#I suddenly am very busy I have realized with pieces I have promised friends and things to do so there is a chance that this is the final | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

seabass17 · 3 years

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All that’s left | Bucky Barnes

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

A/n: This is my first time writing something based on a video I found on TikTok, it’s not exactly the same, but it is kinda the idea. I hope you like it and please let me know if you might want a part two. Also, I apologize if you find some errors, im doing my best since English is not my first language. Anyway, happy reading!!

All that’s left masterlist

Pt. 2

Warnings: angst, mentions of injuries (broken ribs, cuts, dislocated shoulder)

Word count: 2.5K

Summary: She still can’t get used to the feeling of being left behind by the people she once called family. After being hurt, she decides that she will give them a chance, and when they failed, she then makes the decision to disappear and start brand new. Of course, she leaves a letter that will left the team standing in the dark, and with more questions than answers about a lot of things, while discovering that she has more of one past that she let to know.

The sound of the rain hitting against the window of my living room was the only thing that could be heard in the silence of my apartment. I looked over my desk where the paper is waiting for me to pick up the pen and get this over with, but somehow, somewhere deep inside of me, a part is waiting, holding on to the smallest of hope that maybe, just maybe, he is going to come knocking to my door asking why the i haven’t showed up to the compound for the last three days, or why i didn’t text nor call the rest of the team. I wanted to see if they would notice my absence so I left the compound on Thursday. I got the answer to my question when Sunday arrived and my inbox was clear; no one noticed. Today is Tuesday, my apartment is thirteen minutes away, fifthteen if you literally fly or speed up, but still, no one came or text.

To be honest, I'm not surprised, that doesn’t mean it hurts less though. I know i should probably think this through instead of making the impulse decision of grabbing my things and get the hell out of here, going somewhere i can start fresh, somewhere i can start over and get a chance to get over all the things that happened, find people that actually cared for me, or maybe not finding anyone at all and die alone.

I stand up from my bed and go to my desk, it’s time to get this over with. I start writing the only thing that they get to keep.

“Dear Avengers, You’re probably wondering where I am, or you just don’t care, maybe you don’t even find this. If someone from the building finds this, keep it in case they ever come looking for me; thank you. So, this is it, this is my goodbye. You should consider yourselves lucky, given the fact that none of you even deserves a goodbye because you are the ones causing it. I could tell you the reason why I'm leaving, and you know what, I will tell you. I chose to trust you. The one thing I feared the most was trusting people, but when I joined the team, I thought ‘well, maybe i can trust them, they are my team’, guess what, I was wrong. You should really look out for your teammates Stark, oh, and by the way, you might want to look deeper into why the operation that saved those 30 civilians on may 20, didn’t go south, you might even discover its the very same reason of why i didn’t showed up in the compound for a week, yeah, they were busy torturing the information out of me for a week; information that, by the way, i didn't give, hence why the operation went great. Something even more funny, is that behind every mistake, every wrong that each one of you have ever done, I’m the one that suffered the consequences. Don’t believe me? Then you might want to do your homework, because dear teammates, I’m the one you couldn’t protect. By the time you find out the things you’ve done, I will be long gone. I'm very good at disappearing, Natasha (once she figures it out) can confirm that. I wish things would be different and we could be… family, but that’s never going to happen; not anymore. As of now, there will be no record of my name ever existing, everything that once belonged to me, will be burned, and as of me, well, I am no one.”

I fold the piece of paper and put it in the envelope, once sealed, I write down the word my name in the center so they know. I take a last look at my apartment. Everything is intact, the furniture that came with it is the same as always, the only thing different is that it seems empty without all my belongings. I grabbed my luggage and exited the apartment and then went downstairs.

“Hey Richard” I say to the man that is in the reception like I always do

“Hey miss, what can I do for you?”

“Well, I'm leaving, for good. If someone comes asking for me, my friends, you tell them that you haven’t seen me. Oh, I left a letter for them upstairs, could you please make sure that it gets to them? Only if the show up, do not sent it”

He looked at me a little sad and confused.

“Oh, well, you will me missed miss, I hope you find happiness and yes, i promised i will make sure they get your letter”

“Thank you Richard, for everything, oh, and this is for you” I handed him an envelope with some cash. He looked like he was about to say something about how he couldn’t accept it but I cut him off. “Please, just take it, please”. He sighs but takes the envelope.

“Thank you miss…”

I smiled at him and then turned around to grab a cab. I'm supposed to be in the airport in 30 minutes. Once in the airport, the only thing left is to start again, be someone brand new.

*3rd person POV*

Friday morning was a little colder than usual in the avengers compound, everyone on the team was up and in the kitchen having breakfast. Everything was normal, until someone noticed that someone was missing.

“Hey guys” Bucky said right before taking a bite of the pancakes Wanda made earlier for everyone. “Have any of you seen y/n?”

The team stayed quiet, realizing that they haven’t seen her for quite a while, not until Barnes brought it up.

“Uh… maybe she took a trip?” Steve broke the silence while the rest started thinking when was the last time they had seen her.

“No, she was here when we arrived from the Jersey mission, it must have been like what, two days, maybe three?” Tony said. Bucky could feel his insides burning and twisting.

“No… that was eight days ago” Vision intervened. The avengers felt like someone just blew up the white house. Her teammate was missing for eight days and no one even noticed. Bucky was the first one to react by getting up and running to her dorm, only to find it exactly the way it was when he last saw her. He searched her dorm looking for something out of place that could tell him that maybe you were in trouble and that he has to come save you, but he is left desperate when he doesn’t find anything.

“She’s not here, everything is intact” He informs once he is back in the kitchen.

“Everyone” Steve calls out, “get dressed, we’re going to look for her. Let’s start in her apartment”

The team leaves to change their clothes and next thing they know, they are in her building. Without saying a word to the receptionist, they all made their way up to her apartment.

“Hey! wait-” he goes unnoticed because the avengers are already on her door. Wanda knocks on the door.

“Y/n? You there?” no one responds. “Y/n come on, don’t be mad at us” Natasha says.

After a few seconds they all start to worry when the door is unlocked, and they worry even more once they see the apartment completely empty.

“What the-” Bucky says

“Where are her things?” Wanda asks to no one especifically

“Where is she?” Thor says

“What the hell is going on?” Tony says a little louder

Bucky storms out of the empty apartment and goes to the man in the reception

“What the hell happened to apartment 108, where is y/n y/l/n?” he asks with worry and anxiety in his voice.

“I’m sorry, but, who are you?” the man asks the rather intimidating group of people in front of him.

“We’re the Avengers man” Peter says and the man suddenly realizes and his face changes from a confused one, to a sad one that makes the team’s stomach drop.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t…” he sighs, “She left me indicated to give this to you” he hands them an envelope that looks like it's been sitting there for a while. Bucky stares at the envelope like it's some kind of nuclear weapon that if you touch it, it could kill you. Wanda notices, grabs the envelope and stares at the paper in her hands.

“When did she leave this?” She asked

“Three days ago”

“And why didn’t you send it to us?” Tony asked, getting angry at the poor man.

“Because she specifically said to handed it to you, if you ever came looking for her”

Bucky could feel the tears in his eyes start to form.

“She said that? `Ever’?” Bucky asked almost to himself. The man slowly nodded. Natasha could feel how her stomach started burning from the guilt and the pain of not noticing that her friend was missing for eight days, little does she know that the entire team felt exactly the same.

“F.R.I.D.A.Y pull the records on the mission on may 20 and also show me the status of y/n on that time” Tony said to the AI and after a few seconds later, pictures of the building that that was about to be blown out by HYDRA with 30 civilians inside showed up. While the avengers were sitting in the conference room looking at the pictures, the AI started talking.

“Mission of may 20. Information was given that HYDRA kept 30 civilians inside the building with the intention of blowing it up with them inside. Source of the information unknown. The Avengers came to the building and successfully rescued the civilians safely moments before the building was blown up. Agent y/n y/l/n was on an undercover mission on a HYDRA facility at the same time, the communication was lost three days before the civilians situation, and around the same time, the information about the building was given anonymously the very same day that communication with Agent y/l/n was lost; Agent y/l/n returned a week later. Medical record found, access denied”

“Override, Tony Stark” Tony said after a good couple of seconds, the pieces starting to fall in place.

“Access complete. Medical records of Agent y/l/n on may 27th. Access restrained: Agent y/l/n. She presented with several cuts all over her body, three broken ribs, a second grade concussion, a sprained ankle and a dislocated shoulder. Patient refused treatment and was only given medication for the pain”

The seconds were passing and no one in the room would break the silence. The pieces were starting to fall in place, Tony felt nauseous. He yelled at her for being irresponsible for staying a little longer than she should have in the undercover mission, given the fact that she checked in on june 10th, meaning that she waited two weeks for her injuries to heal enough so that he could yell at her for not being good enough. He fell down to his chair, feeling like if he stayed up, he might throw up.

“She was the one that gave us the information about the building” Sam broke the silence. “She was the one that got tortured, and still managed to pass through the data so that we, could be the heroes while she was the one that got beaten up”

“F.R.I.D.A.Y, where is she?” Natasha asked the AI, and it responded after a few seconds.

“No information found”

Natasha frowned, Bucky looked up to the screen to see the red sentence. It only made him want to scream more.

“What does ‘no information found’ mean?” Bucky asked on the edge of falling apart.

“F.R.I.D.A.Y” Steve called

“No information available” it said this time.

“F.R.I.D.A.Y, look for y/n y/l/n” Tony said, thinking maybe he needed to check what was wrong with the AI.

“No records found for y/n y/l/n”

“Detail,” Stark said.

The AI showed what it said before, there was no record of her name, it was like it never existed. No phone number, no mail address, no nothing, just a little picture of an abandoned building or mansion somewhere in the world.

“Wait” Natasha said, “I know that building, F.R.I.D.A.Y, do a close up on that picture”

“What is it?” Wanda asked

“It was where The Red Room used to operate” tha AI responded

“Why does it appear related to her?” Bucky asked, fearing the answer

“The picture was taken when a girl escaped The Red Room in 2002, she eliminated four people on the way, the age or who it was is still unknown” the AI responded.

“Oh god…” Natasha whispered but Bucky manage it to hear it

“Natasha, what is it?” he asked

“2002, that’s three years after i managed to escape, there was a girl, we were some sort of friends, i promised that i was going to get us out of here, but i couldn’t take her with me so i left her. Two years later I contacted someone on the inside so that I could get to her and plan her escape, but she was angry at me and said that she was fine, a year later she did escape, killing four people on her way” Natasha explained. Everything makes sense now, why she looked familiar, why she had exactly the same skills as Natasha. The team noticed it too, but they assumed it was because she had trained very hard to be an avenger.

“What was her name?” Vision asked.

“Eliza” Natasha said

“Wait a minute…” Bucky said, lifting her head looking at Natasha. “Was that her real name?”

“No, she didn’t wanted to say her real one” Natasha said

“Eliza, that’s y/n’s grandmother’s name” Bucky said and the room fell into a silence where you could hear the wind outside.

“In the letter…” Steve started, “She said that you could confirm that she was good at disappearing completely once you figured it out, so, does this mean that…”

“Y/n is Eliza” Natasha concluded

“She was in The Red Room” Bucky added.

“She said in her letter that all of us did her wrong,” Sam said, “how are we supposed to know what the hell we do to her? She’s been in the team for what, two and a half years? And just now we realized that she was the one that gave us the data that saved 30 people and got her tortured, and that she was trained in The Red Room like Black Widow here. What else are we missing?” he added.

“Guess there’s only one thing we can do” Steve said, looking at Tony.

“And what’s that?” Wanda asked

“We find her”

#avengers #bucky barnes #imagines #marvel #bucky barnes angst #bucky x female reader #the red room #natasha romonova #tony stark #steve rogers #wanda maximoff #peter parker #hydra

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cantaloupe-draws · 3 years

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El Chico del Apartamento 512

Irl! Quackity x Female! reader

Summary: Nothing interesting ever happens in the apartment complex you live in. It’s the same old routine for you. Constantly turning down your neighbor and heading too and from your apartment. Well that’s up until you meet the very cute boy that lives in apartment 512 that you can never seem to gather the courage to talk too. To make make matters worse, he shows up to the cafe you work at

Switches from Reader’s s POV to Quackity’s POV at the very end

Genre: Song fic, fluff, somewhat cafe trope, strangers to lovers, crushes

Warnings: use of Quackity’s real name, creepy neighbor, cursing, and I think that’s about it

Song :El Chico del Apartamento 512 by Selena

Lyrics are in bold

—

Every day is the same down the corridor

Every day it’s the same old thing. I pass the same old doors as I make my way towards my own at the end of the corridor. Counting the room numbers as I pass.

“508, 509, 510,-“ I count and but as soon as I reach room 511 the door suddenly swings forward and I’m greeted by both a whistle and Chad, my neighbor.

“Y/n baby I keep on waiting for you to go on a date with me like you promised,” Chad said as he stood in front of his door frame, right arm resting on the door. “I need to show you around town,” he said with a smirk as he rested his face on his fist.

I scoffed as I moved away from him, “The only thing you need right now is an urgent shower. You stink like a pig and it’s absolutely disgusting. Besides, I never promised you anything” I said, trying to continue on my way, but Chad just kept getting more and more persistent with every rejection. His nagging was getting annoying.

“Come Y/n I’ll take you to this bar across town, I’ll even pay for your drinks” he kept persisting.

You would think that any decent guy that’s asking you out on a date would obviously pay for them himself. It’s a given but this is Chad we’re talking about. I was sick of his terrible date ideas and I had to face him once again.

“Listen, I don’t know how many times I’ve told you this and how many times I’ll have to repeat it but, I don’t want to go on these stupids dates with you,” I told him as I rejected for what seemed to be the millionth time. And as soon as I said that the door beside us swung open.

Out came a young man wearing a navy blue cap that was covering almost the entirety of his hair but still managed to expose small tufts of dark brown hair from the sides. He looked up at the predicament Chad and I were both in and I was able to get a good look at him.

He had almond-shaped eyes that were a dark brown color and had various beauty marks scattered around his face. He was attractive. Very VERY attractive. Oh no I’m in deep shit, I thought to myself as I quickly turned away when I felt that I was staring at him for too long. He turns away from us and heads towards the elevator doors.

I stayed stunned for a few moments then turned to face Chad again, completely red in the face, dumbfounded, and at a complete loss for words. But before Chad could get another word out I quickly rushed to my apartment and leaned my back against the door once I got inside. My heart is beating fast and my chest feels tight and constricted. I quickly got myself a glass of water from my faucet and though it helped with my fast heart rate, it didn’t help the butterflies swarming around in my stomach. It might sound crazy but I think I’ve just met the man of my dreams.

Ever since then, I’ve made sure to take my sweet time walking down the corridor in hopes to see the cute boy from apartment 512 again. I’ve gone as far as to purposely make small talk and fake my interest in Chad in hopes to see him once more.

—

The boy from apartment 512 the one who makes my poor heart beat fast.

I walked into the elevator quickly pressing the button towards the first floor when I heard someone yell “HOLD THE DOOR PLEASE!”

Loud footsteps came barreling towards the elevator. The yell of itself was enough to get my blood pumping but, to make matters much worse it was the cute boy from apartment 512 who was coming towards me.

“Thank you so much,” he said out of breath once he got inside. He offered me a smile of gratitude as the elevator doors closed. I noticed that he wasn’t wearing a cap this time but, instead he was sporting a grey beanie with red and blue stripes.

‘He’s the most beautiful man I have ever seen in my entire life’ I internally screamed to myself.

“Yeah, no problem” I responded quietly in hopes I wouldn’t make a fool of myself.

Even if there weren't more than two pieces of dialogue uttered between us, it was enough for my heart to beat faster than the speed of light.

—

The boy from apartment 512 who causes me to stutter like I've never done before.

I was manning the cashier station at the cafe I worked at. It was filled to the brim with people who were either typing away on their laptops or having a conversation with their friends.

But on this day, I had finally learned his name.

The busy atmosphere had me tackling customers' orders from left to right, “Hello, may I take your order?” I said as the next customer approached me.

But surprisingly enough, I was greeted by a familiar face.

The cute boy from apartment 512.

“Yes, hello I would like a caramel macchiato please,” he said and I felt my face go red instantly.

Oh my god, it’s him again, I thought as I knew that my brain would start to scramble once more. “O-of course. Coming right up, n-name?” I asked him as I completely stumbled on my words.

“Alex,” he said, “Okay A-Alex your name will be called out when your order is ready,” I tell him as I continue on with my work.

My coworkers had never seen me lose composure like that. It was clear that they would never let me live this down but even if I made a complete fool of myself in front of him, a huge part of me also just wants to keep talking to him both night and day.

—

But today I have finally truly decided to confess my love to him

I mentally prepared myself for the next time I interacted with Alex. I’ve finally decided that the next time I would run into him, I would finally ask to get to know him better in hopes that one day friendship will blossom into a wonderful relationship. A giddy laugh escaped me as I thought of the idea.

The cafe was busy as usual, with the same groups of people coming in. As it hit peak rush hour the line of customers just kept getting longer and longer and I was attempting to quickly attend to them to the best of my ability. Somehow, this was not enough to deter the feelings of butterflies in my stomach.

I knock on his door and I get goosebumps,

a blonde answers the door and my heart breaks

As I heard the bell above our door ring once more I raised my head and saw him, Alex. He was holding the door open for a woman as she walked in. They stood close together as they waited in line. This might seem like a bit of an exaggeration but when I saw them conversing together waiting in line the butterflies that were once fluttering disappeared and were replaced with dread. As my heart dropped, I realized that one thing was wanting to be friends with him but, that doesn’t change the fact that I had grown feelings for him. If he’s in a relationship then, what now? I felt lost as to how to handle this.

As the line in front of me kept getting shorter and shorter, I was becoming anxious as his turn was approaching. Though as it was almost the pair’s turn to order, Alex suddenly turns around and leaves the line and when his turn arrives he still wasn’t there. Despite this, I still went ahead and tended his apparent girlfriend.

I truly felt my heart breaking into pieces when suddenly she asked:

"Were you looking for my brother?"

“Hello, may I take your order?” I asked her, “Yes, can I have a vanilla latte please? But um, can we wait a couple of minutes for my brother? He went to the restroom and didn’t tell me his order,” she asked. Then the realization hit me like a ton of bricks, this was his sister. I’m so dumb, how could I’ve not realized the resemblance between them?? “Yeah that’s no problem” I finally responded.

Soon enough Alex came rushing towards his sister, “I’m so sorry for the wait” he said once he reached the both of us. “Just hurry it up. I’ll be waiting for you at the table” His sister said as she turned her back to the both of us.

Turning my attention to him as I rang up his order he then speaks up “You’re one of my neighbors aren’t you?” He asks me with a grin. I stop in my tracks as if I’m a deer in headlights.

“Yeah I am actually” I smile at him trying to muster enough courage to continue our conversation.

“I thought so, you were the one who held the elevator door for me the other day right? Also, the one who was yelling at my neighbor.”

My face instantly goes red as I thought back to the first time I met Alex. “In my defense he deserved it. He’s been harassing me ever since I’ve moved in” I shudder at the thought of Chad.

“Yeah I’ve realized that he really is a douche, he enjoys banging on the damn walls at three in the morning” he said as we laugh together at the stupid things Chad has done.

“Okay, okay you’re order will be out shortly,” I tell him with a smile, feeling my heart skip a beat. But Alex doesn’t move from the line.

“To be honest the whole reason I even came here wasn’t really for a drink or anything.” He said gazing towards the floor and rubbed the back of his neck.

“This might be a bit sudden because we’ve barely met but I wanted to actually ask you for your number since you seem really nice and you’re very pretty. If you’re not interested then that’s fine, I’ll just take my drink and go” Alex said sheepishly.

After I heard these words I found myself dumbfounded. At a complete loss for words. ‘DID HE JUST SAY THAT??? HOW DO I RESPOND???’ and from there my mind was absolutely speeding to the point where I just stood there. ‘HURRY UP AND DO SOMETHING!!!’ I yelled at myself, but yet still nothing managed to escape. Alex began to fidget more and more playing with his hands as I just stood there without a response.

“It’s okay, I’ll just go now.” Alex quickly said leaving.

—

Alex’s POV

‘SHIT. FUCK. MOTHERFUCKER. STUPID IDIOT.’

I cursed at myself while I walked towards my sister. Laying my head on the table, covering it in utter embarrassment.

“That didn’t go well, did it?” My sister said while casually scrolling through her phone. “And here you were boasting about how much of a smooth talker you were. You sir, just got rejected.”

“Will you shut up?” I groaned at her not raising my head. I’m already embarrassed out of my mind and she is not making it any better.

“Fine fine, you big baby I’ll go get our drinks and then you can go home and cry.” She said standing up as our orders were called.

‘God, why did I think it was a good idea to bring my sister along? How had it not crossed my mind? I hadn’t even given it a second thought as to what I was gonna do if I did get rejected. And to make matters much worse I just got rejected in front of my sister. I will never hear the end of it at family reunions. I’m already mentally digging my grave when I heard my sister come back.

“I think this one is yours” She said as she placed my drink in front of me. I raise my head slightly so I would be able to see what was in front of me. I looked at my cup as it said:

‘To the cute boy from apartment 512’

‘xxx-xxx-xxxx -Y/n’

—

A/N- So this is the first time I’ve ever wrote fan fiction before, I mainly stick to drawing so please excuse any mistakes I tried my best. But I hope you liked it over all. Also the lyrics in English don’t make as much sense as they do in Spanish, and it’s was bugging me so if they seem a bit odd you know why.

A special thanks to @tofuyami she really helped me with the brainstorming and editing process <3

@hungoverhellhound @cherrysirin @tofuyami @nealocus @struggling-with-time @bugsinmycoldsoup @venusacrossthestars @galaxygnf

Also stand Selena always -🍈

#quackity x reader #dream smp x reader #mcyt x reader #one shot #quackity #dream smp #real person fiction

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ragingbookdragon · 3 years

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When Will My Weight Be Too Much For You?

Barry Allen x Wondersis One-Shot

Word Count: 1.6 Warnings: Explicit Language, Slight Angst

Author's Note: Based off this ask right here! Enjoy! -Thorne

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

Diana said this is the way to leave my grievance where you can hear it instead of straight from my mouth. I must deliver it this way because if I were to see you at this very moment, I would say things that would be improper of a princess and a partner in our relationship. Bartholomew, I do not say this lightly, but your unattendance to the unveiling of the museum exhibit has wounded my heart. You promised you would make it in time to see me reveal it to the world. I know you are busy, believe me I know, but I had asked you multiple times to check your schedule to clear it. Please wait for me to contact you again, it should be within the next few days. I would like to exert this potent emotion from mind and body before we meet once more. And though this event has occurred, please understand that my love for you has not changed. I still love you very much, Bartholomew Allen and I always shall. Farewell. End of message. To repeat, please press the pound key.

Barry banged his head on the desk as the message ended for the eighth time that night. He felt like such a fool. Such a bumbling, moronic fool. (Y/N)’d called him the day before and reminded him and he still forgot about the museum exhibit being unveiled today. He’d been so caught up in the labs that day that by the time he’d actually gotten a break, it was past three—four hours past the event.

So much for having super-speed. He’d been late. Again. And this time, he’d upset (Y/N) so much that she didn’t even want to see him for a few days. And Barry wasn’t sure what he was more upset about—missing the event and hurting her or hearing the devastation in her voice from the message. Whichever it was, it hurt Barry to the core. The type of hurt that made even his chest feel sore and his eyes sting. And all Barry could do was sit and wait, planning out how to make it up to her, and hope that she still wanted to be with him after.

