#none of my interests have ever truly left me or gone on to mean nothing to me
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That’s such a good point about always asking ‘why?’/ ‘what for?’ when it comes to a theory’s narrative relevance — what it would mean for the story, what point would it make etc. It’s why I could never get my head around people being so dead set on a T4rg restoration as a positive endgame when we have all this legitimate reasoning for their downfall pre-AGOT, why they are distrusted, why their ideology is deeply suspect, and so on. It’s counterintuitive to me that the narrative would essentially return full circle to that regime, a T4rg on the throne, when they’ve been presented to us in such a specific, abusive and uncomfortable way. It devalues that pre-AGOT story, IMO. Bcoz it’s not enough to be ‘not like other T4rgs’ for me, the active association is too damning, too telling of what someone’s interests really are. But it’s like you said, people get deeply attached to one obviously biased pov and so disregard the wider, layered narrative that GRRM is trying to create through multiple povs that prompt us to question those who seek out power and if they can ever be truly justified in what they do to attain and/or maintain it.
It drives me wild that so many people don't ask "then what was the fucking point?" when talking about the ending of ASOIAF. The Targaryens had like two-three good rulers, all of whom ended up making some really horrible choices in the end that nearly burned the whole continent to the ground (This IS a Jaehaerys I hateblog). It's crazy to me that so many people that Fire&Blood is positive for the Targaryen Restoration when it's basically just a full length book's worth of "look at these bitches! Who put them in charge?" (the dragons). And then have Dany basically go "yes, fire and blood is a valid way to rule, my ancestors did nothing wrong" makes me highly skeptical of her chances.
And the PoV for trap for Dany is amazing, because as of ADWD, none of the enemies she has gone up against have been sympathetic (I mean, I think MMD is, but a lot of people don't) or even povs. Which lets her fans sit there and say "no, look, the people's she's up against are clearly terrible and she's the hero in this scenario." Which is going to shift drastically when she goes up against the Starks, who have no reason to love her and vice versa. How can Dany declaring that Starks and Lannisters are both the usurper’s dogs and therefore equally evil and her enemy not make everyone sit up and take notice. Yes, Dany going “Eddard Stark and his heart of ice are responsible for my family’s downfall” is absolutely going to win over Jon “I just want Ned Stark to be proud of me” Snow and Arya “I will cut anyone who says shit about my parents” Stark. I foresee no future conflict there!
The theories about the three heads of dragon having such traction make me laugh, when the choices Dany presented with are “fire and blood” and the literal and metaphoric planting of trees. She has to chain up her dragons because they are inherently at odds with creating a better future, but she chooses the path her family has walked again and again to the detriment of everyone else. Dany’s refusal to learn from her family’s mistakes and arrogance, is what dooms her to meet the same fate as the rest of them. The idea that “if I look back, I am lost” is her madness mantra makes so much sense, since if she looks back at the path of destruction she and all the other Targaryens have left in their wake, she might falter and reconsider, so she plows ahead straight to her doom, is ugh, such good writing.
(And it works as a foil to the Starks, who are so haunted by their pasts and the past of their families, they can never untangle themselves from it, even when they try to disappear into another identity)
So what does it actually mean for the narrative, if Dany didn’t actually live in Braavos? Does it change where she’s headed at all? What point would it serve if Tyrion is a secret Targaryen? What point does it serve if anyone is a secret Targaryen? Does it change the fact that the Targaryens burn themselves to the ground based on a flimsy prophecy one of them was arrogant enough to to believe, and no one checked the deteriorating madness of their head? That the Targaryens have set themselves over literally everyone else, to the point that they would rather practice incest than marry those beneath them? And the heroine of would-be Targaryen restoration doesn’t question any of this, and just says that it’ll be different this time! Because she has the magic nukes again!
And it’s brilliant because it really is all about “the hero of the other side”! Of course everyone likes to think that they are the hero, and it’s easy to fall into believing the same when you spend so much time in a character’s head. It is much harder to try and bring together all these different PoVs to try and figure out the broader narrative. And because Dany is so seperated from the rest of the characters, is easy to dismiss all the problems she has in coming to Westeros because none of the other characters really know her, and it’ll be different once she’s there, because she’s different, when it’s been set up that pretty much every POV character has a reason to keep a Targaryen with dragons at arms length and in reality, Dany has nothing to challenge those reasons.
It’s great writing, but it clearly has and still does go over some people’s heads, which is comepletely fair because ASOIAF is, in fact, a LOT. But it so often comes from the same people who dedicate immense amounts of time and energy to the series, and that’s when it becomes funny
#listen the Starks and the Targaryens as foils is an amazing device#topped only by the Lannisters and the Starks as foils#history is just everyone in the roles their parents played over and over again#and the Targaryens have been idiots setting things in fire all the back to the beginning#branwen answers
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Watched the rest of the absurdity of a hostage story with Laurel and Collin...
Still...no words.
Like I could see that having been somewhat interesting if Marshall was like...still around? And this was how he finally got truly free of his father and that really made him start thriving or something as a character that was going to stay on the show. And maybe if Marshall had some part in the rescue attempt and got to help turn his father over to the police.
But as it stands...there’s just absolutely zero pay off for anything that happened in the last two episodes. I mean truly...what was supposed to be the point here other than giving them a headline or two in the soap mags??
It’s not even like Laurel not going to India originally was based on some fight she and Jai were having and him rescuing her was bringing them closer together again. Or even if Jai and Suni had really had more of a falling out before he left and them working together to find Laurel had brought them closer.
Like literally none of that.
It wasn’t even particularly satisfying to watch Colin finally get what was coming to him because I feel like him melting down in front of a reporter at the bus shelter reveal did that. Him losing his job and having nothing, that was good enough and not a convoluted mess.
Also the fact that Laurel didn’t just get up and fucking run when he sat her down on the bench was kind of ridiculous. As we learned with Aaron’s kidnapping skills, you have to tie their legs together so they can’t run...unless you’re Laurel. So silly.
And if all of that wasn’t bad enough, all of this hostage/kidnap nonsense totally undercut any significance to Rishi’s already off screen funeral. They just had to have a shock death, killing Rishi on Jai’s wedding day without them having made up. And then he gets like a day to grieve and a week to plan the off screen funeral. And then he’s off to India. To my knowledge (cause I can’t possibly be bothered to watch a whole episode), they didn’t even show the drinks they were supposedly having for Rishi in the pub. Instead of focusing on any of that, they decide to do a hostage story with fucking Colin who no one really cares about and make it all about that. And all about losing his wife and then Laurel losing Ashley and like...you just killed off a character of 12 years and this is what you’re focusing on?!
Sigh....
Not to mention all of the extreme pacing problems they have lately because they’re so fucking desperate to have new snappy spoiler headlines every week that insane things just happen all the time and have absolutely zero on screen impact because they’re over in an episode or two and then everything is back to status quo and you’re supposed to forget it ever happened.
It reminds me a lot of Kate Oats’ crazy Thursday doubles where you’d get Robert hiring a hitman to kill Chas and then be expected to forget it happened. And like Maxine wrote that episode and did everything she could with it, gave it nuance where there absolutely was none but that doesn’t make it any less ridiculous. And Isobel Cameron wrote this episode and like...the scenes themselves weren’t actually terrible if it had any business being a story in the first place. But I digress.
All that to say, current Emmerdale feels like Kate Oats’ crazy Thursday doubles on crack. (But at least Kate Oats had other longer running better paced stories with impact going on and not just all silly thursday doubles, which is what this feels like)
And it’s a fucking problem.
And I’m so jealous that the Hollyoaks producer is leaving because I want Jane and Company gone too. It’s not fair. We’ve all suffered enough.
okay...rant over
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Pac-Man World 3 Review
To say that the Pac-Man World series has been rocky so far is an understatement. Pac-Man World 1, while having some fun concepts, had generally poor level design and bad controls. Pac-Man World 2 meanwhile reinvented the formula to work as a proper 3D platformer, however it left some good things behind in its attempts to improve. Mainly, it left behind the feeling of exploration the original had. Not only that, but the whole last two worlds of the game were complete garbage, which in a game as short as this amounts to a sizable chunk of the overall experience.
This puts a Pac-Man World 3 in an odd position. It should optimally produce a game with all the good of World 2 removed from the bad as well as recapturing some of that lost exploration all while giving good reason TO explore. However, Pac-Man World 3 is not a game interested in giving us a more refined Pac-Man World 2. It, much like its predecessor, wants to completely reinvent the Pac-Man World formula, arguably making it the most different game in the whole series. It's the black sheep, apparently.
Of course as a kid I knew none of this when I played World 3 for the first time on my mom's duct-taped together PSP. World 3 was one of the first video games I ever remember playing, although I never got very far into it. Not sure I even really passed the first level honestly. I sure did love that box art though. Regardless, it was enough to get me to be a fan of Pac-Man from an early age. Him being in Smash For was actually what got me to buy that game, which lead to me becoming as big of a video game nerd as I currently am. So in a way, this game had a pretty big impact on my life, despite never truly playing it beyond the first level.
So anyway, how's the game itself? Well for starters, story. This game actually has one surprisingly. I won't spoil much bc this bizarre plot was actually part of what kept me playing. Overall the writing was decent. I'd say it's on par with a standard Cartoon Network show or such. They actually had some pretty decent jokes all throughout, but nothing must play by any means. The real highlight is Pac-Man himself. He's not silent anymore. He's now a fully voiced proper main character with frequent dialogue with other characters, even mid level. He's written perfectly. He's some a loveable upbeat guy with just a hint of sarcasm thrown in. The voice acting overall is pretty solid for a Gamecube platformer. Overall, this was one of my favorite aspects of the experience. Some people say that this approach to storytelling is too different from Pac-Man World 1 and 2, but is being different really that bad? They still have the same light hearted cartoon tone. It's just that one goes for minimal story and the other leans into it. I think it works honestly.
As for gameplay, it's also pretty different. Firstly, more moveset changes. The kickflip is gone, which is a shame. Yeah it was pointless but it was satisfying. Next, they further nerfed the butt bounce. In World 1, the butt bounce was so much higher than your normal jump that you're basically forced to use it as an awkward replacement. In World 2, your default jump was massively buffed, meaning using the now only slightly higher butt bounce was pretty pointless. In World 3, it now doesn't give you any height at all. However, it does create a shockwave on your third bounce, which helps with how imprecise it felt as an attack in the first two games. Speaking of attack, we now have a three hit combo. Considering he's been wearing boxing gloves this whole time, it's kinda weird he didn't have this yet tbh. Anyway, the combo is quick and snappy. I quite like the controls of it tbh. We also have brand new Wall Jump. It feels good enough I suppose, and they really get some use out of it here and there. Lastly, the best change was to the rev roll. It has momentum! You can now use it more or less the same way Sonic would use a spin dash. You can rev in place for a second, quickly jump, and go much farther. The rev roll in general gets a lot more well deserved use in this game. Overall, I think this moveset was an improvement. It kinda sucks that the bounce is only an attack/quick jump now, but it's not a big deal. Honestly after World 1, I was completely sick of the butt bounce anyway.
As for level design, it's also very different. While World 2 was a 3D game, it was pretty Crash Bandicoot. Running down linear hallways to the end. World 3 meanwhile is much more open. You're in wider areas with a fully controllable camera as you figure out the path forward. It's still a linear level by level game mind you, just not in the literal "nearly the entire game is an actual straight line" sense anymore. With collectables scattered everywhere, many of which being required to open doors or open Pac-Dot chains, World 3 really does a lot to recapture that lost feeling of exploration. The level design on the whole was honestly pretty solid. I thought it had a lot of fun platforming, even late into the game. The game also lacked a world map and rather decided to naturally segway into the next level at the end of the previous. All in all, this game out of all of them truly felt like an actual adventure rather than just a standard level by level platformer, which this game still technically is. That feeling is helped by the game's much longer run time, at least for me. I beat the others in just one or two sittings. I beat this game over the course of a week, although I was taking my time to explore.
Level design wasn't perfect though. One big issue was that because of the more open design, I sometimes had issues figuring out where to go or what exactly to do. I ended up wasting a lot of time just stumbling around. I think this is part of the reason I never got very far into this game as a kid. Although even then, with how challenging a few of this game's later moments were I doubt I would've finished it as a kid anyway. While I'm complaining, a big issue is that all of your non-key item collectables are now even more worthless than before. Everything that doesn't explicitly open a path forward now only gives you points, even including Pac-Dots which you don't even have a counter for anymore. World 2 gave you a free health wedge every 50 Pac-Dots. They could've at least kept that, but alas. However, despite these not doing anything I still went out of my way to grab the extra collectables because it was honestly still fun to do so. I managed to top most of the built in leaderboards as well, although I'm not sure how much of a brag that is.
But I think I should finally discuss the elephant in the room: combat. While the first two games had minimal combat, World 3 doubles down on it. In short doses, I think the combat in this game is honestly fun. When it's just two or three enemies along your platforming path, it's no big deal. However the game also has the tendency to drop you in a room full of enemies as you slowly have to just beat them all. The problem is that there is very little variety. Your combat moveset pool is small and there's only a few enemy types, making nearly every combat encounter of this type boring and repetitive. They do throw in a few power ups, but those also get repetitive. It gets worse though. We also have ghost attacks where you're forced to stand in an enclosed space as you wait for a power pellet to spawn, eat ghosts, run away, and repeat over and over until it ends. It's mind numbing.
Of all of this combat shit is what the game is most known for, and yeah it's bad. However, does it really ruin it? Honestly, I don't think so. Most of the game is spent platforming and exploring. While the combat sections are suffocating, it's only like 20% of the game. However, when combined with the additional maybe 10% of me running around aimlessly to figure out where to go, we end up with roughly 30% of the game that wasn't an enjoyable experience. 70% ain't bad, right?
Overall, I think this managed to be the best game in the series. It has the best story, the best moveset, and the best exploration, even if a large percentage of that time was spent in miserable combat. I'd say this game is a high 7/10, compared to the low 7/10 of World 2 and the 3/10 of World 1. If you can only play one of these games, play this one, although you won't be missing much if you don't play any.
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A Secret Romantic-Benedict Bridgerton x Reader x Eloise Bridgerton (Platonic)
(GIF credit to @aryaofoldstones)
Requested by anonymous: ‘Hello! I saw your looking for Bridgerton requests, I would love some Benedict x Eloise sibling fluff! They have such a good dynamic in the show and I need more’
(I wouldn’t mind making another part of this if people want it tbh)
Characters: Benedict Bridgerton x Reader, Eloise Bridgerton x Reader (platonic)
Meanings: (Y/N)=Your name
(Y/L/N)=Your last name
Warnings: Fluff, fluff, fluff
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Eloise’s gloved hands clung onto her book as she and her family arrived at yet another social event, a ball once again. Her mama had ensured she was dressed to catch the eyes of men, and Eloise knew that meant there would be no room for intelligent conversation. With Daphne now married to the Duke, Eloise had more pressure on her shoulders than she imagined, having to find a suitor of similar standards. However, it wasn’t just her on the market, her brothers were too, especially Benedict (Violet knew it would be extremely difficult to marry off Anthony first, opting for the second eldest son).
Eloise smiled whenever her mama looked her way, though it quickly disappeared once she turned around. Benedict had been instructed to escort her sister around the ball to help seek out suitors, the men knew each other or something about someone; he could help her meet the right one.
“I cannot believe I am here.” Eloise moaned as she looped her arm through her brothers.
“Believe me sister, I do not wish to be here either.”
“Why must you parade me around like a horse at a dressage in order to find a new owner?” Eloise kept catching the men’s gazes, turning up her nose in disgust.
“So dramatic.” he chuckled.
She scoffed.“Well, if you’re going to advise me on who I should be marrying, I shall do the same for you. Now let’s see...”
Eloise looked around the room at all the women, wondering who would be the best match for her brother. Most of these women had no personalities, relying on their outfits to express themselves. Eloise knew of some ladies that were nice, though had nothing in common with her brother.
Eloise shrugged, tugging on her brother’s arm towards the door.“Ah, there’s no one here for us. Let us make haste and leave-”
“Oh no you don’t,” Benedict pulled her back,“we have been strictly told to stay for the night, even if it is just to socialise and...get our names out there.”
Eloise groaned a little too loudly, Ben ducking his head in embarrassment.“How long do these balls go on for?”
“I have never stayed for the full duration.”
“That’s not the answer I want to hear.”
Benedict glanced down at her, somehow only just realising that Eloise had brought a book with her.“Is that book sewed to your hand sister?”
“I brought it just in case I became bored. Which I am already.”
“I shall go and grab us some refreshments. Might as well enjoy them whilst we’re here.”
Eloise let her brother slip away, quickly finding a hiding spot by leaning up against a wall, away from the hustle and bustle of the crowds. She opened her book, continuing where she left off, happy she brought a pencil to scribble down notes for later. The studying never stopped for Eloise.
“Excuse me?” a woman’s voice interrupted her too soon.
Eloise tried her best to be polite, though her smile came off as sarcastic.“Yes?”
“Sorry,” the woman looked taken back,“I thought you were reading a book that I am reading at the moment, but I was wrong. I’ve disturbed you, I shall leave you alone-”
“Wait,” Eloise had now sparked an interest. No other lady had ever approached her like this,“I don’t mean to be rude. What book had you expected?”
“It’s oh so obvious, but I’ve been reading ‘Pride and Prejudice’ by Jane Austen. It’s the newest book out at the moment, and my mama lets me read it seeing as it involves a woman finding someone to marry. Although, it’s definitely about something deeper, that’s just what I told her.”
“I don’t indulge in romantic novels myself, but I am glad to hear of a female author selling her work.”
“It’s fantastic. And it’s nice to be able to read something without it being snatched out of my hands. Oh, where are my manners? I’m (Y/N) (Y/L/N). Sorry, I’ve been dancing with men all night and none of the conversations have been as riveting as this so far.”
“Why am I not surprised?” they both laughed.“I’m Eloise Bridgerton.”
(Y/N) tried to not show her shock when she heard the surname. They were only the most talked about family, her mama had gone on and on about them, especially when Lady Whistledown mentioned them in her writings.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you. Might I ask what it is that you are reading?”
“It is to do with my studies. I truly hate these events, so I thought I would ensure my mind was being worked properly.” Eloise realised that could come off as rude, squeezing her eyes shut in embarrassment.“I did not mean to offend you by that.”
“It really isn’t any bother.” (Y/N) giggled.“I rather enjoy these just for the dancing and drinks, I find promenading to be more successful in finding a suitor. Though I would much rather sneak off and see if I can get a few more pages in of a book I shouldn’t be reading.”
“Eloise, why must you go wondering off like that...” Benedict’s words trailed off as he approached his sister, spotting a beautiful woman stood by her.
Eloise’s eyes flickered between the two, and she smiled when she saw the adoration in her brother’s eyes. Cheekily taking the two glasses from his hands, she passed one to (Y/N), who awkwardly took it. (Y/N) had gazed upon the Bridgerton men in passing, they were very nice to look at. Of course, she never divulged in any fantasies about them, that would be silly. But seeing one in front of her had taken her breath away.
“Thank you brother.” Eloise said, taking a sip.“This is Lady (Y/N) (Y/L/N), a new friend of mine.”
He gently took her free hand in his, bending forwards slightly to kiss it. (Y/N) had this done to her many times, but this was different. Benedict made her feel butterflies in her stomach. Eloise could tell her mama was going to love this.
She cleared her throat.“We were just speaking of art, actually.”
(Y/N) furrowed her eyebrows.“We were talking about books.”
“I was about to move the topic along.”
“What kind of art would that be then?” Benedict asked, knowing what game his sister was playing.
“The...drawing, kind.”
“Isn’t all art drawn?”
“No, it is also painted.”
“I think artists may sketch out a rough idea before painting.”
“Well you would know brother, seeing as you yourself are an artist.”
“I wouldn’t say that-”
“You paint, Lord Bridgerton?” (Y/N) asked.
“Ah, yes, and I sketch.” he hoped his cheeks weren’t turning red.
“Anything in particular?”
“Mostly people.”
“Are you both attending the art exhibition my family are holding next week?”
“That’s your families’ exhibit?” Benedict became excited.
“Yes, my father collects a lot of art work. Then mother realised she could make a social event out of it, but at least everyone will be able to admire the work.”
“Would you believe it, we already have it noted down in our social calendar!” Eloise informed (Y/N). Benedict could sense her over-reacting, trying to keep a smile as (Y/N)’s face lit up in excitement.
“Perfect!” (Y/N) looked back up at Ben, making him stand a little taller.“It will be nice to have someone there who knows about the artwork. It will make for an interesting conversation. Just don’t let my father lecture you, he will talk for far too long! And I know you will be too polite to try and get away.”
“My brother is very polite.” Eloise said.“In fact, I’m surprised he hasn’t-”
“Excuse me for the intrusion,” a young man said from beside (Y/N),“but I was wondering if we could resume our dance lady (Y/N)?”
(Y/N) was smiling, but Eloise knew that look; it was the face women made when a man who made them uncomfortable approached, but they had to remain ladylike and polite.
“Actually my brother just asked her and she said yes. You two best make your way to the floor before the music starts again.” Eloise nudged her brother.
Benedict was confused at his sisters offer, until he locked eyes with (Y/N) again. They were pleading him to sweep her away, she was even leaning away from this man. He had been disrespectful in some way, and he wasn’t letting (Y/N) go through that again (despite only knowing the girl for a few minutes). He smugly smiled at the man, holding out his arm which (Y/N) took a little too quickly. Eloise was happy with herself as the pair walked off, sending the man a death glare when he asked her to dance instead. Once he left, her eyes went back to find her brother, who was already dancing with (Y/N), both smiling and laughing. Her mama was going to be ecstatic about this.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Eloise sat in the drawing room, obviously lounging with a book. Her younger siblings were being irritating as usual, running around her in circles. Before they arrived, she had peace. Eloise wanted a few moments alone, because she knew her mama would be bursting with questions about the night before.
“Ah, there you are.” Violet said as she walked in.
The book flopped into Eloise’s lap, a frown on her face. There goes her reading time.
“So, how was last night? Did you meet anyone?” her mama sat beside her.“You two, go play outside if you’re going to run around please.”
The children stopped as their mama spoke, sending each other devilish grins before they ran out of the room again, their giggling echoing down the halls. Violet went to shout after them, but decided to leave it be, there were more pressing matters.
“Well mama, do you see any suitors?” Eloise gestured around her.
Violet sighed.“Did you even try last night?”
“My life will not be reduced to a single night where I was forced to peacock around in order to please a man.”
“Oh, Eloise, must you make everything so dramatic?”
“Funny, Benedict said the same thing.”
“Actually, where is your brother? I have not seen him all morning.”
“He went out.” Eloise was relieved that the focus would now be off of her.“He’s calling upon a lady.”
Violet’s eyes widened.“What? When? Who?”
“Lady (Y/N) (Y/L/N).”
“(Y/L/N)? They are quite reputable.”
Eloise rolled her eyes.“Mama, she is a lovely girl. I don’t think you should just judge her on what family she comes from.”
“Oh, so you approve of this girl?”
“I...I mean...Well, I only spoke with her for a mere few minutes.”
“But?”
Eloise let out a huff.“I enjoyed her company. I think Benedict likes her. I didn’t see him for the rest of the night until it was time to leave. He spent all his time with her.”
Violet became overjoyed.“Oh, what marvelous news! I wish he had told me. Do you know what he took to her? Flowers? Food?”
“I have no idea mama. Just wait for his return and he will tell you all the details. I am not a psychic.”
Violet was impatient as she awaited the return of her son. Poor Collin had also been questioned when he showed up in the drawing room, but he had overslept in bed, waking with a terrible headache. It seemed that it was about to come back to him when his mama bombarded him with questions as to why he hadn’t called upon anyone that morning. Eloise kept her giggles quiet, ducking behind her book when Collin sent her daggers.
Poor Benedict had no idea what was in store for him. His cheeks were aching from how much he was smiling. He wasn’t surprised when he arrived at the (Y/L/N)’s house and saw multiple callers for (Y/N). However, jealousy rose inside him when he thought about these men dancing with her, trying to convince her that they were the man to marry. He held a beautiful bouquet of flowers, remembering that (Y/N) had mentioned her favourite the night before. Looking around at any other flowers she received, he was glad to see no other gentleman had chose it. Surely that would show he was listening? He endured sonnets, stories, songs and boasting from the other men, trying not to show his dissatisfaction as each one stepped forward. There was pressure that her parents were there, especially when he realised he was the last gentleman, everyone else had left.
(Y/N) had been incredibly anxious when she saw Benedict that morning. He had been the only man she genuinely smiled at, hoping he came at his own will, not forced by his mama. The night before had been the best ball (Y/N) had ever been to. Benedict was sweet, charming, handsome and interesting. They were able to talk about anything and everything, no small talk involved like all the other men she danced with. He had swooned her, and here he was, calling upon her.
Back at the Bridgerton house, Violet had not sat down since talking Collin’s ear off. Eloise was still in the drawing room with her, as were her two youngest siblings, munching on biscuits as they threw questions at their mama. She did not have all the answers, sometimes not even hearing them speak for she was too deep in her thoughts. At one point, she did sit, but beside the window, o the lookout for any signs of her son. When a carriage pulled up in front of the house, Violet leapt out of her seat, startling her children. She made a beeline to the door, standing there with her hands clasped together. When Benedict walked in, he too flinched, not expecting his mama to be there.
“Mama, how long have you been stood there?” Benedict asked as he walked past her, pinching a biscuit from his brother’s plate.
“She’s been waiting for you.” Eloise explained, also excited to hear about his calling.
“I hope you sat down at some point.” he joked, sitting beside Eloise and slouching.
Violet hurried to sit on the sofa across him.“You didn’t tell me you were calling on a lady this morning.”
“Well, we got back late from the ball yesterday evening, and I had to leave early to ensure I got there in good time. Though it seemed every other man thought that too.”
“There were many men there?”
“Yes, quite a few.”
Eloise straightened up at her brother’s grumpy expression.“You really like her!”
“How wonderful!” Violet gushed.
“Do not get ahead of yourselves.”
“But you do, don’t you? Otherwise you wouldn’t have called on her.”
Ben was lost for words. He couldn’t argue with that, and he did like seeing his mama happy.“Yes, yes I do. And it would seem she reciprocates the feelings.”
“This is such good news! I must see what our social calendar looks like, we must ensure you two spend time together.”
“Actually mama-” Eloise went to tell her about the art exhibit until Ben interrupted.
“Good idea mama.” he nodded, smiling at her as she walked away, a spring in her step. Once she was gone, he let out a big breath.“I just needed a moment without questions from her.”
“Well, you’re going to have questions from me.” Eloise angled her body to face him, her elbow perched on the sofa with her face resting in her hand.“I didn’t think you were going to call upon her. Are my match making skills really that good?”
“I hate to admit it, but yes, you have done an excellent job.” Benedict felt relaxed thinking about (Y/N).
“So, what happened this morning?”
“I took her flowers, she told me her favourites last night, and then I had to sit there whilst her other gentleman callers desperately tried to impress her. It was agony! Finally I was able to have time with her, and it was just...I don’t know how to put it into words.”
“Did you bring her anything else?”
Benedict became bashful.“I brought her a sketchbook, like the one I have. She mentioned how she used to often sketch when she was younger. I thought it would be a unique gift.”
“Benedict, you truly are a romantic at heart.”
“For her I am, yes.”
Eloise smiled for her brother, until a smirk fell on his face.“What? Why are you looking at me like that?”
“Aw, is someone also a secret romantic?”
“No!” Eloise protested, quickly grabbing her book again.“I am just happy you found someone.”
“And you helped, because you secretly want everyone to find someone.”
“No I don’t! You’re ruining this moment now Benedict.”
“Don’t worry Eloise, you’ll find someone.” Ben joked.
She groaned.“You are insufferable...but I still want to go to that art exhibit.”
“To see love bloom?”
“N-no, to see the art work.”
“Of course, of course. But, thank you Eloise.”
She tried not to smile, but couldn’t help it.“You’re welcome.”
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steel and lace
minors do not interact
warnings: 18+, anal play, sex toys, voyeuristic fantasy, scratching, creampie
pairing: bakugou x fem!reader
wc: 3.8k
summary: The only one who manages to get Bakugou’s birthday right is you.
a/n: This is my addition to the Bakugou Birthday Bash collab (masterlist). Many thanks to @lady-bakuhoe for helping me flesh out the ideas with this story!! You were integral to this idea, love! And additional thanks to @whats-her-quirk and @therealvalkyrie for beta reading <333
edit: I no longer write x reader but here’s my old masterlist - mobile | desktop
Bakugou never took work off on his birthday.
Never. Why would he? Villains didn’t give a shit that this was the day the old hag had unceremoniously had him evacuated into a hospital room however many years ago. They didn’t give a shit that his friends—who were also heroes who should be fucking working, by the way—wanna come over to his house and surprise him. As though his reconnaissance-trained ears weren’t as fucking fine tuned at hearing idiots on the other side of the door as theirs.
What villains should care about was that he was a year older, wiser, and fucking stronger, and he was going to kick all their asses. That was what he told all his idiot friends every year when they asked him if he was going to take off work.
Every year he regretted it.
The idiots he works with really must not care about hero work, because every year they want to send him out on a field post sugar crash from some store-bought cake with his name on it. Or buy him gifts that he’ll probably toss in the trash on the way home. He’s not being rude; he just doesn’t need junk that he never would have bought himself in the first place.
