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#the fact that i never saw this criminal
some-days-we-get-sundays · 5 months ago
I guess only some black lives matter.
Yall don’t care about black women or black girls.
I work in a public school system in the inner city. I’ve worked with kids from k4-12th grade. I’ve seen fights that look just like the video of Ma’Khia. People throw chairs, they bang other kids heads into lockers, they punch kids, they kick kids, they grab whatever they can and try to use it as a weapon. I’ve deescalated fights, school security, school staff, teachers, and admin have all broken up fights and deescalated them. Funnily enough, we’ve never had to murder a kid; even when they were hurting other students, we calmed them down and everyone lived. The fact that police can’t calmly break up this situation - what with all their training and their gear that they have- and their first instinct is to fire a gun no questions asked is ABSURD. Especially because it’s not for reasons you all keep making up. It’s not because “she was about to kill the other girl” if that was the case why is Kyle Rittenhouse still alive after walking around with a weapon after ACTUALLY killing folks. Why did police treat him like he was one of the good guys? Why did Dylan Roof not get dropped on the spot after slaying 9 black people who were praying in church!? I thought yall said that police have no choice when they see a weapon and lives are in danger, THEY HAVE TO SHOOT!!! Oh... I guess that’s only when they see black people. And I guess that yall’s empathy is only reserved for black males. 
Ma’Khai was a little too black for yall, and a little too big, and a little too loud, violent, aggressive, and hostile for yall. You saw her as an animal so it was ok that she got put down like one. “Hey, the cops are just doing their job! They didn’t have a choice here!” But wait a minute, I thought ACAB!? My, my how quickly you all change your tune. I thought that it doesn’t matter if someone is breaking the law or not, they don’t have a right to be murdered even IF they aren’t cooperating. Damn, what happened to that song yall were singing when it came to black males?
I’ve not felt this much pain and hurt since Trayvon Martin. I’ve not felt so discarded and so hopeless and let down in a long time. The most disrespected, unprotected, and neglected person in America is the black woman. I knew yall hated black women but I’m always surprised by how much. Yall hate us so much that you think it’s ok for police to unload 4 bullets into the chest of a 16 year old who was defending herself in a fight. And the thing is, even if she wasn’t defending herself, even if she had started the whole thing, she still doesn’t need to be shot 4 times. Not when police are able to take violent white criminals into custody and make stops at burger king while they’re at it. 
We gotta have our own backs as black women and it fukin sucks. But the kicker is that black women themselves are throwing their humanity under the bus to shuck and jive. Why are black women themselves saying that this baby deserved to die and that she needed to be held accountable, killing her isn’t accountability. Basically yall sayin she deserves the death penalty for something she might have done. Black women have to have their own backs because not even other black women will have our backs. And don’t even get me started on the black men who watch us drown as we toss them our life jackets. We are out on the front lines for black men and they just simply cannot show up for black women. Black men, Shannon Sharpe and Don Lemon publicly tell America that it’s ok because Ma’khia was unruly and uncivilized. Nows ya knows ya gots ta ack rite fos massa come round... I feel like now that yall got the verdict for George, now yall don’t wanna step outta line too much and Ma’khia is who yall are willing to sacrifice in order to show white America your utmost gratitude. 
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therenlover · 5 months ago
One Last Night In Madripoor (An 18+ Helmut Zemo/Reader Oneshot)
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Synopsis: Baron Helmut Zemo is a lonely, wanted man looking for some fun, you’re a piss-poor bounty hunter in search of a connection before leaving your life of crime behind, and fate has brought you together at a party the likes of which has never been seen before. You only have one night left in Madripoor, so why not take a chance?
Tags: Smut, SoftDom!Zemo, Hook Up, Semi-Public Sex, Drinking, Safe Sex, Explicit Consent, First Meeting, Wall Sex, Blow Jobs, Cunnilingus
Rating: 18+
Warnings: Swearing, Explicit Sexual Content
Word Count: 4200~
This fic has been crossposted under the same title to my AO3!
Madripoor was a place like nothing you had ever seen.
It wasn’t that the sights were anything special. You could find seedy criminal underbellies lined with neon where the streets ran red with blood anywhere if you looked hard enough. Even the ocean view didn’t do much to set it apart from any other place visually. No, Madripoor’s scenery and architecture weren’t what kept your eyes wide with wonder whenever you found yourself wandering through the winding back-alleys without a purpose. It was the people that kept you around.
Thieves, pirates, and miscreants had been taking shelter at the docks since before anyone there could remember. It was a city borne of the underbelly of society, the people nobody sees, but you saw them. You saw them every day when you stood in the main market waiting for an easy bounty. There were faces everywhere; big and small, tall and short, scarred and flawless. No two people in the streets of Madripoor were ever exactly alike. If you needed to remember someone, their unique face was right there waiting in your mind.
After living on the island for almost 6 months, most people were already cataloged neatly in your mind as friend or foe. This man, though, he was new. He was different.
The night was still young. There was some trouble at the Princess Bar that ended with Selby dead and a few murderers loose in the streets with a price on their heads, but you steered clear. Going after the killers meant going up against hundreds if not thousands of trained bounty hunters and assassins and no amount of money was worth dying over now, not while you were so close to freedom. Instead of chasing your doom, you decided to head to your room, get dressed up, and head out to wherever the music was loudest in search of a place to forget about your problems for the night. The thudding sounds of poorly DJ-ed club remixes led you to Leonardo’s Place. That’s where you found him.
You were two drinks in and sticking close to the wall when he stumbled into your line of sight. What initially caught your eye was his dancing. He couldn’t move for shit. What kept your attention, though, was his face.
There was transience to him, like at any moment someone could bump into him and he would disappear without a trace at their touch. Despite that he was gaudy. Everything about his clothing screamed wealth and fine taste from the thread count of his obnoxious purple turtleneck to the shine on his boots. He was strange, a walking contradiction, and one who had never had the pleasure of gracing your presence or screwing you over in the past. In the simplest of terms, he intrigued you. With nothing left to lose you downed the last of your cocktail and made your way to the gap in the crowd where the stranger had staked his claim. It was game time.
“You come here alone?” You asked. Your voice was barely a whisper above the heavy thrumming of the music.
He gave you a long look up and down before answering as if he were trying to size you up. Something about having his gaze linger on your body made your heartbeat soar. “I’m not looking for company,” His accented tone was gruff but left a sliver of room for reconsideration. You took the chance. What could go wrong?
With as much tact and grace as you could muster you let yourself slip a little closer to him. “What, do I look too expensive for you?” you teased, before backing off with a grin, “Thanks for the compliment, but I’m not here for that. My job is a little more… dangerous.” As you danced, the hem of your dress rode up your thigh just enough to reveal the knife holster in your garter belt. It pleased you greatly to see this handsome stranger do a double-take; that meant he was looking at your upper thigh in the first place. “I just liked what I saw in you… do you like what you see in me?”
Somehow, your little joke had endeared him to you, however minutely. Instead of brushing you off the man paused his jerky dancing for a moment to really take you in. Then, he caved. “Would you like a drink?” He asked.
You smirked. “Who would I be if I turned down a free drink from a handsome stranger,”
He met you in the middle as he offered you his hand. “I never promised it would be free,”
So, the two of you found yourselves at the bar, bodies leaned into each other and away from the rest of the sweltering crowd as the bartender slid you your order. The stranger was drinking a brandy straight while you opted for a sidecar. It was enough alcohol that you were starting to feel pretty buzzed, but you still felt in full control of yourself. You took a long sip before speaking. “So, what should I call you?”
It took him a moment to respond but once he did, he seemed sure of himself. “You can call me Helmut, but Baron is fine as well,”
You cocked up an eyebrow. “Is that a nickname?”
“More of a title,”
He took a drink as you gawked. “Like royalty?”
“Not like. I am,”
Your cheeks flushed. The rational part of your mind was so stunned by the ease with which Helmut lied that it seemed to short circuit completely, leaving you very puzzled and more than a little intrigued. “Well, pardon me, Mr. Baron. What’s royalty like you doing in a place like this?”
“There are plenty of reasons a man like me would have business here. A woman as beautiful as you, though… not so much,” he waved his hand in loose gestures as he spoke, “Why risk your life and beauty for this? A life living in the underground where you cannot so much as dream of seeing the stars?”
You finished your drink in one large swig. It burned down your throat but you relished in the pain. “Not all of us are lucky enough to be born in a place where we can see the stars. Funny enough, though, I’m just about to get out,”
“Is that right?”
“I finally saved up enough money from small jobs to buy my way out from under the Power Broker’s thumb,” Something about the way Helmut smiled at you made you feel safe. It was like you could tell him your worst, darkest secrets and not feel an ounce of fear or guilt. “I’m nothing special here, a small-time bounty hunter, and I kept it that way for a reason. I’m not valuable and I don’t know much. If I just pay my dues and keep the money coming until I can get their claws out of my back, I should be free to leave with a freighter tomorrow morning,”
Helmut was quick to respond. “Ah, travel by freighter. It’s terribly dangerous to be a stowaway, you know? Impossible to predict quite what the seas will be like,”
“Well, that’s just a risk I’ll have to take to get out of here and stop… what was it that you said I was doing? Risking my life and beauty?”
The two of you chuckled as Helmut took one last drink to empty his glass. Then, the conversation stilled. Around you people were alive, gyrating to the music as their pulses thumped to the beat, but it was like they weren’t even there. Instead, your whole being was focused on the strange man in front of you who had stolen away your sensibilities with his cool tone and thick accent. He made you feel alive. No, more than alive. Every color was brighter, every sound was sharper, every sip of your drink was crisper. He was a once-in-a-lifetime man, and this was a once-in-a-lifetime night. Oh, to hell with it!
“I like you, Baron,” you purred, pressing yourself close to him. His breath hitched the moment you touched him. He acted as if it had been a very long time since he was last touched like that. “And I think you like me too. In fact, I think you like me enough that we should take this conversation somewhere a little more private. What do you say?”
He didn’t respond. Instead, his gloved hand made its way around your wrist, and in a moment’s time, he was pulling you across the crowded dance floor towards a small, secluded hallway. You assumed that meant yes.
The instant you made it to the shelter of the shadows Helmut was on you like a man starved. One of his hands was quick to explore the skin just above the hem of your dress as the other pressed against the wall, caging you in and holding you as a more than willing hostage to his affections. He didn’t kiss your face, and you weren’t complaining about that, but he did put his mouth to good use sucking a dark bruise into your collarbone. His ministrations only stopped when a high, keening sound escaped your lips.
“You like that, don’t you, meine kleine schlampe?” he growled through gritted teeth. Something about his tone turned your already weak legs to jelly. The second you went limp in his grip, though, he pulled back. Straightening himself out, he offered you a steadying arm. You took it without hesitation. “I’m terribly sorry to be so rude. I assure you that I am not usually the type of man to hook up with someone on a whim, I’ve simply been… indisposed for many years and haven’t had many opportunities for pleasure, especially not with a woman as beautiful as you,”
His compliment was enough to have you blushing like a schoolgirl. You had killed more people than you could reasonably count, and probably fucked even more, but something about the way Helmut looked and sounded and acted made you feel almost innocent to his advances. He was a drug and you needed to get your fix before he disappeared forever.
“Does that mean you think I’m special?” You asked, all doe eyes with an innocent smile. Helmut ate it right up.
“Yes, schatzi. Very special,”
You hitched a leg up, letting your heel dig into his expensive dress pants and drag him closer to you once again. “First your little slut and now your little treasure? Which one is it, Helmut?”
“And so smart,”
“Move, Baron!”
At your insistence, Helmut was on you once again, leaving a trail of hot, wet kisses down your neck as he fiddled with his gloves, yanking them off and shoving them in his back pocket before he continued. “So demanding,” he chided, and yet he continued to lavish you with affection, his hand climbing higher and higher up your thigh. Your back was pressed flush to the wall now, and you were painfully aware of just how warm Helmut was. He smelled like a rich man’s cologne and yet his skin tasted of cheap soap when you leaned in to give him a bruise of his own.
“You love it,” you replied. He let out a husky laugh.
“I suppose I do,” he chuckled, and then his fingers brushed over your core. Your knees buckled. Helmut kept you upright with his body as he continued to taunt you through your underwear, but he seemed more confident now, almost cocky. “My needy schatzi, have you no patience?”
Your response was breathless; a confession.
“Not with you,”
Something about your words lit a fire in Helmut’s eyes. In an instant he had your leg hiked up while he ground his hardened length against your clothed wetness. Your mind went blank. He felt big. A mindless whimper fell from your lips.
“How do you want me?” Helmut asked. As he spoke he ran a light finger down your elevated thigh. You offered up another whimper. “I’ll need you to use your words and tell me what you want or I can’t give it to you,” His tone had you wet enough that you worried you were dripping.
With a gulp, you managed to fumble out the words. “I’ll blow you first if you promise to fuck me,”
That had him grinning like a wolf. “Perhaps you are my little schlampe, so eager to get down on your knees for me…” And you were. Even on shaky legs, you found yourself happily falling to your knees as the Baron fumbled with his fly. It was only then that you found yourself gazing down the hall towards the cacophony of lights and sounds and people maybe 20 feet away from your hiding place in the shadows. As if he could sense your discomfort, Helmut paused. “Are you alright?”
You nodded quickly. “I just forgot we were out in the open for a second,”
“Do you want to stop? If the location is the problem, I would gladly pause so we can find a new hideaway,” he stopped short, looking down and meeting your heavily lidded gaze, “or perhaps the idea of putting on a show excites you?” Your heart jumped out of your chest. Helmut noticed. “Well, if my little schlampe is so keen on putting on a show, she should get a move on,”
That was your cue to get to work. In a swift motion, you finished unzipping his fly and shifted his boxers, letting his lovely cock spring free. It was a pleasant penis and far as they went, average in length but thick with a leaking purple tip at half-mast. Just looking at it made you clamp your legs together.
Slowly, you gave a tentative lick up the underside of his length. He felt heavy on your tongue in the best of ways. Helmut jerked upward, a man possessed. You couldn’t help but laugh. “It’s been a long time, huh?”
“Less talking, more working little schlam-” you cut Helmut off quickly by taking most of his length into his mouth. That seemed to shut him up. His wolf-like grin had dissolved into a slack-jawed mess the second you started to suck him off. Oh, this was going to be fun.
For the most part, the Baron let you set the pace, bobbing your head and taking as much of his length as you comfortably could, but after a short while his hands were buried in your hair as he fought the urge to buck into your throat, hard. With a particularly rough snap of his hips, Helmut pulled away.
“You are an angel from heaven, schatzi,” he groaned, pulling himself slowly from your mouth as you got your first good deep breath in a while, “but a deal is a deal, and it wouldn’t be quite fair if I got to have all the fun, now would it?” Your breath hitched in your throat. Finally time for the main event.
Helmut was surprisingly gentle with you as he offered you a hand and helped you back up, only pausing to wipe a line of dribble off your chin with his thumb. With anyone else, it would have felt wholly humiliating but with Helmut… well, it did things to you you would rather not admit. You quirked up an eyebrow, though, when he got on his knees in turn, mirroring your past position. “What are you doing, Baron?”
“I simply assumed my sweet schatzi would enjoy a reward for taking my cock so well,” his words had you biting your lip as your cheeks flushed, “now be a good girl and take what I give you. I want to hear those pretty noises you made earlier,” With that, his face disappeared under your skirt. He pulled down your panties and… snickered?
“What now?” you groaned, squirming as his hot breath hit your exposed nub.
“You’re sopping wet,” he replied. Out of habit, you moved to shut your legs but found Helmut’s large hand was holding them open. “I do enjoy being sandwiched between your thighs, but you shouldn’t hide yourself from me. Take your pleasure. You’ve earned it,” That was when he began his assault on your folds.
You had been with plenty of partners over the years, all with varying proficiencies when it came to giving pleasure, but no one had ever made you feel quite as good as Helmut did while you gripped his hair and rode his face with reckless abandon. He always hit just the right spot, alternating between sucking on your sensitive clit and running his rough tongue in sloppy circles against it. In no time flat your pleasure was building toward’s its peak as your knees trembled.
“Helmut,” you squeaked, “Helmut I’m gonna cuuuUUOH!”
You were suddenly thrown over the edge of pleasure as the Baron worked you open with his fingers, pressing that spot inside of you just right. It was a revelation. Nothing would ever compare to him and you hadn’t even fucked yet. Once you had regained some semblance of stability he emerged from his place between your thighs, face slick with your juices, wearing the expression of a cat that got the cream.
“You make such lovely sounds for me, schatzi,” Helmut groaned, rising from his place at your feet and reaching into his pocket. While he fumbled for a condom you took the time to actually remove your panties, lifting one shaky leg at a time before balling them up and tossing them on the ground. You could grab them later. Or not! In all honesty, your ruined undies were the last thing on your mind as your watched Helmut roll the condom onto his proud cock, pumping himself a few times. “Now, are you sure you want this?”
You had never felt more sober in your whole life despite the drinks you’d downed earlier.
“God, yes,”
He caged you into his body once again, lining himself up on your slick folds, and then with a pronounced bite against your collarbone, he was entering you. It wasn’t painful or uncomfortable, you just felt full, like a missing piece of your body had been completed. For the first few thrusts, you were too blissed out to really take note of anything around you, but once you tuned back into the world of the living you realized Helmut was talking. Well, babbling was more like it. He seemed to simply be speaking his stream of consciousness into your ear as he pistoned in and out of you like a madman. There was a jilted rhythm to it, but the abnormality kept you on your toes.
“I won’t be letting you go any time soon, schatzi, and definitely not on some dank freighter like a rat from the gutters. No, you will travel with me. Once I help my friends and slip away from the front lines I can take you anywhere your little heart desires. Paris, Vienna, Australia… Mein Gott, what a sweet cunt,”
Any sane woman, after hearing his sex-drunken musings, would have run. They would have heard the wild ramblings of a madman and left after their little fling was done to never see him again. It was only rational. He didn’t even know your real name. Sane women didn’t run away with strangers claiming to be barons they hooked up with in a seedy club selling stolen Van Goghs in a hub of the criminal underworld.
The only thing was, though, that you weren’t a sane woman.
You were a killer, a child left in the streets to live or die who had scraped themselves together and dragged themselves towards life. So what if the idea of some rich mysterious benefactor with a good dick coming in to save the day sounded fantastic? It was fantastic. Like your own personal version of Pretty Woman. Even if he wasn’t as rich as he claimed to be, being poor and getting dicked down by him was better than being poor and alone.
For just a moment, and with no regrets, you let yourself get lost in the fantasy and just let go.
It was as if Helmut could sense a difference.
“Are you close, little schlampe?” He gasped, letting his thrusts take on a faster staccato rhythm.
You could do little more than moan and nod as he pounded you into the wall. That seemed to be enough for him to get the message, though.
“What a good girl,” he purred. His mouth was so close to your ear, his hot breath tickling the sensitive flesh with each heaving breath he took. As he chased his own climax, he brought a hand between your bodies and rubbed tight, wet circles around your clit. It was already sensitive, your body was only barely recovering from your first orgasm, and yet something about the overstimulation was thrilling, like racing towards an impossible dream. With a shout, you came for the second time, melting into Baron Helmut’s arms as he quickly followed.
The two of you stayed there, slumped against the cool wall and still connected by your dripping sexes, for a few moments, breathing heavy. Surprisingly, you were the first to speak.
“Wow,” you breathed, letting a soft laugh escape your lips.
Helmut returned the sentiment. “You were wonderful,” In a strange moment of intimacy, he pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead, but then he pulled out, tying off the full condom and tossing it to the ground as he tucked himself back into his boxers and zipped up his fly.
“Are you just gonna leave that there?” you made a gesture towards his litter.
“They have janitors,”
A burbling laugh escaped from your lips. “That they do,”
Back in the main room of the party, the crowd had only grown larger as the night progressed. Nobody had seen you, nor had they noticed your cries as they danced and drank and made merry under the neon lights. You were, for all intents and purposes, invisible at Helmut’s side. Within and without. There was something exhilarating about knowing he was the only one that truly saw you in a room packed with hundreds. It was like something out of a twisted fairytale.
“So…” you broached the subject gently while you pulled down your dress to protect your modesty, “Did you mean what you said back there about Paris and Vienna, or…”
“Oh, you heard that?”
You snickered. “It was pretty hard not to with you breathing in my ear,”
“I apologize,” he leaned against the wall beside you, shoulder to shoulder in the darkness, “but yes, I meant what I said. I-”
Suddenly, from down the hall, a booming voice interrupted your moment.
“There you are!”
“Goddamnit, Zemo, I thought we told you to stay low not hire an escort,”
There, at the mouth of the hallway, stood two massive men. They were obviously displeased, and though their faces were obscured by the lights you could tell you weren’t the one they were after.
They called him Zemo… where had you heard that name before?
Helmut stepped away from the wall with a shrug. “At least I didn’t cause a scene by forgetting to put my phone on silent,”
The larger of the two men stayed where he was, while the other walked to meet the Baron in the middle.
“I swear to God, man, you’ve gotten ten times more insufferable since I learned you were rich.
The Baron shrugged. “It comes with the territory,”
“But you don’t have to be such a jackass about it,”
You felt it was a good time to chime in.
“Thank you so much for that, Helmut, but I think I should give you guys some privacy,” you said, straightening out your dress and walking deeper into the hallway. There had to be an exit somewhere…
“Wait!” When you turned, you found Helmut rushing to meet you. The men in the background looked shocked and almost smug. “Save your money. Meet me out at the airstrip tomorrow afternoon if you feel like seeing me again. If not, know that the Power Broker doesn’t let go of assets cheap, and you just slept with a man with a million dollar bounty, so buying your freedom isn’t an option. If you want to go without me, you’ll have to hitch a ride on a cargo ship but not as a stowaway. Working for your keep is the best way to stay under the radar. Nobody can touch you once you’r-”
You cut him off by pressing a finger to his lips. “I’ll see you at your private jet, Baron,”
He smirked. “So you will,” With as much gusto as a man could muster, he returned to his companions but not before offering one last goodbye. “Farewell, schatzi, until tomorrow,”
As you leaned up against the wall once more, you watched them go with a twinkle in your eye.
“Who was that?”
“None of your business, James,”
“Guys, what the hell did I just step on?”
“I believe that was my used rubber,”
a/n: I hope you enjoyed the filth! I haven’t written for Zemo before, even though I’ve loved him for years, but he’s definitely going into my main rotation now. If you have any ideas, send them my way! I’d love to fill the void, because there just aren’t very many Zemo x reader fics out there. If you enjoyed this, maybe reblog or leave a comment! I’d love to hear your thoughts. Thanks again!
Please do not post my works to any other sites, thanks! <3
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kedreeva · 3 months ago
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Caught this criminal trying to get Joslin's babies while they were out free ranging yesterday. Given his general state of being, and the fact that I've never seen him before, I'm betting someone saw my barn and ditched him (which happens a LOT to people who have barns). My mother named him Scout "because he was scouting your birds."
Made about a gazillion calls today until I found the one rescue that had a foster opening in what felt like the entire state. After a trip to the vet to get Felv/FIV tested, plus given a round of Revolution (since I removed two loose ticks from him), rabies & distemper shots, and some meds for his ear infection (all of which I covered for them), he went home with some very sweet foster parents. He was EXTREMELY personable, coming right up to me with no fear, and all the vet techs remarked about how chill he was, and "I can't believe we're still friends after I gave you two shots!" as Scout was rubbing around her hands while she applied the Revolution.
Please keep your fingers crossed that Scout can find a forever home in a timely fashion. If you're interested in him, and you live within whatever you deem reasonable driving distance of Ann Arbor, MI, Scout is with the "Come to the Rescue" group. I assume they will list him as available once his ear infection is cleared and he is recovered from being fixed, but you may be able to stake a claim sooner.
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moonlit-reveriee · 4 months ago
Baby Blue
technoblade x fem!reader
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concept: techno is scared of ‘corrupting’ the reader, but the reader’s kinda into it...
content warning // NSFW, virgin!reader, very minor angst?, small argument that gets resolved
listen to this while you read: BBBlue (Single) by Olivver the Kid
(this fic was heavily inspired by the lyrics of this song, so i highly recommended giving it a listen!)
───※ ·❆· ※───
When Techno found out you were a virgin, he was terrified. Not necessarily of the thought itself, but of the implications.
He’d never forget the look on your face when you told him. You tried to be casual about it, but he knew you well enough to spot the dusting of pink across your cheeks. You nuzzled yourself closer into his side. Whether out of embarrassment or something else entirely, he couldn’t tell. All he could feel was his heart dropping as the voices chanted at him to “ruin her”
Of course you, his pure sweet angel, would be a virgin. He once again crumbled under the idea that you had chosen him. How on earth could a person like you even think of being with a beast like him. Yet alone, giving up your virginity to him.
He hated how horribly turned on he was by the thought of taking it.
The voices had been relentless about it ever since. They were hyper focused on your every move, twisting every thought of his into something promiscuous. When you rolled out of bed in the morning and stretched, a small sigh escaping your lips, it was endless cries of “make her do that again” “you should fuck those moans out of her” “make her scream”
While making breakfast together in the morning, they wouldn’t stop telling him to “bend her over the counter” “take it right here”
Even at times where he was alone, the voices preoccupied him with endless thoughts of you. He was fairly certain they had forced him to imagine every possible way in which he could have you. “imagine fucking her against the wall” “you can be gentle for the first time y’know” “she’d feel so good writhing underneath us” “press her face into the mattress instead” “make her get on her knees and suck you off” “she’ll be such a pretty little slut for us”
He tried to take care of himself as often as he could, but it was becoming impossible to keep up with. There were only so many times a day he could jerk himself off alone behind locked doors. He was desperate, and sexually frustrated to say the least.
He felt disgusting for it.
After a week of this torment, he could barely even look at you yet alone touch you without the voices and his own guilt pounding against his skull. You couldn’t even think about broaching the subject again, because he was avoiding physical contact like the plague. He wouldn’t come to bed until he knew you were asleep, and would leave long before you woke.
As much as he tried to hide it, you could tell he was tired. Something was wrong, but you knew that he’d never just tell you about his problems unprompted. Techno was insufferably stubborn in that way. After several days of avoiding your gaze and leaning away from your touch, you chose to confront him.
“Techno”, you called for his attention quietly, trying to sound stern while remaining gentle with him. He didn’t turn to fully face you, but he glanced at the spot on the wall just above your head.
You struggled to find the words you wanted to say, so you settled on telling him, “Techno, you look tired.”
He turned his attention away from you. “Just a lot of work around the house this week. I’ll be fine after I rest.”
“Then come to bed with me.” You saw the way his body tensed and tilted away from you at that simple suggestion.
“I just need to write a couple letters first. You can go ahead of me.”
“Techno...”, you whined, daring to take a step closer to him. He gave you an almost panicked look, “why does it feel like you’ve been avoiding me?”
“I haven’t been avoiding you”, he responded quickly, trying to look through you instead of at you.
“Yes you have”, you responded firmly. A flash of guilt washed over his face at your tone. “You haven’t kissed or touched me for nearly a week now. I don’t even know for sure if you sleep in the same bed as me anymore. Fuck, you barely even talk to me.”
Angry tears threatened to spill down your cheeks, but you wanted to hold them in. Techno felt his chest tighten at the sight of it. He instinctively turned and reached out to comfort you, but forced himself to freeze.
“There”, you said, gesturing towards him, “just like that. You’re stopping yourself. Why are you doing that?”
He repeatedly opened and closed his fists at his side, wanting to have any conversation other than this one.
“[y/n], there’s just a lot going on in my mind right now”, he said. It wasn’t a complete lie. “I just need to work though it.”
“Then let me help you.”
“No”, he responded a little too quickly, “I- I mean, I just don’t want to talk about it with you yet...”
“Why not?”, you retorted, trying to squeeze any information you could out of him.
“I just don’t, okay? It’s uncomfortable, I don’t want to talk about it yet.”
“... is this about me being a virgin?”
“I never said that”, he replied, but the tension in his shoulders was enough to tip you off.
“Ah geez Technoblade, if it was that much of a problem for ya, you should have just told me”, you said sarcastically, “instead of avoiding all physical contact for a like week straight!”
“It’s not a problem, [y/n].”
“Certainly doesn’t feel that way.”
Techno huffed in frustration, grabbing a fistful of his hair at the root. He wasn’t sure if he was more upset with himself, or the fact that a few of the voices were still begging him to “please fuck her already”
“Love, I wasn’t avoiding you because I didn’t want it. They”, he tapped a finger against the side of his skull, “they want it so badly. It’s driving me insane.”
He breathed in and out shakily, trying to gauge your expression in the brief moments before he continued.
“I’m a monster. I’ve spilt more blood than anyone every should in a single lifetime. My appearance is more beast than man.”
He looked up briefly to find you staring right at him, a tight-lipped frown upon your face.
“What does that have to do with any of this?”
“I- ... I don’t want to corrupt your innocence”, he admitted.
“What on earth do you mean by that?”
“[y/n], you’re so perfect”, he answered almost breathlessly, “you’re so kind and so pure. Just living with me does enough to taint your reputation, I don’t wanna-“
He cut himself off to swallow thickly. He almost seemed scared of the words he was going to say next.
“I don’t want to ruin this part of you either...”
A heavy silence filled the tiny sitting room of techno’s cottage. In those few seconds, your eyes widened ever so slightly as his words suddenly clicked in your mind. This hulking boar of a man, an undisputed war criminal, was scared. He was scared of damaging you, your reputation, or your recently revealed ‘innocence’. Compared to himself, he saw you as a pure being who could be tainted by unwholesome thoughts.
If what he said about the voices was true, then his actions of the past few days would’ve made sense for him.
“Oh techno...”, you muttered softly, tentatively placing a hand on his jaw. His posture was curled inward, making him look small despite his size. He was stiff at first, but allowed you to lift his gaze to meet yours. He searched your eyes desperately for an indication of your reaction. You gave him a reassuring smile.
“Do you remember when we first met?”
A small wave of confusion washed over his face, but he nodded anyways. “It was at the festival...”
“That’s right”, you said, moving the hand on his face down to rest over his shoulder, “and do you remember what I did that day?”
“You threw an axe into Schlatt’s shoulder”, he answered, watching as the scene played out in his memory.
You lived with Niki in her bakery at the time, and witnessed firsthand the injustice she faced during Schlatt’s presidency. As the chaos after Tubbo’s execution occurred, you took the opportunity to hurl your axe where Schlatt stood upon his podium. The blow wasn’t fatal, but that wasn’t necessarily your goal. You just wanted to see the man in pain.
“It was a lucky shot really”, you admitted, “I wasn’t even aiming properly.” That managed to draw a small smile onto Techno’s lips.
“And do you remember”, you continued, “when I tried to confront the Butcher Army by myself?”
He grimaced at the thought. You had told him you just needed to make a quick trip to L’manburg for some supplies, leaving him at home alone to recover from the previous day’s events. You returned that evening with a sprained wrist and a couple large bruises forming on your body. None of them were trying to kill you, but you took a pretty good beating from Quackity just for trying to confront them.
“Why are you bringing all of this up now?”, he asked.
“Because”, you said, “this is the evidence that will support my next point.”
He looked bewildered by that statement, but continued to listen.
“I’m not a perfect person”, you resumed, “I have blood on my hands just like you do. I know it’s hard to compare to you, but I’m not devoid of my own sins. I can be mean, I’ve hurt people. I’m not a pure, angelic being who would quiver at a single inappropriate thought. I think you forget that sometimes.”
He let your words swirl around in his head; he couldn’t deny the logic in them. The evidence prevented him from denying the truth of your statement. He could almost be mad that you’d talked him into a corner, but he was more overjoyed at the fact that you knew him well enough to do so.
“And you know...”, you spoke quietly, letting your hand fall down to rest on his chest, “if you did somehow ‘corrupt my innocence’ as you say... I really wouldn’t mind that.”
Techno’s breath hitched in his throat. There were a brief few moments, maybe minutes, where he just stared at you. Then his lips were on yours; sudden and clumsy, but passionate. You gripped the fabric of his shirt as he grabbed at your waist, desperate to have you in his arms again.
“I’m sorry, I had to”, he muttered, his lips left hovering a hair’s breadth away from yours.
“You’re so silly sometimes”, you sighed affectionately, rubbing small circles into his collarbone. He gave you a gentle smirk before pressing another kiss into your lips.
“I’m sorry darling, I really am”, he said as he drew you into a tight hug. He took in your scent and the feel of your skin for the first time in days. It felt like he could survive off the feeling of your arms wrapped around his body alone. He wondered why he ever let himself be depraved of this.
“You know I trust you, right?”, you spoke with your face pressed into his chest.
“I’m not sure why, but yes.”
You decided not to reprimand him for saying that. You could help him unpack all that later. Instead, you brought your head up to whisper in his ear.
“You have my full and unconditional consent to take my virginity whenever you’re ready.”
Techno inhaled and held his breath, though for what, he wasn’t sure. It took a while for the full weight of those words to sink in. He leaned back to stare at your face, bringing one of his large and shaky hands up to cup your cheek.
“Are you sure?”, his eyes were wide with trepidation, practically pleading with you to tell him the truth. You leaned into his palm, indulging in the feeling of his skin on yours.
“I want you, techno. I’ll wait as long as you need me to.”
Techno was lost in your words. The sudden absence of guilt left his heart light and airy in his chest. For the first time in days, the voices were only a gentle murmur.
“she’s so beautiful” “she wants you” “make her feel good” “show her how special she is” “make her smile” “she’ll be so pretty” “she’s always pretty” “be gentle, no need to rush”
“make love to her”
“... I think I’m ready now.”
───※ ·❆· ※───
ayyyy guess who finally finished writing something!!!
parts of this feel a little rushed but ehhhhhh i was just excited to finally post it. i looove writing techno as an extremely self-conscious character who’s too caught up in their own head to see how ridiculous they’re being. so, this was a treat for me to write
i hope you enjoyed :D
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katsuhera · 4 months ago
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pairing: bakugou katsuki x f!reader wc: 3.5k tw/warnings: nsfw (18+), canonverse (pro hero!bakugou, civilian!reader), loss of virginity/deflowering, unprotected sex, implications of stalking, corruption kink, oral sex (f!receiving), size kink, not proofread at all a/n: this is for @seita​‘s corrupt a virgin collab! thank you for letting me participate 💖
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how you’d even gotten home, you couldn’t say. the past hour had been a blur—whether it was because of the alcohol or because you’d simply repressed the events of the night, you also couldn’t say. all you could say for sure now was that you thought you were safe, in the arms of a pro hero, his hulking presence shrouding you as he walked you to your door.
“thank you for earlier,” you said quietly, turning to face him as you approached your doorstep. “i’m really grateful.”
“hah?” bakugou towered over you, causing you to cower slightly into the door. “i’m a hero. it’s nothing special.”
you knew that to him, you were probably just another civilian, too weak to help themselves and constantly dependent on heroes to make them feel safe. yes, it was their job, but you always thought that such a responsibility probably weighed too heavy on their shoulders. throughout your entire life, you tried to live responsibly and quietly, making sure to not stand out too much so as to not cause trouble for any heroes. but tonight… tonight didn’t go according to plan.
unbeknownst to you, you’d been followed on your way home by a man with a knife. he saw you when you left your work’s office building and trailed closely behind you all throughout your commute back, and bakugou happened to be on the same train car and noticed the man’s shady behavior.
you were so shocked when bakugou apprehended him that for a brief moment, you’d thought that you were the one being apprehended. well, that’s what you get for being so stupidly oblivious. and here you were, doing what you wanted to do least—causing trouble for a pro hero on his way home.
