#I will make it count to my bingo entry 'they like holding hands' | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sarahghetti · 3 months

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blood on your lies; m.s.

pairing: marc spector x reader centric, steven grant x reader, jake lockley x reader

summary: after an argument with marc, you go missing. he tears himself apart trying to find you.

warnings: a dive into the mind of marc spector, angst, hurt with some comfort (i.e. jake and steven), kidnapping, vague descriptions of violence.

word count: 3.0k

notes: kind of a continuation of all the echoes in my mind, but can be read as a standalone. written as part of the @moonknight-events bingo! prompt: "insecure", I promise that not all my entries will be this sad lol

MOON KNIGHT MASTERLIST | ALL MASTERLISTS

You’re not home yet.

It’s nearly been three hours. Marc paces the apartment like a caged animal, likely wearing the hardwood underneath his feet. Steven and Jake have run their course about how stupid he is, how he shouldn’t have said what he said, how he should’ve run after you the second you stepped out the door—

But jokes on them. There can be no harsher critic of Marc than Marc himself.

He checks his phone again in case you’ve responded to his many texts and calls, but there’s nothing. As far as he knows, you haven’t even seen any of it.

His temper still lingers under their skin, and he holds it tight with both hands; anger is easy. It’s easier than admitting that the peaks in his heartrate and the sweat on his brow is from anything other than his own self-flagellation.

Anger is familiar.

This, however? The waiting for you to walk through the door, or to give them any sign of life—so much of his sanity rests in the comfort of you being safe. Marc didn’t realize how lucky he was to not know what this was like. Now, he doesn’t know if he can ever forget it.

Jake’s voice is clipped. “Check again.”

They’re all on edge, and it’s terrible. Most of the time, at least one of them manages to keep a level head during stressful situations—usually Marc. Jake is prone to anger, Steven to anxiousness.

“Marc!” Steven yanks him out of his head, and his phone is in his hand without any memory of having taken it out of his pocket. He does a dutiful look through his notifications—nothing.

Three sets of disappointment and concern pile on top of one another and drags them all down so much further.

“Do…” Steven’s voice is quiet. Unsure. “Do you think something might’ve happened to her?”

There is no dissenting opinion, no devil’s advocate. Marc doesn’t try to calm his alters down, and only clenches his jaw.

You’ve never gone quiet on them like this. They’ve never let you leave the flat at night like this. They always opted to be the one to go take a walk because even in the middle of an argument, they wouldn’t risk your safety.

The lingering silence is Steven’s answer.

When the suit wraps itself around his body, the accompanying burst of power in his veins is suffocating. His wounds begin to numb over, but Marc barely notices. He hasn’t spared them a thought since you left.

The cool air does nothing to assuage him. Clouds blot out the sky, leaving nothing but a murky backdrop as he scales up the nearest building for a vantage point. A quick scan over the horizon—nothing. Not a hint of your silhouette under the streetlights, and a lump forms in his throat.

“Khonshu!”

A gust of wind signals the god’s arrival, who, even with a bird’s skull for a head, looks remarkably bored as Marc is clinging to any semblance of sanity. He must already know what’s going on but frustratingly just spreads out his hands, a silent question—what?

Marc grits his teeth. “Where is she?”

“Who?”

“Khonshu.” The name is a snarl on his lips.

He simply scoffs. “You have the gall to make demands? As if I need to be involved with your lover’s spat?”

“She’s not answering her phone.”

A lingering pause.

“She might be in danger,” Marc snaps, trying to get the god to understand even a fraction of the severity of the situation. They might bloody their hands night after night, staining London’s streets each time they go out on patrol, but it’s never enough. There are always more monsters to take their place, and the thought that you might have run into one of them—

Khonshu cocks his head. “Maybe she’s just finally had enough of you.”

Marc hates how that’s a possibility. Still, desperation crawls out of his throat. “Can you find her?”

Khonshu turns to look over the city, the silence stretching out between them. Whatever divinity he’s channeling, Marc isn’t privy to; all he can do is stand there like a useless dumbass and wait for some hint of you to show up on the god’s radar. Even if you had had enough and never want to see him again—he’ll swallow down that fate in stride as long as he knows that you’re safe.

When Khonshu finally breaks from searching, his head cocks slightly to the side. “Interesting.”

This is hardly the time for theatrics. “Do not—”

“I cannot find her,” the god admits. Not apologetic or ashamed, but—awed. “Where she is right now, her footsteps through the city—there is nothing, Marc Spector. There’s not even a trace of her in your own home.”

The blood rushes in his ears. His chest constricts until he can barely breathe at all. Marc barely manages to wrap his head around the information before Jake and Steven come roaring back again, shocked and confused.

“Stupid fucking bird—”

“She was right here!

“Let me out, pendejo, I swear—”

“What the bloody hell does he mean—”

“How?” Is all Marc manages to get out, every one of his senses on overload.

“Something is hiding her from me; whatever took your lover is very powerful indeed.”

Took. Not a single doubt about it now: something took you. Kidnapped you because Marc couldn’t keep it together for ten-fucking-minutes. Jake and Steven can prattle all they want in the background—his mission is clear.

“Where do we start?”

The flat seems even bleaker when they return, your absence all the more chilling. Steven clamours to take the reins with the obvious assumption that research is the first step they need to take, but that’s quickly dashed away when Khonshu returns with a name.

“Apep.” God of darkness and disorder, Steven supplies from their head. “He’s been cast away for eons, but there have always been those trying to get him to return.”

“It’s another cult?”

Jake swears under his breath. “Figures.”

Ignoring them, Marc presses on. “Who are we dealing with now?”

“If it were easy to find them, I would’ve done it already,” Khonshu bristles. “Apep is helping them—hiding them as they work. I will continue to do what I can.”

“Fine.”

The god disappears in a whirlwind of loose papers, and Marc switches gears. Steven might have the advantage in research, but tracking? The skills he’s honed as a Marine and as a mercenary wait for him like an old pair of shoes; the others can’t help but let him work in peace.

He finds some old tourist map that spans over the city and unfolds it across the dining table. There are only so many places you would’ve gone, so many routes you could’ve taken. London doesn’t become deserted at night and barring any divine intervention, kidnapping someone would cause a scene—you would have caused a scene, he thinks, imagining you fighting tooth and nail against your assailants, screaming for someone to help—

Marc closes his eyes, clenches his jaw. A wave of pain washes over him, and he languishes in it for a minute, not a moment more.

His eyes reopen, spots dancing across his vision as he analyzes the map again. The feeling has been sealed shut into a box, shoved into a corner of his mind. Steve would throw a fit about his mental state if it were any other time, lecturing him on coping mechanisms and compartmentalization, but there’s no time for him to feel sorry for himself.

He grits his teeth and refocuses his train of thought. If they’re up against a cult, then they probably would’ve sent multiple people to grab you. Would’ve had to lure you somewhere quiet if it was by force, or they could have convinced you to go with them somehow. Or threatened you. Or…

The more he gets into it, the more he feels himself detaching from the situation, piece-by-piece. The memory of you is like a minefield; it’s a testament to his will that he can recall anything about you without breaking down. What you were wearing—and not the look on your face—when you left. Your favourite park—and not how your hand fits perfectly into his as you walked down the paths—that you might have passed through.

He reduces you to intel, just another folder on his desk. It’s not unfamiliar to him. He wouldn’t have made it this far if he couldn’t take an objective approach to his work. But it’s different because it’s you, because the stakes include you, and when he looks up to try to ground himself again, he spots your favourite mug on the coffee table. Half-empty.

If Layla were here.

The words bounce around his head as Marc stares up at the ceiling. He didn’t mean it. Steven and Jake are both better with words than Marc, but he’s never loved you any less—he’s never wanted you to be anyone but yourself.

It’s been almost two days since you left, and it’s only now that he’s allowed himself to be corralled into bed. His grip of the hot seat is ironclad, however, which means that the body isn’t getting any sleep tonight. The sun will rise soon, and he’ll pick up his work right where he left off.

Quietly, from the back of his head: “Marc?”

“Could’ve taken the victim anywhere,” Marc murmurs, mind still whirring in the dark.

“’Victim’?” Steven’s voice shifts to be full of indignance. “How could you possibly call her that?”

“Ay, easy on him,” Jake pipes up. For Jake to immediately to jump to his defence means that Marc must be worse off than he thought, but he can’t bring himself to care. “How’s it going, hombre?”

“No sightings on any security cameras. Nothing reported to the cops.” Hours of his time—your time—summarized in a breath. His face remains blank. “I’m going to sweep the remaining areas tomorrow. Find some people who might’ve seen something.”

He’s been doing nothing but cross possibilities off his list. It’s barely any progress and his remaining leads are weak, but his resolve is as strong as ever.

“Nothing from Khonshu?”

“No.” Marc has no idea what the god is doing.

They lay in silence for a bit, listening to the maddening tick-tick-tick of the clock on the wall. Anger is unsustainable, but Marc wishes that they’d return to yelling at him again. At least he knows what to do with that.

Instead, all he gets is Steven’s restrained tone: “Something has to change, you know.”

“Are you really telling me to go to therapy right now?”

“Can’t do much else.” For a moment, Steven’s bitterness resonates. There’s another conversation to be had here—one about their individual capabilities and protective natures—but Marc lets it rest for the night. He knows he’d be driven up the wall if their situation was reversed, if you were in danger and he had to rely on someone else to save you.

He still deflects. “Not the time for this.”

“Maybe not,” Steven concedes, “but you need help, Marc.”

Distantly, Marc recognizes that he’s always needed help. Even after reconciling with Steven and Jake, even after meeting you—the wounds are still there, despite how hard he’s tried to ignore them. He’s stubborn and self-destructive, not stupid.

“We’re with you, always,” Jake adds. Discomfort crawls under Marc’s skin from the supportive words, and he knows that his alters are well aware of it. It’s never stopped them, of course.

“We can talk about this after—after we save her.”

A general murmur of consensus. Marc quickly regains his footing, eager to move on from this line of conversation.

“I’ll find something. Or Khonshu will.” Steady and reassured—trying to convince them and himself. “We’ll get her back.”

Steven’s voice is small, even in the confines of their head. “But why would they take her in the first place?”

“He needs an avatar?” The body hasn’t slept in days. That void of feeling pulses with anger, desperation, fear—it simmers low in their gut, a torch passed along between them.

“Apep will need a vessel once they release him.”

“Here I thought one of his cultists would volunteer.”

Khonshu taps his staff against the ground thoughtfully. “They knew we would come after them, and we’re not the only ones.”

For the briefest of moments, Marc feels hopeful, like the odds aren’t as stacked against them as they thought. It disappears just as fast—Khonshu doesn’t deliver hope. The blood drains out of his face as he actually starts to consider the god’s words.

“If Apep possesses your precious lover, would you really be able to stop her? To take up arms against her?”

Khonshu leans in close then, hollowed eyes burrowing into him.

“Would you let others do the same?”

Over the next week, things begin to look up.

Someone’s girlfriend’s cousin says that they saw someone who looked like you walking down The Mall. There’s a fuzzy image of a car with no license plates. Khonshu catches the briefest hint of you on Westminster Bridge and follows you far, far east—it’s a mere grain of information that’s slipped through Apep’s power, but it’s enough for Marc.

They find the car abandoned in Dover, near the water. It rules out France—driving through the Eurochannel would’ve been the fastest route there, after all. Trying to take a public ferry would’ve been stupid with a captive, which means that they probably chartered or owned a boat.

The remaining pieces fall into place, and he can feel the anticipation from the others build in the background. Marc has led the charge so far with very few breaks to let Steven and Jake breathe a little. Steven misses you so much, he cries whenever he fronts. Jake has gone eerily quiet, and Marc knows what’s simmering underneath the surface; when the fighting starts, Jake will be called to action. His excitement is brutal.

It's all coming to an end soon. Laying on some dirt in the Norwegian countryside, shrouded in darkness, Marc’s never seen more stars in his life. If he’s right—and he is right—they’ll be bringing you to a nearby compound for the final step of their ritual. He couldn’t care less about the how or why. Come the morning, you’ll be here. Marc will get them inside. Jake will get to you. And then…

Marc will probably never be the partner that you deserve, and you never should’ve been subjected to his life. To sleepless nights and patching up his injuries and comforting him after nightmares that has him thrashing in the sheets—

But he can’t survive without you. It’s a simple little fact that gives him the power to move mountains; there are none bigger than the mess of his own head.

Exhaustion creeps up on him, and he can’t help but struggle against it. Fighting to keep his eyes open, his thoughts spill into the air. “Need to take care of her first.”

“Taking care of yourself is taking care of her,” Steven says gently. Have they had this conversation already? Marc’s been so singled in on this mission that everything else has fallen by the wayside. He can’t remember the last thing he ate, or what he’s wearing under the suit. The ground is the softest thing he’s ever felt.

If there’s any comparison to be made between you and Layla, it’s that he’s failed both of you. Maybe he could be different this time. Even if you decide that you want nothing to do with him after all this, he could still get help. He’ll have Steven and Jake. He’ll have himself and his scrappy resolve and the memories of this heart-aching pain, and maybe he’ll finally get better.

Marc lets his eyes close; the body needs rest for what’s to come. You don’t deserve any less than their best.

Just a few more hours.

Marc watches the fight from their headspace. Jake doesn’t miss a single shot and never so much as falters when one of them manages to land a hit. This is the longest break Marc’s gotten from fronting in a while, but he can’t bring himself to look away.

Jake loops their arm around the neck of cultist unlucky enough to be nearby, gripping his hair so hard Marc can nearly feel the strands through his fingers, feel it when Jake jerks their arm to the side and twists—

Your handlers left you alone in another room with nothing but a hard cot to curl into as you waited for them to retrieve you again. Locked inside but unbound—Marc hates how you startle when he breaks through the door.

Eyes wide, your mouth opens and closes multiple times without success. “You—you came.”

Marc wishes there weren’t so much surprise in your tone. Of course he came for you, it was never a choice for him—for any of them.

But clearly there was a part of you that thought he wouldn’t, wasn’t there? That he might just leave you in the clutches of some power-hungry cult because—because what, you’re not his ex-wife? Because you think he doesn’t love you?

The need to rectify that pierces his heart. He pulls you close, knuckles white in your shirt. “I love you.”

You shake in his arms. “Marc—”

“I love you.”

The words don’t stop; they fall from his lips like a prayer. Even as you weep, soaking the suit with your tears, he says it. I love you. I love you. I love you. In every variation, in every way—he’ll never let you believe otherwise again. He’ll say it over and over, work tirelessly to become the man you both deserve. For the rest of your lives. For the rest of time.

However long you’ll give him.

#moon knight x reader #marc spector x reader #steven grant x reader #jake lockley x reader #moon knight #marc spector #steven grant #jake lockley #moon knight fanfic #my writing #mk bingo 2024

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dean-winchester-is-a-warrior · 5 months

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Fight Me, Love Me, Save Me Pt. 3

This will fill the, Isolated/Trapped square on my @jacklesversebingo card. This is my last entry on my bingo card!!! This is the first time, out of NUMEROUS bingos, that I've actually completed my whole card!! 😍😍

Summary: A series in three parts exploring Y/N's and Dean's relationship from bickering children, to love and broken promises, to a plea for salvation.

Warnings/Explicit 18+: Mild smut, more, making out, really. Show level violence. Angst. Grief. Sadness. Fluff. The usual from me. 😜

Pairings: Dean Winchester x Y/N

Word Count: 7,698 (🫣🫣 I'm so sorry - this last part had a lot of story to tell!)

A/N: So this series will fill the last three squares on my bingo card. The first part covers "It's Mine, and you can't have it." Part two will cover Broken Promises, (Nov 12) and part three will be for the Isolated/Trapped square. (Nov 19 23 - I'm very sorry! But it's here now!)

Series Masterlist

I hope you enjoy!! If you do, please remember to like, reblog and/or comment. Means the world to us writers! ❤️

The dividers included here were created by @talesmaniac89

Dean sat in the empty motel room, grateful to be alone once again. He'd been avoiding their motels as much as possible over the last couple of weeks because he needed that solitude. It was too hard to be in the same room with her; to sit across the table from her and not be able to reach over and take her hand - it was awful.

So, he'd been sleeping in the Impala's back seat a lot lately, making due with the confined space, and trying not to think about the very pleasurable times he'd spent back there with Y/N in his lap.

He was pretty sure those times wouldn't come again. Y/N had made it fairly clear she wasn't interested in moving forward now. She'd barely spoken two words to him in as many weeks. He'd come close to apologizing a few times. But then his anger talked him out of it.

I have nothing to apologize for, he thought angrily.

She was the one who needed to apologize. But his anger at her didn't make it any easier to keep his hands off of her when she was around. It didn't stop his heart from squeezing painfully tight every time he looked at her and remembered how perfect she felt in his arms.

Which was why he stayed away.

But sometimes he couldn't avoid coming back. He was back now because his dad had called him that morning and told him they were trailing a big nest of vamps a few towns over. Seemed to be a nasty group, so they were gonna need all the help they could get in planning how to take them down.

He knew he'd promised their dads that their relationship (or loss of it) wouldn't interfere with the team. So, he came back immediately.

But when he got to the motel they'd been staying in for the last while, it was empty. So, he just sat and waited for them to return.

When the door finally opened he looked up, expecting to see the group of them coming back. But only Y/N slipped through the door, pulling up short when she saw him sitting at the table.

There were a few seconds of frozen staring from both of them before Dean broke eye contact and took his gun out of his inside jacket pocket and started pulling it apart, pretending he was going to clean it, simply to give his hands something to do.

Y/N stepped all the way into the room and closed the door behind her. She took off her jacket and sat on the couch under the window. Dean was hyper aware of her every move; he could smell her perfume and he gritted his teeth against its effect.

He snuck in a glance at her and had to hold in a moan at how fucking gorgeous she looked. She was wearing tight black jeans and a pale pink sweater that fell off her shoulder, revealing a black bra strap. Her hair was up in a ponytail, exposing her long, extremely kissable neck.

Dean bit his lip and then swept his gaze away quickly when Y/N looked up at him.

Jesus Christ, being here is torture, Dean thought.

After another minute of silence, Y/N gave a huff of annoyance. “This is so stupid.” She said suddenly, the words bursting out of her like an explosion.

Dean looked up from his gun cautiously. He didn't say anything, waiting for her to elaborate. She stood up and walked over to the table, plunking herself down on the chair across from him. He sat back in his chair and tried to pretend he wasn't retreating from her effect on him. Being so close, and yet so far, was extraordinarily painful.

She opened her arms wide, questioning. “This is stupid.” She repeated, “Can't we just move on from this, like we always do?”

He shrugged as though he was indifferent and then looked her in the eye.

“Sure, if I hear an apology in there somewhere, we can definitely leave it behind.”

Y/N clicked her tongue and rolled her eyes, making the same hurt and anger from their last conversation begin to burn in his heart again.

“Apologize?” She said with disdain. “For what?”

Dean clenched his jaw to keep from screaming at her and trying to force her to see how much her attitude and judgment had hurt him.

Instead, with extreme effort, he kept his voice low and steady. “How about, for breaking your promises?”

Y/N rolled her eyes again. “God, you’re so dramatic!” She said angrily. “I didn't ‘break my promises’.”

“Yeah, you did, actually!” Dean shot back, some of his feelings seeping into his tone despite himself. “You promised you wouldn't get mad. Swore you wouldn't freak out.”

He tapped two fingers against his chest. “I didn't wanna talk about it! I TOLD you I didn't wanna talk about it. But you insisted.” He said, pointing his two fingers at her now. “So I told you the truth - and you nailed me with it.”

He fell silent, and Y/N watched him. Her nostrils were flared and she wore the stubborn, defensive expression that meant she wasn't going to back down.

“Yeah well,” she said, skating her eyes away from his, “it was a LOT of truth.”

“Whatever, the point is,” Dean said coldly, “you promised I could trust you with the truth and then you broke your promise; you immediately got pissed and judgy.”

Y/N rolled her eyes a third time, and it was the last straw for Dean. “Yeah, okay.” He said, quickly reassembling his partially disassembled gun. “Tell my dad I'll be back later.”

He put the gun back in his pocket and stood up. “Clearly you don't give a shit, so whatever - this is done.”

He stomped towards the door.

“Wait!” Y/N said quickly, standing up. But he ignored her and reached the door. “What do you mean, done? You mean…the conversation is done, or…?”

She left the question dangling and Dean turned back to her. He took all of her in - her beauty that clobbered him, her arms crossed defensively over her chest, her expression of anger, fear, and stubbornness - and he shook his head.

“We were stupid to think this was ever gonna work.” He said quietly. He saw her expression crumple for a moment and it was almost his undoing. But then she jutted her chin and her voice was accusing as she shouted at him, her voice full of derision.

“You're telling me I have to apologize, but what about you? Where have you been, Dean? You're hardly ever here. So, who are you…just where have you been staying?”

Her question hit him like a punch. He clenched his teeth, anger simmering with hurt. “Why don't you just ask me what you really wanna ask me, Y/N?”

Y/N's face was dark and stormy and her voice dripped with acid. “Fine.” She enunciated her words exactly. “Who are you sleeping with now?”

Dean didn't let the wound she caused show on his face, instead he let his own arrow fly.

He shrugged carelessly and let ice settle over his expression. “Whoever says yes.”

Despite the direct hit he knew he scored, he took no pleasure in drawing blood and turned away quickly from what he was leaving behind.

***

Three days later

Y/N woke up in the dark, choking on blood. She instinctively turned her head towards the ground, coughing and spitting the coppery taste out of her mouth. She jumped as a voice spoke beside her in the dark.

“Now, now, sweet thing, you just drink up.” As her eyes adjusted somewhat to the dark she could make out the shape of a man standing beside her. He reached out and petted her hair before gripping the back of her head and holding it still as he pushed his wrist against her mouth and she tasted the blood again.

She screamed and tried to get away, but her wrists were bound above her and the sounds of chains rattled as she fought against his hold. Finally he pulled his wrist away from her mouth, but whispered in her ear.

“Sorry to lock you away like this, beautiful, but the others are gonna be jealous and want a piece of you and I want you all to myself.” She felt him lean into her, placing chapped lips against her cheek. “You were just too pretty to eat. I wanna keep ya.”

Y/N was choking and gagging on his blood, and as terrifying truths began to push their way into her mind, tears clogged her throat as well.

The man ran a hand down her cheek and she shuddered. “I know you feel rotten right now, beautiful,” the man whispered again, “but that's just because you haven't eaten.”

He ran his hands up her arms and tightened the rope that bound her wrists. She looked up and saw that the rope was tied into some kind of pulley system that disappeared into the dark above her, those were the chains she’d heard.

“Now, I don’t want my scared little filly to run, so…” He stepped away from her and began tugging on a rope that worked the pulley, raising her a foot off the ground so she dangled there like a fish on a hook. “You just stay put while I fetch you some dinner.”

He came back to stand in front of her and let both his hands trace down over her sides, coming to rest on her hips and squeezing them. “Then after you’ve eaten, and you’re feelin’ better, we can have some real fun.”

Y/N tried to move away from him, but he just slapped her ass and left her swinging there as he walked out. He slid a door open, and as light spilled in from the other side, she realized they were in a barn, and above her was a loft. The pulley system she was attached to was for hauling hay up into the high storage spot.

The man blew her a kiss and closed the door with a thud.

