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navybrat817 · 10 months

Note

He's wondering when you're gonna stop doing your boring work and do him instead

Of course, he is. 😏

Clocking Out

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: Bucky makes it difficult for you to get any work done.

Word Count: Over 1k

Warnings: Established relationship, implied smutty times, Bucky Barnes (yep, he's a warning)

A/N: Late submission for Week 7 of Hot Bucky Summer for @buckybarnesevents ! Prompt - "Who's this?". ❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. But thanks to @rookthorne for the inspiration. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

You narrowed your eyes in concentration on your laptop screen, the clicking of your keyboard the only sound in your in-home office. You typically worked with some kind of background noise, whether it be music or even the television at a low volume. It helped the day go by faster. At some point though, Bucky ventured in and shut your playlist off to ask some random question.

"Who's this?" he asked as he shoved his phone in your face and blocked your view of the monitor. "And what is FYP? What the hell does that mean?"

You had to giggle after a moment. Your boyfriend had a habit of interrupting you while you worked to get some form of attention. It happened more times than you could count and you were lucky you got any work done at all when he was home. He told you in passing that after being alone for so long that he wanted to soak up every moment he could with you.

I can't get mad when he puts it that way.

"It means 'For You Page' and I have no clue who that is," you answered, gently pushing his hand away so you could get back to typing. "Why are you on TikTok, old man?"

"Why are you?" he asked, taking a seat on the loveseat near your desk. "Is this what you look at to get inspiration for your smut or whatever it is that you call it?"

"Hey!" you said, pushing away from your desk to turn and face him. "I write stories, thank you very much. Some of them just happen to include smut and there is nothing wrong with that."

Bucky had an all too smug expression on his face when he leaned back against the cushion and widened his massive thighs. He took up almost the entire two-seater sofa with his size. The gorgeous bastard finished up his workout earlier and didn't bother getting fully dressed after his shower. Just a new pair of sweatpants and no shirt, his long hair still slightly damp and daring you to run his fingers through it.

Showing off his broad torso like a harlot.

"Sorry. You're right. You do tell stories and they are wonderful," he said, holding up his hands on surrender. His steel blue eyes had a hint of playfulness as he nodded to your laptop. "You almost done with your 'porn with plot' or should I come back later?"

You rolled your eyes as you spun away from him and pulled yourself back to your desk. "You're impossible. Turn my music back on and go back to watching TikTok videos."

"Or you could take a break and ride me," he suggested so casually your fingers froze on the keyboard. "Give you the motivation you need to finish."

With a defiant lift of your chin, you went back to typing. You did like his idea and it wouldn't be the first time you stopped writing to have Bucky pull an orgasm or two from you. The only reason you got a bigger desk was so he could fit under it. The image of him nearly getting stuck under your old desk brought a smile to your face.

It also caused a tingling sensation between your legs when you remembered just how deep he stabbed his tongue into your aching pussy.

"You can't ignore me, doll. Look at you. Already distracted and shifting in your chair," he said, his voice low. He knew exactly how it affected you. "So get over here."

Nope. His thick cock can wait for me to take a ride.

"Bet you're not even working," he accused. It wasn't true. There were words on the screen. "You're typing just to look busy when we both know you're getting your seat wet through your clothes."

"Don't you have work to do yourself?" you asked incredulously, refusing to look over at him. If you did, you'd go right to him and he'd win. Both of you would win, but that wasn't the point. He cut into your work time when you couldn't cut into his.

It's not like I can show up in the middle of a mission and demand to suck his cock.

"If by 'work' you mean your delicious cunt, yeah. I have a lot of work to do," he said. The unsubtle man he was, you knew he was about two seconds away from taking himself out and stroking his perfect cock. Anyone who said perfection didn't exist hadn't slept with Bucky Barnes. "I'll do overtime and you can pay me in orgasms."

Your head fell back against your chair with a groan. "Where is your off switch?"

"No off switch around you, doll. Only an on switch. You're lucky I don't knock stuff off the end tables since I'm practically a walking hard-on around you."

The sincerity in his statement had you beaming and laughing all at once. You wondered if something in the serum sent his libido into overdrive or if it was you who brought that side of him out. It did wonders for your self-esteem because no matter how you looked, he gazed at you as if you were the most beautiful creature to grace this planet.

A small break wouldn't hurt.

"If I step away for a few minutes," you began as you stared at the ceiling. "You have to transcribe the next few paragraphs for me so I can lay down and recover."

"Deal," he said, leaning over and gripping the chair handle to turn you toward him. "But I'm warning you. If you dirty talk, I'm gonna get hard all over again and we'll be right back where we started."

"It can't be any worse than the time you had me in your lap," you said as you lifted your head. He couldn't stop himself from running his hands along your body or kissing your neck. And that was before he had you warm his cock. "Don't look so smug. You owe me an orgasm."

"Yes, ma'am," he smirked.

Lucky for you, Bucky always delivered on his promises.

We can't resist Bucky, can we? Love and thanks for reading! 💙

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

#navybrat writes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x female!reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes fanfiction #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan x female reader #sebastian stan x female!reader #sebastian stan x you #sebastian stan #biteofcherry #hotbuckysummer2023

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berryzxx · 6 months

Note

Could you do a really angsty fic where Matheo's annoyed because reader (he likes her) was getting too close to Theo/Draco/Enzo/Cormac LITERALLY ANYONE at a party and then they have an argument and he confesses. Ty

Perfectly serious

(sorry this took so long but I've been busy not handing in my assignments.) Also angst isn't my strong point but I TRIED. I continued writing the fic and the ending may not be what you wanted but I still hope u like it x)

Summary: Matheo's jealousy and want for you increases after seeing you with Theo to the point where he finally/kind of confesses

Matheo Riddle x reader

His arm wrapped around my waist, bringing me even closer to him. "Come on, let's get you to bed" Theo murmured. I looked up at him confused "I'm not drunk". My head might feel light and I might feel extremely happy and sad at the same time but I was most definitely not drunk.

"Yes you are" He took my hand and led me away from the groups of people dancing together, taking his time to weave us in and around the drinks being passed around. Everyone gave me a smile as I left, Pansy giving me a wink as we passed "I bet he fucks good. Have fun babe!" She said, her words slurring slightly, her voice loud enough for Theo to hear. Maybe if he heard it he would act on it. I wouldn't mind getting in bed with him.

We soon reached my room, the music faded to a low sound coming from below us and the lights softer than the harsh party lights of before.

"Well...night y/n" Theo said.

"You know" I started, my voice low and sultry. "I wouldn't mind if you joined me, made things more interesting. Hm?" I tilted my head waiting for his answer, his eyes searching my face. For what I didn't know.

He gave me a soft smile "Your drunk. And when drunk, your ideas aren't really your own. So as much as I'd like to follow through with your idea, it's best you get some sleep"

I rolled my eyes at him being who he always was. I wished for once he would push the boundaries. "Fine. Night Theo"

"Sweet dreams" He dropped my hand and waited for me to close the door. I could hear his receding footsteps, probably to go up to his own dorm. I was relieved in a way. Maybe I wasn't actually ready to fuck him and it was just the alcohol making me want something more. We were good friends. I didn't want to ruin that for something that I didn't really want. Chocolate brown eyes crossed my mind. Curly hair that would feel so nice running my hands through-. Something that would never happen.

*Potions the next day*

"I didn't see you yesterday" I said to Matheo referring to the party yesterday. Stirring in the crushed up leaves into the steaming potion, I turned to look at him, his eyes were icy and cold as if I had done some personal wrong against him.

"Of course you didn't. You were too busy trying to estimate your chances with Theo. Heads up, princess. He has higher standards"

I ignored the nickname that would usually make me swoon and instead my mouth opened in shock. How fucking rude of him. Was he ok?

"Are you being serious right now?" I stopped stirring the potion and crossed my arms. I could take a joke but come on. He had taken it too far.

"Perfectly serious. Why? Did you think I was nice?" He stood up to tower over me, his minty scent washing over me. His chocolate brown eyes were like daggers into my soul. It hurt knowing someone I was good friends with could switch up so fast.