“would you like some tea?” you asked, your voice coming out just above a whisper.
you thought you saw his eyebrows soften, but it happened too fast—must be a trick of the light, you thought. in an instant, his eyebrows furrowed again, returning his face to its usual irritated demeanor.
“i wanted to thank you… for earlier,” your voice trailed off, and you looked down, as though afraid of his impending response.
“... sure,” he said gruffly, his response surprising you. “i’ll have some tea.”
you looked up at him with wide eyes so innocent, so pure–so absolutely angelic that it almost made something sinister in him stir. almost.
he followed you in through the door, his clunky boots thudding loudly against your floor, a sharp contrast to the way your steps fell lightly upon the wood.
you invited him to take a seat at your kitchen island as you set your things down, busying yourself with preparing the tea.
you avoided looking directly at him for as long as possible, knowing that looking at him straight on would probably make you stutter like a little schoolgirl. dynamight had always been your favorite hero–though he ranked second on the pro hero lists, he was always first to you. his brusqueness was what turned him off to most, but that was exactly what drew him to you. no matter how arrogant or rough he appeared externally, a part of you could tell that he truly cared about being a hero and contributing to a better society. and that… that was quite endearing.
his presence filled your quaint little kitchen, the vibrant colors of his hero costume clashing loudly with the muted colors you’d chosen for your home.
“are you okay with green tea?” you asked.
he grunted in approval, and you smiled gently, your back turned to him. you couldn’t believe the situation you were in—though you were regretful to have had to make him do extra work, the little girl inside you was jumping ecstatically at the fact that pro hero dynamight sat in your very kitchen, waiting for tea you prepared. it was almost dreamlike.
“here,” you said, setting down the mug in front of him. you took the seat in front of him, lifting your own mug to your lips. you did well to avoid eye contact, for you would have been met with an intense stare. bakugou couldn’t help it; the demureness in your posture was just something he was so utterly unused to. you intrigued him.
“thanks,” he mumbled, taking a sip. silence settled over the two of you, but surprisingly, he was the first to break it.
“so do you let just anyone in for tea?”
the abrupt question shocked you, causing blood to rise quickly to your cheeks. you stammered, embarrassed.
“n-no! i just invited you over because i was thankful…”
“you can get hurt because of that innocence of yours.”
you froze, speechless.
“isn’t it because you’re so innocent and oblivious to the dangers of the world that you didn’t even notice that asshole following you?” he pressed, setting his cup down. “he could’ve fuckin’ done anything.”
your eyes watered at the thought, and you looked down, embarrassed.
you knew. you knew that, and that’s why you tried so hard all these years to not attract trouble or attention. did he just think you were that stupid?
he watched as your lips trembled, and he bit his own, recognizing how hurtful he sounded. he meant to come off as concerned, but words never really favored him.
he let the silence hang for a moment before speaking again.
“do you live alone?”
you nodded.
“tch. don’t you have a boyfriend or husband or someone to stay with you?”
“i don’t have a boyfriend,” you spoke up quietly, swallowing hard. “... i’ve never had one.”
that last sentence wasn’t necessary—you knew that, but it just slipped out.
“are you serious?”
bakugou looked at you incredulously, as though he just couldn’t take you seriously. you? never had a boyfriend? there had to be no way.
you nodded, keeping quiet before you could admit anything else that could potentially embarrass you.
you were single. you’d always been single. alone, helpless—
bakugou’s mind raced, and not to good places. the mental image of you sleeping helplessly in bed alone surfaced in his head, and much to his frustration, the image just wouldn’t leave.
in an instant, bakugou came around to your side of the table, hovering over you menacingly.
“so you’re alone?”
he asked merely as a formality; he knew the answer.
you were alone. you were defenseless. you were single.
but that also meant that you were pure, innocent, uncorrupted.
bakugou had never met such a polar opposite to himself before. you were the closest he’d come to seeing an angel on earth.
he was familiar with criminals, with politicians, with insecure assholes who’d put nearly everything on the line for some type of material gain, and so he’d become accustomed to dealing with people like that. but when it came to you, innocent old you, suddenly pro hero dynamight had found himself at a standstill.
he held your chin between his thumb and index finger, lifting your face so that you had no choice but to face him.
your eyes widened as you took in his facial features; his chiseled jawline caught your eye first, but gave way to the blonde fuzz of his sideburns and finally his darkened, vermillion eyes. they looked into yours intently, but you could hide no longer. in them, you could see just the slightest hint of a flame.
“do you trust heroes?” he asked.
you nodded to the best of your ability, your head still caught between his fingers.
“do you trust me?”
your gut twisted at his words, but not in a malignant way.
somewhere deep inside you, a younger version of yourself was screaming and dancing with glee, at the fact that here you were inside your apartment at the mercy of your favorite pro hero, a man you’d idolized for much of your youth.
“do you?” bakugou repeated.
you hesitated, finding your voice.
“i do,” you managed, watching the way his eyes darkened impossibly further as soon as the words had left your mouth.
instantly, his lips were on yours, and his hand moved to cup your cheek, rough calluses grazing your soft skin, but you weren’t opposed to the feeling; instead, you rather liked it.
the unfamiliar feeling of his tongue slipping past your lips to dance with your own excited you, and you let him explore the crevices of your mouth, breathy moans creeping up your throat and getting stifled at the exit.
your hands slid up his arms to rest at his biceps, and his muscled thigh came to rest between your legs, spreading them apart from where you’d previously sat rather demurely.
hazy thoughts swirled in your mind until you decided to just let go, and suddenly your mind was blank. your body acted as though on autopilot, interacting with each of bakugou’s actions without much care or reason.
it’d all happened so quickly, so suddenly that for a few seconds, you hadn’t even realized what was happening.
bakugou’s cock strained against the constraints of his costume, silently screaming to be freed.
your lips were so pliant against his, and honestly if he could have spent the entire night kissing you, teaching you how to kiss and how to be properly kissed, he would have. but that would have been a waste; you were ready for more, and god knows he was more than ready to take you to those lengths.
sure, you’d had first kisses before, even gone to second base, but when it came to sexual encounters, you were pretty inexperienced. hell, you were a virgin. in school, you’d made sure to keep yourself busy so that you could maintain your good grades, and once you graduated and found a job, you found that work life didn’t exactly allow for a lot of off-time. and what off-time you did get, you preferred to spend it alone, not dating.
but that’s exactly what caused bakugou to be so intrigued by you—how virtuous and innocent you seemed, it was like a breath of fresh air to him.
air that he wanted all to himself.
this is what heroes do, right?
they protect the innocence and honesty of humanity, shielding good civilians from the horrors of the world.
so wouldn’t that make him, the almighty dynamight a bad hero if he let some other asshole with shitty intentions corrupt you?
this was his duty, to preserve your purity. how could he live on knowing that he let you go, unknowing and defenseless, a blatant target to all the predators of the world? exactly—he couldn’t.
your heart thudded wildly against your chest, and your mind grew fuzzier as bakugou continued to steal the air from your lungs.
his thigh pressed into your clothed core, and you instinctively squeezed your legs together—a reaction to the unfamiliar tingling ache that had started to build up.
his palm lay flat against the base of your skull, supporting you as he deepened the kiss.
“do you want this, princess?” he asked huskily, pulling away from your lips rather hesitantly.
did you?
you paused, catching your breath but also staring at him, taking in every detail of his chiseled face.
you did.
you nodded, squeezing his bicep gently with a soft smile.
that was all he needed; in one fluid motion, he scooped you up from where you sat, and your legs dangled on both sides of his torso, your arms thrown carelessly over his back as he kicked off his boots and carried you into your room, laying you carefully on the plush mattress.
bakugou wanted nothing more than to rip your clothes off and take you right there, but he could tell that this was your first time. if he was going to be the one deflowering you, then he’d want it to at least be pleasurable, memorable.
you made such a pretty sight, sprawled out on the bed, your clothes slightly disheveled and your cute little lips quivering as you looked up at him through hazy eyes.
you had balled your hands into little fists at your sides, unsure of what to do with them, or with yourself. bakugou quickly rid himself of his hero costume and knelt down by the foot of your bed, sliding his rough palm up your legs, under your skirt.
“you’re so beautiful, you know,” he said lowly, causing your breath to hitch in your throat.
each of his movements sparked a strange feeling in your lower stomach, a feeling akin to a fire being lit, a fire that could never be satiated. it grew stronger with every passing second, and surged to the point of frustration.
your hairs stood up on edge as he lifted the hem of your skirt, pressing wet kisses to the insides of your thighs as he worked his way up to their apex.
he licked a long stripe up through your panties, eliciting the softest of mewls from you. he’d barely done anything at all, yet you were on the edge of ecstasy, your body sensitive to every minute action of his.
hooking his fingers under the hem of your panties, he pulled them down gently, letting them fall and hang by your ankles. you stayed still, completely under his control, and you let yourself blank, knowing that he would take care of you.
you’d never gotten close to having someone eat you out before, but now you questioned how you’d gone so long without it.
bakugou alternated between open-mouthed kisses and kitten licks at your entrance before fully delving in between your lips, hungry and insatiable as he lapped at your arousal.
your body and mind were no longer connected, and you began to arch your back off the bed, inadvertently moving your hands to find his soft hair, entangling your fingers in his tresses in order to find some semblance of stability.
your entire body trembled under his touch, and he held you down strongly, one hand at your hip, holding your skirt up, and the other pinning your thigh down to the bed.
“god—you taste so good,” he muttered, mostly to himself. you tasted sweet and clean, and he couldn’t get enough.
the entire time, you felt as though trapped, hovering far up above your body, but one particular lap at your clit had you crashing down, your premature orgasm smothering you in waves of pleasure.
you spasmed beneath him, unable to move much as he continued to hold you down, forcing you to cum relentlessly with his tongue.
“fuck—yes, baby, cum for me, cum all over me,” he whispered, the mixture of cool air and pressure from his tongue causing you to spasm even further.
so this… this is what an orgasm feels like, you realized, shaking still, feeling tingles of electricity pass through each of your nerves.
through blurry vision, you watched him stand up and hover over you, leaning his weight on his forearms by the sides of your face, and you both closed your eyes as he met your lips with his once more. you tasted yourself on his tongue; though it was first strange, a part of you felt pleased with how oddly good it was.
you could feel his bulge straining to be let free as he rubbed it against you, and unthinkingly you moved your hands to palm it through his boxers, reveling at the size.
a guttural moan ripped through his throat. pulling away from the kiss, he looked down to see you struggling to even grasp it all through the fabric, and his cock hardened impossibly more. you, with your small, soft hands, were so unknowing, so dainty—and he was about to ruin you, and you were going to let him, weren’t you?
he swallowed hard, pushing the thought to the deepest crevices of his mind.
though slightly scared, you couldn’t deny that what you were feeling was excitement. you’d never felt, or even seen someone so large, yet you wanted to take it all, to make him proud. for after all, this was the least you could do, no? to thank a pro hero like dynamight, the least you could do was be a good little girl and take him, no matter his size, and take him all to make him feel good.
shyly, you tugged at the waistband of his boxers, and thankfully he listened to your silent request, pulling them down and stepping out of the smoothly. as he hovered over you, he gave his cock a couple of pumps before looking at you intently.
“are you sure?” he breathed.
again, you nodded, lifting your hands to rest at his muscled chest.
bakugou pressed the tip of his cock, swollen and red, to your drenched entrance, and guided it up and down along your slit so as to gather some of your arousal. even that was testing you; you were still so sensitive from your high just moments before, but you bit down on your lip in anticipation.
slowly, he pushed into you, giving you time to adjust to the pain of being so fully stretched out before he completely bottomed out inside you. he watched your face contort as each inch disappeared inside, and he waited until finally you exhaled.
“move, please,” you whispered weakly.
god, the stretch hurt—but it hurt so damn good. you both looked down, and you gasped as you saw the subtle bulge in your lower stomach, marking just how deep he was inside.
bakugou noticed it too, and streams of pride bubbled up inside. he pressed down on the bulge before slowly moving out, taking particular notice of just how clearly he could feel himself through the thin layer of flesh. your breathy little moans filtered into his ears like music, and he used them to spur himself on, pulling out until just the tip remained inside you.
you were but an angelic little virgin before meeting him, but here you were now—laying under him all fucked out, too caught up in your post-orgasm haze to really even keep up.
how he wished he could take a picture and save it forever.
he slammed back into your hips without notice, relishing the way your eyes rolled back into your head and your lips parted to reveal your cute pink little tongue, lolling out enticingly.
you were just so fucking tight—he’d never felt anyone so tight, so absolutely perfect before, and even he wondered how long he’d be able to hold out. your walls convulsed around him erratically, as though still trying to adjust completely. you didn’t know it—you couldn’t have known it, by the looks of your facial expression—but you had him already halfway near orgasm.
well, he was doing this for you, after all. to protect you, to protect your sanctity. right?
he continued to slam his hips in you, relentless as he became so absorbed in watching your face contort in pleasure.
you’d never felt so good before, suddenly unable to get enough of the feeling you got when the veins of his cock dragged along your fleshy walls, unable to get enough of the way he held you down to the bed by your wrists, unable to get enough of just how right it felt, being entirely under his will.
it was like you suddenly realized that you belonged to him, that your body belonged to him and that anything else was wrong, and this fact you accepted wholeheartedly, entrusting your everything to him because how could you not? if you were to trust anyone with your virginity, why wouldn’t it be dynamight? he was a hero, after all.
bakugou lowered his head, touching your forehead with his as he rutted into you, his thrusts becoming more and more inconsistent.
“please—don’t stop,” you whined, your eyebrows furrowed.
he groaned in response. god—how could he say no to that face? but you were making it so difficult for him, and he found himself straining to hold himself back. what was he to do when you clenched so tightly around him but asked him not to stop? did you realize that you were asking the near impossible of him?
“fuck—princess,” he groaned, thrusting harder and more deliberately. “y’feel amazing.”
you struggled against his grip, wanting to encircle your arms around his waist and pull him in closer, deeper, but his grip was vice-like and unyielding; you struggled fruitlessly and in vain.
“shit,” he hissed, pulling out instantly and spraying his load onto you, and almost instinctively, you opened your mouth, attempting to catch his seed on your tongue.
he cursed under his breath, watching you try oh-so-cutely not to shrink back from the warm liquid, and he stared at you as if in a daze as he mechanically pumped his cock for the last of his seed.
you smiled, reaching to rest your palm on top of his hand.
“thank you,” you sighed, your half-lidded eyes an obvious indication of your post-sex haze.
thank you?
bakugou was incredulous, in awe of how you still managed to be so trusting and sweet.
at a loss for how to respond, he merely nodded, leaving to get a towel from your bathroom to clean you up.
“wait—don’t go,” you pleaded, looking at him once more with those damned big eyes and tugging at his wrist.
his heart leaped into his throat at your touch.
don’t go?
he swallowed, his mind racing.
well, it wouldn’t hurt to add your neighborhood to his patrol, right?
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masterlist | tip jar!
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taglist: @duvkelly @asterroidd​​​ @redsharksimp @idontlikeyourjob​​ @marinwestward @oiitsemily @mantwftr @obvsroki @officialhangezoe @xnorthstar3x​​ @yehawnana @tamakisan​​ @snhoe​ @softhandz​​ @random-fanfiction​​ @theydy-madamonsieur​​ @todarokislut @devilgirlcrybabiey​​ @simplybakugou​​ @amaejiki​​ @ochakoakabane​​ @lilithbasically​​ @peachysimp​​ @instantnuma​​ @bokutosworld​​ @philthepegacorn​​​ @shisoaya​​​ @annexerca
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scandalsavagefanfic · 3 months ago
Batman: Urban Legends, Cheer
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I’ve talked a little bit about why Batman: Urban Legends is a bad story already, but I just saw a post talking about this panel and how well Bruce has been written in this story. And while the post didn’t really say anything about Jason, OP’s comments in the notes talked about how this seemed to be a direct response to people trashing Bruce for beating on the poor and disenfranchised, talking about how he’s finally “in character”, how he has a lighter touch and tends to think things through and how the story is teaching Jason a lesson about his “tendency” to brute his way through things without thinking about them, and how Jason wasn’t OOC.
My first post about UL touches on why that last bit is nonsense, but the stuff about Bruce reminded me of something else in UL that really, really bothered me. 
It’s the above panel and these, not just in the context that this story rewrites Jason as ALWAYS having been prone to violence and willing to wail on the weak, but also in the sense that Bruce, of all people, is the one chosen to teach this lesson to Jason. 
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[that sentence ends in the next panel with “...stealing the Batmobile’s tires?”]
It’s just one more way DC keeps chipping away at what makes Jason (the Robin raised in poverty, the one who grew up with a first-hand insight into the way Gotham’s systemic corruption and crimes do the most harm to the poorest and least powerful people, and the only one to be personally affected by addiction) special and interesting. It’s just the most recent way they’ve bastardized his roots to villainize him (the poor homeless kid who was brutally murdered) so that Bruce (the billionaire) looks better, so that Bruce is absolved of all his responsibility in how Jason came to be the Red Hood.
Because in actuality, Jason taught Bruce that criminals can change.
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Bruce didn’t listen. He stalked Penguin and when he found him, Bruce had to eat his words.
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Penguin had actually tried to change. Bruce realized his mistake and tried to defend him after he was arrested, but the damage was done.
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By the way, this is from when Penguin was just a jewel thief. Let that sink in for a sec. Go back up to the panel from Urban Legends with Batman and Robin in the alley and reread it.
And this, this story with the Penguin, is how it should be. Not that crap from UL. 
I don’t know why people have to keep saying this but Jason isn’t stupid. He’s incredibly smart and his actions, even his violence, are rooted in empathy and indignation on behalf of the innocent who are harmed, not rage. The above panels in UL are basically like saying that Cassandra Cain has suddenly changed her mind that everyone can be saved and decided to join Jason in killing super villains. This is the core of the character we’re talking about. It’s not the dumb little details like whether he likes coffee or eats cereal or whatever. It’s the heart of the character. It’d be like taking the circus out of Dick’s story, or the love of Robin from Tim’s, or making someone other than Talia Damian’s mother. 
Jason is very aware that petty crime is often motivated by desperation. He literally lived that life. That’s why he’s never targeted people like that the way this book shows him to.
Even when he returned, he was never an indiscriminate killer and he was never violent for the sake of it. He didn’t beat the shit out of addicts because he was an impatient little bitch. He was methodical and calculative and he only killed people who preyed on the weak, the innocent, and the defenseless. 
Like the mob’s drug lieutenants who dealt to kids:
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Like these bastards, who were deep in denial and broke Jason’s golden rule, no dealing to children. 
Because drug dealers purposefully target kids, relying on addiction to make them repeat customers for life.
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Rapists and the scum who prey on people at their most vulnerable:
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And nazis.
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The fact is, Jason certainly has his faults, but he would never, ever, do this to an addict:
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Writing him like he would is out of character. Drastically. 
Jason doesn’t go off half-cocked. He doesn’t jump in blind. These aren’t lessons he needs to learn in anything except this story which specifically wrote him as idiotic and mean as possible to squeeze him into the box the writer needed him to fit into.
Jason has never been written quite this bad before, but even if you take the few random instances over the last 15 years, where he’s been written as meaner and dumber than usual as his core character, how can you stand there and say that Bruce’s style is a calmer, more rational approach and say how he’s been written for the last 30 years is ooc????
For the kind of story Batman: Urban Legends seems to be telling, Bruce is literally the last character this message should be funneled through. Bruce is a billionaire (or... multi-millionaire, for now in the main continuity but who knows what’s canon for this). It’s so fucking tone-deaf to keep writing this kind of interaction between Bruce and Jason. 
Do I agree that Bruce should be written as more understanding and empathetic and less vicious than he sometimes is since the 80′s, by the way, this isn’t new? Absolutely.
Do I think this was a good example of that or a reasonable template going forward? Absolutely not. 
DC needs to stop sacrificing what makes Jason Todd interesting, what makes the character an excellent tool to tell meaningful, topical stories, for today’s audiences, just to prop up Bruce. 
For starters, Bruce doesn’t need that?
Their roles in this story don’t have to be swapped. There are ways to write this kind of stuff that doesn’t fuck up a character. See the above example with Penguin. And that’s from the fucking 80′s. How are Reagan-era comics telling stories about poverty, addiction, and reformed criminals with more nuance and tact and consideration than something in 2021????
I just think it’s fucking sad.
And extremely frustrating. 
907 notes · View notes
forever-rogue · 4 months ago
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Summary | It’s so obvious, isn’t it? Maybe not to Bucky. But you’re going to make his first Father’s Day something to remember.
Pairing | Bucky x Pregnant!Reader
Word Count | 2.8k
Warnings | slight language, pregnant!reader, references to sex
Masterlists | Bucky, Main
─── ・ 。゚☆: *.☽ .* :☆゚. ───
At first you were positive you’d eaten something off and were suffering from a mild case of food poisoning. With your luck, it wouldn’t have been the first time. But then it lasted for more than a few days...and then some more after that. After a couple of weeks of denying that it could be anything but a mild stomach bug, you came to the earth stopping conclusion that it was something different entirely. 
The signs were all there, and it wasn’t that you had been ignoring them had been ignoring them. The idea that it could have possibly been anything but a stomach bug was terrifying. But there was only so much hiding you could do from Bucky before he came extremely concerned at the sight of you repeatedly hunched over the toilet. He insisted you go to the doctor and knowing him, if you didn’t comply, he’d throw you over his shoulder and take you himself. 
After a little white lie of saying you’d go right away, you’d sneaked off to the corner drug store in search of those dreaded pregnancy tests. Bucky was off doing whatever the hell it was he and Sam did half the time, so you had a few hours to yourself. You felt like a criminal as you bundled up in a hoodie of Bucky’s and looked around furtively as you grabbed one of each of the tests and took them to the counter to pay before practically running home. 
You felt so silly, so dumb as you had the six tests on the counter, while your phone slowly ticked down the time. All the signs were there - how could you have ignored them? The missed period - wait, was it two? You’d been so bad about tracking them, you honestly didn’t even know. The morning sickness, apparently not food poisoning, the extra sensitive breasts, the fatigue. It all seemed so obvious now. 
You sighed as your timer went off and looked at the various tests. 
They only confirmed what you had already accepted. Pregnant. 
─── ・ 。゚☆: *.☽ .* :☆゚. ───
You felt like you were floating on air as you walked out of the doctor’s office with some of the grainiest photos you had ever seen. But the only thing that mattered was the small little bean that you could clearly make out in the middle of them. Your little bean - yours and Bucky’s. Your baby.
It’d been a week since you’d taken the tests and made your little discovery. After that it had become a little game of hiding it all from Bucky - you wanted to tell him and soon, but you wanted to surprise him at the perfect time. You knew he’d be over the moon about it all. You’d talked about children, and it had been decided, especially since you’d been together for a few years now, that if it happened it happened when it would happen. But you just knew he wanted this - and honestly, so did you. Despite the extreme nerves it had set upon you.
So, you decided to play a little game with Bucky to see if and when he finally realized you were pregnant. Hopefully it’d be before you were showing - he wasn’t that blind after all. But you were going to have fun with this.
─── ・ 。゚☆: *.☽ .* :☆゚. ───
“Hey Buck,” you were sprawled on the couch, resting your head in his lap as the two of you watched a movie on Netflix. It had been a long day and there was nothing you wanted more than a quiet evening in - this was nothing short of pure bliss. He made a small sound of acknowledgment as he gently played with your hair, silently telling you to go on, “what do you think you’d want to name our baby? Boy or girl?”
Sure, it was anything but subtle, but the way you had been resting your hand on your belly wasn’t either. And he hadn’t caught onto that either. 
“Hmm, I’ve never really thought that much about it,” he mused as he looked down at you and offered you a soft smile. You grinned back at him as you grabbed his hand and pressed a gentle kiss to his knuckles, “I like...and don’t laugh at me - the idea of naming a son Steve. Maybe a daughter Rebecca or Sarah.”
“Bucky,” you could see that despite his seemingly disinterested attitude, he had actually given this a lot of thought. You knew they were so much more than just names,”those are lovely names. I think any one of those would be a lovely name for our baby.”
“Yeah?” he asked, almost timidly as you reached up and touched his cheek, running your fingers over his stubble as you nodded. He practically keened into your warm, gentle touch as his eyes closed, “I love you.”
“I love you too, bub,” you whispered as he pressed a kiss to the palm of your hand, “let’s get to bed, huh? It’s getting late and I’ve just been so incredibly tired lately.”
“Come on,” he slowly ushered you up and off his lap before standing and stretching. You couldn’t help but admire him as a rush of love overwhelmed you. You really loved him more than anything - well him and your small bean now. Bucky effortlessly leaned over and scooped you up in his arms, cradling you to his chest as he walked towards the bedroom, “you’re so beautiful.”
“You’re not bad yourself, Sarge,” you grinned as you rested your head against his shoulder, “but I almost feel like I’ve just got this...glow lately ya know?”
“You always do,” he promised with a kiss to the top of your head as you almost burst out laughing. So many not-so-subtle-hints and he still didn’t catch on. 
─── ・ 。゚☆: *.☽ .* :☆゚. ───
“Bub? You in the kitchen?” you called from the bedroom, knowing damn well he was there, finishing up a big weekend breakfast for the two of you. You tip-toed out of the bedroom, pulling on your - his - shirt to indulge in a lazy Sunday. 
“I’m in here, sweetheart,” he looked up and smiled softly as soon as you came into view. He still looked at you as though you had personally hung the stars and moon, like he was still in the process of falling in love with you every single day, “hi.”
“Hi,” you walked over to him and motioned behind, “can you do me a huge favor and get me a glass of water and my vitamins? I left them on the counter.”
“So demanding,” you both were aware of the fact that he’d never say no to you. You took a seat at the bar, hopping onto your stool as you swung your legs back and forth and waited for him to either realize what was going on, or make some sort of joke. But instead he hummed some tune under his breath as he set a glass of water in front of you and grabbed your vitamins. 
The man, this silly, lovely man, picked up the bottle of prenatal vitamins, opened them, and handed two of them to you before following up with your other supplements. Your mouth hung open as you looked at him in awe - you’d literally put it all in front of his nose and he still didn’t catch on. 
Goodness Gracious.
“There you are, pretty girl,” he leaned over and kissed you gently before turning back to the stove. You watched him with a dumbfounded expression but slowly  grabbed your water and vitamins and downed them, “anything you want do today?”
Alright. You were willing to push a little further and see if he finally caught on.
“There’s a new store that opened up downtown,” you said noncommittally, “they umm...have a lot of baby and kid stuff and I wanted to go ahead and check it out.”
“Sure thing,” nope. Apparently you were going to have to hit over the head with a two by four, “sounds good. We’ll go after breakfast?”
“Yeah,” you agreed, shaking your head in amusement, “sounds good to me too, bub.”
─── ・ 。゚☆: *.☽ .* :☆゚. ───
It had been almost a month of dropping hint after hint, and they had been becoming increasingly less subtle. You were pretty sure that you could have just straight up told him you were pregnant at this point and he still wouldn’t have gotten it. 
But you had one last little idea - Father’s Day had come around and you were going to make sure his first father’s day was special. Maybe it was silly to celebrate when the baby wasn’t even born yet, but you didn’t care - you just wanted to finally tell him. 
The evening before Father’s Day, you’d let Bucky go to bed first, telling him you were just going to be a little longer, needing to finish up some work. He believed it hook, line, and sinker, and told you to join him soon. Once he was snoring soundly, asleep on his back with the gold and black vibranium arm splayed over your side of bed, you pulled out all the supplies you’d gotten. 
You made quick - and quiet - work of blowing up multicolored balloons and throwing some confetti around. You’d regret it later but the surprise would be worth it. Once you were satisfied, you grabbed the newest sonograms you’d gotten at the doctor the day before and tucked them into the envelope along with the card you’d picked out. After writing on the card, you sealed the envelope and on the front side simply wrote Happy Father’s Day. 
On the back, knowing how Bucky was, you scrolled one more little note. You left it all on the counter, along with the box of cupcakes you’d snagged from his favorite bakery, ready for him to discover in the morning. He’d be up before, and he’d have the little surprise to wake up to. 
Hopefully this time the message was loud and clear.
─── ・ 。゚☆: *.☽ .* :☆゚. ───
Bucky stifled a yawn as he slowly crawled out of the bed, stretching his stiff limbs. You were still all bundled up and lightly snoring with a little smile on your face. He reached down and gently brushed a lock of hair out of your face before pressing a kiss to your forehead. 
Slowly making his way down the hall, a confused expression crossed his features as he noticed the glittering confetti on the floor. How strange.
But as he walked into the living room and saw the ballrooms all over the place he was visibly confused. What on earth was going on? He picked one that was close to his foot up and played with it for a moment before lightly smacking it across the room. He perked up when he saw the colorful box on the counter, a clear giveaway that it was from his favorite place.
Shuffling across the room, he was ready to throw open the box and indulge in an early morning sweet treat when he was stopped by the card on top. He picked it up and instantly recognized your handwriting. Happy Father’s Day!
It must have been for your father...maybe this all was for him and your parents were coming over and he’d somehow managed to forget about it all. He would definitely hear about that later on from you. Shit. 
No...he surely would have remembered that. He was old but his memory was still sharp. He felt the envelope beneath his fingers, noting that it was slightly thicker than a normal card. Curious. He flipped it over and his heart almost stopped when he saw what you had written on the flap.
Yes. This is really for you, James.
James. That’s how you knew you were being serious. 
His heart felt like it was almost bursting out of his chest as he slowly slid a vibranium finger underneath the seal, careful to prevent any rips or tears. After what seemed like a millennia, he opened the thing and pulled out the card, along with the sheet of photos. 
Bucky’s mouth fell open and formed a small o as he looked as he read over your sweet message in the card. Once he studied the grainy photos and realized that holy shit, this was your baby - his baby. You were having a baby! He inhaled - a shaky broken little thing as he fought back a few tears. After all this time, he was getting something he thought would only be a dream. 
“Surprise,” you whispered so you wouldn’t completely scare him. You’d woken up a few moments after him, already missing his body and warmth as soon as he had left. You had tip-toed after him and watched him finally realize what you had been dropping hints about for almost a month. His reaction had been everything, priceless. 
“Sweetheart…” he looked between you and grainy photos in his hand, his blue eyes gentle and glossy as you walked over to him, “we’re having a baby?”
“Yeah, bub, we are,” you promised, feeling tears well up in your own eyes as you carded a hand through his soft hair, “I’ve been trying to tell you for like a month. But you, sir, do not pick up on anything. Baby names? Prenatals...the baby store? The continued morning sickness. For a moment I thought I’d have to have the baby before you realized what was going on. I wasn’t being subtle anymore.”
“Oh...oh,” he said as a dark pink blush crept into his cheeks, “okay now it all seems so clear. I guess, I’m blind.”
“Yeah, old man,” you teased softly, “turns out that food poisoning was never food poisoning at all. It was morning sickness.”
“Shit,” he was incredulous, “a baby. I can’t believe far along are you?”
“Almost twelve weeks at this point,” you laughed, “I was wondering if you’d realize before I started to show.”
His hands found your hips as he played with the hem of your sweater before slowly pushing it up. A warm, gentle touch found your belly as he leaned in and brushed his lips over yours, offering you the sweetest kiss, “thank you.”
“For what?” you eagerly accepted his kiss and offered him a few more. He couldn’t stop himself from pulling you into his body and holding you close to him. Soon it would be a very different type of closeness. 
“For you,” he whispered, “for - our family.’s just that I never thought I would be good enough for all of this.”
“Of course you are, Bucky,” you promised softly, reaching up and touching his cheek, “you are a good man. You are. I love you so much, more than anything in this world. You are worthy of this, you have always been worthy. I will gladly spend every day of my life showing you that if I have to.”
“I love you,” he pressed his forehead against yours, “I still can’t believe this is real.”
“I love you too,” you beamed, “now, how about you eat a cupcake and I’ll start breakfast. Then we can start telling everyone that you knocked me up!”
“It sounds so dirty when you put it like that - I like it. I’m sure we had fun doing it too,” he snorted as he opened the box of cupcakes, grinning when he saw that they too proclaimed Happy Father’s Day. 
“What makes you think that, old man?” you bumped his hips with yours as you opened the fridge to get the ingredients for some omelets.
“Because we always have fun.”
“Well, it’s not like it’s a lie,” He grabbed one and took a bite before offering you a taste, but you shook your head, “no?”
“It’s not me,” you insisted, pointing at the tiny swell that was slowly becoming evident, “the bean doesn’t seem to like sweets very much. At least not right now.”
“More for me,” he grinned as he pumped his fist in victory, causing you to dramatically roll your eyes before laughing, “hopefully the bean will be nice soon and let you partake. Oh…”
“We have so much to do,” reality suddenly hit as his eyes widened and you laughed, “we’ll have to set up the spare room as the nursery. Your doctor’s visits - I want to come of course, and then all the stuff we’ll need when the they come-”
“James,” you put a finger to his lips as you quietly shushed him, “relax, bub. Breathe - we have plenty of time. There’s no reason to we’ll be lazy and relax, tomorrow we can figure everything out. Yeah?”
“Yeah,” he visibly calmed down as you grounded him - just like you always did, “we’ll figure it out. We can do this.”
“Yeah, we can,” you agreed softly as he took your hand in his and gave it a gentle squeeze before kissing it. Gods, you really loved him more than anything, “Happy Father’s Day, Bucky.”
─── ・ 。゚☆: *.☽ .* :☆゚. ───
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774 notes · View notes
itsapeterthing · 4 months ago
Lovers’ Quarrel || Bucky Barnes
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pairing: bucky barnes x rogers!reader
summary: when you married your brother’s best friend in 1941, the two of you had always promised to stick together and you did just that- even following him to wakanda where you trained alongside the dora milaje. When you find out that bucky’s released zemo from prison behind your back... needless to say you’re pissed.
a/n: okay i absolutely loved this request so much @missroro​. reblogs and replies are super appreciated!
word count: 2.4k
warnings: swearing, reader and bucky fighting
masterlist || request || taglist
You were pissed to say the least.
You couldn’t understand why your husband would keep something so big such a secret from you. You had spent seventy years in ice for those you loved. You had become a super soldier for those you loved. You had spent two years off the grid in hiding for those you loved... and your husband couldn’t even tell you the truth? You would have tried to understand- helped him even- but he had chosen instead to keep you in the dark, leaving you to find out about his actions second hand from those who felt just as betrayed as you.
As you stood in the threshold of the room, spotting the five men, you could feel almost nothing but rage coursing through your veins. The tension was so thick in the room, you swore you could cut it with a knife... but you decided that a spear would do.
Throwing your arm back and tossing the spear forward, you watched as it stuck itself into the column between Sam and John Walker- the man posing as your brother.
