#I remember writing in my notebook that I wanted to cut myself open. to rip out my intestines. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

aineryeo · 3 years

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Sweet Tea ௹ OSAMU

Sweet Hibiscus Tea — Better Twin. 🍵

SYNOPSIS: You are not a protagonist but your best friend definitely is. When will you ever be, sweet little side-character? » 6.2k Words

THEME: A li'l bit of a slow burn love story, angst, just a treat as my first fic in a year. | Bit of profanity, cussin', teen drama. And use of dialogue references!

NOTE: Low-key felt like this was crap, rip. I still love you so much ‘Samu :( I may have not written this the best

If you were to think of what your role in life was, you were sure you were a comic relief character, and your screen time was just cut short because the viewers in the show you call, “Life” are not giving you the best reviews. With the amount of times you felt like you were cycling through all your days the same, waking up… Waking.. Up.. Wake— Yeah, that was about it.

Everything else was an objective agenda. You were a sufficient klutz, whatever that paper was. You ponder, in your inner monologue while you’re tapping your push-pen on your school desk in Inarizaki.

“— And we’ll be designing our own living rooms as part of the Course Outline for Interior Studies in the general subject.”

You had a best friend, continuing to ignore the incessant babbles, you say as you write a little note to remind yourself to think of a living room design to finish the work quickly later. You had a best friend, who you can easily say is the main character of life. You swear, as she sat close to the window, and how she wasn’t mean, she was charming; it was so hard not to like her. But she’s also insecure, keeps to herself enough, having you by her side.

“Hear that ‘Samu?”

“What now, ‘Sumu?”

“Interior Designin’! Weren’t ya listenin’ ya scrub.” Bleach-blonde hair.“What about it?” Disinterest; Bleached hair too, but ash-grey.

“Ain’t Kori-Kori real good at stuff like this?”

You observed the two famed twins of Inarizaki High. Actually no, you were forced to; how? Well, you sat between them, not like that ever stopped anyone, nor did it ever interfere with your boring experience of being a 2nd mid-year Senior. You just wanted to get up, and leave, get a job or something; not going to lie.

“Is there anyone talking at the back right there? Anything the class would like to hear, pretty sure.” Professor said, which immediately shut the two up, the other was blatant and oblivious, even whistling.

“Guessed so.” Your professor went on right after.

Your chin was resting on the heel of your palm now, but you felt someone roughly, no really, they roughly tapped your shoulder, the touch was from a clearly heavy hand. It came from your right, which was…

“Hey missy, pass this on to my brother, will ‘ya?” He grinned widely, his other hand that held the pen used to write a note in the torn paper from his notebook that most likely didn’t have any notes despite it being mid-year. You let out a bit of a grunt, not moving from your position, but you did use your hand that was tapping your table to pass it on to the other Miya without sparing a glance.

“...”

Your arm was about to die.

You turned to the other Miya, a small frown on your face as he ignored your outstretched hand, his eyes were closed, arms crossed but he was definitely not sleeping, it was obvious enough. So you tried to aggressively wave your arm that held the letter while keeping an eye on the doting teacher upfront, trying not to be obvious. His brother had noticed that he was ignoring you as well, shrugging when your frown deepened, back straightening on your desk, your free hand now tapping on your table instead of being a rest for your head.

“Hey ‘Samu ‘ya jerk…!” Atsumu whispered, a volume tad higher, to his brother who proceeded to ignore him; and technically, you too.

You groaned and ignored the two, equally annoying twins that are involving you into a situation you don’t want to get involved in. So you just slammed, actually no, not slammed exactly but you did harshly place the torn paper that contained some unnamed letter from Atsumu directed to Osamu. Wistfully, this was noticed by your professor.

“Y/N. I believe it’s been made clear that passing notes is not allowed in my class, rather, on any occasion that involves other subjects as well.” They scolded.

You sucked a breath in between your teeth, your hand ran through your hair in an attempt to calm you down. “Switch seats with Yokori. This seating will last ‘till the end of the year, ‘lest you misbehave again. This applies to everyone else who has been swapped constantly.”

Yokori gave you a solemn smile, knowing you hated this, she gathered her belongings and quickly sat to avoid any more trouble; even opting to give you a pat on your shoulder on the way to her desk near the window, though not quite beside. One classmate separated you from being directly beside the scenery of school grounds that held the gym where your schools’ famous volleyball team resides for practices. Actually, this classmate was one of their players, Suna Rintaro? Your impression on him was that he was quiet… Enough, if not provoked or talked to at all, which you guessed was part of your luck. Because you were definitely not going to talk to him, less it required you to by any of your classes together.

So you sat, your professor continued, and your eyes landed on your best friend that sat on your previous seat, since your first year of middle school. Bored expression on once again, your thoughts dialed back, and you noticed a quick interaction from Atsumu towards your best friend who flushed slightly from the two’s attention, noticing that even the twin who ignored you earlier began perking up, just a little bit. And the feeling was slight but you felt a tinge of annoyance, proceeding to push it to the back of your mind, not letting the feelings against your best friend surface. Because she was good, and undeserving of it, obviously.

The bell rang, it was time for lunch!

Lunch is a happy time, because you can buy yourself chocolate, and you can, well, eat lunch. What else is there for? You were bored out of your mind at home after doing your homework, and studying enough for the day so you practiced cooking. Which you admit, was very enjoyable, especially when you finish. Today was tuna sushi rolls, seaweed-strapped spam meat, seasoned rice, and hot tamarind soup in your insulating tumbler. You didn’t notice light gray irisess eyeing you in your little daydream about your lunch for today.

“Y/N, you good?” Yokori, said best friend went next to you, who had just finished gathering your lunch bag. You nodded, smile small. “Yep, let’s go.”

The class dispersed quickly, you two walked side-by-side as she timidly told you a story about her situation earlier.

“So Atsumu-san was passing notes to his brother Osamu, right? T’was so weird because they kept asking me questions, but Atsumu-san was nice, he wanted help with that Interior Designing project we have going on.” She laughed, scratching her cheek. You nodded along to her story, she was used to your rather quiet demeanor, she knew you were still listening. “They said it’d be cool to attend their after-school volleyball practice.”

“Mmh. Really? They’re annoying though.” You humored her, to which she chuckled.

“I mean… It shouldn’t be bad to try it, right?” She said with a big grin, bright.

You jutted your lips forward as you bobbed your head in agreement, already taking your chopsticks and lunch out when you found a free table. “I guess so.” You said, mouth chewing on a roll.

You pour a portion of soup to get the food down your throat onto your tumbler’s cap that serves as the cup, and drank, “So I told them you’re coming with me, I’d be too nervous by myself… Hehe..” and spat.

“Kori, what?”

“Come with me…” She looked at you, nervously smiling with her eyebrows raised in mock questioning, “-please.”

“Okay.”

“I promise, I’ll ask you next ti— wait, really? Holy shit, Y/N, thank you! I’ll pay you back, for sure. I didn’t expect you to agree quickly, d’you have a crush on any of the VBC members, perhaps?” She teased.

You were eating continually, mouth full of rice as you pointed your metal chopsticks toward her. Speaking with your mouth full, “I don’t think there was any point trying to say no if I’d say yes in the end anyway. It already happened, what can I really do?”

She nodded in understanding, you were always like this, relaxed about what happened around. It was worth idolizing, at least. Your head felt like it was burning, the back, you mean. Was someone staring?

You were now sitting outside of the gym, deciding to hang around outside instead of watching sweaty boys play for hours. Kori became more relaxed, so you took the go-mark and asked to leave when you noticed that she was. The team was fond of her, you note, Shinsuke Kita the Captain even thanking her for thinking of buying them snacks and helping them around with their manager to fill up the boys’ water bottles. The team gave her attention and copied their captain in terms of providing gratification for her deeds. You heard her ‘lax conversation next to the banter with the twins that was a normal recurrence.

You were simply a drifting particle, a bystander.

Actually wait, you remembered that you had packed yourself a little snack in case you had to stay in school for some surprise activity you forgot about, or situations like this exactly. So you took out your little box of homemade onigiris, not noticing the figure looming at the door. It was their break, and you were about to bite.

“Hey, that yours?” You hear, stopping your bite mid-way, turning your head to see ash-grey.

“Huh.”

“Ya deaf or what, missy?” The nerve.

You looked at him, and bit on the prism-shaped rice, then looked forward once again, closing your eyes even. ‘Till you heard shuffling and a sleazy figure sitting next to yours. That was when you opened your eyes, mouth slightly agape. Osamu Miya, sat next to you, his legs spread, and his arms were holding his whole posture as his head faced yours.

“If yer gonna look at me like that, the least ya could do is gimme one, little miss.”

You shook your head and swallowed. “Stop calling me little miss, old man.”

“Hoho, old man?” He says, humoring you, you can smell his cologne from here, mixed with sweat from his practice. He leaned forward, his arms now intertwining, resting on his knees, he was facing you with a small smile.

“Yeah, I’d call you shit hair but your hair ain’t the color.” You shrugged, but it was the type of shrug where you slightly move your hands outward. So when you did, the hand that held your bitten snack was when the big fox ate his fill. “Mm, tastes good.”

“Fucki-” You screeched. His eyes went wide when you just shoved the onigiri in his mouth, “It has your germs now, better not choke, gran’pa.”

Osamu was trying to give you a snide reply back but he couldn’t, with the rice stuck in, he just kept chewing. As you stood up and yelled to Kori that you were leaving. You were a side character, nothing more, you thought; as you walked away from the boy who had tried reaching to you, but you failed to notice.

“So… He invited me to their house to hang out.” Yokori said happily on the phone, you were trying to sketch a few designs you felt like doing so hummed, already quite satisfied, spinning on your chair right after. “So…”

“No.”

“But I haven’t said anything yet!”

“You were about to ask me if I can come with you because you’re nervous to go alone, the usual, hm?”

“...”

“Hm?”

“...Yes.”

“No.”

“Please?”

“N-”

“I’ll order you takeout pizza!”

“...Okay.”

You heard her cheering yes! On the other line, to which you just slumped in your chair to. And so, the day came and you were right behind Kori, who was knocking on the Miya residence as of the moment. The one who greeted the both of you was Osamu Miya, you internally groaned, their parents were off, you heard.

“Tsumu!” Your best friend smiles, greeting the other twin brightly; and smiling so wide at the twin at the door. “Hello ‘Samu!” She said, before the blonde had pushed past the door to beam at her.

“Brought your li’l friend along, cutie?” Atsumu jokes, rustling your friend’s hair before beckoning the two of you to come in. You walk past Osamu who you had mild grudges with. Your friend turned to you, “I’ll be helping Atsumu with some plates for the project, we’ll be up in his room!” She said, innocently.

“Mmh, okay. I’ll stay here?” You asked, more to yourself, you didn’t really know where to stay. This wasn’t your place.

��Accommodate the guest ‘Samu, I need’a do important school stuff.” Atsumu waved off as the two walked up the stairs on the way to the boy’s room, pretty sure. You stood there in the middle for a couple minutes, unsure. The renowned ‘less annoying’ Miya was sitting on one of their kitchen stools, his cheek digging into his palm, just staring at you. You stared back. He stared back. You were both staring.

You broke. “Not gonna let me sit, or anything?”

“Sit anywhere or something.” He droned, still looking at you. He was enjoying it.

So you looked at the couch beside you, then spared a glance at him, about to sit until he spoke again, “Hmm, not there.” He said in his low voice that contained an underline of mockery, you were sure. Though to him, it was simply amusing, to watch you that is. If anyone outside the two of your observing based gazes, he was actually sporting a noticeable smile. A small triangle smile, as if he was shy to make it any bigger, in hopes of hiding something.

You tried the two other chairs, the floor, leaning on a wall, but it was all a reject. You were embarrassed every time. Did you really have to go through all this just to get takeout pizza? You’d have to ask more later, that's for sure. So you tried for a last option, there was a tall stool right beside his, and well, three others far from him. So you tried the farthest tall stool from him, which was the far left. He shook his head no, you furrowed your eyebrows, you moved to the second stool, still no? Every move made your head wrinkle further down ‘till you reached the last seat, right next to him. To which he finally said, “Got it, pretty girl.” with a big boyish grin.

You didn’t have time to react to the nickname before finally letting out a sigh as you stretched your arms, and legs before laying your head on your arms that were resting on the table in front. That whole interaction probably took at least half an hour, you didn’t really know, you didn’t have a watch. “Pretty, my ass.”

He hummed, resting his head on his arms as well, though he was facing you. “Yer ass is.”

“The fuck.”

“Ya got a bad mouth.”

You groaned, and buried your face in your arms. Wanting to escape this. But you were lying to yourself if you said that you didn’t subconsciously enjoy his attention. You weren’t used to it, you weren’t supposed to feel this, right? It wasn’t, it just, it’s not you. Right? You shook your head to which the boy watched you do, getting your head up, posture straight and looking at him. He looked back, like he always seems to do.

“What do you want from me?” You say.

Osamu kept his mouth shut, still looking into you, thinking of what to say. Unwilling himself to tell you what he’d rather. So he asked a question, “D’ya cook?”

“Yeah, I make my own lunch and snacks.” You said, wary. Already feeling suspicious, you raise both your brows.

“Let’s cook.” He suggests.

Here’s the thing, you can’t do anything right if someone’s watching you too intently. It feels awkward, who in their right mind is able to do this right when he’s gripping your wrist that was stirring the batter for what the both of you decided to make, muffins.

“Ya gotta put in the right amount of strength.” He instructed.

“I’m starting to regret mentioning that I don’t bake often.” You thought, you thought you just thought that it was only in your thoughts. Oh no, you were becoming redundant, was it always this hot?

“Yer burnin’ figuratively, and literally. By that, your eyeballs are wide as fuck.” Osamu pointed out, he was biting his lip, to keep from a wide smile. “Tryna bake with yer hot gaze?”

What? “Huh.”

Now Osamu had wide eyes, I think it came off more sultry than intended. So he moved away from you as if you were burning his skin, though technically, you really were. Playing it cool. “What?”

“My what.”

“Yer… What?”

You were staring at him with a confused expression, about to open your mouth when, “Hey scrub! Make me a snack, I’m starvin’ over here.” Atsumu yelled from the room, you heard Kori’s small laugh and a faint, “Don’t be so mean, ‘Tsum.”

“Right. Let’s put ‘em in the tray then straight to the oven, yeah?” Osamu started, standing next to you, his face was not quite visible due to his wide shoulders, if you knew better, he might be obstructing your vision to not see the steaming heat from his ears. Spoiler, you did. But you chose not to poke at a sleeping bear.

“You sick? Got red ears?” You poked at a sleeping bear.

Actually, you were expecting a snark reply, it was easier that way. Just be sarcastic back. It was when the both of you were done, and placed the tray containing the muffin batter in the oven to bake, did Osamu dip his index finger in the bowl of slightly empty batter, facing you, and licking it off his finger. You really tried, you did; you tried not to look at the way he did that so unabashed. Dipping the same finger on the last remaining batter before menacingly leaning closer to you, inches from your face. If you could measure it exactly, 2.8 inches? So close.

Your weight moved from the heel of your foot to the front, again and again, what was he doing?

“What are you—?” You began before you got cut off by his finger wiping the batter on your lips, it made it look like you had a mustache. You stood there surprised for a few seconds, not knowing how to react, and hated how you expected something so different. It was until you heard a click of a camera and a low chuckle vibrate from the boy in front of you that you took the few remaining flour that was right in your reach to throw it in front of his face, making a huge fog of flour. He coughed for a bit, his eyes were glistening as he took the bowl next to him, using his whole hand to wipe leftover batter, getting ready to chase you.

You noticed. So you ran, but not without screaming, the leftover flour bag in your hand.

“No, please,”

“You asked for it, pretty girl.” He replied breathily, both of you were circling the kitchen island.

It took a good ten minutes before he decided to jump the island, and ran to quickly get hold of you with both of his arms, his hair tickling the side of your neck which made you laugh too hard, flour was all over his hair and apron, you failed to notice the handprint of batter right on your chest because you were struggling so hard to get off his grip. He was laughing too, you put on your scowling face, though not really mad, to face him, who in turn faced you as well. You didn’t notice the distance between the two of you was nearly non-existent; I repeat, nearly.

“Hey ‘Samu! I’m starvin’ and I smell yer bakin way over in my room.” You heard quick footsteps down the stairs, which made you jump in your skin. But even with that speed, you were still caught. Because Atsumu had an unreadable expression, “This place is a mess! Did we interrupt too early, hm?” Kori taking a peek right behind Atsumu.

You heard a dry cough from the other twin, facing the other direction, you facing the other as well. None of you spoke in time, so you took it. “No, uh, we weren’t, nothing was happening.”

“The scene of the crime is proof!” Atsumu pushed, teasing, as he continued his way down next to Kori.

“Shut it ‘ya scrub.”

“Yer the scrub, scrub.” They started bickering, real easy like that, trying to beat each other up. You noticed Kori walking down the stairs as well, first with an expression you couldn’t quite place, as if she was thinking deeply. But when she noticed you looking, she quickly changed into a bright smile, even sporting a blush, ready to tell a story about what happened behind the closed doors of Atsumu’s bedroom.

The day ended quickly after that, Osamu forced Atsumu to help the both of you to clean the kitchen while Kori volunteered to. It continued on like that, Kori dragging you into one of her meetings with Atsumu, you complaining but coming anyway, and you end up stuck with Osamu as she goes to her rendezvous with Atsumu that at this point, you have no idea what they’re doing. You just tag along.

Right now, you were beside Osamu in the gym during their break from training. Near the door, his teammates a good few distance away as he sat on a bench with his usual posture. Slumped back, his arms arching, one behind you that you fail to think of anything. Just as a general position. You were voicing out a thought you had in a while, seriously.

“So I was balls deep into ghosts way back—”

He looked at you, disgusted. “GROSS,” Shoving you lightly, “God, please never, ever say ‘balls deep in ghosts’ to anyone ever again. I feel like washin’ my mouth having to repeat that.” He even added this mild shudder that was just an exaggeration.

“What? What’s wrong with it?”

“I don’t really want to think about anyone having sex with a ghost.”

“Huh, who said anything about ghost sex?”

“You did, Y/N! Just now!”

“I didn’t—Oh, holy shit. No. Oh no.”

“What?”

“Does ‘balls deep’ not mean you’re standing in, like, the shallow end of the pool, metaphorically. Like up to your balls or something.”

“No! Balls deep is—It’s…”

“Balls deep is…”

“Why are you two talking about balls?” Suna interjected, acting as if he was just hearing about your conversation now. He was actually listening since the start, noticing the short distance between the both of you, interest hiding behind his eyes. “Balls, as in, dick or something? That’s wild.”

“Suna, no!” You screeched.

Osamu was biting back a laugh. The team was watching the three of you converse, getting used to the sight of you with their teammate. Assuming other things up the clouds. Atsumu was watching his brother with hawk eyes, and so was the girl next to him, Kori, though she was looking at you. If Suna was being honest, he didn’t notice any form of chemistry between your friend and the piss haired twin. They were all smiles and bright, but they always looked like they were thinking of something different. Though he doesn’t know anything about it.

Practice ended. It’s been months, and your interactions with Osamu have gotten more laxed. Your thoughts about being nothing more than a side-character was starting to change, because with him, you felt that you were a number one choice. You felt that you were a main character. Osamu felt the same, being with you felt like time was moving too fast and he wanted to spend it more with you, he was becoming insatiable. With you, he didn’t feel second to his brother for once. Lingering touches, his hand forgetting to unhook from yours, and his arm slinking around your shoulders as he yawns and asks for one of your homemade snacks as he starts to make some after-school snacks to give back to you.

You were invading his mind as much as he was invading yours. Sitting next to you during lunch, asking what’s in your bento, vice versa. Why was everything sailing so smooth? It was like it was just him and you. You heard rumors from the Miya fans that they were thinking you were Osamu Miya’s girlfriend. Forgetting your inferiority, sometimes the universe was just cruel, so it had to humble you.

“Atsumu and I broke up.” Kori sobbed.

Not to you, but to Osamu. You gripped your bag’s strap tightly. You peeled your lip with your teeth until the middle bled, so you sucked in the pain. No, you were not the protagonist. You weren’t, you never will be, and you never are in the past, present, and future. So you sucked in a breath to collect yourself, seeing Osamu pat the girl to attempt and comfort her, badmouthing his brother. “Sorry,” Her first gripped his shirt tighter.

“Osamu, please. It’s—I always liked you. It was just you.”

She wasn’t a bad person. She wasn’t, but why? You wanted to hit her, that, or jump off a building and die. None of them noticed you yet, at least that’s what you thought, but the sobbing girl had already seen you before she started bawling, and the other twin was forced to give her a tight, but awkward hug.

“Yokori… I liked you.”

You were about to walk to them normally after licking your lips from the blood, wanting to appear as a third party, to not let this happen. It just can’t. but you were pulled back by your collar. Who—

“Atsumu?”

He put his index finger in front of his lips to silence you, “Shh.”

So you followed him confused, he held your hand away from the scene. Leading you to the gates, the school half-empty, their practice about to start in half an hour or so. “Atsumu, why?” You croaked.

He had his eyes widened a bit, why? Actually, why did he pull you from that scene? His other hand that didn’t hold yours, which you didn’t bother to remove with the energy seeping out of your body quickly; it was taking everything in you not to break down. It went to his nape, rubbing it in question to himself, why? It was just that, seeing you staring at a scene when he knew you liked his brother, at a scene too painful, for a best friend who was just trying to do their paper, he knew. So his arms safely wrapped around you as you stared dead into his eyes, looking at his features that resembled the other who had unknowingly captured your heart.

Your bleeding lip trembled, your eyes turned glossy of the tears held back, Atsumu looked at you, empathetic. He broke up with your best friend because he couldn’t see it happen, every time he saw you with his brother, that wasn’t what they both had. They were simply not meant to be, and he was fine, he just didn’t know, but he was glad that because of it, he found out that she liked his brother more than she did him. He’d be angry, he should be, for his sake, but he wasn’t angry for him, he was angry for you.

He hid your face into his chest instead. You didn’t sob, solely because you thought you didn’t deserve to. But you cried, you let your tears soak in, “You look like him too much.”

“Shhh, I know—” Sigh. “It’s okay. You don’t have to look at me.” He said, trying his best to comfort you, caressing your hair. As a pair of grey eyes watched the scene from a distance, unable to hear, but able to see. Maybe he saw too much as he grimaced.

Osamu tried his best not to punch his brother right in the jaw, or push him away so he could yell everything he’d kept cooped up inside before you came running along, turning monochrome into a saturated-vision of the world. His teeth were pressing down on each other hard enough, he thought it might break, and shatter, just like his heart did. Of course, you chose his brother. Everyone always does. Every time he thinks he’s got it all, it’s all swiped underneath by his twin. Everyone says that it wasn’t their talents, or skills in volleyball that was the greatest gift they had ever received in life. It was their twin. But right now, he just thinks he was a curse he had to always deal with.

He jolted as he felt a hand on his shoulder. It was Suna.

“Practice. Kita’s calling. Call your brother.” The ever-observant boy runs over as he scans the scene, and hisses as he sees you wrapped in his brother’s arms. Though he knew more than that, he had first-class seats to this theatrical after all. But he’d rather not be part of the act club, it wasn’t his forte.

“Yeah, yeah. Okay.” Osamu replied, briefly. A bit tense, still.

He looked back to Atsumu who had let you go, and you who were walking away already. On the way to your home, he was sure. But he can’t help but cringe, thinking of it as your way of walking away from him.

“Practice! ‘Sumu!” He yelled, devoid of anything.

You jolted, you were a bit far but he yelled really loud you could still hear it. This didn’t go unnoticed by him, but you were both overcome by swirling emotions that stopped both of you to do the bare minimum, smile and wave, no after-school snacks. Atsumu jogged towards them, not noticing his brother’s attempt at hiding his huge frown. Practice was hell for Osamu, he didn’t want to see his brother right now, not when he still thinks of your precious little form hugging his brother’s, not his.

When his brother accidentally served a ball hitting Osamu behind the head, it was more of a switch for his anger; his rage.

“Fucking hell.” He said, turning viciously towards his brother who was uttering lighthearted apologies. It wasn’t until he started stalking towards Atsumu did the team start watching them like hawks, Aran thinking it’s just another one of their silly fights. But that thought was cut off when Osamu suddenly launched a fist towards Atsumu. “Ya just get off on this, huh? Ya get off on giving me bullshit every time.”

“Woah, ‘Samu I said I was sorry. What the fuck.” Atsumu said, brows furrowed, voice starting to get scratchy at his brother’s tight grip on the collar of his shirt. His hand quickly gripped his brother’s wrist tied to his shirt, attempting to get it off him, starting to get riled up from getting hit out of nowhere. “What’s your fuckin’ problem?” He said, about to kick his brother off of him.

“You. You just took everything from me, ‘Sumu. You took them.”

Osamu breathed heavily as Kita instructed the team to peel the twins away from each other as this wasn’t one of their silly fights at all. It held other issues. The captain knew that practice wouldn’t be able to continue like this, so he made them do drills before allowing them to go home. Looking pointedly at the Miya’s. The two brothers did what they were told to, going off to do their drills, and getting ready to go home.

They were walking silently side-by-side, both faces covered with a frown, Atsumu’s face having a bruise by the jaw whilst Samu didn’t have a scratch, only because Atsumu was realizing where it all came from.

“Did ya see?”

“Fuck you.”

“Look— It’s not what ya think, ya idiot.” Atsumu started, Osamu raised his brow at his brother. “I don’t want to say anything. Figure things out yourself, scrub.” Then the blonde started walking faster, leaving his brother behind to ponder.

The next day came by, he tried calling you but it never got through. Did you block him? What did he do? Did you really get repulsed by him to avoid him to that extent? That involved his texts getting left unanswered. You didn’t come to school today, he asked Kori, who he had rejected yesterday, and who was supposed to know about you more than he did. Though he was aware that you often felt inferior to her, as he told you the same about his brother, it was a feeling that you two were all too familiar with.

“I don’t know where she is, I’m sorry. She’s not talking to me either.”

Osamu stayed quiet at that, he thought you just needed time. So he let it go, looking forward to talking to you the following days. But that was the problem, you weren’t there in the following days either. He knew where you lived but he didn’t want to impose as your family didn’t know him very well yet either. He stopped himself from visiting until it hit the second week of your absence. Where were you? Why have you disappeared as if you never existed in the first place? He was growing worried, he wanted you to exist. He loved existing when you were around. And he wanted to clear everything up after getting multiple clues from Suna, and his brother, obviously.

It was until the class of the second week you were gone, when Osamu promised to visit your house after school, did their teacher tell them news that tore Osamu in half.

“One of our students Y/N L/N has transferred schools. The administration just finished filing her transfer after her visit yesterday, she didn’t get to say goodbye as her family moved out the same day. That’s about it, the first class is Physics. Have a nice day ahead, students.”

