned slightly into him and he wrapped an arm around you. “Love you babe.” He pressed another kiss to your head and walked outside, looking at the perfect proposal scene in front of him.

Wedding Kisses

He couldn’t take his eyes off of you. From the moment you walked down the aisle to the moment he was told he could kiss the bride, Shawn’s eyes were on you.

“You may kiss the bride,” Shawn didn’t wait a second, wrapping his arms around you and dipping you before crashing his lips on yours. You were both in fits of giggles afterwards, you telling him that you thought you were going to fall over with how clumsy he was.

“I would never drop you, my dear,” was the only response he had. It seemed like he couldn’t get enough of you all night either, kissing you every chance he got.

It took all his willpower not to kiss you during your first dance. It was all he wanted to do, yet he realized that he had all the time in the world to do it. With your head on his shoulder and his head resting on top of yours, he was able to sneak in a few to your temple. He could feel you smile on his shoulder every time he did, and nothing had ever given him a better feeling.

All too soon, the night was over, but he kept kissing you everywhere he could reach.

“I’m never going to get tired of this,” he mumbled as you swayed together in your apartment. You were holding each other close, swaying to the music playing from your phone.

“Me either.”

Last First Kiss came on, and you both burst into a fit of giggles.

“Can you believe this is where it started?” you asked, lifting your face from his chest to get a full look at his face. “Six whole years ago.”

“You were so cute back then.” His head fell back in laughter when you swatted his arm with a fake frown.

“I was. Too bad I’m so beautiful now.”

“All the better, my dear. Everything about you is magnificent.” He dipped you and leaned down to kiss you again, smiling as he realized this is how he got to spend the rest of his life.

Forehead Kisses

“Alright, three, two, one!” He shouted from three rows back. You were at one of the areas Shawn was performing in that night. You thought it would be cool if you jumped off the stage and struck a pose in the air. The stage wasn’t too far off the ground. What could go wrong?

You jumped as high as you could, sticking both your arms in the air and making a silly face. Everything was fine until you landed. Your feet gave out from under you and you landed hard on your left knee. “Fuck!”

“Babe,” Shawn ran towards you kneeling down next to you and trying to get you to sit back. “Are you okay? What hurts?”

“My knee.” You voice came out strained and you hugged it close to your chest. “Holy shit.”

“It’s alright babe, I’ve got ya.” He carefully picked you up bridal style and carried you backstage to get you checked out. He sat down and laid you across his lap, allowing you back to rest on the armrest of the couch.

Your face was still contorted in pain, grimacing more when you knee was being inspected.

“It’s gonna be alright, babe,” Shawn whispered, pressing his lips to your forehead and letting them linger for a second. You curled up closer to him, signifying that you wanted to stay like that. He smiled in adoration and put his lips back to your forehead, staying like that until you were able to stand up and get back to his dressing room.

“Breath with me, baby,” you whispered as you held him close. You took deep breaths, trying to get him to sync with you. “It’s okay, it’s okay.” Soon enough, his breathing became more regulated and you were able to pull back slightly to get a better look at his face.

He was a mess. His anxiety had been through the roof the past few weeks and tonight was his breaking point. Luckily, you had been there when he needed you and you were able to calm him down.

“You’re okay,” You said softly, running your fingers through his hair and pushing you lips to his hairline. You left a few pecks there before pulling him down to lay on your chest.

“You are so strong,” your lips were still pressed to his forehead, “and I am so proud of you.”

Belly Kisses

“Shawn, he’s kicking!” you shouted from the bedroom, placing your hands on your stomach as you felt the flutters.

Shawn all but ran to the room, dropping to his knees and placing his hands on your belly to feel. “Oh my gosh. He’s kicking.” His smile reached his ears as he looked up at you. “That’s our kid.”

“That’s our kid,” you confirmed, placing your hands on top of his.