When the spear collided with the wall, everyone’s eyes immediately snapped onto you and you could of sworn it almost felt good to watch the fear in your husband and Sam’s eyes when they spotted you, knowing just by the look on your face that they had messed up... and you weren’t one to let things like that slide.
“Y/n-” Bucky began.
With a straight face you turned your head to the side, unable to look at him, instead turning your attention to the Dora Milaje as they entered the apartment.
“Even if he is a means to your end... time’s up.” Ayo spoke in Xhosa before switching to English. “Release him to us now.”
You could feel Bucky’s eyes burning into you, but you remained steadfast, watching the scene unfold in front of you.
“Hi. John Walker.” The new Cap attempted to introduce himself. “Captain America.”
Although you were enraged beyond compare upon finding out that the government had chosen a new man to take your brother’s place, you almost wanted to laugh at how poorly he was handling the situation.
When neither of the two women in front of him said anything, he continued.
“Well , uh.” John said. “Let’s put down the pointy sticks and we can talk this through, huh?”
God, he was handling this poorly, wasn’t he? You would find it funny if he wasn’t so incredibly ignorant.
“Hey, John, take it easy.” Sam said looking between you and the two other women in the room. “You might want to fight Bucky before you tangle with the Dora Milaje.”
“The Dora Milaje don’t have jurisdiction here.” John insisted.
“The Dora Milaje have jurisdiction wherever the Dora Milaje find themselves to be.”
Rather than standing to the side and allowing the group of skilled warriors to take what- or rather who- they wanted and leave, Walker couldn’t help but instigate.
As soon as his hand landed on Ayo’s shoulder, you knew he would regret that decision.
Immediately the two women began fighting- one taking on John Walker and the other Lemar. You had known the women long enough to know that they could handle the situation themselves without breaking a sweat. Still standing in the doorway, you crossed your arms watching as one began choking Lemar with her spear, the other sticking her spear into Steve’s... John’s shield.
Quickly glancing over to the other men, you caught Bucky and Sam staring at you on the sidelines, whispering to one another. As soon as you caught their line of vision you glanced away, focusing once again on the fight taking place in front of you.
Right as Ayo held her spear above John, fear written all over his face, Bucky stepped in, pulling Ayo back. Recalling why you were there in the first place, you immediately uncrossed your arms, striding over to the other side of the room, able to feel the rage flowing through your veins.
Pulling your spear from the wall, you marched up to your husband pulling him away from Ayo.
“Y/n,” He eased. “Let’s talk about this.”
“Oh you want to talk about it?” You asked, shoving him backwards with the spear. “That’s funny, Buck.”
Dodging your blows, not wanting to fight you, Bucky continued backing up and reaching for the spear to keep the metal from meeting his skin.
“Look, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you!” He exclaimed.
Pushing harder with the spear, you grunted, kicking him to subsequently shove him back against the counter.
You asked yourself if he really thought saying ‘sorry’ would work. You knew your husband wasn't dumb enough to believe that there would be no consequences for breaking Helmut Zemo out of prison- a man who not only caused the split of the Avengers, but also killed the king of Wakanda- a place full of people who had shown you and your husband nothing but kindness. They had given Bucky a new chance at life and had given you the opportunity to train among the most expert fighters you had ever met- the Dora Milaje. They had given both of you more than you could have asked for when your life went sideways eighty years ago. So when you had received the call that Bucky had broken Zemo out of prison you could barely believe it.
“Sorry doesn’t cut it, Buck!” You shouted.
Knocking him back one last time, you recalled what they had taught you back in Wakanda when Bucky had first received his new arm- a trick you had hoped never to have to use, but as you stood there fighting your husband, anger fueling you in a way you had felt only a few times before, you didn’t see another way.
Moving your hand in the exact pattern you had learned years ago along where his shoulder met his chest, you listened as the the metal clicked and watched as his vibranium arm fell to the ground beside him, Bucky looking up at you with his eyes wide.
You had to shove back the part of you that felt your heart break in your chest watching the look of betrayal in his eyes. Recalling why the two of you were in this position in the first place, you stood up straighter, clearing your throat.
“You are sleeping on the couch tonight, Mr. Barnes.”
Holding the spear straight beside you, you turned your attention to Ayo who opened the doors to the bathroom, only to find Zemo missing. Instructing the other warrior to drop Cap’s shield, the two women left, leaving you behind with the four remaining men in the room.
Shoving past your husband, you dropped your spear onto the ground, making your way over to Sam and smacked him across the back of his head.
“Shit!” He exclaimed. “What was that for? Don’t get me involved in your little lovers’ quarrel.”
“Lovers’ quarrel?” You asked him, laughing. “I’ve been Mrs. Barnes for eighty-two years, Sam. I’ve put up with a lot of shit, but don’t act like you two didn’t just break a criminal out of prison. A criminal who- need I remind you- tried to brainwash Bucky and killed King T’Chaka.”
“Don’t look at me.” Sam said, throwing his hands up in the air. “That was all Bucky.”
Immediately your eyes snapped back to your husband who was standing across the room, attaching his vibranium arm to his shoulder once again.
“Thanks, Sam.” Bucky grumbled.
Before any of the rest of you could say anything, the voice from the other side of the room caught your attention. Following the voice you saw John Walker huddled against the table, his friend reaching his hand out to him.
“They weren’t even super soldiers.” He mumbled, staring off into the distance.
Despite the fact that you still didn’t approve of the ‘new’ Captain America, you felt your heart tug in your chest as you watched the man break down over to the side. You felt sorry for him. You knew better than any other living person the weight the shield and legacy carried being both the adopted sister of Steve himself and the wife of his best friend.
Although you were pained watching a new man undermine your brother’s legacy, you couldn’t help but pity him.
Making your way over to John you reached out your hand to him. Looking up you could finally see the recognition in his eyes, realizing who you were. Immediately he took your hand, pulling himself to his feet.
“You’re-” He started.
“Don’t beat yourself up over this, Walker.” You said, before making your way over to the couch. “No one wins a fight against the Dora Milaje. I got my ass handed to me every day that I trained with them.”
Despite the fact that you were telling the truth- you lost to each one every time you fought- you enjoyed every second of it. It was a relief.
After discovering that your husband, Bucky, was still alive after decades apart, you couldn’t stand to let him out of your sight again. When Steve had brought Bucky to Wakanda with the hope of clearing his brain of the programming he had endured under Hydra, you followed him there. Despite the fact that your husband was in your arms once again, you couldn’t help the thoughts that took over your mind every day- everything that you all had lost, the memories of what you had endured and the worry that Bucky would never be the same again.
The pain of being knocked around by a member of the Dora Milaje’s spear was almost therapeutic.
Rather than replying, Lemar pat his friend on the back, nodding to the rest of you within the room before guiding his shaken friend out the door of the apartment.
“You’re being too friendly with him, Y/n.” Bucky said.
Snapping your head to the side you glared at your husband.
“What are you? Jealous?” You asked.
Rather than answer you, Bucky crossed his arms.
“I just think you’re being a little too nice to the guy that’s ruining Steve’s name-”
Before he could even finish his sentence, you pushed yourself off of the couch, striding over to your husband, shoving your finger into his chest.
“Don’t tell me how to feel, James.” You told him seriously. “He was my brother. I wouldn’t have chosen that guy to take on Steve’s name either, but don’t get mad at me. You’re the one who fucked up and lied about going on this mission with Sam. Do you know what it felt like to get a call from Ayo to find out that you not only lied to me, but you betrayed the people who have been nothing but kind to us?”
Staring at you, he could tell how not only angry you were, but also distraught. The both of you had gone through hell and back and Bucky was thankful every day that even after all these years he was able- by some miracle- to still find you eighty years after the two of you had supposedly died. He had suffered through so much and done so many things he could barely look at himself in the mirror for, but at the end of the day you continued to not only be there for him, but to love him anyway.
A part of him felt awful for not telling you- he hated lying to you and you had every right to know- but after your brother had left the two of yours’ lives, he didn’t want to put any further strain on you than you had already endured.
He knew once he freed Zemo that you would find out, but as you stood in front of him he almost wish he hadn’t so you wouldn't be feeling this type of way.
“I’m sorry, Y/n.” Bucky said. “I didn't... after everything with Steve I didn’t want to get you involved. You deserved a break, doll.”
Relaxing your shoulders, you sighed, resting your hand on his bicep.
“And what about you, Buck?” You asked. “Don’t you deserve a break?”
“That’s different, Y/n.” He said. “I need this. You know I do.”
You knew he did. You had been there while his guilt kept him up at night, waking him up after only a few hours of what you could barely call rest. You knew that his past had been eating away at him, especially since Steve left, and that doing something wholly good might bring him some semblance of peace.
“I know.” You said, meeting his eyes. “So I’m going to help you. We’re in this together, Buck, okay?”
Despite the fact that he wanted to keep you as far away from danger as he could- something he could never manage considering you had been fighting alongside the Avengers since before he had even gained his memory back- he knew he couldn’t say no to you.
“Alright.” He agreed.
Gently squeezing his arm you gave him a soft smile.
“Glad to see you guys are good.” Sam quipped. “Incase you forgot Zemo’s now on the loose and the back of my head stings like hell.”
Smiling and turning to, Sam, you playfully swat his arm.
“Please.” You laughed. “Big, strong guy like you? You barely felt that.”
“Listen I’m not a super soldier like you two.” He said, pointing between you and Bucky. “Remind me not to mess with your kids some day. Last thing I need is getting knocked out by some kid with two super soldiers for parents.”
“We should go find Zemo.” Bucky said clearing his throat, changing the subject.
“Yeah.” You agreed. “He couldn’t have gotten too far. Let’s go.”
Not one to argue, Sam threw his hands up in the air, leading the way out of the door of Zemo’s apartment. As your foot was about to cross the door, however, you felt Bucky’s hand wrap around your arm, pulling you to the side.
“So do I still have to sleep on the couch tonight?” Bucky asked in a hushed voice.
“Oh honey,” You cooed, patting the side of his cheek before laughing. “You’re not getting out of this one that at easily.”
Watching from his spot on the steps as you picked up the pace to catch up with Sam, he crossed his arms smiling to himself. Steve was right when he said that he was going to be okay... as long as he was with you, how couldn’t he be?
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the-hidden-pages · 4 months ago
Misread Affections - Laszlo Kreizler/Fem!Reader SMUT
I started at midnight. I had 0 words. It’s 4:30am. I have 4643 words because I have fallen deeply for Doctor Laszlo Kreizler. Forgive me for this.
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Synopsis: With all your history together, you and Doctor Kreizler believe you understand each other. Yet when you believe him to be infatuated with Karen Stratton, and he believes you to have affection for Marcus Isaacson, you’re both stunned when you find yourselves to be proven wrong.
Warnings: NSFW. Desk Sex. Dirty Talk. Patient-to-Friend-to-Lover. Definite depression and general self-loathing.
You had always admired the man Doctor Laszlo Kreizler was.
He championed those who could not champion themselves. He worked tirelessly to understand the minds of criminals. To those very same criminals, and many others that lived as outcasts to society, he would offer kindness and understanding. At his best he was beyond intelligent and, daresay, sweet.
At his worst, he was ruthless, and his own self-loathing would have him come across as unempathetic most days. While preaching to others to care for himself, he would often forego his own care. While offering an ear and a receptive mind, he would refuse to offer himself the same.
You knew this within mere days of knowing Doctor Kreizler. And such facts made you rather fond of him.
A fondness that was not helped by his handsome build, his dark locks, his scrutinizing gaze.
And yet no part of you could justify ever acting upon this fondness.
You had come to him both as a patient and a colleague. You had always been aware of a darkness within yourself, ever since you were a child. This darkness had only grown, too often all-consuming, leaving you. a dysfunction wreck of a human being. However, you had an obligation to keep going, a promise you had sworn to your sister to continue your own existence. So, exist you did.
While your family’s fortune wasn’t enough to send you to Harvard, like the Doctor himself, it did allow for you to be a reasonably educated woman of the times. A deep fascination in understanding your own darkness led you to the work of alienists, and eventually to the work of Doctor Kreizler.
While you couldn’t often justify breaking societal rules to such an extent, you found yourself motivated enough to call upon the Doctor with a proposition – should he aide you in understanding your own illness of the brain, you would offer any services you could to the Kreizler Institute.
You could tell he was curious of you. A woman of your standing did not often make such demands with such authority, nor so blatantly admit to her own illnesses. He quickly agreed, eager to study why you considered yourself so damaged, and happy to take on an extra set of hands with the children he looked after.
Over time, you begun to slip effortlessly into Doctor Kreizler’s life.
You met the likes of Cyrus and Stevie, along with many others that worked at the Institute. You were then blown away by the strength within Miss Sara Howard, and the pure, undiluted love that Mister John Schuyler Moore could show others. You were even called upon on several occasions to be a fresh set of eyes, the murders of young boy prostitutes and kidnappings of babies not deterring you, to the surprise and reluctant joy of the Doctor.
And as Doctor Kreizler studied you, you studied him.
You slowly learned of all the emotion he kept hidden behind the façade of professionalism. The kindness, the love, the anger, the fear. While he showed none of these most days, occasionally a concoction of such feeling would burst in an overwhelming outpour.
In offering him a platonic safe space, a place for him to talk through such outbursts should he wish, he in turn aided you.
The darkness you felt for so long began to subside some days, and between the efforts of him and a passing remark from John, you learned of an outlet for your darker thoughts – writing.
While expressing your own emotions and turmoil did not come easy, you found it far simpler when written down on paper, as opposed to spoken aloud to a judging room.
Doctor Kreizler gifted you a beautiful leather-bound journal a mere day after this revelation, with the request that you record your thoughts. He promised he would not read it unless you requested him to as an act of therapy.
For many days, you allowed him to read any thoughts that came to mind.
Thoughts of blood, of death, of pain and anger. Thoughts of a stolen childhood, of worthlessness, of longing.
Many days when he read your pages, you would be silently crying as he did, fearful of his judgement. But it never came.
Instead, he would close the book silently, and offer you professional advice.
One particularly rough day, in which your narrative was beyond vicious to you, he closed the book before finishing, and offered you something you didn’t expect – an embrace.
He hugged you so tightly, that for once…
Your inner monologue ceased.
His own, however, raged on.
How could you think so lowly of yourself, he wondered? While he could understand mindsets built from trauma, he couldn’t help but wish you could see yourself through his own eyes. Your empathy when you cared for the children in the Institute. Your intelligence when conversing with Miss Howard. Your artistic delight when laughing with John. And the perspective, the warmth you offered such a broken man such as himself.
Neither of you knew, in that exact moment, that the other was realizing the fondness you both held in your hearts for each other.
And neither of you knew how truly broken the other felt at their core.
Two souls, believing themselves to be undeserving of love, finding it in their hearts for the other.
When the beautiful, cunning Doctor Karen Stratton entered the picture, you asked Doctor Kreizler to refrain from reading your journal.
He was hurt by this, but profession and courtesy claimed that he could not show it.
You began to withdraw from him, placing your entire focus on the case of the stolen babies and your focus on the children in the Institute. Kreizler, in his own difficulties of potentially losing the said Institute, took notice of your own withdrawal from your sessions, but held enough hope that you had found stability to care for yourself. You still conversed with Sara, you smiled with John. You had even been introduced to the Isaacsons, and he had wondered if you had taken a liking to Marcus.
You deserved a young man such as him, he told himself, heart heavy. A whole, young man with enough strength to support you.
And on the night of Marcus’ death, he believed it to be confirmed.
He found you alone, in his study where you so often had your sessions with him. You were curled inwards on yourself, clutching your journal as though it were your lifeline, sobbing uncontrollably.
He moved to console you, arms holding you tightly.
“It’s all too much,” you choked out, unable to articulate much more.
 Doctor Kreizler nodded, waiting for you to be able to go on.
You regained some breath with difficulty. “I just…I can’t stand to lose a friend. Not after everything else lately.”
 “I know how difficult it can be, to lose one you love…” Kreizler began, not noticing how your sobs stopped in confusion. “After Mary, I…Well I swore I would never again…The point is, I-“ he stopped short.
You had spluttered out a laugh.
 Your hand covered your mouth immediately, noticing what had just happened. You immediately moved to cover it up, wiping away your tears and standing up away from him. “No, no, Doctor. Heavens, Marcus…well, he was loved but, I saw…I see the Isaacsons as brothers I never had. He was dear to me but…not in the sense I suspect that Mary was to you.”
 “I…see…” Doctor Kreizler pulled back, sitting in his study chair as he gazed at you. “Apologies, I seem to have misread your relationship. Nonetheless, his death has greatly affected you, as it has all of us. I suspect it will be a very difficult grieving process, but…” he manages a soft, rare smile that warmed your heart. “We will endure it together, as we have these cases.”
“Will we?” your voice grew empty as your thoughts swirled.
He titled his head, unsure of where this was leading. You gathered your courage to question him.
“Rumour has it, Doctor Stratton has asked you to join her in Vienna. I wonder if you’ll go.”
 Silence falls over the room.
 Laszlo couldn’t understand what this had to do with anything. Your crying, your distress over Marcus. What did his leaving have to do with any of your distress?
 “You’re greatly upset by something,” he eventually said, gazing at you with a more analytical eye than before. “I’m afraid you give me too much credit, if you think I know the specifics of it.”
“I-“ you stopped, clearing your throat as you choked up. Your knuckles turned white on your journal’s edges, hands shaking. “Doctor Kreizler-“
“It’s been months since we’ve known each other,” he interrupts, “and we haven’t held a session together in nearly five weeks. Would it pain you to call me Laszlo? Are we not…friends?”
You gaped at him, but his face remained unreadable.
  You shake your head. “Yes, it…it would pain me. It would pain me a great deal, Doctor – it does pain me a great deal to hear you call me a friend when…”
“When what?” he prompts you sharply, and you inhale quickly.
“When I feel I’ve been dishonest with you, unkind to you…” had the room not been dead still, Laszlo might have missed the next words you whispered. “I feel I’ve been perverse to you.”
 If he was confused, he didn’t show it. And you were talking now, the words spilling out, a cascade unable to end.
“I feel as though…had Marcus not…died…tonight, I might never have done this. But then my mind, it began spinning so quickly I couldn’t stop it, and I couldn’t help but imagine countless scenarios in which Libby, in which the Dusters, in which…well, in which any number of causes might take your life as well. In which you might die before…before I can confess…” You huff, your words getting caught once again. With a determined move, your arm shot out to pass your journal to him, and Kreizler takes note of a particular page being creased.
 He looks up at you, but you don’t meet his eye.
“I’ve marked where I want you to start reading. Just…go from there. Inform me when you’re finished.”
You walk over to the window, desperate to be distracted, as Doctor Kreizler opens the book and reads at your request.
           He can’t comprehend what he’s reading at first.
           While he had grown accustomed to your twisted perception of yourself, he hadn’t realized just how ruthless the self-loathing could take you. Endless doubt of your friendships with the team, with your position as a caretaker, in your abilities to be a friend.            And as words continue, he realizes your doubts in being a partner, a lover.
           If he grows flustered at the words he reads, he’s determined not to show it to you.
           He reads your envy of women like Sara Howard, able to move forward with such strength and certainty, and of Karen Stratton, so brash, so forward. Your envy is strong towards her, in her abilities to understand sexuality, passion, human desire, and in…
           In her connection to himself.
           His eyes widen as your own ramblings seem to uncover a truth you hadn’t explored before – your attraction to the Doctor that had aided you, offered you employment. The pure taboo of such affections, yet your inability to stop it. Your adoration, your admiration for the intimidating, raw man that he was. How you felt unworthy, that you would hold him back, that he deserved a woman as delightful as Doctor Stratton, a woman who could stimulate him academically, that could pleasure him physically. How you felt so deeply ashamed of harbouring such elicit fantasies of the man that had been nothing but kind to you. How you loved him so deeply it made you want to die, because you would never be deserving –
           You heard the journal snapping shut, and you couldn’t bring yourself to face the Doctor, knowing what he must’ve read, dreading what he must now be thinking.
           The silence lasted far longer than you would’ve liked, but you couldn’t bring yourself to speak.
           “I find myself taken aback more often than I like,” Kreizler’s voice shatters the still air. “I believe myself to be so wise, so understanding of the mind, and yet I come across a mind such as yours that I…I truly cannot fathom how you think what you think.”
           “I’m sorry,” you start, voice breaking as tears begin to flow again.
           You nearly jump out of your skin when you feel a hand on your own. You don’t dare to turn around, frozen like a rabbit having been sniffed out by a hound.
           “You think me to be attracted to Doctor Stratton, am I correct?”
           You nod. Of course, he was. Was it not obvious?
           “Karen and I are colleagues, and friends, should I be too bold to assume so. I can recognize that she is a physically beautiful woman, yes, and I’m sure some day she will make a man a very happy husband, should she wish. But her and I have a kinship, a partnership, not unlike what I believe you and Marcus might have had, that I too misinterpreted as love.”
           You sniff, closing your eyes tightly. What was he trying to tell you?
           Doctor Kreizler spins you around slowly, leading you to face him.
           “I do not harbour half the affection in my heart for Doctor Stratton as I do for you.”
           You freeze. “Doctor-“
           “Please,” he reaches up to cup your face, wiping away several of the tears that had fallen. “Please call me Laszlo. You are not the only one to have an epiphany after the loss of our friend, my dear. If you are being so honest with me, I feel it only right to offer you the same.”
           “Laszlo…” you whisper, meeting his eyes for the first time since he read your words. His heart breaks with the pain within them. “How can you do this? Look at me, hold me, when you see how broken I am? I’m undeserving-“
           “You would choose to love, to care for a cripple, a shell of a man in the eyes of society. A man who has too often neglected the children he cares for, often spat in the face of those he dares to call his friends. If either of us is undeserving of the other’s love, my dear, it’s me.”
           Your brows furrow angrily, reaching up to mirror him, cupping his own face with both of yours. “Laszlo Kreizler you stop that right now, I won’t hear any more of…you’re smiling. How could you be smiling?”
           He leans into one of your hands affectionately, a rare, dashing smile lighting up his features in a way you cherished to see, despite the circumstances. “Perhaps we are both wrong. Perhaps…perhaps we need each other, to use each other’s eyes and hearts to understand who we truly are. We both have such lowly opinions of ourselves but…perhaps it was meant to be.”
           Your own smile was beginning to form, despite your best efforts, as your brain’s screaming of all that could go wrong began to quieten.
           “I hesitate to believe in fate, Doctor…” you trail off, taking a step closer, your heart filled with hope and eyes filled with wonder. “I hesitate further to admit to needing someone, and yet…my brain is only ever kind and quiet when I’m around you.”
           Laszlo’s weaker arm rests on your hip, while the thumb of the hand caressing your face moves to trace your chin. “My language is not as…poetic, as yours, my dear,” he confesses, and you both chuckle, “but I very much would like to kiss you, with your permission.”
           “Laszlo, you could do anything to me,” you confess, reaching forward to finally meet his lips.
           It’s messy, and uncoordinated, but any lack of experience the pair of you may have is made up for by the pure, electric eagerness that overtakes the both of you. You’re both exploring, testing each other, in some give and take dance that does not seem to quell any emotions within you, instead quite the opposite.
           You could kiss him forever, you quickly realize.
           But by some cruel twist of fate, you have to pull away, air taking priority.
           You stare wildly at him as he breathes heavily, eyes darker than you had ever seen, with a sense of uncertainty that you hadn’t ever seen about him before.
           A teasing smile finds its way onto your face, as you can’t help but test your luck.
           “How far, exactly, did you read in my book?”
           He blinks at you a couple of times, uncertain of your line of questioning. “I read of your jealousy, of your shame, I don’t…I don’t believe I finished it all, I found I had to address the issue before I continued –“
           “Would you like to know what else was in there?”
           Laszlo appeared flustered as you led him back to his plush chair, and you knelt down between his legs to pick up the book that had fallen to the ground. You don’t offer it to him, however, instead putting it aside.
           “My dear, I don’t –“
           “I ask you to stop me, if my advances are too…forward to you, Laszlo.”
           You slowly rise from your place, moving to lift your skirts so you might position yourself above the Doctor, straddling him in his chair. As if on its own accord, his good hand rises to situate on your waist tightly. You gently grasp his weaker hand, his “broken wing”, and lift it to your mouth, delicately kissing the palm, each finger.
           Laszlo mutters your name, transfixed by your mouth’s movements.
           “I would love every part of you,” you begin, continuing your assault of affection as you whisper against the part of him, he views as most broken. “I would care for you in every capacity in which I’m capable. I would strive to be deserving of you in every which way.” You drop his hand and lean forward, hands grasping the back of the chair as you hold his gaze. “I would have you claim every part of me, I would have your marks for the world to see, if you wished. I’ve dreamt of you and I in the most compromising positions that I dare not say, on nearly every surface of your study, my bedroom, the Institute. I would give you every single piece of me, Laszlo, every ounce of my attraction. I would give you my darkest sins and my deepest pleasure, if you would allow me too. Please, Doctor Kreizler, let me please you.”
           You didn’t know what you were expecting from your confession.
           Perhaps you wondered if he would push you away, exclaiming that your desires were too much, your words too sinful, and that he would cease associations with you immediately. Perhaps you thought he would scold you for being too wanton, too unbecoming of a woman of your standing. Perhaps you hoped the worst that would happen is he would kiss you softly and instruct that you both go to bed in separate rooms, that more carnal needs could be discussed at a later date.
           Never in your wildest dreams did you expect to feel Laszlo shift and harden beneath you, eyes growing so dark they were nearly completely black, and have him reach his hand to curl around the back of your neck.
           And you certainly didn’t expect the deep growl that escaped him as his lips, tongue, and teeth clashed with yours frantically, animalistically.
           Neither of you had experience, you both knew this.
           But you both knew what you wanted, what you needed, and that would be enough to motivate you.
           You both took what you could, Laszlo leaving your lips to reach what he could of your neck, lavishing it with lips and tongue. He explored expertly, quickly learning what you liked based upon the quickening of your breath, of your pulse. What was left of his analytical mind was fascinated by the chain reaction of events, how you spurred each other on.
           When he nipped at your ear, your hips rolled uncontrollably, and a rough groan escaped him unconsciously.
           Fascinating indeed.
           He panicked slightly when you stood, wondering if he had stepped too far. The panic raised as you strode across his study, heading quickly to the door.
           “Wait, my dear, I-“
           “Calm down, Laszlo,” you hushed him, and he heard a loud click of the door locking from where he sat. “I merely don’t wish to be interrupted. If this is still what you wish.”
           He leans back in his chair, breathing heavily, observing you as you stand once again before him. “I should be asking you what you want, my darling.”
           You grin, shaking your head. “Was my speech before not enough for you to know what I want, Doctor Kreizler? Can you not infer exactly what I want from you from the writings in my journal? It’s your turn to share, else I might just leave you like this.”
           His good hand involuntarily juts forward, grasping yours desperately.
           “Don’t you dare.”
           You giggle, and he smiles at the sound.
           “Then, tell me what you wish, Doctor.”
           “I wish…” he trails off, watching as your hands move upward to begin slowly undressing yourself.
           “Yes?” You prompt him teasingly, continuing your motions. “Don’t mind me.”
           Laszlo shifts in his chair, erection clearly visible by the bulge in his slacks. “I…I wish…” his voice trails off again as his eyes take in every inch of your skin that’s uncovered. “I wish to be with you in every manner. Intellectually, spiritually, physically. I wish to connect with you in a way I never will with any other living creature on this Earth. I wish to feel you around me, to bring you to climax. I wish to fill you, to be yours, to fuck you, to make you Mrs. Kreizler…”
           He stops at that, only becoming aware of his own ramblings you straddled him once again, completely nude.
           The faintest voice in his head wondered if you made him stupid, but it was silence as his eyes took you in completely.
           “You are the most gorgeous specimen I’ve ever been graced with seeing, my love.”
           You pull him in to a languid kiss, gently tasting each other as your hand travels down his chest.
           “You speak of love, of my being Mrs. Kreizler…” you start, almost losing your train of thought as you feel him twitch beneath you, your hips rolling to meet his. “Another day I’ll ask you to remind me of those words. But for now…” you lean forward, mouth grazing his ear, causing him to shiver. “I need you to fuck me, Doctor Laszlo Kreizler.”
           For all of your faith in him, you don’t expect the next feat of strength.
           With only his good arm he manages to lift the pair of you from the chair, quickly placing you upwards and onto the desk of his own study, mindless of the papers underneath you, of any others that might be in the building as you shriek in surprise.
           He captures your mouth with his, more forceful, captivating, as his good hand explores your form, grasping both of your breasts before heading downwards to the warmth between your thighs. His fingers collect some of the wetness that had escaped your folds and examines it with an almost mocking scientific fascination.
           “Is this all for me, my darling?” he questions, and you find yourself at a loss for words as he curiously lifts his fingers to his mouth, his tongue slowly tasting you off of them.
           “Fuck, Laszlo,” you whisper, reaching forward to pull him in for a kiss again as he chuckles darkly against you.
           His teasing ends when your hands wander downward, now working at the buttons of his slacks frantically, your palm grazing across his length through his pants, causing him to gasp.
           “My God,” he pants out, and you pull him out of his slacks. He’s hard, warm, rigid in your palm, with veins and girth that you hadn’t imagined in any of your fantasies, but was now all you could imagine filling you, ending that emptiness that you felt.
           “Please,” you whimper, and he gently removes your hand, before lining his cock up with your entrance.
           He meets your eyes, checking one last time to ensure this was what you wanted.
           “Laszlo, please –“your begging is cut short as he breaches you slowly, pushing his full weight forward as the pair of you connect.
           It’s unlike anything you’ve ever felt.
           A tantalizing combination of pleasure and pain, your mind repeating an endless mantra of “Laszlo”, which you realize, when he’s fully inside, flush against you, that you’re muttering out loud.
           “Oh, my love,” he breathes, his damaged arm lightly resting on your thigh, his other gripping your hip so tightly you knew there would be marks.
           “You feel so right,” you mindlessly breathe, and you can’t help but moan at the feeling of him twitching inside you at the comment. You would remember that he likes praise, but…
“I don’t know that I will last long, my love,” Laszlo warns, his voice low, gravely, warm against your neck as he buries his face into it, pressing kisses into the skin of your shoulder.
It crosses your mind that you’re completely nude and he’s fully clothed, but the thought fills you with warmth rather than disappointment.
“Nor will I, but this will happen again, won’t it?” you question, a hint of doubt crossing your voice.
The Doctor silences it immediately, kissing you deeply. “Every night, every hour if you would let me, my darling. You are so wonderful…”
“Then please, fuck me Laszlo. I want to cum, I want you to fill me, I – oh!”
The first snap of his hips was relentless, and it was only more intense from there.
He was strong, sure of his movements, chasing his own pleasure and encouraging yours as much as he could, pressing kisses into your neck, your breasts, your lips, his good hand finding your hair tightly. Broken moans left you as dark, rasping breaths escaped him, and it was all too soon before you felt your peak approaching, familiar with the sensation from lonely nights with your own hand curiously working against yourself.
“Laszlo, Doctor Kreizler, I-“ at your moaning of his title, something in him snapped, and his teeth sunk into where your neck met your shoulder.
A deep cry left you as you reached your climax, a white-hot rush waving over you.
As your cunt clenched around him, Laszlo lost himself, growling his native German tongue as he lost his rhythm, heat filling you as he came.
You two didn’t have much time to come down from your highs, as the door to his home could be heard opening and closing from the floors below.
“Doctor Kreizler?” Sara Howard could be heard calling.
Your eyes wide, you rushed to put yourself back together, close wrinkled, roughly thrown back on and your hair being a wreck. You hoped you could pass it off as merely the result of a rough day, an intense mental break.
You turned to Kreizler, who was a picture of perfection, seeming to not be rattled by the events before…almost.
           “Back to the case…?” he trailed off, his voice filled with uncertainty, and you smiled fondly at the terribly awkward, intelligent man before you.
           You step forward and kiss him softly, the warmth between your legs and bruises on your thigh a reminder of what had just occurred.
           “Back to the case. We can continue our escapades when it’s all over, Doctor.”
           He chuckles, confidence returning to him as he nods. “I look forward to it.”
608 notes · View notes
starlightsray · 4 months ago
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Hybrid!Reader x Hybrid!Maknae line
(Fox!FemReader, Fox!Jeongin, Dog!Seungmin, Cat!Felix, Rabbit!Jisung)
Summary: Struggling to make ends meet, Yn decides that maybe getting a roommate would help pay the bills. What she doesn’t expect is a gang of hybrid boys to move in and fill her heart and home with something she never knew she needed.
Genre: porn with plot tbh, hybrid au, fluff, suggestive (future smut)
Word count: 1.8k, nxt part will be longer! (header by @/s-trixy)
Was it a safe decision? No. But was it a cheaper decision? Yes.
And with that you posted on your snapchat story, asking if anyone was interested in moving in to be roommates, or if they knew anyone that was interested.
Your tail twitched with nerves as you stared at the post. Yeah, you hated living alone. Especially being a Fennec fox, a naturally social creature. You felt lonely when you came back from work to an empty house, despite hanging out with your friends regularly, some of which were your coworkers.
But was it really worth inviting possibly a total stranger to live in your house? What if they were a murderer? What if they wanted to cut out your organs and sell them on the dark web?
Your eyes drifted to the pile of bills collecting on the kitchen counter that you knew you’d barely be able to pay.
On second thought, maybe selling your organs isn’t such a bad idea.
“Oh! Before I forget,” Changbin slurs, voice muffled as you and him gorge down food during your very short lunch break, leaning against the wall outside of the restaurant you both worked at. “I saw your post about looking for a roommate. I have some friends who are desperate for a place to stay.”
“Desperate you say?” Your eyebrow quirks up, but before you can explain your suspicions the short man is already answering.
“They’re not criminals okay? It’s a bunch of hybrid idiots who still act like they just came out of the womb and don’t have much real life experience. But they’re a bonded pack and would like to live together. The reason why they’re so desperate is because nobody is willing to house all of them.”
Now you were intrigued.
“How many are there?”
He looked down and fiddled with his ziplock sandwich bag before biting his lip and giving that signature bashful smirk. “Four?”
“Yes. But Yn-“
“Four dudes?! Bin, you’ve seen my house. I have one spare bedroom. How do you expect me to fit four guys in my house!”
“That’s the thing Yn, they’re fine with sharing a room, in fact I’m willing to bet they’d prefer it!”
“What about when they’re heats come around? They could get really dangerous!”
“You know I wouldn’t suggest it to you if I ever thought there was a potential of you getting hurt right? They’re good guys Yn, just kids really and I’ll always come over if you need me. Hell, when their heats roll around they can come stay with me, or you can stay. Either way, you have a problem, and I’m offering a solution.” He turned to you, expression now confident, a bit teasing even, and pulled out his phone.
“Do you want me to give you their numbers or not?”
You hesitated. “Seo should be a salesman.”
Your sat on the couch waiting for your new roommates to arrive, trying your hardest to remember all their names from previous group chat conversations and they’re hybrid species, but when the doorbell rang all your recollection of memory disappeared.
Multiple voices exceeded from the closed door, one particularly deeper than the rest, but they all came to deafening silence when you opened said door.