Everyone is always grinning at him, wishing him a happy birthday—as though he’s any goddamn happier to see their ugly mugs flapping their lips at him—and trying to start stupid-ass conversations. If he doesn’t like small talk normally, why would he want it on his birthday?
And the singing.
If people really wanted to wish him a happy birthday, they’d find a way to do it silently while doing some respectable fucking hero work. Make his day easier.
But no, none of that was what happened. So he should have just stayed home. Let the villains have a fucking field day on April 20th, and he could have his real gift killing them all tomorrow on the 21st.
But, unfortunately, he was a dumbass and had gone to work anyway, like he’d learned nothing from the last many years of antics. And the continued antics had got him a little pissy. And when he was pissed off, his heart rate increased, his breathing grew heavier, and, of course, he sweat.
Well. Guess what happened?
“Bakugou, I am currently paying to treat burns and fractures on three villains. Care to explain?”
Best Jeanist was sitting in his office chair, blinding sunlight streaming in behind him. Late afternoon sun—darker in color but way more resentful towards human eyes, apparently. It was reflecting off of all of the neighboring glass corporate buildings, making Bakugou squint behind his mask.
Bakugou shrugged, petulant as he stood behind his chair instead of sitting in it. “Overkill.”
Best Jeanist nodded. “Did you…lose control?”
“Tch,” Bakugou scoffed. As if he ever lost control. “Villains were weaker than I thought.”
Bakugou felt the stare of that one fucking eye and stood firm. He knew he was looking at a suspension, hopefully just for a day or two. It wasn’t like he’d done anything terrible. Villains got hurt sometimes, just like pros did, and they got their care and then they got their justice. It’s not like Bakugou was violent on purpose. Anymore. And Jeanist sure as hell knew that, so it wouldn’t take Bakugou off the field for more than a slap on the wrist. He probably wouldn’t even be technically suspended. Just chained by the fucking dick to his desk with some paperwork.
“Just…” Bakugou braced for it, narrowing his eyes but keeping his snarl to a minimum. “Just be more careful next time. Shower and go home—see you tomorrow.”
Bakugou’s jaw dropped. He closed it quickly, trying not to look like Dunce Face in front of his boss, but in all that was real and true what? He was just about to say something—he didn’t know what, probably something insubordinate—when Best Jeanist took out his own paperwork and waved him away.
“Happy birthday, Bakugou.”
Oh. So that was it.
Bakugou grit his teeth. Happy fucking birthday indeed.
It was nothing. His brain told him over and over again that it was fucking nothing. He hadn’t been punished, he hadn’t even really done anything wrong; he just hadn’t been squeaky clean up to fucking code. He could still show up for work tomorrow, business as usual. He should be tickled fucking pink.
But he wasn’t. Special treatment for being the birthday boy? What was he? Five years old and given a pass after stealing the chicken nuggets off Deku’s plate? Jesus Christ.
And if he was honest, he was mostly pissed at himself. Sure, he could blame how the weather always seemed to sprint from spring to summer around his birthday every year, strengthening his quirk. He could blame the villains for being weak enough that they had no business even stepping foot in his neighborhood. But losing control of his quirk even a little—and it had been a little—was fucking amateur and he’d have to pencil in some extra time at the gym. Maybe snatch Shitty Hair for some sparring, and, unfortunately, probably nab an extra therapy session and talk about this anger thing again.
At least walking instead of sitting on that stifling, crowded train car was doing him some good. Let him cool off a bit before he got home and you saw that something was wrong. He was nearly entirely relaxed by the time he got to his building’s lobby, even having the grace to nod at the concierge—who didn’t know it was his birthday, thank God—before heading up the elevator.
When he got off on his floor, it suddenly occurred to him that you might have done something truly repulsive, like inviting his friends over. He could imagine Shitty Hair’s shitty fucking hair sticking up from behind your sofa as he tried to hide before leaping up and yelling surprise.
Well, if that was the case, then the surprise was going to be him kicking all his dumb friends out of the apartment with one foot. Ain’t no way he was going to host a party on his birthday.
It turned out his worry was for nothing, though, because when he turned the knob—fully braced to punch out some teeth with his other hand—he was greeted with a totally bare apartment.
Like barren.
For starters, it was perfectly clean. Bakugou kept a tidy house normally, but this was certainly cleaner than he’d left it this morning. But more than that, there was nothing extra lying around. No stupid friends. No presents. No cake or even the smell of one. It was almost disconcerting.
No, it was a relief. A relief because he didn’t want any of that stuff. He’d had the slice of cake at work—and was slightly hangry now to show for it—and wasn’t interested in having another. And even though you’d choose better gifts than the extras at work would, it was nothing he couldn’t buy himself. So no, this was perfect. He was absolutely not disappointed. Maybe a bit confused. But not disappointed.
He took his shoes off and set his things on the small table by the door. Then he wandered into the kitchen, downed some water, and thought about what he might make for dinner. He might have expected that you and he would make dinner together or maybe even that you would have surprised him with something, but he didn’t mind doing it alone. It wasn’t like he’d learned to cook just to find a housewife someday to con into doing it all for him.
He decided to go to the bedroom first to plug in his phone. He was just sliding it out of his pocket when he opened the door, saw you, and stopped short.
You were on the bed—not in bed, but on it—wearing a black zip up with his signature orange x over the chest. You were on your knees with your legs spread wide, looking him dead in the eye with a deadly smirk on your face, painted in bright lipstick.
“New prototype. You like?”
The two of you had met when you were scouted from his parents’ business to design the clothing for his first merchandise line. He’d sworn off dating you from the beginning, because the last thing he wanted was to give the old hag anything to say about, firstly, her being at all responsible for finding him a girlfriend or secondly, the fact that dating a fashion designer would mean he was dating his parents. He’d said fuck that to anyone who would listen.
But you’d gotten his brain from the beginning. Your designs were all sick from the sketch to mock up to the prototypes you always wore for him. Maybe he was a simple man for falling for a girl dressed in his colors, aiming to please him, but fuck it. You were talented, too smart for your own good, and pretty as hell.
So what? Now he had a dream girlfriend and one more reason to fight with his mom. Net positive for sure.
Still, that jacket wasn’t a prototype. That was from his first official line, no doubt, and he’d seen you wear it hundreds of times. He knew from here how much it would smell like detergent and how much like you.
You caught his eyes, raised your brows once, and then pulled the zip on the sweatshirt.
Underneath was nothing but lace and ribbon, contrasting the black and orange of the sweatshirt with moss green outlining your silhouette. The moss green from his gauntlets and his belt was caged around you in the thinnest strips of fabric, scraps of floral barely covering your breasts and pussy. The lingerie was an all-in-one, with the tiny bra connected to the panties by a few ribbons crossing over your belly. Not hiding a damn thing, but showing it off for all its worth.
“Fuck,” Bakugou groaned when the sweatshirt hit the bed, your arms still in the sleeves, but the look underneath now fully revealed to him. He could feel the blood going to his dick, just seeing you on display like that getting him up to half mast in seconds.
“Not a lot of coverage on this version,” you mused, sticking your thumb under a bra strap. “Maybe an edit for the second try?”
Bakugou growled, taking a step forward, but you weren’t done just yet.
“I was also thinking maybe full panties next time,” you said, turning around, sitting on your heels. The sweatshirt hung just below your ass, framing round cheeks that were caged by thin elastic crosses, and that was it. Not so much as a triangle of fabric to speak of. “Maybe write: Property of Dynamight on them? Or is that too much text?”
That was all it took for Bakugou to pounce. One arc of his fist had his shirt thrown with a smack to the floor and then his hands were on your shoulders, spinning you face up as he pushed you flat on the bed.
“You know I don’t like unnecessary words,” he growled.
And then he was kissing you, a hand running up the falke stockings pinned on your thighs as you pulled your arms out of the sweatshirt. One leg came up automatically to wrap around his hip, and Bakugou began rutting against your center, fully hard already. On his second grinding thrust, his pants snagged on the scrap of lace you were wearing. Wetness was already glistening on his trousers and he moved his thumb down to your core, groaning at what he felt.
“Crotchless panties?” he mumbled against your mouth. “You’re making this too easy, sweetheart.”
“Shouldn’t have to work so hard on your birthday,” you mewled.
There was a rumble in Bakugou’s throat, half scoff, half chuckle. “Yeah, remind me of that next year, will you?”
You were soaked already—the swipe of his thumb told you that much. Either you’d gotten really excited when he’d texted you that he was coming home early, or you’d…gotten yourself excited at some point after. Either way, it meant that foreplay could wait for round two.
He pulled his thumb away from your core and pressed it against your lip, smudging what lipstick had survived the kisses down your chin. You were half ruined already. You stuck your tongue out and licked at essence on his thumb before sucking it into your mouth, eyes wide as you looked up at him. Fuck, he could feel himself straining against his pants, grinding circles against your half-bare cunt for a spot of relief.
After you licked him clean, he took his hand back, leaving your mouth open and wanting as he began to fuss with the front of his pants. He caught your smudged lips again, holding your jaw with one hand as he pushed his pants down with the other. He pulled his lower half away from you, kicking off the pants—hadn’t bothered with boxers for the commute home—and let them slide off the edge of the bed.
“Ready?” he asked.
Your smile was big and you bit the tip of your tongue, nodding your head twice. That was all he needed. He grabbed his cock in his fist and slid it through your wetness just once, and then he pushed himself in.
Immediately, he felt the drag of something hard and angled against your lower wall right along his cock, pressing from tip to base as he slid home inside of you.
“Woah,” he groaned. “What the fuck?”
You giggled, the action making your walls flutter against him.
“Got myself a new toy,” you said coyly, wrapping your legs around his hips. “Promise you can get yourself something pretty on my birthday too.”
Bakugou reach a hand around your thigh, feeling the elastic garter pulled taut against the stockings that were rubbing so deliciously against his back and his hips. He grabbed a handful of your ass, and the tips of his fingers felt a rounded edge of warm metal slid just between your ass cheeks.
“You fucking naughty minx.” Bakugou grinned, showing all his teeth, rearing back out of you before thrusting back in, feeling the novel pressure of the toy on the way out and back.
No wonder you had been so wet to begin with. You must have lubed yourself up before putting in that butt plug—which wasn’t small, from what he could feel of it. He could imagine you, one leg up on the sink, ass sticking out as you fingered yourself, mouth dropping open when you inserted the toy. How cold it would have been when it first touched your pert little hole and how you’d gotten it all warm for him as you waited with your little secret for him to get home.
“It’s curved to hit prostates,” you gasped as Bakugou rocked hard, steady thrusts into you. “In case you’re interested.”
The thought, much to Bakugou’s surprise, sent a thrill right through his belly down to his dick. He couldn’t help but slam rapidly into you, making your eyes roll back. Fuck, was that something he wanted? It wasn’t something he’d ever thought about, and he didn’t have the mind right now to ponder it.
“God you feel so big.”
“You feel so tight, sweetheart,” Bakugou grunted, refusing to acknowledge the fresh heat that was on his cheeks after your previous comment. “Squeezing me from all sides.”
The butt plug left it so there was barely enough room in your pussy for his cock to pump in and out. The pressure was hard on one side, making him fucking twitch every time the head of his cock caught against it, leading him to opt for long, deep thrusts in and out of you. It was so good that he didn’t even care if the only present he got for his birthday was a little hunk of stainless steel halfway up your ass. He’d gotten home five minutes ago and already he could feel his balls tightening, threatening to bust a nut.
“Just think of it, Katsuki,” you said, your voice dreamy as he fucked you raw. “All the women wearing this set, thinking of you when they show it off for their partners. All wishing that you were the one fucking them. You’d like that, wouldn’t you, baby? But they’ll never have anything but their husband’s sad cock that they pretend is yours.”
“Fuck,” Bakugou growled, putting a hand on the headboard and nearly splintering it in his grip. You were riling him up and it made him want to press his palm flat against the burnished oak and let off his quirk, send shards flying. His hand was already drenched with more sweat than it should have been, just like with those villains earlier. Goddamn this time of year. He couldn’t help it; his quirk begged for it. He was in dire need of release of some kind, and it wasn’t like he could cum yet. He had to know how your pussy felt when it convulsed around him, ass cheeks tensing and squeezing that toy hard against his cock until he was spurting into you.
Bakugou let off a few crackling pops from his palm, moaning as relief filled him, the tension lessened for a moment. A faint smell of wood smoke spread through the room, slightly embittered by the resin blackening around his hand. One more scorch mark on the bed frame. You groaned underneath him, taken by the sight of Bakugou’s ever-tight control slipping for you. You knew he’d fuck you through the bed until the rest of the frame gave way if he wanted. You’d both be flat on a busted mattress and he’d keep going until he felt you clench around him.
“How’s that sound, Katsu?” you continued, your voice growing higher as Bakugou took his hand off the headboard and pressed four fingers, still sweaty and heated from his quirk, against the lace covering your clit. It was soaked through. “A-Ah, you’d like the idea of a woman home alone, dressed up just for you, fucking herself on the dildo she hides in the back of your closet, screaming out your name and hoping to God that her neighbors don’t hear?”
Bakugou couldn’t do the long, slow thrusts anymore. Your legs had grown tighter around his waist, your calves soft and silken against his ass as he kept his thrusts deep. The butt plug was rubbing against the base of his cock as he pounded into you, his fingers swiping over your clit with little finesse, but speed and steady pressure making up for it.
“But no matter…” you continued, the words coming out in little huffs as you panted with your head thrown back. Bakugou couldn’t resist leaning down and licking a line up the length of your neck, biting your earlobe when he got to the top, “no dildo, no matter how expensive, no matter how long and fat, will be good enough. The whole time…they’ll know they’re missing out. Oh, fuck.”
All of a sudden, your thighs were squeezing tight against his hip bones, arms thrown over his back and finger scratching hot lines that would mark him even more as yours tomorrow. Then you were gasping, walls squeezing and Bakugou fought against your grip to pull out just enough so that the metal toy was rubbing just over the cleft of his head with every convulsion.
He didn’t stand a chance. There was hardly any warning before he was cumming into you, streaks of his seed dribbling out of you. He couldn’t even pump himself through it; you were gripping him so tightly and, more than that, he didn’t want to move. Everything was white hot, so he just waited it out, barely moving save for where his hand was still rubbing over your clit.
Eventually you stopped him, grabbing his wrist just as the grip of your cunt loosened around him. Then you brought his hand, glistening with moisture, up to your mouth, and broadly laved your tongue from the base of his fingers to the tips, looking him dead in the eye. You then brought his hand down to your neck, and allowed him to streak the combined fluids across and down your décolletage.
Fuck—there was no way he was going to work on his birthday next year. He’d let villains overtake the city first.
“They’ll know they’re missing out,” you breathed, and it took Bakugou a second to figure out that you were continuing your voyeuristic fantasy from before, playing it out to the end, “They might even think they understand. But the only one who will truly know, is me.”
You smiled, your eyes and grin both heavy, sleepy, sated.
“Got that fucking right,” Bakugou said, pulling out of you, his cum already dripping down your ass. He eyed it, only catching a glimpse of the glinting metal plug before your legs fell to the bed, spread and limp. He smacked your hip lightly with one hand. “Roll over.”
In no mood to argue, you flipped willingly, ass up, plug still hidden from view. The lingerie was damp in some spots from where your wetness had spilled from your pussy. He leaned his mouth towards one of the strips of elastic stretching against the swell of your ass and bit. You gasped, back arching, and Katsuki smirked as he pulled away.
“A fucking lingerie line?”
A chuckle escaped your throat. “It was supposed to be a joke, but now…”
Katsuki pinched the elastic with his fingers and snapped it, watching the slight jiggle of your cheeks as you jolted. “No.”
“But Katsuki,” you whined.
“Mm,” he amended, as close to ‘maybe’ as you were going to get. You both could always talk about the idea—truly ridiculous idea—later. Katsuki put a hand on one cheek under the strips of lingerie and spread it.
There was the plug, a stainless steel handle. It was thin and shaped like an oblong donut, not like one of those cheap bejeweled things. This one, even just what he could see of it, screamed quality, and, for a moment, Bakugou wondered again what it would be like to wear. If you’d gotten it in, he sure as fuck could. And he did hold a certain anatomical advantage in using it.
He put his thumb and forefinger to the phalange and gave the toy a twist, pressing it just slightly deeper into your hole. You groaned, your voice low and deep in the pillow like when he gave you a back massage. He smirked and kept at it. Seemed this was a birthday gift for him after all.
“Katsu, don’t tease,” you moaned. “Sensitive.”
Bakugou, however, had no mercy. He flipped you over again, pulling a little yelp from you, and then picked you up bridal style, carrying you off the bed.
“Where are we going?” you asked, your voice suddenly much more awake.
“Shower,” he answered simply. He squeezed the meat of your upper thigh. Not quite your ass but close enough for the point to be made. “I’m not done with my present yet.”
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card swiped (4)
→ jeon jungkook x (f) reader
→ “I’ve known Jungkook was a virgin since he first tried to tell me he wasn’t,” you tell him, arms crossed over your chest. “I’m pretty sure everyone knows.”
GENRE romance (romcom?), eventual smut, teensy angst
WARNING mentions of a hand job, talk of virginity
OTHER college crushes, volleyball player!jk, student council president!oc, idiots to lovers, besties to lovers, childhood friends au
RATING m (18+) bc brief sex ment
WC 1.6k
NOTES (!) sorry for taking so long to update </3 school be kicking my ass. anyway here they are! an idiot couple. lmk what u think!!
[ masterlist ]
In the past, whenever something had bothered you, the first person you ran to was Jungkook. Low grades, fights with your parents, boy drama— as your best friend and number one confidant, Jungkook was always your first choice. He was always willing to lend you a shoulder to cry on, even if that meant staining his white t-shirts with streaks of your mascara. He was always ready to go beat up a mean boy who had hurt your feelings during lunch, even if he’d miss his favorite special. And he was always down for some good old fashion i hate my parents ranting, even if he adored your parents. He was a great listener, an even better best friend, and had rightfully won you over from a very young age.
That being said, how were you supposed to talk to Jungkook about something that bothered you when that something was him?
You could easily tell any of your numerous girl friends, those of which would probably understand your predicament better than Jungkook or any man ever could. But after years of vehemently denying any notion of a romantic relationship between the two of you, you get the feeling your call for help will be met with more unimpressed glares than actual assistance. Besides, as much as you bring up Jungkook, none of them really know Jungkook to truly offer you any worthwhile advice.
Your next option: Kim Taehyung. Now, Kim Taehyung held a similar background as Jungkook (translation: he also went to the same high school as you). He knows both you and Jungkook—frankly, more than you’d like him to—so he would be able to dissect the issue easily and offer trustworthy advice. The problem with Kim Taehyung, however, is that aside from knowing you at your embarrassingly dorky teenage prime, he doesn’t know how to keep a secret. Anything he knows, Jungkook knows. So if you were to, hypothetically, ask Taehyung for advice on Jungkook, well. Chances are, you’d probably get a rather confused text from Jungkook two minutes later.
Which leaves you with one option— Park Jimin. There’s a reason Park Jimin isn’t your first option, and that reason presents itself now as you glare at him from across the empty room. For as long as you’ve been in university, Jimin has always lingered around the student council meetings, giving everyone he sees the prettiest, meanest stink-eye. You suspect it’s because he waits around for Min Yoongi, your Vice President (which isn’t an issue; Jungkook also frequents student council meetings while waiting for you), and doesn’t really care for anyone else. Your problem with Jimin doesn’t lie there but rather with the fact he’s adamant on taking up space and not lending so much as a finger to help.
Today he is sitting with his feet on the table, dirty volleyball bag tossed on the floor. He’s watched you for the last fifteen minutes wrestle with the broken copy machine and hasn’t said a word since. He pretends he doesn’t see you struggling, because if he does, he’d be obligated to help you.
To summarize, Park Jimin may be the fastest libero your university’s volleyball team has seen in years, but he’s a good-for-nothing bum everywhere else.
And despite all that, he’s your best choice. There’s no one quite as blunt and honest as Park Jimin. There’s no one in this world who truly doesn’t care enough about anyone’s problems to gossip about them as Park Jimin. You plop down beside him, rumpled papers in hand. Without warning, you jump straight into it. “Jungkook is going to take my virginity,” you announce, like it’s the most casual thing in the world. If any of your fellow student council members heard you, you’re certain you’d shrivel up and die.
Jimin hums. “That’s nice.” His eyes don’t leave his phone, thumb hovering over his screen. It’s a testament to how much he truly does not care. His extended silence plants a seed of doubt in you— was this the right person to tell? you begin to worry. But after a beat, Jimin’s thumb taps against his screen and he says, “Jungkook is a virgin.”
You clench your jaw. “I know.”
The thing about Jimin is, with the right wording, you can get him interested in something. Not interested enough to genuinely care, but interested enough to at least listen and offer his own piece of straightforward advice. His thumb comes to a standstill over his phone, eyes momentarily going blank. It’s a minute gesture, one that’s taken you four years of paying attention to catch. Just as quickly as it appears, it’s gone. “Really,” Jimin sighs, back to, you now realize, playing CandyCrush on his phone. “You’re gonna let a virgin take your virginity.”
Not a question, but you nod anyway. “Yup.”
There’s sweat building on the back of your neck, nerves at an all time high, but you’re trying to play it off. Just a little bit more and you know you’ll have caught him. Beside you, Jimin’s jaw twitches.
Finally, after what seems like an eternity of trying to act calm, Jimin clicks his phone off and turns to you. He’s as intimidating as ever, ash blonde hair pushed back today to reveal his forehead and dark eyes. “You’ve known Jungkook was a virgin this whole time?” he asks, has this calculating look in his eyes that makes you feel like you’re being questioned by an officer of the law and not the shortest person on the volleyball team.
With a practiced air of nonchalance, you shrug. “I have,” you confess, and it’s the truth.
While you may have been initially fooled that night two years ago, you weren’t that oblivious. Oh, you knew clear as day that Jeon Jungkook was still a virgin, just as well as you knew that he religiously washed his sheets every weekend or that he had a specific color coded system for his underwear drawer. Jungkook was a fool to try and lie to you, not only because you had found out, but because you had found out that very next morning.
It had been subtle. The night at the party, you had watched on with a throbbing heartache as some pretty girl led Jungkook up a set of stairs, had barely fought off a wave of emotion when he returned twenty minutes later, his hair a rumpled mess. “Did you… ?” you had mumbled, pressed closely against him by the back door. Your eyes had been glassy, from your emotions and from the drunken stupor you had gotten yourself into while he was away, wondering what he was doing. A sense of jealousy you would never admit to had curled around your heart. His hand had landed on your hip then. He smelled like flowers and vanilla, a smell unlike his own. Your heart clenched, hand mindlessly reaching up to cup his jaw, so drunk and heartbroken, you couldn’t stop yourself from trailing your fingers along his pretty cheekbones.
Jungkook had graced you with a simple nod, and then, “do you wanna leave now?”
You’d left, stumbling down Greek road on your way back to his dorm. Jungkook had held your hand the whole way, tucked you into his twin bed, and then promptly knocked out on the floor between his and Taehyung’s beds. The latter was nowhere to be found, wouldn’t appear until the next morning when he’d accidentally step on Jungkook’s ankle and wake both of you up.
Jungkook had yelped, and your eyes had fluttered open. You remember debating rolling over, checking on him like you wanted to, but Taehyung was already there doing just that. So you had laid still instead, listened as the two boys clattered around the room. They chatted mindlessly, about the party and tomorrow’s practice. Taehyung had been bragging about some girl he’d slept with last night. “What about you?” he had asked, and your breath caught in your throat. “Did you and…”—a pause, the distinct ruffle of fabric—“finally?”
“What— no,” Jungkook had said, and you felt the bed dip as he sat down on the edge beside you.
Taehyung pushed on with a snort. “Well, did you get lucky at all?”
Jungkook groaned, placed one warm hand on your back soothingly. You tried your best to level out your breathing, relaxed your facial expression as you clung to the sound of his voice. “Just a handjob. Some girl I didn’t even know. Does that count?” You could hear your heartbeat in your ears, felt it beneath your fingertips when you fisted the sheets.
And that curt admission sat in the back of your mind everyday for two years.
You turn to Jimin. “I’ve known Jungkook was a virgin since he first tried to tell me he wasn’t,” you tell him, arms crossed over your chest. “I’m pretty sure everyone knows.”
Jimin lets out a low whistle. “You’re smarter than I thought,” he grins, this conniving little smile that is a genuine cause for concern. “So you’re letting him think you don’t know?” You nod. Jimin’s smile grows. “My, my. If I had known you were this evil, maybe we would’ve hung out more.”
You roll your eyes. “I’m not evil,” you insist, flicking him on the nose. Jimin huffs indignantly. “I think what he’s doing is sweet…” you confess, feel your entire body heat up as you recall that wide-eyed look Jungkook had given you just yesterday afternoon, your kiss print fresh on his cheek. “And, well,” you look down at your shoes. “I used to dream about him being my first.”
Jimin groans. “You two make me sick.”
Copyright © 2021, 1kook on tumblr. absolutely NO reposts allowed.
#networkbangtan#kwritersworldnet#jungkook smut#jungkook fic#jungkook#bts jungkook#jungkook x reader#jungkook x reader smut#jeon jungkook x reader#jeon jungkook x reader smut#bts fic#bts smut#bts#jeon jungkook#jeon jeongguk#jjk#mine
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Maybe It’s Fate
— After discovering the mememate you fell in love with was your ex-boyfriend who broke your heart, you find yourself alone in a bar with a dead phone in a poor attempt to cope. The person who helps you at 3 a.m. is the last person you want to see.
pairing: shinsou hitoshi x f!reader
word count: 10,531
genre: modern au, social media au
a/n: hihi welcome to part 25 of toya ! ;) the smau is rated 17+ so keep that in mind because it applies to this part too. it’s a bit thicc so i hope it’s able to keep your attention! skksffsd plspls chat with me and let me know what u think once u read! i’m looking forward to the convos ^-^ [edit: THIS IS NOT THE FINAL PART LOLOL]
Of all the dumb decisions you’ve made in your life, this by far had to be the dumbest of them all.
You were angry and hurt and wanted nothing more than to drown your feelings with overplayed EDM music and cheap booze that reminded you too much of the trash college parties you used to frequent. And while going out to get drunk was no where near your stupidest decision, going out alone with the full intention of returning home with someone else was.
“Is everything okay?” you heard an unfamiliar voice beside you call.
Wishing you had brought more than an empty can of pepper spray, you cautiously turned to face him. You wanted to call a cab or take the train home, but you knew walking alone in the streets in your current condition might just be more stupid than staying at the club. Besides, your phone died right after you sent Kaminari your location.
In other words-- You were truly fucked.
Not that you would let anyone know that, of course.
“Everything’s just fine,” you replied, trying to sound polite but disinterested. “Thanks.”
He kept his distance but sat down at the barstool next to you. “Are you sure? You’re a pretty lady alone at the bar and you’re staring at your drink like it just insulted your favorite grandmother.”
Immediately, the tears of stress and frustration flooded your eyes but you kept them from falling. Your bottom lip quivered and you blamed all the alcohol in your system for your seemingly uncontrollable emotions.
“Am I that transparent?” You sniffled, downing the rest of your drink as you turned towards him.
“Ah-- Wait!” he cried with wide eyes, waving his hands in front of him as you chugged what was in your glass. “Are you sure you should keep drinking? Where are your friends?”
You studied him curiously. He seemed nice and trustworthy, but you couldn’t help but be skeptical of his intentions.
“They’re...around,” you answered, unwilling to admit you were here alone to a random stranger. “And I’m okay! Just here hating men, but what’s new?”
He nodded solemnly. “Understandable. Men suck. Carry on.”
That earned a grin from you.
As the last gulp of vodka settled in your stomach and made its way to your head, you instinctively checked your phone in your pocket only to find it still dead.
Damn. And here you were hoping it would’ve miraculously charged through sheer willpower.
Drumming your fingertips against the empty glass, you let your gaze roam around the perimeter of the nightclub, blinking furiously in confusion when you thought you had spotted a head of all-too-familiar purple hair near the entrance.
“What the…” you trailed off. You could have sworn you just saw Shinsou, but the next second you opened your eyes, he was gone.
Great, you thought to yourself miserably. First he snuck his way into your heart and now you were imagining his presence too?
“You’re really had too much to drink, haven’t you, Y/N?” you chided yourself, head spinning as you instantly regretted the last few gulps.
The guy next to you glanced over in concern, drinking a glass of what you assumed to be respect women juice.
“Can I order you some water?” he fretted. “Or maybe a cab?”
You shook your head to decline but stopped abruptly when your temples started to throb at the sudden motion.
“S’okay,” you slurred. “I just thought I saw--”
“Y/N!”
You froze in your seat.
That voice… It was faint and almost like it wasn’t real, but you knew that voice.
There was no way.
“Good grief, I’m losing it now, huh?” you asked your bar acquaintance with furrowed brows.
He shrugged, not knowing how to reply.
“Y/N, thank god,” the voice said frantically, sounding closer this time. “You’re safe!”
Ever so slowly, you turned around in your seat, eyes squeezed shut.
Even hearing his voice amidst the blaring of music was enough to make your heart twist in pain. It was the same deep timbre you remembered from high school and you haven’t heard it since then. You hated just how much you had missed the familiar sound. It was like a hug of comfort telling you everything was okay and a stab in the gut all at once.