Left there in the dark - trapped, alone, and terrified - Y/N began to panic. She struggled uselessly against the rope that bound her, but she just swung pathetically back and forth. She refused to think about the fact that her eyes had begun to adjust remarkably well to the dark, and her ears were starting to pick up sounds that had been beyond them minutes earlier.

She knew what that man really was, knew that he wasn’t really a man, but she couldn’t focus on what was happening to her or she’d start screaming and never stop.

Into her panic and fear, Dean’s face appeared in her mind’s eye, and she took strength from it, as though he was there with her, egging her on and annoying her into fighting back as he always had. Suddenly she could hear his voice in her head.

Figure out your next move.

She nodded. Yes, she needed to get her bearings and deal with the immediate problem, which was getting away from the slimy monster who had her trapped. She closed her eyes and thought back to her last memories before waking up in the dark.

She’d been hunting, they all had. They had been hunting the nest for a couple of days, and tracked them to a dilapidated old house two miles out of town. She was standing guard at the west entrance while Sam was at the south, both of them watching for stragglers.

It had happened in seconds, the monster grabbing her from behind, sinking its teeth into her flesh and provoking a blood-curdling scream from her throat before the world went dark.

Now she was awake, and she wished she could go back to oblivion. But she couldn’t. So she focused on her surroundings. Loud, off-key music had begun to play from somewhere on the other side of the door. She could hear raucous laughter and loud voices too, as though a party had started.

She heard screams and suddenly the thick, metallic scent of blood hit Y/N’s nose and she panicked again at the way her senses heightened and her body ached with hunger. She was sick with want, with need for the blood she could smell beyond the door. There was no longer any way for her to hide from the truth. The man who held her was no man. He was a vampire, and now she was too.

Suddenly the barn door opened and the vamp came through again, dragging a half conscious woman behind him. The woman roused slightly when she was tossed to the ground, but she seemed incredibly weak, barely able to sit up.

The vamp moved to the pulley and lowered Y/N’s feet back onto the ground. Y/N’s focus sharpened and a plan came to mind. She drew on Dean’s invisible strength and his always impressive calm in the face of stark odds.

The vamp walked up to Y/N and gave her a stern look. “Now, pretty thing, if I take you down, you have to promise to sit nicely and eat your dinner like a good girl.”

Y/N nodded and tried to sound starving, which wasn’t difficult.. “Yes, yes, I promise. Please, I’m just so hungry.”

The vamp chuckled and reached up to pull her down from the hook. “Yeah, I remember those days. I’m gonna make you all better.” He smiled at her and she could smell the blood on his breath.

He sat Y/N on a bale of hay and yanked the woman back up off the ground. He bit into her neck, where the skin was already covered in bite marks, opening her up again so that blood rushed down the front of her filthy blue shirt.

The scent hit Y/N's nostrils again and suddenly she felt fangs descend behind her closed lips. She let out a horrified yelp that almost drowned out the woman's faint cries of distress. She raised a hand to her mouth and cut her finger on one of her own razor sharp teeth as she prodded at it.

The vampire thrust the woman forward and she landed in Y/N's lap. “Eat up, sweetness.” The monster said with another chuckle.

The woman was shaking and weak, her lips blue and nearly lifeless. Y/N felt as though her entire body was cracked and parched like a desert, and the alluring scent of the woman's blood felt like an oasis. But her big brown eyes begged for mercy from Y/N even though her voice had been silenced by weakness, and Y/N pushed her roughly off her lap and jumped to her feet. The vamp seemed startled by the move and his momentary confusion was her only saving grace.

She kicked him as hard as she could in the nuts. His cry of pain was thankfully lost in the pounding music and the screams of the people being feasted on, just on the other side of the wall.

He fell to his knees and she kicked him hard again, in the face, knocking him over to sprawl on the barn floor. With her wrists still tied, she grabbed the long, pointed spade that hung on the wall three feet away, and jammed it into his throat. He gurgled and tried to rip the tool from her hand, but she wrenched it away from him and kicked him half a dozen more times while he writhed and bled on the ground. Finally she got a good angle and stuck him with the spade again, leaving his head hanging on by a few tendons and a bit of muscle tissue.

She smashed the spade into his neck one final time and his head rolled towards her rather pathetically.

She stood staring at it for a few moments, as she panted and her head swam.

Finally she dropped the spade and ran to the woman lying a few feet away. The smell of her blood overwhelmed Y/N again and she immediately jumped back, desperate to control herself.

But the blank, empty look on the woman's face told Y/N she was dead anyway; so she couldn't help or hurt her now. Y/N knew that in her present state there was nothing she could do for the people being killed on the other side of the wall either. So she pulled her wrists free of the rope and ran.

She tore out of the back of the barn, and ran as fast and as far as she could. She had no idea where she could run to, she was simply trying to outrun the monster she was now.

***

Fear sat heavy and thick in Dean's heart as he followed the obvious trail Y/N had left behind her. At least, he thought it was her, it had to be her.

Please, God let it be her, Dean begged.

The world had gone dark ever since he'd heard Y/N's scream of terror and pain outside that rundown shack. He’d run to where she was stationed, but she was already gone. A red pickup truck sped away down the dirt road. But Dean had managed to secure most of the license plate number.

With it, they managed to track the vamps to their new hideout, the barn. This time they took out the whole nest. While the others were questioning the last two vamps about Y/N's whereabouts, Dean had started looking around the space and found the dead woman and the decapitated vamp. The dead monster made hope surge in Dean, and he'd called to the others. They'd split up to search for her and Dean went North simply by instinct at first, because some sixth sense was drawing him in that direction.

But after a couple hundred yards, the trail began to become more obvious. Someone had barrelled through the thick brush surrounding the old barn, and they were no longer attempting to hide their steps.

Almost a mile away from the barn, Dean stopped short. Just ahead of him he could hear what sounded like moans, like someone in pain.

No, not someone, Dean thought, terror licking through him.

Y/N.

He moved forward in a rush and burst through the brush into a small clearing. His heart leapt with joy and relief as he saw Y/N sitting on a turned over log barely twenty-five feet away.

She was alive.

But as he ran towards her she jumped up and tripped over the log as she scrambled away from him.

“Y/N!” Dean called to her, but she screamed back at him.

“No, stay away from me.”

Dean frowned at her but kept walking forward. “Sweetheart, what are y-”

Y/N folded her arms against her middle and groaned again, just as sharp fangs descended. Her beautiful features twisted in a snarl as she stumbled backwards again.

Dean stopped dead, staring, unbelieving, shaking his head in denial. He felt frozen to the ground as he looked at the truth standing right in front of him. He felt his world fall away as he stared at the monster who used to be Y/N - the girl he'd known his whole life, his best friend, his rival, his perfect other half.

And now she was lost to him. A monster.

She fell to her knees and shook her head, holding her hand out towards him, warding him off, warning him to stay back. In the bright light of the full moon and the distant glow of city lights, Dean watched her fangs retreat and tears roll down her cheeks. He approached her cautiously, somehow unable to stay back.

She looked up at him and her beautiful eyes were stained, the whites of them pooled with blood.

“Dean.” she croaked as she continued to shake her head at him. “Please stay away from me.” She begged.

She nodded towards the machete that was strapped to his thigh. “Please? Just end me before I hurt someone.” She sucked in a ragged breath. “I don't want to…” Her eyes pleaded with him. “I don't wanna hurt you, or anyone.”

Her face spasmed with pain. “But I can't…I know I can't control this for much longer. Please, help me. I don't want to kill someone.”

Her voice was cracked and broken and suddenly Dean saw that little girl again, the one who begged him not to kill the frog, begged him to help her save it. Because she couldn't stand the thought of hurting something helpless.

That little girl could never be a monster, and he knew she still had to be in there somewhere.

He found himself shaking his head. “No, Y/N, I won’t…” He couldn't even say the words. He cleared his throat “I'm gonna save you.”

Y/N looked at him like he was insane. “Save me? There's no way to save me. There's no fixing this. I'm a monster, Dean! I can feel the bloodlust in my head, it makes everything foggy. I can hear your heart pumping and I want -” She cut herself off and closed her eyes. “Please.” She whispered again, begging him to end her life.

But instead he got down on his knees in front of her and took a deep breath. Her eyes widened and her nostrils flared as he drew closer to her.

“You won't hurt me, Y/N.”

“Dean!” Y/N shouted. But he shook his head.

“No, I'm right about this.” He declared, using his old playground trick of challenging her to get a rise out of her and force her into what he wanted. It seemed to work at least a little because some of the despair in her bloodshot eyes turned to annoyance.

He shook his head. “I refuse to believe there isn't a cure out there somewhere, or at least, someway to help you live with it.”

Y/N laughed humorlessly, exasperated. “Like a twelve step program for vampires? ‘God grant me the serenity not to rip open a vein.’?”

Dean grinned at her gallows humor. “Yeah, something like that.”

He looked over his shoulder and when he looked back his face was serious. “But look, I don't know how my Dad, or maybe even your Dad are gonna feel about this idea. I mean, they're so hardcore about hunting, about what’s a monster and what’s human. I don't know if I could convince them what I say is true, that I can save you.”

Y/N frowned at him and fear clouded her expression again. “You absolutely don't know it’s true! You are risking your life every second you're near me.”

Dean raised his hand slowly to her cheek and watched her swallow convulsively. “You're worth the risk, sweetheart.”

Tears filled Y/N's eyes again at the familiar endearment. She brushed away the tears and then took his hand from her cheek and held it.

“Does this mean you forgive me?” She asked, looking up at him with a wavering smile.

Dean grinned at her. “I don't know, does this mean you're apologizing?”

Y/N gave a watery laugh. “Yes.”

They stared at each other for a moment, both struck with just how ridiculous their fight seemed in view of their current situation.

“Well, don’t worry, you're forgiven completely.” Dean promised. “But back to my earlier point. I think we should take off for a while. We can let our dads and Sam know we're okay, but we'll just keep moving till we find an answer.”

Y/N nodded. “But, Dean. I feel so weak already. I don't know how long I'll be able to -”

Dean shook his head. “We'll be fine.” He said, his voice unrelenting.

“Dean -” Y/N tried again, but Dean stood up and pulled her up with him.

“No, Y/N.” He stared into her eyes, his words pushing through the pounding in her skull and the throbbing in her veins for the first time since she'd awoken as a monster.

“I will not walk away from you, I will save you.” His jaw flexed. “Or die trying.”

Y/N felt her heart constrict because she knew him well enough to know he meant every word.

***

Two weeks later

Dean listened to Y/N’s rattling breaths and felt the chasm of darkness grow deeper inside him. She was laying on the floor of the old abandoned house they were squatting in, and her skin was so pallid and pale that she matched the gray dust around her.

She'd been getting weaker and weaker the longer she went without feeding. They’d hoped that animal blood might do the trick. But they'd tried pigeon blood and rat blood - Dean had even found and shot a coyote that had been knocking over trash cans down the road, hoping that bigger game might make a difference - but none of it worked.

Y/N threw the blood up as fast as she choked it down. She cried about the animals that had died. “We're killing them for nothing.” She wheezed. “It's not working.” Her voice was scratchy, as though she hadn't had any liquid for days.

They'd been on their own for nearly two weeks, and every day Y/N faded a little further.

Over the course of the two weeks there had been a few close calls between them, when Y/N's hunger threatened to overtake all her other senses. But Dean had managed to subdue her long enough, until she came back to herself. When her conscience returned, she would always shake with fear at what she'd almost done and beg him to leave her there and run. She said it without hope because she knew he never would.

But now, she was no threat to him at all. Dean looked down at her frail body, cheeks sunken, dark black circles bruising the skin below her eyes, and he knew he was losing her.

He knew what he had to do.

He sat beside her on the floor, his big hand holding her skinny fingers which he squeezed gently.

“Y/N.” He called softly. “Y/N wake up.”

Her eyelids lifted with what looked like a herculean effort. Her eyes were unfocused until Dean moved closer and looked down at her, his face hovering above her. Then she smiled at him as she dragged in more rattling breaths.

She opened her mouth to speak, but only garbled air came out. Dean shook his head and put a finger to her lips. “No, sweetheart, don't talk, just listen.”

He ran a thick finger down the sunken hollow of her cheek. “If you don't feed, you're not gonna make it. Now, when I spoke to Sam last time, he said they had a lead on something that might be something. But that doesn't sound like a lot, and they can help you if you're…”

He shook the word out of his mind. “We just have to keep you well until they figure it out. So…”

He trailed off and then shrugged out of his jacket. He opened the buttons on his flannel, exposing a wide swath of his warm skin.

“So feed.” He told her.

He watched her bloody, cloudy eyes widen and darken. She shook her head feebly, her breathing becoming loud and wheezing as she tried to sit up and back away from him.

But Dean caught hold of her easily and shifted her into his lap. He brushed her limp hair back off her forehead.

“Y/N, please listen to me. We just need something to keep you going. Please.” He said, his voice and expression begging her. “I trust you. Feed.”

He kissed her lips gently, and then leaned over her, kissing her neck and leaving his exposed and vulnerable.

“Dean.” Y/N managed to put some sound into her voice and Dean pulled back to look at her.

She sucked in a long labored breath. “You…promised.” She shook her head again. “Promised to…”

She had to stop talking for a few moments, her eyes falling closed before she tried again.

“Promised to save me.”

Dean's face was desperate. “What do you think I'm doing?”

Y/N's head moved minutely from side to side. “Not.” She croaked. “Saving. Save me from…monster. No monster.”

Dean understood her and he felt tears burn his eyes. She wanted him to save her from becoming a monster. It was true that neither of them knew what would happen if she fed. Would she just get stronger, or would it sever her hold on her humanity?

There was no way of knowing, and she was begging him to save her from the possibility of a bad outcome. Dean wanted to yell at her, scream and fight with her over this as they always did when they disagreed. But he knew she had no fight left.

So he just nodded at her and took solace in the peace that drifted over her exhausted face. He shifted so that she was laying with her head in his lap and traced his finger over the delicate bones in her face and collarbone. He spoke barely above a whisper.

“Okay, sweetheart. Sleep now.”

***

Twenty-two hours later

Dean jumped as someone pounded on the door. It was the most he'd moved in hours. He rose slowly from the ground as the pounding came again accompanied by Sam's voice.

“Dean! Y/N! It's me, open the door!”

Dean reached the door and slid the bolt free, letting Sam through. His little brother rushed past him. “Why haven't you been answering your phone?” Sam asked, and then barreled forward without waiting for an answer.

“We found it, we found a cure. Dad remembered hearing some obscure piece of lore saying you could cure a werewolf with the blood of the wolf that bit them and he figured maybe vamps had something similar. So after you guys took off that night, he went back to the barn and took the fang’s blood just in case. The one Y/N killed - figured it was our best bet.” He clarified.

Sam's excitement was blinding him to Dean's stillness and he rushed on. “So, we went down to New Orleans. You know they had a bit of a vampire problem in the French Quarter about a century ago, so we thought maybe they'd have-”

Suddenly Sam stopped talking, the momentum that brought him there finally deflating under the weight of the darkness in the air.

He shoved his hands in his jacket pockets. “Dean? Where's Y/N?”

Dean's jaw clenched and he gestured to the other room. “Too late.”

Sam's expression sank, the last bit of his youthful excitement crumbling at the words. He walked in the direction Dean pointed, freezing in the doorway when he saw Y/N's frail body laying on a dusty table.

“Didn't wanna leave her lying on the ground.” Dean said, his voice deep and thick with unshed tears.

Sam wasn't as practiced at hiding his emotions, and tears fell down his cheeks as he watched Y/N's still, lifeless body and thought of the way her father had fallen further and further into a bottle as the days passed, hope slipping further from their grasp.

John had sent Sam on ahead to Dean and Y/N so that he could go back and let Darren know that there was finally hope for his daughter. Now, they were going to have to crush that last spark of hope.

He was exceedingly glad he wouldn't have to be the one to do it.

He reached Y/N and grimaced at the emaciated creature that only vaguely reminded him of the girl who'd been his big sister for all intents and purposes.

When Dean came to stand beside him, Sam shook his head. “How, how did she die?”

Dean looked at him angrily for a moment before he clipped out an answer. “Painfully.”

Silence reigned for a moment until Sam brushed away his tears and tilted his head. “But…” He didn't finish his thought, slightly intimidated by his much bigger brother's anger and frustration with his questions.

But his mind was working and he couldn't stop himself.

“But I mean, that's sort of the thing, isn't it?”

Dean scowled at him and Sam shrugged. “I just…I mean, vampires don't die. They can't.”

“Unless they're starving.” Dean growled out but Sam shook his head.

“No, that's my point. I've done SO much research on vampires over the last couple weeks, and some of it is a bit conflicting, but the one thing that every one of them agreed on was that the ONLY way to kill a vampire for good, for real, was to chop off their head.”

Dean was scowling at him. “What are you saying?” His voice was gruff, but Sam saw a spark of hope in his eye, and he prayed he wasn't giving his brother false hope.

“I'm saying we found a couple hoodoo priestesses that gave up their cure for vampirism. I think we should make it and give it to Y/N.”

Dean's nostrils flared as he fought down his own burgeoning hope. “You really think some hoodoo cure is gonna bring her back from the dead?”

Sam shook his head and took off his backpack. He got down on his haunches and began pulling items out for the spell.

“But she's not dead.” He said adamantly and then amended his words cautiously. “At least. I don't think she is, cause her head is still on her shoulders. So, again, how did she die? Of starvation you said?”

Dean nodded down at Sam. “Yeah, she…she tried to drink animal blood but it wouldn't stay down.”

Sam shot him a worried look. “But she didn't drink any human blood, did she? Like even a drop?”

Dean shook his head. “No, that's why she died. I tried to get her to drink from me, but she wouldn't.”

Sam sighed with relief. “Thank God she's smarter than you are.”

Dean scowled at him, but Sam ignored it. “The spell only works on newbie vamps, and only if they haven't ingested any human blood.”

As he finished up mixing the ingredients for the cure, he explained what he was thinking. “So, if vamps can't die of starvation, then…I think she's desiccated. I read about it in only one account. This one big bad vamp in New Orleans, they couldn't stop him, so they trapped him and when he couldn't get any food, he desiccated and basically fell into a vampire coma.”

He stood up with a jar in his hands that contained a foul smelling liquid. He handed it to Dean and reached into his backpack to pull out a tin that held a syringe full of blood.

He pushed the plunger and emptied it into the drink.

“So I think,” he continued, “that when Y/N couldn't get blood she desiccated. But see if we give her the cure she won't be a vampire anymore. So the lack of human blood in her system shouldn't matter.”

Dean frowned. “But what if, because she wasn't fully a vampire, what if she didn't just wither into a hundred year slumber? What if she really is.. just…”

Sam but his lip. “Well, we won’t know till we try to give her the cure and see.” He said with a shrug in his voice.

Dean nodded and accepted his little brother's reasoning.

He moved towards Y/N and said a prayer to a god he didn't believe in that this would work. He’d been denying the alternative for nearly a day, desperate to believe it wasn’t true. This was their chance to make it not true.

Sam lifted Y/N's shoulders so that she was sitting up, and opened her slack jaw while Dean poured the concoction down her throat. Some of it spilled out, but most of it sank slowly down her esophagus.

When the jar was empty, they laid Y/N down and held their breath.

Dean unclenched his jaw long enough to ask, “Those witches give you any idea how long -”

His words were cut off as Y/N's eyes popped open and she gasped for air like a fish on dry land just before she turned her head and began vomiting black liquid.

Dean felt a horrible mixture of elation and terror as Y/N continued to spew up black bile.

Finally she dry-heaved a few times more and then fell forward. She would have fallen to the ground if not for Dean, who swept her off the table and into his arms.

He held her close, hardly daring to breathe for fear that he'd break the bubble of surrealty that he found himself in. Could this nightmare really be over? Did he have Y/N back in his arms for good.

The pessimist in him was shouting warnings at him not to risk it, but he wasn't listening very well. Hope bubbled up in him as he watched her breathing even out

Finally, her eyes fluttered beneath her closed lids for a moment before they opened slowly.

“Dean?” She asked groggily. “What's…?” Her voice faded as she looked around, clearly confused.

Dean set her back on the table so that he could push the hair back from her face. His voice was hesitant. “Y/N? Are you…okay?”

She turned her head and saw Sam looking at her expectantly as well. Her brow stayed crinkled for a moment more until understanding began to dawn on her face. Tears filled her eyes, and even though they were still slightly bloodshot, Dean could practically see the color returning to her cheeks, her skin losing its thin, papery look.

He began to feel the ache in his chest ease as he tucked Y/N's hair behind her ear. “How do you feel, sweetheart?”

Her smile spread across her face and her voice was filled with the same relief and joy Dean could feel seeping through him as she answered.

“I feel like me.”

***

The next few days were a bit rough for Y/N as the cure continued to work through her system, but they were also some of the happiest in her life.

She’d returned to their motel and to her father’s waiting, grateful arms. The group of them celebrated her rescue and return, and the incredible tool they now had to help save vamp victims if they could get to them in time.

For the first day or so, her father didn’t let her go very far out of his sight. But eventually, he eased off, and allowed that she was an adult and had a right to some space and privacy. So finally, four days after waking from her vampiric coma, she and Dean were able to sneak out alone. Their fathers were going to meet with another hunter about a shifter one state over, and Sam was quite glad to get the lovebirds away from him for an evening. Their pining, long looks, and frequent touching was driving him crazy.

Dean and Y/N hopped into the Impala and drove and sang together with the radio for hours. They talked and talked about absolutely nothing important, old favorite movies, and people they used to know from their hundred different hometowns. It was light and easy, and beautiful after weeks of pain, heartache and fear.

Hours later they once again found themselves parked (on the side of an old abandoned back road this time) and cuddled up beside each other in the back seat.

Rain had begun to fall, soft but steady, beating a soothing pattern on the roof. The radio still played low from the front, and Y/N gasped when she realized that Dean had slipped in the mixed tape she’d made for their anniversary more than a month earlier. It felt like a lifetime ago.

“You kept this.” She said, smiling up at him. “I thought you hated these songs.”

Dean shrugged. “I hate them less when I’ve got you tucked up against me like this.”

Y/N reached up to pull his lips down to her. She kissed him softly and then pulled away. She lowered her gaze. “Dean, I really do owe you an apology for how I acted before.”

Dean was shaking his head, but she put a finger to his lips. “Please let me finish.” He fell silent and she continued.

“I get a little crazy when it comes to you. I don’t know if you’ve noticed - I hide it very well.” She said with mock seriousness.

Dean nodded along. “Of course.”

Y/N smiled and looked down at her hands twisted in her lap. “It’s just…all my life it’s been…chaos. Different towns, different schools, different kids, different teachers, different rules, different cliques, different everything. Over and over, nothing but new…new and scary.”

Dean nodded again, knowing it was true.

Y/N smiled sheepishly. “But through all of it, through everything new, everything different, everything scary, there was always you. You, there to piss me off and rile me up, you to challenge and push me, to defend me, to break a nose or take the fall for me. In my whole life the only constant is you. It took me a long time to realize it, but Dean,” she looked deep into his eyes, “you are everything to me.”

Tears filled her eyes. “And the truth is you’ve saved me over and over, my whole life. Yeah okay, I mean now you’ve actually offered up your very life for me, but you’ve been saving me every day, all our lives.”