Your canines dug lightly into your bottom lip as you tried to conceal a chuckle at the comical gang of boys, eyes wide, ears stood at attention and all standing in a row. They almost appeared like school boys who had just been sent to the principals office.
Breaking you from your inner monologue was the taller, puppy eared hybrid with floppy brown ears, dressed in a simplistic, cute outfit. “Hi, we’re Changbin’s friends who were interested in the roommate offer. You’re Yn, right?”
“Yeah, I’m Yn. Come in!” You smiled, holding the door open and moving aside to let them walk through.
“I can help carry in the rest of y’all’s stuff.”
“Oh, this is it.” The same boy replied again, and you hoped you suppressed the shock his sentence invoked as you shut the door.
“This is...all your stuff?” You looked over at all of them as they now stood in your living room, each holding a singular backpack or suitcase.
“C-changbinnie hyung is helping us move our bunk beds in. We couldn’t fit it in our car with all of our luggage.”
The deep voice you heard earlier spoke, and you followed the sound to the shy looking blondie with fluffy pointed ears and a button, freckled nose. He looked absolutely adorable, doll like. There was no way that was his voice.
But your theory was wrong as he began again, “Ah, don’t worry about sleeping arrangements! We don’t mind sleeping on the floor for tonight until we get the beds set up.”
Before you could protest (though you don’t know what with, you had no idea what you could offer them to sleep on other than couch cushions and maybe a sleeping bag) the puppy, who seemed to be the most bold out of all of them, gave you a charming smile.
“I’m Seungmin, a Labrador dog hybrid. This is Felix,” he gestured towards the deep voiced boy, who gave a flustered wave. “Nice to meet you Yn, I’m a tabby cat.”
“M-my names Jisung,” another boy spoke, long dark rabbit ears on top of his fluffy black hair. He was practically bouncing on his heels, nervous but clearly excited. “Binnie didn’t tell us you were the same species as Jeongin!”
His big brown eyes landed on your large ears before leading your gaze to the last stranger, who you now notice was somewhat hidden behind the forms of the others. His ears were just like yours and his eyes were sharp but meek.
“Hi Jeongin,” you greeted gently, a weird feeling brewing up in your chest. You’d never met another fox hybrid before, other than your family.
He swallowed before he spoke, his response coming out breathless. “You’re a fennec fox too?”
You let out a giggle as you nodded, finding yourself strangely bubbly. Catching yourself, you cleared your throat before announcing, “I guess I can show you guys to your room now and then we can figure out what to do for lunch.”
The rest of the day was somewhat uneventful, but interesting none the less.
After the boys unpacked their bags in their assigned room, which you just were using as a study area, it only having a small closet to put their clothes in, a desk, and computer (which you never used for studying after graduating) you briefly discussed lunch before unanimously deciding y’all would need to call for take out and go to the grocery store later on in the week. You all had vast differences in your species, meaning your food tastes also.
Seungmin, being a domesticated dog breed, didn’t seem to have any distinctly animal like food desires, though he did mention he particularly enjoyed meat, and really just about anything.
You and Jeongin were both predators, and agreed that vegetables were of the devil, and meat had to be in every meal of yours.
Felix had the most expensive sounding taste, as well as elegant. Just as picky as a house cat, but the upside to it was that he offered to make you all beef Wellington for dinner sometime.
Plus he claimed he could make the best chocolate chip cookies.
Lastly, there was Jisung, the only prey animal and the only vegetarian of all of you. His diet was the simplest, saying he enjoyed vegetables, fruit, and junk food.
The order was quick to arrive, and you all ate in the kitchen together, making pleasant conversation and admittedly finding the peculiar bunch hilarious. They really all seemed like brothers.
After the meal they all scattered, Seungmin politely excusing himself to take a shower (he was surprisingly calm for a dog, so far at least) and Jeongin and Felix went into their bedroom to set up their gaming system. Jisung was still at the dinner table, munching on his salad seemingly with only his front teeth, cheeks stuffed and puffy. Cute.
You were stood at the sink washing the dishes, the boys offered to all wash there own, and you agreed that in the future you would all take turns, but for tonight they should just relax and settle in.
“Finished!” Jisung beamed, suddenly appearing to your side and holding his plate, looking like a child who was proud of finishing all their food. You returned the smile, though you doubted it was even half as bright as his.
“Ok! I’ll take this for you,” You started to reach for the plate in his hands, but he moved it away from you, nudging your hip with his.
“No, I can wash it! You take a break.”
“No Jisung, I told y’all I’m doing the dishes tonight.” Giggling at the pout he flashes you, you try to snatch the object from his grasp. “Give me that.”
“No!” He cries, dramatically hopping away from you before giving you a playful glare.
You knew bunny hybrids could be rather playful, but you didn’t expect this. Nevertheless his child-likeness was absolutely adorable, and you found yourself gelling with his personality perfectly already.
“Don’t think I won’t chase you.” You stated, turning to him with a growing smirk.
And with that he was off, and so were you, your fox tendencies coming out when you saw his cotton ball tail twitch as he ran away from you.
Jisung was having a laughing fit as you chased him around and around the couch, before you released a playful growl and changed your direction, forcing him to rethink his course and run himself right into a corner. You’re walk had a prowl to it, and Jisung couldn’t help but to cower himself down at the sight of you, clearly you had gone too deep into your predator headspace.
The poor bunny only managed a bewildered “Y-Yn?” before you lunged, both of you falling to the ground.
It was the sound of both your bodies hitting the floor that made you come back to your senses, but the visual that greeted you practically made you lose it again.
Jisung was looking up at you with wide, innocent eyes, hands obediently held up against his chest as he laid on his back beneath you, sufficiently caged in. Then his vision switched between your face and lower, a burst of pink spreading across his cheeks. Then you realized.
He was struggling not to stare at your breasts, that were conveniently peeking out of your shirt and right in his face.
He was seriously too cute.
Gosh. You had to get a hold of yourself. You were definitely wrong, they weren’t the dangerous ones,
You were.
A/N💌; Reblog and give me some feedback! It really encourages writers when you tell them how you liked their work! :) - ray
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softlybarnes · 3 months ago
Endings and Ambrosia
3B; Part 7 - Masterlist
Summary: Bucky is used to being alone, so is the girl living in apartment 3B. He keeps to his routine, to crossing off amends. But mutual loneliness forges an unlikely friendship. Alone and reclusive, sweet and incredibly strange, with deep secrets and regrets, 3B has more to reveal than meets the eye.
This Chapter: Everything comes to a head.
Pairing: Bucky X Reader
Word Count: ~8.8k
Warnings: abandonment issues, violence, smut, death, fatws series spoilers
A/N: The LAST PART!! Thanks for coming on this journey with me!! Please let me know what you think!
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Walker stands bloody and twitching in the center of the square, Captain America’s desecrated shield strapped grotesquely to his arm, red glistening, slipping down the metal. A wild, unhinged look is lodged in John’s eyes. The whole world’s gaze is pinned to his worst moment, to America’s shining new promised son's quick, spectacular fall from grace.
She clenches her eyes closed for a moment before she looks across the sea of raised cell phones, her eyes immediately hooking into Bucky’s gaze, Sam next to him. Peering into his eyes in that moment is like watching the very last of Steve Rogers’ legacy crumble to ash all over again.
Bile rises in the back of her throat, char coats her tongue.
Maybe this is her fault. If she had been a bit quicker, she could have stopped this. If she had been able to hook her fingers into Karlie’s jacket and hold her back, all of this could have been avoided.
But she had failed.
Once again, she’s failed at trying to do the right thing.
Her world feels broken in that moment, irreparable, a grief so potent it burns ripping through her chest. She had believed in heroes all her life, and John Walker had broken that belief with one action.
All those comic books lining her shelf, the mock shield on her wall, skipping school to sit outside of Stark Tower, visiting the street that Steve Rogers used to live on - all of it fades, all of it feels as good as a lie. Her sister’s voice in her ear telling her that she was as good as them, that she could make the world better, that she had the chance to - breathes with all the harshness of false prophecy.
Her sister believed in her as fiercely as she believed in them.
For nothing.
She had been sick for weeks after the Battle of New York. She had been forced to walk past alien corpses and the twisted metal of downed ships, rubble and destruction, for months after. She had been forced to watch tourists pose with the aftermath and feel like the broken, cracked earth was her fault.
No one had known she had huddled in a basement with terrified uptowners, alien metal searing the palms of her hands. No one had known that she had killed, and that it had made her violently sick.
She had only felt a sense of failure, of having done something wrong. She had decided her mother was right, her power should be hidden, never used, it only brought on suffering and destruction.
It only made the world bleak.
Had the others killed, or only incapacitated the invaders? It didn’t matter. She only knew that there was red staining the tips of her fingers, alien or otherwise. She only knew that she could not be trusted to do the right thing, to make the right decisions.
Heroing should be left to those who understood it, she had decided.
I thought, if I was meant to be a hero, she had told Bucky, I would always know right and wrong. That it would come to me in a moment of clarity and there would be no more gray areas, no doubt.
John Walker was living proof that wasn’t the case, that putting on a suit and believing yourself a hero did not make you one.
Then her heroes had failed too.
Those she looked up to all her life, Earth’s best defenders had let the world disappear. She had left heroism to who it rightfully belonged and still, it had all come crashing down.
Dust and ash - that was what she belonged to, she knew. The world had taught her that. She had kept her power hidden and still it meant nothing, still the world broke, and in turn broke her.
But she had failed worse still. She had killed in the name of protection during the blip and felt nothing at the loss of life, a blank space inside her heart where sorrow should be. A wide emptiness had yawned open in her soul. Was it worse to feel nothing or feel so much that you drowned?
She had failed at being a hero twice, and in fact, probably made a better villain.
Everything she had always believed about right and wrong, about heroes, was false.
She has always been wrong. She would always be wrong.
Heroes knew nothing.
But then her eyes catch on Sam.
And Bucky.
She knew them to be human, she knew them to be funny and caring and flawed. They were not gods on a pedestal but struggling with the same ideas she was, about right and wrong, about what the Flag Smashers stood for, about the moral grayness GRC. She knew them to be doing their best.
A suit and a shield didn’t make a hero, a heart did, an attitude.
She knew that but still it feels like a revelation.
And she would be damned if she let Walker take anything from her. She could help, and this time she would do it differently.
Karlie is still and shocked beside her, trembling with barely concealed disbelief.
What will happen next?
She knows exactly what will happen next, because it has always happened. History repeats itself, over and over, a snake swallowing its tail.
Lemar’s death by a member of a purported terrorist group would not go unanswered. The group would be hunted, Karlie would be hunted, but the refugee camps would catch the backlash, those who had sheltered Karlie and the other Flag Smashers. The group whose home bases were made among the displaced.
The camps would be raided, the people shuffled away like broken cards. All for the sin of aiding those who had defended them when no one else would stand up.
And Karlie.
If Karlie saw the people forced out, evacuated, deported, if she had to bear witness to it all alone, the thing she was most trying to prevent…
Well, then Zemo may find out what radicalization really looks like.
It was radicalization 101, really.
Bucky’s eyes are still locked on hers, unwavering and watchful. There’s sorrow etched in his gaze, like he’s already lost everything, like he’s already lost her. She wonders what Bucky sees when he looks at her.
She thinks about Sharon in her big, cold mansion, alone and bitter. A villian in her own right, a hero turned criminal. Maybe Sharon had a right to her bitterness, the world had betrayed her again and again, bitten down into her until she bled. And maybe she should do that too, let the loneliness consume her like she has in the past, let the unfairness of the world make her cold. Maybe she would hurt less if she followed that same path.
But she can’t.
Maybe she had done a poor job of helping people before, too full of vengeance to see straight, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t do better now.
Maybe she could save Karlie from herself.
Maybe Bucky knows, even before she does, what she’s about to do. He opens his mouth, as if to call out to her.
She hesitates for half a second before reaching out and clasping Karlie’s hand, plunging them both into unreality.
“What do you think you’re-,” she yanks on her hand, not hard enough to throw her off. Karlie could easily break out of her grip if she wanted to.
“Listen to me,” she cuts Karlie off, gripping her hand with both of hers tightly. “I have the power to disappear. We’re invisible. They can’t see us or hear us. Don’t think about him,” she jerks her thumb over her shoulder. “Think about what Sam and I said to you. Think about what is about to happen. Think about the people under your care, the people you love. Who do you think is about the catch flack for this when they can’t find you?”
Karlie’s eyes flicker back and forth, her mouth opening a little.
“You know who. You know what will happen now. But we have some time, we can stop this. I am not aiding you. I don’t agree with your methods, I can’t anymore. But I cannot let those people suffer the consequences of your stupid plan.”
Killing John Walker, she thinks, what an idiotic thing to try.
Though she gets the sentiment.
“How?” Despair wends its way through her eyes. “I didn’t mean to-,”
Karlie hadn’t thought that far ahead, what the consequences might look like. She hadn’t meant to implicate anyone.
“Contacts. Do you have contacts? Surely you have contacts in the city? People who can help shelter them?”
She nods, a fierce look twisting her features, resolute. Karlie squares her shoulders. “Yeah. Yes, we have other safe houses and friends. I can’t just have them all walk down the street. People will notice a mass exodus.”
“Leave that to me. I can lead them away so there won’t be witnesses to report it. But we need to go now, this most terrible spectacle is likely already online.”
Karlie begins leading her away, twisting through alleys, marking out shortcuts she can’t begin to guess at, still clinging to her wrist. “We can move them by family. There aren’t actually that many refugees in this city,” Karlie says, her eyes determined.
She jerks Karlie around, “I can’t help you, or your followers.”
Karlie nods, bitter but accepting.
Many hours later she makes her way back to the building where the camp had been, now empty of all its previous inhabitants. American servicemen filter in and out, local police and government officials. She and Karlie had successfully moved many of the displaced people to friends around the city. Karlie’s followers had scattered to the wind in the chaos.
Karlie had coordinated with friends and convinced the people to leave with her, that they would be safe with her until they could reach empty side streets away from the camp.
She’s exhausted, tired down to the center of her bones, hours upon hours spent invisible, hiding and leading as many people as she could to quieter parts of the city, giving quick directions to the safe houses before going back for more.
They couldn’t be seen leaving the camp, witnesses might speak, but once further away, they would be able to make their own way.
She and Karlie had stood in the empty camp, listening as police crashed through the floors below them.
“We did it,” she had said.
“They would have done this, really done it,” Karlie says as footsteps start up the stairs.
She had nodded, a little irritated. “Of course they would have. But we didn’t let them. Do remember violence isn’t always necessary to achieve your ends. I have been in your place before. I lost my mother too. You must not follow in my path, it hurts too much. You must think further than your next step, you need to think about the end. Because they won’t just leave you alone and people will get hurt otherwise.”
She had paused, before swallowing, “My sister is a lawyer. She can advocate for you. There are other ways, believe me. You have the world’s attention now, it's your decision what to do with it next. And you don’t need to do it alone.”
Karlie had looked unconvinced but taken her hand when offered to her. “I suppose we’ll see.”
Now, she follows Torres through an archway into an interior room of the camp where Sam and Bucky are talking, looking a little worse for wear.
“Hey, you got your sleeve back,” Torres says cheerfully to Bucky, a wide smile breaking open his face, like sunshine through clouds.
Bucky grunts and starts to walk away, irritated, when she pushes back into reality. It’s hard, and costs her precious effort, but eventually she stops flickering and stays solid. “Sam Wilson,” she says when they only stare at her, “it appears as though you have gotten your shield back.”
“Well,” Sam starts, “We didn’t so much get it back as take it from Walker.”
She suppresses a smile. “Yes, well, I’m very glad to see it back with whom it belongs.” She pauses for a moment, clearing her throat and digging her fingers into her palms, nervous and sick. She’s sweating through her shirt and feels like she might pass out. Bucky’s eyes are boring into her from across the room. She can feel the accusation in his eyes.
“I don’t know where Karlie has gone,” she says, by way of explanation. “I helped the refugees move, not her followers. I knew they would raid the camp looking for her followers and I couldn’t let it happen again. I knew if she had to witness what was about to happen that it would only make things worse. I am sorry for-,”
Sam holds up a hand, he’s smiling a little, amused. “I knew as soon as you disappeared what you were going to do. I wish you would have hung on to Karlie, though.”
She winces, rubbing her shoulder where Karlie had nearly ripped it out of the socket. “Yes, as do I. She’s unfortunately much stronger than I am capable of corralling. She cares about these people though, with all her heart.”
She can feel Bucky’s eyes on the side of her head.
Still she doesn’t look at him.
Torres introduces himself then, shaking her hand, “You’re the girl on the radio?”
“The very same, dear.”
“It's good to put a face to a name.”
Torres walks toward Sam, pointing at the shield excitedly, and so she takes the opportunity to cross to where Bucky stands.
She stops a few feet away and the gulf between them has never felt wider. “Why would you help her?” He asks eventually, his voice raw with worry.
Bucky has a fading bruise beneath his eye, a cut on his cheek. He’s carrying his left arm at an odd angle as though it had been hurt though that should be impossible.
“I wasn’t helping her,” she says, tilting her head to the side. “I was not. You know my past, you know I could not leave innocent people to the mercy of the state.”
“It's the government, 3B, not the damn terrorists you fought in the woods.”
The venom in his voice makes her shrink away, curl her fingers against her palms and glance down. “Yes, because a government has never done anything to hurt people,” she says quietly.
Bucky crosses his arms over his chest, refusing to concede her point. “So you let Karlie get away.”
“She would have gotten away anyways, Bucky Barnes. She’s craftier than that, you know that,” she peers at him with tired eyes. “I’m very sorry for leaving you behind. I wish there had been time to explain what I needed to do.”
He shakes his head, licking his bottom lip, exasperated. Her apology only seems to upset him more. “She could have done anything to you. She was going to kill Walker, she threatened Sam and his family. Didn’t you think she might use you to get to us? What would I have done if-,” He doesn’t finish his thought, his voice is like steel against her nerves, battering her already tender heart.
“Oh,” she says, stepping back, ice engulfing her in one full gulp, her blood running cold. “I see. My value is as a bargaining chip.”
“I didn’t-,”
“But you did.” She swallows and looks away, dread picks at the inside of her skin, makes her itch and rub her palms together. Her fingers are raw with anxiety. Her throat closes up, and all she wants to do is go home.
Would she ever be able to do the right thing? Would she ever have anyone in her life she hadn’t marred with shame?
“Bucky Barnes, I do care for you dearly, much more than I should. And I’m sorry I’ve disappointed you. But I am dangerous and sharp all on my own. I’m clever. And I have fought for a very long time on my own. I am not a damsel in distress. I cornered Karlie, not the other way around.” She wants to turn and flee, wants to disappear and scream until her voice breaks.
“You do not have to worry about my becoming an inconvenience.”
The space between them goes silent, Bucky’s breathing loud, panicked. “No. I didn’t - I didn’t mean-,”
“I know you understand me. I know you understand my past,” she whispers suddenly, words pouring out with abandon. “But do you know me? Do you understand the person from the past is me now? Do you know that broken kid, the girl who killed and struggled and fought - do you know that that is still me? I did those things, Bucky Barnes. I am those things that I did. I am vicious. I was a killer. I was hunted and I know what it means to be Karlie. I was Karlie.” She takes another step back, “Do you understand that? Do you know who I am or do you only know who you want me to be?”
He opens his mouth but she continues recklessly, determined to have him understand, “You said to Zemo not to compare me to them, that I’m not like them. But Bucky, I am. I am exactly like them. I would burn the world for my family, for my friends, for you. If I were them, I would be worse.”
Sam and Torres are listening now. “You can’t understand because you weren’t left behind. You can’t understand because the world has said to you that your return fixed everything. We who were left behind have been abandoned twice. I am them. So many people are them.”
She takes another step back, and another. “Do you know who I am?”
“3B,” Bucky says, shock having overwhelmed his anger. “Yes. Fuck, yes, I know who you are.”
But in that moment, she can’t believe him.
“I can make my own way home. I don’t want to burden you anymore.” Before he can respond she turns and walks to Sam, trying to stay in reality, not to fade away in agony. Trembling she smiles at Sam. “Thank you for bringing me along. I’m very glad to see you with the shield, it belongs with you.”
She says goodbye to Torres and leaves.
Bucky doesn’t follow her.
The apartment feels different. Too big and open, quiet and lonely.
Like ghosts live in the walls.
Nothing feels right or complete anymore, like a hand has reached down from the sky and plucked away everything familiar and left her with nothing. Everything is the same and yet nothing is.
She sits in the window the first day back and watches her neighbors.
Bucky doesn’t come home and so she doesn’t look for him. He doesn’t text her. But she knows he must be safe with Sam, possibly chasing another lead and so she doesn’t worry.
She longs for a knock on her door, for Bucky to arrive with food and kindness in his eyes.
She finds she’s bored, that she wants to join the people on the street instead of watch them. She emails her professors and catches up on her schoolwork before growing restless.
So, she gathers up her books and laptop and heads to the Persian bakery a few blocks over, the one Bucky had stopped at, the day he had met Fatemah and found out about her mother.
When she walks through the door, the sweet smell of baking pastries invades her nose. It feels like coming home, her throat closes with familiarity. She settles herself at a corner table and half expects them not to recognize her.
So when Fatemah approaches her table with her favorite pastry and a coffee, calling back to her mother in Farsi, she’s surprised.
“We have been hoping everyday that you would come and visit! How are you? Where is your sister?” She’s bombarded with a million questions, she finds out that Fatemah is engaged.
She feels stupid for having ever locked herself in the apartment, for forcing herself to be alone.
But how could she have looked her friends in the eye and pretended everything was fine after everything that had happened?
She couldn’t then, but she had changed since then. She had taken action to protect without hurting anyone. She had been the hero she always wanted to be, no matter what Bucky thought about it, and she was proud.
It feels good to sit with her childhood friend, to do coursework and drink coffee.
When she goes home, she calls her sister for the first time in months.
She is not ashamed of her past anymore, she’s not ashamed of herself anymore.
For the first time since her power found her when she was a child, she is not afraid of herself.
Bucky trudges up the stairwell of their apartment building slowly, up three flights of stairs to stand outside 3B’s door. She was his last loose end. All the joy and peace he had managed to collect in Louisiana had been lost on the flight home. But he needs to make this right, needs her to understand.
There’s a pressure under his skin that makes him want to peel out of himself. He cannot lose 3B. She’s the shining star of his dim world, the center of his universe.
Two weeks with no contact had shown him what he already knows.
He’s hopelessly in love with her. Nothing and no one else would ever do.
He knocks on the door lightly and waits.
But it doesn’t open.
Just like the last time.
He imagines her peering through the peephole, scoffing, not opening the door.
Or maybe she wasn’t at home, maybe she had never made it home from Riga.
Bucky spends five minutes knocking continuously on her door, until a neighbor from down the hall pokes her head out and glares at him. He gives a little wave of apology and she disappears, muttering under her breath.
“3B,” he says, resting his forehead against the cool wood, dropping his backpack to the ground. “Please let me in so I can explain myself.”
When there’s still no answer, he glances surreptitiously down the hall at the nosy neighbor’s door to make sure she’s gone, before picking the lock on 3B’s door once again.
The security chain isn’t in place this time and so the door swings open easily. “3B,” he calls out, listening to silence echo back at him. Was this how it would always go between them? Bucky apologizing to open air while 3B hid among the dustmotes. “Sweetheart I-,”
“Bucky?” He whirls around.
3B is taking the last few steps up the stairs and comes to a halt on the landing. She’s carrying a stack of textbooks and has a backpack slung over one shoulder, her phone is in her hand, hanging loosely by her side.
A beat passes where they only stare at each other before 3B regains composure, lifts her phone to her ear and says, “I’ll call you back,” before ending the call. Her eyes flick to her open apartment door that he still stands in the frame of. “I would like to point out that this is the second time you have broken into my home, Barnes.”
Before she might have said it with a sly smile and poorly suppressed amusement, now the words are flat, a statement of fact, almost cold.
It makes him want to crawl inside himself, to rub salt into his very veins.
But he’s shocked, nearly as shocked as the day he found out she could disappear. “You’re out of the apartment,” he says in disbelief. She nods as she flits past him delicately, spine straight, leaving him in the hall alone.
Bucky kicks his backpack through the doorway and follows, shutting it behind himself.
“Yes,” she sets her books down on the kitchen counter and lets her bag drop to the floor. “I was at the bakery.”
“The bakery,” he repeats.
“The Persian one? You picked up qottab there one day?”
He remembers, he knows the bakery. He’s just wondering if he’s stepped into an alternate universe, one in which 3B was not a recluse, went to bakeries by herself, and spoke with people on the phone.
Bucky nods and opens his mouth when she continues airily, “Yes. I go there to study sometimes. Fatemah sits with me and we chat. She’s getting married soon.”
His head swims. Maybe he fell asleep on the plane and this is all a dream.
“Yes, and her mother wants me to be a bridesmaid although I’m not sure that I should -,”
“And my sister may come to visit soon,” she says nervously, twisting her finger together, picking at her nails. “I’ve been speaking with her and my nephew on the phone almost everyday-,”
“3B,” he says firmly, cutting her off. “What the hell is going on?”
She stares at him for a moment before drawing herself up, lifting her chin indignantly, that haughty jut of it that lets him know she feels strongly about whatever she’s about to say. “I realized I could not live the way I was any longer. I have hidden for much too long and I don’t want to feel guilty anymore. I want to be seen and heard and felt. I have never felt that way and I deserve to.”
The tiny, fragile thing in his chest, held together by hope and budding love, falls to pieces. “Never?” He tries not to let the devastation creep into his voice but it does.
3B wraps her arms around herself, looking incredibly small and vulnerable, like he was a wolf at her door, come to swallow her whole. “I did with you. I thought I did with you,” she whispers.
Bucky closes his eyes, tries to keep the grief off his face.
Everything between them is in shreds, clawed to nothing.
But he can mend it. He can stitch them back together again. She isn’t lost to him yet.
“Listen, 3B,” he implores, glancing at her, at the tilt of her head, the slant of her brows. Her mouth is twisted and she holds herself away from him, like she’s trying not to cry, like she’s bracing herself for heartbreak. “Just listen. You don’t have to say anything. I am so sorry. I came here to explain myself. I came here to tell you something important.”
She nods, waiting.
He wants to ask if they can sit down but he’s afraid to break the spell between them. For the first time in weeks they’re back alone together, their bubble reformed, all their attention focused in on the other. 3B is peering at him, her gaze settling deep inside him, melting the spaces between his bones.
“I know you, 3B. I see your soul when I look at you. How could you doubt me on that? You said I don’t know you, not really. That I think your past is separate from you. I know that it's not, sweetheart, I know that better than anyone. I know why you don’t leave the apartment and distrust people and think about things until you’re so tired you pass out. I know you’re dangerous and sharp. I know you’re clever and - I know what you went through.”
He shakes his head, “When I said you aren’t like them I meant that. You aren’t, not anymore. But you are who you are because you know what it’s like to be them.” Bucky stares at the slats of the floorboards beneath his boots, “I didn’t mean that I don’t know your past, that I don’t accept it as a part of you. I do because it’s made you into the person I love.”
Her head snaps up, her expression is one of dumbfounded shock. “Love?”
“Fuck, 3B. Yes. I love you. Your soul knows mine,” He can’t look at her. She’ll see it, how it's in everything he does, this love. It consumes all of him, it burns. But it won’t be reflected in her eyes, it can’t be. “I wasn’t afraid when you disappeared because I thought Karlie would use you against us. I was afraid because I thought you might never come back.”
Everything in him is trembling, fear rising in the back of his throat like poison. “You can go where I can’t follow. If you wanted to disappear forever you could. You looked as devastated as I felt. I thought that if they didn’t hurt you, then you’d go on your own. And I’d never be able to find you.”
Bucky finally looks up at her, “For better or worse. I love you as you are.”
Her fingers are pressed against her mouth. “You should know by now, Bucky Barnes,” she says softly against her hands after a moment, “that I’m much too attached to you to ever willingly leave you alone for long. I would never disappear and-,” she pauses and tilts her head to the side.
“I would never leave you alone, never.” She suddenly crosses the space between them in two strides and wraps her arms around his neck, burying her nose in his shoulder. “Bucky Barnes I would never leave you alone. I love you.”
The warmth of her body is almost shocking, too good to be true.
For a moment he can only close his eyes in relief, stress draining out of his shoulders. When she starts to pull away, Bucky quickly wraps his arms around her waist, pressing her close, his lips against the side of her neck. “Don’t move, 3B.”
She settles against him, he can feel her breathing against him, taking deep gulps of air, inhaling the scent of his shirt. “I love you, sweetheart,” he tells her again, hoping she’ll echo it back.
“I love you, Bucky Barnes.”
Molten gold sweeps between his bones, rushes down his spine. Warmth seems to crack open his ribs, set his heart in her name.
He presses a hand against her jaw, tilts her face toward his. Bucky sweeps his thumb over the curve of her cheek, the flesh of her bottom lip, before he kisses her.
It feels like coming home, like a part of his bleeding heart has been fitted back inside his chest.
The kiss is soft at first but quickly turns to more, a desire burning through him. He wants to push inside her skin, live alongside her breath and blood and bone.
When she gasps against him, something between them shifts.
3B jerks back to search his eyes, to see if he had felt it too. Her lips are swollen, eyes bright.
Something flashes in her gaze, finding what she was looking for, before she kisses him again, the soft line of her body pliant against his. Her fingers pull up the edges of his shirt, dance up his spine.
He brushes the pad of his thumbs against her hips before he lifts her. 3B wraps her legs around his waist immediately, still kissing him, her tongue licking between his teeth, like she’s looking for something precious, memorizing every bit of him.
Bucky carries her carefully, passing the couch they’ve sat on together so many times, spent so much time building their friendship block by delicate block. Her mouth moves lower, over his jaw and down his neck.
Her teeth scrape against his collarbone and she giggles when he groans and nearly runs into a wall.
Bucky drops her against the bed, settling himself between her legs, pressing close to her.
It's the first time he’s been in her bedroom but he barely has time to register the eclectic style, the messy desk and bedside table before he’s consumed again.
She tilts up to greet him, one arm circling around his back, fingers tracing the ridges of his spine, her other hand moves against the side is his throat. 3B’s tongue slips against his, flicks against his lip, her thumb tracing the underside of his jaw, a pleasant pressure that makes his cock harden.
The taste of her is heady, like honey and ambrosia. Bucky pulls away from her lips and mourns the loss, instead laying short bursts of kisses down her neck, nips lightly at the curve of her jaw before he draws her shirt up and over her head.
Soft skin lies bare before him, swells and curves, scars and dips.
The word beautiful wasn’t enough.
She’s heavenly, like a goddess sprung to life. Bucky has that sense again, that she was someone special that he did not deserve, did not deserve to look at, that couldn’t possibly willingly fit her soul against his.
“Dearest,” she says, smirking, “taking a picture might suit you better.” Her fingers circle his wrist, nails tapping against his skin. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” She glances down, like she’s not sure if she’s fully solid.
Pride swells in him.
Only he could make her so happy she involuntarily disappeared.
He had meant what he said earlier. 3B could be nothing else other than his soulmate. They were carved from the same stone, lept from the same plot of earth, torn from the same fabric of the universe.
“Just lookin’, honey,” he snips back. But his voice is a soft husk even to his own ears. “Lemme look at you.”
She tilts her head, gazing up at him. “It's only fair I get to look at you too.” 3B tugs at his shirt. “Lemme see you, honey,” she mimics him with no small amount of sarcasm, sticking her tongue out, but he’s struck by the sweetness dripping from her lips.
Honey. Dearest.
He’d do anything to have her call him that again. Bucky tugs his shirt over his head without fear.
3B traces the waistband of his jeans as she looks at him, her gaze long and appraising, hungry and all consuming, before she traces a scar on his side. “You are very beautiful, Bucky Barnes.”
Bucky huffs out a breath of a laugh and leans down to kiss her quiet, the lids of her eyes when they flutter shut, her nose, those lips. “Yeah, sure,” he deadpans against her skin, “But I got nothin’ on you 3B.” Her breath hitches when he moves lower and nips at the skin of her throat, her collarbone, the softness of her like the skin of a peach beneath his teeth.
Sweet and sharp and forbidden. He wants to eat her up, swallow her whole, just so they’ll never have to be apart.
Her pulse flutters in her throat, against his lips when he kisses her there, breath hitching in her lungs. 3B seems overwhelmed, her hands sweeping over his shoulders and arms, her lips chasing his.
Bucky flips the clasp of her bra in one deft movement and pulls the thing off her. Not giving her a chance to dwell on the moment, he presses in close to her again, lying a gentle kiss between her breasts before sucking one supple nipple into his mouth.
Her fingers tangle in his hair, pressing him closer, like she would fuse him to her given the chance. A quiet little moan pushes past her mouth, like she’s trying to keep it inside. She arches into him as he swirls his tongue around the pebbled skin, tugging at his hair. Her nails scratch at his scalp, a pleasing scrape.
“Bucky,” she whispers, her hips lifting to press against his thigh. “Buck,” she pulls him back up to her mouth, kissing him hard.
“Do you get it now 3B?” He pulls back just enough to whisper against her, his lips still touching hers. “do you understand that you’re my whole fucking world? I’d do anything for you, sweetheart. I can’t lose you. I love you. I understand you. We share the same soul.”
She’s nodding, fierce love in her eyes. “Yes. Yes, Buck.”
Bucky is shattering in his force of presence, heavy and warm against her.
She could not have another thought if she tried. The only thing in her universe is him, the brightest star in her orbit.
He lavishes her chest, sucking and pinching, nipping at her flesh like she was forbidden fruit. Bucky’s hands cradle her back, her waist, delicate with care. She grinds against his thigh, desperate for relief, and feels a stab of triumph when he moans.
When he’s distracted with her lips again, content to kiss her until the end of days, she unbuttons his jeans and slips her fingers beneath layers of fabric, until she can take him in her hand.
Bucky jerks against her and groans, going still for the first time.
He’s hard already, warm in her palm. She moves her hand torturously slow, not pulling his cock free. When she draws her thumb over the tip, feeling wetness gathered there, he pulls her hand away.
“Enough of that, 3B, fuck,” he says, holding her wrist in his hand, sucking a kiss to her palm. “Another time.”
The empty, lonely space inside her that has slowly been filled by him over the last few months suddenly flows over. “Promise?”
Bucky doesn't answer, too preoccupied with pulling her jeans from her body, too busy with kissing his way down her belly, his teeth pressing into her skin. His hips grind against the mattress, lifting and falling gently, like he’s doing it unconsciously.
She hooks an ankle against the back of his thigh, encouraging the movement and giggling when he follows the guidance with a moan.
His nose skims her bare thigh. His tongue finds the crease between her leg and hip.
A white fuzziness consumes every part of her, tingling the base of her spine, the center of her belly, when he slides her panties away and presses the flat of his tongue to her, seeking out her clit immediately.
He sucks the bundle of nerves between his lips, sending sparks cartwheeling through her vision. She groans, loud and unrestrained.
“Bucky,” she says, not sure if she’s asking for something or just saying his name to make sure it's real. That they were real and together and loved.
“I’m here, honey,” he answers, pausing to kiss her thigh again, his chin wet, tangling their fingers together, holding her hand against the bed. “We’re here.”