“Y/N,” he said again, almost a whisper this time.
You finally found the courage to open your eyes, but refused to meet his gaze. Instead, you developed a deep interest in the laces of his shoes, reluctant to look up.
“Shinsou…” The name left a bitter taste on your tongue and you wished you had another drink to wash it down with. Your voice hardened. “What are you doing here?”
He winced at your harsh tone but stood unrelenting. “Your friends are worried sick about you. Kaminari was so concerned he even messaged me-- Something I imagine he never wanted to do.”
Your lower lip jutted out in guilt as your stare stayed set on the intricacies of the tiled flooring.
“Why have you not checked your phone?” asked Shinsou in exasperation. “Kaminari was trying to tell you I was going to pick you up.”
“I’m sorry,” you said softly. “My phone died after I sent Denki my location.”
“Died? Did you not charge it before you left? Y/N how could you be so irresponsible--!”
“Is everything okay here?” your unnamed acquaintance said from his seat on the bar. He glanced carefully between you and Hitoshi.
You nodded, sparing him a wry smile. “I’m fine. Thank you, though.”
Shinsou bit the inside of his cheek as he eyed the stranger who sat next to you. “Who’s this?”
“None of your damn business.”
Annoyed by Shinsou’s chiding, you bristled when he frowned at you. He had no right to sound concerned or jealous-- No right to pretend he cared!
Not when he did what he did.
“I know I was being stupid and I’ll call my friends when I get home,” you said, not bothering to hide your irritation. “But you can’t just come here and talk to me like everything is normal! Why are you even here?”
Pushing yourself out of your chair, you stood up and finally looked Hitoshi in the eye, glaring at him. You wobbled on your own two feet and felt the goosebumps on your bare thighs and arms, briefly wishing you had brought a coat with you.
Great, another thing Toshi can call you irresponsible for, you thought crossly, a mixture of hurt and anger in your face as you stared up at him.
“Why are you here?” you repeated as you paced away from the bar--turning back only to give your bar friend a wave goodbye that he returned with a confused look. You headed for the exist of the nightclub as briskly as your legs could carry you in your uncomfortable heels. “How did you know where to find me?”
Shinsou trailed not too far behind you and you begrudgingly admitted to yourself that you felt a warmth near your back from his presence. “Kaminari told me you were alone at a nightclub and this one happened to be only ten minutes from my house.”
You pouted. Small fucking world. Fate must’ve been getting a kick out of this.
“Your friends were worried-- So was I.” You rolled your eyes, but he continued. “And since I was the closest to this place I offered to pick you up.”
Reaching the side doors, you stopped by the stone wall of the building and squinted at him. “You offered and they just let you?”
That did not sound like the friends you knew. You were expecting a full Shinsou beat down from Bakugou alone.
Hitoshi scratched the back of his neck and, in your tipsy stupor, you felt comforted by the familiar habit of his. You swallowed, balling your hands into fists to snap your mind out of it.
It shouldn’t matter how many memories of the past were flooding you-- You were mad at him for lying and you had every right to be.
“Maybe offered is too loose of a word,” he admitted after a moment’s silence, having the decency to appear sheepish. “But we were worried and I knew I could get to you in half the time any of your friends could.”
Sure, it was a logical reason. But that didn’t mean you had to like it. “I would rather have waited double the time if that meant I didn’t have to see you again.”
You stared Hitoshi straight in the eyes as you said that as you tried to ignore the trembling of your lower lip. He flinched at the words, looking hurt. But another part of him looked like he accepted it.
“I know I’m the last person you want to see right now--”
“Mhmm,” you hummed just to be petty.
“--but we had no way of knowing if you were safe. Especially when you stopped replying to anyone! This was the quickest way.”
Folding your arms across your chest you stubbornly held his gaze. “Well, I’m safe. So you can leave now.”
Shinsou pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. “Please. I know you hate me and you have every right to--”
“I don’t hate you,” you muttered under your breath. As much as you wish you did, you don’t think you could ever really hate him.
He blinked slowly and you could have sworn you saw a shimmer of hope in his expression. You tore your gaze away, studying the small fissures and cracks on the otherwise smooth pavement.
“Oh,” he breathed almost imperceptibly. “Thank you.”
You pretended not to hear him.
“Regardless of whether you hate me or not, I know you don’t want to see me--and I apologize for showing up so suddenly--but will you please let me bring you home safely?” Hitoshi pleaded. “Or to your friend’s house if you don’t want to be alone.”
With your lips squeezed shut, you rubbed the goosebumps off your upper arm. It was cold and your head was spinning and you had no clue what to say to him.
Silently, Shinsou took off his outer coat and gently draped it over your shoulders, fastening the top button near the collar so it wouldn’t fall off your frame. You looked at him in surprise, unshed tears stinging the back of your eyes as you recalled all the times he’d given you his jacket while you were dating.
There were more times that you cared to admit where you conveniently “forgot” your jacket or wore too little layers on a cold day just so Hitoshi could give you his and you’d be enveloped in his scent.
And that’s exactly what was happening now. Shinsou’s coat surrounded your body like a warm hug and your nose was filled with a scent exactly like the one you remembered from when you were dating. He smelled like a sweet sandalwood with a mixture of fresh jasmine. He smelled like a field of flowers you’d find after a long trek through a woodsy forest. He smelled like home.
But he wasn’t.
In actuality, you haven’t been this close to Shinsou since your break up.
It had been years since you had seen him or talked to him or even been close enough to catch a trace of his scent. And now he was flooding every one of your senses with no care of the repercussions.
Your head was light.
You missed him. You cared for him. You never stopped loving him.
And now old wounds that never fully healed had been ripped open all at once.
“You were shivering,” Hitoshi stated quietly. “So I gave you my--”
He stopped short when he heard a sniffle coming from your direction, eyes growing wide as your buried your face in the palms of your shaking hands.
Through the cracks between your fingers, you saw Shinsou reach out to cup your face, stopping himself before he could touch you and withdrawing as if he had been burned. As stupid as it was, you wanted nothing more than to feel his touch against your skin and you found yourself involuntarily taking a half-step closer to him.
Your silent tears feel even faster.
“Are you crying?”
Despite the droplets of water blurring your eyes, you managed to glare up at him for his dumb question.
He grimaced. “Sorry. I’m...sorry.”
Although you were the one crying, you still noticed the pained look on Shinsou’s face. He seemed just as conflicted as you were, his fingernails digging into the palms of his hands so hard his knuckles appeared white.
When he opened his mouth to speak his voice sounded choked, but still gentle. “Are you okay, Y/N?”
“Just peachy,” you murmured, barely moving your lips. The two of you stood there in awkward silence, nothing but the sounds of your labored breaths filling the air until you blurted, “Actually, you know what--? No. I’m not!”
Shinsou opened his mouth to speak but no noise came out. That was just fine by you, though. You had plenty of things you wanted to say, regardless of his response.
“I’m angry at you! And confused. And sad. And hurt! I don’t know if I want to yell at you or ignore you or run right back into your arms--” Your voice cracked and you squeezed your eyes shut, trying to slow your sharp breathing.
You hugged yourself around your waist, painfully aware of how comforting his jacket felt around your body. A part of you wished you could just tear the coat off your shoulders, throw it onto a puddle on the floor, give Shinsou the middle finger, and turn away without looking back.
But you couldn’t.
Instead, you let your tears continue to fall as you glowered at Hitoshi’s shoes.
“I am so mad at you,” you managed, hands clutching the fabric at your sides. “You lied to me, Hitoshi. You lied to me and you didn’t trust me and you left!”
The hurt from your past which you never wanted to accept mixed with anger from the present, both fueling your surge in emotions.
“And now you’re here--in front of me--acting like everything is okay?!” you shouted in exasperation. Your face was burning despite the chilling breeze outside. “Do you even care about me? Have you ever even cared about me?”
He gritted his teeth, hurt that you would even ask that. “Of course. Of course I care about you, Y/N! Even through all these years I’ve never stopped caring about you.”
“Funny way of showing it.”
His laugh was humorless. “I’m a fuck up. I know.”
Your gaze softened just the slightest bit. “Hey-- I didn’t say that.”
Shinsou shrugged. “Regardless, I did fuck up with you. And I’m so sorry for that.”
“For which time?” By now, the tears flowing out of your eyes slowed, the remnants dried by the biting wind. You gave him a wry smile, unamused.
“Both times,” he answered without hesitation. “I hurt you when I broke up with you for no damn reason and I lied when I told you I didn’t love you. That was the biggest lie of my life-- I still loved you. So much. But I jumped to conclusions and didn’t give you the change to explain. I owe you so much more than an apology but it’s the least I can give you right now.”
You rolled your lower lip between your teeth, hating yourself for wanting to accept his apology and jump into his arms. He gave no excuses for what he did and his words were genuine. That much you knew for certain.
Slowly, he inched towards you.
“I really am sorry, Y/N.” He paused. “You didn’t deserve any of that.”
You stayed silent, holding your breath as the pad of his thumb brushed against your damp cheek. Shinsou wiped away your flood of tears with a touch so gentle, it felt like a feather on your face.
His thumb lingered on your cheekbone, his fingertips lightly grazing your jaw, and you found yourself ever so slightly leaning into his palm. The tension in your muscles loosened and if you closed your eyes, you could almost pretend you were back with the Shinsou you loved in high school-- As if he never left and nothing had ever changed.
Just for a moment, you tricked yourself into being truly happy. You tricked yourself into thinking that maybe you and Hitoshi could still be in love.
You wanted to capture this second and replay it on an infinite loop, but just like all moments, this too had to come to an end.
As you opened your eyes, Hitoshi reluctantly brought his hand back to his side.
“Sorry,” he said, voice hoarse. “You were crying and I just wanted to--” He shook his head, cutting himself off before his voice cracked. “I’m sorry.”
It sounded like his apology was meant for more than just wiping some tears off your face.
You nodded almost imperceptibly, the anger in your gaze diffused by hurt and longing. “I know.”
As the minutes passed, neither one of you made a move to step away from the other-- Your bodies mere inches apart and so close, yet never quite touching.
Suddenly, Hitoshi cleared his throat.
“Er-- If you’ll let me, I think I should bring you home now,” he said, forcibly shaking himself out of his daze and pulling his phone out. “It’s almost four in the morning.”
Blinking, you rubbed your eyes. Not that he mentioned the time, you realized just how tired you were. You wanted to take a bubble bath, change into fluffy pajamas, and sleep until the following night.
“Do you have to go to your flower shop tomorrow?”
“Hmm?” You were startled. You had almost forgotten that the man in front of you was the same person you considered your “mememate.” As much as you hated to admit it, he probably knew more about you than some of your closest friends.
Biting your lip, you snapped yourself out of it.
“Oh-- Right. My flower shop.”
He nodded.
“No, I don’t have work tomorrow,” you answered finally. “I may not have made the smartest decisions tonight, but I’m not that irresponsible.”
A shadow of a smile graced his face. “Of course not.”
Fishing his keys from his pocket, Shinsou walked to the parking lot of the nightclub, looking over his shoulder to check if you were following.
When his gaze met yours you immediately stuck your tongue out at him haughtily so he knew you were only following him as a last resort and you needed to get home-- Not because you wanted to.
You caught a glimpse of his grin before he turned around, and you managed to stop yourself before one spread to your lips as well.
Stopping at a black car with tinted windows, Hitoshi unlocked it with his keys, opening the door of the passenger seat and waiting for you to safely enter.
“I can open a door myself,” you murmured, sliding into the seat securely before he gently shut it close.
“I know,” you heard his amused voice call through the window.
It felt like there was one, singular butterfly fluttering around in your stomach and causing mayhem, and you batted it away before Hitoshi could come in and see the grin on your face.
“Did I just see you just hit yourself in the gut?” he asked when he entered through the driver’s side.
“No.”
“Okay.”
Subtly, you rubbed your tummy in a soft, circular motion. You hadn’t meant to punch the butterfly that hard.
“Didn’t hit yourself, huh?”
You flushed. “Oh, hush.”
With a snort, Hitoshi turned the engine of his car on and you let your eyes explore the interior. It was sleek and clean, smelling like a mixture of sandalwood and new car.
Reaching behind the gear level, he pulled out a white cord and handed it to you. You stared at the object in his hands.
“For you,” he said, with a raised brow. “You should charge your phone and let your friends know you’re on your way home.”
Wordlessly, you accepted it from him. Careful not to let your fingers brush against his in fear of the spark it might cause.
“I messaged Kaminari earlier to let him know you were safe. But he probably wants to hear it from you.”
You nodded as you plugged your dead phone in. “Thanks.”
He hummed, putting the car on drive and backing out of the parking spot, stopping before he reached the main street.
“Do you know how to get home from here?” he asked. As you shook your head, Hitoshi handed you his fully charged phone that was opened on the navigation app. “You can search for your address.”
“Got it.” The air between you was almost suffocatingly awkward as you typed in where you lived, each click of the keyboard ringing into the stillness of the night. After finding turning the directions on, you handed the phone back to him. “Thanks.”
Shaking his head, he waved you off. “You don’t need to keep thanking me, Y/N. This is the least I could do.”
Averting your gaze, you twiddled your thumbs in your lap, unsure what to say. You had so much you wanted to tell him--so much you wanted to ask--but when it came to it, you froze.
Just then, your phone made a sound from its spot near the gear shift, buzzing and lighting up as it finally turned on. A plethora of notifications filled your screen and you found yourself feeling guilty for making your friends worry like that.
Five missed calls for Kaminari, three missed calls from Todoroki, and nine missed calls from Bakugou. You gulped. You were definitely going to get your ears talked off by those three once they got a hold of you.
But amidst the calls and texts of worry from your friends, you also noticed a handful of messages from Hitoshi. He sent you texts asking if you were okay and telling you not to worry because he was on his way to get you. There was a lump in your throat when he saw the messages were still from your mememate-- You never did get around to changing his contact name.
From the corner of your eye you saw Hitoshi glancing down at your phone screen, a look of regret apparent on his face. When he caught you staring, he directed his attention back on the road, clearing his throat as he followed the directions on the navigation system.
To think only a week ago, things were so different between the two of you.
You thought he was a random stranger you connected with through the power of memes, never having a clue that he was your ex this whole time. You found yourself opening up and sharing your private feelings with him despite the promise you made yourself to always guard your heart.
Even anonymously, Hitoshi climbed over your walls and found his way to the inner workings of your life. Even anonymously, he made everything feel like it was okay.
But a part of you was scared--so scared--that it was all in your head and he was only playing you this whole time. And at this point, you were just too afraid to ask.
“Are you crying again?”
“What?!” you yelped in alarm, wiping at your slightly damp face with the sleeves of his coat. “No, you asshole!” You glared at him, a few loose tears still gathered by the corners of your eyes. You refused to let them fall through the use of sheer willpower. “The air conditioning is just blasting into my eyes.”
“The air conditioner is off.”
You blinked. “Well that makes sense. It’s so hot in here I’m just sweating through my eyes.”
He pressed his lips together to keep from smiling. “Right.”
The lighthearted mood didn’t last very long, however, when your phone buzzed once more and the notifications from earlier tonight appeared on your lockscreen.
“I really made everyone worry, huh?” You sighed, leaning back against the headrest and shutting your eyes, the effects of the alcohol long since worn off. “I can’t believe I did something like this.”
He signaled a left turn and waited until he was at the red light before continuing. “I’m sorry for causing this.”
You stared at him in confusion. “What do you mean? Causing this?”
“Yeah. If I had just told you who I was the moment I found out, this wouldn’t have happened. You wouldn’t have been scared and alone at a random nightclub and your friends wouldn’t have been in near panic for hours. Hell-- If I hadn’t run away like that all those years ago none of this would have happened.” His fingers tightened around the steering wheel so hard it left indents on the leather. “You wouldn’t have felt all the pain and heartbreak and--”
His voice grew hoarse as it broke off, as if something was tightening around his throat. Holding your breath, you gazed at him in concern.
You were angry at Hitoshi and thought he had a lot of explaining to do-- Sure. But...for him to blame himself for everything that happened? That was more weight than anyone should bear on their own.
Surprising both him and yourself, you firmly placed your hand on top of his as he gripped the steering wheel. His hands were cold and rough from the wind, and you were certain yours weren’t much better. But still, you held him. And still, it felt right.
“Not everything is your fault, Toshi,” you said quietly, his old nickname slipping out of your mouth before you could stop it, like it was natural for you to call him that.
His eyes widened and a flush filled your cheeks.
You coughed to relieve the tension in your neck. “I just mean… You don’t need to blame yourself for everything. You messed up and there’s no denying that, but this isn’t all your fault. I mean it.”
Your eyes met before he tore his gaze away to focus on driving. Quickly, you retracted your hand from on top of Shinsou’s, cradling it against your stomach as you felt the burn from his skin linger on yours.
“Thank you.” His voice was solemn and grateful, as if he needed to hear those words at least once in his life. “You’re too caring, you know? Your heart is too good.”
You let out a breath of laughter, brushing his compliment off. “Yours is too. It’s just been through some shit. And maybe didn’t make the best decisions.”
“It most definitely didn’t.”
Though neither of you were looking at each other, there was a shared sense of happiness between the two of you--regardless of how brief it may have been. There was a small smile playing on your face as you bit your lip to keep it from growing wider.
You hadn’t fully forgiven Hitoshi, he still had some explaining to do, but you felt a sense of calmness when you realized that maybe forgiveness would be possible.
Before you knew it, you heard the navigator say, “Your destination is on the right,” as Hitoshi pulled up at the curb in front of your building.
“We’re here,” he announced slowly, one hand on the gear level as if he wasn’t sure what to do next.
There was an awkward silence as you unplugged your phone from his car charger. It wasn’t that you wanted to spend more time with him exactly (that was definitely not the case), but rather you had more questions to ask. And what better time to figure out those questions than at four in the morning?
“You’ve been driving for a while…” you trailed off, hoping he caught the hint without too much embarrassment on your part. “Do you want to use the restroom before you drive back home?”
Hitoshi scratched the back of his neck. “No, I’m good. I wasn’t out for that long.”
“O-Oh,” you stuttered, a sudden feeling of nerves settling in your stomach. Not those damned butterflies again. “Well, how about… Maybe you want a glass of water or a cup of tea?”
He gave you a curious look but set his car to park and turned off the engine nonetheless. “Sure…? Some water would be nice.”
You let out a sigh of relief you didn’t know you were holding, pulling your keys out of your pocket and unbuckling your seatbelt. Before you could open the car door for yourself, Hitoshi was already on the passenger’s side ready to open it for you.
“I know how to open a door,” you muttered with a roll of your eye, but felt a faint flush litter your cheeks nonetheless. You hopped out of your seat, accepting the hand he offered to stead you. “But...thank you.”
“No worries.”
For someone you were still mad at, he was making it damn hard for you to stay petty.
Despite the light throbbing in your head, both from drinking too much alcohol and from staying up too late, you were able to lead him inside your living room with no complications--only struggling with unlocking the door just a little.
“Welcome to my house,” you said, flapping your arms around and fidgeting in place. You slid off your shoes and placed them at the doorway and Hitoshi followed suit. “You can, uh, sit on the couch while I get you water. Or you can follow me into the kitchen…?”
Your eyes scanned the floors and furniture of your apartment. You liked maintaining your living space clean and clutter-free, so it wasn’t too much of a mess. Still, you weren’t expecting any guests and it wasn’t as nice as it could have been…
You shook your head, giving your face a light slap when you thought no one was looking. You shouldn’t be bothered. It was just Hitoshi here. Someone you most definitely no longer cared about.
Or so you kept telling yourself.
He followed behind you, grabbing at his neck and glancing between your walls and you, unsure what to look at in this new environment. After all, it wasn’t everyday you picked up your ex that you haven’t seen for four years at a bar only to be invited into their house.
“I can go with you to the kitchen,” he answered with uncertainty.
“G-Great!”
You grimaced. When did you become Tony the Tiger all of a sudden?
As you grabbed two glasses from the cupboard, you filled them up with ice and water, setting one next to Shinsou on the countertop.
He accepted it. “Thank you.”
You nodded and there was an awkward silence, both of you taking long sips from your glass, not knowing where to go from here. You knew you wanted to talk to him, but what were you going to ask exactly? What was the right way to go about this situation?
Next to you, Hitoshi looked like he was having some inner struggles of his own. His fingers flexed and unflexed around the cool glass, both avoiding your gaze and looking at you at the same time.
Biting your lip, you turned to look at him. As uncomfortable as it was, there was no better time to ask than now.
“Can we talk--?”
“We should talk--”
You both started and stopped at the same time.
There was a beat of elongated silence before the two of you laughed. Shaking your head, you buried your face in your hands, peering at him between your fingers.
“This is silly,” you cried in embarrassment. “Why are we so awkward?”
Hitoshi shrugged as a flustered laugh escaped his own lips. “Because this is weird. This is a strange situation we’re in and no one would ever expect something like this to happen.”
“Exactly!”
“But,” he continued, almost hesitantly, “I’m kind of glad it did, though.”
Your own laughter quieted down as the mood became more serious. You drank another gulp of water to quench your suddenly parched throat.
“Can we talk in the living room?” you asked, heading towards the hallway when Hitoshi nodded. You figured if you were going to have an uncomfortable conversation, you may as well try to find some comfort in your warm and plush sofa.
You sat down at the edge near the armrest and he took a seat not too far from you. There was less than a cushion space separating the two of you and if you were to move a few inches, your thighs would be touching.
Tearing your gaze away from your legs, you looked up to face Hitoshi. “You don’t have to answer, but… There have been some questions on my mind lately.”
He nodded, as if expecting you to say that. “Ask away. It’s the least I could do.”
You curled your legs and hugged your knees to your chest, peering at him through your lashes.
“Okay,” you said somewhat unsurely. Confrontation was never easy. “Why didn’t you tell me you knew who I was? How long were you planning on keeping it from me?”
Hitoshi ran a hand through his hair, tufts of purple sticking out in random patterns. Somehow, it suited him.
“I found out a day or so before you confessed to liking...your mememate,” he admitted. He had told you this through text when you asked, but hearing it a second time didn’t make it hurt any less. “I was going to tell you that day, too. But then you told me you liked me and I didn’t know how to break it to you then.”
You looked away, embarrassed at the reminder of the night you poured your heart out to him. He knew you were his ex the whole time and still didn’t stop you? You scoffed, “Well, you could’ve stopped me before I humiliated myself like that.”
“Humiliate-- How?”
“What do you mean how?” You glared. “I totally embarrassed myself that night by saying how much I liked you--my ex!--only to have you basically reject me on the spot!”
“I didn’t reject you.”
“I told you that you were the first person I liked since...well you,” you said, rubbing your temples to ease your own confusion. “And you never said it back. Not that you needed to. It’s totally fine that you don’t. It’s just that… I don’t even know. I just wish I never said anything.”
He placed the glass he was holding onto a coaster on your coffee table, shaking his head.
“I’m sorry,” said Hitoshi. “But that’s not it at all. I wasn’t trying to reject you. I would’ve told you I liked you back-- I wanted to, I swear.”
Your head snapped to his. He wanted to tell you? As in he started liking you too? Even when he didn’t know who you were?
With a wistful smile, he continued, “But it wasn’t fair to you. Not when I knew who you were and you didn’t know who I was. You didn’t deserve that bullshit.”
You stretched your legs out so they were dangling off the couch, folding one carefully over the other as you crossed your arms. “Then you should’ve just told me the truth about who you were.”
“You’re right. I’m sorry.” He hung his head. “And if I did, you never would’ve told me your feelings.”
“Exactly,” you huffed. “They’d be safe and locked away in my heart until they disappeared.”
He was silent as you turned his body towards yours, resting his arm on the back cushions of the sofa.
“Is that really what you want, though?” he asked. “You’re so kind and beautiful and you deserve to open your heart to someone and be happy with them.” A flush rose to your cheeks at his sudden words of kindness but you shook it away. “I never knew I hurt you so badly that you were scared to love again-- And I’ll hate myself everyday for that.”
“Hitoshi…” Your gaze softened. You wanted to reach out and smooth down his hair but you couldn’t.
He hurt you, yes. But to hate himself and never forgive himself for it? You thought that was far too extreme.
“When you broke up with me,” you started slowly, unsure how to go about this, “you said that our relationship was nothing more than some cheap dates and sex.” He winced, holding his stomach as if he felt nauseous. “If you’re so regretful now, why did you ever say something like that? Did I really mean nothing to you?”
“No-- Of course you meant something to me. Y/N, you were everything to me. And it’s ridiculous of me to say this now but I never wanted to hurt you like that,” Hitoshi said, his eyes squeezed shut. “But I did and I’m so sorry. I thought if I told you those mean things you would find it easier to just hate me and move on. Be with Kaminari or someone who could make you happy.”
You glared at him with both sadness and anger, nails digging into your palms. “I was happy. With you. Is that so hard to believe?”
“A little.”
Taken aback, you stared at him. You weren’t sure what response you were expecting, but it certainly wasn’t that.
“But not because of anything you did,” he rushed before you could get the wrong idea. “I just thought you were a good person who truly deserved something better than what I could give. You should be with someone who wasn’t anxious and insecure and messed up.”
You were unsure if you wanted to smack Hitoshi or give him a hug, so you sat there stock-still.
“Even when I saw you with Kaminari, a part of me thought it would be better off that way,” he admitted, a scornful look on his face as he scoffed at himself. “But that wasn’t my call to make, was it? And how I went about it was wrong and dishonest. I’m really sorry.”
He tugged at a loose thread on the sofa while staring at you in earnest. There were so many things to say and not enough time in the night to say it.
“You’re right. It wasn’t your call,” you said, furrowing your brows. “I wish you would’ve told me you were feeling this way all those years ago. I loved you--regardless of what you may have thought. And what you said really hurt me.”
“I know. I’m sorry. I fucked up and hurt you more deeply than I could’ve ever imagined. You felt like you couldn’t have feelings for anyone for all those years because of what I did, and if I could take it all back, I would.”
His hand trembled slightly as he reached out to cup your face, pulling away harshly before he could touch you.
“You deserve to find love, Y/N. Even if it’s not with me because I know I have no right to anyone’s heart after what I did--”
“Hey, don’t say that!” you interrupted, a wrinkle forming as you scrunched up your nose. You frowned at him. “You deserve to find love again, too. You may have messed up a few times, and I’m not going to pretend like I wasn’t hurt, but I still care about you. A lot. And just because you made some really bad decisions doesn’t mean you don’t deserve to ever be happy.”
He looked down at his lap, hands curled into fists by his side. You had the sinking suspicion he didn’t believe you.
Swallowing your pride, you inched closer to him, lightly lifting his chin so he stared at you face-to-face. The dark purple of his eyes stormed as a conflicted expression overcame him and you wanted to run a finger over his brow and brush the insecurities away.
Quietly, you whispered, “You’re so worthy of love, Hitoshi. And it makes me so sad that you still haven’t realized it.”
You felt a piece of your heart chip as he pulled away from you, gritting his teeth as he hung his head. When he spoke, his voice sounded choked, as if he was holding back tears.
“You’ve shown me too much kindness,” he said, words shakey. “Even after I assumed you cheated and broke up with you in the cruelest way possible--”
His voice cracked and he couldn’t speak. With his gaze avoiding yours he pushed himself off the couch.
“God, I’m sorry,” Hitoshi muttered, his face a look of self-disdain. “I shouldn’t even be here in your life right now. I should just--”
Your hand grabbed the one he used to shove himself off your sofa, holding his fingers tight in between yours. With your head bowed, you called, “Don’t leave again. Not yet.”
He froze in his spot, one leg immobile in front of the other in the direction of the door. Desperately, you tugged at his arm so he looked back at you. Your eyes pleaded with him. This wasn’t the end. It couldn’t be the end until you received your closure and Hitoshi received his.
“You know that night we played Truth or Drink?” you asked, breaking the silence.
He stared back at you curiously, slowly sitting down as you patted the seat next to you. Cautiously, he nodded in response.
That night was a pivotal time in bonding with your mememate and it was the closest you had felt with anyone besides your best friends.
Continuing, you said, “You told me about your dad cheating on your mom. And then seeing me and Denki the next day after I lied about who I was with.”
There was no accusatory tone in your voice, and you stated it as if you were recalling the facts. But still, Hitoshi winced.
“Yeah, shit.” He placed his palm over his forehead, rubbing at his temple as he grimaced. “I really just jumped to conclusions like that and it was unfair to you. I’m so sorry.”
You didn’t reply to his apology, but gave him a small smile. “That night, I told you I thought your response was understandable. It made sense that you were mistrustful at the time. Especially after just finding out about your parents-- People I know you looked up to. Even in regards to love.”
Hitoshi wore a guarded expression, but still listened keenly to what you had to say.
“Toshi… My opinion on that doesn’t change just because I now know it was me you were talking about.”
“Y/N--”
“Don’t get me wrong,” you clarified, not wanting to sound too lenient. “I’m still hurt that you couldn’t trust me. I wish you confronted me so we could’ve cleared up the misunderstanding. I wish you hadn’t stood me up on our anniversary date. But most importantly… I wish I could have been there for you when you found out about your parents.”
Hitoshi sat there in silence, mouth opening but unable to form the sentences he wanted.
You gave him a look of regret, one hand still not letting go of his even as he stayed seated beside you. “I’m sorry I couldn’t be there for you.”