“I love our little bub. I love you,” He stated simply, closing his eyes and resting his forehead on you belly, taking in the moment. After a few seconds he picked his head up and started blowing raspberries on your belly, causing you to shake with laughter.

“Shawn!” He was mesmerized by the sight. His beautiful wife, pregnant with their child, laughing like he had just told the funniest joke in the world. He placed a quick kiss to your belly before standing up and cupping your cheeks, kissing you like the night of your wedding.

Temple Kisses

“Shh, Jack. It’s okay, mommy’s got you.” You said as you rocked your two week old son in his room. It was one in the morning and you were beyond exhausted, but Shawn needed to rest. He had a long day of interviews coming up that day and you didn’t want him to be tired. Of course, Jack had other plans.

His cries seemed to be intensifying by the minute, leaving you to hope that he wouldn’t disturb Shawn. You felt like you had tried everything. You had fed and changed him. You even went as far to change his pyjamas, hoping that maybe he just didn’t like the material. Nothing seemed to be working. Sometimes, you knew, he just needed his dad. You were hoping that wasn’t the case tonight.

Your hopes were crushed when you heard soft footsteps coming down the hallway and the door opening slowly.

“Sorry. I was trying to let you sleep but he won’t stop crying and I don’t know why.” You were close to tears and Shawn could tell that you were frustrated.

“No, no, it’s okay. Let me try.” He took the wailing baby from your arms and started bouncing to soothe him. It took a few minutes for it to stop, but Jack eventually started to calm down, falling asleep on Shawn’s shoulder. “There we go.” Shawn carefully placed his son back in his crib and turned to look at you. “He just need his daddy tonight.”

You were almost asleep standing up and Shawn smiled to himself. His perfect little family all in one room. You jumped slightly when you felt his arms wrap around you.

“You’re such an amazing mom. I hope you know that,” he mumbled into your shoulder.

“You’re an even better dad.” You turned your head to kiss him on the temple, sliding your head down afterwards to rest on his shoulder.

He pulled his head up to kiss your temple in return before saying, “I am so lucky to have you two.” You looked up and smiled tiredly, allowing him to see the dark circles under your eyes from multiple nights of interrupted sleep. “Let’s get you to bed, pretty mama. You need some sleep.”

#Shawn Mendes #Shawn Mendes fic #Shawn Mendes fanficiton #Shawn Mendes imagine #Shawn Mendes one shot #Shawn Mendes writing #Dad!Shawn #husband!shawn #boyfriend!Shawn #soft!shawn #Shawn Mendes x reader #Shawn Mendes x Y/N #Y/N #Shawn Mendes fluff #Anna writes

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softestsaddestbitch · 3 years

Text

December TC Challenge

stole this from @elder-edda (sorry for creeping! just, given the usual demographic of the tc community I was excited to find another 20-smthg)

1) what color is your tc’s hair?

He has just, simple brown hair but he’s starting to go grey which, no lie, is 100% doing it for me.

2) is your tc married?

Yes? He doesn’t wear a ring and I believe she kept her last name which makes me think it’s more of a civil partnership since they’ve been together since the early 2000s at least. But he also will refer to her as “my wife” and was telling me once that they waited until “after they got married” before moving in together.

3) if yes, do you care? would you do something with them regardless of their marriage?

I know these questions are general but I do take offense at the idea of being a homewrecker/other woman. I’ve met his wife, she’s really nice.

4) what’s your worst memory with your tc?

I put my foot in my mouth SO OFTEN. Good lord. Especially my last semester at that school? He was acting weird and I had just realized after fucking ... four years?? that I romantically liked him. So I kept bringing up my weird age fixation and other bs bc I have adhd and am possibly autistic?? and can’t read a room to save my life.

5) what’s your best memory with your tc?

