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burnedbyshoto · 4 years

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good little omega

— He was an alpha, you were an omega. Can I make it anymore obvious? He was a crime boss and you were a movie star. What more can I say? Oh, he wanted you, really wanted you, but you swore you would never, ever need an alpha.

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pairing: alpha!shigaraki tomura x omega fem!reader

warnings: 18+, smut, abo/omegaverse, chad alpha!shiggy, virgin celeb!reader, kidnapping, drugging, sex slave auction, biting/marking, belly bulge, knotting, sex toys, heat, implied murder (lol rip shigsters last omegas), mind break, breeding, degradation, finger fucking, fucking in front of a crowd, modern world!au

word count: 6,174

a/n: this goes out to my shiggy stans. I never understood you until recently and now I blush like a schoolgirl when I see him. mondays are so busy, are they not? ive been home for 6 hours today wtf????

kinktober day 12 main kink: abo/omegaverse | kinktober masterlist

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You sat before the mirror, your eyes intently staring at your reflection. The people around you running around, chaotically bringing brushes and pencils to your face, the smell of chemicals in the air, tickling your overly sensitive nose.

“Are we ready?! Is Y/n ready?! I don’t think she’s ready?! We need to be out of here in five minutes, people, let’s hurry it up!”

Breaking your gaze from your reflection onto your agent in the background, you sighed softly at the growing sour and distressed omega pheromones. Oh, you realized suddenly, your nose unable to keep from scrunching at the mildewy detergent scent, they were really stressed out.

Today was the night of the biggest award show one could attend as a movie star celebrity in Japan. The Motion Picture Awards gave only the most prestigious and prodigious actors and actresses their due. A night of fashion, alcohol, and nervous pheromone pumping alphas and betas in a single room to reveal who was the best this year. Working in an industry such as your own, you had become quite the living legend already at the mere age of twenty-two.

As an omega, you grew up in a society that banned you from enlisting or attempting to join the ranks of the best in just about every field of focus or study. So that even included the area of acting. Casting Directors had always said the same thing each and every time you were forced to present your secondary gender to them all when being called back for auditions.

‘Omegas can’t be movie stars, your heats are too often and too long, they cause rifts in filming schedules this project cannot afford.’

‘We have too many prime alphas on set. Our film's projected main character is an alpha, we wouldn’t want to be caught up in a lawsuit should she find you to be too… fertile.’

‘Omegas can only be good, suitable nurtures and well, mothers. This movie just seems a bit too intense for a little omega like you!’

Omegas can’t do this, omegas can’t do that. Alphas, the pride of society, couldn’t be made to hold themselves back to your alluring scent and occasional heats. Betas, the majority of the population, didn’t feel a challenge when working alongside omegas. Omegas? Well, if there were any that actually existed within the film industry, they were for sure never heard from, or seen of.

At the age of eighteen, you had nearly given up on your long aspiring desire to become the first omega actor or actress to ever grace the scene. But just as you were ready to tell your agent that you were tired of all of the same, repetitive bullshit, a gentle alpha had approached you with an exciting role in mind for you.

Movies and cinematic films had always showcased omegas as sweet, nurturing individuals. For the most part, you agreed that that’s how you omegas were. You enjoyed hugging your close friends, scenting them softly as means of a small pack you had created as none of you were mated this young, yet didn’t ever wish to be bothered by self-righteous alphas or betas. Through many, many biology courses revolving around your secondary gender, you knew that the hormones that made you an omega also affected the brain to accept and view things in a… softer light. But unlike what they taught in school, and unlike what the alphas in society knew about omegas as they could never honestly watch an omega in heat while alone, was that omegas weren’t always the most nurturing or kind.

The week before your heat, the week of, and the week following your heat, you were always irritable, angry, almost cold. You’d flash your small fangs at anyone who dared to approach you with a scent you hated, your heat room never once escaping with everything torn to shreds, and you definitely did not wish to seek any fiber of soft love.

So when the alpha male sat in front of you, a single fang poking out of his lip as he exposed his neck in a motion of vulnerability and conceding to you — the omega — you knew he was serious.

He explained to you his plan on creating a more realistic movie surrounding the brutal truths of what being a single omega was like. Films had, after all, had always depicted omegas as being mated the moment they presented and going as far as saying that there were others means to be coupled to other alphas without actually being marked. It was atrociously wrong of the omega lifestyle, and it always made your stomach curl to see that it was an alpha or a beta actor putting on the role.

But he wanted to focus on the realities. The anger, sadness, and horrors you could face as a single, unmated omega. The director raved that you were the face for that movie and had a soul that made him come seek you out. And without so much as consultation from your agent, you agreed on the spot.

The title of the film had been an ironic one. Good Little Omega was what it was called in the end.

All in all, the movie had done poorly in the eyes of the critics. Many individuals — namely alphas and betas — claimed that the depiction of omegas within the film had been horribly wrong. Omegas were never sad, never homeless, never abandoned by society! That’s what they had all cried the moment the trailer flashed with bright letters:

AND INTRODUCING: Y/L/N Y/N (Ω)

Still, the movie made billions as many went to watch it because they ‘needed to see how horrible the movie was.’ They wanted proof that omegas weren’t cut as movie stars because how could someone who was out of commission for a week every two months be proactive on set. But all they got was a cinematic masterpiece.

You had taken a claim in the industry, one while small, that hadn’t hurt that much because you were much more focused on the fact that you now were a household name. Well, that is until you were nominated for the awards ceremony you were currently about to attend, only that it was the one from four years ago.

You were the first omega actress and now the first omega nominee. You hadn’t won, but that had solidified the step you had in the door. After that, the interests to hire you in omega roles came pouring through the door.

But you were brought back to reality when the setting spray splashed against your face, your eyes fluttering when they covered your scent glands with the flesh-colored band-aids they got for you. Alphas could never complain about you being a distraction if you smelled the same as betas.

Rising to your feet, you smiled graciously to your makeup and styling team, thanking them profusely as your agent placed her hand at the small of your back and began pushing you towards the exit.

“Goodluck!”

“Thank you!”

Shigaraki glared down the table of averted eyes, and his hands brought up under his chin twitched at his annoyance.

“Are you going to say anything, or are we going to remain silent?” he asked, his voice quiet yet heavy in all of their ears as they flinched. “Don’t think you’re going to get away without giving me an answer.”

The sour smell of fearful alphas should have corroded Shigaraki’s nose. It should have done something to unsettle the way that the young head sat on his black leather seat. But as a matter of fact, the young alpha had to resist the way he wanted to bare his teeth in a bloodied smile, his red eyes slit in his cruel lust for fear.

“O-Of course not, a-alpha!” croaked one of the smaller alphas down the table. Shigaraki snapped his eyes towards the yellow-haired croony, his neck exposed for the alpha, eyes refusing to look at his leader. “I-It’s just that, um, I — I mean, we don't know w-what happened to your mate!”

“I thought I gave clear and distinct instructions that you were supposed to have found them by this meeting,” Shigaraki stated, his voice somehow growing colder, meaner yet never once changing as his hands dropped from his chin to rest on the arms of his chair. He tilted his head, watching the pathetic alphas quiver like some scared, stupid omega. “Useless. Get out of here before I change my mind on killing you all where you sit.”

The crowd of alphas left quicker than Shigaraki could blink, leaving behind the reeking smell of scared alpha pheromones.

“Tomura-kun, you killed your mate,” came the singsong giggle from behind him, and Shigaraki didn’t bother turning around, his nose and ears sharp enough to pick up exactly it was behind him.

“They’re all a bunch of pissy lackeys,” Shigaraki simply stated, his eyes rolling as he slowly fell to the back of his chair, red eyes meeting golden ones that shone with mirth and joy. “What do you want, Toga?”

Toga leaned against the leather armrest, uncaring that Shigaraki hated his personal space invaded. The young female was an alpha, much like most of the people within this gang group, but unlike the others, she had a distinct, almost terrifying way to change the way she smelled. She could smell like anyone or any secondary gender. She often preferred to smell like an omega too.

“We have a guest visiting us today!” Toga chirped, her fingers clasping together. “I wanted to introduce him!”

“Bring Giran in,” Shigaraki snapped, his eyes narrowing with no real malice for the alpha next to him who simply pouted at the surprise — not a surprise — being ruined. Giran reeked of cigarettes and cheap body sprays that, when wafted with his distinct omega pheromones, made Shigaraki want to throw up. “Hurry up.”

“UGH!”

Shigaraki’s mouth was set in a firm line, his eyes watching as one of his most trusted allies walked to the table, and taking a seat in the abandoned chairs as Toga purred in happiness, sitting on the armchair of Giran’s chair, arms enveloping him.

“Shigaraki, how are you doing?” Giran smiled, the cigarette that seemed to take a permanent residence in his teeth moving with his words. “I came bearing some great news.”

“What do you have for me?” Shigaraki simply states, his eyes focusing on the letter that is unpocketed from Giran’s pockets and placed onto the table. “Don’t tell me you’re trying to sell me your omega niece again.”

Giran chuckled, looking at Toga, who was smirking softly, “I guess he still hates that joke, huh?”

“Absolutely livid!” Toga laughed.

Shigaraki growled, his mind and his inner alpha snarling at the lack of respect to the command of his question. He outranked them, outpowered them; they needed to respect his orders.

Giran took a deep inhale of his cigarette, sliding the card over to Shigaraki, his eyes averted, but his stance still firm. “I know you go through omegas faster than a teenage boy goes through a pack of tissues, but I think this can answer the pleas you have at night.”

Observing the card in his hand, Shigaraki scowls, unsure of how to feel about the print on the invitation.

“Say the word, and I’ll get you a seat,” Giran whispers, like a sinister god begging a mere mortal to sign over their life for something completely worthless. But Shigaraki knows his worth, and more importantly, he knows in this game he outranks Giran, who would never betray him. In the slightest. He huffs, his back hunched, and his eyes looking with subdued excitement.

“Who else is showing up?”

Giran knows the seat will be wanted that instant.

“No one who could hold a candle to you, alpha.”

“Don’t make me regret this.”

“Of course not, my liege.”

The award sitting in your hand feels almost fake as if the entire night was nothing more than a heat-driven fever dream. You had won, had actually won the most significant award of the night that an actress could win!

“Oh my gods, okay, okay,” your agent muttered beside you. Her eyes glued to the shiny gold statue between your legs. “Well, I know your heat starts tomorrow, and I’ll leave you alone for a week. But I swear, y/n, as soon as your mind isn’t a full-blown lusty heat brained bimbo, we’ll reconvene, and we will make sure you are nothing but the greatest!”

“Yeah,” you breathlessly state, eyes transfixed on the prize that felt like it could melt away any second right now. “That sounds wonderful.”

The car you were in pulled up to your front door, and you felt meek excited the car in nothing but a silk robe and slippers. The dress you had worn that night had already been put back into a plastic bag to be returned to the stylist who had offered to style you for the night. You waved with an almost transfixed look in your eyes as you closed your front door behind you, your heart hammering as adrenaline still coursed through your veins as if you had just been declared the victor of the category yet again.

Placing the trophy onto the table, you sighed in a wondrous, dreamy way.

You had done it.

You had won.

Fuck all those directors who had ever said anything different.

Still deep in your thoughts, you almost missed the knock on your door, and you figured that you must have left something in the car. Walking back over to the front door, your nose curled at the lack of scent, was it a beta?

Opening the door, you don’t remember seeing faces or even a scent of a pheromone. A single cloth wrapped over your head, and before you could send out your painful, fearful moments-from-heat omega pheromones, you were knocked out.

Cold and lifeless, you sunk against their arms, bile rising up to your throat as you know exactly what was going on. You were being kidnapped.

No… please not… not after all of this had happened.

You wake up to the sound of moving feet, sneering laughter, the feeling of coarse, hot, hands on your ass and wet, simmering tongues on your lubricated cunt. The sense is vivid. You can feel the very littlest touch on your body, the layer of scented pheromones on your glands, and slick from alphas — you know it's alphas imprinting themselves on you as a mark of a claim.

You knew about this from high school; it was an extremely outdated and frowned upon version of mating and claiming as it simply turned away any sort of pursuer who wasn’t the thick pheromone individual. You also knew it was frowned upon because if multiple individuals sought mateship with the typical omega individual, it would result in a massive, unsolvable death match. But these alphas, even with layering their scent on you so thick you thought you were turning crazy, didn’t attack. No, they took languid stripes of your fresh, intoxicating slick and growled to you, maybe, how that was how slick was supposed to be.

You wanted to move, to kick the stupid, demeaning alphas in the snout before running away, but in a twist of horrible realization, you soon figured out that despite your alert mind, you couldn’t move your body. Couldn’t shift it even the smallest of bits.

“I hope all you wonderful clients have been able to taste and smell your potential mates out here!” A loud, commanding introduction voice echoed from somewhere where you couldn’t see, his voice vibrating into the straps of your legs, but you couldn’t make a sound or even open your eyes. “As you know, we have such an arrangement for you all, the best of the best, really! We don’t wish to rush, but as always, all of these events are incredibly time-sensitive, so if you would, please alphas, please come and sit down, and we’ll begin bidding on our first of seven beautiful, fertile omegas tonight!”

The words sounded foreign in your ears yet at the same time, something so familiar because this was something you omegas were always warned about. This had to be some sort of omega mate auction, and by the stench of alphas who smelled like they owned millions and killed millions, you were in no doubt somehow caught up in one of the worst ones imagined.

Two long, completely hardened fingers suddenly entered your cunt, and as if for a single millisecond, your mind and your body were able to work in tangent, your hips bucked at the sweet feelings. Oh, your eyes tried to flutter, enjoying the way the two fingers circled the walls of your long lonely cunt.

“Please, alpha, please refrain from touching the merchandise for now, please join us so that we may begin!”

The two fingers buried within your cunt as if it was their right, slowly withdrew out of your pulsing walls, and you heard the sound of sneakers against the hardwood floor and felt relaxed and sickened at how you sort of liked it.

Heat brain, you reminded yourself. Just your stupid, horny heat brain.

You were a celebrity, you mantra, a dignified star who didn’t need a beta or an alpha unless you saw it fit. Right now, as you had repeated many times to the countless amounts of reporters who had asked, you had no interest in someone to share your heat with.

“Alright, and to start off our night in a rolling go! Please, everyone put your hands together for the fertile and beautiful thirteenth in-line the Princess of Cabodia: Dayanara!”

This auction was insane, all six omegas before you all sold from a price that ranged from 198 hundred million to the one right before you who sold for one billion dollars. You were a prideful omega, and you saw worth to your abilities, smell, and looks, but were you even worth anywhere in that range?

The entire time you had been set up in who knows what, the small, overwhelming pound of your heat sinking into the depths and pores of your body was becoming heavy. You couldn’t move a single muscle still, your body still refusing to respond to the call of your body, but the seep of your slick running down the innards of your thighs, undoubtedly beginning to pool on the ground, must be embarrassing of you.

Suddenly someone spread the skin below your ass out, and you couldn’t react as something sharp and prick stabbed into your flesh. You howled in the surprising pain, and you were fast to find that whatever they had injected you with had allowed systematic movement within your body. Your eyes fluttered open as two, impossibly huge alphas grabbed you by your forearm and hoisted you to your feet.

Your neck was far too weak to carry the weight of your head, so your eyes were transfixed on the white silk of the slutty dress they dressed you in. It showed off your cleavage with no regret, and by the feel and look of it, it barely passed the bottom of your ass. Your vision swam, the alphas all over the room distorted and melting within one another as you stepped onto a stage, the spotlight on you feeling deliriously hot and melting your skin.

Your hormones, already going crazy with your heat, seemed to intensify at the small of so many capable, potent, possessive alpha pheromones that suffocated the room. Handcuffs slapped onto your wrists, and you moaned pathetically at the sting of cold metal on your skin, and you obediently followed the command of one alpha to go on your knees.

A nail slammed between the metal links of the handcuffs, practically stapling you to the wooden floor, and you whimpered at the feeling of a stuffed pillow mount being placed beneath your lower stomach. You were in a forced and easily accessible mating position with your slick and cunt exposed for all the alphas to re-smell and see.

Moaning, you shifted against the mount, your body not able to have the full movement you needed to ward off that building, insufferable heat in your core, but nothing you could do seemed to satisfy it.

“And for our biggest prize of the night, we have the one, the only, the beautiful sensation Y/l/n Y/n!” the auctioneer roared. His voice echoing in your ear as he walked over to you, exposing your dripping cunt to the crowd of alphas who had all gotten a sweet taste of your essence already. His hand came down to slap your ass with a chuckle. “Where do we start the bidding on this one, alphas? She needs no introduction, and none of you better be pussies because we know this bitch of an omega won’t take any tiny cocks as her alpha! She needs to be broken in, fucked to submission. No one likes a trailblazer… someone needs to remind of what fucking trail she’s supposed to be on. Besides, the bitch is in fucking heat, and if you don’t claim her, I just might do it myself!”

“75 million!” someone started the bidding.

You stiffened.

“75 to the man in the back!”

“90 million!” someone challenged.

“We’re up to 90!”

“125 million!”

“Do I hear another offer?”

“250 million!”

The number climbed and climbed, the same voices coming to challenge each other until finally, they rounded out to a quantity that sounded bizarre even to you.

“950 million!”

If it had been possible for your knees to give out, you would have been collapsed onto the floor, the pool of slick that continued to lubricate your cunt without a doubt drowning you as you craved the need to be fucked by someone with undoubted alpha pheromones and cock in this room.

“950 million?” the auctioneer repeated, his voice for sure carrying a shark-like grin. “Going once, going twice—”

“Five billion.”

The gasp in the crowd was undeniable, and the omega in you crooned, knowing that this alpha valued you and your omega to be the price of five billion US dollars.

“Fuck!” screamed the man who had presented the 950 million deal.

“Wowee, five billion dollars, everyone! Anyone think they can beat that?! Going once! Going twice!” The crowd remained in silence, and you shook against your restraint, the heat emitting from your cunt almost demanding to be seen and fucked through this heat week. “SOLD! The virgin celebrity, Y/l/n Y/n sold to our own Shigaraki Tomura!”

The cheers of amaze weren’t nearly as loud as the smell of reeking petty alpha.

“Come and pay up, alpha, and then you can show us… a demonstration of how you’re going to break this omega.”

“Shut up.” Shigaraku growled, his footsteps heavy in your ear as you feel him climb up the stage, and you weakly tilted your head to look at the white-haired alpha boss hand over a simple credit card before walking over to you, his eyes unreadable as he looked you dead in the eye.

He reached out a finger that raised your chin up for him to study your face, moving and tilting your head as he pleased as a small, sinister smile pressed to his lips as he dropped your head. A sharp, uncomfortable pain fell on your chin as it crashed to the floor, and you shivered at the feeling of his calloused and rough fingers running down your exposed back.

“You’re such a small omega, still stupidly tiny. I bet you’ve never thought your first knot would come from someone like me,” Shigaraki laughed, his fingers and voice ice cold. His words were soft, spoken in a way that had your omega stupidly cooing for having secret conversations with your alpha who promised to fuck you till you were carrying a litter of pups. “I hope you realize that this is real life, that I will break you, and no hero in this world will be able to fucking save you.”

“Fuck the omega!” someone from the crowd screamed, and Shigaraki glared upwards. Still, you shivered in the thought of this alpha who spent five billion dollars to make you his claiming you, fucking your stupid heat brain into mush in front of these smaller, irrelevant alphas.

“I’ll do what I fucking please,” Shigaraki snapped, but the fingers you remembered to have been the last ones to enter your slicked crazy walls seemed to be his. They moved deep within you, curling and spreading your tight, sopping wet cavern apart, letting your pathetic, chirping cries echo powerfully in the room as lusting, near rutting alpha pheromones filled the room. “For fucks sake, omega, your pussy’s fucking tight as shit! Don’t you have any real knotted toys?”

You couldn’t respond back, your body on the road to a complete shut down at the feeling of something other than silicone deep within your body, fingering and dragging against your pheromone soaked walls.

“Alpha, y-your fingers feel so good!” you gasp, your hips thrusting backward, enjoying the way his fingernails press onto your warm velvet walls. “So good, you make me feel so good already.”

“I’ve seen you all over the news,” Shigaraki growled low into your ear. “Talking about how you didn’t want an alpha, how you never needed to feel the tightness that a fat knot could bring you, and look at you now. I’ve barely touched you, barely begun to make you mine, and yet you’re already begging for me, omega.”

Your arms tug at the handcuffs, pathetically wanting them off. Exasperatedly seeking more friction from your newly bought alpha. You can’t think straight, can’t come up with a single response except the stupid apologetic, “I’m so sorry alpha, I didn’t know i-it would be y-you!”

“Don’t be shy on her, Shigaraki! Fuck the slutty omega already! Fucking knot and claim her in front of us, I want to hear the omega whore scream. It’s always hotter when it’s the first claim ever!”

“You better learn how to shut the fuck up, or I’ll kill you for interrupting my fucking session here,” Shigaraki seethed, his red, smoldering eyes ripping from yours and glaring at some loser alpha behind you. You couldn’t care. You only wanted what looked like the growing cock in Shigaraki’s pants; you wanted to feel the cock fill up your cunt, and his knot to lock you both in place.

You drooled at the thought, your loud, whimpering cries unable to keep from pouring out as the slick from your core seemed to pour endlessly from your pussy, demanding attention and a knot. “Breed me, fill me with your pups,” you begged fingers taking in his dirty fingers in your mouth, tongue wildly and uncontrollably flicking across his fingers in hopes it would be a sinking prayer of your promise to be good. “I want your knot, alpha, I want these stupid alphas to know you’re so much better than them~!”

Shigaraki’s once snarl fell when he looked at you, a slowly growing smirk falling on his face as his lips spread into a cruel smirk, one that had you moaning around his fingers as he pinched the pink muscle in your mouth before disappearing before you.

“I smelled your distress when I put my fingers up your sloppy little cunt right before the auction happened; I could tell even with your growing heat that you hated the feeling of my fingers up your pretty pussy. But look at you now, I haven’t even set you on my goddamn knot, haven’t stretched that tiny cunt to its max. You’re smelling better than a bitch in heat,” Shigaraki growled in your ear. His clothed chest pressing deliriously into your exposed back, the huge cock outline in his pants grinding incessantly into your wet core, undoubtedly leaving a damp patch where his cock ground into you. “You’re an actress, aren’t you, little omega? I bet you just needed this audience cheering your name to break your mind over this. How. Pathetic.”

And the pressure on your tongue is gone, the drool and saliva sticky and cold on your chin as you whimper for your alpha. You promised that it wasn’t right, it was just that you had been scared before, but your alpha was so strong, his pheromones so scary and mean, he could protect you and fill you up with so many pups you couldn’t help but to be excited now.

The smell of Shigaraki seemed to brighten, and you moaned when his hands pressed the white dress up, allowing for your naked ass to be seen by him and everyone who stayed to watch. Shigaraki squeezed your asscheeks away, chuckling at the way your small asshole clenched in your embarrassment and pain at how your hormone-driven heat demanded that he fuck you and knot you now.

“So fucking wet,” Shigaraki observed, his fingertips tracing the slick on your folds before a small pop told you that he licked you clean from his fingers. “Such sweet slick too, you really are a prime omega, little one.”

You whimpered, ass shaking for him to continue to touch you, to continue to fuck you more.

“I don’t think you’re ready for my knot, precious omega,” Shigaraki taunted, and his words were a sealing deal in your lusting mind. Your hips knocking backward in some sort of desperation for more.

“She won’t,” commented the auctioneer.

“I will!” you scream, eyes filled with painful tears that could only be resolved with your alphas knot and claim. “I can take your knot, alpha!”

Shigaraki makes a small noise, and you choke at the feeling of something huge, nearly monstrous, shift into your cunt. You were a virgin, but even you knew that it was merely the head of his alpha thick cock, not enough for you to be satisfied, not far enough in you to breed or fuck you properly. All the moans in your throat were slightly painful, and the tears in your eyes continued to fall as you rocked your hips backward, trying to sink yourself further on his cock, wanting him deep in your womb.

You craved him.

“Ah, good, you can take more,” came the airy, almost insane driven coo of Shigaraki, the lack of humor making your cunt flutter against his thick, long cock. “Cry for your alpha, little omega.”

With that, Shigaraki slammed into you with no mercy, his cock bottoming out into you with a powerful, edging thrust. You screamed in pain, tears leaking from your eyes, and even with the pool of lubricating slick, his cock was far too big, incredibly thick that you felt your inner walls splitting in two as he fucked you as if you weren’t in delirious pain.

Drool and tears covered your arms, your painted fingers digging into the floorboards with crazy strength that you clawed scars on the floor as Shigaraki rutted deep within you.

Shigaraki commanded you with every thrust he gave, and soon the omega in you was cooing, howling for more, the pain of having your virginity ripped from right under you having become bubbling, glowing pleasure. You screamed in pleasure, Shigaraki grabbing onto your rolling hips to slam you back onto his cock, allowing for his thick cock to hit deep within you over and over again. The angle and power he possessed with every thrust were almost inhumane, nothing your lonely heat filled nights could ever dream of recreating ever. Shrill moans and pleas drowned out the annoying commentary of your onlookers, Shigaraki’s chest still flushed against your back, his hips landing heavily on your ass that was at this point raised because of the mount beneath you.

“My alpha,” you babble, eyes unfocused, hazy, and incredibly heavy as you stared at some point on the wall, overwhelmed with the feeling of Shigaraki’s hot cock pounding in you. “My alpha, such a good alpha. His cock is making my tummy feel funny, making my pussy feel so tight. Please fill me with your children, I’ll be a good omega to you and them, I promise! I promise — I — oh myyy goddd — I promise, alpha!!!”

Shigaraki puffs up with the praise, but he continued to fuck into you roughly, mercilessly, as if you were nothing more than the breeding whore omega that he had purchased you for. The wet slaps and satisfying squelches rang in the blazing heat room, the smell of the pleasured and heat insane omega saturating deeply within his nose, and in the other's nose, the prideful smell of a satisfied alpha.

Your spongy walls clenched and spasmed against his penetrating, pounding cock, sometimes even forcibly because, by god, it was hot when his cock would twitch within your womb, especially against your cervix.

“Fuck, you’re so damn annoying,” Shigaraki snarled into your ear, his teeth biting and scraping along your neck, and you wailed when his teeth dragged over the sweet scent gland on your neck. The one and only place for mating bites to go. His hand gripped your hair, tugging your head back so that you could feel his rough facial skin rub up against yours. “If you want me to fill you with my pups, you better be the best fucking omega on this goddamn planet.”