***

(Y/N) hefted the javelin by her head, cocking it back as far as she could before she threw it with all her might, taking out an entire tree in the backyard of Wayne Manor. It’d been four days since the museum event, four days since Barry hadn’t showed, and four days since she’d called in sick, instead of being at home, being at Wayne Manor. Oddly enough, it was the one place she could work out her emotion—there seemed to be no end to criminals and Bruce’s family didn’t seem too particularly bothered by an Amazon being present or watching her break the Joker’s legs—they enjoyed that.

With a heavy sigh, she collapsed into the grass, gazing up at the sky as she let her limbs sprawl out. She wasn’t angry or upset with Barry anymore. Well, there was a little annoyance, but the majority had been worked out. All that was left was the feeling in her chest that made her sigh all the time—exasperation. Barry was the greatest man alive, probably better than Clark Kent, but Gods if he wasn’t the latest man alive too. He was always late

Another puff of air escaped her, and she closed her eyes as the grass crunched near her. “Have you come to gloat?”

Someone chuckled. “You’ve been out here since four AM, (Y/N). Aren’t you tired?”

“Not particularly, Bruce.” She returned, cracking one eye open to see him dressed in his suit; he’d probably just gotten back from work. “Are you going on patrol soon?”

Bruce glanced at his watch. “It’s a quarter to six. Sun’s going down. I’m going to get ready.”

(Y/N) nodded, starting to rise. “Then I shall get ready too.”

“Actually, (Y/N), I think you should go back to Central City.”

She paused, looking down at him—though their height wasn’t much different, a few inches give or take—and asked, “Have I overstayed my welcome? I apologize if I have.”

He shook his head. “Never.” Reaching out, he placed a hand on her shoulder. “But I think you should go home and talk to Barry.”

An eyebrow arched on her head, though her heart was fluttering at the mention of Central City being home. “Why?” she was genuinely curious, or perhaps suspicious of his answer. It seemed like he wanted her to talk to Barry more than he wanted her to leave.

“Because Barry Allen is moping so much during League meetings that it makes me look cheerful,” Bruce scowled. “I’m sick of seeing the poor man so distraught over his mistake.”

(Y/N) frowned. “My intentions were not to cause such distress, I just—”

“You left him a voicemail that practically tore his heart out.”

“I just—” she stopped, gaping at him. “How did you know?”

Bruce blinked. “That’s not important. What is important is that you go home to your boyfriend and tell him you love him and that you’re not angry anymore.” He shifted his hands, grabbing her face gently but firmly. “For the love of God, (Y/N), please, forgive the poor bastard.”

(Y/N), with a pinched face, looked down on the man and grunted, “If you wish to keep your hands, I suggest you remove them. Now.”

“Just go home. Please,” Bruce griped, pulling away from her. “I’m so sick of looking at Barry moping like a lovesick drunkard.”

She waved in defeat. “I shall back my bag.”

Suddenly, her duffel bag was in her face. “Already packed,” he said. “Go home.”

“I am feeling the love,” (Y/N) laughed, tugging the tight strap over her body, and rose into the sky. “Until we see one another again, my dear friend.”

Bruce waved as flew off. “See you around, Vanguard.”

***

By the time she’d returned to Central City, it was well into the night, quite possibly the early hours of the morning. The city was asleep, few cars were on the road and even fewer skyscrapers were lit up with company. (Y/N) slipped into the apartment through the bedroom window, too lazy to walk up the six flights of stairs and through the front door like she knew she should, but no one was watching, so who cared?

Apparently, Barry did, because the moment her second foot touched the floor, she was being yanked to the ground, faster than she could realize what was happening. She thrashed beneath the weight pinning her to the floor, one hand wrapping around Barry’s wrist, the other his throat as she cocked one of her legs up underneath his pelvis and to her chest, shoving at him.

Tipping their weight, he went down, and she flipped atop him, then shifted her hand to grab his other wrist, holding them both beside his head.

“Peace Barry!” she comforted firmly. “It is me, (Y/N).”

Barry stopped squirming, blinking in the darkness. “(Y/N)?”

“Yes,” she answered, letting him go so she could reach up and flick the night-side lamp on. The room was illuminated with soft yellow glow, and she glanced down at him with an easy smile. “I cannot imagine how you heard me. I was dead silent coming inside.”

He blinked. “I was awake and rolled over. All I saw was someone in the bedroom.” Barry reached up, cupping her cheek. “You’re home.”

(Y/N) leaned down, brushing her nose against his. “I am home.” Smiling sadly, she added, “And sorry I left like I did…and for making you hurt. I hope you can forgive me, Barry. I should have acted maturely and not run from my problem like a child.”

“No-no-no-no,” he worried, sitting up, taking her with him. “You don’t have anything to apologize for.”

“But I—”

Barry shook his head, brushing his thumb across her cheekbone. “I broke my promise to you, (Y/N). You reacting how you did was understandable.”

“Perhaps to a human,” she argued. “But not for a princess. And especially one of Themyscira.” (Y/N) cupped his face in her hands and pressed her forehead to hers. “It was just a museum exhibit, Barry. You are more important to me than pieces of history.”

His blue eyes were bright even in the dull light and his smile was as wide as a mile. “I love you, (Y/N).”

She matched his smile. “I love you more, Barry Allen.”

“Well, I love you most,” he countered, and she giggled, shaking her head.

“Impossible,” she bantered. “My love for you knows no bounds.”

“Oh yeah?” he bet, wrapping one arm around her waist, whilst the other fumbled for the bedside, rising to his feet. “Hmm, my love is eternal.” He turned, (Y/N) sinking into the mattress as he climbed onto the bed, looking at her.

An evil smirk crossed her lips and Barry’s body flushed with heat as his cheeks darkened, and before he could even blink, he was being flipped, staring up as she gazed down at him. “H-honey,” he stuttered as her fingers deftly undid the buttons of his pajama shirt, spreading it open to reveal his toned chest. He really flushed when she bent down and pressed a kiss to the center of his chest, ebbing upwards to his throat, only leaving a trail of crimson love bites in her wake.

“Your love is eternal, hmm?” she cooed against his skin, heatedly kissing along his jaw to whisper in his ear. “Prove it to me.”

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xmalfoyweasleyx · 3 years

Text

No future with a boy like this - F.W

Summary: Fred disappoints you more than once, giving you no other choice, you had to let him go.

Warnings: ANGSTY, cursing, implied sex very briefly, FLUFF AT THE END

A/N: my firsts time writing angst and I really don’t know if i was overdramatic or not enough dramatic lol please give feedback

April- 1996 - Hogwarts

Y/n was waiting on the tribune next to the quidditch field. It was already getting darker now. An orange glow spreading over the field. The sun was going down already. She was sitting there for two hours now.

She promised herself she would stop waiting after an hour but here she was, still hoping he would show up.

It was her birthday, it was her fucking birthday. And this wasn't the first time. It started with little dates, he forgot them sometimes but y/n didn't mind, he made it up every time.

He hurt her by forgetting those things all the time. But it was Fred Weasley after all. You knew this was coming when he became your boyfriend. You even got used to it. He was always busy. That's just how Fred is.

And here she was again. Trying to not let the tears of disappointment fall down on her cheeks. She felt miserable and decided to finally call it a night, going back to her dorm. She was exhausted.

Walking down the corridors, she saw Fred. He was just sitting there, laughing with George. That's when it was clear, he wasn't even late, he just forgot.

He saw her and smiled, walking her way, but she turned on her heals immediately. "Y/n!" he screamed confused. He followed her and his long legs made it easy to catch up.

She didn't answer, finding it much harder to hold back her tears now. "Y/n? Hey? What's wrong?" he asked.

Y/n stopped abruptly. "You really don't know?" she hissed.

A confused look formed on his face. "What do you mean"? he stammered. A tear fell down her cheek and his face was full of guilt now, without even knowing what he did.

"You forgot", you snapped, "again!"

He was thinking for one minute. It really took him one minute. What was wrong with that boy?!

Suddenly a wave of realization hit him. "Fuck." he squealed.

Y/n didn't need this shit right now, and ran away before he could say something. Making him run after her. "NO y/n wait! I'm so sorry, I won't forget next time, I promise, I'm so sorry" he begged while grabbing her arm, pulling her closer to him.

"You say that every time Fred" she sighed, another tear fell down.

It broke Fred's heart. It really did. He didn't mean to forget this things, he didn't want to hurt you. His mind was just so full all the time. So many things were going on in those brains of his.

"I mean it, I'm sorry, I love you y/n" he assured.

And she fell for it, like she always did. It happened every time. Fred said things that made her melt, and she forgave him. It was nothing new. Because how could she not? The sweet boy didn't mean to hurt her, she knew that, everyone knew that.

But still, her friends warned her. There was no future with a boy like this. It couldn't stay like this. So she swore to herself this was the last time. She made that clear to Fred too.

Because what if he's the love of her life? Her future? This was her last year after all, y/n’s future was right in front of her. What if Fred was her future? You both couldn't give that up.

May- 1996 - Hogwarts

Everything was alright.

They were okay.

And Fred hasn’t been late for a whole month, sounds like nothing special but to him and her it was.

This weekend y/n was going home, and not just home, but with Fred.

After a year it was time for him to meet her parents. Fred claimed he was the perfect son in law, so he didn’t hesitate to agree. Y/n was nervous and excited at the same time.

Ready in her dorm, with a portkey, she had her favourite sundress on. She was waiting for Fred but he didn’t show up. Okay it was only 15 minutes now, but with their little history it made her nervous. She was absolutely sure Fred wouldn’t forget this. He can’t forget this.

20 minutes later she was still waiting.

No. This couldn’t be true. It just couldn’t be.

And then, she found a note under her potionsbook. After reading only one word, she was already furious, a growing heat filling her cheeks.

Dear y/n, love

I remembered. I swear. But I just won’t make it. I’m not feeling okay and I think I might have a fever or something. I don’t want to make you or your parents sick, so I’m staying in my dorm.

I love you, kisses Fred x

She didn’t really know what to think. She was so disappointed, again.

But she could’t blame her boyfriend for feeling sick. Although she had her doubts, what if this wasn’t true, maybe he lied because he did forget it?

No, no, she had to trust him. Fred wouldn’t lie to her. So she grabbed the portkey and went to visit her parents.

Alone.

When she traveled back to Hogwarts it was late already, past midnight. Y/n hoped Umbridge wouldn’t catch her.

The corridors were empty, completely silent. This was not unusual. Most of the students were already asleep this late on a Sunday.

Unexpectedly, she heard gigles and laughs coming from around the corner. Did it come from the library? It couldn’t be. Not at almost 1 am.

She went closer to listen. Y/n placed her ear on the door. Was it... Was it...? No. No.

Did she hear Fred’s voice?

She really hoped she was just imagining this. Maybe she should trust Fred more.

But just checking won’t hurt right?

So she tried to open the door. It was locked.

“Alohamora” she whispered.

What she saw broke her heart into a million pieces.

Angelina sat on a table, with Fred extremely close to her, giggling. George and Lee were there too.

She couldn’t believe her own eyes. Looking silently in Fred’s shocked ones.

“Fuck” he sighed. “Y/n-“ he tried.

But she cut him off before he could say anything. “No, I don’t wanna hear another silly explanation from you, it’s enough, I don’t want to see you ever again” she screamed with tears in her eyes, making her vision blurry.

Y/n ran away, faster than ever so Fred couldn’t catch up this time.

“Stop!! Stop!” she heard him scream behind her.

She ran and ran, not even knowing were to.

“Let me explain” another scream followed.

That’s when she ended up in a corridor she didn’t know. A dead end. Ofcourse.

She gave up and stopped. Fred ended in front of her, breathing loudly, trying to catch his breath.

“Baby I-“ he tried

“Don’t call me baby, this is over” y/n cut him off.

Fred was speachless, for the first time in history. He didn’t realise this truly happened. He knew what he did wasn’t okay, but he never expected her to actually broke up with him. It just didn’t occur in his mind this was a possibility.

“But.. but...” he stuttered. “I swear, I can explain, what you’ve just seen, it wasn’t what you think it is. I’ve told you about the shoppe George and I want to open, right? It’s actually going to happen. We’re leaving hogwarts. That’s what we were doing, we were planning things. Tomorrow we’re going to blow up Umbridge, no not literally blow up, but with lots of firework! And then we’re going to open the shoppe together. It’s my dream y/n!” he rambled excited.

Y/n sighed. Understanding why he did this, but it didn’t change a thing.

“That actually makes things worse Fred. I’m happy your dream will come true. But you’re leaving and I’m finishing my year. When are you going to have time for me if you run a shop? You didn’t even have time for me now.” she cried.

Both of them were crying now. Knowing the break up was really going to happen. Fred wanted to keep fighting. But he knew she might be right.

A little sob left his mouth, something he never did before. She was right. He truly loved her but he couldn’t give her the happy future she deserved. He wasn’t right for her, he didn’t treat her the way she should’ve been treated. And the idea broke him. And that’s when she walked away.

They didn’t see each other again afterwards.

The next day, y/n laid in her bed when she heard fireworks, knowing what happened. She couldn’t go outside and watch...

Happy screams and laughs filled the castle. And that’s when she realised Fred and George were gone now. It was reality now. They won’t come back. Although a little part of her hoped they would stay. A little part of her thought Fred would come to her, begging her to stay with him. But she guessed he just didn’t love her enough.

After all the times Fred broke her heart, she was kind off used to it. But those heartbreaks couldn’t ever overcome this one.

August - 1996 - Diagon Alley

The summer was almost over, y/n graduated two months ago. The heartbreak still hurted but she was better now. She still didn’t know what to do now that she’s graduated.

Hermione decided you two had to go shopping. “It’ll make you happier” she stated like it was an actual fact. Y/n couldn’t say no of course.

Y/n’s breath hitched. A big clone of Fred’s face right in front of her (or George). This had to be their joke shoppe. God, it was more impressive than she expected. Guess you should never underestimate the twins.

“Let’s go inside y/n!” Hermione announced excited, grabbing her arm trying to puch her inside.

“Oh no no no no no, I don’t think that’s a great idea” she hesitated.

“Don’t worry, it’s so busy, Fred won’t see you” she promised her. Y/n sighed. She really didn’t want to go inside. She’d love to see the shoppe, but seeing Fred...

Whatever, it was true. It was so busy so Fred won’t ever notice her.

They entered, y/n was surprised, it was wonderful. Fred and George must have worked so hard to get to this point. God, she loved the place.

It brought back memories. All those joke products, most of them were used on her, she remembered. Fred thought it was hilarious to prank her literally all the time, being proud because it was something he invented himself. She couldn’t be mad about it, it made him so happy.

The place even smelled like him.

Y/n took a deep breath trying to gather all of the smell, in hope it would stay in her nose, so she could remember it back home.

She closed her eyes and imagined how it could be, if they didn’t broke up. How she would probably come here everyday to say hi, how she would watch Fred all day doing his job.

And then... she saw him. In his uniform, he stood there proudly on the stairs above her. Smiling happily, seeing all those laughing people because if his work.

He was happy. Fred missed y/n but he was happy. He thought a lot of all the things he did wrong. Although he didn’t really have time to worry.

Y/n sighed, it’s been months. Her heart was glowing inside her chest. She didn’t even feel sad any more. This was what her boyfriend always dreamt of. Her ex-boyfriend.

She turned around deciding it was not smart to look at the beautiful boy, the boy who still made her knees go weak.

Fred’s smell was more vibrant than before now. Almost like he was right in front of me.

Ow, love potions, of course.

Of course she still smelled Fred in it.

“I smell honey, flowers and vanilla soap” she heard a familiar voice whispering in her ear, almost making her jump.

“F-fred, hey” she stuttered, in shock by the fact he’s standing right in front of her.

“You look great, changed your hair” he smiled. It was true, y/n cut her hair a little shorter and decided to give it a lighter colour for the summer. The typical breakup haircut.

“Fred do you want to... talk... please?” she asked, knowing it wasn’t a great idea. She wanted to just run away after she realized what she said.

“We could go upstairs, talk in my appartment”

October- 1996 - Diagon Alley

“Come on darling, George opened up already!” Fred screamed running through his kitchen while jumping, trying to get his pants on. He grabbed an apple as breakfast.

Y/n ran to the kitchen too. “I thought you changed the being late thing” y/n joked, yes they joked about it now.

“You were the one holding me up this time” he smiled adding a wink. “You just can’t resist me in the bedroom” y/n answered daring.

She grabbed him by his collar, pressing a kiss on his lips. “I have no choice with the sexiest girlfriend in the word” Fred grinned, pressing kisses all over your face, making you giggle.

“Baby, you’re wearing your uniform backwards” he laughed.

Y/n worked at the shoppe now too.

When she asked Fred to talk, they actually talked for hours. They talked about what went wrong in their relationship, about what they had been doing in those months they broke up, talked about how they still had feelings,...

And after two hours they made up. Both being happier than ever, deciding they learned from their break up.

Fred asked her to come live in his apartment and work in their shop too. Y/n didn’t hesitate for a moment. She designed their boxes or packages and talked to costumers. But most of all she distracted Fred by rolling her uniforme skirt up and bowing down to ‘grab’ something. Sometimes he took her back to the appartment because he couldn’t hold back anymore.

Y/n now knew, the breakup was necessary. You both learned. And now you’re happier than ever.

Because after all, Fred was your future.

***

#fred smut #fred angst #fred weasly x reader #fred weasley #george weasley smut #george x reader #george weasley #weasley #harry potter smut #harry potter

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skellebonez · 3 years

Note

Because I'm sure this is going to be inevitable, how about some angst for the Chaos Trio (Mei, Jin and Yin)? With 61 and 52

Oh I have been looking forward to Chaos Trio angst since you sent me this, anon. Despite how they act in show... I think Jin and Yin are not exactly harmless. Especially if you mess with people they start to consider family.

The Cursed AU and the Chaos Trio in it come from @winterpower98!

Warning: blood and head injuries, enemy demons limbs (not detailed).

That is not a good hiding spot./I am a really bad actor.

Things had been going pretty well, all things considered. Jin and Yin had no problem getting Mei to join them in a little bit of... let's say "competitive insurance" as it were. They had to make sure they were secured in their own little tech related ventures, and after some financial setbacks they needed extra fallback. They’d planned the whole thing out with her help, more than 2 steps and everything! She was good at that.

The problem was that someone got a lucky hit.

They would have made it out with no problems, if they all hadn't decided going on Mei's motorcycle as a group (which, now that Yin thought about it, was probably incredibly dangerous and illegal with 3 of them on it... not that they cared about legality for themselves but somehow when it came to Mei that suddenly made them concerned). But nope. 1 bike. 3 people.

One lucky shot to the rear tire.

The three of them went flying, Mei landing very impressively on her feet whole Jin and Yin bounced on a bush and thanked anyone listening that demons were sturdier than humans. They didn't thank anyone for the pieces of bike that came flying at them all, and they were certain that they heard a piece make contact with something hard, maybe the nearby light pole, but couldn't be sure.

By the time they looked up they just knew they had a group of very angry demons that were pissed they stole and then wiped their code for... something, didn't matter to the twins what it was. They just wanted their competition out of the way. For solely selfish reasons. Nothing else. Not like they wanted it to see what it was and maybe figure out a counter attack so that certain overpowered people with monkey motifs would have an easier time in the future.

Not a chance.

As they fought off the attacking demons they insisted to themselves they didn't care that much.

"That is not a good hiding spot!" Jin yelled across the battlefield as Yin ducked behind crates. "Just chuck it for now and beat em with the blunt end of something else!"

"Just give me 2 seconds, I can fix it!" Yin yelled back, trying his best to reassemble a part of his sword hilt that had broken off.

"Come on, these guys ain't so tough!" Mei laughed out, easily dodging projectiles and backsliding and slicing and dicing as she went. No one was actually killed, but they were lucky because the only reason for that was the young woman wasn't exactly out for blood. They'd be feeling every single hit well into morning though! She was doing much better than the two of them. "Grab a pipe or something! Wish I had MK's magic building power though, I'd rather not be here all-YIN!"

The younger twin looked up from where he had been crouched, eyes widening as he saw the form of a much larger demon hulking over him and ready to batter him with a club.

Things had been going well. All things considered. Then someone got a second lucky hit.

Right as Mei dove in to push the younger silver twin out of the way.

For a second the fighting stopped. There was just the sound of wood hitting hard plastic and fiberglass as the club was sliced in half by her sword and the lopped off half continued it's trajectory and slammed into Mei's head to lead to her crumbling on top of Yin. Jin stood on too of a pile of crates, watching as a line of red seeped through a crack in her visor and stained the white of her suit.

And then his entire vision was red as he lunged at the demon and sliced, sending his arm flying in the opposite direction.

The demon screamed, holding the stump that was his arm from the elbow down, backing away as quickly as he could. "W-what the hell!?"

"Mei," Yin said softly, carefully clicking the emergency release button to make her helmet digitize away. Her eyes were closed, blood dripping from a slice running along her scalp... but as far as he could tell it was from part of the helmet being cracked and cutting her. She was most likely knocked out from the impact, breathing odd but steady in her unconscious state. "You... we're going to get you to the hospital."

His tone hardened as he carefully laid her on the ground, standing tall as he grabbed his broken weapon and a nearby piece of broken steel.

"You. Are going. To pay for that," Yin said coldly, stance no longer lose and half playful as it had been the whole battle. His stood tall, eyes wide and cold and the demons surrounding them felt a chill run down their spines.

Jin stood in front of him, blood from the other demon splattered across his face and chest in a stark contrast to his orange visage.

This... this wasn't the pair of Gold and Silver Demons they had heard about before. They were known for not taking almost anything seriously, making bad deals and pacts and weird blood oaths they wasted on bizarre favors. They were known for being good at tach but not much else, most demons in the area knew vaguely of their history with the Monkey King but even that ended in failure. Their plans were half baked, goofy, and lately they'd heard they'd gotten roped in with the Monkey King's successor and renewed flame of the Six-Eared Macaque.

The two standing before them did not look like the demons they'd heard about.

Mei hadn't wanted to seriously hurt anyone. The demons heard her yelling as much on the battlefield. But now Mei was hurt.

And the twins did.

It happened fast. They wanted to get it over with quickly. Mei had also not wanted to kill anyone at the very least the twins could do was keep up their promise from earlier in the day to avoid that. And they did.

That didn't mean there weren't lost limbs. Hands and arms. A leg or two. More than a couple eyes were lost. Someone lost an ear. Another a tail and horn.

Injuries they could recover from meant as warnings.

All it took was 3 minutes and the entire storage area they crashed in was a mix of grey and brown and red. Demons holding their injuries or running off.

The one who had attacked Yin and hurt Mei stood in awe and fear, looking down at the smaller twins who has decimated an entire group so fast.

"I-how!?" He yelled, backing up slowly. "This isn't possible, you're not this strong!"

"Who told you that?" Yin asked slowly, tilting his head and watching as the demon realized... he'd never heard they couldn't fight. "We don't fight like this because we don't want to. Never meant we can't."

"Why?"

"We are really bad actors," Jin said, wiping the blood off his weapon on an unconscious demon's shirt. "Why bother trying to hold back when we can just hide it by not trying?" He turned to the demon, glowering coldly as he watched his brother pick Mei up carefully. "Tell anyone who asks nothing. We'd like to keep it that way. Unless you want a round two where someone else doesn't hold us back."

And then they were gone.

"What in the actual hell happened?" Macaque asked in an even tone. Practiced even. A dangerous even.

"Well-" "You see boss-" "we kinda-" "-there was-"

Jin and Yin tried to think of a reasonable excuse, faltering as everything they thought of sounded worse and worse in their heads.

The two sat in Mei's hospital room, towels draped around their shoulders. They’d been smart enough to stash Mei's bike somewhere safe and wash off in the ocean before coming to the hospital, less covered in demon blood meant less scared humans when they rushed in with Mei in tow, and it was easy to make the nurses believe them.

Simple bike accident, friend hurt, help please.

With Macaque staring them down with his patented death glower, shadows growing and warping around the room in response to him, it was infinitely harder.

