#he ain’t operating come back tomorrow

[moonlightdancer26]

Severus Snape in a nutshell:

#he ain’t operating come back tomorrow #(p.s. he won’t be operating the next day either‚ but i’m sure you already know that) #severus snape #pro snape #pro severus snape #snape #harry potter #anti snaters #shitpost #hp shitpost #hp

[moosemonstrous]

Ghost Rider Pacific Rim AU - it's like self-care if you think about it

Hey, that your face?

Robbie stares at his reflection, razor hovering half an inch from his cheek. It blinks when he does – he’s not sure why he expected it not to. Probably having his right eye taped shut messes with his depth perception, or something. Hopefully he can take the dressing off after the check-up in the afternoon.

He breathes, four in, hold four, four out. The anxiety simmering in his stomach doesn’t go away, but subsides enough that he won’t slice his cheek open when—

What’s with the white bit? You greying already?

He looks around the bathroom. Shatterdome operates on a six-shift pattern, not counting variations in the jaeger duty side of things, so there is always plenty of people milling about. (So many people. No wonder they keep accepting refugees, they need every pair of hands they can get.) There are two men attending their facial hair at the sinks, one tired-looking lady falling asleep into her toothpaste, and several others using the showers and cubicles. Nobody’s paying attention to him, or his hair.

He exhales through his nose and resumes shaving. The blonde streak looks like it starts in the middle of his head; he hasn’t come across bleach—or a haircut—since before Bladecrest descended on L.A. Hong Kong is ridiculously well-supplied for such a frequent demon target. Comes with being the base of coastal operations, he supposes. If he’s allowed his job back, he could swing by the store next week, or maybe take Gabe to town on his rest day—

You ain’t getting your shitty job back, kid.

Yes, I am. That was all an accident. Colonel Ivanov—

Fuck Ivanov. You can’t trust a thing he says.

It was. An. Accident.

Robbie nicks his jaw and drops the razor into the sink. “Fuck!”

“Language,” one of the men chides him, amused. He has Coyote Tango tattooed on his bicep.

Robbie mumbles an apology, then stares into the mirror, waiting. It must be the painkillers wearing off. Maybe his eye got—damn, he hopes it’s not some sort of an infection. There’s plenty of one-eyed mechanics out there, but they tend to have a lot more experience under their belt than he does.

Gabe is nearly finished getting dressed by the time he makes it back to their bunk. “Robbie is back!” he chirps. “Buttons?”

The Shatterdome pharmacy has... everything under the sun, apparently. Gabe already charmed every health professional in medical, so with a nod from Ivanov his permits were run through out of queue. No need to wait for appointments. Only a couple of days on proper meds, and his focus is already so much better. All Robbie has to help him with is buttons.

“Excited for school today?” he asks, rather than going down that particular train of thought.

“It’s not real school yet,” Gabe reminds him seriously. “But, soon!”

“Very soon,” he promises. “Mr Wan said day after tomorrow, yeah?”

And all Robbie has to do is to hang his head and promise he will never step a foot in the jaeger hangar again. He doesn’t mind that in the slightest.

Yes, you do.

No, he doesn’t.

Your memory is all fucked up. I’ve seen it, yeah? Black hole where dear old dad should be.

That’s not—

It is, and you need to figure it out. It’s all in The Charger, you just have to grow a—

“Robbie-Robbie, it’s time to goooo!”

“Yes, yes,” he laughs. “Let’s go.”

There are far more people in the conference room than Robbie expected for a stern talking-to. A couple he recognises from news broadcasts – Captain Danvers, Tony Stark – but most are new faces, talking between each other like it’s their lunch break. Ivanov puts a heavy hand on his shoulder. Robbie has to suppress an alien shudder coming from deep in his stomach.

Fuck, if I could– Argh! Stop letting him touch you!

“It’s normal to be nervous,” the Colonel says. “Don’t worry. It’s just a few questions. It will be over before you know it.”

It can’t be worse than being questioned by the spies. That’s not what they were introduced as, but Robbie spoke to enough cops in his time to know what information not to volunteer. No, I didn’t have time to grab our papers before the house flooded. Yes, the applications are with the embassy. No, I didn’t know the transport was going to Hong Kong. Why the hell would I think a relief plane was leaving the country? Sorry, yes, I’ll mind my tongue. Yes, I was arrested, no, no charges were made, no, nobody asked me to infiltrate anything – it went on for hours.

The room is utilitarian – concrete and metal, like the rest of the base – but clearly sees a lot of use. One wall is dedicated entirely to a whiteboard covered in mathematical equations. Robbie wonders what kind of clearance he’d normally need to see it.

“There he is, the man of the hour!” Stark notices him first, spreading his arms to get everyone’s attention. “Well, don’t stand in the door, come on in, take a seat.”

His affect is overly friendly, but his eyes are sharp, assessing. The young Asian guy next to him gives Robbie a little wave. Ivanov directs him to a seat at the top, between himself and Stark. It’s weird, to be sat at a table instead of on one side of a committee. Difficult to see everyone without constantly turning his head, especially with only one working eye.

Damn. I don’t know any of these fuckers. Well, obviously. Remember, you can pilot The Charger. Nobody managed that in ten years. They have to let you try again.

Robbie is stressed out, and tired, and a little bit terrified, if he’s honest with himself. But he really, really needs to get a grip for this. He can figure out what part of his subconscious is delusionally suicidal after this very, very important meeting.

The tall, white woman with dark hair speaks first. She looks a little familiar. She might have been on the news, too. “Roberto Reyes, is it?” He nods. “Any relation to Alberto?”

He swallows. “My father,” he says. It comes out quieter than he intended.

“Shit,” Stark whistles. “So it’s true. Colonel, do I have to remind you I have dibs on nepotism in this circus?”

“Like you’d let us forget,” mutters the big, black man at the other end of the table. He’s wearing red-tinted sunglasses right at the centre of an enclosed base made mostly of concrete.

“How’s your eye?” the Asian guy asks. “We’ve not had many drift-related injuries in recent years.”

“He is expected to make a full recovery,” Ivanov answers before Robbie can gather a response. “Ladies, gentlemen, this is merely a formality. What happened was an unfortunate accident–“

“No, what happened is you broke protocol,” Stark interrupts him. For such an accusation, everyone at the table remains remarkably relaxed. “Do you know how cranky the techs get when something goes out of schedule?”

Ivanov drums his fingers on the metal surface of the table. “I was under impression we already discussed this.”

“Yeah, but then we looked into the system reports.” Stark nods to the Asian guy. “Hit him, Cho.”

“It wasn’t a fluke,” Cho passes a thin tablet to Danvers, who looks at whatever it contains with a furrowed brow. “Hell Charger was in full drift for nearly thirty seconds. The head movement corresponded to the helmet output. If you didn’t pass out when you did,” he nods to Robbie, “you’d have fried your own brain trying to tear that jaeger off the hold rack.”