“It’s not your fault. At all.”
As you shook your head, he faltered. “Still, you went to America, alone, and never told anyone what was wrong. You kept all these feelings to yourself this whole time and I hate that so much.”
“I didn’t want to be a burden to anyone. I don’t deserve to--”
Your fingers twitched. How many times was he going to beat himself while he was already down?
“Stop saying that!” you snapped, unable to contain your emotions. “You are not a burden. And you deserve so much more than you think you do.”
His eyes widened at your outburst and his lips parted slightly.
“It’s good you know what you did was wrong-- You can’t pretend lying and making assumptions was okay because it’s not. But you know it’s not! And you acknowledge that and it seems like you regret it.” Your voice took on a desperate tone as you tried to get Hitoshi to see his mistakes as something separate from his worth as a whole. “You’ve made mistakes, but you can grow from them. Fucking up doesn’t mean you’re undeserving of love and happiness. You don’t have to take all the blame onto yourself.”
“How can I not take the blame?” he asked, his frustration at himself matching yours. “If I had been a better boyfriend, I would have trusted you more. If I had been a better person, I wouldn’t have lied to you. And maybe if I had been a better son, my parents--”
As if your body had a mind of its own, you threw your arms around him in a hug before he could finish his sentence. You heard a sharp inhale come from him as he sat, rigid.
“Don’t,” you whispered, breathing harshly as you held him tight. “Please, Toshi. Don’t say that. If no one ever told you this, please listen to me then. It’s not your fault. Your parents divorcing has nothing to do with your worth. Don’t blame yourself for the issues they had.”
His shoulders were still tense despite the shudder of tears you felt.
“You don’t need to blame yourself for everything. Hold yourself accountable, yes. Always strive to be a better person, yes. But don’t think it’s all your fault,” you pleaded. “You don’t have to handle everything on your own. You can lean on someone, Toshi.” You gently stroked the hair on the back of his head. “You can lean on me.”
At your words, you felt him visibly relax, his body free of the tension as you held him close.
Suddenly, his arms wrapped around you as he returned your embrace, his strong hands firmly gripping your waist as if he never wanted to let you go. You found yourself loosening up at his touch and you placed your head in his chest.
Peering up at him through your lashes, you said, “I don’t know if you need to hear this, but I need to say it.”
His thumb stroked the length of your spine as you continued.
“I forgive you, Hitoshi. For everything.” He stopped moving as he looked at you in surprise. You simply smiled at him. “Your apologies were genuine and so is your regret. I know you’re a good person and I forgive you, so please stop blaming yourself now.”
“Thank you, Y/N. So much.” He pulled away ever so slightly, feelings of guilt still flooding him. “But I feel like I still don’t deserve it though--”
A noise of protest bubbled up at your throat. “I swear to god, if I hear the d-word come out of your mouth again, I’ll make you shut up.” After a moment’s pause, you tried to hide your laughter. “Heh. D-word.”
“Oh my god,” he said, his amusement escaping him. With his arms still around your waist, he challenged, “How would you make me shut up?”
You wiggled your eyebrows. “Wouldn’t you like to know.”
Hitoshi laughed a genuine laugh that you haven’t heard in years. The deep rumble had a smile of your own forming on your lips.
But the mood turned serious when you gazed into his eyes again.
“Really, though…” you said, squeezing the fabric at his sides. “I’m sorry you’ve been feeling this way for so long without telling anyone. I hope you know you can always talk to me.”
He tilted his head back, staring at your ceiling as you caught sight of his Adam’s apple. “Why are you being so nice to me after how much I hurt you?”
“Because I care about you,” you answered simply. “And I know you still care about me. You wouldn’t be this hung up over everything if you didn’t.”
There was a sort of smugness in you as you teased him and he let out a breath of laughter.
“Hah. I do. I care about you. And I’ve missed you so much.”
You didn’t think it was possible, but he hugged you even closer to him. Your arms released their embrace on Hitoshi as you brought them to your sides. He looked down at you with a strange expression.
“I’ve missed you, too,” you admitted, squeezing your eyes shut as if it pained you. “You’re the first and only person I’ve ever loved and I miss you more than you could ever know.”
Your head was bowed at his chest as you tried to steady your trembling hands by grasping the fabric at the front of his shirt.
“Why did you never call me? Why didn’t you tell me you were moving to another continent? Toshi, I loved you so much--” Your voice broke off as the tears you were holding in escaped you. “Why did you leave me?”
His fingers were laced in your hair, holding you tight. He wanted nothing more than to soothe your tears and hated himself for being the cause of them. “I’m an insecure idiot who fucked up the best thing that ever happened to him.”
Through the blur of tears, you saw the wistful look on his face. The best thing? you thought to yourself, touched.
“No amount of apologizing is going to fix anything,” he said, accepting it as a fact, “but I am so sorry. And I want you to know I’m grateful the person who AirDropped me that day was you.”
He lifted your chin and wiped your tears away with the pad of his thumb. Your knees were touching his thighs as you sat down with your legs folded under you, facing him. Letting go of the grip you had on his shirt, you unballed your fists and instead rested your palms on his chest.
You grinned at the audacity of it all. “I still can’t believe that happened. But I’m glad it did, too.”
“Must be a small world.”
“Or maybe it’s fate.” Your hand found his as you interlocked pinkies with him bashfully.
Hitoshi looked down at your interlaced fingers and a light dusting of pink colored his cheeks. A sense of enjoyment filled you as he continued to blush, a teasing grin playing on your face.
Before you lost any courage you had, you pressed your lips against the corner of his mouth-- Not quite a kiss but most definitely an invitation for one.
The red on his cheeks died down as his eyes darkened in color, removing his hand from your waist to cup your jaw. Hitoshi’s palm was warm and soft against you and you leaned into his caress.
“Do you feel like you got the closure you needed?” he asked, his voice a whisper as he leaned close to you.
“Yes.” You nodded, painfully aware of your close proximity. If you were to lift your head up any more, your lips would brush against his. “Do you?”
“Yes.”
His forehead was pressed against yours and your heart was being so hard, you were certain Hitoshi could hear it from his spot in front of you.
After a moment’s silence, you said, “Now what?”
He shrugged, eyes shut. “That’s up to you to decide. I’m happy with doing whatever will make you happiest. And if that means leaving you alone and letting you close this chapter, then I--”
You yelped, silencing him with a gentle shove on the chest.
“Are you crazy?” you asked incredulously. “You think I would ever let you go again?” There was frustration in your voice as you resisted the temptation to kiss the stupidity out of him. “I… I mean, unless that’s what you want?”
“Y/N…” Now he was the one with the tone of disbelief, like he couldn’t wrap his mind around what you had just said. “I’d want to stay with you. For as long as you’d let me.”
“O-Oh?” Your eyes widened in shock, but soon settled into an ecstatic smile. “Fate must have done us a favor with all this AirDrop stuff, huh? I fell for you all those years ago as Shinsou, and I fell for you again without even knowing who you were. There’s no way I’d throw that chance away.”
Tired of waiting for him to make the first move, you brought your hands to the back of his neck, and lifted your head up to meet his. You spotted an amused look on his face, but it didn’t last very long when your lips finally pressed against his with a contented sigh.
His movements were gentle and slow, like he was afraid if he kissed you any harder he would find this was only an illusion that would shatter. But it wasn’t. It was real and it was genuine and you wanted to prove it to him.
You broke away from his touch to pepper chaste kisses on his jawline, starting at the lobe of his ear and making your way down to the sensitive part of his throat you knew would drive him crazy, your hot breath blowing against his neck as a guttural sound escaped him.
“Eager, are we?” he asked hoarsely, his chin lifted.
You grinned mischievously against him.
“As much as I appreciate the gesture,” said Hitoshi, gently pushing you away with a roguish glint in his eyes, “you don’t always have to keep giving. You should be spoiled for a change.”
You squealed when his hands trailed down your sides to cup the undersides of your thighs, lifting you up as you sat down on his lap. His hands unclasped the button that fastened his coat on you and brushed the collar aside, exposing the supple skin on your upper chest.
“You should be spoiled,” he breathed in between each kiss he planted on your decolletage, “every day of your life.”
Your face burned at the implication of his words, the skin his mouth had touched feeling like they were searing hot. Though his jacket had fallen off your shoulders, you were still overwhelmed by his scent, the woodsy citrus filling your senses as you sighed his name and you still couldn’t get enough. He was more intoxicating than any vodka you had consumed earlier that night.
Growing impatient at his teasing, you squirmed on his lap, causing him to hiss in response.
You giggled at his expression and stuck your tongue out at him. “Just kiss me already.”
Tossing his inhibitions to the side, he obliged.
When your lips met again, this time it wasn’t uncertain and gentle. Each move Hitoshi made was firm and deliberate and if you weren’t already sitting down, your knees would have gone weak and given in.
His teeth grazed your lower lip and he kissed you harder, and your hands found themselves tangled underneath the hem of his shirt. The skin on your arms filled with goosebumps as he mimicked your motions, his fingers toying with the clasp of your bra as his name escaped your lips once more in a strangled moan.
Before it could go any further, however, Hitoshi removed his hands from the band of your undergarments and slowly pulled away from your kiss.
His face was flushed with beads of sweat falling down the side and his breathing was labored. You were certain you weren’t any better as you rested your forehead against his to steady yourself.
“Why’d you stop?” you asked with a strained voice, giving him your best pleading eyes.
“It’s late and you need some rest, baby.” He pressed a soft kiss to your nose with a smile. “I don’t want to stop--believe me,” he promised, his hands squeezing your thighs that still straddled his lap, “but I also don’t want you to rush into anything you might regret.”
You pouted, not wanting him to stop, but also feeling grateful he wanted to make sure you weren’t going to do anything you would regret the next day.
“Damn you for being such a gentleman,” you grumbled.
He ran the tip of his tongue against his lower lip. It was plump and red and it took all your willpower not to kiss it again.
“Only sometimes, princess,” he said when he noticed how your gaze zeroed in on his mouth. “But for now, you should get ready for bed. The sun is almost rising already.”
Hitoshi made a move to get up and you slowly unwrapped your legs from his hips, standing up shakily. He placed his hands on your hips to help you steady yourself, but that just made the weakness worse.
Still holding you, he stood up from the couch and looked down at you, resting his chin on the top of your head as you hugged him.
“You’re leaving?” you whimpered, a pout on your face.
“Sadly,” he sighed. “I have work tomorrow. Well, in a few hours I suppose. But if you need me to stay I--”
“Oh, my god!” you cried, jumping away from him. “You have work? And yet you still came for me and let me keep you this whole time?! Toshi!”
You folded your arms across your chest as you scolded him, but he just ruffled your hair playfully.
“It was the least I could do,” said Hitoshi. “And I’m used to running on little to no sleep. It’s fine, don’t worry about me.”
“It’s not fine! If you don’t get enough sleep this week I will smother you until you pass out.” You glared at him, holding his face between your hands and examining his tired eyes. Your gaze softened when you saw how sleepy he looked and thought about how well he hid it from everyone. You sighed. “And I think you’re a lot more selfless and caring than you give yourself credit for.”
You kissed the apples of his cheeks and smoothed his brows.
“Thank you for tonight,” you said. “You should get going.”
“No, you’re the one I should be thanking,” he replied, giving you one last embrace before getting ready to head towards the door.
Both of your legs felt like lead, neither of you wanting to leave the other after years of being apart. With a smile, he moved towards the door.
In silence, you examined him for the first time in four years. He was taller than before-- Bulkier, too. It looked like he worked out since he was in college, his plain shirt stretching against his pectoral muscles.
But still, he was the same Shinsou Hitoshi you had always loved.
You glanced at his bared arms and your eyes widened. “Oh, wait--! Your coat!”
It had fallen off your shoulders and onto the floor during the heat of the moment, and you picked it up and brought it to him. As you held it out, his hands wrapped your outstretched ones around the fabric of his sweater.
“No, it’s okay,” he said with a shake of his head and a small grin on his lips. “You should keep it. It suits you.”
You raised an eyebrow at him in warning, but hugged the coat to your body nonetheless. “I hope you know this means I’m never giving it back to you now.”
Hitoshi laughed. “I figured.”
He was about to grab the door knob when you blurted, “O-Or maybe I could give it back to you! If we were to, I don’t know, meet up for some food this week?”
Turning back in surprise, he was met with a look of utter embarrassment on your face. Your cheeks felt like they were on fire.
You bit your lip, unsure what had just come over you when you asked him on a date but also not regretting it for a moment.
“Only if you want,” you murmured, suddenly feeling more bashful.
Taking the hint, Hitoshi looked at you with a mix of wonder and amusement. “Sure. I’ll get some food with you just to have my coat back.”
You gasped, cheeks burning. “You know what? Never mind, I’m keeping this--!”
“I’m kidding,” he laughed, tone still teasing. “The jacket is just a bonus. What I’d really be there for is...the food.”
You buried your head in your hands and sighed. “I-- Why do I have to like you?”
He shrugged, feeling just as lost as you were. “Because feelings are strange.”
“They are,” you agreed. “But they’re worth it. And so are you.”
Hitoshi smiled as you gave him a gentle kiss goodnight.
“Have a safe drive home, Toshi.”
“Thank you. Go get some sleep now, kitten. We can talk when you wake up.”
You nodded feverishly, almost bouncing in anticipation at the thought of talking to him again. “I’m going to sleep right now so I wake up faster and get to talk to you sooner.”
A chuckle of surprise left his lips before he could stop himself. “You’re such a dork, you know? But I love that about you.”
Your face heated at the sound of the l-word as the two of you stared at each other, both in shock that the night happened and even happier that it did.
“I… I should go now,” he said in a daze. He didn’t want to leave and you didn’t want him to, but you knew he had work soon.
You nodded, waving at him as he left your house. “See you soon, Hitoshi.”
When the door closed shut behind him, you slumped a little. Tired and exhausted yet wishing you could see him soon. Though it might have been foolish, you couldn’t help but wish he was feeling the same.
Grabbing your phone on the coffee table, you unlocked it to check the time. You were about to shut it off and put it in your pocket when a notification bubble popped up on your screen.
“AirDrop: mememate would like to share a note,” it read, and a grin spread across your lips as you eagerly pressed accept.
The notepad application immediately opened up on your phone and you read the small message on the off-white display.
mememate: can’t wait for our date, y/n. p.s. i really really like you.
Letting out a surprised cry of joy, you held your phone to your chest, hugging it along with Hitoshi’s jacket he had left you.
From the other side of the door, Hitoshi had heard your scream and responded with a laugh of his own. A feeling of warmth in his heart as he placed his phone in his pocket and headed for his car. Thank goodness for AirDrop.
Your heart was pounding and your lips were still pulsing from the way he kissed you. Even as you got ready for bed and drifted off into a restful sleep, the silly smile never fell from your face.
You were grateful he came to get you at the nightclub, and you were grateful he was the recipient of your memes that day at the amusement park.
He made mistakes in the past and you were no saint either, but you had an opportunity to heal those wounds and be with Hitoshi again.
And you just couldn’t wait for your next date together.
a/n: AHHH THAT WAS A LOT,, pls let me know what you think! i know some readers never want to forgive shinsou at all and that’s okay, but i do think y/n forgives him and still really cares about him [and maybe l-words him? o.o] so i hope u support it 🥺 ilysm and thank you for reading! lmk ur thoughts !! xx
#bnha#bnha x reader#bnha fanfiction#boku no hero academia#bnha imagines#bnha scenarios#mha#my hero academia#mha imagines#mha x reader#mha fanfiction#bnha x you#bnha x y/n#shinsou x reader#shinso x reader#shinsou hitoshi x reader#shinsou hitoshi#hitoshi x reader#shinsou imagines#bnha shinso#shinso hitoshi#shinso hitoshi x reader#shinsou x y/n#bnha social media au#bnha smau#bnha fake texts#mha social media au#mha smau#mha fake texts#turn on your airdrop
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I mean, I don’t believe in the predictive power of dreams, obviously, but still, it’s a deeply unsettling thing to find. I had Tim look into it, as I don’t entirely trust the others not to have written it as a practical joke and slipped it into the archives. - Episode 11, Dreamer
Jon stares down at the paper in his hands.
He’s had many an unkind thought towards Gertrude, his predecessor, the woman responsible for this mess and the current bane of his existence. She’s been the topic of most of his grumbling as he sorts through piles of nonsense and decaying cardboard boxes. He’s got no love lost for her, but that doesn’t mean he’s happy she’s dead. Or, specifically, to have a statement apparently predicting it through the medium of some prophetic dream. Ridiculous. He wants to feel detached, unaffected, but he can’t help the sickly sense of dread that creeps up his spine and lingers in his throat.
It was your face and the expression upon it was far more fearful than any I had seen in eight years of wandering this twilight city.
Jon doesn’t know Antonio Blake and has no reason to believe him. But he’s known something’s wrong for a long time now.
He’s never admitted it aloud, never within his assistant’s hearing range, but he can feel it, as foolish as that sounds. This miasma of wrong, of being watched, of becoming...something else, that happens every time he records a statement. Despite the academic detachment he aspires to, he does attempt to empathize with each statement-giver and get into their mindset. But what he’s doing here...it’s different. He can visualize it so perfectly, the terror in their words sticking in his throat and setting his own heart pounding, as if he were the one experiencing it and not just regurgitating it to an ancient recorder. He’s always had an ‘overactive imagination,’ as his grandmother would say, but this is relentless in its manifestation. The fear is real, not imagined. Each statement draws him further and further away from the safety he used to cling to, where the only real cases were few and far between and the most sinister things lurking out there in the world were books and the monsters within them.
And as much as he wants to linger on the false accounts and take comfort in tearing them apart, his hands automatically seek the real ones, the right ones. It’s frightening, the ease with which he finds them nowadays. Perhaps he’s a better archivist than he thinks.
She died and you’ll be next, something whispers to him. He’s being dramatic, as he’s wont to do, but it feels true. Every statement that doesn’t record correctly, every follow-up he has to qualify with an ‘I would dismiss this, but-’ is starting to add up. His nights have become restless. He often lies awake regretting that he ever took this job, that he left the relative safety of research for a position he’s not sure how to fill, his only reassurance Elias’s occasional emails that he’s ‘moving in the right direction,’ whatever that means.
Jon assumed he’d be more removed from the dangerous aspects of the job that research entailed- following up, going to locations, field work. And it’s true, he has assistants to do that for him now. Dependable, for the most part. And while he should feel safe in his tiny office with nothing but dust and paper and cobwebs (good lord, the cobwebs) he feels more unsettled and exposed than ever. He once joked he’d die of old age before getting the archives in order. But now a stroke sounds much more pleasant than whatever happened to Gertrude. If it’s true.
Perhaps it’s a joke, he thinks. Planted by one of the others, designed specifically to unsettle him. Well, it worked.
It wouldn’t be surprising. He’s...not had the best start. The promotion was a surprise, but not wholly unexpected; he knew he’d been on Elias’s radar, though he wasn’t expecting it quite so soon. He’s young and unfortunately, it shows. The way he stutters through department meetings, talking about digitization while the others, all of whom have at least a decade on him, shoot pitying looks. He stays later and later, the desire to show some sort of progress even as he discovers more mess by the day. The permanent scowl that now graces his features becomes his armor as he walks the halls and feels himself becoming the uptight, unlikable curmudgeon everyone believes him to be. The one time I measure up to expectations, he can’t help thinking.
A joke. There’s a comfort in that. At least it’s familiar.
But it didn’t record to the laptop, his traitorous mind supplies. It's a bit sad he would prefer it to be a mundane attempt at bullying rather than a real expression of the supernatural, but he supposes it’s par for the course. There were many nights as a child he wished for the same thing, for that boy to go back to taking his lunch money and the occasional beating or two instead of…still, he dismisses it from his mind. You don’t know there’s a correlation. Follow up. Disprove it.
He’s interrupted from his musings by a knock on the door and the vague outline of Martin through the frosted glass. “Come in,” he calls, attempting to inject some irritation in his voice to cover up the shakiness. “Did you need something?”
“Ah, I finished my write up for the Herbert case, was wondering if you had anything else for me?”
His hand hovers over the statement on his desk. He opens his mouth but then closes it, thinking better.
“Can you send Tim in, actually?”
______
“Sorry boss, I couldn’t find anything on this Antonio Blake fellow- well, at least with the details he provided, which were next to none. Proper spooky, though.”
Of his assistants, he trusts Tim the most with this sort of thing.
On a surface level, it wouldn’t make sense to some. Tim can be loud and gregarious: the typical, charming extrovert. But he’s not unkind and he’s a hell of a researcher, especially when something grabs his interest. He digs into statements and doesn’t let go- not unlike Sasha, though he’s a bit better at empathizing and handling things...sensitively. Easily attuned to Jon’s moods, Tim’s always been willing to lend an ear whenever he gets too in his head about cases, helping him talk things through or on several memorable occasions, go down the rabbit hole with him. He’d taken the statement from his hands with an easy smile, though his face grew serious with the nervous look Jon shot him.
And if Tim couldn’t find anything, well. Maybe it was a prank after all.
He sort of wanted it to be true, frightening as the implications were. Because then it would mean this terrible, heavy feeling on his shoulders was real, and not just the byproduct of his own mediocrity. He doesn’t want to be scared, he doesn’t want to be in danger, but at least it would provide a real reason for panic, and not just his own inability to measure up. He doesn’t want to prove them all right, collapsing under the stress of a job poorly done and so easily crumbling at a stupid, made-up statement, targeted as it may be.
“A joke, then.” Jon says, rubbing a hand at his temples, trying not to let the hurt seep into his voice. Tim makes a commiserating noise.
“You know how people are, the institute isn’t exactly popular. You remember last Halloween, when-”
“Yes, I don’t need a reminder.” Jon sighs. He’d rather not relive that day, stressful as it was. “But that wasn’t quite what I was thinking.”
Tim stares at him for a moment, uncomprehending. Jon continues, attempting to make his hands busy as he pointlessly shuffles papers.
“It’s rather pointed, isn’t it? I doubt someone off the street would create such a detailed account of the death of an...archivist as opposed to the usual ghostly drivel.”
A look of pity flickers in Tim’s eyes and Jon has to turn away. “I don’t really think anyone here would-”
“Really? You don’t?” Jon lets out a mirthless laugh, rubbing a hand across his face as he stares down at his desk. “I’m not blind. Or deaf.” The derisive snorts if he goes off on ‘needless tangents,’ how Rosie pretends to be busy whenever he approaches Elias’s office, the way his name badge still reads ‘researcher’ after months of asking for a new one. He’s basically become a pariah.
“Jon, did someone say something to you?” The words are carefully chosen and he’s leaning forward now, making as if to stand up and god forbid, do something comforting. It’s not that Jon doesn’t want the comfort; he craves it more than anything. But he’s gone without for so long he doesn’t trust himself not to break at the gentlest of touches. Being on the receiving end of Tim’s protective streak is nothing new, but he shouldn’t need his assistant looking out for him like he’s some sort of helpless infant.
He snorts derisively instead, covering up the insecurity and hurt with a sardonic, self-effacing smile. The kind he knows Tim hates. “They don’t need to. I’ve walked in on conversations, I’ve seen the way people go quiet, the looks they give me-”
“Hey,” Tim’s voice is low, like he’s dealing with a frightened animal. Jon wonders how he looks, if Tim’s going this soft. “Don’t listen to them, alright? You inherited a mess, we all did- but we’re doing our best, yeah? Study and record, like Elias said.” Jon doesn’t dodge the hand that finally lands on shoulder, and he’ll deny to anyone that he leaned into it.
“Study and record.” He repeats listlessly, slumping back down into his seat. He’s let himself get too worked up, acting like a child instead of a boss. He’s not sure when he started wearing his heart on his sleeve, but Tim’s always been good at reading him. Though he’d rather people think him an arrogant ass than the seething mess of insecurity he truly is.
“Atta boy.” The pat to his shoulder is purposefully light, devoid of Tim’s usually friendly force that sends him stumbling forward. “Now get out of here at a normal time, alright? We can grab lunch tomorrow. Just the two of us, if you like.”
Jon makes a noncommittal grunt, though the thought is nice. He entertains the idea for just a moment, remembering their occasional outings back in research. Tomorrow he’ll make his excuses. He hasn’t been much of a friend as of late, and he’s not sure he deserves the kindness of company.
“And if there’s anyone that needs a stern talking to from me, I-” Tim wags a finger and Jon rolls his eyes, ignoring the pang of warmth the words send through his chest.
“Don’t, please. It’s fine.” It isn’t. “But...thank you, Tim.”
“Course.” A wink and a sloppy salute to lighten the mood, and Jon feels the tension in his posture ease minutely as Tim shuts the door behind him.
He lets out a breath and reaches for the tape recorder. He’s wasted too much time already.
Be careful. There is something coming for you and I don’t know what it is, but it is so much worse than anything I can imagine. At the very least, you should look into appointing a successor.
Good luck.
He fights a shiver as the man’s voice leaves him and the last vestiges of that twilight world fade back to his dimly-lit office. In his follow up, he tries to play it off as a joke. A bit of hazing for the new boss. And yet the uneasiness still creeps into his voice, and he ends another tape on a stilted, half-believed note.
If this is genuine…
Jon prays that it isn’t.
And like most of his prayers, it goes unheard and unanswered.
ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/32165071
reblogs > likes
#tma#the magnus archives#my writing#jonathan sims#tim stoker#season one jon feels#with added tim#in which rye has feelings about jon 'dismissing' statements and thinking it could be a joke and TRUSTING TIM#what else is new#reblogs appreciated <3#a light bit of#jontim
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can i get a Tsukishima Kei X reader hurt/comfort fic? ty! love ur works sm :)
Hurt feelings - Tsukishima Kei
Pairing: reader x Tsukishima Kei
Word count: 1.7k
Warnings: curse words, some arguing, but there’s fluff at the end!!!
Synopsis: You’re his person, the last thing he wanted to do was hurt your feelings.
A/n: thank u for requesting babe & thank u for liking my stuff, means so much to me!! Tsukishima is my main boo, I always love writing for him 😌. I hope you like this 💕
Masterlist
—————————————————————————
You weren’t trying to be clingy, that’s the last thing you’d ever want to be, but it feels like you haven’t seen your boyfriend in weeks, which is weird because you guys literally live together.
Tsukishima, just started working at a museum, and you worked as a barista in a small cafe. Lately, you haven’t been able to see him much, because you worked mornings and he worked afternoons. So whenever you were coming out he was barely going in, meaning that you’d only have a brief greeting. It’s weird how much you’ve missed him, even though he wasn’t really gone.
Finally today, you both had your day off from work, but Tsukishima has been stuck all day in his desk doing homework/late work he hasn’t finished, he was still very new at trying to juggle schoolwork and real work.
You couldn’t help but feel a bit frustrated, you want to be near him and hang out with him, because it feels like you haven’t had a real conversation with him in forever.
You peek over your shoulder for what felt like the 100th time today. Your boyfriend is still in his seat, with a stressed expression on his face while he continues to scribble down information. You contemplate whether or not you should try to convince him to take a break. You knew how agitated Tsukishima could get whenever he was stressed like this, and the last thing you wanted to do was bother him any further.
After thinking about it for a minute you finally decide to talk to him, in attempts of trying to help him relax. You walk over to his desk, and you’re now standing behind him.
Tsukishima feels your presence but decides to ignore you, not wanting to engage in any conversation until he was done doing this work. You lightly place your hand on his neck,
“Baby” you coo.
“Hmm?” He hums out. His eyes never leaving the paper
You gently wrap your arms around him, and place your chin on his shoulder “you need a break.” You quietly say
“Y/n. Not now.” Tsukishima, lightly takes you off of him, pushing you to the side a bit.
You’re a bit hurt from his actions, you knew he was stressed, but could it hurt him to at least feign interest?
“Tsukishima. You’ve been at it for hours, just take a small break. we can eat, you haven’t eaten all day.” You say, your voice sounding a bit more frustrated than before
Tsukishima slams his pencil on the desk “god dammit y/n I said not now!” He briefly yells out
You’re taken aback by his tone. You were looking out for him, so why was he yelling at you for that? Quickly your attitude changes from a caring girlfriend to an upset one
“Why are you yelling at me?? I’m looking out for you! God dammit we haven’t had alone time in weeks and now that we finally do, you can’t even sit down with me for 5 fucking minutes for one meal!”
Tsukishima turns around, and is now facing you, “this is what it’s about? You’re fucking lonely?” He lets out a sarcastic laugh “you’re so annoying. I have a shitload of work to do, and you’re bothering me with this bullshit?”
His words sting you, you’d expect he’d miss you as much as you missed him, but hearing his mocking tone, hurt your feelings
“Stop it Tsukishima. You’re being mean.” You try your best to hold back tears
“Oh my god.” He rubs his hands against his face “are you really doing this right now?” He’s looking up at you, with an unamused face “fuck, I don’t have time for this. Go cry about it somewhere else, I don’t care.”
You couldn’t believe how incredibly rude he was being. Of course you knew Tsukishima and you knew how mean he could be, but he’s never once dismissed your feelings. Any time you’d tell him, he was being too mean he’d always apologize and hold back, but now he was doing the complete opposite.
“You’re a fucking asshole!!” You yell out, storming out of the room and slamming the door behind you.
You’re beyond hurt with his behavior, you didn’t even want to be under the same roof as him. Quickly you head over to get your car keys grabbing your nearest sweater, you make your way out the front door.