Dean’s eyes were moist as she continued. “So, the thought of losing you to someone else, of losing all you are to me…” She shook her head. “It’s terrifying.”

Dean grasped her cheeks and turned her face up so he could kiss her, not softly, not gently. His kiss was all consuming, it was hard and possessive. He pulled away from her and she could barely catch her breath.

His voice was raspy as he spoke against her lips. “You’re an idiot.”

She spluttered a bit and scowled at him, but he just smiled.

“Sweetheart, you say it took you a long time to realize all of that? Okay. But I’ve known since first grade. I’ve known since the second our dads met up at that park to talk about a Rugaru and I saw you on the swingset. You were wearing a rainbow t-shirt and purple overalls, and your hair swirled around you while you were swinging. I thought you were the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen.”

Y/N laughed happy tears. “You remember what I was wearing?”

Dean brushed them away. “I think of you every time I see a rainbow.”

Y/N could barely believe what she was hearing. Dean shook his head as though it had been so obvious. “Sweetheart, I’ve loved you every day of our lives together. Even when I didn’t like you, I loved you.”

Y/N hiccupped a sob and threw her arms around Dean’s neck. He put his hand on her back and pulled her onto his lap. He buried his face in the crook of her neck and spoke against her skin.

“So as long as you want me here, I’m here. As long as I can be yours, you’ve got me.”

She pulled back from him and sniffled. “So…you were lying then? You weren’t sleeping with a bunch of other girls all the time we were broken up?”

Dean shook his head. “Of course not.” He kissed the corner of her mouth. “No one else is you, Y/N.”

She kissed him again, her tears mingling with their panting breath. She straddled his thighs and then lifted her t-shirt up over her head. Dean made a choked sound in the back of his throat. He pressed his hands to her waist and kneaded his fingers into her lower back.

“Y/N,” Dean began but she kissed him again.

“I don’t wanna talk about it anymore Dean.” She said as she pulled away. “I know everything I need to know about your past.” She pushed her hands into his hair and tugged his head back slightly so his face was turned up towards her, his mouth open and reaching for her.

She brushed her lips over his. “You’ve loved me your whole life.”

He grunted as he twisted their bodies so that she landed on the seat with a squeak, pinned beneath his weight. “I didn’t say my WHOLE life. There were like six years there where I didn’t even know you existed.”

Y/N giggled. “You mean the six years you were alive before we met?”

Dean grinned. “Exactly. I was free as a bird then.”

He laid his hands against the leather on either side of her shoulders and pushed himself up. One knee was sunk into the seat between her legs and the other rested on the floor as he pulled his shirt up and off.

She reached up and ran her fingers over his smooth, broad chest and down over his stomach. He watched her, a muscle squeezing tight in his jaw, before he took her hands and wrapped them around his neck so he could stretch out above her again.

She looked into his bright green eyes, shining like emeralds and got lost in them. She picked up their conversation as though they’d never stopped talking, but her voice was breathy and heated. “And you’re gonna love me for the rest of your life, right?”

Dean nodded. “Every day.”

“K, good.” She said, her eyes welling up again. “Me too, by the way. I mean, just in case you were wondering - I love you too.”

Dean’s face lit up but he just nodded and shrugged one shoulder. “Of course I know, I’m smart like that.” He kissed her hard and quick. “But let’s not forget who said it first.”

1 - Jensen RPF + Any/All characters Jensen plays. @lyarr24 @deans-spinster-witch @impalaslytherin @maggiegirl17 @akshi8278 @candy-coated-misery0731 @deanswaywardgirl @slytherinlyn314 @globetrotter28 @jensensgirl @perpetualabsurdity @tristanrosspada-ackles @djs8891 @muhahaha303 @kayyay1219 @emily-winchester @recoveringpastaaddict @maximumkillshot @mimaria420 @sacriceria @envyaurora95 @lacilou @jc-winchester @spnwoman @mimi-luvzyu @jackles010378

2 - Dean Winchester Fics Only. @carryonwaywardgirl @slamminmine

3 - Any/All Fics (regardless of fandom/character.) @kazsrm67 @sexyvixen7 @alexxavicry @nancymcl @spalady26 @slut-for-evans-stan

4 - Everything (includes fan vid/DOOL edits as well) @unabashed-lover-of-fictional-men @maliburenee @supernatural4life2022 @spn730015 @kickingitwithkirk @waywardbaby @foxyjwls007 @deanwanddamons @deandreamernp @deanwithscissors @myloversgone @snowlovespie @leigh70 @all-alone-he-turns-to-stone @charred-angelwings @hopefuldreamers-world @jensensgotyoudean @thoughts-and-funnies @magssteenkamp @princessmisery666 @eevvvaa @mishkatelwarriorgoddess @waynes-multiverse @mrsjenniferwinchester @bernasaurus @jensenslady79 @courtn92 @avanatural @ellie-andthemachine @this-is-me19 @roseblue373 @katbratsupernaturalwhore @fanfic-n-tabulous @k-slla @stoneyggirl2

#dean x y/n #dean x reader #jacklesversebingo23 #dean winchester angst #dean winchester fluff #dean winchester smut

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jamneuromain · 8 months

Note

So, because I haven’t seen your bingo challenge before-

I’m sorry? You’re gonna hate me for the late request but…there’s no but

Steve Rogers with Wrong Number + meet cute;)

Can you imagine Captain America getting the wrong number and showing up at your doorstep after asking Tony to track you down?:3 ain’t that cute?

Take you time tho, you don’t have to rush or write it at all<3

*when he realises it’s the wrong number*

God skjksjskjskjskjj "Captain America getting the wrong number and showing up at your doorstep after asking Tony to track you down?:3 ain’t that cute?"

We have very different definitions of cute........🤣🤣

But I hope you'll enjoy this<333

Wrong number

Steve Rogers x You

Warning: Wrong number, meet cute(sort of?

Summary: Base on solid intel, Steve leads a group of agents to storm a house. Turns out, the intel is not so solid after all...

A/N: My sixth entry to the bingo challenge hosted by @the-slumberparty.

He has been observing this house in stealth mode. A binocular in hand, laying in the grass, between the tiny crack in the bushes. The edge of his blunt shield digs into his back. Not much pain, thankfully. Not heavy either. Which he counts as a blessing for a mission that requires silent infiltration.

He is in this position in his smothering suit for fifteen minutes, waiting for three other agents to recon and five others to guard all exits.

"This is Agent Johnson. I'm detecting activities inside the building." An agent reports in the comms.

Steve could hear the tension in Agent Johnson's voice. Steve doesn't blame him. Before Ultron, it used to be superheroes running around saving lives. After the new compound was established, all Avengers were in favor of recruiting agents and forming task forces, operation teams, and such. The name of this project is still temporary. Natasha and Clint are competing to come up with something short and catchy. But in general, it is the first time that Steve leads "Avengers Operation Team" on a mission.

Steve knows (he would bet a hundred bucks on it, in fact) that every one of them feels obligated to impress the American hero, or not make a fool of themselves at the very least.

"All agents, stand by." Steve issues a brief command, "Johnson, do you have eyes on the target?"

From his angle, Steve only has the front of the house in visual. He could see the delicate rose bushes and a small patch of strawberry growing in the front yard. Plain two-stories house with a brown welcome mat.

However, he understands that looks can be deceptive. This cozy little place could well be a safe house for one of the notorious Triad crime lords, Chiang Kai-Dong. (Maria Hill said she helped pick out a "simple" mission, by the way, said it helps with morale.)

"Negative, Sir. I have visual on a woman. No Chiang in sight." Johnson replies.

It was an easy decision to make. Steve retreats from his position and grabs the shield in his hand, taking small steps to the house, "Johnson, Fletcher, stay in your position, watch our six and any movement in the house. The rest of you, approach both exits in stealth and wait for my instruction. Careful of any possible traps or cameras. Chiang gets spooked easily. We are only here because we were able to trace his fresh burner phone."

"Copy." "Copy."

Steve makes it to the doorstep as soon as other agents. "On my mark. Three, two, one. Breach!"

One agent kicks the door open. The wooden plank falls to the ground like a slice of crunchy toast, completely unhinged from the doorway. Steve leads, heading inside the house, holding his shield up to protect himself and two agents on his back.

"Hands where I can see them! Show me your hands!"

Apparently, those agents who comes in through the back door is a little faster than he is, already yelling to whoever is in front of them.

You let out a startled cry, frozen at your spot on the sofa, with your mug on the floor and coffee ruining the beige blanket on your knees. You have your hands in the air, face pale as paper, and your eyes rounded with fear.

You are a woman, obviously, and definitely not the man, Chiang, they were looking for.

Two agents are guarding front and back, while Steve leads the rest to do a sweep of the second floor.

"Clear!" "Clear!" "Clear!"

All he can see is a place where a single woman lives. No signs of a man. No extra toothbrush, no male clothing, nothing that could link you downstairs and Chiang together.

He heads back downstairs. You still having your hands in the air and not daring to move a muscle.

"All clear." Steve nods to Agent Degan, before the latter pulls out a photo from her pocket and shows it to you.

"Have you ever seen this man?" Agent Degan removes her hand from the gun, reaching out her arm so that you could get a clear look at the photo.

You tremble. After looking at the photo carefully, you shake your head in a rush, "No-no. I've never seen him."

"Sir?" Agent Degan turns to Steve, "I suggest we take her back to the compound to investigate."

Steve raises his hand to pause her. He patches through Maria in a second. Maybe his intuition is correct. Maybe they stormed a wrong house.

"Hill, I need you to run cell tracing again. Are you certain that Chiang's burner is still emitting signals in this house? We searched the place and no sign of Chiang. A woman lives in this house, and I don't see anything that could count as evidence."

"Hold on, Cap." Hill replies immediately, "The intel is solid, his phone pings right where you are. Wait-"

Some hushed whispers, sounds like Maria covers her comms for a brief moment.

"Steve, I don't know how to break this to you, so I'm going to tell you exactly what happened." Maria lets out a sigh, "One of our analysts traced the wrong number. Chiang is in Myanmar, not upstate New York."

Steve doesn't know whether he is relieved or worrying more, "Thank you, Hill. We'll call it a day and head back to the compound. " Steve gestures for all agents in the room to put down their weapons.

"Ma'am, we are very sorry to disturb you." Steve unclasps his helmet, half kneeling to the ground to look you right in the eyes, "Any damages caused by my team will be fully compensated by Avengers Restore & Rebuild Foundation. You can contact the number on this card. We also have therapy available for such circumstances. The Foundation would give you more information on your compensation, both physically and mentally."

"Thank-Thank you?" You hesitate on whether to take the business card he whips out of his utility belt, but one look at his serious expression, you gulp and take the card - with both hands.

You are only glad that you don't have to raise your hands anymore. And you suppose guns and heavily armed agents are going to haunt your dreams for quite some time.

"Have a nice day, ma'am. And again, I'm really sorry for this." Steve shakes your hand with a polite smile, before exiting your house.

Bonus:

"Stop it, Rogers. You are making my head spin." Natasha grunts with utter annoyance.

Steve has been pacing in the living room for half an hour, and it doesn't seem like he is going to stop for the foreseeable future.

Tony walks in with a file in hand, announcing his presence the second he steps foot in the room, "I've got it! I've got it. Name, age, date of birth, email address, education records, work experience. Ohhh. She likes history museums-" Tony winks to Natasha over his sunglasses, "She'll like this old fella here, I'm sure."

Steve rolls his eyes, letting go of the comment where Tony just compared him to museum and history. Even so, he has to chime in for his own sake, "Guys, I'm not asking her to work here. I'm trying to decide whether I should ask her out on a date."

Clint, still sleepy from last night's stakeout mission and lying on the couch with his feet on the coffee table, groans and covers his eyes with his arm, "Just ask her out, man. I don't know what the fuss is about."

"The fuss is, Green Arrow," Tony sniggers when he comes up with another nickname for Clint, earning a smothered laugh from Natasha, "that our beloved Captain America here stormed into the wrong building last week with half a dozen agents armed to the teeth, scaring the shit out of sweet Y/N."

"Then don't ask her out." Clint grumbles, turning over and pressing a couch pillow to his ears.

Noticing Steve's eyes zeroing on herself, Natasha shrugs, "Don't look at me. It's your call."

With all the focus from the room (apart from Clint's), Steve takes a deep breath and dials the number.

The wrong number for Chiang, but the right number for you, he hopes.

Find my The Slumber Party Present Bingo Challenge here 👈

Questions? Comments? Requests? 👉Send them to my inbox 👂

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #captain america x reader #captain america x you #writing challenge #the slumber party writing challenge #steve rogers fluff #captain america fluff

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sabo-has-my-heart · 1 year

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A future with You

I...I don’t know what to say about this one. I got the idea, it’s very sad, and it’s my @onepiece-bingo entry for ‘Future’

Warnings: ANGST, death, vague mentions of sex and childbirth,

Word Count: 1370

When he pictured his future, this wasn’t how he’d imagined it. He’d imagined a wonderful life with you, filled with laughter, happiness, and watching movies all night. Putting his face in his hands, he thought of all the things he’d imagined. An apartment with you, not too small, not too big, something perfect for a couple and maybe a future child. Just a sweet newlywed couple, living a blissful life. Slow dancing with you in the kitchen while you tried to cook, romantic baths when he came home from a particularly long or stressful day, and cuddling together at night. Lots and lots of cuddling.

Pulling out his phone, he started scrolling through old pictures of the two of you. Sunny smiles on both your faces, silly gestures like making bunny ears on each other, you’d been so beautiful. His beautiful angel. Tears started running down his cheeks, blurring his vision as he closed the photo gallery. There were so many things he missed, so many things he’d planned. The perfect little proposal. Maybe he’d have taken you to a carnival and proposed to you at the top of the ferris wheel, or a nice restaurant with candles and some stupid heart shaped desert. Perhaps he’d take you where you’d first met, talk about all the wonderful times with you, any of them, so long as you said yes.

A sweet wedding with his friends and family, Marco or Sabo as his best man, you’d look beautiful in your wedding dress, like a goddess. He’d try not to cry as you said your ‘I do’s. The others would tease him later for crying, but it would all be good natured. They’d understand how happy he was. He’d scold Luffy for eating everything during the reception but you’d just laugh because somehow, somehow, you’d planned for this and there was enough food for everyone.

He’d take you on the most wonderful honeymoon, take you wherever you wanted, or around the entire world if you did so desire. Just the two of you in your own happy little world… and he’d make love to you. Every night for the entire honeymoon, he’d hold you close and make love to you. Whispering sweet nothings in your ear as the two of you held each other, telling you again and again how much you meant to him and how much he loved you. And then you’d go home.

You’d go home to your cozy little apartment, you’d start your married life. You’d cook together, you’d giggle as you woke his sleepy ass up every morning, and giving each other kisses as you both left for work. He’d even thought about the bad times. Loud, angry shouting matches when you fought, giving him the cold shoulder until he wrapped his arms around you and apologized, caressing his cheek as you forgave each other. Maybe you’d both promise to be better or maybe it would be a silent agreement, no words, but never wanting to hurt each other again.

Every anniversary, every birthday, every special occasion, he’d decorate the house and get you the most amazing gifts because you deserved it, because you deserved the world. You’d laugh and tell him that all you needed was him and he’d wrap you up in a hug, telling you how sweet you were, how amazing you were. With each day, he’d become more and more dedicated to you, more and more in love with you.

And then it would happen. You’d wake up sick, you’d start pacing in worry, then you’d check and you’d look at him with a mix of worry and happiness as you told him the news. You’d tell him you were pregnant. And he’d pick you up and spin you around, so excited to be a dad. He’d be laughing and shouting with joy as tears ran down his cheeks. He’d immediately start thinking of baby names and picking out baby things. You’d put a hand on his arm every time he tried to buy something and tell him it was too soon to buy that particular thing. But the loving look in your eyes would tell him everything he needed to know, that you loved how much he cared, loved how attached he already was to this child.

Then you’d find out what gender it was, if you were going to have one child or more, and then he’d really start decorating. The two of you would perfectly decorate the baby’s room in all the perfect colors with all the perfect toys and furniture. He’d rub your growing stomach and talk to his child day and night. Any cravings, he’d get you, he’d rub your feet or your back, he’d help you get your shoes on because you were too big around to do it yourself. The loving looks you’d give him while he took care of everything for you, just knowing he’d make a great father.

And then on that day, that special day. He’d be there for you. He’d stay by your side and hold your hand and reassure you that he was right there with you. And he’d hear his baby’s cry and the doctor would tell them his baby’s gender even if you already knew and he’d fall in love with his child at first sight. Tears would run down his cheeks as he held his child or as he wrapped his arms around you while you held your child. He would hold his child while you slept, cooing at them and talking to them the entire time, even if they were asleep or didn’t understand, he’d just sit there and talk to them. He’d play with them constantly and rock them to sleep, he’d take care of them when you were tired and he’d teach them how to walk and talk.

When they were old enough to date he’d give them a man-to-man talk if they were a boy or help with ‘girl talk’ if they were girls. He’d scare away any potential boyfriends if they liked boys, or help them impress a girl if they liked girls. The two of you would grow old together, have grandkids, it would be a perfect life. Even if he fought with you often, even if you disagreed, or had your problems, it would be a perfect life.

His hand tightened around his phone. A perfect life that had fallen into imperfect crumbles. Shattering like glass, leaving him standing there in stunned, horrified silence, tears falling down his cheeks. He hadn’t even processed the fact that he was crying, even as his brothers pulled him into a comforting hug. His ears rang, blocking out any sound, any sound except the doctor’s words, words that repeated themselves again and again in his head. They did everything they could, they were sorry, you were gone.

And suddenly his warm, happy future was cold. His entire world was cold. Everything seemed to fall out from under him. He didn’t even remember how he’d gotten home that day, only that he sat there in his room, staring into space for days. Despite his best efforts, he’d been loudly sobbing at your funeral, but nobody said a word. They all understood how much he loved you.

Looking down at his phone again, the little charm on his phone caught his eye. You’d gotten matching phone charms. Charms that never left his phone, never left his side. He’d placed your phone charm in your hand at the funeral and he still kept his with him at all times. Gently fingering the little charm, his eyes widened in horror as the worn strap snapped under his touch. Had it really been so long since he’d gotten it that it had broken? Had it really become so worn that it could no longer hold on? And just like that, he broke down into sobs once more. It felt like another piece of you had been torn from his life, falling into the inky abyss of his memories. Another piece of you taken from him, only to become a memory of a happier time, of a time when he held you, of a time when he could dream about his future with you.

#one piece #one piece ace #op Ace #fire fist ace #hiken no ace #Portgas D. Ace #portgas d ace #portgas d ace x reader #portgas d. ace x reader #hiken no ace x reader #fire fist ace x reader #angst

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nekoannie-chan · 3 months

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Hands

Title: Hands.

Ship: Skinny!Steve Rogers X 40’s!Reader.

Word count: 251 words.

Square: E5 “Holding hands.”

Rating: Teen.

Summary: Steve asked you a date.

Major Tags: Fluff, holding hands, ask for a date.

Additional tags: This is my entry to @cabottombingo Captain Bottom Bingo round 2. CABB2024.

Links: Wattpad, Ao3, Spanish version.

@saiyanprincessswanie

My native language is Spanish so I wanna improve my writing skills in English if you notice any mistakes, please let me know and I will correct them.

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DISCLAIMER: I don't own Marvel's characters (unfortunately), except for the original characters and the story.

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Steve was walking through the busy streets of New York, feeling a bit out of place in the bustle of the big city like all his life. He had just had another fight, and Bucky had scolded him again.

He got as far as a park, and that's when he saw you sitting there, reading a book. You and he had known each other since you were kids.

"Did your date stand you up? " Steve asked you.

"You know no one asks me out, Steve. The only popular one of us is Bucky; where did you leave him, by the way? "

"He has a date. "

"As usual. You got into a fight again, didn't you? "You questioned him as you took a closer look at his face.

Steve gave a shy smile but ducked his head. You shook your head; it seemed that no matter how many times you talked to him, he didn't understand.

However, in the middle of the silence, suddenly, you moved your hand and took his.

For a moment, Steve was going to pull it away, but when he saw that you continued to hold his hand, he let it go.

"Do you want to go to the movies on Saturday? As a date…" Steve proposed, and although he immediately regretted it, he was probably misunderstanding everything, and you would tell him no.

"Sure, there's a movie on that I want to see," you answered.

You were silent for a long time, holding hands.

#cabottombingo #cabottombingor2 #steve rogers x reader

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gecko-whoria · 2 years

Text

please don't go.

w/: eustass kid

notes: my second @onepiece-bingo entry! for this one i chose "okay", and i can't honestly say i set out to make it anything more than angst lmaooo

warnings: angst with a happy ending because i'm a massive sucker and i can't not write something happy at the end, slight nsfw

word count: 966

"I'm not letting you come with me, (Name). I won't put you in danger like that."

You had always prided yourself on your hatred of pirates. No matter how many came through your island looking for a place to rest or a bite to eat, you'd never fallen victim to the allures of the sea. You'd never wavered, never given into the ways they looked at you as you served them drinks, rough hungry fingers grazing your skin, taking little bites of you to take back on their ships as a souvenir of the end of the Grand Line. You remained steadfast in your stance, promising yourself that you'd never throw your life away like so many others.

That was, of course, until you met Eustass Kid.

You couldn't help but look at him with the same wonderment as someone leaving home for the first time. He was unlike any pirate you had ever met; he was bold and brash and loud and violent just like they all were, but his every movement, however small, carried an impact that nearly swept you off your feet. He spoke the way any free man should, with a dry rasp and a slick voice that turned everyone’s attention to him. You were not immune—you felt pulled to him every time you saw him, compelled by some imaginary force to serve his crew with more care and attention than you had anyone else you'd ever met.

On the first night he'd ordered two rounds of drinks, carrying on to a third and a fourth the second someone told him he couldn't. He had stumbled out draped against the broad shoulders of his masked companion, muttering something about out-drinking everyone in the bar while his friend slipped you an apology and a hefty tip.

On the second night he waited until your shift was over, pinning you against the wall behind the bar as he pressed harsh kisses into your bare skin. He wasn't drunk, you had served him and his crew yourself, instead intoxicated by the feeling of your body pressed against his, the taste of your tongue and the smell of your soap on your skin. The way your hands grasped for purchase against his muscles, never breaking your lips' connection even when your hands slipped from the place his left arm tapered.

There was uncharacteristic hesitation in his voice when he asked you if you minded his arm, to which you simply responded by sliding your fingers up it as you stood on your toes and pressed a kiss into his lips. There would be time for conversation later; now the only thing on your mind was taking in as much of him as you could for as long as you were able. You could barely collect your thoughts long enough to suggest that you travel back to your apartment, you had no idea how you'd managed to lead him there the correct way, much less in so little time.

Before now you had never understood whirlwind romances or love at first sight or why people chased pirates all the way to the New World, but as you laid breathless next to Kid you knew exactly why. It was then that he finally told you, or maybe you finally heard, that he would only be on the island for another day. In twenty-four hours your bed would be just as empty as it had ever been, only now you'd know the warm feeling of sharing it with someone. Now, no matter how brief your connection had been, you would long for someone.

On the third night you could barely meet Kid's eyes, wracked by an encompassing sadness you had never felt before. You couldn't focus on any conversations long enough to hold them, nor could you listen well enough to do your job. You floated through the bar like a ghost, letting the few brushes of touch you had with Kid pass right through you.