"No actually, I didn't. Your just like everyone says you are. You get with a girl for your own pleasure, lead her on and then leave her with a broken heart. Your a rude fucking asshole and nothing more"

His jaw clenched at what I said, waiting for me to say anything else. I didn't actually mean it but I would never let anyone disrespect me and not expect anything back.

I realised soon how close we were. If only he were to move slightly closer, I could have tipped my head upwards and kissed him. The fact that I was thinking about that even though he had insulted me was annoying for me. I shouldn't still like him. Not anymore.

"You really mean that?" His voice came out soft, his jaw no longer clenched. As if he understood what I had said. I hesitated. Of course I didn't. How could I? I liked him for fucks sake.

I sighed "I don't know"

He sat back down as if he were tired of our argument. As if he didn't want to argue with me.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said-"

"Let's just forget about it. Ok?" I didn't want to argue either. Maybe he was angry and took it out on me. Fine. I would give him a pass just this once seen as though we were such good friends. (If only we were more than that)

He nodded his head and we worked in silence for the next few minutes. Until he cleared his throat and looked toward me again "Listen y/n. I don't want us to ruin our...friendship for something I've said so let me treat you. Will you be free to come to (insert Restaurant name bc I can't think of one rn) at eight?"

I paused and raised an eyebrow, smiling slightly "Are you asking me on a date or just as friends?" Confident of me to ask but I wanted to know where we stood.

After a pause he replied with "I'd be happy with either, as long as it's with you"

I thought about my next question "And if I want it to be a date?" I asked quietly.

He smiled "I was hoping you'd say that, princess"

-> Masterlist <-

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ddejavvu · 11 months

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Mei that fratboy!Hotch fic was so good I’m growling 😭 He deserves it I cant even lie to you. If you want to, could you maybe write a part two? Where he grovels a little more and even when he tries to make a move on the Reader, she’s still a little apprehensive?

And you just know Garcias probably already found out what went down between those two in exactly 2 minutes and she just gives Hotch the 😑 every time he walks past her

part 1 // i'm so glad you liked it!! it was definitely a step away from what i usually do hehe // parts of this scene were definitely inspired by the comments on part one! thank you for sharing your ideas with me, i loved writing them <3

When Morgan finally gets to his hotel room that night, dialing Garcia is the first thing he does. He takes off his gun while the phone is ringing, and she answers from her bed instead of her desk chair.

"Hello?"

He's filled with fondness at the fact that she's already groggy, probably watching ASMR videos before bed to rid her thoughts of the case they've been working on.

"Hey, babygirl," He greets her, "I need your detective skills."

"But you said you were done for the night," She whines, shifting beneath her blankets, "Derek, when a lady is told she can get in bed, she's going to get in bed. Especially when you tell a lady to get in bed."

He scoffs, "Hey. Keep it PG, PG."

"Whatever," She huffs, "A girl can dream. And a girl was about to dream, until you not-so-kindly called me up and asked me for more help. What is it this time?"

"It's something with Hotch," Derek hums, his belt buckle jingling as he unhooks it with his phone pinned between his shoulder and his cheek, "Remember that cafe you gave us the address to earlier? Where that woman Y/N Y/L/N was working?"

"Yeah," She hums, and Derek signs through his nose.

"Well apparently she and Hotch used to go out."

Derek has a split second to yank the phone away from his ear before Penelope shrieks into it. He barely beats the buzzer, and he can hear her excited squeals all the way from where he'd thrown his phone down onto the bed.

"Alright, alright," He speaks into the receiver, keeping the earpiece away from his head, "Quiet, sweetheart. If you screech that loud Hotch'll hear you."

"That's so exciting," Penelope gushes as Derek slips his jeans down his legs. He steps out of them, leaving them messily on the floor. He'll step right into them tomorrow morning, he doesn't feel the need to clean up. "Did they set up a date or something? Or- or flirt? Or kiss, did they kiss?!"

"Slow down, mama," Derek chuckles, leaning away from the phone just enough to slide his shirt over his head, "No, they were real awkward about it. When we left I asked Hotch and that's when I found out they'd dated."

"He should go in for breakfast tomorrow," Penelope gushes, "That would be perfect!"

"That's what I said," Derek lets his shirt fall to the floor, "But you're not listening to me, baby. Just stop talking for a sec."

"That is not my forte," Penelope warns, "Get to the point, Derek."

"He got really weird about it when I asked him. He was his usual grumpy grouchy self at first, but I guess I asked one too many questions or something, and he snapped. Stopped dead in his tracks, told me to stop talking, slammed the car door, everything. And I thought he was gonna break the steering wheel off on the ride back to the precinct, I swear."

Penelope mulls his words over, and he continues after taking a short breath, "There's something more that he's not telling me, Garcia, and I need you to find out what it is."

"Okay," She breathes, just as eager as Morgan, "Okay, uh- what kinds of questions were you asking?"

"Well, I asked how he knew her, then he said they were dating." Morgan recalls, "Then I told him to go get breakfast down there, and he said things ended 'poorly', whatever that means. And then I said I bet he could still get a date with her if he tried, and that's when he went all stone cold."

"Wait," Derek can picture the sleepy furrow in Penelope's brows, "You said you bet he could get a date with her, and he snapped at you?"

"Yeah, he said some shit like 'don't say that', real cryptic." Derek remembers with a grimace, "What're you thinking?"

There's a tense moment of silence, then Derek is humbled while standing near-naked in a hotel room.

"I'm thinking that you're lucky you can kick down doors," Penelope sighs, "And that you're handsome. Because otherwise I don't think they'd let you work for the government."

Derek's face scrunches in confusion, and he looks at his phone like it's the one insulting him, "What? What the hell's that supposed to mean?"

"It means you should get dressed," Penelope sighs, "Get some sleep, and let me take care of everything."

Derek scoffs incredulously, equal parts fond and exasperated, "Alright, pretty girl. I'll get some sleep. But- hey, what do you mean get dressed? Do you- how did you know I'm not dressed?"

Derek rarely feels the fear of god working for the BAU, but now he feels the fear of Penelope Garcia, "Can you see me?"

She delights in his terror, "No! Well, not now, but you're definitely less careful changing on face time than you should be. I just heard your belt, dummy, and I figured you were getting undressed for the night."

"Penelope," Derek signs shakily, "You are one scary woman."

"Why thank you," Derek can hear the cheesy grin in her voice, and he tugs on pajama pants while she speaks, "I'm going to need to be, to straighten things out with Hotch and Y/N."

"Oh yeah? Gonna show him who's boss, babygirl?"

"I'm gonna give him this really withering stare," She promises emphatically, probably practicing the expression as they speak, "My withering stare is lethal, you should be glad you've never been on the receiving end of it, hunk."

"Sounds terrifying," Derek chuckles, finally fully clothed now, "Alright, thanks Garcia. I mean it, I knew you could figure this out."

"Derek, honey," She croons, "A pigeon could have figured this out."

"Rude." Derek's eyes narrow, "Goodnight, meanie."

"Goodnight, birdbrain," She croons, "I'll keep you updated!"

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner scenario #aaron hotchner oneshot #aaron hotchner one-shot #aaron hotchner one shot #aaron hotchner headcanon #aaron hotchner headcanons #aaron hotchner hc #aaron hotchner hcs #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner fanfic #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner blurb #aaron hotchner drabble #aaron hotchner dialogue #aaron hotchner fluff #aaron hotchner x reader fanfiction #aaron hotchner angst

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ghouljams · 8 months

Note

can you please take us back to the beginning? from where it all started?

what did ghost do that made price decide ‘yep, imma ship you out with the horses’ and how did price mention goose before ghost met her.

I have been dying to write some Price and Ghost fic. I wanna do some fae au stuff for them too, but for now we focus on the cowboys. So here it is. Ghost tells Price he'd follow him into hell, and Price asks if he'd follow him to safety too.

"You're not renewing your contract," Ghost has never been keen on beating around the bush. Price is used to that, used to the sharp look in his lieutenant's eye that asks 'what are you keeping off the record and should I do the same?' There have been enough times that they've had to scramble in the dark without the cushion of military contracts, everything less than official in order to achieve the impossible, that he should have expected the look.