Of course Mei's emergency contact was MK. Of course MK could call Macaque before her parents (who were apparently on their way back from some kind of dragon family business trip when they learned). Of course Macaque would show up almost immediately and begin asking questions.

"It was my fault," Mei chimed in, voice slightly off from having awoken with a nasty concussion. "I thought it'd be fun to go on a joy ride late at night, I've done it before without issues! But, uh... I've never had two passengers before... and we hit something. Don't be mad at them?"

Macaque looked like he believed Mei as much as he believed Tang would lose interest in the Monkey King and switch his field of study to obscure methods of basket weaving. Which is to say: he didn’t. But he sighed, giving Mei a small smile as the shadows returned to normal.

"Ok," he said softly, tone much more gentle with the dragon descendant as he reached out to brush loose hair out of her face. "I won't be mad at them. I'll be very disappointed-" his tone hardened for a second at those words as he turned to the twins with a glower again. "-but I won't be mad. Do you need anything?"

"Maybe a candy bar from the vending machines outside?" Mei asked with a smile.

"Sure," Macaque laughed and shook his head, moving to the corner of the room. "I'll be right back."

He sunk into the shadows, a cool trick that the twins would always be impressed by, and they breathed a sigh of relief at knowing they were alone. For now.

"You didn't have to do that," Jin said, frowning at Mei in concern. Maybe it was just because he was now the eldest in the room, but some kind of protective feel pulled at him.

"I know," Mei said with a tired laugh, laying back into her pillow. "But you guys are like... my bros. I gotta stand up for my bros."

And that made both Jin and Yin pause. They looked at each other, eyes widening as they both came to a realization that was probably a very long time coming at that point.

"Yeah..." Yin said, a soft smile forming on his face. "We'd do the same for you... you know, if you didn't take that hit for me you probably would have kicked everyone's ass way better than us! We barely got out by the skin of our teeth!" A full truth and a blatant lie, but he hoped Mei wouldn't pick up on that second part.

"You know it, boi!" She didn't.

It was odd for him in particular. Yin had never really thought of himself as an older brother before.

First time for everything.

#monkie kid #lego monkie kid #gen fic #cursed au #warning: blood and injury #jin and yin #dragon form mei #long xiaojiao #the chaos trio #prompt fill #six eared macaque #but only a little #dad macaque

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the-lady-writes-what · 4 years

Text

Like Father, Like Son

Summary:

You're minding your own business when your college bestie, Hitoshi Shinou, embarrassingly points out your big, fat crush on your very own teacher, Professor Aizawa. These things happen, right? You can't help yourself. But when Hitoshi starts to leave you cryptic messages, you're bidden to come to Aizawa's classroom. He's there and Hitoshi arrives. You're left wondering for a brief moment why these two men are in the same room together and with you. A kiss here and a grope there, you find out pretty quickly what they're up to.

College Professor!Eraserhead/Shouta Aizawa x Reader x College Student!Hitoshi Shinsou (19-22)

Hitoshi Shinsou has been aged up for this fic. I do not write for characters under the age of 18.

Content: oral (receiving and giving), cream pie, DILF, forbidden college professor, public sex, spanking, mild name calling, pet names, hair pulling, father and son tag team

---080---

Students shuffled in their desks at the bell's sound, which only served to perturb Professor Aizawa. However, he was too tired to chide them for not letting him dismiss them instead of the bell. You gathered your things and slid your backpack unto your shoulders. Butterflies swarmed your stomach. Barely nineteen, you came across your first adult crush when you walked into Professor Aizawa's classroom. To most, he didn't appear to be the first choice when it came to college crushes. He was lean and well-built to be sure (only you could tell beneath all that black he wore), but Professor Aizawa looked tired all the time. His scruffy face, messy hair, and rough personality did not make him a favorite among the female students. Most considered him too lazy to take care of his personal appearance.

But you?

The rough and tumble exterior made him unconventionally attractive. Those dark circles under his eyes were proof that he put in sleepless nights working for his students. His dark clothes showed off some of his well-earned muscles once you looked close enough. Aizawa's unshaven face just made him rugged and distinguished from the baby-faced freshman who tried hitting on you. This was a man, not a boy.

"Have a good evening, professor," you said in passing.

He didn't say anything in return as he gathered up the army of papers sitting on his desk. Without looking, he waved good-bye. You entered the halls and started making your way towards the cafeteria. Once you paid for your meager meal, you went to work finding your usual table with your friend. Hitoshi was easy to find. He was the quiet type whom many confused for an artist or a druggie. Something about him made you quiver a little too. He wore the same bored expression that almost matched Professor Aizawa's. Of the two men, Hitoshi was closer to your age than the professor. You sat down with butterflies returning to your stomach.

"How was class?" Hitoshi asked.

"Huh?" You'd been so busy trying to keep the butterflies at bay that you weren't paying that much attention.

"I said 'how was class?'"

"Oh. Uh, it was good," you answered.

"Staring at Professor Aizawa again?"

"Shut up! It's not like that you and you know it." You pouted.

"Is it?" Hitoshi teased. "I see the way you look at him. You make googly eyes whenever you see him in the hallways. It's almost sad, really."

"I don't make googly at Professor Aizawa. I just…admire from a distance."

"You could admire up close and personal," said Hitoshi, who then took a bite out of his cheeseburger.

Your face turned bright red. It wasn't illegal, though some prudes might consider the age difference scandalous. Professor Aizawa wasn't old at all, but he was almost twice your age. Besides, you didn't need to be one of those students who slept with their professor to get good grades or have rumors saying you did.

"Don't…don't joke like that." Or you just might take him seriously.

Later that night, as you lay in bed, your eyes stared vacantly at the ceiling. You couldn't find sleep even when you looked for it. As quiet as possible, you crept out of bed and made your way into the hall. You snuck past the RA's room, up the stairs, and crept into the boys' dorm. You heard behind closed doors snoring, late-night conversations, and even video games. You concerned yourself with only one room at the end of the hall. You gently knocked and waited with bated breath. You heard someone shuffling around and crossing the floor. The door opened.

"Do you know what time it is?" Hitoshi yawned.

"Yeah, yeah, I know. Can I come in?"

Hitoshi raised a questioning brow at you. "What for?"

"I can't sleep. Please?"

Hitoshi pulled the door open wider for you to enter. You ducked inside quickly in case the RA for the boys' dorms decided to make a late-night inspection.

"You're damn lucky Denki sneaked into his girlfriend's room earlier. Not that he'd snitch."

"Not unless he wants the RA's to know what he's been doing," you chuckled.

Hitoshi crawled into his bed but left space for you. You climbed in with him and pulled the covers over both of you. Hitoshi was the perfect gentleman and kept his hands to himself. Although, that was easy because he was already nodding back to sleep.

"Why were you awake at three in the morning?" Hitoshi yawned.

"I told you. I couldn't sleep."

"And sneaking into my room for G-rated pillow talk is going to help you fall asleep?"

"Maybe. Look, I," you paused.

"Yes?"

"I had a weird dream, okay?" You huffed this time.

"Oh?" Hitoshi's tone sounded curious if but a little tired.

"Yeah. I dreamed about…well. Okay. Promise me that you won't laugh."

"I can't make any promises."

You inhaled sharply through your nose and exhaled through your mouth.

"I dreamed of doing it with Professor Aizawa." You said in one breath.

You hid your face with your hands and waited for Hitoshi to bellow with laughter. You waited and waited. You felt the bed shift. Slowly, you moved your hands away from your face to see Hitoshi lying on his side. You expected to find a smug know-it-all smirk on his face, but Hitoshi looked a little humble. No. That wasn't right. Humble wasn't quite the word you'd describe his face at this moment. There was a certain kind of sadnessresting in his tired eyes, but you couldn't tell with any certainty because you lay down in darkness. Only the occasional wink from the moon spilled between the blinds gave you any light. His eyes kind of looked glassy in the shadows from little light you had.

"It gets worse," you muttered.

"What? Did Denki join in?" Hitoshi laughed, and it didn't escape your notice how bitter the noise sounded.

"No," you felt your cheeks warm as blood rushed to your face. "You did."

You felt Hitoshi's eyes on you. You made to get out of the bed to avoid an ugly, awkward conversation, but Hitoshi stayed your hand. By kissing you.

You didn't see it coming until it was too late. Hitoshi maneuvered on top of you before you could leave. His lips were on yours before you could ask what he was doing. His hands were on your waist, squeezing you. The kiss was hard, sudden, and begging for you to reciprocate. With a sigh, you caved. You didn't question it but fell headlong into the kiss. Your hands reached behind his neck and clasped fingers together. Just when you think one or both of his hands will wander under your shirt, Hitoshi pulls away.

In the dim moonlight, you see him smirking down at you and then plops right down into the bed. You are so dazed and confused that it takes you a full minute to realize what just happened. Hitoshi kissed full on the mouth then had the A-U-D-A-C-I-T-Y to pull away and go back to sleep. Hitoshi put his back towards you. You get on your side and shove his shoulders.

"What the hell was that about? You can't just…You can't leave a girl hanging?"

"It's also three AM, and I have an eight AM class. We'll talk about it in the morning," he said.

"You've got a girl in your room, and one who's perfectly willing and just going back to sleep?"

"Uh, huh."

You snatched the pillow from under his head and gave him a good smack a couple of times. You lay back down, turning your back to him. Sleep didn't come easily, but at least you didn't have more dreams.

Evidently, you and Hitoshi didn't talk that morning. When you woke up, he was gone. You quickly snuck back into your dorm and went immediately to your phone. No calls or texts from Hitoshi indicated that he didn't want to talk about it, and everything else was just a rouse. You swore that the next time you saw him, Hitoshi Shinsou was getting a piece of your mind, whether or not he liked the words you had to say. You texted him and even left a voicemail.

No response.

You cleaned up, walked to class, and sat down. Try as you might, you couldn't pull your head out of last night's events. Hitoshi kissed you so suddenly and then refused to talk about his feelings. Clearly, he had some about you but wasn't too fond of sharing them. You half-listened to the professor throughout and left your mind to wander. By the end of the lecture, your phone pinged. You snatched it up. Lo and behold, the little bastard texted you.

I'm sorry about last night. I didn't know how to put it into words. I'll meet you in Aizawa's classroom when you're done.

You rolled your eyes. You didn't reply but thought it would be better to get it out in the open. Although, you wondered why he wanted to talk to you in Aizawa's classroom specifically. Why in the school buildings at all and not the dorms? Why not do it in privacy? These were just more questions for you to ask when the time was right.

The rest of your day went along as normal could be. A nagging thought pressed from the back of your mind that something was amiss. You didn't feel yourself in danger, but there was a lingering sensation trapped in your brain that told you to expect…what? Expect what, exactly? You had no idea. Perhaps your intuition was wrong. Hitoshi wanted to confess his feelings (or whatever he planned to say) at a place most convenient to you. If you finished class, it would be a pain to walk all the way over to the dorms just to talk to him. Even then, it was a minor inconvenience, and meeting in a public space wouldn't be wise. You'd have to wait to figure out what he meant by doing all of this.

When the hour arrived, you noticed something peculiar about Professor Aizawa. Usually, he started packing up his things as your class was the last of the day for him. Instead, he sat at his desk, sifting through his phone.

"Good night, Professor!" You said in passing, biting your lip.

Yes, you still remembered the raunchy dream you had that left your thighs slick. Before you even snuck into Hitoshi's dorm room, you changed pajamas. Aizawa didn't confirm that he heard you or stopped scrolling through his phone to glance at you. He typed away and ignored you. Shrugging your shoulders, you didn't think much of it. You passed his desk, made your way over to the door, and reached out to open it. Before your fingers even grazed the knob, the wood and glass door swung open with a whoosh. Hitoshi stood in the doorway before you.

"You wanted to talk to me?" You lowered your voice. "You know, about last night? Mind if we take this conversation somewhere more private." You gestured to Professor Aizawa, still sitting in his chair. Only this time, he wasn't fiddling with his phone.

"Oh, no. He's good," said Hitoshi. "In fact, I asked him to be here."

"Wait. What?" Your brows furrowed.

Hitoshi closed the door behind and locked it. You were so distracted by Hitoshi's Cheshire grin that you failed to notice the footsteps behind you. Aizawa had moved from his desk and crossed the floor to meet you. His strong hands pulled the shoulder straps of your backpack off of you and gently tossed it underneath an empty desk.

"Hitoshi, what's going on? You're really freaking me out."

An arm like a redwood tree trunk wrapped around your waist. Another hand wandered up to your head and gently brushed your hair to the side. Warm lips caressed your neck. Bristles of hair tickled you and made you squirm. Not that you were really going anywhere. Aizawa caged you with only one arm.

"Pro-Professor?" You were more bewildered than frightened.

Hitoshi leaned against the wall to watch. He had his arms folded across his chest, but his smile was devastating. "Just fulfilling your fantasy, princess. I thought you liked Professor Aizawa?"

"I-I…"

"Cat got your tongue," asked Aizawa.

Teeth nibbled on the junction where your neck met your shoulders. Aizawa's fingers spread out and splayed against your ribs. Your heart thundered in its prison and threatened to escape. Your knees began to buckle, but Aizawa's superior strength kept you from winding up on the floor. It would have been more humiliating to land at Aizawa's feet with Hitoshi watching. Your head was spinning out of control.

"And I know that you like me," said Hitoshi. "Don't blush like that. You can't deny it."

You then noticed how hot your face was. Without even looking in a mirror, you could feel all of your blood gathered in your cheeks. The tops of your ears were red, too, like someone pinched them.

"B-But why…why all this? Why me—" You gasped, then your gasp became a moan.

Professor Aizawa roughly grabbed your breast and played with it over your clothes. His other hand massaged your hip. And his lips? Gods, his lips never left your neck. It was a blessing and a curse. Aizawa licked and suckled wherever he could get his mouth on your flesh. You stared at Hitoshi, who did nothing more than grin like a mad man.

"Do you want to answer her, or should I?" Hitoshi was obviously talking to someone other than you.

Aizawa removed his mouth from you, and you were almost sorry for its loss. His hands, though, remained. Groping and playing with you while he made his answer.

"From day one, I wanted to bend you over my desk and fuck you. I wasn't prepared to see somebody like you, Y/N, to walk into my classroom. Then I find out from my son that he found someone he liked too. To my shock, they were one and the same person. You. Hitoshi took a liking to you and told enough about you to keep me up at night."

"Wait? Son? You mean…" You'd been glancing over your shoulder to get a peek at Aizawa, whose hands never stopped moving before you snapped back to Hitoshi.

"Yeah, that's me," said Hitoshi. He took one dangerous step towards you than another.

"But you two…"

"Adopted." Hitoshi now stood arm's length away from you. "The real question now is: do you want us to stop? Two boyfriends are one thing, but can you handle a father and son duo? All you gotta do is say no right now, and you can walk away."

"What…what happens if I say yes?" You asked.

Heat pooled in your lower belly. Hitoshi's violet eyes pinned you where you stood as if that was all it took. His apparent father, Professor Aizawa, resumed his work on your neck and teasing you with his hands and lips. Hitoshi licked his lips and groped the breast that hadn't been possessed by his dad yet. Your knees wobbled and threatened to give out if not for Professor Aizawa supporting you. Hitoshi reached out, grabbed your jaw, and cupped your chin. You were forced to look him in the eye, which didn't help your situation down below.

"Saying yes means no going back. Once we start, there's no stopping unless you scream bloody murder. If you want to be fucked stupid, now's the time to answer, kitty."

You swallowed hard and nearly choked on the lump that formed in your throat. Aizawa began moaning next to your ear while still massaging your breast. Hitoshi's and Aizawa's hands worked your pleasure to the point you felt yourself dripping beneath your jean pants. Soft sighs escaped you. Your calm, rational brain couldn't come up with an excuse not to say yes. The thrill and fear of being caught sandwiched between two men—one of whom was a teacher no less—and in such a public space sent a shiver down your back. Aizawa's hands felt bigger than Hitoshi's, but his son had softer ones. The dichotomy caused a new wave of sensations to crash into you and pulled you towards unknown depts. What lay at the bottom frightened you, but you also knew that nothing was gained by sitting at home, waiting for Prince Charming.

"Your neck tastes pretty good," said Aizawa, "I wonder what the rest of you feels like." His fingers dug into your hip, and he squeezed your breast a little harder.

Your head rolls back and your eyes closed, lost in the pleasure. You bit your lip to contain the moans and sighs trying to come out of you. You're too scared that someone might hear and find you in a peculiar situation.

"Nobody's gonna hear. We're the last ones to leave, and the janitor saved this room for last. We won't be disturbed," said Hitoshi.

You were curious what he meant by the janitor saving this room for last. Your mind was preoccupied with the steady hand teasing you. Your mind was already made up by that point, you might as well say it aloud. It was just a matter of getting your stubborn tongue to cooperate.

"What's it going to be, Y/N?" It was Professor Aizawa this time with a question, but he growled it in your ear.

Goosebumps rose across your flesh. Hands—you're not sure whose—tore down the zipper of your hoodie to reveal a thin tank top and pull the outer garment away from your shoulders. Two mouths latched onto your newly exposed skin. Your feet were kicked apart. Hitoshi let go of your chin in favor of gliding it down, down, down. You gasped when he cupped the apex of your thighs.

"I can feel you getting wet even through your jeans, Y/N. You want this, don't you?"

Without thinking, you nodded. Their hands, their mouths, their deep voices, you wanted them to use your body until you couldn't tell who was who anymore. Sleeping with your professor and his son at the same time, should have raised alarm bells. It was wrong on many levels, but you couldn't think of a single one of them.

"Use your words, kitty." Said Aizawa.

Aizawa's hand left your hip. He dragged it across your stomach, slid it down the opposite thigh, and grabbed hold of it. Aizawa brought this leg further and higher up to the point of stretching your leg close to the edge of pain. You blushed deeper when you realized that he spread your legs wider for Hitoshi to play with you. Hitoshi rubbed his hand from back to front along the crotch seam of your jeans. Moisture gathered there as if your body was obeying his every command.

"Come on," urged Hitoshi. "You know you want to."

With a few more rubs, you were panting. You weren't sure if you screamed it or moaned, but you said it. You threw your head back, and with a groan, you said, "Yes, please. More."

That's all they needed. Hands and mouths immediately left. You whimpered at their absence, but you weren't going to be sad for long. Your world literally spun as Aizawa grabbed you, pinned you to the chalkboard, and pulled at the button and zipper of your pants. Hitoshi got rid of your socks and shoes and ripped off your hoodie. Fast hands pulled your top off and your bra. It was unfair that they only took off their shirts. You were about to protest this fact when Aizawa got down on his knees in front of you and spread your legs.

"Pay attention, Hitoshi. I'm about to show you exactly how you're supposed to please a woman."

You caught his hair by your fingers, twisting and pulling by the third stroke of Aizawa's tongue. He lapped from one end to your clit and back down. You quivered when he pulled your outer lips apart to reveal the hot button of yours hidden there. Aizawa brought his lips to your clit and sucked. He kept your legs apart by putting his hands on your thighs and pinched whenever they got too close to his head. After sucking your clit, Aizawa went back to licking your slit, which was now dripping to the floor.

"The trick is," he addressed Hitoshi without even wiping his mouth first. "Is to find the pace best for them. No two pussies are the same, and this kitty here is really sensitive. Watch."

Aizawa dove between your legs again and pressed his lips against your cunt. A rumble from his throat sent shockwaves through your body. He positively growling while slurping you up like an ice cream cone. You knocked your head into the chalkboard, which still had his lecture notes scrawled in that familiar handwriting. Your eyes nearly popped out of their sockets when Aizawa penetrated you with his tongue. He lapped at your inner walls and thrust in and out in preparation for the real thing. You had no doubts that one or both of them were going to filling you tonight. Judging by how eagerly Aizawa treated your cunt like an all-you-can-eat-buffet, you were assured of that much.

All the while, you felt more than saw Hitoshi's eyes on you. He watched Aizawa eat you out, then his gaze flickered to your face. Violet eyes fixed on you. Not wanting to disturb his dad hard at work, Hitoshi leaning against the chalkboard next to you. His hand once more grabbed your face and turned it towards him. Hitoshi brought you close to his face and pulled your lips towards his. He kissed you, and it was better than you ever dreamed about. A lot better than what you actually did dream about. His lips felt soft against yours. Soft but demanding. Hitoshi's kiss was so much more than just smooth. You felt his tongue swipe at your bottom lip, begging for entrance. He didn't need an invitation, but it was sweet of him to ask.

You parted your lips. Hitoshi imitated the movements of Aizawa's tongue in your cunt. He moved his tongue in and out of your mouth. The result made you moan and drool. Aizawa parted from you, making you whine.

"Whatever you're doing, keep doing it. She's about to come all over my face," said Aizawa before diving back in with more fervor this time.

The room filled with your sighs and the perverse sounds of Aizawa eating you. Hitoshi's other hand went to your breast. His fingers were more nimble than you thought they were. They performed magic on you. He twisted your nipple until it was rock hard and did the same for the other one. Your chest was heaving for air and in the heated pleasure of the moment. Hitoshi, let you breathe for a few minutes. He grinned down at you as he watched your face contort. You yanked on his father's head as something ripped out of you.

You crashed into your orgasm that you didn't even see coming (pun intended). Between Aizawa's stupendous tongue and Hitoshi's…everything, you wailed like a banshee. Aizawa sucked and sucked until your body could no longer handle the sensations. Aizawa came away with his mouth and chin soaked with your juices while the rest dribbled down your displayed cunt.

"Fuck," Hitoshi sighed, bringing you in for another kiss.

You were inclined to agree with him.

Aizawa rose from his knees. He wiped his mouth, spreading it over his arm. He sat on his desk, watching the two of you make out a little before breaking it off. Aizawa's lips were firmer than Hitoshi's, and he made no pretense of being gentle. You tasted yourself on him and shuddered.

"How do we do this?" Aizawa murmured to no one in particular. He moved a strand of (h/c) hair out of your face and tucked it behind your ear. "I've always wanted you bent over or splayed out on my desk. With Hitoshi here, that complicates things."

"Still could," suggested Hitoshi. "Though, it wouldn't be your desk. Where do you sit, Y/N?"

You answered quickly, and Hitoshi immediately went there. Aizawa held you up as he guided you over to your desk. As if reading his son's mind, Aizawa pressed down on the small of your back until you lay face-first into your desk. Hitoshi stood on the other side, working to undo his pants. He was inches from you, and you could reach him without effort.

Aizawa spread your legs and lifted your hips a little. You clutched your desk for dear life. You heard Aizawa adjusting himself behind you, but Hitoshi was on full display before you. Bristling violet hair made a treasure trail leading to his long cock. He moved his hand up and down its shaft while he refused to leave your eyes again. You watched a bead of pre-cum leak out of the reddened cock head while unaware that Aizawa fished himself out of his trousers. In one go, he was seated firmly in your heat. Your jaws unhinged, allowing Hitoshi to do the same to your throat. Both men groaned as your velvety walls enveloped them.

"Shit, that feels good," moaned Hitoshi.

Aizawa gave you an appreciated slap on your ass. "You're so tight, Y/N. How fucking long have you been holding out on us?"

With Hitoshi's cock inside you, you were only allowed to whimper and moan. Hitoshi bunched your hair at the back of your head in his hand while Aizawa set a bruising hold on your hips. Father and son looked at each other and nodded in agreement to some unspoken thing. Aizawa pulled back only to slam forward again. He moved first, and then Hitoshi shortly followed second. They timed their thrusts perfectly so that when one was buried deep in your body, the other pulled out almost to the tip of his cock. Each cock slid nearly the whole way out before getting shoved into one hole or another. Your arms were useless noodles clinging to your desktop like a life-saving raft. The desk's metal feet scraped the floor while your insides were being delightfully abused.