Every time you had to walk outside you gulped in the fresh air, letting the cool autumn breeze tether you back to the world. You hadn't spoken a word to Kid until one such occasion toward the end of the night, when you leaned against the back door after taking out the trash and stared up at the stars as if wishing on them would do something to make it easier.

He stood there next to you, staring at you instead of the stars, and told you that he wasn't particularly fond of leaving you behind, but he really had no choice. No matter how you tried to beg or protest or reason with him he stubbornly refused to let you on his ship. His life was not yours—but you both wanted it to be. He spoke in the vague way that people did when they wanted someone to do something but couldn't outright ask them, attempting to spur you on to follow him without ever saying that you should find a ship and meet him in the New World.

Though you noted it you still made one last attempt to join his crew, pleading to both him and the stars to give you just one chance. That was all you needed to prove that you were strong enough. One chance to make it so you wouldn't ever have to have an empty bed again.

He still told you no. Tears still pricked at the corners of your eyes. You still believed there was a way to keep this from being the end. So you stood on your toes one more time, pressed a kiss that didn't say goodbye into his lips, and told him one last thing before you walked back inside:

"Okay. I'll see you in the New World, Eustass Kid."

#writing #op #one piece #one piece x reader #eustass x reader #eustass kid x reader #eustass kid #x reader #x reader fanfiction

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hotdamnhunnam · 3 years

Text

The Pick-Up Line

Part 1 | Part 2

A/N: Here’s Part 2 of Jax having a big crush on the reader, who is Abel’s daycare teacher, and finally getting his chance with her! This fic is also my next entry for @band--psycho’s Bingo Challenge!

Pairing: Jax Teller x F!Reader Warnings: smut, swearing, dirty talk, good teacher falling for that bad cock, sex in a daycare center but obvi ain’t no kids around when you actually fuck Request: This anon request Bingo Square Filled: “Give me a chance”

Word Count: ~1.8k

... Continued from Part 1 [Read Here]

He’s good when he’s looking at you.

Eyes shine a different kind of blue. Blaze bright and new. As if the picture of your face, caught in the mirror of his gaze, colors his world another hue. As if he’s lived his life a lie and suddenly something is true.

Here alone with him now, you think of all the times you had forgotten just how bad he was supposed to be somehow. The countless days he’d ride on through. As if it really was that easy breaking free from all the crime in the rearview.

Smile so warm, taking his son up in his arms. Sorry for always running late, making you wait. Not knowing you would wait forever till he comes. You’d shoot the shit, for a few minutes—just a few—and you’d feel more connected to this criminal than anyone respectable who’d ever wasted hours boring you out of your mind on a blind date.

Jax wasn’t always as he is. In those blue eyes of his, to you an open book, are written all the roads he never took, and all the chances that he missed. The talk is small; he doesn’t speak of that at all. But bares his soul with just a look. You wonder often just how different it’d have been if you had met before all this. Been young and innocent when you gave him a chance. Saved the last dance. Shared your first kiss.

You reminisce. It never happened yet it feels like in some other life it did, because the dream is so damn vivid, that you may as well have lived it. Any memory is only worth the way it makes you feel. And this feels real. And so it is.

Give me a chance, he’d asked.

You’ll give him more than that. You’ll give him all the chances that he never had. Without a backward glance, you’ll hold his heart within your hands and take him down the many roads he thought he’d passed—take them at last and take them fast—until the good outruns the bad.

Jax came today to pick you up. But he’s the one who’s fallen down, beneath the dead weight of his crown. His broken club. The loss of love that turned his life around. And you don’t need a pick-up line to lift him up off of the ground.

You don’t need anything; his heart is lifting, living just to take the chance you’re giving. Lost for years and now he’s finally fucking found.

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

It just so happens that you’re in a daycare center, in this first real heartfelt moment that you and Jax Teller get to share together. Fucking daycare. Toddler-scrawled sketches adorn the walls and toys are scattered everywhere. Just outside the wide glass window is a little kiddie playground.

Standing right beside a table where you teach these little kids including Abel and it’s maybe not the best surface for Jax to claim your cunt as his to pound—

The raspy rumble of his voice cuts in, all of a sudden; you almost let out a slutty little whimper at the sound. “Guess this is when I ask to take you out to dinner?”

Swoon. He’s still all anxious and uneasy like you’re not already wrapped around his finger. Like you’re not already ruined. Still has no clue what he’s doing. He’s so cute it’s fucking rude but all the thoughts you’re having are so fucking lewd and you’re a total fucking sinner...

“So is that a yes?” again he interrupts your train of thought, because you haven’t said a word after he poured his nervous heart out of his chest. Of course this piece of shit can take a wild guess. He’s usually too confident to ask for reassurances, and yet with you he’s not. “Or something else getting you hot?”

Ugh God. You’re too aroused to even nod. Even when he’s so shy around you, Jax is still a cocky son of a bitch too. The smug smirk tugging on his sinfully pink lips has your guts tangled up in knots. You’re struggling to summon all the little self-restraint you’ve got.

You want to grab his kutte and beg this man to fuck you like a slut but not when you’re surrounded by a sea of toys for tots.

“Why don’t you take me to your office,” Jax suggests, reading your mind as if your thought process is so painfully obvious. It probably is. “Away from all of... this.”

Oh. Oh yes, that would be best. You should’ve thought of that before. You were too busy heavy breathing like a whore. Still riding high off of the feelings he’d confessed. “Y-yes!”

He made you stutter, and that makes the motherfucker smile smooth and slick as butter. “Oh, she speaks,” he chuckles.

Fuck, you’re weak. He catches you as your knees buckle.

And the touch of those big hands against your sides through the thin fabric of your dress has you a motherfucking mess.

Now he can tell exactly how badly you want him and he doesn’t have to guess. Just like your heart your body screams a wild yes.

Thankfully your office is close by and the door is open; Jax quickly flings it shut behind him as you guide him in and shove him up against the wall because you need to have him right this fucking moment. Crash your lips hard against his. Both seeing stars at the first kiss. It’s even more than you were hoping.

Through the fireworks, your breath escapes you in a downright pornographic moan of bliss, and you can feel his luscious lips curve in a smirk. Ugh, what a cocky little jerk.

He’s getting off on the effect that he so clearly has on you and you wish you could hate this idiot for being such an asshole. But you don’t hate it at all. You love the way you’re falling hard ‘cause you know he’ll be there to catch you when you fall.

As heavenly as it feels with your body pressing his into the wall, true heaven would be in submitting to this man so beautiful and big and tall. Jax really digs the fact that you made the first move and took control. But he can read your mind and all your body’s signals; he can tell for you that level of aggression is unusual.

Knows you’d rather have him use you as his filthy little fuckdoll.

So, next thing you know, you’re spread out on your office desk, and Jax Teller is literally ripping off your dress. You hear it rip; that’s how he strips. Fabric in shreds. Surely instead, he could’ve simply pushed it up your hips, to reach into your wetness. Could’ve pulled it down your shoulders to get his hands on your breasts. He could’ve done a lot of things, but he’s a motherfucking monster of a king, and this is how he does it best.

He’s just as quick with your lace underwear and bra because he needs you all undressed. It’s really not fair that you’re naked now while he’s still in his jeans and tee and hoodie and that goddamn leather vest. The kutte is hot as hell, a whole kink in itself, but you’ve spent countless nights alone dreaming of witnessing his godliness. Having him here with you clothed like this is torture to be honest—

Yet as ever Jackson Teller reads your mind and in a few seconds his leather and his other layers end up on the floor, his icy blue gaze locked on yours, now as you finally set your eyes upon the bare skin of his broad shoulders and chiseled abs and sculpted chest...

This absolute god of a man standing before you—you cannot believe he has it bad for you. For such a while he’s been harboring a big huge crush on you and now at last he is about to fuck you and you’ve never felt so blessed.

Jax bends down over you to kiss your parted lips, the both of you so breathless. One of his hands works his belt and jeans to slide them down his hips, grinding his denim-covered crotch against your pussy as it drips; his other hand squeezes the soft flesh of your tits in an affectionate caress.

Yes, there’s affection even in the midst of all of this aggression. Tenderness to all the tension. Purity powering through this primal passion.

You’re so much more than just another fuck for Jackson. Sure, there’s that feral attraction. But he sees far past the surface, just as you have always seen through his; he wants to fucking do this. You deserve this, nothing less. Having you gives him hope of some kind of a chance at happiness, and even if he only ever gets a fraction... even that’s more than he’d ever dreamt of asking. More than enough, ‘cause he can see himself falling in fucking love, and every second in your presence is perfection.

Jax is perfection to you too—you see your future in that gaze of blazing blue—you really do—but right now all that you can think about is how you want to build your whole damn future on his huge fucking erection.

He’s still passionately kissing you; you want him to continue. Yet now that his cock has been set free from his jeans, you feel the length and girth of it against your skin and it’s obscene. You can’t survive another instant on this earth without that massive dick in you.

You want to suck it and he wants to eat you out. Thankfully you can spend the rest of your lives going down on one another every night, but now you simply need to fuck it and your man is here to give it to you right, no fucking doubt.

He pulls back from the kiss for just a second now to catch his breath. Align the head of his dick with your soaking wetness, just before he rails your juicy cunt to death. Seeking your wide eyes for that sacred yes. No hope of speaking when you’re such a fucking mess. Your hands have found your way down to the firm globes of his ass to pull him in right where you want him so he doesn’t have to guess.

And when he enters—when he enters—hoooly fuck it feels like all the host of heaven and the heat of hell at once have come to bless and curse this humble little daycare center.

Your fate is sealed then as a fucking whore for Jax Teller and you will gladly fill this role forever. Hope and pray that you’ll be spending all your fucking lives together.

The sex—the love—it fucking wrecks, the way it’s rough and yet so soft. So good it’s bad. The best and worst you’ve ever had.

He didn’t need a line to pick you up at all. The hope of love, sent from the fucking stars above, lifts you both up higher the harder that you fall.

The hope of love... and the hope of spending forever with Jax Teller as his filthy little fuckdoll.

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

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barnesandco · 3 years

Text

Little Hands (II)

Series Masterlist

You, Bucky, and Anastasia pay Bruce Banner a visit.

This is an entry for @star-spangled-bingo 2021. Word count: 1836. Square filled: “You don’t wanna know.”

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: More Sad Child. Needles, fear of. So much overthinking.

A/N: Gosh, I’m so glad I got this chapter edited in time. I hope you like it and I’m sorry for skipping out on y’all last week! To make up for it, there’ll be two updates this weekend, so look out for the next chapter tomorrow! Lmk what you thinkkkk

The Avengers Compound is every bit as spectacular as you could have possibly hoped, and yet you’re unable to fully appreciate it because of the sheer absurdity of the situation. Your hand is in the vice-tight grip of the supposed daughter of your neighbor, who happens to be an Avenger.

Said neighbor is pacing back and forth in front of you as you sit in Bruce Banner’s laboratory, with Anastasia beside you while you wait for Bruce to arrive. Ana is remarkably calm, her young features – the round cheeks, still-wet eyes – made mature by her abnormal silence. Something about her makes you think she’s used to this kind of tension. Something about her screams war-child. Perhaps this grip she has on you is the first demand she has made in a long time, the only tantrum she has ever been allowed to throw.

While you aren’t particularly experienced with children, you think you want her to feel safe with you, because it seems she hasn’t been elsewhere. Ana’s eyes flit around the room in the only behavioral indication of her youth – a childlike curiosity, shining in the face of this fancy, new place that gleams like a toy store. Every now and then, her gaze jumps back from the alien appearance of the lab to her father (?) who seems intent on wearing a hole in the tiles with his pacing.

It is beginning to wear on you: both Bucky’s pacing and Ana’s steadily increasing anxiety. He hasn’t said a word to her since he opened the envelope, only asked that you accompany him to the Compound seeing as Ana won’t go alone with him (You would have gone with him even if that hadn’t been so. Though the nature of your relationship is ambiguous at times, the strength of your friendship is not. You’ll figure this out. You won’t leave him alone). Clearly, there is some unspoken memory that has him convinced the claim in the letter is plausible. Neither of you would be here if it wasn’t.

Bucky doesn’t talk too much about his past. He has offered a few of the shattered shards of his past reflection to you in the few night-caped moments you have hammered on his door upon hearing shouts across the hall. Between that, and what you know thanks to Black Widow’s file dump, the big Avengers’ in-fight in Europe last summer, the consequent resolution to the Accords, and Bucky’s publicized pardon, you can guess at the traumas that lurk in the depths of him.

They’re traumas that are closer to the surface of his eyes now, pulled forth by this new life, this little soul that has no business with such dark things, and the implication that this holds. Ana, innocent as she may be, is an insinuation of what else might have been unwillingly torn from Bucky.

You don’t want to think about it, because it hurts to do so, because you care for him, in many, many ways. It seems that Anastasia is also starting to tire of it. With every step Bucky takes, her hand tightens on yours. Fortunately, soon, the door to your left opens, and Bruce Banner enters his lab.

He's appropriately disheveled for this hour in the morning. Under his pristine lab coat, one of his shirt buttons is done into the wrong buttonhole, but his eyes are alert, frantic even, though you get the feeling that this is a man always on the edge of escape.

Bucky lets out a breath he seems to have been holding at the same time as his shoulders tense. “Thanks for coming so early, Doctor Banner. I wouldn’t have called if—”

“You never call, so I know it must have been important. But it looks like I’ve kept you waiting anyways,” Banner says, his eyes widening as they move from Bucky, to you, to the little girl at your side. “What’s the matter? You know I’m not a medical doctor, right?” He asks, putting a work bench between himself and his visitors.

Bucky clears his throat, and doesn’t quite know how to say what he needs to. After a few more seconds of hesitation, in which Banner waits patiently, Bucky extracts the envelope containing the fateful letter from his pocket, and hands it over.

The furrows in Doctor Banner’s brow multiply spontaneously, and when he looks up, Bucky gestures with a subtle nod of his head to Ana. He has yet to explain your presence, but you think Doctor Banner is a smart man. It won’t take more than Anastasia’s tight hold on you for him to put two and two together. Sometimes, a scared child is just that, no matter how unusual.

Most of their ensuing conversation is held at a lowered volume, set by Bucky, probably out of courtesy for Ana. You can hear snatches and phrases, most of them confirmations of things you had expected and some, not so much. Lobby security cam footage… fingerprints… paternity test… serum… blood sample…

By the end of it, some facsimile of a plan seems to have evolved between the two men, because Doctor Banner turns away with a smile and you, taking it as a welcome, stand and approach him. He rounds his desk and shakes your hand, exchange introductions though he hardly needs one, and then, he crouches, the way Bucky had, and offers Ana his hand.

“Hi, I’m Bruce.”

“Ana.”

Bucky steps forward. “Anastasia—” the name is clumsy on his tongue, because he’s scared. You can see it, and you hope he knows you are, too, but you’ll stand with him regardless, “—Bruce is going to check that you aren’t sick.”

“I’m okay.”

“We need to be sure.”

“Okay.”

Banner pulls out a chair, and you’re about to sit Ana down on it, when she pushes you gently into it, and sits on your lap. You can do nothing but wrap your arms gently around her, so she doesn’t fall. The apology in Bucky’s eyes is melted with a sympathetic smile. It’s alright. A child developing an inexplicable affection for you is not the worst thing to ever happen to you.

Ana is warm and a comfortable weight on you, and you hold her as loosely as you can, feel the movement of her chest against your arms with each breath. Her hair is a mix of wool-thick and silk-soft against your chin, smelling faintly of the sugar-sweet strawberry scent found in children’s shampoos. Someone took care of her.

Someone she isn’t asking for. What kind of child doesn’t ask for their mother, past the initial, momentary heartbreak? How has she come to terms with the apparent change in custody, when the new custodian hasn’t?

Whether Bucky is to be the new guardian has yet to be determined. You can see Bruce pulling out a syringe and preparing a vial. You wonder if she’s scared of needles. Bucky flinches at the sight of them, even now. He’s said that his disdain for the cold clinicism of medicine dates back to long before Hydra. Medical equipment reminds him of worrying that his best friend was going to die. It’s the fear he has harbored longest, longer than his fear of war, of gunshots in the dark, of blood on his hands.

Ana shares it. When she sees the needle, she screams, and Bucky lunges forward to help you hold her in place. She’s so, so much stronger than you thought and while you can hold her limbs, her head thrashes about, and so does her torso, making it impossible for Bruce to get to the inside of her elbow.

In the chaos, your eye lands on a trinket on a nearby desk, sitting there like a peace offering, literally beckoning to you. “Hey, Ana,” you whisper-yell, trying not to get hit in the jaw by her head. “Do you like animals? Cats? I have a friend who has lots and lots of cats, and I could take you to see them.” It’s working. You’re out of breath, but she’s quieting. Most little kids love cats. You love cats. “I think Bruce has a toy cat. See, over there?” You dare to lift an arm to point at the maneki-neko on the table. Ana stills. Her eyes follow the hypnotic movement, and the syringe at Ana’s elbow does its job.

When the bandage is put on, you and Bucky let go with twin nervous chuckles of relief and disbelief, and Bruce puts the vial in a machine. Ana hops off to approach the desk, and bats at the paw waving at her like a mirror of it.

“We should have the results soon. I think the others are starting to wake up, if you want to say hi,” Bruce says, taking off his glasses and wiping them on the corner of his lab coat.

“Maybe later,” you say, seeing that Bucky is hardly in any position to converse casually with his teammates right now. Not to mention, it’d be a lot of work to explain Ana, especially before having any sort of confirmation of who she is.

Bucky pulls out a chair next to you while Bruce opens a laptop a few counters away, and an x-ray machine lifts its head behind Ana, who has moved on from the lucky cat, and is stroking the leaves of a flowering plant.

“Peace lily,” Bucky says, startling you. You look at him, the bags under his eyes, the way he almost looks his age right now, and fight the urge to hold his hand. “It’s the first flower I bought for my apartment. I put it in a community garden after a nightmare about the war. Didn’t feel right for me to have it.”

He's talking about the Second World War. The war always refers to his first war. You think he’s talking about peace, and not the lily, after what he’s done. After what he was forced to do.

“It’s not your fault,” is an automatic response, and never enough, especially for the war, because at least he was in his own senses, even if he was drafted. It always elicits a self-deprecating laugh, but right now, he’s too tired for even that.

Right now, he can only watch as the x-ray camera follows Ana around the room, from the peace lilies, to an Amazon elephant’s ear, to a strange sculpture made from Coca-Cola cans glued together by what looks like spider-webs.

Too soon, Bruce calls you over to his work station. You follow Bucky, one eye on Ana.

“She’s yours,” Bruce says, and Bucky inhales sharply. Now, you do take his hand, stroke the metal ridges with your calloused thumb. “But she has disproportionately more of your DNA than her mother’s.”

“What does that mean?”

Bruce wrings his hands. “She’s not a complete clone, but nearly a genetic copy. 80% of a clone, if you will.”

Bucky is growing increasingly uncomfortable, shifting next to you. “How’s that possible?”

“You don’t wanna know.”

#SSB2021 #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes fanfic #reader insert #fanfiction #marvel fanfiction #marvel fanfic #marvel #mcu #fanfic

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thefatiguedfatale · 2 years

Text

The Strawhats and the Monster of Kuraigana Island Pt.1

Part 1| Part 2| Part 3

Scooby Doo AU

Word Count: 1.2k

Warnings: slight mentions of blood and injury.

Summary: The Strawhat Pirates have a mystery on their hands.

A/N: Hello! This is my first entry for the @onepiece-bingo event! One of the categories I had gotten was mystery and the first thing that came to mind were obviously the mystery solving icons, the Scooby Doo gang. So this is just a fun little AU of the strawhats having their own mystery to solve. I had to cut this into multiple parts because it was getting a little too long though haha. I will be posting the other parts in the next few days though! Enjoy!

The Sunny was making its way closer and closer to the island before them. However, the island was resolutely determined to turn them away. Howling winds, torrential rain, overwhelming claps of thunder and lightning strikes swallowed the Sunny whole. The seas only grew rougher and rougher as they got closer. Each person on board was desperately working to get the ship docked safely.

With heavy rains pouring, the ship heavily rocking, thunder booming across the sky and Nami screaming out orders to the crew, it was impossible for anyone to hear the blood curdling scream that came from the island before them.

After what seemed like forever of navigating the harrowing seas, they had miraculously docked the ship safely off the side of the island. Luffy, of course, was the first to eagerly hop off the ship to the shore below. Robin and the rest of the crew besides Nami, Usopp and Chopper casually followed his lead.

“Ooo this place looks spooky huh?” Luffy commented, and indeed it did.

It seemed that the torrential storm was only isolated to the seas away from the island, but that did not make the island any less eerie. The dark clouds of the storm hovered over the island, eclipsing the afternoon sun. The island became impossible to see in its entirety. The heavy forests that started immediately after the shore line ended only hindered the view even further. Each tree was impossible tall and had long thick branches that encircled and intertwined themselves into one another. The only thing a person could see if they tried to stare into an opening of a tree branch was the creeping darkness staring right back. That is, until a bright flash of lighting illuminates the forest brush and the ceilings of the large brooding castle become visible at the center of the island.

“Oh, I don’t like this place. I don’t like this place at all.” Usopp called from the deck of the Sunny, half of the crew were already off and walking along the island shore eager to search the dark forests.

“It looks fun! Did you see that spooky looking castle? Let’s go exploring! Don't be a baby!” Luffy laughed

“I am not a baby! But I do have common sense! Scary storm, plus creepy forest, plus haunted mansion. equals a bad idea!” Usopp made an ‘x’ with his forearms. The branches seemed to squirm and slither at the compliments.

“I know you're bad at math Luffy but come on let’s just find another island to sail to.”

Robin interjected “It is interesting though that the storm doesn’t seem to reach the island at all even though its pattern would indicate that it should.” She paused for a moment, thinking. “Maybe there is some sort of shield around it. Or a force inside of the forest that is keeping the storm away.”

“A force? What kind of force?” Nami, who was standing behind Usopp, asked.

“I’m not sure. It could be anything. Maybe some kind of natural event, or a devil fruit user, or a supernatural force.”

“Supernatural?” whispered Chopper, who was hiding behind Nami, who was hiding behind Usopp, who was hiding behind the railing of the Sunny.

“Yes, maybe aliens, or ghosts, or some kind of humanoid monster. There have been some rumors about a few of the islands on the Grand Line that they may be under the possession of these forces.” She pauses again “I wonder if that building holds any information about it.”

“Aliens?”

“Ghosts?”

“Monsters?”

Nami, Chopper, and Usopp all cried out in overlapping protests of getting off the ship.

“You guys are no fun. Come on and let's go find that spooky castle!” Luffy stretched out his arms and grabbed all three of them to pull them down from the ship and off into the forest.

It was a long and harrowing walk through the forest brush. Zoro, Sanji and Franky took the lead in the front, cutting away at all the branches that stood in their way. That was only the least of their problems. A heavy fog started to settle itself in and around the forest, making everything even more difficult to see through. Even though each of them were only mere feet away from each other, the only real indication that anyone was still there were the sounds of each other’s footsteps crunching against the forest floor.

About an hour of swatching and swatting passed before a groan was heard from behind the group. Was it from one of the girls?

The group paused.