It sounds a little like an accusation. Robbie feels his hackles rise – it’s not like he did anything on purpose – and has to force himself to breathe normally. He can’t fuck this up. The medical, the school, accessible living quarters. He repeats it like a mantra in his head while everyone takes a turn reading through whatever it is the tablet holds. Their expressions range from merely surprised to concerned – Ivanov is definitely in the latter category.

You’re welcome, by the way. You’d have chased that rabbit all the way to Wonderland if I didn’t step in.

“How is this possible?” the other dark-haired woman asks. She’s wearing a white lab coat. “Why am I only hearing about this now?”

Stark grins. “Dramatic effect.”

“Also, security didn’t hand over the drives until this morning,” Cho adds, but it’s clear he’s fully on the side of the dramatic effect. “If my samples weren’t held up in customs, I’d probably never have looked.”

“As always, we are saved by young Cho’s inability to mind his own business.” Stark leans forward on his elbows, way too far into Robbie’s space. “You know what that means, Reyes?”

Robbie swallows. He’s pretty sure Captain Danvers is laughing at him, the way she hides her mouth behind her hand. “…No?”

“It means my sidekick wants to study your brain.”

“Not your sidekick.”

“Which means he won’t be a pain in my ass for, like, two whole seconds.”

“Maybe three,” Cho flashes Robbie a smile. It does nothing to make him feel better about this sudden turn of events.

Ivanov pinches the bridge of his nose. “Tony, this is ridiculous. Miss Walters, surely the legal side–“

“Don’t look at me,” the tall woman shrugs. “The program can, and has requisitioned civilians to aid in the war effort.” This is promising. No, it isn’t! “Just don’t let him anywhere near the extremely classified weaponry again and I don’t see a problem. Especially if it shuts those two up.”

Shit, no. Nononono. We need to drift again! Say something!

Robbie clamps his mouth shut.

The lab coat woman grabs the tablet again as soon as Ivanov puts it down. “I want in on this,” she declares, swiping down its contents. “A successful solo drift on an inactive, defective jaeger? Have you had an MRI?”

With a start, Robbie realises the question is directed at him. “I think so?“

“I want to see it. And your psych eval. We need to record your impulse triggers. Cho, clear your schedule.”

“Already done.”

“Can we slow down a little?” Captain Danvers says. Again, Robbie has to suppress a reflexive annoyance – she looks like she’s pitying him. He hates being pitied, and he hates that he feels like the ground is rapidly disappearing from under his feet. “Hell Charger isn’t just defective, it’s dangerous. Mr Reyes was beyond lucky to survive the drift. Let’s not put him at risk to satisfy our curiosity.”

“Nobody’s talking about plugging him back in,” Stark waves her off. “It’s just a few tests.”

The black man sighs. “I hear the replacement for Horizon Brave is taking longer than it should,” he says. “We are a jaeger short until Wakanda sorts out the vibranium agreements. I wasn’t going to let any of my cadets try out The Charger, but…” He trails off. It’s impossible to tell if he’s actually looking at Robbie with those weird shades on. “Not without training, though.”

“That can be arranged,” the tall woman taps away on her phone. “I can trigger the next recruitment drive early…”

Well, not all is lost. No thanks to you.

The meeting somehow turns to comparing schedules. The white coat is a doctor and she’s cancelling a call with the UN marshal to look at Robbie’s brain. There’s a brief argument about how much of the whiteboard can be erased to make space for notes. At one point, Robbie has to rattle off Gabe’s school timetable so the black guy – Brooks – can cross out relevant squares on said whiteboard.

“I’m supposed to work second and third shift in transport maintenance,” he says, hoping to get somewhere near the original reason for this whole thing. Stark snorts.

“Don’t worry about it. Vicky, authorise a stipend. It’s not coming out of my budget.”

Robbie’s already tenuous grasp on his situation slips even further when Ivanov looks at him with a familiar expression: you’re starting to be more trouble than you’re worth.

Seriously, kid, fuck Ivanov. Unless you plan on ripping his throat out with your own teeth, settle for pissing him off.

How would that help?!

It would make me feel better, for starters.

Don't you want to feel better?

#ghost rider pacific rim au #robbie reyes #eli morrow #who of us doesn't have an occasional homicidal thought #or five #also it turns out I enjoy writing tony stark in meetings

[lenaswritingandstuff]

Losing Game [Antoine Griezmann x fem!OC] (Chap. III)

Requested: No​

Pairing: Antoine Griezmann x OC!Gabrielle Darian; more to be added.

Warnings: OC's mom is a bitch, English is not my first language!

Wordcount: 4K+

A/N: Thank you for reading! GIF IS NOT MINE. Enjoy!

Previous chapter

CHAPTER III

“He told me”, Sabrina continues, “that they would donate a lot of money and that they will talk about the company and charities on social medias, etc.”

Very strange. Generally, we’re the ones that invite the celebrities. But the entire French National Team is excellent from a marketing point-of-view. Oh God, I sound like my mother.

“Do we need to tell your mo-I mean, the Director of Operations?” Sabrina asked.

“I'll tell her,” I answered. ���We never know, but knowing her, she’ll want to impress them and I’m gonna have to restart all the organization. Thanks for letting me know, Sabrina.”

“Of course, beautiful. See you tomorrow.”

“See you.”

I hanged up, and spent my time in the supermarket wondering what my mother will want me to change and how I’m gonna change it. After thirty minutes, I go back home. Louisa is cmoing back in thirty minutes, and even if I’m hungry, I decide to wait for her to eat, but I barely had time to store the groceries that I hear the entrance door open.

“Yo.” She said, putting her school bag on the bar.

“Already here?”

“Yes, the teacher left us leave early. Did you take that apple juice I like?” she asked after noticing the groceries bag.

“Did I ever forget to buy what’s on your list?” I asked, raising my eyebrow.

“No, never. So, how was work?”

“Oh, it was good…Surprising.”

“Why?” she asked, eating a bit of bred.

“Didier Deschamps and the French Team want to come to the gala,” I told her.

“No way! But how could they possibly know about the gala?”

“I have no clue,” I said, realizing I never thought about it. “I guess they saw the article on the website. They’re fast, in that case, considering we published it this morning.” I added.

“If they publicly talk about the company, it will be a great promotion. Your mother will be thrilled.”

“Yes, before she tells me to change everything I prepared, just to impress them.”

“Yeah, probably.”

We prepare lunch together, mostly talking about football players inviting themselves.

“Honestly though, have you seen these handsome dudes?” She laughed. “If we’re lucky enough, we could get one of them.”

We both laughed and I shook my head. I don’t really watch football, but I have to admit, some players are rather handsome. But still, I don’t feel like starting a relationship. We sat to eat, and she tells me about her classes. Like her, I can’t wait to finish college so I can get a job in a translation company and finally leaving the family’s company. I know it’s gonna be hard, as there are not many jobs available in that sector, but I’ll do whatever it takes to be independent, even alienating my family.

“What did you plan to study today?”

“German. It’s not like I’ll ever go to Berlin or Munich, but that exam might compensate for bad marks, so…”

“Good luck. And don’t fall asleep!”

“Me? Never.”