Tears streamed down your face. You were neither scared nor humiliated. The tears were a mere reaction to the overstimulation you received servicing father and son at the same time. Hitoshi reached to the back of your throat and made you gag. He tried to slow his pace so you wouldn't actually choke on him, but he was young and couldn't help himself. His dad, on the other hand, had more experience. He wasn't nearly as long as Hitoshi, but he made up for it in stoutness and skill gained only through experience. It wasn't just his cock rearranging your guts; his fingers left bruises and the hard grunts he let out when he pounded you. He evidently wasn't much of a talker.

"So good, baby. So good. Keep going. Fuck." Hitoshi loosened his hold on your hair a little bit and stroked your face and throat.

You hallowed out your cheeks. Looking up at Hitoshi, you worked to suck him off. His features screwed up as his eyes turned into a molten mixture. You could tell by instinct that he wanted to be the one fucking your cunt and had settled for your throat. You also felt how bad he wanted to see you swallow his come when it was time.

"Fuck," Hitoshi groaned. Sweat beaded down the side of his face. His hips moved faster, and his hand wandered.

You felt Hitoshi's fingers graze your throat. You shivered as those red-hot fingers held every intent on wrapping around your neck while he fucked your throat. You looked up at him and slowly nodded. Hitoshi gave you a test squeeze on your throat. Nothing to hurt or scare you with, just one squeeze. When you didn't convulse, groan in distress, or shake your head, Hitoshi put his whole hand down and squeezed for longer than a second. He felt his own cock being shoved and pulled from your throat. He pressed just a little tighter. It wasn't enough to restrict your airways, but the edges around your eyes started to blur.

"Such a good mouth. Good little cockslut, aren't you?" Hitoshi licked his hips. "Want me to blow my load? Want my cum down your throat?"

You nodded with enthusiasm. Hitoshi grabbed either side of your head and disregarded Aizawa's pace then drove his cock deep inside your throat. If you weren't choking before, you are now. Hitoshi rammed his hips into your face. His movements bounced the desk harder than before, and it was a good thing there weren't' any classes on the floor beneath this one.

Hitoshi shoved your face against his crotch as his cock swelled inside your mouth. Ropes of cum guzzled down your throat. He quickly pulled out before he was finished serving you his cum directly into your stomach. Cum splattered your face, hair, and, of course, the desk.

Having your throat painted white did something for you. The coil that had been building in your lower belly since the moment Aizawa and Hitoshi stuffed you full of their cocks snapped. Your body unwound itself around Aizawa's cock, still pulsing and moving inside your walls. You screamed this time, and Hitoshi did nothing to muffle the sound. You panted and continued to yell as you felt another coil begin to tighten within you. Aizawa's hips never stopped but only quickened. Watching you lose your mind spurred him on to take you faster, harder, and more thoroughly.

Aizawa pulled you up so that you stepped on the boots he kept on while fucking you. He pressed your back flush against his chest while he continued to fuck your cunt. You were red from head to toe when you felt Hitoshi watch you getting fucked by his father. He watched you bounce on Aizawa's cock like it was the most natural thing to do. With the nonchalance of somebody who didn't just cum down a girl's throat while his dad plowed her from behind, Hitoshi put on his shirt and gathered your things.

"He's right," Aizawa grunted. His pace was impossible to keep up with. Your walls clenched around him as you braced yourself for another one. "You're too good of a cock slut to let go. You're going to be our good girl, won't you?"

"Yes!" You screamed.

"Then take my load like a good little girl. I'm…going to fill that sweet cunt of yours."

Aizawa's hips snapped into a frenzy, beating your insides as if bruises didn't matter. Your inner walls clenched hard. Another wave spiked through you. Impaled on his cock, you let out a deep moan that felt like it came deep inside your soul's core. You shivered around him. Having you wrap so tightly around his cock, Aizawa pulled out to just the tip and shoved himself back in again. When he kissed your cervix, you bellowed as more cum shot into your body. Aizawa's spray lasted longer. There was so goddamn much of it that his cum leaked out of you when he eventually pulled out.

Hitoshi ran to get cleaning supplies and came back with an armload of warm, damp towels. He and Aizawa took their time cleaning you up, wiping away all traces of their cum with no small reluctance. They needed you presentable before you all left the building, but they didn't want their mark erased from your body just yet. While Hitoshi got rid of the evidence, Aizawa helped you into his leather-back chair and back into your clothes. When all was said and done, you were forced to hang onto them. Aizawa and Hitoshi half-carried you to the former's car. You sat in the back with your brows heavily furrowed.

"What's going on? Are we going somewhere?" You asked.

Your heart raced inside your chest; you had a feeling exactly where they were taking you. Your dorm was within walking distance. A car would be silly.

"First, we're going to get dinner," answered Aizawa as he buckled into the driver's seat.

"And then?" You dared to raise the question.

"And then we fuck you properly on a bed," Hitoshi finished.

---080---

1K notes · View notes

pars-ley · 3 years

Text

The couples package

Pairing: Yoongi x female reader

Summary: Asking one of your friends to pretend to be your boyfriend on an all expenses paid work trip seems like a great idea...until you discover couples therapy is also part of the package.

Genre: Fake dating au / friends to lovers / angst / fluff

Rating: 15 + (SFW)

Warnings: Explicit language / Therapy session / Making out

Word count: 2K

Notes: This is a request from my milestone drabble game (all my requests for it have been in the works for a million years, sorry it’s taken me so long!) for @unoriginal-username15432 I hope you enjoy this!

Beta Reader: @bluewhale52 thank you so much for your helpful suggestions.

"A free holiday?" Yoongi asks you, turning his head and raising a suspicious eyebrow. "What's the catch?"

You wince, hoping he'd just accept without question...you should have known better.

"Well, maybe it requires you to be my... partner."

"Huh? Your partner in what?"

You roll your eyes. "Life partner, Yoongi. My boyfriend, my other half, the love of my life you know."

His shoulders visibly tense. "I...I think that's weird, don't you?"

You pinch your nose, trying to ease the tension. "A little I guess, but Yoongi, I wouldn't ask if I wasn't desperate. The role that opens up for promotion is only ever filled by someone who's gone on this couple's retreat."

He turns to you, leaning back against his kitchen counter, arms crossed over his chest. "Are you telling me, you can only go to this resort if you're in a relationship?"

"Yes."

"That seems really-"

"I know, its stupid, unfair, should be illegal, but that's how it works and I really, really, really need this promotion Yoongi, so please…" you clasp your hands together in front of you, begging. "I'll get on my knees if you want." you can't help the suggestive tone in your voice knowing it will make him blush. And there's nothing you love more than seeing him flustered.

"Fine. I'll come." he avoids your eyes as the crimson hue spreads across his cheeks.

"Thank you!" you throw your arms around his neck and lock him in an embrace. "You'll enjoy it, I promise and I'll make it up to you big time."

"Yea, yea." he says, arms winding loosely around your waist.

You savour the moment. It's not very often he's physically affectionate with you, much to your dismay.

"Ok, start packing. I'll pick you up tomorrow morning sharp." you order, "You're my bestest, best friend ever!" you call out the door. Once you’re outside, you can't help the excited flip your stomach does. Not just at the prospect of being in line for this promotion but also the idea of playing house with Yoongi, of pretending to be everything you actually want, of an intimate glimpse at a life with him at your side. That's better than nothing.

As you step off the boat and onto the pale sand of the island, you bask in the warmth of the air, taking a deep breath and holding your face up to the sun.

A nudge in your back snaps you out of it. "You coming?" Yoongi’s voice by your ear sends a shiver down your spine.

You wind your arm through his, receiving an awkward sideways glance in response but you choose to ignore it.

Trudging through the sand, a guide leads you to the entrance of the resort. At the reception desk, a bell boy takes your bags and leads you up to your room.

Yoongi's jaw drops as you both walk in - a huge queen size bed, covered in delicate, red rose petals, is next to double doors that open up to the balcony, framed by thin, scarlet veil curtains billowing softly into the room. You tip the bellboy and he leaves with a smile.

"Wow, look at the size of this shower." Yoongi calls out to you.

Turning; you see a large bathroom with a roll top bath and a shower big enough to hold a conference in.

"I think it's designed that way for more than one person at a time." you fight the giggle, picturing the shocked look on his face as you start to unpack your suitcase.

Clearing his throat behind you, he says, "We have a problem."

"What's that?" you ask, shoving your underwear roughly in a drawer.

"There's only one bed."

"Oh no, disaster!" you mock him and laugh. "So what, are you telling me you can't share a huge bed like this with me for four days? There would be almost a whole continent between us in there."

He scrubs the back of his neck. "I guess so."

You had to admit, the idea of sharing a bed with him had excitement blooming heavily in your heart...among other places.

Yoongi heads outside to take a look at the view from the balcony, but a knock on the door distracts you from following.

Opening it, you see your boss' smiling face staring back at you. "Ah welcome, welcome!" she says pulling you in for a rapid, impersonal hug. "I'm so glad you're here. Listen, first thing on the agenda is couples counselling, so settle in briefly and meet us in conference room number 4, ok?"

She starts to head off but you pull her back by the arm. "Er, I'm sorry, couples counselling? No one mentioned this."

She gives you a sympathetic smile. "That's right, I forgot, it's your first time here! I'm so sorry. It's just part of the package here, you have a session once everyday."

You blink at her, picturing Yoongi's reaction to this added piece of news.

"Ok? I'll see you down there. Can't wait to meet him by the way." she grins, her eyes searching the room behind you before she heads off and leaves you staring at an empty corridor.

You swallow down your fear and close the door behind you, knowing this will be the first argument you have here but certainly not the last.

"Oh, Yoongi my dearest…"

You prop your head up on your hand trying to look interested as you sit in the room full of strangers, listening to their mundane grievances with their partners. The chairs are all set out in a circle so wherever you look, you meet eyes with someone.

You glance over at Yoongi, who is slouching in his chair with arms folded and tension rolling off him in waves. You are dreading your turn. He is definitely not an actor, he gets flushed when he's lying and he stutters. How on earth will this ever be convincing?

"Y/n, Yoongi, I'm sensing some friction between the two of you. Anything you want to discuss?"

You freeze, suddenly rigid in your chair as the counsellor directs his attention to you.

"No." Yoongi's deep voice sounds beside you, low and unamused.

"I'm sensing some hostility about being here? Therapy can help the two of you bond and become closer." he clasps his hands together in dramatic fashion, making you inwardly roll your eyes.

"We're fine. Bonded and close as we can be." he mumbles.

"Y/n, do you agree with that?" The therapist turns to you, all eyes now on your face.

"We are very close, yes." you swallow, feeling like you're under interrogation.

"And are you happy with your relationship the way it is?"

No. The room feels hot, too hot, as you're aware it's not lying that's bothering you; it's revealing the truth that's making your gut clench. You see Yoongi look your way from the corner of your eye, your silence must be confusing him.

"Y/n? You're in a safe place, you can speak openly here."

You barely hear the counsellor’s words over the wild thrum of your heart, and suddenly a word leaves your mouth before you can stop it.

"No."

The counsellor leaps forward, on the edge of his chair, practically hovering in mid air, eager to get more from you.

"Honesty is the path to mindfulness." he says. "What are you not happy about, y/n?"

"I want us to be closer." you say quietly. "I feel like he holds himself back from me."

The counsellor nods dramatically and looks straight at Yoongi for a response.

"How? I'm here with you aren't I, even though I didn't want to come."

Yoongi scoffs, turning in his seat to give you his undivided attention.

"What I'm hearing, Yoongi, is that maybe what you're offering isn't enough for y/n?" the counsellor says, leaning forward and giving him a pitying look.

You see Yoongi's neck flush, knowing he's about to lose it as the vein bulges prominently in his neck.

"And what I'm saying, counsellor, is that I don't see how it's any of your business what I offer her." He says with gritted teeth, his low growl holds a powerful bite in his words.

The therapist holds his hands up in surrender. "You're right, it's not, but you're here in my session and it seems like it's y/n who really wants to know. And it's definitely her business." He leans forward in his chair. "So tell her, what it is you're offering her."

"I'd offer her everything, anything I could. If she pulled her head out of her arse long enough she might realize that."

Your head snaps over to him, wondering if his acting skills have drastically improved or if…no, he must be acting.

"Have you told her this Yoongi, have you bared your soul for her?"

He scoffs again. "What difference would that make? She should know how I feel if she knows me that well."

You grind your teeth, annoyance running rampant through you. "I'm not a fucking mind reader, Yoongi. Am I supposed to guess what's going on in that big, dumb brain of yours?"

"For goodness sake, I want you to be my wife and have my kids one day! There. Are you happy? Clear enough for you?"

He slumps back aggressively in his chair, arms folded, face emblazoned with rage and embarrassment. All you can do is stare at him. You have no words to say as you're not entirely sure what to make of this heated exchange.

"Perfect. Guys, you've done really well this session. Unfortunately, time is up, but I'm going to enjoy working with you two. We've got lots to uncover, I can sense it." The man is almost vibrating with excitement and it unnerves you.

Yoongi leaves first, making a swift exit with you hot on his tail, not wanting to be confronted by anyone.

As soon as the door to your room closes, you find your voice again. "What the fuck was that?"

There is no response as he drags his suitcase from under the bed and starts wildly shoving clothes into it.

"Yoongi, what are you doing?"

"What does it look like? I'm leaving." He mumbles, eyes down and focused, body turned away from you.

"You can't leave after that!" You close some distance between you, fury boiling inside and bubbling over into the words spilling from your lips. "What about us!?"

He laughs a sad, exasperated laugh. "What about us? 'Us' will never be the same. I can't stick around to be pitied and pushed aside. I can't have you around me all the damn time not be able to hold you, I can't do it anymore, y/n. So please, don't ask me to."

You see his cheeks turn a bright shade of fuchsia, his hands clasp his clothing so hard his knuckles go white as he still refuses to look your way.

Your feet feel like they're rooted to the spot for a moment before you feel the ground come out from under you. A cloud captures you and floats you around the room, light and carefree. The words you think you'd never hear have finally been said and you cannot describe the pure elation and euphoria you feel.

You reach out to his shoulder, hoping to ground yourself as well as to offer comfort.

He sighs under your touch. "Please, don't."

His hands still and his shoulders slump. You grab him and turn him to you, lifting his chin till his gaze begrudgingly falls on you. Your heart is pounding hard in your chest from the promise in his words but also from the fear of being mistaken and rejected.

"I can't take it anymore, I need you. Right here. Right now." you whisper, voice husky and thick of want.

His eyes widen as he curiously examines your face.

"Please, Yoongi." you plead, hand drifting down to his, your fingers hesitantly entwining together with his. "I've waited so long for you."

His mouth crashes against yours in an instant and it takes your breath away. His sweet lips moving rapidly with yours, the taste of him enough to have your entire body throbbing violently with need.

His hands find you and pull you closer, your body now pressed tightly against him. The heat rising from him drives you crazy and as his scent swirls your senses, it makes it impossible to think of anything but him.

"God, you make me crazy, woman." He whispers against your mouth.

You can't help but smile as your hands find anchor in his hair. "Yea, but you love me for it."

He kisses you deep, softly massaging his lips against yours, caressing them in the most gentle way. You feel like your worries and problems have dissipated, leaving you light and full of adoration.

"No arguments there." He replies.

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kermitbread · 3 years

Text

hear me out—no, you will listen to me. sit down there and listen very carefully

I will bestow you a cat returns au... in the form of a list of erratic thoughts I've been having since 10pm last night I think I've gone batshit insane

part one of idk because I have too much going on in my brain to put it in a single list so here part two will be out maybe tomorrow

okay, so we have nene as our lovely protagonist

she thinks of herself as unassuming, just an ordinary girl

her best friend is mei and they're both in the same class together

nene has a crush on this one popular guy at their class but she's too shy to confess (even with mei's constant encouragement)

she doesn't really count on something utterly bizzare to happen to her while walking back home from school

while talking to mei, carrying the shovel she had borrowed from a neighbor to return

she spotted an orange cat run from a convenience store

now what was strange about this was that the cat was carrying a small white box wrapped in a red ribbon in it's mouth

nene questioned this, while mei didn't really see it as a big deal

the cat suddenly began to cross the road, not realizing the huge truck coming it's way

the driver won't be able to see a small cat like him, nene thought

she ran off, surprising mei as she approached the cat, who had froze in place upon seeing the incoming truck

she swung the shovel, scooping up the cat and flinging it to the bushes

she also luckily managed to step aside quickly enough to avoid getting run over by the truck

unfortunately she had dropped the shovel and the truck wheels snapped it's wooden handle into pieces

how was she going to explain that to her neighbor now?

she turned to the cat, and she couldn't believe her eyes

it was standing on its hind legs, dusting itself off like a human would

and it talked. it fucking talked

it thanked her for her kindness, and promised to reward her soon enough before picking the box back up and leaving

she could only sit there, dumbfounded, as mei ran up to her, yelling in concern

she regained her senses though, and continued back home without any more scuffle

"must have been my imagination. I'll just go to bed and forget all about this."

oh you were so wrong nene so so wrong

next thing she knows a parade of cats walking like humans stopped in front of her house

a cat in robes and spectacles introduced her to the supposed king of the cats

they had apparently wanted to thank her for rescuing the king's only son

a very frightening old man—erm, cat, sat in a portable throne, only addressing her through short sentences

and a brown spotted cat declared about the rewards she was going to be having tomorrow

nene didn't know why or how she was acting calm throughout the whole thing

but the next morning was chaos

cattails overgrew in the front of her house, catnip placed in her skirt pocket that attracted a lot of neighborhood cats, and bugs and rats in her locker

what kind of horrific rewards were these?! they were only things cats would enjoy!

even worse, she saw her crush hanging out with another girl, supposedly his girlfriend

as she wallows in her sorrow, the brown spotted cat from last night had visited her at school

she doesn't really pay attention as he tells her if she didn't like their first wave of gifts, she can get married to their prince

yeah. maybe marrying a cat prince would be good. cats had it easy, and she wouldn't have to worry anymore. no one would be bothered by her ever again.

wait.

the brown spotted cat took her mumbling to herself a yes, and before she could even properly tell him her refusal, he had already left

oh great. now she was going to get married to a cat. A fucking cat.

whatever will she do?

a girl's voice spoke to her, although she couldn't see where it was coming from

the voice told her to find the cat bureau, by finding the black cat that would lead her to it

ultimately, upon walking from school, she spots a black cat snoozing on an outdoor cafe's chair

she felt like an idiot, asking a cat, but she did it anyway

"are... you the black cat that I'm supposed to find?"

no answer. it was hopeless, anyway

"ah, what am I doing. you're just a stupid cat anyway. And I'm stupid for even doing this."

but the black cat suddenly meowed at her before she could leave, looking back at her with glowing yellow eyes

and it didn't look like it appreciated her stupid cat comment

it then tilted it's head, signalling her to follow it

nene had to go through literal ups and downs before she reached a quiet, peaceful spot she had never seen before

it looked like a miniature town, nifty looking houses built next to each other circling a fountain with a statue of a giant crow on the center

the black cat she had followed was now sitting on a chair in front of a bigger, white house, reading a newspaper like it was nobody's business

was this the place? she was about to ask when the sun had began to set, and lights began to shine from the houses

it was beautiful until the black cat interrupted

"oh come on, amane. no one wants to see your cheesy light shows."

the lights immediately died out, and before she knew it, the door of the white house opened, warm yellow light shining from the inside

one step. another one.

nene found herself staring down at another identical black cat, only this time... in a white suit?

he was definitely a cat, alright, but he had the proper proportions of a human

he tilted his hat at her, smiling

"welcome to the cat bureau, darling. we've been expecting you."

oh. so much charisma

#hananene #the cat returns #i'll reveal whos who later pls wait ahdjslsndhkdks #im so tired from my schoolwork so im taking a little time off with this #aaaaaaaaaaa

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thranduilsperkybutt · 3 years

Photo

Killer

Gif sources: 1 | 2 | 3

Pairings: Baron Helmut Zemo/Reader

Warnings: TFATWS Spoilers! Hurt/comfort, slight angst but hopeful ending, a little bit of spice 🤏 but it’s still solidly SFW and mostly near the end; insignificant character death; canon violence; Zemo being a menace not only to my heart but my mental health

Word Count: 11,932 words

Reader Gender: Female

Author: Meg

Summary: While tracking the Flag Smashers across Europe alongside Sam and Bucky, you suddenly find yourself in need of a hero. The man who comes to your rescue, however, is the villain of too many people’s stories to ever be mistaken for one. The lines between what is and what should be become blurrier, making it too easy to forget that you aren’t supposed to like Baron Helmut Zemo at all.

A/N: Based on a simple sentence my friend said in the middle of us both simping over Zemo together, which inspired a novel lolol 😂 Whoops! Sorry I’m so long-winded, but I hope you guys like this anyway!

Oh, this was not good.

So very, very not good.

A twisting grip on your arm, pain shooting up your shoulder and from the side where the knee of the supersoldier atop you digs into the flesh of your hip, pinning you down. Cement bites into your cheek like a taunt of the predicament you’ve gotten yourself into when he slams you into the ground. Wind knocked out of you, you feel the painful strain in your joints, and know that if your arm is pushed too much further at this sharp angle, it’s likely your shoulder will come out of socket.

A whimpered yelp that you can’t bite down escapes just as the supersoldier’s grip tightens when you struggle beneath him, desperate panic lacing your blood as you realize you can’t escape his grip. You remember the sight of the back of Sam and Bucky’s heads when they went off towards the east side of this warehouse, and for a brief moment you wonder if that’s the last you’ll see of them. Splitting up had been the last thing you wanted to do, but the maze of this place made it a necessity if you were to do the thorough sweep of the area for the group of Flag Smashers rumored to be taking shelter here.

Well, you found them, alright.

Why did you have to be the one to get stuck searching the west side with Zemo?

The reluctance you’d displayed when Sam initially split you up with Zemo wasn’t exactly one-hundred percent truthful, though, was it? God, maybe it made you stupid and foolish, but a secret, cursed part of your stomach had flipped with nervous anticipation at the thought of being entirely alone with him. Something which had only been accomplished briefly over these past few days of tracking the Smashers all over Europe.

A subtle glance in Zemo’s direction had revealed no such similar reaction on his part, his stare meeting yours. Distant and unreadable, is what he was.

Except for when he wasn’t. Distant, that is.

Except for when he treated you with a modicum of civility. No, you couldn’t even fool yourself into believing it was simple civility, or even whatever traditional ingrained gentlemanliness that a Baron of Sokovia would have been taught in his youth.

Zemo had treated you with something more than that, especially when no one else was looking.

Sometimes, even if they were, and you still hadn’t decided if that dangerous toeing of the line between animosity and flirtation was a manufactured tactic to manipulate you or not. Uncertain if you should be offended that Zemo figured you the weakest link of your companions, or if, in the case that his interest was genuine… it wasn’t, so no use dwelling on what you would do in that case.

What you should do, when he set upon you with that look in his eye, like he knew something about you that you didn’t.

Like at the end of Sam’s introductory speech detailing the plan of the warehouse sweep, where that lingering glance in Zemo’s direction had ended with a slight curve of his lips upwards. Looking bizarrely satisfied with the announcement of Sam’s plan, and you couldn’t tell if it was at the thought of hunting supersoldiers, or the strange, treacherous feeling swimming in your own gut--- that Zemo’s pleasure was even minimally at the truth of another opportunity to have you, all to himself.

It had been enough to make you tear your eyes away, but not enough to get his lingering stare to stop itching the back of your neck. Enough to make Bucky raise a brow at you, a wary look in his eyes as he observed the one member of your party who seemed at all pleased with the fact that you were all likely heading into a fight, or worse, nothing at all, in mere moments. A warning simmered in blue, Bucky’s unspoken, “be careful,” resting on the solemn line of his frown.