She runs her fingers through his hair, watching the shift of his blue eyes. “Bucky,” she murmurs, like it’s a mantra, like it’s a prayer. For the first time she is not eloquent and coherent.
There is only him and her and this moment.
It doesn’t matter that she doesn’t have the words to tell him, because he already knows.
He knows what she’s saying even without the words.
“I’m here,” he says, dipping his head down to split her open with his mouth. One hand is still tangled with hers while the other goes to her entrance, pressing in, filling her.
She gasps and arches, expert fingers tracing the inside of her with ease. “Buck,” she grips his hair hard, pressing her hips up.
She’s trembling, teetering on the edge of oblivion. Bucky’s tongue swipes over her clit again, fingers curling, before something snaps and the whole world comes crashing down.
A trembling shiver shakes the bones rapidly turning to liquid gold in her veins.
She’s babbling, can hear her own voice but the words are shaken and turned inside out. The meaning is lost as she pulls him up and kisses his wet mouth, tastes the sweet of her own pleasure on his lips.
But she can only taste him beneath, the musky wild tang he always carried.
“Hold on, hold on,” he says peeling away from her, an involuntary whine leaving her mouth as he works his jeans off.
She watches, watches him grip himself and stroke, long and firm. She licks her lips, eyes flipping up to watch him.
His eyes are burning, an all consuming fire.
Maybe she would have felt self conscious with someone else but with Bucky she only feels seen.
She sits up, reaching for him, only to be pushed back down gently. “Not today darlin’.”
The warm bulk of his body settles over her again, lithe muscles firm against her
Bucky is kissing her again when he pushes into her. His cock swelling and filling her so completely her breath stalls.
He’s cursing softly under his breath, eyes clenched closed. “Fuck, I might not last.”
She laughs and kisses his cheek, his mouth, guiding him slowly, her hands on his hips, his ass.
Bucky moves languidly, strangely graceful.
No matter how close they were, it would never be enough. She wants more, needs more, wants to bind him to her.
He pushes her arms above her head, his fingers, metal and flesh alike tangles with hers.
She opens to him, tilts her head up so he can kiss her jaw, hooks her knee against his hip.
Bucky sinks that much deeper inside her, drags that much slower against her.
I love you, he whispers.
Did he say it out loud? She’s not sure but she hears it anyways.
She feels every curve of him. And when he releases her hands, she traces the knobs of his spine, the seam of his shoulder.
Bucky groans when she kisses him there, tongue dipping along his scars.
His tongue makes a map of her skin, tracing the hills and valleys of her body, breasts and collarbone and neck.
But when she nudges her nose against his, he comes back to her, let’s her cradle him close so she can kiss the shell of his ear, the dip of his jaw, the bow of his mouth.
The weight of him against her, inside her, burns her up, makes her want to scream.
Bucky snaps his hips hard against hers, moaning tightly against her throat, his teeth against her skin. “Are you close, 3B?” He asks, desperation threading through his voice.
Words still don’t come to her. She nods against him, pressing her fingers to his back, pressing them as tightly together as she can, all of the warm expanse of his skin against hers.
His hips stutter and stop with a moan, wet staining her thighs, before the band in her belly snaps again, reshaping her world, whiting it out into nothing but him.
He kisses her temple and neither of them move.
Hours later, they’re still tangled together, half asleep.
She tells him about her new routine since coming back to New York and Bucky tells her about his time with Sam in Louisiana.
“Sam is as close to a perfect hero as the world can get,” she says. “A good man to take up the shield.”
“I didn’t get it before,” Bucky says against the crown of her head, “Why he might not want it but I get it now. The shield to me, it's the only thing I have left of the past. But, it doesn’t matter, because I have a way forward now, with you, with Sam.”
“Might you finally be admitting that you make a good team?”
“Maybe,” he grumbles.
She laughs and hesitates before asking, “And Karlie?”
“Still looking for her. Sam’ll let me know if something comes up. I think Torres is on it too.” Bucky strokes a finger down her spine, traces the curves of her skin. She shivers, leans into him, and feels no desire to go to the window as the sun sinks below the skyline.
Contentment slips inside her heart. She would willingly lie next to him until the earth ended and a new world began.
“Feels kind of stupid to ask this,” he says suddenly, his fingers tightening against her skin. “But are we...would you-,”
“I am very much yours, Bucky Barnes. You’d do well not to forget it.”
She feels the sigh of relief twist free of his bones.
“Yeah,” he says, “And I’m yours.
The peace lasts exactly two weeks.
Two weeks of Bucky making his mark on her apartment and body. Evidence of him is everywhere, of his firm presence in her life. His sweatshirt on the couch, his novel by her bedside, his shampoo in her shower.
Bucky brings his groceries to her fridge. Sleeps in her bed at night, naps on her couch in the afternoons.
He kisses her every chance he gets and makes love to her more often than that. He’s happiest settled between her thighs, his mouth drawing out orgasms like they were sweets. She’s never met a man like him before and likely never would again.
Bucky smiles more, not so prone to his long silences and brooding stares.
He dances with her in the kitchen and lets her teach him how to cook.
And then the call from Sam comes, the day of the GRC vote which she had been following closely on the news with worry.
Karlie was in New York, and the council looked to be a target of her followers.
“I have to go,” Bucky says to her, holding his phone like it might rise up and bite him. “I’m sorry, doll, I know how you feel about this.”
The pet name slides over her like butter. Sweetheart, baby, doll, anything but her name and she was okay with that. 3B feels more like her name these days anyways.
“Bucky Barnes,” she says. “I think I need to come with you.”
He hesitates, “I don’t think-,”
“I know,” she says, holding out her own phone to him. “I know. But I don’t think I have a choice.”
His features shift into something unreadable, the calculating hard look back in his eyes as he reads the message from an unknown number.
Are you with us or against us?
“I think you’re right.” Worry presses a crease between his eyes. “Still got the bulletproof vest?”
She follows Bucky, invisible, through the lines of police and emergency responders, listening to people defer to him, move out of his way as though parting water.
Sam is chattering in their ear, somewhere in the sky above their heads.
She follows Bucky, invisible, through the lines of police and emergency responders, listening to people defer to him, move out of his way as though parting water.
Sam is chattering in their ear, somewhere in the sky above their heads when Sharon finds them. How she had gotten into the US undetected she can’t begin to imagine.
But when they break off, she follows Sharon instead of Bucky, an instinct she can’t name, telling her where to go, down to the sublevels of the building where GRC members are being evacuated, shuffled into vans.
Sharon doesn’t know she’s there, slipping through the masses unnoticed, directing the crowds with slight touches, reminds her of the Battle of New York, of other basements and people.
She bides her time, waiting and listening, watching Sharon keep to the shadows.
Something tells her Karlie will come, Karlie will come to the basement. She listens with anxiety to the battle above, to Bucky fighting and Sam diving through the sky. Sharon is silent, only speaking when there’s need.
She hopes Bucky has the sense not to call out to her, to ask after her.
And he doesn’t.
Her instincts prove correct when Sam saves a truck of council members and the Flag Smashers peel off, to the sublevels under construction where Sharon has been lurking.
When Karlie appears she stays silent and invisible.
“Drop your weapon, Karlie.”
She realizes as the two women aim weapons at each other that they know each other. Puzzle pieces begin to fall into line in her mind, the art theft and murder of Selby. Sharon’s vast knowledge.
Power Broker.
Sharon was behind the serum distribution, she was likely behind everything.
She grabs Karlie by the back of her jacket in warning but the other girl only subtly shakes her off. She grips her again, it wasn’t too late.
She could save her still.
When the French pirate and Sam show up and a fight inevitably breaks out, she finally lets herself appear, throwing herself in beside Sam with the force of everything she has, everything she is.
Karlie shoots Sharon who reaches out and snatches her wrist, “What did you hear?”
“What do you mean?” She kneels beside her, ripping her jacket off to press to her wound. “Hear what? I followed Sam here.”
Sharon glares at her, suspicious. “Mhm,” she hisses when she presses the jacket harder against her.
But she pushes her away, standing, moving toward Sam and Karlie, who are facing off.
Sharon raises her gun aiming at Karlie’s chest. Before she can think about it she throws herself between them arms wide, but Sharon shoots her anyways a bullet lodging in her shoulder that drops her to the ground. She had missed the vest by millimeters, for the bullet the lodge between her arm and shoulder perfectly.
And she supposes it must be fate because Karlie is shot anyways. The shot is fatal, no doubt lives in her mind.
A bright light snuffed out like nothing, like the world didn’t need passion and heroism like Karlie’s.
She sits back, her shoulder burning with pain as Karlie dies beside her, her eyes fastened only on Sam. She glances away, can’t watch Karlie die, instead glaring at Sharon, shaking her head.
“I’m sorry,” she hears Karlie whisper.
She feels her life leave the Earth behind.
Silence consumes all, burns through the air like poison.
“3B,” Sam says, “You okay?”
“You got shot. Bucky might kill me.”
She shakes her head. “It was my fault. It’s not bleeding so much. I’m okay. You should go, Sam Wilson. You can still stop the vote. She died trying to stop it. Please try.”
But Sam is already standing, ahead of her by strides. He picks up Karlie’s body and walks swiftly away.
Sharon is standing, holding her hand out to her. “Let me get you back to Barnes.”
“You aren’t going to shoot me again?”
An ocean of grief has opened inside her. She’s aware that in another life, she could have been Karlie, that she was Karlie.
“She didn’t need to die,” she whispers as Sharon helps her up. “She didn’t need to die.”
“It was the only way. I’m sorry.”
She disagrees but is too exhausted to say so, to argue.
They help each other above ground where Sam is speaking to the media, members of the council.
“Captain America,” she says as Sharon lets go of her and moves away, relief floods her despite the sorrow rushing through her. “Finally.”
She shuffles slowly toward Bucky, who's leaning against an ambulance. He looks shocked when he sees her. “You’re bleeding,” he says, panic immediately slipping into his voice as he turns to her. “What the fuck happened? You gotta talk to me during shit like this.”
She shakes her head, “Yes, Sharon shot me. I was being covert, Bucky Barnes. Now quiet Captain America is speaking.”
“Are you okay?” He asks, turning her toward him.
“The pain is manageable.I’m not in much pain.” She meets his eyes and winks, “Not the first time I've been shot, Bucky Barnes.”
He blinks, a little shocked, and then grins.
Still, he curls an arm around her and kisses the side of her head. “That’s my girl.”
3B tells him and Sam what she heard from Sharon, but she has no proof and Karlie is dead, and so nothing comes of it. It was probably a ruse, and Sharon was a spy after all.
She and Bucky settle into a routine in the months that follow.
Bucky often goes to visit Sam in Louisiana, but 3B stays in New York. She says it's where she belongs, where she’s meant to be. She spends time reconnecting with her neighbors who she hasn’t spoken with in years, bringing them food and flowers and coffee.
She starts volunteering in the displaced camps near New York.
Her sister and her family visit, and Bucky when Bucky meets them he feels more than a little scrutinized. But he seems to pass inspection.
They visit her mother’s grave together, and 3B lets her grief go.
In Karlie’s memory and their mother’s, her sister helps 3B start advocating for the displaced groups, to head off the radicalization that Zemo had so preached against.
Bucky wants to be with her all the time but he’s glad that she’s come out of her self imposed shell.
She smiled more, chatters at him just as often. But now he gets to watch her with other people, watches her bloom.
She cares about every person she meets, and Bucky knows she would have made a poor diplomat.
When they finally get a moment of rest together he makes love to her, cooks for her, dances with her.
It’s the home, the life, he never got.
But now he can, he can have both. He can follow the duties he has and, have a home.
Two homes even.
With Sam. With 3B.
He thinks it might be as close to peace as he’ll ever get.
Bucky’s sure something will disrupt it eventually, but they would cross that bridge when they came to it.
410 notes · View notes
cazzyimagines · 4 months ago
Perfectly Exasperating - Part 2
Synopsis: After John Walker knocked you out with his shield you wake up in a strange bedroom with a man you were not too happy to see
Word Count: 1.8k
Warnings: Nothing just kinda Zemo fluff
Author’s note: Usually I like to stick to canon, I enjoy keeping my fics as accurate as possible, but I had to go off canon for this one. I hope you all enjoy this sequel to ‘Perfectly Exasperating’ the writing style differs from the last one but it adds a lot more detail in my opinion
Master list
Part 1
Part 3
Part 4
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Your eyes crack open as the redness of dawn light flows over your eyelids, drawing your mind out of a deep sleep that encompasses you. Closing them again, you groaned in irritation at being pulled out of your slumber.
“You’re awake at last,”
Your eyes snap open.
You shot up so fast, making your head lurch, a dizzying effect taking over it, and your eyesight goes black for a moment. “Are you okay?” a worried voice asked, moving over to you.
“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine” you mutter, putting your hands down, feeling the softness of a duvet underneath you, grounding you. The bottom of it dipped as Zemo sat down at the end, his eyebrows furrowed as he looked at you.
Purple and brown bursing littered the side of his head enough to make you wince at the pain he endured to gain them. His right hand was wrapped up in bandages, a reminder of what he did for you.
“Zemo… why uh, why are we in the same bedroom,”
Zemo tilts his head, looking away as he thinks, then recognition flashed in his eyes and he grins, glancing back over to you.
“I assume you remember little?”
You try your hardest to think back to what could have happened, but everything felt hazy. Your last clear memory was when John Walker had hit you with your shield and Zemo had broken out of his cuffs to attack him. Anything after that was blurred, like a fading dream. It was on the tip of your tongue, but you couldn't quite reach it.
“Nothing after John hit came in here to see how I was doing, right? Just that,”
“You didn’t spend the night in here with me,”
“I can neither confirm nor deny that,”
He laughs at your horrified expression, your cheeks burning in embarrassment. “Just tell me what happened!” you whined, but he shook his head with a cocky smirk, “I don’t think I will,”
You groan and let yourself fall back onto the soft pillows which cradled your aching head.
“I’ve made you a drink, it's to help with your headache,” Zemo says, getting off from the bed, grabbing a drink from a tray, bringing it over to you. You kindly accept it, though your gaze flickers to his hand.
“How’s your hand?” you asked
“Is this some concern coming from you y/n?” Zemo asks, raising an eyebrow at you as he pulls a seat out beside you.
“Fine, if that’s how you act I won’t ask you anything in the future,” you grumble, trying to shift your body so your back was turned to him but all efforts resulted in your head hurting more till having to look at Zemo was better than the pain it inflicted on you.
He holds his hands up in surrender chuckling, “I’m sorry y/n, it’s just the other day you were refusing to even talk to me-”
“And today I’ve woken up to find you in a bedroom. It seems we have skipped a few steps in our relationship,”
He looks away, smiling slightly as if sad, “Yes, I suppose we have. My hand is okay, sore but it will be fine in a few days,” he looks back at you, his eyes burning into yours with sincerity, “Thank you for asking, y/n”
Suddenly feeling very self-conscious about the way Zemo was looking at you. Your eyes focus on the glass in your hand, gazing at it in the hope Zemo will grow bored and look away from you, but Zemo seems content observing you.
“So uh, where’s Sam and Bucky?” you ask,
“They’re gone,”
“... I’m sorry what?”
“They went back home. I’m afraid you’ve been knocked out for a while. During that time John Walker killed one of the flag smashers, in front of many people with a lot of cameras. You’ll be happy to hear that he is no longer Captain America,”
Zemo pauses for a second to see your reaction, but to his surprise, you didn’t show any. You sit there emotionless, your eyes glazed over in thought.
Swallowing, he continues, “The flag smashers ran so Sam and Bucky went their own way till they appeared again,”
You look at him confused, “And left us?”
“Well, at first they weren’t sure what to do with you. You weren’t waking up, and we were worried. James had another plan for me. I was supposed to go to the Raft but James let me escape last minute,”
“Why did he do that?”
“I said I would look after you,”
You snort, “And he believed that,”
Zemo’s lips curled into a slight smile, “No, they didn’t want to leave you with me but there weren’t many choices left. We weren’t sure when you would wake up and out of all of us I had the most resources to look after you,”
“It still makes little sense,” you mutter
Zemo reaches forward to grasp your hand in reassurance, “There isn’t a lot in the world at the moment that is making sense.”
When Zemo’s hand touches yours, it makes yours feel tingly, like it was foreign from you and the feeling slowly crept up your arm, making you shiver. You look up to Zemo, not speaking. He perplexed you. Yesterday you hated him and you had every reason to, yet he had been nothing but kind to you, trying his best to be friendly, to help you. Even stepping up to John Walker for you, hurting himself for you, and now he offered to look after you? You just didn’t get him.
You make a move to stand up but Zemo mutters ‘no, no, no’ and gently pushes on your shoulders to lie you back down.
“I’m afraid you are going to stay in bed for a little while just in case you are still concussed,”
“I said I would look after you and I plan to do that to the best of my capacity,”
You struck your hands on the bed in frustration, “Great, what the hell am I supposed to do then while I am stuck,”
Zemo’s eyes glance away from yours then back a cat-like smile gracing his lips, “We could find ways to stay entertained,”
You glare at him, not even wanting to dignify him with a verbal response.
“I’m joking, I’m joking,” Zemo says, jokingly putting his hands in the air. He turns away from his seat and walks towards one of the many bookshelves in his room. “Is there something you would like to read?” he asks
You pause for a moment thinking, “Just pick something for me,”
Hovering his fingers over a few books he finally settles on one, pulling it out from its place, and then he backs over to the chair, offering the book out to you but you shake your head.
“Could you perhaps... Perhaps read it out to me”
He tilts his head surprised then smiles, genuinely.
He opens the book, flicking through till he finds the page that he wants, “This one has always been a favourite of mine to read,”
You nod, settling into the comfortable cushions on the bed.
He reads out the title to you, “The nightingale and the rose,” it sounds familiar to you, in a long distant dream type of way.
Zemo spent the next few minutes reading. It was a short story, but impactful. The way he read it stirred emotions in you, his voice gave the story life. His voice felt like he could speak the very words he said into reality. As if rather than telling a story he was simply narrating what he saw before him. It captured you and pulled you into the imagery of the story.
“'What a silly thing Love is,' said the Student as he walked away. 'It is not half as useful as Logic, for it does not prove anything, and it is always telling one of things that are not going to happen, and making one believe things that are not true. In fact, it is quite unpractical, and, as in this age to be practical is everything, I shall go back to Philosophy and study Metaphysics.' So he returned to his room and pulled out a great dusty book, and began to read.”
Zemo reads to the last sentence then slowly closes the book as if he was shutting out a long life. Ready to let it end, but sad nonetheless.
You close your eyes, engraving the story into your mind. You can hear Zemo sigh before you, the silence of wanting to speak but not knowing what to say stretches out before you till he gathers his sense to speak.
“Do you think love is foolish like the student?”
It’s an earnest question, of innocent curiosity, but hidden underneath was a harder question. He was hiding it under a more easy-to-answer question so as not to startle you.
You swallow, collecting your thoughts together to answer. You have to pick out your words carefully, as if walking on eggshells you couldn’t make one wrong move.
“No. In the right place, at the right time, it isn’t but people give love too much power over their lives, like the nightingale. Love becomes foolish when you trade it over your sense for survival,”
“You speak as if you know from experience,”
Your eyes flicker to his, fearing he could sense the inner emotional intensity inside you, but as you look into his warm eyes, you could see the same emotions reflected in his.
You nod in understanding, “You can feel yourself relate to the nightingale, can’t you? After all, you did to the avengers because you lost your family,”
“I relate to both sides of the story. Love, after all, is a complicated thing,”
The next hours of your life tick away as if seconds on a clock. You and Zemo discuss the book in great detail and read over more that rested in the room. In these moments it was as if you were talking to an old friend with whom you shared fond memories of your youth, not a war criminal. Zemo was peculiar in how he made you feel that way.
Your discussion was interrupted though when his phone let out a loud chime.
“If you would excuse me y/n,” says softly, reaching his hand out to yours, squeezing it gently as he gets up and leaves you alone in your thoughts.
As he walks out of the room, he looks down at the phone and smirks,
“Sam: Once we have found out where you have kidnapped y/n you will never see the outside of the raft again,”
He places the phone back into his pocket, leaving Sam on seen and struts down the desolate hall of his secret mansion.
Taglist: @sinister-sleep @cable-kenobi @faustlyaccused @chipster-21 @icarusinstatic @yallgotkik @montypythonsholysnail @bunniwritesx @checkurwindow @huntheimpossible @jayxkelsi @avgravy @prestigious-tea @aloyssia @hannahbal-the-fannibal @loonylunalovegood77 @alainabooks143 @jokerprettyprincess @plumsandkiwis @wonderwoman292 @there-goes-thefighter @multiyfandomgirl40 @freyjasamael @ineffablebean
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himbovillain-anon · a month ago
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I saw these two asks and my lazy ass found a way to combine the two together 😈
Also this is an everybody lives au lmao
Putting up w/ the squad's bullshit
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You were never a fighter on the front lines when it comes to working with the suicide squad, but you still played a vital part as the team’s lead medic
The majority of people in both teams suffered relatively significant injuries, it was likely for all of them to survive, but very few of them were actually in a jovial mood
In fact, everyone was quite literally bickering their heads off
Boomerang was mad at blackguard for selling the team out, bloodsport was annoyed with peacemaker for trying to keep the information, harley was just trying to figure out what the hell TDK’s ability was, and no one knows why thinker was even with the group
Either way, it was a mess of criminals arguing with criminals about the whole situation
You were bandaging a few bullet wounds on javelin when you heard the sound of a gunshot
Turns out the argument escalated when bloodsport made fun of peacemaker's tighty whities and now you have to try and restrain everyone from murdering each other (again)
Hearing the commotion from the other room, colonel flag immediately stepped in and shot down the whole argument with just a few words, it was almost funny how all it took for the guy was to tell everyone to get their shit together for them to actually get their shit together
Turning towards you, it wasn't the first time that rick apologized for the mayhem that was caused by his teammates, but considering the fact he's the only normal one you could talk to, you didn't mind the company
You continued your work while flag was discussing the next mission with the rest of the group, you were sewing up an injury on boomerang's face when the criminal asked if you and rick were dating
The abrupt question came to a surprise to you, as you never really thought about it in that sort of sense, but you knew that rick was a good man who most likely needed a break from the bullshit that was the suicide squad
You turned around and noticed harley talking to rick, opting to eavesdrop in on the chat, you heard a very similar conversation to the one you had with boomerang
Apparantly harley has been egging on flag to ask you out as well
From the looks of it, it appears that he's got a bit of a crush on you
You sighed and continued your work, secretly hoping that rick would take harley's advice
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rcksmith · 4 months ago
Distracted — Five Hargreeves
Requests: “shit, i forgot. I'm the one who asked for smut prompts #30, #31, #61 and #96. Could you write them for Five Hargreeves? Thank you! So sorry to spam you with the asks X-X”
Smut prompts :
30. “I’d hold on to something if I were you.”
31. “Pushing back against my fingers already? How pathetic.”
61. “what would people say if they knew you were such a slut for me?”
96. “I think you forgot to lock the door, that means anyone could walk right in and see you like this.”
Couple: Five Hargreeves /Fem! Reader.
Warnings: smut heavy, NSFW, dirty talk, swearing, degradation. (I was in a bad mood hkjskjs)
Word count: 4k
A/N: We not tolerate any pedophilia here !!
I write about Five with their 20s. I write the same about the characters of Harry Potter.
Let me know if you want to be added for a taglist for a specific fandom (Criminal Minds, The Umbrella Academy, Riverdale, Roman Godfrey, or all)
English is not my first language, so I so sorry if have a mistake.
Requests are open. Love you ❤️
— — — — —
Five Hargreeves had a bad temper. It was explicit, hanging from his chest on a giant sign that said: “ABANDONATE THE HOPES IF YOU ENTER HERE.” And he knew that.
Inside his body he housed a sarcastic, explosive and sulky soul, with no patience for half the world. Everything about him exuded a dangerous, authoritarian, arrogant energy, mixed with distilled look that have always been able to subdue anyone.
Five is the type of man who, while everyone dreams of easy solutions, he knows that if he wants something to be done he will have to do it himself. He likes a hunting, taking the lead in any situation, having no problem breaking rules to make things happen.
And he was perfectly comfortable with that. Taking control of his world. Until, of course, you show up. Taking the key to his Olympus as if it had always belonged to you.
You were the one thing that Five Hargreeves couldn't subdue. He was unable to impose to you his reputation as a man who should not be challenged. Because that was exactly how the world saw Five. Like a man you don't challenge. Even his siblings realized, after a certain point, that it was not advisable to play with him.
But, apparently against all common sense, none of this had an effect on you.
You were not afraid, or pondering your words. You rolled your eyes at the things he said, mocked his arrogance and always looked at him with a combination of a smile and a look that, holy mother of God, Five hated. It was the typical expression that said: “ I know a lot more than you do, but I will be quiet because you are not worth my time.”
Five Hargreeves had a bad temper. But you raised it to stratospheric proportions.
It was completely exasperating, outstanding, you were a brat who didn't hear the voice of an adult, so used to being daddy's little girl. Because that was how he saw you. You were only 24 age while he was 30. It was expected that you heard him! But no. You did not give a damn.
“If you listened to me and chose the Colombian, that wouldn't be so bad!” Five scolded again.
This was the twentieth time he had said that to you.
There was a routine with the Hargreeves siblings: you brought coffee on Mondays, since you passed a great coffee shop on the way. Diego was responsible for bringing Japanese food on Wednesdays, Luther for Indian food on Fridays and Klaus for pizzas on Saturdays. It was a banal thing, but it brought a comforting feeling of, no matter how not anyone would admit, tradition.
But it was obvious that you had to piss Five off on that too.
“And I already said that they don't do the Colombian before ten in the morning.” You passed the page of a magazine you were reading, ignoring his tantrum.
“And you can't wait ?!”
This time you looked up at Five, giving a mocking expression.
“Oh, forgive me, your majesty. I will delay my journey just because your eexcellency wants Colombian coffee.” You laughed, turning your attention to the magazine.
Five felt the tips of his ears heat up, the fingers of his hands go white from the force that he clenched his fists. You were so fucking annoying!
"You are unbearable." He said, because he saw no other way to express the hateful little monster you were.
You looked up at him again. “Serious? Me? You are the one who is complaining about not getting your blend coffee.” You turned your attention to the magazine “Like a child who didn't get chicken nuggets in the shape of dinosaurs.”
What?! Fucking what?!
Five opened his mouth in bewilderment, now anger rising up his neck. How dare you, fuck?! You were younger than him!
"What did you say?!" He repeated, his voice low but deep, his eyes bloodshot with rage.
You didn't take your attention away from the magazine by replying: “Like a child who didn't get chicken nuggets in the shape of dinosaurs.”
Oh, no. Oh fucking no.
Five slammed the coffee travel cup on the kitchen counter, walked over to you and closed your magazine brutally. You looked at him indignantly.
"What a fuck ..."
But Five didn't give you time to finish. He stuck both hands in your arms, forcing you to get up from the chair so quickly that the object fell to the floor. He pushed you back, lifting you up and making you sit at the wooden table, his eyes still on fire with your words.
"Child, isn't it ?!” He snarled, spreading your knees with his hands, settling his body still standing between your legs.
You were wide-eyed. Looking at him in amazement. Your heart was pounding in your chest so hard that you thought Five would be able to hear it, while your breath had been lost somewhere between the path from your lung to your nose.
Holy shit.
It was no secret that Five Hargreeves was gorgeous. This was not an opinion, it was a fact. With midnight hair, emerald green eyes and alabaster skin, it was not surprising that he was able to steal his breath wherever he went. And you were not immune to his charm. To be honest, you never thought it would be.
But the difference between you and the girls who fell at his feet was that ... well, you practically lived with the guy every day. You had been friends with Klaus for two years, and as a result you ended up becoming friends with the brothers and captivating them. It was almost atypical that you weren't with them. So, as a result, you ended up having time with Five too.
And, truth be told, it destroyed your will to want to impress him. As was common whenever see someone beautiful. Five Hargreeves was, in every way, arrogant. Irritating. Unbearable. Maybe it was your lust mixed with irritability, but you decreed that you didn't like him. That you would never want to fall into his bed.
Well…until now.
Until he accommodates his fucking tall, lean, firm body in the middle of your legs. Until his hands are glued to your arms in a touch of fire. Until your heart was racing like never before.
"You called me a child, didn't you?"
You wouldn't be able to answer anything in that second, even if your life depended on it. So you just nodded, a slow, cautious nod, like prey looking at hunter.
"I will show you my age!"
Five kissed you. In a way that no one had kissed you before. It was something hungry, angry, full of lust and with a desire that made you sigh softly. His hands were still on your legs, coming down to the back of your knees and pulling you firmly forward, sticking your whole body against his in a possessive way. His tongue invaded your mouth without waiting for an invitation, renouncing everything you had to offer as his.
That was a really kiss.
You put your hands on the back of his neck, running your fingers over the silky, black strands, letting your body be pressed against his as if you had been waiting for it a lifetime. Five pulled your legs closer, guiding you to close them around his hips and, once you did, his hands, determined and hungry, roam the sides of your body possessively.
"Five ..." a groan cut off your speech when his hands clung to your waist, pressing the hard and firm member to your core covered in the thin legging pants you wore.
"You already moaning and I haven't even touched you yet." His voice was overwhelmingly arrogant, full of amusement and convincing.
You were going to answer, because you weren't the kind of girl who kept quiet with a tease, but Five's hands made your waist roll around handily against his member, and a louder groan interrupted any line of reasoning you had.
“Oh, how adorable.” He scoffed, lowering his mouth to your neck and closing a hickey where pulse was “I wonder how the moaning will be when I do ...”
His right hand moved up to the inside of your thigh, rubbing his thumb in circles until he got to where you needed it most. “This.” Then he forced the movements where your clitoris was covered.
Your groan was louder than you would like to admit. The air became caustic, rarefied, the atmosphere became something breathtaking, claustrophobic, poignant. And, before you know it, it was already a wet clay in his hands.
Five Hargreeves had won. He had you exactly where him wanted.
Your moans grew louder when he tuned his thumb movements together with his pelvis movements against you. Your hands tightened on the back of his neck, your teeth closed on your lower lip in order to contain the volume, and your breathing was shaky. Your hips pushed against him, the thin leggings being smeared by the arousal that oozed from you, and as soon as his hand was only an inch away, you followed it with your hips.
“Pushing back against my fingers already? How pathetic.” Five played with the voice at the bottom of your ear.
You pulled the air against your teeth, whimpering, wanting anything he could give you.
“I bet ...” his lips slid under your skin without kissing, just making you wish, up to your lips and hovering there, a sigh away “If I asked you to take your clothes off and let me fuck you in this table like a good whore, you would gladly do. It is not?”
His free hand went to your face, taking a stir of your hair out of your eyes and placing it behind your ear. You were unable to contain the moan, closing your eyes tightly for a second, trying to contain how much your body screamed.
"Y-yes." You whined.
“Good." Five sprinkled a kiss on your lips before walking away.
You opened your eyes, your chest rising and falling with your heaving breath, your legs shaking. Your body screamed in protest at the separation, and you sent him a confused and inquiring look.
“You will learn who is in charge here." Five gave you a sly smile. "I'm only going to fuck you when you understand this."
Then he turned his back on you, took the coffee and disappeared in the blue flash.
This son of fucking bitch!
- - -
You were angry and frustrated. To say the least. Your body was on fire and mind replayed that day over and over in your head. It had been four days since Five's little exploits in the kitchen, and, to be honest, not only had he started the teasing.
Five gave you malicious and discreet smiles, gestured a lot more with his hands when he spoke just to remind you of what they could do. He hovered his body close to your whenever possible, brushing his shoulder against your, his hand gently on your back when he needed to pass beside you. His fingers even slid under your thigh under the table when you were having dinner. It was always like that.
And you were already crazy.
In the beginning, you sent him and their little game go to hell. He was not going to get what he wanted. But as the days went by, and Five started to touch you more often, the fire inside you burst, and it felt a lot less... torture if you just... gave in. The thought of sleeping with someone else just to appease that didn't bring you the same euphoria, you didn't just want sex, you wanted Five.
You knew he was playing with you. Just wanted you to give a sign that you were surrendering, so that he could give you what you wanted.
And after seven days, you gave in.
It was Monday, your mood was already an angry monster, but this time, you arrived a little later.
“Y/n, you are lateeeeee.” Klaus sang from the kitchen, biting off a large chunk of whatever it was before he sat down.
Vayna, Luther and Five were also at the table. Vayna and Luther talking about nothing important and Five reading a book under metaphysics.
You lied, placing the tray of coffees in the middle of the table. Five and Luther were the first to get, Vayna still getting used to coffee addiction.
“Allison and I are going to watch something today. Why don't you come with us? ” You sat next to Klaus, throwing one leg over his.
"Is it going to be in the cinemove?”
He denied “In the living room, you can sleep here after."
You shrugged. “Okay.”
"Did you go to a different coffee shop?" Luther raised his eyebrows, having just swallowed his coffee.
“No, why?”
“It tastes different.” He drank some more.
“It is Colombian.” You put the cards on the table, in a game that only you and Five knew.
You didn't look at him, but you could feel his eyes on you and a sly, malicious smile brushing the right side of his mouth. That was the only interaction that you felt Five driving you that day. The hours had passed and it was already one in the morning when the movie in the mansion's ended. It was not atypical you slept in the mansion, the guest room was almost called “your room” at that time. But there was… there was something different this time.
As you unbuttoned your pants, with the night breeze coming in through the window, you thought that maybe it was because you never slept there having feelings for one of the siblings. So impure feelings. There was something about sleeping under the same roof as Five that made you ... nervous. But as soon as you removed the piece and placed it on the bed, the blue flash flashed behind you.
Your whole body went tense, the hairs on the back of your neck stood up, and your heart was racing as if, suddenly, you had just returned from a marathon. You swallowed, the heat of his body hitting your back, while his hand went up your arm gently.
"You are such a good girl." Five's voice made your legs tremble, the butterflies in your stomach roll.
In this moment, feeling things that you never thought you would be able to feel, you wished always were a good girl for him.
"Did you do that for me?" His mouth joined the pice of your shoulder and neck.
You knew he knew he did, but the bastard wanted to hear it from you. Five wanted you to confirm that he had won.
“Yes” You whispered, the moonlight allowing you to see when his hand went down to your belly, playing with the cos of your dark blue panties.
"I knew you would be a good girl for me."
Then, taking you by surprise, Five pushed your chest onto the bed, bending you over, pulling your hips towards his with the other hand. You sighed when you felt his already hard member hit your pussy just covered by thin panties, now wet with your mess. Your hands closed on the sheet, your heart almost screaming in relief at the contact of his body behind you.
God, you wanted him so fucking much...
“What am I supposed to do with you?” Hargreeves reflected on a rhetorical question, his hands sliding over your surrendered body, squeezing your flesh with a force that would leave marks.
You whimpered, rolling your hips over his member. "Please"
“What would people say if they knew you were such a slut for me?” Five slapped your left cheek.
You moaned softly, tightening the sheet, your body refusing to remain an inch away from him. Your hips needed more from Five's, your whimpers increasing as he took off your panties and ran his fingers through your wet folds.
"Five!" You moaned louder, biting your lip as he played with your entrance.