"I'm retiring," Price tells him, tugs open the corner drawer of his desk to fish for a cigar. The scrape of wood echoes through his office. Simon fidgets, a short flick of his nails against the pads of his fingers that is quickly stopped by Ghost's clenching fists.

"Retiring," Ghost repeats, feels the word out like he's never heard it before, "didn't know men like us retired." Price hums, clicking his lighter with a growing frustration, fucking military grade bullshit. Ghost flicks his lighter on, and holds it out for his captain. Price takes a moment with his cigar, letting the flame burn just a little long before Ghost flips the lid shut.

"When's the last time you slept?" He asks instead of rising to the obvious, if self deprecating, bait.

"Last night." The answer comes just a second too quick. Practiced. It's a standard question from the psych eval Price knows good and god damn well Ghost's been lying on for years. The kind of scars he's got...

"Really?" Price isn't asking, he lowers his cigar and exhales heavily, feels some of the tension melt off his shoulders, "I didn't." Ghost doesn't blink.

"Don't see how, they just keep makin' the barrack beds more comfortable." He jokes, the deadpan tone a distraction from his underlying agreement. Price would bet Ghost hasn't had a decent night's sleep in years. It won't be any better with him gone.

"Your contract is up about this time isn't it?" Price slides a folder to the side, flips up the edge of Ghost's papers. Same date stamped at the top as his own. It's been like that as long as he can remember. There's never been any question of what was going to happen on that date, except this time around. "What're your plans for that?"

"Renew." Ghost says without an ounce of hesitation.

"Without me?"

Ghost freezes. Price can almost see the gears turning in his head. A new captain, one he can't trust, one who doesn't know who he is or how he works. A new captain that might bring in new people, who might decide he's too much work and have him transferred out of counter terrorism. Who might not let his psych slip pass, who might discharge him for any number of things Price has let go over the years.

Ghost is a good soldier because he trusts him. Someone new? After what happened chasing down Hassan and Makarov, it's anyone's bet how he'll play. Those betrayals still hangs fresh over all of their heads.

"You like animals lieutenant?"

"Animals, sir?" Ghost's head tips forward ever so slightly, the smallest breech in his rigid posture betraying his confusion.

"My wife's family owns a ranch stateside. Would save me the trouble of lookin' for an extra hand if you wanted to change careers." Price leans back in his chair, "Good place to spend your retirement if you like animals."

"When'd you get married?" It's not the most elegant topic change, but it's also not a "no."

"Soon as I saw how shit the barracks were," It's the truth, but it sounds close enough to a joke that anyone else might think it was, "Got a kid too, Goose, you'd like 'er." Ghost grunts, breezing past that one, though Price knows he's carefully filing the information away. Mind like a bear trap that one. There's nothing Price has ever known Ghost to forget.

The two men regard each other across Price's desk. There's a level of trust between them that's carried them to this point, past every roadblock. It's not something that can be built up over night, nor is it one the affords requests lightly. Price has asked a lot of Ghost over the years, both of them understanding that the only way out was through. Now they stand at an impasse. One of them leaving, the other hoping they'll stay.

Ghost doesn't know what he'll be if Price leaves. He doesn't know what he is when he isn't this.

"Simon," Price appeals, leaning forward, "Let me do this for you. Let me get you out before this job kills you. The ranch is nice, it's quiet, you'll have your own place, work. You can sleep there."

Ghost is silent for a long moment, his eyes dark, clouded, as they stare Price down. It's anyone's guess what he's thinking. The conversations they've had- Price knows as well --no better-- than anyone that Ghost lives his life waiting for this work to kill him. He can't bury him again. Can't mourn Simon a second time when he knows he could have saved him. Price couldn't be there last time, but now? Today? He can try.

"I'm not babysitting," Ghost says finally. Price smiles, feels the tight anxiety in his chest loosen a little.

"Who? Goose?" He chuckles, shakes his head, "Doubt you'll get the chance to meet 'er, but I'll make sure she knows not to bother you."

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queenshelby · 1 year

Text

Forbidden Desire (Part Four)

Pairing: Thomas Shelby x Reader (Female/Incestuous)

Warnings: Incest (at this stage accidental), Age Gap, PTSD, Domestic Abuse, Self-Harm, Fluff, Mild Smut

Words: 5,456

Summary:

This plays after Grace’s death but before Tommy becomes a politician. Lizzie is pregnant with Tommy’s child, so it is somewhere around season four.

In this fic, Tommy suffers from episodes of PTSD and so does the reader, resulting from trauma and abuse. They will help and save each other without realising that their connection is much stronger than they could have anticipated.

There will be love, fluff and smut as well as a highly taboo relationship.

PLEASE COMMENT AND ENGAGE!

QUESTION: WHO IS TOMMY TO THE READER? WHOOPS!

YOUR POV

The following day, you again, arrived at the gambling den on time only to find out that Tommy was not there and neither were any of his brothers.

Polly and Michael too were absent from the den that day and the only person who barged in at around 9 o’clock was a woman by the name of Linda.

She was blonde and beautiful, with lovely curls and hypnotic eyes. She appeared stressed however and when you introduced yourself to her, she chuckled.

“I know who you are. My husband told me about you this morning” the woman then said and you queried her.

“Your husband?” you asked, not knowing who she was married to.

“Arthur Shelby. He is my husband and I believe that, last night, you met him, at the state library” Linda explained before sitting down and looking through the betting book.

“Yes, I did. He seemed nice” you acknowledged before thinking back to last night which is when Arthur, who happened to be Tommy’s oldest brother, came to find him. He too was in a panic last night, telling Tommy that he found someone they have been looking for. An acquaintance of some sort and, with that, Tommy had to leave rather abruptly.

Leaving you with his car and the key to the library, Tommy said goodbye without a kiss and it was almost like he did not want his brother to know about the fact that he took a liking in you.

Why this was the case, you did not know but, somehow, it was bothering you. You felt as though he was embarrassed by the way he had met you, in less than ideal circumstances and, the idea of Tommy being ashamed of you, was stuck in your head for the entire night.

You got no sleep whatsoever and needed to know the true nature behind Tommy’s intensions. Why was he so afraid of showing his feelings towards you in front of others? Was this just a game to him? Something to kill his boredom with perhaps?

“Y/N” you then suddenly heard Linda as, clearly, you were daydreaming and thinking too much about last night.

“Yes Linda” you responded almost reluctantly.

“Are you alright taking some bets today? Because we will be on our own until 3 o’clock” she then said and you realised that she must have asked you this very same question just seconds ago to which, clearly, you had failed to respond.

“Yes, I can take bets. You may just need to help me write them down. I am okay with numbers, but complex words are a different story” you admitted to her before asking where everyone was.

“There was an incident last night, near the docks in Camden Town” Linda told you but this did not really answer your question.

“What sort of incident?” you thus asked but Linda shrug her shoulders.

“Business I suppose” Linda said. “My husband never really tells me everything but, what I know is that Tommy was shot last night and this is why he isn’t here today. Lizzie cancelled all of his meetings” Linda explained and your chin dropped while fear began to overwhelm you.

“Oh my god Linda. You need to tell me what happened to Tommy” you demanded, but Linda did not, immediately, answer your question.

“So it is true what Lizzie said. You have taken a liking in Tommy” Linda observed instead. “My oh my, little one. You know you don’t stand a chance, right? Tommy is not a man who is faithful. Despite, he is marrying Lizzie, so…” Linda then went on to say but you did not care and repeated your question.

“Linda, is Tommy okay?” you asked again, to which, finally, you received an answer.

“Yes. He is fine. It is not the first time he got shot and the man who shot him is now laying in a ditch somewhere. My husband made sure of that” Linda told him while you were quick to reach for your coat, causing Linda to ask where you were going.

“I need to see him” you told her, causing Linda to roll her eyes.

“No, you don’t. What you need to do is to help me run this office. Tommy will be just fine” Linda said sternly before making an observation. “You have no idea what Tommy does, do you?” she then asked but the question was a rhetorical one. “He may be my brother in law, but he is not a good man” she furthermore said. “It is because of Tommy that my husband is acting the way he does. He had found God after having been jailed for his crimes, but now he is back carrying our Tommy’s dirty work. It’s appalling and you should stay away from him” Linda finally mentioned to you but this was not all she had to say.