She went to her room muttering against the German language. When I see her German lessons, I’m glad I took Spanish since middle school; even though I’m not good at it at all. I studied in the living room, the television’s sound in the background of my head. Exams are coming soon, for both Louisa and me. I can’t wait to have them, just so the stress can go away – even though it’s gonna be replaced by the anxiety of waiting for the results. After one hour, I got up and went to see Louisa to make sure she wasn’t falling asleep. I knocked on her door, and I heard a “No, I’m ain’t sleeping”. I went back to the living room and stayed focused on my studies. When I decide it’s enough for today, it’s already 5:30 pm. Crap, mother. I took my phone and called her. She finished work earlier today, she then should answer. After a few seconds, she answered at the same moment Louisa came back from her room.

“Yes?”

“It’s me.”

“I know it’s you. What do you want?”

Alright, great.

“It’s about the gala. The French National Team want to come.”

“The football Team?” she asked, more surprised than I expected.

“No, the soap bubbles team,” I retorted, “Of course, the football team.”

“Don’t be insolent. Who did they call?”

“Sabrina,” I answered. “Deschamps called her this morning. He told her they would donate money and promote the company. But how did they know about the gala?”

“It does not matter. Tell Sabrina to call them back to accept the invitation.”

“Alright. So, what am I gonna have to change? We’ll have to put on a show, right?”

“Send me the services you chose. I’ll see that tomorrow.”

“As you wish.” I answered.

And she immediately hangs up. I shook my head and sat beside Louisa on the sofa. She proposes we go shopping tomorrow, in order to clear up our minds, and I accept.

*-*

Between college, studying and the gala’s preparation, the 31st of May arrives way sooner for my liking. Coming home from work, I went directly to pick a dress. I try to tell myself that every detail is organized, but to tell the truth, I had never been more anxious in my entire life. I also try to tell myself that I don’t care what my mother will say about the evening I’m organizing but I know deep down, I’m anxious to see her reaction. I sighed and stared at the dresses I had before noticing a long black dress with straps. As for my hair, I decided to put in a bun with some locks around my face. I put my make-up at the same as Louisa does in our small bathroom. She is still as excited about meeting the football player, but she thankfully has given up on the idea of get one of them. She’s wearing a long red dress and let her curly brown hair down.

“Thank you for coming, bestie,” I told her while putting back my make-up in the cupboard. “It’s really helpful to me.”

“Are you kidding, I wasn’t gonna miss your first night as organizer.” She said smiling me through the mirror.

Once we’re ready, it’s already time to go. Like my mother does, I arrive early at the place to take care of last-minute details, and Louisa is coming with me. Jerome comes picking us up as usual, always so nice. In the car, I can’t help but to bite my nails, which I do when I’m stressing out, and even Louisa’s ‘Tsst!” can’t stop me from doing it. Once we have arrived, Jerome wishes me good luck and assures me everything will go okay. Damnit, give this man a raise already. The photographs, more numerous than last time, that my mother has forced me to invite, are not here yet, which amazingly suits me. I entered the room, and quickly the services’ bosses came to me to tell me everything is ready to welcome the guests. I inspected the decoration, put exactly as planned, and the tables put like my mother usually does.

“You nailed it, Gaby.” Louisa told me, looking around.

“Thank you. Hey, if something wasn't working, you would let me know, wouldn’t you?”

“Of course I would, don’t worry. Relax.”

I checked the last details and the time, and realized the guests should arrive any minute now. I barely had time the waiters coming with plates full of drinks and food and to go place myself by the entrance that the first car is already coming. It’s the adorable elderly lady from the last gala, giving me a big, warm smile.

“Good evening, my dear,” she said before kissing me on the cheek. “I’m glad to see you, you look beautiful.”

“You too, ma’am.” I said, taking the wrinkled hands she gave me. “Thank you for coming.”

“Thank you for inviting me, my dear child. It’s always a pleasure to see the Darian family.”

I invite her to come in, and she goes to Louisa, who she greets warmly. The other guests then arrive, and I pray none of them notices that my hands are sweaty. After a while, Louisa comes to me.

“You parents are not here yet?” she asks. “It’s unlike them to be late.”

“Yes, except when it’s for something involving me.”

Giving only them and the football boys are yet to arrive, I decide to go inside. I ask the waiters and the cooks if everything is okay, and their positive answer relaxes me a little. I go back to the room, psychologically preparing myself to have a conversation with boring, arrogant people when nearly all eyes suddenly turned to the entrance, where a group of twenty people or so just came in. They’re all wearing the same classic yet elegant suit and most of them did their hair. Most of them are silent and look around them with curious looks. I walk to the man with white hair leading them both as like a father and a teacher.

“Good evening,” I said, more intimidated than I thought I would be, before shaking his hand. “It’s very nice to meet you all.”

They all answer with a nod, a smile or a rather shy “Good evening”.

“Nice to meet you, too.” answered Didier Deschamps warmly. “Thank you for allowing us to come.”

“Thank you for asking. It’s not everyday that we have high-level athletes coming at our galas. I hope you’ll have a good night.”

“No doubt about it”, he smiled. “Benjamin was not able to come tonight because, well, of a last-minute problem, I hope you’ll excuse him. He says hello.”

“Oh,” I said, “I hope he will be fine.”

“Yes, thank you”

I vaguely nodded and stared at the 22 players standing in silence in the entrance.

“Well, have a good night.”

“Thank you very much.”

Most of the men gave me smile and I smiled back. Then they scattered, and right after, a silhouette came in, and I immediately recognize my mother. My mind is screaming at me to turn my back and ignore her, but I don’t have the energy to start a fight. I walked towards her, more insecure that I wished I was. She looks around with a probing look before turning to me.

“Hi, mom.”

“The decoration isn’t that bad. I would have picked another color, though. Gabrielle, what is that awful dress you’re wearing? The color is just dreadful. This robe is barely good to be wore at a cocktail party. Especially with famous guests…And let’s not talk about your hair.”

She sighed heavily and I felt a red light coming. She grabbed a glass when a waiter passes before us, took a sip and grimaced.

“For God’s sake, Gabrielle, what is that champagne? I specifically told you to pick Mr. Sandrin’s champagne!”

“I did!” I defended myself, trying not to raise my voice. “This is the champagne you asked for.”

She stared at her glass and then raised her shoulders, not convinced.

“Dad and Noah aren’t here?” I asked, changing the topic.

“Your father had an impediment, and your brother is sick.”

With Noah, “sick” means “at a party” with the option “girl” or “has a hangover”. I try to see Louisa among the guests but can’t find anywhere. My mother tells a waiter to come and grab a hors d’oeuvre.

“Gabrielle, do you even know how to read? I thought I told to the Menu number Three! The Second one is horrible.”

“Well you know what? Next time why don’t you just organize your freaking gala yourself?”

Before she can answer, I turned around and nearly ran to the bar, my eyes watering. On my way to the bar, I rapidly meet of the footballers’ blue gaze – Antoine Griezmann. Hell, now one of tonight’s most important guests saw me cry.

“Good evening, Miss.” The barman said with a smile. “What can I serve you?”