“I can be the best! I’ll be the best!” you cried, your ass shifting backward to meet his drilling hips.

The delirious sensation of his cock rocking against your cervix slowly begins to inflate the knot on his cock, restricting his still barbaric thrusting as he made to move faster. He wanted you to cum before he knotted entirely within you.

The pressure in your stomach is scorching and impossibly tight, and he takes another long stripe at your scent gland. You tremble with need, your fingers tearing into the wooden floors. You can feel the knot on his cock swelling up, catching onto the opening of your cunt with every successive cunt, and you begin to cry, shake, and tremble as the knot becomes too big.

Your eyes cross, your tongue falling out of your mouth as you babble his name. Your walls clamp around his knotted cock with the ferocity of a vice, and your body jerks violently as you cum hard around his cock. The slick essence of your orgasm slipping out of the few lasting places open before Shigaraki’s knot fills you out entirely. Despite his cock unable to move, the swollenness of his knot preventing him from moving out of you, Shigaraki still shoves his weight into his hips, the inflated knot stretching your cock out so widely, your vision went white, and you came yet a second time.

A small pop was heard, and suddenly with a rush of thick, hot, and heavy white cum exploded within your womb, his teeth sink around your scent gland, marking you — mating you. He filled you, filled you, and filled you. His cum wouldn’t stop until your belly was swollen with his hot cum, and he eventually fell off of you with a shaky, shallow breath.

You still remained on the mount, your eyes unfocused, breaths mumbling to your alpha, a promise to carry out every single pup he gave you and would give you. You were his omega, his good little omega, and you would never disappoint your alpha. Not now, not ever.

⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆

The next week, you opened your door with a broad smile, your usual clothes replaced with a dress Shigaraki had picked for you and a frilly white apron on as your agent was standing outside of your house, eyes wide, mouth gaped at the still bleeding mate wound on your shoulder.

“Ah, how funny!” you laughed, waving your hand as you sighed dreamily, your eyes fluttering at the thought of your alpha who was on a business call right now. “I’m actually going to be quitting! My alpha and I have many plans right now, I gotta produce as many litters as I can, being an actress would never give me this sort of meaning in life!”

“B-But, you’re doing so much?! You have so much to do! You can’t give up?!”

“Oh, my love, we both know that I look much cuter with a pregnant belly! Don’t worry,” you smile, taking your agent's hand, brightly smiling at her one last time. “I’m sure all omegas will eventually find their alpha so they won’t be so depressed and angry like I was!”

Your agent doesn’t get another word in.

You slam the door in her face, your hands already resting on your belly that you knew was already growing the life of your first litter of pups. It had been known the second Shigaraki filled you up anymore.

You were a good little omega, and your alpha needed you!

#shigaraki x reader #shigaraki tomura x reader #shigaraki smut #bnha #bnha x reader #mha #bbs kinktober 2020

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findingjoynweirdstuff · 3 years

Text

Dream SMP Recap (April 12/2021) - 72 Hours

Quackity takes a trip down memory lane, recounting the events that led up to his visit to the prison.

---

VOD LINKS:

Ponk

Tommy

HBomb94

Foolish

Quackity

Badboyhalo

Karl Jacobs

Ranboo

Eret

Captain Puffy

---

- Ponk’s room in Niki’s city is decorated with posters of anime, his favorite people, pictures of Ponk and Sam next to each other, and his Enderman named Speed Wagon

- He wants to get a poster from both Foolish and HBomb

- Ponk waits at the Community House and Foolish boats in.

- Foolish notices Ponk’s stump, not knowing what it is at first. Ponk tells him that “Sam happened,” and Foolish replies that Ponk needs to get Sam out of his head. Ponk then tells him that he’s been taken into a communist cult, and that he’s missing an arm, and it oozes red stuff. Foolish freaks out.

- Ponk remarks that Foolish has a good sense of style, and he would like to commission something. He leads Foolish to the city. Foolish asks about his arm again, and Ponk says he’ll tell Foolish about it in time.

- Foolish says at least Ponk seems to be in good spirits. Ponk says that it’s because of the medication that Niki gave him. The salmon in his roof produces a drug that makes him happy.

- They mess around with the posters in Ponk’s room some. Ponk mentions that Sam took his arm, and Foolish is shocked. Ponk’s said too much. He wishes Foolish luck and says he’ll pay him well later before leaving Foolish to the room.

- Foolish says he knew Ponk and Sam were on rocky terms, but it’s a bit much of Sam to take Ponk’s arm...

- He puts a picture of himself in the shark outfit on Ponk’s wall and leaves to continue working.

---

LAS NEVADAS: EPISODE TWO

---

Two shadowy hooded figures ride on horseback across the wilderness.

There’s a third who rides a skeleton horse.

They approach Eret’s castle from the direction of Antfrost’s animal sanctuary. As they ride down the Prime Path, sirens can be heard in the background.

---

There is a montage of Quackity going to the prison each day, rain or shine. The waivers are shown, and Quackity’s name is signed.

On screen, the day numbers are shown as Dream runs around the cell, punching the air.

It starts from 2. At day 16, Dream is in the respawn pool as Quackity approaches. The numbers go up to 29.

72 Hours before The Visit

- Quackity rows to a remote island, where he meets Awesamdude. Sam is confused at how Quackity knew about this place.

- Sam has been busy farming in a small patch of land to get away from things. He started not long ago.

- There’s a gravestone with a disc and a jukebox dedicated to Tommy.

- Quackity tells Sam that Tommy’s death wasn’t his fault. Sam disagrees, saying it was his responsibility.

- Sam shows Quackity his beach full of turtles and his horse

- Quackity tells Sam that he’s a very caring person. Sam shows Quackity his house.

- Quackity then tells Sam that he’s not the only one who thinks Tommy’s death wasn’t his fault, but Dream’s. To accept that is the only way to move on.

Sam: “I could’ve done something, Quackity. I could’ve...I don’t know. I could’ve done something.”

Quackity: “No, you know what you could’ve done? You could’ve gone back into that jail cell and put a sword right through his neck. That’s what you could’ve done, Sam. That’s what you could’ve done to Dream. Because guess what, Sam? this isn’t the first time he does it, and this isn’t the last time either. Sam, look at me...the only way he’s gonna stop this is if you get rid of him, Sam. That is the only way.”

- Quackity says they should do it right now. They go back into the house and Sam activates a secret door with a potato, leading down into a basement full of weapons and armor. They head out in boats as Quackity encourages Sam to do it.

Quackity: “Feel that fury in your fucking heart, Sam, and know that’s all because of Dream. Let’s go. Let’s go, Sam. It’s all because of Dream.”

Sam: “You’re right! I couldn’t do anything! Dream would’ve killed him anyways if I had gone in there, there’s nothing I could’ve done!”

Sam: “I can just kill him! I can just murder him! He can’t get away, he’s stuck in there, he has nothing! He’s so weak! This is the perfect chance! I can just murder -- no one would even need to know that he died! I can just say he was still locked up there, I could -- yes -- you’re right, and if I kill him no one will die! I don’t want any visitors already!”

Quackity: “Exactly! No visitors! No visitors, Sam! No visitors, no one’s allowed to see Dream ever again, it’s a secret between you and me, Sam...we’re not gonna tell anyone. As far as we’re aware, Dream is in that prison, and no one’s allowed to visit him ever again because he committed that crime against Tommy. Guess what? no one’s even gonna wanna see him, Sam, nobody! Because he killed Tommy, and everyone’s scared of him. But guess what? You and me, we’re not gonna be scared, Sam, because we know Dream is going to be fucking gone.”

Sam: “‘Cause he’s stuck in that cell anyway! There’s nothing he can do! We could kill him, and when he’s a ghost, I could go in and kill him again! And kill him again! And kill him again! And kill him again! And I can kill him a thousand times for the one death he gave Tommy!”

“Do you wanna come with me? You wanna help me do it? You can hold him down, and I'll chop his head off! We can kill him just like that, and there’s nothing he can do! Yes! He can just cry, and scream, and he’ll die -- I wonder if he’ll laugh now!”

- They reach the prison entrance and enter the portal. Quackity tells Sam that this is all for Tommy, and it’ll make him feel better.

- Before they can go through the defenses, though, Sam hesitates and starts having doubts.

Sam: “Quackity, we can’t kill him! That’s the whole reason we put him in here to begin with! Tommy trusted me to keep Dream in here! And now Tommy’s -- Tommy’s dead, I can’t do this to Tommy! Tommy trusted me, and he might’ve died, but that doesn’t mean we can let this happen! No, no! Tommy would want us to keep him locked up! The whole reason we locked him up was -- if someone else dies, Dream’s the only one who can do anything about it!”

“I can’t ruin what I promised to Tommy more than once.”

- Quackity says this is his chance at redemption, but Sam insists they can’t kill him. Quackity stops and then says he’s sorry he got ahead of himself. Quackity goes to leave, but then hesitates and goes back to Sam one last time.

- One way or another, someone will have to do it. If not Sam, Quackity. He reminds Sam that Tommy’s death wasn’t his fault.

Quackity: “Sam, before I leave...you gotta get it together. Las Nevadas will have no place for emotions, or for any personal ideas that you may have, or feelings, Sam. If you’re gonna be my business partner, you gotta do more than this. Understand?”

“I’ll talk to you soon, Sam.”

- Quackity leaves.

48 hours before The Visit.

- Quackity is speaking with someone. He thanks someone for giving him the spot, telling them that they can’t tell anyone about it.

- Quackity is near Fundy’s house. He digs straight down into the ground, landing in an underground area made of nether brick. It’s an extensive series of hallways. Quackity has a bunch of TNT.

- He finds the Egg Room and starts putting TNT around the Egg.

- He notices Bad and Punz approach and backs into the area behind, brandishing a redstone torch. Bad warns him not to do it.

- Quackity tells Bad that he doesn’t need the Egg, he knows that there’s still a part of Bad that isn’t doing this, and that they can work together.

- Bad replies that if Quackity gets in the way of his mission, he won’t have anything.

- Rat starts barking. Quackity says he’s doing this for Bad.

Punz: “Bad, don’t let this guy manipulate you.”

- Quackity shouts that he’s going to light it up and places more.

Quackity: “We’re all gonna go. I’m doing this for your own, Bad! I’m doing this for your own good!”

Bad: “You’re doing this for yourself, Quackity! I need this! I need the Egg!”

- Quackity gets Bad to order Punz away and keeps negotiating with Bad. He tells Bad that before the Egg, Bad was one of his closest friends, and in order for them to do great things together, Bad has to let go of the Egg.

Quackity sets off the TNT. The explosions go off, and the Egg turns to obsidian.

---

On one heart, someone slowly makes their way through the burning remains of the nether brick area, holding a single redstone torch as the Egg whispers.

HOW DARE YOU TRY AND TAKE THIS ONE FROM ME.

YOU WILL SUFFER FOR THIS.

HOW DARE YOU TRY AND TAKE THIS ONE FROM ME.

They stumble down the hall and the screen goes black.

24 hours before The Visit.

Quackity rides Boner down the Pogtopia highway.

He pauses at Tommy’s summer home, looking at the prison, and rides down.

- He notices George standing at the entrance, looking towards the portal. The two have a happy reunion. Quackity asks him why he’s here -- George says he’s just chilling.

- Quackity hasn’t seen George in ages. George is surprised by the scar on Quackity’s eye.

- He shows George Boner, who he has renamed to Ossium.

- He asks what George has been up to. It’s been ages since he’s seen George, Karl or Sapnap.

- Quackity tells George that he’s taken a break from El Rapids and has been working on a new project called Las Nevadas, a country full of casinos. An entertainment haven. He wants to set up a meeting with George, Karl and Sapnap about getting them all casinos.

- George asks, what about Kinoko Kingdom? Quackity doesn’t know what that is. George tells him, and says that Karl said he told Quackity about it.

- Quackity wasn’t told anything about this. He asks how long ago. It’s been a while.

- Quackity thought they had El Rapids going. It’s been hard to get in contact with them. George says he can still join.

Quackity: “I was working on this project, and I wanted to p-- no, no no, you’re...that makes sense. That explains so many things.”

- George tells him the direction that Kinoko is in. Quackity asks if they aren’t a part of El Rapids anymore. George says he supposes they can’t be in two countries at once.

- Quackity asks George not to tell anything to anybody about Las Nevadas. It will open soon, but he wants all the details to remain between them. As far as George knows, it’s just a country with entertainment.

- He says goodbye and leaves, telling George to say hi to Karl and Sapnap for him.

---

There’s a shot of Eret’s tower.

The Socializing Club and Purpled’s Walmart.

The old remodeled Community House.

The cobblestone version of Tommy’s house with the spruce trees around his land.

Skeppy’s original blackstone house with the three-door entrance.

Ze Haus.

The Spawn trap.

The camera pans up to a view of L’manburg, with blackstone walls, and the rebuilt Camarvan made of dirt.

The Elton John House and Space Program within the walls.

King’s Court.

It’s the Election Debate, Quackity and George arguing with Wilbur and Tommy.

---

- Quackity is out on a walk with Wilbur. He wants to know more about Wilbur. He asks why Wilbur has done the things he does.

- Wilbur tells him he wants protection for his people. Quackity asks to talk to Wilbur off the books. He wants to talk to Wilbur not as politicians, but people.

Wilbur: “Um, I mean I appreciate it -- No. The election’s in twelve days.”

- Quackity insists, and Wilbur says he’ll try.

- Quackity says he appreciates the Wilbur is trying to protect his people, and he doesn’t aim to overthrow him.

Quackity: “None of this is about fighting to me. I think there’s just a big difference between you and me, and I like to see the good side on people. I like to think that there’s a side of everyone that is willing to work for wanting to see a better future for everyone, and I think that’s where you and I are very, very different.”

“See, when I got here, when I got to these lands, and I wanted to join L’manburg, I was told I couldn’t. I was told to walk away because I wasn’t allowed to join L’manburg. And to me, that was a lack of belonging. And if I have to become President and tear down some walls in order for no one to ever feel unwelcome again, then so be it. I do believe that everyone has a good side to them, and I do believe that everyone has something to contribute to the nation.”

Wilbur: “Your aspirations of optimism are not going to be subject to my nation’s security, I’m afraid. I -- I completely disagree with everything you said...”

“You say everyone has a good side, Quackity -- and you’re right. You’re right. Everyone has a good side. But that good side is only there to help themselves. If you’re really gonna help people, you’re gonna need power, Quackity. You can make a movement, you can make a resistance, right, you can go out and you can come back, and they’ll give you a ticket-tape parade. They’ll cheer for you in the streets, but you will change nothing. If you have a revolution, everyone will hate you. You will sacrifice everything, and you will lose everything you ever had, but you will come back and everything will be changed. And Quackity, if you wanna change things, you’re gonna need power. That’s what you really want, isn’t it. Look at me..”

“And power isn’t gained from diplomacy, and bureaucracy, and giant courthouses suspended in the sky, blah blah blah -- it’s gained from swords, Quackity. It’s gained from blades. It’s gained from steel. Iron. Even if everyone has this good side that you’re talking about, then anyone who wants to prove it has to show their dark side first. You’re going to have to kill. You’re going to have to torture. You’re going to have to maim. When I look at you, as a fellow outsider...you’re not ready for that.”

“I’m leaving.”

- There’s a montage:

Quackity watching as Schlatt destroys the White House the day he left to join Pogtopia.

The Mexican L’manburg Revolution, Quackity facing Dream outside Church Prime.

Dream destroying Mexican L’manburg.

Quackity facing Technoblade in the Final Control Room.

Dream and Quackity outside of Church Prime again.

“I understand that you -- that you wish to cause problems on the SMP, and that’s your number one goal. You are, by far -- you are the biggest enemy on the SMP right now.”

---

Present Day.

---

He’s at Wilbur’s resurrection shrine. There is a chest marked “For Wilbur.”

- Quackity writes in a book.

“My dearest friend, Wilbur...

You were right all along...

And I won’t make the same mistakes twice.”

- He signs the book “PROJECT NEVADAS” and puts it in the chest.

- Quackity rides off on Ossium and dons the black hood as the sirens sound.

---

- Bad sees the sign about concrete that Ranboo left at his house and assumes that it must be some sort of cryptic scavenger hunt. He and Skeppy go to try and figure it out by reading out the other signs throughout the server

- Skeppy eats part of Jonald

- Karl builds a Party Island in Kinoko Kingdom with Pokimane

- Ranboo gets a wither named Logan to mine for him

- Eret works on their fortress

- Captain Puffy does a late night stream and does some mining

---

Upcoming Events:

- The Red Banquet

- The Las Nevadas business opening

- Dream’s lore video

- Ranboo’s lore (April 23)

- Tales From the SMP: “Space Race”

- Dream SMP’s one-year anniversary

#dream smp #dream smp recaps #long posts

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yostresswritinggirl · 3 years

Note

hello, i love your writin'!! seriously, it's so cool to read and im just ajdhsish and this is the first thing- second thing, would you be comfortable with writin' albedo x gn reader (headcanons are cool yknow!) who dislikes goin' outside alone? like, they worry that somethin' bad will happen to them or are a bit scared of doin' things that might go wrong around people, so they prefer goin' outside with someone? (they also want to get rid of their fears but have no ideas how) i will understand if you don't want to so dw!! 👉👈

First thing, thank you so much for requesting! This took a while, I'm so sorryy! This was supposed to come out yesterday but I got sick and barely had the brainpower to even stand :(( feels better now tho so yey? And yess ahhh thank you for your kind words, you guys have been wonderful too, give yourself some credit too!

This is the last Albedo request in the inbox and woohoo, we ended this streak in one of the hard prompts I've come by so far ahaha

I'm not sure if I interpreted anon right but this shall be a fic as originally requested? I'm apologizing in advance because I don't think I've captured this scenario well enough hehe,,, but I hope you still enjoy this!

Keep Me Intertwined

Albedo with a gn!reader that's scared of going out alone (Mild Social Phobia?)

Albedo is a genuis, everybody knows that, even beyond the walls of Mondstadt. Praised and sought out by scholars to ask for his wisdom and a majority of the time they receive their desired enlightenment.

Indeed, the Kreideprinz is a genuis even if he says otherwise, but he's a genuis in the art of Kemia. And only that. Truth be told there are a lot of things he lacks when it comes to knowledge, as his focus is only in the science he wants to explore. Beyond that, he comes close to a child's understanding of the world.

When he bumped into you when he was strolling through the stalls during a market fair of travelling merchants, he'd thought it would be something he can shrug off easily, but as he moves his head to look at the perpetrator he'd hear a squeak of a "sorry" and a running figure. What?

Albedo silently pats himself down as he continues to watch as the silhouette disappears farther, with a calculating gaze to memorize all their features for... future references.

After he made sure it wasn't a thief that bumped to him to pickpocket, he immediately moves on without another thought.

"Ah, you're the one from the marketplace yesterday." In all honesty, your second meeting was quicker to come than he expected, and at the most curious location of all places. In the Knights of Favonius HQ. How had he not heard or seen of you before?

Your shoulders tense at the sound before you even closed the door of which you came from. This was a room he's never seen anyone use, he realized. Was this where you've been residing all this time? What an oversight on his part but it seems that you two share the common practice of barely leaving your quarters.

When you turned around, behind those surprised eyes lies a gentleness of relief he has not seen a mixture of in the ones he'd observed before. "O-Oh, Chief Alchemist! I'm really sorry about that, I was- I'm really sorry!" He hums in contemplation before shaking his head, assuring you it was a matter that caused no harm.

There was more to it, but his thoughts are distracted with his current task at hand, and with a short goodbye he made his way out down the hall where the stairs resides.

His heavy boots clap on the carpeted floor...

Paired with shuffling light ones to try and match his stride.

Huh? "Are you perhaps going outside?" He confirms with a soft yes as he continues his walk. What are you implying? "Is it okay if I join your company? I uhm also need to get some stuff from outside." He just nods, not one for small talk or questioning. It's nothing much to think about really—

Your loose and subtle grip around the chains hanging by his coat seem to ground him from his musings as you two traverse through Mondstadt in a normal gait. He tries not to think about it too much, but the way you look around with unease when you near other people or your desperate strides to stay a respectable distance to him were things he observed during the walk. Albedo was no man of science focusing on human personality and it bothers him.

It was like a game of cat and mouse between you two running errands, he'll detour to the side and you'll follow him, and if you need to drop by to a building then he'll have to follow you.

And he doesn't know why. Is it because of his mannerism towards taking care of Klee? Or his feeling of responsibility for bringing you along?

During this whole ordeal the Chief Alchemist has brought himself a bright idea (it is not) and went into his scientific mode. He watches you talk to one of the citizens about a commission you had finished yesterday and after confirming your undivided attention, he quietly slips away from the area to visit the Alchemy stall where Timaeus would surely be working on.

It took about an hour before he was allowed to use the table, because Timaeus took so long working on his forgery. Goodness that man needs to work on his studies more.

Ah, speaking of— Albedo realized he'd just up and left you for an hour. Without a second thought he retraced his steps to where he had last seen you. Surely you would have gone off to do your own thing, probably finished up your errands by now and had gone back to the Knights headquarters.

An unmoving force made him tumble forward as his coat seemed to have been caught. If you were there, it would be a sight to see, a rare moment of the Kreideprinz so uncomposed and shocked as he catches himself with a sputter. What the hell? His head snaps to look over his shoulder at such incredible speed, you'd thought it really would have snapped—

The clutch on his chain accessory tightens. With your head down low he couldn't see what expression you were, but your tense shoulders shake with a tremor similar to that of an on-going earthquake. His guilt was more obvious as your knuckles turn white from the deadly grip.

"Albedo-!" You exclaimed in what seems to be a cross between a whine and a whimper. "You disappeared, I couldn't- I couldn't leave..."

He hides a sigh as you refuse to look up to show your face. And in a comforting manner he has 'mastered' with a certain someone, he gently pries off your tight grip (with some urging pats to get you to loosen) before interlocking your fingers with his gloved ones. And he smiles as genuinely as he can, "I'm sorry, I won't do it again. Are you done here? It's almost night, we should get moving."

Your nod of agreement was a breath of fresh air to him.

▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱

Days after that were pretty much as uneventful as uneventful it could be for Albedo's lifestyle.

Holed up in his laboratory for days without rest like the madman he is. Master's alembic and grounds of scarlet quartz able to keep his mind occupied to not wonder. Hyperfocused, no one has seen him out, only Sucrose dropping by with an 'assistant pass' despite the experiment on-going sign hanging by his doorknob.

When he finally stepped out to the hallway, three days already passed. The door behind him clicks as it locks, a sound that echoed with the door four rooms apart to his.

Kaeya looks up from your doorknob when he noticed the approaching silhouette. "Oh, Chief Alchemist? Finally came out of your cave." He quipped as he leans his shoulder against your room's door, visible eyebrow raising slightly after noticing the fleeting gaze Albedo passed at the door.

"Cavalry Captain, good evening. What were you doing there?" Straight to the point.

The taller man's eyebrow rose higher before he composed his amusement. "I didn't expect you to be into rumors, Albedo." The Alchemist's brows furrows in response. "No harm done, worry not. I just accompanied them on their trip outside before retreating for the night."

Humming to himself, Albedo's eyes wonder back to your doorknob before it was protectively shielded by the man's... white fur cloak?

"I also heard you left them alone when you two were out. I didn't expect you to be such a cruel man, amping up their fear after the progress they've made." Fear? Progress? More questions swirled within the genius' mind the more he talked with this.

Kaeya had noticed his faraway look and pieced together the context. Finally, he offered to explain the background of the issue and Albedo was ecstatic to listen in, a first with the blunette.

"Do you understand it now?"

"Mhm."

"Then I'll leave them to your care, I'm sure your genius mind can come up with something."

"Huh?"

And thus you find yourself standing at the bottom steps of the Ordo Favonius HQ the next morning, hand in hand with the Chief Alchemist you've last seen four days ago. Doesn't he have better things to do? No, he reasoned the solution he worked on will take two days to formulate the desired sediment, and so he has that timeframe free for the taking.

You would have been confused and wary he'd abandon you again—

Were you not forced to listen to the two dummies talk about YOU right outside your ROOM.

"You uhm, you don't have to hold my hand during this whole trip, Master Albedo."

"Albedo." He corrected. "And this is necessary, much more convenient and predictable than pulling on my chains really." A touch of a blush framed your cheeks with embarrassment.

"I have nothing in my itinerary today, so feel free to tug me along. It is, after all, the most I can do for what happened."

Despite the rough texture from the long use, the leathered hand in yours brought about more comfort than you would have thought.

Bonus:

The solar isotoma sparkled in pure golden beauty in front of you, but it didn't prevent the anxiety bubbling inside as you watch Albedo hop over the ledge with the help of his geo construct. "What- what are you doing?"

"Experiment. I'll be up in the roof looking over you so you'll know I'm still here, if it makes a difference if your company is far from arms length or not." He replied as he casually hopped over to the roof of a housing unit.

"Albedooo!"

I didn't get to capture all the aspects of the request that I wanted to focus on ahhhhh, I got so conscious of the length I had to stop it! Still ack I hope I captured his personality and context well— and I'm sorry if I amped up the fear more than you gave, I'm not really sure how bad it was supposed to be skskskks

But hey, this being the last Albedo req in my inbox, I am now free from this man *happy sigh* //:Albedo smut leading the leaderboard for the followers event looms over from behind:// *sweats*

#genshin impact #genshin impact imagines #genshin impact x reader #exile.flower #albedo #albedo x reader #genshin impact albedo #exile.goblet #genshin impact oneshots #genshin impact scenarios #glorysuffer #i enjoyed writing this more than i thought i would have!#sorry this took so long!!#the requests are getting harder lately hmmm #followers special #gender neutral

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whumperooni · 4 years

Note

Natsuo getting tired of Touya stealing amd fucking his girlfriends that years later he finally fucks the one girl dabi actually cared about. What am I saying I'm a dabi Stan lol

No, nonny, please- that’s so good

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Natsuo’s put up with Touya’s bullshit for years and years- has had to go through his prick of a brother stealing his girlfriends and fucking them stupid for years. Touya deserves a comeuppance- he really, really does.

And by god Natsuo is going to be the one to give it to him.

It’s nothing he intentionally sets out to do. Yes, he has a burning resentment towards his brother and he wants to make Touya feel the same rage and humiliation he himself has been subjected to so many times over the years. But he doesn’t know how to get back at his brother- it’s not like fucking one of the girls Touya messes around with will do anything. Natsuo knows Touya doesn’t give a shit about them. He knows that Touya would just laugh in his face. Touya doesn’t care about them. He never cares about them. Never. He’s never cared about anyone.