You’d been told it enough in the past few days, to be careful of Zemo. Terrorist, criminal, killer--- a portion of the words they’d used to describe Zemo.

At first, you were acutely aware of the warnings you’d been given, of the story they’d told you. The same one you’d heard pieces of from different sources. What had happened in Bucharest was national news, but to think that the man who had sat across from you on his private plane, tension thick in the air while a smile rested on his own lips, had been responsible… it had churned your stomach at first. Sitting there in his finery, attended by a footman, he seemed a strange visual for the description that predated your formal introduction to him.

And you had excused yourself to the bathroom, if only to escape the feeling. The animosity of Bucky’s conversation and the tension in Sam’s shoulders, the weight of curious eyes, which always seemed to glance back towards you.

He was unnerving, if only because of how peculiarly normal he seemed in certain moments. Approachable. Amiable, even. A predator’s façade, meant for you to wonder if he had truly been the kind of man capable of terrorizing Bucharest and your friends the way he had.

Which was how he looked at you, just like a predator sizing up new prey.

The quaint jet washroom could not be your solace forever, and you were inevitably forced to emerge, or face the embarrassment of worrying your companions with an abnormally long bathroom break. When you emerged, however, you found the murmured conversation to be of a slightly lighter tone, and soon discovered the reason for it when you nearly walked straight into the chest of the man you’d gone to the restroom to escape.

“Apologies,” he had said, as if you were not the one who almost ran straight into him, amusement dancing in his eyes as his body easily blocked the narrow aisle towards where Sam and Bucky sat further in. They’d not yet noticed your emergence from the restroom, and your hoped your quick glance towards them had not looked too desperate. Torn back to Zemo with the startling shock that he would even offer, “Would you enjoy a drink? I was just on my way to get a refill, you see,” he raised the short glass in his hand, ice clinking, empty otherwise. Your pause was pregnant enough that he eventually teased, “I promise not to poison you, if that is your concern, my dear.”

“No, thank you,” had been your curt answer, pushing down the heat that threatened to burn your cheeks at his familiarity with you when you attempted to move around him, forced by the narrow aisle to graze his chest with yours in order to return to the attention of your companions, ignoring the additional attention which had followed you from the aisle.

The outfit you discovered he had chosen for you upon landing on the outskirts of Madripoor was… just another reason to dislike him. The one relief was that it was comfortable enough to fight or run in, if need be, but nothing about it was sensible in the least. What the outfit lacked in cleavage, it made up for in its form-fitting style, leaving little to the imagination otherwise. You felt as if every inch was on display for the perusal of whoever simply cast their eyes upon you, regardless of how you would tug and pull at the fabric in an attempt to make certain areas less focal.

And then there was what he’d said about it, humming appreciatively when you emerged from the jet just after Bucky and Sam to be offered a hand by Zemo at the last step, if only to scrutinize you in this ridiculous outfit as you equally scrutinized him, donned in a fur-trimmed jacket that you reluctantly had to admit made him look… handsome, “Good. In that, you shall make a believable lover.”

You’d almost tripped that last step at his words, despite the firm grip keeping you upright, eyes wide as you heard Bucky choke on his own spit before collecting himself.

Zemo paused long enough that you think he simply enjoyed watching whatever conclusions you were jumping to flash upon your face until he clarified, just as you opened your mouth to demand an explanation, wishing there was some way to wipe the smirk from his lips, “Not my lover, of course,” a gesture towards Sam, “but that of our friend, the Smiling Tiger.” His smirk broke out into a proper grin as you snatched your hand from his, realizing your form complimented Sam’s own ridiculous outfit, as Zemo addressed him, “The source of your alias is known for philandering various women. Seeing the Smiling Tiger with another woman has become somewhat expected.”

“He takes different women with him, even to do business?” Sam raised a brow.

Zemo chuckled slightly, “Certainly not.”

“What am I supposed to be doing tonight if I’m not going to meet the contact with the rest of you?” jutting your chin out, you cross your arms over your chest, if only to attempt to appear as if Zemo didn’t utterly disarm you with the slip of his attention back to you, “I’m not here to stand around and look pretty, you know.”

“Although I’m certain you would excel at that,” Zemo had purred, your poker face almost breaking under the shock of his forwardness, wondering if he simply enjoyed toying with you--- if perhaps you were an easier read than you thought, “Madripoor is full of dangers, but no one would dare bother a woman who belonged to the Smiling Tiger. It is typically assumed that these women pose no threat in and of themselves, considering his habit of picking shallow, frivolous women who rarely realize they are not the only of their kind in his orbit. This assumption will offer you the perfect position to scout the outskirts of our interaction for anyone unsavory, who might try and interrupt us during our business tonight.” He reached out, pushing your hair from your shoulder, and you took effort not to flinch back at the ghost of a touch on your bare skin, “While you will undoubtedly draw the eyes of many, none who are searching for a potential threat will linger on you long.” Zemo’s teeth flashed with his smile, his hand returning to his side, delving into the pocket of his coat leisurely when he shrugged, “You are simply another beautiful woman on the arm of a dangerous man tonight. That is nothing new in Madripoor.”

“And just how loving is Smiling Tiger with his girlfriends?” Sam huffs, and you wondered if the apologetic look he cast your way was for Zemo’s behavior, or what would undoubtedly be his own tonight.

Striding forward towards the waiting car, Zemo glanced over his shoulder as he passed your companion, “Very. You might want to warm up to each other rather quickly, if that is to be an issue.”

But you’d done worse undercover before, and a night of flirting on the arm of Sam Wilson was the least of your worries, so you mimicked the shrug Zemo had given you, and fell into step beside Sam, “No problem.”

Sam nodded, “None for me, either.”

“Let’s just get this over with,” Bucky agreed with a clench of his jaw, marching after Zemo towards the car, and you remembered that whatever you had to endure tonight, would probably be only a fraction of the discomfort Bucky would feel at reliving his Winter Soldier days.

Even if it wasn’t real.

Part of you yearned for the weight of Sam’s hand in yours, his breath tickling your neck where he had kissed it for show, upon being left alone at the bar in this strange Babylon that was the Low Town of Madripoor. Not that you were incapable of defending yourself, but you were outnumbered--- really, you all were.

And you preferred for your only intel on the region to not have come from the single man in your company who you knew you couldn’t trust. Zemo’s word that no one would bother you, alone, in this ridiculous outfit, simply because they’d seen Sam--- or, the Smiling Tiger, as he was tonight--- all over you? Well, it wasn’t enough to put your mind at ease.

You tried to hide that unease behind the drink in your hand, thankful that you’d been given something fruitier and less daring than the drink Zemo had ordered for Sam, as your eyes scanned the bar, catching where the three of them had disappeared into the unknown of the one area you could not enter.

Technically, you could, but you’d have to take out the four--- no, five--- guards lingering in the main chamber of the bar, before doing so. You couldn’t do that without starting a scene, though, and there was no reason to do so until absolutely necessary.

Pushing away from the bar, your only indication of what was going on past those burly statues of guards flanking the way beyond was the sound of the earpiece in your ear, shaded from view by your hair. A whisper, compared to the throbbing music around you, but just loud enough with its closeness to make out the conversation you weren’t otherwise privy to. It was going well enough, as you moved throughout the bar, ensuring your counted five guards remained in their positions, with their relaxed posture, and counting a sixth one as he returned from the direction of the restrooms.

Some tried to stop you, to get you to dance with them, but a simple name of your alleged lover had sent them on their way easily enough. So perhaps Zemo had not been entirely untruthful, it seemed.

Then, the meeting had turned sour. Going south fast, and you watched as the two guards flanking your companion’s escape tilted towards their bulky earpieces, but you were on them before they could go further within, to where you now heard fighting in your own subtle earpiece.

Doing your best to sound like a bubbly drunk, you draped yourself between them, obstructing their path, “Oh, is this the way to the bathroom?” You were two steps into the hall, when one grabbed you by the arm, the other attempting to walk around you, but you easily blocked the way as you tumbled yourself into his arms, apparently losing your footing at the tug on your arm, “You don’t have to be so rough!”

“Get out the way, lady, this isn’t the bathroom,” the one whose arms you were haphazardly steadied with grunted, and you watched as the other slipped past you towards the beyond, his partner following close behind.

But by then you were halfway across the bar in a quick stride, hearing the hushed, “Meet us outside, we’re going out the back,” that Bucky murmured, just for you.

“No weapons,” Zemo added curtly. “We are not ready to cause a scene, my dear.”

The threatening chime of the phones around as you hit the front doors and pushed beyond, only to find that the clinging followed you even there, lifted up by the chill and stink of Madripoor’s Low Town air, had you growling out, “Looks like that scene’s already started, whether or not you want it to, Baron.”

You caught sight of them up ahead, walking just as briskly down the side-street, and nearly had to run to catch up to their pace. By the time you did fall into step beside Sam, the neon glow of the bar at your back went black with a heart-stopping shunt, right before the gunfire started.

Your only relief as Sam pushed you down with his ducking, was that whoever was firing the automatic weapon was not a good shot. Then, you ran.

But, from the corner of your eye, you saw the flap of a long coat, the swivel on firm calves, as Zemo turned to the side, and escaped beyond the adjacent alley, and, right then, you thought that would be the last you saw of him. Yet, you couldn’t be concerned with hunting him down, what with the gunfire coming from all directions, straight at you, Sam, and Bucky. Allowing the perfect moment for Zemo to slip away.

As you ran, heart pounding and barely registering the sound of your companion’s voices, you almost laughed bitterly with the hysteria of the chaos around you, and the thought that maybe Zemo had created it just to escape. Whether he did or not, it certainly worked to his advantage, and the rev of motorcycle engines biting at your heels reminded you that, like it or not, you couldn’t worry about where he had gone, down that side-street, at the current moment.

Blindly following Sam, who was blindly following Bucky, down the alleys of Low Town, you turned the next corner as a shot rang out. Not the same, quick bursts of an automatic, but rather, the loud, resounding hollowness of a sniper’s bullet.

Air brushing against your cheek, the deathly kiss of wind as the bullet moved past your head, and straight into the motorcyclist behind you. You barely breathed as the second, then third shot rang true, and your pursuers fell dead on the slick, black wetness that was Madripoor’s alley streets.

Just as Zemo emerged from the opposite end of the street, catching your bewildered stare as his own, matching confusion, accompanied a breathless, “You seem to have a guardian angel.”

Even by looking at her, you could tell Sharon Carter was anything but your guardian angel.

Madripoor had changed her. The events which had trapped her here had done even worse. Something bitter and estranged lingered under each word the former agent of S.H.I.E.L.D. said as she presented her story for the four of you. Enough to make you wary of her intentions, regardless of how helpful she may have seemed.

Despite the fact you had known her, when you, too, once worked for S.H.I.E.L.D.

“Well, this is just too perfect,” were her first words, when she’d come upon the four of you in that alleyway.

Too perfect, was right. Her High Town home, her art gallery full of stolen things, the undisclosed clientele she apparently kept, and expected, resulting in your hasty changing of clothes. It all was too perfect, even down to her tragic story of exile from the States. Something was off, but you had too much to worry about to concern yourself with picking apart the story of your host, your momentary refuge provided by her hand.

You wondered if Bucky could sense it, too, when he said, “She’s kind of awful now,” following her abrasive callousness in detailing the hypocrisy of heroism.

If not him, then perhaps the look Zemo sent your way could confirm your suspicions, but he buried it down behind the glass of whatever hard liquor he had acquired in her too perfect home. Nagel, Wilfred Nagel was who you should have been focusing on, rather than the question you nearly dared to ask Zemo right there, as Sam offered Sharon a pardon that you all knew relied on too many bureaucrats to ever be a certain promise.

The longer Zemo held your gaze, the less you concentrated on the conversation around you, until something of a party was mentioned, and the low promise of the, “Trouble,” that Sharon would find parted Zemo’s lips. You could believe that, more than whatever Sam had promised her.

The art gallery had taken on the atmosphere of a club, rather than some simple party. Music throbbed, louder than that of the bar earlier in the night, pulsing bodies to move in tandem with the beat of the sound. Veins, stretching out from the same, beating heart.

But further in, past the stage and the DJ, was a viewing of priceless art, which was certain to be priced and sold tonight. The business Sharon was conducting, the contacts she’d said she would work for information on Nagel’s location, were undoubtedly among the people gathered there.

Waiting around was rarely enjoyable.

Your group moved towards the open bar, but none of you looked to the bartender for a drink. Zemo’s eyes affixed along the dancefloor, surveying, as much as Sam or Bucky were. If someone were to look closely enough, in that moment, that simple glance would give away their training. Your eyes, however, traveled past them, catching the questioning glance Bucky sent your way as you moved to separate and disperse into the crowd of writhing bodies around you.

“I’m going to dance,” was your only explanation. If the three of them had not seen some potential threat in those few moments of surveying, then it likely wasn’t there.

Either way, Sharon had said, “Lay low, blend in, enjoy the party,” before sending you on your way.

That much, you could oblige her with.

Considering the dancefloor was a great percentage of the party, dancing also allowed you to survey the room without looking like you were gawking. Thankful to be back in your own clothes, the black on black and buckles of your light tactical wear fit in appropriately with the variety of party-goers around you. Tempo flaring, sweat and alcohol, adrenaline rushing your veins, for a moment you found you were enjoying yourself, after the initial sweep of the dancefloor had come up empty of threats. Or, well, anything that was immediately threatening to you.

Which is why you could have kicked yourself for letting what might have been the biggest threat in the room creep up on you, in that brief moment of thrumming ecstasy.

His hand caught in the buckled strap at your waist, pulling you into a firm back, not unlike other dancers around you had, but his breath smelled of bourbon as it ghosted your cheek, and the accented voice at his lips was enough to have you whirling in his arms, “Do you mind if I dance with you?”

In your defense, the last you’d seen of Zemo had been moments ago, across the bar as he perused the artwork with Sam and Bucky. You could hardly believe he’d crossed the room as quick as he had--- quick enough to catch you off-guard.

“What?” you question blandly, the mixture of unease and shock churning into something else that you wouldn’t dare admit as he offered a dazzling smile, and you suddenly realized you were still standing far too close, with the growing crowd around you.

He mistook your confusion for difficulty hearing over the blaring music, and leaned closer, to catch you by the ear, “Dance with me.” Not a question, this time.

He was close enough you could smell his cologne--- a rich scent, peppered with cinnamon, which had you wondering just how much he had paid for the bottle of whatever it was, or if it had been something Sokovian from before the fall. It was unlike anything you’d scented before. He even smelled expensive.

For a second time, you almost jumbled his question, though not from shock. The heat rising to your cheeks and the skip in your chest, you couldn’t convince yourself was entirely from the dancing or the light drink you’d had earlier in the evening.

His own cheeks were faintly pink, upon closer inspection, but otherwise there was no evidence in his smooth posture of the multiple glasses of liquor he’d had tonight, yet it’s enough to make him look warm--- perhaps not as cold as he once had appeared.

Human.

“We are to enjoy ourselves, are we not?” he suggested, as if that would push you toward one answer over another, and it worked.

“Yes,” your lips said it before your mind caught up with them, and his smile widened into a grin, as brief as it was.

“Then, dance, my dear.”

His own dancing was rigid, but he kept beat. Small movements which would not draw attention from anyone, yet were somehow the barest ability required to be considered dancing. As if he had little experience dancing to club music like this, though you couldn’t be sure. It was almost comical, yet no-one could laugh at him, since he miraculously managed to pull it off.

Well, you, at least, were able to bite back a chuckle at the sight of him. Something about it, about him, in that moment, dancing so awkwardly yet with so much confidence, brought a genuine smile to your face, as you danced alongside him.

And when he gestured in a round motion with his hand for you to spin, you did that, too, without a second thought. It was easy to forget, for only a second, when your eyes caught his in the strobing light and the smile upon his face, his hands coming together to clap for you in time with the pulsing beat between you, just who he was, and what he’d done.

Far too easy to forget.

But one glance towards the edges of the dance floor has you remembering, as you caught the movement of Bucky and Sam following after the slip of Sharon’s form. Bucky’s eyes bored into you, his jaw clenched. Displeasure written on his face, and you don’t think the sake of blending in would be enough to excuse your dancing with Zemo, or the enjoyment with which you’d done it.

“Perhaps, she has found our missing Doctor Nagel,” Zemo’s form was too close, all over again, and this time you do step away from him, if only a single step. It’s enough to breathe, to clear your head of whatever had overcome you moments before. He’s too busy looking after their three retreating forms to notice the guilt catching at the back of your throat, suffocating you for barely a second.

You ensure any proof of the feeling settling in your gut was gone by the time he cast his eyes towards you, the brown of his irises nearly black in the lowlight of a High Town party, but you didn’t keep his stare long, “Let’s find out.”

The sun was dawning when you emerged onto the street, and reached over your heads by the time you made your way to the water-side lot filled with shipping containers. Sharon’s intel had led you to it, and container four-two-six-one had come to your knowledge with little questioning on Sam and Bucky’s part, if only because she was an old friend.

You still wondered who would give her the location of such a prize as this, and what it had cost her, since you were slowly learning that nothing in Madripoor came free. Regardless of where she had received the information, it had been where Nagel was hidden, along with the remainder of his serum research.

It had also been where the bounty hunters of Madripoor descended upon you.

Dr. Nagel was a young, lanky man who had barely finished his exposition of where to possibly find the Flag Smashers who had stolen his serum when the very man you had danced so happily with not two hours before shot a bullet right through his heart. All you could think, in the stunning moment of realization that Nagel had been dead before he even hit the ground, was how stupid you were to ever let your guard down around this man--- this killer.

“What did you do?” Sharon’s cry rang in your ears as the gun clattered to the ground from Zemo’s hand, jolting you into action from staring at Nagel’s body to turn on them. Catching Zemo’s cold eyes--- no remorse within them--- as Sam and Sharon struggled to pin him to the grated shelves of Nagel’s lab. You think you might hate him, just in time for the blast of an explosion to push you face first into the metal slatted floor of Nagel’s bunker.

That hate was all you had left to fuel you from getting up off the floor, bones creaking as flames danced in your peripheral, a hole blown through the side of the crate. That anger, and the grasp of Sam’s hands on your forearm, pulling you up after he got his own footing.

Zemo had been gone by the time you had enough sense to scan the area, but there would be no searching for him this time, either, as the bounty hunters descended upon your location with the ease of wolves circling their prey. Shooting out from cover, you knew the bullets of your pistol weren’t enough to last you for all of them, and they had you pinned.

Part of you still hated him, even when he saved your asses. Another part wondered why he even bothered.

You hoped you radiated that hatred when you got into the back of that getaway car he’d found, too sullen to even wish Sharon a farewell, let alone offer a smile at the cheeky attitude Zemo had pulled up in it with. After everything, it only made you stew more--- his nonchalance. If you were being truly honest, you were angrier still at yourself, and the thought that he’d played you like a fiddle. If you had kept your guard up and kept an eye on him, perhaps Nagel would still be alive. Perhaps you wouldn’t feel like Zemo was playing this two steps ahead of the rest of you.

Even on the plane out of Madripoor, you had sat in sullen silence, refusing so much as to look at Zemo, even when he offered you food.

You hoped your sharp, “I’m not hungry, thanks,” cut deep, as childish as it may sound. You didn’t bother to look long enough in his direction to see if it had. Speaking exclusively to Sam and Bucky, even when Zemo changed your course to Latvia, you had not spoken a word to him until you landed in Riga, and his conversation turned towards Sokovia.

“Erased from the map,” he clicked his tongue, but his pace didn’t slow, when he spoke in what was as much an accusation as a question, “I don’t suppose any of you bothered to visit the memorial?” Met with silence when he looked upon Sam, he turned his eyes toward Bucky, then you, and it was the longest you’d dared hold his gaze since he killed Nagel, when he scathingly said, “Of course not. Why would you?” Nodding towards an old set of double doors, he drops the subject as suddenly as he’d brought it up, “We are here.”

Your traitorous heart clenched as you watched him disappear beyond them, Bucky remaining by your side while you lingered at the bottom of the steps leading into the residence.

“I’ll be back,” Bucky murmured, glancing your way, to which you silently nodded, too troubled by the fact that you felt anything at all akin to pity for that horrible man to worry where your friend might have to wander to in the middle of Latvia. Zemo was, undeniably, horrible, wasn’t he?

A huff of annoyance blew past your lips as you marched the steps towards where Sam and that man had disappeared beyond. Maybe you were just getting soft in your old age, or something.

Yeah, that had to be it.

What you hadn’t expected was for Sam to meet you at the doorway to Zemo’s… loft? Loft.

“I’m gonna’ hit the corner store, if you’re alright to watch you-know-who,” Sam murmured low, and you scrambled for words to say aside from the hell no which threatened to spill from your lips. “He’s in the shower, so maybe he’ll be a while anyway.” Glancing over your shoulder, Sam’s brow furrowed, “Where’s Bucky?”

“Said he’d be back,” you looked behind yourself, as if expecting to find him there. “Don’t know where he ran off to, though.”

A questioning breath was sucked through Sam’s teeth, before he let it out in a sigh, affixing you with a, “You good?”

With babysitting Zemo?

No.

“Yeah, go,” you had ushered him out the door despite your current feeling towards the subject, and by the time you shut the door behind him and rummaged into the kitchen area to ransack the refrigerator, you realized why Sam was going to the corner store. This place was positively barren of the necessities. Groaning in disappointment, you lean your head back in a silent cry to the heavens. Why was nothing going right on this mission? You were starving, and hadn’t gotten a wink of sleep on the plane over.

Standing there for a moment, you let the cold air hit your skin, daring it to keep you awake.

The door to the washroom pushing open grasps your reluctant attention, head lulling to the side slightly as you shut the empty refrigerator. There he was, the bastard, clad only in a robe and lounge pants, pushing a folded towel along his neck, catching the water there which dripped from his semi-dry hair.

Footsteps softened by the slippers at his feet, he asks upon taking a look around the room to find only your presence there, “And where have your soldiers run off to?”

You grit your teeth, forced to answer him, “Sam went to the store, because you don’t keep your safe houses stocked with food.”

“This is not a safe house,” he murmurs, coming close enough that the sun streaming through the floor-to-ceiling windows catches along something gold glinting at his throat. Large hands lower the towel and fold it neatly, as your gaze lingers, observing the necklace where it delves into his chest, a view allowed by the robe’s relaxed fit, just open enough to reveal the soft hairs there. You snap your eyes back up before you can stay there for too long, and Zemo is smiling slightly. Bastard caught you.

“What is it then?”

“A vacation home.” For a pitiful instant, your mind sent you images of the family he’d lost in Sokovia. The last thing you needed was to feel sorry for him, so you clear your throat, shaking off the thought of what was missing. What had led to who he’d become. Your pity thankfully didn’t show as he moved ever closer into the kitchen, feet stopping just before your own so that he could look you down. You couldn’t help but grasp the counter you leant yourself upon until your knuckles blanched under his scrutiny, nearly on the verge of demanding he explain what his problem was, until he nodded to the cabinet beside your head, “Excuse me.”

You almost jumped out of his way.

Watching, desperately clawing for the anger that had been so comfortingly oppressive in your chest earlier in the morning, because anything was better than lingering on the cut of his jawline, or the way his robe dipped as he reached for that very cabinet you had been standing in the way of a moment before. Anything else, focus on anything else.

When he opened it, your eyes snapped to the few jars within. Olives and fruit lined the shelves in twistable jars, flanked by large bottles of that same dark liquor he seemed to favor, and a tin of coffee beans. In the back, nestled away for a rainy day, was a box of Turkish delight.

“Ah,” he breathed pleasantly, shooting you a cheshire grin, “so it is not entirely as empty as you thought.”

Bastard, bastard, bastard---

The word rings in your head like a mantra as you feel the anger crumbling, fading away with each second he looked at you like that. What was wrong with you, to be this easy? Something had to be.