“I know about you. I know about your stepfather too. Tommy is looking for him’” Linda revealed and you gasped momentarily in response.

“What are you talking about?” you wanted to know, seeing that you were not aware of any business Tommy had with your stepfather.

“You think that Tommy chose you out of kindness or love?” Linda chuckled after realising how oblivious you were. “Lizzie is right. You are naïve. Your stepfather has a gambling debt with Shelby Company Limited and went into hiding after using a false identity to steal from Tommy’s family business. Tommy wants to recover the debt and make him pay for stealing from him. This is why he needs you” Linda then told you and it all started to make sense now.

Tommy did not like you. He was using you. This was all you were to him.

“I need to go Linda” you then told her as you were trying hard to hold back your tears. You were feeling betrayed and upset by what Linda had told you and, even though you still could not be sure about Tommy’s true intentions towards you, you were almost certain that you were nothing but a means to an end.

To be continued…

Please comment and engage. I love getting comments and predictions pretty please!

Tommy Shelby Tag List:

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@elenavampire21

@dolllol2405

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@0ghostwriter0

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@lulunalua23

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@bookklover23

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@moonmaiden1996

@marlenamallowan

@cyphah (cannot tag)

@majesticcmey

@cleverzonkwombatsludge

@throughgoeshamilton

@alessioayla

@elenavampire21

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@satellitelh

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hana-no-seiiki · 1 year

Text

YANDERE ! BATFAM W/ MILES MORALES (BUT GENDER NEUTRAL) ! READER

Just an outline for a potential full on fic to come.

First of all, I’d like to put credit where credit is due and thank Kden (from Quotev) for creating Straight Venomous and inspiring me to start this. And thank you firefly-graphics and galacticgrafitti for the dividers.

Damian and Reader are of legal age in this fic but there will still be an age gap between them and Bruce (I mean he literally fathered the former so it can’t be helped)

This is my first fic in Tumblr so forgive me if it isn’t up to par for quality and format wise as I’m still learning.

CW/TW: Reader is POC coded as in Latino/Black like Miles although you can kinda have to squint since it’s only from the dialogue with their mother in future chapters. Reader is described to have gained “muscles” and height. Spoilers for Spiderman: Into the Spiderverse. NO NSFW YET BUT WILL COME IN LATER CHAPTERS.

current status: unedited

summary: damian meets and gets attracted to wrinkly brained reader. mostly follows the into the spiderverse plot.

Reply if you’d like to be added to this series’s taglist.

[ PART TWO ] [ PART THREE ]

WHAT’S UP DANGER (PART ONE)

“If I sound lazy just ignore my tone, cause I’m always gonna answer when you call my phone

like what’s up danger?”

You most likely met Damian first.

He was astonished by how much of a failure you were. Really, he wouldn’t have noticed you in the first place if you weren’t such a catastrophe. He knew you only got to his school via raffle but even the worst students here didn’t get complete zeroes on all their scores.

He was probably assigned to be your tutor. Which you remember vehemently refusing. After all you wanted to be expunged from this god awful preppy school filled with elites of all kinds. But nope — you were forced to get along with the worst of them all. Damian Wayne. Perhaps you’ve gone too far and should have settled for a 20 or something on that paper instead . . . or all those quizzes and assignments you purposely got zeroes on.

In any case you now had the Damian Wayne inside your house (if you even call it that) and a paper to write about your ambitions or whatever.

You were basically complete opposites. He was rich, you were below average if not just straight up poor. You even bet he was a daddy’s boy or some shit. (But who were you to judge when your first day at the school literally consisted of your father forcing you to say you love him . . . with the loudest speakers known to man!) He was probably into classical music and while you did enjoy the genre as well you were more of a hip-hop, trap, pop music sorta guy. He was known as a snob that didn’t take bullshit from anyone while you were literally the definition of a pushover.

But surprisingly you two clicked really well. It started with you off-handedly correcting one of his mistakes. It wasn’t supposed to reach his ears really. But the realization that you, the bottom feeder of all bottom feeders corrected him flustered him entirely. That moment stuck within his head for the entire week that it even slipped into his vigilante activities.

Like, after single-handedly decimating a group of people trying to rob a bank he just yells, “How the hell did I get that wrong?!” while that one dude pretending to be unconscious in the background so he wouldn’t get beaten up harder just stares at him in confusion and shock.

After he cools down a bit, he starts wondering how you got it right. He looks into your scores and notices everything before his intervention were literally straight zeroes. Not just in the classes you two shared. It was either you were extremely (un)lucky or . . . you knew every answer from the start.

So he starts taunting you. Forcing you to display your prowess. Calling you an idiot, poor, nobody when you didn’t relent to his provocation.

And so you did. You showed him that you really didn’t need help from him. That you were a genius in your own right. Capable of doing advanced arithmetics within seconds in your head. You were fascinating to him.

And maybe the fact that only he got to know this side of you — not your classmates or teachers, even your parents now that you’ve secured a dorm room close to him (courtesy of the Wayne name) — knew about your intelligence inflated his ego. If only you didn’t have a roommate that bothered you two once in a while. He was quite the annoyance with how the music in his headphones could be heard even across the room. Like seriously, how was the boy not deaf yet?

It was around that time you got your powers.

You began avoiding him (and everyone really) but mostly him (he’d convinced himself). You’d only come to his desk once in a while to tell him that you weren’t available for tutoring that day, or even that entire week. Not to mention your sudden growth in height and muscles. Were you going through . . . puberty? No wait— you’re older than him by a year! Perhaps you were a late bloomer? You probably just started a gym membership. But he didn’t spot you in any gyms throughout Gotham out on his patrol. Not even at your room at night…

That and your already sus scores and attitude prompted him to instigate an entire investigation.

Who was [Y/N] [L/N]?

He knew some facts about you just from your room, the fact that you enjoyed music of all sorts and art, more specifically the graphic - pop look. He even started noticing your name-tags that you’d put everywhere both in his civilian and vigilante life. Seriously, how were you able to put it atop this streetlamp of all places?

Then he started noticing how alike you two actually are. Aside from enjoying art and all, you were incredibly rebellious. You had a relationship with your dad that could only remind him of his with Bruce. He knew you probably get reprimanded for all the vandalism you’ve gotten up to all the time. A small smile graced his lips at the thought.

However this only made him question your avoidance even more. So he decided to take a step further and trail you as robin (even harder).

You were getting really close with this Gwen girl in class. He quipped in his head as he noticed you two walking together.

Were you . . . going to the gym to impress her?

You didn’t seem like the type to change yourself for the sake of others. Despite your downtrodden attitude about academics. He can see the hidden potential, that confidence he wanted out for him to witness and bask in. He wanted to see all sides of you he realized.

He wanted to be the only one who did.

But just as he was about to follow you two into a dark alleyway he gets called by Dick of all people to investigate something else. Something about a man trying to cross realities and universes? Pah, as if that was more important than this. Nightwing can handle himself. He couldn’t have his competence questioned though. So with a reluctant sigh, he takes off into the night sky. Wondering what the pair he followed could be doing.

[ PART TWO ] [ PART THREE ]

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freeuselandonorris · 4 months

Note

☰ for Monday, with the “who did this to you” trope? Love your fics <33

(from the fic ask game)

HI ANON i am so sorry this has taken me a million years to answer, i started weirdly overthinking it??

my understanding of the ‘who did this to you?’ trope is it’s very hurt/comfort-centric, which is not a genre i write very often (hence probably why i overthought this for so long lmao).

if i was to approach a remix of monday from this angle i think i’d like to do it from lando POV and explore more of why he’s so insecure and why it takes him so long to trust that oscar genuinely really likes him and isn’t just looking for a quick fuck to take the edge off. there’d be more of a focus on lando’s past relationships and in particular how he went from being a slightly nerdy kid (like, he looked twelve until he was about twenty) to suddenly being a millionaire heartthrob with a huge social media following. but he also self-describes as a simp (in the lando norris vs slang video) and clearly wants to be in a “real” relationship rather than just fucking about, so i’d look at what happened to him to make him so cautious with his heart.

proooobably this would end up with past dando or carlando? i have a mild aversion to carlos so i’d probably go for fuckboy daniel ngl.

i think it’d take oscar quite a long time to actually get round to asking lando what happened — partly because he’s got a bit of an attitude of “well, lando will tell me in his own time if it’s important to him” but also because there’s a bit of him that doesn’t really want to know, especially because he’s got a pretty good idea it involves another driver. he’d probably bring it up pretty idly, in the end — lando would make some veiled comment about how netflix would have creamed their collective pants if they’d known the half of it while oscar’s scrolling past DTS trying to find something to watch, and oscar would very casually… actually, y’know what.