“Nami, my love, are you alright?” Sanji called through the branches a few feet ahead of them, kicking away a branch poking at his side.

“Yea im fine! That wasn't me. Robin?”

“I'm alright.”

“So then who was that?” You could hear Usopp's teeth chattering from miles away.

The groans come again, a word now more distinct coming through the moaning.

“Help.” It was coming from behind the group. They all rush backwards on the path they made to find the source of the groans. It didn't take them long to find out where it was coming from. From a path a little further to the left from where they passed they found a small clearing of branches and tree trucks. Another flash of lightning illuminated the terrifying scene in front of them.

In the middle of the clearing was a girl lying on a fallen trunk. Bright pink hair was splayed over the trunk of the tree where she seemed close to unconsciousness. Her body was bruised, her outfit was torn almost to shreds with small bits of her own blood staining her already bright red clothing an even deeper hue. A pink parcol lay tattered and broken next to her.

Chopper does not hesitate to rush and assess the girl for damage. The group stood to the back watching the doctor work, some worried for the girl, others more worried about who or what hurt her. A few moments pass and he starts pulling first aid from his backpack to try to stop the bleeding from some of the wounds. He calls out to the group that he believes that she was unconscious before another groan escapes her lips.

Chopper jumps back terrified. All of them stood frozen in panic. She was still conscious!

Robin was the first to move closer to the girl “What happened to you?” she asked.

The girl could barely speak. She inaudibly mumbled out some words, but the ones even loud enough to hear were incomprehensible. Chopper told the crew that the girl needed to be treated back on the ship where he had more of his-

“Monster…” everyone whipped their heads towards the girl.

She shakily raised a hand up from her side and loosely pointed in front of her. The entire crew slowly looked over to the direction she was pointing. Lightning strikes again and illuminates the sky. The castle lay directly in her finger’s path.

“Is that what did this to you? A monster?”

She began to mumble out a few more words, but in moments she succumbed to her fate and fell into unconsciousness.

Silence fell among the crew.

A monster?

#strawhat crew #monkey d. luffy #one piece nami #nico robin #franky (one piece)#vinsmoke sanji #chopper #tony tony chopper #usopp one piece #roronoa zoro #one piece fanfiction #one piece mystery #mystery incorporated #scooby gang

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the-infamous-coat-of-baron-zemo · 3 years

Text

Missed Opportunities | Helmut Zemo x Reader | Chapter 3

Welcome to Part 3! You've made it this far? I'm impressed. Thank you for sticking around. This is quite the long chapter so, I hope you enjoy the juicy action all around.

And this one was quite the doozy to write. It's 3AM now? Hah, I've spent the entire day writing two chapters. But definitely don't expect more at quite this frequency. But I appreciate you all none the less.

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Tag Requests: @lostghostgirl94 @neoarchipelago @fillechatoyante @fanfics-ig

Did I miss someone? For future tag requests: Please send me a direct message if possible, it's easy to lose people in the mix and I don't want to miss anyone!

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For previous chapters go here: Part 1 | Part 2

Word Count: 5.358

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

It had been precisely three hours, forty-two minutes since two Avengers and a criminal mastermind had left the safe house you were staying in.

You were currently staring up at the ceiling with mild boredom waiting for the next round of texts to come in. An alert notification rang through the near empty residence, the noise echoed off the walls of the living room intensifying the reverberation of sound.

Rolling over, you flopped onto you stomach from your position on the couch, stretching your arm out to grab the phone off the coffee table.

Carefully, you read the incoming message. 'No recent signs of Karli, but following up on a handprint Bucky found a couple miles from our initial start position. Zemo has a theory it might lead to a section of tunnel that veers off towards the harbor. Will update again in another hour. - S'

Great.

So they'll easily be gone at least another couple hours, leaving you to your own devices. That's dangerous. There's no telling what kind of trouble you could get into without something to do. Your mind was always processing, constantly formulating new plans and calculating risk probabilities. It's why you were so fidgety and animated. You didn't inherently have ADHD, but your brain was so active the symptoms manifested as such. You had a genius level intelligence, you just chose to down-play it most of the time. You craved activities to keep your mind from going into overdrive; it's why you spend most of your mornings running. To drain your body of excess energy and let your brain rest.

You groaned in irritation, tossing the phone back onto the coffee table. Sam could have at least given you a pin point location so you could do some research on the area where the handprint was found.

Maybe you could read for a bit.

You got up and headed to your room at the back of the apartment. Zemo gave you the last room at the end of the hallway, it also happened to be the only room that had a half bath attached to it. Which in retrospect, was quite thoughtful of him.

As you reached your room, a chilly draft fell across your body, causing goosebumps to raise on your fair skin. You noticed you left a window open in the room and moved to close it. Often times, late at night you sat at the window sill and read to pass the time when you couldn't sleep. Sometimes, you'd crack the window open and simply listen to the sounds of the outside; they were just as soothing. There was no denying it was quite lovely where you were staying. Helmut Zemo had impeccable taste.

You grabbed your book and crossed the room, rubbing your arm to help circulate some heat back into your body, but before you got to the door, a patch of blue caught your eye. Zemo's hoodie. It had been left draped haphazardly over the back of one of the chairs in your room. A constant reminder you needed to give it back to the Baron, but you weren't ready to just yet, and funnily enough, he hadn't asked for it.

Shifting from foot to foot, you debated what to do. It was comfortable. Wearing it one last time couldn't hurt, right? There wasn't anyone here to cajole you about it anyways and you could just take it off before the guys got back. Perfectly reasonable. Before you could talk yourself out of it, you snagged the garment off the chair and pulled it on as you walked back out to the main living room, book in hand.

As you rounded the corner and made your way through the kitchen back to the couch, you heard a loud metallic bang against the entry-way door accompanied with the tell tale signs of door knobs turning. Caught off guard by the sudden intrusion, you had leapt off the ground, clutching the book to your chest.

You stared at the door in fear knowing it was way too soon for anyone to have returned yet. And they wouldn't have caused the disruption in the attempts to break in. Pushing down your apprehension, your senses started to return to you, and you realized you need to get to your phone. Now.

Your eyes moved across the apartment and landed on the coffee table a short distance away from you. Bingo. You took a step forward towards the table when the front doors suddenly swung open and a whirl of red, white and blue flew past your face. The projectile, nearly hitting you, caused you to stumble, knocking you backwards onto the floor. You landed clumsily, but thankfully caught yourself before your head smacked against the ground.

You didn't need to look up to know exactly what object flew at your head. The sound alone was unmistakable.

"Apologies for the erratic entrance, I only meant to use it to help open the door - I hadn't planned on Lemar here unlocking the them so easily. When the doors fell open, it kind of just flew right out of my hand."

Annoyance had now replaced your fear.

John Walker.

You had many opinions of the man based off what Sam and Bucky had told you, but you hadn't had the pleasure of actually meeting him. Until now.

This did not help sway your opinion of him in the very least. If anything, it only solidified that the government had made a rash decision. You don't just had over the shield to anyone.

You glared up at the intruders from your position on the floor. This was completely unexpected. How did he even manage to locate this safe house? Something nagged at the back of your mind that Captain Walker might have had help from people with a questionable background. You shoved the thought aside for the time being.

Lemar had gone around to the back of the couch and pulled the shield out of the wall embedded in between the two stained windows. Walker, who stood next to you, was offering his hand to help you up.

You didn't even make an effort to consider his gesture and got up off the floor without his assistance, dusting yourself off in the process.

Walker appeared undeterred by your dismissal of him and instead put on a winning smile and rotated his hand in the attempts of a handshake.

"I think we got off on the wrong foot. John Walker. Captain America," he proudly stated.

"I know who you are Captain Walker, as well as your friend here," you briskly answered, crossing your arms in front of you.

You could see the smile start to drop off his face and his eyes turn a bit darker.

"And I know who you are as well, you're well documented along with the Avengers, but I was trying to be polite," Walker grounded out with forced effort.

You didn't want to start an argument with the newly anointed Captain America, but there was something off about him that just irritated you.

"Polite?" you sarcastically question. "How is barging into someone's residence, polite? Please, do explain," you shifted your weight onto one side, giving him an expectant look.

"I don't have to explain myself to you. In case you've forgotten, I'm Captain America," he took a step towards you, his body language highly suggesting an intimidation tactic.

You held your tongue and took a step back to place more distance between yourself and Walker. You spared a glance at his partner to gauge his reaction, but his expression was guarded, although he was watching with rapt attention.

"What do you want, Walker?" you bit out. You attempted to keep some of the contempt out of your voice, but he had quickly turned your mood sour this afternoon.

"Where's Zemo?" Walker cut straight to the chase this time.

"Not here, obviously," you held your arms out, gesturing around.

"I want to know where Zemo is. He's coming with us," the captain took another step towards you, this time with a more forceful intention.

You furrowed your brow and took another step back. His posturing was starting to make you slightly nervous.

"Even if I did know where he was, I'm not saying either way. Zemo has been surprisingly helpful to us, and we need him to locate Karli along with the rest of the Flag-Smashers, including the missing vials of serum. And he's more likely to continue working with us, than provide you with any information at all. That I can say with absolute certainty," your words sounded confident, but inside you were trembling.

That was apparently the wrong thing to say to Captain America.

His entire demeanor changed. Once where there was some warmth and light-heartedness, there was only a cold emptiness left in his gaze. He reached back to grab the shield from Lemar, and then without any warning shoved you back against the wall to your left.

You heard the distinct sound of your right shoulder pop as is slammed into the wall along with the rest of your body. The rapid movement from Walker and impact from the shield knocked the wind right out of you. The pressure from the amount of force he was exerting pinned you to the wall and caused the shield to be painfully pressed into your side, separating you from Walker. You could feel the rim of the shield digging slightly into your neck, but not enough to cause any real damage.

"John!" you heard Hoskins shout with alarm from behind Walker.

You swallowed thickly; very real fear had settled into your bones. You were capable of defending yourself, but hadn't actually needed to put those skills into any use. Bucky and Sam had taught you some moves and hold to get out of, but it never crossed any of your minds once you'd have to fight Captain America. You tried to shift your head to the side to see how far away your phone was. What possible options you had. Maybe you could appeal to his partner and deescalate the situation before things got too ugly.

"I'm only going to ask this one last time. Where is Zemo?" Walker spit out, putting force against the shield, which in turn, caused you to grimace in pain.

"Hoskins, you really going to allow Captain America to torture an innocent citizen trying to help in a cause we're all aligned in?" you gasped out, trying to swallow as much air as possible through the pain wracking your body.

You refused to let it show. Holding back as much of the discomfort you were in. You didn't want to give Walker the satisfaction.

"John, ease up. She's not a terrorist, and frankly, I agree with her," Hoskins voiced, his footsteps bringing him closer to Walker with the hopes of gaining his attention no doubt.

The pressure from the shield against your form was lifted slightly, though the shield was still closer to your body than you'd like to admit. You closed your eyes to focus on regaining some stability and figure out your next course of action to get yourself out of this mess.

"Stay out of this Lemar," John replied, but his menacing stature had lessened minutely.

You opened your eyes to stare at Walker. He had removed the shield between the two of you and placed it on his back; however he stepped into your personal space instead and placed a hand against your collarbone, essentially rendering you immobile again.

Well, at least now you could breathe.

Walker peered down at you with distain, "You're really not going to give him up are you?"

You clenched your jaw and lifted your chin defiantly at him.

"No," you answered.

The wheels were turning inside Walker's head. You could literally see the fire burning in his eyes, realizing he wasn't going to get an answer out of you. Not willingly.

He dipped his head and released his hold on you, pointing a finger right at your face, "This isn't over. Not by a long shot."

You saw Lemar walk up and pat Walker's shoulder, "Alright, let's get out of here."

Walker straightened up and stiffly walked away, leaving Hoskins trailing behind. His ego had taken a blow today.

Hoskins gave an apologetic shrug, "He's under a lot of stress."

Before Lemar could fully clear your line of sight, you quietly spoke up, "He doesn't deserve that shield."

Hoskins didn't have a response to that.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

In wake of the aftermath, you had tried to clean up as best possible. You assessed your injuries were non life-threatening, though your right shoulder was most definitely dislocated. The arm was kept close against your body hoping to not jostle it too much. You felt spikes of pain as you cleaned the area where Walker had thrown the shield into the wall, but ignored it so you could get the place back in shape before Sam, Bucky and Zemo returned.

Sam had messaged not too long ago, they were roughly 20 minutes out from the apartment.

Your ribs were throbbing from where the shield had been buried into your side, but you didn't think they had been broken, only bruised. You were going to have to ask one of them pop your shoulder back into place.

You were dreading the conversation, but were determined to remain as calm as possible to help alleviate the immediate reaction they were going to have once you revealed what happened.

The events of the day had finally caught up with you and coupled with the cleaning efforts, your body was signaling it's exhaustion. You were in the kitchen, and honestly didn't think you could make the short trip to one of the sofas; so you carefully sat on one of the chairs in the kitchen and waited patiently.

Sure enough, 20 minutes later, the doors to the apartment opened and the guys swiftly came in to greet you.

"Did you even leave the kitchen?" James inquired, coasting around the kitchen to grab a drink.

You smiled tightly and responded in kind, "For a short while, yes. Did you guys find anything worth while?" You quickly wanted to change the subject but knowing you were only delaying the inevitable.

"Yeah, we think we've discovered a possible building Karli is using to hideout in. We had planned on eating something quickly and then leave again to check it out tonight," Sam explained.

As Sam was talking, Bucky had accidently bumped into you, causing you to wince and pull your arm tighter to you. Luckily, he didn't see your face, but Sam did.

"Hey, you okay?" Sam questioned, voice filling with concern.

You blew out a breath bracing yourself for what you were about to say.

"What happened to my wall?" Zemo piped up, giving you a curious glance, he had moved to run his hand along the diagonal cut, inches deep, in the space between the ceiling to floor windows.

Bucky left his glass and walked over to get a better look, as did Sam. Both of them would know precisely what caused a mark like that to become etched into a wall.

Sam and Bucky snapped their heads back to you as soon as they saw the indention, but it was Zemo who spoke first.

"John Walker was here," he stated, shrugging off his coat and hanging it over the back of the couch he was nearby.

"It was an, eventful afternoon here," you tried to put some overly cheerful, comedic tones into your voice, but failed pretty miserably.

"What happened?" Sam immediately asked.

The trio had made their way back to the kitchen to get answers from you.

Zemo came to stand nearby, eyes roaming your body, searching. With his expertise, there was no question that he would quickly figure out you were injured; so you tried to tell your story as concisely as possible.

"Um, so - Walker and Lemar showed up. He asked for Zemo. I told him he wasn't here aaaaand they left. The end," you hurriedly spoke, wanting to get this over with and not draw any more attention to yourself.

But you could see in Helmut's eyes, he knew there was more to your story. His carefully crafted mask was starting to crack as you saw his gaze drift down to you cradling your arm underneath the island away from Bucky and Sam's eyeline.

"You're hurt," Zemo said. His face showed open concern as he walked the remaining distance to you.

With more tenderness than you thought possible coming from him, he slowly and carefully moved your right arm away from your body. He kept his eyes trained on you for any discomfort or signs of pain.

Once your arm had left your lap though, you reached over with your left hand to grip one of his wrists to prevent him from moving your arm any further.

"Don't, please," you pleaded, gritting your teeth and swallowing down the pain threatening to erupt from you. You were panting now, and more clear than ever something had happened to you while they were gone.

Helmut released your arm without hesitation, but did not leave your side. You saw him exchange tense looks between James and Sam. Normally, Bucky would have been focused on keeping Zemo away from you, but with the current circumstances, he was no longer a priority.

"What actually happened?" Bucky softly called out, he and Sam had gotten closer to take a better look at you. Sam brought a chair out to sit next to you and give you a once over, while you explained.

The expressions on their faces were grim as they anxiously awaited your reply.

"It wasn't - it's not quite as bad as it seems," you started, stuttering out the words as Sam brought his hands up to check your head for any injuries first.

"He just barged right in and was insistent on finding Zemo. He was acting so arrogant and pompous, I just refused to give him any information on his whereabouts," you continued on. "He didn't like the fact I wasn't willing to cooperate with "Captain America" and he got a little.....rough with me."

Sam paused his surveying to meet your gaze. You could see the guilt beginning to creep into his eyes. He turned his head to look up at Bucky, who was angrily flexing his vibranium arm in displeasure. Probably only affirming his notion that Sam should have never given up the shield in the first place.

"What did he do?" Bucky's tone brook no argument. He wanted to know the truth.

You scrunched your face in unpleasantness when Sam checked your lower neck and collarbone, he had found the place on your body where the shield and his hand had met you.

"Is this from - ?" Sam couldn't finish his sentence and he looked away in anger. You could tell he just wanted to get up and throw something, and that was commonly uncharacteristic for him.

Zemo had shifted his position to take a peek at what Sam was doing while he checked you out. You saw how his eyes had darkened with quiet rage taking stock of everything. There was an outline of a thin scrap mark against the underside of your neck and jaw, but it was a clear demarcation that would only be caused from the shield itself.

You nodded sadly and focused on answering Bucky's question as you gave Sam the okay to keep going.

"Walker, didn't get what he wanted, so he did the only other thing he knows how to do," you cleared your throat and rubbed your hand against your forehead.

"Use brute force," Zemo darkly said.

"He used the shield to push me up against the wall over there," you pointed over as you continued re-telling what happened. "I was knocked into the wall pretty hard, but Walker lost all focus and nearly suffocated me from the force of the shield against my body. I think he -" you yelped like a wounded animal, not able to finish your story when Sam touched your shoulder.

Bucky's eyes had widen and became deeply concerned over your pained scream.

Your muscled were clenched tight as you tried to ride out the pain, face starting to turn red.

Zemo had placed a light hand on your back, leaning down to comfort you and remind you to breath.

You fumbled with your good arm as you tried taking in deep breaths and motioned to Sam what was wrong with your arm.

Even with your poor mime animation of pretending to have your arm pulled from your socket, James picked up on what you were getting at. He tapped Sam to switch places with him. Your eyes were watering at this point and you blinked back the tears wanting to fall.

"Alright doll, on the count of three, I'm going to raise your arm and put pressure on your shoulder, okay?" Bucky solemnly said.

Sam gave you a smile of assurance while Zemo ended up taking your good hand, letting you know you could use him to brace yourself. He and James shared a silent conversation before nodding at one another. If Sam had a problem with Zemo providing you comfort, he didn't show it. You figured he was letting some of his dormant humanity rise to surface in this moment.

You shook slightly trying to prepare yourself for the next round of pain once your shoulder was fixed, but James didn't give you any time.

"Three," he commanded, snapping your shoulder back into its socket before you had a chance to even reaction.

You let out another cry of pain, holding onto Zemo's hand tightly, but somehow, the fear of the oncoming pain dissipated as you let go of his hand and rubbed your shoulder with minimal soreness.

You cleared your throat and looked at everyone after a few moments of rest. Surprised at how efficiently James had handled your shoulder, but then again, he was the perfect person to do the job.

You scrunched up your nose at James, "What happened to one and two?"

He huffed out a laugh, "It worked didn't it?"

"Thank you. All of you," you gave a lazy smile through the tiredness that filled you up. "I think I'll be okay now - that was the worst of it. Promise. Walker didn't do any further harm to me. I managed to convince Lemar to get Walker to back down," you glossed over the section where Walker threatened you, but you could bring that up later.

None of them were satisfied with your response, but you're guessing they let it slide given the circumstances.

Zemo reached into the freezer to grab an ice pack. He handed it to you to place on your shoulder helping with your recovery. You accepted it from him extremely grateful. You mused your opinion of him was constantly evolving the more time you actually spent with him.

Sam had asked if you were sure there weren't any other areas you wanted to have checked over for injuries.

You assured him, you were alright, just tired and very sore.

Bucky had swiftly gotten up from his chair and made it known he wanted to go after Walker this evening. You knew he wasn't going to let this incident go any time soon. Sam had also been in agreement after fully understanding what transpired, but Zemo was eerily silent.

"You guys should follow your original plan. Don't let Walker distract you. I'm alive and I am going to be okay. Go follow your lead on Karli," you interjected, trying to be the reasonable one. There was no need for them to go off halfcocked while they were still very upset. You were too, if you were being honest with yourself, but your focus was on your friends first and foremost.

"Well, we're not leaving you here alone. I can stay behind and let Zemo and Sam check things out," James said.

"Actually, it makes the most sense if I stay behind," Zemo chimed in.

"Why is that?" Sam countered warily.

"The particular location you are going to, I have....a history there. It would be wise for me to not be seen in that part of town as to not raise any alarm bells," he reasoned with them.

"And why should we trust you with her?" Bucky asked, suspicion creeping into his voice.

"Because I have no motive to do any harm to her nor shall I allow any further injury come to her. On this James, I give you my word," Helmut replied, the seriousness of his tone was not lost on anyone in the room.

"Okay," Sam relented, moving about the kitchen to pack some food for their evening night out.

"Just like that, huh?" James said with disbelief.

"Yeah, just like that," Sam parroted back.

Bucky wasn't happy about the situation, but there was an urgency to find Karli, so he caved.

James leaned over on the counter to make sure you were 100% okay being left along with Zemo, reminding you at any time you can call and they'd rush back instantly for whatever reason.

You stood up slowly, balancing the ice pack on your shoulder and shuffled over a few steps towards him, "Thank you. Now, go."

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

You waved to to your friends a second round of goodbyes for the day. You sagged against the counter, temporarily forgetting about Zemo for the moment. You really needed to lie down.

As if he read your thoughts, you suddenly felt his presence as an arm wrapped around your waist, resting firmly against your hip.

"Here, let me help you get someplace more comfortable than this," Zemo asserted, taking his free hand and dropping the ice pack from your shoulder onto the counter. He then grabbed your left hand, raising your arm and wrapped it around his neck to help support you. So now most of your weight is on your left side, allowing your right to have most of the pressure released from your injuries.

You were so close to him you could smell his expensive cologne and aftershave. It was intoxicating and caused your head to swim a little. You stumbled slightly, but Zemo kept you steady as you both made your way to your room.

In your exhausted state, you managed to sneak in a few glances to Zemo, who was concentrating on the task at hand, not wanting to cause any jarring movements. He deserved more credit than you had been giving him; he truly did seem to care in his own warped way.

Once you had gotten to your room, he guided you to the bed to lie down. Not once had you complained. A true testament of just how tired you were. You couldn't even muster a snarky reply at his disheveled state of being, from practically dragging you down the hallway.

You snuggled into the hoodie you were wearing and tried to lie in a position that wouldn't cause too much discomfort for your shoulder and ribs.

Zemo had stepped into the closet and when he returned he came back with a couple extra pillows. He propped them against your injured side to prevent you from rolling over during the night.

If nothing else, Zemo was incredibly thorough when he focused on something. And right now, that focus was you. It was unnerving, but also thrilling at the same time. Maybe you did have a head injury, because all you could do was smirk at how utterly adorable he was tending to you. It made you curious as to whether this was what Zemo was like before. For the first time, you really wanted to know more about him.

You saw how he was confident in everything he does, and this situation was no different apparently. He had been muttering to himself as he adjusted bedding and made sure there was nothing in the room that you could trip over if you had to get up. He was taking in all the possibilities, like you did.