His eyes were thankfully torn away when he looked into the cabinet once more, plucking the fruit--- peaches, looked like--- from the shelf, along with the coffee and candy, “I doubt you would like to eat pickled olives alone.” He says it, right before he closes the cabinet, and reaches out with the jar of peaches towards you.

Blinking up at him, you don’t dare take them, genuinely curious, “They’re not for you?”

“You did not eat on the plane, and it has been hours, now; you must be starving.”

You’re surprised he even cared, or made the appearance of caring, but that shrivel of spiteful anger you clutched onto with all your might refused to take them from his hand, despite the growl in your stomach, “Sam will be back soon enough with food.” Turning on your heel to keep yourself from going back and snatching them away like a starving animal, you move to the other side of the kitchen.

His jaw is set when you look back at him at the sharp tap of glass and metal along the countertop. Zemo’s fingers clutched the jar and coffee tin with a fury that was only revealed in the depths of his dark eyes, watching you move across the living room without so much as a word.

Until you sat down, and he breathed calmly, so calmly, that you knew it was the calm before the storm, “Am I to expect you to act as a petulant child for the remainder of the mission, or shall I ready myself for you to come to your senses?”

You scoffed at him, “Excuse me?”

“Please do not make me repeat myself, my dear.”

“I’m sorry, Baron,” you grit with as little remorse as possible, that once-simmering anger nearly boiling again, “that I don’t want to trade peaches with a man who murdered someone not two feet from where I stood.”

“Try again.”

“What?”

“Try, again,” he breathed slowly, as if he had to do so to keep himself from breaking into some fit of rage. You’d never seen him enraged, even when he fought and killed, he was always a deathly calm, and some sick, twisted part of you wanted to see him truly, frightfully angry, “You don’t treat Wilson and Barnes with this childish disdain, despite them killing countless people in your presence.”

“Don’t even compare yourself to them. You killed an unarmed man!”

“I do not wish to litigate the details of what may or may not have happened---”

“‘Litigate?’” you rose to your feet from the couch, not even realizing that he had half-way crossed the room by the time you did, “Do you even hear yourself? You put a bullet in his heart! What is there to litigate?”

“He was a threat.”

“He could have been arrested, or---”

“Criminals can escape prisons,” he bit, nearly in each other’s faces by the time you laughed at your own bitter answer.

“What? Like you?”

“Precisely,” he agreed, and you met his glare with one just as heated, until something shifted in his gaze. A sort of dawning understanding that muddled his glare, until a raise of his brow accompanied the easing tension in his shoulders, and you already knew you weren’t going to like what he was going to say before he’d even said it, “Is that what bothers you?”

“What?” you ask warily.

“That I am considered a criminal.”

“You’re a killer.”

“My question stands, regardless.”

“I’ve worked with criminals before,” you shook your head, making to turn back to the couch, but a fast grip at your upper arm stopped you in your tracks, and he was far too close all over again. Suffocating you with his closeness, with the oppressive cleanliness and water his scent still carried from his recent shower. Ungloved, his fingers were warm, radiating through the sleeve of your shirt, digging firmly into the pliant flesh of your bicep.

His breath carried the faint smell of mint that comes after a fresh brushing as it wafted past your skin alongside his demanding amusement, and your stomach dropped dreadfully when he teased, “Ah, but you danced with me.”

Have you ever let someone you didn’t trust get too close?

The question seemed to dance in the black endlessness of his dilated pupils, rimmed with the deceptive warm brown of his irises. You were so close that you could notice the gold flecks in them which caught in the sunlight streaming from the window, something you otherwise would have missed. A dare in the dangerous flick of his lashes, he glanced to your lips and back; was he all too aware of your closeness, too?

The reflexive dart of your tongue to wet your lips gave you away, face burning hot with anger and embarrassment, and you ripped yourself from his grip, “I don’t know what you’re implying.”

“I’m sure you’re clever enough to figure it out,” is his sarcastic counter, a satisfied smirk which said he had all the answer he needed already left you wishing there were some way to rip it from his face, because were you really that obvious? Or was he just that good at reading people?

This time, when you headed to sit back on the couch, he simply stood there, allowing you to be unobstructed. You plopped down upon the couch with all the defeat you felt at his satisfaction, lying down in the hope that if you ignored him, he’d simply go away.

When you hear the sound of his slippers along the floor, signaling his departure from your side, the distant shuffle paused in their tracks when you couldn’t help yourself from asking, “Why did you come back?”

“Hmm?”

“When we were in Madripoor,” you breathed slowly, curiosity overcoming your anger, “you had escaped us twice. It was the perfect chance to run for your freedom. Why come back?”

You don’t dare open your eyes, even with the length of his pause, before he answers, a solemn honesty in his voice, “This is not a mission which I can abandon. I must see it through.”

You almost asked him why, once again, but thought better of it. Something told you he wouldn’t have given you a straight answer, either way.

Just when you think he’d gone on his way, the shuffling sound of his slippers closed in once more. Tempted to look, your curiosity at his approach was answered with the sharp sound of glass clicking against the wooden coffee table.

“Feel for me as you will, but eat,” his voice is low, soft. You don’t know if it was the straining of your ears to make up for what you would not see, but you could have sworn you heard an apologetic tone when he added, “You’re no use if you lack the strength to fight your enemies. As you are now, anyone could overpower you if they wished.”

That earns him a peek of a glare from out of the corner of your eye, and you earn a stern look in return as he nods towards the canned peaches on the table.

You couldn’t help yourself from asking sarcastically, before cracking a small smile, “So, are the Flag Smashers about to propel from the ceilings to catch us unaware, or is it you I should be worried about overpowering me?”

No apologies, from either party, but his dark chuckle is enough to set your soul aflame when he teases, sounding too much like a promise, “I would only overpower you, should you to ask me to.”

And that was when you realized how your question had come across. The burning in your face only increases as you sat up sharply at his words, about to protest that it had not been what you meant by them, but the doors to the loft opened, saving you the embarrassment of that conversation.

“Where’s Sam?” Bucky asks, and Zemo leans away from the coffee table, freeing you from the sweltering scrutiny of his gaze.

“I’m afraid we are running low on groceries, and he was so kind as to do the shopping for us,” Zemo explained innocently enough, but Bucky’s eyes narrowed at him regardless.

“Speaking of going out,” you reached for the jar of peaches, feeling Zemo’s glance upon you as you popped the top open, “where’ve you been?”

“I saw an old friend,” Bucky grumbled, shrugging off your question as he moved towards the washroom, “I’ll tell you when Sam gets back.”

The door closed behind him with a certain finality on the subject, at least until Sam returned. By the time you looked back towards Zemo, he was fiddling with the box of candy.

“I shall put the coffee on,” he announced, glancing to catch your eye with the flick of a candy wrapper glinting between his fingertips, offering, “Turkish delight?”

Upon Sam’s return, the news that Bucky’s old friend had been a warrior of Wakanda was a bad one, at least for Zemo. But with bad news came good news, and soon enough you were following the trail of the Flag Smashers once again, even if that meant the Wakandans were following your trail.

Hours turned to days, and by the end of a weeklong trek across Europe filled with close-quarters and even closer encounters with your Sokovian prisoner, you were standing in front of the dingy warehouse which had found you in this final, terrifying predicament.

Wondering if it had all been pointless, to be snuffed out at the hand of the supersoldier above you, pushing you into the dirty concrete. He wouldn’t need a gun to end you, and you both knew it. So you might have been panicking, with how savagely you pulled in his grasp. A trapped animal, fighting to get free.

Blood rushing to your head fills your ears, catching the first sight of the man pushing you into the ground just barely out of the corner of your eye, and the dark mask covering his face with a handprint. You could make out that he was light-skinned, dark hair pushing down past his chin, young enough to make you wonder just how old he was, and if yours would be the first life he’d take.

His voice is softer than you expected, for someone who sounded so terrifying when he began his order of, “Stop struggli---”

The bullet that rips through his neck tears his grip away from your body, ringing off the hollow echo of the room for just the moment it took the eyes beyond the frame of his mask to widen and dilate as they looked into your own. Green.

His eyes were green.

Silence far too sudden for the adrenaline of the close gunshot not to shake you to your core.

The supersoldier is dead before he hits the ground, and you’re pushing yourself up on aching joints to get on your feet as quickly as possible, until the familiar voice of your companion meets your ears in a thick, Sokovian accent, “He did not hurt you.” It’s flat, not hitching into a recognizable question at the end, but the dark eyes of your savior seem to question you despite the cracking disinterest of his tone.

There was no denying you were happy to see him.

“Zemo,” it’s breathless, and sounds too much like a hoarse relief for your own liking, so you focus instead on rolling your bruised shoulder and avoiding the searing gaze upon you, trying not to appear as shaken as you truly were, “Not anything I can’t walk off.” The sound of something muttered in Sokovian under his breath brings you to look upon him again, finding that his gun lingers along his hip, locked in the tight, leather-gloved grip. He looks displeased, lips set into a tight line that suggests he’s angry, even, but not in the same way he had been in Latvia. This was worse, a colder, solemn anger that threatened the fire behind his eyes, threatening to burn this whole place to the ground, and you can only question, “What is it?”

“Undoubtedly any others remaining here have been alerted by the noise,” Zemo says curtly, turning towards the hallway from whence you came. He is angry, you manage to confirm, when he bites across his shoulder, “Mind your surroundings this time, so that you don’t find yourself pathetically helpless again.”

His words were scathing, but they’re meant to be. Even worse, you know he’s right. This dead one, whose blood was splattered over the top half of your tactical gear, had crept up on you too softly, and was too strong to shake off once he’d gotten hold of you.

Constructed to kill, thanks to the serum.

Even going into a fully aware fight, you were at a disadvantage, especially in close quarters. It was something he understood. Something he used repeatedly in his own strategy against opponents which were physically stronger in every way.

Your only hope of an upper hand had to come from either distance, or subterfuge. At least, if you weren’t accompanied by Bucky or Sam.

You’re lucky, despite the burning ache in your side and back, that it hadn’t been worse than it was, and that Zemo had come upon you as he did.

“Remain close,” he murmurs, as you emerge out into the hall, and you don’t dare to argue with him on it, even if you might have had the situation which just transpired not done so. Clearing the upper west floors were methodical, swift, and it became apparent by the third that whoever had been here was gone, either before or after Zemo’s gunshot had rung true.

Bucky and Sam appeared winded when you regrouped at the designated meeting point, and you didn’t have to wait for Bucky’s explanation to guess what had occurred, “We tangled with a few of them. They got away, but we got another lead from what they left behind…” Bucky trailed off, swapping a glance with Sam at the sight of your disheveled state.

“What happened to you two?” Sam’s eyes dart between your torn clothes and the scrapes along your skin towards Zemo’s tense, rigid frame.

“I was jumped by one,” you grit, embarrassed enough that he’d caught you off-guard without even verbalizing it, “he had me on my stomach, but Zemo, he---” you clear your throat, remembering the vacant green stare and splash of deep, vibrant red that had accompanied your rescue.

“It has been handled,” Zemo supplies for you, and before Sam could question him further, he adds, “the man is dead.”

The blood along your black tactical gear has dried by now, but it’s black stickiness must be ever apparent for them now, as Bucky sighs a weary, “Well, shit.”

“Are you okay?”

You open your mouth to answer Sam, but Zemo gruffly responds, “She’ll live,” before brushing past the two of them towards where the car which would take you back into the heart of the city was waiting.

“What’s wrong with him?” Sam wonders, when Zemo is far enough ahead that he can’t hear the question.

“You want a list?” Bucky grumbles dismissively, stretching his metal arm in a wide circle that suggested it had set peculiarly after his last fight.

Your throat tightens, and you try your best to keep from remembering that helpless, desperate feeling which had drenched your soul as the supersoldier pinned you to the concrete.

Forcing a humorless laugh, you offer up a half-hearted explanation, daring it to sound as unbothered as you wished you truly were, “Maybe he regrets the bullet he spent saving me.”

Bucky’s exhale is somewhere between a bitter laugh and sigh, “Who knows, with him.”

As much as you wished for it, you couldn’t be sure if those words you’d spoken didn’t ring true.

“Whatever,” Sam agrees, dismissively rubbing the back of his neck. Redirecting back on the target of chasing the Flag Smashers, you hoped you’d get a step ahead of them soon when Sam instigates your following of Zemo to the car, “We’d better get back to the motel and regroup. Got an early day ahead of us tomorrow.”

The, “yeah,” you supply the back of their heads with, finding yourself following after them, is almost as distant as you felt. Internalized, and thrumming with the melting adrenaline which made way for exhaustion to settle into your bones and take hold.

Yet, you can’t get that deathly, dilating green out of your mind, or the ghost clinging to the ache in your back, where murderous weight had been.

Zemo did not meet your eye the whole ride to the motel--- and it was nothing like the dazzling vacation home Zemo had introduced you all to in Riga. Complete with plain walls and shuttered windows, the view of Prague you received from the window set in the dead center of the narrow bedroom was that of the wall of the building opposite. Utility, over luxury, but privacy had been key, as well.

He had retired to his own room just as soon as you’d set foot before it, bizarrely silent in that same way that you had come to realize could never be a good thing, because it meant Zemo was lost in his own head. Neither Sam nor Bucky made note of it, at least aloud, and so you held your tongue as well, rather than acknowledge the dark cloud which seemed to follow the man as he disappeared beyond the click of the motel room door.

“We can trade,” breaks you from your intense scrutiny of that door, key card clutched firmly in hand as you glance towards where Bucky stiffly supplies, “I don’t blame you if you’re not okay with it. You can stay with Sam instead.”

Your heart clenches, and for a moment you’re brought out of your remembrance of the Flag Smasher’s body atop your own by the offer, somewhat touched that he would take your place as Zemo’s keeper tonight at the sacrifice of his own comfort. Even after all that Zemo had done to him, he would take the bed which you had agreed to sleep in earlier, when the motel owner had explained the issue of limited capacity.

You can see the apprehension behind his eyes, despite his generous offer. He was still unsettled by Zemo, and, if you were being honest, so were you. You won’t make him do that for you, all so that you can avoid whatever tension lingering between you and Zemo.

Instead, you pat Bucky in the chest gently with the palm of your hand and swallow down the nauseous churn of your stomach, forcing a light tone, “I’m a big girl, Bucky, but if he gives me any trouble, I’ll shout for you guys. How’s that sound?”

“If he gives you a chance to shout,” Bucky frowns.

“Well, if he suffocates me in my sleep, I’ll haunt him forever,” it’s meant to be teasing, but it comes out dry.

“Our side will be unlocked, just in case,” Sam mentions, lingering in the open doorway of the adjoining room, “might wanna’ unlock yours, too.”

“Or else I’ll just have to break through it if anything happens,” Bucky’s tone is just as dry. Tired. This chase was wearing on you all, and you could only hope that tomorrow would be different than today.

Slipping the key card along the door, it whirs to life with a click. The acceptance of your entry indicated by the green glow of the lock’s internal light. Slipping into the room, you rest your back against the shut door, willing the green remembrance of your attacker’s eyes to shake from your head.

Your death-grip on the key card doesn’t ease as the bathroom door opens, and you catch sight of Zemo. He’s shed his jacket, left in that dark turtleneck and slacks. His hair had fallen, ever so slightly, from its perfected part against his forehead. The tips of a few strands there are dark with a dampness which evidenced the water he must have splashed his face with before emerging from the restroom.

His hands are free of his gloves as he flexes them at his sides, pausing for but a moment of acknowledgement at your presence before he goes further into the room, towards the full bed near the window which he must claim as his own. The jacket lies there, until he retrieves it to hang in the closet on one of the wooden hangers provided within.

Not a word. You don’t know if it should make you relieved or concerned, but truthfully, it makes you feel nothing. Because you’re still standing at the door by the time he turns from the closet, staring unfocused at the floor before you and screaming internally to pull yourself together when he does it for you.

“Are you going to stand there for the remainder of the night?” Curtly, “If my presence has you so paralyzed with fear, you may as well take up your soldier’s offer to switch rooms.”

His voice holds an edge, despite the deceptively smooth calmness to it. A taunting, instigating bait hung there. As if he were still angry at you.

And for what? For getting attacked?

The thought sends white-hot, simmering rage swelling in your own chest. Did he think you a nuisance, after having to save you from that brute of a supersoldier this evening? It had been a sneak-attack! You doubt even having your wits about you would have helped catch the silence with which you’d been crept up on in that warehouse, now that you’d had time to replay every second of it in your mind twofold.

Glaring at him with that fire in your eyes, was better than that frightfully distant look you’d held a moment before, he thought.

“What do you want from me?” comes biting from your teeth, bared at him as you bristled under the cold anger of his own stare.

“There is nothing you could possibly offer me that I would want,” he strikes back.

Snake, meet wolf.

“As if I would offer you anything at all after the way you’ve acted,” it’s an effort to keep your voice from rising. You want to fight; to feel something other than the crippling terror that had nearly killed you this evening--- that panic, which had gripped your heart until it felt like it bled.

“The way I’ve acted?” Zemo’s demeanor changes, flaring rage in his eyes as he stalks across the room. It takes everything you have not to wilt in his approach, but to instead glare right back at him, even when he crowds you up against the door, palm coming flat against where your head resides. His voice doesn’t rise with his seething fury, but rather, lowers into a tone that turns your blood cold as it rushes through the heat his closeness spreads through you, “I am not the one who almost got myself killed.”

“Well,” you struggle to remain even, as you breathe all the disdain you can muster into your words, “I’m not going to apologize for you having to save me.”

His head tilts to the side, snarling through his thick accent at the thought, “I do not want an apology for that.”

Standing straight from your leaning on the door, if only to feel as if you were invading his space rather than the other way around, you find that he leans away ever so slightly when you snap, “I’m not going to thank you for it, either.”

“Thank me for---?” he stops himself with a clench of his jaw, breathing slowly through his nose, as if to calm the crackling fire behind his eyes as his glare burns into your own. Too close; he’s still standing much too close.

And he moves so quickly you have zero chance of escaping his path. The hand he didn’t have laid flat on the door pushes you roughly by the shoulder, into it. By the time your mouth is open to even yelp in surprise, it’s suffocated by the hasty press of his lips against yours. Searing, pressing the length of his body firm against your own as he kisses you with all the wild fury his eyes betrayed. Nothing was left of the collected calmness of his posture or voice from before, as his hand on your shoulder digs into the hair at the nape of your neck, tugging you into him.

Not that you needed to be coaxed, with the way your fingers dig and scrape into the fabric along his chest, his shoulders, his throat, his hair. Digging in, his part is destroyed as you nip at his lips, teeth and tongue distracting you from any fragment of sense that was left screaming at you to remember it. To remember who he was, and how things are supposed to be between you.

Which was definitively the opposite of this. His hands were never supposed to find themselves fistfuls of your hair, your hip, your flesh, as they did now. You were never supposed to know that he tasted like something sweet, or felt soft beneath the hard lines of his turtleneck.

He was dragging, pulling, tumbling with you away from the door, as anger and fury melted into a complex, sweltering mixture of something else entirely, heat burning through your core when he tugged at the buckles of your tactical gear.

The world turns sideways, and then you’re falling upon something soft--- the mattress creaking beneath your weight and the weight of him kneeling atop you as you dragged him down to your lips once again. Rough, not gentle, as you arched into him and tugged at his hair, a breathy groan escaping into your mouth from his own.

He inhales sharply, as if suddenly realizing the position you were both in, as his fingertips grazed the bare skin of your waist, where your shirt had become untucked from your pants.

Breaking, parting, breathless, he stares down at you. Brown eyes blown wide and dilated, staring at you like a deer in the headlights--- perhaps the most honest expression you’d ever seen on Zemo’s face.

You were no better, sprawled along the comforter and trying to catch your breath. A single question ringing around your brain in search of an answer, any answer.

What are you doing? What are you doing?

“I,” he breathes softly, in a lilting apologetical tone, and you realize he’s between your legs, hooked along his hips precariously. Your anger dissipates, evaporating like it had been burned away with the roaring flames he’d ignited within you, and he clears his throat slightly. Troubled is how he looks, when his eyes become incapable of holding your own, “I can’t do this.”

No apology, though it may as well be there, in the way he said it.

Though you know he’s keeping you from a terrible mistake, part of you is lying when you murmur, “It’s okay,” back up to him.

“Yane mogu etogo sdelat,” he leans down, as if collapsing under the pressure of whatever he was feeling, right into the curve of your stomach. Sokovian, you register faintly, as another reverent, “I can’t do this,” falls from his lips to be muffled in the fabric between you.

Your hand finds his head, fingers carding through his hair reflexively, and you don’t know if it’s from the shock of your situation or a genuine desire to comfort him, when you repeat, even softer, “It’s okay, Helmut.”

It’s the first time you’ve called him by his first name, you realize.

Maybe it’s the fact that he was still tangled up in you, or the fact that you’d been mere moments away from letting him have his way with you, but you don’t dare move from this spot. From pushing your fingertips against the crown of his scalp, or the weight of him against you. Neither does he, as he breathes raggedly for a moment against your stomach, face buried there.

Breaking the silence almost feels wrong, but you do it anyway. A compulsive, desperate need to do so crawls up your throat, until you can’t contain the words any longer.

Reaching down, finding the curve of his jaw, you pull, until he lifts his head enough to peer over the curve of your chest to meet your eye, questioning after a moment of peering into the lingering want, and tragic grief of his stare, “Are you okay, Helmut?” But you already know the answer; you finally understand that this man is far more broken than you’d ever realized.

“Is anyone ever just, ‘okay?’” is his evasive answer.

You say it before you can think better of it, offering him another piece of you with which you probably shouldn’t have, but you were already neck deep in possible regrets, so what was one more?

“People’ve said I’m a good listener before, if you need to talk about whatever it is that’s troubling you.”

You liked to think he owed you some kind of explanation for all this, but if he’d asked you for the same, you don’t know if you could give him one, either. It had just… happened. No rhyme or reason, but some bizarre, broken part of your own soul had called out to whatever was cracked and frayed in his own. It was all the answer you could think of, for why you were flat on your back beneath him still.

“I would not bother you with my troubles,” Zemo starts, attempting to piece back that calm, collected mask which kept this fragment of him that you had bore witness to hidden.

“If not me, then you should bother someone with them.”

And maybe it’s the soft, bittersweet smile with which you look up at him, or a deep craving to be understood by just one other human being in this world, but his chin remains firmly planted against your chest as he says quietly, sadly, “I have no one left. They are all gone.” He doesn’t flinch away when you brush the hair from his forehead, out of his eyes, catching sight of the confusion, the trouble in his soul.

Trouble, indeed.

Stormy, dark, he stares a hole into your soul, and you ache with the hollow tragedy of it, when he murmurs as firmly as he can, almost worse than if his voice had cracked with emotion, “I have lost them all.”

You want to tell him the reflexive compassions that come at times like these, but sorry feels cheap, and you could never understand the pain he must feel. You hope you never do.

So you breathe out slowly, one word at your lips, “Sokovia?” as if you didn’t already know. As if you had not read his file, years before he joined you for this mission. Back when he had terrorized the Avengers and murdered diplomats at the United Nations hearing. You tried not to think of it, now, when he looked so vulnerable, and sad, as the slight nudge of his chin into the flesh of your skin is all that’s required to acknowledge your question.

“You already bother me enough, Zemo,” you try to add a joking hum to your voice, as you sigh beneath him, but even that sounds bittersweet, “so feel free to bother me more with your troubles, if you like.”

There’s quiet for what feels like a long time after that. Your words permeating the space between you, and you don’t know if he watches you like he does to gauge your sincerity, or because he simply likes looking at you like this.

He gives you a fragment, when his body shifts, and his weight moves up just enough to catch your eye from where you were left staring at the ceiling in this thrumming silence, your fingers slipping from his hair to his shoulder, “I…” he clears his throat softly, “saw you underneath that supersoldier, and I just… could not lose one more.” Zemo doesn’t say he cares about you, not explicitly, “He was going to kill you.”