His ears were ringing. You were gone. Gone like the liquid that slipped past his hold. Atsumu looked at his brother in pity, knowing how much he had lost at that time. And he’d be lying if he said he didn’t hear Osamu crying in the shower when they got home. Or when he tried to not get his snot on his pillows, sniffling in the night. His heart ached for his brother.

It’s been years since 2nd year in High School, and Osamu has just opened up Onigiri Miya. His brother had gone pro on Volleyball, and he couldn’t be more proud. He still finds himself thinking back to a few months of pure bliss in highschool, and he tried dating a fair share as well, in hopes that he’ll get what he had with you. He didn’t. So he dedicated himself to his work, and his passion: cooking. A few more years and his business was a success, to which was hell for the first few months, having no investors, and all. He was wiping down his counter, black cap on, his hair not having the same old bleached-grey hair. Instead, it was back to his natural dark hair.

“What is this place, really?”

“The name reminds me of someone from my highschool days. But I only heard about it now, is it really good?”

“Yeah, totally! We should bring our superiors here, and see if we get a few favors, hmm? The onigiri here is a star-choice.” Osamu sees someone turned around, laughing prettily, smiling all-wide, they were bright. Until the same eyes he used to look at in such a close distance, caught his own. His heart skipped two beats, or maybe skipped beating this whole time, maybe he died because god, did he finally send his angel back to him?

It was when you uttered his name under your breath, from the entrance that rang the bell prior to the conversation he overheard earlier did he confirm it. “Hey pretty girl,” he says, as he takes off his cap, ruffles his hair, chuckling deeply, and looking directly back at you; your heart spasms. “Where have you been?”

Bonus:

“Yeah, he was a real bitch when I first talked to him in high school.” You badmouthed him loudly from your table, which made him yell from the kitchen, “I was trying to see if you’ll take my hand and put the note there, okay!” Laughing, you didn’t notice him stalking behind you until he placed a kiss on your cheek. “Grumpy-ass.”

Living with 'Samu! ⁆ End Credits

#miya osamu #Miya #Osamu #Haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #Haikyuu!!#Inarizaki #miya atsumu #Atsumu #Osamu x Reader #Osamu x you #suna rintarou #Slow burn #Angst

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arvandus · 3 years

Note

Prompt 1 for Dabi either fluff or angst your choice

Oh look, my biggest one yet at 1629 words. But it’s Dabi, and we all know how I feel about that man... and I’ve decided to write *angst*, because... well... I like to hurt myself apparently.

Anyway, I hope you enjoy, in an “ouch” sort of way... ___________________________________________________

#1. “It’s you, it always has been.”

The first time you met Touya, at six years old, you’d been drawn to him instantly. He was happy, outgoing, and bold, talking about his big hero dreams and worshipping his father. You had listened with eager ears, reliving tales of his father’s heroics with him, and joining in with dreams of your own. Youthfulness was simple like that, eager to give adoration in search of guidance. That’s how your friendship started. Young. Innocent.

Happy.

As time passed, you both grew older and your friendship grew as well. Maybe it was all the time you spent together, the walks home, the shared lunches. Or maybe it was just the inevitable development of youth. But you began to see him differently, your heart racing each time he looked into your eyes, your body wanting to be closer to him. It was innocent in its genuineness, a simple desire to hold him close, to cherish all of the little moments.

But he changed too. He grew more quiet, more distant… you were sure it was his family life. He’d only talked to you about it once or twice. But you never pressed him about it, and eventually he fell silent.

You had held out hope though. After all, he still walked you home every day. He still spent time with you during lunch, the two of you finding the quiet places to be together. And he still listened.

It all had to count for something, right? So, you’d decided. You’d tell him. And if it worked out the way you hoped it would… maybe he’d smile again.

But each time you tried to say the words, they could never leave your mouth. It frustrated you, feeling trapped by your own fear as you watched him pull further and further away from you.

Finally, one day, you’d decided. Today was the day. You were going to do it. You sat behind him in class, his white hair perched on hunched shoulders. Nervously you took a strip of paper from your notebook and scribbled a quick note over it.

Dear Touya,

We’ve been friends for a long time. I want you to know that I really like you. Like, more than a friend.

You stared at the words on the paper, before deciding to add more.

Do you like me?

Yes or No (circle one)

You handed it to him when the teacher’s back was turned, and he took it deftly from your hand. Your ears were ringing, your heart pounding. You felt stupid. It was so lame, but in a moment of panic, it was the best you could do.

You watched as his fingers opened the paper and read its contents. You waited, a snake of anxiety coiling itself in your gut.

‘Please…’ you had thought. ‘please answer me…’

But he never did. Instead, he tucked the note into his pocket.

That was the first day he didn’t walk you home.

It was pouring rain outside, the sky dark and heavy with low clouds blanketing the city. It suffocated you. You hated this weather. It always made the memories stronger, more powerful. A gust of wind rattled your closed windows, and you stood up to close your curtains against it but halted, your movements frozen.

There. Across the street, stood a hooded figure. His hoodie kept his face in shadow, but you’d recognize his lean form anywhere, familiar dark messy hair peaking out from the cotton that did little to protect him from the downpour.

“Touya…?” you muttered.

It’d been a long time since he’d last shown up in your life. The last time you’d seen him was unintentional… you’d recognized him, even with his dyed hair and purple burn scars and had chased him down. He’d brushed you off, harsh words stabbing at your soul, shattering your euphoria at realizing your childhood friend was still alive. You’d learned quickly in that moment that he wasn’t that nice boy anymore, and he had wanted nothing to do with you. It had almost broken you.

Almost.

But now here he was, standing outside your home as if you owed him something. Your clenched your jaw in anger, even as you abandoned your window to grab your raincoat and umbrella.

You came out of your front door just in time to see him disappear down a residential alleyway halfway down the block. You cursed under your breath and ran to catch up to him, your boots splashing puddles onto your pants.

As soon as you turned the corner, his voice greeted you.

“You really shouldn’t follow strangers into alleyways.” He scolded mockingly.

There he stood, leaning against the wall with his hands buried deep in his pockets. He looked worse than the last time you saw him, the scars darker than before, his stitches pulling morbidly at his skin. His eyes still held that electric blue in them, sizzling with life, but there was something off about them... a detachment you couldn’t place. It terrified you.

“You’re not a stranger.” You replied.

“You sure about that?” he asked.

“What do you want, Touya?” You demanded, your hands clutching your umbrella. The cold was starting to soak in, making your fingers ache.

“Don’t call me that.” he retorted. “I’m Dabi now, remember?”

“You can call yourself whatever you want, but I know who you really are.” You shot back. You weren’t in the mood for this.

His stared at you for a moment, measuring your resolve, before he averted his eyes, his cocky bravado momentarily muted. He stared down at his boots in silence, a furrow on his brow. For the first time, he looked like himself, black hair and scars be damned.

“I have a big job coming up. It’s the one I’ve been waiting for… probably the biggest one I’ll ever do.” He started.

You shifted uncomfortably. “Why are you telling me this? I haven’t seen you for years and now you just show up-”

His words cut you off. “Would you just shut up and listen?”

Anger flared your nostrils, your jaw clenched shut. The gall…

“I might not be able to come back for a while.” He continued.

That got your attention. A deep sense of dread filled you from your soggy boots up to your furrowed brow.

“What do you mean?” you asked warily. Please…. Don’t…

“I don’t want you to look for me anymore, you got that?” he ordered.

How did he know? How long had he been watching you?

“There’s something else…” he said. “I got something for you. But… you have to close your eyes.”

He was bringing you gifts now? The dread sunk its teeth deeper.

“Why?” you asked hesitantly.

“Just do it.” He said softly. Something about his tone made you obey. It wasn’t Dabi asking… it was Touya.

You held your breath and closed your eyes as he took a step forward to close the space between you. You felt his rough, warm hand take yours and slip a something into it. Before you could open your eyes to see what he’d given you, you felt his hand cradle your face as he pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead. You leaned into it instinctually, eyes still closed, an odd sense of relief falling over you as your heart focused on this single, precious, surreal moment.

“It’s you.” He whispered against your skin. “It always has been.” The words were enigmatic, yet they filled your heart with sunlight, rays of warmth trapped under water. You held onto them like precious, fragile, glass.

Touya pulled away from you and the cold rushed in to take his place, heartache replacing relief. The loud sound of rushing air rumbled in your ears, but by the time you opened your eyes, the noise – and Touya – were gone.

“T-Touya…” you whispered, as a tear slipped down your cheek. Only empty silence answered you back, the alleyway forlorn and abandoned.

You opened your palm to see a thin, folded envelope in your hand. A gust of wet wind nearly tore it from your fingers, so you clutched it tight and shoved it into your pocket. The clouds seemed darker, the rain felt colder… and an empty longing settled itself in your bones like poison. With a final glance over your shoulder, you returned to your house, your heart heavy.

As soon as you left your rainy items by the door and settled yourself into your room, you pulled the envelop from your pocket. You stared at it with shaky hands. The outside was blank, a worn crease down the middle as if it’d been opened and folded repeatedly. It was thin, and you couldn’t help but wonder about its contents. Slowly, you forced yourself to open it. Your fingers pulled out an old, folded piece of notebook paper. It was frayed on the edges, the creases of its folds worn so thin that you were afraid it’d fall apart in your hands. Old, dirty fingerprints littered its weathered texture, the paper yellowed with age. Your heart began to pound heavy in your chest like the pulsing of a dying star. Recognition began to dawn on you. Had he really kept it? You were so certain that he’d thrown it away…

You opened the paper gently and a sob immediately ripped itself your throat.

There your words sat, old and childish. But at the bottom, a single black circle surrounded the one answer you had been hoping for. It was the reason you’d never given up on him, never stopped looking for him.

You finally understood, as tears streaked down your face, your lungs aching as you gasped for air around your bawling. This was his last confession. This was his goodbye.

Touya was gone. And he wasn’t coming back.

#Arv's 500 Followers Event #dabi #touya todoroki #dabi x you #dabi x reader #touya x reader #touya x you #dabi angst #touya angst #bnha #mha

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spookybias · 3 years

Text

first time again ‣ [ yang jeongin ] ✧

pairing: yang jeongin x gn! reader

genre: comfort, angst, slice of life

synopsis: an attempt to return a love letter leads to a cycle of all too familiar events.

content: exes to almost lovers again, exes to friends au

warning: reader threatens to kill jeongin twice, insecurities, self-blame

for: @districtninewriters' dear skz, with love event. please be sure to check out all the fics written for this event! everyone in the net worked hard on them :)

word count: 2.4k

note: i want a jeongin :,)

You studied the envelope you were holding, flipping it over a few times in your hands. The quality of the paper was nicer than normal, almost like whatever was inside was more important than just a regular letter. You weren’t expecting anything, let alone anything important or special.

But it was definitely your name on the front.

You took in the minimalistic decoration of the beige envelope, mentally noting the small piece of looseleaf paper that had been torn at an aesthetic angle and taped down. Your name had been written in rainbow calligraphy on top of the looseleaf, a font you immediately recognized because your ex had used it plenty of times when decorating the tags on gift bags and appreciation cards to you. Each letter of your name casually leaked into an ombre of cool shades, and hand drawn sparkles littered the envelope.

You dreaded opening the letter, and wished you could stop feeling as blue as the ink your ex had used to write your name.

You were tempted to toss it in the trash, and bury it under the used romance novels you no longer wanted, but as quick as the urge to scream and throw away everything related to your ex had came, it had left.

Adrenaline coursed through you. Your fingertips were fast at ripping open the packaging, while your brain was hesitant to remember the pretty bleach-haired boy who had stolen your heart and then unintentionally crushed it just awhile ago.

Your ex's words were written on skyline stationary. Red and blue stripes twirled along the edges of the paper and a stamp of a smiley face followed by squiggly lines appeared at the top right corner. You were too scared to skim over a single paragraph. So you stood there, staring at the greeting instead.

I know this is sudden, ____.

Four minutes passed. And then you began to read.

You declined your group of friends' invitation to walk to the local bakery and then home with them after school. You had been holding in an immense amount of anger for your ex since you had read his letter to you last night. The letter could've easily been thrown in the trash after reading, but you couldn't help but become entangled in the words he spewed out into sentences.

It's not fair, You thought to yourself as you stomped up the stairs to the platform of the train station. It's not fair that he gets to remind me of everything and I don't get to say anything back to him. It's not fair that I have to think about why our relationship was so pretty.

"Pretty" is the word everyone used to describe the relationship you had with your ex. The both of you had taken it as a compliment back then, but now you knew why everyone referred to the two of you with such an adjective.

Pretty meant your relationship was attractive, it was pleasing to the eye on the outside, it was held at a fair degree. But what was it like on the inside? It was tame and decent, but complicated. Your ex always questioned what he truly felt for you, and it always made you wonder if you were doing something that made him doubtful.

Things had ended because you didn't want to feel more and more insecure as the days went by. It was fruitless to keep trying. Well, at least, it was to you.

"I'll kill him," you grumbled to yourself. A couple people waiting for the L train gave you a weird look. You tried to ignore their glances and the feeling of wanting to reminisce on the train ride you and your ex always shared before and after school during your relationship.

The two of you lived in the same apartment complex, but nowadays you did your absolute best to avoid him. You could've approached him there, instead, but you were so on edge you felt the need to return the letter before you got home. You had stopped taking the train a long time ago, too, desperately trying to avoid him at the train station as well. Now here you were trying to find him.

"I'll kill you!" You practically shouted at your ex. You grabbed him by his shirt collar and yanked him forward. You had forgotten what it had been like to stand so close to him, but you tried to ignore the blush that was pushing its way onto your face and the urge to pull him into a hug.

"What did I do?!" Yang Jeongin looked around awkwardly at the handful of people staring at both of you.

He was unsure of his emotions. One part of him was embarrassed by getting caught up in your sneak attack and the other part of him was happy that you were at least talking to him, even if you had just threatened his life. Jeongin was able to pry your hands -he had noticed how much smaller they were compared to his- off of him. He grabbed your hand and walked you towards an empty section of the platform.

Your heart fluttered, and when you glanced up as he pulled you along, you were seeing your surroundings in a sakura filter.

Jeongin stopped once you were at a spot without anyone around. "I-" He began to say, but you cut him off.

"Get your hands off of me!" You flailed your arms around until he took a step back.

Jeongin held his hands up in surrender. "Before you kill me, please tell me what I did."

"What is this?" You wasted no time in pulling out the crumpled envelope from Jeongin. "You're sending me love notes? After we already ended things?"

Jeongin looked like a deer caught in headlights. "H-how did you get that?"

"Your stupid ass sent it to me!"

"I- I did but-"

"Why?"

"Because I wanted you to know how much you mean to me."

"Well I don't care and I don't want this! I don't want you anymore!" You crumpled the envelope and letter into a ball and threw it at Jeongin's chest. It bounced off, and rolled onto the floor.

"Okay," Jeongin replied, his voice cracking. "You don't have to accept it. It was wrong of me to send you something after we had already broken up." He reached down for the crumpled up paper.

Jeongin held it up, hurt written across his features. The letter seemed to mean a lot to him, and even though he had hurt you in the past, you never wanted to make him feel bad.

You tried to snatch the mess you had made away from him but he held it up.

He furrowed his eyebrows, looking annoyed. "What?"

"Give it back," You told him, trying to reach the crumpled letter.

"You just said you didn't want it." It was unlike Jeongin to raise his voice. "If you don't want it then I'll take it back."

"Why?"

"Because I care about what I wrote in it and I want it!"

"Stop!" You continued your attempt to take it from him.

You and Jeongin fought over the crumpled papers like two nine-year-olds fighting over a toy truck. You were able to get a good grip on his love note. You were holding on to his love and you refused to let it go this time. You lied when you said when you didn't want him, and you yanked the paper towards you. Only it didn't come to you as a whole.

It ripped in half.

"Look what you did," Jeongin said, not realizing the weight of his words.

Look what you did, ____, You scolded yourself. You messed it up again.

That was the last straw. You were tired and frustrated and still heartbroken. You crouched down, head in your hands and tears slipping down your cheeks. You were nothing left but sniffles and sobs and torn pages and haunted by the word, "pretty".

"It's not fair," You choked out. "Why did you do this to me?"

"____," Jeongin had calmed down and reached out to you. "I'm sorry."

"No you're not," You told him. "Why did you send that if you didn't want to be with me anymore? What was the point of reminding me?"

Jeongin took a deep breath, gathering up whatever courage he had left. "Who says I don't want to be with you anymore? That's why I wrote you the letter. I'm just... not sure if you still want to be with me."

You didn't cut him off, so Jeongin took that as a chance to continue.

"I still think about you all the time. I wasn't sure how I felt about you when we were dating because we were both inexperienced and we rushed into things. That's not your fault, so don't think it was. I was the one who immediately said yes when you asked me out. I realized now that I did like you then and I still love you now, but at the time, I didn't know at all how to differentiate romantic feelings from platonic ones. I shouldn't have immediately said yes, I should've waited at least a day to confirm with myself that I did like you. If I hadn't rushed the both of us into something, we wouldn't have broken up. There wouldn't have been doubts or insecurities or anything wrong with us." Jeongin continued to rub your back soothingly. He was relieved that you had stopped shaking. "I'm sorry for hurting you. I'm sorry for making you feel like everything was your fault. And I'm sorry that you received a letter from me, because all it did was make things worse between us."

"Jeongin, I- I still love you too," You managed to get out.

It was in that moment that Jeongin realized he had said that he loves you. He gritted his teeth and scratched the back of his neck awkwardly.

"But I need more time," You told him.

"I understand that." He nodded his head and gave you a small smile. "But can I walk you home?"

You nodded, and took the hand he offered to help you up off the ground. It felt like the first time again.

Jeongin barged into his younger brother's room. "Were you looking through my stuff?"

"Yes," His brother responded, scribbling into his notebook and ignoring the urge to give his older brother eye contact. "I was helping mom clean in your room."

"Why did ____ receive a letter I wrote ages ago before we broke up?" Jeongin crossed his arms, demanding an answer.

Jeongin's little brother blinked twice before turning to him shocked. "You wrote that before you guys broke up? It looked recent so mom sent me to the mailbox to drop it off."

"Well thank you for mailing it," Jeongin tried to end the conversation, but his brother pressed on.

"Oh I know why it looked recent," His brother have him a sly smile. "You kept it in good condition since that was the only thing of ____ you had left before they dumped you." Jeongin's little brother chuckled, going back to his notes. Then a thought popped into his mind. "Wait. Why are you thanking me?"

"No reason. Just, thank you," Jeongin told him sincerely. "Now stop touching other people's mail."

"Hey, what?" The younger was confused. "I don't understand you-" But Jeongin was already out of the room and heading back to his.

Jeongin sat at his desk in front of his bedroom window, and looked at his half of the ripped love note. He smiled to himself. He had written the letter ages ago and wanted to mail it to you as a cute gesture, but you had broken up with him the day after he had written it, and demanded all of your stuff back.

Jeongin held up his half, analyzing the piece of paper. He had the ending of the letter.

The boy caught sight of you at your bedroom window, staring from across the complex. You held up your half and smiled at him.

You had the start of the letter.

( THE LETTER )

I know this is sudden, ____.

But I wanted to send this to you because you mean a lot to me, more than I initially thought. I just want to talk to you all the time, and thinking about you puts the biggest smile on my face. I want to send you letters like this every week. No, everyday. And I want to fill your mailbox up with love notes and other things I hope you'll find adorable and wholesome so that when you go outside to open it, it explodes in an endless supply of my affection and my words kind of just fall around you. And you can think, "Wow, Jeongin really likes me. He likes me." Because I do like you.

Okay. That was pretty cheesy of me. It's only the truth, though. I have real romantic feelings for you, and I've been thinking about how much I like you for awhile now.

I remember when you stomped up the steps to the platform of the L train just a few months ago. You looked pissed and about ready to kill me. I won't lie to you, I was fearing for my life and I thought, "This is it. This is how I go. At the hands of a beautiful human." But you didn't kill me. You grabbed me by my shirt collar and you gave me a quick kiss and said, "I like your stupid ass." Not the most romantic confession, but it's the only confession I've ever gotten. It's the only confession I want and need.

And I remember you tripping and falling right after. I wanted to carry your bookbag for you, but you wouldn't let me. We kept asking each other why. "Why can't I carry it?" I asked, "Why do you want to carry it?" You asked. "Because I want to," I would say and then you would yell at me and tell me to give your bookbag back. We looked like ten-year-olds.

The train had pulled in and you tried to grab my hand and lead me inside, but you tripped over my foot and fell down instead. You fell so hard you started crying and I panicked inside. But when I rubbed your back and asked if you were okay, you said you were upset that you made me miss the train. I offered you my hand and you took, and now, I want to hold your hand forever.

So yeah, I like you a lot. I'm sorry it took so long for me to say it. I can't wait to see where we go from here.

With love, Jeongin.

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prettyyoungandbored · 3 years

Text

Becoming Mrs. Wayne [The Dark Knight] Seven

Pairing: Christian Bale!Bruce Wayne x OC

Summary: Demetria Gallagher knew her cozy life would change the second she became engaged to Bruce Wayne. But what she doesn’t know is she’s getting more than what she agreed to. (I am trash at summaries.)

Warning: This chapter contains description of a heavy panic attack. Please read at your own risk.

Taglist: dragonballluver, disgraceful-marvel-trash, barikawho (Let me know if you want to be tagged in this!)

Author’s Note: A chunk of dialogue in this chapter comes from the movie and has been expanded on to fit the storyline.

“And when exactly is your mother planning to visit us?” Monsignor O’Malley inquired as he followed Demetria.

Demetria snapped a photo of the hallway before looking over her shoulder. “Most likely next month. Once I send her the photos , she’ll work on drafts and whenever she comes, we can all sit down and discuss how to go about the process.” She snapped her fingers. “You know what, I have her business card with me because she sometimes does work in Gotham City.”

She pulled out her wallet from her purse and handed Monsignor O’Malley the thing off white card. “She’ll be happy to answer any of your questions and or concerns.”

He smiled as he took the card. “This is awfully generous of you, Ms. Gallagher. We can’t tell you how grateful we are.”

“It’s the least I can do,” she waved her hand. “Both Bruce and I want to make sure you, the sisters, and the boys are taken care of with whatever you need.” She paused. “How are the boys doing?”

“They’re wonderful.”

“Oh good! I was actually wondering if I could go say ‘hi’ or-.”

“Unfortunately the boys are on a field trip with the sisters.”

Demetria nodded understandingly, trying to hide her disappointment. “Absolutely.” Then an idea hit her. “Do the nuns teach the boys?”

“Some do. We’ve been thinking about incorporating more schooling into the boys schedules, but we’re a little short staffed and not all the nuns feel comfortable teaching certain subjects.”

“I’d love to step in,” Demetria offered.

Monsignor O’Malley raised an eyebrow. “Oh? What is it you would teach?”

“I’m excellent at English. All levels. I was a TA my senior year of high school. I even minored in it in college.”

Monsignor O’Malley nodded his head, impressed. “Well, if it doesn’t interfere with your schedule-.”

“I don’t have one,” she laughed.

He chuckled. “Then I suppose it’s something we can try out. Are you free next week?”

Her eyes lit up. “Absolutely!’ I would love that!”

Before she could say more, the sound of her phone ringing cut her off. She gave Monsignor O’Malley an apologetic smile as she dug into her bag. “Excuse me one second.”

She glanced down to see it was a reminder that she had to start getting ready for the fundraiser.

“Please excuse me, but I’ve got to head out,” Demetria said. “Remember, if you have any questions, you have my number as well as my mom’s.”

“Of course. I also look forward to discussing you working here.”

“I do as well.”

The two shook hands and Demetria headed out of the orphanage.

She had taken Bruce’s Cadillac XLR, seeing as it was the only semi-low-key-looking car he owned and the only one she didn’t get anxious driving. She wished he had owned something a little less glamorous for trips like this, hating how it made her look, but it was what it was.

As she she opened the driver’s side door, she noticed a photographer snapping her from the distance. The two stared at each for a moment, acknowledging just what was going on. She exhaled softly, mentally reminding herself to keep it together.

Since her essay was published, the media outlets had backed off a bit. The Gotham Times were still insistent of doing a piece on her and published one on her, but it turned out to be a dud as no one close to her would speak to them with the exception of her former News Director and the Head Booker, her other boss. It also helped that a local mob boss was mysteriously killed and the news decided to fixate on that.

She gave him a quick, tired smile before she slid inside and closed the door, driving off.

===================================================

Back at the Wayne Penthouse, Bruce adjusted the cuffs of his pristine white dress shirt as he made his way down the stairs.

Alfred wrapped up his conversation with the party planners and turned his attention to Bruce.

“I think your fundraiser will be a great success,” Alfred remarked.

“Why do you think I want to hold a party for Harvey Dent?” Bruce questioned, almost annoyed at the thought of it.

“I assumed it was your usual reason for socializing beyond myself and the scum of Gotham’s underbelly to try to impress Miss Gallagher.”

“Very droll, very wrong,” Bruce responded, glancing up for a brief moment.

Alfred looked over his shoulder for a moment, noticing the party planners were not in the room. “Have you considered telling Miss Gallagher what it is you’re doing at night?” Alfred inquired in a voice low enough for Bruce to hear him.

Bruce glanced up. It wasn’t the first time this conversation came up between the two. “Soon.”

“Before or after you say ‘I do’?”

“When the time is right.”

“Perhaps she should truly know what she’s getting herself into.”

Bruce stopped in his tracks. “What are you implying, Alfred?”

“Miss Gallagher has given you every ounce of herself.”

“Who says I-.”

Bruce’s attention was caught by the low sound of the television. He looked over to find GCN airing what appeared to be a figure of Batman, hanging with a rope around it’s neck on a building. The lower third read “BATMAN DEAD?”

Demetria walked down the stairs and into the living room, tightening the belt on her cozy white bathrobe when she saw Bruce and Alfred staring at the tv. Curious, her eyes darted to the tv when she saw the lower third.

Her blood ran cold with disbelief and shock, heart dropping into her stomach.

The camera cut back to GCN anchor, Mike Engel.

“Be aware, the image is disturbing,” he warned.

The camera then cut to a man dressed in a cheap Batman getup, his plump cheeks spilling out of the cowl. He was sat on the floor of what looked like the back kitchen area of a butcher shop with a silver cart and a large pieces of animal meat hanging behind the victim. He had his hands tied behind them, his face lowered to the game.

“Tell them your name,” the camera man said in a menacing, sing-song voice.

“Brian Douglas,” the fake Batman answered weakly.

“Are you the real Batman?” There was a childish, teasing tone in the voice behind the camera to a point where it was menacing. It was almost as if whoever it was took immense pleasure in this man’s torture.

“No.” Brian was barely hanging on.

“No?” the voice repeated back, almost in a whine to mimic Brian’s pain.

“No.”

“No?” The voice giggled. An arm reached over and pulled the cowl off Brian. “Then why do you dress up like him?” The camera pulled back, the arm dangling the cowl in front of Brian. The voice laughed a stomach curdling “Woo-hoo-hoo-hoo!”