“Something strong.”

“Coming up.”

I closed my eyes and tried to breathe. I usually only drink champagne at galas and don’t drink alcohol outside of galas, but right now I need to relax. At the same time the barman put a glass in front of me, I hear a voice in my back.

“Hello. Gabrielle, am I right?”

I turned around, and to my surprise, saw Kylian Mbappe standing before me.

“Oh, hello.” I answered with a voice that I hoped sounded confident. “Yes, you’re right. Is everything alright?”

“Yes, thank you. Very cool night," he said, pointing out the room.

“That’s nice of you.”

“What it will be, sir?” the barman asked Kylian.

“Do you do alcohol-free cocktails?”

“Sure. Right away.”

The French Team’s striker walked to the bar, which gave the perfect spot to observe him. He was actually cute, with his frank smile and his sparkling eyes. I supposed he was barely older than me, maybe by one year or two. He thanked the barman, grabbed his glass, and then turned to me. We started talking about anything and everything, and his kindness and his sweetness almost made me forget my mother’s comments. It’s obvious he remained humble and down to earth despite the fame. He asked me about the company, and I asked him about football, his club, and the World Cup coming up. Suddenly, as he’s giving an answer I’m doing my best to understand – I didn’t know anything about football – my eyes move far behind him. Antoine Griezmann is talking with one of his teammates – Lucas Hernandez, if I’m not mistaken – and some other guests, but his eyes are on me.

I tried to focus on what Kylian was saying, but every fifteen seconds, my eyes turned to Antoine who continued to staring at me, and every time I looked at him my heart beated faster. For God’s sake, dude, why are you looking at me like that? Don’t be silly, Gabrielle, he’s probably looking at Kylian. A few minutes later, I’m still giving a quick glance at Antoine when a young man dressed exactly like Kylian comes to us. He was rather tall, pale with blond hair and tired brown eyes, who looked a bit older than Kylian. He had like him a big smile, but seemed more confident than Kylian.

“Sorry to interrupt, but Hugo wishes to see you, Kylian. It’s urgent, apparently.”

“Oh,” said Kylian. “I’ll just go then. See you later, I hope,” he added to me.

“Of course.”

Even though I didn’t know anything about football, I still knew who the most famous were. And this blondie wasn’t one of them, I thought. But I didn’t have to ask who he was, as he’s quicker:

“I don’t think we've met before. The name is Emilien.”

“Gabrielle,” I answered politely.

“What your family does is really wonderful. I mean it.”

“That’s nice of you.”

“Maybe we could have a partnership? I’ll give you my number and-”

“Emilien?”

I jumped and turned to see a young man with dark blond hair and large blue eyes standing before us, his hands in his pockets. My hearts stopped, and I almost let my glass fell.

“Ah,” said Emilien, “Yeah, Antoine?”

My heart was beating so fast I could hear pound in my head.

“The coach wants to see ya, it’s important.” Antoine said.

My, they sure do have a lot of important things to say to each other.

“Oh. I’m coming, then. See you later,” he added to my direction.

I just nodded, and he disappeared. Antoine took a step in my direction and gave me a smile.

“I hope they weren’t too awful”, he said with the same smile.

“Not at all,” I reassured him with a smile.

Damn it, his eyes are so blue. Blue like the sea, soft, and warm.

“Your teammates are very nice.”

“Kylian thinks you’re very nice, too.”

I searched for him, but he was invisible.

“You’re the one that organized this gala, right?” he asked.

“I am.”

“You did very well. I love the decorations.”

“Well you’re alone in that,’ I muttered.

“I-I accidentally heard your conversation with your mother.”

Sweet Jesus.

“Oh no, I’m sorry. You must think I’m a crybaby who can’t handle her mother’s critics.” I said, embarrassed and looking at the floor.

“Not at all,” he assured. “I never speak ill of someone else’s mother, but what she said is totally wrong. The decorations are nice, the two glasses of champagne I had were really good and, personally, I think the food is good as heck” he finished with a little laugh.

His laugh is so cute and contagious that I can only laugh as well.

“For real, you’ll have to give me the name of the cook.”

“Sure.”

“Believe me, you shouldn’t let other’s opinions get to you – even your mother’s,” he said with a voice that sounded sweeter, and more adult. “Especially since no one agrees with her – and agree with me.”

“That’s nice of you to say that. And you’re right.”

He smiled again, and I realized I never saw such a beautiful smile. Hell, everything about him is beautiful. The way that strand of hair falls on his forehead, his childish smile, the way his suit fit perfectly on his body which I imagine fit and firm…I felt my cheek turn pink and suddenly felt hot. We started chatting, but unlike earlier with Kylian or Emilien, I’m only focused on him and the words that come out of his mouth. I don’t know how much time had passed, five minutes or five hours. I can no longer hear the waiters walking, the soft music in the background or the conversations around us. It’s like…They was only us on the planet. I answered his questions, and saw him bit his bottom lip. He got closer to me, and I shivered when he rose his hand and put my hair on the side of my face back. Before I can even breathe, his face gets closer to mine, so much so that I can smell his intoxicating perfume and his breath on my neck. His hand is only a few millimeters from my cheek, and my heart is beating so fast that its gonna explode.

“Gabrielle!”

A cold hand grabbed my arm, and reality comes back. The voices, the somehow fresh air, the food’s smell coming from the kitchen. The charm is broken.

“Come here, hurry,” my mother said, pulling my arm before I could react. “You must announce diner!”

Antoine’s eyes became more and more distant, and soon I can’t see him anymore no matter how I lean. My mother puts a microphone in my hand and tell me to hurry with her hand. I cleared my throat.

“Ladies and gentlemen, the diner.”

Slowly, the guests went towards the round tables, and instinctively, I look for Antoine. Louisa, who went missing, comes from nowhere and smiles at me.

“Hi there.”

“Lou’, where the hell have you been?” I asked her.

“I was talking with Mr. and Mrs. Aubret,” she said with a bit surprised voice. “I saw you talking with Griezmann, I thought you didn’t need me.”

“It’s fine.”

Around us, people are sitting, and we do imitate them. The adorable elderly lady comes slowly and sits in front of us. Her smile comforts me, and I smile back. My mother then arrives and sits silently. A few days ago Louisa begged to let take care of the seats, and I eventually gave up and said yes – only if none of the players would be sitting with us – and I suspect her of putting us with important people so my mother can’t talk too much. I need to talk to her about it. The dishes arrive one after the others, and even though I’m talking with Louisa and the adorable lady – whose name seems to be Mrs. Orment – my eyes are looking for a striker. I finally find him, sitting at a table not far away from us. His eyes meet mine and he gives me a smile. I’m about to smile back when Didier Deschamps, sitting on his left, lean towards him and whispers something in his ear. Antoine vaguely nods his head before concentrating on his plate.

“Gaby?” Louisa asked. “Are you okay?”

“What? Oh, yeah, yeah, of course.”

“The diner is delicious, my dear,” Mme Ornent said cheerfully. “You chose well.”