Except, well....

Except for you.

Sweet, cute little you that had Touya wrapped around your finger. Sweet, cute little you that had Touya soft and weak with just a giggle and a smile. Sweet, cute little you that had Touya following you around like a puppy dog without even trying.

Sweet, cute little you that broke Touya’s heart into so many pieces.

Sweet, cute little you that just so happens to be sitting in the bar Natsuo’s in- all by yourself in a booth with a sad, lonely little expression on your face.

Seeing you is like a blast from the past- Natsuo hasn’t seen you in years. Not since you broke Touya’s heart. Not since you ran from the house sobbing and scared because Touya couldn’t accept the fact that you broke up with him and tried to strangle you despite the hero commission having been visiting their father.

(And what a day that had been- Natsuo had never seen Enji so pissed before. Touya couldn’t move right for a good week after Enji had beat his ass.

That was the only time Natsuo had been okay with his father’s temper)

It’s been forever since he’s saw you, but it’s clearly you sitting all by yourself in that lonely booth. It’s a surprise but, more importantly enough, seeing you so suddenly after such a long time makes something in Natsuo’s brain click.

Before he knows it, he’s ditching his friends and sliding into the seat across from you. He grins when you look up at him in surprise and that grin grows when startled confusion gets replaced by wide eyes and a delighted smile.

“Natsuo!”

You had always liked Natsuo. Maybe more than you had liked Touya, even. Natsuo had always been good to you- sweet and friendly and nice. Not like Touya had been at all. Seeing him is a surprise, something you’re happy about- that’s very clear to see.

And seeing you has the gears in Natsuo’s mind slowly turning, jerkily moving. Seeing you has an inkling of an idea forming- nothing quite concrete just yet; a vague notion that has the tint of something a little mean and a little selfish and very satisfying.

The idea doesn’t really completely form until the two of you are chatting and catching up and you just happen to let slip about a recent breakup with a particularly shitty sounding boyfriend.

“I really know how to pick them,” you tell him- lips forming a small pout as you sigh and a finger twirling a lock of hair. “He was almost as bad as Touya....”

It takes a moment for you to realize what you just said and there’s an immediate blush on your face- eyes widening and embarrassment, panicking flicking across your expression. Natsuo just smiles despite your worry, though, and he leans his cheek on his fist, offers a friendly grin.

“He must have been a real douchebag then- Touya’s pretty hard to beat, let alone get close to in terms of dickishness.”

A startled giggle leaves you- awkward and surprised- and it fleshes out into something more loose and carefree. You relax when Natsuo joins in with a laugh of his own and are happy to jump on the change of conversation when he asks about school.

Natsuo listens as you talk about your classes and your studies and your roommate. He buys you a drink when you finish your first. And then he buys you another. And one more after that. He watches with an easy, friendly grin as a rosy blush claims your cheeks and as your voice gets softer and a little whiny when you talk about something that makes you pout. He’s handsome and his eyes are half-lidded, almost seductive as he flirts in a nice, non-predatory way that you’re really not quite used to. His flirting seems...safe. Friendly and without consequences if you don’t reciprocate. It’s nice, has you relaxing even more past what the booze has you lulled you to.

Which, really, he didn’t have to keep buying you booze and getting you drunk. You had been hesitantly considering getting into bed with him by the time you finished your first drink- mind unable to help but wonder how Touya’s much nicer brother would compare.

When he asks you if you want to go home with him, you agree with a shy giggle and a nod- lips twitching into an eager, curious smile as you follow him out of the bar.

Natsuo is such a gentleman. He’s always been good to you- friendly and kind and warm. He’s always been everything Touya is not- even with Touya weak to you he was still a prick and a half. Natsuo, though? He’s always been nice.

And he’s still nice.

He’s nice when he flags down a cab and slips his fingers through yours when you curl up next to him in the backseat. He’s nice when he holds your hand as you walk up to his apartment and when he lets you walk in first. He’s nice when he takes your coat and hangs it up with care. He’s nice when he kisses you like something to be treasured- gently, sweetly, adoringly.

He’s nice, too, when he slowly strips off your clothes- cool hands running over your body and lips pressing open mouthed kisses to your heated flesh. He’s nice when he lets you come first- head between your thighs and tongue working you through your first orgasm as your back arches and your fingers curl into his snowy hair and you mewl his name again and again- “Natsuo, Natsuo, Natsuo!”

He’s really nice when he oh so carefully slides into you- watching your lashes flutter and listening to all your soft little noises to make sure he’s not hurting you. He’s nice when he runs his hands up your arms and laces his fingers through yours- pressing your hands into the mattress and lips capturing your own in a passionate, sensual kiss.

And, god, he’s so nice when he makes you come again and again- until you’re a panting mess drunk on both booze and pleasure. He has your mind fuzzy from bliss- so fuzzy that you don’t care when he comes in you, so fuzzy that you don’t care or panic when he creams your wet, hot cunt. He presses tight against you when he comes- mouths at the crook of your neck as he tells you how good you feel, how he loves how wet you are, how you sound so fucking good baby and he just wants to fill you with him again- can he, please?

And you- blissed out, intoxicated, thrilled you that has never been fucked so intimately and sensually before- nods because, god, yeah- you need more of this even if your limbs are already heavy and your focus is fading from everything unrelated to how good his dick is making you feel.

So he fucks you again and again and again- fucks you until your filled to the brim with his cum and your mind is melted by his needy, hungry kisses and the way he makes you come over and over and over.

You’re completely fucked out by the time he’s done- made stupid and dumb by good dick and so much pleasure. You’re so tired and blissed out that you can’t do more than twitch a finger by the time Natsuo finally pulls out of you, but that’s okay- Natsuo is nice enough to wipe you down with a warm rag and tug one of his shirts onto you.

He’s so nice. So sweet. Such a gentleman.

Once he pulls on some sweatpants, he joins you in bed- smiling when you snuggle up against him and giving an almost fond sort of huff when you almost immediately pass out against him.

He waits until he’s sure that you’re asleep and then he grabs his phone.

Natsuo takes a photo of you curled against his chest first- making sure that Touya will be able to see that it’s you- the one that broke his heart- cuddled up with him- the brother he’s always screwed over.

He’s smirking in the photo- he can’t help it- and that smirk stays as he carefully pushes the shirt he lent you up your body and snaps pics of the love bites he’s left on you- teeth marks that will fade away and form faint bruises for you to flush over later on.

He catalogues those and then he moves on down lower- carefully spreads your thighs and then your still swollen cunny lips so he can takes photos of the way your glistening hole is still painted white, how you’re still so full to the brim with his cum.

Natsuo makes sure that Touya will be able to see that you’ve been bred by him- that he’s taken his brother’s first and last love and made her his.

Some part of him feels guilty as he takes the photos, but there’s a bigger part of him that’s angry and smirking and viciously vindicated- a part of him that’s been festering for years and is finally, finally getting the revenge it wants.

You’ll be upset if you find out, sure.

But Touya has had this coming for a long time now and Natsuo is finally going to get his brother back.

Natsuo sends the photos to his brother and he grins while he does, adds a simple little “payback’s a bitch :)” to the message that is sure to enrage Touya even more.

And then he shuts off his phone and climbs back into bed- wrapping an arm around your soft body and falling asleep with a smile on his face.

#natsuo x reader #natsuo todoroki x reader #rooni's shit #nonny i LOVED this concept so much #so fucking much #Anonymous

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nevertheless-moving · 3 years

Text

Suicidal Misunderstanding XI

Part I - - - - - Part II - - - - - Part III - - - - - Part IV - - - - - Part V - - - - - Part VI - - - - - Part VII - - - - - Part VIII - - - - - Part IX - - - - - Part X

Star Wars Time Travel AU #27

Anakin left his first ‘soul healing’ appointment feeling on edge. They hadn’t even discussed anything important! The healer mostly talked at him, giving him rules for future sessions. They had barely touched on the reason he was there, which was both a relief and slightly irritating. ...He was a little uncertain what to do with him time now.

Obi-Wan hadn’t responded to him at all during his visit that morning, laying motionless in an apparently self-induced coma, and he wasn’t allowed to sit with him again until the evening. He wasn’t allowed to look at anything to do with the war until Mace cleared him. Returning to his and Obi-Wan’s quarter’s was still unthinkable, even though he knew he’d have to go back at some point before Ashoka landed on planet.

The Chancellor had left him several messages inviting him for a visit, but he was dragging his feet, despite the serious temptation of an always comforting father-figure. The thought of actually seeing the man made him feel practically sick with anger and betrayal. Obi-Wan had been convinced that Palpatine was trying to tear them apart. And while Anakin didn’t quite believe that... he had told Obi-Wan about what he had done after his mother’s death. Maybe someday, when Obi-Wan was better, he would be able to believe it was all for the best, but for now...he was just angry.

He hadn’t really been angry at the man before, and didn’t enjoy the sensation.

Padme had told him she would be working from home as much as possible the next few days. While he didn’t want to be an annoyance, there wasn’t really anyone else he could turn to for advice or comfort right now, and she seemed almost as desperate for the reassurance of his company as he was of hers...and the Master of the Order seemed to at least tolerate their relationship, even if he didn’t know all the details.

He arrived at her apartment and promptly collapsed on the couch.

“Is it alright if I join you?” Padme asked softly.

Anakin smiled at her. “More than alright”

She sat down. He shifted so she could lean against him comfortably.

“Do you want to talk right now, or should I do some paperwork?” she asked neutrally.

He groaned. “It’s- I’m not sure if I’m being immature. Should I go see Palpatine?”

She stiffened. “The Chancellor? I- I thought we had specifically agreed not to talk about him if we could help it. Have his politics started to bother you?” she asked dryly.

He rolled his eyes. “No, I still believe he’s the best chance for ending the war quickly- you know my friendship with him is personal, not political.”

“This is a personal problem then. Does it...have something to do with Obi-Wan? Are you not supposed to tell him about- what happened?”

“No, I’m sure the council’s already informed him, he is the Chancellor, after all; they would have to tell him if a High General was out of commission,” he replied, a touch bitterly.

“But it does have something to do with Obi-Wan,” she nudged.

“Yeah. It- he was the one who told Obi-Wan. About me. With the Raiders.” he ground out, suppressing a flash of anger.

“Oh. Oh! I didn’t realize he knew. He- had he urged you to tell Obi-Wan before?” she asked, slightly guilty.

“No!” Anakin snarled back. “He swore to keep it a secret, told me that my revenge was justified.”

“I’m sorry- the Chancellor of the Republic told you that what you did was justified? Padme sounded shocked and Anakin turned to her with wide eyes.

“Do you...you told me you understood...but...we’ve never really talked about it since it happened, have we?” He replied miserably.

She pulled away, heart pounding. “Anakin...do you think what you did was justified?”

He looked down “At the time I told myself it was...but I don’t know. Even right after...I thought about the kids. You have no idea how much clearer everything seems when your channeling the force with anger even though afterwards...I told myself they were animals but...I...when I was talking to Obi-Wan I realized that...I think I was just scared that if the order ever found out I’d lose everything which made me angry...And the Chancellor agreed that animals sometimes needed to be put down...and you said you understood.” He looked up at her uncertain.

She let out a sigh of relief. Of course Anakin knew his action’s were wrong, if he was so torn up about it. She took his hands in hers, stroking softly.

“Anakin...I know it’s not exactly the same, but I do understand wanting revenge. I helped personally liberate and clean up many of the trade federation camps. I buried the rotting corpses of my people, who I left to die- then returned back to my office to watch Nate Gunray get out on parole. If someone had handed me the power to kill every single Neimodian at the right moment-” She let out a breath, seething.

“But...no one did. I couldn’t have gotten revenge like that, even if I had wanted to. And now...gods Anakin, understanding why isn’t the same as saying it’s justified- I might still hate the trade federation, but that doesn’t mean that every Neimoidian is guilt of their crime, no matter my personal feelings. I really, truly don’t know what to say about the Chancellor telling you what he did, or keeping your secret, or breaking your trust.”

They sat in silence for a moment as he digested everything.

“I...think I get what you mean about separating out justifying and understanding. Maybe that’s what he meant, and I just wasn’t smart enough to realize what he was saying at the time. I want to ask him, but I’m still mad and... I just don’t want to lose my friend because I’m angry.” he finished unhappily.

She sighed, then pressed a delicate kiss to his cheek.

“Then tell him that. Leave him a message. A friend would understand holding off a conversation while you’re upset. And a politician should certainly understand holding back your feelings so they don’t dictate your actions.”

He smiled at her, “How did you get so wise?”

“I was a Queen, you know,” she replied haughtily.

“Oh a Queen, I hadn’t realized, do forgive my impertinence,” he said cheekily, pulling her closer.

She pushed him back. “Message first. He’s almost certainly in a Senate committee meeting right now, it’s the perfect time.”

He relented. They briefly hashed out what he was going to say. Then she drifted to the other room while he pulled out his mobile official senatorial comm-link, biting his lip nervously.

Much to his dismay, the Chancellor picked up on the last ring, holo opening up.

“Anakin, my boy! So good to hear from you; I had been getting worried. How are you?

Steeling himself, Anakin launched into their prepared monologue.

“Chancellor, you of all people know that I struggle with anger; I’m trying to work on not allowing it to dictate how I act towards those I value. That being said, in the interest of preserving our friendship and until Obi-Wan is fully healed, I think it’s best we avoid unnecessary communications.”

“Anakin! I don’t-” Palpatine tried to reply, but Anakin cut him off.

“Thank you again for your understanding. I will of course diligently reply to any military or professional requests sent through the proper channels.”

Anakin closed the connection with a click, heart pounding. The comm immediately lit back-up.

“What do I do?” he asked Padme, feeling nauseous.

Was this the right choice? Surely his friend would understand. He didn’t want to yell at the Chancellor just because he was still working through Obi-Wan’s issues and his issues with Obi-Wan! Or was he just acting out of fear? Maybe the Chancellor could help.

He started to reach for the comm, but Padme snatched it from the table first. She threw it to the ground, delicately lifted the hem of her dress, then pierced it with the heel of her shoe. It stopped mid trill.

“Let’s go to bed.”

“I love you.” He replied, looking at her adoringly.

“I know.”

Next (Part XII)

#star wars #my au #suicidal misunderstanding au #star wars au no 27 #anidala #star wars au #TALK #ABOUT #YOUR #THOUGHTS #AND #FEELINGS #YOU #KRIFFING #IDIOTS #YES #YOU TOO #PADME

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sunmoonandeddie · 4 years

Text

pandemic overload

pairing: bucky barnes x reader

word count: 2,136

summary: You need an escape from everything, and Bucky is more than happy to give it to you.

warnings: SO MUCH FLUFF. Bad words. Bucky does think a naughty thing or two lol

a/n: Thank you so much to @marylizabetha for this commission!!!! I had so much fun with it, and honestly it was nice to get to write about escaping all of this nonsense for a little bit!!!!

He saw it when he came home from grocery shopping. The quiver of your bottom lip. He’d only been gone for about two hours—shopping for groceries for a super soldier can take a while, after all—but even so, it had made you anxious. Everything about the last seven months or so made you anxious. And he couldn’t blame you. People were dying and it was just… frustrating how so many people didn’t seem to care. At all.

Bucky had been the only one to leave the town house you two shared in that entire time, unless you counted the times you’d sit out on the front stoop and work on a Sudoku puzzle. But that was a decision you had made very early on. He was a super soldier that couldn’t get sick. You were just a normal human.

It didn’t mean that you weren’t scared for him every time he walked outside.

Thankfully, it hadn’t taken much to convince you to stay home, even though you had to quit your job. It wasn’t exactly the most… important thing in the world. It wasn’t even in your field of interest. Just a pit stop until you could put your degree to use.

But it looked like that wouldn’t be happening for a little while longer.

Technically, with how much money Bucky made from being a non-active Avenger on top of back pay from being a prisoner of war for seventy years or so and also being on an elite strike force during World War II, you would never have to work a day in your life if you didn’t want. And, to be perfectly honest, a big part of you was seriously considering it. It was nice to be able to sit around and do whatever you wanted to do. You and Bucky helped each other with all the chores and such, but then you had an otherwise empty day to fill. You’d taken up knitting and learning to play piano and yes, you did join in on that trend of people learning how to make sourdough bread from scratch. You two had also gotten to up the amount of time you spent trying to make a positive change in the world, and you’d taken Bucky to his first twenty-first century protest. Not a single cop had dared to fuck with you or anyone else with the former Winter Soldier by your side.

The perks of having a super intimidating boyfriend, right?

It would be completely perfect if it wasn’t for the fact that you had to stay because otherwise you might get sick.

But you were actually considering choosing to just… continue not working once all of it was over. You and Bucky could do anything you wanted to do. You could travel the world, maybe eventually adopt a few kids… The possibilities were endless, especially since your boyfriend had surprised you by paying off all your student loans in one fell swoop.

Yeah, that… that had brought on more than a few tears.

Bucky couldn’t help but smile over at you as he put away the groceries, calling out everything to you. You were sitting up on the counter, pretty as a picture, with your legs swinging back and forth as you put in everything he’d bought to that fancy app on your phone that took everything you had in your fridge and gave you a list of recipes you could make from it.

Last week the two of you had gotten your favorite recipe so far, grilled mahi mahi tacos with a sweet pineapple salsa that served a bit of a kick at the end.

Fish so nice, they named it twice.

Bucky’s pandemic hobby had become cooking. A lot of the time, you two just ordered food in, which was a horrible habit. But you couldn’t help it. You both were so busy and neither of you really had the energy or patience to cook most of the time.

But spending everyday at home meant that Bucky finally had time to learn how to do something other than boil food, and he was actually pretty good at it.

“Baby doll, let’s go on a date.”

You looked up from your phone in surprise. “A… A date? Bucky Bear… I hate to break it to you, but… We can’t exactly go anywhere,” you said with a weak laugh. As good as it was to be able to sit at home and work on your hobbies, you were often overwhelmed with the thoughts about how so many people were suffering because of how selfish others were.

He put the last bell pepper away in the fridge before moving to stand between your legs, his hands running over your thighs. “Now that’s not true, sweetheart,” he said as he pressed sweet kisses along your jawline. “I wanna take you somewhere special, okay? We haven’t gotten to dress up in a long time… So how about you get your cute ass in the shower and get yourself all dolled up, yeah? I wanna treat my girl.”

Ugh. He always knew exactly what to say to make you melt.

“Okay,” you giggled, nuzzling your nose against his. But you took your own sweet time getting off the counter, choosing instead to wrap your legs around him and pull him in for an impromptu makeout session.

What can you say? Your man was hot as fuck and a good ass kisser.

“I love you,” he mumbled, his hands roaming down your sides to your ass. He gave a playful squeeze before slowly breaking the kiss, letting it linger far longer than what would be considered necessary. “But you have to go shower and get ready, baby girl. I gotta jump in one, too. I wanna be nice and fresh for my girl. Now go on.”

A purse of your lower lip. “You don’t wanna join me?”

“Now, that’s not what I said, you little minx,” he said, tickling your sides and sending you into a fit of giggles. “But if I get in with you, we aren’t gonna make it out for a long, long time. And then you won’t get your surprise.”

“Fine, fine,” you groaned, pushing against his chest so you could slide off the counter. “Bossy.” You shot him a wink as you headed upstairs, and he can’t help but stare at your ass.

God bless the quarantine weight you’d gained.

Granted, he always loved your body—if you like the girl, you’re gonna like her body, after all—but he was still a hot-blooded man with a thing for grabbing you and loving every inch of you.

He quickly put together a basket of food, various meats and cheeses and little things like olives, and set a blanket on top of it before running upstairs to grab a shower in the guest bath. He knew the perfect place to take you to escape the city and the suffocating threat of the pandemic.

“You gonna tell me where we’re going or not, Sarge?” You asked as you appeared in the doorway.

He looked up from where he sat at the kitchen island, and the breath was knocked straight from his lungs. Thank god he’d already stowed the basket and blanket away in the trunk, because he would’ve completely forgotten at the sight of you. “Holy shit, sugar…,” he whispered as he got up. He moved towards you, strong hands grabbing your hips and pulling you into a kiss. He knew he had to be careful about grabbing your face, not wanting to mess up the makeup you’d just put on for the first time in months. But you’d also learned not to wear a lip product that would smear on your first date, so you both had rules about makeup now.

The fabric of your yellow sundress rested against your skin so gently, and he would be ashamed to admit that for just a second, he was jealous of a piece of clothing. He wanted to be that close to you always, wanted to feel your skin and draw little shapes over your heart.

Maybe he’d strip it off of you the second he got you to the spot, just so he could rest his head in the valley of your breasts and listen to the steady beating of your heart. You knew that he could hear it even just standing beside you, but you wouldn’t call him out on it.

TLC played on the radio the entire drive, his hand on your thigh except for when he needed to shift gears. Out of all the decades of music you were working to catch him up on, the nineties were your favorite.

Not that he’d ever disagree. No. Not when he got to watch you with one arm out the window, your hand making waves in the wind as you sang at the top of your lungs.

Just being out of the house for less than an hour was doing you so much good.

“Bucky, you aren’t going to kill me, right?” You asked with a laugh as he parked the car in a small lot at the entrance of a trail. “Because I really figured you would’ve done that by now, you know.”

“Nah, baby,” he said as he popped the trunk, smirking at the surprised look on your face at the sight of the basket. The trunk closed with a slam as he tossed you the blanket, moving to your side and holding your free hand in his before leading you down the trail. “If I wanted to murder you, I’d have done it by now. Besides, you’re too pretty to kill. I’d miss looking at you everyday.”

“You’re an absolute cheese ball,” you laughed, nudging his hip with yours. Not that it actually did anything.

Ah, the disadvantages you had when it came to play fighting with your super soldier boyfriend. Poor you.

The trail was absolutely stunning, full of wildlife and color. The shade the trees provided was a nice reprieve to the mid-August heat, the sunlight filtering through the leaves to dapple against your cheeks.

It was about a fifteen minute walk to the Wallkill River, and you heard the rush of the water long before you get there.

“We aren’t going swimming right?” You asked, eyeing him skeptically. “Because I just washed my hair.”

“No,” he said, amusement lacing his tone. “We’re not swimming. Just having a late lunch.” He sets down the basket and takes the blanket from you, laying it out on the small clearing on the bank. He took his time setting up the charcuterie board, the bottle of wine, and the two pillows that he stuffed in the basket for you two to rest against. “There. Now it’s perfect,” he said as he held his hand out to you to help you sit down on the blanket. “Worthy of my princess.”

A familiar roll of your eyes as he pressed sweet kisses to your cheeks, just like he did anytime he doted on you. He only ever called you princess when he got all lovey dovey like this.

Not that you’d ever complain.

“So what’s all this for?” You asked. Unable to stop your fit of giggles, you teetered to the side as the force of his cheek kisses grew and he made more and more obnoxious noises with it, his metal hand hooked around your waist. “Bucky Bear…”

“Okay, okay,” he relented, leaving one last, noisy kiss to your cheek before sitting up straight. He didn’t answer you right away, choosing instead to grab the wine and pop it open, pouring you each a glass. He was always the designated driver, since alcohol didn’t affect him. He was silent until you had your glass in hand, and he raised his in a toast. “I want to celebrate us, and more specifically, you. The past seven or so months haven’t been easy, but you’ve been a champ through it all. And also, I think we’ve done pretty damn well on living together and being around each other almost 24/7, considering that we only moved in together in November,” he said. His startling blue eyes were so soft as he stared at you. “I just love you so much, and I truly don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“Oh, my god,” you said, your eyes glassy as you shook your head. “Bucky, you can’t say things like that when I just did my makeup! You’re going to make me cry!” But you didn’t mind the tears as you leaned in and pressed your lips to his, your glasses clinking together. “I love you, too. And there’s no one else I’d rather go through this with.”

“Together,” he said, his nose nudging against yours.

“Together,” you agreed.

#bucky x you #bucky x reader #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n

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red-riot-rat · 4 years

Text

ＲＥＱＵＥＳＴ: me dashing to the request button 🏃🏽‍♂️. I am asking for platonic league of villains with teen reader who's joining the team and everyone like- "tHeY dOnT lOoK lIkE mUcH-" but then when they go on their first missions reader whips out some marvel black widow assassin type shit and they're like: 🧿👄🧿

HEY HEY! GOD I FUCKING LOVE P!LOV REQUESTS GJNKFG

Ｇｅｎｒｅ：CHAOS AHHSAHASH

𝙒𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨: kinda gore(brief mention of blood), reader being a badass, shigaraki is crusty and unmoisturized…. Uhm, reader kills like two dudes, stabbing, me making up stuff for fighting no one @ me on that,

𝘗𝘳𝘰𝘯𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘴: they/them

AN: is this good,,, no. a lfjhABSLKJGN

OKAY SO MR. COMPRESS BRINGS YOU IN

AND YOURE LIKE OKAY bitch.

But not really

Hes very nice to you and recognizes that even though you're young you can be good for the league, not to mention that you’ll soon all basically be family

But full ass you walk into the bar and everyone just stares because

You're a new recruit

YOU'RE A KID

Shigaraki: Theyre a fucking kid

Mr. Compress: Uh, yeah.

N e way

All of them sit at the counter and just stare at you.

They want you to break and start talking but you're used to this

You’ve been doing this gig for most of your life

Eventually tomura will start to throw a tantrum, kinda, but then he’ll ask you questions

He wants to scare you, he wants to be intimidating but to you,

You kinda look up to him

You answer his questions, sounding oblivious to the obvious threats he spews to you.

“Kid, you're going to end up dead NPC here, and I'll make sure of it. You still wanna join?”

“✨ yes you dumbass✨”

NO PLEASE DON'T SAY THAT

Nah for real you just say yeah.

He doesn't dislike you, but he's purposely not going to like you because he wants you to be scared of him.

Kurogiri talks to him, they glance over at you every once and awhile

You’ve been talking with Toga, Dabi and Mr. Compress

“So! Who are ya?”

You reluctantly explain what has happened and who you are, you know the backstory. Parents were heroes and pushed you too hard to become a hero as well,

And then you went apeshit,

The hero commissions been on your ass since you’ve been born,

You didn't want to ever be like your parents

So yay villain times

Dabi talked a little about it, agreeing with you that parents are shit, you know and then you asked him

“Who were your parents?”