Lando feels Oscar go still next to him and mentally kicks himself. Might’ve known Oscar wouldn’t let that one drop.

“So are you, like.” Oscar wets his lips and shifts on the bed, curling up so Lando’s tucked further into his chest. Lando presses himself back, drawing Oscar’s arm around him. “I dunno. Did something happen? With Dan.”

Lando closes his eyes, considers his options. It’s tempting to squirm back against Oscar’s body, press his arse into his crotch and slip Oscar’s hand under the hem of his T-shirt until he forgets the line of questioning, forgets he was saying anything at all. It’s mad, really, the way he responds: Lando only has to pull his shirt up, bite his lip a certain way, and he’ll have Oscar distracted and reaching for him, even now. It’s been months. Lando’s experienced it before, that first flush of desire when he can use his body to control how someone feels about him. It rarely lasts, though, once the novelty wears off.

Which is sort of the point.

He sighs, aware it sounds a bit huffy, and picks up his phone so he can flick through his notifications while he speaks. “I mean, I guess? It was just stupid, though.”

Oscar breathes behind him, slow and deliberate. He hums into Lando’s hair, strokes a thumb over the ticklish spot on Lando’s waist, the dip just above the ridge of muscle that delineates his hip.

Lando swipes through notifs from Discord, Instagram, iMessage, WhatsApp, Reddit, Sky Sport. Dismissing each without seeing it. He laughs, and it comes out all wrong, harsh in the back of his throat and defensive. God. Wet as fuck. “It was just — I mean, he was fucking miserable, you saw him. So I guess he just wanted a pick-me-up, y’know.”

“Right,” Oscar says, voice unreadable. He’s so fucking blank sometimes. Lando fights the urge to turn round and scrutinise his face, opens his emails instead and starts deleting anything that doesn’t look vital.

“He said,” Lando says, aiming to deliver it as a joke. “‘I’m straight, but I bet you suck dick like a girl anyway’. Like. What does that even mean?”

Oscar’s thumb stills, just for a moment, then resumes its slow path. “I know that’s offensive, but I can’t tell if it’s sexist or homophobic or both.”

Lando makes a disgruntled sound of agreement. “Yeah, well, whatever. It was — whatever. Wasn’t anything.”

“You said,” Oscar says mildly. “But I can see why you’d… Why it’d make you cautious.”

Lando sighs. Thinks of Luisa, showing him screenshots, her face streaked with tears. Watching the comments roll in, badly spelled threats he didn’t even bother reporting. The way Carlos never quite relaxed around him once people started tagging them in stupid ship videos. Googling how do you make someone sign an nda locked in an unfamiliar bathroom, mouth sour with vodka, head spinning. Waking up at 5am in lockdown, Max hyperventilating next to him. The girl from Raya he’d sent flowers to, trying to do the thing properly and be romantic, only to find she’d blocked him ten minutes after he got the Your package was successfully delivered email.

“It wasn’t him,” Lando says, locking his phone and putting it face down on the nightstand. He turns, tangling his legs between Oscar’s and leaning in to nip at his jaw, breathing in the familiar smell of Oscar’s basic aftershave. Oscar's arms tighten around him. His cheeks curve into a smile beneath Lando's mouth. “It doesn’t matter.”

#hopefully this baby ficlet makes up for my tardiness in replying!#think it's unblocked me after a few days of feeling frustrated with writing so hooray for that #apologies to dan i needed a villain #mctwinks #fic meta #answered #mondayverse #prompt fill

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the-brash-spud · 6 months

Text

So I have this bit of writing that I thought was hilarious, but sadly, it got scrapped along with the whole first attempt at the fic I'm writing, but I still want people to enjoy it, so imma just drop it here;

Nightwing sat there. Cross-legged applesauce on the chair. He was looking right at him with so much mischief written across his partially covered face that Marvel’s stomach did more than one funny flip. Trying to keep calm, Billy smiled as he took his hands off the keyboard, laying them on the chairs armrests as he sat deeper and leaned back into the chair while turning towards the blue bird. “Hey there! Need help with something?” He tilted his head as he offered, playing nonchalant about the situation.

“You know, Batman once tripped on his own cape?” The smaller man said so suddenly he might have as well slapped Captain.

“Wha-”

“And he cried last month after he had to be put on some heavy pain killers after a serious injury because Red Robin called him “Dad” in panic.” Nightwing cut off the shocked hero. “Just last week, a villain managed to escape him because the laces in his new boots weren’t properly secured, and he tripped on those too.” He ignored the expression of horror growing on Marvel’s face and instead leaned in to whisper. “He can perfectly dance Cha-cha even without the music.” Apparently, the fading of colour in a fellow hero’s face was something that only encouraged the hero of the night. “He adopted so many similar looking kids I’ll bet my yearly salary that if another black-haired blue-eyed kid showed up at his house, he wouldn’t even notice.”

Was this some sort of psychological warfare? A tactic from Batman to see who is the instigator of most of the gossip? Did he want to see how Billy manages to deal with stress? To see what he would do with possible blackmail? What sort of plot could the Gothamites have to do this? It felt like forever but also an instant as he stared at Nightwing. Did he expect something, anything? Some sort of reaction? Captain had so many questions, but none could leave his lips, so he went with the easiest one: “Why?”

“Nobody here knows anything about you, and you don’t pry into anybody’s business here.” Nightwing began. “You’re an immortal being of magic as far as people are aware. In the end they trust you with their lifes but believe me, they don’t always believe you. There are bets going on about which ones of your reports are actually just you pulling their leg. If you now went and told them everything I just said, word for word, they wouldn’t believe you because apart from the aforementioned point, they are also sure I already left.” The face of the smaller man was serious as he explained.

“Then… then why? What’s the point?” Billy was still in a serious state of shock. He didn’t even comprehend what Nightwing said other heroes thought of him. It just flew over his head.

The grin on the hero in black was almost wicked as he answered simply. “I felt like causing a bit of mischief.” He then just uncrossed his legs in one fluid motion and gracefully stood up. “Anyway, good talk! Can I have your name, Captain?”

So yeah, there was a bit before and after when it comes to this, lol

Do whatever with the idea, enjoy.

#billy batson #dc captain marvel #nightwing #dick grayson #batman #bruce wayne #my fic

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duchess-kyuupid · 10 months

Text

Doors or Wheels? [TWST]

It's time for the TWST gang to answer one of life's most weirdest questions. Are there more doors or wheels in the world?

[Not even a fic, just some crack on how everyone would react if you asked them this question]

Riddle: "What a silly question. Of course there's more wheels. "

Trey: "Uhm... Wheels, probably? When you add in gears, it makes sense."

Cater: "Oh? Hmm... I think it's gotta be doors, right? Hold on, let me go ask my Magicam followers!"

Deuce + Ace: Do NOT get them started on this again. They were already arguing about this last week and they STILL haven't gotten over it.

Leona: "Did you really wake me up to ask that? Well, herbivore, why don't you go find out for yourself with that smart brain of yours? Go count them."

Jack: "Doors, probably? Like kitchen cabinet doors. And there's a lot of doors around campus too."

Ruggie: "If you give me 500,000 Thaumarks, I'll go find out for you."

Azul: "Neither doors nor wheels are used very often in the sea, and yet you expect me to know which are more common on land? ... You can leave the VIP room now." The next day he walks up to you in full confidence and says, "Doors."

Floyd: "Don't know. Don't care. Not in the mood. Now go away, shrimpy, before I squeeze you to death."

Jade: "Oh, please excuse his rudeness. Azul just rejected his idea to refurnish the Lounge with string lights. In any case, I believe the answer would be wheels."

Kalim: "Doors! No- wait, wheels! Oh, but what about- AH! I can't pick! There's so many of both! How can there be so many??"