“Absolutely,” his neighbor, a doctor who were about to retire soon, said. “You have good taste, miss. It must be a family thing, right, Anita?”

My mother had a laugh I knew was hypocritical and took her glass.

“You’re too kind, Doctor.”

Thankfully the dessert arrives soon after.

“Damn, that cake be good as heck!” a voice which I guessed was Adil Rami’s said loudly and his neighbors laughed.

The other guests seemed to like it too, and that comforted me a bit. I look in Antoine’s direction without realizing it, and I see him talking with the CEO of a multinational company. Once diner is over, those who wants to have a coffee walk toward the bar. Then arrives the auction, which is eventually very successful.

“Excuse-me,” I said once the auction is over.

I really need some fresh air. I grabbed my bag and went to the door. I tried to breath, and a few seconds later, I felt better. To my surprise, I saw a silhouette coming.

“Oh,” Emilien said while walking to me, “you like some calm sometimes, too?”

“Oh yes,” I said with a smile. “You can feel like suffocating at this kind of event. Even if you’re used to it.”

“You’re doing very well, though,” he smiled.

“I appreciate it. You still want to do the partnership?” I asked him.

“You’re reading my mind,” he laughed. “I’d be happy to do what I can: meet people with illness, sign autographs or jerseys, make videos to promote the charity…”

“That’s good, because you’re very likely to be asked to do that,” I laughed too.

“Perfect then!”

“I’m gonna give you the number of the person in charge of that, she’ll explain everything.”

“No problem.”

I opened my bad and took out a piece of paper and a pen. I scribbled a phone number and gave it to him.

“Thanks a lot. It’s really important to me help others, you know…”

“That’s wonderful.”

Suddenly, Didier Deschamps, followed by the rest of the players, arrived and the coach turned to the blond man.

“Emilien, there you are. Sorry to interrupt, but we are leaving.”

“Very well, coach. Goodbye, then,” he said after turned to me. “I guess we will see each other again at some point.”

“I think so. See you soon, then.”

He smiled, and went to his teammates. When Emilien joined the group, Kylian walked up to me with a smile.

“It was a fun night.”

“I’m glad you had fun.”

“Say, do you wanna come to the match against Italy tomorrow night? With your friend Louisa?”

I didn’t see that coming. I didn’t go to a football game since I was ten – Noah’s birthday gift – and I barely remembered it.

“Well, yeah, with pleasure.”

“Great, I’ll send you tickets. If you want to invite other people, please let me know.”

“That’s nice of you.”

“See you tomorrow, then.”

“See you.”

I expect all of them to get in the cars, but it was Deschamps’ time to walk up to me.

“Thank you for tonight. Do you mind me asking you something?”

“Please go ahead, sir.” I answered.

“Would you mind mentioning us in the article you will write about tonight’s gala?”

“Hum, no, not at all. May I ask why?”

“Oh, well, people sometimes think that with money and success, football players forget about helping others and compassion. I’d like to prove, in some way, that it’s not true when it comes to my men.”

“I see. Well, I sure will be talking about you guys.”

“Thank you very much. See you soon, young lady, take care.”

He patts my arm in a fatherly way and showed his players the cars. They all waved at me and said discreet “goodbye” which I say back. I hope the ones I didn’t talk to didn’t find me mean or rude. They all get in the different black cars that brought them, and when Antoine walks past me, his arm grazed mine and he stared at me until he sits in the car.

NEXT CHAPTER

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Masterlist

#antoine griezmann #griezmann #football #france nt #football fanfic #les bleus #antoine griezmann x reader #soccer #hugo lloris #olivier giroud #kylian mbappe #benjamin pavard #grizi #original female character #losing game #fanfic #antoine griezmann x original character

[arjaandsimoni]

Flying Solo

Covington, the Night After Stephanie Ran Away

Stephy sat around the old speakeasy, tapping his legs and humming anxiously. It was well past midnight now, Stephanie should have shown up a while ago… He checked the clock again, an old battery operated one he'd scavenged from a junk pile, then sighed as he frowned and kicked his legs harder. “Where the heck IS she?” he grumbled.

He got up after a bit and wandered over to the door, the boy wearing a green sleeveless top and a loose denim skirt, along with flip flop sandals, and peered out into the night. His cousin seemed so confident and eager to use their powers, but… without her suddenly the night seemed a lot darker.

He would call her, but he didn't have any way to call her. It was a rare thing for his father to remember to feed him, nevermind getting him a smartphone of his own! He could email her from the library, but they'd be closed up tight at this late hour.

“She… probably just couldn’t get out tonight, or maybe she got sick and had to stay home. Yeah… just that.” he nodded, closing the door again. “I’ll… try to get up to Edgewood tomorrow, yeah, no big deal…”

Edgewood, the Following Afternoon

The next day he walked up the path to his aunt’s house, looking around a bit anxiously. He was back in his boy clothes, but with how often he was bullied it was reflex to assume most people were enemy until proven otherwise.

As he drew close however he could tell something was wrong. There was a work truck outside, some sort of ‘home repair’ business.

He walked up to the front door, then eeped and ducked back as it opened.

“That much?!” came his Aunt Cathy’s voice, “The hole isn’t that big!”

“It ain’t the size of the hole, those beams are busted and will have to be replaced or else we risk the whole roof collapsing. Not to mention we gotta redo the inside AND outside. What the heck happened anyways? Looks like someone fired a cannon inside the house!” came the voice of a worker as Stephy saw a large man in coveralls walk past him, his aunt right behind him.

“I told you, it got damaged during a windstorm.” she replied.

“Lady that was no windstorm. I’ve repaired windstorm damage before and that blows stuff IN, not OUT. There’s no scorching or anything inside the room, but that wall got blasted AWAY from the house!” he nodded.

Stephy felt anxiety creep up his spine. A windstorm? Something blown OUT?

“I’m telling you. It. Was. A. Windstorm.” she glared.

“Sure it was… yanno if I suspect any sort of possible explosives damage or anything I’m required under the Patriot Act to report it to local law enforcement…” he warned.

Stephy saw his aunt’s eye twitch.

“Are you now? Well buddy, you send a bomb squad over here and they won’t find jack and then I’ll find a lawyer and slap you with a false charges lawsuit!” she snapped, “Thank you but I think I will be going with someone else instead.”

He shrugged, “Your call toots.” he replied, walking back to his van, then pulling out of the driveway and into the street.

She growled angrily, then turned to go back inside and jumped in surprise. “OH! Oh, its just you Stephen. When did you get here?” she asked.

“Around about ‘the hole isn’t that big.’” he replied, “Is everything alright?”

She looked at him, then shook her head, “No… no its not… Have you seen your cousin anywhere? Anywhere at all?" she asked.

He shook his head, “No, we were supposed to meet up yesterday but she never showed up and, yanno, I don’t have a phone… did something happen?”

She sighed, “Oh Steve… I…” she shook her head, “I just wanted to keep her safe! She got spotted the other night at the aquarium fighting some huge snake-monster and your granddad found out. I told her to cut out the hero stuff and… I… I may have gone too far.” she trailed off as she sat down on a lawn chair and wiped her eyes.