“I know,” it tastes hollow in your mouth, as you do your best not to go back there, to how he’d found you.

“It,” he breathes, searching for the right word, “frightened me, and so I was furious. Not entirely at you, but because…”

He trails off, and you supply instead, the similar feeling which had buried itself in your own chest, “Because of how it made you feel?”

Zemo nods, his hands smoothing down your back, catching at your waist, “I did not like the way it made me feel,” his gaze flicks along the planes of your face, before returning to your own, that want-mixed-grief once again swirling within them. “The way you make me feel. It is like… a betrayal.” His voice does shake this time, when he breathes, “It is too soon since… I lost my whole world.”

A betrayal, he had called the feeling.

It felt like that for you, too. This swirling, guilty want in your bones for him, when you know it’s the last thing you should want. That he should be the last thing you want. If Bucky or Sam saw you like this--- you think they might hate you for it.

For wanting him.

Your hand rests at the curve of his neck and shoulder, thumb close enough to feel the short stubble which threatened to peek through at his jaw with the late hour of the day, and you agree, “I was angry, too, because of this feeling.”

“The feeling of wanting something you cannot have,” he chuckles, a truce, offered from his body to yours in the vibrations of it which resound in your chest.

“You could say that.”

Perhaps, in a different world, things could be different.

Maybe, if you’d met him at a different time.

But as things were, you were just two broken people, seeking solace in one another when every fiber of your being told you not to. That it was wrong--- despite how comfortably right he felt against you here and now, lingering between your thighs and against your body for as long as he possibly could, despite the guilt that you’d shared, without even knowing it.

It’s not your place, but when he sits up finally, his weight lifting off of you and somehow leaving you feeling more suffocated than when it had been there, you catch his attention with the sound of his name, “Helmut?”

“Hmm?” he wonders, knees pressing into the mattress as he’s halfway detangled from between your legs.

Catching his eye, you hope you look as sincere as it felt within you, the ache in your chest for him, “Anyone who could have loved you, would have wanted you to be happy.” It sounds cliche and generic, but you don’t dare mention his wife specifically, or the terrible emptiness that comes with the loss of a child. Still, you see it in his eyes, in the way he observes you with increased curiosity, that he knows it to be true, despite that desperate, clawing pain you know he must feel within his chest.

Zemo’s smile doesn’t reach his eyes, “That is a sweet sentiment.” And he’s gone, leaving you spread there to watch after him as he crosses the room, towards the restroom, probably for a moment of privacy. Stopping in his path, he glances at you, hand resting on the doorframe, “But they do not have to go on living without them.”

The bathroom door shuts behind him with a definitive click, and you’re left reeling as you piece together the facts of the night. The pieces of his grief, and want, which you’d witnessed. The fragments of yours which only seemed to swell with his own.

A miserable, self-pitying groan slips past your lips.

You were truly in trouble, now.

#baron helmut zemo fanfic #zemo fanfic #marvel fanfic #marvel female reader insert #fanfiction #fanfic by me #author meg #female reader insert #newstuff female reader insert

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bettyminicoop · 3 years

Text

We're at AU since 504, and I'll prove it to you.

So, Riverdale is a comic.

No not like this.

RIVERDALE is a COMIC.

This is how this article began a day ago, when I tried to develop a theory about season 5 and try to explain the absurdity of everything that we have seen on the show lately. But Riverdale is really a comic, in which anything can happen, including events that take us to an alternate universe.

So, the main secret of the season 5 is not mixing ships, it's not about TBK, not about Moth Men, not about TRAUMA™. The main secret of the season 5 is: "What the hell is going on here?"

Does RAS like predictions? Jughead in 417 literally says, "In what future are we not together?" Thus, launching this universe, in which we find ourselves since 504. And there is an explanation for all this, oddly enough.

Honestly, I think that the absurdity of 518 helped me a lot. I realized that all the ship's nonsense of the season is a red herring. I calmed down, exhaled, moved a little further and looked at the whole picture.

For convenience in the future, I will call the events of the first four seasons as RD01, and season 5 since 504 as RD AU. So, everything that happened in RD01 also happened in RD AU, but in a different way. And something may not have happened at all. This is where all the inconsistencies with the plot of the first four seasons come from.

1. The writers are not lazy, they don't forget what happened 5 episodes ago. RAS simply deceived everyone by taking a very risky step. All of the plots that take place in Season 5 have a backstory that we don't know anything about. Except for certain plots that are taken out of the context of the first four seasons. But the difference is that all these plots that happened in RD01 went completely differently here in RD AU.

2. The episode of Citizen Lodge has the most direct evidence for the existence of RD AU. Because if this episode hadn't happened, it would have been hard to guess RD AU. It would be impossible to connect the dots. Citizen Lodge is the key to unlocking the mystery of Season 5 of Riverdale.

The Midnight Club takes place in 1992, but Citizen Lodge takes place in 1988. Although these are the same characters, in the same age range. But at Citizen Lodge we were shown newborn Veronica, because Hermosa never existed here. In RD01, the Lodges have a family rum business, RD AU Lodges are shoe shiners not originally living in Riverdale. The events of both episodes contradict each other, because they took place in different universes. This is not a fault of the writers, this is a deliberate hint. This whole new RD AU universe exists several years earlier than RD 01.

Small addition. In 516 it is indicated that Hermosa exists in the RD AU. But maybe she is younger than Veronica.

3. The last time a clear timeline is set is 503, when Jughead sits in Pop's a year after graduation. And when he walks out the door, he says that the next time he saw his friends was six years later. But we haven't seen that yet. Because that's where RD01 ends.

When 504 starts, nowhere is it stated how many years have passed. The first timeline is set by Veronica Lodge. "It's 2021". And this is the very first clue that we are in the middle of RD AU.

4. When Season 5 was announced, RAS said it would be a 5 year time jump. But by the start of the season, it turned into 7 years. And there is still no error. In RD01, after Bughead says goodbye on the porch, their next meeting actually happens in seven years. But we haven't seen it yet.

RD AU probably takes place five years after core four graduated from high school. And this is confirmed by Bughead's conversation in the bunker when Betty asks Jughead why he's bringing up a conflict five years ago. Which by the way does not negate the fact that voicemail happened only two years ago. Because it is the aftermath of a terrible five-year conflict that ended Bughead's relationship in RD AU. Do you seriously agree that kissing was a terrible thing to do? Probably something worse happened at RD AU.

5. On the chest of Archie RD AU there is no scar after his meeting with the bear, so this did not happen in this universe. We've been shown Archie's breasts so many times this season but we never really noticed!

6. Tom Keller and Sierra McCoy do not appear to be married in RD AU, although they literally fought the Gargoyle King for their relationship.

7. I believe that the RD AU timeline is shifted 4-5 years back relative to RD01. As confirmed by Bughead's bunker conversation and the events at Citizen Lodge. And this explains why RD AU is now in 2021, and not 2027, as it should be in RD01.

8. I watched season 5 very casually and hardly saw more than 1/3. So I need you to help me collect more evidence for the existence of RD AU. For every plot, event and conversation, you need to apply an AU theory filter. And I can promise you, every piece will find its place in the puzzle.

By the way, differences can be not only in plots and dialogues, but also physical in the appearance of characters and interiors.

I'm sure that Veronica's question to Archie, where he sees himself in five years, was also not accidental. But I no longer have the strength to develop this and build it in the context of RD AU. Especially because I don't know much about their relationship history. I trust you to figure it out.

And I wouldn't be at all surprised if Season 5 of Riverdale is still Jughead's book from RD 01, called Rivervale.

Will we get the RD AU backstory in Season 6? To be honest, I'm not sure if we need it.

Is Polly still alive in RD01?

Could Alice's hallucination at 518 be AU on AU? That is, literally being RD01 inside RD AU. Because these scenes were, it seems, the most "normal" in the whole episode. Follow up on this idea. Or we can just wait for season 6 special.

It does not matter at all which ships the RD AU will end with. It does not matter. Because season 5 and season 6 special is not about ships.

Maybe season 6 special is when RD01 and RD AU mix. Well, let's see, it's not long to wait.

Is there a chance RD AU will end on episode 100? Perhaps.

Please give this season and finale a chance. I am currently re-watching individual episodes to find confirmation of my AU theory, and now season 5 makes sense! Check it out for yourself. I'm sure there will be a TBK mystery in the final episode next week that will make my whole AU theory obvious. But I will write about this separately right after this post.

Looking back now, I think the flurry of spoilers ahead of 518 is literally when RAS went crazy. Because we're incredibly dumb and didn't want to see obvious clues in the narrative.

I will never pull this stone out alone. So, my young archaeologists, arm yourself with hammers and brooms, and help me bring this treasure to the surface completely.

I want to say THANK YOU to Bughead fandom. Because you are amazing. Because you are building theories, you are guessing, you are thinking. Because you spin every situation, you question every plot that happened on the show. And I am overwhelmed with complacency, because the uncovering of the main secret of Season 5 came from the Bughead community. After all, who else besides Bughead can uncover Riverdale's secrets?

And thanks to those who first brought up AU in Riverdale. Because only thanks to this theory, I was able to pull the thread and untangle the whole ball.

It's so liberating. It’s like someone has suddenly turned on the lights in the dark room we’ve been in since the beginning of Season 5.

#riverdale season 5 #riverdale s5 #riverdale spoilers #riverdale speculation #ras genius #riverdale au #bughead #varchie #choni #barchie #veggie #jabitha

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drewstarkeys · 3 years

Text

"Paper" Rings : Toni Shalifoe

Summary: Very loosely based around Paper Rings from Miss Taylor Swift! In which the reader and Toni have feelings for each other but are too afraid and too oblivious to truly admit them to each other. It gets pretty fluffy at the end!!

Word Count: 2.2K

Request(s): “Hi! Can I request Toni (the wilds) crushing on a dense reader when they are stuck on the island? 👉🏼👈🏼” and “Can I request some the wilds/toni fluff? Im fine with anything as long as it ends somewhat happily,.....”

Warnings: mentions of edibles, drunk reader/girls/Toni.

A/N: I finally got out of writer’s block so I am back! I also tried to combine two requests as I thought they went together nicely! Hope you all enjoy :)

The moon is high.

Like your friends were the night that we first met

You didn’t know it yet but that day on the island when you and the rest of the girls got high off of edibles, Toni realized just how much she liked you. Maybe it was the way your smile only seemed to grow bigger as the day went on, or maybe it was the way you couldn’t help but say the worst possible pick up lines to Toni, but something you were doing that day had her whipped. She hated it and loved it at the same time because she was so scared of how you would react to her strong feelings towards you.

The two of you were a “thing” but the term was loosely used in replacement of girlfriends. It was hard to decide exactly what you two should be when survival wasn’t even promised. On the other hand, if it was promised, what would happen when you went back to your ordinary lives? Would you forget each other and slowly go back to your old regular lives or would you try and make the distance work. Those questions had been left unanswered, which tormented the both of you.

Some of the other girls on the island had tried to trap you into confessing just how much Toni meant to you or vice versa, but you and Toni knew better, you were on an island and admitting your strong feelings would only complicate whatever was going on between the two of you. The nights spent alone in different corners of the island and empty promises shared between the two of you were nice, but it was more wishful thinking than anything realistic for the time being. That didn’t stop the two of you allowing yourselves to get close and let down your walls, even sharing your deepest secrets and fears with each other- something that almost seemed easier if you two never saw each other again.

You knew the way she felt like she was too hard to love and that she thought that her anger scared everyone away, but you didn’t agree with her. Maybe it was your own temper, which wasn’t nearly as bad as hers, but you weren’t worried by it. You had told her that you didn’t care that she got out of control, citing your reasons as being that control was difficult for everyone and you would be a hypocrite to judge her control issues when you knew how hard control was.

She knew about how you worried about running from your feelings again and completely shutting everyone out. You had done it more than once and in the back of your mind, you were convinced you would do it again. It was your defense mechanism to keep yourself from getting hurt- but it negatively affected those around you- which you couldn’t bear to hate yourself for. She told you that she wouldn’t let you leave her, that she was too stubborn to let you leave her, especially if the two of you were stuck on the island for however long. It provided you comfort for the time being, but just like her fears, yours weren’t fully dissipated either.

The wine is cold

Like the shoulder that I gave you in the street

Cat and mouse for a month or two or three

Now I wake up in the night and watch you breathe

That’s just how the two of you worked- you would have deep conversations in the woods of the island and hold onto each other when the woods got cold as the sun went down, but that was the most of it. Neither of you could deny that something was going on between you two, but you couldn’t quite bring yourselves to admit your real feelings for the other one. It was embarrassing almost, the high school type cat and mouse game in which you both chased the other one but would never fully give in- it felt like every shitty romcom ever- well maybe without the happy ending.

That cat and mouse game continued for the following weeks of you all being on the island, which frustrated the others to no end. They could see the way you two looked at the other one when they weren’t looking and they could see the kisses in the woods that you thought you were being secretive about. Fortunately for them, and the two of you, the girls had devised a plan to further the relationship between you and Toni. A plan that only needed one thing, copious amounts of alcohol.

Thankfully for them, you were already pouring alcohol into your mouth by the time the sun set. All it took for your actions was a simple suggestion from Martha, she had asked you to get drunk with her and a few of the other girls and you had eagerly agreed, excited to finally have a reason to let loose on the island. The liquid stung the back of your throat as you shared the bottle with Martha and Fatin, but you could care less- you didn’t need chasers in school so why would you need them now?

Despite your lack of need for a chaser, your tolerance was embarrassingly low- or perhaps you just always drank too much. Unfortunately for you, that led to you sitting next to Toni and offering her a drink from the bottle in your hand, insisting that she wasn’t nearly as drunk as you were, in Toni’s defense, no one was as drunk as you were. However, your puppy eyes were too good for Toni to say no to, so of course, she was drinking to get caught up to your level, hoping it would help her relax just as much as you were.

The night carried on quickly with different dance battles, a little bit of night swimming- to which Dot had freaked over the idea of you or Shelby getting eaten by a shark, and even sand castle competitions. All of these ideas came from you who happened to be letting every single idea slip past your lips with a lack of any filter at all.

You suddenly jumped up off of the sand you had been resting on and looked around the group, a big smile covering your face, “I need to pee!” You announced, earning a few giggles from the girls that had ended up nearly as drunk as you were. You then looked down to Toni, pulling at her hand to get her to stand up with you, “and you’re going to come with me!” You added, not noticing the way Toni gulped nervously or the way the other girls seemed to be watching the two of you as if you were their favorite movie. Instead of responding, Toni just nodded, an uneasy smile on her face as you dragged her towards a darker corner of the island.

You walked a few feet in front of Toni, painfully oblivious to the way she seemed to be deep in thought. Toni was busy trying to keep her lips sealed tight despite the alcohol in her body begging them to part and let out her feelings for you. Her speech she had practiced a few days ago was dangerously close to falling out past her lips and thus, she would reveal how she felt. The one problem was that she didn't want to say it drunk, especially when she didn’t know how you felt. Despite your relationship between the two of you, Toni couldn’t help but think about how you called yourself a player, telling Toni how you wished you weren’t one- but you just couldn’t quite seem to keep feelings for anyone.

Toni was so deep in thought that she hadn’t realized when you stopped moving to stare at her. “I don’t have to pee,” you suddenly mumbled, catching Toni’s attention with your words. Her eyes crinkled in confusion but you just smiled in response, “I just wanted to spend time with you alone. “ You admitted, something you wouldn’t have said so easily if you had been sober.

I like shiny things, but I'd marry you with paper rings

You could almost see the slight blush on Toni’s face in the dark, a mix of alcohol and you creating that reaction on her face. “You did?” She asked, her voice coming out a lot weaker than she intended for. She hated how weak you made her, like she could be ruined by the wrong set of words coming from your mouth.

You nodded your head quickly and pulled her down onto a rock, “sit here. I wanted to show you something.” You mumbled, holding onto her shoulders as you spoke to her, your glassy eyes meeting her own. While your nerves were completely gone, Toni’s heart was still racing, something you had yet to notice.

You walked, or skipped, off towards a bush, not caring about anything except for your current plan for what you were going to do. It was honestly quite bold but you couldn’t stop thinking about it and if you didn’t do it, you would be upset with yourself. So, without a second thought, you plucked a long piece of grass from the ground and brought it back to her, nearly letting out a laugh at how confused she looked.

Before she could question what you were doing, you spoke up, “wait, don’t say anything just yet. I need to say something.” You said, watching her for her agreement before you carried on. “You know that Taylor Swift song that is like ‘I like shiny things but I’d marry you with paper rings’? Well I was thinking about that song and you make me feel like that. Like not marriage obviously, I’m not even eighteen yet, but like we’re here. On an island. And despite all the scary things and bad ideas- you’re the only thing that matters. Like I could care less about if we never get off this island, I’m just happy I met you.” You rambled, nerves and alcohol leading to the slurred and messy speech you had just told to her. “I like you, Toni, a lot.” You paused, looking down at the piece of grass in your hands, “I guess this is like, I don’t know, a promise almost? That I actually like you and that I’m not gonna run away from my feelings anymore.”

You paused, your heart rate finally becoming noticeable to yourself and you suddenly felt insanely sober from your actions. You felt as if you had just let her break down all of your walls and you were quite frankly terrified of how she would react. “Can I stand up now?” She asked, a smile on her face, which drove you crazy.

“That’s it? I say all that and you ask if you can stand up?” You asked, not even knowing how to feel, you hadn’t even noticed your arms were flailing as you questioned her until she grabbed both of your wrists and pulled them down, using them to pull you a little bit closer to her.

She still hadn’t said anything yet but the two of you were inches apart and you wanted to throw up. Or maybe it was just a feeling of panic settling in your chest, what if you had gone too far with what you said? You had been known to jump into feelings too quickly but you felt as if she could be there too.

Before you could speak up again and question her once more, she let go of one of your wrists and planted her hand softly on the side of your face, her eyes scanning your own before she leaned in and gently pressed her lips to yours. The two of you had kissed before but this was different, you were finally allowed to feel everything you were feeling, you could finally show her how much you liked her. Your free wrist dropped to her waist as you pulled her closer, not letting her pull away just yet. The two of you stayed like that for a second, just taking each other in and enjoying the moment of peace.

She pulled away with a soft smile on her face and a mysterious glint in her eyes as she backed off and went over to the spot where you had once been. You could see her pick up her own piece of grass and walk back over to you and smiled again, “then I promise to actually stop worrying and just let myself like you. Because I do like you,” she paused, “like I like you a lot.” And with that, she took the piece of grass and tied it around your ring finger, “so instead of getting married with paper rings, we’re uh- dating? With grassy rings.” She said, finishing the knot around your finger and looked up to you expectantly, “well if you want.”

You grabbed her other hand and worked on tying the grass around her finger, looking back at her and nodding, “yeah, I’d like that.” You answered, feeling heat rush to your cheeks at how intimate the moment had become.

#toni #toni imagine #toni shalifoe imagine #toni x reader #Toni the wilds #toni shalifoe #toni shalifoe x reader #the wilds #the wilds on amazon prime #the wilds imagine #the wilds imagines #wlw imagine #fluff #toni fluff

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heliads · 3 years

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Are You Happy With Him?

Y/N is a Med-Jack in the Glade, who happens to be dating Gally. Newt happens to be completely in love with her, but he may have more of a chance with her than he’d first thought.

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The night is dark, the air is cool. Sparks dance away from the fire, and the Gladers mill about watching Gally pummel whatever boy had the misfortune to step into the circle with him, all the while pretending they can’t see the looming walls of the Maze rising up around them. Thomas is seated on the ground a distance away from everyone else, back leaned up against a fallen tree trunk while he listens to Newt explain everything there is to know about the Glade and the Maze and whatever else Thomas asks him.

The sound of footsteps draws close, and seconds later another boy swings into a seat next to the two of them. Newt grins to see his friend. “Thomas, this is Minho. Think you’ve seen him around before, he’s a Runner.” Minho waves a greeting to Thomas, then glances back in the same direction as the two boys. “Newt talking you through life here in the Glade?”

Thomas nods. Minho keeps glancing around the campfire, then chuckles slightly when his eyes fall on the lone girl standing among the other Gladers. “Newt mentioned her yet?” Newt groans, but Thomas shakes his head. “No, not once. Who is she?” Minho adjusts his position so he’s facing Thomas, holding up his hands as if the runner’s about to deliver a key piece of information.

“That right there is Y/N. She’s a Med-Jack, although we all call her a Med-Jane because we’re a bunch of shanks who like to mess with our friends. The reason she’s so important is because Newt here is head over heels for her.” Newt rolls his eyes. “That’s not true, Minho, and you know that. Besides, it doesn’t matter how any one of us feel about her, because she’s seeing Gally. End of story.”

Minho groans. “Come on, Newt, there’s not a single person here who’d believe that klunk. Newt’s obsessed with her, but to be fair, we all kind of are. Anyways, the point is she’s one of the best Med-Jacks here, but you wouldn’t know it because Gally gives us a death stare whenever we talk about her for more than thirty seconds.”

Thomas looks up to see Y/N approaching the three boys. She jerks her head at them, and Newt and Minho move over so she can sit down. “I heard my name being mentioned. You telling the Greenie about how I’m the best person in the Glade by far?” Minho laughs. “We were saying that if he ever breaks an arm he should go to Clint instead.” Y/N lunges over to hit Minho on the shoulder, and the friends break into laughter.

Newt reaches behind him to grab a glass full of a frothy (and somehow dirty) amber liquid, taking a sip to Y/N’s disgust. She makes a face at him. “Honestly, I don’t know how you stand that stuff. It’s foul.” Newt grins at her. “Your own boyfriend makes it, I feel like you should at least pretend to stomach it like the rest of us.” Y/N rolls her eyes. “Not even our relationship can make me want to look at that poison.”

She sighs suddenly, eyes travelling across the campfire to where Gally’s pummeling yet another Glader into submission. “And it wouldn’t be the only habit of Gally’s that I disagree with.” Minho nods slowly. “It’s the Med-Jane impulse. Stops you every time.” Y/N gives him a look dripping with outrage, and she and the boys dissolve into laughter.

After a while, limbs get stiff and the four stand up to take a tour around the campfire. Newt points out the different groups of Gladers, and they’re doing fine until Gally ‘accidentally’ shoves a stumbling opponent into Thomas’ back, causing him to lose his balance. Thomas dusts himself off, but looks up when Gally approaches him. “What do you say, Greenie? Want to see what you’re made of?”

Thomas stares at him, uncomprehending, but Y/N makes a quiet sound of annoyance. “Come on, Gally. It’s the guy’s first day here. Give him a break.” Gally ignores her, speaking even louder to Thomas to explain the rules of the fight. Newt drifts over, gently pulling Y/N away from the ring. “Let Thomas have a go. Gally probably won’t rough him up that much.”

They step aside, hanging on the outskirts of the group. Y/N winces as Gally shoves Thomas face-first into the dirt. “It’s barbaric. Does he really have to do this?” Newt stares at the ongoing fight, at Gally clearly reveling in the chance to rough up another Glader, then looks back at Y/N. “Are you happy with him?”

Y/N turns to him, a look almost like outrage on her face. “Of course I am, why would you ask me that? Maybe he has a few habits that aren’t my favorite, but he’s still one of the best guys in the Glade.” Newt shakes his head. “I’m not talking about Gally’s necessity as a Glader. I’m talking about how he makes you feel. Are you happy with him, Y/N? Actually happy?”

Y/N opens her mouth to speak, then closes it again. “I should be able to answer that.” She’s silent for a moment or two longer. “I don’t know.” She stares back at the fight, flinching slightly when Gally’s fist crosses Thomas’ face as if she’s already mentally figuring out how much time she’ll have to spend in the Med-Jack hut trying to put the Greenie back together.