Tsukishima’s body jolts up the second he hears the front door close. In an instant, he makes his way to the living room, when he notices that you’ve left he quickly runs after you. Unfortunately you were already in the car, and even though he tried to stop you from driving off, you did anyway.
“FUCK!” He yells out, as he slowly loses sight of you
You’re doing your best not to cry as you drive away, noticing Tsukishima’s standing body get smaller the further you go.
You had no idea where you were headed, all you knew was you needed space, because the anger you felt towards him at the moment was something you never wanted to feel.
Tsukishima quickly runs into the house, instantly grabbing his phone to dial your number. The first two times it goes directly to voicemail, but you finally pick up the third.
“WHERE ARE YOU GOING?” He yells out, you can hear the desperation in his voice, but you were too upset to care
“You told me to go cry about it somewhere else right? So don’t fucking worry bout it. It’s none of your concern.” And with that you hang up.
“FUCK” Tsukishima angrily throws his phone across the room, “ARE YOU FICKING KIDDING ME?” He smacks his hand on the kitchen counter, trying to release the built up frustration.
Resting his elbows on the counter, he buries his hands in his face “I fucked up.” He whispers to himself, in absolute regret
He didn’t want to hurt your feelings, he didn’t mean anything he said. He missed you, of course he did, but juggling work and school, was tearing him up, unknowingly the change in routine was making him bitter, but he knew you had nothing to do with it. He hated himself, for hurting the only person that brought him peace.
He walks over to pick up his phone, and he begins typing on the now slightly cracked screen
“I’m so fucking sorry. Please come back whenever you’re ready. I don’t deserve you, and I know that but I love you. I love you so much, i don’t want you to go. Please, just come back y/n. I’ll be waiting for you.”
2 hours later, Tsukishima finally hears the front door open, and he instantly runs to it.
You walk in, your eyes a bit swollen , and your face a little red
Tsukishimas heart breaks at the sight, feeling angry at himself knowing that he’s the reason you look like that.
He quickly runs over to you, engulfing you in a tight hug. You don’t reciprocate.
“Baby.” He breathes out, still squeezing you. “I’m so fucking sorry. I’m such an asshole.” He continues speaking “you deserve so much better, someone who won’t hurt you the way I did.”
He’s trying his best to choke back tears, his voice cracking a bit “but I love you. I love you so much, I let out my frustrations on you and you didn’t deserve it, but please, don’t leave me.”
You finally wrap your arms, around him as you let small tears fall form your face. “Tsukki- it’s ok-“
“No” he cuts you off, “it’s not okay, it’ll never be okay. I shouldn’t have talked to you like that.”
You’re finally looking up at him, and you place your hand on his cheek “you’re right. it wasn’t okay, but you know that and that’s important.”
He leans his forehead on yours, “can I kiss you?” You nod your head yes and seeing that, Tsukishima connects, his lips to yours. The kiss was full of love, and passion. In a swift move he picks you and you wrap your legs around his waist. Walking you over the couch he sits you on his lap and he briefly pulls away.
“You’re so beautiful.” He says as he stares lovingly into your eyes “of course I missed you. You’re the only person I look forward to seeing every day.”
You lightly smile at his words as he continues speaking
“I hate not spending time with you.”
You once again lean your forehead on his as you lightly caress his face, looking into his eyes you respond “do me a favor, if you ever feel overwhelmed please just tell me, so we never have to fight like this again.”
“I promise.”
With that you kiss him again, wrapping your arms around his neck.
As you two pull away, Tsukishima breaks the subtle silence. “So what does my pretty girl want to do? I’m here for you all day, fuck that extra work.”
You smile brightly “I just want to be with you Kei, doesn’t matter where.”
“I know where we can go.”
You look up at him an amused expression on your face “you do? Where?”
“You’ll know when we get there.”
You both change into different clothes, and get ready to drive out. It was only a 10 minute drive from your house. When you arrive, your heart flutters the second you recognize the area.
You both were standing in the middle of a field in the park. The sky was filled with stars and the pond next you was sparkling.
You look up at Tsukishima, smiling
“Is this-“
“Where we had our first kiss?” He cuts you off “yeah.”
You look around as you’re reminded of the special memory.
“This place is special to me, because I was with you.”
“Kei.” Your heart flutters at his words, he was never one to explicitly express how he was feeling, so listening to him made you feel happy.
“I just want you to know, that no matter what I say or do, or don’t say or do. You matter to me.” He’s not looking at you as he speaks, but you just know every word he said is genuine.
“I love you Kei.”
Tsukishima finally looks down at you, leaning his face closer to your he speaks
“I love you too.”
Now kissing him under the stars, in the same place you first realized you truly loved him, you can easily say that even though you fight and disagree, he was your person, your soulmate, there was no doubt about it.
#haikyuu x reader#haikyuu#haikyuu blog#haikyuu imagines#haikyuu! x reader#haikyuu!!#haikyuu boys#haikyuu x y/n#tsukishima x reader#tsukishima angst#tsukishima kei#tsukishima haikyuu#haikyuu blurb#kei tsukishima#kei tsukishima x reader#tsukishima fluff
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15 JUNE, 2021 by Chimamanda Ngozi-Adichie
IT IS OBSCENE: A TRUE REFLECTION IN THREE PARTS
PART ONE
When you are a public figure, people will write and say false things about you. It comes with the territory. Many of those things you brush aside. Many you ignore. The people close to you advise you that silence is best. And it often is. Sometimes, though, silence makes a lie begin to take on the shimmer of truth.
In this age of social media, where a story travels the world in minutes, silence sometimes means that other people can hijack your story and soon, their false version becomes the defining story about you.
Falsehood flies, and the Truth comes limping after it, as Jonathan Swift wrote.
Take the case of a young woman who attended my Lagos writing workshop some years ago; she stood out because she was bright and interested in feminism.
After the workshop, I welcomed her into my life. I very rarely do this, because my past experiences with young Nigerians left me wary of people who are calculating and insincere and want to use me only as an opportunity. But she was a Bright Young Nigerian Feminist and I thought that was worth making an exception.
She spent time in my Lagos home. We had long conversations. I was support-giver, counsellor, comforter.
Then I gave an interview in March 2017 in which I said that a trans woman is a trans woman, (the larger point of which was to say that we should be able to acknowledge difference while being fully inclusive, that in fact the whole premise of inclusiveness is difference.)
I was told she went on social media and insulted me.
This woman knows me enough to know that I fully support the rights of trans people and all marginalized people. That I have always been fiercely supportive of difference, in general. And that I am a person who reads and thinks and forms my opinions in a carefully considered way.
Of course she could very well have had concerns with the interview. That is fair enough. But I had a personal relationship with her. She could have emailed or called or texted me. Instead she went on social media to put on a public performance.
I was stunned. I couldn’t believe it. But I mostly held myself responsible. My spirit had been slightly stalled, from the beginning, by her. My first sense of unease with her came when she posted a photo taken in my house, at a time when I did not want any photos of my personal life on social media. I asked that she take it down. The second case of unease was her publicizing something I had told her in confidence about another member of the workshop. The most upsetting was when she, without telling me, used my name to apply for an American visa. Above all else was my lingering suspicion that she was a person who chose as friends only those from whom she could benefit. But she was a Bright Young Nigerian Feminist and I allowed that sentiment to over-ride my unease.
After she publicly insulted me, it was clear to me that this kind of noxious person had no business in my life, ever again.
A few months later, she sent this affected, self-regarding email which I ignored.
Friday September 15 2017 at 4.35 AM
Dearest Chimamanda,
Happy birthday. I mean this with all my heart, even though I know I have fallen (removed myself?) from your grace. It would be impossible for me to stop loving you; long before you gave me the possibility of being your friend you were the embodiment of my deepest hopes, and that will never change.
I think of you often, still – stating the obvious. I grieve the loss of our friendship; it is a complicated sadness. I’m sorry that I caused you pain, or to feel like you can no longer trust me. There’s so much that I wish could be said.
I pray this birthday is the happiest one yet. I wish you rest and quiet and abiding stability, and of course more of the kind of success that means the most to you.
I hope mothering X is everything you hoped and prayed for and more.
Have a wonderful day today.
Love always.
About a year later, she sent this email, which I also ignored.
Thursday November 29 2018 at 8.42 AM
Dear Chimamanda,
I realise this is long overdue and vastly insufficient, but I’m really sorry. I’ve spent so much time going back and forth in my head and my email drafts; wondering whether to write you, how to write you, what to say, all kinds of things. But in the end, this is the thing I realise I need to say.
I’m sorry I disappointed and hurt you by saying things publicly that were sharply critical, unkind and even disrespectful, especially in light of all the backlash and criticism you experience from people who don’t know you. I could have acted with more consideration towards you. I should have, especially given the privilege of intimacy that you had offered me. There are many reasons why I chose to behave the way I did, but none of them is an excuse. And I clearly realise now, after many, many months of needless sadness and angst and hurt and actual confusion, that I did not treat you as a friend would—certainly not as someone would to whom you had offered unprecedented access to yourself and your life.
You’ve meant the world to me since I was barely a teenager. It’s been very hard navigating the emotional fallout of the past several months, knowing you were displeased with me but truly not quite understanding why, then deciding I didn’t care, then realising that would never be true. I’ve always cared. But I was too mixed up about the situation to be able to make sense of it, or properly see past my own justifications. I’m sorry it took me so long to grasp how I let you down.
I realise that I don’t have room to ask anything of you, but I would be grateful for a chance to say this in person. Still, even if I never get that, I really hope you believe me.
Congratulations on restarting the workshop, and on all the other amazing successes of the past several months. I think of you often; it would be impossible not to. You look so happy in your pictures. I really hope you are well.
All my love,
I hoped never to hear from her again. But she has recently gone on social media to write about how she “refused to kiss my ring,” as if I demanded some kind of obeisance from her. She also suggests that there is some dark, shadowy ‘more’ to tell that she won’t tell, with an undertone of “if only you knew the whole story.”
It is a manipulative way of lying. By suggesting there is ‘more’ when you know very well that there isn’t, you do sufficient reputational damage while also being able to plead deniability. Innuendo without fact is immoral.
No, there isn’t more to the story. It is a simple story – you got close to a famous person, you publicly insulted the famous person to aggrandize yourself, the famous person cut you off, you sent emails and texts that were ignored, and you then decided to go on social media to peddle falsehoods. It is obscene to tell the world that you refused to kiss a ring when in fact there isn’t any ring at all.
I cannot make much of the hostility of strangers who do not know me – fame taints our view of the humanity of famous people. But the truth is that the famous person remains irretrievably human. Fame does not inoculate the famous person from disappointment and depression, fame does not make you any less angered or hurt by the duplicitous nature of people. To be famous is to be assumed to have power, which is true, but in the analysis of fame, people often ignore the vulnerability that comes with fame, and they are unable to see how others who have nothing to lose can lie and connive in order to take advantage of that fame, while not giving a single thought to the feelings and humanity of the famous person.
And when you personally know a famous person, when you have experienced their humanity, when you have benefited from their kindness, and yet you are unable to extend to them the basic grace and respect that even a casual acquaintanceship deserves, then it says something fundamental about you.
And in a deluded way, you will convince yourself that your hypocritical, self-regarding, compassion-free behavior is in fact principled feminism. It isn’t. You will wrap your mediocre malice in the false gauziness of ideological purity. But it’s still malice. You will tell yourself that being able to parrot the latest American Feminist orthodoxy justifies your hacking at the spirit of a person who had shown you only kindness. You can call your opportunism by any name, but it doesn’t make it any less of the ugly opportunism that it is.
PART TWO
When I first read this person’s work, which was their application to my writing workshop, I thought the sentences were well-done. I accepted this person. At the workshop, I thought they could have been more respectful of the other participants, perhaps not kept typing dismissively as others’ stories were discussed, with an air of being among people below their level. After the workshop, I decided to select the best stories, edit them, pay the writers a fee, and publish them in an e-magazine. The first story I chose was this person’s. I wrote a glowing introduction, which the story truly deserved.
They sent this email.
Fri, Aug 7, 2015, 8:20 AM
Thank you so much for that introduction. It means so much to me and I’m going to keep reading it to get through the rest of my stay at Syracuse. I sent it to my mother and she got nervous about the piece because you said ‘it disturbs’, said she’s not sure how she’s going to feel when she reads it. But she’s also one of those ‘let’s leave the past in the past’ people. My sister approved, which meant a lot because our childhoods were each other’s.
All that to say, I’m so grateful you gave me the space to write the short version of this piece, the encouragement to write the longer piece, and now, a platform for it. I definitely have plans to write more about Aba.
Thank you, with all my heart.
PS- I wanted to sign off gratefully + gracefully in Igbo but I said let me not fall my own hand 🙂
About a year later, they sent another email to let me know that their novel would be published.
Wed, Jun 8, 2016, 8:20 AM
Greetings!
I hope all’s been well with you this past year. Belated congratulations on the baby’s arrival, I hope she’s being a delight (I’m sure she is), and on the Johns Hopkins honors.
I was thinking about how this time last year, I’d just received the email from you about Farafina and I wanted to reach out with a quick update. I’ve just accepted an offer for the novel I excerpted as my application and it feels like the workshop was a catalyst for the events that’ve led me here. So, thank you, for the workshop and your words and the Olisa TV series and listening to me babble on about my story at the hotel. I deeply appreciate all of it and you.
All my best,
Before the novel was published, I spoke of it to some people, to help it get attention. I had not been able to finish reading it. I found the writing beautiful, but the story false-hearted and burdened by bathos. When I spoke of the novel, however, it was the former sentiment that I expressed, never the latter.
After I gave the March 2017 interview in which I said that a trans woman is a trans woman, I was told that this person had insulted me on social media, calling me, among other things, a murderer. I was deeply upset, because while I did not really know them personally, I felt they knew what I stood for and that I fully supported the rights of trans people, and that I do not wish anybody dead.
Still, I took no action. I ignored the public insult.
When this person’s publishers sent me an early copy of their novel, I was surprised to see that my name was included in their cover biography. I had never seen that done in a book before. I didn’t like that I had not been asked for permission to use my name, but most of all I thought – why would a person who thinks I’m a murderer want my name so prominently displayed in their biography?
Then I learned that, because my name was in the cover biography, a journalist had called them my “protegee” and they then threw a Twitter tantrum about it, calling it clickbait, viciously disavowing having received any help from me.
I knew this person had called me a murderer, I knew they were actively campaigning to “cancel” me and tweeting about how I should no longer be invited to speak at events. But this I felt I could not ignore.
I sent an email to my representative:
From: Chimamanda Adichie
Date: Wed, Feb 14, 2018 at 2:06 PM
I’m writing about X
She attended my Lagos workshop two years ago and I selected hers as one of a few pieces I published after the workshop.
Apparently I was referred to as her ‘mentor’ and/or she was referred to as my ‘protege,’ in some articles, which led to her tweeting about it. Her tweets were forwarded to me by friends. In them, she reacted quite viscerally to my being called her ‘mentor’ and her being my ‘protege.’ To be fair, she is not technically my ‘protege,’ and it is perfectly fine that she feels this way, but her ungracious tone and the ugliness of the energy spent on her tweets surprised me.
I recently received her book and noticed that my name was included in her official book bio. I was stunned. Surely if she is so strongly averse to my being considered a person who has been significant in her career, (which is my understanding of the loose use of protege/mentor) then it is unseemly to make the choice to include my name in her bio. I found it unusual, as I don’t think I’ve seen it done before in a book bio, but I also now find it unacceptably cynical.
It is only reasonable for a person who sees my name as it is used in her bio — ‘her work has been selected and edited by Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie’ — to assume some sort of mentor/protege relationship.
To publicly disavow this with a tone bordering on hostility and at the same time so baldly use my name to sell her book is utterly unacceptable to me.
I’d like you to please reach out to her publishers and ask that my name be removed from her official book bio. I refuse to be used in this way.
After contacting her publishers, my representative wrote:
They have asked whether your preference would be to remove the Acknowledgment to you in the back of the book also, in future reprints.
I replied:
I don’t think that is my decision to take, and so will not answer either way, although it would be ideal if she herself made the decision to do so.
On the subject of how to go about it, I was absolutely determined not to be used by this person, but I was also sensitive to the costs the publisher might incur, as this was not in any way the publisher’s fault. Instead of pulping the already printed copies, I asked that the jackets be stripped and rebound. To my representative I wrote:
I’m completely determined that I not be used in this opportunistic and hypocritical way. But I want to make sure to proceed reasonably.
I was assured that my name would be removed and I moved on.
But from time to time, I would be informed of yet another social media post in which this person had attacked me.
This person has created a space in which social media followers have – and this I find unforgiveable – trivialized my parents’ death, claiming that the sudden and devastating loss of my parents within months of each other during this pandemic, was ‘punishment’ for my ‘transphobia.’
This person has asked followers to pick up machetes and attack me.
This person began a narrative that I had sabotaged their career, a narrative that has been picked up and repeated by others.
The normal response would be to ignore it all, because this person is seeking attention and publicity to benefit themselves. Claiming that I have sabotaged their career is a lie and this person knows that it is a lie. But if something is repeated often enough, in this age in which people do not need proof or verification to run with a story, especially a story that has outrage potential, then it can easily begin to seem true.
My addressing this lie will indeed get this person some attention – may they bask in it.
Here is the truth: I was very supportive of this writer. I didn’t have to be. I wasn’t asked to be. I supported this writer because I believe we need a diverse range of African stories.
Sabotaging a young writer’s career is just not my style; I would get no benefit or satisfaction from it. Asking that my name be removed from your biography is not sabotaging your career. It is about protecting my boundaries of what I consider acceptable in civil human behavior.
You publicly call me a murderer AND still feel entitled to benefit from my name?
You use my name (without my permission) to sell your book AND then throw an ugly tantrum when someone makes a reference to it?
What kind of monstrous entitlement, what kind of perverse self-absorption, what utter lack of self-awareness, what unheeding heartlessness, what frightening immaturity makes a person act this way?
Besides, a person who genuinely believes me to be a murderer cannot possibly want my name on their book cover, unless of course that person is a rank opportunist.
PART THREE
In certain young people today like these two from my writing workshop, I notice what I find increasingly troubling: a cold-blooded grasping, a hunger to take and take and take, but never give; a massive sense of entitlement; an inability to show gratitude; an ease with dishonesty and pretension and selfishness that is couched in the language of self-care; an expectation always to be helped and rewarded no matter whether deserving or not; language that is slick and sleek but with little emotional intelligence; an astonishing level of self-absorption; an unrealistic expectation of puritanism from others; an over-inflated sense of ability, or of talent where there is any at all; an inability to apologize, truly and fully, without justifications; a passionate performance of virtue that is well executed in the public space of Twitter but not in the intimate space of friendship.
I find it obscene.
There are many social-media-savvy people who are choking on sanctimony and lacking in compassion, who can fluidly pontificate on Twitter about kindness but are unable to actually show kindness. People whose social media lives are case studies in emotional aridity. People for whom friendship, and its expectations of loyalty and compassion and support, no longer matter. People who claim to love literature – the messy stories of our humanity – but are also monomaniacally obsessed with whatever is the prevailing ideological orthodoxy. People who demand that you denounce your friends for flimsy reasons in order to remain a member of the chosen puritan class.
People who ask you to ‘educate’ yourself while not having actually read any books themselves, while not being able to intelligently defend their own ideological positions, because by ‘educate,’ they actually mean ‘parrot what I say, flatten all nuance, wish away complexity.’
People who do not recognize that what they call a sophisticated take is really a simplistic mix of abstraction and orthodoxy – sophistication in this case being a showing-off of how au fait they are on the current version of ideological orthodoxy.
People who wield the words ‘violence’ and ‘weaponize’ like tarnished pitchforks. People who depend on obfuscation, who have no compassion for anybody genuinely curious or confused. Ask them a question and you are told that the answer is to repeat a mantra. Ask again for clarity and be accused of violence. (How ironic, speaking of violence, that it is one of these two who encouraged Twitter followers to pick up machetes and attack me.)
And so we have a generation of young people on social media so terrified of having the wrong opinions that they have robbed themselves of the opportunity to think and to learn and to grow.
I have spoken to young people who tell me they are terrified to tweet anything, that they read and re-read their tweets because they fear they will be attacked by their own. The assumption of good faith is dead. What matters is not goodness but the appearance of goodness. We are no longer human beings. We are now angels jostling to out-angel one another. God help us. It is obscene.
#chimamanda ngozi adichie#femimism#nigerian feminism#radfem safe#gender critical#radical feminism#cancel culture#forgot the link oops
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Safe Haven: tfatws!Bucky Barnes x fem!reader - Chapter Nine
chapter eight - Chapter Nine: The Soldier and the Mutant - chapter ten
Series Masterlist
Plot: Y/n deals with the new knowledge about who her father truly was and receives a surprise visitor.
Warnings: angst, fluff, fluff, FLUFF, my gosh it’s nearly suffocating how much fluff, language, one allusion to sex, mentions of suicide, mentions of torture
Word Count: 10.1k
A/N: I’m just gonna let this one speak for itself, thanks for being so patient 😉
----
“HYDRA?”
“HYDRA…” I sighed.
Melanie and I were sat on her front porch, coffee cups in hand and revelations on our lips. I’d been home for two days and the shock of finding out about my father’s longstanding lie, while still fresh, was morphing into numbness. Being his daughter too, Mel needed to know the truth as well.
“This guy’s gotta be lying,” my sister waved a hand in front of her, “He has to be, he’s a criminal a-and he’s crazy.”
“He’s not lying, Mels,” I held my head in my hand with my elbow resting on my chair, “I went online and scoured the internet, Dad’s name was listed in the HYDRA files leaked ten years ago.”
Mel leaned forward in her seat and hung her head, bracing her weight on her knees. My sister had always been a rock, unshakable even in the face of the worst circumstances. Even though she was keeping it together for my sake, I could see the well of emotions that would spring up once I was gone. “I can’t believe this,” she mumbled, shaking her head softly, “But looking back, it makes so much sense.”
I furrowed my brows at her, “You wanna spell this one out for me?”
“Think about it,” she turned in her seat to face me, “Dad was wracked with guilt every day since he came home from the,” she set her mug down on the coffee table and made air quotes, “‘service.’ Nightmares and flashbacks and that awful depression…I mean, the man tore himself apart for what he’d done when he wasn’t passed out from drinking. He’d have had to do some pretty nasty things to feel that much guilt.”
“Yeah, well, he should have felt guilty,” I grumbled, staring down at the coffee to hide the tears slowly forming in my eyes, “He hurt innocent people.”
“Wow…” she said quietly.
I sat forward in my seat, “Mom can never find about this, the shock could kill her. And as much as I feel like she should know who she was married to, I don’t think I can destroy another person’s image of Dad.”
“No, I don’t think we should tell her either,” Mel agreed, taking a sip from her coffee, “I’m sorry enough that you had to find out. Wait,” she slapped a hand over my arm, “Does Bucky know? You said you and Sam were working with him.”
I had done my best to put Bucky out of my mind for the past two days, failing spectacularly. I had gotten so used to him being by my side the past week that once he was gone, it felt like something was missing. Never mind the way I’d left him, those blue eyes begging me not to shut him out, the very same thing I’d asked him not to do. I had to remind myself at least ten times a day that removing myself from his life was for his good.
“Yeah, he knows,” I looked back down at my lap, squeezing the coffee mug so tight, I thought it might shatter.
Mel threw her hands out to their sides, “And?”
“And he knows,” I replied, knowing that wouldn’t be a good enough answer for her.
“So this guy finds out that our dad tortured him for years and he’s been running around Europe with his daughter and he had no reaction? What are you not telling me?”
“Mel, what do you want me to say?” I snapped my head up, “He was there when Zemo told me and he’s not with me now, there’s nothing more to tell…"
I may have been a mutant, but sometimes I wished I’d have gotten my sister’s detective skills instead. She could take one look at a person and go Sherlock Holmes on their ass before they knew what hit them. It was one of the reasons she’d made such a good psychologist before becoming a stay-at-home mom.
Mel inhaled sharply and her eyes widened, “Oh my gosh, do you-“
“Don’t say it,” I held up a hand and forcefully pressed my eyes shut, a few teardrops squeezing out onto my eyelashes, “Please don’t say it.”
As requested, she fell silent, her hand slipping onto my shoulder and rubbing small circles. I trained my eyes ahead of me, focusing on the last remnants of the morning’s sunrise. I’d always loved getting up early enough to watch the light spread across the sky, giving me hope that whatever pain I was feeling was only temporary. I found no such comfort gazing at the spectacle in my current state.
“It’s better this way,” I said, not able to look at her lest she see my contradictory eyes, “Trust me.”
“Well,” Mel sighed loudly, “You’re the one that knows the guy…Just promise me one thing?”
“Hmm?”
She pulled one of my hands out of the death grip I had on my cup and took it into one of hers, “This is huge news, life-shattering, and we’re allowed to process it however we need to. But I see that look in your eyes, none of this is on you. Don’t blame yourself for what Dad did to him.”
And if Mel had spent the time I had with Bucky, watched him in the bar in Madripoor, been in the therapy session with him, seen his reaction to losing his arm in Riga, I knew she’d feel different. I had a front row seat to Bucky’s PTSD and my father had been the ringleader. How could I not feel a little responsible?
——
Sam, Sarah and I had talked the boat situation over the morning before. The offer that Sarah had received from the guy who had been interested before Sam returned home had fallen through, he’d cited the reason as that it would take more money to fix than it was worth. Ever the hero, Sam had phoned everyone in the community who had known his parents and called in as many favors as he could. As I pulled up to the docks, ready to roll up my sleeves and begin working, I was delightfully surprised at how many people had responded. There were at least a dozen sets of helping hands waiting to work. It was moments like these that reminded me how lucky I was to live in such a close knit community.
I weaved through people, greeting and thanking everyone for coming out as I made my way to the boat. “Black Falcon to the rescue again, huh?” I called out to Sam as I climbed aboard, he was standing at the bow of the ship next to somebody whose back was turned to me.
“You know it,” Sam called back, turning around and facing me, along with the man who he’d been in conversation with.
It was Bucky.
My heart stopped and I froze in my tracks, adrenaline shooting through my veins. Our eyes met across the deck and we may as well have been back in Sokovia. There was the same pain threaded through his ocean blue eyes only enhanced by the fear reflecting in mine. I wanted to run to him and away from him all at once, but knew which instinct needed to be listened to.
I looked to Sam and faked a hopefully convincing smile, “I’ll be below deck.”
Hurriedly, I hauled my ass across the deck and raced down the steps. My hands flew to cover my nose and mouth as my breathing increased. He was here, he couldn’t be here, why was he here? Any progress I’d made, however small, in trying to put Bucky to rest had been revived the second I saw his face.
“You wanna explain what that was?” I looked up to see Sam stepping off the final stair and crossing his arms in front of me, “One day you’re friends and the next you bolt outta the room when you see the guy?”
“Just,” I strained, stopping to take as soothing a breath as I was capable of and straightening my posture, “Keep me where he isn’t.”
Sam sighed, reading me all too well, “Y/n, if this is about your dad, there’s noth-“
“Now what needs to be done down here?” I interrupted, placing my hands on my hips and hoping that if I projected confidence, I’d start to feel it.
“Fine,” Sam conceded to my wishes and gestured to the engine we were standing next to, “Check the zincs. If you need to replace ‘em, we’ll have to run down to Joe’s. And just so you know,” he stood at the steps and pointed between me and where Bucky most likely stood above us, “I don’t agree with this.”
I shook my head to shake myself out of the moment as he left me to my work, blissfully hidden from the person I wanted to be with most.
——
I had never experienced a more uncomfortable day.
For the entire morning and afternoon, it was like switching a light on and off. If Bucky came below deck to fix something, I filed out as quick as I could to work above deck. We didn’t interact more than when we passed each other once in a while, each brush of shoulder sending a jolt of electricity through me. Sam had been no help either, he’d prevented me from making the necessary run to the hardware store or helping Sarah with lunch. He was determined to try and quarantine me and Bucky on the boat, most likely in hopes that my resolve would weaken. No matter how much it was killing me, I kept my distance and my head down as we made repairs in awkward silence.
When the sun began to set over the waters and there was nothing left to be done for the day, I carefully made my way up the stairs and listened for voices. When I heard none close by, I took quick steps across the deck and hopped off the boat onto the dock. I didn’t dare look over my shoulder to see if Bucky, who was stealthy enough to sneak up on anyone, was behind me and kept on my path to the outdoor kitchen area Sarah was closing up.
“Good day?” I asked, grabbing an extra rag to try and get the oil off my hands from working on the engine.
“Better than you,” she retorted, “You’ve had that sour look on your face since you got here.”
“Just,” I sighed and stopped my rigorous rubbing for a second, “Still thinking about everything…”
Stopping her cleaning while I resumed mine, she wrapped her arms around my shoulders and leaned her head against mine. Out of Sam, Melanie, myself and her, Sarah was the most removed from the situation. My dad hadn’t interacted much with the Wilsons, he hadn’t interacted with hardly anyone outside of his family, so Sarah didn’t have many memories with him nor had she fought HYDRA. It was actually nice to be around someone who didn’t have his dirty deeds bouncing around their head like an old school Microsoft screensaver.
“You,” she pressed a kiss to the side of my head, “Are one of the best human beings I know and nothing can change that, not even this.”