But tomura interrupted your conversation you might never know

“Much to my unwant of a side character like you, welcome kid.”

Toga pats your head

Dabi slaps you on the back

Twice messes up your hair

And Mr compress just flashes you a thumbs up

You stick with them

You grow as close as you can with Dabi, and especially close with Twice and Toga.

Although Dabi seems cold to you, he’ll never tell you but he does care a great deal for you.

Shigaraki assigns a mission to you, Dabi, and Toga

All you have to do is get some info out of a boss that works for a small part of the hero commission

Which only fuels your anger

You walked side by side, to the right side of Dabi. Toga skipped on his other side, and waved her knife around. Yours was hidden underneath your hoodie, and was sheathed in a thigh rig.

“What's his name again again Dabi?” Toga sang, not caring that her voice echoed down the long hall. You glanced at the male, who looked rather annoyed.

“I don't know, it doesn't matter. We just get the info and get out.” He turned and stared at her,

“That's ALL we need.”

She groaned and pouted to him, “You’re no fun! No fun at all.”

Dabi grunted in response, he honestly didn’t care.

“Hey! Who are you?” A male voice behind you caused all three of you to spin. Out of reflex you kicked the side of his knee and he toppled over. You smiled wide as you heard Dabi warn you, but you didn't care. You played your own game, you were the narrator of your own story. You didn't need anyone in your way.

You grabbed the top of his head, grasping onto his hair violently. You yanked the knife out of its holster, and twirled it between your fingers.

“Guess my hand…”

You held it to the man's throat, and beamed at him.

“Slipped.”

And in one quick motion, the man's body went limp as he bled onto the floor. You stood tall, and your expression blank like you didn't just kill a man.

You looked up, your eyes narrowed. You scanned through the eyes staring at you as you twirl your knife between your fingers again.

“Kid we-”

“We had a problem and I took care of it, let's move on.” your knife flips through your fingers at a fast pace, one that if you slipped it would hurt like hell.

“That was fun! Can I get his blood? Can I? Can I?” Toga asked excitedly, turning her head rapidly to Tomura then to you.

“Have at it.” You spun your knife one last time, and handed it to her. She seemed taken back, like she didn't expect you to comply.

“Yay!” she took the knife eagerly, and you turned away from her before anything went down. As you turned you were faced with a pair of turquoise eyes staring daggers at you.

“Kid, that was fucking dangerous. We could’ve handled that.” Dabi was frustrated, but he didnt know why. Yeah, he could have handled that but seeing you put yourself in danger like that made him upset.

“Yeah I know that okay? That's what its fucking about. That dude works with the hero commission, I’m not letting him stand.” Your brows furrowed as you talked and Dabi rolled his eyes.

“Don't treat me like I’m five. I know I don't look like it, but I’ve done this for a long time.” you shoved your hands into the pocket of your hoodie and kept walking.

“You’re either a pawn, or a player.”

Toga smiled wide and skipped up to you.

“That was cool! Dabi’s just a party pooper!” She glanced over her shoulder and stuck her tongue out at the male.

He rolled his eyes once again, and continued to walk behind your duo.

Eventually, after minutes of silence you found the main office, that held the boss.

Well, a mini boss.

A funnel of smoke fogged the hallway as you ran.

“Kid! Wait up!” Dabi’s raspy voice rang through the long hall and you spun on your heels to face him.

He walked towards you, Toga smiling wide at his side, blood smeared across her face. The sound of footsteps came from both sides of you, and you glanced over your shoulder to the other side of the hall.

A man's figure ran closer to you by the second, he moved fast, too fast for you to see his face.

Too fast you didn't have time to react when he punched you straight in the face. You fell back, holding a hand to your nose that began to bleed.

“KID!” Dabi’s flames erupted from his hands and Toga’s knife made its way back into her hand.

Your brows furrowed and you jumped up as you unsheathed your knife. The figure in front of you threw another punch, but you ducked causing him to stagger forwards. You slammed him into the wall and flipped your knife in your hand.

You drew your arm back, and brought it into his chest quickly stabbing him right between the ribs. He yelped in pain and held his hands against your shoulders.

Blood stained his blue button up shirt and it leaked onto the floor.

“Guess nothing lasts forever huh?” Your boot rested on his leg, and you pushed back removing your knife from his abdomen.

Immediately, an arm wrapped around your neck locking you into place.

Dabi began to run to you, the blue flame escaping his hands once again , and Toga flipped her knife in her hands as she stalked over to you.

You struggled, gasping for air against the figure, and with your best ability elbowed him in his chest. He groaned but kept you in place, until you swept his right foot and pushed him into the opposite wall.

“Everyone here is fucking annoying.” You took a step back and glanced at the figure struggling, leaning against the wall. You pushed a hand out and stopped Dabi and Toga from coming closer, and smiled wide at them with your eyes narrow.

“Did you know you're lifes a game?” You asked the man, his eyes wide, his breathing heavy and staggered.

You threw the knife into the air and as it spun the male watched it. You caught it in your right hand, and wasted no time to throw it at the figure.

It lodged right into absodemn and he toppled over.

“Can we go home? This is kinda boring.” You groaned at Dabi, who stared at you with wide eyes. Toga begged for the knife while jumping up and down and you compiled once again.

“You’re a fucking madman.”

456 notes · View notes

boredfanwrites · 3 years

Text

Aizawa’s Apartment for the Wayward Wanderer

Aizawa isn't stupid, he's also a teacher. He knows when kids are lying to him, making light of a serious situation. This kid in front of him has his wings tensed, despite the easy smile on his face. Hawks has only just turned 18, which gave the Commission full rights in making him a licensed pro hero. Which is why when he manages to coerce Hawks away from his handlers long enough he gives him a spare key.

"No, no I can't accept this. I don't want to come barging into your life."

"Kid, I'm never there. Sure, I crash every now and again if I'm out too late but I've tended not to be in the area that late anymore. I have a home to get to. You'd be doing me a favour."

He tries to smile in a warm way, tries to differ from the fake praising smiles he imagines Hawks has only gotten his whole life. He likes to think that Hawks knew it was genuine, that he trusts him as an adult figure who actually wants what's best for him, not what's best for his career and appearance.

***

The first time Aizawa finds him, Hawks is smoking on the fire escape.

"You know, when I said this apartment was empty and free to use, I didn't mean to satisfy the cravings the Commission won't allow you."

Hawks turns around and Aizawa realises just how much he'd needed that smoke. His facade has fallen, no smirk on his face, just apathy. Hawks doesn't just look exhausted, he looks tired, in the way that no matter how much rest or sleep he'd gotten he would not be able to shake the bags from his eyes.

"Yeah, well, sometimes you just gotta give in, right?" Aizawa noticed the bloody polystyrene tray balanced on the railings.

"Not the only thing you've given into tonight?"

"Or the past week."

"Hawks?"

"I appreciate the apartment space, Eraser."

And like that he's gone. Hawks is only 19, it's not the first time he's stayed in the apartment. Aizawa had seen the subtle signs. It's the first time Aizawa had caught him, looking as tired as he did. He looked far older than 19, like he'd seen too much too soon. Aizawa couldn't help but think that Hawks wasn't too much older than his students, those who'd just graduated and those about to, nowhere near being a pro hero. All in the makings for sidekicks, or being introduced at a lower level, so young they'd have to work their way up. Hawks had been thrown in head first, so quickly Aizawa wondered if he'd ever gotten the chance to just be.

***

The second time Aizawa runs into Hawks is an accident, he swears. He'd been caught pretty badly by one of the villains quirks and muscle memory swung him to his old apartment's balcony. It also sent him crashing directly into the bird who was smoking there.

"Shit, ow." Hawks quickly stood up, brushing himself off, before noticing the state Aizawa was in. "You know I could've sworn that your capture scarf was not red the last time I saw it."

Aizawa didn't dignify Hawks with a response, simply choosing to locate the closest of the first aid kits he kept in the apartment.

"Thought you said you had a home to go to," Hawks laughed as Aizawa slowly peeled off the sticky scarf.

"The home does not like it when I get back injured," the gruff voice responded, before wincing as his scarf caught on one of the entry points.

"Oh my God, stop. You're just going to hurt yourself more," Hawks grabbed at the scarf as Aizawa tried to bat his hands away. "Please just let me."

Aizawa scrunches his face up, slowly dropping his hands as Hawks takes over. Hawks is surprisingly gentle, choosing to nimbly loosen the scarf as he finds wounds it's stuck to. It doesn't hurt.

Once Hawks is done he retrieves a first aid box that is distinctly neon yellow. Not one Aizawa had left. Hawks rifles through, throwing aside bandages and patches.

"This is the good shit. Not exactly promoted by hospitals and it'll make you loopy for a bit, but there's a sofa for you here."

Hawks lifts out a vial of blue liquid, alongside cotton pads and some larger dressings for the worse of the wounds. Aizawa pulls himself away, trying to locate his own first aid kits.

"Oh come on. You can't go to the hospital 'cause you definitely didn't get those doing legal work," Hawks sighed. "This'll do it's job, I swear it's not dangerous. I use it all the time."

"That's not exactly a glowing recommendation."

"Well, at least you're okay. You still have the energy to insult me at least."

Aizawa laughs lightly, the younger man bandaging his wounds, he still makes a show of batting away Hawks' hands every now and then but is mostly resigned to letting the bird do his work.

"I'm not going to like the answer if I ask how you knew how to do that, am I?"

"Depends on your definition of like. I got used to patching myself up after training sessions."

"So, no. I do not like that."

"Nothing to do about it now," Hawks shrugged.

Aizawa took Hawks' hands into his own. They were shaking, but rough and calloused. His knuckles were red and raw. Aizawa grabbed the blue liquid and begun to return the favour.

"I'm always here. I'll always be there to help, Hawks. Just because nothing has been done, doesn't mean something can't be done."

***

The third time Hawks is lounging around the apartment in what looks to be the comfiest pyjamas Aizawa had ever owned. Aizawa had let himself in with his key following a text from Hawks asking if the man wanted a 'movie day'. Aizawa responded with a '?' but made his way over anyway, relaying the excuse of a stake out to Hizashi.

A glaring light from the TV fills the room as it begins to get dark. Hawks had played action film after action film before Aizawa put his foot down and coerced Hawks into watching a period piece.

"I never had this growing up," Hawks whispered, eyes wide. "Tokoyami was saying they do it at the dorms all the time. I just, I wanted to know what this was like, so thank you."

Aizawa didn't say anything else, just let Hawks pick out the next movie, the next snacks. Hawks picked their takeaway. They both fell asleep at what Aizawa would consider a normal hour, but others ungodly.

Hizashi asked how well the stake out had gone when Aizawa returned at 6pm the following day. Aizawa found he couldn't lie to his husband. Hizashi was upset at the initial lie, but understood. Hawks was trying to be normal, just a regular guy. Hell, even a regular pro-hero makes time for a movie every now and then. Who were they to take that away from him?

***

The fourth time Aizawa catches him is the worst time. By this time Aizawa was aware of Hawks' mission with the League of Villains, he knew that the pro hero had been neglecting the commission because of it. The commission had been acting harshly towards Hawks in retaliation, Aizawa wasn't sure how that differed from their usual treatment but he wasn't sure he wanted to find out.

He'd knocked on the door before letting himself in. Hawks was curled up in a long black jacket that Aizawa pretended he didn't recognise, his red feathers scattered around him on the floor, a few droplets of blood on both the floor and Hawks. The younger man was asleep, a blanket had been gently dropped over him, probably by the owner of the coat. Who, based on the apartment temperature in comparison to the window being open, had only recently left and had not had a chance to clean Hawks up.

Aizawa takes it upon himself to finish the job. There was a worrying amount of feathers, more than Aizawa had anticipated. He didn't want to jump to conclusions but based on the blood he feared the worst. Once he'd collected the feathers, not throwing them away because he couldn't bring himself to take that away from Hawks, he sat on his sofa, lacing his fingers together and just watched Hawks. He watched as the bird drew breath, gently as an opposite to the loud gasping sobs Aizawa was imagining. He'd seen Hawks sleep before, there had been some crossover stakeouts, but the sight in front of him was different. Hawks was just 22, young, scared, controlled and trapped. Clearly it had caught up to him. The boy, that's all that he was to Aizawa, on the floor in front of him was different to the man he'd worked patrols with. Aizawa couldn't help but think that this is who Hawks was underneath the mask, the person he wasn't allowed to be.

"I tried to stop him," a gravelly voice sighed at the window.

"You know I should arrest you on the spot." Aizawa would not admit his shock at being snuck up on. He'd let his guard down within his worry for Hawks and Dabi had managed to return undetected.

"You should, but you won't. You and I both know that won't do him any good," Dabi jabbed a thumb at the sleeping mass. "I just, I tried to stop him. He was fuming, screaming, ripping out his wings."

"I was worried about the impact on his mental health."

"What mental health? He's just as fucked up as I am," Dabi yelled, quickly lowering his volume once more, he sighed. "I know, and I know you know. I'm starting to think he knows I know. It's a lot, it'd be a lot for anyone, but it's really taking it out of him. I'm...worried."

It's then Aizawa remembers, Dabi is mixed up in his own things too. Not really following the League anymore but reluctant to leave his found family, a family that now included Hawks, even if he'd joined for the wrong reasons.

"He needs a break, or just to stop."

"He wants free from the commission and I don't think he'll stop at anything to get that. It scares me. Eraser, Aizawa, I haven't been this scared since Endeavour first got hold of Sho."

It's then Aizawa remembers, Dabi may be older than Hawks but he went through a traumatic childhood all the same. He was also just a kid, robbed of the chance to be a child and now he was a scared adult that didn't have a hold of how to process his emotions, just like the young boy sleeping in front of them.

"Here," Aizawa shuffles around in his pocket. "It's my key to the place. I gave a copy to Hawks not long after I met him, used to swing by every now and then to check on him. But you need this place more than I do."

***

The fifth time Aizawa walks into the apartment it's a few years later and it's because one of his problem children had called him there. He had not expected to find Bakugo Katsuki rocking back and forth, with Dabi seemingly stroking soft shapes into his arms. Midoriya was mumbling to himself, while Hawks and Todoroki were making tea.

"Aizawa-sensei, I'm so glad you came," Midoriya broke from his mumbling.

"You called me, Midorya. What's happened?"

"Kacchan. His hearing blew out in a fight. Villain let off a grenade right next to him."

"We've only just managed to get him cleaned up," Hawks sighed. "Absolutely refused the hospital."

"I hate to break up this nice catch-up," Dabi cleared his throat. "He's signing something...but what the fuck is a K shark?"

"Kirishima," the teacher and his problem children sighed.

Aizawa wasn't going to ask how Dabi knew sign, he was sure he wouldn't like the answer he'd receive. Instead he turned on his heel, ready to set out to find Kirishima Eijirou. It was a well known fact that he grounded Bakugo in a way that no-one else had managed.

The sight he returned to was far better than the first. Bakugo was now wrapped in Dabi's arms, the pair lying on the sofa. Midoriya had calmed considerably and was making small-talk with Hawks while Todoroki was attempting to subtly reconcile with his older brother who's identity still remained anonymous to most. Kirishima immediately ran to Bakugo's side, linking their fingers together. It allowed Kirishima to slowly pull Bakugo into him until the blonde boy broke down in sobs.

"He'll be okay. Nobody mentions this to him," Kirishima glared at Midoriya specifically, as he ran a hand up and down Bakugo's shirt. "We knew this was coming, just happened a little sooner than we thought."

"His hearing aids?" Todoroki asked.

"They'll have to be adjusted," Aizawa answered.

"He won't wear them unless it's absolutely necessary. They've caused him far more pain than good," Kirishima shook his head.

"He won't be able to be a hero," Midoriya looked close to tears.

"He'll find a way." Kirishima smiled fondly, Aizawa felt as though he was intruding.

So he removed himself, intending to brew more tea. As he was doing so however, both Hawks and Dabi made their way to the bedroom. Aizawa quickly glanced at his problem children, before edging closer to the doorway, just until he could make out a conversation.

"We're not adopting another one."

"Hawks..."

"Those were your exact words when I said about Jin."

"He's just a kid, Hawks. He's been told his entire life he needs to be the best, the strongest, no flaws allowed."

"Dabi, we're not doing this. Who's gonna look after him? He's a goddamn livewire."

"Just please, can we this once, Keigo?"

"Touya, no." Aizawa wasn't aware that Dabi had revealed his identity to Hawks, or that Hawks would use his given name so freely. Likewise for Hawks, who kept his name incredibly close to his chest.

"Kei..." Aizawa recognised that. An undeniably, unbelievably soft voice from Dabi. The tone that his husband had used too many times and the tone that Aizawa had used only once. Aizawa knew that if Hawks truly loved Dabi there would be no more saying no.

"Fine, but this one's your kid."

***

Aizawa was going through the motions, the usual setting of his routine after a patrol. He didn't break out of it until he felt his husbands hands on his shoulders.

"Shouta?"

"Someone asked to buy my apartment."

"Well, that's good isn't it? You're never there anymore, you always come home after a patrol now...Oh. Hawks."

"Hawks is the one who offered to buy it."

"But Hawks has his own place."

"Yeah paid for by the commission, right next to the commission and his agency. Which makes me question why he wants to move so damn far away."

"Shouta, we're not adopting another one."

"If we did, we'd have to adopt another 4. Well, 3 really, I guess along the way I did adopt a few of the problem children unofficially."

"What?"

"He's got his own little family. I'm starting to think he picked up the habit of adopting strays from me. Two villains, a vigilante and a hero."

"Sounds like the beginning of a bad joke."

Aizawa just hummed, knowing that somehow Hawks' rag tag little family would make their own way.

76 notes · View notes

e-milieeee · 4 years

Text

haunted

Summary: When Gabriel goes a step too far, Plagg has decided he’s had enough.

Meanwhile, Gabriel Agreste has discovered that his house may or may not be haunted, because a vengeful spirit certainly seems to be after him.

Notes: basically plagg being a little gremlin and trolling gabriel like he deserves. ft. gabe’s 3 remaining braincells. based on this post by @hamsternamedmarinette and @snail-noir im sorry its so crappy lol

haunted

“Well,” Adrien is saying as he trudges inside the room and kicks the door shut. “There’s that, then.”

Plagg flits out from his shirt. His face is set in an angry mask, tail sticking straight up. “That’s that?” he echoes. “No, that’s absurd! Your father’s absurd! He should come back here and I’ll give him a piece of my mind and—”

Adrien squeezes his eyes shut. “Plagg, it’s fine. Forget it.”

Plagg makes an angry noise in the back of his throat. “So you’re just gonna take that? For weeks? He has no right.”

In his hand is the piece of paper—now crumpled—that his father had shoved into his fingers before he stormed off: the schedule for the fashion show. It runs for a week, but there’s also a terrifying amount of preparations to be done two weeks prior—all of which his father had decided he needed to be present for.

“I can’t risk making father angry,” Adrien settles with.

Plagg folds his arms. “Fine,” his kwami says curtly, in a manner of speaking that Adrien always finds hard to argue with. “Hypothetically speaking, then, if your father found out his plans had been cata—destroyed, would you be allowed to go out?”

“Plagg, I’m not going to break into my father’s study as Chat Noir to cataclysm his work just so I can go out with friends.”

Plagg smiles at him. It’s the smile Adrien had often gotten before he’d discovered the toilet paper in his washroom all scratched up and littering the floor. “Don’t worry,” comes the reply. “You won’t have to.”

***

Gabriel Agreste’s study is locked, but that doesn’t prove a problem for the small black shape that slips through the doors like they’re made of nothing more than mist. It’s dark, but cats have always seen better at night anyway.

There, on the top of his desk, lies the designs for the first set of clothes that are to be showcased. Meticulous notes. Fabric samples. Timing and schedules. Signatures and contracts.

The small, black cat picks the folder up with two paws. Then it crumbles into dust.

***

“Nathalie, did you touch the folder on my desk?”

It’s been a long morning—Gabriel had been up at 4 AM in an attempt to see if he could get an edge on Ladybug and Chat Noir. It had been horrendous to find someone to akumatize so early, and by the time he’d pinpointed his victim—forty five minutes later—he had nearly fallen asleep. He’d been pummelled by Ladybug and Chat Noir. Absolutely pummelled. And then, as if the situation couldn't help but get worse, Audrey Bourgeois had called him at six (just when he was about to go back to bed) and told him she couldn’t make it to the fashion show.

That woman had no regard for timezones. And no regard for him, either, because part of the marketing for the fashion week was Audrey’s attendance.

Gabriel was considering akumatizing himself when he realized the manila folder on his desk—that had been there when he left the night prior—was nowhere to be seen.

He searches through all his files. Crawls under his desk. Checks his lair. It's gone.

“Nathalie!” he bellows again, and she comes barrelling through the door to his office.

“What is it, sir?”

Gabriel takes a deep breath. “Have you seen the files for the fashion show? It was in the folder on my desk when I left.”

“Sir, I haven’t been in your office since last night, and I’m certain I saw your files there. Are you sure you haven’t misplaced it?”

Misplaced it, yeah. That’s what it was. Probably.

Now, what he needed was a nap.

***

The files do not turn up. Gabriel sends Nathalie to print them out again. The most important stuff is stored on his computer, but there are signatures he’d spent weeks getting.

He locks the files in his drawer the next time he gets it.

***

Tuesday morning finds Gabriel Agreste feeling much more refreshed. He even joins Adrien for three minutes during breakfast.

He walks into his office to find his favourite coffee mug in smithereens on the ground.

The files are still stored safely in his drawer. But there is a big, ugly tear across the dress he’d been working on for the past three months.

Gabriel screams.

***

Gabriel Agreste isn’t a fan of security cameras in his office. Especially because anyone with some hacking ability could possibly get their hands on the tape, and the last thing he needs is someone seeing him descending into his lair, or opening the safe behind his painting. Really—there’s simply too many sketchy things he’s done in the office for him to trust putting a camera there.

But he installs two of them nonetheless. His coffee mug could be an accident. But that rip on the dress? No, the only explanation is that it was intentional. But how?

Gabriel thinks of possibilities until he gives himself a headache.

***

“Father seems stressed lately,” Adrien notes to Plagg. There’s not much time for himself between busy schedules, but the moments in between he catches to talk to his kwami. The past week, stuck alone in his room with barely any interaction with his friends, has been draining. He cherishes the precious minutes he gets to spend with Plagg.

“Does he?” Plagg asks in a tone of practiced disinterest. “Well, he does have that really important fashion week thing coming up.”

“He asked me if I’d broken into his study a day ago, but he always locks his study. I think some of his files were missing.”

“Oh?” Plagg replies. “That’s terrible misfortune.”

“Father says he thinks a thief snuck in in the middle of the night and stole them, but we have security cameras all around the house and nothing happened.”

“Spooky.”

“Plagg…”

Plagg only shrugs. “Perhaps your house is haunted,” he replies disinterestedly. “Good thing you’re not scared of ghosts, Adrien.”

***

The house is haunted, and Gabriel cannot sleep.

The most terrifying part of watching the footage is that he sees nothing. There is no movement. No nothing. But then, the next morning, his files inside the locked drawer have disappeared.

Nathalie asks him about the dark rings around his eyes. He drinks two more cups of coffees in response.

***

Gabriel’s eyes are burning, but he’s determined to stay awake.

He likes to think himself neat and meticulous, but even he has his breaking point—his desk is littered with coffee cups, and he’s resorted to drinking energy drinks to keep himself awake. There’s less than ten days until the fashion show starts. It’s been so heavy on his schedule that he’s barely found time to akumatize three three people the past week.

Ladybug and Chat Noir must be having a field day while he’s sitting miserably in his office, waiting to catch the thief, too exhausted to summon up more akumas.

The clock ticks past midnight. Gabriel nearly faceplants into a coffee mug.

Another cup of redbull.

By the time it’s two in the morning, nothing shocking in particular has happened. Every time the flashing light of a car drives past the front of the house he starts, sits back down, and struggles to keep his eyes open.

It’s 2:04 when a crash sounds outside of his office.

Like a madman, Gabriel scrambles up from his seat. He knocks over a half-finished mug of coffee in the process, but that doesn’t matter. The door of his office slams open. He trips on a rug. But he gets up and runs like he’s never run before.

With all the force he can muster, he slams his palm down on the light, and the once-dark staircase and hall become bathed in golden light. The chandelier flickers twice and he stares down at the hall with half the mind to wonder if he’s going to finally see the ghost.

Gabriel is the only one in the hall.

He checks once more. Then again. Then again. But there is no one there, no source of the crash—

Oh, no.

The painting he’d bid at an auction twelve years ago—one that had cost a fortune—has fallen off the wall and face planted into the floor. The sight of it physically hurts Gabriel, and he’s scrambling towards it in a mixture of fear and anger when another noise sounds in his office.

In the months of being Hawkmoth, Gabriel Agreste has felt a generous range of emotions. But never has he felt such bone-chilling fear.

He heads back up the steps with robotic movements numbly. Down the corridor. Into his office.

There is no one there, and the mess that has been made is moreso his fault than of the invisible thief—or ghost—but then Gabriel sees one of his locked drawers open and the contents inside dumped unceremoniously on the ground.

The next day, when Nathalie finds him out cold on the ground, he attributes it to the exhaustion and the amount of coffee and energy drinks he’d consumed. But deep down, Gabriel knows that it’s the terror that’s finally caught up.

Either way, he faints.

***

Gabriel is confined to bed by a very concerned Nathalie. She usually heeds to his instructions, but the rare insistence from her and his own fatigue lands him out of commission for the day. It doesn’t stop him, however, from giving her a set of instructions.

“First, my office,” Gabriel croaks. His throat hurts—he must’ve caught a cold as well. “Please clean everything up and reinstall the locks. And then… and then…”

He thinks of the missing files—three times—and grits his teeth. “Cancel the fashion week.”

Nathalie’s jaw drops open. “Sir—”

“I know,” Gabriel mutters. “I just… I’m left with no choice. I’ll reschedule. Make up some excuse.”

She dips her head. “Noted, sir. Is that all?”

Gabriel gives her a miserable nod. She’s halfway out the door when he remembers.

“Nathalie!” he yells. “Get me a shaman, too.”

***

“The fashion week is cancelled.” Adrien looks up from practicing piano. “Father is sick, I think, which might be why. Nathalie looked super stressed when I saw her before my lessons.”

“Cancelled?” Plagg echoes dispassionately. “Huh. That’s too bad, I guess.”

“No, that’s good! I mean, it’s not good that my father is sick and Nathalie is stressed, but… at least I won’t be hounded about preparations. I even got permission to go out today.”