“I don’t think I am. I don’t think anybody’s asked me that in a very long time, and I haven’t thought about it in even longer.” Y/N tilts her head down, sighing quietly. Newt glances back at her, then carefully slides an arm around her. She leans her head against his shoulder.

The morning is bright, heat already pouring into the Glade. Newt is about to take his break for lunch, but he looks around and realizes he doesn’t see the one girl who should’ve been out to eat before him. He taps Zart on the shoulder. “You seen Y/N?” The Track-Hoe nods. “She had some argument with Gally, then headed out to the Deadheads for some peace and quiet. I don’t think she’s come back since.” Newt considers this. “I’m going to go get her, tell her it’s time for lunch. See you after the break’s over.”

The trees of the Deadheads sway slightly, offering some much-appreciated shade and cool despite the burning heat of the sun. Newt doesn’t have to walk far before he finds Y/N seated on a high-reaching tree branch, head leaned back against the rough bark. He climbs up after her, and they both pretend not to notice when his bad leg gives out, making him slip for just a second.

“Is there a reason you’re camped out in the middle of the forest?” Newt asks, and Y/N smiles ever so slightly. “I’m here to avoid Gally. I broke up with him and now he’s passive aggressively building things as if every hammer swing could kill.” Newt frowns. “At least he’s being passive.” Y/N laughs. “Focus on the aggressive. It’s mostly just aggressive.”

She sighs suddenly, looking up at the tree branches around her. The leaves seem to form a slight crown around her head. “I never thought I’d be the one to end things. Always thought he’d get tired of me and that would be that. I don’t feel any different than I did before. Maybe a little more free, like I can finally complain about things and not have to mince my words around him.”

Newt nods. “He’ll come around after a while. He’ll mess around and be bloody angry for a while, but then he’ll be back to our usual easily-bothered Gally.” Y/N smiles. “You do have a way with words. I feel better already.” Newt laughs at that, then jumps down from the tree, holding out his hand to help Y/N down. “You’ll feel even better when you have your lunch. Come on, I’m sure Frypan’s outdone himself, or at least he’ll pretend he has.”

The afternoon is late, and Y/N’s still working in the Med-Jack hut despite the fact that she should have left long ago. Gally finally warmed up to her again a couple of days ago, and he’s sent in a torrent of injured Builders to join the already large number of wounded Slicers that occupy the hut. She’s been busy all morning, and finally finished sending the last boy out with bandaged hands and a promise to stay out of trouble.

Y/N’s just doing the last checks to make sure her workstation is clear and ready for the next morning when she hears a soft knock on the door behind her. She turns to see Newt lingering by the door, and smiles. “You’d better not have cut yourself too. I don’t even want to have to look at a bandage ever again, or maybe just until tomorrow.”

Newt grins, padding into the room to come stand next to her. “No injuries here. We’re all good.” His focus shifts to the cabinet open above him, and Y/N’s failed attempts to reach the door to put a faded glass bottle of ointment back inside. “Here, I’ve got you.” He takes the bottle from her hand, reaching up over her head to slide it inside and shut the door. When he looks back down, he realizes that his slight movement had shifted him close to Y/N, and they stand only an inch or two apart. He stands there for just a second, then leans forward with the air of someone taking a leap of faith and kisses her.

His hands slip around her waist, and Y/N presses her palms against the small of his back. When he breaks away, her eyes are light, and happier than he’s seen in a while. “I’ve been wanting you to do that for a long time.” She says, and Newt finally allows himself a smile. “I’ve been wanting the same.”

When morning breaks, it brings with it fear and overwhelming terror. After the doors to the Maze didn’t close at nightfall, the resulting Griever attack had left the Glade weak and unprotected. Newt walks with Y/N to the opening of the Maze, and wraps a protective hand around hers as they watch Gally prepare to sacrifice Thomas and Teresa to the Grievers in the hopes of protecting the rest of the Gladers.

Teresa, already tied to a wooden pole, argues desperately that their deaths will do nothing to save the Glade. Gally grows angry and orders Thomas to be tied up as well, but Thomas fights back against his would-be captors. The second Thomas lashes out, Y/N drops Newt’s hand, and the two of them join Minho, Frypan, and a score of other supporters to turn the tide, forcing Gally back with weapons drawn.

Y/N remains silent as Thomas speaks to the rest of the Gladers, urging them to escape the Maze with him. More walk away from Gally to join Thomas and the others, but still more remain on the other side. Finally, when the last of the Gladers willing to leave stand by Thomas, Y/N steps forward. She speaks directly to Gally, her voice cracking slightly.

“Gally, please. Come with us. You won’t survive here if you stay.” Gally shakes his head just slightly. “Good luck with the Grievers.” Y/N looks at him, remembering all of the love she’d once had for him in that moment. “Don’t do this, Gally. Please.” But Gally turns and walks away, leaving Y/N standing there to watch him go. Newt stands silently beside her, and Y/N looks at him with pain before allowing him to wrap his arms comfortingly around her. “He made his choice. There’s nothing you can do.” She nods hesitantly, and they walk together into the Maze.

The journey through the Maze is fraught with peril, and Y/N watches with horror as friends she’d known for months died at the claws of the Grievers. Finally, amazingly, a small handful of Gladers make it through the Maze and into the broken rooms of WICKED. Y/N holds Newt’s hand as they walk through the rooms, broken glass crunching under their feet. They do not intend to let go.

There’s a voice from across the destruction, from one of the other rooms. The Gladers group together instinctively, Newt pulling Y/N close to his side. A figure steps out from the darkness, and Y/N’s breath catches in her throat when she recognizes the boy. “Gally?” Her voice echoes across the room and he nods ever so slightly. Newt steps in front of her protectively when he notices the gun in Gally’s hand.

Gally shakes his head quickly when he sees the boy move. “I’m not going to shoot her, Newt. That’s not why I’m here. I could never hurt her.” Y/N speaks in a calm voice. “Put down the gun, Gally. We can talk about this, about why you’re here.” Gally shakes his head again with even more fervor than before. “I’m sorry, Y/N. I have to do this.” He takes a shuddering gasp, and his eyes clear for just a second even as tears begin to pour down his cheeks.

“Are you happy with him?” Y/N nods slowly when she hears his question. “Yes. I am.” Gally forces something that looks almost like a smile, but with the overwhelming twist of his face from the tears it looks bent and broken instead of joyful. Gally redirects his attention to Thomas, who is asking him to put down the gun. Gally shakes his head, sobs still racking his body. “I belong to the Maze. We all do.”

It all seems to happen at once. Gally pulls the trigger, Minho moves in a blur of movement to throw a spear through Gally’s chest. Gally stumbles and falls to the ground. Y/N lets out this quiet scream, her breath rasping sharply against her throat. Newt covers her eyes with his hand, making sure that she can’t see the dead body of the boy she’d once loved.

It is then that Thomas sees the blood starting to spread from Chuck’s chest, then that he sees the way Chuck’s breathing falters and he starts to collapse to the ground. Thomas bends over him, frantic. “Y/N, Clint, somebody! He’s been- he’s been-” Thomas can’t finish the sentence. Y/N kneels next to him, ignoring the blood beginning to stain her hands, but at last she stands up again and shakes her head almost imperceptibly at Thomas.

Silent tears run down her cheeks as Thomas stares at her in mute incomprehension, then turns back to Chuck. Y/N buries her face in Newt’s shoulder, unable to watch as the young boy breathes his last in Thomas’ arms. When it comes time for them to leave, Thomas’ screams echo down the empty hallways. Newt takes Y/N’s hand, whispers in her ear. “There was nothing you could have done.” She looks at him sadly. “I know. And it hurts even more for it.”

The two of them head back down the halls together, hand in hand. She won’t leave him, not now. Not ever. He needs her as much as she needs him, as much as the sun needs the moon and the earth needs one more chance to heal. They do not intend to leave each other, never again. They do not know if they will have a choice about it, but it does not matter. They would follow each other to the ends of the earth to give themselves the chance to stay together.

#newt #newt imagine #newt x reader #newt imagines #maze runner #maze runner imagine #maze runner x reader #maze runner imagines #maze runner newt #maze runner newt imagines #maze runner newt x reader #maze runner newt imagine #death cure #wicked

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doublebladedbitch · 3 years

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Savior - Captain Howzer x reader

Paring: Captain Howzer (bad batch) x fem reader

Warnings: SMUT (as promised)

Chapter 8

Besides our awkward encounter at the start of our conversation, Eleni and I went along very well and she told me more about her planet. She spoke about the political situation and also about the clone wars. Unlike Howzer and Rampart had told me, she seemed to be thankful and respectful towards clones, so I couldn’t stop myself from talking about my issue I have had with Howzer not being a guest.

„I’ve told the admiral this before, but I really think clones, like my captain for example, should have been invited…as guests“ I told her in a soft tone, making it clear that I didn’t wanted to attack her in any way.

„I totally agree with you!“ She stated in her accent and leaned in closer. „But I fear that we’re probably the only ones thinking that they deserve this…most people here are not happy with the return of the clones to Ryloth…“ she paused and looked around „they don’t care if its for their safety or if its troops of the republic or the empire…all they see are the guns they bring and get intimidated…“

„You are not a big fan of us being here either, aren’t you?“ I asked her curiously.

She paused for a moment before she answered. „Not really. Ryloth needs a leader that represents the people. They deserve their complete freedom after everything we went through…They put Taa in power, but thats not what the masses wanted and now the situation is gonna tense up, especially with armed troops running around. But Ryloth needs help…i am just not sure if it’s the empire that can bring it“

I nodded slowly. I understood her position, but since it was against the empire I didn’t want to disagree with her.

„So…“ she began curiously, wanting to change the topic.“What is going on between you and your captain?“ She asked with a smirk and I blushed immediately.

„I don’t know what you mean…“ I said but couldn’t hide my red cheeks, causing her to chuckle.

„Seven, don’t act like you don’t know what-“ Eleni wanted to say, but stopped when we heard Rampart’s cough behind my back.

„I see you found a friend“ he said looking with dispose at Eleni.

„Yes I did, Admiral.“ I answered protectively, as turned towards him to form a wall between them.

„What did I tell you about speaking to others?“ He whispered angrily at me.

„You were busy, Sir and I was just making conversation“ I told him and he sighed annoyed, but eased up.

„Anyways I’m gonna go to the bar with the leader“ he stated in a louder voice and glared at Eleni with his last word. „I’m going to order Howzer to keep an eye on you.“

I crossed my arms in front of my chest. I didn’t like how controlling he was, to whom I was talking to really was none of his business and especially since he didn’t interacted with me. He stood up and Orn Free Taa already made his way towards the bar, when Rampart walked over to Howzer.

„Take care of her“ Rampart ordered and Howzer glanced towards me and Eleni.

„Looks like she is doing fine, Sir“ Howzer stated a bit confused about Rampart’s annoyance with me.

„I don’t want her to talk to the other guests, Howzer. Entertain her if you must, just don’t let her get us into even more trouble“ he ended and left after Taa. Eleni and I have listened to their conversation and I looked at her with sadness.

„Don’t worry we’ll meet again. Then I’ll leave the two of you alone“ she stated with a wink before she started talking to her husband. I blushed again and wanted to say something to her, but I noticed Howzer coming up beside me and closed my mouth again. I turned to him with a stupidly wide grin, which even grew wider when he returned the smile.

„Sit down“ I said to him patting on Rampart’s seat, which was now thankfully free.

„I don’t think I should-“ he began but I took his hand in mine and lead him onto the seat.

„He’s gone and didn’t he tell you to entertain me?“ I quoted Rampart with a chuckle. „I bet you’re hungry“ I added, tilting my head slight to the side.

Howzer still was unsure and nervous about what to do, but I waited for his answer. He finally nodded slowly and we both let our eyes wander over the food.

He eased up quickly and we both ate some of the things. A lot of it, either of us had tried before and we had a lot of fun taste testing all the different kinds of foods. We talked about different topics and he also told me funny stories about his battalion, back in the days of the republic. I laughed a lot and found myself drowning in his eyes as he was passionately speaking about his men. I realized how much I had started to feel for him and I couldn’t deny it any longer, I had fallen for him completely…

Suddenly I felt Howzer slowly placing his gloved hand on my cheek and he rubbed his thumb over the corner of my lip. „You have something there…“ he almost whispered, but he didn’t took his hand away. He let his thumb continue to run over my lower lip. For a moment, it felt like time had stopped and it was just the two of us. We looked deep into each others eyes and I noticed his eyes where flickering down to my lips. I felt my cheeks heat up at the upbuilding tension.

Laughter from a very loud Twilek man coming up behind Howzer brought us back to reality and Howzer took his hand away. I nervously looked down and tread to hide my flushed cheeks.

„Hey, Clone“ the twilek spit out at Howzer, who was facing him with his back. „You are not allowed to sit here“ He continued and I could hear that he was drunk. Before Howzer could say anything I stood up.

„He can sit wherever he wants“ I told the Twilek, he rose to his feel too, but almost stumbled. His eyes wandered over my body and I saw lust appearing in his eyes.

„Hello there…“ He stated, just bluntly staring at my cleavage. Howzer stood up and protectively stepped in front of me, shielding his view at me.

I didn’t needed to see Howzer’s face to realize that his expression alone, was intimidating enough for the Twilek to just stare at him in shock. Next thing I knew, Howzer had turned around and took my hand. I followed him through the crowded rooms towards the elevator. He let go of my hand and we waited for the elevator to arrive.

We didn’t have to wait long for the ding of the arriving elevator and he placed his hand on my back, before he gently pushed me inside. He wanted to say something, when the door began to close, but stopped when other guests entered the elevator too. The elevator wasn’t big, so it quickly filled up and I found myself being pressed into a corner. I was shielded by Howzer and he had placed his hands next to my head to stop himself from being pressed against me, so he wouldn’t crush me with his body, as the other guest tumbled around.

When our eyes met, I couldn’t help but blush again. Being so close to him, with our bodies almost pressed against each other, I felt my middle heating up.

The elevator stopped abruptly and caused on of the other passengers behind Howzer to stumble into him, causing him to press me against the wall. I gasped surprised when our bodies met, only a few centimeters parted our faces now and I couldn’t help but bite my lip. What I would give to kiss him now…

His eyes were darted at my lips and he glanced up into my eyes again, before he stepped back, took my hand and lead me out of the elevator. The door closed behind us and when I quickly looked around myself, I recognized what floor we were on.

„This is my floor…“ I spoke out loud. We walked down the hallway towards my room, he stopped in front of it and looked at me. I fished out the card to the room out of my cleavage, causing him to chuckle. „What?“ I responded, but chuckled too. „There was no other place to put it…“ I mumbled, as he opened the door. I followed Howzer inside and turned the dimmed warm lights on.

„What now, captain?“ I asked him playfully and curious about his plan. Howzer quickly closed the door behind me and within one motion he rushed me against it. He had placed his hand on my back to not hurt me when he pushed me against the metal. I couldn’t stop the moan that escaped my lips, caused by his touch and his rushed actions.

He smirked down at me and leaned in with his face. „I’m going to entertain you“ Howzer said before our lips met. He kissed me softly at first, but when I kissed him back, hungry for more, the kissing got more and more passionate and rougher. He had placed his hands on my waist, so he pulled my hips closer towards him. I let my hands wander over his chest armor up to his neck and wrapped my arms around him to pull him closer. In the small breaks we took to catch our breaths, he smirked down at me and let his eyes wander over my body.

„You have no idea how long I wanted to do that…“ I said, still breathless, before I pulled him in for another passionate kiss and started to take off his armor. I started with his arm pieces, then his chest piece, until his upper body was left in his blacks. Howzer pulled, torturously slow, the straps of my dress over my shoulders and the dress slit down. I stepped out of it and closer to him, to press my body against his.

His blacks had a zipper in the back and I opened it, more eagerly than he had been, causing him to chuckle into the kiss. I pulled it down and freed his arms and chest, so that his complete upper body was bare now. His chuckle turned into a soft groan, when I started kissing and sucking on his neck. I kissed my way down his chest, stopped at his nipple and when I started sucking, he let out another groan and drowned his hand in my hair. Continuing my journey down his body, I found myself on my knees in front of him. I stopped planting kisses on his skin and started to take of his leg armor, when I wanted to take off his belt and cod piece he grabbed my wrist to stop me. I looked up at him and felt my stomach turn at the sight of him smirking down at me.

„Not so fast, darling“ he said in a raspy voice and placed his fingers under my chin and stroke over my lip with his thumb. I wanted to suck on his finger, but he stopped me again and lifted my chin up further, so that my hair fell back completely. „So eager, huh?“ Howzer asked and I couldn’t help but blush. „We’ll get to that later, but tonight it’s my turn“ he stated and the tone in his voice had turned more dominant, which didn’t left me with another choice to just nod. I knew that he would take the upper hand from now on and I already really enjoyed it.

With a nod he signaled me to stand up and I did as I was told and looked at him with big eyes, just waiting for his next move. I didn’t have to wait long, as soon as I was on my feet he kissed me passionately and I immediately returned it. My arms were wrapped around his neck, as he let his hands discover my body, sending shivers and leaving my skin tingling, where his fingers were. Without breaking the heavy kissing he lifted me up and I wrapped my legs around his waist. He used this opportunity to rest his hands on my ass as he carried me over to the bed.

Leaning over me as he carefully laid me down onto the soft mattress, he never broke the kiss and I hold onto his body. I placed my feet onto the bed and let my hands wander over his shoulders and his muscular back, while he sank down his hips between my legs.

When Howzer started planting kisses along my neck and traced my throat softly with his fingers, I couldn’t stop the soft moans that escaped my lips. Intentionally I opened my legs to let his hips dive down further, but he didn’t. With a gentle movement of his strong hand he slid down under my body and opened my bra, followed by a quick motion and next thing I knew, the bra was flying across the room. Howzer kissed down my body, without his hand leaving my throat. The grip wasn’t tight, but still enough to hold me in place and tense up my whole body.

Impatiently wanting more I moved my hips up a little, but he defiantly enjoyed teasing me way too much to already give me what I want. He stopped kissing down my body right before he reached my nipple and I looked down at him to see why he stopped. Before I could even catch a glimpse into his beautiful eyes, I threw my head back in pleasure, when I felt his thigh being pressed against my already wet clit. The pressure alone made me moan and I started to slightly move my hips over his still dressed thigh, while Howzer started sucking my nipples.

I could swear that I felt him smiling against my skin at my reaction and I arched my back slightly. Every movement he did with his thigh, his grip slightly tightening around my throat or his hot breath on my hard nipples, made me shiver and even though he had barely started I was already a mess, thanks to all the teasing and the torturing slow process.

Howzer started kissing down my body further and removed his thigh from between my legs. When I felt his hot breath on my inner thighs I shivered and tried my best to stop my hips from moving and waited for him. I gladly didn’t have to wait long before he pulled down my panties and threw them somewhere in the room. I couldn’t help but move my hips slightly towards him when I felt the cold air hitting my wet pussy.

„So wet already?“ He teasingly asked me and I felt his eyes on me, but all I wanted in this moment was his tongue touching me, so I arched my back a little. „Please…“ I begged and when he didn’t move an idea popped up in my head.

„Please Captain…“ I slowly said after I propped myself on my elbows to look deep into his beautiful eyes. A smirk appeared onto his face and his fingers digged deeper into my hips. Howzer lowered his head without breaking the eye contact for a second and I felt his warm tongue on my clit, causing my eyes to roll into the back of my head and I let out a moan.

I felt him smirking at my reaction and he didn’t wait long to give me everything he got. He started licking and softly sucking on my clit, working me quickly closer to my climax. His tongue and his soft lips felt incredible and he hit all the right spots, causing my whole body to shiver and I couldn’t stop any of the moans escaping my mouth, getting louder and louder.

I grabbed his hand tightly when I felt, that I was close to my climax. „Howzer-“ was the only thing I was able to breath out, to signal him that I was close. „Come for me“ he whispered against me and I did, I did come for him.

I breathed heavily and let my hand run through my hair. Howzer crawled up, so he was hovering over my body with his hands placed on both sides next to my head and leaned in to give me a passionate kiss. I tasted myself on his lips and drowned my hand in his dark hair to pull him closer, even though it wasn’t possible. When we broke our kiss to catch our breaths he looked deep into my eyes and I licked my lips.

„You ready?“ He asked in a raspy voice and I nodded. I wrapped my arm around his neck and hold onto him as I opened my legs wider for him. He took his dick into his hand and lowered his hips. I intentionally bit my lip in pleasure as his tip met my clit. He looked at me when he dived in the first time. I clung onto him and let out a heavy breath. Howzer started with slow movements and went deeper by every time, working me more and more open.

My moans got louder, until I lost any control of my volume. Howzer wrapped one hand around my neck with his thumb being softly placed on my throat, sometimes running along my jawline. His other hand was placed right next to my waist to support himself and his controlled hips movements. His thrusts got harder and more firm, when he noticed that I liked his roughness.

I was able to moan out a „yes“ to signal him to go harder on me, causing him to smirk and with a quick movement he threw my leg over his shoulder to go even deeper. He hit a spot inside me, I have never felt before and it was extremely intense and every thrust send an electric feeling through my whole body, causing my moans to turn almost into screams. He slowed his pace and looked at me with a risen eyebrow, being unsure, if my screams were a good or a bad sign.

„No, please…continue“ I breathed out.

„You need to be quiet or else the whole city is gonna hear us…“ he said, but I noticed pride in his voice.

„ Please…Howzer“ I moaned out, causing him to let out a groan, at the way I made his name sounded in my mouth. He leaned down a bit and covered my mouth with his hand and looked into my eyes, before he started to continue with his deep and hard thrusts, hitting the spot inside me and my extremely sensitive clit.

I moaned loudly against his big hand as my eyes rolled into the back of my skull. With his pace and the way he was hitting all the right spots, it didn’t take long, before I was nearing my second orgasm. I dig my fingernails deeper into his back and arched my back, making him go even deeper. He removed his hand when I came.

„Oh…kriff! …Howzer“ I moaned out when I came and clenched my walls around him, bringing him to his edge. He let out a groan in pleasure and pulled out to come into his hand, as another groan escaped him through gritted teeth and clenched jaw. Before I even was able to catch my breath again I took his hand and looked into his eyes. We both were kneeling on the bed now and he was looking at me a little confused about what I would do next. I slowly leaned closer, before I started to lick his cum off of his fingers. When I was sucking on his middle finger and took it almost completely into my mouth, I looked back into his eyes. He looked at me with pure lust in his eyes, watching me closely as I cleaned his fingers.

When I had finished he gave me a kiss, after he said „good girl“ in a low raspy voice. I blushed at the praise from him, confused why these words made me feel so good and caused a shiver to run down my spine.

We both laid down next to each other and I cuddled myself onto his side wrapping my arm and leg around his body. I placed my chin on his chest and looked at him with pure admiration. He turned his head toward me and stroke a strand of hair behind my ear and smiled.

„You’re beautiful“ I said softly without any hesitation.

„I was just going to say the same thing to you“ he replied with a smile and I leaned in to give him a kiss, which he returned. I noticed that he was thinking about something and I tilted my head slightly.

„But how can you say that…you have met millions, that look exactly like me“ he wondered and slightly turned his head away to not look at me.

„Howzer, each and every one of you is individual and…and you are… different, then most clones I have met in my years as a stormtrooper“ I told him truthfully and let my fingers run over his chest. He turned his head back towards me and looked deep into my eyes as if he was searching for something. „When I say this, I mean you are beautiful on the outside and inside“ I added and needed to tilt my head away this time, when I realized how cheesy this sounded.

He sat himself up and took me with him, so I sat in his lap with my legs wrapped around his waist and softly placed his fingers under my chin to make me look at him.

„Thank you, Seven…“ he said and kissed me softly. „it means the world to me to hear that from you“

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