“Because he’s a symbol...that we don't have to be afraid of scum like you,” Brian retorted with a slight bit of courage in his weak tone.

“Yeah. You do, Brian.” The hand grabbed the side of Brian’s face, the camera coming in close. “You really do.”

The hand pulled the top of Brian’s head as the man whimpered. The hand turned back and stroked Brian’s cheek. “Oh, shh shh shh.”

Demetria shook her head, her stomach growing weak. Bruce’s eyes fixated on the TV, his expression stone cold with eyes colored in disbelief.

“So,” the voice continued on, “you think the Batman's helped Gotham? Hmm?”

Brian didn’t respond.

“LOOK AT ME!”

The roaring voice caused Demetria to jump back, her hand slapping on her mouth.

The camera swung around to reveal the person behind the voice, the sight causing Demetria to yelp, “Jesus Christ!”

The red smeared smile was complimented by his chalk-white foundation and accentuated the long scars on the sides of his face. Two lazily painted black eyeshadow covered his eyes and he revealed his dark yellow teeth.

“You see, this is how crazy Batman's made Gotham. You want order in Gotham, Batman must take off his mask, and turn himself in.”

It was something behind the clown that Demetria recognized. A memory popped up in her mind, her jaw dropping at the realization.

“Oh, and everyday he doesn’t, people will die. Starting tonight. I’m a man of my word.”

As the camera switched around, the man let out a menacing cackle as Brian screamed in the background. Demetria, overcome with her realization and the man’s grim promise, hurried up the stairs, Bruce and Alfred watching her. Bruce turned off the television and glanced at Alfred who shot him a look. He gave the old man a nod, indicating the message was received.

In their bedroom, Demetria grabbed a notebook from her nightstand as well as a pen. She began writing hurriedly, her cursive handwriting slightly smudged from the pen. Upon finishing, she ripped the page from her notebook and folded it. She reached back into the drawer, grabbing an empty envelope and shoving the folded paper in there. She licked the envelope, sealing tightly with her fingers and placed it back into the drawer.

Just as she went to close the drawer, she heard the door unlock and grabbed her anti-anxiety meds.

Bruce entered the room.

“Everything ok?” he asked, gentle concern laced in his tone.

She waved her hand. “Yeah, yeah. Just that video was, uh, pretty overwhelming to watch. I’ll be fine in a few minutes.”

He eyed the pilll bottle in her hand. “You know you should probably put that in the medicine cabinet in the bathroom.”

She chuckled. “You’re right. I’m just used to putting them in nightstand drawer. But considering we’re having a bunch of random people over, I guess you’re right.” She paused, a smirk playing on her lips. “Should I leave some viagra in a little bowl for our older guests trying to impress their much younger dates?”

He sat beside her on the bed, smirking at her. “I don’t have any because I don’t need it.”

She hummed, patting his leg. “I wouldn’t say that.”

He pulled her close, his breath hitting her lips. “Not funny.”

“Oh, but it is. It really is.”

She gave him a chaste kiss, nuzzling her nose against his. “You think maybe we should cancel this party? I mean, I don’t think it’s safe.”

“We’re going to be fine,” Bruce reassured.

She sighed, realizing there was no point in changing his mind. “Then I guess I better continue getting ready.”

He chuckled. “Well, don’t get too excited, sweetheart.”

“It’s just...” she stepped back, “I don’t know.” Her fingers toyed the robed belt. “I figured you’d cancel the party and we could spend the night in here...” She continued to move back toward the bathroom area, throwing off the robe to reveal her naked body to him. “And I’d let you do whatever you want to me. But since you won’t cancel it...” She shrugged. “Oh well.”

Bruce could feel his pants grow a little tight and he was ready to have her pay the price. His hungry eyes stayed on her, like a lion ready to pounce on it’s prey. “You get back here. Right. Now.”

She shook her head. “I have to get ready.” She pointed to the tent in his pants. “I suggest you take care of that situation before you leave this room.”

She grabbed the robe from the floor and closed the door behind her, locking it so Bruce wouldn’t try anything.

She exhaled and ran a hand through her damp hair. She wasn’t sure how long this party would last, but she had to make sure Batman got her letter.

==================================================

Bruce waited outside near the helicopter landing pad, his hands in his pockets. He watched as the navy blue sky took over the sunset, but once he turned his head, his breath was taken away by an even more beautiful sight.

Demetria walked out on to the helicopter landing pad, her black hair in an updo with long, curled strands of hair framing her face. Her navy blue gown was strapless with a subtle reverse sweetheart neckline, and hugged her small curves just right before flowing out on to the floor. Her makeup stayed on the subtle side with her eyeliner and mascara accentuating her warm, emerald green eyes and her Goldilocks lips were the perfect shade of pink.

“Is it too much?” she asked, stopping in her tracks. She put a hand on her stomach, feeling the knot inside tightening. Her face fell into a panic. “Oh shit, it is, isn’t it?”

He shook his head, his thumb grazing her cheek as he smiled at her adoringly. “You look incredible, sweetheart.”

Color filled her cheeks as her pink lips curved into a bashful smile. “You don’t look so bad yourself, Wayne.”

His lips gently crashed on to hers as he cradled the side of her face. For a moment, as they relished in their kiss, the world was still and time froze. Neither of them could remember the last time they shared such a moment, but they truly savored it while they still could.

Bruce pulled back, resting his forehead against hers, his lips hovering over hers. “For the record, you still owe me from before.”

She hummed against his lips. “I’ll take it into consideration.”

He smirked at her. “You’re lucky I like you. C’mon, let’s go.”

He took her hand in his, leading her onto the helicopter. The pilot helped her up first, Bruce following right after. As the two sat in the back, Demetria turned to him. “What’s the point of doing this again?”

He took her hand once again. “Grand entrances are fun. Plus, wait til’ you see the view from above.”

He felt her latch on to his arm as the sound of the choppers roared in. Soon enough, the helicopter began rising, the weight of the ground lifting. As it took off into Gotham City, Demetria watched the twinkling city below her.

As childish as it seemed, Demetria felt like Jasmine did on that magic carpet with Aladdin. Seeing Gotham from a bird’s eye view, the city looked beautiful and peaceful.

Bruce relished in watching his fiancé’s amazement, hoping he could make her feel this way for the rest of their lives.

She looked over at him. “You were right. This is incredible.”

She scooted closer to him, leaning back on his shoulder as she continued to look out the window. Bruce pressed a kiss to her temple, reaching his hand over to hers on her lap, clasping them.

Both stayed in the moment, wishing they could stay like this forever.

But once the helicopter scoured every inch part of Gotham, it was time to descend back onto the landing pad.

Bruce helped Demetria off the helicopter. Her eyes shifted to the once empty ballroom which was now filled with a large crowd inside staring at her. Her chest grew heavy, palms sweating.

“They’re staring at us,” she told Bruce.

He took her hand. “They see how you beautiful you look”. He gave it squeeze. “Remember, I’ve got you.”

She nodded and exhaled softly as the two made their way inside.

She followed him as the door opened to the gala room. All eyes stayed on them. She flashed a closed mouth smile at partygoers until her eyes met Harvey’s. It wasn’t until his familiar, warm smile that hers became more genuine and honest.

“Sorry we’re late,” Bruce announced. “Glad you started without us!” He let go of Demetria’s hand, clapping his together. “Where's Rachel?!”

Demetria eye’s turned to Rachel, who cringed slightly.

Bruce motioned to her. “Rachel Dawes- my oldest friend. When she told me she was dating Harvey Dent, I had one thing to say... ‘the guy from those god-awful campaign commercials? 'I Believe in Harvey Dent?' Nice slogan, Harvey.”

As the crowd chuckled, Demetria’s smile faltered even more. She was thrown off by the Bruce that was speaking. It was like the second his hand left hers, he’d become another man. He’d become like everyone else in the crowd - pompous and slightly arrogance.

He’s putting on a show for them, she thought to herself. This is not the real him.

“Certainly caught Rachel's attention,” Bruce went on. “But then I started paying attention to Harvey, and all he's been doing as our new D.A., and you know what? I believe in Harvey Dent. On his watch, Gotham can feel a little safer. A little more optimistic. But what he’s done for Gotham isn’t just the only good thing Harvey Dent has done.”

He then shifted his tone and his gaze, now looking at Demetria who’s heart dropped to her stomach.

“Harvey convinced his good friend from college, Demetria Gallagher, to move to Gotham,” Bruce continued, smiling at her. “It’s because of Harvey and Rachel that I was introduced to the love of my life.”

The crowd let out a collective “aw” as Demetria gave him a small smile.

“I spent years thinking I’d never find the ‘one’.” He turned back to the crowd. “I figured if I’m never gonna find her, why not have some fun? And I did.”

The crowd laughed. Demetria rolled her eyes, shaking her head.

“Then I ran into Rachel having a lunch with this beautiful woman and I couldn’t help myself. I asked her three times to have dinner with me.” Bruce shifted his attention to Demetria, taking her hand in his. “While I will never know who or what convinced you to say ‘yes’, all I know is that from the moment I left that dinner, I knew this witty, kind, beautiful woman was who I was going to spend the rest of my life with. Demetria, to say you are my heart and my soul is simply not enough. There will never be enough words or adjectives or uses of symbolism to describe how much you mean to me and how happy you make me. I love you more than anything.”

The crowd, once again, “awed” as he pecked Demetria’s cheek. He then grabbed two glasses of champagne off the server’s tray, handing one to Demetria. He then turned back to the crowd, raising his glass. “To-.”

“I just want to say something really quickly,” Demetria spoke up, putting a hand on Bruce’s shoulder. “If that’s, ok?”

Bruce smiled, her sudden burst of confidence bringing him pride. “By all means.”

She turned to the crowd. “You all know Harvey as your DA, but I know him as my confidant, my greatest friend, and above all, my family. He’s also my get out of jail free card, but that’s neither here nor there.”

Everyone laughed as Harvey shook his head. Demetria turned to her best friend, her smile fading a bit.

“Harvey, you’re selflessness and dedication to making Gotham City a safer one for its citizens is not just admirable, but also inspirational. You fight for the voiceless, the scared, and for those who want to make their home a better place. You’re one of the reasons Gotham has a brighter future.”

“So get out your checkbooks and let's make sure that he stays right where all of Gotham wants him,” Bruce toasted. “All except Gotham's criminals, of course. To the face of Gotham's bright future- Harvey Dent.”

Everyone toasted and took a sip of their champagne.

As the crowd went back to their party, Bruce turned to Demetria.

“I’m going to go outside for a bit,” he told her, pecking her cheek. “Make yourself comfortable.”

She opened her mouth to protest but it was too late - he’d wandered off. She sighed, wondering how he could he just leave her to fend for herself at their first gala together. She took a sip of her champagne, giving up and giving in to the situation at hand.

“You’re a very lucky woman,” an elderly woman marveled. “And quite adorable. I bet Martha would’ve loved you.”

“Thank you, that’s so kind,” Demetria remarked. “Were you a friend of hers?”

“We were both on the chair for many charities. Such a wonderful woman. If you’re interested, I would love to bring you aboard some of them and get you acquainted.”

“I would love that! I’m actually working with the boy’s home and helping them with renovations and whatnot.”

“How wonderful!”

“I’ve also expressed interest in helping them with schooling and whatnot.”

The gleam in the woman’s eyes softened. “Oh...really, now?”

“Yeah, I would love to do some teaching.”

“She’s going to do a fantastic job,” Harvey remarked, chiming in. He threw his hand around Demetria’s shoulders. “Those kids are going to be well looked after thanks to her.”

“I don’t doubt that,” the woman agreed before walking off.

Demetria turned to Harvey. “I think she realized I wasn’t one of them.”

“Who cares?” he shrugged. “But forgetting that, you’re seriously going to become a teacher?”

“I brought it up to Monsignor O’Malley about the possibility of teaching English. Besides, it would give me something to do that I actually like. You know, talking to them about novels and what it means to express yourself in your writing.”

“That’s fantastic!” Harvey remarked. “You would be perfect for that.”

“I hope so. How are you handling this...whatever it is?”

He sighed. “I’m...just here. How about you?”

“I wanna go into my bedroom and go under the covers and wait til’ everyone leaves.”

“Well for what it’s worth, you look beautiful tonight.”

“I’m working with what I’ve got.”

“Bruce is very lucky.”

“Yeah, he should be. But he decided to give up on the party.”

Harvey furrowed his eyebrows as Demetria motioned her head to the outside. He then turned his head, the two watching Bruce and Rachel engage in what appeared to be an intense conversation.

“What do you think they’re talking about?” Demetria wondered aloud.

He quickly glanced over and took a look sip of his champagne. “Probably nothing.”

Her lips curved into a smirk as she eyed Harvey. “Don’t be jealous.”

“I’m not.”

“You’re getting defensive.”

“And you’re annoying me.”

“After that heartfelt speech I gave, that’s the thanks I get?”

“It was alright.”

She punched him in the shoulder, causing him to cringe. “Asshole. I gave a beautiful speech.”

He rubbed his shoulder. “Well, hopefully it will be just a nice ad one you’ll give at my wedding.”

Her eyes widened. “Shut the fuck up. You proposed to Rachel?”

“Not yet. I’m planning to.”

Her mouth hung open as she leaned in close. “Holy shit, dude! When?!”

“Well first there are some things I gotta-.”

“So you two are friends, yes?” another female guest inquired, cutting him off. Her arm was linked with a man who looked at least 20 years older than she did.

Harvey and Demetria turned to her. “We most certainly are,” Demetria agreed, pinching his cheek.

“So how long ago did you two date?” one man remarked, chuckling.

Harvey and Demetria’s eyes went wide.

“We never have,” Harvey answered.

The man elbowed Harvey, laughing. “Aw, c’mon son. It’s alright.”

“He’s basically my brother,” Demetria said.

The man shook his head as he and his concerned date turned away. Demetria and Harvey turned to each other.

“Oh my god these people suck,” she giggled to Harvey. “At least they’ll fund you.”

“Yeah, I could give a shit,” he retorted.

“Mind if I steal him for a bit?” Rachel asked, chiming in.

“By all means,” Demetria motioned.

Harvey and Rachel went off when Demetria noticed Bruce still standing outside. She made her way out.

“Doing ok there?”

Bruce turned to her, smiling. “So far, so good.”

“I love you but you’re not the best liar,” she chuckled, her fingers gently combing his hair. “Babe, if you want to leave, say the word and we’ll sneak out. We can go anywhere.”

“Tempting,” he remarked, smirking. “Where do you propose we go?”

She cocked her head back, shoulders shrugging. “Anywhere. We could literally get in a car and go anywhere we want.” She paused. “Anywhere you want.”

Bruce’s body turned to face her, giving her his full undivided attention. She set her glass down on the railing.

“While I think it’s sweet that you threw this for Harvey, I don’t want to be alone in a room with people I don’t know let alone give a shit about. I would rather be with you in the middle of nowhere where we don’t have to pretend we’re people that we’re not.”

His smile faltered, his eyes going to the ground. Demeteria shoulders tightened, fear creeping into her now uneasy stomach.

“What’s the matter?” she asked.

“There’s something I have to tell you.”

She tried to swallow the lump in her throat. “What did I do?”

He shook his head. “No, you did nothing wrong. It’s...” He sighed. “I never want to keep anything from you.”

“What have you been keeping from me?” she questioned, her voice low

He scanned the area as well as the inside of the ballroom. Realizing he wasn’t the safest, let alone most secure place, he leaned closer toward her. “I’ll go in the bedroom and grab a couple things. Go tell Alfred we’re heading out. We’ll meet at the elevator, alright?”

“Bruce-.”

He kissed her cheek and made his way inside. Bruce pushed through the crowd, fielding attempts of conversation from partygoers. She threw her hands up in defeat as an annoyed exhale left her mouth.

“At least we’re leaving,” she muttered under her breath.

========================================================

In their bedroom, Bruce grabbed a set of keys for one of the cars from his safe in their closet. Realizing it was probably best to bring her anxiety med, he went into the medicine cabinet only to find it wasn’t there.

He then remembered her saying she always kept it in the drawer in her nightside table.

Figuring she put it back, he went over to it and opened the drawer and there it was. When he pulled it out, he noticed an envelope underneath with ‘For Batman’ written on it.

He quickly glanced back at the door to make sure the door was closed. He then set down the bag and opened the envelope to find a handwritten letter.

My Night Friend ,

There’s something you need to know about that viral video of the copycat.

I recognize the kitchen in the video. It’s the Fatted Calf on East 28th. A guy I briefly saw in college worked there and I hung out with him in the kitchen while he was closing up the shop.

What people don’t know is that there’s a secret room. The guy told me the owner had it made to be used as a bomb shelter back in the day. It’s located right beside the freezer. If you can get into the boss’ office, there’s a special key inside a safe that can open the door. The Joker may be taking shelter in there.

Take what you will with this information. I hope it serves you well.

Sincerely,

Your Rooftop Friend

Bruce’s couldn’t believe what he was reading. His fiancé, the love of his life, was helping the Batman. The severity of the situation as well as time the huge piece of information made him realize he needed to get both of them out of the penthouse and into the Batcave. He could explain everything to her there.

Shoving the letter into the bag, he zipped it up and made his way to the door when something on the security camera screen made him stop.

It was The Joker followed by some henchmen.

He threw the bag in the closet hurriedly, closing the door, and made his way to the party. Seeing Harvey Dent close by talking to Rachel, he figured he’d had enough time to get Harvey to safety and then grab Demetria.

He came up behind Harvey, putting Harvey in a headlock as Rachel’s eyes widened in fear.

“What the hell are you doing?!” she exclaimed.

“They’re coming for him,” Bruce said, using his Batman voice. “Go grab her and get yourselves to safety.”

========================================================

Demetria spotted Alfred near the wall area. She made her way over, catching the old man’s attention.

“There you Miss Gallagher,” he greeted. “Are you having fun?”

“I feel like a zoo animal. I’ve had more people stare at me than actually talk to me. Anyway, Bruce and I are heading out.”

Alfred chuckled. “You and Master Wayne are a truly perfect fit.”

She eyed the room before leaning closer toward Alfred. “Alfred, he said he had something he’d been meaning to tell me. Any idea what it could be?”

Just then, the sound of a single gunshot silence the room. Everyone turned, including Demetria and Alfred, to see The Joker, the man from the video, enter the ballroom with his posse of men behind him wearing clown masks.

“Good evening ladies and gentlemen,” he greeted in a sing-song voice.

His posse pointed guns at the crowd, a silent order to step back. The crowd formed a circle around The Joker.

Alfred, who was a few rows behind the crowd, stood in front of Demetria.

“Stay behind me,” he whispered to her.

She watched from behind his shoulder.

The sound of tray hitting the ground, broke the silence. The Joker looked back for a moment before turning back to the crowd.

“We are...tonight’s entertainment.” He grabbed a piece of shrimp from a table, stuffing it into his mouth. He looked around. “Only one question - where is Harvey Dent?”

He eyed around, pointing the gun at a group of women before ripping one of their glasses of champagne from their hands and taking a swig of it. He set back on the table and began questioning those he passed, occasionally grabbing at them.

“You know where Harvey is? Do you know who he is?”

He squeezed one guy’s cheek. “Do you know where Harvey is? I need to talk to him about something. Something little.”

He went up to an old white man. “You know I’ll settle for his loved ones.”

Meanwhile, Demetria felt someone grab her hand. She turned to find Rachel.

“We need to get you out of here,” Rachel whispered.

Demetria went to follow Rachel when she felt someone grab her hand.

“Where the hell do you think you’re going, sweetcheeks?” one of the masked men retorted.

He grabbed Demetria, despite her attempts to break free. Her heart rate quickened, stomach growing weak as the man pushed her in front of the crowd.

“Hey boss!” He called out. “It’s her!”

The Joker turned to her, his fixation on her making her blood run cold. She stood frozen and helpless. He got into her face. “So this is the future Mrs. Wayne. You’re also Harvey Dent’s best friend.”

He grabbed Demetria’s face, cradling it forcefully.

“Harvey is your best friend, isn’t he? Your buddy ol pal?” He let out a vicious cackle. “Possibly an old lover? An unrequited love? Either way, you’re somewhat of an asset to him.”

She moved her eyes, looking around as the crowd watched her in fear.

“C'mere, look at me.”

She whimpered, closing her eyes.

He tightened his grip on her hair “LOOK AT ME!”

She yelped, opening her eyes as tears filled to the brim.

“Please,” she begged, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Oh shh, shh, shh,” he hushed her teasingly. “Well you look upset.” He asked, pointing to scars on his mouth with his knife. “Is it these? Is it the scars? You wanna know how I got ‘em?”

She didn’t have time to answer, at least he didn’t bother to give her a chance to. She went to move her head when he grabbed her again. “Hey, look at me.”

She stopped moving, her eyes on him. “So, I had a wife, who was beautiful...like you, who tells me I worry too much, who tells me I oughta smile more, who gambles and gets in deep with the sharks.”

She squirmed when The Joker pulled her back. “One day they carve her face. And we got no money for surgeries. She can't take it. I just want to see her smile again. Hmm? I just wanted to let her know that I don't care about the scars. So, I stick a razor in my mouth and do this to myself. ”

She squeaked, frightened as he put the knife to his scars.

“And you know what? She can't stand the sight of me! She leaves! Now I see the funny side. Now, I'm always smiling!”

He pulled her back, took the knife, and slashed her forearm, the sharp stinging, sensation causing her to let out a blood curdling scream. She collapsed onto the ground, blood spilling down her arm and onto the marble floor.

Demetria couldn’t move, her body frozen, mind unable to process what had just happened. She opened her mouth to speak, her chest stinging in pain and her head growing lightheaded as the Joker stepped on her bleeding arm.

“Please help me,” she begged in between her hyperventilating. “Please...I’m...I can’t...help!”

“Why doesn’t Harvey Dent come save his best friend?!” The Joker called out.

“Let her go!”

Rachel made her way. The Joker stomped on Demetria’s arm one last time.

Alfred rushed to her side. “Deep breaths, Miss,” he whispered. “Deep breaths.”

“Alfred...I’m gonna....don’t let me...”

“You’re going to be alright.”

“Step back!” one of the masked henchman ordered, pointing a gun at Alfred.

Alfred held up his hands stepping back from Demetria. The henchman walked away as Demetria continued to hyperventilate.

She was going to die in front of everyone. Her vision became blurry, her breath uncontrollable. She watched in what she thought would be her final moments Batman attack The Joker.

In and out of blackness, she heard glass shatter followed by footsteps.

Tears strolled down her face as she struggled to breathe, trying to hold on to whatever breath she had left, her body shivering. Alfred rushed to her once again.

“Don’t just stand there!” he cried out. “Someone call a bloody ambulance!”

He gave Demetria his hand, which she held onto tightly.

“Stay with me,” he told her. “Stay with me.”

But she wasn’t sure how long she could last. Between the chest pains and the pains from her wound and the light-headedness, she was barely holding on.

How badly she wanted to see Bruce....and how could he leave her like this?

__________________________________________________________________

Dress:

Hair/Makeup:

#bruce wayne x oc #bruce wayne imagine #batman #batman imagine #batman fanfic #the dark knight #the dark knight fanfiction #the joker #christian bale #christian bale x reader #bruce wayne fanfiction #bale!batman

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nahimjustfeelingit-writes · 4 years

Text

Imagine:

M’Baku and Erik have the pleasure of sharing a woman for one night. It turns into a regular routine of threesomes. She gets pregnant, and doesn’t know which one of them could be the father.

Warnings: Smut, pregnancy kink, threesome first time writing for M’Baku.

“I think you need to come to your senses,” M’Baku laughs loud and booming before approaching his friend, Erik, shoving the young man roughly against his left shoulder, “Zalika is mine, Erik, and I don’t like it when what’s mine is messed with.”

“Oh, so that’s a threat? Remember, she approached me first, way before she even knew we were friends,” Erik uses both of his hands to shove M’Baku back harder, “and DONT put your fucking hands on me unless you wanna die, brother,” Erik spoke snidely with a warning finger almost stabbing M’Baku in his face before readjusting his suit jacket, a mug set on his handsome, chiseled face.

“OH! So that is the excuse you give? So she approaches you...but plans a booty call with me?” M’Baku says with his strong and powerful African accent, “Who has the upper hand now, brother, hm? Looks like I will finally get to taste the cocoa beauty. I bet she tastes just like cacao beans to,” M’Baku’s thick, taffy colored tongue swipes across his full upper lip before his teeth lined with silver caps tugged sexily on his bottom lip.

“See, that’s where you’re wrong. It looks like I’m fucking her from the texts she sent me...texting me pictures of that phat peace of pussy covered with lace panties between her thighs...telling a nigga to come over and suck up her pussy in my mouth...she say that to you? Baku?” Erik gives M’Baku a sly smirk.

“I’ll do you one better,” M’Baku pulls out his phone, “Last text she sent me was this,” M’Baku held up his phone towards Erik for him to see. M’Baku’s loud laugh almost rattled the walls when he looked at Erik’s stuck expression. Erik removes his gold-rimmed glass, eyes blinking with disbelief while his lips parted.

“Sheeeeesh,” Erik’s pouty bottom lip dragged between his teeth, “She ain’t send a nigga that...she got them big, suckable nipples…”

“Even through her wet T-shirt they look delicious...like they want to rip through, right?” M’Baku grunts deeply enough to vibrate your senses, “I plan on biting them with my teeth...leave a mark.”

Erik removes his suit jacket, hanging it up on a brass coat rack that stood at the entrance of his apartment door. He takes a seat next to M’Baku on a black suede sectional, leaning over in hopes of catching another sexy photo of Zalika. M’Baku quickly locks his phone before tucking it in the pocket of his slacks, standing from the couch.

“I showed you one photo, you don’t need to see the rest. It gets better and better... what is one photo to the amount that I have from her alone,” M’Baku spoke in a cocky manner.

“Let me see you match what I got. And just because I told you about one photo, that doesn’t mean it’s just one,” Erik pulls out his phone, “You see this?” Erik swipes his finger up and up to show all the sexy photos Zalika sent him. He looks from M’Baku to his phone, eyebrows raised in challenge, “That’s about a good 20 photos right there for me to bust a nut to so what’s up?”

“Says the man who will be in here for the rest of the evening while I go spend time with Zalika myself. Did I tell you how much she loves it when I speak Xhosa? She says it makes her pussy nice and wet for me.”

“Wow, that's it? Damn, she tells you how wet she is,” Erik strokes his chin, “While she shows me how wet she is…” Erik hummed, “And it gets wet...tastes good too-

“YOU FUCKED HER?” M’Baku damn near charged over to Erik, his 6’5, 250lbs body right above him while he sat back on the couch with a nonchalant expression.

“Nah, She just let me suck her fingers that’s all,” Erik spoke casually, knowing that it would piss M’Baku off, “She’s a creamer too, I can almost taste how sweet that pussy is,” Erik makes multiple slurping sounds with his mouth and tongue, laughing at how angry M’Baku looked at the moment. Erik was almost to tears while bending over with his hand clutching his abs.