“Huh,” Plagg replies. He settles himself into his wheel of cheese. “I guess you’re lucky after all, then.”

Notes: yeah idk what i wrote but master fu is the shaman they hire and he finds out gabriel is hawkmoth and arrests him and the end if u wanna know what happens next

Here’s my fics masterlist!

#miraculous ladybug #gabriel agreste #plagg #adrien agreste #ml #nathalie #hawkmoth #plagg is mvp n i dont take criticism!#mlb fic #my writing #tag this gabenath and i hunt u down

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cucumbers-and-olives · 3 years

Text

Broken Love | TUA

Summary: After receiving an odd note, through even odder means, you come to the Hargreeves mansion just in time for Mr.Hargreeves' funeral. Being there brings fights, and memories too...

Category: Angst

Fandom: The Umbrella Academy

Paring: past!Diego Hargreeves x fem!Reader

Word Count: 1.2k

Warnings/Includes: badly writing kissing scene, lots of arguing, mentions of death and funeral

A/N: im sorry for any inconsistencies! i think I got them all, but if you see any, feel free to send an ask and I can clear that up! this is one of my first non-JATP fics, so I hope you all like it!

A/N pt 2: i cannot post on time lmao sorry about that! enjoy!

Mandatory Thanking of the Betas: no beta, we die like the people from the Temps Commission at the end of s2

AO3 link here (coming soon!)

Please don’t repost my work without my permission, in part or whole. My work can also be found on AO3 @cucumbersandolives. Thank you!

“Hello? Anyone here?” You entered the empty mansion, your words echoing. The note was clutched tightly in your hand that you had found on your kitchen table.

A code you had long forgotten, on that you had come up with the members of the academy. A twist on Morse code, with a mix of Greek and Latin.

“Hey stranger,” You turned around to find the owner of the voice.

“Vanya!” You ran over to her and hugged her tight. “Oh, it’s been so long! Too long. Where’s everyone else?”

“They’re out back, prepping the grave stuff.” She cleared her throat. “I’ll let him know you’re here-“

“No, I, I should go…” You said.

“Wait.” A voice called out. A familiar one, that made you smile.

“Hi, Diego.” You saw him on the stairs. He had changed. He was older now, and he held himself differently. The teenage boy that you had known before was long gone.

There was a pause before he spoke. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

The kitchen was silent as he paced around. You knew the rest of the Hargreeves siblings were hiding just within earshot, but you focused on the one in front of you.

You cleared your throat. “Look you left the note-“

“Why do you keep lying?” He said, finally stopping a few feet away from you. Diego refused to look you in the eyes, he just stared into his coffee mug.

“What?”

“I didn’t leave you a note. I definitely didn’t tell you to come here. Why would I do that after last time?” He finally looked at you. He was tired, drained, you could tell.

“You are the only one in this house that wrote in Morse code, let alone our mix with Greek! Why on earth would there be a note in Morse code on my kitchen table? Telling me to come here?” You were confused, to say the least.

“It wasn’t me! And stop looking at me like that!”

“Like what?”

“A kicked puppy. I dumped you, remember?” He said, stalking off to some random corner of the house, leaving you sitting there, thinking about his words.

“Diego?” He was sitting on the bed, fiddling with a knife. It clattered to the floor, and you both reached to pick it up, your hands meeting for a moment.

You sat down next to him. “What’s wrong?” The silence was suffocating for a moment.

“We’re done.”

You looked at him. “Sorry, what?”

“You heard me. Please leave.”

“Diego…” You begged. “What did I do?”

He stood, walking away. “Nothing.” The bathroom door locked behind him.

“I just want you to know, that- uh, I love you, okay? Nothing can change that.” You said to the closed door. It took everything in you to not cry as you walked out of the house.

But you had turned away and never looked back.

“You okay?” Allison said, pulling you out of your head.

“Yeah,” You sighed. “Just old memories.”

“He still loves you, you know? Diego’s got his own-”

“-Own way of showing it, I know. But,” You paused. “I loved him once. I don’t know if I can open my heart to him again.”

You placed the coffee mug on the table gently. “If he changes his mind, I’ll be at the bar.”

Grabbing your coat, you walked away, but not before noticing the lingering Hargreeves’ in the hall. “Fuck off.” You muttered.

You stared at yourself in the mirror. The bathroom was the same as it had been 15 years ago.

“Long day, huh?” You said, smiling as he placed hot kisses all over your face.

The cold tile under your fingers was a contrast from Diego against you.

“You have no idea.” His eyes met yours for a moment, and then his lips met yours and it was amazing.

And then someone knocked.

“Do you want me to tell Dad? Or are you horny teenagers done yet?” Klaus said banging on the door.

The two of you groaned, breaking the “happy bubble”. “Go away!” Diego said.

“How about…” He paused. “No?”

You rolled your eyes. “Five minutes.”

“One.”

“Four.”

“I heard a rumor,” Your eyes went slack. “That you came out here.”

When you opened your eyes, you were outside of the bathroom, just Klaus and Allison standing outside.

“She- you-”

“Yes, I rumored you, and now, you need to go downstairs before we get in trouble.” Your eyes widened as you released what was happening.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck,” You muttered, fixing your messy clothes to look somewhat presentable.

“Christ, just go!” Klaus’s hands were limp and drunk, if that was possible, as he ushered you down the hall. “Don’t want to be late for daddy,” He said, in a sing-songy voice.

"Shouldn't you go meet her father too?" Allison teased.

You rubbed your eyes, pulling yourself out of that memory, and there he was, standing behind you. He had his signature black turtle neck on, guns and knives assorted all over him.

“What do you want?” You said softly. You didn’t bother turning around, you just looked at him through the mirror.

He started to move closer, well the smallest amount he could in the tiny bathroom, but you help out a hand, stopping him. “Don’t.” He just nodded in response.

“Are you gonna talk to me? Say anything? Cause the last words out of your mouth were the ones that kicked me out of your life, so if you’re gonna do that again, just make it quick.” You walked out of the bathroom, briefly brushing shoulders with him.

“Wait,” He said softly, stepping into the hallway behind you. “I’m sorry.”

“I.. Don’t do that to me, Diego. That isn’t fair,” You crossed your arms, subconsciously protecting yourself from him.

“Who invited you here?” He asked. He was still quiet, scared of breaking you, scared of breaking an already broken relationship.

“I don't know. Someone did though. That’s the only reason I’m here.”

There was a moment of silence as you both looked at each other.

“I’m gonna go,” You said pivoting on your foot and walking a little bit faster than you should.

Don’t- don’t fall again. It didn’t work last time.

But then again, there was a part of you that was wondering if it could work this time.

The rain fell steadily outside as everyone grabbed rain jackets and umbrellas.

“Can we talk?” Diego asked.

You sighed. “Why Diego? I thought we were done. You told me to leave. So what do you want now?” The rest of the academy was silently listening, but you didn’t care anymore.

“And you know what? Stop looking at me like that.” You started to walk towards the door.

“Like what?”

It took you a moment to respond. “Like you still love me.”

You left before the funeral started. Head and heart heavy as you left, looking back at the mansion one last time.

“He can chase if he wants to, but from now on, no more of this broken love.” You promised yourself. “No more.”

You were long gone when Five arrived, but that was a mess you certainly would have turned your back on.

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krispydefendorpolice · 4 years

Text

Miraculous Future (1)

The Class Picnic/Saturday Afternoon

Happy Holidays. This is a gift fic for @a-marlene-s for the SSMariBat secret Santa arranged by @eve-valution. You left your wishes pretty open, so I’m hoping I came up with something to interest you.

For the rest of you freeloaders (that’s meant as a tease) I’ve been seeing a lot of talk lately about there being too much salt: class salt, Alya salt, Lila salt. If you feel that way back out right now cuz that’s what this is. (Not sure how you feel on the salt issue a-marlene-s but I got the impression that you would appreciate a salt fic). That being said I’m not sure I managed to do the salt issue justice (any feedback on that would be appreciated. Was it salty or just ho-hum?)

Enjoy!!

Next Masterpost

_________________________

Ms Bustier’s class had already started to gather for their year end class picnic in the park across from the school. Since they were now in Lycée instead of Collège, and this was the last time they would have an end of year event as they were graduating, they had agreed that anyone who was dating could bring their partners with them if they weren’t in the class.

Marinette sighed as she pulled her phone from her pocket to check her messages again. Adrian and his boyfriend were running late from his photo shoot ending late. His last update was the last message in her cue. Marinette was just thankful that she had Kagami and Chloe to keep her company while waiting for her friend and her boyfriends, who were also running late, to show up. Marinette scowled when no new messages were there.

Marinette scowled when other kids in her class were making those oh so obviously secretive looks at her before whispering to each other and laughing. She knew it was because the boys were running late. Lila had made a big deal in class the day before about how she was so sad her boyfriend wasn’t going to be able to come to the picnic because Damian Wayne was in Japan for some business or other with his fathers company. Lila had made an offhand comment that she felt so bad that she couldn’t show Marinette what a healthy relationship was like since Marinette was such a call girl. The rest of the class had puzzled over the comment until it had clicked with someone and asked if she had a ‘sugar daddy’.

Marinette and Chloe had stared at the class in disgust because for the last two years Marinette had been in a steady relationship with Luka Couffaine, not that the class knew that as they had never asked, not even his sister was aware of it. The rest of the class had accepted Lila’s insinuation as gospel because they always did and had laughed at her. Some had made bets on if Marinette would bring one of her ‘customers’ to the picnic as a stand in boyfriend.

She kind of preferred it when the class was ignoring her like they mostly did day to day for the past two years. It was only when Lila though Marinette’s notoriety might be in danger of being forgotten that she would come up with some new scandal or action Marinette was supposed to have done to further isolate her from the class. There was the supposedly stolen field trip money in 2ème (10th grade) that had miraculously turned up in the principal’s office, the allergy scare in 1ème (11th grade) and now a sex scandal? Really? Couldn’t the girl keep her stories straight? Or at least to a consistent degree of escalating badness?

Her parents had stood by her and tackled the school issues with her. They couldn’t pull her out as the school the best one academically in the district and they couldn’t afford to send Marinette to another school in a different district so they did what they could to ensure she had minimal harassment from the school itself. But unfortunately they couldn’t tackle the class relationships in the same way.

So Marinette was left in the class with Adrian and Chloe. She had gotten over her crush on Adrian and had become an honest friend with him. After he saw how her relationships with her classmates were being affected by the lies he had tried to stand up for her. His father nearly pulled him from class but Adrian had fought it and threatened to quit modeling if his father pulled him from school. Since the brand was currently dependent on Adrian’s representation Gabriel had left him in the class with the understanding that he had to suffer whatever happened now.

Marinette had raged against Gabriel’s callousness when it happened and made sure her and her parents provided the love and support Adrian needed to get through the class issues when they eventually turned on him too. Adrian worked on creating positive friendships with Marinette and Kagami from his fencing class. When Kagami had started dating Chloe, Marinette and Chloe had a sit down discussion on their past issues to get it resolved since so many of their outing were now spent as a group and they didn’t need their issues causing tension. It had been a blessing as Chloe had become a great supporter in the class and once the class had voted Lila as their new representative (Marinette had declined running that year and every year since) she and Adrian had helped Marinette start up her new online business: MDC Designs.

It replaced the web business Alya and the girls had helped her set up as she had been flooded with negative character reviews (not even design or business reviews) from her classmates that she’d had to shut it down.

It was through MDC Designs that Marinette and Luka had met their boyfriend, the actual, Damian Wayne. Marinette had gotten a commission for Bruce Wayne, who was recommended by Jagged Stone. Marinette was hired to make a suit for an upcoming Gala event. He had been so impressed that he had immediately hired her to make suits for his children who had flown out for the fittings. Luka had gone with her when she did the fitting for Damian Wayne and when he had asked her out after it was over she had initially declined saying that she was dating Luka.

Damian had looked at Luka and said he wouldn’t object to taking him out too. He left his personal number with Marinette and let them know if they would both be interested he would love to take them out.

Luka and Marinette had discussed it and decided that it would be interesting to talk to the young man some more. The date had gone well and they initially did a long distance communication exchange as Damian was finishing up classes in America. He had spent most of the holidays and many weekends in Paris getting to know Luka and Marinette. Just three months prior they had decided that they liked the arrangement and wanted to make it official that they were all dating.

So why was Marinette alone with Chloe and Kagami to help her deal with her class? Because Adrian got delayed at his photo shoot and his boyfriend was picking him up while Marinette’s own boyfriends were delayed by Damian’s business meeting.

I’m going to kick their asses for leaving me alone with the class, she thought to herself. She knew she wasn’t exactly being fair. They had expected that Adrian and Jon would be able to join her before the picnic started but then they got delayed and she was left alone with a class that had spent the better part of the last two years pretending she didn’t exist when they weren’t spreading lies about her.

It had hurt at first when the class had started isolating her because of Lila’s stories. She had known most of the class for years before the Italian joined them. Most had been witness to her actually meeting the celebrities Lila lied about but no one would listen to her when she told them about the lies. Lila had used their disbelief to insinuate here and there that Marinette was jealous, she was a bad friend, she was getting in trouble with the law and doing bad things like drugs and staying out late.

Eventually Marinette stopped trying.

Since she was currently on her own and still on the outs with the class, Marinette stood at the edge of the group with Chloe and Kagami and people watched. This was the end of their school careers and everyone was preparing for the next step in their lives. Mari listened as Alya was boasting about how Lila was going to get her an internship at the local news station, Rose, Juleka, and Ivan were making a demo for their band that Lila was going to get to some music studios for possible contracts while Nino was hoping for an in at the movie studio. Nathaniel, who had stepped away from Lila and the class but didn’t get involved with Marinette, was going to get his comics published with Marc. In fact the first book would be available at the end of the week.

It was pretty clear from listening to the class who was still in camp Lila and who had left. Camp Lila had big dreams with no actions taken to reach them, while those who left had plans in the works and were achieving steps towards their dreams. Max had an internship at a a robotics company after his last robotics competition. Kim was in training with an Olympic trainer, while Alix was entered into the local x-treme sports competition.

Marinette checked her phone when it dinged to let her know she had a new message.

Adrian: We’re just wrapping up. Jon and I will be on our way.

“An update from Adrikins?” Chloe asked.

Marinette relayed his message. “At least we’ll have some back up soon.”

The girls watched the group the class made. Every so often one of their classmates would look at them but would quickly turn away when they caught the girls looking at them.

“Do you think they’ll ever find the missing brain cells?” Chloe asked when the third classmate in a row turned so fast they nearly gave themselves whiplash.

Marinette shrugged, she had gotten over their ditching her with a good therapist and had found some honest friends in Adrian, Kagami, Chloe and Luka who supported her.

Marinette pulled out her phone when it dinged with Luka’s ringtone. Many of her classmates phones were ringing at the same time.

Luka: Check the news

Marinette clicked on the link he sent with the message. It was a live news report from an American news site. The reporter was relaying the events of children popping up around the world with stories that they were...

“MOM!!” “MAMAN!!”

The class turned as a group of children came running up to them. A few broke off to go to Nino and one went to Alix. The rest swarmed around Marinette, Chloe and Kagami. The smallest girl jumped and Marinette struggled to stay standing under the unexpected weight.

Four more children joined into a group hug around Marinette, while one had wrapped herself around Chloe and Kagami and two almost adults came behind the herd with a toddler that was reaching for Marinette with whines of “mama”.

A set of twins were glued to Nino while an older girl stood next to them glaring at Alya and Lila in turns. Nathaniel had a small girl hugging him and even Alix had a pair of boys holding her hand and staring at the group.

Most of the kids were staring at Lila in fear and horror and hiding behind the class.

“What’s she doing here?” the older male teen asked looking at Lila who was standing in the larger class group.

“The better question is what year is it McGinnis?” the girl pushed the toddler into the boys arms before smacking him upside the head. “You’re Marinette Dupain-Cheng correct?” She addressed Marinette.

“Um, yes,” Marinette tried to answer before the kids around her tried to pull her attention back to questions about Papa Luka or Daddy Adrian and where they were.

“Gosh, Marinette how can you have so many kids calling you mom? Didn’t you listen at all during Ms Mendeliev’s sex ed lecture? Or couldn’t you keep a guy interested?” Lila asked in a sugary sweet voice.

“Ignoring the terrorist in the room for the day,” the boy interrupted, “what year is it for you right now?”

“20XX,” Marinette answered before Alya exclaimed.

“How could you call Lila a terrorist? She’s done so many amazing things and so much good. Where do you get off doing that?”

It was the girl that answered. “You’re Alya Cesaire?” she asked, and after Alya nodded she continued, “Well, considering we come from 20X15, 15 years in the future, and after Hawkmoth and Mayura were captured and stood trial with one Lila Rossi of France, pretty goddamn easily Ms. Tabloid reporter. It’s standard modern history and taught as part of the third grade curriculum of the super-hero acts.”

“Lila is from Italy. Her mom’s a diplomat,” Rose said.

“Actually, she’s not. She was born in Rodez, France. She’s a French citizen and her parents are not any kind of diplomat. If I remember correctly her mom’s a paralegal at one of the more prestigious law firms and her dad is working as a teacher at Ecole Primaire Rue (primary school).”

“That’s a lie,” Alya yelled.

“Why would we bother lying about her?” The teen boy asked.

“Besides I did my final report for retired or inactive heroes on Ladybug and Chat Noir,” the second oldest girl said. “Hawkmoth’s defeat was a major reason why they retired and the trials were broadcast on national television. Ladybug herself testified to Lila’s actions and she had video evidence,” she stressed the two words, “to support her testimony and disprove all the lies that had been posted on the tabloid blog ‘The LadyBlog’.”

The second oldest boy recited, “Lila Rossi was held for assisting in the insa, inta...”

“Instigation,” the oldest boy supplied.

“Instigation,” he repeated, “of 33 Akuma attacks from the period of 20X-2 to 20X2. After the heroes Ladybug,”

“CHAT NOIR!” One of the younger children interrupted,

“Viperion.”

“Abeille.”

“And Ryukou.”

The boy nodded and continued what he was saying, “as well as the emergency miraculous users Bunnx, and the Rooster, took down the terrorist known as Hawkmoth, and his assistant Mayura, later investigations turned up and proved the knowing and complicit actions of Lila Rossi.”

“In addition, Lila Rossi was taken to court for over 80 acts of fraud, slander and libel against well known individuals including but not limited to Jagged Stone, Clara Nightingale, the Prince Ali of Achuu and members of the Wayne family.”

In the middle of the class group Lila flushed as she had just been telling the others how she was dating the youngest Wayne son.

“You’re lying,” she argued. “There’s no way you can prove any of that. Marinette must have paid you to say all that. She never liked me since I showed everyone how she’s a bad influence.”

“Believe us, or don’t, it doesn’t matter to us. Our future is set and nothing we do today is going to change it. This is a fixed event after all.” The oldest girl said before turning her attention to Marinette “Marinette have you heard back from Damian or my Dad yet?”

“Your dad?” Marinette asked because she hadn’t been able to figure out exactly who any of the kids around her were yet though she could make some good guesses.

“Bruce Wayne,” she answered.

“Not yet,” Marinette said. “I just got a text from Luka about a report before you all ran up to us.”

It was Max that interrupted with a question, “Are you saying you’re from the future like the other kids that the news is reporting are turning up all over the world?”

The class looked at Max who turned his phone for the others to see the same news report that Marinette had been watching a moment ago.

They were reporting that children were appearing from 15 years in the future near their parents in the present.

The second oldest boy, who had green eyes and darker skin was the one to answer, “Obviously. How else would Maman have a child who’s nearly ten years old calling her mom? Did you truly lose all ability to think for yourself? I thought Papa Adrian’s stories were exaggerated because of the liars presence.”

“Thomas,” the older girl chided.

Just then Marinette’s phone dinged with a new message.

Damian: Has anyone come to you?

Marinette: Like half a dozen kids calling me mom? Not at all

Luka: Half a dozen??!!!!!

Marinette: There are at least 7 more here but they apparently are kids of some of my classmates.

Damian: My father is sending a couple cars. Have all the kids and any of the would be parents that are going ready when they arrive.

Marinette: If you’re going that route you’ll need to send someone to round up my classmates. They don’t listen to me anymore

Luka: Damian’s on the phone with Bruce. He’s trying to see if he can get one of the other boys to help

“Hey, Chloe,” Marinette said, “can we round up the kids. Dami’s trying to get his father to send a couple cars to pick us up so that we can get this situated.”

“I don’t see why not. I’m sure daddy would be okay with putting up a few kids in the hotel until we can get them back home,” she added eyeing the kids with Nino and Alix. “I’ll call ahead if you want to take them there Lahiffe, Kubdel.”

“Yeah, that sounds good.” Nino said a little overwhelmed with how the kids were clinging to him and glaring at Alya.

“What’s with all the kids?” Adrian asked walking up to the group with Jon Kent in tow.

“PAPA!” “DAD” the kids around Marinette yelled and swarmed around Adrian and Jon. Jon in good humor picked up one of the smaller boys and carried him on his shoulder.

“Damian, was able to call and give us a heads up on our way over to expect something. Just not so much something,” Adrian said when he reached Marinette with a kid of his own hanging on his arm.

“I’m so glad he was able to call you,” she said sarcastically. “It’s not like his own girlfriend is stuck in the middle of this madhouse,” she finished as she began to round up the kids and guide them towards the curb. She could see cars with a familiar English butler stepping out parked in the street.

“Hey Alfred,” the oldest teen boy called with a wave. “Alright Litter bugs let’s move out.” He said helping to get the kids moving towards the car.

Marinette froze, “What did you call my kids?”

“Litter bugs?” He said confusedly, “It’s what you call them in the future since there’s so many. And it helps to keep things organized at the family’s Christmas party and get togethers.”

Marinette turned on Adrian furiously. “What did you do to get our kids called by THAT!!” She yelled at him.

Adrian smiled nervously, “Well my Queen, technically I would argue that I haven’t done anything...yet.”

“I will gut you for this Agreste!”

Adrian wisely grabbed one of the kids in front of him and ran to the cars yelling over his shoulder, “Come on kids, before mama kills papa.”

———————————————

I hope this was enjoyable. And the ending got some laughs. I know it nearly killed me when I reread it to check for edits. So, I got the Litter bugs idea at the end of my rewrite (this went through at least two different versions in my head before it got written) and I sorta remembered that mama cats are called ‘queens’ and I looked it up and its true. I think Adrian would totally be the idiot to pun off this.

This AU is based on (edit: @vivilakitty recognized the premise of their story idea. I knew there was another more headcannony take on the future kids story but I couldn’t find that original idea in my likes. I hope I can do it justice.) and the story/ideas from @snowhirl who got their idea from @multishipper1needshalp and Maribat by @ozmav. I loved the idea when it first came out but had no real motivation to flesh it out in my own way so also: Thank you. A-Marlene-S for the motivation to get this down.

Also this is a part one, the whole idea gave me so many ideas that my first draft was a whopping 2,831 and this is technically only half that idea and comes in at a total of 3,133 words. So before I post the conclusion on how the kids get home and answer some questions like: why are Marinette’s kids calling Adrian and Jon dad and she’s saying ‘our kids’? How did the kids come to the past anyways? I want to know if anyone is interested in a slice of life take on how the kids get by in the present? I may end up doing it anyways but if anyone else is interested that’s more motivation for me to do it. (Send me a comment or an ask if that works to keep me motivated. I’ll wait until 1-5-20 before posting the next bit either way so please if you are interested let me know.

@a-marlene-s @eve-valution @multifandomscribette @mochinek0 @zebrabaker @northernbluetongue @bluerosette23 @g-arya @thepeacetea @vivilakitty @actualaster @galahadwilder @del-phin @sassydepression @mindfulmagics

Ps if you want to be tagged for part 2 or removed from the taglist let me know that as well.

#SSMariBat #daminette #marinette x damian #Kids from the future AU #class salt #lila salt #salty read #dead dove don’t eat #SSMariBat2019 #miraculous future au

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imperialstark · 3 years

Text

choke on me—chapter two

breathe me in

choke on me—chapter one

choke on me—chapter three

a/n: so i actually ended up splitting chapter two into two parts because this ended up being an absolute beast.

summary: Tony’s in denial but Steve’s no quitter.

rating: explicit

warning(s): implied child abuse/neglect, nightmares, anxiety attacks, heavy smut

—————

The heat of the shower works wonders on Tony’s muscles. He stands directly under the spray letting the water cascade down his back. He’s proud of himself. For the longest, after escaping from that awful cave, he couldn’t stand the sight of water, let alone submerge himself in it.

Baths were still an obstacle for him, but showers he could do on a good day.

The shower door slides open, letting in a gust of cold air. Tony shivers at the sudden temperature change...and at who’s joining him.

Steve slides the door shut and walks up to him until he's flush with Tony's back.

“Running away from me, already?” he murmurs into Tony’s ear. Steve’s like a furnace, heat coming off of him in waves. The shower has gone from mildly hot to scorching.

“No,” Tony says, raising his voice so Steve can hear him over the rush of the water. “Made a promise, remember?”

Steve hums and wraps his arms around Tony’s waist like he’s afraid Tony’s going to vanish into thin air. “Good,” he says and presses a kiss to Tony’s neck.

“Ah,” Tony hisses as Steve plants another kiss right over his bite mark.

“Sensitive?” Steve says against his skin.

Tony turns around in Steve’s arms to look him in his face.

Steve’s eyes are dark, and the bastard’s smirking. Who even smirks in real life?

The water has turned his hair, darkening it from gold to honey. Tony’s stomach lurches as his eyes go down from Steve’s face...to the planes of his chest...and his thighs and—

Oh.

He’s fucked.

Quite literally, given how thick Steve’s cock is, and steadily rising.

“Quite,” Tony finally says. “Not all of us have super healing abilities, Captain.”

“Captain?” Steve arches a brow.

“Oh, you like that, huh?” Tony didn’t know when he started leaning forward.

“A little bit,” Steve whispers and meets him halfway.

Tony closes his eyes and simply lets himself be. Life consists of nothing but warmth and water and Steve’s lips.

"Let all of the doubt and self-loathing and intrusive thoughts come later." Tony wraps his arms around Steve’s neck, moaning into his mouth when Steve’s hands slide lower to cup his ass.

Steve backs him into the tile, turning them away from the direct onslaught of the shower.

It scares him how quickly Steve is learning his body. His fingers and tongue work tirelessly to make him burst into flames, and Tony wants to be consumed by him.