"Should I just fuck you with my fingers?" He caused your entry with two digits "Or with my dick?"
You were an incoherent mess, days of denial and desire that burned arthrosis in your body.
"Answer me!" Five slapped you again, this time louder, more grotesque, making you cry out.
"Y-your dick!" You tried to say, “P-please. Fuck me with your dick, please. ”
You were desperate, that was the truth. Desperate for contact, desperate for touch. Desperate for anything that Five Hargreeves could want from you. Anything he wanted to give you.
"Hard?" His voice was now dark, slightly wicked.
“Y-yes! Please!”
Then Five stuck his hand to the back of your neck, curling his fingers in your hair and pulling your face up, making you face the ceiling as he leaned over and snarled at your neck:
"How hard?"
"Give me all!" You begged “Please, Sir. Give me all."
That title seemed to drive him out of his mind. Because the only thing you had in response was the sound of his belt falling to the floor and the rustle of his pants and boxers down, his right hand never leaving your hair. You groaned in anticipation, tears pricking your eyes from the desire that had accumulated so long when you felt the tip of his dick press against your entrance.
Five lowered his mouth to your ear, holding his hand more in your hair as he said: "I’ d hold on to something if I were you. "
Then he entered you. Hard, rough, wild. Opening all your walls and spreading your abundant liquid all over his dick. You opened your mouth in a silent scream, your nails etched hard on the sheet, tears streaming from your eyes without warning. Five gave you just a few seconds to settle for his size, starting to beat inside you at a relentless pace.
This time you screamed. Your heart pounding in chest, your pussy pulsing around Five with so much desperation that you heard him moan and curse behind you. The pace was rough, heavy, wild and full of lust. He fucked you like a rabid animal, devouring everything you had to offer, filling every last inch of you. The sound was of pornographic moans and bodies clashing with arrogance, filling the entire mansion with sounds that would not be forgotten.
"S-sir!" You moaned loudly, pushing your ass to Five at the same rate, making he hit the deepest spot inside you.
“Fucking such good slut!” He dumped one more slap on your ass, freeing his hand from your hair and joining both of them at your waist, pulling you towards him in an heavy rhythm.
Each thrust was an electric current poured into your body, excitement running down your thighs and melting both of you. Five groaned louder, leaning over and biting your shoulder, clenching his fingers aggressively against the innocent skin on your waist.
“I think you forgot to lock the door, that means anyone could walk right in and see you like this.” Five blew in your ear, receiving a loud groan in return, as yours tears flowed.
Your pussy tightened around his dick, pulsing in such a tight way for he.
"Oh, would you like that?" He teased you, feeling your walls tighten again. “I bet you would love to everbody see the slut you are to me. ”
"Sir!" You screamed, throwing your head forward, pressing your forehead to the sheet as you sobbed.
"Answer!" One more slap.
"Y-yes! I-I like could show that I'm your slut! ” You sobbed.
Five came out of you, making you whimper loudly in frustration. He turned you over on the bed, placing you in the center as he climbed on top of you, settling in between your legs and entering without warning again. You screamed, sinking your face into his neck as your legs closed around his waist, pulling his deep into you.
"Such a good bitch."
Five felt your limit riding fast, leaving you more breathless, tearful and desperate. You no longer measured the volume of your moans, your hands clenching your nails on his back, your waist rolling around to make him inside deeper.
"S-sir!" Then, without being able to control yourself anymore, you exploded. Came in long streams of broken moans and shaky breathing.
Your head fell on the pillow, your chest arching while you were on top of the climax. Five groaned at the scene, his limit being your expression of pure ecstasy. He sank in you as anatomically as possible, filling you with the hot liquid that overflowed from inside you.
You were both panting, sweaty and tired. Five let himself relax on top of you, partially loosening his weight, still stirring a few strokes to ensure that you had welcomed all his cum.
"Good girl." He praised you, giving you a small kiss on the neck, stepping out of you and rolling to your side on the bed.
"That was ... wow." You laughed softly, trying to catch your breath.
Hargreeves laughed too, taking the time to get out of bed, looking for the boxers and pants. You bit the inside of your cheek, suddenly not knowing what to do or what to say. Your heart sank at the thought of him leaving, and your mouth was faster than your common sense in saying:
Five turned to you, his brows furrowed in question as he buttoned his black pants.
"Can you ... could you ... stay?" You took a chance, your cheeks quivering under Five's intense gaze that never left you.
But, instead of the denial you were expecting, his eyebrows furrowed even more in doubt.
“But I am not leaving.” He said it as if it was obvious.
Did you blink a few times “No?”
“I was just going to get a towel to clean you up. There are certain things that I don’t like do naked.”
You opened your mouth to answer, a little shocked, but Five disappeared in the blue flash only to appear a second later, with a towel in hand. You sank into your own shame, muttering softly to yourself in incoherent sounds, you let Five clean you up.
“Did you think I was leaving?” He scoffed when he finished, looking at you with that smug look.
You rolled your eyes, turning to the side on the bed, your back to him.
"No." You mumbled.
Five laughed, settling better on the bed. "Come here." He said, patting his chest.
And, well, as much as you would like to consider yourself a rebellious girl, you did. Turning to him again, you snuggled into his body, laying your head on his chest while Five pulled the blanket up to cover the two of you.
Five Hargreeves had a bad temper. But at that moment, with you, you did not fail to notice the lazy and caring circles he made on your shoulder with his thumb.
Tagged: @bubblegumflamingos
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saintobio · 7 months ago
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underground fight club. (final)
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↳ iwaizumi hajime x f!reader
summary: gym trainer by day, underground fighter by night—Hajime Iwaizumi gives you a front row access to Tokyo’s biggest underground fight club after setting his eyes on you as his shiny new toy. little does he know, you’re there to infiltrate the illegal underground fighting scene with another purpose in mind.
genre: angst, smut, underground fighter au, 18+
warnings: profanity, violence, mentions of human trafficking (just discussing a criminal case), suggestive, some angst and yearning
a/n: the final chapter is here bye i’m crying — no but rly, thanks so much for supporting this series. this is by far my most popular series and i’m so genuinely thankful for everyone’s love 🥺 until the next one !!
part eleven <- masterlist
Hajime’s dad passed away.
At least, that was the last news you’ve heard about him according to Becca. It has been a year since you last saw Iwaizumi after he flew back to California and left you with a broken heart that still hasn’t healed for the past year. It was difficult to move on because everything reminded you of him. You remember him whenever you see the tattoo on your hip, you remember him when you see UFC fights on tv, you remember him every time you lay in bed at night hoping to feel his warm embrace. You missed his wood sage and sea salt scent that always lingered through your nostrils. You missed tracing the tattoos on his body—the tiger on his chest, the ‘no mercy’ kanji on his rib, or the snake on his forearm. You missed kissing his soft lips, having him dominate you and make you feel divine with the way he desired you.
With Hajime gone, you were lonely.
You’ve come into a conclusion that he did love you and that the only reason he had to leave was because he needed to be with his dad which was a decision you respected. Oikawa actually confirmed this after you spent weeks crying about his best friend’s sudden departure. However, considering the pain that he was going through made you feel awful and selfish because he went through a lot and it was sad that you couldn’t even be there for him at his lowest. You knew how much he loved his dad and the fact that he lost him 2 months after he came back to California must have shattered his already-vulnerable heart.
You had no idea how he was coping by himself but it had been a year now and he never once returned to Japan which meant that he was most likely starting a new life in America that, devastatingly, no longer included you. You weren’t going to sugarcoat and say it was okay—it wasn’t. You were broken but so was he, and at least even if he was going through a tough period, he had his mom and sister by his side. Although eventually, you learned to accept that he may never return to see you again so you had to go back to your boring old life prior to Iwaizumi. Except, this time, you were still intact with his circle of friends.
It was crazy to believe how you were actually still very close with them despite the betrayal you’ve showed from a year ago. You’ve done your utmost effort to apologize to them as time heals and they gave you a second chance to still be a part of their circle, minus the undercover situation, to simply act as you. They claimed that they could never get truly mad at you because you were only doing your job and they did feel the genuineness you showed towards them. Somehow, it was also Iwaizumi’s last request for them to accept you back in their lives should you wish to still be around them. Becca treated you like a real sister, Oikawa would often check on you, while the others would casually invite you over whenever they had plans. You were truly seen by them as family.
Just like tonight, after you’ve just closed another undercover assignment, you found yourself spending your Friday night at Oikawa’s house as he invited you over for a party with only his closest circle.
The reason why you loved being around them was because they reminded you heavily of Iwaizumi. Seeing them made you feel like he was still around and you were comforted at the thought that you could hold on to a piece of him despite of his absence. He may be a thousand miles away, but hearing about him from his friends filled the abyss he left in your heart. You were contented with the slightest crumbs you were indirectly receiving from him through his friends.
“There she is,” Becca acknowledged your arrival with a smile as you walked further to Oikawa’s poolside lounge where the clique always hung out. The others were happy to greet you and even offered you some drinks. “Hey, chill out with the drinks. She just arrived!”
You released a silent chuckle when Kuroo handed you a red cup. “It’s okay,” you told Becca before turning to Tetsurou, “Is this beer?”
The guy shook his head in response just as Bokuto appeared next to him with an arm around his shoulder, “Why do you hate beer so much? It’s good.”
You scrunched your nose and sipped from the red cup. It’s vodka, you silently thanked. “I don’t like the taste of beer. You guys know that.”
After your little alcohol discourse with the two, you later found your spot on the seat next to Oikawa while the guy was busy arguing with Hanamaki about who got laid the most for the past week. Apparently, you learned that Hanamaki was ‘bedding Oikawa’s bitches’ because the latter was too busy waiting around for that girl from the SWAT team that he seemingly was still trying to pursue.
What he didn’t know was how the girl actually liked Tobio based from what you have observed lately. It was painfully obvious. They’ve been in the same unit for a year now and you could see how they have gotten closer. You even wondered why they still weren’t dating, but every time you asked Tobio, he’d wave it off and say he wasn’t ready.
“How’s the last undercover stuff, Y/N?” Issei curiously inquired just as Becca situated herself on her boyfriend’s lap.
You leaned back and started your little story time, “It’s tiring but fun. I went undercover as a bartender for this club and we tracked down a serious case of sex trafficking in there. It was another successful raid.”
“Sick,” Hanamaki commented, looking genuinely impressed before he gestured towards Oikawa. “You should keep an eye on this pimp, too.”
“Shut the fuck up before I make you,” Tooru retorted.
Hanamaki grimaced at the guy’s choice of words, “Dude, that sounded wrong.”
With Bokuto and Kuroo sniggering on the side, you joined and watched how another round of childish arguments went on between Oikawa and Makki until Becca snatched your attention away.
“Your job’s like so cool, though,” she noted, approving the idea in her mind with the way she bobbed her head. “I think you’re literally perfect for it. Like, I know I got mad before when you went undercover on us but to think about it now, it’s because you were actually pretty convincing.”
Issei agreed, “For real. I never would’ve thought ‘til I saw you fight with Gia.”
Of course, that was one of your dumbest moves. “Yeah, well,” you trailed off to take another sip, “Haji thinks I was pretty stupid. He’s a lot smarter than I thought and he had everything calculated.”
It was true. You’ve never dealt with anyone like Hajime before and that was what made your undercover assignment with him one of the toughest and most memorable. Sure, it brought you a lot of pain, but it also led you to him.
“Iwa’s really fucking smart,” Kuroo chimed in. “That’s why he’s undefeated inside the octagon. He uses his brain, unlike someone...”
Bokuto and Oikawa both reacted against it and it made the rest of you laugh. Kuroo didn’t even drop names but they were fast to defend themselves as if the guy just stepped on their precious pride. Moments like these reminded you of how fun it was to forget about your hectic job for awhile and be around carefree people like them. If Hajime was still here, you were certain he’d be laughing along—apart from the constant kisses or his arm traveling around your waist. It might be repetitive to say but you missed the guy so terribly.
“I heard Iwa does underground fights in Irvine,” Hanamaki said which immediately took all of your attention. You had no idea he still did fights but this was news to you and Makki seemed to have noticed how your head perked up at the mere mention of his name, “California is home to many underground fight clubs, Y/N. Pretty sure he’s well known around there.”
You turned to Oikawa for confirmation since he was the one who had contact with his best friend, “Tooru, is that true? He still does fights?”
Oikawa nodded with a proud, smug face. “Hell yeah, he does. He said fighters in Japan are no match for those California dudes.” Suddenly, as Oikawa observed your full interest at the conversation, he decided it was amusing to tease you about it. “Why so curious, Y/N-chan? You still think about him?”
“N-No,” you denied to save face, “I’m just surprised he still does fights.”
“So you don’t think about him?”
“No. I mean, yes I don’t think about him.”
Your denial only made him snicker, “Really? Since you don’t think about him, you don’t mind knowing that he’s actually dating someone?” he asked, watching your emotions closely, “He showed me his new girlfriend and she’s fit as fuck. He’s really in love with her, too.”
Wow. Your heart stung. That stupid piece of vital organ caged inside your chest felt like it was being squeezed very painfully but you tried your utmost best not to show how hurt and affected you were. It has been a year and there was no sign of Hajime coming back. Did you really expect that he’d wait around for you? Of course he’d fucking find someone new. You weren’t the only girl in the world and you were surely easy to forget about. He was probably very happy with his new girl and that was the reason why he never bothered to return anymore. He found his life with her.
“Good for him,” you silently responded, forcing a smile.
The corner of Oikawa’s lips soon lifted into a smirk, “I can totally hear the pain in your voice.”
And as you were about to reply, Becca already threw an empty cup towards the guy’s head. “Stop messing with her. Iwa’s gonna fucking kill you if he was here.”
“Don’t worry about it,” you immediately clarified, albeit hurting inside, “Really, I-I couldn’t be more glad that he’s seeing someone new.”
Maybe it’s time for me to find someone new, too.
You caught how Bokuto and Kuroo shared glances at each other with a knowing smile while Becca was gesturing for Oikawa to shut up. Whether they were trying to protect your feelings or not, you were somehow glad to know that Iwaizumi was able to love again. He deserved it after everything he went through when he was with you.
“Whatever, hey,” Oikawa called to cut you out of trance. “You’re gonna watch me next Friday, right?”
You suppressed a sigh and gave him a reassuring nod, “Yeah, I’m gonna watch and cheer for you.”
Although your heart was eating you inside, you managed to smile when he playfully pinched your nose, “Good, ‘cause I don’t want you to miss it.”
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“No way, he’s dating someone new?”
You never expected Keiji to be shocked at the information you told him because it shouldn’t be surprising to know that Iwaizumi would end up getting a new girlfriend after a year of living in America. That place was his home after all. That was where he spent his college years on, so you assumed that he had many friends and perhaps girls that surrounded him.
As for you, you were just alone. Technically, you were back to square one just like when your other ex-boyfriend left you, but the difference between your ex and Iwaizumi was how the latter’s absence hurt you ten times worse. You even ended up crying yourself to sleep that night at Oikawa’s party because you had to release the weight on your heart before it wrecked you. Knowing that Iwaizumi had found a new life with someone else was as brutally painful as a train bulldozing you at full speed.
“Yeah. It’s okay,” you lied, almost inaudibly. “I should start dating too, huh?”
Akaashi patted your back as the two of you walked towards the hallways on the way to Chief Director Matsuda’s office. “I think you should, but you don’t need to pressure yourself if you’re not ready.”
Frankly, the only thing that held you back was Hajime and the fact that no one really desired you the same way. “Guess so.”
By the time you reached your destination, you found Tobio and Alisa in the room swiveling on their chairs as they talked about the recent case and how it was finally closed. It wasn’t really a tough one, but the amount of poor women that were exploited in that nightclub really angered the shit out of you. How could men like those pigs exist in this world?
Your job may seem ‘exciting’ for others (according to Bokuto, he’d be like Jenko from 21 Jump Street if he was undercover), but in real life it was, in fact, very stressful. Not only were you required to be physically fit with exceptional analytical skills, you also ought to stomach seeing all sorts of criminals ranging from thieves to murderers and actually learn how to outsmart them.
“Hey, guys,” you greeted, taking your seat next to Alisa. You acknowledged Tobio with a nod and noticed that he was the only one who wasn’t in an office attire. “Are you still undercover or what?”
Tobio, with his feet on the table, gave a subtle shake of his head. “No, I just felt like wearing ripped jeans.”
“He’s trying to be MGK,” Keiji jeered which was followed by a scornful chuckle from Alisa.
“I’m not!” the sniper countered immediately. “I’m off duty. I’m not required to wear my uniform.” He then turned to your direction and brought up the recent case. “Is it true you shot the guy on the dick?”
“Wha—” Absurd, wherever he heard that. “I didn’t even fire the gun. I just aimed it at him.”
Alisa joined the conversation shortly, “We’re not allowed to shoot fleeing suspects like you do, Mr. SWAT. It takes a reasonably crucial situation before we can do that.”
“You guys suck,” Tobio commented, quickly raising his hands with a grin of mischief as you and Alisa threatened to throw the nearest object you two had on him. “Just kidding. Intelligence Agents are cool. Right, Keij?”
The investigator simply nodded, “They’re cool.”
“Oh, shut up. You guys totally think you’re better,” Alisa bitterly assumed while you were playfully agreeing next to her. What Alisa hated most were misogynistic men—it was already hard enough to gain some respect in the PSIA as women, so you understood where she was coming from.
The Chief Director later came in his office, even though it took him awhile to fully give his attention to the four of you because his secretary was busy trying to get him to sign documents left and right. If you thought your job was demanding, you could only think about this man right here. He was the very definition of workaholic.
“Alright,” he finally spoke as his secretary left the office, “Good job on the last case. Are we ready for the next one? I have another undercover assignment that I think you guys might be interested to participate in.”
“So soon?!” You didn’t mean to overreact but holy shit. You literally just closed a case and now another one was being assigned. “Chief, are these cases like infinite or what?”
The man found humor through your reaction but tried to calm you down before you lost it. “Agent Y/N, you don’t have to participate if you wish not to. I’m just proposing the new assignment as it might be of your interest. You’re gonna be high school students—”
“Shit, I’m in!” Tobio quickly raised his hand like a schoolboy causing the three of you to look at him questioningly. “What, high school’s fun. Think of all the house parties.”
Oh my god. “I knew it”
You almost laughed when the Chief Director looked at him in disapproval. “Officer Kageyama, if I catch you distributing alcohol to minors, I’ll arrest you myself.”
All three of you snorted while Tobio was being told off by the chief and you didn’t miss the scowl he sent you before he gave a salute to his superior. “Yessir.”
You’ve decided to pass up on the next assignment mainly because you knew going undercover as a high school student was a pain in the ass and you wanted to just simply do office works at the PSIA headquarters for the mean time. Alisa, on the other hand, would partake on the said case together with Kenma and Akaashi because Tobio had to work full time with the Tier 1 Special Assaults Team.
It was somehow a nice breath of fresh air to be able to take some time off of being undercover because you also wanted to spend more time with your other circle of friends outside your work. You could live working behind the scenes until you were ready to do undercover work again.
For now, Tobio was walking with you towards the foyer before he brought up a topic that he knew had been on your mind for days.
“He’s not coming back, huh?” he asked, despite knowing the answer to your question. “What’s your plan now?”
You realized that shrugging was the only option you had. “I don’t know. I guess I’ll just...try to forget.”
The words that left your mouth weren’t really convincing for Tobio because he was aware of just how much Iwaizumi meant to you and he said that seeing the guy surrender himself to the cops led him to believe that the love you two had for each other were real. But things change and people change, too. Iwaizumi was the first one to let go, so in your part, you had to learn how to do the same. For your sake, this time.
“You know I’m always here for you, right?” the six-foot tall man softly asked, seemingly very cautious of your vulnerability and strong emotions towards your ex.
He didn’t have to worry that much. It wasn’t anything you can’t handle—losing Hajime shouldn’t be the end of the world for you. “Thanks for being there, Tobio.”
As for him, he didn’t really accept gratitude in the form of words. Instead, he pulled you for a warm embrace, hugging you tightly to let you know that he was here for you and that he would always be. That was what true friends were for.
You were grateful, but as much as you enjoyed the comfort you received from his hug, you had to pull away the moment you saw the girl from his unit entering the lobby and immediately spotting you and Tobio enveloped around each other. You just didn’t want to give her the wrong impression and you hoped that she wouldn’t mistake it for something else. Or something more.
Too late, perhaps, because you saw the look of hurt in her eyes that she soon disregarded when she gave you a friendly smile. You returned the gesture and waved at her, patting Tobio’s shoulder so he could turn around to look at his girlfriend not-girlfriend.
Ironically, you saw so much yourself in her when you first got together with Hajime.
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You weren’t one to break promises, so even if you were exhausted after a whole tedious day at work, you still ended up going to the fight club to watch Tooru’s fight.
Yes, the fight club. And no, not the illegal one that was demolished by the police from a year ago.
This new and modified fight club was rebuilt by Oikawa and Kuroo who both worked hard for the past 6 months just to bring it back. You were even involved throughout this whole fight club rebirth because they consulted you into knowing what was allowed and what wasn’t. With two consenting adults and registered fighters who wished to engage in mortal combat under a controlled setup—together with licensed medical personnels and official referees—the new underground fight club, by all means, was now legal.
It was Kuroo’s idea to open up a dojo out of the old arms depot where Oikawa previously stored and manufactured their guns before they moved to a larger warehouse and the latter was very much willing to have the old place be renovated into a new Tokyo Fight Night venue that was technically not so ‘underground’ anymore. Still, everyone was happy that they were finally able to step inside the octagon again without having to worry about cops raiding the place. The thrill to get caught was no longer there but this was better than nothing.
Invites were still strictly amongst fighters and closest friends only to avoid the attraction of locals who could potentially just bring harm to the already-heavily imposed set up. So far, for the past 3 months, none of the fighters have been brutally injured and the most they’d have were light bruises. Oikawa complained that it was becoming more of a spar than an actual fight but despite his multitude of complains, he knew that he would still abide by the new rules. Nonetheless, the vibe was the same. Coming inside the fight club reminded you of the very first time you came to the old one—where the smell of musk, leather, smoke, and sweat filled the place along with the loud music being played from the bass boosted system that somehow overpowered the loud cheers. It wasn’t as crowded, but still as rowdy per se and there was no gambling involved, just pure passion for the combative fighting in itself.
Soon as you walked in, the first one to greet you was Rampage himself who seemed like he just got out of an earlier fight. “Yo,” he bumped your fist with his bandaged ones. “You didn’t see me fight with Kuroo!”
He was slipping a black shirt on as you spoke, “I thought you said you’re gonna quit underground fighting since you’re going pro?” you asked, remembering that one time Bokuto told you that he registered to the Japan Boxing Commissions to start professional fights.
“This is just a practice zone for me, baby doll.” He simpered just before a lightly beaten Kuroo appeared next to you. The grey-haired guy was fast to give him attention by mocking him. “I didn’t even hit you that hard, motherfucker. You’re just acting hurt so you can have that hot nurse come to your aid.”
Boys. You chuckled with a small shake of the head, looking around the place to search for Oikawa until you did locate him climbing inside the octagon ring. You cheerfully called for his name and he ran in circles around the ring while looking at you with a peace sign. It didn’t take long until Hanamaki, Issei, and Becca walked to your side.
“He’s so fuckin’ excited to get his ass beat,” Makki ridiculed, nodding his head at the Capoeira fighter. “Watch him walk out of the octagon with a limp.”
You doubted that would happen because Oikawa was a really good fighter unless he was fighting against someone way better than him. “Uh, who’s he fighting today?” you inquired. “Don’t tell me it’s Atsumu again.”
God, the amount of times Tooru and Atsumu fought each other were ridiculous at this point. They were literally like what Muhammad Ali was to Joe Frazier. Or Pacquiao to Mayweather. They were taking their rivalry way, way too seriously.
Becca opened her mouth to respond but was essentially cut off as the lights turned dim with only the spotlight on the octagon and a familiar loud music suddenly reverberated throughout the warehouse.
At the first drop, you recognized the song being blasted as the Crank That Travis Barker version.
“Don’t tell me this trash thinks he’s gonna win against me!”
Impossible. There was no reason for your heart to ultimately take a halt after hearing that very familiar voice. It was hard to believe.
Everything fucking stopped—your mind, your heartbeat, your pulse, the time, the whole world itself, even your breathing had ceased to the point where your body seemed to no longer require any oxygen.
This must be some kind of a sick dream.
You failed to distinguish reality from imagination when you saw a silhouette of a man with a dragon tattoo on his back walking past you before climbing the ring like a fighter who was excited to ravage his opponent. Like a fighter who was a fucking beast inside the octagon.
Then and there, you wanted to burst out crying.
Shocked. Dazed. Overwhelmed. No word was perfect enough to describe the intensity of your emotions.
“Let’s go, Young Tiger!”
Iwaizumi momentarily turned around to acknowledge Becca with his infamous lopsided grin and you felt like your heart was going to explode. You lost all of your five senses at the sight of your one true love standing a few meters away from you. Here, now, at this very moment.
This couldn’t be fucking real.
“Becca,” you turned around to face her with glistening eyes and a shaky voice, “Y-You guys didn’t tell me he came back—”
A sad smile crept up to her face before she clung to your side comfortingly. “Sorry, babe. He didn’t want us to tell you yet.”
Good Lord. You had so many questions that you couldn’t formulate because your head was in utter discombobulation. Your whole body stiffened that you couldn’t really do much other than to have your wide eyes and parted mouth displayed across your visibly surprised face with the vividness of Iwaizumi’s figure looming over you as he stood in the octagon with Oikawa. Black shorts, red handwraps, tiger tattoo. You barely noticed the fight officially starting as infinite thoughts ran through your head in complete spirals.
Hajime had gotten more tan, almost sun-kissed, as he also lost some weight. His hair was now short cropped and while the silver earring from his ear was still there, the slit on his eyebrow was gone.
“Come at me, Iwa-chan!” Oikawa challenged, hustling around before throwing an Armada kick, following it up with a Queixada.
The Young Tiger merely scoffed as he dodged the attack by retaliating with a clinch. “Capoeira doesn’t work on me, dumbass.” You recognized those moves so well, you knew it so well and have seen it way too many times that you already figured that Iwaizumi would go for a takedown to grapple Oikawa into a submission.
However, Oikawa was fast to recover and deflect the Jiu Jitsu fighter with the knowledge that his best friend would be completely ruthless once he started performing BJJ skills. Inhale, exhale. You blinked thrice in the same second while thinking of how watching Hajime fighting an opponent inside the octagon felt like it was only yesterday.
“Breathe, Y/N.” Hearing Kuroo tease you, you got out of your benumbed stupor to see him and Bokuto wriggling their eyebrows at you.
You slowly shook your head in disbelief as you turned your attention back to the guy who claimed his territory in your heart and soul. Iwaizumi circled Oikawa around as he was looking for an opportunity to put him in a lock hold but the latter’s roundhouse kick to Young Tiger’s bare chest caused the former to lose some balance.
“Take that, Iwa-chan!” Oikawa jeered in triumph, sticking his tongue out at his best friend with his fists positioned for a defense. “¡Toma eso tú!”
Iwaizumi, who was clearly unbothered, casually stretched his neck. “I don’t speak Spanish.”
While you were still astounded by Iwaizumi’s presence, you managed to laugh along when Makki and Mattsun erupted into a guffaw. You only realized just how much you yearned to see this again—him, doing fights. Him, being cheered on by his friends. Him, simply being here.
Before you knew it, you were cupping your hands around your mouth, “Go Haji!”
You met his eyes for a fleeting moment and believed that the world took a pause so you could appreciate each other’s existence once again. All the longing, the pining, and the intense desire to hold each other again reflected from his eyes to yours. There was an inexplicable feeling inside of you when you finally had Hajime’s attention and how the corner of his lips stretched into the most genuine smile you’ve seen on him.
He must have forgotten that he was engaged in a fight because Oikawa’s foot flew towards his left hip. “Iwa-chan, don’t get distracted!”
Iwaizumi snapped out of his gaze and charged on his best friend, “As you wish.” Those simple three words had an underlying threat because he finally unleashed the exact reason why he was called the cold-blooded Young Tiger.
He was fast, aggressive, and hungry to kill. In a span of five seconds, he already grappled Oikawa against the cage and put him in a shoulder lock before they both fell on the padded ground. “N-No, no, no,” Oikawa humorously countered as panic ensued from him, but Iwaizumi couldn’t be stopped when he clinched him from the mount.
“It’s his fuckin’ guillotine!” Makki yelled, clapping his hands to cheer for him. “Choke the shit out of Oikawa!”
Becca, too, joined the claps of encouragement. “Looking sexy, Iwa!”
Had you really forgotten how actually freaking hot it was when Iwaizumi did his signature move? Although the guillotine choke was one of the most common BJJ submissions, seeing him perform the technique with such ease made you weak on the knees. Some of the girls inside the fight club even started squealing at the sight of his muscles flexing from his arms that were constricting Oikawa’s neck.
Hajime’s brows were furrowed as he placed the pressure points around his best friend’s windpipe while knowing full well that Tooru could never win against him once he had him in his favorite submission technique.
Truly. No one could.
Because when Oikawa finally tapped out to signal his lost, Hajime Iwaizumi was once again hailed undefeated.
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There were only four fights every fight night because there were restrictions on how many fighters were allowed to participate unlike before where they just randomly threw in whoever wanted to fight. The difference from then and now was how some fighters would usually come home with a battered face or a broken rib, now barely anyone would shed blood or had heavy bruises on their faces after the fight.
For someone who worked together with the law enforcement, you were happy to see that safety became their priority.
Though you could hear Hajime complaining about the lack of thrill in it when the rest of you were walking towards the parking lot. He was a few steps ahead with Oikawa, Hanamaki, and Matsukawa while you were walking together with Becca closely behind.
You haven’t really gotten the chance to talk to your past lover since his fight with Oikawa ended because everyone else surrounded him and you didn’t have the courage to approach him after a year without communication. It was just surprisingly awkward. You didn’t know how much has changed within Iwaizumi but you were scared to know that the same man you fell in love with was gone.
And besides, he had a girlfriend. You no longer bear any sort of importance to him other than being part of his circle.
“Bro, fighters in LA are fucking bloodthirsty. I’m being for real,” Iwaizumi enthusiastically gushed in his flawless American accent, placing an arm around Oikawa’s shoulder with a grin. “Don’t get me started on San Fran.”
Oikawa slapped his back as they reached their cars. “Whatever, Cali boy! I don’t care who you faced off in the US of A but this Tooru from Argentina is gonna beat you to dirt next time.”
“You barely even got out of his grip. What makes you think you can win?” Issei commented on the side which allowed the brown-haired boy to send him a childish scowl singing, “Blah, blah.”
“It’s nice to have Iwa back, though,” Becca spoke just after you two stopped from your tracks to see them turn around. “We missed you a heck lot.”
The man, the love of your life, smiled glancing at you before looking at Becca. “Good to be back, too.”
There was no denying how different Iwaizumi had become, but in a good way. He just seemed... happier. His face was free of any sadness, or resentment, or anguish. It was as if he was no longer holding a heavy weight in his heart unlike when you first met him. What exactly happened in California that changed him?
“Someone’s awfully silent.” Hanamaki fake-coughed, clearly directing his words to you.
It was probably embarrassing how you had to quickly deny it. “What do you want me to say?”
“Like, I miss you ‘Haji’?” Oikawa mimicked your voice, snickering like the annoying asshole he was. “Like, I love you ‘Haji’ I can’t stop thinking about you for the past year.”
Your cheeks heated up and you refused to see Iwaizumi’s reaction out of pure shame. “Stop it, Tooru.”
The rest of them playfully cleared their throats while you heard Iwaizumi trying to shut them up. You didn’t really expect that he’d talk to you after that at all, “Princess, I’ll take you home.”
Was it the nickname or his mere attention that sent you to euphoria?
You looked up at him and paid no mind to the teasing remarks. “No, it’s fine...” Being alone with Hajime in an enclosed vehicle might kill you inside and you weren’t prepared for that tonight. Heck, you haven’t even gotten a grip of your feelings since you saw him again for the first time in a year.
“Just get in the car, Y/N!” Oikawa whined, stomping towards you and dragging you inside Iwaizumi’s car despite your cries of protest. You just didn’t want to act childish because between the two of you, Oikawa was the child, so you silently got inside Iwaizumi’s truck just as he started the ignition.
The last thing you’ve heard before he drove off was Becca telling Iwaizumi to bring you home safely.
You’ve been inside his pick-up truck so many times before when you were still together but it was for the first time that you were ever self-conscious around him. He seemed like he was, too, because he didn’t really speak while he was driving with one hand while adjusting the temperature on the other.
It was agonizingly silent and you felt the urge to start the conversation for the sake of it.
“I thought you weren’t coming back,” you spoke inaudibly but he was able to catch it when he looked at you. It was true, just a week ago you were lamenting about the fact that he might never come back and that you should finally give up. But now that he was back, all your plans had gone to waste. “A-Are you just visiting?”
He kept his eyes on the road as he shifted his gear. “Do you want me to stay?”
Yes. Yes, I do.
“I don’t know, I just... I can’t believe you’re back,” you tried to play it off as nothing, “I mean, you probably prefer California.”
He didn’t respond sooner than you expected but he did let out a sigh. “Japan’s still my home,” he answered, taking a quick look at you. “How’ve you been?”
“I’m good... Still an agent. How about you?”
“Good... All good.”
“That’s nice to hear.”
“Is it?”
“...Yeah.” God, the awkwardness was killing you softly.
It was already uncomfortable to be alone with him in a sense that you two didn’t have an actual closure from the time you’ve separated. Now, you two lived different lives and you recalled the fact that he was apparently in a healthy relationship with someone else now.
“Won’t your girlfriend get mad?” you silently asked, “I don’t wanna ‘cause you any trouble if she finds out you took me home.”
Surprisingly, Iwaizumi turned to you with a perplexed face. “What do you mean?”
A bit as befuddled as him, you clarified your statement, “Oikawa said you’re dating someone—”
Hajime quickly sighed in exasperation. “I’m gonna kill him,” he mumbled before looking at the road, halting the car at the red light. “Don’t believe him. He just did it to get a reaction out of you.”
Oh... What the hell?
You hoped that the sigh of relief you had wasn’t as noticeable as you imagined because the beat of your heart started pacing faster. “So you’re single? That’s hard to believe.”
“Didn’t I promise you that night at the tub that I won’t look at any other girl?” he reminded, gripping the steering wheel tight, “Besides, I didn’t have the time to see other people after my dad died.”
While you were screaming inside from his first sentence, you chose to show sympathy for the second. “I’m sorry to hear about your dad. I-I wish I was there for you but...”
“S’okay,” he quickly dismissed, “If you were in my position, you’d have wished he finally took his eternal rest, too. I wanted him to just end his suffering here on Earth. I’ve accepted it.”
You felt for him. You really did, because you were aware of just how much his father meant the world to him. You’ve had your fair share of losing your parent when your mom left the country, but watching one of them leave this world permanently? It must have devastated him. You couldn’t even begin to think how he was able to cope with his loss for the past year, but you admired his strength and mental resilience.