M’Baku was seething, teeth flared, before walking away to pace back and forth, “I will see her today, we are going to talk about this. I don’t like being played with. She’s confused and if I have to make her come to a decision, I will, even if that means stuffing my dick down her throat.”

“She ain’t confused. It’s obvious, right? She wants two dicks instead of one. Like I said, she knows that me and you are cool. Let’s just give her little ass what she wants. It’s been a minute since we shared some pussy...remember Michelle from grad school? Remember how we tore that up?”

“Michelle...oh, yes...Michelle,” M’Baku gives a knowing smirk, “I wonder how she’s doing.”

“Shee old news, Baku, let’s focus on Zalika. You’re seeing her in class tonight...invite her over,” Erik says with a roguish grin.

“I told you, I don’t want to share her,” M’Baku spoke through clenched teeth, “Like it or not, Erik, she is mine. Don’t you have other options? You could have any other girl on your phone but instead you want Zalika? Let me have her...I want her so fucking bad I just might handle her after class myself.”

“Yeah, we’ll see...if she hits me up tonight with that wyd text I’m putting this steel on her,” He says with a subtle arch of his brow, “you don’t think I want a piece of that puss just as much as you?”

_________

Zalika walked into her evening class, an Xhosa language course. It’s an elective that was a new edition to UCLA. The sprinkling of thirteen students were listening attentively to Professor M’Baku fluently speak the Bantu language of South Africa. Zalika’s father is from Botswana and he moved to California for med school where he met Zalika’s mother, an Art History Major. She always wanted to learn how to speak Xhosa and when Professor M’Baku who is also her English professor told her about the evening course she added it to her already overwhelming schedule. The wedges on Zalika’s feet clattered against the polished tile floor all the way to her designated seat; seat number three, in the front row. The intense, masculine aroma that Zalika damn near memorized within her senses made her smile the minute she planted her round, dark chocolate ass down in her seat.

“U-Miss Zalika,” M’Baku says, stilling Zalika’s movements, “kuhlwile kwakhona?”

“....uhm...Intoni?” Zalika adjusts her black, cat-eyed frames lined with rhinestones.

“How long have you been coming to my class and all you can say to me is WHAT?” M’Baku squints at her.

“I’m sorry, I have other classes and...it’s becoming overwhelming, Sir, that’s all-

“No excuses,” M’Baku pushes up the sleeves to his navy blue dress shirt aggressively, “kufuneka sithatha.”

The clicks he made with his tongue whenever he spoke Xhosa has Zalika sucking the gloss off of her bottom lip and pressing her inner thighs together. She could understand him clearly but he didn’t need to know that. Just what did they need to talk about exactly? Everything seemed to be going smoothly between them. Zalika opens her designated notebook for the course, turning it sideways so that she could look over the Xhosa alphabet. Learning the click constants was their focus lately and Zalika found it hard to keep up, pulling extra time to study them whenever she had downtime like doing her laundry or cooking dinner.

For the remainder of the class, Zalika took notes and practiced Xhosa phrases and click constants with a classmate. Whenever she had a question, Zalika would call for M’Baku in Xhosa like he instructed his students to do for added practice. He would squeeze Zalika’s shoulder gently while leaning over her desk, helping her sound out the phrases and occasionally glancing at her. His eyes would travel from her glossy lips all the way down to smooth, dark chocolate cleavage. This thick, tall, beautiful African man with such a stern voice and obvious ruthless personality turned Zalika on heavily, so heavy that she wanted to make his face a seat while he growled into her folds.

After the class, all the students filled out except for Zalika who lingered behind acting as if she needed to ask Professor M’Baku a question. While he wiped down the white board, Zalika watched the door softly close shut leaving the both of them alone finally. As her eyes went back to M’Baku he gave her a cunning smile before strolling over to her. She held her ground but the more he approached, the more Zalika realized just how big, and intimidating this man is. 6’5 and 250 lbs stood before her. He crosses his thick, beefy arms across his chest, the outline of the tattoo on his arm teasing her eyes.

“You wanted to talk?” Zalika finally says.

“Let’s get straight to the point, yes? What are you doing with me, hm?” He asks with his profound voice ringing in her ears.

“Having fun...what else?” Zalika grabs M’Baku’s tie, twirling it around her finger, twisting it tightly, “You don’t want to have fun with me?”

“You call this fun? Toying with me? Let me tell you something, Zalika...I plan on handling you properly...tonight. Why are you talking to Erik? Who do you belong to?”

Every time Zalika tried to speak M’Baku would cut her breath short.

“Can I speak?” Zalika spoke defensively.

“...Yes,” M’Baku reluctantly says before leaning on the edge of his desk. Zalika’s eyes swept the classroom before they fell back on M’Baku.

“I’m feeling Erik too. I’m feeling both of you, actually.”

The muscles in M’Baku’s jaw popped out from grinding his teeth hard. His eyes narrowed at Zalika for a long time. He could taste the anger on his tongue from her words. Erik was right, Zalika wanted both of them to herself. Standing there in front of him with tight leggings, a very revealing top, and heels on her feet, M’Baku couldn’t be angry with her. She smelled like strawberries and her dark chocolate skin glistened. Whatever this woman wanted he would give her. Anything to have her; taste her. She gave M’Baku a kittenish smile while fluttering her lashes at him slowly.

“I know I should have told you that I was talking to him as well, I apologize for that. I just...I can’t help my feelings towards the both of you…” Zalika approaches M’Baku, standing between his legs and wrapping her arms around his shoulders, “Baku…” she whispered, “Please don’t be mad at me, daddy...I just want to see what it will be like if I had both of you to myself…”

“Fuck, Zalika,” M’Baku’s shoulders slumped with defeat, “Look at what you do to me girl.”

“Huh?” Zalika spoke breathlessly. M’Baku grabs one of her arms from around his neck, dropping it over his crotch. Her hand drags down, mouth widening and eyes falling to his lap.

“Daddy...this is all of you?”

“Not all of me,” M’Baku spoke dangerously, “You have played with me long enough, Zalika, it’s time you take care of your master...emadolweni akho.”

Zalika drops to her knees almost instantly, a voracious look in her eyes as she watches M’Baku pull his slacks down with his briefs. The beauty of his big black dick couldn’t be put into words. It is very very girthy. Damn...Zalika wanted to ride that dick. Ain’t nothing like a black man’s dick, she thought before grabbing him, wrapping her hand around him as best as she could. She could feel the power that he beholden from how much he pulsates in the palm of her hand. This would definitely hurt but she wouldn’t chicken out on the opportunity. There is a first for everything.

“Focus on all of me. There are too many parts untouched...unappreciated,” M’Baku unbuttons his dress shirt, his thick torso revealed to her, “you said you love sucking dick? Worship me then.”

Zalika stares at his thick, mammoth of a dick with bewildered eyes, “Baku...I don’t think I can.”

M’Baku fusses in Xhosa, “Open your mouth, girl.”

“And here I thought Erik’s dick was huge,” Zalika spoke under her breath.

“What was that?” M’Baku pulls on Zalika’s 4C fro to make her look up at him, “Did I hear you use Erik’s name with my dick in your hand? HUH? Who are you supposed to be focusing on at the moment!”

“You,” Zalika spoke quickly, bringing M’Baku’s dick to her mouth to slap her lips with it, eyes pleading, “You, daddy, you,” She opens wide, sinking him into her mouth with timid eyes. Her throat kept clenching up on her so Zalika had to pull him from her mouth, hawk spit on it a few times, before trying again. With the added moisture she was able to get about three inches of him inside.

“FUCK ZALIKA!” M’Baku hisses, “I finally got you, girl...I finally got my dick in your beautiful mouth. I would have done anything to get my dick in your mouth...now I need it in that sweet pussy, girl.”

“Mm-

“Take it easy, Zalika, you will take your time when sucking me, girl, I don’t like it when you rush.”

“EK!” Zalika gagged, “ghah, ghah, ghah,” she squeezes her eyes as her throat closes up.

“Mmm, Zalika,” M’Baku wipes her tears away, “sloppy and slow is exactly how I like it...keep going, girl.”

“I can’t, you’re so big in my mouth,” Zalika’s bottom lip quivered from being stretched, “Baku, I can’t it’s so much-

Zalika was silenced with M’Baku’a dick back in her mouth. She grabbed for his legs, squeezing his enormous calves each time his dick hit the back of her throat. She was going to have a sore throat after this.

“That’s it, girl, yesssssss, FUCK ZALIKA. Did you let Erik have this mouth too? You don’t have to talk, just nod your head...did he have this mouth before me?”

Zalika shakes her head no while M’Baku’s smooth, ebony dick barley slides in and out of her mouth.

“Very good,” M’Baku’s lips poked out and his eyes rolled back, “fuck ewe...fuck ewe...uziva ulungile,” M’Baku’s hips were off of the desk, one large hand on the back of her head to keep her in place while his vast dick released a plentiful amount of cum. No wonder, his balls are heavy and big. She could feel the cum that couldn’t fit down her throat fall to her cleavage.

“Look at me, Zalika,” he asked with a shallow breath escaping his mouth.

Zalika met his eyes while wiping his cum from her cheeks.

“If I find out that you fucked Erik, I will fuck the living shit out of you,” he spoke evenly with vengeful eyes, “I will not be gentle, entle, I will show you just how angry I am when I punish that sweet pussy, girl.”

That was a challenge for her. Rubbing her throat, Zalika nods, unable to properly speak since M’Baku abused her vocal cords.

___________

Erik was just stepping out of his shower when he heard M’Baku, his roommate and best friend enter the luxury apartment. It was way past the time for him to be home from his evening class and the thought of that alone has Erik squeezing the hell out of his bottle of body wash, spilling the contents to the bathroom floor. Frustrated, Erik takes a hand towel to clean it up, his other hand trying to keep the fluffy black towel around his waist together. Balling it up and tossing it in a linen wicker basket in the bathroom, Erik steps from the bathroom, M’Baku making his way down the hall with his work satchel in one hand, and his suit jacket in the other. M’Baku couldn’t fight the evil grin on his face when he noticed Erik’s irritation.

“You fucked her, didn’t you?”

M’Baku chuckles while opening his bedroom door, “Good night, brother.”

The humor laced in his voice made Erik’s blood boil and his water stricken skin gave his lean muscles more definition as they flexed with rage.

“Did she tell you about me?” Erik is standing in M’Baku’s doorway now with his towel hanging on for dear life around his tapered hips, “cuz last time I checked she still hitting my phone.”

“She did,” M’Baku removes his tie, “But after what I gave her tonight, you can forget everything. She knows who her real daddy is.”

“Nah, we’ll see about that,” Erik challenged M’Baku Before walking away and towards his bedroom. Once he is inside, Erik closes his door, grabbing his cell from the bed and automatically calls Zalika. She answers on the third ring, her sweet, airy voice making his dick twitch.

“Baby girl,” Erik spoke with a hushed tone, “You want me to come over there and beat that ass?”

“Hello to you too, Erik,” Zalika responds, “and why are you threatening to spank me?”

“M’Baku is back home...he told me that he gave you something tonight...you mind telling me what that something is?”

“Teh,” Zalika sassed, “It’s no concern of yours, E, all you need to worry about is me and you.”

“Zalika, I’m not playing with you...did he hit that puss?”

“...no,” Zalika finally says, “But I did suck his dick.”

“Hmm,” Erik hummed into the phone, the sound vibrating into Zalika’s ear, “You’re a nasty bitch, Zalika. Couldn’t control yourself, could you?”

“He made me...I liked it though...I haven’t had dick in my mouth for a long time…my throat is still pretty sore.”

“Fuck,” Erik pulls his towel from his waist, “If you’re such a slut it shouldn’t matter how sore that throat is...you’ll want more dick, right?”

“True...what? You got more for me?”

“Why don’t you come through...I’ll show you.”

“M’Baku is home,” Zalika says, “Wouldn’t he hear?”

“Girl, I don’t give a fuck about that. I pay the bills in this bitch too so what? He ain’t got control over this. You coming over or what?” Erik spoke with malice.

The aggression in both of them is one of the reasons why Zalika can’t leave both men alone. She first met Erik on campus as a substitute teacher for a physics course. He’s a Radiological Physicist. The chemistry between them both was undeniable and Zalika needed to see him outside of class. Since she wants to be an engineer herself, she would schedule tutoring time with Erik at the schools library and that’s when they exchanged numbers and started sexting.

“Yeah, I’ll come over, daddy,” Zalika says with a seductive voice, “Keep that dick nice and hard for me.”

“I’m getting some of that puss too, Zalika...you show up at my door I’m using both of your holes to empty my nut and think I’m playing,” Erik warns.

“Unh,” Zalika moans.

“Had me waiting way too long for you, ma...can’t wait to beat it up,” He spoke with a rough tone, “Hurry up.”

“Yes, daddy.”

“Get off the phone,” Erik ordered and then soon after, the call ended.

The wait will finally be over, he was about to dive in that wet ass pussy he’d been longing for. She is freaky on the phone. She better be just as freaky in person. All of that stop, it’s too big, I can’t take it, all of that shit will not stop Erik from tearing her little ass up. Have her walking funny and feeling his fat ass dick in her pussy forever. M’Baku wasn’t a heavy sleeper so he will hear everything from her moans to her cheeks clapping and Erik didn’t give a fuck. He offered to share her since Zalika wanted them both but M’Baku wanted to be possessive of the girl. She wants BOTH OF THEM. One dick in her mouth, and one in her pussy.

Erik rubs his body down with some cocoa butter and puts on a pair of drawstring shorts to lounge around until Zalika finally shows up. Erik shot her a quick text letting her know what the apartment number was and not to park in a number spot. He only had to wait twenty minutes, the faint knocks on the door made Erik aware of that. Leaving his bedroom, Erik strolls to the door, opening it to find Zalika standing before him in a T-shirt dress, some sandals, and her kinky afro picked out and full. Her lips are painted a matte brown and when she smiles her white teeth almost blinded him. He could smell the coconut oil on her skin and she wasn’t even up under his nose yet.

“Don’t be shy,” Erik held the door open further, “I won’t bite unless you want me to.”

“We’ll see about that,” She steps inside, looking around the spacious luxury apartment before turning back to Erik for direction, “It’s nice...looks like a bachelor pad...where’s your room?”

“So damn eager...you don’t want anything to drink?” Erik leads the way further into the apartment, “We got water, apple juice, papaya juice, something stronger…”

“I’m good for now, I’m gonna need it after we...you know…” she giggles, looking down at her toes.

“Fuck. Yeah, you gon’ need that,” Erik grabs Zalika’s soft hand, “Let’s go, ma-

“Where is M’Baku?” She asked with a hushed tone.

“Shh,” Erik says with a finger to his mouth. He points to M’Baku’s bedroom with his thumb while they walked to his room, “He’s in there...you wanna say hi or something? You’re here for me, remember?”

“Yeah, I know, it’s just...he’ll hear us…” Zalika stood rooted to the spot in front of M’Baku’s door.

“Yeah, I don’t give a fuck about that shit. I told him we can make it a threesome thing but he wasn’t with it, that’s his loss,” Erik pulls on Zalika’s hand, making her move, “Nah, let’s go, you got some making up to do with all that teasing shit.”

“Threesome?” Zalika says with an elevated tone, “You would like that?”

“We’ve done it before, ain’t no problem with me.”

Erik pushes his bedroom door open with his shoulder, turning to grab both of Zalika’s hands. He finally had her in his bedroom. All of that freaky shit she said she could do he wanted to see it for himself. Zalika took a seat on Erik’s bed, her feet slipping out of her sandals before laying back against his bed. She placed her keys and her shoulder bag to the side, her eager eyes studying Erik’s bedroom.

“Get comfortable, you know, but ass naked,” Erik says while removing his own clothing, “and spread your thighs for me too...remember you told me how you like that puss licked?”

“From the back,” Zalika spoke breathlessly while lifting her T-shirt dress up and above her head. She then takes off her bra and panties, dropping those to the floor as well before laying back, titties spreading to the side from how heavy they are, smoothing her hands down her petite waistline before bringing her thighs up and out. The sound of her pussy lips spreading is what caught Erik’s attention first.

“That puss is just waiting for my tongue...it’s even prettier in person.”

“Let’s see what that tongue can do,” Zalika spreads her plump pussy lips for Erik to see, “Come and taste me, daddy.”

________________

M’Baku was in the middle of dozing off with his Beats headphones on and a Wakandan rap artist named SS1CASH’s music playing. Something, maybe a small voice inside of his head told him to wake up. M’Baku removes his headphones, placing them on his bed before stretching his large, thickset arms above his head, one hand coming down to scratch the tight, 4C coils on his head. He didn’t have anywhere to be the next day since it was a Saturday so M’Baku decides to pull an all-nighter to grade the English papers that are piled high on his desk.

Swinging his weighty legs over his king sized bed, M’Baku stands, grabbing his glasses before walking to his bedroom door. He felt parched and needed some papaya juice to hydrate himself. On his way out, M’Baku hears a soft, feminine moan from down the hall. Pausing, M’Baku waits for the lovely sound to grace his ears again. Please, don’t let it be who I think it is, he thought. As if reading his thoughts, the same, pleasure-filled sound fills the darkened hallway again and before M’Baku could stop himself he is walking towards Erik’s door.

Of course it has to be Zalika. That moan sounded too familiar and the way it has his almighty girthy dick stiff and compressed in his briefs it had to be his Zalika. What was he doing to her at this precise moment that has her gasping and moaning with such blissful surprise that she can’t believe her body is reacting the way it is? At Erik’s door, M’Baku’s large hand grabs the satin nickel door knob, twisting it quietly before pushing it open enough so he could peek inside. The sound of her moans intensified, M’Baku’s brown eyes widening when they fell upon the nasty sight before him.

Zalika is fully naked and riding Erik’s face on his bed, her wide ass bouncing, grinding her pussy on his open mouth. Each time Zalika’s cheeks would spread from her continuous ass popping her pink slit and puffy, chocolate outer lips would grace his eyes. Erik’s tongue was flat and thick, licking up and down her pussy while his hands rubbed the back of Zalika’s thighs and occasionally went up to give her generous cheeks a slap. Yes, yes, yes fell from Zalika’s mouth with her head towards the ceiling. She was loving that tongue, her body visibly shaking.

M’Baku’s dick was ready to fucking bust. Staring at it, his girthy dick was pointed straight out, the tip of his dick peeking through the opening of his briefs. He wanted to yank Erik’s vertebrae through his throat at first but the more he watched the more he concluded that seeing his best friend tongue fuck and slurp all over Zalika’s beautiful puss has him horny and ready to join. He wanted a taste of her now, especially that puckered ass hole. He dreamed of training her tight ass to fit his thickness knowing that it will be too much for her. It wasn’t M’Baku’s first time seeing Erik in his naked grandeur. Erik’s chiseled hips were pumping the air like there was a pussy situated over his dick for him to sink into.

“What a yummy, puffy pussy, ma,” Erik says with his voice much deeper, “Mmm I’d suck on this pussy all fucking day,” he goes back to devouring Zalika like pussy is his favorite meal. It’s M’Baku’s favorite meal too. All that cream just leaking on Erik’s tongue. Her pussy is nice and bald, plump, and juicy. What a beautiful picture of a beautiful body piece. M’Baku would love to put a lip lock on her and snatch.

“Unh, Erik right there, Unh, yes Erik right fucking there, daddy, fuck,” Zalika lets out ragged breaths, “daddy keep doing that I’m gonna cum.”

That’s what made M’Baku approach the both of them within long strides, grabbing a fist full of Zalika’s kinky afro, extending her he’d back so far her eyes widened with fear, she couldn’t see him correctly because of the position so her eyes looked towards her peripheral, that same strong, masculine scent crowding her like it always did in class. Erik notices the change in Zalika’s movements, lifting his face from between her legs to find M’Baku yoking her up by her hair, so close to her face with fury that Zalika was whimpering. Erik didn’t say anything, didn’t care to be honest. He simply takes three fingers, slipping them inside of Zalika’s pussy and starts finger popping her pussy.

“Baku...Unh shit, Erik...Baku, daddy,” M’Baku wasn’t sure who she was calling daddy at the moment since Erik was curling his fat fingers inside of her, “Baku, I’m sorry-

“It’s too late for that, girl...I already caught you riding my best friends tongue...no need to lie about how it felt...I know it felt good,” M’Baku glances over at Erik, locking eyes with his friend before both of them share identical sly smirks, “Keep going, Erik, dig deep and don’t let up until she’s cumming hard.”

“Erik-

“Since you’re here, bro, why don’t you fill that mouth up...she said her throat was sore let’s see if it’s still like that,” Erik spoke harshly, “ooookayyyy, that pussy got a nice grip,” Erik’s free hand comes down to slap her ass.

M’Baku pulls his briefs off, grabbing his chocolate dick in one hand, tapping Zalika’s lips with it, “You are amazingly talented, why don’t you show Erik how you suck dick, hmm?” M’Baku rubs his dick against Zalika’s lips, “come on, girl, suck your master.”

“Damn,” Erik strains his neck to watch Zalika take M’Baku in with difficulty, “She is trying her hardest to fit them big lips around your dick...too much dick, Zalika?”

“Damn it!!” M’Baku says through clenched teeth, “Fucking pro,” M’Baku grabs both sides of her head, “THATS it girl, you are special, love, so special.”

Hrgurrk!!!” She gags, trying her absolute best to fill her mouth up with M’Baku’s dick but there is no use, this man’s dick is inhuman. All that Wakandan strength he’s yielding in his dick...her throat is no match. Erik pulls his fingers out to rub Zalika’s clit, his eyes envious of M’Baku being slobbered on.

“Do that shit bitch! I need that shit right there,” Erik says while rubbing his drenched fingers all over her pussy, “she the real deal, Baku let me get some of that.”

“Here,” M’Baku pulls his dick out of Zalika’s mouth, watching her exhale, “Come fuck her throat up.”

Erik sucks Zalika’s mess from his fingers before trading places with M’Baku, eagerly grabbing his long and girthy dick up. M’Baku gets down on his knees behind Zalika, dick in one hand while the other one grabs one of her ass cheeks firmly, spreading her nice and wide so that he could rub his thick tongue from her pussy to her ass and back. The mess Erik created has M’Baku growling before he buries his face in her pussy. He couldn’t help but to leave a trail of sucks continuously.

Erik has Zalika’s hair in his hand, moving her head up and down his dick, “Damn, you dangerous with that tongue...that’s a bad bitch,” Erik drags his bottom lip between his teeth, “I love how she sucks dick, got my dick throbbing in her mouth.”

“The best, right?” M’Baku says between licks, “makes you want to abuse her little throat.”

Zalika’s lips slips off of Erik’s dick with a loud pop, “Umph!!! Baku oh my God,” She jerks Erik’s drool covered dick while looking back at M’Baku, “Daddy suck on my pussy like that, yessssss-

“Aye, pay attention,” Erik turns Zalika’s head around, “Nope, don’t touch my big dick with hands, ma. Mouth, tongue, and throat only, fuck is wrong with you.”

“Yes, daddy, Umph, fuck,” Zalika started sucking with no hands but stops again when M’Baku starts tongue-fucking her ass, “Ooooooo-

“Bitch, you got my dick in front of your face you better come suck this,” Erik orders while yanking her hair, “UH-HUH, fuck yeah,” Erik’s eyes were dark on her, “And don’t let my cum drip down my dick. You better clean up every single drop.”

“Mhm,” Zalika focused on the dick currently stretching her throat out while grinding her pussy on M’Baku’s tongue. He was right on her clit and each time he sucked Zalika’s body would clench up. She was getting closer and closer while Erik’s balls slapped her chin.

“I know you wanna cum, girl, cum on daddy’s tongue, baby,” M’Baku spoke into her pussy before wrapping his lips around her clit again.

“Damn, I’ma fuck you good, Zalika,” Erik could feel his balls growing tighter, a tingling sensation forming, “Ima make you cum all over this dick, ma, fuckkkkk!”

Erik’s hips began to move faster and faster and faster until he buried his dick down her throat, his thick, tasty cum filling her mouth up. Zalika locked eyes with him while swallowing his nut.

“That’s that nut you’ve been dying to taste, drink it up, ma,” Erik says while focusing on Zalika sucking his dick softly, “You tryna get more?”

Zalika pops her lips off of the tip of his dick, “yeah.”

“Ain’t no more right now you sucked a nigga dry...you plan on giving M’Baku some good suckie-suckie too?”

“Mhm,” Zalika says before bringing her lips down to suck on his balls.

“Damn. Never forget the balls baby,” Erik whispers while jerking his dick.

“Fuck!!!” Zalika shouts, her body shaking from cumming on M’Baku’s tongue, “YES DADDY YES!!”

Erik reaches behind her to slap her ass while M’Baku continues to suck all the cum out of her pussy. Erik couldn’t help but to walk around to see what M’Baku was doing. He has his lips on her clit, sucking slowly, savoring in her sweet taste. Erik leans over, spreading both of Zalika’s ass cheeks before spitting on her ass hole. He takes his finger, bringing it to her ass to rub it.

“Damn, I can tell you play in this ass girl…my type of woman...super thick and creamy,” Erik sticks his finger in her ass, “You gon’ let me dig in this ass real good?”

“She better,” M’Baku says, his face finally from between her legs and covered in her juices, “I’m fucking that ass too.”

“It’s your lucky day, baby girl, turn around,” Erik says, watching a weak Zalika flip over onto her back, “There you go, I’m getting in this pussy-

“Fuck!!!” Zalika tries to push at Erik, “Daddy it’s in my stomach that dick is so big!”

M’Baku is walking to stand by Zalika’s face, jerking his dick, “It’s okay, entle, suck my dick.”

“Unh,” Zalika grabs M’Baku’s dick, “This is going inside of my pussy too daddy? This big ass dick?”

“Where ever you want it, I’ll put it, baby,” M’Baku hisses when Her juicy lips wrapped around his girth, “Fuck, mmmm.”

Erik has Zalika’s legs thrown over his shoulders, his hips expertly snapping into hers while grinding them. He couldn’t keep his eyes off of Zalika’s pussy creaming all over him. Her fat pussy fit snugly around him and the more he digs deep the more he wants to fill her pussy up with his cum. That pussy is gripping his dick something serious making his eyes roll.

“Pussy good, girl,” Erik says between breaths, “got me digging deep baby, so deep...uhmmmm, this pussy is so wet,” Erik pulls his dick out all the way to the tip, “nasty bitch, suck that dick while I fuck this pretty pussy.”

“Dig deeper,” M’Baku says while grabbing her legs, pulling them back, “That’s better, see? She’s opened up a lot more now, fuck her hard, brother.”

“Like this,” Erik leans over her body into a push up position, giving it to Zalika so hard and with long strokes that she takes M’Baku’s dick out of her mouth, hand barely able to grasp it, while staring at Erik with a crease in her brow and low eyes. He kept that same stroke, hips snapping into her and his dick hitting the back of her pussy.

“Fuck,” she says softly, unable to control the tears that fell from her eyes and rolled into her hairline, “fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck.”

“Look at that yummy pussy taking that dick,” M’Baku was fascinated, “Uhmm, make her pussy cum.”