“Aunt Cathy… I’m sure she’ll come back…” he starts.

“That’s just it Steve… I don’t think she SHOULD! Dad was ready to… to…” she fell silent, and Stephy felt his heart catch. He didn’t need to hear it, he knew about his grandfather’s obsession.

“No… but… where is she?! Grandpa didn’t…” he started.

“No, she… she blasted out her wall and flew off. I don’t know where she is!” she shook her head, “I already tried calling her but she blocked my number… I just… I almost called Nelen, but if dad finds out they’re both together he might even come himself now… he’s furious… I just… I just wanna know where…” she shuddered.

Stephy glanced around, “Um well… there was this girl at the aquarium too… she wasn’t human…” she replied, “She was some girl from India, I think her name was Arja or something. She could turn into this… monkey thing. There was a giant snake woman there, I think it was called a ‘naga,’ and it was after the monkey girl, but she and Steffi teamed up and drove it off.”

Catherine looked up, “Drove it off…” she muttered, “Steve… that’s not the same as ‘killed.’”

Stephy nodded, “Well… I mean it was on fire, and it was screaming really bad, and it dove into the Ohio River… but…” he shrugged, “It didn’t come back up.”

She stared at him, her eyes widening, “… an Indian naga… Steve those things can survive underwater for days!” she shouted, “Steffi ran off back to Covington, she… oh gods that naga must’ve ambushed her!”

“Er… I dunno if that’s the reason… um… that Arja girl…” he started.

“Yeah, that thing must have her and its probably going back to India! It must think this ‘Arja’ person and Stephanie are allies or something! She’s probably going to be used as bait!” she nodded, standing up. “Oh gods oh gods…” she bit her knuckle. “I… I’m going to have to call my dad… see if he can send someone to rescue her. H-he doesn’t know about the wall yet, but if I can keep that secret…”

Stephy winced, “Aunt Cathy! Wait!” he said, but she was already inside, the boy letting his hand fall. “I think it might not be that…” he blushed but, well… he only had a hunch. He saw how bad Stephanie got flustered after meeting Arja.

Still, either way, he had no idea where his cousin was and without her he was all alone again.

Covington, later that night

Stephy emerged from the speakeasy he used as a hideout, the boy glancing around. He had on a green sleeveless button down top again and a knee-length loose black skirt with sandals on his feet. “Okay… I can do this… Steffi is missing in action. I’m the only Fullmoon in town now…” he nodded, “I got this!” he grunted, then walked slowly out of the alleyway and onto the street. “I totally… totally got this…” he gulped nervously.

The streets were mostly empty at this hour, but he still felt suddenly as if eyes were all over him. He hesitated but forced himself to keep going. “I can do this… I’m a Fullmoon witch, I can use magic… I’ll be fine… I got this.” he nodded again.

Stephy walked along the street, breathing in slow in and out to remain calm, and after a few blocks he started to calm down. “Seems… quiet tonight yeah… just a few more blocks maybe and…” he muttered, now in a more residential area… and…

“Hey guys, check her out.” came a voice from behind him, his heart lodging in his throat. He knew that voice, he’d hidden from that voice for months at school. Oh crap oh hell oh no no no no no…

“Oooh she’s cute…” came another voice as he whimpered, picking up the pace.

“Mmhmm… hey girl whats your rush? We just wanna talk…” he heard behind him. Three for three, all of them at once. David, Mike, and Jesse.

Three of his primary tormentors. A couple years older than him, but always using him as a target whenever the opportunity came up.

Good news, they thought he was a girl. Bad news, they were behind him and the second they saw his face they'd recognize him in a heartbeat.

He started to walk faster, he could just create wind though right? Blow them off their feet and bolt? He was wearing flip flops! He couldn’t run in those! “ShitshitwhatdoIdo…” he gasped under his breath, he could hear them getting closer…

“Hey girl! I’m talking to you! Think you’re fucking better than me bitch?” came Mike’s voice as the other two laughed, and he felt a hand on his shoulder… then saw someone round the corner ahead.

He didn’t recognize them. They had shaggy darker blonde hair and blue eyes, were a bit taller than him. The newcomer was wearing a white tee-shirt, blue jeans, and what looked like some sort of boots. He couldn’t tell what in the gloom.

“Hey! What’re ya’ll doin’ to her?” he asked, his voice sounding rather deep south.

“The fuck do you care?” came Mike’s voice again, “Get lost buddy.”

This didn’t seem to dissuade them, the boy setting down a bag he was carrying near the corner and walking forward, “Make me.” he smirked, cracking his knuckles…

Stephy took a step back as the three boys moved infront of him. David was a lanky boy, but he could snap a punch good and hard. Mike was shorter than the other two but had an inferiority complex fit for a guy three times his size. Jessie, by contrast, was huge, bigger than both the others.

The blonde guy smirked, “Alright then boys. Lets wrassle.” he said, then suddenly lashed out and smashed his fist firm into David’s face, quickly backstepping to avoid a blow from Mike to his belly as Jesse circled around him.

Stephy was frozen on the spot, wanting to help him, but now noticing that the other three’s attention was on this boy instead of him. He could bolt now and be safe but then this boy would be alone against those three!

Like a deer in headlights his mind careened between ‘fight’ and ‘flight’… and got stuck.

It seemed however this new boy was a good fighter. It wasn’t martial arts or anything magic, he just knew how to brawl! He could throw a punch, dodge good enough, it was pure instinct and no science, maybe a bit of boxing here and there… but he landed two fast rabbit punches to Mike’s chest and then backhanded him across the jaw and sent the boy sprawling, Stephy eeping and taking several quick steps backwards before he saw his face as he landed on his back.

Jesse was the only one left, but he’d gotten behind him! For such a large guy he could move pretty fast. Stephy finally couldn’t stay silent anymore. He took a breath, then shrieked out, “BEHIND YOU!” and as he did the wind swirled and a blast of air smacked into Jesse’s head from behind! The other boy’s head snapped up and he looked behind him, then smirked, grabbed Jesse’s shirt in both hands, and brought his knee up HARD!

Jesse made a sound that didn’t sound very loud at all to either of them, but four dogs in the yards nearby suddenly started barking loudly. “Ah shoot woke up the neighborhood.” he chuckled, picking up his shopping and stepping over the other two’s prone forms. “Ya’ll okay missy? Some boys ain’t got no manners I tell ya.” he shook his head.

“Y-yeah, I’m fine…” replied Stephy, trying to pitch his voice up a bit, his eyes darting back to the boys, then back to this newcomer. “Um, thanks for stopping them.” he blushed. He didn’t know if he liked boys, but he might like THIS boy…

“Well, don’t feel right havin’ ya’ll go home alone in the dark… me ‘n my mom just moved in up the road. How about ya’ll come back with me tonight ‘n we’ll see if I can’t get her to give ya’ll a lift home.” he smiled.

Stephy went rigid, but they seemed nice and, more importantly, they didn’t know who he was. Rather they didn’t know what he was! “I… er… um… t-that’s okay… I should probably go home now, I don’t live TOO far…” he stammered.