“You know what’s crazy? He actually remembered me during his last few hours,” Iwaizumi opened up after a minute of silence, “He said he was happy to see what a grown man I’ve become and wanted me to keep pursuing whatever made me happy.”
That explained why the overall atmosphere he had just changed remarkably. When you noticed the aura of happiness and contentment that surrounded him, you realized that he was only taking his father’s last words with him.
“He asked me if I had a girlfriend,” he added, resting his head on the headrest, “I told him she’s back home. Then he asked, ‘why didn’t you bring her here?’”
Your heart somersaulted. He didn’t realize how he gave it away that he never really just ‘acted’ being your boyfriend before. His feelings were a hundred percent authentic.
“I’m... sure he’s very proud of you,” you said with a gentle smile.
He returned the gesture back to you for a fleeting moment that left your heart leaping out of your chest. You knew that your love for him was entrenched to the point where even if you haven’t seen him for the past year, nothing had really changed. Loving Iwaizumi was almost visceral, as if he was the other half of your soul that you were destined to meet in your physical form.
Whatever was running in his head, you couldn’t tell. But when he pulled up outside of your apartment complex, you suddenly came into realization that this was exactly how it was with you two on the first night. He drove you to this same apartment in this same car over a year ago. Deja vu was the closest description that you felt out of it.
“You still live here, huh?” he asked, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel as soon as you arrived your apartment complex. Hajime was seemingly not wanting to let you go for now.
You responded with a nod, but fell into state of astonishment when your eyes caught sight of the new tattoo on his ring finger.
They were your initials.
“Hajime...” You restrained your vulnerable emotions from showing because your chest burned with an ache that was worth feeling. You wanted no one else in this world but this man and you knew you were two seconds away from tearing up. “Do you... wanna stay for the night?”
Just like the first night. Exactly like the first night when you asked him to come over, not realizing that it would be the start of a relationship that you would never forget in your lifetime.
His adoring eyes were glued to yours, with a heavy breath and a quick glance to your lips, he answered, “Yeah.”
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However much you tried to suppress your tears, they naturally came out as soon as you entered your apartment and he was following closely behind. He wasn’t dumb—he knew exactly why you were crying and he was pulling you to his arms for an embrace that the both of you longed to have. The gush of tears that you tried to keep since the moment you saw him again were finally released with the sole realization that the person you loved was now here with you and God, you couldn’t believe that you meant so much to him that he had your initials tattooed on his ring finger.
“Hey, look at me,” he gently spoke, wiping the faint tears from your cheek, “don’t cry.”
You gulped as your chest heaved and he took the opportunity to wrap his arms around you, placing a kiss on your hair to soothe your crying heart. “Haji, I m-missed you,” you sobbed, “so much.”
“I missed you more,” he reassured, moving his lips to press them on your temple. His scent, his hug, his kisses—he felt like home to you. “It’s been a year and I never stopped thinking about you, Y/N.”
His words left even more tears spilling from your eyes while you pulled away to have him press his forehead against you. “You don’t know how happy I am that you’re back.”
“Thank you for waiting for me,” he spoke through his raspy voice that left hints of his own heartbreak. He held you by the waist and stared straight at your lips. You didn’t resist when he cupped your cheek before your lips reunited again after what seemed like an eternity. This kiss couldn’t compare to all the other kisses you’ve had in your twenty seven years on Earth. Only Hajime had the ability to invoke emotions of pure love straight from your soul and solidify it with his own devotion and ardor towards you. He kissed you with overflowing passion that you were instinctively placing your arms around his neck while his mouth moved against yours. The smooching sounds only allowed the both of you to envelope each other’s lips like suction.
“I love you,” he said it first, this time around.
You took deep inhales, glossy eyes locked on his beautiful olive green, “Truth or lie?”
He smiled, “Truth. Always was.”
Before you could break into tears again, you already had him engulfing you for a deeper kiss until you were breathing him in, stumbling backwards, mind running on cloud nine. Kisses of pure passion and longing and a year’s worth of loyalty. The next thing you knew, he was undressing you and you were undressing him.
No one else was more beautiful than Hajime Iwaizumi.
You remembered the very first time you shared an intimate night with him without knowing that the both of you were doing it for your personal gain. That time, no real feelings were involved more than the physicality of it and the satisfaction to fill your carnal desires.
Tonight, no one was acting. No undercover duties. No revenge set in mind. Just two people who wanted to make love and show just how much they missed each other.
Hot tears ran down on the corner of your eyes as you lay underneath Hajime who trailed kisses on your neck. Your hands traveled to his shoulders before you clung to him when he carefully sunk himself into you.
“Mmh...” You bit your lip, restraining your breathing until he gave you kisses with tremendous fervor. “I-I’m sorry for lying to you before.”
He thrusted his member inside your clamped walls as he pressed his chest against your bare ones. “I’m sorry for lying, too,” he whispered against your lips before he entwined your fingers together. “I know you still deserve better than me, but I’ll be selfish and say that I want you for myself.”
“Y-You’re all I want, Haji—” A moan escaped your lips to cut you off your sentence. You’ve had sex with him more than the number of days present in a calendar and yet this was the most emotional intercourse you’ve had out of all of them. “I-I wanna be yours, forever.”
With the reassurance of you dedicating yourself to him, he let out a hum of satisfaction before placing your legs above his shoulders. The position allowed him to go deeper inside your core as curses were released under his breath of being reminded just how much he loved being inside of you.
You had all eyes on him even when you were crying out his name at every penetration that sent you to another dimension.
Whichever dimension it was, you only wanted Hajime by your side.
“Aah... nngh... I’m gonna—” You held your breath to hear the bed squeaks and the squelching noises.
His voice turned an octave deeper when he ordered you to hold it in, “Wait for me.”
You always did, even when you were nearly disintegrating beneath him as he slid in and out at a much faster pace. You could feel his weight on your bosom with every grind of his hips, skin against skin, lips to lips, and soon enough, he released his warm load straight to your womb just as you clenched around his member.
You were scared that you could wake up next morning and realize that this was all just a dream.
“I’m so goddamn in love with you,” he spoke, panting as he collapsed beside you. Your own eyes were glued towards the ceiling before you scooted closer to your man. Your only one.
Your cold, shaky fingers traced the tattoo on his chest while the physical and emotional exhaustion made your eyelids fall heavy. “I’m so grateful that I met you.”
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Waking up next to the person you love was one of the happiest things to experience in your lifetime. Iwaizumi’s return felt like such a wonderful dream that could turn out into a nightmare. You immediately looked to his side of the bed as soon as your eyes fluttered open the next morning to make sure that you didn’t just imagine the whole thing last night. He’s real, you sighed of relief. He’s real and he’s chuckling at me right now.
“Morning,” he greeted you with a peck on the lips while you were unknown to the fact that he spent the past thirty minutes staring at your angelic face. “I really sleep well when I’m next to you, princess.”
You cupped his cheek with your palm, “I love you so much.”
“Love you more,” he responded, caressing your hip where his tattoo was engraved on your skin. “We have a lot of making up to do.”
His words made you giggle. Indeed, Hajime was still your Hajime. Just happier and more in love. “How do you feel about knowing I’m not taking birth control since you’ve been away?” you asked, reminding him of how he came inside of you last night.
You only said it as a joke, but the guy barely reacted against it. “Then you’re gonna be a mommy soon.”
Gosh. “Not so soon.”
“We’ll do it again,” he teased, planting kisses on your shoulder, “over and over until we have a mini me.”
“I...” Speechless. “We literally just got back together and you wanna get me pregnant right away.”
The chuckle he let out were music to your ears. It was nice to see how genuinely happy he was and it was all because of you. “Your dad wants a little boy, Intelligence Agent Y/N.” He soon watched how your eyes widened in surprise. “I met with him before I came to the fight club last night. I gave him an answer to his advice.”
“What advice?” you asked in complete bafflement. He sat upright, pulling you up with him before he kissed your hand and you brushed your thumb against the ring finger where your initials were forever inked on his skin. Just like the love he had for you.
“He told me a year ago to decide whether or not I’m still worth your time,” he spilled as you were dumbfounded of being unaware that he had such conversation with your father from last year. “I told him yesterday that I’ll make sure every time you spend with me from here on out will be worth having.”
Your body already tackled him into an embrace before you realized it. You were just grateful for this moment and for God because he allowed you to have someone like Iwaizumi in your life. Every person in this world would have their own soulmate. Luckily for you, you finally found yours and there was nothing else that could take this moment away from you. Not now, not in a million years, not in another version of you from a parallel universe. Today, you were his. Tomorrow and for the rest of your life, you would remain his and his only because he was meant for you and you were meant for him.
“Let’s start again?” he asked, eyes fixed on you.
With a peck on his lips and a heart that was beating at the same rhythm as his, you answered, “Let’s start again.”
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celestialbarnes · 6 months ago
wish upon a star (1) | b.b
pairing: criminal!bucky barnes! x princess!reader (royal au) (tangled au)
summary: unhappy with your life as a princess, you wished upon a star, your wish came true alright. it came in the form of one james buchanan barnes, aka your kingdom’s most wanted criminal.
word count: 3k
warnings: a few curse words maybe, some humor, cocky bucky, sam and bucky bickering
a/n: hi everyone! i’m new to writing and this is kinda my first try at writing a series, so please give it a try! i would really love to know what you think, your feedback is greatly appreciated! also, let me know if you like a chapter 2! 
series masterlist
thank you for reading! it truly means the world to me :)
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It was minutes to midnight and as you stood at the balcony of your too big of a bedroom, you wondered to yourself just how many stars there were in the night sky, wondering just how each star had a name for itself, and you couldn’t help but wish to be free in the wide galaxy that hung above you.
It was almost as if you were staring at a masterpiece, black and blue swished around with bright stars dotting it and a moon that hung right in the middle.
“My lady, it’s best to go to bed now, you have an early morning”, your handmaiden, Wanda said softly, a look of concern in her eyes.
“I’ll be fine Wanda, you can head back to your chambers,” You said with a soft smile, watching as she nodded, bowing as she always did before she left your room, the door closing with a soft click. 
You looked up at the sky once more. You knew deep down that you did not want this life, you never wanted to be birthed into royalty, to live in a palace, surrounded by four walls of solid brick, to not have the simple chance of heading out into the town, to see what laid beneath the place you called home.
People often took one look at you and wish that they had your life, oh, the dresses made of silk, jewelries that were made of diamonds and all things grand, to meet princes that could magically sweep you off your feet, to prance around, living a life that seemed, on the outside, so perfect, so grand, and ever more luxurious.
Little did they know, you would gladly give the riches, dresses, and tiaras up for a normal life like theirs, one that wasn’t filled with boredom, rules and the worst of it, loneliness.
The Princess of the country living a sad, sad life, what a statement that would be indeed.
Your irises reflected the night sky, and you bite your lip, putting your hands together, and if you could see yourself right now, you would probably be in complete disbelief, you were never one who believed in happily ever afters or wishing wells, all that belonged in storybooks, you had claimed, always finding that stories that ended with a happily ever after was utterly and completely ridiculous.
Yet here you were, standing on your balcony in your nightgown, the gentle winds blowing against your face, hands clasped together, the clock struck twelve midnight and as the clock tower sounded, a shooting star passes by and you shut your eyes, wishing upon a star.
“I wish, that there’s more to life than this,” You whispered softly, your eyes fluttered open, the stars had disappeared under the clouds, and the sky seemed so much darker. You chuckled dryly, feeling your heart sinking in disappointment as you came to terms to the fact that you were silly for believing that wishes do come true.
You sigh, stepping into your bedroom, too tired to close the balcony doors as you climb into bed and as your eyelids grew heavier and heavier, you missed the way a star shone ever so brightly as the clouds moved past it.
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“Come on,” The sound of a man whispering was missed by the guards that stood outside the palace walls and if anyone was at the top of the clock tower, they would have seen two dark shadows heading up the walls of the palace and they couldn’t have missed the mysterious glint of a metal arm.
“Don’t tell me you need to use the toilet again,” A low gruff voice followed.
“I forgot the tools for the alarm,”
“You gotta be fucking kidding me, again?!” and he may have reacted a little too loudly because a guard looked up and the two men quickly moved behind a wall.
“They’re gonna hear-“
“They wouldn’t if you hadn’t forgotten the damn tools!”
“Don’t ask me to shush, you shush”
“I shush? Who’s grand idea was it to get the crown?”
“If we get that Wilson, we are set for life”
“Right, until you spend it all on some girl again,”
“I didn’t-“
“Yeah right,”
“Shut up,”
“You shut up”
The bickering continued as they moved across the palace, palms pushed against the hard brick as they seemingly slithered towards the open window at the top of the palace. They peered in the window, almost cheering when they realised the window was open, with a quick, fast push, the window was thrown open.
“We stick to the plan Sam, you lower me down, I get the crown-“
“Then we leave, for Christ’s sake, you went over it for what? A thousand times, talk about being a grandpa,”
“I’m not a fuckin’ grandpa,”
“Says the one nagging,”,
The man named Sam helped his partner tighten the rope around his waist and watches as he slowly lowers himself down the open window.
Once Bucky was in, he gave a thumbs up, looking around, his eyes twinkled at the sight of what he had been looking for, the famous tiara of the kingdom’s future queen, it was adorned with jewels, diamonds, rubies and all sorts of pearls big and small.
What a steal indeed, he walked towards it so silently, almost as if he was a mouse on Christmas night, the only difference was that the crown he was going for was going to fill his tummy more than a slice of cheese ever will, and every step he took led him closer to the prized treasure that he had been hunting for more than a year, the huge diamond carat glints beneath the light of the moon, tempting him to go closer, and closer and just as his fingers were inches away from it, a loud alarm sounded through the palace, the sirens growing louder and louder and he panicked almost immediately, lights were flashing throughout the room and he could hear guards shouting.
“There’s an intruder in the crown chamber!”
“Get out of there!” Sam shouted, the echoing of footsteps were growing louder by the moment and it would only take less than a minute for the guards to storm the room and by gods, Bucky was not going to jail.
“Pull me up!” Bucky hollered as Sam quickly reeled him back as his eyes stayed fixated on the crown, and as soon as he had made it up to the roof, he quickly pulled the rope off himself.
“We gotta go, if we’re caught, we’re going to the fuckin’ gallows,” Sam said quickly as they threw the rope aside, making their way towards the other side of the wall.
“Ya think I don’t know that?” Bucky retorted and just as they were about to make their way down, a bright light was directed towards them, and when they looked down there were close to thirty guards below them, their eyes grew wide and they looked as if they were two deers that had been caught in the headlights.
“Its James Barnes and Samuel Wilson!” One of the men yelled out and Bucky immediately recognized him as Rhodey, captain of the king’s guards.
“Hello boys, nice to see you again” Bucky greeted, with a huge grin plastered on his face as he waved to the fuming captain who looked like he had smoke coming out from his ears, a look that Bucky absolutely loved seeing.
“Get them!”
“You just had to do that didn’t you?” Sam grumbled as he followed behind Bucky who chuckled.
“Tell me it isn’t funny”.
“It won’t be funny when you two morons end up in the slammer.”
“Shit!” Sam groaned when he saw Rhodey just two floors beneath them, eyes trained on them, anger swimming in his irises.
“You got a plan now?!” Sam yelled, in exasperation.
God, why did he agree to this plan again?
Right, because he decided to take another one of Bucky’s stupid ideas.
“You go right, I’ll go left” Bucky started.
“I’m faster so- “
“Who says you were faster?”
“I did, you just won’t admit it.”
“Like hell I will”. Sam retorted.
“Find them!”
“It’s Rhodey, hurry!” Bucky hissed and the two men took off in their own way with Sam moving down the lanes of the roof and he, heading towards the sleeping chambers, it was his only way out of this, and Bucky was more than willing to take a chance, sure he could fall to his death but then again that would be a million times better than ending up in some damp, dirty jail cell awaiting his unescapable death.
He headed towards each room, cursing under his breath when he tapped on the balcony doors with his feet only to realise they were all locked up tight, he had almost run out of breath when his eyes lit up at the sight of a curtain blowing in the wind, a curtain that was blowing meant that a room had its doors open and that sounded like wedding bells in his head.
Bucky easily made it in, the sweet scent of flowers filled his senses, all of it smelled like a breath of fresh air to him compared to the smell of left-over food and garbage that littered around his block. He glanced at the bed, frowning when he realised that someone was sleeping in it, whoever it was, they were buried under sheets of covers, and as quietly as he possibly could, he made his way around the queen-sized bed, his eyes twinkling at the sight of jeweled bracelets, and he could almost see Sam’s shocked face when he finally presents all of this to him.
With a huge smirk plastered on his face, he reached over to grab the first bracelet, and immediately he was met with a hit on the back of his head, the last thing Bucky saw was a woman, holding a trophy like it was some kind of weapon, and he passed out.
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You sighed, almost applauding yourself for not screaming out loud, you had woken up due to the sound of the alarm and the sound of guards shouting, you had gotten up, knowing that something was wrong, armed yourself with a trophy that you had won from the palace sports games day and had hit the man on his head, looks like the ideas you had gotten from movies of people placing pillows under their sheets really worked.
You were about to do a little cheer when you froze, seeing the man twitch, you frowned, kicking his leg, only for it to move right back and you squeaked in fear and perhaps, a little hint of interest. This was the first civilian, well, civilian with a metal arm you had seen, you were curious, you had so many questions.
You frowned, looking around your room, and it was almost as in a light had gone off in your head.
You groan, almost getting crushed under the weight of the stranger.
“What do you eat?” You grumble as you huffed, pulling him up and towards your chair that you had conveniently dragged across your room. Once he was on the chair, you grabbed the lace ribbons that you used to use in your ridiculous dancing classes that your parents had insisted on you attending, and wrapped that around his wrists, securing them and his ankles to your chair. You had no intentions of reporting your findings yet, you wanted to do more, to know more, perhaps even show your father that you, Princess of Gardenia was more than just a pretty face and had capabilities too.
You armed yourself with the trophy as you stood before him, looking at him curiously. He was well, good looking, with a sharp jaw to match, his muscles bulged through the leather vest that he had on, and you couldn’t help but wonder what the colour of his eyes were.
Were all the men from the town this dashing?
“Stop it (y/n), he’s a criminal,” You reprimanded yourself internally.
Out of curiosity, you gently tapped on his metal arm, your eyes filled with wonder as you trail your fingers down it, admiring the gold streaks that adorned it.
You heard a soft groan and you straightened up immediately, watching as the stranger before you awoke, he looked groggy and as his eyes fluttered open and your eyes met his steel blue ones, your first and possibly second question were answered undeniably.
“What the- who are you?”
“I should ask you that, you broke into my room!”
“Considering that the doors were open I don’t think breaking into your room is the correct statement princess”.
“How did-“
“It isn’t hard to figure you out, you live in the frickin’ palace and your trophy writes Royal Sports Day” He replied with his eyebrows raised and a knowing look on his face.
“S-so? You don’t scare me” You huff, glancing towards him, he looked oddly familiar, you swore you saw him before, but you had never been outside the palace’s walls.
“Don’t I? By the looks of things, I think I do” He continued, gesturing to his tied-up hands and feet.
“Really?” He replied with a suave smirk and it was then, your eyes widened in realization, you knew exactly who he was, you recognized that smirk anywhere, in fact anyone who ever saw the latest wanted poster that the palace had handed out would know who he was.
“Stay” You ordered albeit with a soft voice that just, didn’t at all seem menacing, you rushed to your table, rummaging through papers.
“I’m waiting” The man continued, and your eyes lit up when you found it, the wanted poster and the name below it was included with a reward of a hundred thousand dollars.
“James Buchanan Barnes” You announced, almost as if you were reading out the name of  a winner.
“Bucky,” He corrected quickly with a handsome smirk.
“Fine, Bucky, this is you isn’t it?” You said showing him the poster that you had in your hand.
“That’s not me!” He protested.
“It is!” You retort.
“I don’t look like that!” You frown, turning the poster over to yourself, the picture well, drawing of his crooked nose which wasn’t crooked at all by the looks of things didn’t seem so correct after all.
“They get my nose wrong all the damn time” Bucky adds, and you shrug, “I don’t think so, I think it looks exactly like you, Bucky” You reply with a grin, and watched as he grumbled.
“So, it says here, you’re a criminal” You started, looking at him, pretending to shake your head disapprovingly, just as how your French tutor did when you misread the words.
“Not exactly, because I haven’t been caught”. Bucky said smoothly and you chuckle.
“Not exactly,” You repeat, “Because I could hand you in to, Captain Rhodey, I’m sure he’d love to have you”. You said, watching as Bucky narrowed his eyes.
“You wouldn’t,” 
“Would I? Sometimes I don’t know what I would or wouldn’t do either,” You said with an all too innocent smile painted on your face.
“What do you want?” Bucky sighs.
“I’ll make you a deal,” You started.
“You can’t be serious,” Bucky grumbled, almost in annoyance.
“Fine, what’s the deal?”
“I want to get out of here,”
“You’re kidding,” Bucky started, and you shook your head in defiance.
“I’m not,” You replied. “I’ve been stuck here all my life Bucky, I’ve never seen what lies beyond these walls and I want to know, I-I need to know, and if you help me, I’ll let you go” You added.
Bucky looked towards you, a part of him wanted to say no, reject that utterly crazy idea of yours, not to mention the added charges that would receive if he was caught trying to smuggle you, the princess, out of the palace.
But then again, it could be his one and only way to escape from the clutches of the kings guards, that and the way you looked at him with pleading eyes and a pout that you seemed to have practice for years now made it close to impossible for him to say no.
“Alright, you have a deal,” Bucky sigh and he rolled his eyes playfully at the way you cheered loudly, almost as if you had won a prize, you jumped up and down like a kid whose just received her Christmas gift.
“Princess?” Your excitement was short lived when you heard the guards at the door as your eyes widened in panic as you froze.
“Reply him!” Bucky whisper yelled, glaring at the door.
“Yes? Can I help you Captain?” You asked, keeping your voice as steady as possible.
“Your highness, a highly dangerous criminal has escaped, and I would just like to make sure he hasn’t hidden himself in any of the royal chambers” He replied smoothly.
“A minute please!” you said quickly.
“I’m not highly dangerous” Bucky scowled, rolling his eyes when you shushed him.
“I’m so screwed” he hissed.
“No you’re not,” You replied as you untied him quickly, pulling him up, dragging him over to your wardrobe, opening it, Bucky almost flushed red at the sight of your undergarments and nightgowns that occupied it.
“Get in”
“Not a chance, that’s your-“
“Your highness?” Rhodey’s voice echoed from outside the chamber.
“Either that or you’re gonna have to deal with him” You said pointing to the door.
“Dammit” Bucky scowled as you push him into the wardrobe, shutting it behind you before calling for Rhodey who came in, a look of suspicion written on his face.
“As you can see, no one here at all, and there’s absolutely no criminal hidden away in my wardrobe, don’t you worry!” You exclaim, albeit a little too loudly, and hidden away in the wardrobe, Bucky slapped a hand on his face in complete exasperation at your statement.
“Right, I’ll leave you to your sleep then, Your Highness,” Rhodey says with a quick bow and a nod that you returned before he left, the door closing behind him.
You breathed a sigh of relief and leaning against the door of your wardrobe, you wondered just what fresh hell you had gotten yourself into this time, that was until a loud knock came from within the wardrobe.
“He’s gone right?”.
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tags are open! fill in the taglist form / drop me an ask if you would like to be tagged!
a/n: thank you so much for reading, i really appreciate you taking the time!
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infernal-fire · 4 months ago
suburban dream
summary: how do you wake up from a nightmare? is it a nightmare if you’ve been asleep the whole time?
major warnings: noncon/dubcon smut, stalking, mention of pregnancy, some cum play (check the prompts for indications of other warnings)
a/n: this is for @iraot​’s 1.1k writing challenge. BIG congrats on 1.1k (i cannot explain how glad i am that others get to read your amazing work) and another BIG thank you for hosting this challenge.
Here are the results of my wheel spins:
Kink wheel: daddy kink, somnophilia, breeding kink Character wheel: Jake Jensen Situation wheel: Neighbours AU
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You let out a breath of relief as you dropped the last brown box into the corner of the room. How you managed to own this much stuff, you’d never know. Glanced around the living room, it was difficult to decide where to begin. After much contemplation, you huffed and picked up the pizza catalogue, deciding to call it a day. 
It was unbearable to leave the house in the mess that it was. On the other hand, your right hip wailed in agony every time you bent down. Lacking the much-needed support of friends or family, you had no option but to suck it up and unpack… but that can wait till tomorrow. 
Fishing out just the necessities for the night, you climbed up the stairs and headed into the master bedroom. Massive house for one person, you noted. You did insist that an apartment would suffice but Tony was a stickler for rules.
All Stark employees have to be residents of a Stark-Jensen neighbourhood. 
Before getting the job, you weren’t even aware that “Stark-Jensen” neighbourhoods were a thing; it was a term coined by the tech company itself, referring to neighbourhoods that are protected by Stark-Jensen technology. The crime rate in these neighbourhoods are always startlingly low, the odd criminal or two being from inside the community itself. All things considered, how could you say no to free housing? 
Sure, the security measures assured that you never had to worry, but it also made you wonder why they were there in the first place. This place was as secure as the Stark Tower; why? You tried not to ask too many questions, afraid of getting on Tony’s bad side. Besides, it isn’t characteristic of him to give you a straight answer anyway. 
Life is good, your most harrowing concern at the moment being that your new place had no curtains. It had been a long time since things were calm and you were just recognizing that your days had been free of storms for some time now. Counting your blessings for the second time that night, you stepped into the shower and reminded yourself of all the things to be grateful for. 
To say you were in a good mood was an understatement. You finished your night routine right as the pizza was delivered and excitedly skipped down. No one told you how fun living alone was but they didn’t need to - you quickly found that independence is a glorious necessity in everyone’s life.
Jake stood bewildered at your person throwing the door open. He gripped the pizza box tight to ensure he didn’t drop it and continued to look at you like you had grown a third head. He never was very good with his words, but your beauty truly inhibited his ability to think.
“Hi?” you asked.
“Hey, I-I’m your neighbour, Jake. Saw that you were moving in and I came to ask if you need any help.” 
“Oh,” you contemplated, looking past him. “Where’s the pizza person?”
“I paid for it. Housewarming gift?” he  said like a question and handed it over. 
You received the warm box and waited for him to say something as he fiddled with his hands. His smile looks so familiar but you couldn’t place your finger on it. 
“So…Do you need help?” He looked up right at the end. You grinned at how shy he was.
“I would really appreciate the help tomorrow,” you replied casually. 
“Oh, so… I’ll come by tomorrow morning?” He looked hopeful, as if you were the one handing him the olive branch. You took a once-over of his build, sure that he would come handy when your hip gives up again and nodded in response. 
He nodded back slowly and turned around to leave, but seeing him at your doorstep felt eerily similar to a puppy left out in the rain. 
“I don’t think I can finish this pizza alone,” you called out. He turned around, a glint of happiness apparent in the shine of his eyes. 
“Do you have time to help me with this right now?” It was your turn to look hopeful and you really hoped this cutie took the bait.
He did. 
You couldn’t ignore the nagging at the back of your head that you had seen him somewhere. You also couldn’t dismiss the fact that dinner together was just a little awkward. The conversation started off with small talk, and it didn’t take a genius to tell that neither of you enjoyed it. Luckily, it shifted to talks about the neighbourhood and your old job. After that, the words flowed easily, the two of you bonding like you had known each other forever. Although it was smooth sailing, you couldn’t help but wonder how he knows so much about the neighbourhood security measures. When he mentioned that he had lived there for about 6 years, you chalked it up to a simple accumulation of knowledge he must’ve acquired from being around for so long. 
“So everyone who lives around here works for Stark-Jensen, right?” you questioned, trailing your finger on the rim of your second wine glass for the night.
“Yeah, for the most part. Though it’s hard to tell who works for who.”
You chuckled in agreement.
“What is it with that? I mean, I work for Stark, and my colleagues, too… but exclusively for Stark. Jensen does exist right?”
“Yeah,” he snickered, “He does. Stark makes the tech and Jensen does the coding.”
“So they’re a two-man team, but Tony’s the face of the company? Seems sort of unfair,” you muttered, quirking your brow a little. 
Jake smiled at your comment, glanced at his hands and looked back up at you. 
“Maybe he wants it to be that way.” He nudged his glasses up and took a little sip of his wine while peering at you. 
You cocked your head to the side and considered the information. Your head was hazy and you needed to stop drinking; alcohol and cute guys are not a good mix. 
“Wait.” You squinted at him. 
“Does that mean you’re a Stark-Jensen employee?” 
He let out a chortle and took your glass from you. 
“Hey, hey I want that back!” you whined, not even caring that you’re embarrassing yourself. 
“I think that’s enough for today.” He gently helped you up, waiting for you to move. 
“I can usually handle my liquor,” you promised, clinging onto his broad form for support. 
He started moving you up to your lone mattress in the corner of your room, softly laying you down. 
“Jake,” you caught his arm. “You didn’t answer the question. Do you work for Stark-Jensen?”
“Yeah, something like that.”
You pouted at his answer, still gripping his wrist like you owned him. He tenderly pried your fingers off him and placed them on your belly. 
“See you tomorrow,” he mumbled as he left your room. You drifted asleep easily, blissfully unaware of how you’d never be able to live down the humiliation of your drunken stupor. 
The next day, you hoped Jake wouldn’t show up. It would save you from the burning heat that crept up your neck every time you recalled the night before.
Unfortunately, Jake had found it way too amusing an opportunity to tease you, showing up at your doorstep at 10 AM on the dot. 
The day went on without a hitch, the conversation picking up easily from where you left off. Jake found it endearing when you groaned at the mention of your state, only after three glasses of wine. The question of his employment never crossed your mind again, both of you having way too much fun unpacking. You felt ten times better knowing that your neighbour was a loveable, single, hunky nerd; it made the stress of settling in that much better. 
Of course, like all good things, the weekend came to an end. Monday morning, you eagerly prepped yourself for a new week at the office. Being Tony’s right hand took five rounds of interviews as well as background checks into every living relative you had. After the turbulent hiring process, you found that the job was not any easier. Luckily, the move had you feeling more thankful about being in sync with all the Stark tech; with FRIDAY managing your house and personal appointments, it was easier to keep track of Tony’s day. 
You stepped out of the house and shielded your eyes from the beautiful day. Just then, your lovely new friend stepped onto his porch wearing casual attire.
“Have fun at work!” he called after you.
“Thanks! Are you going to work?”
“Yes, I am.” You took in his outfit one more time, chuckling as you wondered what job would pay enough to live here while dressed in sweats.
“Well, in case I don’t see ya’... Good afternoon, good evening and good night!” you exclaim loudly. 
Jake giggled like a schoolboy and waved goodbye before ducking into his car. 
Tony’s 10 AM meeting has been pushed to 11 AM, Miss L/N. 
“No, no, that won’t do! He has another meeting at 12 PM, the timing will clash. FRIDAY, who was he supposed to meet at 10 AM?”
Speaking to the AI felt more like talking to yourself, but with time, you assured yourself that it would look as cool as Stark when handling your things.
He’s meeting Mr Jensen, the co-founder of Stark-Jensen. I believe you have not met him yet. 
“Yeah, I haven’t. Could you call him for me, FRIDAY?”
Sorry Miss L/N, Mr Jensen’s phone is switched off. He has already notified Tony of the change in plans. 
“What an asshole,” you grumbled. 
On the contrary, I think you would like Mr Jensen, Miss L/N.
“You can just call me Y/N, FRIDAY. Oh, and, send out a notification to all of today’s meeting hosts and tell them to push it by one hour. If they complain, send them my number to take up any problems they have.” 
It’ll be done by the time you reach your office. 
“Thank you,” you smiled and pulled into your parking spot, right beside Tony’s. 
It was hard to imagine what would’ve happened today if Tony didn’t give you access to FRIDAY. Calling each meeting host and personally asking them to push their meetings seemed like a tedious and mind-bending task. And frankly, you didn’t ever look forward to talking to Karen’s. But now, you would never have to know; FRIDAY was an absolute godsend. 
You stepped onto the other side of security clearance just as the clock struck 9 AM. Strutting up to your office, you made a mental checklist of everything you need to do during the day. Usually, Tony didn’t require you to sit in for his meetings. He has a different set of assistants for note-taking purposes. 
Too consumed by your thoughts, you didn’t notice the large picture of Jake and Tony sitting side by side on the wall beside the elevators. You also didn’t notice Jake’s smirk as he passed by you with ease. He would’ve stopped to say hi, but he knew that you didn’t realize who he was yet. Now he just had to figure out a way to get you to show up to his and Tony’s meeting and give you the heart attack of a lifetime. 
Beep, beep.
The Stark-watch buzzed on your wrist, letting you know that Tony was calling for you. You had barely even stepped into the elevator and he was already whining like a baby. 
You shook your head and stepped into the doorframe of his lab.
“Come here!” his voice called from the far end of a lab. Your suspicions of him being under the work table were confirmed when he wheeled out on his back and handed you a wrench. 
“Do me a favour. Tighten this for me?” 
He handed you the arm of an Iron Man suit, what you assumed was his latest mark. He already lived at the lab as it was, you wondered how he ever had time for Pepper. 
“Come on, put your arm into it L/N! You know what, you’re distracted, give it here.”
“Did you call me here to tighten your screws?” You shifted your weight onto one leg and crossed your arms. It was sassy of you, but Tony’s assistant needs to have some backbone, famously said by Rhodey.
“Well, you know me, screws always loose.” He knocked on his head and chuckled at his own joke. You sighed and turned to walk out. 
“I need you to sit in for my 11 o’clock. And cancel everything else today.”
You gasped and turned again, marching to where he was lying down. 
“Tony Stark, you have no regard for anyone’s time! I already pushed everything back by one hour because of your buddy Jensen and now you’re asking me to cancel everything?”
“I know, and I agree. I wish I could go to the mind-numbing meetings with corporate clowns, but I want to show you and Jensen something cool.”
He stopped fiddling with his toy just long enough to glance at you. 
You sighed and called for FRIDAY, groaning for the umpteenth time since that morning. Why were you acting like this was the first time he’s done this? It was probably your lack of energy from moving. You couldn’t wait to get home and maybe call Jake over for dinner. Now that you considered this possibility, time seemed to pass slower, but at least there was something worthwhile to look forward to. 
When 10:55 rolled around, you were sitting in Tony’s lab, patiently waiting as Tony set up his latest invention for demonstration. 
“Where’s your buddy?” you asked, checking your watch for the time again. 
“On his way,” he replied without turning away from his work. 
He paused and took a step back to admire his work before facing you. 
“You haven’t met Jake, have you?”
Right on cue, Jake walked through the doors of the labs and you whipped around to find your grinning friend.
“Howdy neighbour,” Jake sneered. 
“Oh, right. You live beside each other,” Tony muttered as he gathered some more things from his desk. 
You shamelessly inhaled the pinewood and vanilla-infused scent of Jake as he sat down beside you. To have him so close to you was a dangerous thing, your cunt unknowingly clenching every time he moved his biceps. 
“Stop making heart-eyes at him.”