Jamil: "Have you been drinking?"

Vil: "What sort of absolutely nonsensical question is that? Don't tell me you've been spending too much time around those Heartslabyul troublemakers, have you? You're better than that, little potato."

Epel: "Erhm... Why are you even asking that?"

Rook: He doesn't even answer the question. He instead goes into a long tangent about the beauty of figuring out the answer. He ends up writing an award-winning poem titled, 'The Real Wheel Before the Door' in which he lists every single item that contains either a wheel or a door in perfect rhyme (with some French mixed in).

Idia: "I don't know, ask Ortho. Now go away, I'm trying to grind for this limited-time gacha..."

Ortho: "Processing request... Counting all available doors and wheels within 300 meters.... Processing complete. There are approximately 3,247 of wheels and 2,489 doors on campus. With that in mind, I have computed that there are approximately 46.2% more wheels than doors in the world."

Malleus: "Child of man, are you asking me to go count them for you?" He thinks for a moment before nodding with a smile, "This must be one of those 'friend' activities that Lilia told me about. Of course I'll go count them. Hopefully I'll be back with an answer that will satisfy you, my dear friend." And he disappears. You feel bad that you asked him.

Lilia: "Oya? You wanna bet some money on it?" He says as if he hasn't already counted them before... Don't ask me why he did it, because I don't know either.

Silver: "There is an equal number of both. Probably."

Sebek: "WHAT AN OBNOXIOUS AND UTTERLY RIDICULOUS QUESTION. OBVIOUSLY, DOORS."

Grim: "I'd rather there be more tuna than either one."

Crowley: "My! You clearly have a bit too much time on your hands to be asking me such a strange question! Could you spare some of that precious time to do this thing for me- I mean us! For the benefit of the whole school, no- the WORLD! Thank you in advance, Prefect, I knew you were just as generous as I."

#duchess kyuupid #twisted wonderland #twst imagines #twst headcanons #twst x reader #disney twst #disney twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twst #x reader #twst crack #twst wonderland #disney twst x reader #disney twisted wonderland x reader #gn!reader #gn reader #reader insert #twst drabble

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madnessismylover · 1 year

Text

TMNT All 4-1 Challenge: January Entry

A/N: I think this is my first time taking part in a prompt challenge thing but not my first work for TMNT (I actually have a full multi chap story in the works). (Side note: When I search for Leo gifs on tumblr all I find is pain Q-Q)

I'm a huge fan of @turtle-babe83 who is one of the hosts and where I saw this challenge in the first place. (I don’t know if I’m supposed to tag all the hosts ^_^”)

I've been obsessing over Rise lately so while I love the Bay Boys I gotta write for Rise.

NOTE: While this is SFW all characters depicted and/or mentioned are 18+.

Pairing: Rise!Leo x reader (she/her)

Prompt:

“Why do you have a pair of her panties in your dresser?” “WHY ARE YOU IN MY DRESSER?!”

Works: 395

💚💙🐢💙💚

Leo felt his heart drop to his stomach when he walked into his room to find Donnie standing at his dresser; a robotic arm held up a pair of blue lacy panties. His twin turned his head to look at him, face blank.

“Why do you have a pair of her panties in your dresser?” he asked.

“WHY ARE YOU IN MY DRESSER?!” Leo shouted as he ran in and grabbed the small article of clothing, shoving it back into the drawer that he then slammed shut. He stood in front of it to hold it closed. His chest was heaving as if he had just finished running a marathon, blood having rushed to his face.

"Not important. What is important is that our brothers each owe me $20," Donnie said.

"You… hold on, you guys bet on the two of us-!"

"No, no, don't be so crude. We simply had a bet on whether you two were… well, having relations of any sort really. Though on a completely unrelated note, April owes me $30," he muttered, taking out his phone, his fingers quickly typing out a message.

"W-what?! Why would you-?" Leo tried to laugh it off. "What would make you think there was anything going on between-?"

"Don't insult my observational skills, Nardo. Besides the undeniable evidence in that drawer, I clocked the two of you weeks ago." He waved a hand.

"Look, just because I have a pair of-!" His face seemed to grow even darker as he couldn't bring himself to finish the sentence. "Hey, m-maybe she just left them in the bathroom after a shower! Did you ever think about that?!" Donnie raised a drawn eyebrow as he looked up from the phone.

"Ah and so the reason you have them… is because you took them instead of returning them to her? Yes, that paints you in a much better light. He said sarcastically," he deadpanned. “I would hope you wouldn’t be so-”

"Alright-! She-..." Leo let out a sigh as his head hung down. "She gave them-" Donnie held up a hand.

"Nope! I don't need to know anything besides the fact that my wallet is about to gain $70." He turned to leave, but he paused in the doorway, turning back. "Though if you could answer one question to help me determine if it'll be $90."

"GET OUT!"

💚💙🐢💙💚

A/N: Not too long, but I hope it was okay. I’m still getting a feel for writing the Rise boys.

I don’t normally post fic stuff on this blog but I don’t have a TMNT side blog so main it is.

#TMNT All 4-1 Challenge #TMNT All 4-1 #rise leo x reader #Rise of the TMNT #ROTTMNT #ROTTMNT x reader

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softguarnere · 2 months

Text

For Whatever We Lose

Lewis Nixon x OFC (slow burn, enemies to lovers) Chapter Seven: A Twisted Satisfaction

Summary: Whatever Minerva imagined that Toccoa would be like at night flies out the window the second she experiences the real thing. It is, in a word: madness. A/N: Today's fun fact: the fight mentioned with the man in the 511th actually did happen! The story was told to me by a local when I was working in Toccoa, and it was too good to pass up on sprinkling it into a fic :) Warnings: language, alcohol Taglist: @kujofam @dcyllom

No longer able to punish them for alleged incidents of fraternization, Sobel runs the company with more vengeance than before. Anything and anyone is fair game. He taunts Bianca when she is chosen to become a medic. Instead of congratulating Lori on improving her time up Currahee the way Dick does, he takes to running right behind her, jeering at her the whole time. When Anna tries to lead them in a marching song one day to keep time, he tells her to shut up and that she sounds like a dying cat.

But – no longer able to revoke weekend passes for fraternization, the women of Easy Company finally get their first taste of Toccoa’s night life.

“Last week a man from the 511th got thrown through a window of a department store after he hit another man over the head with a bottle opener,” Minerva relates to Keziah as the girls race around the bunkhouse to get ready.

“Where’d you hear that?” Lori asks over her shoulder as she brushes her red locks. “One of those private sources you’re never able to disclose?”

Minerva ignores her. In actuality, her source had been Webster, who had watched it all happen. He’s a good source; he relays his stories very well. No wonder he wants to be a writer.

“Where are you gonna go?” Keziah asks. “I’m going with Guarnere, Luz, and Toye to some place they like in the middle of town. Gonna kick Luz’s ass in darts.”

“My money is on you.” If the Oklahoman is as good at throwing darts as she is at shooting, all bets placed on Luz are hopeless. “I don’t know. Webster asked if I wanted him to show me around.”

A smile tugs at the edges of Keziah’s lips. “He’s in love with you. You know that, right?”

I could say the same about Guarnere with you, Minerva thinks, biting her lip to stop herself. Keziah is only just at a point of accepting that Guarnere does not, in fact, look at her so often because he hates her. Still, it might be something of a shock if the real reason were revealed. Minerva can’t decide if Keziah genuinely hasn’t picked up on the fact that the Philadelphian has a crush on her, or if she’s just ignoring it for unknown reasons.

“You’re not answering,” Keziah singsongs with a laugh.

“Well, what am I supposed to say?” No really – what is she supposed to say? David is thoughtful and well spoken and kind and he listens to her. He makes her feel funny things in her chest that she hasn’t experienced since she was a teenager and that she hasn’t allowed herself to analyze yet because . . . Well. “He’s handsome. There, are you happy?”

“Very.”

Good, Minerva thinks. Because that is as far as this thing goes.

Whatever Minerva imagined that Toccoa would be like at night flies out the window the second she experiences the real thing. It is, in a word: madness.