“Ya’ll sure? I don’t mind walkin’ ya there if it ain’t far.” he offered, “Just wanna make sure those three knuckleheads don’t pull anything.” he smirked, jerking a thumb behind him, “ ‘sides, it’d be pretty cruel to expect such a cute lil’ filly like yourself walk home all alone in the dark.” he grinned, and Stephy felt him cup his chin, tilting his head up.

He saw deep blue eyes and a warm smile there… something he hadn’t experienced from a stranger before, and felt his heartbeat start to go faster.

“I… um…” he stammered.

“Name’s John, but everyone calls me Tex. What’s your’s?” he offered.

He felt his eyes go a bit wide, “Uh… um…” he hesitated, “S-stephy.” he whispered, trying to keep his voice too low for the other three to hear, though he wasn’t entirely sure that Mike and David were conscious, and Jesse’s attention seemed elsewhere… “S-sorry, I should, um, I should go!” he squirmed, then he turned and ran as fast as his flip flops would allow.

Tex watched him go, then ran his fingers through his hair and shrugged, “Eh, guess those jerks spooked her good. Can’t say I blame her…” he muttered, then gave Mike a kick for good measure before heading home the rest of the way.

Stephy rushed back into the speakeasy, shutting the door tight, his heart pounding. “He saw my face he saw my face he saw my face…” he stammered, holding his cheeks as he walked back and forth across the floor. He and Stephanie had cleaned it up fairly well, making it into their little secret base in Covington, but otherwise it was still basically an abandoned building. No running water or electricity since the late 1930s.

He blushed, “… but…” he remembered his words, “He… didn’t call me out or anything…” he squirmed.

‘a cute lil’ filly like yourself…’

He felt his cheeks burn. “He thought I was cute?” he sat down on one of the ancient bar stools. “… he seemed nice but… I don’t even like boys!” he started, then flopped his arms down, “Or… are all the boys I know just jerks?”

He felt his chin where the boy had touched him, blushing brightly. He’d never been touched that way at all before. “… I should’ve asked for his last name…”

Several blocks away

Tex walked into his new house, a small four room flat with a kitchen, two bedrooms, and living area. Houses in Covington weren’t huge, but they tended to be affordable and cozy at least. “Mom! I’m back!” he called out.

“In the kitchen hon!” came the voice of an older woman as he walked in, putting the groceries on the table.

“Sorry I took a bit, saw some local jerks giving a girl the business, three on one ‘n all… couldn’t ignore that.” he said.

His mother, a woman with long blonde hair and a bit of a figure that said ‘someone’s mom’ sighed at him. She was wearing a red and white checkered button-down top and a pair of bluejeans, her feet bare at the moment. “Oh for… Tex we ain’t even been here a whole day and ya’ll already got in a fight?” she tsked. “Oh well, was she cute?” she grinned.

Tex grinned back, “Real cute… said her name was ‘Stephy’ but she got spooked ‘n ran before I could get the rest…” he replied, then sighed, “Hope she made it home alright. Those boys ain’t gonna be messin’ around after what I did, but I’m worried she mighta run into someone else.”

“Nothin ya'll can do about that son. Ya saved her once, hopefully she don’t need savin’ twice.” she nodded, then patted his shoulder, “Mah lil’ cowboy hero.” she teased.

He smirked, then headed to his room and closed the door, “Heh, yeah…” he sighed, taking off his shirt and looking in the mirror. Under his shirt he wore what looked like, at first glance, a tight sports bra… more accurately, a chest binder.

“… yer cowboy.” he sighed, giving his reflection a half-smirk, then turning out the light before he took the rest off and got ready for bed.

As he did however, just for a split second, the mirror reflected a black pair of eyes… though if he noticed them at all he’d have probably thought they were a trick of the light and nothing more.

Next Story

Previous Story

#supernatural adventures #modern fantasy #fiction #lgbtq

[nsokolow]

Little Weasel, Big City: Chapter 10

“So, now that we have added our new color palette to the ad, I want to now talk about the finishing touches before we air it. I’ve gotta submit this thing tomorrow, so we’re gonna watch it a few times, and I want you all to look very closely for any errors that may have been missed. I’ll be doing this as well.” Miss Leapman grabbed a small remote and pointed it at the projector.

Leilani squinted her eyes and kept a tight grip on her pen.

BONK!

Leilani and the rest of the room jumped in their seats.

“What on Earth?” Miss Leapman stared at the glass wall.

Leilani looked back and saw Duke, his nose and paws pressed up against the wall.

“Leilani!” Duke exclaimed. “Got a minute? I got somethin’ to tell ya!”

Leilani cringed and grinned at Miss Leapman.

“You know this…guy?” Miss Leapman pointed her remote at Duke.

“He’s…my husband. Could I have a minute with him?”

Miss Leapman sighed. “Go ahead.”

“Aw!” Jade’s pupils widened as she watched Leilani leave the room.

Leilani’s ears drooped. “Duke, did you have to do that?”

“Sorry, sorry. I just wanted you to know that your husband got himself a job right here!” Duke held his arms out.

“Wait, really? How? Where?”

“In the mailroom! The mouse who told me about the job works there, and she just got out of prison! I got an interview a few minutes ago, and he hired me!”

Leilani felt a bit of dread, since she hoped he wouldn’t embarrass her again, but she was mostly happy he was actually getting a life.

“Oh, wow! Congratulations!” Leilani stepped forward and froze. She shrugged and decided to hug him.

Duke tightly wrapped his arms around her and spun her around. “Well, see ya, wife! Gonna help the boss order my uniform and I’m gonna start learning the ropes! I start tomorrow!” Duke ran off to the elevator.

Leilani looked through the glass wall and saw everyone quickly turn their heads away from her. She quietly walked through the door and took her seat. “Uh…sorry about that.”

“Well, at least he’s going to be working,” replied Miss Leapman, “I take it you two recently married, since you checked yourself as ‘single’ on your application?”

“Uh…yes?”

“So, your last name is now…”

“Weaselton.”

“Very well. I’ll remember to call you Mrs. Weaselton from now on. Anyway, back to the ad.” Miss Leapman rewound the video for a moment and played it.

Down in the mailroom, a lanky tiger sat at a revolving brown office chair as he clutched a tablet.

“So, what weasel size are you?” The tiger, his name tag reading, ‘Darrel,’ turned the tablet to Duke, revealing a picture of a grinning weasel in a dark blue button-down shirt, gray khakis, and a gray cap.

“I’d say medium.” Duke tapped the ‘M’ button. “Do I gotta wear the cap?”

“No, it’s optional, but it does come with the uniform.”

“Oh, wait. I just remembered that Mandy didn’t have a cap. Okay, good! I ain’t too big a fan of wearin’ things on my head.”

“Ha, me neither.” Darrel swiped the screen. “I assume it’s ‘D-U-K-E’?”

“Yep! Is that for the name tag?”

Darrel nodded.

“And now, for an update on Daring Do.”