One year we had a really bad snowstorm, so bad in fact that I had my first-ever snow day. The college that I used to go to has four campuses across as many cities, and C has to drive in twice a week to my (old) town from his. Now, morning classes had been canceled but afternoon classes had been given the go-ahead. C, who does not check his emails until he arrives at campus, evidently did not get this message until he was already in town and therefore didn’t have a morning class, but did have an afternoon class. On this day I had a late morning class that had been reinstated, but my prof didn’t get that memo so I also was on campus but didn’t have a class. So I went to visit his office, which I had been doing throughout the semester (I didn’t have a class with him at the time) and we just ... hung out for like 2 hours. It was so nice and one of the anecdotes he told me still haunts me lol.

sidenote: at the time, I hadn’t yet realized that I liked him, but I still went out of my way to visit him. Damn I was a dumbass.

6) does anyone in your school know how you feel?

ish? I told a classmate but in a “haha joking” kinda way. And a friend who went to that school knows. No one at my current school knows.

7) does your tc know how you feel?

I think he might? might have a lil inkling which would explain why he started acting so weird my last semester. Or at the very least was told/realized how bad it could look that he was getting so chummy w/ a student.

8) do you think there’s any chance your tc reciprocates your feelings?

He and his wife have been together for around 20 years now. No. No, I don’t think so. Maybe in an alternate universe.

9) are you getting your tc a christmas present? if so, what is it?

I have in the past! Specifically like, a tin of cookies lol. I’ve also given him an actual present when I left. I do intend to send him a Christmas card every year but not this year because ... you know ... the apocalypse.

10) have you ever flirted with your tc?

Flirtation inherently has intent. So, no. How he interpreted our interactions I don’t know.

11) how long have you had a crush on them? what began it all?

SO! TIMELINE!

I was at my old school from September 2014-April 2019, I had C for the first time in September 2015. Like I mentioned above, I did not realize I had a crush on him until literally the middle of my final exam of my class with him December 2018, so I’ve only consciously had a crush for about two years now. However, as I also mentioned, I went out of my way to stop by his office, even when I didn’t have a class with him. And my relationship with/feelings towards him are complicated so I’m not going to say I did so solely because I like him, but I would put it maybe closer to somewhere in 2017. You don’t plan your schedule around someone you don’t feel strong feelings for.

12) do you believe you’ll get over them shortly after you stop taking their class/have the chance to spend time with them?

As of today, it has been been exactly a year and a half since I last him in person. In the time since, I have cried over missing him, routinely gone back to keep up with his current research projects, and made his picture a part of my home screen. I almost exclusively listen to the playlist I made for him - so much so my Spotify Wrapped is pretty much that playlist with a few extras.

13) what kind of grades do you get in their class?

Haaaaaa pre-supension I was failing his classes. My first semester back I got .... a mid/high 70? and I finished my last class with him with an A+ and the essay I had written for his class had the highest grade between the two classes so..

14) does your tc ever do any tiny, little things that you adore?

When he puts a hand in his pocket and leans against the wall. When he tucks his hair behind his ear because he keeps falling in his face (he has long hair, a little past his shoulders). When he can’t stop himself from googling something even if its in the middle of class. How you can ask him anything at any time. The way he would chuckle at my jokes. How his handwriting hasn’t improved in decades. How easily he brushes off toxic masculinity. His candidness and willingness to share little anecdotes. The way he used to always smile whenever he saw me. That he goes home everyday to have lunch with his wife.

15) are you their favorite student?

I was! And it was obvious to other students that we had a friendly, casual relationship too. For a time, if his other students had questions about him they would ask me, and I usually had the answer. I didn’t matter in the long run, but I was.

16) do you two share any tastes? movies, books, music, etc.

He’s a legal historian, I’m a baby legal/political historian. We also like the same historical cooking youtube channel.

17) is your teacher religious?

I doubt he would say he’s religious, but I feel like we have a similar relationship to religion which is to say no formal association, but had profound effects on our childhoods and subsequently, presumably, how we view things as adults.