Starting the argument that this revelation did in fact change a lot of things would be useless, I knew better than to try and prove Sarah wrong. I simply patted her arm and leaned into her embrace, taking the comfort I could get even if I didn’t necessarily deserve it.
“By the way,” she said as she unwrapped her arms, “Sam invited Bucky to stay the night.”
My stomach dropped, “WHAT?”
“He was gonna go find a hotel room but that’s ridiculous when he can just crash on the couch,” Sarah shrugged, wiping off the counter once again.
“Why?” I pressed my hands to my mouth in a praying position, “Why could you not be an angel who has to help everybody, just this once?”
Sarah turned to face me, placing on hand on her hip, “The guy saved your ass from being killed and ran you to the hospital,” I opened my mouth to ask her how she knew that, she held up a finger to me, “Sam told me all about Riga. It’s the least we can do for him. And don’t even think about running to Mel’s place for the night, you promised the boys you’d take them to school tomorrow morning.”
I stood there, nervously wringing the cloth through my hands as Sarah walked away to finish up another task before night fell. All my efforts to keep away from Bucky were failing and it wasn’t due to anything on my part. How was I supposed to protect him if we were constantly around each other? As I looked out to the deck of the boat, I could see Sam and Bucky had winded up there drinking beers to celebrate their long day of work. It was a scene that only days ago, I could have easily slipped into. I didn’t just miss Bucky, I missed the dynamic the three of us had grown to have. Sam would have pressed a beer into my hand and lightheartedly elbowed me, I’d have settled down next to Bucky whose hand would have naturally drifted to the small of my back…It would have been a perfect end to the day. Instead, I was cursing my father for ever having dipped a toe in HYDRA’s pool, his decision had ruined my life.
——
I had two vendettas, one with Sam for inviting Bucky to stay and one with my quickly drying throat that begged for water.
Laying in bed with my pillow smashed across my face, I peeked one eye out to check my alarm clock. 1:29AM. I’d laid in the same position for an hour, hoping that sleep took me over and my thirst would die till the morning. The family had been asleep for hours and with the amount of work Sam and him did, Bucky should have been passed out too. If I pulled it off just right, I could sneak downstairs to grab a bottle of water and get out before he ever stirred. Waking an ex-assassin wouldn’t be good for either of us.
I tiptoed out of my room, mindful of the creaking door as I passed AJ and Cass’ bedroom. Once I got to the stairs, I chose a silent approach and used my energy to float my way down the steps. I continued doing so through the kitchen, sneaking a peek over to the couch to see Bucky sound asleep. I opened up the fridge quietly and reached in blindly, feeling around till I hit a bottle and pulling it out. Tucking the bottle under my arm, I placed my hands back at my side and began to let the energy lift me.
“You do know I can hear you, right?”
The familiar voice startled me, causing me to absorb the energy back into my palms quickly. I squeezed my eyes shut in frustration before turning to see Bucky, laying in the same position I’d found him in with his lids still shut.
“Forgot,” I said, hoping he didn’t hear the shake in my voice, “Super soldier.”
Flipping the blanket Sarah had given to him off his body, he swung his long legs off the couch and sat up to face me. It truly wasn’t fair how good he looked even in the middle of the night, the moonlight coming through the windows and highlighting his silhouette. Admiring his profile was the only thing making the uncomfortable silence semi-bearable.
“We need to talk,” he started.
“We really don’t,” I hurriedly replied, starting to rotate my body to flee.
Bucky stood up, the couch creaking in relief as he did, “Yes, we do. You left so fast the other day I couldn’t get two words in.”
“Because you didn’t need to,” I said from my place in the kitchen, “There’s nothing you can say to make any of this better and you shouldn’t. In fact, you should hate me.”
He raised a tired eyebrow, “Hate you?”
“Yes,” I said, a little louder, “Hate me for what my father did to you, hate me for being his daughter. I hate me right now, I don’t understand why you don’t.”
“Because there’s nothing to hate,” Bucky chuckled softly, “You of all people have given me the least to hate.”
“Bucky, of all people you should hate me the most,” I said firmly, setting the forgotten bottle on the counter, “We travel the world all week and then you find out I’m the daughter of the man whose job was to hook you up to machines an-and torture you all day. That’s the man who I drew pictures of and kissed every night before bed and thought was the greatest person to ever walk the fucking planet,” I spread my arms out to accentuate the point, “That man is one of the reasons for all that pain seeping out of you. And guess what? I’m him. I’m literally his flesh and blood! So go ahead, hate me! You have every right to, and it would make this all so much easier if you did.”
“Make what easier? Ignoring each other?” Bucky crossed his arms over his broad chest, “I don’t want to do that.”
I knew he wasn’t going to let it go, I had only one decent shot at ending the conversation and I needed to take it, even if it broke my heart. “Well, it’s what I want,” I picked up the bottle again, trying to pretend I was as confidant in my decision to walk away as my words were.
“That’s a lie and we both know it,” Bucky said, the tiniest smirk appearing on his lips, something I always found cute but now found annoying.
It may have been the biggest lie I’d ever told in my entire life, but it was also truth. I wanted to leave Bucky before he inevitably left me. “No, it’s not,” I said, my voice threatening to tremble as I used it.
“You wanna look me in the eye and tell me that?”
I hadn’t dared to make too much contact with those wild eyes that I’d fallen for, I’d only give in all the quicker and let his grace draw me straight into his arms. He’d called my bluff, knowing that lying to him was easy when I didn’t actually have to see him and that I couldn’t continue the charade if that changed. As I dragged my eyes up to meet his, the tears I’d been fighting back began to come forward. He looked broken and whole at the sight of me, exactly how I felt.
“What do you want me to say, Bucky?” I whispered, my throat closing with emotion.
“I want you to tell me, to my face,” he paused, drawing a shallow breath, “That I’m crazy and that I read every signal wrong.”
It would have been less painful if he’d sucker punched me with his left hand, I’d have actually preferred it. It had taken everything in me to tell just one lie, I couldn’t do it again to either one of us. But I also couldn’t succumb to my feelings.
“Bucky…” I shakily began, clenching my fists at their sides.
“Because you’ve been living in my head pretty much since the minute I met you, and I don’t wanna sweep this week under the rug like it was nothing,” Bucky made a sweeping motion with his hand, “I don’t think I can.”
“Bucky, we can’t…I can’t do that to you.”
“Do what?” he asked confusedly, squinting his eyes as if he couldn’t see the issue.
“I don’t want to hurt you!” I snapped, allowing the tears to break free of their restraints and shed themselves, “There’s going to come a day where every memory of what he put you through is going to be blamed on me and I can’t wait for the day where you wake up and look at me like I’m the monster my father was. I can’t have a little of you, Bucky, and then lose you entirely.”
My cheeks were wet with my guilt, I made no effort to dry them or cease their streams. I stood there on the edge of where the kitchen met the living room staring at the man who held my heart, trying to pry it from his hands to no avail. Bucky looked just as surprised by the revelation as I’d been when it flew from my lips without any opposition from my head.
“What did you say to me in Riga?” he whispered, his voice raising slightly to try and emphasize the point he was about to make, “’I don’t believe that any part of you is capable of me?’ ‘That’s not who you really are?’” he echoed my sentiments from days ago, “You’re not him. If I believed there was any of him in you, I wouldn’t be standing here begging you to stop beating yourself up about this.”
He took a step forward, waiting to see if I walked away but I was too focused on him to think about running. He continued coming forward, “Y/n, I can’t walk away from this like you mean nothing to me. You’re the first person I’ve met that sees me as Bucky Barnes before anything else. I gave you every reason to write me off and you didn’t give up on me,” he paused, swallowing harshly as he stopped in front of me, “When I’m with you, I feel safe for the first time in a long time. There’s never gonna come a day where I stop lookin’ at you like you’re the most important thing in the world to me.”
There were mere inches left between us, the words I had been dying to hear were now mine for the taking and I was too paralyzed with shock to react. Of course he had to come and hit me with my own affirmations, making perfect sense. The side of my mind that believed I didn’t deserve this happiness was screaming that these feelings would fade, that my father’s sins would always be at the forefront of us. The other side that wanted nothing more than to reach out and close the distance between us was telling me to believe him and let myself be cared for, something I’d always believed I was too broken for. And somehow they were both drowned out by the excitement I felt with Bucky in such close proximity, staring down at me with those cerulean pools, infused with the darkness that sent a chill down my spine. There was a palpable change in the air, from emotional to the great and grand something we finally near naming. Every part of me wanted to reach out and take him for for myself, to kiss him and pull him so close that there was no telling where I began and he ended. If there was a chance for me to back out, it was now. I could run to my room, to my car, anywhere that he wasn’t. But at the end of the day, that wasn’t what I wanted. I could either let myself be held captive by crimes I’d never committed, or I could dedicate myself to loving the man who the universe had somehow tied me to long ago.
“Tell me to stop,” Bucky said, his voice hitting that low timbre that made goosebumps break out across my skin.
I couldn’t deny either one of us any longer.
Bucky took a step towards me, his eyes never leaving mine as I backed to accommodate him and his plans. A small gasp left me as my back hit the kitchen wall, my hands reaching back to press against it to try and find purchase on something. There was now only a breath’s width of space left between Bucky and I, our shared air growing more and more heated as we bathed in the anticipation of the moment. His eyes flicked between my y/e/c ones and my lips, looking for any signs of hesitation that didn’t exist. He placed a finger under my chin to tilt my head to his liking, pausing to take in the sight of my tear streaked face in the last seconds before we let loose the storm that had been brewing inside us both. I took the time to admire the wonder on his face, the two of us his newest discovery in a world he had long been asleep to.
He leaned in and our lips finally touched, euphorically.
I found myself unable to move, overwhelmed by the sensation I’d wanted to feel since our dance in Madripoor. Bucky didn’t overstep his bounds, he kept our mouths softly connected as we absorbed each other. When he disconnected our lips, whether to repeat the act or pull away, my body snapped into action and my hands flew to his neck, pulling him back down to me. Our lips didn’t fight for dominance so much as they did try and take in as much of each other as they could. Bucky’s hand slipped from my chin and both fell to my hips, pulling me flush against his body. On his tongue, I could taste the remnants of however many beers he’d shared with Sam, they’d stayed on the boat till the first evening stars started to appear. The scent of him, freshly showered after a long day of work, invaded my senses and spurred me on further, my hands moving to fist the back of his blue henley. With our kisses becoming more fervent, Bucky’s metal arm wrapped around my hips and lifted me so effortlessly, it only made the moment more heated. I wound my legs around his waist and let him carry me to wherever he desired, him easily supporting my weight and never disconnecting our lips as he fell to the couch. My hands snaked up his back to thread themselves through the short brown locks, causing him to pull away with a soft moan before diving back into my mouth. His flesh hand took hold of the back of my head and pushed me further into the kiss, trying to taste as much of me as he could. This. This was what I had been craving since the moment I’d realized I was far more starved of Bucky’s touch than I’d thought I’d been. The delightful friction our bodies created, the pressure of our lips dancing together, the knowledge that I was just as much his as he was mine. No more questioning, no more stolen moments wondering what could have happened if we hadn’t been interrupted. This was whole and perfect and right.
Eventually, the second long breaks we took for became insufficient and we needed to part for longer. Bucky looked gorgeously spent, his half lidded eyes following me, his lips deliciously swollen and his hair messed up from where my hands had been. I smiled as I dragged my hands to his cheek and ran my thumb over his plump lower lip, bringing a lopsided grin to his face. There was a joy I hadn’t seen him express yet and my stomach flipped knowing that I was the one to bring it in him.
“Don’t leave,” he breathed, his chest rising and falling rapidly in the aftermath of our passion, “Please.”
In my palms, I held one of the world’s most deadly men, someone whose reputation had consisted of how ruthless a killer he’d once been. And here he was, warm and soft and begging me not to go.
“I’m not going anywhere,” I whispered, delighting in how his eyes brightened at hearing my words. Contrasting the intensity of the minutes before, I leaned in and brushed my lips against Bucky’s with as little pressure as I could. He chased them the second I pulled away, eliciting a giggle out of me that he swallowed, kissing me so lovingly it almost broke my heart. He inhaled me like I was oxygen and he’d been deprived far too long. It didn’t occur to me that there was a chance I was his first kiss since before he shipped out in the ’40’s.
“I don’t wanna stop,” he mumbled against my lips.
“Then don’t,” I replied, breathing in his soft exhales, “We’ll stay up all night doing this.”
Bucky chuckled, pulling away from my mouth to turn his head and press tender kisses to the palm I’d been cradling his cheek in. He tugged me closer then, my hands winding around his shoulders and his face burying itself in my neck. My laugh at the sensation of his scruff quickly morphed to a moan as he planted drawn out kisses against every inch of the bruises our encounter with Walker in Riga had left me with. I extended my neck to give him better access, feeling his lips twist in a wicked grin as his ministrations caused my breathing to quicken.
“Okay, if you keep doing this,” I gasped, trying to steady my voice, “We’re gonna be up all night doing something else.”
He pecked the column of my neck once more before pulling his head out and facing me, still smiling. I pressed my forehead to his and he nuzzled his nose against mine, still desperate to keep any contact he could.
“I’ve wanted to do this for a while,” Bucky confessed, rubbing his metal hand up and down my back, “Thought about it in Riga, when we were fighting, in the alleyway…”
“Me too,” I agreed, grinning uncontrollably, “But you know why I’m glad it didn’t happen till now?” Bucky hummed questioningly, “Because this is the longest we’ve been together without someone interrupting us.”
Bucky chortled loud enough for me to feel the need to cover his mouth, causing me to laugh myself. I never thought that there would come a day where the two of us would be sitting on my couch in the middle of the night, as lighthearted as could be. This was a slice of heaven after all that we’d been through.
“Do you believe me now when I say my opinion of you is never gonna change?” Bucky asked.
Had he not proven to me that it was true, I wouldn’t have believed it. I’d have punished the both of us for the rest of my life. “As long as you believe me when I say that I know you’ll never hurt me.”
I knew that there was so many layers to his pain, most that I would never understand, but he couldn’t keep a part of himself hidden forever. If we were going to do this, we were going do it wholeheartedly, taking the best and the worst parts of each other. The unlovable would never go unloved as long as we were together.
“Okay,” Bucky sighed, tightening the arm around my waist and bringing the other to my face, “Okay.” He pulled me down to press his lips to each of my cheeks, landing one last one to my mouth.
Our kisses became longer and softer, signaling that though we were both eager to explore this new territory, exhaustion was running the show. We eventually slowed down to where Bucky’s face rested in the juncture where my neck met my shoulder while my head rested against his, one arm wrapped around his shoulders and a hand running through his hair. My lips laid featherlight kisses against his temple every few minutes, taking advantage of the fact that I could do so freely now. I could feel his hot breath hit my skin at such a leisurely pace that if it hadn’t have been for his metal thumb rubbing my waist every once in a while, I’d have thought he’d fallen asleep. Eventually, when my eyelids began to shut against my will, Bucky shifted on the couch to lay both of us down. I settled naturally on top of him, my head against his chest and a hand resting on each of his broad shoulders. Just when I thought in my drowsy haze that nothing could make the moment any more perfect, Bucky pressed a sleepy kiss to the top of my head and tightened his arms around my back, securing my body to his.
This was peace.
This was right.
This was what we deserved.
——
At the sound of hushed voices and grunts, my eyes slowly opened. I blinked a few times and made out the sight of my nephews, AJ throwing punches and Cass deflecting them with the shield that had laid in the hallway for days. After days spent witnessing some of the worst the world had to offer, this was the purity that I needed to see.
“Bucky…” I whispered, he inhaled sharply as he awoke with one arm slung over my waist and the other hung over the edge of the couch. I tapped his chest and pointed to my nephews, still oblivious to our presence.
“Hey,” Bucky called, his morning voice rougher than it was the rest of the day.
The boys jumped at the sound, Cass shoving the shield back in its case and him and AJ running as soon as it hit the ground with mischievous smiles on their faces. I laughed softly, looking up to see Bucky lazily smiling. I had the best view in the world, close enough to see the lines that drew his grin up, so different from the frowning ones I was so used to seeing. When he tilted his head down and our eyes met, his smile made no effort to lessen itself.
“Morning,” he said, bringing a hand up to stroke the top of my head.
“Morning,” I replied, shimmying up his body and taking hold of his cheeks, our lips meeting in early morning bliss, “We’re in deep shit.”
“Why’s that?” he asked.
“The boys can’t keep a secret to save their lives,” I chuckled, “So you need to enjoy your last day alive because Sam is going to kill you.”
Bucky wrinkled his nose as he laughed, “Thanks for the warning.”
I dropped my head back to his chest, picking up one of his dog tags in my hand and reading his name pressed in the metal. I’d never been a big believer in fate, but as I rubbed a thumb over the necklace I was reminded that Bucky and I should have never met. He should have been long gone by now, Captain America’s childhood friend who met a tragic end before he could see the war won. He wasn’t supposed to be here, warming my body with his and pressing the sweetest kisses I’d ever known to my skin. Our being together defied time itself.
“Seeing them, the boys…” Bucky began, still stroking my hair, “I think I get what you and Sam were talking about back in Maryland.”
I rested my chin on his pec to see him, his gaze focused on the ceiling in deep thought. “Steve giving him the shield…It’s not the same at all.”
I shook my head, sadly, giving confirmation to his revelation. I didn’t begrudge him for not understanding right away, unless you were in Sam’s shoes you could only have so much of an understanding. The unrelenting way that Bucky had pushed him was what had caused me to call him out on several occasions. But if the week we’d had with our confrontation with the police, meeting Isaiah and coming to Delacroix had finally shown him the flaw in his thinking, I was glad.
“I think you should talk to him,” I suggested.
He scoffed, “I think I owe him a lot more than that.
“Well, he’s probably already out on the boat. And I,” I groaned as I sat up, straddling Bucky’s hips, “Promised the boys that I’d take them to school so we both need to get up.”
Bucky made a similar sound as he swung his legs over the couch, pivoting my body so that we were in a similar position we’d been in in the middle of the night. He took my face in his hand and gave a kiss so long, I knew I’d feel the ghost of his lips until the next time I was able to feel the real thing. To think just hours before I’d been hellbent on convincing him that we couldn’t allow ourselves to act on our feelings. Here I was now struggling to let go of him to spend an hour apart at most.
The giggling on the other side of the wall broke the spell though.
Bucky and I broke apart with a shared smile. “See you in a bit,” I whispered, pressing my hands to his chest and pushing off of him to disappear around the corner.
After dressing for the day, I corralled the boys into my car. I could practically hear their predictable thoughts and feel their eyes boring into the back of my head as I shut my door. “There’s donuts with both your names on them if you promise not to tell Uncle Sam what you saw this morning.”
A resounding chorus of enthusiastic ‘okays’ reminded me that I was the best aunt in the world who made the worst parenting decisions.
——
By nothing short of a miracle, Bucky was still alive when I returned.
We worked on the boat with familiar stolen glances and secret smirks when Sam had his back turned. At some point Sarah kicked the two of them off the boat for attempting to repair the water pump, something she’d been repairing and Bucky and I were forced to separate. As the two men departed the dock, he turned around to catch one last look at me and flashed the smile I’d seen more of in the last twelve hours than I had all week.
“You wanna tell me what changed from last night?” Sarah’s voice broke me out of the daze I was in.
“Huh?”
“You’ve been staring at that man with googly eyes all day,” she climbed aboard the boat, “You’re also lucky that our brother is clueless.”
I rolled my eyes and bumped my hip against hers, “Freakin’ mom vision, can’t get anything past you.”
“I’m just glad you got out of your own way, he seems like a good guy,” Sarah smiled, “He’s also fine as hell, if you haven’t noticed. If you wouldn’t have gone for it, I might have.”
Our loud laughter mixed together as I whacked her with the towel I’d been using to clean an oil stain off of the boat.
Later that day, after finishing helping my sister with a few repairs we could get done without interruptions from Sam and Bucky, I wandered to our backyard to behold a sight I never thought I’d see. Sam was throwing the shield around while Bucky stood beside him. I stopped at the side of the house to watch, the Vibranium bouncing off of training pads from our garage that were strapped to the tree. Since Sam had brought the shield home six months ago, I’d never seen him do more than pick it up and look at it every once in a while. He’d kept it stored away in his bedroom in its casing, AJ and Cass hadn’t even seen it until he’d left it in the hall after returning from Maryland. To see him wielding it now felt…right. He looked just as natural with it as Steve had. Bucky had made a 180 as well, he looked content watching Sam as he caught the shield in its return journey back to them. If I hadn’t watched them bicker like schoolchildren for the better portion of the week, I’d have mistaken them for friends.
“Are you telling me that you two could’ve man-hugged it out back in that interrogation room?” I shouted as I watched them clasp hands and pull each other in, “Coulda spared yourselves a lot of discomfort.”
They both laughed and turned to face me, in an effort to save time as I made my way out to where they stood. “So what’s new?” I asked with a knowing smile, eyeing Sam as he held the shield at his side
“Absolutely nothing,” he replied, “And a little bit of everything.”
I chuckled before my eyes inevitably found Bucky’s, who was already waiting for me with an outstretched palm. “Can I talk to you a minute?”
“Yeah,” I reached out and intwined our fingers.
“Whoa! Wait, wait, wait,” Sam boomed, gesturing to our locked hands, “What the hell is this?”
“Something new,” I shrugged, looking up and matching Bucky’s smile.
Sam groaned in disgust, “You’ve been here twenty four hours, Barnes, you couldn’t’ve kept your hands off my sister? I-I can’t even look at this, it’s sickening, ugh…” he turned his back to us and began his walk back to the house, spinning around quickly and stuttering, “You know what? I-“ he closed his mouth and shook his head, “Uh-uh, nope, can’t do it.”
Bucky and I both snorted as we watched him leave, voicing his displeasure to himself. I looked down and noticed the packed duffle bag that rested at Bucky’s feet, “I get the feeling there’s something you need to tell me?”
He sighed, reaching blindly to weave his fingers with my other hand’s set. “There���s something I gotta go do. A couple somethings actually. I talked to Sam, or at least he talked to me,” one corner of his mouth quirked up, “This whole making amends thing, I haven’t been doing the greatest job of it. There’s too many names in that book that don’t have closure about what happened to someone they loved. If I stand a chance at putting what happened in the past, I gotta go ‘do the work’.”
I rubbed my thumb over his smooth metal knuckle, staring down at the space between us. “Yeah, you do,” I looked up at him, “Recovery sucks, there’s no sophisticated way of putting it. Sam and I have both seen the ugly side of it. But you owe it to yourself to work as hard as you can for your freedom, as difficult as it can be sometimes.”
Bucky leaned down to press his forehead against mine. “If it hadn’t’ve been for you, I might not have believed that. I wanna get better for you too, to try and be the man you deserve.”
I hummed and bit down on my bottom lip, smiling widely. “So…you kinda like me.”
“Yeah,” Bucky chuckled softly, “Just a little bit.”
The warmth I felt radiating through me, brought on by nothing more than a touch of our hands and a shared smile powered me in a way my energy never could. “Go,” I said after a few seconds of silence, “Do whatever you need to do. I think there’s some things here that I need to take care of myself.”
Bucky pulled back to look my face over as if to commit every inch to his memory before holding the back of my head and pressing a kiss to my lips. Perhaps it was cruel that I had just gotten him and now had to let him go for an undetermined period of time. But his recovery meant more to me than any amount of heart pounding touches or earth shattering kisses he could give. If we ever had a shot of making it, we needed to go to our separate corners and heal.
I hesitantly broke away from his lips first, rubbing mine together after to memorize the taste he’d left. “If I don’t let you go now, I won’t be able to…”
“It won’t be forever,” he shook his head, bumping his nose against mine, “Sam’s gonna call me if he gets a lead on Karli.”
Rather than keep him longer with my insecurities about jumping back into hero work now knowing who my father had truly been, I decided that dealing with that was for my personal healing.
I reached my arms up to wind around his neck, his finding their new home around my waist and for a split second in time, nothing else mattered. There was just me, Bucky and the future I hoped we had ahead of us. I memorized the feel of him, the rise and fall of his chest against mine, his soft hair between my fingers, the scratch of his stubble against my neck. I hadn’t had time to daydream about Bucky since recognizing my feelings for him but even if I had, they’d have never done the real thing near justice.
“Stay safe, Sergeant,” I said, pulling back to peck his lips one last time and releasing him from my hold.
Bucky picked up his bag and slung it over his shoulder, giving my hand one more squeeze and holding it as he started to walk backwards. Once we reached a point where the only way to keep the contact was to follow him, we let go with a brush of our fingers till I was only holding air. With a final shared look, he turned his back to me and started down the dirt path that would lead him from our corner of Louisiana to the rest of the world. In so many ways I felt as if we’d traveled back to 1943 when he’d shipped out for England. I was sending him off to another war, this time battling his own past. Above any other feeling I felt for Bucky, the one that topped the list was belief. I believed in him more than he believed in himself and I wanted that to change. He could do it and once he did, there was no telling just how happy we could be.
But I in turn had to deal with my own demons.
——
While I wish I could have said I had a plan like Bucky’s, I had no idea what the first step was to healing past what my father had done.
HYDRA wasn’t a topic that I could just plop down on a therapist’s couch and start discussing, there were only so many people I could talk to about it. I found myself wishing that Steve was still around, next to Bucky he was the world’s leading expert on how much damage the organization could do. Without a blueprint of how to begin mending my wounds, I was left to wallow in my own grief over the man I’d believed my dad to be.
Sam, however, was on fire.
After him, Sarah and I had made the unanimous decision that the boat was too important to our family to part with, he had launched into the most intense training I’d ever seen him put himself through. He was both blowing me away and not surprising me at all with his dedication.
One morning, I came outside at his normal time to come home from his 6AM run with a cup of coffee for me and a Gatorade for him. On cue, he came jogging up the dirt path I’d watched Bucky leave on days ago.
“You’re inhuman,” I said, tossing him the drink as he approached, “I’m convinced of it.”
“It’s nothin’ you couldn’t be doing,” he panted.
“Yeah, I can run with you or I can get up before sunrise. A combo deal is not gonna happen,” I chortled before taking a sip of my coffee.
Sam joined me and sat down beside me on our back porch, the view of the blue waters a perfect accent to the almost fully risen sun. “Look, I don’t wanna know any details but…you and Bucky?”
I smiled as I stared down into my mug, just the thought of him causing happiness to bloom in my chest. “It was kinda happening the whole time, it just took us a while to realize it.”
Sam groaned, taking a long swig of his drink. “That’s all I need to know, as long as you both are happy and not too disgusting with each other,” he looked out the corner of his eyes at me, “I think I can live with it.”
“Well, that’s mighty big of you,” I patted his sweaty shoulder, instantly regretting the decision and wiping my palm on my bathrobe, “That shield starting to feel like it’s yours?”
Sam chuckled, “It doesn’t feel like it’s not mine anymore, it’s…weird. Talking with Isaiah was sobering and he’s allowed to be as bitter as he wants. The man’s earned to right to feel anything after what he’s been through. But,” he sighed, “I couldn’t let it go. All that pain and suffering, I can’t let it go to waste.”
“You couldn’t not be a hero even if you tried,” I shook my head in amazement, beaming with pride at my brother, “I’m proud of you.”
“Hey, that’s my line,” he hit my knee with the back of his hand, “I’ve got Torres working on some things, hopefully we can figure out where Karli might be going next-“
I couldn’t lead both him and Bucky to believe I was seriously considering going back to the fight. “I’m gonna stop you right there,” I held up a hand, “When you find them, it’s gonna be just you and Bucky. I’m out.”
He furrowed his brows and twisted to face me fully, “Why?”
“I can’t be the hero I thought I could, not after what I found out. It would only be a matter of time till somebody looked me up and figured out who my father was, then what? Some ex-HYDRA member comes looking for me? The public loses trust in me to protect them? Your reputation gets damaged when they realize I’m your sister?” I dropped my head down to stare at my lap, “It’s a bad idea. HYDRA doesn’t breed heroes.”
A beat of silence was played before my brother gave his rebuttal. “Look at me,” I dragged my eyes away from my engrossing coffee to him, “I couldn’t give two shits what people think about you being my sister, cause you know what? They don’t know you. They don’t know what you’ve done to try and stop the Flag Smashers, how you saved my life in that warehouse or how you helped keep our family going for five years. They don’t know how stubborn and caring and how much of a hero you are without your powers,” he paused and smirked at me, “And they’re never gonna know that if you don’t show them. What your dad did was horrible, but you’re not the one that did it. If you didn’t let his secret hold you back from being with Bucky, why’re you letting it hold you back from something else you want? You don’t need to be proud of being his daughter, but you need to make peace with it.”
He was right, as if he could ever be anything other than. Sam was counseling me like a sister but also like one of the countless veterans he’d helped wracked with guilt. I didn’t know if I’d ever fully recover from the hurt that came with the revelation, but if I kept on going how I was, I’d be a complete hypocrite. If Bucky could face the victims of his crimes and confess to them, I should’ve been able to deal with my ghosts. All I’d ever wanted to do was help people, to use that mutated gene of mine to help right wrongs. To do that, I needed to do the work.
“This is a far cry from a few days ago when you were ready to send me packing,” I retorted.
“Well,” Sam chuckled, “You proved me wrong. Fighting with you by my side just felt right, made me wish you could’ve been there for ‘em all.”