Steve sinks to his knees, looking at Tony the entire while. His jaw drops like he’s in some cheesy over-acted high school play, but fuck, does the sight of Steve on his knees make his brain short-circuit.

“Can I?” Steve asks, his eyes darker than Tony had ever seen them.

Tony doesn’t hesitate. “Fuck, yes, you can.”

Steve’s answering grin is sharp, something smug and possessive hiding behind it.

His hand wraps around Tony’s length, stroking him to full hardness until Tony’s practically sobbing.

“Steve, please,” he says, not recognizing his own voice. His cock pulses in Steve's hands. “Please, I need your mouth.”

“Well, since you asked so nicely.”

Tony gasps when Steve takes him into his mouth. It’s a struggle not to come right there, down Steve’s throat, but who could blame him? This was years of adolescent fantasies coming to life.

Steve, with his hair glistening like a halo, his skin slick and golden. On his knees, practically worshipping Tony like a suppliant at the altar.

Steve works Tony over with the ease of someone used to spending time on his knees, suckling at the head of his cock, letting his tongue dip into Tony’s slit to lap at the precome pooling there.

Steve groans when Tony slides his hands into Steve’s hair, thrusting his hips shallowly into his mouth. He pulls off of Tony's cock, and Tony whines at the loss of his mouth.

"Tony," Steve says, eyes burning. "Don't hold back on me, baby. I can take it."

"Are you sure?" Steve may be a super-soldier, but Tony's not going to be the one stuck explaining to Fury that Captain America was out of commission because of a blowjob gone wrong.

"Trust me," Steve says, grinning. "I can do this all day."

"Okay. Fuck, okay, Steve," Tony finds himself saying. It's hard to say no when Steve looks like this, lips swollen, eyes blown wide and begging to suck Tony off.

Tony presses forward, nudging his cock against Steve's lips, who gladly takes him back into his mouth. Steve's mouth is so hot and wet and true to his word, Tony doesn't hold back. He fists his hands into Steve's hair and bucks his hips forward, savoring the warmth. Steve takes his cock like he was made for it, his big hands settling on Tony's thighs in a bruising grip.

He doesn't know how long they've been in the shower, but the water is starting to run cold, which is a feat within itself. Steve swallows around him, and Tony's coming down his throat with a shout. Steve moans around him, not letting up on him for a second until Tony has to physically push him away. He's never come so hard in his life and never within such a short period of time in between.

The muscles in Tony's stomach jump, still reeling from the aftershocks of his orgasm as Steve rises to his feet. Later on, Tony couldn't tell anyone why he did it, but he pulls Steve into a fierce kiss and licks the taste of himself from Steve's mouth. Steve kisses him back just as hard until the water is like a thousand icy pinpricks, and their skin begins to prune up. Tony returns the favor and gets Steve off one more time, stroking him off with his hands.

JARVIS breaks the little spell that has washed over them and reminds them that they need to eat at some point.

"And you've already skipped breakfast, sir," JARVIS says. "It is recommended that humans eat at least three meals a day."

Tony sighs, but the gurgle of his stomach does make a good point.

Steve laughs. "I guess we did get a bit carried away."

"You got carried away. I got swept up in it."

"Oh, really?" Steve asks, bracing his arms on either side of Tony's head. "We're gonna pretend you weren't begging for it, huh?"

Tony can't help himself as his eyes flit down to Steve's lips. "You begged too, Rogers."

"And what of it?" Steve says like he's challenging him.

What of it, indeed. Tony doesn't know what they're doing or what this thing between them even is. The way Steve's looking at him like he wants to eat him whole makes him pause. If he's not careful, they'll spend another hour getting lost in each other, he's sure of it.

"Whatever we want it to be. No labels, just us being us."

A muscle in Steve's jaw works. It's not the answer the other man wanted, but it's the only answer Tony's going to give him. He can take it or leave it.

"You were on HYDRA's list," Steve says. The abrupt change in subject leaves him reeling, but he'll hear Steve out. "Project Insight," Steve clarifies.

Tony can't say that he's surprised. He knows he's a threat, even without his suit, especially without his suit.

"Is that why you pounced on me?" Tony says, raising his brows. "You were worried about me, Rogers?"

"Yeah," Steve says. "I was. I...thought about you. I fought for you."

His heart speeds up, and he's not sure if it's from adrenaline or if he's still recovering from that mindblowing orgasm or something else—something he doesn't want to confront just yet.

"I'd do it again," Steve says firmly. "I know we didn't speak for those two years, but I needed to talk to you. In person." Steve's arms fall at his sides, and Tony wraps his arms around Steve's neck. He knows he's giving Steve all kinds of mixed signals. Pressing up against him one moment and pushing him away the next, but Tony would have to be a heartless bastard to push him away right now.

"We didn't get much talking done," Tony jokes.

"We're talking right now," Steve says.

And why are they talking when there are much better things they could be doing?

"Hmm," he says and kisses him softly this time. It's been so long since Tony's been touched with tenderness. Steve moans into his mouth, and his arms come back up, perched on Tony's waist.

They miss out on lunch too. JARVIS is absolutely miffed.

***

He's not going to try to put a word to their thing. First of all, it's too complex to be shoved into one category, and friends with benefits sounds juvenile.

"Are we even friends?" He thinks to himself on occasion. Rhodey and Happy and Pepper come to mind then. Tony's relationships with them are warm and familiar, rooted in years of misadventures with each other. Being with them is as comforting as sitting by a fireplace.

Being with Steve...is not like that. If the others are a fireplace, then Steve is a wildfire. Tony knows that he'll end up burned if he gets too close, but he can’t help but be drawn in by his light anyway.

“It was a pleasure to burn,” he thinks wryly.

But no, Steve...Steve wasn’t his friend.

Friends didn’t palm each other under the dinner table.

Tony never thought Captain America would be so handsy, but he was quickly learning that Steve Rogers and Captain America were two different people.

Steve Rogers was a mouthy, stubborn little punk from Brooklyn who went after what he wanted with a single-minded focus.

And right now, that focus was determined to make Tony come in his pants like a teenager.

Perhaps he should have seen it coming. After their little...tryst in the shower, Steve had asked him about his kinks.

Tony recalls Steve nibbling at his throat while Tony admitted that he had always wanted to try a little exhibitionism.

"Nothing, ah, nothing too out there," Tony said, tilting his head to allow Steve better access. They were curled up on his sofa, one of Tony's throws strewn over them to somewhat preserve their modesty if any of the other Avengers happened across them. Steve had taken no time at all to pull Tony into his arms like he knew he was going to run off any minute.

"Why not?" Steve had asked, looking genuinely curious. He had made no nasty comments about Tony's "playboy" past, thankfully. Most of his lovers had assumed that he would be down for anything, which wasn't the case, especially after Afghanistan.

"I may not be CEO anymore, but I'm still the face of Stark Industries. There are some things the public wouldn't forgive. Ugh, especially Fox News."

Steve hummed, kissing him on his shoulder, and it was the little things like that that made Tony's stomach flip.

"It'd be fun to try," Steve admitted.

"Well, when we're both not internationally known superheroes, let's give it a shot, yeah?"

Steve had simply raised his eyebrows and pinned Tony's arms above his head. "Getting smart with me, genius?"

"And if I am?" Tony said because he lived to stir the pot.

Steve bit at his lips, and they didn't get much talking done after that.

One moment, Tony had been indulging in quiet conversation with Bruce about his travels. His fellow scientist had decided to treat them all to a wonderful samosa recipe he had picked up in India. It was a breakthrough for Bruce, sharing a part of himself with the other Avengers without fear.

Tony had said as much to the man when he felt it, something gliding up his leg. Tony chokes on his words, and much to his chagrin, five pairs of eyes zone in on him.

"Something wrong, Tony?" Steve asks, looking all too innocent as he takes a sip of his soda.

That. Fucking. Bastard.

Steve had started team dinners because they needed to “get along” and “work on their social skills.” Tony was starting to think Steve just started them because he was a shameless exhibitionist.

"Just fine," he says, smiling in a way that surely made him seem manic. "Just swallowed the wrong way is all." He was going to murder Steve, Fury's blustering be damned.

"He's the only living survivor to receive the super-soldier serum!" Imaginary Fury shouted at him.

"He's about to get my foot up his ass!" Tony shouted internally.

The others just shrugged and let it go, but Tony could feel Clint's eyes, oddly enough, along with Steve's, watching him. Steve, he figured that the asshole just wanted a front-row seat to Tony's torment, but Clint was a surprise. A nasty surprise. With a codename like Hawkeye, there's not much someone like that would miss...

More pressure on his thigh now. Tony was prepared this time, resuming his conversation with Bruce. He took a sip of his water to hide his smirk as he caught Steve's furrowed brow out the corner of his eye.

"I can do this all day, Cap."

The pressure leaves his thigh, and Tony deflates a bit in disappointment. Well...Tony had always believed in giving as good as he got. Making up his mind, Tony toes off his shoes and waits until Steve raises his soda can to his lips once more to run his toes up the other man's calf.

The bug-eyed look on Steve's face as he hurriedly tries not to spit his drink all over the dinner table is satisfying, to say the least.

"Everything okay, Steve?" Tony says, giving him his most blinding smile.

Steve takes a moment to dab at his face with a napkin before he speaks. "My soda was a little strong. Caught me by surprise."

Tony hums and spends the rest of the dinner teasing Steve like his life depends on it. Although Natasha and Clint stare pointedly at each other from time to time, the others don't say anything. Tony wouldn't be surprised if those two had a telepathic connection with each other.

Steve, unsurprisingly, volunteers to stay behind and clean up while everybody else leaves, and Tony follows his lead.

"You too, Stark?" Natasha says, arching a brow. "Since when do you clean?"

"Since now," he says. "I can't do my part, Romanov?"

"No, no, I'm not saying that." Her eyes flit back and forth between him and Steve. Clint's waiting by the elevators with his arms crossed over his chest. "Just don't make a mess."

He can't help but feel like there's a hidden meaning to her words, and knowing her, there is. She leaves before Tony can get the last word, her hair swaying with every step.

The elevator doors have barely closed on them before Steve's boxed him into a corner, his arms braced on either side of Tony. "That wasn't nice," he says. There's a tilt to his lips, so Tony knows he's not actually mad.

"You weren't nice," Tony counters. Steve rests his hands on Tony's hips, a stance of theirs that's quickly becoming one of Tony's favorites. He'd die before he'd admit it out loud, but he likes the size difference between him and Steve. Especially when the other man is leaning down to kiss him.

"How could I make it up to you?" Steve says, his eyes not so subtly shifting down to look at Tony's lips.

It's hard to say no to Steve when he's looking at him like that with those ridiculous eyes of his.

And well, if they end up making out against Tony's marble countertops, that's their business.

***

It's easy being with Steve. Too easy. He keeps on waiting for the other foot to drop, for Steve to realize that there's better things he could be doing than fucking around with Tony. He's quickly learning that Steve isn't the type to be needlessly cruel. Steve volunteers with the cleanup crews that come in and take care of their messes after each mission. He stops to take pictures and sign autographs when he runs into fans on the street, and he's quick to call someone out on their bullshit, and Tony...admires him for it. Steve Rogers is a good man, a seemingly perfect man. It was inevitable for the other man to grow on him.

Everything changes one night after a night terror hits Tony particularly hard. He's no stranger to nightmares. Waking up with his heart trying to escape his chest, his hands clawing at the edges of his arc reactor scars was pretty par for the course. Didn't make it easier, though.

Tony stumbles out of bed and sinks to his knees. His bedroom is spinning, or maybe he's the one going in circles. He's not really sure.

His knees. He needs to tuck his head between his knees. Tony does just that, breathing in deeply through his nose and exhaling through his mouth.

The dreams took turns, it seemed. One night Tony is floating aimlessly in the cold vacuum of space. Another night, Obie yanks the arc reactor from his chest.

Tonight had been an arc reactor night, but instead of Obie betraying him...it was Steve.

Tony inhaled again, trying to shove the nightmare down to the deepest wells of his mind despite his therapist's advice.

"Let the thought come and go, like a car passing you by on the street." Tony was much more a fan of beating his intrusive thoughts back with a stick.

He's not the type to place too much stock in dreams. He works better with numbers and facts, always has, and the facts tell him that Steve Rogers is a good man.

"Too good," his brain supplies unhelpfully. His clothes are sticking to him with sweat, but the thought of taking a shower is just a little too much to bear. He has wipes in his workshop for when he's too in the zone to put aside his work and hop in the shower. And for his bad days.

He hates his bad days, how touch and go they are. How some days, he'll be fine, almost normal, and another, crossing his arms over his chest, still trying to protect his long gone arc reactor. As he gets to his feet and slowly, almost mechanically starts to gather clean clothes to change into, a part of him recoils at having to clean himself with wipes like he's a child.

"Recovery isn't a ladder," his therapist was fond of reminding him. "Some days are going to be harder than others."

He knows enough about trauma and its effects on brain processes to know that, but it still doesn't make it any easier to accept. He wants to be better, and he wants to be better now, but life doesn't work out that way, does it?

He makes it to his workshop uninterrupted and strips, uncaring of who might see him. His workshop is his space, and despite living with them for months on end now, Tony still needs his space. Even Steve never tried to enter the sanctity of his workshop. Steve.

Tony's dream comes to him unbidden. Everything plays out the way it had in real life; the sonic device he created used to paralyze him, the smug, sneering monologue. The only difference is that it's Steve's sky blue eyes full of hate that Tony's staring into as he rips out the one thing keeping him alive.

Tony wipes himself down and gets dressed in record time. He's not going back to sleep anytime soon, and he's caught up on all of his projects for SI and the Avengers themselves. If he's being honest with himself, which happens once in a blue moon, he needs some comfort. When he leaves his workshop, in a strange sense of deja vu, he finds Steve waiting for him, almost like he was summoned by Tony. Steve's hair is mussed; he looks like he woke up in the middle of the night too. He's leaning against the wall, looking cool and mysterious...that is if it weren't for the fuzzy bunny slippers currently dominating his feet.

Tony waits for his brain to start sending him signals of "Run!" or "Danger!" but nothing ever comes. It's hard to be afraid of a man in bunny slippers and who's currently turning so red he could resemble a strawberry.

"Natasha thinks she's funny," Steve says. His voice is deep and burly, still syrupy thick with sleep.

"Natasha is hilarious," Tony admits. He never thought that a ruthless assassin would also be a relentless prankster, but it explained why she got on so well with Clint. She didn't curb the archer's mischievous streak. She encouraged it. "Don't tell her I said that."

Steve chuckled, ducking his head. "Duly noted. She'd never let you live it down."

Tony walks past Steve into his kitchenette and pulls out two mugs, a saucepan, and a whisk. If he's staying up tonight, at least he has good company. The least they could have are some good drinks to accompany them.

"Why do you wear them?" He asks, grabbing a carton of milk from the fridge and giving it a hesitant sniff. Tony's not the greatest cook, but he'll be damned if he didn't make the best hot chocolate in all of New York. Passed on from Maria Stark herself, he never used the instant powdered mixes that were so commonplace. After returning home from long days being a glamorous socialite or a generous charity organizer or simply being Howard Stark's wife, his mother would end the night with a hot chocolate in one hand, and Tony curled into her side.

"They're cozy," Steve says, taking a seat at the island that divides the rest of Tony's private floor from his kitchen. "They're free, and bunnies are cute. What's not to like?"

"You've got me there," Tony says, going through the motions of measuring out cocoa powder, sugar, and vanilla. He can feel Steve's eyes on him, drinking in his every movement. Not in a hungry way for once, but almost like he's curious. In casual awe of Tony in a kitchen.

Tony wants to bring up his dream, he wants Steve to reassure him that he'd never hurt him that they're friends and teammates, and they—

"Do you want to look at fan art?" he says instead, decidedly not thinking about the status of their relationship.

Steve blinks at the abrupt change in their conversation, but he rolls with it, bless him. "Of what?"

"Of us," Tony says, whisking all the ingredients together, so it doesn't burn. If he's also avoiding Steve's gaze, well, it's just a coincidence. Milk burns with a quickness when you're heating it on the stove, after all. "Sometimes when I'm bored or need a pick me up, I...look at the fanart kids send in."

He doesn't know why he's telling Steve this. It's not a case of Tony being self-centered, looking at fan art of himself (and the other Avengers). It's just...kids are so pure and good. They're blank slates before society, or their parents or both screw them over, and looking at their fanart makes Tony dislike most humans a little less. It reminds him of why he fights. At the end of the day, putting on the suit isn't about saving his own life, or the glory of it all, or even atoning for his past mistakes. It's about making sure that those kids who had enough kindness in their heart to spare a kind word and some art to a virtual stranger still have a world to live in the next day. Not that anybody would believe Tony.

And then he remembers, "Quit pretending to be a hero."

Maybe Steve won't believe him either.

"Okay," Steve says.

Tony keeps his eyes on the saucepan, and if Steve sees his lips quirk up, he keeps it to himself.

Steve has his phone on him, and Tony gets him to download Instagram easy enough. In two years, Steve's caught on quickly to 21st-century technology. Giving him a StarkPhone had gone surprisingly well, with the other man taking it from Tony with a gracious smile that had Tony averting his eyes.

Tony finishes up the hot chocolate with a flourish of whipped cream and a sprinkle of cinnamon, walking around the island and pressing one of the cups into Steve's hand. Steve's fingers graze his own, sending delightful sparks running through him. Tony tries not to dwell on it.

He sits next to Steve and directs him to the search bar on the app. Their heads are bent close together, and this close, Tony can smell the remnants of his cologne—lemon and pepper and sycamore—until he's dizzy with it.

"What's next?" Steve says, breaking Tony out of his daze.

Tony flushes and takes a sip from his hot chocolate to cover himself—and buy himself time. The chocolate soothes his nerves a bit, and Tony tells him what to type in. Steve's eyes light up at the results, nearly thousands of posts, thousands of works of art that people, young and old alike, poured their hearts into, and Tony wishes he had his phone on him if only to take a picture for himself.

Steve clicks on a post, and his eyes soften. It's of them. Steve is in that awful suit SHIELD had stuck him in that made his head look like an egg, and to be honest, did nothing for his ass. Tony can clearly recognize the Mark VII armor and—they're holding hands. Of all things, they're holding hands. He doesn't know why his cheeks flame up or why he gets the sudden urge to bury his face in his hands. The drawing was done painstakingly in colored pencil, obviously drawn by an older kid, but still good.

"Look at their shading," Steve says, thankfully not addressing the elephant in the room. "Wish I had drawn like that at their age."

"I've seen your work," Tony says, latching onto the topic for what it was—a way out. "You were good."

Steve smiles slightly. Something in his eyes looks wistful. "Thank you," he says.

Tony had always been curious, and Steve being an artist had always fascinated him. How could a man, seemingly destined for combat, have the passionate, creative soul of an artist? "Do you...do you miss it?" He asks.

Steve double taps the photo, giving it a like before he set his phone down. "I do. I sketch here and there when the inspiration strikes, but I haven't had the time to sit down and really pour myself into it like I used to."

"Pour yourself into it?"

"Give it my all," Steve clarifies. "I could devote an entire day to working on a project. Just me, some charcoal, and my canvas."

Tony could understand him. The same way Steve could apparently spend days working on an art piece, Tony would spend the same amount of time in his workshop, bringing an idea to life.

"Every painting, every sculpture, every drawing, is an artist baring their soul for the world to judge for generations to come," Steve says. "And isn't that just the scariest thing you've heard?"

Tony thought of his own inventions. Missiles and guns and bombs. But he also made intellicrops to feed the hungry. The arc reactor sparked a revolution in clean energy technology. JARVIS, the closest Tony would ever come to bringing another life into this world, growing and developing with every day. How would history judge his soul?

"It is scary," Tony admits. "It takes immense bravery, too, which you have in spades."

Steve looks down at his hot chocolate, trying and failing to hide a smile. He takes a sip, humming in approval at the first taste. "Thank you," he says, then chuckles. "You want to know who my biggest fan was?"

"Who?" Tony asks, indulging him.

"My mom. When I was a kid...she'd draw whatever I asked her to and would let me color it in however I wanted, even if it was ridiculous. Took me to art museums when we had the money."

Tony never thought a smile could be sad, but that's the only way to describe the look on Steve's face; a mixture of anguish and fondness and love, so much love he has to look away. He didn't mean to make Steve upset, but it's too late now. He's already opened the floodgates.

"Before she passed, she encouraged me to go to art school," he says. "Guess she hoped that it would keep me out of trouble."

Tony leans into his side. Steve stiffens, and for a moment, Tony thinks he made the wrong move, but then Steve slowly, almost like Tony's going to scamper off, wraps his arm around Tony's waist. His palm is hot against his side. The warmth seeps into his skin through the thin fabric of his shirt.

"I can't picture you as a little troublemaker," Tony says softly.

"Trouble found me," Steve says.

"And you couldn't ignore it."

It wasn't a question, but Steve answers anyway. "No. I couldn't."

It explained a lot about him. Hell, it was one of the things about Steve that made Tony lose his mind and want to kiss him senseless in the same breath.

"She said I was like my father, like that," Steve says. "Always up for a fight."

Tony didn't like the dark tone Steve's voice had taken on. He doesn't know much about Joseph Rogers, but obviously, it wasn't pretty. And given Steve's pre-serum height and the slew of health issues, Tony could put two and two together.

"The sins of the father shouldn't fall upon the son," he says. "Howard wasn't daddy dearest, either."

"You're not him," Steve says immediately. Tony knows it's not an insult.

"And you're not him," Tony replies. He leans his head against Steve's shoulder, sighing when he feels Steve press a kiss to the crown of his head.

Tony picks up Steve's phone. He doesn't ask why Steve was waiting for him, and Steve doesn't ask why he was in his workshop at two in the morning.

They move from the island to Tony's couch, Tony curled into Steve's side, Steve's arm slung around his shoulder. They polish off the rest of their hot chocolate and scroll through the pages of fanart, getting lost in each other's touch and presence. There's something warm and golden in Tony's chest, slowly expanding, and he knows one day it's going to fill him up from head to toe.

Somewhere, wherever they are, Sarah Rogers and Maria Stark are smiling.

#stony #steve rogers #tony stark #marvel #mcu #nsfk #my fic #my writing #imperialstark fic #imperialstark writing

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kookie-for-you · 4 years

Text

You Take Care of Him When He’s in Bad Condition

TW: Eating Disorder

Masterlist

Scenario:

You hurry through the BigHit Building, heading for the practice room you know the guys are working in today. One of your boyfriend’s members texted you, telling you to come quickly. Apparently your boyfriend was in bad condition and they needed your help in some way or another. You had dropped what you were doing immediately and raced over in record time.

When you found yourself in front of the practice room door, you paused for a second to take a breath and then rushed inside.

Kim Seokjin/Jin:

Seokjin’s face is the first thing your eyes settle on in the room, and your heart is relieved when you see the big smile he is sending your way. That relief is short-lived however, when you notice he is laid out on the couch with several staff members crowded around him.

“Ah, Y/N!” he called as you hurried to his side. He held up his hand to take yours as you crouched next to his head, the charming smile still not leaving his face. “They told me they’d called you. I would have said there’s no need, but I selfishly wanted to see your beautiful face anyway.”

“What have you done now, Seokjin?” you demand, looking more to the staff and Bangtan members who are gathered around.

Seokjin waved his free hand around as though to wave away your question. “It’s nothing, it’s really nothing—” He cuts himself off with a strained gasp of pain, his face contorting as he holds it in. Your eyes widen and you look from him to the staff, demanding anyone answer you.

“Don’t move around too much, hyung,” Namjoon said, in a tone of voice that suggested he’d said this already. “You’ll strain your back worse.”

You sigh, looking back to Seokjin. “Your back again?” you say sadly. “What did you do?”

Seokjin smiles again, though it’s less overly charming and more wistful. More genuine. “Just practicing. I guess I turned too much. I’m getting old, you know? I should be more careful.”

“Be quiet, oppa, you’re not that old,” you scold him, running your hand up and down his arm soothingly. You knew how much his back could hurt him, and to have strained it again he was probably in a great deal of pain.

“The chiropractor has time for him in an hour, and we’ve already given him some painkillers,” one of the staff members said. “He should be in good enough condition to move in just a little while.”

You nodded, your focus mainly on Seokjin. If this injury put him out of commission this close to a comeback, he would be devastated. You knew your focus for the foreseeable future would be helping him recover.

And you wouldn’t have it any other way.

Min Yoongi/Suga:

Your first surprise was how dark it was in the practice room. All the overhead lights were turned out, and it was dead quiet. The sound of the door closing behind you seemed to loud. You could only see where the boys were from the row of cell phone glows against the far wall where the sat.

“Where’s Yoongi?” you asked, and at least three separate voices shushed you. One of the boys stood up and as he approached you could see it was Seokjin.

“His head is hurting him,” Seokjin whispered. He gestured to the far corner where you could barely make out a lump that you presumed was your boyfriend. “He refused to see the medical staff and it made him too nauseous to move any further than the sofa.”

Namjoon joined you now, nodding. “We forced him to take some pain medicine, but that usually doesn’t do much does it?” he asked.

You sighed and shook your head. “Not when it’s this bad. I should have noticed he was starting to get a migraine, but I was in such a rush this morning to get to my errands.

“The managers suggested we call you, maybe you can get him to go home, or at least get him to his studio so we can continue to practice,” Seokjin said, though he didn’t look pleased at the thought. You knew very well that none of the boys liked to practice without all of them well enough to join.

You nodded, then walked over towards the sofa as softly as possible. Your heart began to break more and more as you got closer and could make out Yoongi’s huddled form. He was curled in a ball on the couch, eyes tightly shut, both hands clutching his head against what you knew was agonizing pain.

Carefully, you knelt beside the sofa. “Yoongi,” you said, your voice barely even a whisper. Even still, his eyes twitched as though the sound were painful. “I’m sorry. I know it hurts. Do you think you can move? We don’t have to get all the way home. Let’s just get you down to your studio and you can rest on the sofa there.”

Almost imperceptibly, the movement was so slight, Yoongi nodded. You sighed with relief. “Can you walk, baby?” you asked, running your cold hands along his neck, knowing that could help relieve the pain for a moment. His eyes relaxed momentarily as you did so. “I can get Namjoon or Jungkook to carry you?”

“I can walk,” he murmured, the barest of sounds, his voice rough with repressed pain. “It’s a little better now.”

“Okay,” you said, letting your hand rest on his. “Just take my hand when you’re ready. We’ll go slowly, I promise.” You waited there until he was ready to take your hand.