He had been actively avoiding looking at you though since Bucky and Sam left. You weren't entirely sure why, as he's had zero problems watching you over the past several days. You have a feeling it's because you're one of a few people who have seen beneath the surface of Helmut Zemo, and he's reacting the only way he knows how to at this moment.

Distraction.

You were too sleepy to ponder this any further and turned your head to the side to see what Zemo was fiddling with now.

He had finished up the last of his tasks and looked around the room satisfied with his work. Only then did he turn to look at you.

If it had been anyone else, you would swear that Zemo almost seemed nervous. He was, at many times in your experience, hard to read; so all of these new expressions are a different side for you to see.

Zemo tentatively sat on the edge of the bed next to you.

"Do you need anything?" he genuinely inquired.

You shook your head, indicating you didn't.

All of a sudden he laughed. It ended nearly as quickly as it had began. You raised an eyebrow him in reply, but he simply tugged on the sleeve of his hoodie you were still wearing.

Too tired to be embarrassed about it, you simply mumbled, "Shut up. I still plan on giving it back, although, given it's track record, you should quite possibly get rid of it. After what happened today, I think it might be bad luck."

You saw Zemo dip his head and chuckle at your reply. He look much more carefree when he laughed. You'd have to add him to your daily list. Make Zemo laugh.

His expression sobered rather quickly though and became pensive after that, staring out the window briefly before resting his gaze back on you.

"You keep it. It looks better on you."

Not knowing what to say, caught up in the storm in his eyes, you give a small smile. You can feel your cheeks turning red under the intensity of his stare.

Zemo stood up, getting ready to leave when you stopped him by latching onto his wrist.

"Wait," you murmured.

The swift action caused him to furrow his brow in confusion.

You weren't sure exactly what you wanted from him, only that you didn't want him to go.

"Stay."

You could tell you startled him with your request. Your eyes grew larger realizing the potential double meaning.

"Just until I fall asleep?" you clarified, a yawn escaped as you covered your mouth.

Zemo visibly relaxed and had you relinquish your hold on his arm so he could pull up a chair to your bed. He turned his head around the room in search of something. He went to the nightstand and picked up your book.

Amusement flitted across the features of his face as he read the cover. Zemo sat down on the chair and propped his feet up on the side of the bed.

You shut your eyes and tried to block out the soreness covering your body. Tomorrow would be worse. The next day always is. You had begun to doze off, when ever so quietly, you heard Zemo's voice fill the room.

He was reading to you. Lulling you into a peaceful sleep and letting you know he was still present. Wanting you to know, in his own way, he was upholding his promise to Bucky and Sam. That you were safe with him. That you could trust him just as you had, when you asked him to stay in the first place.

With those final thoughts, you drifted off, listening to the subdued sound of his voice.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

#helmut zemo #helmut zemo x reader #tfatws #bucky barnes #sam wilson #my writing #team zemo #baron zemo #the falcon and the winter soldier #mcu imagine

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lettersofwrittencollective · 2 years

Text

Late Omega

Author: @lettersofwrittencollective

Pairing: Dean x Female Reader (unrequited?)

Square Filled: Late Presenting

Word Count: 736

Tags/ Warnings: none really

Rating: Mature

Prompt: n.a.

Summary: It's as you watch Dean leaving you can't help but to let your mind get away with you.

A/N: Well this is a new spot for them. Alright, so this is my first entry for @spnabobingo and will actually be the only “Official” entry for the round. The last year has not been kind to my emotional and mental health and then when it did get better… well I hope you enjoy- completely unbeta'd

2021 A/B/O Bingo Masterlist || Supernatural Masterlist

You sank back in your chair as you watched him going…

This particular scene had played out in front of you time and time again. You had watched a thousand times over the years as you’d be at the bar and some pretty little Omega that wanted to entice a big bad Alpha would bat her lashes at him.

Or you’d just be getting some food and there they’d be… all innocence and bashful smiles and before you’d know… he was gone.

The smell of sex would hang over Baby like a long lost cloak.

You wondered how Sam could stand it.

Then again, he probably hadn’t. There was a reason Sam had left after all… of that you’re sure.

This one was a pretty blonde. Legs for days and a rack hat was fit for a porn star and she smelled like Jasmine. Her make-up was one of those “no make-up” looks that guys, that Dean, loved because they didn’t understand just how much make-up went into them.

You hated her.

She made your skin feel itchy… like it was stretched too tight along your bones.

Throwing back the rest of your beer you finished it off and asked the bartender for another.

You continued to drink, drink after drink, after drink.

No matter what you did though, the feeling wouldn’t go away.

If anything, in fact, it got worse.

You could just picture it now… the way that he’d hold her.

Rough calloused hands and fingers tracing along her face as he kissed her reverently.

Thick fingers that would glide down the side of her cheek before slipping to that pretty little tank top she had on.

Her hands slipping into his flannel, flat against a sturdy cheset that you had found yourself crushed to time and time again.

At 33 you knew there was no way that you’d ever present as Omega anymore.

Another drink, the beer begining to taste like ash in your mouth…

You needed to get up… you needed to walk away.

Get back to the motel andn stop the madness goin on…

But your mind kept going back to the thought of him and her. The way that she’d pull away from flirtatious kisses as she pulled off his shirt.

You could picture it now… Dean’s skin covered in far too many scars than you could count… but each of them had a story.

If it were you, you’d take the time tow worship his skin. A simple kiss to each scar… a reminder to him that he was worth so much more.

You had to pull your hair up and get it off your neck, the image becoming too much for you to bear as you motiioned for another beer.

You could imagine him being Dean and pushing you away from the scars after a little bit… partially because he’s an impatient bastard but also because he doesn’t know how to just be loved…

He’d push you further into the backseat of Baby as he climbed in after you, hovering over you.

The way that he’d settle over you just so… his weight it;s own aphrodisiac against your skin after he’d pulled of her shirt

Shaking your head to clear it from the thoughts.. You didn’t want to picture him with the blonde and you sure as hell didn’t want to break your heart picturing him and you…

You weren’t an Omega… you couldn’t take his knot… There was no point in torturing yourself.

You felt suffocated… like you couldn’t breathe in your own skin and as you tried to get up from the bar you found that it hurt to move… there was a shooting pain in your abdomen a desperation as you found your body burning from the inside out.

You tried to bite it back but you couldn’t stop the whimper that you made as your feet steadied beneath you.

A hand on your shoulder made you practically snarl but you turned to see green eyes staring at you… pupils blown. Later you’d wonder how it was that someone could look so utterly aroused and so damned concerned in the same breath but right now the only thing you could focus on were Dean’s words…

“Omega…” he’d said, his voice awe struck and you watched as a possesiveness fell over his features. His hands falling to your waist and pulling your towards him, “mine.”

Do not copy and paste my writing anywhere without my consent. This work is the property of lettersofwrittencollective . Associated characters belong to Warner Bros. Television and are being borrowed for this work, all OC’s are the property of lettersofwrittencollective. These works contain material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. No part of these works may be reproduced in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the author/publisher.

Posted 28 February 2022

#spnabobingo

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nekoannie-chan · 3 months

Text

Call

Title: Call.

Fandom: Marvel, Captain America.

Ship: Sinthea Schmidt X Agent of HYDRA!Reader.

Word count: 276 words.

Rating: Teen.

Summary: Sinthea and you flirted.

Major Tags: Flirt.

Additional tags: This is my entry to @sweetspicybingo, Sweetheart Bingo Card & square 7:

"Call me.”

You can read it on Wattpad and Ao3 too.

@saiyanprincessswanie

My native language is Spanish so I wanna improve my writing skills in English if you notice any mistakes, please let me know and I will correct them.

DISCLAIMER: I don't own Marvel's characters (unfortunately), except for the original characters and the story.

Add yourself to my taglist here.

My other media where I publish: Ao3, Wattpad, ffnet, TikTok, Instagram, Twitter.

If you like it, please vote, comment, and give me feedback to improve my skills and reblog.

Tags: @sinceimetyou @unnuevosoltransformalarealidad @navybrat817 @angrythingstarlight @shield-agent78 @charmed-asylum @pandaxnienke @real-fbi @smokeandnailz @white-wolf1940 @tenaciousperfectionunknown @xoxonotme @bluemusickid @leyannrae @harrysthiccthighss @marvelatthisone @caplanbuckybarnes @sapphire-rogers @lizzieolseniskinda @notyourtypicalrose @hallecarey1 @nana1000night @talia-rumlow @writingshae @alexxavicry @azulatodoryuga @daemonslittlebitch @chaoticcollectivenightmare @endlesstwanted @chemtrails-club @marigoldreamer @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @here4thefanfics @theestorm @patzammitt @kmc1989 @somegirlfrom

One day, while Sin was supervising her operations at an elegant party, her eyes met yours as you were watching her.

You couldn't take your eyes off Sinthea; from the first training you saw her, she had something so mesmerizing to you. She noticed the attention and decided to come closer.

With a smile on her face, Sin approached you and said, "I noticed that you can't stop looking at me. Do you like what you see?"

You smiled; you knew there was a lot of competition for a place in her heart, so you were not going to let this opportunity pass you by.

Throughout the night, you and Sin wouldn't stop talking; she even started ignoring and rejecting anyone else who came near you.

“You have guts, detective. You intrigue me. If you ever want to discover the truth behind my façade, call me." Sintea leaned over and whispered in your ear, finally, as she handed you a small piece of paper.

You nodded without saying a word. The night went on, and the two of you parted as if to avoid drawing attention to yourselves.

One night, you finally dared to open the paper. You smiled. That was her number, or at least you hoped it was. You dialed quickly; you were holding your breath in anticipation of who would answer.

“You finally decided to call? What do you want, officer?" Sinthea's voice echoed playfully on the other end of the line.

“I want to know the truth behind the mask, Sin. Call me back," you hung up. "At least if it was her number, you also knew she would accept the challenge.

#sweetheart bingo #valentine's bingo #valentine's day #sinthea schmidt x reader

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dailybuglearchives · 3 years

Text

you & i.

pairing: tom holland x reader

summary: tom’s on his way to ask you an important question. the problem? he’s not sure what your answer will be, considering the messy circumstances.

word count: 1.9k

warnings: angst with fluff at end, shitty writing (whoops).

notes: here is this one-shot that was laying around for a bit, i watched the movie “the choice” on netflix a while back and this fic is (very) loosely based on that film. also, chapter eight of ready, set, action! is coming along great, i will post it soon:) thanks for reading, and as always my ask-box is open for feedback or just in general (i would appreciate it greatly). happy reading:)

here’s my masterlist!

send me an ask or feedback!

tom gripped the steering well as if his life depended on it, nerves bouncing off of him. he was scared, he was praying that he would be able to fix this mess that he created, that everything would be alright.

to put it into simpler terms, it was a race for him to reach you, the love of his life.

the objective? he had to ask you an important question. but the problem was that he wasn’t entirely sure what your answer would be.

—

“what do you want me to say y/n? this is my job.” tom runs his hand through his already disheveled hair as he paces back and forth.

“i understand that tom. but there needs to be some sort of effort. i haven’t talked to you in days.” you whisper, tears threatening to spill.

“yes, i know that! but you should understand that i can’t be there all the time. i have commitments, i have a schedule that i have to follow, i can’t be at your beck and call for fuck’s sake! god y/n, i can’t do this right now! i need a break from all of this goddamn it!”

tom hears you take in a sharp breath, and you both are silent for a bit before you speak.

“okay then. i guess we’re done.”

tom’s breath hitches as he hears the “beep!”, indicating that you had ended the call.

—

tom shakes his head in frustration as he blinks back the tears, thinking about that god awful fight. oh, how he wished he was honest. honest about how terrified he was about losing you.

—

it wasn’t even ten minutes after that fateful call when harrison found him frantically shoving clothes in his suitcase. “tom, what…”

“y/n ended it and it’s my fault. i need to see her.” harrison gasps, seeing tom’s red-rimmed eyes, and silently nods as he himself starts to pack a suitcase for himself, much to tom’s confusion.

“you’re a bloody idiot if you think i’m not coming with you.”

tom could only stare at his best friend before throwing his arms around him, and harrison can only rub his back soothingly as tom breaks down, hoping that everything would be alright and resolved once he gets to you.

— tom has a hunch that you wouldn’t answer the door if he knocked, as you had the habit of peeking through the curtains to see who was outside the door, so he used the spare key that you had given him months ago to open up your door. silently kicking his shoes off, he walks into the living room and he could swear, the sight before him had his heart shattering into pieces.

you were cuddled alongside another guy, blankets draped over you both, holding you in his arms.

a guy that wasn’t tom.

“what the fuck.” tom mutters, and you snap your head towards the entryway.

“tom.” you let out a breath and tom scoffs, walking backwards and walking towards the front door.

“my bad. didn’t know you were busy.” he sarcastically spits out.

“tom, wait! it’s not what it looks like. he’s just a friend.” tom lets out a bitter laugh, and turns to look at the girl that he loves so dearly, the only one that could cause him pain this bad.

“i came here for you y/n. i came here because i cared about us, i cared about you. i loved you! and you do this?”

you halt in your steps and look at the boy who made you feel like you were floating on clouds, the only boy who made your stomach erupt into butterflies and made you feel so special.

the boy who was also able to break your heart into bits.

“loved?” you meekly whisper out.

tom looks down for a bit, before looking right at you, which he immediately regretted, seeing the sorrow and sadness pool in your eyes.

“yeah. goodbye y/n.” he tosses the key on your entry table and walks out without another word, getting into his car and driving back to his house, tears streaming down the entire way.

—

tom and harrison turn towards the door, someone pounding rapidly at the door.

“i’ll go.” harrison pats tom’s shoulder and makes his way to the front door.

tom shudders and rubs his eyes tiredly, grabbing another tissue, absolutely exhausted and drained from crying the entire night.

“tom? someone’s here to see you.” tom gives harrison a questioning look who only shrugs in response, and moves out of the way to reveal the boy that you were with last night.

“what the fuck are you doing here.” tom angrily stands up and harrison quickly moves in front of the boy, shielding him, knowing how much of a short fuse his dear friend possesses.

“whoa man, you got it all wrong! just let me explain!” the poor kid puts his hands up, and harrison mutters an “oh shit”, realizing that this was the boy that tom saw with you.

“explain?! are you shitting me right now?”

“i’m just her friend man!”

“yeah i’ve heard this best friend shit before, now fucking leave.”

“i’m gay!”

both tom and harrison snap their heads towards the boy, it was a miracle they didn’t get whiplash.

“what?” tom whispers, and ian takes this chance to explain.

“i’m ian. i’m y/n/n’s best friend. we went to the same high school, and i got picked on a lot. she literally saved my life, i mean that girl can be terrifying if she wanted to, literally scared all those assholes away…” ian continues to ramble as tom and harrison stare in shock.

“… and girls are not my type. i actually have a boyfriend.”

tom’s eyes grow wide in remorse as everything starts to click.

“ian… you’re the best friend who lives in new york. you and y/n/n are like siblings… she talks about you all the time.”

“yeah! exactly.” ian grabs tom’s shoulders, slightly shaking him.

“and you need to win your girl back.”

“fuck, fuck, fuck. i fucked up so bad ian shit!” tom puts his head in his hands, and ian looks over at harrison worriedly.

“yeah, yeah you did bro.” harrison states.

tom suddenly jolts up and hurries towards the door. “i have to talk to her. i have to get her back.”

“wait!” tom turns towards ian’s voice. “she’s not home. she went to her family cottage. she was pretty shaken up after everything.”

— and so here tom was, anxiously peering at the road signs, and letting out a sigh of relief when he sees the familiar cottage. hurriedly parking the car, he unlocks the door by using the hidden spare key and barges in, looking around for you, but with no avail.

c’mon baby. where are you…

something catches his eye, and he looks through the window to see you with a blanket on your shoulders, standing on the pier, staring out at the lake view.

bingo.

hastily shoving the door open, he speeds towards the pier. “y/n!”

you turn around to see tom heading towards you. oh god no.

“y/n.” tom catches his breath as he gives you a hopeful smile, but falters in his steps as you move backwards, away from him.

“what are you doing here tom?” tom could see that you were hurt, and the fact that he caused your pain has him feeling immensely guilty.

“i needed to talk to you. there’s this misunderstanding and it’s my fault and i’m so, so sorry darling.”

you fiddle with the sleeves of your sweater nervously as you meet his gaze. “it’s too late tom. go home.”

tom shakes his head. “home is where you are y/n.”

“tom..”

“i was scared that i was going to lose you. because i’m not here, with you. i was scared that one day you would get sick of my shit and leave. you deserve so much better. you deserve someone who can be with you at all times, someone who you can rely on, someone better than me. and so, when i saw you with ian, it was like my worst fear was becoming a reality.”

you shake your head and look at him.

“and you would’ve known that none of that mattered to me. there was no one better than you. i just wanted you tom. no one’s perfect, including us and this relationship. i was patient but a relationship can’t survive without communication, especially a long-distance one. i know how important your career is to you, and you should know how insanely proud i am of you. but i would never make you choose between me and your job, but i wanted some effort. i just wanted you.”

“was? we’re speaking in past-tense now my love?” tom asks.

that darn nickname. you can’t help the butterflies that erupt in your stomach despite the circumstances.

“you started the past-tense bullshit. and don’t call me that.” you send him a glare, turning around to face the lake.

“y/n.”

“i don’t want to hear it tom.”

“well you’re going to hear it either way baby. marry me.”

you instantly swirl back around to see a kneeling tom holding out the most stunning ring you’ve ever seen, glinting in the sunlight.

“wha.. what are you doing tom..” you stammer and tom only smiles.

“marry me.”

you look at him in pure shock for a moment, before straightening up and crossing your arms together. “no.”

tom stares at you, before shaking his head and standing up. he knew you like the back of his hand. you were being stubborn. and he wasn’t going to succumb to it. “yes.”

“no.” you state, looking at him with a stone-cold stare.

��yes.” tom moves closer towards you, determination in his eyes.

“no!” you exclaim, unable to look at him in the eyes anymore, tears brimming in your eyes.

“yes.” tom breathlessly whispers as he presses his forehead towards yours, and the only thing between you both was the gorgeous ring that he was grasping.

“i’m sorry. i’m so sorry for the shit that i said, for how i acted. but darling, i was scared. but we both know that we’re meant for each other. and i don’t want to do life with anyone else. i couldn’t imagine anyone else but you.”

you look anywhere but him, trying to avoid his gaze and tom knows.

“love. marry me.” tom kisses your cheek.

“marry me.” he kisses the tip of your nose.

“marry me.” he kisses the corner of your mouth.

and then you let your walls slip away, cautiously reaching up to cup his cheek, and he nuzzles into your touch, leaving a tender kiss on your palm.

“okay.” you whimper, squeezing your eyes shut.

“okay?”

“okay.” you let out a sob as you feel tom sliding the ring on your finger, before cupping your face in his hands and smashing his lips onto yours, pouring all the passion and love he had for you. you eventually pull away for air and tom wraps his arms around your waist, bringing you impossibly close.

“i love you angel. you are the most precious thing to me. you’re the light of my life and i love you so much.” tom whispers against your lips.

“i love you tommy.” you finally open your eyes, looking right in the eyes of the person that you love most in the world, your sweet boy, your person, your fiancé, your soon-to-be-husband, the love of your life…

your tom.

“i can’t wait to spend the rest of our lives together.” tom whispers as he nuzzles his face into your neck, pulling you into a tight embrace.

“me neither.” you grin back at a beaming tom and lean in once more, savouring the perfect moment with the man who owned your heart.

- - - - -

hope you liked it! hope to hear from you all soon, i would love to interact with y’all! :)) if you want to be apart of the main taglist, or the taglist for my series, let me know:)

#tom holland #tom holland fic #tom holland x reader #tom holland x y/n #tom holland imagine #tom holland one shot #tom holland one-shot

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ererokii · 4 years

Text

Repudium || Shouto Todoroki & Katsuki Bakugou

Pro Hero Shouto Todoroki x Fem! Reader x Pro Hero Katuski Bakugou

Repudium means rejection in Latin.

Warnings: angst, cursing, Todoroki is a douchebag once again, mwah katsuki is a king

Word Count: 10,734

Synopsis: Shouto leaves your heart in pieces and expects you to come back to him, but doesn’t realize someone is mending it back together.

Taglist (message to be added): @shoutodoki @shoutosteakettle @miinaashido @saltie @fryingpanitachi @kingtamakimurder @sugacookiies @pixxiesdust @sacro---sainte

➺: Note: This is for @bnhabookclub‘s bingo event! The prompt is Pain Comfort. You asked, so now you shall receive, this is part two of Once More. I suggest you read that first before reading this. Thank you Zeze, Mar, and Gabs for betaing <3

Bingo Masterlist

“I thought you were changing. You don’t care about anyone. You rather see those around you to die than save them. How can you call yourself a hero if you can’t even feel for the public? You are the worst hero ever.”

Those words replayed like a song worth listening, over and over again. Your mouth that could sing dozens of symphonies sang a song that could curse a man for the rest of his life. Words of hatred and malice drowned Shouto to the pits of the earth, each syllable leaving your mouth another pierce to his heart. The twinkle in your eyes that could outshine any of the stars in the night sky were dimmed to the lowest as a waterfall of tears cascaded down your face.

The look on your face could have brought anyone to their knees to beg for forgiveness, stuttering nonsense that was coherent only in their head. He could see it in your expressions. The way your bottom lip quivered as you listened to the poison of his words. Your smaller hands clenched and unclenched by your sides, your body shaking with each blow. Your head shook with nothing but denial as you tried to shrug his words off. You couldn’t.

The grip you held his shirt with was full of pure disappointment, hurt, and dishonesty. He heard nothing in the moment, his cerulean and grey irises staring at the movement of your mouth, watching it open and close with each sentence you spoke. Your lips were curved down as you continued to yell at him. He suddenly felt light in your grasp. You had every right to tell him how you felt. He deserved your words.

He felt even lower than dirt. The steel door blocking him from your life grew thicker and thicker, leaving him vulnerable and isolated. He used to be untouchable. He would stand on his throne, watching as everyone slowly sank lower and lower. A surge of pride and power would fill his body as he watched those struggle to get to his point in life. Until you came, and sent one kick to his throne, making him fall right through as he desperately tried to sit on top once again.

You were a tide that kept washing him away. You caught him by surprise. Your twisted ways made him open up in ways he didn’t realize until it was too late.

The moon illuminated a path of soft light through the curtains in the pitch-black room. The modernized clock resting on Shouto’s bedside table read 5:37 AM. His orbs trained on the time, watching every second change with him. The red digitized numbers are slow to switch.

“Get the fuck away from me.”

His long fingers ran through his hair slowly, lowering his head to look down in his lap as his fingers scratched the back of his head, nails adding a slight sting. A small sigh of distress left him as he stretched his arms above his head, feeling the joints of his elbows crack with the movement.

It’s only been three weeks since his pride took over his brain. Whenever he tried to close his eyes, all he could see was you.

Every day, he would be bombarded with news headlines about how amazing and heroic he was the night before. It was almost as if it was mocking him, reminding him of how much of a horrible person he was. Yet, he couldn’t wipe away that smirk that made its way onto his face when he noticed more people speaking about him.

Big news broadcasting stations constantly asked for him to make an appearance on their shows, to which he happily obliged. Nothing made him more satisfied than being on the big screen for everyone to see. The shining star of the show making an entry. It pleased him.