The fact that I had shown him that I could keep up with him was astounding, I honestly didn’t think it would ever happen. But with his approval, I’d have to have been an idiot to walk away from it all.
“Good talk,” I smiled, patting his leg while taking one last sip of my coffee before handing it to him.
“Where are you going?” Sam asked.
“Making peace with it.”
——
The drive from Delacroix to New Orleans had always relaxed me. The disappearance of the deep bayous as the scenery slowly changed to city, the ever present cypress trees, the hour travel time always gave me time to think. Something I was thankful for today especially.
I parked my car outside my destination, making the long trek through the cemetery I’d visited every week as a child. My feet automatically as I passed the neat rows of above ground tombs until I reached where I needed to be.
Keeping a safe distance away, I stuffed my hands in my jacket pockets and took a deep breath. “Hi,” I whispered, greeting my father’s tomb as if I expected it to speak back to me. “Um…I don’t know if you can hear me wherever you are but…there’s some things I need to talk to you about.”
My eyes began to water, partially from the wind hitting my face but mostly from the tears that had been waiting to spring free. “Why’d you do it, Dad?” I whispered against the lump in my throat, “I don’t understand how you could ever have been a part of something so destructive. You were the last person I would have ever believed could have done something like this. You were my hero,” I looked down at the ground between us, “I never thought you’d end up being the villain.”
I drew a shaky breath and continued, “I watched your guilt over your ‘time in the service’ tear you apart to a point where you thought death was the only way out so…I think it’s safe to assume you felt bad about what you’d done. I watched you every day try to be a good father to me and Mel, you didn’t succeed all the time but you did your best. I know you loved us…”
“Somehow,” I dug the heel of my sneaker into my the dirt, “I’m trying to find it in me to forgive you, Dad. For the pain your secret’s brought me, for what your name could do to the rest of my life, for lying…But the one thing I don’t know how to forgive you for is what you did to Bucky,” the tears that I’d finally gotten under control threatened to start again, “Because Dad, he means the world to me and to know that you were behind that pain that’s running his life…It makes me want to hate you. And the saddest part is that I know you would have loved him if you’d ever gotten a chance to meet the real him.”
“The way I see it, I can’t undo the damage you did to the world,” my voice found its strength, “But what you did isn’t going to dictate what I do with my life. I’ve only ever wanted to do good, however I can, that’s what I’m going to do. I know that you wanted me to keep my powers hidden, probably because you didn’t want anyone to find me, but I can’t do that anymore. I can’t pay the price for your sins. So I’m gonna fight and I’m gonna try to rewrite our family’s legacy.”
“Anyway, that’s, uh, that’s all I wanted to say,” I took a slow step forward and placed a hand over the stone tomb, “I wish…I wish things would have turned out different.”
With one last gaze upon my father’s final resting place, I left the same way I’d come, for once not having to fake the confidence I was feeling.
——
“Oh, oh, it’s going…” I teased.
“Give it back!” Sam yelled!
“It’s going!”
“Y/n!”
I levitated the shield further away from Sam and slid it across the ground into the boy’s soccer net, AJ and Cass chasing me as I did. I’d only just shown them that their aunt could make stuff fly and we were currently engaged in an intense game of keep away with Sam.
“AJ! Grab it!” I yelled, my nephew hurrying to the net and lifting the shield, stumbling a little as he took off running with it on his arm. I threw up a force field around Sam, who was gaining on him, “Oh no!”
Sam was laughing the whole time as he tried to punch his way out of the bubble encasing him. “Go go go!” I cried, watching the boys run off with the shield into the house, dropping the field once they were inside.
“You’re the worst influence on them, you know that right?” Sam chuckled as we slowly made our way towards the front door.
“Hey, I don’t want them thinking their uncle’s the only cool one in the family,” I replied as we entered the house, pulling out my phone to check the notifications I’d feel vibrating in my back pocket. One was a news alert. “Sam.”
“Huh?”
I tossed him my phone and hurried through the house till I reached the television, flipping to the news to see the article come to life. The GRC was voting in New York on the Patch Act, a movement that would move twenty million refugees back to their home country.
“Shit,” I mumbled, feeling Sam’s presence behind me. His phone rang to announce a call.
“It’s Torres,” he held out the phone and revealed the man’s face.
“Sorry this took so long, spare you the technical details, but I finally got results for the scans you asked for and I think we’re onto something,” Torres explained as Sam and I went to look at his computer, displaying a map of Europe that lit up with bright red circles. “When we look back, all these pings, they’re from places just before the Flag Smashers hit. Clearly, they’re all over Europe. Earlier today, we got one from New York. Now, I can’t promise you they’re not using a VPN or masking their location, but…”
I’d stopped listening after he’d said ‘New York,’ and turned my attention to the tv, every piece of the puzzle was coming together. Karli wouldn’t be physically able to hold herself back from interfering with the vote.
“Great work, Joaquin,” Sam said, his eyes trained on the screen along with me, “We’ll take it from here,” he hung up the call and turned to me, “Time to get to work. Come with me.”
He rose from his chair and led me to the coat closet nearest to the front door, opening it up to pull out a large silver case and handing it to me. “I don’t know what’s in it, Bucky just told me to hold onto it until the time came where you’d need it,” Sam stated, “I’m thinking that’s now.”
Confusedly, I carried it out and up to my bedroom, placing it on my mattress and trying to figure out how to open it. There was no keyhole, only a bar that hosted a red screen. My finger brushed over it, the action turning it blue and the case automatically released an air lock I didn’t know it had. Waiting a few seconds to make sure nothing popped out, I carefully opened the box to see something I couldn’t have predicted in a million years. Resting on top of the surprise was a note on the nicest stationary I’d ever seen…
You may be able to kick my ass, but I’m never gonna stop trying to protect you.
- Bucky
I breathed a soft laugh, holding the paper in my hand and imagining Bucky hunched over a table, writing the words that were now lodged in my heart. “Sam,” I called out, leaving the case open and rushing across the hall to my brother’s room, “Sam, it’s-“
All words disappeared and all thoughts halted at the sight of him opening up his own case, I didn’t need to see its contents to make an educated guess at what was inside of it. There were a dozen emotions playing out on Sam’s face, wonder, apprehension, excitement, shock…Every one of them valid but none of them coming close to the amount of pure determination in his eyes.
I watched from the doorway, smiling, “Ready when you are, Cap.”
----
A/N: AHHH. Only two chapters left, hope this one lived up to your expectations. Getting your messages and comments and asks have been making my days and I’m so glad people are enjoying this little ride I’m taking us all on. Let me know what you thought and/or if you’d like to be tagged for the remainder of the series!
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#bucky barnes x fem!reader#bucky barnes imagine#bucky barnes x reader#sam wilson x reader#sam wilson x platonic!reader#marvel imagine
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Winter In The Shade VI
Part VI
Sirius Black x Ravenclaw Reader
W.C. : 2492
Requested by @amourtentiaa : It is Sirius’ fifth year at Hogwarts, the same year he ran away from home and to the Potter’s. Soon, he discovers the unfamiliar sight of his brother Regulus smiling and looking truly happy, next to him a Ravenclaw girl who immediately captures his interest. What will happen when the Black family gets involved in their sons lives and the ones they hold close to their hearts?
Warnings: None
A/N: I didn't proof read so I apologize for any mistakes.
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The distant chatter in the common room was nothing but a melody that accompanied your soft humming, moving around the room as you got ready. You found yourself alone in your dorm, your roommates long gone by then. You danced around your bed, your feet softly moving to the rhythm or the song stuck in your head as you laid your outfit for the night over the bed, a smile appearing on your face with an approving look. It wasn’t nothing that would make you stand out, but by no means it was something you would wear on a normal day around the Castle. You put it on gently, walking to the mirror as your smile brightened, you looked beautiful. Something you felt confident in, comfortable to wear for the night. You fell to the chair in front of the mirror, getting the silver necklace that would finish off the look for the night.
One more look at your reflection and you stood, standing straight “You’ll have fun.” you said to yourself through the reflection “You’ll have fun and make memories.” Your smile fell, the knot in your stomach tightening as you said. “You’ll find Sirius, dance and forget all this ever happened.” But did you truly want to forget?
You couldn’t deny that Sirius’ request had filled you with excitement when you forced yourself to stop pretending you were upset. You weren’t upset in the slightest, quite the opposite, actually. You were angry at yourself for feeling the way you did, for liking the interactions with Sirius even after you had asked him to stop. You had rolled your eyes when he flashed you with smiles from across the hall, glared at him when he sent dangerous winks in your direction while standing next to Regulus, you had turned on him and walked away when he crossed your path and even yanked your hand from your side as he brushed his hand against yours while walking through the halls. But there was no denying the butterflies waking up in your stomach when he smiled at you, the skip in your heart beat when you found him looking at you or the way your hand wanted to reach for the warmth of his. You were a confusing mess filled with guilt, what kind of friend will that make you?
You shook the thought from your head, looking at you one last time in the mirror before you left for the stairs of your common room. This is exactly why you’re doing this, you reminded yourself, you’re being a good friend. You repeated in your head as you descended to the common room, stopping in your steps “Reg?” you asked with a laugh, your voice high as he turned at the sound of your voice “What are you doing here?” you asked, hoping he didn’t see your mind crashing inside your head.
“I thought I’ll come here and walk you to the party like a proper date.” he said, standing from the chair “Memories, remember?” he said, his features completely relaxed.
He wasn’t supposed to be there.
You smiled at him “You didn’t have to.” you said, awkwardly placing your hands over his shoulders “You had something to do, didn’t you?” you reminded him “A class or something.”
He shook his head, the corner of his mouth lifting ever so slightly “ I’ll have time for that later, I only have today with you.”
You tilted your head, looking up at him with a soft smile “Oh, Regulus.” you whispered, lowering your hands as you wrapped your arms around his waist, his arms instantly holding you against him “You really didn’t have to.” you muttered.
“I think my best friend is more important than my tasks.” he said.
You frowned “Tasks?” you asked, moving to look back at him.
“Nothing important,” he told you “Shall we?” he moved to offer you his arm, one you gladly took as he led you outside. Walking in silence for a couple of minutes before you turned to him “Who let you inside my common room?” you asked, squinting at him.
He raised his eyebrows with a shrug “Myself,” he said simply “Answering a riddle, really? No wonder everyone is in and out of that common room.”
“Regulus!” you said with a squeal “Not everyone can answer those. It takes skill.”
He scoffed, both of you standing at the doors of the Great Hall, his eyes lowering to look at you “It takes a brain and common sense.” he replied, glancing between you and the party inside; a smile drawing itself over his lips as he watched the glint in your eyes, the excitement shining through. “Ready?” he asked, giving your hand a soft squeeze.
You turned to him, the glistening in your eyes never faltering as your smile only grew, reaching your eyes “Let’s make memories, Reg.”
*******
“Would you calm down?” said James, his body leaning against one of the pillars of the Great hall, his hand lazily holding a drink as he took a sip from it, his eyes looking over the cup and towards Sirius and his incessant pacing “Y/N doesn’t struck me as one to promise things lightly.” he said, Sirius soft scoff making him roll his eyes with a smile “She’ll show up.”
James patted Sirius on the back, the motion breaking Sirius’ gaze from the entrance, a scoff leaving his lips as he let the weight of his body fall against the wall “You don’t know that.” he said, fingers fidgeting with the rings carefully placed on his fingers “What am I doing, Prongs?” he asked, a look of disbelief taking over his grey orbs.
James laughed, throwing his head back in the air as he went to stand next to Sirius “Quoting the same words you told me years ago,” he said, placing a hand on Sirius’ shoulder as “You are screwed.” he said, repeating the same words Sirius once told James when he first starting liking certain redhead girl.
Sirius covered his face, his words muffled by his hands “Save me.” he cried playfully, the laughs of the two best friends only increasing in the corner of the Great Hall they had taken for themselves.
“Nah.” said James with a bright smile “I don’t think I’ve seen you this happy in a while. Better take advantage of it.”
Sirius bit his lower lip, shaking his head as he let out a breathy laugh. The words he had on his lips dying right there with the commotion of Peter running straight to them, Remus standing by the door making wide signs with his arms to gather Sirius’s attention.
“She 's here.” Peter breathed out, doubling over himself as he rested both hands over his knees, trying to his breathing back. James took hold of his friend's arm, leading him to the side “You ran all over the Castle, didn't you…” But James’ voice faded in the distance, as everything that surrounded Sirius once he saw you entering the Great Hall.
You took slow steps towards the party, your gaze staying on the ceiling since the first moment you crossed the big wooden doors. Even with great distance separating the two of you he could see the way your eyes shone with excitement, your smile the brightest he had ever seen on your face, he made sure to save that exact picture of you in his head. Always bright, always you.
It wasn’t until you broke out of your trance that he turned to the person walking with you, to the person whose arm you clutched to like your life depended on it. He had forgotten, you had a date. It didn’t surprise him when his eyes found the face of his brother looking at you with that smile that seemed so unknown to him, so distant. Your face remained the same, an almost childlike excitement to your features as you started to point out things, letting go of his arm to take both Regulus’ hands in yours, making small movements in the air to the rhythm of the music.
He expected his brother to shake his head, let your hands fall from the air and cross his arms, only to hear the small chuckle that left his chest, his hand motioning to you to lead the way as you jumped slightly in your place.
As you turned your body, your eyes caught sight of the older Black sibling, your features falling into softer ones while taking a firm hold of Regulus hand, a smile was drawn over your lips, one only Sirius could see as you walked an disappeared into the crowd
“What are you doing?” Remus snapped his fingers in front of Sirius, his face turning with a haze in his eyes “You were supposed to do something!” said Remus, his hands pointing wildly to the spot you stood a fraction of a second before.
Sirius nodded his head slowly, his eyes focusing on his friend “The party had just begun, Moony.” he said confidently “The night’s still young.”
*******
You led Regulus through the crowd, your feet moving to the rhythm of the music as you reached a more secluded place. It still had some students there enjoying the party but it was nothing like the main Hall where all the crowd was gathered.
“You promised me something long ago.” you said, lowering your head to meet his eyes.
“Did I?” he asked playfully, but still you could see the gears inside his head working to remember what he had promised, his silence a confirmation he had reached to nothing.
“You promised you would teach me how to dance.” you said.
His eyes opened wide, turning back to the ongoing party “You want me to show you how to dance right now?” He asked “During the party?”
“Yes!”
He took one hesitant look back at the party, the safe place where you two stood now almost making him refuse your request but one look at you it’s all it took for him to give in.
He offered his hand and you took it with a squeal, making him chuckle “It’s not even the right music, you know?”
“Does it matter?” you asked him.
A grin was plastered on his face, placing himself in front of you “It has never stopped me before.”
You smiled up at him, placing one hand over his shoulder as he took your free hand, his other hand firmly placed over your waist. “Ready?” he asked.
“Ready.” you said with a nod.
To say you learned how to dance would be a complete lie. He spent probably five minutes teaching how to dance before you both got distracted. In the end you ended up dancing to however your body felt the music, swinging your arms together in the air as he made you twirl, most of the time making you a dizzy chuckling mess. The Great Hall was left behind at some point, leaving the party and the crowd to be on its own as you and Regulus escaped to your own world. Laughter and quick footsteps echoed through the halls of Hogwarts, running as you chased each other around until you both could no longer breath properly.
Your bodies rested against the cold stone walls, letting it fall to the floor with your chest heaving at a rapid pace.
“That was fun.” Regulus said.
You chuckled, turning to him with a smile that in no way could compare to the one he had on his own face. He had his head thrown back, resting comfortably against the wall, he had his eyes closed and a smile adorning his lips. He looked peaceful.
“It was.” you whispered.
“Regulus.”
You snapped your eyes up, meeting a bored look in the boy in front of you He never stopped to acknowledge your presence, his eyes lingering on your friend as he jumped to his feet. You copied his movements, but he moved to stand in front of you, covering your body with his.
“Severus.” Regulus said back, his calm voice a contradiction to his reaction.
The boy paid you no mind, blinking slowly at Regulus “We’ve been looking for you.” he said, his voice low. “We didn’t see you tonight.”
“I was busy.” Regulus said with no further explanation. You tried to move away from behind his body, his arm stopping you before you could move.
Severus glanced at you briefly, his face remaining the same “I can see that,” he said “Still, I will advise you to sort out your priorities.”
Regulus face turned, his fists clenched at his sides “They’re sorted out, I can assure you.” he said through gritted teeth.
Again, you tried to move out from the small space Regulus had you in, looking over his shoulder to see Severus turned and walk away, not once looking back.
“What in Merlin’s name was that?” you asked in disbelief, letting out the breath you had been holding as you turned to meet Regulus’ gaze “Reg?” you asked when he stared into the distance, his eyes following the path Severus went.
“Nothing.” he said, putting on a smile.
“What was that?” you asked again, your eyes filled with worry.
“They were helping me before, nothing important.”
You turned, blinking rapidly at him “Not important?” you asked with a string of voice “He seemed ready to drag you with him.”
“He did.” he muttered, looking back “Y/N, do you think... “ he said, his words trailing off as you tilted your head, getting what he was asking.
“Oh,” you said, watching as he scrunched his eyebrows in worry “No, it’s fine. You go. It’s already late, I should go to bed anyway.” you smiled at him, a reassuring look on your face.
“Are you sure?” he asked again “I can walk you to your dorm…”
“No!” you said, your smile tightening as his frown deepened “I can go there myself. You should go before they send someone scarier.” you laughed.
He took your hand and gave it a squeeze “I’ll see you tomorrow before I leave, alright?”
You nodded, holding onto his hand as he started to walk away, his face turning back to you “Thank you for tonight, Reg.” you said, pulling his body to you as you hugged him.
His arms snaked around you, holding you close to him as he placed a soft kiss at the crown of your head “See you tomorrow.” he whispered.
Your hand stretched holding onto his until the distance made your hand fall, your eyes following him before he disappeared in the distance. You stood there for a couple of minutes, your mind racing over the last couple of minutes and the heaviness that had settled on your heart. You shook your head of all the worry, taking a deep breath before you turned back, starting your way back to the Great Hall.
You owed Sirius a dance.
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Nyx x Tamlin’s daughter
Okay so literally no one asked for this but I gotta write when inspiration strikes 😭😭but I got like a whole story line for these two in my head so if people like it I’ll write more
"They're late."
"They'll be here. Just give them a moment."
"I told you they wouldn't come. Tamlin has never gotten over his grudge."
"Anyone else think this is lame?"
"Why are we even doing this?"
"We need to make peace with the Spring Court. This stupid feud has gone on long enough." Feyre declared from her spot at the dinner table.
Nyx thought his presence at this meeting was pointless. It was not his duty to befriend his mother's ex-lover. Alas, Violet, his youngest sister, and him seemed to have been roped into this evening.
"It's been over a hundred years and Tamlin is still pining over you? Yikes." Violet unhelpfully chimed in. Nyx rolled his eyes at her.
"He's not pining over me. I do not know why he has held a grudge all these years, but that's what this meeting is for." Their mother responded. She was obviously nervous from the amount of squirming she was doing in her chair. She had yet to remain still since they all sat down together.
"My High Lord and Lady, Lucien has arrived with your guests." One of the guards entered the dining hall. Feyre let out a deep breathe and adjusted her crown. Something she always did when she felt nervous.
"Send them in."
Nyx had never met the High Lord of the Spring Court, so he was not sure what to expect. Tamlin walked in with more confidence than Nyx would have assumed. He certainly exuded authority. Shoulder length blonde hair, tall, strong build, sharp facial features. Nyx could understand why his mother was so smitten with Tamlin at first. Nyx quickly lost interest in Lucien and Tamlin when the third guest walked into his line of sight. It was a beautiful woman. He could already tell she was young for fae years, but her tattoos and scars revealed she had to be old enough to have lived through the most recent war. Her white blonde hair was pulled up into a half bun much like Cassian often wore his hair. The pieces that were down barely reached her shoulders but a few of the pieces were braided by her ears. She was almost as tall as Tamlin and athletically built. She was built like the Valkyries, all muscle. Nyx thought it made her more intimidating; though, the tattoos on her face made that apparent enough. She had black markings that started above her right eyebrow, curved around her temple, and stopped at her cheekbone. They appeared to be similar to the Illyrian tattoos except hers were harsher, blunter lines. Most Illyrian tattoos flowed and ebbed with the body. These facial markings had defined endings. Perhaps it was a language that Nyx did not know. The tattoos did a good job of emphasizing her sharp facial features. Prominent cheekbones and a long sharp nose along with bright green eyes and large lips made her face more intriguing than conventionally beautiful. She walked with so much confidence that Nyx was certain she was well sought after by many suitors. He would just have to get in line it seemed. He continued to observe her as they all took their seats at the table and exchanged pleasantries. Her face remained impassive though. She gave nothing away. She wore a pale pink dress that Nyx knew was meant to make her seem less threatening. He would not underestimate her no matter how much Tamlin wanted him too. Pleasantries were exchanged all around the table except for the woman who remained silent. Tamlin was less than social which ended up making the greetings more than a little uncomfortable.
"I apologize, but I do not think we have met before." Rhysand began. "Are you Tamlin's wife?"
Nyx wanted to laugh at that. She was much too young to be the High Lord's wife. Besides, if Tamlin had gotten married, Nyx would have heard of it. He was certain his parents would have too. A small smile finally graced her lips as Tamlin snorted a laugh himself.
"I am Isa." Is all she offered. Nyx watched as the small smile continued to play at her lips. She was toying with them. She enjoyed that they didn't know who she was.
"Isa is my daughter and heir to the spring court." Tamlin finally answered after a long pause. Nyx watched as his mother's jaw hit the floor which caused Isa to giggle. It seemed so out of character for the intimidating looking female that Nyx decided to make a game out of it. How many times could he get her to giggle like that in one evening?
"I was not aware you had a daughter, Tam." His mother tried to recover and seemingly failed. The nickname that slipped so easily from her mouth had the high lord's face hardening. Nyx stifled a groan at that. His mother wondered why this high lord did not prefer her company? Perhaps she should stop insinuating that they have known each other intimately at one point or another.
"That would be by design." The woman answered with a slight accent. He didn't hear it when she first spoke, but he could hear it now as the last word was sharper. He couldn't place the accent though. It did not sound like a spring court one, but it could be an eastern accent. It did not make much sense for her to have lived in Hybern or any of the other eastern countries, but he was not sure where else that it would come from.
"What do the tattoos mean?" Violet quickly changed the subject. She was too curious for her age and asked the first thing that popped into her head often enough. She was clearly as intrigued by Isa as he was.
"They protect me from the evils of man." The accent was heavier, but Violet was clearly in awe. Nyx would not be surprised if Violet came home with face tattoos tomorrow. The table became unusually quiet. His mother and father studied her with identical cocked heads. Lucien cleared his throat awkwardly.
"Witch." Amren accused from her spot at the head of the table. Isa's lips twitched into a half smirk, but Rhysand and Feyre were clearly unnerved. Nyx contemplated this new information. It would explain the accent. Young witches grow up in their coven completely isolated from the outside world. Most of the witches he had run into had a variation of this type of accent.
"Tamlin, I want this meeting to broker peace between our two courts," Rhysand started wearily. "But your daughter may not practice any witchcraft here. It only brings chaos and destruction."
Tamlin seemed unphased which put Nyx at ease. If her father was unworried then was she truly a threat? Only if Tamlin wanted her to be, Nyx supposed.
"You will find my daughter more accommodating than myself. If you want something from her, I suggest you ask her."
Rhysand looked towards Isa with raised eyebrows.
"Your lack of knowledge and ignorance of witchcraft is insulting at best. However, I suppose I shall limit my abilities to that of my natural magic for the remainder of the evening." She gave a shrug and finally made eye contact with Nyx.
She sent him a quick wink before turning back to Rhysand with the look of pure innocence on her face. Nyx knew in that moment that she would be trouble, and unfortunately for him, he loved trouble. Nyx looked towards his parents and began to feel unnerved by their expressions. They must know something about witches that Nyx did not.
Nyx had discovered quite a bit from them as he often liked to share a bed with them. They proved to be up for anything with no expectations or strings attached. He would not be surprised if they had a bad reputation though. He rarely paid attention to his history lessons and the witches he interacted with seemed innocent enough.
"My husband meant no offense." Feyre interrupted before Rhysand could say anymore. "We would love to learn more. Perhaps you could give our son lessons on your culture." She gave Isa a wide smile and offered her the first bowl of food. None of the food had been touched even though it sat ready to eat. Nyx guessed tensions were too high for anyone to think about eating.
He narrowed his eyes at his mother. If he were to take lessons from Isa, it would not be to learn her culture of witchcraft, but an excuse to spy on her and learn her strengths and weaknesses. His mother was more cunning than the fae gave her credit for. Isa seemed unphased by this offer, but accepted the bowl of food nonetheless. She was the first to begin eating. Once she took her first bite though, everyone else joined in.
"I would be much more interested in a marriage proposal than a cultural lesson." She said so nonchalantly that most of the table just stared at her blankly as Nyx spit his wine out.
"Sorry." He spluttered, quickly trying to wipe away the wine that dribbled onto his chin. Nyx looked to Tamlin to see that the High Lord was vaguely amused and his daughter was giggling. He noted the giggle in his head as one point in his game to get Isa to giggle. He was still counting it even if it was unintentional this time around.
"We are not arranging political marriages for our children." Nyx's father quickly recovered, only to watch Isa warily as he spoke. "We are allowing the children to marry as they see fit."
Nyx wished his dad would shut up. A beautiful female basically throws herself at Nyx and his father is shooting her down for him. He groaned internally. Nyx could have his pick of females. It was not as if he was lacking in that realm, but he wanted this particular female who was bound to cause chaos. Not that he wanted to marry her, but he had a feeling that she did not want to truly marry him either. After tonight, he had a feeling that the new rule would be that Nyx could marry whoever he wanted to as long as it was not Tamlin's daughter. Though it did seem like a smart move politically. Ever since his mother left Tamlin for Nyx's father, there has been bad blood between the courts. A marriage would be a good way to heal that after all these years.
"Does it appear that my father speaks for me?" Isa smiled as she asked the rhetorical question. Nyx could tell his father did not exactly know how to take that. Was she disrespecting him or being genuine? Nyx couldn’t truly tell either. Although, he had a sneaking suspicion it was the former.
She smiled more than he initially would have thought. Grant it, most of the smiles were sarcastic, but he assumed she would be more like Nesta just based on looks. From this small interaction, she already seemed more like Elain.
"Isa can marry whoever she wants." Tamlin waved his hand as if to say none of it really mattered. Nyx found it interesting that Tamlin would not seem to mind if she were to marry his ex-lovers child.
"Isa is a very odd name." Azriel noted. He had been observing the entire conversation, but had yet to speak until now. Tamlin rolled his eyes. It surprised Nyx how casual the high lord seemed. All the stories he had been told painted Tamlin as someone who demanded proper manners at all times. Isa giggled once again and Nyx was annoyed that he was not the one to win the sound from her.
"Her mother thought it was funny." Was the only explanation he gave. Isa, however, felt the need to embarrass her father.
"It is short for Isabelle and Belle means beauty as does Feyre. My mother thought it amusing to name me after the lover that jilted him."
Now it was not Nyx choking on his wine, but his mother. Violet began laughing at that.
"She sounds like a peach." Amren muttered while sipping on a glass of red wine. He would never have spoken back to the small, scary female, but it appeared that not much frightened Isa.
"She never took life too seriously. Everything was something to laugh at. She was good for dad." Her accent was heavier and her words sharper. Azriel's shadows began to change as if seeking more information on the mysterious mother.
The mother was a point of contention clearly. Nyx kept that thought bookmarked in the back of his brain for when he may need it next. Tamlin cleared his throat and sat up straight in his chair. He looked every ounce a high lord as he started to speak.
"We did not come here to discuss her mother." A tough topic for him as well it appeared. "Some day my throne will be hers and I do not want to leave her with shambles. I was hoping that not only could we come to some sort of alliance, but that if Isa were to find herself needing guidance, then you and your court might aid her in that."
"Why would we need your alliance? Other than a unified Pyrinthian, I see no reason for us to help clean up your messes." Feyre narrowed her eyes at the male. For all her talk about bringing peace between the two courts, she was quick to antagonize the High Lord. Nyx thought his mother was more petty than she ought to be considering the circumstances.
"My court still suffers from your petty vengeance. I would not be so quick to forget, Feyre."
"It is not my fault that your lack of leadership has led your court astray. Perhaps if it was so easy for me to wreck your court, it was not strong to begin with."
Nyx cleared his throat as a signal to his mother that she was getting off topic. He could see his father squeezing her hand as well.
"You will find," Isa interrupted Tamlin and Feyre's back and forth, "that you might prefer me as an ally rather than an enemy." Her tattoos started to glow as if to emphasize her words.
Nyx could not remember ever experiencing glowing tattoos with previous witches, but Isa was also part High Fae which made her more dangerous. Their lack of knowledge coupled with her obvious strength made her someone he did not want to make an enemy out of. At least not yet. He would want to discover the scope of her abilities first.
"Would your coven aid us in war if we were to be allies?" Nyx said instead of allowing his parents to continue to antagonize them. Despite his parents ignorance, Nyx actually did know a few things about witches and where there was one there was many. Best to have them on their side in any sort of issue.
His parents gave him identical glares that cause Violet to muffle a laugh. Azriel and Isa stared at him with curiosity though.