Jung Hoseok/J-Hope:

The practice room was full of action by the time you walked in. You were startled by the amount of staff in the room, even more than normal. It took you a minute to even locate the guys in the mess.

“Y/N!” you heard Taehyung call to you. He waved you over to where they were gathered. You rushed over to find that they were gathered around Hobi, who was seated with his right foot elevated onto another chair. “Here she is, Hobi-hyung.”

You could see that Hobi’s eyes and cheeks were red from shedding tears. “Jagi,” he said, a bit thickly. Alarmed, you knelt beside him immediately. “Ah, jagi, it hurts.”

“What happened?” you asked, looking down to his ankle. You were shocked to see how swollen it was, even around the ice packs that staff were holding there for him. “Hobi, what happened?”

“He was showing us the new dance, and he jumped and…and he just didn’t land right,” Namjoon explained, running a hand through his hair. “We’re not sure if it’s broken or just really badly sprained.”

“Why aren’t you at the hospital yet?” you demanded.

“Hyung wouldn’t go until you were here,” Taehyung explained. Jimin nodded solemnly next to him—all of the members looked absolutely grave. An ankle injury for their lead dancer was a serious thing, and to see their best friend in pain was agonizing for them as well.

“Oh, Hobi,” you scolded lightly, running your hand through his hair, pushing his bangs away from his sweaty forehead. “You need to see a doctor.”

“I wanted to see you first,” he said, sniffling. You knew he was an emotional person, but you still felt he was even holding back considering the pain he probably felt.

“I would have met you there! It doesn’t matter. I’m here now, so let’s get him to a doctor,” you said, addressing the room as though you were in charge. Everyone rushed into action at your words and Jungkook stepped forward to lift Hobi into his arms.

Hobi let the maknae carry him without any protest. “Don’t leave, jagi,” he begged, and your heart cracked at the fear in his voice. You knew that he was probably more scared than in pain right now—scared that he would be too injured to dance.

“I’m not going anywhere,” you assured him, keeping up with Jungkook’s long-legged stride as Hobi was carried out of the studio. You were going to be with Hoseok every step of the way, no matter what it took.

Kim Namjoon/RM:

The sound of vomiting was unpleasantly the first thing you heard. Wincing, you turned towards the noise and found your suspicions to be correct—Kim Namjoon was sitting on the sofa puking into a tiny trash can.

“What—” You couldn’t even finish your question as you rushed to sit by him, placing a hand on his back comfortingly.

He gasped for breath as he finished throwing up, a fine layer of sweat covering his face. “W-what are you doing here?” he asked.

“We called her Joon,” Seokjin said, standing off to the side with arms folded. Most of the guys were gathered a distance away—Hobi was nearly all the way across the room with headphones on. You were honestly surprised he still managed to be in the practice room.

“You shouldn’t have done that.”

Yoongi snorted. “Kid, you’re puking your guts out. You need to go home, and she’s here to take you.”

Namjoon weakly waved that statement away. “I probably just ate something funny. I’ll be fine once I’ve got it out of my system.”

“You said that two buckets ago, hyung,” Jungkook reminded him as he came over with a fresh trash can, taking the one in Namjoon’s hands with a wrinkled nose.

“Joonie, were you feeling sick this morning?” you asked him, running your hand across his forehead, wiping the sweat away. He didn’t feel overly warm, only slightly heated from the effort of vomiting.

“Oppa is fine, babygirl, don’t worry,” Namjoon said in a voice that would have been convincing if he didn’t immediately follow it by gagging into the trash again.

“Please get him out of here,” Seokjin begged you. “Force him to rest. He can’t have anything left in his stomach at this point so your car should be safe.”

You nodded, and rubbed at Namjoon’s arm. “Oppa, I think I should take you home, all right? If you can’t even stand long enough without wanting to puke, you’re not going to be useful here.”

Namjoon sighed. You could tell he was conflicted. On the one hand, he wanted to be a strong lead and be there for his members. On the other, he obviously wouldn’t let any of the members practice in this condition, so he should set the example that he wanted them to follow. Oh, not to mention, he clearly felt like garbage.

“All right,” he said weakly, setting down the trash can with shaking hands. You stood, helping him up with both hands on one of his arms, and Yoongi on his other side.

“I’ll help you down to your car,” Yoongi offered.

“Thanks hyung,” Namjoon replied, closing his eyes as the movement made his stomach churn again, but he managed to keep himself together. “And thank you Seokjin-hyung. Tell Jungkook thank you as well. And tell everyone I’m sorry.”

“Just get some rest, Namjoon-ah,” Seokjin said with a gentle smile, before walking over to the rest of the guys to update them on Namjoon’s condition.

You brushed Namjoon’s hair from his eyes again, giving him an encouraging smile. “Let’s get you feeling better, oppa,” you said, before starting the shaky journey to the car.

Park Jimin/Jimin:

A staff member brushed by you out the door as you entered, taking your attention for a second, but then you looked back at the room. The guys were gathered around the sofa in the corner, upon which—you realized with your heart dropping—Jimin was laid out. Namjoon raised his hand to wave you over.

“Y/N,” Jimin said weakly as you rushed over. He attempted to sit up, but Hoseok kept an insistent hand on his shoulder to keep him laying down. “You shouldn’t be here.”

“What happened?” you asked. Jimin was pale, his face glistening with a layer of sweat. You rested your hand on his forehead and found no fever, but his skin was clammy.

“Nothing, they’re overreacting,” Jimin said, rolling his eyes.

“He collapsed,” Hoseok corrected, looking at you with seriousness in his eyes. “You tell us if we’re overreacting.”

“Jiminie!” you exclaimed, standing up in shock. He followed you up, brushing past Hoseok’s hand to sit up abruptly.

“Y/N, I…” he trailed off as he started to sway, the sudden movement doing bad things for his currently delicate equilibrium. Six sets of hands reached out to steady him and help him lean back to recline again.

You buried your face in your hands, fighting back tears at seeing Jimin look so weak. “Jiminie, you said you had this diet under control,” you murmured.

“He is dieting again,” Jungkook exclaimed, standing up from where he’d been crouched at Jimin’s feet. “I knew it.”

“How can you let him diet without keeping a closer eye on him?” Taehyung demanded. You looked up at him, surprised to see his angry expression directed at you. “You know how he can get. We’ve trusted you with him since he moved in with you.”

“I—” You didn’t know how to respond.

“Don’t you yell at her, Kim Taehyung,” Jimin said with surprising force. “It’s not her fault. And for the record, I am being healthy.”

“That’s hard to defend when you just passed out in dance rehearsal,” Seokjin said sternly, folding his arms over his chest. “Don’t try and convince us it’s a coincidence.”

Jimin shut his eyes for a moment. “Maybe I skipped a couple of meals the last few days. But it was only a few.”

You shook your head, fighting back tears. “Jimin, we’ll talk about it later. For now, we’re going home.” You looked back to Taehyung. “Will you let me take him home, or am I not trustworthy enough?”

Taehyung looked chided, and seemed to be feeling some remorse for his outburst at you. “Take him home,” Namjoon answered for him. “We know you can take care of him. And we’ll all be over after practice for a group talk, got it?” That last part he directed to Jimin, who nodded meekly.

You knelt beside Jimin again. “Can you walk yet, do you think?” you asked. Jimin nodded again, sitting up slowly, resting his head in his hands and accepting a drink of water from the bottle that Yoongi held to his lips. He stood up slowly, wobbling a bit before finding his footing. You took his arm to help steady him.

“I’m sorry, jagi,” he whispered to you, and his eyes meeting yours were truly so apologetic you thought you might cry again from the sight.

“You’ll be all right, Jiminie,” you told him. “We’ll be okay.”

Kim Taehyung/V:

The room was quiet when you came in. You could see the guys gathered around, some of them sitting against the mirror. Tae was at the center of them, his knees drawn to his chest and arms holding them there, Jimin with his arm wrapped around him.

“Tae?” you called as you walked over. He looked up at you and you felt your eyes widen to see his face. His cheeks were tear-stained and his eyes were red. “What’s going on?” you asked, stopping outside the circle of BTS members.

“Jagi,” he said, voice rough. “My mom called. My dad…he’s sick. Mom said he had a heart attack. They’re at the hospital now.”

Your heart dropped. This was probably the worst thing that could happen to Tae. His family was the most important thing in the world to him. “Tae, I’m so…” You couldn’t even finish that thought. You couldn’t say you were sorry, because it wasn’t enough. Not for this. “What do you want to do?”

“Manager-nim already said he can go and have as much time off as he needs,” Namjoon said, looking back at you from his spot on the floor. “We’re between comebacks and have no urgent schedules for a week.”

You nodded. “Let’s go then,” you said to Tae, knowing what he needed to do right now. You reached out and grabbed his hand, pulling him to his feet. He immediately wrapped his arms around you, hugging you tightly. “It’s okay,” you whispered to him, hugging him back. “Let’s go, we’ll get packed, we’ll get Tannie, and we’ll start driving. We can be there in a few hours.” You felt Tae nod against your head, and pulled away.

“Thank you for calling me,” you said to the guys. They all made soft sounds of confirmation, some waving and gesturing. “I’ll keep you guys updated, all right?” You knew that they wanted nothing more than to be with Tae through this, but it wouldn’t be right for all seven members of BTS to crowd into Tae’s father’s hospital room.

Once out of the practice room, you’d made it halfway to the elevator before Tae suddenly stopped you. “Jagi, I…” He cut himself off, shaking his head and bending over, placing his hands on his knees. “Jagi, I can hardly breathe right now. What do I do? What will I do if…if my dad…?”

You leaned down, placing your hands on Tae’s cheeks, tilting his face back to look at you. “Tae, sweetie, just breathe. All you can do right now is breathe, and go be with your family. You’re so lucky that you’re getting to do that. Let’s go get our things and your dog and get out there. Your dad will be okay.” You felt a little nervous adding that last part, because you couldn’t promise that. But it was what Tae needed to hear to keep moving.

Tae took in a deep breath, nodding and standing up straight. “I don’t know how I could do this without you, yeobo,” he said, hugging you again. “I can barely think. Thank you for being here for me.”

“Always, Tae,” you murmured into his chest. “Always.”

Jeon Jungkook/Jungkook:

There was yelling happening in the dance studio. “Jeon Jungkook, sit down right now or so help me—” That was Seokjin, and if you were Jeon Jungkook you’d have been following the words coming out of his mouth because he sounded angry.

However, the actual Jeon Jungkook was much more stubborn than you. “Hyung, I’m fine! Leave me be!” Your eyes fell on Jungkook as he flipped his bangs from his forehead, and you could see the deep flush across his face. His eyes met yours and filled with confusion, then annoyance.

“Hyungs!” he whined, leaning back to stare at the ceiling. “You called my girlfriend on me? I’m not even sick!” However, contrary to that statement, a coughing fit overtook him, practically rocketing his body backward as he very nearly overbalanced.

His six hyungs were in various places around the room, all apparently in some state of anger, annoyance, or worry. “Y/N it’s good you’re here,” Namjoon said, shaking his head as he came to greet you. He folded his arms and gestured to the maknae, who still stood defiantly in the center of the room, arms now folded across his chest as his coughing abated. “He’s stubborn and you know that.”

“I do,” you agree. “What’s wrong?” You asked this as you strode forward, towards the mentioned stubborn maknae, hand already reaching out with the intention of landing on his forehead.

Jungkook expertly dodged your hand, waving it away. “Y/N, I’m fine,” he said. “They shouldn’t have called you here. They’re just delaying when we could be practicing.”

Jimin threw his hands in the air and walked away, clearly not wanting to lose his temper. “Jungkook-ah, you’re sick,” Taehyung called out, walking backwards and turning his attention to calm Jimin down.

“It’s a cough, hyung,” Jungkook whined. “I already said I won’t sing, just let’s have dance rehearsal!”

“You’re running a fever, Jungkookie, I could feel the heat coming off you just by sitting beside you,” Seokjin stated. The eldest and the youngest faced off, staring daggers at each other. You took that moment of distraction to place your hand on Jungkook’s face, gasping when you felt the heat yourself.

“Jungkook, you’re burning up!” you exclaimed, even as he pulled your hand off of him. “How are you still standing?”

“I said I’m okay, Y/N-noona, really,” he insisted, but you could see something in his eyes had slipped. His lashes fluttered and for a second his knees seemed to give.

All of the boys shouted, each running forward to assist you as Jungkook’s weight fell on you. Jungkook seemed to catch himself before he fully collapsed, but grabbed your shoulder with his hand to steady himself as the hyungs made to support him.

“Jungkookie, you are not fine,” you say firmly. “I’m taking you home and putting you to bed before you pass out and make yourself even sicker. Understood?”

Jimin and Taehyung exchanged a look. “I’d listen to her, Jungkookie,” Jimin commented. “She’s scary.”

“Noona,” Jungkook murmured, his voice weak suddenly, as though all the fighting had finally taken the last bit of energy out of him. He sighed and nodded. “Please take me home.”

You rubbed your eyes, frustrated yet relieved by the turn of events. Jungkook was so stubborn that he would keep his position until he was literally forced not to—for him to give in meant he was feeling really awful at this point. “Yes, Jungkookie,” you said, as Seokjin wrapped his own jacket around Jungkook’s shoulders and Hoseok brought over the maknae’s backpack. “Noona is taking you home.”

Masterlist

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soldierswar · 3 years

Text

Feel Something - Chapter 4

Bucky x Reader

Angst, fluff

Chapter synopsis: New developments come forward when it comes to defeating one of your biggest threats. Meanwhile, your relationship, and feelings toward Bucky grow stronger after the events of the previous night.

.............................................

“So you’re meaning to tell me that she’s operating in a hidden base here in New York?” “Something like that,” Steve replied. “We tried to get a hold of you last night but you wouldn’t answer.” With everything in your power, you tried not to blush. Neither you nor Bucky were checking your phones until morning spending the entire night enjoying each other’s company, which only resulted in about 3 hours of sleep. When you had woken up, both of you realized that you had missed multiple calls. “I was spending time away from my phone,” you stated. It technically wasn’t a lie. Bucky who was on the other side of the workstation softly, but awkwardly cleared his throat. And now you were both trying not to laugh. Natasha narrowed her eyes, and you tried to imagine a world where she didn’t just figure out what was going on and imagined not having a conversation about it.

Steve shrugged and continued. “By what we were able to dig up, she and her team have been operating on a base somewhere in South America. We also found records of her and associates trying to negotiate for weapons.” “Weapons?” you echoed as your breath hitched. “A lot of them,” Natasha added. “But…Nobody was willing to supply her demands.” Not even realizing that you had been holding your breath, you let out a silent but long exhale. “That’s good news,” you said, staring at the screen that had a multitude of files on her open. “So why don’t we just go get her? Do you know where her hideout is?” By the serious expression that remained on everyone’s faces, you knew that that was just the tip of the iceberg. “We’re pretty sure that she’s planning on breaking into one of the armories upstate. Specifically this one.” Natasha waved her hand around in front of the holographic screen to pull up the location and blew up the image for emphasis. Within an instant, you felt your hands go cold, and your face go white. Bucky, who was now in the background leaning backward against a began moving forward to get a better look. “That’s not—" “Yeah,” Natasha interrupted. “It is.” What they were pointing to was an old underground warehouse that held a huge collection of discontinued Stark weaponry. The weapons in that facility were much bigger than fancy rifles, and grenades. They were serious weapons of mass destruction that could wipe a whole city out in seconds. When Stark announced that he would no longer be mass producing warfare equipment, they had built that place just to store all of the things completed, but never to be sold. Tony was the only one that had the authority to disarm them and refused the request to do so. From what Natasha had disclosed with you, it seemed as though keeping them still viable to use was a little bit of a threat. Kind of like his way of saying, “I still have these, so don’t fuck with me.” Everyone in the room knew that he’d never use them, but anyone who would dare threaten him didn’t. “She has a team of underground experts that are master experts in heists like these. Some of the largest losses in stolen weapons in history was all them. There’s a chance that they could figure out a way to succeed.” “Do you really think that could happen?” “No,” Natasha snorted. “There’s more safety measures than humanly imaginable in there. They might get in, but nothing is coming out with them.” You started to feel a little bit relieved. “So,” Steve continued. “Since we know where they’re going to try to be, we can catch them from the inside when they least expect it.” You turned to Bucky who was already matching your stare. You were ready. … You had been hiding in the facility for 5 days waiting for their estimated break-in. When formulating the plans you realized that you could not risk them catching you getting into the facility while they tried to break in at the same time. They needed eyes on the inside. And much to everyone’s surprise, you were the first to volunteer. The thing about the break-in was that Stark had to make it easier to break in than it would have actually been. With Starks’ full security measures, it would have been nearly impossible for them to get in at all. But, they couldn’t make it too easy so that they wouldn’t get suspicious and run off. The plan depended on them getting into the facility so that at least the biggest targets couldn’t run off into the woods as soon as your team showed up to arrest them. The building was basically a mousetrap. Soon they would break in while you hid in the ceiling until the rest of your team entered in tow. Soon, Sin would be locked behind bars, and out of your life forever. You knew that while scouting for Sin’s team, Bucky was always nearby hiding behind or even up in the tree branches of the woods that surrounded the isolated building. During that time, he constantly checked on you through your coms. But you knew that he just enjoyed keeping conversation with you for hours on end. It definitely helped with the occasional bouts of loneliness that hit you. You couldn’t wait to at the very least just be near him once this whole thing was over. “Y/N…Y/N?” he said in the middle of day 5. “Hm?” you answered groggily waking up from a midday slumber. You had to admit, you had been working so much and so hard for the past few months that you appreciated the extra time you had to nap. “There’s a whole team out there analyzing the area. They seem to have pretty high-tech gear. They may get in within the hour. I notified everyone else. They’ll be here in less than 20.” You took a nervous deep breath and got up to get all of your gear ready. You had your guns, taser, and an assortment of knives all hidden in different pockets. Now all there was left to do was wait for them to break in. … Bucky was right. It did take about an hour and a half for them to get in. They had found a way to get the steel entrance door unlocked and disable the already modified security alarm. As you hid above the ceiling, you observed some of the guys trickling in still unsuspecting of the upcoming ambush. You were hidden looking through a vent that looked so opaque that there was no way that they could spot you. The room that you were in was the way into a corridor to the other side of the armory. So, it gave you good leverage to see who was where. Natasha was now talking to you through your earpiece sending play by play updates so that you knew when it was safe to come out and join them. You watched down below through the vents men coming and going through the room that you had spent most of your time inside and leaving when they realized that there was nothing useful there. “Okay, I think you’re safe to come out,” Natasha finally whispered. You let out a sigh of relief, and after double-checking your weapon filled pockets, you began to climb down to join everyone. But suddenly, as soon as your feet touched the ground you realized by the sound of footsteps that you weren’t entirely safe anymore. You recognized those footsteps from anywhere. The smooth, cocky, footsteps of none other than Sin. “Well, well, well,” she snickered at the sight of you in. She was seemingly amused by this new predicament of hers. “If it isn’t little miss Y/N.” “Cynthia,” you chimed mockingly. Her snide smile dropped in an instant at the sound of her real name. It felt good to know that you could still get under her skin. “South American tan does you well. You ever thought of staying there, I don’t know…Forever?” She scoffed. “And here I was thinking that this would be a happy little family reunion.” You rolled your eyes. “You do realize that you’re not getting out of here a free woman, right?” you stated. She narrowed her eyes, intensifying her naturally cold stare. “Awww,” she coed. “I was really hoping to take that offer.” You shrugged. “Not if I have anything to do with it. Sorry.” She accompanied the cold stare with a bone-chilling smirk. “Is our little overachieving boss’s pet going to get the job done again?” “At least I could get my jobs done.” “Until I put you out of commission for almost 3 months,” she pointed out, making you remember the scar on your torso that you showed Bucky not even a week ago. You mentally recounted the time you two spent yelling at each other about who had messed up during a mission that you both were on. After a not so pleasant comment on your part, Sin, whose face was inches away from yours stabbed you in a sudden burst of anger. Before she got sent away to another unit across the world while you were in the hospital, she had sneakily left a note that you had later found on your bed that said nothing else but, “Well, how else was I going to calm down?” “I bet I could put you out of commission for much longer,” she sneered. Within half a second after that statement, you both simultaneously pulled your guns out and pointed them at each other. “Y/N? we have almost everyone except Sin. Do you have eyes on her?” asked Natasha through your earpiece. Sin noticed your momentary change of expression at the sound of Nat’s voice as she took in the sight of your earpiece. “Don’t you dare answer that,” she ordered. “Throw it across the room, and I might let you live.” Bucky’s voice followed Natasha’s question. “Y/N? Are you there?” But you couldn’t answer. You did what she said, and threw it across the room. “Good girl.” “Now what to do? What to do?” Sin huffed tapping her thumb against the safety trigger of her gun matching your stance. Just as you were, she scanning you trying to figure out where, when, how, or even if she’d shoot you. She knew that if she did, there was a chance that your reflexes were just as fast as hers. And you knew that that little possibility scared her. In that very situation, she probably didn’t even care that her plans were obliterated. She probably didn’t even if her crew would go to prison, or even get killed. The only thing that Sin cared about was Sin. As long as her skin was saved and she got out of there, she’d be fine. “They’re going to find me soon, you know,” you said calmly trying to reason with her. “Listen, you put the gun down and I’ll let you go. Give you a head start at least.” “Fat chance, Y/L/N. We both know how that would go,” she snorted.

You raised an eyebrow playing dumb. “How?” “Like this,” she said using that split second where your guard was down to shoot at you 3 times. When she did, you fired two shots at her. At first, it seemed as though you had both missed your shots at each other. But it made you wonder why it was that you had taken such terrible aim. At least…that was what you were thinking before you looked down in shock; unable to do anything but look at the holes in your shirt begin to spill blood. In that moment of shock, your limbs failed you, and your body crashed against the cold, hard concrete floor. “It was nice seeing you again!” Sin exclaimed as her footsteps began to fade into oblivion. After she was presumably long gone, you turned in the direction of your earpiece and attempted to crawl towards it to call for help. But it was seemingly too late. You were getting weaker by the second. You looked down, and more blood pulsed out of you than you had ever seen in your life. With presumably one functioning lung, your body wasn’t strong enough to let you push yourself forward. “Help,” you croaked barely making a sound. You attempted to call again even louder, but you failed letting out nothing but a pathetic whimper using the last ounce of strength you had left in your body. The last bit of sensation you had in your limbs seemed to drift away, and your vision began to blur. In fact, you began to feel as though you were fading into oblivion. Except, you didn’t feel dread anymore. You felt blurry. Maybe even peaceful as though you were fading into a beautiful, and peaceful dream. Before you let it take over you, the last thing you thought about was Bucky. “I’m sorry,” was your last thought before you drifted away.

#Bucky x reader #bucky x reader fluff #bucky x reader angst #bucky x reader smut #winter soldier #red skull #red skull daughter #sin #steve rogers #natasha romanoff #avengers #hydra #captain america #winter sodier #winter soldier fluff #winter soldier angst

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warmau · 4 years

Text

Stablehand!AU Mingi

*partner to prince!yunho au “*this post was commissioned | commission info | other ateez aus

a plain and simple stable boy with a heart of gold and absolutely NO filter about anything

his parents taught him to be hardworking, loyal, but above all - always speak the truth

and that’s why

he can’t lie to save his life. can’t even keep a secret even after he promised he would, and not because he doesn’t want to

but the guilt paints his ears red and he’s stammering and making up excuses that make no sense

until finally he just blurts out the secret and everyone is like mINGI and he gets embarrassed but really everyone should know by now that he just

he’s transparent to a fault

maybe that’s why animals love him so much - ever since he was a kid, running through town with stray dogs at his heels

trying to smuggle in kittens into the barn - thanks to his effort, there are about five of them now

and the other stablehands know the king and queen HATE having strays around so they hide them

mingi can’t lie - so he usually just shoves two cats into his overalls and runs off before he has to face any of the royals

because oH he’s gotta go uhhhhhhh clean the pasture again

isn’t lazy, but when he’s got down time he enjoys a nice sleep up in the hay storage area

looks undeniably handsome with his rolled up sleeves and strong arms carrying saddles - but he is o b l i v i o u s

many of the maids think he’s cute and offer him treats from the kitchen which he always accepts with a big, shining smile that sends him swooning

but he’s like munch munch thank you!!! with his mouth full and the older stable hands are like ,,,,,,,,,,,,,,, this kid ,,,,,,,,,,,, when will he learn

he’s younger than a lot of the other workers in the stable, so he doesn’t work with any of the personal royal family’s horses

instead, he takes care of the knight and carriage horses, hauling hay back and forth, grooming them when they’re not on duty

and when he was a kid - his father did the job before him - so he’s been around these horses since they themselves were just little colts

so he refers to them and everyone who works there as his “family” ,,,,, because well ,,,,,,,,, to him they really are

the prince, yunho, used to be a very close friend of his

sneaking off to play with mingi in the gardens when his tutors couldn’t catch him, but as they both grew older

mingi had sensed that yunho had drifted away - become too important to spend his time with a stablehand, instead attending to the business of a budding prince

but as much as mingi misses him, he didn’t let it bother him much

he’d always had a knack for friendleness - because he’s managed to be on good terms with just about,,,,,,,,,,,,,,, everyone else

from sous-chef seonghwa

to eccentric gardener wooyoung

to the maids, giggling and making his head spin as they moved past him and into the palace in circles - skirts twirling and tickling as they passed by

and of course ,,,,,,,,, the royal knights

mingi’s been enchanted by them ever since he can remember, watching them ride into the town

silver armor, large swords, the crest of the royal family proudly displayed on their shields and on the flags that flew in behind them

he’d always wondered what it was like - to serve the country, to battle, to wield such a beautiful but powerful weapon

his father used to have to tug him away by the ear because he’d stop in the middle of his chores to run down and see them parade in

now that he was older, and worked primarily in the barn that housed their steads, he even got close to some of them

always greeting them with stars in his eyes - getting feverishly pink when one of them offered up their sword to him

“try and swing it around - see if you like it!”

they’d joked and mingi had never felt more embarrassed and excited in the same moment - picking it up by the handle

and gasping aloud

“it’s so heavy!”