“Ima make this pussy cum,” Erik repeated.

“Fuck my pussy good, daddy, please, oh my god,” Zalika was in a trance staring at M’Baku’s vast dick in her face and Erik’s dick that is just as whopping digging deep in her pussy. He was aiming for her to feel it push up against her cervix. Her toes curled back so hard it hurt and she would surely have cramps in her toes by tomorrow.

“Daddy get this pussy, Baku,” Zalika wiggles her tongue, “Slap that fat ass dick on my tongue.”

“Nasty little bitch,” M’Baku bends his knees a little because of his height to slap Zalika’s tongue with his dick.

Zalika slurps on M’baku’s tip while watching Erik have a blast in her pussy, “Pussy good? Is she good, daddy? Huh? Make your pussy cum.”

Zalika was on fire, talking shit while taking dick. Her pussy has a mad grip on Erik’s dick.

“Love to hear a girl talk nasty when I beat it up,” Erik says while rubbing her clit while stroking her pussy.

“Mmmm I wanna fuck her so bad...she’s taking that dick so good,” M’Baku was longing to split Zalika’s pussy in half.

“I can’t wait to fill this ass up,” Erik spoke with a hushed tone. Sweat poured from his body and it smelled just like the cocoa butter he applied to his skin after he showered.

“Look at your face, that’s all you need, Zalika, dick all the time,” M’Baku strokes her hair while she sucked the tip of his dick.

“I’d love that,” She says before gasping, “Ima squirt on your dick Erik,” She could hear her pussy making even louder wet sounds now, “it’s coming, daddy, Ima squirt on your dick!”

While Erik was killing her pussy, Zalika acted like the hype man pumping his head up and spewing nasty talk after nasty talk to make her squirt. Erik watched with rapid attention while colorless fluid splashed from Zalika’s pussy while he continued to fuck her. The grip she had on him almost made him cum. Erik pulls out, slapping his dick on her pussy before trading places with M’Baku.

“Let me,” M’Baku says, being a gentleman and lifting Zalika up to straddle him. With one bulky arm around her waist to lock her down, M’Baku uses his other hand to line his dick up with her pussy.

“Shit, Baku,” Zalika clenched up when she felt M’Baku trying to get the tip of his dick in, “this big black dick,” Zalika hisses, “oooooo, fuck that’s a big dick, baby...ouch-ouch...daddyyyy.”

“I know I’m too thick...it will fit, girl, you just gotta let me in,” M’Baku whispers to her, “Why don’t you suck your mess off of Erik while I work this pussy on my dick, hmm?”

“Okay,” Zalika grabs Erik’s creamy dick, going straight to sucking her cum off while keeping eye contact with him. Her taste and Erik’s sexy eyes did distract her enough to let M’Baku slip his dick in. She froze with a mouth full of dick, her hips suspended in the air.

“Nah, get some more of that dick,” Erik says, slapping her ass, “come on, girl throw that pussy back.”

“Fuck,” Zalika tries to but she was so wide open it was too much, “Daddy’s dick is so big in my little pussy.”

“Remember how you said you would take me? Show me how you would take me…” M’Baku has both of his hands on her hips, “It’s just my dick, girl...imagine if Erik was in your ass? You would really be crying then.”

“I’m about to get in that ass now,” Erik says while reaching behind Zalika to stick his finger in her ass again, “Ima put my dick balls deep in this tight ass.”

“Erik, no,” Zalika looks at him with puppy dog eyes, “Daddy not my ass.”

“I like how you play like you don’t want it,” Erik positions himself behind Zalika, crouching down so he could line his dick up with her ass, “remember you said you wanted me to make this ass a gaping, cum-filled hole?”

“Yes,” She says with a weak voice. Erik could see her ass hole clenching and it made him smile.

“Hurry up, Erik, I’m ready to fuck her,” M’Baku says impatiently. Erik leans over Zalika’s body with all of his strength keeping him up before grabbing his dick in one hand, pushing it inside of her ass slowly. Zalika’s face was priceless. She felt like the wind had been knocked out of her. He pushed in and her ass hole sucked him inside so swiftly she didn't see it coming. Erik felt good in her ass. Tight, thick, and smooth. When he pulled out to thrust back in, Zalika moaned, looking back at Erik, silently telling him to do that again.

“That thick ass dick,” Zalika’s eyes rolled shut. She was just getting used to Erik’s dick in her ass but M’Baku thrusting upward into her pussy has her feeling full. She turned around to look at him with wide eyes, moans stuck in her throat while this giant of a man started thrusting his hips upward. His dick went in and out, in and out, stretching her pussy to his girth. She could hear her pussy making noises around his dick, she could see the longing in M’Baku’s eyes.

“Oh my goodness, Baku,” Zalika grabs his shoulders, “Baku it’s so big… ooooo, Erik,” Zalika couldn’t forget the way Erik was tearing her ass up, “Daddy,” She says to Erik, “Daddy,” she says to M’Baku. She was being double penetrated and it felt so damn good.

“Ass is gripping the fuck out of my dick, FUCK,” Erik rubs his hands up Zalika’s spine, “I love this tight ass.”

Erik slips out of her ass, spreading her cheeks so he could see how wide open she is. The cum on his dick from fucking her pussy helped to lubricate his dick so he could fuck her ass. He went right back inside while watching M’Baku pull her down over his dick.

“BAKU! ERIK! YES!!” She shouts, “Make me cum!! I want to cum!!”

Zalika never had an anal orgasm before but she could feel herself ready to explode through both openings. She could feel the same tingling each time Erik fucked her ass. M’Baku was all up in her pussy with so much excitement his balls would slap her ass.

“Give me that pussy, girl,” He would say, “Daddy will make you cum on this dick,” He growled, “I’m stretching your little pussy out, baby.”

“Yes, I’m cumming!!!”

Zalika was trapped between two men so no matter how powerful her orgasm is she couldn’t move or run away. Tears burst from her eyes and she felt her ass growing tighter around Erik’s dick just like her pussy around M’Baku’s dick.

“AHHH SHIT!!!!!” Erik says, pumping a few more times before erupting deeply inside of her ass. He came harder than ever from anal and she was begging for more.

M’Baku hooks his arms under her knees, lifting Zalika up and down his dick. This man was bringing her body up in the air and slamming her down on his dick.

“Yeah, Baku, give her that dick, fuck her up,” Erik says while stroking his dick. He could feel it growing harder and harder in his hand, “Damn, bro, you got her pussy creaming heavy.”

“Fuck, Baku Ima cum, mmmm, Baku yes!!!!”

Zalika was cumming all over M’Baku and he didn’t stop fucking her until she stopped cumming. When she was drained, M’Baku pulled her into a kiss before lifting her off of him, trading places with Erik while he fucked her ass. Thanks to Erik, Zalika is nice and stretched, giving M’Baku easier access. M’Baku lifts from the bed, grabbing some lube from Erik’s dresser, applying some to his dick before putting it back, kneeling behind Zalika. Erik has Zalika sucking his dick like it was her favorite thing in the whole wide world.

“BAKU!!!!!” Zalika almost pushes away from him but he holds her hips down firmly while he fits his dick inside of her. He cursed in Xhosa with more and more of himself sinking inside of her.

“Tight ass butt, give her that dick, bro, make her feel that shit.” Erik encourages M’Baku while Zalika sucks his dick.

M’Baku was ready to cum already but he held it in as best as he could. Zalika was throwing her ass back on M’Baku and he was meeting her thrust for thrust.

“Yes, girl, that’s daddy’s little slut, this ass is tight on you, fuck,” M’Baku grunts, “Mmmm, yes, get this hole filled all the time, girl.”

“All the time,” Erik moans when Zalika strokes his balls with her hand while sucking on the tip of his dick, “You taste yourself on my dick? Taste good?”

“Mhm,” Zalika says while slurping on Erik’s dick.

“She is well trained,” M’Baku says while digging in her ass, “this is how I told you I would use you, entle, destroy your asshole without mercy...pound you until you cum then pound you again.”

In between Zalika’s vicious sucks Erik grabs her hair to fuck her face. Already he could feel himself getting ready to explode, “Goddamn, Zalika, Ima bust in that mouth again.”

“I’m about to cum in her ass,” M’Baku slaps her ass, “Mmmm, DAMN!!!!!” He felt that cum shoot out hard, “DAMN!! DAMN!!!”

Erik was right behind him, cumming down Zalika’s throat for the second time that evening.

________________

How often was Zalika fucking Erik and M’Baku? Practically every damn day. It’s been three weeks and now they were taking turns making a cream pie in her pussy. Zalika swore she was protected with birth control. The risk of letting both of her Daddy’s cum in her pussy felt so dangerous and delicious at the same time. Just last night Erik and M’Baku fucked her in the shower, picking her up and giving it to her deep in both holes. M’Baku was in her ass first while Erik was in her pussy and then they would switch places, aiming to make her cum.

“Big fucking dicks!” Zalika screamed to the ceiling.

“Daddy, yes, cum in my pussy,” she would say while Erik was pounding her pussy from the back while sucking M’Baku’s dick.

“Fuck, M’Baku, it’s so much dick in my pussy,” She would say to M’Baku while riding him reverse cowgirl.

Erik loved fucking Zalika doggy style or with her legs thrown over his shoulders. M’Baku enjoyed making her ride his dick and he especially loved fucking her in the ass. She would suck both of their dicks at the same time no matter what they were doing. They could be on the couch watching a game and Zalika would be on her knees, moving from one dick to the other. You know it’s big when you have to use both hands. She sucked both M’Baku and Erik’s dick with both hands even though Erik preferred for her to use her mouth only. M’Baku didn’t fuss too much because he knew how wide and girthy he was so he let her use whatever resources she needed.

Zalika had plans to go see M’Baku and Erik but she was feeling funny for the past few days. She felt nauseated and fatigued and that had her taking time off from school to rest up and get some energy. She didn’t want to worry M’Baku and Erik with her problems so she told them that she would have to see them that weekend. They were both disappointed but they understood that she needed some time off. Zalika made herself some chicken noodle soup. She played with it, no appetite at all. The nausea became more and more difficult so Zalika placed her bowl on her dresser, speeding to the bathroom. The second she lifted the toilet seat up Zalika vomits in the toilet.

She knew it was coming. It was only a matter of time. In that moment it came to her that she missed her period. She was so used to having irregular periods with taking birth control but it always came towards the end of the month. It’s been a week into the new month and she didn’t come on her cycle yet. She did feel bloated, cranky, cramps, and light spotting but it was on and off. Now, she was vomiting. Zalika flushed the toilet, walking to the sink to brush her teeth. As she scrubbed her tongue she looked at her reflection, unable to shake the uneasy feeling in her belly. Zalika knew what she had to do, there was no reason to avoid it. After brushing her teeth and using mouthwash, Zalika walked back to her bedroom to put on some sweats and a pair of sneakers.

She grabs her keys and wallet, grabbing her keys to leave. There is a CVS about a mile up the road in a shopping center. In her car, Zalika’s conscious kept telling her that she couldn’t be pregnant, not with birth control. The closer she got to CVS, the more she couldn’t accept it. Sure, having M’Baku or Erik as a baby father is wonderful when you think about it but she was still in school, no career, and what if one of them didn’t want the baby? What if they cut ties with her and she was left on her own to take care of a child? If she is pregnant, Zalika will keep the baby, there is doubt about that. But it will be hard.

Zalika grabs two tests from the shelf, deciding to do self-checkout instead since there was such a long line. Zalika was out the door in under five minutes. On her way back home so she could get it over with and face the inevitable. Back at home, she undressed, standing in her bathroom with her phone on the sink for a timer. She could see two texts from Erik and M’Baku on her lock screen.

Daddy Erik: Awww, I can’t see my baby today, now I gotta take care of myself.

Daddy M’Baku: I hope everything is alright. This dick will miss you girl.

Zalika opens the first test. She pees on the test, sitting it down on the sink before wiping and flushing. While washing her hands, Zalika waits the amount of time needed before grabbing the test quickly, anxious to see what it says.

Positive

“No fucking way,” Zalika says with a shake of her head before grabbing up the second test, “Let’s be sure….”

______________

“Zalika,” Erik says with a lopsided grin on his face. He’s wearing an Under Armor top with some drawstring shorts and socks on his feet, “I thought you weren’t coming to see us today? What changed your mind, gorgeous?”

“We have to talk,” Zalika says with a solemn expression.

“Aight...come in,” Erik gave Zalika a weird look before closing the door behind her, “Are you cutting ties with me?”

“I need to talk with you and M’Baku, Erik,” she says, “where is he?”

“Kitchen making something to eat, Baku!” Erik calls for him, his eyes never leaving Zalika’s, “Is it bad? You look like you wanna cry.”

“What’s going on,” M’Baku’s deep voice startled her. He softened when he saw Zalika, his little slut, “Ah, so she comes back for more,” M’Baku walks up to her, kissing her lips, “Are you hungry? I’m making oxtail stew, Erik’s recipe.”

“Not right now...we really need to talk...all three of us.”

“Shit,” M’Baku says before sharing a look with Erik, “Well, let’s sit on the balcony.”

M’Baku leads the way towards the balcony, turning on the light so they wouldn’t be sitting in darkness. There is a long patio chair with two small ones and a few Aloe Vera plants. Zalika takes a seat between Erik and M’Baku, both of them watching her attentively. Zalika began fidgeting, looking down into her lap.

“Zalika, baby, what’s wrong?” Erik says, scooting closer, “You got me and Baku over here worried.”

“If it's something we did, you can tell us both,” M’Baku says while gently squeezing her shoulder.

“Okay,” Zalika exhales, “Uhm...I’m pregnant.”

Silence.

“I’m pregnant,” she repeated.

Both men looked at each other again. Erik looked at nothing in particular while M’Baku’s expression hardened.

“When did you find out?” Erik asks.

“Today...I missed my period and I’ve been feeling sick, weak,” Zalika glances at M’Baku, “I took two tests, they were both positive.”

“Zalika...this is serious...what will you do?” M’Baku grabs for her hand, “I’m with you in whatever decision you make.”

“I want to keep the baby...but I don’t know which one of you could be the father,” She spoke timidly, “You both came inside of me…”

“That’s the dilemma,” M’Baku sighs, “Well, if it is my child, I will take care of it...take care of you.”

Zalika shudders when M’Baku’s hand pressed into her belly.

“I hope that it is mine,” He spoke with a whisper. That alone made Zalika’s nipples erect. They were a little sore as well but she couldn’t help feeling so turned on by M’Baku’s words.

“It could be mine,” Erik says, “and I’ll make sure my baby is provided for just like her mama,” Erik leans in, kissing Zalika’s cheek. His soft, plump lips against her cheek made her gasp. Erik’s hand joined M’Baku’s on her belly, both men sharing a look, before staring at Zalika.

“M’Baku...what if it’s Erik’s...how would you feel?”

M’Baku’s jaw clenched. He wanted to believe that it was his seed growing inside of her womb. If Erik’s cum made that happen he would be happy for his best friend but at the same time it could have been his.

“I would support my friend...but I won’t lie...I want the baby to be mine.”

“Hmm,” Erik hums, a brow raised at his friend, “You sure you won’t go full gorilla mode on me?”

M’Baku gave Erik a challenging look. He knows that the Jabari courses through M’Baku’s veins. Very possessive. He practically imprinted on Zalika.

“Then how would you feel if my baby is what’s making her hips spread and breasts leak milk?”

Erik licks his lips, one of his eyes twitching faintly.

“Ah, So we have a challenge,” M’Baku grabs Zalika’s chin, “We will see in nine months.”

“...okay,” Zalika stares at M’Baku’s lips.

“3 months, right? Until we find out about the sex of the baby?” Erik asks.

“Yeah, about 14 weeks.”

“I’ll be right there by your side, baby girl,” Erik kisses her neck, “Right by your side the entire time.

“And I will be by your bedside whenever you need me,” M’Baku says, taking charge and kissing her lips.

“Come stay with us, Zalika,” Erik takes it up a notch, trailing his hands up to grope her breast, “That way, you’ll be with us the entire time.”

“The lease will be up on my apartment in another few weeks,” Zalika bites her lip when Erik’s thumb tweaks her nipple, “I could do that...are you guys sure?”

“Of course,” M’Baku reassures her, “You are most welcome.”

Zalika was in heaven. She thought up so many different scenarios of how this would play out. Erik and M’Baku would argue, M’Baku would get upset at her for sleeping with Erik, Erik getting upset with her for sleeping with M’Baku, or both men calling her delusional, telling her to leave. None of those things happened. They were both comforting and accepting of what was happening between the three of them. The only problem would be the competition but that could be dealt with. M’Baku and Erik are now taking turns kissing Zalika, pulling on her clothes. This will be an everyday thing. They will want her pregnant pussy and she will give it to them.

@tgigoldie @soufcakmistress @chefjessypooh @chaneajoyyy @pananegra @theblulife @becincere @blaqwidow91 @fish-outta-watah @eyeknowmywrites @crowngold @njadakillthiscookie @blktinkerbell @luvanxi @sheisexcellent1 @chocolatedippedinhoney @brandithecrystalgem @dababydababydababydababy @soulfulbeauty19 @btitannaaa @sunkissedebony97 @youngblackndgifted @harleycativy @rbhp @thee-germanpeach @thadelightfulone @palmstreesallday @skylahb @bakaris-shorty @nizzle-mo @truglori @queenflaws @ljstraightnochaser @theegoldenchild @scrumptiouslytenaciouscrusade @nickidub718 @vikkidc @thehomierobbstark @abluesforlyssa @abeautifulmindexposed @fd-writes @chasingsunlight @sickaddiktions @munteanhore @xo-goldengirl @tiava143 @33kiara@honeytoffee @asiasblackworld727 @momobaby227 @informalmelancholy @soulshinechronicles @hearteyes-for-killmonger @goddessofthundathighs @soulfxll @whazzzupmyhitta @seyven89 @lahuttor @janelledarling @shewritestheblues @fanfangal @kreolemami @thoughtsoftheantagonist @luvwitoutlimit1 @mygirlrenee @hippiesandpeacesigns @alittlejd @jaysaidhi @thewaysheis--awkward– @walkrightuptothesun @shawnstacksss @theesotericqueen @mareethequeen @browngirldominion @ceeverse @therealmrsrhodes @sensitivelegend @teheeboo @yomiloo @msreshel-blog @bbygirrll05 @fahi0nanart @afteracouplepuffss @shaelyn102 @yaminax-kuss-a @lackbbaby @amyhennessyhouse @thattruckinwitch @dameshaemonique @glittermakesmesmile @justgetitoverwith0 @notavintagecliche @pariahcolored @cydneyrenee4 @ajjiiaaahhhh @naeelyniecee @ambthegamer @efonteno @mikesteel20 @wisenerdcreator @draggingstxns @eevolsidog @xoxomyaah @asweet-serendipity@therealmrsmbjordan @ajspencer1892 @queengodiva619 @niqui87 @quietpoeticheart @itsjustyazz @dasia21 @woah-express @bbgiirrll @backandbetter2 @megabriahall @forbeautyandlife @queenflaws @cecereads209 @queenbetter @yomiloo @daddys-baby-girl-t @lovinthemelanin @ladymac82 @ambitionwood @t3mporaa @toniilaney @iv0rysoap @sinfully-dope @lovehatecritique @chocolategirl605 @naysianaee

#killmonger smut #m'baku #black panther killmonger #killmonger x reader #m'baku fanfiction #nahimjustfeelingit writes

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sunmoonandeddie · 4 years

Text

don’t forget to sing

pairing: bucky barnes x reader

word count: 4,973

summary: You meet someone new in the most unlikely of ways during the quarantine in New York City. An alley is six feet apart, right?

chapter warnings: swearing, mention of sickness

masterlist

a/n: Let me know what you think!

This was just fucking perfect.

Of course. Of course you’d move to New York City three weeks before a fucking pandemic. Cities were a cesspool for illness, and the Big Apple was no exception.

Your dreams of going out and exploring the city and finding little spots that you could call your own now that you were a real New Yorker and not just a tourist anymore were gone. You’d been so busy unpacking and getting set up at your new job that you’d only gotten to go out for groceries.

And now all of New York City was shut down. Broadway was closed, for heaven’s sake. You couldn’t remember a time when that had ever happened in your lifetime.

It was mildly terrifying. And by mildly, you meant extremely.

Thankfully, your job was primarily online anyway. You were a playwright and you were basically an intern and assistant for Tony Kushner, possibly one of the greatest playwrights of all time.

But you were lonely. At least before you were ordered to stay home, you could go out and get a little human interaction at the grocery store, even if the cashier was just telling you your total. But now, everyone at the grocery store eyed each other warily. Like you’d infect them with the virus at any second.

Which, it was possible. It was why you only went late at night in order to avoid most of the crowds. And also why you’d sewn a mask out of an old t-shirt in order to protect yourself. And also why you’d stocked up on groceries so you wouldn’t have to go for about two weeks.

“I don’t know,” you said as you held the phone to your ear, wandering back and forth in your tiny little apartment. Your best friend was on the other side, a thousand miles away. “It’s getting really bad here.”

And, of course, she could try to understand, but Hope was all the way across the country. She’d gotten a job in her hometown in California after graduation. “I think we’re starting to head that way, too. Are you going to be okay?”

“I think so,” you said, trying to be cheerful as you sat at your desk, pulling your knees up to your chest. “I’m used to being alone, remember? I’m a writer. All I need is coffee and my laptop and I’m ready to hibernate.”

Hope let out a sigh, and you could hear the creak of her bed as she laid down. “I don’t know. I just think that maybe you should come out here.”

“I can’t. I don’t have that kind of money. And I just got here. I don’t want to run away at the first sign of trouble,” you said as you opened up your laptop. “Besides, I’m probably safer here locked away in my apartment by myself than I would be in your big house with you, your parents, and Scott. Your parents work in a lab with hundreds of other people. They have no idea if any of them have it. It’d probably be safer for you to come stay here with me.”

“Me in that shoe box?” She scoffed. “As if.”

Your laptop whirred to life as you ran your finger back and forth over the mouse pad. “We talked about this. You’re a California girl. I’m New York.” A smirk settled over your face as you cradled the phone between your ear and your shoulder, typing in your password. “Two households, both alike in dignity—”

“Jesus, theatre kids are the worst,” she muttered.

You barked out a laugh as you pulled up your latest word document. “I’m a grown woman, you know.” You reached over your desk and opened up the curtains, figuring you could use a little change of scenery, even if it was just the apartment building across the alley. The red brick was illuminated by the setting sun, the sky painted in shades of orange and gold.

There’s a tense pause between the two of you. There’s a lot of unspoken words.

The both of you know that this is serious. People are dying and there’s nothing the two of you can really do except hope and stay inside as much as possible and wash your hands. And this is the first time the two of you have lived apart since your sophomore year of university. It’s a big change and of course, all this happens right when you’re on your own.

“Are you going to be okay?” Hope asked, her voice cracking.

Taking in a shaky breath, you rest her head in your hand. “Yeah. Yeah, I’ll be okay. You just worry about staying healthy yourself, okay? And take care of your parents.”

Her parents were both a little older, and they were at risk with everything going around. They’d become your second family in the years since you’d first met Hope, and had even let you live with them for a while after graduation while you saved up for your move to New York City. Hell, they’d paid for you to come spend school breaks with them. They were your family.

And now you were all alone with no way to get to them. Even if you did want to fly, all incoming and outgoing flights were being canceled. They hadn’t officially announced that they’d be closing the airports, but it was coming.

A light in the apartment across the alley from yours flicked on, and your eyes were immediately drawn to it.

“Oh…,” you breathed out, accidentally cutting off what Hope was saying.

“What?”

“There’s a… There’s a man.”

“A man?! We are in a pandemic! There’s no dating in a pandemic!”

You went quiet as your elbow rested on your desk, your chin in your hand. “He’s… gorgeous.”

And gorgeous, he was. He looked like he’d just gotten out of the shower, with the towel swung low on his hips. Dark hair was smattered across his broad chest like some hero on the cover of a trashy romance novel. He ran his fingers through his long, damp hair as he opened up the drawers of his dresser, picking out boxers and sweats.

“God… He looks like he just walked off a photoshoot with, like… Vogue,” you said quietly. Drool was starting to drip from the corner of your mouth, you were so entranced.

“Wait… Really?” Hope said, her voice rising. “I need details! Now!”

Brows furrowed, you couldn’t take your eyes off of him. “You have a boyfriend.”

“Who I haven’t gotten to see in over a week. Scott is the love of my life, but I need to live vicariously through you,” she said. “The most romance we have right now is when his internet actually works and we get to FaceTime.”

You were in a trance, just watching him move around his room. “You know how cute I thought Jimmy Woo was? He was in my Econ class and then we went on, like… two dates?”

“Yeah.”

“I would feed Jimmy Woo to a pack of hyenas if this man asked me to.”

But of course, nothing good could last. Your elbow slipped off the edge of the desk and your face slammed down onto the wood. “Oh, my god,” you groaned as you fell to the ground, clutching your mouth. “Holy fuck…”

Hope was shouting at you through the phone, demanding to know whether or not you were okay. She was more frantic than you’d ever heard her.

Pulling your hand away from your face, you winced as you saw the dark red blood. “Shit. Shit, shit, shit…” You didn’t think you’d knocked out a tooth, thank god. You were sure that you’d be able to feel that. “Yeah… I think I’m okay.” You started to pull yourself up, glaring at the blood that was on the edge of the desk.

But when you found the Most Handsome Man in the World staring at you from his window, looking just as worried as Hope sounded in his towel, you quickly ducked back down, willing him to go away. You don’t think you’d ever been so embarrassed.

“Hope, I’m going to throw myself from the Brooklyn Bridge,” you hissed into the phone as you sat on the floor, leaning against your desk. “He saw me bust my face open! Or he heard it!”

There’s a pause, and then a snort. “You have to admit, it’s kinda funny. And the type of thing that would only happen to you.”

“Gee, I’m so happy you’re having fun with this,” you said.

You stayed down there for an extraordinarily long time, hoping to whatever god was out there that he’d stop looking. When you finally emerged from your hiding place, you found that he was watching a movie with his bedroom light off, his eyes completely focused on the television.

And there was a whiteboard leaning against the window, messy scrawl in blue marker.

Hope you didn’t hurt yourself too bad!! And I’m glad you enjoyed the show ;)

More than a little appalled at how blatant he was, you grabbed a piece of notebook paper and a Sharpie, writing out your reply before sticking it to the window with a piece of tape.

Nothing but a busted lip and broken pride :(

You shut your curtains, carefully cleaning your wound before getting to work on your latest writing assignment. Though occasionally, you could remember the strange interaction and a smile would creep across your face.

Which would then cause you to wince in pain as the cut on your lip came open again.

Right before you went to bed, you peeked out of your curtains to see if he’d replied again.

Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone what I saw :) Goodnight!

You quickly wrote out a reply, taping it up before heading to bed.

Pinky promise? Goodnight!

When you woke up, there was already another note left for you, and the man seemed to be gone.

Good morning! I hope your lips feel better!