"Would you beg for it?" Her words were heavy with insinuation. It had Violet and Lucien laughing hysterically while every other fae at the table gave disapproving looks. Nyx's eyes widened. She was much too bold for a princess. He needed to assert his authority once more. She had the upper hand against everyone too many times tonight.
"A witch has never asked me to beg before."
"There's a first for everything."
"Unlikely."
"I do not speak for my coven, but if it was found that aiding in war pleased the spirits, then perhaps." She answered seriously as she took a bite of her chicken.
"Or if it prevented extinction of your kind?" Nyx knew their numbers were dwindling which was a point of contention for many of the witches.
"Yes. Or that." She pursed her lips. Obviously displeased that Nyx knew more than his parents. He did not know much more than that, but he would never allow her to know that. He kept the upper hand as long as she was unaware of how far his breadth of knowledge went.
"We would not be able to return the favor. If your coven ever needed help, we could not give it." Nyx cringed as his father continued to insinuate that the witches were less than.
"We would never ask for your help." Her nose crinkled in disgust. "You have no respect for magic and therefore would never be able to help us with our own conflicts."
"I respect my magic."
"No. You feel entitled to your magic. You think you are owed magic because you are a high lord. Witches understand there is a balance to all life. A give and take. We would never take something we were not willing to give. My own father is proof that you do not view your magic in the same way. He was willing to align himself with the enemy for Feyre, only to not get Feyre in the end and be stuck in a deal with the enemy."
"Do not lie to my face. I am too old for that and I know that witches deal in blood magic all the time." Rhysand finally switched to his High Lord voice. It demanded the respect that Isa did not want to give.
"Because they are willing to give what is needed. It is not without consequence when we invoke blood magic. High fae, however, can use their magic for good or evil with no consequences either way. Do you view your death lords as better than us? Your own sister could have ended the world and still reaped the benefits, yet you view my kind as evil? Tell me, where is the justice in that?"
"Enough, Isa." Tamlin snapped.
"They sit here and disrespect my culture, Mom's culture, and yet you reprimand me?" She was incredulous that her father was not defending her. Nyx did not think it would help any even if he did.
"We meant no disrespect-"
"You have done quite enough." Tamlin glared at the High lord of the Night Court.
"We will use this as a learning experience. Ignorance is stupidity. If they choose to be stupid, allow them. Never lose your temper during a diplomatic meeting."
After a very tense pause, Feyre gave Isa a curious look before asking a question.
"What do you shape shift into?"
The question would have appeared to come from out of nowhere if Feyre did not know that Tamlin was attempting to keep his daughter from lashing out. Whatever she shape shifted into was dangerous. After a moment of stiff silence and a staring contest between father and daughter, Isa turned to me.
"I think I need some fresh air. Mind showing me the gardens?"
"It would be my pleasure."
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On the Job pt. 2
minors do not interact
warnings: 18+, fuck or die sex pollen (which means there are noncon/dubcon elements), reader is a sex worker, masturbation, face fucking, temperature play, (light) pain play, biting
pairing: todoroki x fem!reader
wc: 3.4k
summary: Super human society has a secret. Aphrodisiac quirks aren’t just the things of porn and fantasy–they’re actually quite common and too often fall into the wrong hands. Heroes, of course, do the best that they can, but when they get hit, they must be taken off the line of duty and someone needs to be able to activate the quirk’s release condition. If they’re single, who might that someone be? Obviously, you.
a/n: Half of me didn’t actually think that I would follow up part one, but I feel a heavy obligation towards my fanfic promises so...this is a weight off my shoulders, lol.
edit: I no longer write x reader but here’s my old masterlist - mobile | desktop
You’d gotten the call early today.
Not early in the day—truth be told, you’d hardly known what time it was before picking up the phone. No, you got the call early. As in not last minute. The call saying that your client would have to be transported to the agency from on site and they could tell you the details in the meantime.
The call saying you’d better drive to the agency, because you had to service a hero in an hour.
Now, patience wasn’t usually your virtue of choice—actually you didn’t often tend towards virtues in general. Save perhaps for kindness, which you preferred to deal out on your knees or your back, augmented by praise and the generosity of offering all three of your holes for your clients’ needs. But you were happy to cultivate it today, because an early call meant one thing.
You knew who was coming today.
Your pants were already off and you shirt was pushed up over your breasts as you leisurely played with yourself. You’d licked the tips of your fingers and gotten them started with slow passes over your clit, the other hand pinching your nipple, just a little too hard in prep for a hero who’d probably give it to you rough.
Maybe your reaction wasn’t right. Maybe it wasn’t kind of you to be so relaxed—relaxed and eager, actually—over the news that it was possible that Pro Hero Shouto would die. That he’d been hit with the particularly high stakes brand of aphrodisiac quirk and that if you didn’t trigger the release condition—that was: hot and heavy sex—his heart may very well stop or whatever happened on the other side of these troublesome quirks.
You wouldn’t know. After all, you hadn’t lost a single client yet.
So perhaps that was cold of you. Perhaps it would be more virtuous for you to be worried about him, fretting on the other side of the door with the guards over his ETA.
Then again, as stated: you’d never been one for virtue. Sin was much more fun. And surely it was better to make sure that whenever Shouto did show up, you had a wet pussy that he could waste none of his precious time sinking his cock into.
You groaned at the thought, dipping two fingers from your clit into your cunt and scissoring them. Your head lolled back against the pillows, eyes fluttering closed as you pressed against that front wall the flats of your fingertips, feeling that soppy wetness covering you and beginning to drip down your knuckles.
Yeah, you were ready for him.
In fact, you’d been waiting for Shouto longer than just today. After nabbing the number two pro hero, Dynamight, a few months back, you’d gone ahead and debased yourself further—how much further was there to go, though, really?—by creating a list of your dream clients. You’d written Dynamight just to check him off, the memory of him cumming in you raw and licking you clean still hot between your thighs.
Your near encyclopedic knowledge of heroes—naturally, you took a healthy interest in your job—had then led you to daydream about Dynamight’s whole hero cohort. You added Red Riot to the list, dreaming of his abs, imagining riding them, teasing sweet whines out of him before backing up and dropping yourself on his cock. You thought of Deku, what it would mean for your ego to nab the number one hero, the flash of jealousy that would rise on his face when you let it slip that you’d already fucked his biggest rival, fucked his goddamn brains out and yours to boot.
Of course, you couldn’t do that. NDAs, after all. You’d already signed away your rights to mentioning anything about what happened to or with Shouto today. Still, you could dream.
Then, of course, your thinking had truly devolved, and you’d thought about the boys being paired up, fighting a villain with an unknown quirk only to be hit by the ever common, ever unknown—thanks to you and your prudence; oops, there was another virtue—aphrodisiac quirk and having to take care of both of them. Spit-roassting, Eiffel Tower, a goddamn daisy chain—anything. Long story short, you’d ended up cumming twice more on your hands before the evening was done.
But also on that list, was Shouto Todoroki.
Who, if you weren’t mistaken, was now on the other side of the door.
After all, these walls weren’t soundproof. It provided quite the show for the lucky guards on the other side, but hey, if you needed to scream for help, they had to be there. By the same coin, you could hear the shuffling on the other side, the footsteps approaching, and the telltale sound of the lock on the door being activated. You pressed your legs together, resting them to the side, hiding your glistening pussy artfully with your legs for the sake of modesty. Everyone knew what was happening here, but you didn’t need to send Shouto’s poor handler back blushing to their colleagues.
Shouto was ushered into the room and, without eye contact, someone yelled to you, “Ready, ma’am?”
“Ready!” you called back, and the door was closed, leaving you alone with the number three hero.
Without modesty, your legs fell open, revealing the mess you’d already made of yourself to Shouto. You dipped the fingers you’d been using into your mouth, and cleaned them dutifully. After all Shouto was still wearing his costume, and you did so hate the agency having to send those to the cleaners with your fluids all over them.
“Hey, bud,” you purred, running a hand slowly up one thigh. “I heard you have a problem.”
Pro Hero Shouto was known for his stoic personality. News conferences and interviews he participated in always consisted of a slow, even tone, and little beyond cold facts. There was something pleasantly mysterious about that, sure, but it didn’t exactly hint that he’d be quick to jump into bed. Sexy voice, though.
But whatever quirk he’d been hit with must have been strong, because the next thing you knew, the index finger from his left hand was tracing down the front of his uniform, cleanly burning a line straight to his already tented crotch. His accessories had already been taken off—his belt, gloves, shoes, even the clasp at his neck had been undone earlier. So there was nothing in his way as he pulled either side of his scorched uniform to the side and off his arms as he approached the bed.
“All business, huh?” you asked, pushing yourself up off your pillows by your forearms, watching as Shouto climbed onto the bed on his knees, finally pulling his jumpsuit down past his crotch.
You’d taken a bet with yourself on the color of his pubes—it’s not like you’d be losing either way if you got to see them. They turned out to be dual-colored, but not the stark red and white of his hair. No, they were more neutral in tone, like yours. Unlike yours, they were nested above a heavy cock, already shining with precum—or actual cum, you didn’t know—at the head.
Shouto didn’t reply to your comment, and you weren’t surprised. Some people went totally nonverbal when hit by sex pollen quirks, and that was fine. You’d rather someone button their lip than ruin the mood by saying something off, after all. All business was fine by you—this was your job, after all. And no matter the size of his mouth, his cock was just fucking right.
You naturally lowered your legs as Shouto began kneeing over you, cock in hand. Your brain only just managed to catch up to what was going on when his legs stopped on either side of your ribs, his leaking cockhead crossing your eyes before you. Automatically, your jaw dropped open, and Shouto’s cock smeared pre against your cheek and the corner of your mouth before sinking deep into your mouth, drawing a first obscene moan out of him.
A humming moan fell out of you too, barely able to take in the taste of Shouto’s cock before it was pressing against the back of your throat, springing tears to your eyes automatically. Something about aphrodisiac quirks so often seemed to play with the taste of these heroes’ cum. No longer was it bitter, but just heady, salty, and more pleasant than it should have been as it coated your tongue and throat. You adored it, and purposefully relaxed your muscles so that you could take more of him in.
Shouto didn’t hold back. With barely half a breath in your lungs, Shouto was thrusting deep in the back of your throat so that your spit dripped from your mouth and smacked wetly between his balls and your chin. You blinked tears out of your eyes and looked up at him to find blown pupils staring back at you, gaze hot and pointed.
There was light behind those eyes. Whatever Shouto was right now, it wasn’t unthinking, not pure instinct. No, the way he was fucking your throat, the way his eyes had you pinned—it was intentional.
Abruptly, Shouto pulled out, a think strand of spit snapping from his dick, cold on your tongue as you panted from the rough treatment. You held your mouth open, expecting him to shove back in once you’d caught your breath, but Shouto seemed to have other plans. He moved down your body, soaked cock again in his palm, and his eyes now set on your pussy. You reached for one of the condoms you’d set out next to you, and held it in front of him.
“Hate to sound like an after-school special, but no glove…”
Shouto paused, eyeing you for just a moment before taking the square and making quick work of it, rolling it over himself.
Then, abruptly, he put a hand on your cheek, drawing your eyes back up to his. “Thank you for your hard work. It does not go unappreciated.”
“What the—”
You were left agog at his statement, wholly unprepared as he swiftly took each of your thighs in one hand, spread them, and plunged in you to the hilt. You gasped high in your chest, your throat still tender from being rawed by Shouto’s dick. He leaned over you, sighing with a relief that doubled then halved the size of his chest. His forehead touched yours in a strange moment of intimacy, and, for a moment, you wondered if that was it. Was that all the release condition took? Penetration? Or had he cum and you just hadn’t noticed?
Were you going to be left to tend to yourself with the bullet vibrator in your glove compartment yet again?
Then Shouto leaned back, looked at you again with those sharp eyes, and began smacking into you with abandon.
“Fuck,” you let out as Shouto’s balls, still wet with your spit, left their mark on your ass with every deep thrust he gave you.
Shouto manhandled your thighs, grabbing them firmly in each hand as he reared back fully on his knees again, taking the lower half of your body with him. You reflexively braced with your arms, and soon they were the only part of you still in contact with the bed, along with your upper back and head still resting on the comfortable stack of pillows.
As was often the case, you’d lost control of the situation. You could barely match Shouto’s thrusts on your own as he repeatedly used his upper body strength to bring you to him, and his lower body strength to send his hips right back in return. If you tried to reach him, your fingertips would barely brush his thighs, much less any other part of him. You were totally at his mercy.
You couldn’t help but eyeball his broad biceps, flexed by holding up the weight of most of your body. And aside from the sweat dripping from his forehead—probably quirk-induced—he was showing little to no strain.
He hadn’t always had muscles like this, you were sure. You couldn’t help but remember pundits sounding off on Shouto’s overreliance on his quirk over physical strength, or the difference between his body and the massive tank that was his father, Endeavor. They’d shown clips of his body—handsome, always handsome—but either Shouto had done a lot of bulking in the last few years or those newscasters had been particularly unkind. Likely both. Because now, drops of sweat were trickling from his body in rivulets; there were no straight paths to go down. A bulging muscle here to dip around, the crease from a flexed ab there to pool in. You were hypnotized by his form, even the thighs straining under the part of his uniform that he hadn’t bothered to burn off.
Your mind was so enraptured by thoughts of Shouto’s body that the sensations happening to yours crept up on you. All at once, you realized that your thighs were burning. Actually, one was burning, and the other was freezing cold, both just under his palms and branching up the fingers currently painting five bruises into each muscle.
A gasp flew out of your mouth and your eyes rolled back as your thighs suddenly began quaking unbidden. Shouto looked down at you, his expression easy save for those passionate eyes, little huffs escaping his slack jaw. “Too much?” he asked.
Your head shook side to side, a vehement no as Shouto dug his fingers even deeper into your flesh, bringing dull throbs of pain so close to where every thrust brought about sharp flashes of pleasure. It felt like a betrayal when he just then loosened his grip to slide his hands up to your knees and hook them over his shoulder. Then those hands, right at the brink of freezing and searing pressed into the meat of your ass as he brought your hips to his with redoubled force.
That first new thrust sent Shouto’s head turning to the side, digging a painful bite into the fleshy part of your calf, making you cry out. A moment later, he let go, his tongue passing over the teeth marks like a salve over a wound.
All the dueling sensations had you close. You’d been teasing yourself for so long before Shouto had even shown up and now he was fucking into you like…well, like his life depended on it.
God, was it wrong to love fuck or die quirks?
You were quick to take a hand and put it back on your aching clit, despite the strain it put on your neck and upper back to lose one arm of support. Part of a good fucking was being folded like a pretzel, and you’d just book a massage appointment tomorrow to deal with it. Surely saving the life of the number three hero was worth a reward.
Shouto’s eyes honed in on your fingers moving rapidly over your clit, and you bet he could feel the twitches of your cunt approaching climax. A hand left your ass and went behind his head to pat your ankles. “Cross them,” he instructed.
Obediently, you crossed your ankles, making your position a bit sturdier as Shouto continued to drive you back onto him with one hand. Then that second hand went to yours, brushing it away with the backs of his knuckles. A surprisingly gentle gesture for the man who was kneading bruises into your ass and biting your leg. Then, with his thumb, he painted one slow, hard, blazing stripe up your clit, and you came instantly.
“Fuck!” you shouted as your back arched in midair, the crown of your head digging into the pillows as your neatly crossed ankles came undone, your thighs shaking and falling from Shouto’s grip. His cock slid out of you as your lower half bounced once on the bed. Before the springs could vault you back, Shouto was on top of you, pressing himself back in your still convulsing cunt.
His thrusts were long, desperate as he breathed into your neck. He mouthed the base of your neck with light bites and suckles—never quite kissing. Your thighs came back up around his hips and his left hand went back to squeezing your thigh. Meanwhile, the right came between your thighs, surprising you as two fingers began prodding at your entrance.
Almost immediately, you could feel the heat of the stretch. Or rather, you would have felt the heat of the stretch, had his fingers not been ice cold against you. You cried out as he curled his fingers forward while his cock kept thrusting straight through you, the hot and cold contrast nearly too much. You wondered how much more intense it would feel if Shouto were unbound by the condom, and you able to bear its full heat.
“Please,” you whimpered as your orgasm began to rise again, too quickly, nearly as sudden as the first one had been, but without all the build up. This one felt like it was going to tear out of you.
Just then, the nips that Shouto had been teasing over your neck went away, and he planted one more good bite on your shoulder as his thrusts became insistent, the fingers petting inside you matched with a cold thumb over your clit. And neither of you could hold on a moment longer.
Shouto groaned low and bone deep in your ear while your voice, still raspy from early, keened in his. Your thighs went tight around his waist and his hand was trapped between you as you both rode out your highs. It took a full minute for your muscles to unwind, and your feet to fall flat to the bed. At that point, Shouto pulled out and rolled over next to you, both of you panting as the sweat dried on your skin.
Shouto pulled the condom off of himself and found a trashcan to toss it into before falling flat on his back again. After a few moments of nothing but heavy breathing, he opened his mouth. “Thank you for your professionalism.”
You snorted. “You’re welcome,” you managed, keeping your laughter at bay. “That’s not what people usually thank me for.”
“Thank you for saving my life?” Shouto tried again, his gaze shifting over to you.
His eyes were still bright, but his gaze less sharp, obscured by dual-colored bangs falling over it. Suddenly, Shouto looked a great deal more innocent than the man who’d been fucking the life out of you just minutes ago. Perhaps an effect of the quirk wearing off, perhaps the effect of unfettered pleasure meeting relief.
“More common, yes,” you replied, unable to keep the smile off your face.
“You’re very good at what you do,” Shouto said, his eyes going to the spot where he’d bitten your shoulder. He circled it with one finger, brows furrowing. “You’re like a hero.”
“Hah,” you returned, looking up at the ceiling. You weren’t going to let this be the moment in your career that made you blush. “Vixen, the orgasm hero. I don’t think it would meet the commission’s guidelines.”
“Perhaps not,” Shouto said, sitting up and pulling up what remained of his costume, frowning at the spot where he’d torn it. You supposed you needn’t have worried about this costume going to the cleaners; the support team would likely toss it and make a replacement.
“There are clothes you can change into in the closet,” you said, pointing to the near invisible door in the back wall.
Shouto waved you away as he stood up. “This will be fine to make it to the locker room with.”
“Suit yourself,” you said as you pushed yourself up, trying to remember where you’d thrown your leggings before you’d started jerking of, grunting as your spine cracked.
Shouto plucked the leggings from near the foot of the bed and tossed them to you before heading towards the door. With his hand on the knob, he turned back and made eye contact with you one last time, the ghost of a smile you’d never seen before on his lips. “Thanks again…Vixen.”
As he closed the door, you could only blame your own impropriety, that utter lack of virtue that you first thought was:
Number two pro hero, Shouto: check.
#todoroki smut#bnha smut#mha smut#shouto todoroki smut#shoto todoroki smut#tw: sex work#tw: sex pollen#tw: masochism#tw: pain play#tw: dubcon#tw: biting#tw: temperature play
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ONE KISS W.W.
Request: hi! i was wondering if i could request for wally where he and batsis are fwb (they've caught feelings for each other but haven't confessed yet) and then one of the batboys saw and they want an explanation so reader or wally just blurts out that they've been dating in secret the whole time and after they leave they just confess that they actually have feelings for each other the entire time? hope this make sense thank you!
Warning: mentions of the sex, swearing, the usual business
A/N: Nothing to say tonight boys, I’m just tired. enjoy x
Word Count: 2.5k
It wasn't supposed to end up like this.
Wally wasn't supposed to become a common occurrence and he certainly wasn't supposed to find himself in your bed every other morning. It was a stupid mistake the first time, one that repeated itself again and again until it became your normal. He was good in bed, you could give him that.
It started after a bad mission. Pent up frustration, trying to take it out on everything and everyone. You just happened to be in the same vicinity to use each other as a punching bag. Hurtful words and blame was thrown, but ultimately, it was Wally's kiss that released the most emotion.
Wally's kiss that led to shed clothes and hungry touches. Wally's kiss that led you to his bedroom where hours upon hours were spent trying to fuck out every feeling you had. Wally's kiss that led to many more nights just like that one. He had changed everything with that one kiss.
You kept this new relationship secret. No one on the team knew - not even your closest friends, not even your brothers. Your brothers - as much as they liked Wally - would kill him for using you the way he did. That truly was what you had with him, use of each others bodies and nothing else.
Chasing highs and running from lows. It was easier to keep with using each other than admit to yourself that maybe you wanted more than this. Maybe you wanted to be Wally for everything.
Friends with benefits were never supposed to catch feelings, yet you should have known that this was what would happen. It never remained just friends, and with Wally especially? It was impossible not to look at him as if he was the only person in the world that mattered. Truth is, he was.
Wally lied on his back, arms tucked behind his bed. His bare chest was exposed to the cold air but a layer of sweat still clung to him. A smile rested on his face at the memory of only a few moments ago. Hair a mess, clothes scattered in every corner of your room.
"What's that look for?" You teased. Wally's gaze tore towards you as you walked out of the bathroom. One of his shirts that had been left there hung off your body. So effortlessly, you looked so beautiful. He out stretched his arms as you walked past, grabbing your ass to keep you from going any farther.
In one motion, he pulled you back onto his lap, connecting your lips for yet another time that night. He gripped your hips, just over the bruises that he had left on you earlier. He was eager against your lips, craving even more than you had already given. Not that you minded, time with him was time well spent.
Wally didn't hesitate to flip you. His arms rested on either side of you, hips pressing against your in the most delicious way. Lips molding to yours, mastered after all these months together. Wally knew your body better that you knew it yourself. He made sure to know everything that made you squeal.
"Again?" the tease in your voice was still evident as Wally drove his hand up your shirt - his shirt. His touch was rough against you, different than how he ever was when you were around others. he couldn't even bring himself to speak, only nodding against your lips. The utter need he had for you was too overpowering.
His week had been terrible. One bad thing after another and the moment that he got some free time he was in your bed. Wally so feverishly fucked you into your bed, washing away the frustration that he had gained through the week and melting at the sounds of your screams for him.
Your hands trailed down his chest, farther and farther until reaching where he so desperately needed you. Wally had still been bare from your previous round - but just as ready as he was the first time. he pushed himself deeper to your touch, needing more than feather light grazes.
"Hey, (Y/N) did you ever find that - Oh my god!"
Dick often times showed up to your apartment. Often enough that he had gotten a key, learning that knocking was not necessary, and that you were always there by yourself. It was always nice when he stopped by - whatever the reason for. You were always thankful that at least one of your brothers liked to stop and see how you were doing.
He never expected to come into your room to see his best friend naked and on top of you. Wally couldn't tell who looked more horrified, you or your brother. The blanket on your bed was pulled up to cover both of you while Dick still tried to process what was going on. You and Wally? There was no way.
"What the fuck is going on?" Dick suddenly got angry. His fists clenched at his side and he gave the deadliest look to Wally. He always wanted what was best for you - someone who loved you endlessly, not someone who wanted to use you just for your body. Now, you had gone behind is back to do the exact opposite of his hopes with none other than Wally.
You couldn't bring yourself to even explain yourself. Your face flared with warmth from the embarrassment you felt. Wally, you were sure was the exact same, but you couldn't dare to look at him. A string of words that didn't make any sense fumbled past your lips, seemingly only making your brother even more frustrated.
The more he thought about it the more he realized that this wasn't just a one time thing. This had been going on for a long time. Not so hidden marks covering your skin, glances at each other that didn't seem to mean anything at the time, touches that were more than friendly. Dick hadn't noticed any of the signs.
"Dick, I-"
"You've been using my sister!" He yelled. Dick had been protective of you your whole life. He was always the one to stand up for you when you couldn't and be there to keep you safe. It was part of being a big brother - something that he got to learn with you and he loved it. He was meant to be a big brother, to be protective. "You fucking -"
"Dick!" You shouted at him. He ignored you, trying to step towards Wally with pure anger in his eyes. In the blink of an eye, Wally had thrown on some jeans and stood on the opposite side of the room. He spun around in his spot and stomped towards the speedster once more. "Dick, stop. You don't understand, Wally-"
"We're dating!" Wally held his arms up in defense. Dick stopped in his tracks, looking between the both of you to see if he was indeed telling the truth. You were quick to cover the shock of his words before Dick looked over to you. His body relaxed, no longer thinking that Wally was using you only for sex.
"For months," you carried on. "It was my idea not to tell anyone." That was true. It was your idea to keep any relationship that you had with Wally on the down low. However dating - that was something that had never come up between the two of you. There were always times that you wanted to, but couldn't bring yourself to do it.
Wally wasn't into you the way you wished him to be. He was the one that started this - whatever the hell this was. It was his idea to keep it as sex only and at first it was so easy to do so. He made you feel good - what else did you need? Late hours of the night together but never seemingly enough time. You wanted more of him, and for the longest time you thought you couldn't have it.
"You're dating..." Dick looked even more confused than ever. It was a relationship that he never expected to see - you were never interested in Wally to his knowledge. Maybe after all these years, he didn't know you as well as he thought he did. "Why... Why didn't you say anything? Why didn't you tell me?"
Wally sped over to your side, keeping up with the act that you were truly together. Maybe it wasn't true and maybe one day you would have to tell Dick the truth but for now, it was easier this way. He didn't need to know that you and Wally had been exclusively fucking and nothing past that.
"Because I know you, Rob," Wally looked over at his best friend. He didn't want to loose him - which was the truth. However, hearing the sincerity in his voice, it made you wonder how real his words really were. How deep did he plan to take this little lie with you? You weren't dating, and you didn't have intentions to.
"I-" Dick was truly at a loss of words. He never expected this to happen and he still wasn't sure how he actually felt about it. His closest friend and his sister? It sounded like a disaster waiting to happen and he wanted no part of it. "Just... just let me try to wrap my head around this. I can't believe you both went behind my back."
"Sorry, Dickie," You tried to apologize but it was evident there was no sorrow in your tone. Dick ran a hand down his face and left your room, slamming the door with more force than necessary. He was furious at the both of you, however it would have been far worse had he known the truth.
As soon as you heard the click of your other door, Wally collapsed onto your bed trying to figure out what he had just done. "What the hell was what?" You nearly snapped. As grateful as you were for his quick thinking, it might have just made everything worse.
"I have no idea," Wally mumbled through his hands that rested on his face. He took a deep breath before looking up at you. Fear struck him in how you would react to his outburst. "I'm sorry. I panicked and I didn't know what else to say. Look we can tell him the truth - whatever you want."
"What if..." You trailed off. The words were stuck in your throat but now was as good as time as any to finally spit them out. You could feel Wally staring up at you, clinging onto you oncoming words with desperation. It took everything to peel your eyes open and speak. "What if it was true? What if we were dating?"
"You mean," Wally nearly choked at your words. You wanted to date? Him? He never thought that you wanted to. Always assuming that you just used him for pleasure and that was all. How long had you felt this way? As long as he did? "You mean you want us to be real? An actual couple?"
He hadn't meant to use that tone. Wally was more shocked than anything by this and he could tell instantly by your reaction that what he wanted to say hadn't come out properly. Your breathing faltered, tears ready to brim your eyes - what an embarrassment. Of course he didn't want that.
"Sorry, that was stupid, I sh-" Wally never gave you the opportunity to walk away from him - not that you could ever out run him even if you tried. It was a pro and con being friends with a speedster, they could be next to you in a heartbeat. Whether you wanted them to be or not, they were there.
Wally didn't let you get once step towards the door. The moment that you stood up and gave the slightest hint that you wanted out of there, he was blocking your path. He held a desperate look on his face - one that you couldn't read in the slightest. Nonetheless, you couldn't break away from his gaze.
You swore that those next few seconds happened in speedster time. Wally leaned down, pressing his lips against yours so softly that you weren't even sure that it had happened. Just as quick as the feeling was there, it was gone. HIs look turned to worry, as if you were going to chastise his choice.
"Wall..." You didn't notice yourself leaning closer towards him. Pressing your whole body against him like a magnet. Wally kissed you again, this time firmer, filled with confidence. He kissed you like he needed you, just like the first time. It was the truth, he did need you.
Wally's arms wrapped around you as you both tumbled sideways onto your bed. He refused to let go of you or break your kiss. Your touch like fire against his skin and still leaving an icy cold trail. He was filled with every emotion, every touch was beyond anything he had felt before with you.
"It's not stupid," he whispered to you between kisses. You looped your finger into his jeans, pulling him closer and tangling your legs. "Not at all. I want that, with you. I'm tired of doing this - pretending like sleeping with you all the time means nothing to me. It means everything - you mean everything to me."
"Do you mean that?"
"Yes," he rested his forehead against yours. Wally grabbed you hands, placing your palm flat against his heart. You could feel how erratic it was - just the same as when he was running. Now, he wasn't running in any sense. He wasn't running from bad guys, he wasn't running from his problem, and he wasn't running away from his feeling towards you.
"You're not scared of this?" You asked. Dating him was never brought up, but any time he brought up his past relationships it almost seemed like he was scared to get into a new one. Wally pecked your lips once before pulling away to look down at you.
"Me? Scared," Wally grinned at his sarcasm. Your hand on his chest slid up until it cupped his cheek. He leaned into your touch. His eyes were warm as he met yours. No longer lust within them but an adoration that was always hidden within.
"I'm not scared of anything as long as I'm right beside you."
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