“nothing like those wooden toys you had as a boy, huh mingi?”

even though he spent so much time around them

the majority of the knights were aged and treated him almost like a boy rather than a man

he wasn’t sure if he was friends with them - or if maybe they’d all cherished the work his father had done so they resorted to treating him like a son of their own

that is of course until you joined

you - like mingi - were the youngest in your profession

and on top of that you had been assigned one of the most important tasks a knight could hope for

you were the prince’s knight

standing by his side, gifted by the queen and king with both the knight’s standard long sword but also a crossbow engraved with the rubies that matched those in the prince’s crown

your horse, wonderland, was kept in the biggest stall and fed with better grain than the rest

and your armor was lined with white silver - you were on another level than other knights

you were not one to dally around in the stables, go to the bars for a drink, no you were almost like royalty yourself

you had also been obviously selcuded from the rest of the knights - who rarely interacted with you

and who possibly even envied what they deemed as “favoritism” from the tyrannical royals that ruled over all of them

and when you’d come into the barn early, before even the sun had fully shown herself, you had taken off the helmet you seemed to never shed

and mingi had seen your face

a face not shown even once before, for even when you attended by the prince's side you never took your armor off

and if you had to - there was always some sort of thick, velvet mask hung up around your mouth

so mingi couldn’t believe it - seeing you like this -

you were - you were -

“oh no!”

mingi’s voice resounds through the wooden walls, his long and clumsy legs tripping over the hay barrel he’d been standing before

as he lands like a fish on the barbeque right before your feet

on instinct - you draw your sword - the sharp edge out and hovering mere inches away from poor mingi’s nose

“stable boy?”

he jumps to his feet so fast you think for a second he’s got to have the dna of a spring hare

and he goes sickly red

“i - i - i -”

the lie won’t roll off his tongue, no matter how hard he tries

“i was simply ro-rolling out the hay and i had seen you and you were so beautiful - i mean you were so ,,, so ,,,”

his brown eyes can’t meet yours - he feels like you’ll shock him straight with lightening

so he tries to think of a word that can save him from this mess

“you were just so KNIGHTLY! i was surprised!”

you take to blinks, sheath your sword and step around him and ignore the floundering apology as you make your way to wonderland’s stall

mingi senses what he assumes is anger, and that you’re probably upset with him for being so silly, that he dashes over a moment later and asks

“w-would you like me to bring wonderland’s saddle?”

again, you blink twice -

“no-”

“ill go get it!”

you aren’t sure how on earth he sprints to the rack room and back so fast, carrying everything you need from wonderland’s bridle to the saddle blanket

grinning at you with the goofiness of a field scarecrow

you reach to take them off his hands and suspiciously hum as he doesn’t show any signs of moving away

“stable boy”

“yes? do you need my help?”

you see the happiness - you think? - make his whole body shake-up to his shoulders

“don’t you have morning duties to attend to instead of watching me take care of mine?”

he jumps again and you really don’t know where this energy of his is coming from

but he bows, nearly hitting his head on the stall’s door as he mumbles that you’re right - he must be going now!

you’re in slight disbelief about the whole situation, reflecting on it again as you ride out into the pastures and pull your helmet out of your saddle bag

you slip it on over your head - and suddenly that stable boys voice rings in your ears

“you were so beautiful”

wonderland tugs at your reigns and as soon as the memory comes, it fades as you focus on starting your practice

when you return, hours passed breakfast and even lunch

there is an uproar in the barn

before anyone spots you, you spot them

a group of knights all circled around that red-headed stable boy

“you really SAW them?”

“i reckon it’s that sneaky merchant’s child - who else could lie their way up to such a position as the prince’s guard?”

“nah nah - it must be a wizard of some sort, well mingi what did they look like - spit out!”

one of the knights pulls mingi down into a playful hold - the cap he’s wearing tumbles off and rolls all the way to your feet

and all eyes suddenly turn to you

the knight lets mingi go and you lean down to grab his cap - only for mingi to stumble his way over and fail to snatch it before you do

“im sorry i-”

“stable boy. follow me.”

the entire barn falls silent as you walk through it - no one really looks your way again

all pretending to busy themselves with other things as you tilt your head and mingi rushes to open the back gate

“you’re not taking wonderland into her-”

“no, just keep walking.”

mingi looks over his shoulder once more - but follows you down the grassy path and into the back open pasture

there’s a post where you tie up wonderland’s reigns and then turn to him

you pull the helmet off your head and mingi’s entire face physically flushes

“were you telling them about what i looked like?”

“n-no! they were asking, but i - i didn’t -”

he looks just as lost as the first encounter you two had

long eyes somehow managing to get wide and worried, like a puppy scared of scolding

you put your helmet under your arm and stare at him as he fumbles, but swears he didn’t say anything

you almost feel a little bad - seeing just how disheveled he’s getting

without another word

you march back toward the barn and mingi only snaps out of it long enough to catch up with you as you step into the barn

with a loud noise, you let the heavy knight’s helmet fall to the floor

everyone turns and you bluntly say

“here it is, my face.”

you pull your sword from your side and point it out toward the group of shocked faces

mingi watches in fear

“and if any of you bother that stable boy about it again - be a man and come and bother me about it instead.”

there are grumbles that are hard to make out, but you brush past without looking at mingi once more to return to wonderland

he falls back against the barn wall and slides down as the power in his knees seems to give out

woah - they looked so,,,,,,,,,,,,,cool.

you don’t make much of the event, though you are a little pensive about the fact that everyone now knows how much younger you really are than the other knights

the rumor had been that you were young compared to the knights - who were mostly all reaching the end of their 40s

you sigh, lifting your crossbow as the dawn settles on the shoulders of the palace

you aim it steadily to the front, where a dummy made of straw is waving it’s fake arm up at you

you line up the shot and just as you’re about to pull the arrow back

you hear someone call your name

your first instinct is someone is calling you to the aide of prince yunho’s side

but to your surprise, although you refuse to show it, it’s the stable boy

what’s his name? ,,,,,,,,, mingi?

“are you practicing?”

he asks cheerfully, jogging toward you with a large smile

the stars are apparent in his eyes as he looks your crossbow up and down

“i’ve never seen them up close! are they heavy?”

you narrow your eyes

“do you have business with me?”

he shrugs, the signature red flannel you’ve never seen him take off is slightly baggy even though it’s obvious that his build is broad

“no, i just spotted you after doing the pasture cleanup and thought i would say hello!”

“why?”

your tone comes out way more bitter than it has to be - but you can’t help it, your defense walls are always up

“oh because,,,,,,you know,,,,,,,,,,,,well,,,,,,,just checking up on a friend?”

the word makes your head snap up toward the boy

“when did i say we were friends?”

he chuckles, waving his hand and deflecting the cold words you’ve conjured up

“you stood up to all the other knights for me! if you hadn’t - they’d pester me for weeks about -”

“i wasn’t standing up ,,,,,,,,,,”

something makes you stop - and you don’t know why, you can’t exactly pinpoint it

but the innocent happiness spread across mingi’s features makes your usual bluntness flatter

“hmm?”

“nothing, stable boy - im don’t really like people spectating my practices.”

mingi blossoms pink again

“ah- my apologizes! ill remember that!”

he bows, hand over his chest as he bounds back to the barn

you want to focus back on your work - but then something tugs at you to watch hid disappearing figure

and your crossbow nearly falls from your hands as you see him turn too - waving a casual goodbye as he turns the bend and into the stables

what a weird boy........

you shrug - once more pushing the thought and the moment into the back of your mind

but ,,,,,,,, mingi doesn’t seem to allow this

instead, he continues being as bright as ever when you’re around

even though the other knights avoid you, and some of the royal staff even seems a bit intimidated by your prowess and position

mingi is seemingly oblivious to it - and any other cues that you would prefer to be alone

instead, he makes a habit of being there just as early as you are

and you’re there well before 5 in the morning - and before, when it had just been you and the horses

it’s now you, the horses, and mingi

who greets you with a smile and asks if you’re going to practice out in the fields again

one week - he even preps all your gear for you before you arrive

at one point as you’re walking wonderland out, mingi accompanies you - chattering about something that happened over the weekend

when you inquire

“why are you always here in the morning? you don’t have to be here just to see me -”

he stops, but then gives you a small laugh

“oh, no you’ve got it all wrong - the stablehand who usually works through the night is out sick so they need someone to come in before the sun rises. i got picked because im the youngest!”

an emotion you haven’t felt in ages washes over you, embarrassment

of course! he might be too kind for his own good but that doesn’t mean he’s doing anything special for you!

excusing yourself, you quickly pull wonderland along and are thankful for the helmet that covers what you can only suspect is a small blush over your own cheeks

to be fair - you know you shouldn’t deflect the help and kindness mingi is showing you

it’s just, being a knight - the prince’s knight - and training to be a warrior since you could remember hadn’t helped you become the best “people person”

you were praised by a lot of the trainers you had that your steadfast will and lack of emotions was perfect for a knight

but you also knew, deep down, that it had made you miss out on a lot

and maybe that’s why seeing someone like mingi, who could befriend the likeness of a stone, just reminds you of that fact

you find yourself deep in thought about it as you walk beside the prince’s horse - the royal family riding through the town

most civilians are not happy about having to bow on their knees for the evil king and queen

and you haven’t been a knight for the prince for too long - but you can tell the hardened expression on his face is hiding a secret guilt

as much as you weren’t a social butterfly, you could read people

maybe the prince and i are more alike than we think........i wonder..........was that mingi boy ever his friend?

you look forward, hand on the helm of your sword and can’t help but wish that the frightened children

who hide behind their parents

could know, you weren’t some monster- some unkind, dangerous knight - but someone who really wanted to be good

children probably like mingi, he has the kind of aura that would make them feel safe

you feel a tightness in your charge

could i be the same way one day?

it could have been that day, or the others where he’d shown you this side of himself, but you start to enjoy mingi’s company

so much so that you choose to visit the stable even more, sometimes even bringing your lunch from the barracks out to the pasture

when mingi first spots you, he asks to join you

showing off the sad-looking sandwich he’s so proud he made himself

you giggle at how funny he looks flashing it around like a gourmet leg of meat

and the sound startles mingi

“d-did you just la-laugh?”

you turn quickly, eyes borrowing into your own food

“you. you were being silly, can i not laugh?”

“no! of course you can! laughter is my favorite sound!”

you look down - trying to fix your stare back onto the grass or the checkered cloth which mingi’s half-eaten sandwich rests upon now

but you can’t help it

you look back up at him - the sun shines off the dark brown of his eyes

and he’s looking back at you

sometimes you find yourself in wonderland’s stall after a particularly hard day of training or even worse- a day spent entertaining the rich elite of the country in useless events like sparrings or whatnot

you brush the twigs and mud from wonderland’s mane and shrink a little when your “fellow” knights cheerfully walk by

blabbering and calling out shots for what bar they’re going to go tear apart together

you never get invited to these outings, thankfully - you’re not a big alcohol person and plus you don’t think knights should spend time acting like fools in front of the townspeople they’re supposed to protect

but a part of it still hurts - being ostracized never gets easier

but now, you look over your shoulder when you hear someone lean against the stall door

mingi waves, says he’ll be unloading the new feed outback if you need him

you give him a small nod of approval and pretend to get back to brushing

the moment his footsteps round out the corner, you bury your face in wonderland’s warm neck

she makes a small sound and you mutter a “no. it’s not like that.”

although you’re trained not to trust anyone that isn’t a fellow knight or the prince himself - you start to trust mingi

so far so that when he comes down to see you in the practice fields outside the knights barracks

you don’t immediately ask him why in the world he’s come here - but you let him stay and watch

as you lift your sword up, bringing it down powerfully on the dummy made of straw and hardwood

mingi claps and it’s slightly embarrassing and you suddenly wave it around by the helm

“want to try?”

you think you see christmas lights burst in his eyes as he hops the fence with the agility you didn’t know he had in him

he takes the sword, albeit you can tell his hands are shaking, but his grip is like that of a childs

you shake your head

“here let me show you-”

you put your hand on his and the warmth of his skin sends a surge through you that you hadn’t felt in a while

you pull back - like you’ve been burned - and mingi’s face of excitement turns to worry

the sword clamors to his side and he reaches out to take your hands in yours

“are you alright?”

“why - why would you care?”

the retort comes from a place you’ve thought was long since forgotten and mingi’s eyebrows furrow in innocent confusion

“because you’re my friend, that’s why i care. are you hurt?”

the guilt of such a venomous questions floods over you and you relax suddenly

“im fine, just a sudden cramp.”

he’s still holding your hands as he turns them over in his own

the size of his palm nearly doubles yours

“it must be from holding that heavy as hell sword all day huh? seriously, how do you do it?”

he leans down to pick it up and you giggle again, the noise making mingi all giddy again

“well - you can’t be weak and a knight -”

“oh i would never call you weak - you are the protector of,,,,,,,,the prince.”

mingi’s cheerful voice falters for a second and you can’t help but let the questions from before fill your mind again

out of curiosity, you ask, “mingi, since i let you play with the sword and all can i ask you something?”

he swats away one of the many flies that have come with the setting sun

“sure”

“were you and prince yunho,,,,,, friends as well?”

that shadow of old pain crosses over mingi’s features and he opens his mouth - but doesn’t really say anything

you take a moment - reprimanding yourself for prying into something that’s not your business and probably causing unwanted feelings to resurface

but mingi chuckles suddenly and you look to see him shrugging - arms thrown up in the air

“who knows - who knows! we would play a lot when i was young - you know, chasing each other around the barn and annoying my father to no end. but, im a stable hand and he’s a prince. friendship and all of that,,,,”

he waves it off into the air

“it doesn’t mean much to people like him.”

you think you sense the small notes of abandonment mingi must have felt - the roles that he and his friend have to play that have split them apart

and it shocks you because - even with such an energy that pulls you in, it was possible for mingi to be abandoned by someone close to him

by someone he treasured

you’d always that it was just people like you - conditioned into choosing isolation over anything at all - that got left behind

suddenly you don’t want to talk about these things anymore, and you never want to hear those droplets of pain in mingi’s voice again

so you take the sword from him and smile

big and as bright as you can

“want to try shooting my crossbow instead?”

again, the lights come up in his eyes like stars, and the memories for both of you that hurt so much are once again pushed down - down - down

that being said, you think about what mingi said over and over again as you spend your time by the prince’s side

you were never ,,,,,, overtly warm to anyone - but your cold shoulder is even colder now

eyes bleakly staring ahead, the only response you have for him anymore is “yes, your highness.” and his parents seem quite content that way

but when you’re delivering him home from a royal ball three towns over

he hops off his horse and drops the bag of chocolates and other delicacies he was sent off with

“whatever ive done to make you hate me, take this and see it as a reason to get over it.”

you stare at the bag then up at yunho

even though his eyes look like his parents, i know he’s not like them. but that doesn’t matter - he chose to hurt mingi, right?

you shove them back in his hands

earning a wide-eyed look of shock at the utter defiance a knight can never show to the one they serve

you don’t seem to care at all though

“you should give these to someone who’d really enjoy them. i hear the stable boy really likes sweets.”

“m-mingi?”

suddenly you hear footsteps rise from behind you, turning around - you ready yourself to protect the prince - even if you don’t quite like him right now

when all you see is the queen’s new tailor, a young and sweet thing, that yunho has been having over a lot recently

you stand up, sheathing your sword and bowing once to the prince

“ill bring the horse in.”

you say, taking a hold of the prince’s steads reigns and leaving him with the tailor, bag of candy still in hand

why,,,,,,why did i just act so curt to the prince? because of mingi? am i going insane?

you shake it off, approaching the main barn slowly and looking around - the stable hand for the royal’s horses is nowhere in sight

so you take to the task yourself, shrugging off your outer armor and placing your equipment neatly on the hay barrels outside the saddle room

“what are you do-”

a voice comes from behind you and before you can stop your instincts - you pull in your elbow and then thrash it back, hands up in fists as you turn in a jump

clenching your teeth in defense

“o-o-ouch! woah you pack a punch!”

“mi-mingi?!?!”

the tension you’d built up to pummel whoever had snuck up on you melts away

you fall to your knees and pick up his head - watching with horror as a small amount of blood pours out of mingi’s nose

“i didn’t mean to i thought you we-”

“hey, i - i shoulda known not- not to sneak up on the best knight - oh my god this hurts im - im - oh im passing out now-”

he faints and you panic, lifting up his large body to the best of your ability and slinking him back off to your barracks

you tuck him in, pressing a makeshift bag of cold ice to his nose and hurry to the main barn to finish putting the horse away

when you return, mingi is still out cold - you apologize in a little voice and sit down beside him

you change the ice on his forehead and push back his bright red bangs

he really is handsome, he’s got bone structure that could even rival prince yunho,,,,,,,

you think - but stop yourself short - half because you’re getting all red thinking about mingi like that

and the other half because the candle has gone out on the desk beside the bed

you get up to light another one, when a warm hand reaches for your own

“don’t leave again,,,,”

mingi’s voice, lower than usual beckons and it sends an unfamiliar feeling through your skin

his fingers are barely on your wrist, really you could just shrug them off and be on your way

but something makes them feel almost like curling chains pulling, pulling you back onto the bed

“don’t go,,,,,,,”

his voice grumbles and you can’t believe you’re letting your body take over your mind

pushing yourself down beside mingi, laying back as that hand on your wrist drapes over your waist

“are you asleep?”

you ask cautiously - scared but hoping bizarrely that he’s just having some kind of dream

that’s why he’s acting like this

but mingi’s head turns slightly, eyes opening in the dark and you’re a knight so the small sound is amplified to you

just like your gasp is when he mumbles

“no, but if you lay down beside me i think i might just feel safe enough to drift off,,,,,”

you swallow, your heart feels tighter than before you go into battle

you glance through the dark and remember you shut the door

you let mingi’s arm coil even more around you and press you up and into his chest

“happy you punched me”

he mumbles against your hair

“im so sorry mingi i didn-”

“means you feel bad enough to let me hold you like this - huh?”

you don’t know what that means - you don’t even know if he really says it because this all feels like it’s happening in some lucid afterthought

you close your eyes - and listen to the beating of mingi’s heart

do friends usually sleep together like this?

you want to ask, but you the soft cocoon of his warmth and the tiredness of your bones does not let you speak another word

you awaken at the crack of dawn - on instinct you’re always up early - and yelp when you feel a hand on your stomach

only to turn and see it’s still mingi

he sleeps through your small exclaim and you’re both thankful and a little impressed

but also,,,,,,,,

“mingi, mingi get up - if you’re not there for the morning shift the other stable hands and the knights will get -”

he blinks himself from the cloudiness of slumber and smiles at you like a puppy

“you’re even more beautiful when you’ve just woken up.”

the words make you stumble back and they’re on your mind for literal days

like literal days - you find yourself at the barn, cleaning up after wonderland and it’s just mingi

you’re escorting the prince somewhere but your head is full of mingi

and even when you walk by and see the prince, tall and awkward

fumbling as he hands mingi a box of what you assume are some kind of chocolates - you have to scutter by before they notice you

because mingi cannot know that all you’re thinking about is mingi

you’re on cloud nine - maybe even cloud ten or eleven

and ,,,,,,, it makes the blatant dislike from the other knights and the insolent yelling of the queen all nothing

because when you turn around, wiping sweat from your forehead after training

you see mingi waving from the end of the field

and as you run up toward him, he catches you and suddenly he’s leaning in toward your lips

your first real kiss keeps you up without sleep for two days straight, you nearly fall asleep at your post on the outer wall and are saved only by wonderland’s nuzzling nose in your face as one of the other knights approaches

you haven’t seen mingi since it happened - but you can’t wait to get off this duty and run to the barn

“you’re being sent to king hongjoong’s country - they’re short a knight for the king and you were recommended.”

your sleepy disposition fades and you straighten up

“wh-what? then who is going to be the prince-”

“that’s not your business. here is the official query signed by the queen. you are to pack your things immediately and go.”

you don’t bother to read the parchment, instead you turn wonderland around and are about to hop up and ride to the stables

tell mingi what’s going on

when the knight stops you

“you are taking one of the other steads. wonderland is staying here, she’ll be the prince’s new mare.”

“what?”

everything feels like a nightmare, packing your small amount of things into a napsack, having your crossbow being taken back by one of the queen’s servants

the horse waiting for you outside is unfamiliar and you beg for a chance to go back to the stables once

but two knights push you out and toward the awaiting ride

just as you take a hold of the reigns, the two knights flash big - meaty grins at you

“shouldn’t have let your guard down for a stable boy huh?”

“maybe if you were half the knight everyone made you out to be - you wouldn’t be so east to set up?”

they snicker as you ride off - confused, hurt, but worst of all the lingering on your lips stays

you’d lived your whole life hating the fact that you were alone, wishing it on no one

to be abandoned by everyone around you because you were told it was better that way

and now

i hope you know mingi, i would never leave you of my own choice - you’re my friend, you’re my friend that i - that i - that i love, that i love so much more than the word friend could ever encompass -

you arrive at the border, a man from hongjoongs court welcomes you

“do you know why i was sent here?”

he gives you a sideways glance of pity

“you’ve been banished from your country, they said you stole from the prince.”

mingi stares up at yunho, who himself is holding back tears of apology

“just when we were becoming friends again, mingi im sorry i couldn’t keep them-”

mingi puts up a hand - a smile spreads across the worn-out features of his face

he’d thought you died, he thought either the queen or another knight had done it

but you’d just been framed - at least you were alive

“don’t worry yunho. thanks for the sweets by the way.”

he gets up, patting the prince on the shoulder and after three steps around the bend of the barn

mingi throws down the stupid box of chocolates that goes flying everywhere

he isn’t mad at the prince - he isn’t mad at you - he just never thought those important to him would be taken away again,,,,,,,,,,,

the weeks go by and you aren’t even allowed to write to anyone from your homeland

king hongjoong is of course, kinder than the tyrants that you served - but all he knows about you is that you were apparently a thief

banished from your country

you were told you were going to be his knight, but understandably that would be impossible seeing as though everyone saw you as untrustworthy

instead, you were stationed at a field far far far from the center or the border

just out in the brush of the forests, your horse - an old and cranky draft horse as your only companion

all of that training, all of those years spent throwing away what makes me human ,,,,,,,, to end up here - alone on the outskirts of humanity. i should have just become a shop owner or a mundane merchant.

you look at the weapon you’d been issued, a rusted hand blade - not anywhere near the prestige of a sword

you take it, throwing it with perfect aim at one of the trees - and even as the blade lodges in it - no birds fly out of the branches

it doesn’t even make a sound

you go over to lodge it out of the bark, but it won’t even budge

another thing i’ve lost forever........

you’ve lost count of the weeks - you didn’t want to keep track because you’d lost hope

but you’re almost a little sickened by the proposal king hongjoong delivers to you one night

“there’s a wedding in your homeland, apparently the prince has overthrown the king and queen.”

“a- a wedding? he had a ,,,,,,, a suitor?”

hongjoong’s eyes go wide

“i thought you’d know, you were his knight after all?”

you look down

“guess i wasn’t so good at that though was i?”

suddenly you feel hongjoong’s hand on your shoulder

“either way, he’s lifted your ban and i want you to go as my knight. ok?”

you honestly think you should refuse, but you miss your homeland

you might have nothing there - no real family or friends - but you miss it either way

the familiar smells, the hills you spent so much of your time wandering through and training in, wonderland and of course -

“lives were lost, but ultimately the king and queen have been imprisoned.”

he’s ok, right?

you agree, if only because you want to make sure mingi is alright after the rebellion

and even if he refuses to meet your gaze - just seeing him will be enough to last you an eternity

so you ride off with the king, presents for the new king and his love thrown into the carriage

you try to focus and calm your heartbeat through the long travel, but you can’t - you can’t because seeing mingi again -

the entire town is vibrant, you haven’t seen it this colorful and happy ever - not even when you were young

there are flowers, live music, the laughter of children everywhere

one of them even runs up to you - hands full of candy as an offering

it takes you back to the days where you’d walked beside the king, queen, and prince

and everyone had silently bowed their eyes away - scared and disgusted by you all

but now they were just so vibrant - they all reminded you of him.

“i believe the king told me to meet him at a shop somewhere in town where is beloved’s family works, but the horses need a break - would you take them back to the barn, the stable hands should know you’re coming.”

king hongjoong requests and you comply, swallowing the lump in your throat

the stables,,,,,,,,are they still the same?

you take both your horse and the king’s along with the carriage back up the familiar route to the palace

it’s been a while, but your body remembers it by instinct and as you make your way up - the sun starts to set

you turn and look up at it as it waves goodbye, slowly sinking into the horizon

when i see mingi, i don’t deserve to even look him in the eyes, but i want to one last time - one last time to look at the boy i love -

“well ill be damned, is that an angel or am i the luckiest stable boy alive?”

the voice makes you freeze - every inch of your skin feels alive and you turn

tears pricking at the edges of your eyes

mingi throws down his cap, the same red flannel shrugged over his shoulders as when you first met him

and he rushes toward you

when he wraps his arms around you - picking you up like you’re lighter than your armor - you don’t believe it

“are you really here?”

you both ask at the same time, before mingi bursts into laughter and you can’t help but watch him in shock

“i - i thought you’d hate me for leaving -”

he pats down your hair

“you didn’t leave though, you were forced out. i mean - i hope my kiss wasn’t THAT bad that you would runaway forever you know?”

he’s joking, but you push past that - you shake your head and lean up, lips against his

you’re crying and the tears stain mingi’s cheeks

he pulls back to try and clean them off, but you don’t let him as you kiss him again and again

and again

until the horses insistent neighing is the only thing that breaks you two apart

you can’t believe it - that you’re with him again, and that he knew it - he knew you wouldn’t leave him

“ok, let’s get these guys in the barn. also wonderland will kill me if i take up all your time.”

“wonderland?!”

you jump, excited to see your old friend as you run passed mingi who calls after you with a little bit of a whine

“why didn’t you look that excited to see me?”

you disappear into the barn and he grins to himself as he follows you in with the horses

the wedding is the next day, and it’s as grand and as happy as all the villagers and the prince himself could ask for

mingi of course beelines for the cake and when he takes a bite you ask him how it is

rolling your eyes as you lean in to help pat away the stray piece that’s gotten on his cheek

“it’s ok, but i think our wedding cake has just got to better!”

you get so embarrassed that when you’re back to your seats

prince hongjoong is slightly convinced you’ve caught a fever and prince yunho gives mingi a secret highfive

#me spending like 2 hours trying to find this picture of mingi in a flannel #*hits the woah and passes the hell out*#mingi scenarios #mingi imagines #mingi au #ateez scenarios #ateez imagines #ateez au #sfw #knight!au #uuuuuuuuuuuuummmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm wig

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