18) do you masturbate to them?

Yes.

19) do you communicate with them outside of school?

I sent him a meme once. And asked about the socialist uprising scandal he was apart of. I also almost emailed him while at a museum exhibition with my history friend. These are all through email.

20) do you have any tc songs or songs you relate to your tc? what are they?

SO my number one song this year was “You are the Reason” by Calum Scott because, you guessed it, of him. But also:

I Lost a Friend - Finneas When You’re Ready - Shawn Mendes You Are in Love - Taylor Swift Break My Heart Right - James

& given the season, especially w/ what transpired last year, Last Christmas by Wham!

21) what’s your favorite thing your tc has said/memory you have with them?

One time he kinda trailed off in the middle of lecture after stating that he thought of xyz a particular way which contrasted one of the popular schools of thought, and the way he plainly said, “well, yeah, which I guess ... is I’m arguing it” almost like he was semi-surprised with himself has always stuck with me.

But also, in addition the memory I shared earlier, we spent an hour and a half talking about grad school and what to expect and how to get there.

22) do you plan to continue a relationship with them after you leave school?

I trid, I really did. But he doesn’t “socialize with students part or present” so I can’t exactly see him. But I did get some academic-related from him at the beginning of the year.

23) how will you deal during the summer? will you see him/her?

He’s a hermit who used my last vacation before I moved to go on all the vacations he had to postpone because he was working on his last book. And this past summer ... Covid. This question is obviously directed at high school students, but in general, he lives in the back of head always, and when I’m in my hometown for the summer my heart aches because theres a none-zero chance I’ll see him, but I know I won’t.

24) does your tc support gay rights?

Yes. He’s never been put in a position that I know of where he had to outright condemn homophobia, but in one of his classes, he actively made the choice to make the very first reading of the semester about how women in ancient times had more agency than assumed, and also how the woman in the case study was a lesbian.

25) what class do you have with them? And what period? Do you have them every day?

History classes. I won’t get into specifics because it’s kind of an eclectic mix and I’m paranoid someone from the area could come across this. But I had him twice a week every semester that I had him. Again this kind of question is more so applicable to high school students, not so much university students.

26) have you ever drifted out during a lecture thinking about them and missed information?

No. In his classes he is too enthralling, and I’m a good student otherwise.

27) have you stalked them online? what did you find out?

In theory. He’s a fifty-year-old history professor whose reaction to a description of the big lipped/tiny face filter on snapchat was “that sounds disgusting.” The man doesn’t have social media, and if he does those privacy settings are on so students can’t find him he thinks he’s very professional. I do visit his mini-bio section on the college website fairly often tho.

28) have you ever run into them outside of schools? what happened?

I did once. He introduced me to his wife, who said “oh you’re E! C has talked about you” and it apparently he had done so positively, and blew my mind because this was back when I was failing classes and also, as a person, I don’t believe that people think about me when I’m not there. They gave me a restaurant recommendation and afterwards his wife surprised me a they were leaving the restaurant because ... we had listened to them, and they also went there for lunch that day.

29) has your tc ever spoken of teacher-student relationships? what did they say?

It had recently come out that it had been found out that another professor had been in a relationship with a student and he’s the one that brought it up before class one day (with all of us not just me). He didn’t say anything for or against it, just that it was generally discouraged, but that most schools did have policies in place to handle the situation.

30) do you regret telling anyone about your tc? if you’ve kept it a secret, why have you done so?

Absolutely not. I can’t tell my best friends because they’d do nothing but give me shit for it and it would call every time I mention him into question. But the friends that I have told ... its been so freeing, and like a weight has been lifted from my heart. One friend in particular I unloaded on her all my emotional shit pertaining to him this past summer and she was so understanding it legit since then I’ve been less distraught when thinking about him. It still hurts, but it feels less like I’m suffocating now.

#personal #professor crush #professor crush community #teacher crush #monthly challenge #december

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