He mindlessly scrolled through his twitter, noticing some merchandise links and useless tweets from his PR Team. Dozens of notifications flooded his timeline, fans pinging him for meetups, random DMs from his followers or getting nasty tweets—which he didn’t appreciate, but it was the internet, after all.

A red dot caught his attention from his DMs. Curiosity got the best of him as he clicked it, noticing none other than Ground Zero’s profile at the top.

Bakugou: So are we on for that stupid patrol or what? You never responded back asshole.

Oh, that.

Shouto groaned softly, completely forgetting that he had a patrol with Bakugou later today. He clicked the message, fingers immediately typing a response out.

Shouto: Yeah sure. Just meet at my agency at 2 PM.

Bakugou: Don’t tell me what to do bastard.

“Well that settles that,” he muttered, tossing his phone somewhere on his bed, not really caring where it landed. His back collided with the silk sheets, his body relaxing upon contact. His hand reached out to the spot beside him, slowly running his hand up and down on the empty space as if he was looking for something, or maybe someone.

His fingers curled around the material of his sheets, an iron grip at hand. He glanced over, expecting to be met with a pair of eyes or a back turned to him. Instead, he found nothing but the soft light produced by the moon. It peeked through his curtains, a small patch of light resting beside his relaxed body as if it was mocking him for his actions. His eyes gazed on the spot, noticing it was the area where you once laid. He growled quietly, grabbing one of his pillows, chucking it towards the curtains in anger.

Shouto watched the pillow collide and fall on the floor. His lips parted slightly as small puffs of air left his mouth. “Stupid, stupid, stupid,” he muttered, running his hands over his face as he kept repeating the word. His hands hit his thighs with a slap, his nails digging into the skin and leaving crescent shape indents. “What the fuck am I even doing?” he questioned aloud.

“Here I am, in the middle of the night, letting my emotions get the best of me. What kind of crap is that?” He got off his bed, walking over to his dresser. He opened the top two drawers and pulled extra clothes out, deciding that a shower was the best course of action.

When he got in the shower, he closed his eyes as the beads of warm water hit his face and streamed down his body to the drain. His tufts of hair were plastered onto his face like glue. The water jet seemed to be on its best setting for his needs as he stood there, collecting his thoughts.

He placed his hands against the tiled walls of the shower, back muscles flexing as he lowered his head to look downward at the shower drain, watching the water gather around and go down the hole. His long hair at the top covered his eyes, the water trailing down his nose as the droplets hit the bottom of the tub.

“Fuck. What the hell is wrong with me?” he groaned, standing up straight as he slicked his hair back.

☽✧ ✦ ✧☾

You hated it. You hated how weak you became in an instant. In a snap, everything went downhill. You weren’t able to smile as bright as you did before. You hated how he was able to get under your skin and become the only thing you could think about. He was a parasite to you. You despised him, yet he somehow came back to annoy the hell out of you.

“Oh? Is it not? How much longer are you going to deny it? When are you going to learn Y/N? I’m Shouto! One or if not the greatest hero out there! I always get what I want. You were nothing but a stepping stool.”

Your eyes widened as you misplaced your foot, tripping over the ledge of your car. You quickly grabbed a hold of the handle, keeping yourself upright. You felt your cheeks swell in embarrassment as you quickly regained your composure, clearing your throat. Shutting the car door shut, you looked up to the powerful building that was the viewpoint in all of Japan.

Shouto’s Agency.

Just the mere thought of seeing him made you grit your teeth in anger. Your blood boiled at the fact that you had to step a single foot into that forsaken place, and even had to share the same air as him.

The soles of your shoes hit against the cement as you walked around your car, opening the other side to stare at the brown box full of objects that had no use to you. This box was filled with Shouto’s things that he left at your place and the daycare. You didn’t feel like burning them, so giving them back would suffice. Holding the object in your arms weighed more than it had to.

You bumped your hip against the door to shut it, and felt no use in locking it. A small sigh left your lips as you walked to the entryway. Each step felt heavy, like the earth could swallow you whole. Your pulse was beating like crazy, at any moment you wouldn’t be surprised if your heart jumped out from your mouth.

You stopped your movements in front of the doors, watching them slide open before continuing inside. Upon entering, you were hit with the smell of new furniture—which was just the recently cleaned objects and cold air from the ceiling fans. The room was dimly lit, relying on the light from the outside. The main foyer had couches and small tables laid out, covering the area. Men and women filled the furniture, reading a book, or talking amongst themselves.

You noticed that some of the workers were actually some of Shouto’s sidekicks or new interns he once told you about. Even just looking at them made you sick to your stomach.

Clearing your throat, you walked over to the main desk and dropped the box on the counter, watching the employee jump in surprise.

“Uh- Hi yeah, I’m here to drop off some things for Todoroki.”

“For Shouto?” the lady asked and looked up at you. “Hey aren’t you that girl he-”

“Yeah that’s me,” you interrupted her. “I just wanted to give his things back.”

She fixed her glasses and nodded, chewing on her gum as she typed something on her computer. “Alright, I’ll let Todoroki know.”

“Let me know what?”

You froze at the voice, your body stiffening up. Your blood ran cold as you heard footsteps get closer to you from behind until the presence of a body was close. The hairs on the back of your neck stood up as a deep laugh filled your eyes.

“I didn’t expect to see you so soon. Miss me already?”

You growled quietly as you took a step to the side, refusing to face him. Don’t give him the pleasure of seeing you. He doesn’t deserve another glance. He doesn’t deserve anything from you.

“I know you can hear me sweetheart. Come on, let’s talk.” His voice sent chills through your body. His hand rested on your shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze.

You swiveled around, raising your hand as your palm collided with his cheek. Your vision was blurry as you let out a choked sob, your hand still raised in the air. Your heart was beating out of your chest. The sound caught everyone's attention as they all stared at the commotion. Shouto moved his jaw slightly and rubbed his cheek, wincing slightly. There was now a red imprint on the swollen skin. “Damn, you really know how to slap someone huh?”

“I thought I made my point clear,” you sneered, lowering your hand to rest by your side. “I said I never wanted to talk to you again. I don’t want to see your face again.”

“Well, you came by didn’t you? Must have needed something from me if you decided to show up.”

“I came,” you started, ignoring the lingering stares from the bystanders, “To drop off your things. I could have burned them, but instead I decided to bring them back to you. Trash belongs with other types of trash, doesn’t it?”

The man in front of you laughed softly, shaking his head. Why was he laughing in a moment like this?

“Feisty, huh? Guess that was one of the things I love about you.”

Shouto had the audacity to say that he loved you? Even after all the shit he pulled?

“Oh no you don’t. Don’t you dare fucking say that word.” You wiped your nose with the sleeve of your jacket. “You don’t fucking love anything. No one but yourself. You’re a selfish bastard, how many times do I have to tell you? You are the worst in all of Japan.”

Even hearing those words for the second time in his life, he couldn’t shake the feeling off. Was he hurting? Was he turning upset?

Deciding enough was enough, you nodded in self-reassurance and turned around, only to collide face-first into a muscular chest. “Hey!”

“Hey? That’s what you say when you bump into someone? Some manners you got.”

You automatically recognized the voice and pulled away as if he had the plague.

Standing in the flesh, Ground Zero stared down at you with his intense vermillion eyes, his arms crossed over his torso, wearing that famous scowl of his.

“Some manners I got?” you growled and looked up at him. “Why do I have to move for you? You saw me here, didn’t you? Oh just because you’re in the top five, that gives you authority to act like that?”

His eyes widened slightly in shock. “Hey that’s not-”

“You know what? If all heroes are like him,” you yelled, pointing a finger at the bi-colored male behind you. “Then you guys need to stop being heroes! There’s no point in being out there if you don’t care for those in need! What kind of fakes are you guys?!”

Not giving him a chance to respond, you brushed past him, purposely bumping his shoulder with yours. He stumbled slightly, placing his hand on the counter to regain his balance. “What the fuck was that?” he whispered, watching you exit the main foyer.

Shouto sighed dramatically and shook his head, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “She’s always been like that.”

“Who the fuck is that?”

Shouto quirked an eyebrow and crossed his arms over his torso. “Why do you ask, Ground Zero?”

“I asked because she’s hot. I asked because I’m fucking curious, you bastard!”

The bi-colored male tilted his head slightly in confusion before shrugging, running his fingers through his hair. “That’s Y/L/N Y/N. She works at the local daycare about 20 minutes from here.”

“And how do you know her? What the hell was this shit show that just happened.”

“Oh, that? Don’t worry about it too much. She’ll come back soon.”

A laugh rumbled in the depths of Shouto’s throat as his finger traced the sensitive skin of his cheek. Bakugou stared at him, unamused.

“She rocked your shit and you’re saying don’t worry about it? What kind of bullshit answer is that?”

“Sounds to me like someone is scared to be seen with the number one pro hero, but that would be silly huh?” Shouto asked, completely dodging Bakugou’s questions as he checked his hand, front and back.

“Hah?! What did you say?! I’m not afraid of anything! Especially you!! Now quit talking and start fucking moving!” Bakugou shoved a gloved finger in Shouto’s direction before swiveling around. The ash-blond’s footsteps boomed with each step he took. He clenched and unclenched his fingers, his gauntlet hitting his hips as he walked.

“What kind of bullshit answer is that?” he grumbled, tapping his foot against the cement sidewalk as he waited for the number one hero to come outside. For someone who wanted to patrol, he was sure taking his sweet time.

“Shall we?” Shouto called from behind, walking past him. His chest was puffed out, his chin raised proudly in the air. A sly smirk was displayed on his face as he glanced at Bakugou from the corner of his eye. “Better get a move on. I would hate for you to fall behind.”

Bakugou gritted his teeth as he followed Shouto from behind. Many people on the streets gasped in astonishment at two of the top five heroes walking together. Children pointed at them from across the street, a toothy grin and shining sparkling eyes trained on them.

“Look, papa! It’s Ground Zero and Shouto! I want their autograph!”

Shouto’s head perked up at the sound of his name and looked over to the small boy, who was bouncing up and down. Amused by his antics, Shouto walked over to the boy and crouched down to his height.

A small smile was plastered onto his features as he patted him gently on top of the little boy’s head. “You wanted an autograph?”

The boy’s eyes widened as he nodded furiously, clenching his fists in front of his body. “Y-Yeah! Can you sign my backpack?!”

“Turn around, bud.”

He did as told, almost too fast as he stumbled over his own two feet. The pro hero took the sharpie from his smaller hands. Taking the cap off with his teeth, he kept it enclosed between the pearly whites as he quickly signed the backpack.

“There. Now it looks even more amazing.”

“T-Thank you, Shouto! G-Ground Zero, can you sign mine?!” he gasped and approached rather quickly, holding the sharpie in his head.

Bakugou wasn’t one for signings out of the blue, but this was an exception.

The blonde nodded and took the marker away from him, turning the boy around as he signed near Shouto’s signature, making it a tad bit bigger on purpose.

“Thank you!” he exclaimed and ran back to his dad, who wasn’t that far away. Both heroes could hear the excitement in his tone as he shoved the backpack into his father’s arms.

“I thought you never do signings like this. Has the Ground Zero gotten soft?”

Bakugou clicked his tongue in annoyance, refusing to be part of Shouto’s games. “Whatever, idiot. Just keep on walking.”

“Oh, is someone upset?”

“Shut up and stop talking!!”

☽✧ ✦ ✧☾

The patrol was nothing out of the ordinary. The two heroes made their roundabouts, no trouble seemed to bother them. The only thing that annoyed Bakugou more than anything was the fact that Shouto couldn’t keep his mouth shut. And paperwork was the worst of all. Shouto kept asking small insignificant questions that drove Katsuki up the wall.

Finally getting away from the devil himself, Katuski found himself standing in front of his car, his eyes hard and intense as he had his toned arms crossed over his torso. His eyes trained over a building, taking in the colorful delicate patterns of butterflies and kids smiling on the walls. The paint wasn’t chipping off. Instead it looked like it was fresh, maybe too fresh. The newly trimmed hedges that outline the building bloomed with budding roses. The flowers in the white pots loomed over the ground, each dancing tauntingly with the wind that sent small shivers through his hoodie and caused his hair to sway with each breeze.

Katuski analyzed the area once more before placing his hands behind him on the hood of the car and pushed off, walking towards the door.

Unlike Shouto Todoroki, Katsuki Bakugou arrived with a calm and open mind. Upon reaching the door, he noticed a hanging pot filled with yellow carnations. The bright color of the petals fluttered as if they were welcoming him. He stared, mesmerized by the color before shaking his head quickly, bringing his hand up to the door. His knuckles met with the door once, twice, and finally a third time before lowering it again.

Shuffling could be heard from the other side of the door as the knob turned, the wooden surface opening up.

Katsuki took sight of you, eyeing you up and down before meeting your eyes.

“G-Ground Zero?! W-What are you doing here?! This is so unexpected wow! I’m such a mess, god I’m so sorry! If only I knew you would come I would have at least cleaned myself up!”

“Can you stop rambling and actually let me talk?”

You stopped mid-sentence and shut your mouth, before opening it again. “Yeah uh… why are you here?”

“I wanted to talk to you.”

“T-To me?” You looked over your shoulder to make sure no one was behind you. No one was; you just couldn’t believe what you were hearing.

“Well yeah, who else am I gonna be talking to?”

“I- just you know after I went off on you there… I just didn’t expect you to ya know, come visit. Just caught me by surprise.”

“That’s actually what I wanted to talk about.”

“Oh. Well, we can talk then.”

“Out here? Please,” he scoffed and made his way inside, causing you to press up against the door as he walked past you. In those three seconds, you could smell his natural scent of ash and caramel with a hint of smoky wood. It pleased you.

You automatically shut the door and followed him. He was sitting down on the couch with his hands behind his head, but with his legs bent, no manspreading. His attitude was drastically different from Shouto’s.

“Well,” you started, sitting across from him as you rubbed your sweaty palms on your thighs. “What did you want to talk about?”

“What happened between you guys.”

“Between who?”

“You and Icy-Hot. I saw you hit him and tried prying answers out of him. Better to get it from the other side than from someone whose head is up their fucking ass.”

“Oh,” you whispered and sunk your teeth on your lower lip, looking away. “That’s personal. Whatever happened between me and him, will stay between me and him. Besides, it wasn’t a big deal anyway.”

“Big deal?! You smack his face and say it’s not a big deal? Damn, what kind of shit answers are those?”

“Realistic answers!” you choked out, feeling your voice crack mid speaking. “They are realistic answers.”

“Real huh?” he whispered before leaning forward, clasping his hands in his lap. “Fine. Let’s be real, okay? You guys slept together huh? And he decided he didn’t want you anymore. Is that what happened? That’s the type of guy he is after all.”

Hearing his words made you realize how shitty you’ve been feeling. He was only in your presence for five minutes or less and he already cracked your mid-life crisis. The quiver in your lip was his answer.

“So that’s what happened then,” he whispered.

“And what if it did?! It doesn’t matter, like I said! I was his stepping stool! He didn’t care! I was his doormat and I let him walk over me because I was too gullible to notice before! He’s a fucking heartless asshole!” you cried out, hiccuping as you covered your face from him, shielding the somewhat dignity you had left. Your nose was getting stuffed up by the second as you sniffled, letting out another pained sob, the first of many that day. Each day would end like this, you going into a state of confusion and would cry yourself to sleep. It was a continuous cycle of pain that you wanted to end.

“Everyone thinks of him as this high and mighty person that cares for others, but he doesn’t!” You looked into the hero’s eyes, your own filled with nothing but defeat and pain, the whites of your eyes now turning red from the onslaught of crying. “I hate him! I fucking hate him!” each word had a powerful meaning behind it. “He ruined me! He had me wrapped around his finger and played me like a fiddle!”

Bakugou felt bad for you. You went from someone who told him off hours earlier, to sobbing up a storm and ranting about your feelings. He felt awkward sitting there as you poured out to your heart’s content. His body was tense as he fiddled with the pocket of his black hoodie. Seeing you there hopeless made his heart sting with pain, and he felt like he had to save you, even though he didn’t know you.

To be your hero. The hero you deserve, not Shouto Todoroki.

He contemplated something before standing up and walked over to you. The couch creaked at the new addition of weight that was put on top. “Look,” he started as his mind went blank. What was he going to say? Hey, it's okay, forget him. He's legit shit anyway. How do you comfort someone when their relationship was a total lie?

Your sobs filled his ears as he sighed softly, rubbing his temple in growing annoyance. “First of all stop crying already!”

The sudden change of tone surprised you as you stared at him with innocent wide eyes. “W-What?”

“I said stop fucking crying. It doesn’t look good on you.”

You let out a hiccup as you wiped your eyes with the pad of your fingers. For some reason, Katsuki thought you looked like the most beautiful person on the planet. Here you were, in raw emotion for some idiot who wasn’t worth your time, yet at the same time you decided to show Katsuki and no one else. It filled him with a sense of peace that you trusted him enough, despite barely knowing him.

The ceiling fan shined artificial light upon you, somehow making you look ethereal as your tears glistened. Your lips formed in a pout as your bottom lip kept quivering, no matter how many times you tried to control it. The tips of your ears were red, your cheeks joining in on the rosy color. Your makeup was nowhere perfect anymore. Mascara dribbled down your face as it mixed with your tears, black staining your cheeks.

“Are you done crying yet?”

There was a moment of silence before another whimper left your throat as you shook your head. “N-No!”

Yet again another round of painful sobs wracked through your body. Your head was starting to hurt at the attack to your body. Bakugou inhaled deeply as he wrapped an arm around your shoulder, bringing you closer to his chest. He could feel your shaking form as you threw your arms around him, burying your head into the crook of his neck.

“H-He-”

“Shut up,” he grumbled, his voice rough around the edges, but wasn’t his normal tone. His calloused hand pressed against your back, his fingers slowly running up and down as his thumbs rubbed small circles to calm you down. “He’s a shit person. I get it. But you aren’t going to sit here and cry about him forever, are you?”

The silence was a sign to continue on.

“He played you. He’s an asshole, but I didn’t know he was this big of a dick. Everyone plays him as Mr. Nice Guy or Mr. Hero. I didn’t know he was this bad,” he muttered, bringing a hand to cradle the back of your head, stroking the skin behind your neck in a soothing manner. “Honestly, fuck him. He doesn’t deserve your time and certainly doesn’t deserve your stupid fucking tears. He still thinks you’re going to go back to him. Why don’t you show him who the bigger person is, hah?”

“He thinks I’m going back to him?” you whispered, your words coming out muffled due to hiding your head from him.

“Yeah. He does. His head is so clouded with stupidity that he thinks he’ll always get what he wants.”

“...he is pretty stupid.”

The rumbling in his chest indicated he found it funny, but true. He pushed you away from his chest, placed his hands on your shoulders, and stared into your tear-filled eyes. “So. What are you going to then, Princess?”

You licked your lips and looked down at your lap, staring at the palms of your hands. “I’m going to... Stop crying over him, m-move on and be the bigger person?”

“Are you asking me? Or are you telling me?”

“I-I’m telling you!”

His lips curved upward slightly as he wrapped his arm around you, bringing you to his chest once more. “Guys like him expect everyone to spoon feed him because of his reputation. And everyone says I’m the worst out of the top five,” he grumbled to himself, running his hand up and down your back. “I’ll take care of you. I promise you that.”

☽✧ ✦ ✧☾

A man of his word, Bakugou did as he promised. Since that day he visited you the first time, you stayed in contact. You were wary of course, looking for any red flags that history could possibly repeat itself.

Unlike Shouto, Katsuki couldn’t come around as much. As he told you before, his hero work was the most important since where his agency was stationed, there was a lot of crime. You respected that, of course. It made you feel happy when he would talk to you on the phone about the amount of citizens he saved and how many villains he took down by himself. The kids, they went wild.

When one of the girls took notice of a gauntlet laying around the room, she screamed in happiness saying that Ground Zero was here, or that you bought a knock-off from online. Of course from the screaming, the pro hero ran inside at top speed, looking for any sign of danger.

“Where is it?!”

“It’s Ground Zero!!”

A flock of children surrounded him as they screamed incoherent words of happiness, jumping up and down as if he was their idol; which he was.

“How hot can your explosions get?!”

“Do you burn yourself?!”

“Can you fly?!”

“Do you sneeze and they go off?!”

“Hah?!” he yelled and crossed his arms over his torso, looking away. “What kind of fucking questions are those?!”

“Bakugou!” you snapped, walking into view with a bag of something inside. “We talked about using that language in here!”

“What does ‘fucking’ mean?” a little girl asked, tugging on the material of his pants, looking up at him with child innocent eyes.

His mouth parted but no answer came out. His cream-colored cheeks soon became a soft rosy red as he looked away quickly. “I-”

“I bought mochi!” you said quickly, lifting the bag up and shaking it slightly to grab their attention. At the mention of treats, they all scrambled away from him and stood in front of you with happy grins and eyes.

“Get in a line. Bakugou, come help me please.”

The ash-blond groaned but walked to you anyway, taking the small bowl from you that held the dough filled with sweet ice cream. He eyes them warily before crouching down to their level and stuck the bowl out for their awaiting grabbing hands.

“Only one,” he said to a little boy who laughed joyously and placed it back before running to his friend, comparing the flavors they had.

“And one for me,” you teased, taking one from him. Bakugou clicked his tongue in annoyance and placed the bowl back on the small table. “I don’t know how you can eat those. They seem too sweet. Spicy is where it’s at.”

“Well I’m not going to burn a bunch of six-year-olds’ tongues either, Bakugou!” you huffed and took a bite out of the dough, the taste of the sweet ice cream filled your tastebuds. “Come on try some!” you lifted the sweet to his mouth, urging him to bite it.

“Hah?! That’s bad for you!”

“Come on, Katsuki. Are you afraid of a little sweet? Never took you for the scared type.” You grinned. His heart fluttered at the sound of his name leaving your lips. He growled and snatched the green treat from you.

“‘M’not scared!” he yelled and eyed the delicious treat before taking a bite out of it. His eyes widened slightly from their original state and chewed slowly. He looked away from you and swallowed. “Not bad, still tastes like shit.”

A happy smile graced your features at his change of heart over something as small as this. “So will you eat the rest of it with me?”

“I guess. Only if you wipe that stupid dopey smile off your face.”

A cry of pain distracted you from your reverie as you turned quickly to find the source of pain.

A group of kids was surrounding one young girl who had a hand covering her eye.

“Himarie, sweetie what happened?” You asked the small girl, kneeling beside her as your hand hesitantly reached for hers that shielded her eye.

“Fire!”

“Fire? Honey let me see.”

“I’ll hurt you!”

“No you won’t. Come on, let me see.” you encouraged her softly, wrapping your hand around her smaller wrist and lowered it slowly.

Fire shot out from her eye as soon as her hand was lowered. She cried in pain and covered it again, whimpering softly.

The rug caught on fire as you shrieked, moving the kids out of the way. “K-Katsuki!”

“Got it,” the male voiced out, immediately putting out the fire with the fire extinguisher, his tongue peeking out in concentration. He let out a huff and lowered the hose. “Looks like someone got their quirk. That’s a nice one if I do say so myself.” He put the red canister down and walked over to where you and Himarie stood.

“Is she going to be okay Miss Y/N?!”

“Yes, she’s going to be okay. She’s a strong girl, aren’t you honey?” you whispered softly and stroked her brown hair.