You threw whatever was in your hand at Tony’s head, and it happened to be a pen. It narrowly missed as he ducked and doubled over in laughter at your embarrassment. The bastard took sick pleasure in it so he often made it a point to humiliate you, but it usually wasn’t in front of the co-CEO of the world’s largest tech company. 
The rest of your time in that lab went on without any heart attacks - as far as anyone knew, the slick between your thighs doesn’t account for a ‘heart attack’, per se. You shouldn’t even be thinking about Jake like that. He was technically your boss too. 
Tony dismissed you at lunch and told you to take the rest of the day off, much to your delight. You slid into your car and dropped your head onto the steering wheel.
You had barely moved into the neighbourhood and you’re already finding ways to be fired.
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~Time skip~
You sighed and laid back in the over-the-top maternity chair Jake got you for feeding. Your baby gurgled as curled his little fingers into his palm before knocking on your breast once. With a light chuckle, you cooed as the little bundle began falling asleep. 
This was the only place in the house that had a sliver of sunlight gracing the inside of the house. 
You could have outdoor privileges if you didn’t pull that little stunt. 
Could you really blame yourself for trying to leave? How were you to know that it’s impossible to leave a Stark-Jensen neighbourhood?
Because it says “Stark-Jensen” in the name, you dumbass. 
Fair enough.
You lost count of how many times you sigh on the daily, instead opting to count the number of times you’re able to hold off a mental breakdown. Today, you got the rare privilege of privacy, with Jake being gone to another one of Stark’s presentation.
You reminisced about the last time you sat in Tony’s lab and watched him explain his latest creation. Little did you know that the first time you sat with Jake in there would also be the last time you ever sat in there. 
You gently placed the Jim in the cradle. Again, one of the many over-the-top investments made by Jake to ensure the baby got state-of-the-art care. The way Jensen had made you sit beside him as he put the contraption together almost had you lurching. But you didn’t want to wake the baby. The horridness of the memories cannot outweigh your will to keep Jimmy from crying.
“Look at it!”, Jake excitedly spun the box to show you. It must’ve cost an unreasonable amount of money - not that he couldn’t spare to spend the coin, but the purchase confirmed your worst suspicions; he was serious about this all. 
Your eyes, puffy from the days of crying, were barely open. Yet you still nodded, figuring that if you put up with his enthusiasm now, he’ll let you go to sleep without raping you like he did every night. 
Anyway, you were wrong. 
When did everything go so wrong?; How?
You picked up your phone. Your eyes flickered between the only two contacts saved on it. Jake made sure you couldn’t do anything except call him or Tony.
You missed your ex-boss (who was always more of a friend to you). But, it was obvious that calling him wasn’t worth it and would rarely yield any fruitful conversation. Tony always spoke as if he were walking on glass around you and your words were always monitored and censored by Jake. It didn’t take long to figure that one out. 
“I don’t know what happened, Tony, she’s just unhinged,” Jake explained over the phone. In the background, you struggled against the bonds that held you to his bedframe. You sobbed harder into your gag and tried to scream ‘help’. All that came out was a shriek. 
“You hear her? She’s completely unfit to come into work… What happened? I don’t know man… She’s breaking down under all the stress. A few days of rest might do the trick. No, no, you don’t have to come down. I’ll take care of it.” 
He ended the call and you went limp, pausing your hysteria. He smiled at you as if he hadn’t kidnapped you. As if he hadn’t just made Tony believe that you were off your rockers. As if he hadn’t just fucked you five times over the span of 48 hours. 
He had planned every step of your entrapment to the letter and it was all going according to his plan.
You put your phone facedown on the dining table and walked back upstairs to your room. His room. Your room, too. 
Never, you internally screamed.
Well, it’s too late to debate it. 
You stood at the foot of your bed and traced the footboard. He took you countless amount of times on this bed and every instance held some clue that he was working up to what was happening now. You could see that now - but what was the point now?
You giggled as Jake pushed you onto his bed. Who knew this golden retriever could be so rough?
“Shhshshshhh” you slurred and Jake laughed in response. 
“Tony’s not here, baby,” he replied, climbing on top of you. 
“We’re not gonna get fired?” 
“He can’t fire me, sweetheart.”
“Oh… yeah.” You frowned, remembering that your risqué relationship was only risky for you. 
In your drunken haze, you didn’t realize Jake was rubbing his bulbous tip against your folds, gathering slick. 
“Don’t have,” Jake lied. 
“Oh,” you hesitated. 
“It’ll feel so good, baby.” He nuzzled his nose into the crook of your neck and sunk in before you had the chance to protest. 
“Jakeeee,” you whined. Writhing under his grasp, you shook your head side-to-side as he vigorously fucked into you. 
He abruptly stopped and pulled out. “What have I said about saying my name?”
“I’m sorry, daddy,” you sheepishly say. 
“That’s right, slut. You’re gonna make me a daddy, right?” He pushed back in. 
“Yeah, you are. Gonna make me a daddy, so call me daddy.”
The implication of his words flew right over your head in your drunken haze and blank mind. Any ounce of sense that you had left was being fucked out by his thick length. 
“Gonna blow my load. Fill you tight cunt, not gonna last long.”
His words were broken with loud moans. He couldn’t think straight with your warm, wet pussy inviting him in over and over. 
As you shook from an overwhelming orgasm, your pussy involuntarily clenched, causing Jake to lose any last bit of restraint he was holding onto. He pushed in as far as he could go as you flailed around. He pinned your arms down and pressed his mouth into yours, delivering a hot and heavy kiss that had you panting. 
He pulled out, but the string of cum that followed made you blanch. You never were one for cum play. Still, you didn’t protest when Jake pushed everything back in with two fingers. 
“Gotta’ make sure you’re full baby.”
You shake your head now, but again, what’s the point? It’s all done and dusted. Though, you should give yourself some credit. Even if you had realized earlier, it wouldn’t have made a difference. He would’ve realized that you knew before you could’ve even thought about escaping.
As you drifted asleep, you adjusted the volume of the baby monitor one last time and slumped into the fluffy pillows. 
How do you wake up from dreams? Was it by pinching yourself? You couldn’t wake up from the nightmare that was your reality when you pinched yourself. You doubted that would work right now. You couldn’t recall how to open your eyes. Instead, you whimpered in your sleep, reliving the moment Jake finally revealed his ulterior motive
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“You did what?” Jake was seething, but the only indication of it was his clenching jaw and red face. His tone was the perfect embodiment of the calm before a storm. 
“I know you aren’t happy… but Jake, you- you’re always talking about babies and a family. It was so overwhelming and I… I-I…” You were shivering now, unable to withstand the heat of his glare. You had never been on the receiving end of his anger. Hell, you had never even seen him angry. 
“I didn’t have an abortion, Jake, for god’s sake stop looking at me like a killed a baby! Plan B is not a crime. I’m only even bringing this up because I started on birth control anyway. Plan B every time we have sex is just not practical or feasible.”
At this point, you could’ve been speaking to a wall. Jake still hadn’t said anything and you were beginning to wonder if he had even been listening. 
“I can’t believe I didn’t notice,” he whispered, at last. 
“I watch you do everything, I can’t believe I didn’t know about the Plan B.”
“What… What are you saying?”
“I said,” Jake stood up, “I’ve basically been watching you 24/7. And I don’t know how I didn’t notice this.” 
“What do you mean watching me?” Tears in your waterline were threatening to blur your vision but you blinked furiously in an attempt to keep looking Jake in the eyes.
 “You think FRIDAY works for you?” 
Jake leisurely cracked each knuckle and took a step towards you. You took one back. 
“Oh, now, don’t be like that.”
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You woke from your nightmare that was the boiling pot and jumped straight into the fire. Jake was already moving in and out of your channel, moaning about how he missed you too much. 
You tried to adjust yourself but he caught your arms and pulled out just long enough to flip you onto your stomach. 
When he pushed back in, the hopelessness of your life manifested as tears; it happens every once in a while. 
Today, you had a new record: you were able to hold off a total of 7 breakdowns.
But, of course, that was right before he pinched you awake every time.
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thesolferino · 7 months ago
⤷ smp!dream x gn!reader.
⤷ genre: angst, soulmate au
⤷ word count: 3.7k
⤷ requested: yes, by this lovely anon!
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— summary: you pay a visit to the man you hate most when he exiles your brother/best friend, tommy
If there’s one thing you were sure of in this pathetic, despicable life of yours, it was that you hated Dream.
Honestly, how couldn’t you? He ruined everything you stood for, stomped over all of your plans for a hopeful future before you even started, never let you and your brothers build your life the way you wanted, because he had always been, and always will be, a selfish, narcissistic bastard. No matter how much you tried to negotiate, how many times you cried behind those walls because you knew you’d never be left alone, how many times you begged and pleaded Wilbur to let it go, let it all go, let Dream win because he’ll win every single time, no matter how many times the three of you try to stop him, he never gave up on making your life a living hell.
Despite the fact that you’d spent countless nights up, tossing and turning in your bed, wondering if life like this was really worth it if you’ll forever live in fear, if you can’t leave your window open at night without fear crawling up your spine that maybe, just maybe, he’d throw a bomb inside and kill you in your sleep - despite the fact that you always wondered if maybe you should flee, and never look back - you were one of L’Manburg’s proudest and strongest soldiers, at least for the time when the country was exactly what you built it to be. 
You waved your country’s flag and sung the anthem with equal pride, and you always stood right by Wilbur and Tommy’s side, chin high in the air, stance unwavering in the presence of Dream and those who stood by his side, always ready to show him what L’Manburg citizens were really made of. You shot best with your special crossbow - Wilbur had always complimented you on your eagle’s eye, and while you were built for a battle like the one Dream and Tommy fought for the prize of L’Manburg’s independence, Tommy was far too loud, confident, and forever blinded by his own vanity to have you fight it instead. 
Of course you’d let Tommy have it, despite being aware that he’s far too cocky, beyond his abilities, and that you’d handle it much more swiftly, because he felt the obligation to; because he wouldn’t give in and let you do it. Two sides of you chewed you away to insanity, because Tommy was your favorite - both you, and Wilbur’s - and while you wanted to let him have it, wanted to let him have the title of #1 soldier and have it his way, you also didn’t want him to get beaten by Dream, because you were sure it was going to happen. As much as you despised the man and everything he stood for, you had to admit that he was one hell of a warrior, and quite good with a crossbow.
That’s why, when Tommy got impaled by the arrow, you were the first to run up to him amidst all of Dream Team’s cheers, nursing supplies already out, (Dream had asked if you were so insecure in Tommy’s skills that you brought those along in preparation or if you were so confident that you had brought them to nurse him, instead; Wilbur had to physically hold you back from pouncing on him with the sword strapped to your back) slowly plunging the arrow out of his stomach and assuring him he’d be fine, that his well being meant more than a thousand L’Manburgs did. Dream missed none of your soothing murmurs and the worrying glances you shot to a boy no less than your brother, whether by blood or not, and he chose to turn his back, celebrating another victory. 
He couldn’t look away, though. No matter how hard he tried, his gaze always flew to the two of you.
What did it feel like - to be cared for? He’d have to ask Tommy, or Wilbur - what does it feel like, to have a chunk of your heart? What does it feel like to have you stare at him with flames in your eyes, but flames lit by adoration, and not by resentment? What does it feel like, to have you on his side?
Truth be told - he tried. He tried, he really did. When you first walked into his land, a traveller, somebody from beyond his sight, a fresh pair of eyes with a fresh perspective, he tried to befriend you, because even if he didn’t want to, it seemed like everything in this world brought the two of you together. He always ended up close to you, next to you, observing how you laughed, how your eyes crinkled, how your brows furrowed, how you tapped your fingers when you were bored and swung your legs back and forth when you sat on a wall too high for you. 
One thing you didn’t seem to care for, however, was Dream’s best attribute, and that was power. You didn’t care that he held all land on the palm of his hand, you didn’t care that he appointed and laid off whoever and whenever he pleased, you didn’t care that all looked up to him - you didn’t care that he was most powerful. 
He wasn’t the only one with the power, though. Power comes in different shapes and sizes, and a bold man is a powerful man. A man who stands out holds power, and the two who always stuck out like a sore thumb were Wilbur and Tommy. Because physical strength or resources aren’t always what make a man powerful - an entertainer is a powerful man, an intelligent man is a powerful man, a witty man is a powerful man, but above all, a courageous man is a powerful man. And Wilbur and Tommy were all of the above.
He envied Tommy, because Tommy knew how to get the attention on himself without the use of power. He envied Wilbur, because he had somebody to fight, he had something to stand for, he had a purpose, something in which he could put equal part bravery and intelligence in, both of which he had plenty. He envied the two, because they could be heroes, because he was there to witness their story getting built, while Dream was there from the beginning, and the only witness he had was himself. 
You grew close to the two of them before he even had the chance to try - his chance got wasted before he could even try, because the more Wilbur whispered into your ear and crafted plans, and the more Tommy encouraged you to go with the two of them, the less he saw of you and your shiny smiles. At first, it bothered him to no end, because he saw so much potential in you, both as a friend and as a warrior, and Wilbur just kept on stealing you away from him, over and over again. But then, when he saw you helping build those giant walls, and heard Tommy proudly announce that: “We’ve got Tubbo, Eret and Y/N on our side, too!” shiny smiles became dull, menacing even, to the point he didn’t want to look at them anymore.
And when the war had started and you proudly defended Tommy, no matter what, with an insane glint in your eye that he only recognised from reflections, he realised that the chance had fully, entirely slipped out of his fingers, and you’re nothing more than an enemy anymore. The opportunity to get you on his side was long gone, if it ever existed in the first place.
You were with them through everything, thick and thin - you were there when Tommy turned over the discs, cheering on Wilbur during the election, even retaliating against Schlatt once he revoked the citizenship of your two best friends, nothing short of brothers, and leaving with them, spitting on his shoes before running amongst a sea of arrows that were being thrown your way, escaping out of the country you built of your own blood, sweat and tears like a criminal, like a foreigner, like an outsider and not the very founder of the land they stood on.
You were always by their side, but that doesn’t necessarily mean you always agreed - you had gotten into way too many passive aggressive fights with Technoblade, told Tommy and Wilbur far too many times that he was nothing but trouble, told them that there is no more dangerous man than a man with power, and you thought they’d learned that lesson with Dream, long, long ago. But nonetheless, you stayed through it all - you stayed through the makings of Pogtopia, Henry’s unfortunate death, and the festival, at which you didn’t fail to shout “I TOLD YOU SO”s at Wilbur and Tommy despite being in a near-death situation. Technoblade suffered a kick in the groin, because you just couldn’t help yourself, which led you into a sword fight that was way more than you bargained for, and was ultimately stopped by Tommy who forgave Techno just to stop the two of you fighting, not looking forward to having your head cut off in front of him. 
You were there to see Wilbur spiral, breaking apart in the prison of his own mind, you were there to see the glint of heroism in his eye get bent into one of a villain, you saw him become the man he had once swore to you he’d never become. And perhaps, when you fought for L’Manburg again, deep down, you knew what would happen; but you still fought tooth and nail, desperate to get back what you once had. You fought next to Technoblade, even though both of you knew you hadn’t forgiven him, and you never will - you fought next to Wilbur, even though you knew he’s not the same Wilbur you once knew, even though you knew L’Manburg would never truly be L’Manburg again, because its founders aren’t the same as they once were, when their heart was full of foolish hope and love. 
You were there to see Wilbur mouth an apology to you, and even though you didn’t know what he would do, you knew that the apology wasn’t an apology, but a goodbye; at least a late goodbye to the Wilbur you once knew. You were there to see the betrayal in Tommy’s eyes when Technoblade turned against you, summoning monsters with his own hands, forcing the rest of you to kill them while he watched. You were close, so close, too close to putting an arrow through his heart, ready to get rid of him, tired of the tears and the blood you shed over getting back what was always rightfully yours; but you didn’t, because Tommy’s hand laid on top of yours, telling you not to do it. So you didn’t, and instead you aimed for the porcelain mask that haunted you in your dreams, the cause of all destruction. Unfortunately, you missed, with his foot jumping back right before the arrow was supposed to plunge straight through his chest, and you fell to the floor, defeated.
You were there when L’Manburg’s government formed again - you were there when Tommy burnt down George’s house on accident, and, unfortunately for you, you were there when your younger brother got exiled. You were there, watching him get escorted. You watched him leave. You watched that monster of a man escort him out, kick him out, away from you, from everyone he loved. You watched him, and gripped your crossbow with tears in your eyes, swearing to yourself that you’d never let him get away with this. 
That’s why you stomped into the Community House the next day, knife strapped to the inside of your thigh, sword fastened on your back, crossbow slinged over your shoulder, fire in your eyes, demanding to see him. And sure enough, as soon as you spoke his name, he was in front of you, cracked mask covering his face, dirty blonde hair combed, as if nothing had happened in the first place, as if he hadn’t made life a living hell for all of you.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” you cut him off, speaking through gritted teeth as you took a step towards him, heavy boots creating even heavier footsteps on the wooden floor. The mask remained expressionless as always, and his body language gave away nothing. 
“What the fuck is wrong with you, Dream? Is this funny to you? Are we some kind of sick joke to you? Is that what this is? Are you having fun, Dream?” you continued, almost spitting at him. “Take off that mask, talk to me like a fucking man.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” he said, hand shooting to grip the porcelain at the mention of his mask, although he simply adjusted it slightly, still leaving it on.
“You know exactly what I’m talking about. How could you kick him out?! He’s a fucking child, Dream! A child!” you yelled, hand clenching into a fist.
“Is this about Tommy? I’m sorry, Y/N, but it was not my decision. The people, and Tubbo, decided that he should be exiled- I just did my job.” he claimed, still stiff, expressionless, and you fired back almost before he even finished the sentence, rage lighting your whole body ablaze.
“Right, because you only have power over other people when it fucking fits you! You only have power when you want to! You’re only the most powerful person in this whole fucking land when you want to terrorise other people! What are you, Technoblade? Poor baby got succumbed by peer pressure? Miss me with that bullshit, Dream. You and I both know that if you stood up for Tommy, and refused to exile him, nobody would’ve done shit! But no, you chose to exile him, and you know that. So at least admit to your actions and don’t shift blame, asshole.” you spat, fury getting the best of you, and apparently him, too, because he pulled his mask off so quickly that the strings almost broke, menacing green eyes boring into yours.
“He shouldn’t have burned down George’s house, he shouldn’t have tried robbing George, he shouldn’t have been a criminal when he’s vice president of a country! All actions have consequences, and he has to suffer those consequences to learn!” he borderline shouted, defending himself.
“He’s supposed to learn by being exiled and ripped away from everyone he loves? That’s how he’s supposed to learn not to fucking rob people? He’s sixteen, Dream! Sixteen! He’s a fucking kid- yes, he makes mistakes, but so do we! And we’re adults! Full, grown, fucking adults. What has he done to you to deserve this, you fucking psycho?!” you yelled, and you briefly saw him grit his teeth, jaw clenching.
“I’m not a psycho and you won’t be calling me that. He can’t go unpunished for the crimes he committed. Tommy is not as innocent as you make him out to be. And, once again, this was not my decision, it was made by Tubbo. If you have any issues, take it up with him, not me.” his eyes go darker than they were before, mirroring a brewing storm with no glints of the sun anymore.
“Right, because you’re so innocent. You never committed any crimes! You’ve never done anything bad! Our favorite good guy, Dream. Never tried to kill any minors. Bless his heart.” you mocked.
“I don’t fight anybody unless they provoke me first. Every time I fought Tommy, I wished I didn’t have to.” 
“I really expected more from you, Dream, I really did. I expected you to at least fucking admit to your actions, at least give me a proper excuse as to why you haven’t left me and my brothers alone from the start even though we wanted nothing but to live in peace and independence, why you do so much of the fucked up shit you do, but I guess I expected too much from you. You’re nothing - even Technoblade is more of a man than you, you know that?” you asked, leaning on one foot lazily. You see his hand clench - someone’s getting mad. “Technoblade admits to his fucking actions. Technoblade has had his goals set from the start, he’s always made them clear, and even though he’s a dirty traitor, at the end of the day, it’s still your fault for siding with him. But you - you’re a liar. You’re a liar, and a manipulator, and you never play fair - you always play dirty and play with people’s emotions and that’s how you win.”
You continue: “That’s because you can’t win fairly. That’s because you lose when you play fair. You think you have power, but you don’t. You just play by a different set of rules than everybody else, and we let you. Power will turn a man evil, Dream, but you’ve been evil from the start. People will always fear you because you trick everyone into believing you’re far more powerful than you really are - but you know what people will do with me, Wilbur, and Tommy, that they’ll never do with you?”
“They’ll respect us. And you are a man worthy of no respect.”
You unleash your sword, pressing the blade to his throat in a matter of seconds, ready to push it through with no preparation but he grips your hand before you can do it, and he’s about to speak, when your eyes dart to his, and suddenly, your vision blurs, a movie playing behind your eyelids without you closing your eyes at all. 
It’s almost like you see the events play out in the depths of his gaze - you see him, the real him, who stands before you, and you see his face mirrored in the scenes that play out, you see him staring right at you through some kind of screen, a smile plastered on his face. His features look softer, and his eyes don’t glint the same way they do now, but it’s not a bad thing; they look warm, homely. Something bursts in your chest the more you look at him, and it all goes by so fast, but you manage to somehow catch all of it. 
You manage to catch his warm smile just as the days pass in flying colors right before your eyes, you manage to feel heat spread through your chest when you look at the man before you, you manage to see him cooking, and laughing, and running, and driving, and crying, and sleeping, and kissing you and it all feels so odd but so perfect at the same time. You’re looking at Dream, but it’s not him - you call him a different name. You can make out the silhouette of the actual Dream, who still grips your wrist, behind the scenes of you and the man with a striking resemblance to him, and you wonder if this is happening to him, too.
You see him on one knee, at a beach, and you feel yourself crying even though you don’t know what’s going on. You see him in a field, and you can make out a man who looks awfully like Sapnap sitting on a plastic chair in the front row among many, wiping tears before your gaze turns back to Dream, who grins at you, dressed in a tuxedo. You see a young boy with blonde hair running around the house, laughing, while you try to catch him, and then Dream appears in front of you, picking the boy up before you could. You see his face wrinkle as the days pass, and you finally see him close his eyes one last time while tears run down your face uncontrollably, and the whole thing stops. The scenes disappear and you’re snapped back into reality, Dream’s teary eyes boring into yours. 
And that’s when you realise.
You harshly pull away from his grip, eyes wide in shock, putting your sword back in place as you shake your head in disbelief. The tears don’t stop flowing, and you can’t tell if it’s shock, horror, disappointment or betrayal - betrayal in who? Fate, you suppose. 
“N-No way. No way. No.” You keep shaking your head, voice trembling as you back away from him. He can barely collect himself, too, staring at you as if you’re not real, as if he’s seeing a ghost.
“We’re- no. Fuck no. Fuck this shit, dude.” You laugh dryly, no humor in it whatsoever, a mix of disbelief and fear still weighing down on your voice as he tries to step towards you, wiping the tears off his face.
“We’re- we’re soulmates.” He stutters, but manages to ground himself way before you do, gripping your wrist again, and you feel almost electrocuted when a spark shoots through your whole body at his touch. You pull away, again, stepping backwards, praying there’s no wall behind you.
“No.” you repeat like a broken record, not even bothering to wipe the tears. “No- I- there must be a m-mistake, this can’t be-”
“There’s no mistake, Y/N. You’re my soulmate.” He takes both of your hands into his, holding your fingers gently, and it takes all the power in your body not to burst out crying again. 
“Y-You’re no soulmate of mine.” you gulp, pulling your hands away once again, finally managing to somehow collect your thoughts. “Fuck you. I don’t care what- what we fucking are. I’ll never love you.” 
You see him visibly stiffen at your words, mouth parting, and you almost feel bad. Almost.
“You can’t- you can’t go against fate like that. We’re soulmates, Y/N.” He sounds hurt. You manage to convince yourself that you don’t care.
“Watch me do it.” You spit, anger recollecting in your gut once again. “Fucking watch me. Find yourself somebody else. I’ll never forgive you.” 
“Listen, I’ll bring Tommy back, just listen-”
“So now you can suddenly go against Tubbo’s orders? When it fits you? Fuck you. You don’t need to bring Tommy back, because I’m leaving with him. Him and Wilbur were more soulmates to me than you ever, ever will be.” 
And with one last glare in his direction, you turn on your heel, stomping out of the Community House, rage burning your whole body as he watches you leave. 
A powerful man needs those who will give him power. Watching you walk away, Dream realised that one day, he’ll have no one.
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astaroth1357 · 8 months ago
Demigod MC Series: Dionysus
Hey y’all, sorry for going dark! I’m alright, almost completely recovered in fact! I just got so sleepy while my body was fighting stuff off and couldn’t really work up the energy to write... Still going to be spotty for a short time, but I’m glad to have gotten this done. See ya soon!
Demigod MC Series: Intro, Aphrodite, Hermes, Hades, Dionysus
Well, this mortal stumbled out of the portal covered in glitter, body paint, and carrying a red solo cup… which they proceeded to stare at like, "'ell sshhit… Thiz iz sum stron s'uff…"
First impressions were not on their side here.
He spent a depressingly long amount of time more or less assuming that the MC was a drunken f-up and spent the first few months trying to make them more… presentable.
But like… How do you stop someone from acting like a drunk fool when they can turn any drink they touch alcoholic???
For months they would show up to meetings buzzed or stumbling, all smiles and all giggles but HORRIBLY unprofessional, and he just couldn't stand it!
But then he found out their little secret…
Assassination threats befall the exchange students all the time. Most of them are dealt with quickly but some (through skill or dumb luck) manage to slip through...
He had been walking with the MC through their new vineyard in the House's courtyard, yet again trying to lecture them about their drunken behavior, when suddenly the two were ambushed!
Ten or so heavily armored demons dropped down from the sky to attack them! Lucifer was so preoccupied that he got cornered by three of them and it took him a hot minute to destroy them.
When he looked back at the mortal (who had been fighting a 1-on-7) he was certain they'd have been kidnapped or worse…
But he saw that they had already cut down two attackers with their weapon with ease. The other five were rolling in the dirt, babbling about inexplicable terrors and imaginary pain as their minds succumbed to madness…
Meanwhile, the MC just stood in the middle of it all with the icy glare of someone who’s just revealed how stone-cold sober they've always been under the surface...
When they turned back to him, they put their usual ditzy smile back on over the tormented wails of the demons around them...
MC: Whoopsie… Gotta little mad there. 🙂
He uh… took a big ol'step off their back after that. Surprisingly, they're more pleasant (and less dangerous) "drunk" than they are sober…
Oh HELL yeah!! Lucifer actually gave him a mortal that knows how to party!!
Admittedly, they looked like utter trash when they first met, like, "Hey, I've been at this party since DAWN" trash, but they gave him one good look and pulled together a surprisingly hot smile.
MC: "-ey yer cute… Ya like strip poker?"
Spoken like someone else who also makes shit decisions… They were going to get along just fine!
And they did. The MC to him was that one friend that's always down for anything. Just anything. Whenever. Wherever.
He wants to try sneaking into Lucifer's room to steal stuff? Sure, what time?
He wants to take a mattress and see if he can ride it down the grand staircase of the palace? Alright, we bringin' pillows too?
He needs to set up another scheme that's gotta involve live rats and box of tiny hats and monocles?? That's oddly specific but count them in!!
Sometimes he honestly can't tell if they're laid back or just crave chaos... but it works out fine for him either way so who cares? 🤷‍♀️
And if you think normal Mammon is a pain in the ass for Lucifer? Check out drunk Mammon. All the same urges but literally none of the (marginal) competence!!
At one point, the eldest ended up stringing both Mammon and the MC from the ceiling after they both barged into his office looking for Goldie… while he was still in there… watching them wander around aimlessly calling out for a piece of plastic like it was a missing puppy…
They end up together on the ceiling a lot come to think of it, but hey, at least now he has some company. 😌
Thinks they're the most normal normie to have ever normed on this normie planet!!!
No, seriously. They're a billion times worse than Asmo!! All they want to do is go to parties and drink all the time! What kind of use is he to someone like that??
… That being said they ARE pretty fun to be around… And their sake is WAY better than anything he could get off Akuzon!!
They also like karaoke too! So at least he has someone else to go with (even if they get so drunk they can’t remember any lyrics and just belt barely coherent discount Mariah Carey vocals behind him...)
Of course, the real fun between these two is everybody else getting to watch a couple of the Devildom's sloppiest drunks attempt to communicate with each other…
Levi: MMM-*hic*-MCCC…!!! *throws himself at them from across the bar*
MC: What Leviachan??? 😨 Did the chair kick you off?!
Levi: Nooo! *pokes their cheek* I wanna-I wanna tell you sometin'...! *tries pulling them closer*
MC: Whaa? Secrets?? *leans in eagerly*
Levi: Mammon used all ma money on’a pyramid scheme a thou-zand years ago… AND HE STILL WON'T PAY ME BAAA-!!! 😭😭 *starts shaking them violently*
MC: *getting flung around like a limp noodle* Waaaat?! Nooo!!! I'm so sowwy!! 😢
Mammon: *watching it all go down right next to him* 😑 Ya guys need some water… I'm cuttin' ya off, got it?
MC: 😱 Shut yer whore mouth, criminal!! *starts pelting him with pretzel bites*
Levi: 😤 Yah!! *joins in*
Good thing he's a shut-in, because the hangovers he gets after those escapades are unreal…
A little concerned for their liver, honestly… How much damage have they already done to the poor thing...?
But at the same time, he'll be damned if they don't make some utterly fantastic wine!
Alcokinesis wasn't a power he would have pegged a demigod to have but apparently the great art of making drinks comes from their godly DNA.
When they first met, he was trying to get the MC to act less slovenly but made the mistake of agreeing to a wager: he'd let them dress however they pleased if they could give him the BEST drink he'd ever tasted.
Now, Satan isn't a huge drinker (thank you terrible alcohol tolerance), but he's still a man of fine tastes. Plus, he's sampled Demonus from Diavolo royal stock before. They should not have won…
But on that day, he had to let them go to RAD in a pink blanket toga... 😑 Their wine is just THAT good.
He hates to admit it, but they've gotten him drunk more times than he could probably count too… He's not a huge fan of clubbing with them and the others, but if they bring over a bottle from their vineyard he just can't resist. They're a master of their craft, truly.
And it's a good thing he likes their drinks so much, because if they called him, "Kitty-boy," when he's sober, he may have just become a sour grape himself…
They also may or may not have copious amounts of blackmail material of him either meowing between sentences, sobbing over some fictional character he likes, pole dancing on dares….
Yeah, he's been trying to destroy their phone for months now. If Lucifer were to see ANY of that, he's done for… 😣
He has also been meaning to ask them about other aspects of their abilities, their father is also the God of Madness after all, but anytime he tries to bring it up they shove another glass in his hand and tell him not to kill the mood...
Eh. What's the harm in having another drink, right? 🤷‍♀️
Honey. He's MET Dionysus. He's been to a Dio-party or two and they're INSANE. He could not be more thrilled by this!!!
He practically scooped them up on the first night that they were in the House and it’s practically been a nonstop rave between these two ever since. They’re like the party twin he never knew he needed!!
He absolutely abuses their ability to turn pretty much any drink they touch into alcohol at clubs. It makes the nights so much easier on the wallet PLUS it makes an excellent little party trick to impress the succubi! Who doesn’t want a free drink? 😏
And can he just say that their drinks are better? Just flat out amazing! If it weren’t so unhealthy he’d consider drinking nothing but their booze and wine for the rest of his days, Satan’s certainly getting close to it.
But little does Satan know, he’s not even getting the GOOD stuff...
There’s the normal wine: grapes picked from the vineyard, hand squeezed, then magically helped through the fermenting process. But their real good stuff? They were given enchanted oak barrels from their father and anything that comes out of those is worth starting a WAR over. 😩
He knows, because he gifted an extra bottle to Diavolo once and Barbs came to him the very next day demanding to know what vineyard had produced it with the look of man willing to annex a small nation...
Asmo had to beg Lucifer to talk to Diavolo after the butler more or less kidnapped the MC back to the Castle… Devil knows even Barbs wouldn’t ever be able to reproduce their wine, so they could have been locked there for eternity!!
Thankfully, he got his party-buddy back and their debauchery continued! (Just now with Barbatos following them around sometimes like he’s trying to gather state secrets... It’s an impossible task but he hasn’t given up yet, bless his black heart.)
He isn't much bothered by their carefree nature, at least they seem to be having fun with his family which he appreciates. 🙂
To be honest, though, he nearly ate them when they first met because they smell like freshly peeled grapes… and for good reason.
By their third day at the House they had (somehow) planted and cultivated a full on vineyard in the courtyard. Hell, the wall growing to their bedroom balcony was covered in grapevines!! Always ripe and completely healthy in defiance of the lack of sun... Whatever magic they used was strong.
And, of course, their grapes were also delicious! Easily among the best fruits he's ever tasted! Every cluster is ridiculously plump, juicy, and sweet like little droplets of pure Heaven… 🤤
When their fruit first ripened, the MC came out with a basket to collect some only to find Beel had gouged himself on over half of their crop!!!
… which may have been why he got snared up on one of the courtyard walls by pissed off grapevines... Even with all his strength, he couldn't break through them and had to wait for Lucifer to cut him down… 😔 
From then on, Beel was pretty much the pesky rabbit to the MC's harvest. They had to set up traps and magical barriers to keep him from their precious grapes…!! Which inevitably meant one of his brothers had to come rescue him from their furious vines at least once a week... 🙄
SOMETIMES, the MC will bring him along to help harvest with them with the deal that he can have an extra basket for however many he helps them pick. But the second he takes a bite he shouldn't, it’s back on the wall!
Out of the vineyard, they're nice enough. But put some grapes between these two and they're mortal enemies… STOP messing with their plants, Beel!! 😤
So… this drunken fool is supposed to get him out of the attic? Never mind, this is never going to work…
He was SEVERELY underwhelmed when the "human" finally made it up the steps. This was who they decided to bring for their exchange program? They seemed like they could barely stand!
Naturally, he figured all the better for him. They probably wouldn't even last that long! 
Some poor, incompetent human falling victim to a demon out there? Diavolo's reputation would in tatters and he wouldn't even have to lift a finger! (His favorite way of doing things really 😌).
But… they just kept coming back? Like. Nothing was killing them….! How guarded were they keeping this moron?? 
Or… maybe it was something else?
Sure, the MC seemed like a drunken idiot but there were times when he'd swear that they were just… too aware to be sloshed…
MC: *suddenly stops smiling at him mid-conversation and looks him in the eye* You tilt your head when you lie. You know that?
How can someone so cheerful ALSO be so unnerving…?
So really, he should have seen their sudden heel-turn after they opened the door coming. There he was, fully intending to take them by surprise and choke them after a hug…
...and they knocked him down, climbed onto his back like a spider monkey, and rode him around like a bucking bull using his horns like handlebars!!
It wouldn’t have been AS humiliating if they didn’t also keep shouting things like "Giddiyap!" And "Yee-haw!!"
It took him a whole month to be sure that any and all footage of that nightmare was erased and he STILL hates the MC quite a bit for it…. But he's too scared to attack them now, so…
The lesson here? It's not a fair fight when one side’s crazy... 😔😒
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