You had no idea when he’d be back or why the hell he’d left. It was a pandemic after all.

Granted, a lot of people still had to work in this whole mess. It was ridiculous.

Feeling a little bold, you wrote out a message.

You wanna kiss it better?

But you quickly crumbled up the piece of paper and threw it away. Despite the fact that you’d seen him almost completely naked the night before, you didn’t know him. He’d only said three sentences to you so far, and they were written out.

It was the quarantine equivalent of sliding into someone’s direct messages on Twitter or Instagram.

Should you even reply? He was… He was the kind of guy you saw on Love Island. Too perfect and too ripped and sweet and mysterious and friendly, all at the same time.

You’d been getting into a lot of shows you wouldn’t have watched before while quarantined. You’d watched the entire first season of the American version of the show, and you’d probably start the United Kingdom version sometime that day. It wasn’t like you had anything better to do.

“Have you written back to him?” Hope asked as you set up your laptop on your desk, pulling up Spotify.

“What?” You asked, your phone cradled between your ear and your shoulder. “No. It was a one time thing. It’s done.” Before she could reply, you said your goodbyes and hung up. You really needed to clean and that wasn’t going to happen if you chattered away on the phone with Hope like you usually did.

Music blasted from your laptop’s speaker after you hit play, and you threw open the window, letting the late winter air in. It had started to get really stuffy in your apartment and you needed something to do other than work and binge watching or you’d go insane.

You didn’t even notice that your neighbor that lived across the alley had come home, and was watching you with a delighted smile on his face.

You were half-dancing, half-cleaning, belting out the lyrics without a care as you got more and more into it. “Didn’t even know it! No punches left to roll with! You got to keep me focused! You want it? Say so!” You sang, twirling around with your trash can in hand as you picked up all the various little items. “Let me check my chest, my breath right quick! He ain’t ever seen it in a dress like this! He ain’t ever even been impressed like this!”

Unseen by you, the mysterious stranger took a few steps forward, grateful that he’d left his window open.

“Prolly why I got him quiet on the set like zip! Like it, love it, need it bad! Take it, own it, steal it fast! Boy, stop playin!’ Grab my ass! Why you acting like you—” You turned around, breaking off with a squeak as you saw him standing there watching you, your trashcan and an empty mug in hand. You were completely frozen as he stared at you with a slight smile, leaving you a deer in headlights.

Suddenly, you were hyper aware of just how awful you looked. Your hair hadn’t been washed, or your face. You were wearing a men’s two XL hoodie that you’d stolen from some guy you’d fucked for a few months in college and a pair of sweatpants that you’d had since you were on the middle school track team that were still too long in the feet. You’d done shot put and discus.

Why the fuck were you thinking about shot put and discus? You hadn’t thought about it over twelve years. It wasn’t like you were ever any good at it.

The Most Handsome Man in the World was staring at you, holding a takeout box at a mug of tea. But at least he was fully dressed, even if that didn’t awake away from how attractive he was. “Hey,” he said with an easy smile.

“Hi.” Your voice cracked as you spoke, and you’d never wanted to slam your head against the wall more. How could you be this much of a fucking loser?

“I like your music choice. Who is that?” He asked curiously as he set his food on the bed, kicking off his shoes before sitting down.

Yeah, he was definitely just as attractive fully clothed as he was naked, which was truly a feat in itself. Surely there was some kind of award for that, right?

You realized you’d been staring at him in silence and coughed, replying, “Doja Cat.”

“How’s your lip?”

“Good.”

The two of you stared at each other, him happily munching on the chicken nuggets he’d picked up. You hadn’t moved an inch.

“I’m James,” he said after swallowing. “But my friends call me Bucky.”

You gave him your name as you slowly moved a few steps closer, sitting down in your desk chair and pulling your knees up to your chest. “What kind of a name is Bucky?”

He chuckled, dipping his next nugget into the sweet and sour sauce. “My middle name is Buchanan. My best friend, Steve, started calling me Bucky when we were in kindergarten, and I don’t know… it just stuck.”

“I mean…” You shrugged, wrapping your arms around her legs. “‘S alright. I like James though.”

“You can call me James.”

“Oh. Okay.”

It felt intimate, somehow. Calling him by his first name.

The quarantine was forcing people to revert back to Victorian ways of social conduct. If you were lucky, you’d get your own Mr. Darcy.

But with the sweats you had on, it was more than likely that you’d end up an old spinster.

How did he find it so easy to talk to a complete stranger? Granted, you were a lot less intimidating than he was.

“How’s your lip?” He asked, his head tilting to the side as he peered over at you. “You don’t need stitches, right?”

There was an unspoken worry there. Needing stitches meant you’d probably go without, since all the hospitals were so backed up with those that had fallen ill. And going to the hospital just meant you’d risk your own health by coming in close contact with those going to get treated for Covid-19.

“If you do, I have a first aid kit I keep here in my apartment with the stuff to do stitches,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. “But I wouldn’t exactly be able to come over there to help you. You’d have to do the stitches yourself.”

Your brows furrowed as you looked at him. “Why do you have the stuff to do stitches in your first aid kit? I did see this one episode of one of those crime shows where they used safety pins to hold a gash open, but I can’t remember what show it was.”

Mirth sparkled in his eyes as he watched you. “I’m a nurse.”

“Oh,” you said, relaxing. But then you remembered, and your heart sank. “Oh. I… James.”

James looked rather sheepish as he looked down at his feet. “It’s nothing really. But I can’t use the elevator since it would risk someone being in an enclosed space with me. So… you know. I don’t really need leg day, right?” He let out a weak laugh, clearly trying to blow it off. “I’m not allowed to use the gym anymore. Not that I would. I don’t want to risk infecting anyone, even if I don’t have it yet.”

The way he said ‘yet’ hurt your heart. He knew the position he was in, how dangerous it was.

There was nothing you could really say to him. What the hell could you say? Thank you for your service? Technically, you could, but you remembered how your dad had felt about it. He’d been a field doctor over in Afghanistan until he’d died on his fifth tour.

“I was just doing what needed to be done, sweetheart,” he’d said to you when you’d asked. “Trying to save as many people as possible. I don’t need thanks for that.”

But fuck. James was going out everyday to fight an opponent that he couldn’t see.

“My lip is fine,” you said eventually, breaking the silence with a weak smile.

“Good,” he said, clearing his throat. “I’ll let you get back to your solo concert. I’ve gotta shower.”

Things went on as normally. Or, at least, as normal as things could be in a time like that. Only now, you had someone to talk to that wasn’t Hope every night.

He wouldn’t tell you about what it was like at the hospital though. He’d get this far away look in his eyes and his face would pale. “Nothing you need to worry your pretty little head about, darlin,’” he’d croon, a sad smile on his lips. “You let me worry, and you just keep yourself safe and inside, okay?”

Sometimes you’d miss him. He’d be at the hospital for days on end, sleeping in on-call rooms and eating from vending machines. That’s when you’d leave little notes all over your window for him to read when he got back.

But then one day he came home and you could just tell that he was more worn down that usual.

“James?” You called out softly as you pushed the window open. You hadn’t seen him in two days. “Are you okay?” You leaned half out the window, your elbows resting on the ledge.

He took in a shaky breath, his eyes squeezing shut as he willed himself not to cry.

“James?” You’re about to repeat your question when he looks up, staring blankly at the wall.

“Steve has it,” he said quietly, his voice cracking.

Your heart stopped inside your chest. “Oh. Oh, James…,” you breathed out.

A few tears slipped down his cheeks, his hands clenched at his sides. “I went into a room in the ER and there he was.”

You’d heard so many stories about his best friend since childhood that you felt like you knew Steve already. Bucky had met him when they were just five years old, on the first day of kindergarten, and it’d been history from there. But Steve had been sickly and small up until they were about seventeen, when he’d undergone some revolutionary clinical trial. Fixing his heart and lungs had kick started his entire system and it was like everything magically went away.

“Not even that stupid treatment prevented him from getting sick,” Bucky said quietly. “He looked… He looked like he was on his deathbed.”

You paused, before crawling out of the window and out onto the fire escape. “James, take my hand.”

You knew it was stupid. It was really, really stupid. He was around those with the virus daily, but he needed you. You’d risk it to give him a little bit of comfort.

“What?” He said, looking at you like you’d grown a second head. “No. No. I can’t. What if I give it to you?”

“Then we’ll figure it out,” you said, insistently holding your hand out to him. “Take my hand.”

Sniffling, he reached his hand out of his window and took yours, your fingers intertwining. He took in a shaky breath, a fresh wave of tears coming on as he squeezed his eyes shut. “I don’t know what to do,” he admitted after a long moment just holding your hand. “I’m so fucking scared. I don’t want to go in there day after day. I know people need me but I…” He looked up at you with sea glass eyes. “I don’t want to die.”

“You’re not going to,” you said firmly, with as much conviction as you could muster up. “You hear me? You’re not going to die, and neither is Steve. We’re going to make it through this.”

“Sometimes I just… hold their hand,” he said, so quiet you could barely hear. “They’re dying alone. Their family and friends aren’t allowed in to see them. So I just… stay with them. So they have someone there.” Bucky lets his head fall into his chest, his shoulders slumping. “And then I have to call the family to let them know. And I just hope that maybe… knowing I was there with them helps a little. But it’s not the same.”

You tighten your grip on his hand, not daring to look down because you’re several stories up and if you lean a little too far, it would result in a trip to the hospital you can’t afford. You haven’t been outside in days.

You don’t realize that you’re crying right along with him until you taste the salty brine of your tears on your lips.

“We’re going to be okay, James,” you said, though you weren’t sure if you were trying to convince him or yourself. “This won’t last forever. And I’m going to be here with you, okay? No matter what happens. I’m here. I’ve got you.”

He squeezed your hand once more before letting go, nodding for you to go back inside. “Go wash your hands. Now.”

A smile creeps across your face as you surrender to his wishes, crawling back through your window. “Yes, sir.”

He’s touch and go the next few days. Sometimes he seems upbeat, positive even, about the whole situation. Others… Well. He had plenty of reason to be down.

“You know, you’re a pretty good singer,” he commented one night. He was sitting against the window, leaning his head against the frame. You had climbed out onto the fire escape again with a blanket wrapped around your shoulders. “That night that I heard you singing to that song… The Doja Cat one? You’re good.” His head tilted to the side in the way that a puppy might. “Why don’t you sing more often?”

“I used to,” you said after a deep sigh. “I used to sing a lot. I was going to be a musical theatre actress. But I got told so often that I was better at writing than performing so… I don’t know. I guess I just decided it’d be better to pursue something I was better at.”

His lower lip was caught between his teeth as he looked at you.

You’d never had someone look at you the way he did. Like he wanted to see all of you, like he craved it, needed it, even. It was exhilarating.

“That doesn’t mean you stop singing.” He moved to rest his chin in his palm. “Even if you don’t become a performer professionally, you don’t stop singing. Especially in times like these.”

“What? Like those fake videos of people in Italy?” You asked with a snort. A breeze wound through the alley and you tightened the blanket around you. “The one that Katy Perry retweeted?”

“You know that’s not what I mean,” he said with an eye roll. “My ma used to sing around the house. Hearing you… It made me feel like I was home again. Just for a little while.” He smiled slyly. “And you have pretty sick dance moves.”

Groaning, you climbed back into your window, shooting a glare at him. “You promised not to talk about my dancing!”

“It was cute!”

“Was not!”

“Was to!”

You took in a deep breath as you stared at him with narrowed eyes. “No,” you said, pointing a finger at him. “No, it’s not.” Before he could reply, you started to shut the window, calling out, “Goodnight, James!” The window shut with a definitive click and you winked as he flipped you the middle finger.

Steve came home three weeks later, completely clean of the virus. The quarantine finally ended on May 22nd, 2020, the amount of cases down to maybe a hundred that were contained within the hospital.

In that time, you’d gone outside a total of six times to get groceries. You’d gained ten pounds, even with the basic exercises you were doing in your apartment to keep you active. You’d also saved up two thousand dollars, since you weren’t going out and you’d put a parental lock on your laptop and phone so you couldn’t go online shopping until further notice, but you were lucky in that way. You had an extremely well-paying job that you could do online, and your boss wasn’t an asshole.

Millions of New Yorkers flooded the streets, crying and hugging and touching everyone.

You hadn’t been touched in so long. The last time had been when you’d held Bucky’s hand on your balcony, and that had been the only time he’d allowed it since he didn’t want to get you sick.

He’d been lucky that he didn’t get it himself. Most of those that had fallen ill were healthcare workers. Overworked, tired healthcare workers.

You stepped out of the front doors of your apartment building, feeling an overwhelming sense of elation. You’d already talked to Hope that morning on FaceTime. Her and her parents were celebrating by going to their favorite restaurant that was allowing dine-in again.

Tears pricked your eyes as you watched the people around you. It reminded you a little bit of those pictures of V-Day in New York City at the end of World War II.

But where was Bucky?

He’d been at work yesterday, and since you hadn’t seen him, it probably meant that he’d passed out in an on-call room instead of coming home.

But you needed to see him. You didn’t care if he was all gross and greasy. You just needed him.

You loved him.

Your eyes locked in on a familiar head of long, brown hair sticking a little bit above the crowd. He was awful tall. When he turned his head, it only confirmed it. “JAMES!” You shouted, trying to break through the roar of the crowd. “JAMES!”

His brows furrowed, his head turning a little towards the sound of his voice. When his eyes landed on you they went wide as saucers, his lips forming your name even though you couldn’t hear him over the people.

The two of you pushed through the hordes of people, trying to reach one another. When you finally broke through, you threw yourself into his arms, your arms wrapping around his neck as he twirled you around. The both of you were crying happy tears, wide smiles on your faces.

“We made it,” you whispered, your voice cracking. “We’re okay.” You pulled back enough to cup his face, so many words you wanted to say getting caught in your throat.

But before you could say them, he pulled you into a kiss, one hand on the back of your head and the other on your hip. Grinning against your lips, he dipped you just a little, holding you tight. To passerby, it was a remnant of the iconic V-Day kiss. But you couldn’t think about that. All you could think about was Bucky.

“Hi,” he said softly as he pulled away, breathing heavily.

Your nose nudged against his as your eyes fluttered open. “Hi.”

He stole another kiss, your heart skipping a beat inside your chest. “You better not stop singing now that this is over,” he said quietly as he held you to him, refusing to let go. “Can’t go a day without hearing your pretty voice.”

“You’re a sap.”

“Your sap.”

“My sap?!”

He had a cheeky smile as he looked at you, cupping your cheeks. “Does this mean I can take you on a date now?”

You were lucky. You knew people who got the virus, but none of them had died. Others didn’t have the same luck unfortunately, and it was a tragedy. But you don’t stop singing during dark times. You just sing a little louder.

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x you #bucky barnes x you #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky fanfiction

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mdawritings · 3 years

Text

Wanna Be Yours: Ch. 6

I.VI

Masterlist

Warning: rough sexual content, slapping, spanking, and all-around roughhousing.

Song(s): "Don’t Blame Me" by Taylor Swift

You throw your legs languidly over the chair in the corner of Hotch’s office. "I’ve already studied the material you gave me extensively." You rest your head against the arm of the chair, your eyes fluttering closed.

"If you don’t want the help we can stop these little sessions. That’s fine to settle for mediocrity. Truly, that’s your own mistake," Hotch huffs disapprovingly and you hear him stand up from his chair.

"I’m sorry. I’m just tired," You groan softly and force your eyes open, to see him leaning on the desk arms crossed against his chest as he looks over you. A small smile fights its way onto your face. He looks absolutely amazing today. He’s much more casual than usual. He has a green polo on and the top two unbuttons are undone just enough to let a little chest hair peek out. It’s got you all kinds of unfocused.

"There’s an exam in three days. You need to be prepared," Aaron raises a brow at you, waiting for you to sit up properly and pay attention.

"Isn’t it kind of unfair for you to help me study for an exam you’re writing?" You laugh a little under your breath, swinging your legs around to sit in the chair normally. You lean forward, resting your chin in the palm of your hand.

"I’m not giving you the exact exam questions. Just testing you on the material. Plus, I’ll throw in some questions about the extra stuff we’ve been discussing," Aaron nods and reaches across his desk for a notebook.

You let out another sigh and reach for your own notes. "God this is so boring." You pout.

Aaron raises a brow at your childish attitude and rolls his eyes, "You have something you’d rather do?"

"I have quite a few ideas." You grin and raise your eyebrows twice in jest. Aaron shakes his head at you, narrowing his eyes, "Fine. Fine!" You sigh frustratedly. You’re shocked he’s forcing you to study. Something about it is endearing, knowing that he does still care about your success in the class, not just purely driven by his sexual attraction to you. He holds out another sheet of information and you quickly scan the page, reading it at a pretty fast pace. "Yeah I already know all of this."

"You sure?" He countered, shoving his hands into his pockets, his thumbs hooked on the edges.

"Yes, Aaron, I’m sure," You hold the paper out to hand it back to him.

"How well do you know all of it? Is it practically ingrained in your brain? Can you recall it at a moment's notice? This is a timed exam after all." Hotch rattles off the interrogatory questions and you practically scoff at him.

"You have such little faith in my study habits it’s genuinely concerning. I’ve already made an extensive study guide, studied said study guide, and could take the exam today if I had to." You point out before leaning back in the chair again.

"How about we test your knowledge then?" He raises a brow crossing the room to stand directly in front of you. You crane your head back to be able to look at him. The way you’re positioned, you sitting, him standing, he towers over you, inevitably making his dominance over you more oppressive and obvious.

You scrunch your face up, feeling confused by his actions. "Stand up," He commands and gestures with his hand for you to move out of your chair. You stand up hesitantly but don’t move from your spot, unsure where he’s going with this. He sighs frustratedly and practically lifts you on your feet, moving you out of his way before sitting down in your spot.

You place your hands on your hips, frustrated with him, "Hotch, if you just wanted my seat you could’ve—" Before you can finish your sentence, however, Hotch grips you tightly, yanking you down, laying you across his lap. You let out a small screech in response, fearful you’re going to fall onto your face, but Hotch is quickly to catch you and hold you steady. "What are you—"

"Shut up," He groans out. He reaches forward, practically ripping off your blouse before rolling your skirt up to bunch at your hips. "I’m tired of the attitude today. You’re going to keep that wicked little mouth of yours shut until I tell you to open it, do I make myself clear?" Hotch’s large rough hand trails up your bare legs, before cupping one of your ass cheeks, rubbing and groping it.

You pause, unsure if you should verbally respond so you give a small nod. Hotch draws his hand back, smacking your ass, sending sharp stings of pain throughout your body. You yelp but sink your teeth into your lip, attempting to mute your sounds.

"I asked you a question," He growls out, rubbing over the spot he just smacked, both his hand and your skin warm from the contact. "Do I make myself clear?" He asks once more, placing heavy emphasis on each word and drawing out each syllable.

"Yes," You breathe out, attempting to catch your breath.

"Good girl," He uses his other hand to gather both your wrists, pinning them behind your back. "Corpus Delicti. Define it."

You furrow your brows, "What?"

Smack, smack. He doles out two insanely hard spanks to your ass and you cry out in response. "I asked you a question. Give me the answer," He growls, releasing your wrists so he can fist your hair in hand, "Define corpus delicti."

Your head is fuzzy from the pain and arousal as you squirm around, feeling his firm body below yours. "Corpus delicti," You pant slightly and struggle to find your words, "Also called body of a crime. It’s the principle that there must be facts or evidence that show the occurrence of a crime."

"Good," His hand runs lazily over both cheeks of your ass, his hand slightly cooler than your burning hot skin. He hooks his finger into your panties and pulls them down your legs. "The two components of corpus delicti?"

Just as you open your mouth to give an answer, Hotch thrusts two fingers into you at an achingly slow pace. His fingers are thick and fill you wholly and he curls them just right. "Oh fuck," You moan out, unable to contain your arousal.

He pauses for a moment and stills. "Don’t stop!" You whine impatiently. Just as the words leave your lips, you remember the question he asked you. "Wait, wait!" You cry out but Hotch brings his hand down harder than ever on your ass three times in rapid succession.

"Evidence that a crime has been committed and someone is criminally responsible for the act," You cry out, missing the feeling of his fingers inside of you, "That fucking hurts," You whine in pain, your head feeling fuzzy. You can barely think straight. Your bottom is on fire, your eyes sting with tears and you’re just aching for his touch again.

"You know what to say if you want me to stop," He tuts disapprovingly and the safe words you two have discussed race through your brain. You’re not going to say one. You’re in a whole world of pain but you’re most definitely enjoying, "Now if I recall, you’re not supposed to speak," He clamps a hand over your mouth, leaning his face in close to your ear, "Now be quiet. Otherwise, someone might hear you making all this unnecessary noise."

He’s taunting you. He raises his hand, spanking your ass, again, and again, and again. You’re not quite sure what spurred this on, but you’re assuming it has to do with the way you cursed at him. He finally lets up after another five spanks, your moans and cries muffled by his hand. At this point, your legs feel weak and you struggle to hold your head up. Tears stream down your cheeks freely.

"The principles of criminality?" Hotch runs his hand up your bare back, reaching for your bra clasp and undoing it to slide your bra off.

Your breathing is wildly erratic and just about everything you’ve ever learned seems to have disappeared from your memory. But out of fear of more smacks to your stinging cheeks, you rush to get the answer out, "Legality, actus reus, mens rea, fusion of actus reus and mens rea, harm, causation, and stipulation of punishment." You rattle off, letting out a small sigh of relief.

You feel his hand leave your skin and you squeeze your eyes tightly shut already anticipating the slap before you get it. He gives you two more electrifying spanks, "Ow!" You cry out, "What the fuck was that for?" You burrow your face into the arm of the chair and feel him chuckle softly beneath you. He keeps you pinned to his lap, pressing his erection hard into your stomach.

Hotch doesn’t reply simply pushing you up off his lap and back onto your knees. You sit back on your heels, squeezed in the small space between him and the arm of the chair. His hands go to his belt, undoing it and unzipping his slacks just enough to push his boxers down and free himself from his pants. He’s already hard, obviously aroused from the punishments he had been doling out to you. "Let’s put that mouth of yours to good use."

You bend down, taking almost all of him into your mouth. You wrap one hand around the base, pumping and stroking the remaining length that doesn’t fit in your mouth. You bring the other hand to cup and fondle his balls, eliciting a long, loud groan that rumbles deep in his throat. "That’s my good girl." He gathers up your hair in his hands, holding it out of your face.

You bob your head faster, picking up the pace as you run your tongue along the entirety of his cock. You pull all the way out to the tip before taking all of him back into your mouth again. His cock hits the back of your throat, causing you to choke out a gag, tears stinging your eyes again. You breathe through your nose as he tightens his grip on your hair. "Just like that… don’t stop. Take all of me, pretty girl."

Just as you feel him twitch in your mouth, beginning to buck his hips quite wildly, he pulls your head away.

"Why’d you stop I—" Hotch silences you with a passionate kiss, wrapping one hand around your neck to pull you closer, but not really tightening his grip in a way to cut off airflow. You moan into his mouth loudly and he guides you onto his lap.

You place your knees on either side of his hips, grinding against him. Your mouth focuses on meeting his, taking in every one of his moans. "Please, daddy," You whine, "I need you now." The name spurs him on and he lifts your hips just enough to push into you.

It’s a familiar feeling, but even now it still elicits a small gasp from your lips as you throw your head back in pleasure. This exposes the entire base of your neck to him, which he soon litters with small nips and kisses as he resists the urge to move you or thrust into you.

You squirm a little but he keeps your hips glued in place, "Please. Please I need more," You beg pathetically. You bring your eye line back down to look at him and he has that hungry, lustful glint in his eye that you love so much.

"What do you want me to do, pretty girl?" He mumbles against the skin of your neck and the vibrations of his deep voice send chills down your entire body. Your ass is on fire and every nerve ending feels electrified with his cock buried deep inside you like this.

"Please," Your begging intensifies and Hotch trails a hand between the two of you, rubbing your clit, increasing the pressure steadily, "Please, daddy, fuck me!" You need some form of friction, anything at all. He’s torturing you and you’re fucking sick of it. You’re hot and sweaty and horny and you need to finish.

"When are you going to learn?" He tsks softly and reaches up with his other hand to massage your breast, taking your nipple between his fingers. "You need to use your words." You whine impatiently.

"Please. I’m begging you," you tilt your head down and lean forward to kiss him quickly, nipping at his lips and aching to taste him. You let out a small cry in pleasure when he finally lifts your hips, just to slam you down onto him. He’s taking a rough pace with you. He’s wild and uncontrollable but you don’t even notice because your body feels so overstimulated. Between the pain in your bottom and the overwhelming pleasure, your head feels as if it's in a haze.

You’re on top of him, but he makes it evidently clear that he still has control, even in this position. His hands grip your hips with bruising strength and he thrusts his own hips up to meet yours with every bounce. He hits deep inside you and you cry out in pleasure, holding onto his shoulders tightly for balance.

Your skirt slides down from your hips a little, almost hiding the image of him thrusting up into you. You don’t last long, feeling the familiar pressure building between your hips, "Can I come? I want to come around you!" You cry out, "Fuck please daddy!" You struggle to get coherent words out, devolving into a series of incoherent curses and moans as Hotch continues to slam you down onto his cock.

"Go ahead," He mutters softly and leans in to kiss your cheek and down under your jaw, "You’ve been a good girl you deserve it," He speaks close to your ear and the feeling of his hot breath fanning across your face sends a small shiver through you as your eyes roll back into your head. You come hard around his cock, chanting his name and letting out loud, strangled cries of pleasure.

You can barely hold yourself up and you burrow your head into his neck as Hotch continues to fuck you through your orgasm, his pace unrelenting. You feel your legs trembling as Hotch’s pace grows erratic, his panting turning into guttural deep groans. "That’s it, daddy," You purr, nipping at his earlobe.

"Fuck!" Hotch cries out and thrusts into a few times before coming to a shuddering halt and throwing his head back onto the chair, breathing heavily.

You both stay there for a while, attempting to catch your breath and to get the strength to stand up. Hotch soon lifts you up, placing you back on your feet. He stands up soon after, tucking himself back into his pants and reaching for his belt. He walks back around to his desk. You both exist in silence, moving about the room, cleaning yourselves up. You bend down for your bra and blouse that Hotch so carelessly discarded.

"Come over to my place tonight." Hotch’s voice cuts through the silence as you are getting dressed. Your head shoots up to look at him and he can read the confusion that coats your face. He glances away from your line of sight and back at his desk. He busies his hands with some papers on the desk.

You pull your blouse on, attempting to button it before realizing a few buttons are missing. "Isn’t that a little… different for us?" You attempt to decode Hotch’s mannerisms but he keeps his focus down on the materials on the desk.

"I’m tired of hiding out in this stuffy office," He shakes his head, "Plus there’s only so many surfaces I can put you on here." He glances up at you, that mischievous smirk plastered across his face. "My apartment has a working AC system, food, drinks, and most importantly, a very large, very comfortable bed."