“Let me see,” Bakugou whispered, nudging you away from her gently. “Look at me.”

She shook her head, afraid of hurting him as well. “I’ll burn you!”

“I burn myself on a daily basis, Himarie. I’m used to it. Now let me see.”

The brunette shakily lowered her head, her bottom lip quivering in fear.

Bakugou analyzed her before bringing a hand to her face, rubbing her cheek softly with his thumb. “You’re scared huh? I remember when I first got my quirk. I was scared. I thought I would blow myself up at one point. But there’s nothing to be afraid of. You’ll learn how to control it soon,” he said to her, his voice soft yet rough at the same time. Each word seemed to roll off his tongue with ease, as if he was made for moments like this. His larger hand patted her head gently.

Himarie continued to stare at him with uncertainty before launching herself onto him, her small arms encircling his neck. “T-Thank you Ground Zero!”

He tensed up before hesitantly wrapping an arm around her, patting her back with a gentle touch. “Of course. That’s what we’re here for anyway, to make sure kids like you are out of harm’s way. Just don’t do anything stupid with that, got it?”

You watched a few steps away, your heart softening at the moment in front of you. In all of his fame, his unruly behavior was something that everyone saw. This moment was intoxicating to you. You wanted to see more of him like this. If only the public knew this was how Bakugou Katsuki was, everyone would be throwing themselves at him. The only difference between him and Shouto, was that Bakugou cares. He did it to save those in need, to be a protector, not for the fame and the money.

His vermillion orbs met yours as the corner of his lips curled into a smirk, sending a small wink your way. A wave of heat flooded your cheeks as you gave him a small wave in return. The light’s reflection illuminated his eyes, the different colors of his irises shining. It was amazing to see him here. You only wished for one thing: that he was here before Shouto Todoroki.

☽✧ ✦ ✧☾

As time went by, the hot atmosphere turned chilly, and the trees turned to orange and red. Fall approached faster than anything. Months upon months passed by without a second thought.

The cold air of the autumn wind descends upon you, each needle of the breeze poking through any open outlet through your clothes. You buried your nose in your burgundy scarf, begging for any type of warmth to relieve your shaking body. The vibrant assortments of oranges and red were pleasing to the eye, but getting harder to appreciate as each second passed by.

Your hands were stuffed in the pocket of your jackets as you kept your head down to shield your eyes from any upcoming harsh wind. The annual fall festival arrived and that was something you wanted to see, with a special someone of course.

“Are you that fucking cold?”

You peered up through your lashes, glancing at the blond who walked beside you with ease. He seemed to be content with just his jacket and scarf. His hands were stuffed in his pockets, his fingers curling and uncurling from the inside.

“Y-y-yes I’m cold!” you spoke through your chattering teeth, bringing your hands up and placing them underneath your armpits, relishing in the warmth from your jacket. Your eyes trained over the different stands full of crafts, food, and beverages.

“That’s too bad.” you could hear the smugness in his tone as you continued to walk the brick pathway through the festival. “Your teeth look like they could fall out any minute now due to your stupid chattering.”

“Well not everyone is a walking heater, Katsuki,” you chirped, your voice muffled by the fabric of your scarf warming your neck. “If I was, I’d be looking like you.”

“Like me?! What’s that supposed to mean, hah?!”

“Meaning I could wear a jacket and a skirt and not worry about the cold! I said what I said!”

Bakugou growled and tugged you closer by your elbow, no ill intent in his hold. His hand reached under your elbow, his fingers digging into your skin. It was a simple yet meaningful gesture.

A small smile graces your features as your eyes watch the leaves fall from their respected trees, trails of orange and red filling your vision. The sky was a pink layout with splotches of blue and orange that complimented each other. The clouds floating through the sky effortlessly, the sun saying its slow goodbye before sleeping for the night until the next morning.

“I wish they had more festivals like this.”

“Well if they did, stupid villains would be surrounding this shit place anyway.”

You rolled your eyes in annoyance, leaning your head on his bicep as your fingers curled around his arm. “Uh-huh, sure. Way to be optimistic about it.”

“Just being realistic. Something you should be.”

“Hey!” you pouted, feigning hurt. “I can be realistic!”

Bakugou gave you a side glance before shaking his head. “Don’t fool both of us dumbass.”

You whined and stood on your tiptoes, placing a quick kiss to his cold cheek. “The only one I can fool is you after all.”

A pleased hum left his throat as he laced your fingers together, the warmth radiating from his palm automatically making you fuzzy inside.

Ever since Shouto left, you felt confused, lost and most importantly, empty. The void in your heart felt that it would never be filled again. Shouto left and took your happiness with him, deciding to leave you a wreck for this own personal pleasure. He was everywhere you looked, paper news, broadcasting, twitter. It was like you couldn’t escape him. Each time you saw a photo of him, he always had the same expression. A smug smirk would grace his features, it was taunting you and you knew it.

When Bakugou entered your life, it made you realize that you didn’t have to worry about someone like Shouto ruining you again. Bakugou slowly filled the void in your heart, and you were beyond thankful. At first, you didn’t trust him at all. He was in fact in the top five heroes, and was known as the mean one in the public eye. You couldn’t tell if his actions were genuine or just for show to lure you in like a predator.

“Hey.”

“Huh?” You shook your head, kicking you out of your daze as you looked up at the male.

“Y-yeah?”

“Why do you look like that?” he asked, but more in a demanding tone.

“This is my face?”

“No, you idiot. You look lost. What’s wrong?”

“Just thinking about before is all, ya know, Shouto,” you muttered the last part, your head lowering in shame.

“Well stop thinking of that icy-hot bastard. I hate the way you get over some stupid guy like him,” he growled, his finger curling under your chin to make you look up at him. “Cause Princess, he’s an idiot for letting someone as beautiful as you go.”

He leaned closer, pressing his lips against yours tenderly. Your hand reached up and cradled his cheek, rubbing the swell with your thumb gently. His arm wrapped around your waist tightens, bringing you closer to his chest. In your moment of love, unbeknownst to you, the sound of a camera went off.

☽✧ ✦ ✧☾

He couldn’t believe what he was seeing. His grey and cerulean orbs filled with anger, staring down at the photo that was displayed on his phone, a new headline for the news.

Ground Zero getting comfy at the Autumn Festival!

Shouto’s fingers curled around his phone, his hand unintentionally getting colder by the minute. He was seething in anger. His shoulders moved with his erratic breathing as he threw his phone across his desk, ignoring the noise of his device hitting the ground.

A small flame emitted from his hand. He abruptly stood up, gripping the edge of his desk with a vice-like grip, his fingers slowly turning white from the pressure. His fingernails dug into the hardwood, ignoring the pain shooting through his arms. He sunk his teeth into his lower lip as his hands let go of the edges before reaching under and threw his arms up, flipping the wooden desk over in anger.

The furniture broke on impact as he groaned out in annoyance. Not only were things not going his way, but he also needed to buy a new desk.

“Just who in the hell does he think he is?” he whispered angrily, running his hand through his hair as he paced back and forth in his office, his footsteps hard against the rug. “Just walking in her life and thinking he can do that? He’s far from right.”

Shouto was no idiot. He was intelligent and knew what happened on the sidelines. Bakugou stayed with you to help out with the daycare. He did the same exact thing as Shouto did, and oh did it piss him off more than anything. In Shouto’s eyes, you were going to come back to him. You might just be acting up, but you’ll return to him.

He quickly glanced at the clock on the wall. It read 4:46 PM. From what he remembered, the daycare should be closing at 5 PM. If he left now, he could probably stop you before you headed home.

The chiming of his phone knocked him from his cloud of thoughts as he walked over to the shattered screen, the light illuminating on his face.

Midoriya

“Fuck,” he groaned and reached above his head, his joints cracking with the movement. His finger tapped the green circle as he brought his phone to his ear, sighing softly. “Hello?”

“Hi Todoroki! I just wanted to make sure you knew about tomorrow still!”

“...what’s tomorrow?”

“You forgot already? Figures if you’re so busy! It’s the meet and greet we have with Kacchan tomorrow!”

He choked on his spit as he coughed into his hand in shock. “T-that’s tomorrow?!”

“Yeah! Your PR team didn’t tell you?”

“Uh...” he trailed off, glancing at the mess of his room. Pens and papers were scattered all over the place. “I’m sure they did. Whatever, what time was it at?”

“11 AM!”

“Do I have to go?”

“Of course you have to Todoroki-kun! You’re number one! And number one has to be there, remember?!”

Number one.

Hearing those words made butterflies flutter in his stomach as his head filled with conceited thoughts. He smirked faintly as he hung his head back, staring at the ceiling. “Yeah. You’re right. I am number one, and I always get what I want.”

“What was that? You cut out at the end.”

“Huh? Nothing, don’t worry about it. I’ll see you in the morning with...him.”

“Oh speaking about Kacchan, did you see the photos? Turns out he was with that girl you were seeing before you broke up!”

He growled into the microphone, his noise being caught by Midoriya’s ears. “I saw. They look terrible together.”

“You think so? I think they look cute together! I’m glad he found someone.”

“Yeah well I’m not,” he snapped and began to pace around the room. “I know she’s playing hard to get. She came to visit me again even after saying to fuck off. That obviously means something. I mean, why wouldn’t she want me? I’m rich, successful and the highest out of everyone. Why would she settle for him?” he spat, his voice dripping with malice and hatred for the blond.

“Uh, Todoroki? Do you hear how you’re sounding right now?”

“Course I do.”

“Then don’t you think you’re being a bit too...over the top?”

“I’m not. I sound perfectly fine. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have business to take care of.”

“Ahh okay! See you tomorrow Todoroki-kun!”

Without saying goodbye, Shouto hit the red circle and turned his phone off, shoving it into his front pocket. “I guess some things I have to keep working for,” he whispered and walked past the mess he made prior to the phone call, to the door. His hand wrapped around the knob and twisted it, pulling it to open the door.

“I’m Shouto. I’ll win her back. She’ll realize I’m the one for her, and he’s complete utter shit. I’ll get her back. I’m the best after all.”

An amusing chuckled rumbled through his chest as he made his way down the corridor, on his way to take back what was his first.

☽✧ ✦ ✧☾

Shouto Todoroki would have never thought about this situation in a million years. Yet again, here he was. Arriving at the daycare with a frown upon his face, he exited the vehicle with a gentle push of the driver’s door, the car not moving from the gentle force. He took one glance at the daycare and sighed softly. “It’ll be easy,” he whispered to himself, letting one foot lead in front of the other. As he walked to the entrance, he took notice of the new and improved details. The once peeling paint was newly refurbished, each drawing looking amazing as ever. The hedges surrounded the center like a barrier, protecting them from him. The flowers he ordered were no longer there, which he assumed they died over time or you tossed them out, Instead, they were replaced with lilies and roses, each color displaying just for him. The color orange only reminded him of Katsuki Bakugou, a newfound hatred for him. Each flower moved with the wind as they greeted him.

He walked to the front door with his hands shoved deep into his pockets. Upon reaching it, he slowly lifted a hand that seemed to weigh more than anything in the world. He let out a shaky sigh and let his knuckles hit the door twice. Shouto brought his hand to his mouth and wiped it, his lips dry from nervousness.

He felt as if years passed by as he stood there, waiting for you or someone to answer. He hoped it was only you, but by the looks of it, another car was parked beside yours, and it definitely wasn’t one of the employees.

The sweet melody of laughter filled his ears as he stared at the knob moving to open the door. The hinges squeaked and it was pulled open, Shouto keeping his eyes trained forward.

You opened the door with a laugh, Bakugou bringing up an old memory from his high school years.

Your smile faltered as it was automatically wiped with your face, a scowl replacing it instead. “What do you want?”

“I want to talk to you.”

“I don’t,” you snapped and went to close the door in his face but he stuck his foot out last second, the only thing keeping you from shutting him out forever.

“Please. I just want to talk.”

You said nothing in return, slowly opening the door again. You stood in front of the frame, your arms crossed over your torso. “Outside.”

“Princess? Who is at the door?”

Shouto’s ears perked at the sound of Bakugou’s voice as he tried looking over your shoulder before you moved in front of his line of sight. “No one Katsuki! Give me five!” you yelled back, pressing a hand against Shouto’s chest and you pushed him slightly, shutting the door behind you.

“Princess? He’s here too? So you’re fucking him now?”

“And what if I am? What’s it matter to you, Todoroki? Why do you care now? We aren’t together. You made that quite clear a year ago.”

“I know but, him? Out of all people you went for him?”

“Yeah, I did. Is that a problem for you? Oh wait, I guess it is if we are even having this conversation. Plus I thought you wanted to talk. Not pick on the things you think are wrong with my life.”

Shouto’s hands twitched by his side, itching to feel your body against his once more. “I-“

“Or is the problem is that you can’t even hold a real conversation without making it about you, huh?”

“That’s not true.”

“Oh, it’s not?” You tilted your head to the side. “Prove it then, right now. What the hell is so important that you have to bug me?” you demanded. You hated how he could just waltz up in here and act like nothing happened. One of the many things you hated about him.

“I’m sorry.”

You choked on air as you stared at him, shocked. “You— you’re what?”

“I said I’m sorry.”

“Y-You’re sorry?”

He nodded quietly, a look of sadness in his eyes. You didn’t believe him one bit. You couldn’t. If he was actually sorry, why did he wait so long? Did he expect you to make the first move?

“If you are, why did you wait so long?” you whispered softly, the ground becoming your main interest as you kicked at it gently with the tip of your shoe. “Why a year? Why not when I saw you again?”

“...I don’t know. I thought you would have come back to me after what I said. I didn’t think it would get this out of hand. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean anything I said back then.”

“I don’t believe you Shouto. I’m sorry but I can’t. You caused me so much fucking pain that I—“ you cut yourself off, letting out a shaky breath. “— I couldn’t even trust him. It took me so long to finally trust Katsuki because of you. You ripped my heart and took it with you until you didn’t need me anymore for your selfish desires. You don’t care for me Shouto, you never have.”

“Y/N,” he whispered and took a step forward, halting when he saw you take a step away from him. “Please. I still love you.”

“No you don’t!” you yelled suddenly, clenching your fists as you looked into his eyes. Your vision became glossy with tears, the glistening substance trailing down your face. “You don’t! Stop lying to me! When will you stop lying to people Shouto?! Don’t you see?! We have feelings! We get hurt!” you cried out, pointing a finger in his way. “We aren’t for your personal pleasures!! You used me! You threw me out! And now that I’m finally happy, you want me back?!”

Your bottom lip quivered in pain as you let out a choked sob, bringing a hand to shield it from him. “You aren’t the only human on this planet! Stop pretending that you are! You can’t even see the real message in front of you, can you?!”

Shouto stood there in shock. His mind was moving a thousand miles per hour but nothing left his lips. His body refused to move any closer to your, afraid of a future he didn’t want. He loves you. After all this time, he’s in love with you. He misses your small kisses, your beautiful laugh, your smile that was only for him. He misses seeing you beside him in the awakening morning, your messy hair or tired displays of love. Yet in his own foolishness, he lost you.

“I always thought I might be bad, now I’m sure that it’s true,” he started off with a whisper, letting his body move on its own. “Cause I think you’re so good, and I’m nothing like you, Y/N.”

“Stop coming towards me.”

He didn’t listen, only advancing forward to you. You sunk your teeth into your lower lip as you placed a hand behind you, feeling the door that was behind you. He bent one leg slightly, looming over you. You lifted a hand up, bringing it down to slap him but he caught it last second, holding both of your wrists in his hand.

“Look at you go, I just adore you,” he whispered softly, his voice sending chills through your body. His own orbs glossed with tears, sniffling as he rested his forehead against yours. His eyes squeezed shut as his tears cascaded down his face, the substance hitting against your hands.

“I wish that I knew what makes you think I’m so special,” you whispered meekly, your voice cracking with each word that left your mouth. The wavering in your vocal cords made you upset with yourself. His fingers tighten around your smaller hands, bringing them to his chest. You could feel the steady beat of his heart.

“I learned how to love like you… and in my own stupidity, I ruined it. Please, all I ask is for one more chance. I’m better than him, ” he opened his eyes, his heterochromia ones staring into your own. His tears flowed effortlessly.

Here was the man that once said he didn’t need anyone at the top. That he was the one looking over everyone with no one by his side, that no one was worthy of him. The one who couldn’t believe in trust. The one who was the best at everything. The one who got what he always wanted. Here was the man that you fell head over heels for, but got your heart crushed in the process. Leaving you for the dust, you were left. Until someone else came in, slowly picking up the pieces of your broken heart and piecing them back together until you were ready to hand your heart off to him.

You squirmed in Shouto’s grip until your hands broke free from his grip. “Get off!!” you yelled, pushing him off of you with full force, watching him stumble back and fall on his ass, landing on the soft grass.

“What part don’t you get anymore?! I said I never wanted to see you again and you want to talk and pull that crap?!”

“That’s not—“

“That’s not what?!” you yelled, your tears of sadness turning into fresh hot tears of anger. “You think you can come walking in here and say ‘Hey I’m super sorry I didn’t mean it! Can we get back together again?!’ Did you honestly think that would work, Shouto?! I don’t love you anymore!! I don’t want you anymore!!”

“Hey, what’s going on?!”

You swiveled around quickly, a sense of relief filing your body at the entrance of an ash blond. Bakugou walked up to you and noticed Shouto on the floor, his fingers digging into the earth. “What the hell is happening?”

“Katsuki,” you whispered and threw yourself at him, burying your head into his chest as your arms encircled his torso. His arms immediately wrapped around your body, bringing you closer into his protection.

“Why are you here, Icy-Hot?!”

Shouto got up quickly, wiping the dirt from his backside. “I came to talk to Y/N.”

“I don’t want to talk to you anymore!” you yelled, turning around slightly to face him. Your fingers dug into Bakugou’s side, not hard enough to cause any pain. “I want you gone!!”

“I’m not done talking with you yet!”

“She said she doesn’t want you here. Now leave!! I know you’re a fucking asshole but I didn’t know you can’t listen!!” Bakugou yelled, his face slowly turning into a rosy red as his anger levels rose. His grip on your body tightens, his knuckles turning white.

You cracked Bakugou’s jaw in your face, forcing him to look down at you. Yet, he couldn’t look at you, keeping his eyes trained on the hero in front of him. “Katsuki,” you whispered, gently patting his cheek. “Please look at me.”

The ash-blond reluctantly looked down at you, his nostrils flaring in anger. “I love you,” you said softly, your hand reaching up and brushing some hair out of his face.

His face softens at your words, feeling his anger slowly fade away. “I love you too.”

You nodded and pulled away from him, inhaling deeply as you walked up to Shouto, your head held high. He stared down at you with nothing but eyes full of defeat and sorrow. A small smile of sadness curved at your lips as you cupped his cheek. He closed his eyes as he leaned into your touch, begging for more of it.

“Shouto,” you whispered softly, keeping the gap between both of you evident for Katsuki’s observing eyes. “I don’t want to be with you anymore. I’m happy. Can’t you see?” you asked, pulling away from him. “I love Katsuki with all my heart. I want to be with him. What you and I had, that’s long gone. You decided that you didn’t need that, you didn’t bother to care for someone other than yourself. You chose this route, I didn’t. I loved and cared for you. I truly did.”

You took a step back and looked into his awaiting eyes, his heart waiting for the words he longed for, but knew he wasn’t getting them anytime soon. “You chose fame and money over me, I can’t get upset by your decision. All I ask, is that you leave the both of us alone. Please.”

“Y/N, please. I’m sorry for what I did. Please just-”

You shook your head and lifted your hand in the air, cutting him off. “I’m tired of hearing you now. Please, leave already. You’re making it worse by being here. So do us a favor before he comes in and does something he won’t forget.”

Shouto’s heart of stone fell to the base of his body, cracking upon contact and shattering into millions of pieces. This time it was unfixable. The last time he felt this hurt was when he was a mere child, seeing the abuse his mother was put through by his father. He felt lost and alone like no one was by his side. Here was the woman he loved. He thought he had a future with you. But let’s be realistic, after the show he put on a year ago, that dream was long gone. He chose this path, with many regrets. What was he even thinking? He let his pride win over his own humanity. And now he has to pay the price for it.

Without another word to you or Bakugou, he swiveled on his heel and rushed to his car, his hand fishing in his pocket for his keys. He opened the door as quick as he could and got inside, jabbing the keys to start it up. It wasn’t worth it if he couldn’t get back with you.

You stood under the tree, the sun making its way to take its rest for the day. The gentle rays of orange seep through the leaves, hitting your supple skin that gave you a glow. A small smile of satisfaction graced your features as you closed your eyes, allowing yourself to bathe in the tranquility of this moment.

You wrapped your arms around your body as you hummed softly, your eyes stinging and tired from your previous crying.

Arms from behind wrapped around you, bringing you to rest against his chest. Bakugou leaned over slightly, burying his head in the crook of your neck. “What are you thinking about, pretty girl?”

“Mmm, you as always.”

“That’s funny,” he mumbled, nipping the tender skin of your neck before placing a kiss in its place. “What were you really thinking about?”

“You!” You laughed softly, resting your head on top of his. “Am I not allowed to think about my amazing boyfriend?”

A pinch to your side made you squeak in surprise as you tried pulling away from him, but his strong arms kept you in place. “I didn’t say that dumbass,” his gruff voice whispered in your ear as he suddenly lifted you up, holding you in a bridal style carry. Your arms immediately wrapped around his neck.

“What’s with the over the top affection now?” you teased, kissing his cheek gently, lingering your lips on the warm skin.

“Damn you always have to question everything I do, don’t you?” he huffed in annoyance as he walked back inside, kicking the door of the daycare center shut. “Can’t just take my answer as it is.”

“Oh but you know I love messing with you, Suki!”

He grumbled at the pet name you’ve given him over the course of your relationship. No matter how many times he said he hated it, deep down he loved hearing it come from you and only you. If anyone found out about it, he wouldn’t be afraid to blast them to hell.

“Katsuki?”

“What?”

“What do you think about that whole ordeal?”

“Well it was fucking stupid,” he started off, placing you down on the couch beside him as he threw an arm around your shoulder, bringing you to rest your head on his shoulder. “He had no business coming back again, even after you told him you wanted nothing to do with him. He should have known better than to mess with you. Fucking bastard doesn’t know when to stop,” he growled, his hand rubbing up and down your arm.

“Well I don’t think he’ll be bothering me anytime soon,” you looked up at him, smiling. “Especially now. After all, I got a little guard dog.”

“Guard dog?! Is that what you think of me as?!”

“Maybe,” you trailed the last syllable out, grinning before going serious. “But overall… I’m glad I met you. As you know, I was in a dark place before we started dating and, I just want to truly thank you for coming into my life, Katsuki.”

His vermillion eyes trained on your expressions before kissing your forehead. “Dumbass, you don’t have to thank me. After all, that idiot needs a good punch to the face. And I might be the one to do it.”

You rolled your eyes and nestled your head into his chest, breathing in his caramel scent. Before meeting Bakugou Katsuki, you thought you could never trust or find someone that truly loved you and was not using you for their personal gain. You were a broken piece of art and he was the sculptor. Over time he mended the pieces of your shattered heart and formed it into something better than before. Bakugou Katsuki was not only your lover, he was your best friend, your shoulder to cry on.

But most importantly, he was your hero.

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