Part of it is probably the shock of being from such a small town. But, to be fair, she did go to college in the state’s capital, and she got her fair share of the city. So it’s not crowds, lights, and noise that are new to her – it’s the utter chaos of military men being set loose in a military town. Specifically, the men who are dead set on catching a local girl to write to once they’re off fighting. They’re particularly rowdy. But one thing that most of the men have in common is that they’re drunk – and many of them seem to be looking for a fight.

Minerva holds her head high as she marches through town in her uniform. She’s always been tall, but seeing these men and realizing that she’s one of them makes her feel proud, which makes her feel just as tall as they are. The playing field is not exactly even – it may never really be – but this is something, at least.

Several Easy Company men call out in greeting as Minerva and Webster enter the bar. They call back, smiling, laughing already, as though they’re already part of the good time.

“You might want to stick close to us,” Don Malarkey suggests after Minerva gets a drink and finds a seat.

“Oh? And why is that?”

She’s expecting some sort of joke, but Malarkey’s face is more serious than she’s ever seen it.

“There are a lot of men here who don’t like the idea of female paratroopers,” he explains in a low voice. “I don’t think they’ll give you a hard time as long as you’re with men from our company. You know we’ll back you up.”

“Thanks for the tip.”

“Stay safe, Sarge.”

She plans to. She has Webster with her, after all.

Once he gets some alcohol into his system, Webster can wax poetic like never before. He holds himself back though, which is impressive. He only spouts something beautiful whenever someone addresses him directly. And when they call him “Harvard” or “Professor,” he only smiles in response, though his eyes take on a somber, faraway look.

Minerva, for her part, feels more relaxed than she has since arriving in Toccoa months ago. She sings drinking songs with Malarkey and shoots some whiskey with Skinny Sisk. She’s only twenty-two, but the days of doing this sort of thing in college feel like a lifetime ago. So much has happened since then, she realizes. Then she immediately downs another shot to chase the memories away.

She cuts herself off, partially because Lieutenant Speirs arrives and challenges her to a game of darts. She may have beaten him running Currahee, but she needs all her wits about her to beat him in darts – especially because he doesn’t drink, and therefore has more command of his hand-eye coordination.

Minerva lets out a low whistle when he reveals that fact. “With all the temptation around you? You must be a saint.”

Speirs – or Ron, as he assures her that she can call him – only smirks in response. “Far from it.”

It’s at that moment – when she should be having fun and enjoying the game with her friend – that she spots him. A group at a nearby table gets up to leave, and it clears a path of vision to reveal several officers sitting along the wall, chatting with each other while they drink. And there among them, of course, is Lieutenant Nixon. She wouldn’t care too terribly much, if it weren’t for the fact that he’s glaring at her.

Glaring at her like she’s done something wrong. Glaring at her like he dislikes her – although that last part might be true, based on what happened back in the rain.

You backed out of kissing me! Minerva thinks. If anyone should be mad, it should be me.

Then, to her surprise, she realizes that she’s not mad. She hasn’t been mad, anyway. Only hurt, stung by his sudden rejection. Embarrassed, actually, about the fact that she tried to kiss him, which just makes her feel scorned. But now that he’s looking at her like this, so angry and with so much uncalled for hatred, she feels a spark catch in her heart, and it quickly turns into a flame, into a fiery inferno. Hatred is so easy to catch, and it can consume a person so quickly.

Well, fine! If he wants to be mad that he missed his chance, then he can keep on pouting. And he can keep on glaring, too, because she won’t give him the time of day.

Her chest feels light with the satisfaction that spurning someone can bring as she turns back to Ron, smiles, and suggests, “Up for round two?”

She throws herself into the night in a way that she hasn’t allowed herself to since she was a teenager and in college and free for the first time in her life. When she is just Minerva and not an older sister or a teacher or any of her other responsibilities, she can have so much more fun. And when she can feel Lieutenant Nixon’s angry glare on her back every time she laughs or is congratulated by the men of Easy Company for a good shot at the dart board, she feels a twisted sense of satisfaction that adds to the effect of her fun.

Fun – that’s what all this is. It’s what it’s all about. From the very beginning, too, the second that she raced into that recruiter’s office and put her name down for the Airborne. She’s having fun.

They’re just having fun, she tells herself when the night has grown dark and she and Webster have decided to head back to camp, only to grow distracted halfway there and hide behind the town’s movie theater, leaned against the wall, hiding in the shadows as they press their lips together.

“Is this – “ Webster gasps between breaths. “Is this okay?”

“You’re a good kisser,” Minerva assures him as she runs a hand through his hair and pulls him back in for more.

Webster waits until they both surface for air before he tries to clarify what he means. “I mean – Minerva. I don’t want to get you in trouble.”

Minerva stops, pressing her head against the wall behind her as she considers his words. I don’t want to get you in trouble. That’s sweet. They both know that she would probably get into much more trouble for this than he would.

She nods in agreement. “Okay, then. Let’s quit while we’re ahead.”

Webster sags as he exhales. The shadows they hide in cast a mask over his face, but they do not conceal his disappointment. “I wish we didn’t have to.” A quite laugh escapes him. “I haven’t blown off steam like this in a while.”

That makes two of us, Minerva thinks at the same time that an idea springs fully-formed into her mind. “That’s all this is.”

“I didn’t mean it like that!” Webster rushes to explain. “I just meant – “

“I know,” Minerva interrupts. “But you’re right. Secret relationships always get found out in the end; they’re harder to hide. Blowing off steam is more casual. You only do it once in a while.”

Webster tilts his head. “Are you suggesting - ?”

Minerva shrugs. She’s perfectly fine with leaving the ball in his court, letting him be the one who makes or breaks this thing. It’s nice to have a break from responsibility and decision making every now and then – fun, even.

“So we’re not going together. We’re not a couple,” Webster clarifies. “Just blowing off steam every now and then?”

“If you want.”

The Harvard man considers this. He raises an eyebrow. “And we would still be friends? Because I don’t want to lose that.” He sounds almost nervous when he adds, “I like being around you, Minerva.”

“Of course we’d be friends,” she assures him. “Just friends with . . . more, every now and then.”

A beat passes while he considers their situation. Finally, he nods.

“Okay. Yeah, I think this could work.”

“Me, too.” Minerva smiles. She closes her eyes as Webster leans in again, feeling him smiling against her own lips.

Minerva feels like she’s floating on the way back to the bunkhouse. Once they near the camp, she and Webster put a respectful distance between themselves, and they try not to smile or laugh too much at anything the other says.

She feels like she’s seventeen again when she slips into the bunkhouse and makes her way over to her bed, except this time there is no sneaking in, no relying on anyone catching her to keep their mouth shut. In fact, hardly anyone notices when she arrives. Very few of the girls are back, and the ones who are appear to be asleep.

The bed next to hers creaks as Keziah rolls over. She lies on her back, watching Minerva.

“Hey,” she greets quietly.

“Hi,” Minerva replies. “How’d it go?”

Keziah shrugs. “It was fun. How was your night?”

“The same.” She flops down onto her bed and sighs. It had been fun. Now that she’s back, however, some of the magic is wearing off, just like it always does. But instead of crawling under her blankets and then waking up in the morning to take on the world with her friends, she realizes that she will go to sleep on a thin mattress and wake up in the morning to run up a mountain. There will be no morning debrief with Helen where they laugh over things boys said to them the night before. John-Michael won’t ask her questions over breakfast. And Jack won’t –

Still dressed, she lies on her back the way Keziah does, staring up at the ceiling. “Maybe it was more fun when we were teenagers, though, and there wasn’t a war on. There wasn’t much to worry about then.”

Not looking over, she can hear the pillow rustle as Keziah nods. “I don’t think things will ever be the same again,” she muses.

Something surges in Minerva’s chest like a strong tide coming in. Her breath hitches in her throat.

“I guess you’re right,” she realizes aloud. She will never be a teenager again. The world has moved on, has changed. It is changing, all around them, as history is being made every day. There is no going back. The world is a different place now, and by the end of the war, it may be utterly unrecognizable.

The night on the town soon reveals itself to be a reprieve; nothing more than the eye of a hurricane giving them all a false sense of safety before the rest of the storm hits.

“Athena!” A voice behind Minerva barks the next morning as she leads the Women’s Squad to breakfast.