You hesitate, not sure how to respond. You want to go over to his place. It sounds nice but you have a sinking feeling you’re growing just a little too attached to your law professor.

"Well, I won’t be over until late tonight." You respond as Hotch picks up your bag from the floor, holding it out for you. You reach to pull it onto your shoulder. You glance up to see Hotch’s quizzical look, "I promised Charlie I would help him study. For your exam actually." You laugh softly and see Hotch’s face fall into a frown.

"Charlie Miller?" He clarifies and you nod.

"Yeah," You breathe out, attempting to right your clothing and smooth out your hair, "Something wrong?"

"He’s… just not someone I would picture you wasting your time with," Hotch crosses his arms against his chest, eyes focused down at you. You want to quickly dismiss his judgment, attributing it to Charlie’s lack of work ethic but you sense something else in his tone. Is that… jealousy?

You smirk widely, "Oh really? Are you sure that’s what’s bothering you?"

"What are you insinuating?" He tilts his head to the side, raising his brows, his voice flat and unimpressed.

"Oh I’m not insinuating anything, professor," You drawl out the title and grin at him cheekily.

He grips the front of your blouse, pulling you close to him, "Watch the attitude. Unless you want me to show you what real punishment is like tonight." He reaches down to grab and grope at your ass, eliciting a small hiss in pain.

You stay like that for a minute, your chest pressed against his, his hands roaming your body once more. He lets out a strained breath before letting you go, "Call me if you’re going to come over."

You nod, "Bye Aaron," You smile before turning to close his office door.

———

"I’m serious, Charlie, we have to focus," You laugh as he places a beer in front of you on your kitchen table.

"One beer is not going to kill your focus, kid genius," He rolls his eyes cracking open each of the bottles, "Besides, I’m the one who needs help with studying."

You grin and pull the beer out of his hands, "Fine. Then you get this back when we’re done."

"What? Are you punishing me?" He places a hand over his chest feigning shock and hurt.

You roll your eyes, reaching over to nudge his shoulder playfully, "Let’s just get started" You notice that Charlie has scooted his chair a little closer to yours, his thigh pressing firmly against yours. He brings his hands down to rest on his lap, his fingers brushing gently against your leg. The small contact doesn’t make you uncomfortable. It just doesn’t send sparks through your entire body the way Hotch’s hands do. You clear your throat, feeling your face flush. Your bottom is still wildly uncomfortable sitting here on the hard wooden chairs in your apartment.

"Outline the principles of criminality." You turn on a small smile. As Charlie starts to rattle off his answers, your mind wanders back to your study session with Hotch from earlier. Your ass is still stinging wildly. Your mind is still sort of foggy and you’re fucking exhausted. The aching between your thighs hasn’t ceased and you’re sure it won’t be going away any time soon if you decide to go over to Hotch’s tonight.

"Was that correct?" Charlie’s question startles you out of your thoughts. "Hey… y/n, you okay?" He places a hand on your shoulder.

You glance back at Charlie, realizing you’ve entirely missed what he said, "Uh yeah… let’s just move on. "Ex post facto?"

"After the deed or after the fact." He recites before giving a large grin, "So how am I doing, Einstein? Living up to your expectations?"

"You just might exceed them, Miller," You taunt but you can’t seem to get into the natural teasing rhythm with him. You can’t stop thinking about Hotch. You force your eyes back to Charlie, who seems to return the same level of unwavering eye contact.

Yes, it’s amazing when you’re with him. You’re never unsatisfied. The passion between you and your professor is unmatched. You can’t keep your hands off of him. But when you leave you can’t help but let your mind wander. Every interaction feels so static. Like your relationship is simply an exchange of services and it leaves you feeling used. Like you’re unimportant and worthless. Yet at the same time, he manages to make you feel seen. Hotch simultaneously sees the greatness in you, he acknowledges the potential and the intelligence you hold, while also treating you like every other man in power treats women. He sees you the way you want to be seen while reducing you to just your looks. You wonder if Hotch grows bored of you… what is to become of this arrangement? Do you lose the respect of your professor as soon as he no longer wants to sleep with you?

That’s when your mind stumbles over a thought you had never considered until right now: Are you the only one? He seems so comfortable with the dynamics of a student/professor affair. Are there other students he’s showering with praise before burrowing his head between their thighs?

"Y/n? Are you okay? You seem so distracted and lost today." Charlie’s voice is soft and warm.

"Yeah," You have to break his eye contact, unable to look at his features any longer, glancing down at your hands. His whole presence is the exact opposite of Hotch. Hotch is rough and blunt. His eyes are warm, the most beautiful light brown tone, contrasting with his jet black hair and warm skin tone. Hotch’s touch is rough, needy. His voice is gruff, abrasive. Charlie’s voice is smooth and velvety. Every touch from him is gentle, inviting. His skin is pale and his eyes are a bright blue. Hotch is a man and Charlie is… well Charlie is practically a boy. Still older than you, but immaturity and inexperience run rampant through him.

His hand reaches under your chin, tilting your face up to look at him. He doesn’t speak, his eyes just searching yours. And suddenly you’re kissing him.

His hands are warm on your cheeks. He pulls you close, your hands resting on his bare chest, easily accessible because the top buttons of his shirt are open. His mouth is soft and warm against yours. One hand comes to the back of your neck, the other trailing down to your back. He pushes your back, your body arching against him.

Soft slow kisses turn into more rapid, needy ones. Your hands explore his body and you notice just how different he is from Hotch. His skin is smooth and heavily muscled. He pulls you closer, attempting to remove any distance that remains between your bodies. You don’t have time to think, he just lets your hands explore his torso. His hands move steadily down, resting on your bare thighs before sliding just under the hem of your skirt.

Your fingers work at the buttons on his shirt and his large hands rest on your hips under your skirt. In a second, he pulls you as close as possible, settling you onto his lap. You let out a soft moan in response. And Charlie lets out a low chuckle that vibrates through your entire body. That’s enough for you to pause and think for a second.

What are you doing? What the actual fuck are you doing?

You freeze, stopping the kiss to pull away. You look over Charlie’s flushed features, his eyes alight with lust and his lips plump and swollen from your kiss.

"I’m sorry. I can’t," You start to speak and get off of his lap, taking a few steps away. You’re struggling to catch your breath and you haphazardly grab your belongings.

Charlie grabs your hand lightly, "Wait, wait where are you going?"

"I’m sorry I shouldn’t have done that," You shake your hand, yanking your hand from his grip. "I shouldn’t have…"

"Did I do something wrong?" Charlie scrunches up his brows confused.

"No! No," You reassure him, maybe just a little too forcefully, "I just… I really have to go." And with that you’re practically running out the door, running out of your own apartment just to clear your mind and get some air.

As soon as you step outside, your first thoughts are of Hotch. You’re not dating him, nothing is solid, there’s no exclusivity. He could be sleeping with a million other students for all you know, but for some reason, you feel dirty. You feel guilty. You can’t possibly comprehend why you feel like this. There are hardly any real moments of connection between you and Hotch. You enjoy each other’s company but it’s not as if you would ever spend time together without having sex. That would make what you and Hotch have too real. And it’s not. It’s just sex, no promises, no commitments. Just pure, animalistic acts of passion.

You think about Charlie. You’ve led him on. You let out a frustrated groan, walking down the block from your apartment. The weather is getting colder every day and you shiver slightly. As your feet scrape against the pavement you think about the other night when Hotch walked you home and you feel the guilt growing inside of you. Maybe there is some connection between the two of you. Or maybe that’s entirely one-sided.

Either way, whatever just happened with Charlie was incredibly wrong and should never have happened no matter how good it felt or how nice and kind he is to you. You have this thing with Hotch. Whatever the thing is, all you know is that you can’t think of anyone other than Hotch, even as Charlie’s hands gripped and massaged your skin. Your heart is pounding and your breathing is tremulous. It's getting so cold that you can see your breath hang in the air.

You dig into your bag for your phone. You flip it open and dial the number. "Aaron? I’m on my way over now."

Chapter 7: I.VII →

#aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x y/n #aaron hotchner #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds #wanna be yours fanfic #hotch #hotchner #hotch x reader

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fandomrewrites · 4 years

Text

Season 2; Episode 7: Restraint

Hello all! As you can see in the pairings, this is the first episode where (Y/N) is going to have some romance after Nate. I want to keep it a secret until you read the chapter which is why I don’t include the name in the pairings. Also I’ll probably never write hardcore smut just because I don’t think I’ll be good at it, but please give me any tips you may have about writing smut/mild smut. I’m not really sure if I did a good job or not so any feedback will be extremely helpful! As always constructive criticism is appreciated! I hope you all enjoyed this chapter.

Season 2; Episode 7: Restraint

Pairings: Scott McCall x Twin Sister, Lydia Martin x Best Friend, ?? x Reader

Warnings: very mild smut (more like making out)

Word Count: 2,041

Season 2 Masterlist

Lydia brought me home after she finished translating the Kanima pages for us. The minute I was in the house I texted Allison to see if she talked to the boys yet. She hadn’t. Instead she was waiting for me so we could call them together.

I couldn’t stay at her house because Lydia would have gotten suspicious and I don’t need Lydia to think I’m choosing someone else over her. Allison called me and then I called Stiles, making a three way call.

“If Jackson doesn’t know what he’s doing then he probably doesn’t know someone’s controlling him.” Allison says.

“Or doesn’t remember.” Scott adds.

“What if it’s the same kind of thing that happened to Lydia when she took off from the hospital?” Stiles asks.

“A fugue state.” I say.

“He’d have to forget everything. The murder, coming home...” Scott trails off in thought.

There is a brief moment of silence, then Allison continues, “Getting rid of the blood.”

“But he had help with one thing. The video. Someone else helped him forget that.” Stiles pipes in.

“Probably whoever’s controlling him. I whisper, biting my lip in thought.

“Are you sure Jackson has no clue about any of this?” Allison questions.

“He thinks he’s still becoming a werewolf and that being with Lydia somehow delayed the whole thing.” Stiles states.

“So we try to convince him he’s not?”

“If it helps us figure out who’s controlling him, then yeah.” Scott says.

“You think he’ll talk to us after what we did?” Allison asks.

I scoff as Stiles answers, “Yeah. Totally. Right?”

“Don’t get your hopes up, it’s Jackson we’re talking about after all.” I say before hanging up.

*_*_*_*_*_*

Before first period Allison, Scott, Stiles and I go to the library. The two boys and I make sure we arrive before Allison and meet in a secluded section, where the security cameras cannot see us.

Allison and I stand in one aisle while Scott and Stiles stand in the one beside us. Allison opens her bag and pulls out a tablet, placing it on the shelf between us.

“It’s everything Lydia could translate. And trust us, she was very confused.” Allison says as I nod in agreement.

“What did you tell her?” Scott asks.

“That we’re part of an online gaming community that battles mythical creatures.”

“I am part of an online gaming community that battles mythical creatures.” Stiles says.

I immediately cover my mouth with my hand to hide the smile threatening to appear.

“Does it say how to find out who’s controlling him?” Scott asks.

“Not really. But Stiles was right about murderers. It calls the Kanima a weapon of vengeance. There’s a story in there about a South American priest who used the Kanima to execute murderers in the village-” I don’t get the chance to finish my sentence.

“So maybe it’s not all bad.” Stiles cuts me off.

Allison and I share a look before I continue, “Until the bond grew strong enough that it killed whoever he wanted it to.”

“All bad. All very bad.”

“Here’s the thing, though. The Kanima’s actually supposed to be a werewolf. But it can’t be until...” Allison pauses as a teacher passes by us.

Scott starts reading from the tablet, “Until it resolves that in its past which manifested it.”

“If it means Jackson could use a few thousand hours of therapy, I could’ve told you that myself.” Stiles says.

“What if it has to do with his parents? His real parents.” Allison asks.

“Does anybody actually know what happened to them? (Y/N)?”

I shake my head, “I’m pretty sure they died when he was still a baby, but I honestly don’t know. Jackson isn’t really someone who openly has heart-to-hearts with his friends. Lydia may know, though.”

“What if she doesn’t know anything?”

“Well,” Allison sighs, “He didn’t get a restraining order against me. So I’ll try talking to him myself.”

“What do I do?” Scott questions.

“You’ve got a make-up exam, remember? For a few hours you need to concentrate on not failing out of high school. Otherwise, you’re not going to be helping anyone.”

Scott looks at Stiles and I. We both nod backing Allison up. “Promise me.” She speaks once more.

Allison reaches a hand between the books, taking his. “Okay. But if Jackson does anything, you run the other way.”

“I can take care of myself.”

“If you get hurt while I’m busy with a stupid test, someone’s going to need to take care of me. If he does anything...” Scott trails off.

“LIke?” Allison prompts.

“Anything weird, bizarre, anything.”

Stiles then pops his head through the shelf, “Anything evil.”

Allison nods then pushes his face back as I shake my head and mumble, “Dork.”

*_*_*_*_*_*

I run a hand through my hair as I lean against the wall to take off my heels for a minute. I sigh and walk down the empty hall. Just as I turn the corner I nearly crash into someone. “You scared the hell out of me.” The person exclaims.

I let out a breath as I looked up at Matt, “I could say the same to you.”

“Nice heels.”

I look down at the black heels in my hand, “Oh. They’re new and bothering my feet.”

I bend back down to pull my heels on once more, “Same reason I never wear mine.” Matt jokes.

I lightly chuckle, “Funny.”

He opens his mouth to say something then pauses. I raise an eyebrow, “Yes?”

He takes a breath, like he’s trying to get the nerves to talk to me, “Did you hear about the underground show? I guess they’ve got some big name spinning.”

“You mean like a rave?”

“Is it still a rave if you don’t roll? I just call it a concert. I’ve got a hook-up for tickets if you’re down. Should I grab you one?”

“Uh... Like a date?”

“I mean, only if you want it to be one.”

I awkwardly smile, “I’m not really sure if I’m ready to start dating again.”

“That’s fine. It can be two friends hanging out then.”

I bite my lip, “Yeah. Sure.” I agree hesitantly.

“All right, cool. It’s Friday.”

“Looking forward to it.” I watch as he walks off down the hall.

*_*_*_*_*_*

At the end of the school day I find Stiles, “I can’t bring you home unless you want to wait for detention to get out.”

I gape at him, “What did you do now?”

“Why do you think I did something?” I raise an eyebrow, “It was Scott and Jackson who got into a fight. Harris just threw everyone that was around them in detention too.”

“Who else?”

“Erica, Allison, and Matt.”

I scrunch up my face, “Have fun in detention. I’ll figure out another way to get home.”

***

After getting a ride home from Lydia, who still hasn’t told me about what she wanted to talk to Allison and I about, I sit on my bed doing some homework and contemplating who could be controlling the Kanima. So far I have nobody on the mental list. So clearly I’m doing great.

My ears strain as I hear a noise downstairs. I slowly slide my notebook off my lap, placing it on my nightstand. I then quickly grab the metal baseball bat from underneath my bed. I grip it tightly in my hands as I move quietly down the stairs, my eyes rapidly moving to take in every inch of the room in front of me.

I hear a sound from my left and swing with all my strength.

“God, (Y/N). You have a damn powerful swing for someone so tiny.” The person says.

“What the hell are you doing in my house?” I look on in shock as Isaac grips the bat, stopping it just inches from his face.

“Maybe I was hoping to catch you in the shower.” He smirks.

I scoff, “You’re disgusting. Seriously what are you doing here?” I gently place the metal bat at our feet.

“I was going to talk to you at school but you were too busy getting asked on a date.”

I roll my eyes, “It’s not a date. I don’t like Matt like that.”

“Does he know that?”

“I told him I wasn’t ready to start dating again.”

“That doesn’t mean you don’t like him. And trust me, he likes you a lot.”

“Why does this concern you? Oh wait, it doesn’t.” I respond.

“Maybe it concerns me because I like you?” He says it as more of a question.

I narrow my eyes at him, “Are you asking or telling me?”

He smirks but stays quiet. I suddenly realize just how close the two of us are. His smirk widens, probably because he can hear just how fast my heart is beating at the revelation. “I really want to kiss you right now.” He mumbles.

Before I can stop myself I whisper, “Then what’s stopping you?” In an instant his lips cover mine, one of his hands are on my waist while the other is tangled in my hair. Both of my hands are tightly gripping onto his shirt trying to bring our bodies closer together.

I release the death grip I have on his shirt to instead lightly pull on his curly hair. He brings both of his hands to my butt muttering a ‘jump’ through the kiss. I do as he says then quickly pull away for breath. “My room,” I gasp out. He nods then starts to climb the steps as I lightly suck and nibble on his neck.

Isaac kicks my door shut as he lets out a low growl. He gently lays me on my bed and rips his shirt off, climbing on top of me. Our lips attach once more, his hands roughly grabbing at my hips, pushing my shirt up. We quickly break apart only to pull my shirt off then reattach our lips for a third time.

I break the kiss again so I can catch my breath, Isaac uses this moment to stat kissing my chest. Instinctively I push my chest closer to him as I moan out his name, “Isaac.” My hands grip his shoulders and legs wrap around his waist.

He places sloppy kisses on my chest and neck as my hands start to wander down to his jeans. I start to unbutton his pants but he stops me, pulling away. “What’s wro-” I cut myself off as his breathing becomes heavier and his claws start to grow from his fingertips. He quickly backs away from me and closes his hand into a tight fist.

“Isaac...” I tentatively whisper, slightly nervous that he won’t be able to regain control.

I sit up as he answers, “I’m alright.” He turns back around and opens his hands. His claws are now replaced by fingernails. “Maybe we shouldn’t try that again until I have control.”

I nod in agreement. Then quirk an eyebrow, “So you think we’re going to try that again?”

All he does is reaches down and tosses me my shirt with a small smile on his face. “Thanks,” I mumble as we fix ourselves. “I’m guessing that wasn’t the original reason why you came here?”

He looks at me and hesitates to answer, “No. Derek thinks you know who the Kanima is.”

“Derek’s a smart guy. I’m sure he can put it together.” I stand up and cross my arms as I answer.

“That’s all I’m going to get?” Isaac raises an eyebrow.

I nod, “And you won’t be telling anyone what happened between us if you want it to happen again. I don’t need my brother freaking out about me sleeping with a werewolf.”

Isaac smirks, “Are you sure you’re not concerned about what your date might think? Also, you think we’re going to try that again?”

I roll my eyes and flip him off but can’t stop the smile that falls onto my lips, “I already told you, it’s not a date. And about this,” I gesture between us, “You’re hot. So I personally don’t mind doing this again. Now get out of my house.”

#teen wolf imagine #series rewrite #sister mccall imagine #lydia martin imagine

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hearteyes-for-killmonger · 4 years

Text

8. Chemistry

"Hand in your assignments and take your seats," Mr. Udaku orders clicking through his files which we all see through the projector. He pulls up a PowerPoint presentation and starts lecturing before students even sit back down properly. Personally I like that he doesn't waste time. I've already read through these chapters and watched videos about them in my own time, so this is exactly what it's meant to be for me.. a review to make sure I know it all and I do. He can actually start vlippong through faster because I've yet to take a note while people write and type like lightening trying to keep up with him.

I could take a nap in my seat if I didn't think he'd kick me out. I wish I could test out now and get it over with because I'm about to blow the hell out the curve if he does it.

After class I go to my room to review the answer sheet I earned from Mr. Stevens but first I take the test on my own to see how well I'd have done.

"I missed 6 out of 50 questions, fuck this," I gape in shock throwing the packet off my bed and rolling onto my back to rub my eyes. "I can't believe this shit." I'd have gotten a B. One question away from a 90%. I spit on a 90, I'm better than that!

Apparently not, you scored an 88, my mind echoes and I'm not happy with this, it can't fly. Not at all. I know now what I don't know and what to target and nobody better hit my phone because until I drill this into my head, nothing and no one else exists. I turn my phone completely off.

xoxo.

Arriving in Mr. Stevens' class, he isn't in the room yet which is weird because he always starts on time. I take my seat front and center like usual, adjusting the tiny legs of my ripped denim hotpants over my white bodysuit. Half the class is already there and the other half is coming in with a minute before class is supposed to start. He usually closes the door two minutes after the start of class and doesn't allow students in unless they've called him ahead of time. I had to do that once.. call him because I was busy making money with a client and it took slightly longer than I thought. More confident than ever, I turn on my laptop and sit back looking at the time. He should be here, it's time to start.

On cue, he walks in and I look him up and down. I don't know if anyone else can tell or is even paying attention, but the bottom of his black dress shirt seems ill-adjusted, read: SLOPPY, which is different for him, he's usually impeccably put together. His outfit game is still on point nonetheless. His ties are always clean. Today he's wearing a red one that looks so smooth to the touch. I'm tempted to get up and feel it. I wonder if he'd let me with all these people watching.

"Quiet down, I'm calling role. Answer when you're called," he announces sitting on the edge of the center table with his clipboard and as he runs through names, I'm running through reasons why I think he'd show up looking all rosey and disheveled. Did he not look in a mirror? Not likely. Rough time getting here? He definitely ironed. His pants are crisp. The obvious answer burning in my mind says he got laid. He's been having some sex or at least getting a blowjob from someone but who, I wonder as I stare. I sneak small glances at my peers in curiosity . My pen taps my glossy bottom lip. I'm curious to know.

"Phoebe," he calls making no eye contact as he scribbles on his clipboard. He's acting normally I see.

"Present," I mutter around the pen that sits between my teeth, still eyeing him. Everytime I see him he just looks so good. Looking him over, I'm lusting. I wish I had his dick in my mouth again. I want him to look at me one good time so I can eyefuck him real good.

He glances up every few names, mostly when someone takes too long to speak and I wait to catch his eye but he won't look.

I wonder who he had sex with and if it was a teacher or a student.

He gets through the roll and flips through the pages clipped to the clipboard as we wait to see what we're doing today.

He pouts and jots something down which is also normal for him to do, getting himself ready to lecture. Then he looks up and out to the class, taking an exhale through his mouth.

"We're gonna do things a little differently today. I'm gonna call on someone and they're gonna teach the class." Looking around briefly at the shook faces in the class, his eyes finally land on mine. "Phoebe," he volunteers with no room for dissent. I can't say I didn't expect him to do something today to get back at me for ignoring his calls, but what did he expect? I already have the test packet.

Standing, I bring my textbook to the floor where he stands and he brushes by me taking my seat and sitting back like I do with his arms crossed.

"We're all ears," he shrugs. Jokes on him though, I don't have a problem with teaching the class. It comes out of me easily. I start where my notes start on the page I'm on in my notebook.

"Ok well let's talk about Nucleoside triphosphate. A nucleoside triphosphate is a molecule containing a nitrogenous base bound to a 5-carbon sugar with three phosphate groups bound to the sugar, make sense? It's a nucleotide. Someone tell me what's a nucleotide."

"It forms DNA," a guy says.

"Ok, but say more. There's more to it than that." She starts flipping through his textbook. "Without looking in your book," I challenge. "The exam is not open book." He closes his book and shrugs. When I look to Mr. Stevens, he's staring at my thighs and offering no help. "Ok pay attention," I say looking at him and back to the student who answered. "Nucleotides form the basic structural unit of nucleic acids such as DNA. There are four different types of DNA nucleotides: adenine, thymine, guanine, and cytosine."

As I talk, I glance around the room at all my classmates. Some of them watch me. Some of them can't stand me so I see the crusted over expressions on their faces. Some of them are taking notes. I think I'm doing well.

Then I look at Mr. Stevens again. Is he sleep? He looks like he's knocked with his chin tucked. I can't believe it! Can he do that? I keep talking regardless.

"DNA is interesting, you just have to relate it to something you care about, like think of an Ancestry DNA testing clit, nucleotides play a role in DNA sequencing."

People start to snicker. At first I ignore it, but I'm wondering what's so funny.

"A what," another guy asks, smiling.

"Hm? Nucleotides play a role in DNA-"

"Before that," he smirks and now I definitely want to be clued in on what's got everyone laughing.

"What. I said DNA is interesting, think of a DNA testing kit, nucleotides-"

"That's not what you said," Mr. Stevens interrupts. "What you said was something else entirely. Something I won't repeat in this class. That's alright, have a seat."

"What did I-"

"Have a seat, Ms. Miller," he glares trading spots with me again. It's probably strange, but my peach is immediately activated making its nectar. It's because of that look, I remember that look in his office. I avert my attention in the name of staying focused. He sighs taking his seat on the corner of the table again and calming the class. "You know to say you all are in college, you act worse than kindergarteners. I can see I'll have to switch up my methods. Group assignments."

Instantly I look at Sonrisa, this Salvadorian girl I've worked with in Mr. Udaku's class. She looks at me and smiles. She actually works unlike my deskmate Ethan. I can't stand working with him on anything and I have complained to Mr. Stevens about it.

"Everyone work with the person beside you, that way this can go faster," Mr. Stevens amends glancing at me with a brief wink and I know he's done this to spite me. Given the assignment, it takes us to the end of class and I have to do it all as Ethan texts God knows who all while Mr. Stevens stares a hole into my face. I do finish early, but I'm furious.

At the end of class, he calls my name along with two others saying that he needs to speak with us. I start to cut out, but something stops me. I look at Mr. Stevens closely and how close he's standing to the first girl he's speaking with. It's a little too close and she touches his arm.

"Mr. Stevens," she grins with wine colored lips pushing her wavy brown hair behind her triple-pierced ear. "Hows that thing we talked about today?"

My ears prick up and very briefly, his eyes flicker to mine.

"We'll discuss that, but right now I need to warn you about using your phone while in my class, Ms. Zywicki, that's unacceptable. Checking it once or twice is fine, but anytime you spend class time on your phone, it's disrespectful.

"I was researching," her eyes widen defensively."

"That's what your textbook is for. If I have to tell you again."

"You didn't have anything to say about my partner, Ethan. I find that interesting," I speak up and she looks to me and back to him.

"Oh I've spoken to Mr. Hall on multiple occasions," he stares unblinking. "He's not concerned so I'm not concerned. I don't know why he bothers to come to class. Now, if you don't mind, I was speaking to Ms. Zywicki." His eyes cut back to her and it's one motion short of an eyeroll. I know he's a teacher, but teacher or no teacher, I don't do disrespect. I put my hand on my hip staring at him as he warns the girl again. Nodding, she takes up her bag and leaves. Now there's another girl with beachy brown waves who speaks to him only she's telling him that she's going to be in the hospital for surgery during exams and needs to test early.

When it's my turn, I'm the last person in the room. I cross my arms and tilt my head waiting for him to speak. I didn't call myself here.

"You were inappropriate today," he says sternly and I'm confused. What did I say? No one told me.

"How so?"

"Next time you say something inappropriate in my class, I will take disciplinary action."

"Ok, well I'll dispute it because as far as I know, you can't tell me what I said wrong."

"You know you have a habit of talking back to me. It's funny because when I want you to talk, you can't. What's up with you ignoring my calls? What did I tell you?

"Man, please," I wave dismissing him. He chuckles and I give him the stink look before he turns walking to the door and looking out. He locks it.

"You do remember right? What I told you?" His walk back is slower, more relaxed.