Facing away from him, Minerva rolls her eyes at the harsh tone in Captain Sobel’s voice as he calls her the wrong name . . . again. She has to force a smile onto her face before she turns around to face him, all fake niceties. “Captain?”

“There’s been a change of plans today,” Captain Sobel informs her. “The women’s work on the rifle range a few days ago was sloppy at best.” He enunciates the p with an annoying pop that grates on her nerves. “I simply cannot report these scores to Colonel Sink in good conscious.”

During the holdup, Diana has followed Minerva’s lead and stepped away from the rest of the Women’s Squad. A wrinkle of confusion appears between her eyebrows when she catches the captain’s words. “What would you have us do about it, sir?” she asks.

You would have to be quick to catch it, and luckily, Minerva is – she sees the way that Sobel blinks in surprise when Diana speaks, as if he hadn’t bothered to notice her before she did so. He looks at her now like she’s utterly inconsequential.

“Well, Sergeant, I would have you fix it. Take all day if you have to. In fact, do just that. After breakfast, report to the range and run drills until I come to get you for lunch.” As if he expects either of them to protest, he barely pauses for breath before rushing to add, “Practice makes perfect, after all. And I expect each and every one of you to be flawless by this afternoon.”

He turns on his heel, ready to leave, but Minerva stops him.

“What about Private Mancini, Captain?”

Sobel spins around, dark brow quirked, his mouth a hard line, every syllable tight when he questions, “What about her?”

“She’s a medic,” Minerva reminds him. “Should she come with us? Or go with the male medics to their training?”

For a second, Sobel flounders. He must make up his mind, though, because he seems pleased with himself when he gives Minerva an answer. “Let her go with the male medics.” He laughs to himself and says in a voice that was clearly not supposed to be heard by the sergeants in front of him, “There’s no helping that girl’s aim anyways.”

Incised on Bianca’s behalf, Minerva and Diana lead the women to the rifle range after breakfast with a newfound sense of purpose. Bianca is still sent off with the male medics, but the other women do nothing but train, train, train. Anita, already the best shot of them all, is bored out of her mind within an hour, and Minerva has to send her to help those having trouble in order to keep her occupied so that she stops showing off.

“Goddamn.” Katherine whistles when the girl from New Mexico manages to hit Lucinda’s target from three spaces over. “She’ll be a sniper by the end of the day!”

The end of the day in question seems to be fast approaching. There’s been no sign of Captain Sobel since he sent them here this morning, and judging by the angle of the sun overhead, that’s been ages ago.

“Funny,” Diana mutters, as if she can read Minerva’s mind. “If he wanted us to improve so badly, you would think that he would be here to oversee this.”

But their captain doesn’t appear. Women start to mutter about being hungry as lunch time comes and goes. They’ve been on the range so long that even Lori, the weakest shot of the group, has vastly improved. Still, no sign of Captain Sobel.

It has to be some sort of test, but Minerva can’t make out his angle. When he finally comes to collect them, will he try to turn the other women against her by claiming that they could have left at any time instead of waiting for him? Somehow or other, he’s going to make this her fault. She can feel it in her gut, the same way that she can sense a storm coming across the ocean while out shrimping with her father and grandfather back home.

Around the time that Minerva starts to wonder if the purpose of this whole thing is actually to make her doubt if she heard him correctly, a figure appears in the distance. Tall, dark haired, and wearing PT clothes, he’s approaching quickly.

“Finally,” Anna mutters, slinging her rifle across her back in relief.

Minerva is about to agree when she realizes that the figure coming towards the range isn’t Captain Sobel – it’s Lieutenant Nixon. She mutters a choice word under her breath before he comes into earshot, and it makes innocent Diana’s cheeks go scarlet.

Nixon is one of the last people she wants to see right now. She may have gotten some satisfaction out of annoying him at the bar a few nights before when she ignored him, but that doesn’t mean that she’s willing to interact with him. Especially not with that expression on his face – the one that clearly says he would rather not be interacting with her, either.

We have that in common, at least, she thinks to herself as the lieutenant comes to a stop in front of her.

The first thing she notices is that his shirt is soaked through with sweat. His hair, too. Has he just come back from PT?

Before she can get answers, he offers both her and Diana a curt nod. “Sobel sent me to find you. Easy Company is meeting outside the barracks, now.”

Something about the way he says the last word sends them all into action. One second the Women’s Squad is on the rifle range, and the next they’re falling into attention beside the barracks.

Their order and timeliness goes unappreciated. Several men glare daggers at them as they approach. Others look confused. Bianca, having been off with the male medics all day, glances between her sergeants and captain with raised brows. Captain Sobel himself whips around the second they appear, and the next thing Minerva knows, he’s in her and Diana’s faces, demanding to know where they’ve been.

Diana opens her mouth, but no sound comes out. Instead of watching her struggle, Minerva steps in.

“Sir,” she says in her best teacher voice, which is pleasant and steady – the exact opposite of how she feels right now. “You sent us to the rifle range this morning and gave orders that we were not to leave until you came to collect us for lunch.”

“You must have taken a break for lunch,” Captain Sobel insists. “The runner I sent at noon said he couldn’t find you.”

“What runner?” One of the girls behind her mutters. It’s said quietly enough that Minerva thought only she could hear it, but Captain Sobel is practically omnipotent when he wants to be.

The words are hardly spoken before he demands, “Who said that?!”

Lucinda, Minerva’s mind supplies the answer, because there’s only one person that Southern drawl could belong to.

When no one fesses up, it only enrages their Captain more. His face is scarlet as he flies into a lecture about the importance of following orders, of not disobeying your superior officer. What’s more, some of the men are snickering at them as they observe the lecture.

How dare they! Minerva tries to silence them with a cool glare – and that’s the first time she notices that several men’s white PT shirts are stained down the front with something orange.

She’s so caught up in attempting to figure out what happened to the men while they were on the rifle range that she misses the last part of Captain Sobel’s lecture, and her only real cue that the Women’s Squad’s embarrassment is finally over is that Diana bumps her arm into hers before turning to lead the girls back to their bunkhouse.

The men must have been dismissed, too, because they start towards the barracks as well. But as soon as their captain is out of sight, many of the men pick up the pace, glaring at the women as they pass them.

“So much for being a team,” someone spits.

“Went missing during the worst day of our lives – how goddamn convenient.”

Obviously, something has happened. It’s becoming clear that it must have been awful, but Minerva can’t for the life of her connect the dots to make out the picture. She needs more information, and from someone she trusts. Trying not to get trampled by the rest of the company, she searches the crowd, looking for a friendly face.

Keziah beats her to it.

“Hey, Luz.” She grabs George’s arm to catch his attention, to pull him a bit closer when she quietly asks, “What the hell’s going on?”

Luz lets out a noise that’s somewhere between a sigh and a bitter laugh. “We were told we had the morning off and were given a nice spaghetti lunch. We were in the middle of enjoying it when, out of nowhere, Sobel showed up and made us run Currahee.”

Minerva winces in sympathy. That explains the orange stains on the fronts of their shirts – spaghetti sauce.

“Quite a show. Sorry you missed it when you were . . .” He cocks a brow, waiting for someone to fill in the blanks.

“On the range, just like Sergeant Revels said!” Even though she’s rushing to her defense in the heat of the moment, it’s strange to hear her friend call her by her rank instead of her name. “Sobel abandoned us there all day and told us we weren’t allowed to leave until he came to get us.”

Understanding dawns on Luz’s face. “He wanted to make it look like you all played hooky to get out of running with us. He’s trying to drive a wedge between the men and the Women’s Squad.”

“Well.” Minerva bites her lip, looking at the angry faces all around them. “Mission accomplished.”

All the hard work of Winter’s scavenger hunt – undone in an instant. Sure, there are those who will understand, like George. But certain others, who didn’t care for the women to begin with, are so blinded by the rage of what they have just experienced that they aren’t seeing clearly.

At this rate, the Women’s Squad may never be fully accepted by the men of Easy Company as equals.

#lewis nixon #lewis nixon x ofc #band of brothers fanfic #band of brothers oc #hbo war #hbo war fanfic #for whatever we lose #oc minerva revels #my writing

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