"Yes, and?"

"You didn't answer my call." He loosens his silk tie and my craving returns with a vengeance as I watch him. "You knew the stakes," he mutters taking it off. He wraps it around his fingers. "Bend over."

"I don't feel like it."

Honestly, I want him to make me. Just grab me.

"Feel," he questions holding my chin. "You are an object. You exist for the amusement of your master."

Pushing his hand from my chin, I start toward the door and he grabs my hand. I glance back and he steps closer. "You will obey me per our contract keeping in mind that you haven't passed yet."

"That's true, but with the answer packet why do I need to stick to the contract?" I laugh trying to shake my hand free.

"Because I have two versions of the test on my computer with completely different questions, Ms. Miller," he says dryly. "But by all means backtrack, I don't mind switching them out." He drops my hand, putting his in his pocket and grabbing his clipboard from the table.

That changes things. I don't have a comment for that.

"What's to stop you from switching the tests anyway to spite me? How do I know you'll use the test you gave me?"

"We have a deal, Ms. Miller," he packs the clipboard into his briefcase. "A deal that you seem all too willing to break. I think we need some more conditions, what you think?"

I swallow wishing I'd kept my mouth shut and that he'd just grab me instead of talking while he's standing there looking all daddy-ish. "Whatever," I mutter.

"Whatever?" His brows raise. He nods and sits his suitcase carefully in the floor before standing and coming closer to me. I can feel my body's awareness increasing as he pierces my personal atmosphere. I look up as he gets close enough to tower over me. He's close enough for me to touch by lifting my arm. His face lowers to the left of my neck as his hand gently touches the right. I can feel his soft breathing and I close my eyes enjoying his gentle warm ghosting touch on my skin bringing me the good chills.

"You want me to grab you?" It's so seductive in my ear.

"Yes," I reply.

"You want me to be rough, don't you? You know I can do that for you."

"Do it," I dare. The air from his nearly silent laugh tickles my neck and he kisses me right there in that spot.

"But first," he steps back. "Bend that ass over the desk. This my last time telling you. I'm finna get real hostile."

"How hostile is real hostile," I tease twisting in place at the waist, hands clasped under my chin. I flutter my lashes.

"Real hostile," he whispers with a smirk. He starts a count on his fingers. "Let's see. You ignored my call, not once. Four times. You disobeyed me twice today and still haven't done what I told you. On top of that, you aren't slutty enough for me."

"I've got full thigh out." Putting out a bare leg, I show it off. "It's the same thigh, you were ogling in class. Speaking of, when does the next one come in here?"

"Like I said. You aren't slutty enough for me. I remember telling you to give me something more to look at in class. This ain't nothing but what you been doing."

"How naked do you expect me to get," I frown putting my hand back on my hip and craning my neck.

"That's another strike. You want another one," he asks and his eyes look hectic, frenzied. It's turning me on and frustrating me especially since he's not touching me and he knows how to touch me.

"I've been wondering something all class period," my head tilts. "Who were you with before you came in here?"

"Strike four. That's not your business."

"I still would love to know," I smile sweetly.

"Oh you don't wanna know that," he smirks.

"I already have an idea who it is. That girl.. who asked you asked you about something you two discussed? You're doing with her what you're doing with me?"

"Except you know what? She didn't get the answers. She got a grade changed on a test. Don't you feel special?"

"I don't compete. Anyway, I'm not sure when the next class is coming in. We should probably leave."

"Strike five. One more, come on," he urges and now I'm mildly uncomfortable. He wants me to piss him off. Well, I do know how to. I start to walk away again ignoring his lazy unfelt command for me to stop and then he gives another small and quiet laugh. "Strike 6."

I unlock the door and open it, sorry to miss out on seeing that dick again, but when I walk out it's the strangest thing. Maybe I'm really tired from studying, but it looks like I just walked in a circle. I'm re-entering the classroom and Mr. Stevens is sitting there on the desk with a smirk.

Sighing, I decide I don't need wrinkles and relax my face turning to walk out. Like I'm on acid, I seem to be hallucinating or getting turned around. He's still in front of me with this smirk. I try to leave again with no change in scenario and now I'm beginning to panic. I'm not even high.

"You're not crazy," he says beckoning me over with a curve of his finger. "You're just.. inexperienced," he nods. "Now. Get ya ass over here," he bites, but honestly fuck that because I'm tripping out. I try the door again but it disappears, like literally vanishes. "Tsk tsk tsk," he clicks with his tongue shaking his head. "Poor Gemini, is she lost?"

"What the hell is this?" I look around feeling like I'm in the Twilight Zone.

"This?" He looks around. "This is a classroom, but I'm guessing that's not what you mean."

No. It's not what I mean.

He walks closer and strokes my cheek, his fingers light in a trail under my chin.

"You must have so many questions," he mutters looking into my eyes as I look back, troubled.

"Why is it so hot all of a sudden?"

"Why is it-" he exhales in humor. "First of all..Welcome to Hell Ms. Miller."

#original #erik killmonger #killmonger #erik stevens

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bunnyramen · 4 years

Text

Shinsou took a long deep breath, a bit nervous for his first day in Class 1a. He had been moved somewhat abruptly when some grape kid was expelled, Kinetic was it?

The lavender headed boy normally didn’t get nervous, it usually only showed on the inside.

But anyone could tell from his stance and his tightened back pack straps that he was mentally sweating bullets.

He decided to just go for it, it’s usually what Pops (Mic) told him to do, or at least that’s what he did when he asked out Dad.

And his brother Todoroki was in here, it shouldn’t be too bad.

He slid open the door to reveal everyone in little spots talking about whatnot, only some turning to look his way.

“Hey Shinsou!” The boy he had gotten to know as Kirishima Eijirou left his small group gathered around a couple desks and started walking towards him.

Was it normal to be squinting in a ordinarily lit room, or was this guy just that bright?

“I’m so glad you got to come to our class, especially with such a cool quirk! I mean when you’re in it, it feels so strange! Like this one...” once again, Kirishima began to ramble about something that Shinsou really wanted to pay attention to but couldn’t.

—-

“It looks like another person has fallen victim to Kirishima’s cuteness.” Kaminari shook his head sadly as he watched Kirishima y’all at Shinsou, remembering the first time he met Kirishima.

Min had been pushing him to be more outgoing during the summer before U. A. and it really paid off when he confidently introduced himself to Kaminari, the blonde was a bit star struck .

He had no choice but to befriend the overly bright boy.

—-

“Sorry, I’m talking too much, aren’t I?” Kirishima stopped himself right in the middle of his story. He looked up questioningly at him, Shinsou noticing their height difference.

“Yeah, but it’s fine. I mean, I’d rather have someone talking to me than being ignored.” He chuckled nervously, putting a hand on his neck.

“Well, I know you know Kaminari but you’re going to love Mina, Sero, and Jirou! I don’t know about Bakugou, ‘cause of the sports festival but we’ll see.” Kirishima grabbed his other hand and started bringing him over to his group of friends.

Shinsou’s cheeks turned pink without his will nor consent.

—-

“It hasn’t even been three minutes and his cheeks are already pink from being in close proximity of Kirishima. That’s gotta be a new record!” Mina pointed out as the lavender boy was brought over to their group.

“I’m surprised Kirishima doesn’t notice every time it happens.” Jirou put her feet on the desk, showing off the new patch she put on her pants. She was pretty proud of it since it was made by Momo herself.

“You know how dense Kirishima is, if the world’s oxygen cut off for five seconds, he’d probably still try and continue breathing.” Sero flicked a paper football through Kaminari’s waiting fingers, hitting the boy in the nose.

Bakugou nodded in agreement, going back to finishing up his English homework.

“Hey guys!” Speak of the angel, Kirishima came into hearing distance with Shinsou in tow, slightly hunched because of how low Kirishima’s hand was.

“Sup Shinsou!” Kaminari turned around in his chair since he was facing Sero.

“Hey, you’re that kid from the sports festival! Welcome to class 1-a!” Mina patted him on the back rather roughly, pushing a cough out of Shinsou.

Bakugou looked him up and down, “Ew.” He mumbled.

“Dude, be more respectful! If it were Minoa or whatever, I would say have at it but Shinsou’s nice!” Kirishima unknowingly held the lavender haired boy’s hand a bit tighter, momentarily forgetting that they were still holding hands.

“Boomer is just mad that Shinsou spit facts before the sports festival.” Kaminari dogged the oncoming pencil with about as much grace as a broken legged gazelle, the pencil clocking him in the side of the head.

“Denks, are you okay?” Kirishima walked over to him quickly, letting go of Shinsou’s hand, who wouldn’t admit to himself that he missed it already.

The redhead checked the side of Denki’s head, sighing when he found nothing wrong.

“Dude, that was so rude! You could’ve seriously hurt Denki!” He hugged the blonde to his chest protectively, Kaminari’s cheeks rapidly turned a bright red fire hydrant color.

He laughed dazedly, seeming to be having the time of his life.

“Well, he should shut the fuck up if he knows what’s good for him!” Bakugou raises another pencil threateningly, Kirishima glares at him.

“You throw that, and you’re history.” Kirishima raised an eyebrow, daring him to do it.

Bakugou stares for a while before putting the pencil down and going back to his work, Kirishima smiling.

The redhead breathed in to say something but Aizawa came in, telling everyone that butts should be in chairs and mouths should be shut.

Aizawa tiredly trudged up to the podium, asking for Shinsou to come up next to him.

Shinsou stood up from his place in the back, walking just as tiredly up to the podium next to his Dad.

“This is Shinsou Hitoshi, he’s moving from the General Departments to Class 1-A. Any questions?” Yellow eyes looked around the room for any signs of hands.

“Is Shinsou your son?” Deku raised his hand from the back of the room, getting his notebook ready for a new page.

“Yes.” Aizawa decided in that moment that there was no hiding anything from the observant boy.

There really wasn’t an uproar like Aizawa expected, just small murmurs of “I knew it.” And “That makes sense.”

“Anyway’s Hitoshi, you can go back to your seat.” He patted the boy on the back.

As Hitoshi walked back, he caught glimpse of Kirishima smiling at him, making the corners upturn a bit.

“Alright class, today....”

——-

As Shinsou sat down with Midoriya and the self proclaimed “DekuSquad” for lunch, Kirishima approached him holding a book in his hands.

“Hope you don’t mind but I drew you, as a welcoming present to class 1-A!” Kirishima flipped his heavily stickered sketchbook to a page and handed it to Shinsou, the boy down his chopsticks and grabbed the book.

Shinsou blinked a few times, expecting a child like doodle of some sort but this was so far from it.

Ochako looked over his shoulder, failing to keep in a small gasp.

It was him, but he was in action, using his capture weapon to tie up bad guys, he looked kind of like spider man with his webbing. The hero outfit he had on was styled with so much detail and finesse that it looked like a photograph at first glance.

He very much liked the design.

“Kirishima, this is amazing. Do you mind if I keep it?” Shinsou said monotone and deep, as he always did, but you could tell something different was behind it.

“Oh! Sure thing!” Kirishima looked surprised that he would even ask, ripping out the page in his book carefully and handing it to him.

“Thank you, Kirishima.” He gave him a small grateful smile.

“Of course! No need to thank me!” He scampered off back to his table.

“Wait, there’s writing on the back!” Ochako flipped over and placed it back in his hands.

“What’s it say?” Midoriya finished up his noodles and pushed the bowl away from himself.

“I am quite curious myself, actually.” Iida looked at him, Todoroki doing the same.

Attached to the picture was a little red post it nots, written in Kirishima’s squiggly, loopy handwriting read “Hey Shinsou! Wanna go out for ice cream after school? My treat! Text me (679-999-8212)-Kirishima”

“Looks like Kirishima-kun likes you, kero.” Shinsou blushed ten-fold at her boldness,

Tsuyu smiling somewhat smugly.

This time Shinsou smiled broadly, Midoriya getting a small shiver down his spine from how uncanny it looked compared to Aizawa- Sensei’s.

He pulled out his phone and typed in the number, replying with a one word answer.

“Yes.”

—-

(Small story to the ice cream shop. Aizawa and Mic also showed us since it was also their date night, and while ordering Mic saw them sitting at a table. Aizawa thinks to himself, “Huh, not blonde like I expected but red is fine too.” And they both go over there and they just all sit together. Kirishima learns that Aizawa Sensei can be really funny in a Wednesday Addams sorta way. Mic says something like “I wish Shouto could’ve been here to see his little brother on his first date!” Shinsou and Kirishima both blush, the other not realizing it did look like a date. And in walks Todoroki, coming in to order his weekly salted caramel ice cream. Mic is loudly waving him over and Aizawa quiets him down. And the 5 of them just eat ice cream together.)

@deepseawave Happy Valentine’s Day!! I love you! I got really inspired by one of your posts (as you can read) and WOW JUST LOVE IT SO MUCH!! YOU ARE SO AWESOME!!

Oh and the backpack! I don’t know if you can see but there are little pins it, Present mic, Eraserhead, Todoroki, Eri, and Midoriya.

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running-in-the-woods · 3 years

Text

Second Sphere Ch1: And in the beginning there was

"Magdalene." A brief pause and then again "Magdalene." This time more insistent than before.

I snap out of my dazed state to look at the doctor.

She sighs, "Magdalene this would be a lot easier if you actually talked to me. These sessions are court mandated, you have to talk to me." She sighs again. "You have been pardoned, given citizenship. But that's conditional, we need to know how you are doing." She makes direct eye contact, "and that means doing more than staring at the clock."

I clear my throat, "And what was wrong with my last therapist?" I pick at the hem on my jeans. One leg over the other, arms crossed and leaned back in my chair. The same defensive position every week just waiting for the clock to count down so I can leave.

"Your last therapist wasn't me, we want everyone on the same program. It makes it easier for the government to...make sure you are alright." Her pen clicks in her hand as she opens her journal to write.

I scoff rolling my eyes, make sure I am alright more like make sure I don't kill anyone. They don't care any further than that. I shoot a glare her way. "My last therapist actually lived where I lived, I didn't have to fly to see him once a week. Do you know how long it is to get here from Atlanta? It's a 2 and a half hour flight by itself. That doesn't even include the time I spend getting through the airport."

She doesn't even look up as she continues to write, "And you have so much you would like to be doing? You barely leave your home-"

I cut her off, "I go places. Plenty of places." She raises an eyebrow at me. "It's the same places but I go, I don't just sit in my home all day."

She pinches the bridge of her nose, "You know this is just a temporary arrangement we can switch to Skype calls. But first I need you to talk to me."

I lean back further into my chair. "Okay about what?"

"Let's start at the beginning, tell me how we got here." Dr. Raynor settles in with her notebook waiting for me to begin.

————————————————————————

There isn't a lot I can recall from my childhood or even into my adulthood. I can't remember my parents faces, I don't know if I had siblings. The first thing I remember is the icy water of the river, pulling the heavy American soldier out of the river and onto the bank.

"Oh god , oh god, oh god." I say over and over to myself. This man I just pulled from the river. He has one arm that has been ripped to shreds. How does this happen?!

Putting my ear to his chest I don't hear any breathing. I begin pressing on his chest. Maybe I can get some water out? Or try and breathe air into his mouth? I rack my mind for anything that could help. I take a shaky breath. "Okay we can do this, you aren't dying on me American we still need you." I pinch his nose close and put my lips to his own forcing as much air as I can into his mouth. And then again. After a few attempts he begins coughing up water.

I rub his back in circles as he coughs up water, laying on his side. "There we go, you're safe now. It's all alright."

I'm startled by a voice above me "Are you sure about that little one?" I look up just in time to see the soldier raise his gun and hit me with it and the world goes dark.

As I wake up I realize I'm tied to a chair in a dim room. My head throbs and I can see dried blood on my clothes. Groaning I test the restraints, but they are too tight to weasel my way out of.

"Good morning fräulein. I am Dr. Zola, and from now on we will be seeing a lot of each other."

#bucky fic #bucky barnes #the winter solider fanfiction #the winter soldier #marvel #James Bucky barnes #the avengers fanfiction

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whatifyoulivelikethat · 4 years

Text

addiction, m | myg, ksj | 3

pairing(s): yoongi x reader, seokjin x reader, ??? x reader

summary: Min Yoongi is falling hard, but he’s not making much progress. Kim Seokjin is lovable is a weird way. Jeon Jungkook makes bad choices and we try to keep him alive, until he’s too intuitive that is.

warnings: non-idol!AU; in which everyone makes bad choices; slow burn; rated M (18+) for language, mentions of drug and alcohol use, mentions of depression and suicidal thoughts

When Yoongi heard her door open, his head whipped around from the kitchen. He had been in the middle of cutting some green onions. She emerged from her room like an animal from a cage. Black long-sleeved shirt, black jeans, carrying a tan shopper’s bag. She didn’t seem to notice him, engrossed in her thoughts as she rummaged through the bag for a moment.

He felt he had to say something. Anything.

“Do you know where the scissors are? I can’t find them,” he called.

She looked up, blinking at him. Her hair was half-tied back, lashes dark and smokey but her lips were a peach-pink instead of the red she commonly wore. And those dark, dark eyes. He looked away from them, fixating on the wall next to her head.

“Ah, Yoongi, you didn’t use the kitchen scissors for a package, did you?” she replied, somewhat exasperatedly. “Or maybe I misplaced them…”

She hurried over, opening the drawers one by one. He noticed her nails were red and black striped. They weren’t before – she must have done them herself. She opened each drawer hurriedly but delicately, accentuating her long fingers. He had a sudden image of those nails raking down his back, pinpricks of pain clouding his mind–

“Here they are.” She placed the scissors next to the cutting board and he nodded hurriedly to make the image disappear.

“Thanks.” It came out terser than he wanted it to but she seemed not to notice. She was slipping black gloves on her hands as she turned away.

“Don’t forget to open the window when you cook meat,” she reminded. She must have seen the steak on the counter.

“I’ll remember.”

He could hear her putting on her shoes. His heart pounded mercilessly in his chest. He took a deep breath and turned around, her name falling from his lips breathlessly.

She raised her eyebrows at him as she put on her black face mask.

“Do you… know how to sing?”

Listening to the weekly rundown as a lot like listening to a teacher’s lecture. She stood in that room once again, except Seokjin was pacing, reading off his notebook as he recited the names, times, and places she needed to be. How much to bring. How much they would give.

She could remember it all quite well at this point, but that didn’t mean she needed to look at him. She didn’t need to look at his pretty dark hair covering half of his forehead or his well-fitted pale pink shirt and tailored white pants that were mysteriously not see-through. Just focus on the people. Times. Places. Not Kim Seokjin.

“Are you listening?” he was saying sharply.

“Of course, I am,” she replied automatically. “You just said Jungkook, 2300, at that god-awful club I hate going to.”

A small smirk appeared on his lips. “That’s my Moon.”

Please stop, she wanted to say, but she didn’t. She did not like these mental invasions and conjuring ideas in her head. He was doing it on purpose. He was planting them in her mind on purpose.

“Moon.”

She jumped. Somehow, he was right next to her.

“You seem to be on autopilot today,” he observed. He was wearing a pair of round glasses that he definitely did not need. Aesthetics, he would say if she asked.

“I’m not.” It was a stubborn response. He raised his brow at it.

“I cannot have you airheaded. I’ll have someone else pick up your week,” he said sternly.

Her eyes went wide and she grabbed his left arm, shaking her head furiously. “No. No, Seokjin, I’m fine. I can do it.” She squeezed his upper arm, looking up at him. Don’t take this away from me.

And then, Seokjin did something uncharacteristic.

He winced.

She let go immediately. She had felt… something under there. And then, through the light fabric, she realized there was a bandage wrapped around his bicep. Even a bump of flattened gauze.

“You… got injured?”

He scoffed. “It’s just a scrape.”

She looked up at him. No one bandaged scrapes. Not like that. She hadn’t managed to feel it enough to determine if it was a gunshot wound or a cut. He seemed annoyed and his features hardened. He wasn’t going to say what it was even if she asked.

“Who did it?”

A small smile appeared on his lips. “I’m fine, my darling. Are you worried?”

“I wanted to know if I should be worried,” she snapped.

He chuckled and placed a hand on her head. She tried to angrily swat it away but stopped as soon as his sentence finished.

“I’m trying my hardest to stay alive for you.”

“It’s just a demo, there’s no need to–”

“No, no, I want to do this right. It should sound good if you’re going to present this to a company.”

Yoongi readjusted the headset on his ears and sighed. They had been at it for a little while now. He had helped her warm up her voice, match pitch, recorded a little, but all in all, her voice sounded a little too robotic. It wasn’t her fault – she wasn’t a singer after all, only his roommate helping him out for one song. He could have attempted to sing it himself but he knew it wouldn’t have the feel he wanted.

Their makeshift setup was a table between them, her face right in front of the mic, his computer and monitors beside him.

She had the lyrics in front of her, hand on her lips, mouthing the words.

“Yoongi… is this about you?” she asked quietly.

A sudden embarrassment came over him. He bit his lip and looked away, fixating on the floor.

“Well… yeah,” he confessed. “It’s about how I feel. About the push and pull of dreams, what it means to have a dream, feeling trapped because maybe my dream wasn’t what I thought it was. Or maybe… maybe I don’t have one anymore.”

It was hard to say out loud what it was really about, but his lyrics were crystal clear.

She took a deep breath. Closed her eyes. Remembered her whole world, her sunshine and her planet, the one she had turned into her reason for living. The beautiful heart-shaped smile, the silly laugh. The times when she sat next to the record player and watched him dance to the music. Who needed a sofa when a dance floor was more important?

He sensed a shift in her demeanor. He looked up from the floor to see her closed eyes, clenched hands on top on the papers he had scribbled his lyrics on. He wondered what she was thinking about.

Music, she had always thought, was fun. It had brought her joy until it didn’t. She had agreed to this because, to be honest, she had been curious about what he was working on. But she hadn’t expected Min Yoongi to write something so vulnerable and relatable.

She opened her eyes.

“Okay. I’m ready.”

It was the strangest thing. Her eyes were like black glass, shimmering. When she sang, it was clear and heavy at the same time. Heavy with emotion, a longing he couldn’t place.

“So far away…”

“You wear glasses?”

Yoongi looked up from the kitchen counter. He had been staring at his phone, a yellow notepad on the counter as he scribbled notes. “Oh. No, I just thought…” He shrugged, taking them off his face. “I thought they would get me into the lyric writing mood,” he trailed off awkwardly. “They were cheap and I figured it couldn’t hurt to try.”

She gestured to him as she took a glass out of the cabinet. “Put them back on. They make you look studious.”

He laughed dryly, putting them back on hesitantly. “Yeah, but do they make me look attractive?”

“Yes.”

He froze. That was not the answer he expected. He stared at his notepad pointedly. For some reason, he couldn’t bear to look up and see her expression. He didn’t want to see her stifling a giggle or smirking at him.

“Are you not finishing the song we were working on?”

He chewed on his lip and lifted his head, seeing her standing on the far side of the kitchen, looking at him curiously. No teasing smile on those pink lips. As far as he could see, she wasn’t making fun of him.

“I am finishing it. It… takes time.” And I don’t like confronting that part of myself. He tried to play it off, but he knew it wasn’t working. It was making everything more awkward.

She nodded, her dark flowy waves spilling over her shoulders. Then she gestured to the space between them, looking apologetic. “Oh, I’m not avoiding you or anything,” she said hurriedly, rubbing the back of her head. “I don’t want to read any of your unfinished lyrics… I know that stuff can be private. You might not want me to see them.”

“Oh…” He continued chewing on his lip. It was a bad habit. “That’s respectful of you.”

She cringed a bit as if she hadn’t meant to say anything. “Ah, well, you know… I don’t want to accidentally see anything you’re not ready to share yet.”

It was the strangest feeling of déjà vu. It was almost as if he was looking into a mirror, but that was impossible, because her eyes were dark glass that reflected nothing. It came and went, leaving him wondering what he was supposed to infer from that moment. Then he realized the hands holding the glass were black gloves. Ripped straight leg black jeans and a huge black hoodie with a black sweatshirt underneath. She suddenly reached into her pocket and pulled out her phone.

“I’ll wash my glass when I get back, okay? I have to go.”

He cleaned her glass after she left. There were no other dishes. He washed it carefully, looking into the clear crystal, seeing through it but also seeing nothing at all.

Something was wrong.

“Come on, Moon-noona.”

Hands clawing at her sweatshirt, dragging her closer in the cramped private room of the club she hated, but she was too distracted with something else. She grabbed his hands before they could slide up.

“Jungkook, what have you been taking?”

He chuckled, sliding across the wall, batting his lashes at her. His pupils were unfocused, brown irises quivering.

“Fun shit.”

He laughed and laughed, as if it was the funniest thing he had ever said. The music was so loud that the bass seemed to be vibrating the thick smoky air. Either that or it was the bodies hitting the walls as they drunkenly danced and humped each other.

He hooked his fingers on the belt loops of her jeans and pulled her close. He reeked of alcohol.

“Let’s have some fun before we get to business, yeah?” he murmured breathlessly, grinning.

“What did you take?” she asked sternly, ignoring his words.

He shrugged. “I don’t know, some of something?”

She did not like this one bit. She had to pry his fingers off her. “No transaction today.”

“Aw, come on,” he whined, wrapping his arms around her waist and yanking her back to him.

She swore. His arms were like a vice. He pressed her against his dark green satin dress shirt, and even through her layers she was reminded the guy was fucking ripped. Ripped, drunk, and high on who-knows-what. Probably ecstasy. Great. She kept her waist away from his, planting her feet on the floor.

“You’re too uptight, noona.”

He was not supposed to touch her, but he was not supposed to be this drunk or this high either. If it was anyone of her other customers, she would have left without saying anything. But he was basically a kid. A kid who was trying to take even more, who probably thought he was invincible.

She had Seokjin on speed dial. She could reach into her pocket and call him with one hand and his lackeys would come handle the situation immediately. She could.

“Jungkook, look at me.”

He tried to, brain trying to compute as the battle between stimulant and depressant waged on.

“Let me go.”

He pouted. “You don’t like me? Everybody likes me.”

“Let. Me. Go.”

He let her go, slowly, still frowning. “Who’s the lucky guy?”

She drew back, watching him closely. “There is no guy,” she said absentmindedly.

“There’s always a guy,” he said exasperatedly. “Or girl, or whatever. Even if they’re imaginary.”

She would have to report the cancelled sale to Seokjin. He would be pissed. “There’s no imaginary anybody,” she replied dismissively, trying to figure out what to say so Seokjin wouldn’t go apeshit on this poor kid. Definitely wasn’t going to mention any touching.

“There is; you just refuse to admit it.”

A chill went up her spine. “What did you say?”

He shrugged, sliding to the floor, holding his shoulders. “You’re in your head, Moon-noona. In there all day, letting them dictate you like a puppet.”

Her eyes narrowed. She reached into her hoodie and threw the tiny plastic bag at him. It hit him in the chest and slid down onto the floor. He blinked multiple times, looking at the packet of white powder and then her retreating back as she left the room.

“On the house.”

masterpost

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