Duke looked past Darrel and the tablet and saw a small T.V. resting on a table with a large pile of mail on it. “‘Scuse me, Darrel.”

Duke ran over to the T.V.

“These seeds were found near Savannah Central Playground. A mother claimed her toddler was playing in the grass and found them buried in dirt.”

A picture of a cluster of bright green, skinny seeds appeared on the screen.

“The mother then showed them to another parent, who happened to be with the ZPD. The said ZPD officer immediately brought them to the police station for investigation.”

Duke felt a painful shock go through his heart. He just realized why those seeds looked familiar. He had recently delivered them to someone after money was offered. He asked what the weird-looking seeds were for, but he was merely told they were operating on a need-to-know basis.

He contributed to the plantings of Daring Do.

#zootopia fanfiction #zootopia #zootopia oc #disney #duke weaselton

[oshicakes]

their s/o not giving them any affection

pairings. kenma kozume x reader, suna rintarou x reader, iwaizumi hajime x reader

genre. fluff

other: hinata, bokuto and tendou, semi, sugawara and terushima

Kenma Kozume

your boyfriend's been very busy lately with his acads, volleyball and video games. so you decided to not bother him and let him do his stuffs. thinking that he might get mad at you if you continue being clingy to him. since kuroo said kenma doesn't like someone being clingy to him.

it surprised you. you've been dating him for a year and a month and you just know about it.

it goes on by a week that you didn't bother him. even when he's done playing you'd just ask him how was the game, did he eat and he should get some rest. after that nothing.

he's used to, you hugging him after he's done playing. you'd sometimes style his hair for it not to block his eyes. you'll let him play with your fingers. massage his head or after a game starts you'll kiss his forehead for goodluck. but now he ain't getting any of those.

"im done playing." he looked at you with that knowing look, like he's signaling you to come to him and give him the hugs and kisses you're depriving him.

"oh, okay. you should rest now." that's it? he thought. he sits beside you since your doing your assignment in his desk.

"are you mad at me?" that made you stop from writing. you looked at him with confusion written on your face.

"no, why'd you think i am?"

"you're being distant with me, you're always clingy to me. are you mad because i play too much? im sorry, i promise to give you my attention from now on."

"no, no, no, it's okay. you don't have to change, i mean, im okay with you being preoccupied with games. you love it and you're already doing that even before you met me, so it's okay."

"then why?"

"i... uhm... kuroo said you don't like clingy people.... you should've told me that, i promise not to bother you whenever you play!"

"hey, i didnt say something like that. i... i actually like you being clingy to me."

"really?" he nodded. "i really worry about you sometimes. you're too gullible and kind. kuroo's taking advantage of it to use it against me."

"sorry." you lowered your head, disappointed with yourself. "no, it's okay. but don't listen to kuroo anymore, okay?" he remided his self not to set for kuroo for a week or two as a revenge.

"aye aye, sir." you playfully salute to him.

"can you continue that later? i miss your hugs." he rested his chin on your shoulder and hugged you sideways. you patted his face gently.

"do you want something to eat?" he shakes his head and made his hug on you tighter. "let's just stay like this for a while." you just hummed. he then kissed ypur hand that was caressing his face.

Suna Rintarou

you had this stupid bet with the miya twins. it's 'operation: y/n stop being clingy to his stupid boyfriend for a week'. yes, it was childish but you want to prove something to the twins.

all throughout the week you avoided being near your boyfriend. although you still text him good mornings and good nights, check on him but won't reply after he replied to you.

to be honest, day by day, suna's getting too cranky. the twins noticed it and they just laughed at him.

so for the last day, atsumu had a little idea to fuel things up. he told suna that you're at the back of gym withsome guy who looks like confessing to you.

atsumu smiled, triumphantly. suna ran his way to the back of the gym. right there he saw you talking a guy. what made his blood boil was when he saw you laughing.

that's it, he thought. he abruptly pull you away from the guy and drag you near to the open field where theres no student hanging around.

"hey, why'd you do that? that's rude, suna."

"wow? suna? im suna now? after a week of ignoring me, not talking to me and no hugs, kisses and you're not waiting for anymore. then ill see you with some other guy, laughing, while me, your boyfriend you can't even spare a minute to glance at me. what do you expect me to do? to feel?" he just exploded right there, and it left you dumbfounded.

"just.. break up with me if you don't love me anymore. don't torture me like this." he was ready to turn away and leave you behind when you hugged him and cried.

you didn't know that he's thinking like that, he'll react like this and feel this way. guilt and regret crept into you. how stupid of you to have that bet on the miya twins.

"why are you crying? shouldn't it be me?" his voice was too soft. it made your heart ache more. oh ghad, how could you-

you could feel how hesitant he is to hug you back. he sighed and stroke you're back gently.

you looked up to him to see his eyes. it reflects a lot of his emotions. there's a hint of hurt, regret and longing.

"im sorry, im really sorry. don't think that way, rin. i love you, like, i love you soooo much!"

"are you sure it's me that you love and not the guy you're laughing with?"

"of course, it's you. you're my one and only. he's just my classmate, nothing more."

he released a heavy sighed. "are you still mad?" you asked.

"yes." that made pout. you where about to get away from his hug when he tighten his embrace.

he raised his eyebrow to you then tighten his embrace to you. "who said you can escape my hug? you need to make up for the week you didn't give me your love and attention. you're stuck with me all day."

"i know, i was just about to kiss you but i guess hug is enough for you." that made his eye widen. "what? i want kisses too! this hug isn't enough."

you tiptoped and kiss his cheeks without breaking his embrace to you. he pouted to hide his smile. you cupped his face and just stare at him, lovingly. "im sorry, i hurted you like this. i made a stupid mistake-" he cut you off. "yes you did. you still have a long way to make up with me."

you nodded. "and ill never do something that will doubt my love for you. i didn't consider you're feelings when i agreed to the miya twins' scheme. i won't ever ever do this again. i love you and don't ever doubt that again, okay?"

"wait, what?! i new it! that's why whenever they see me, they'd whisper to each other and then laugh. i should upload all their stupid fighting videos." you swayed your body and his to grab his attention cuz his eyebrows are now nearly connecting like he's plotting for the twin's downfall. "i missed you." you finally grab his attention.

"i missed you too. can you stay at my house today? i don't have an early practice tomorrow." you nodded at him delightedly. and planned what would you do to make up for what you did.

Iwaizumi Hajime

"y/n-san, the coach wants to talk to you and oikawa-san." the juniors called you.

it's been a very busy week since qualifying match for the nationals is nearing. you need to make sure everyone's on their top performance and monitoring the team while helping the coach gathering informations about the players.

you barely have a moment with your boyfriend which you miss hugging so much. speaking of your boyfriend he's been extra grumpy and keeps on glaring at you and oikawa.

today's the same, it's late and exhausting but you can't take it anymore, you need a power hug from your boyfriend. so approached him when there's only few people are in the gym.

"hajimeeee!" you ran to him and instantly wrap your arms around his waist. even though he's sweaty, he still smell nice and manly.

"so now, you're hugging me?" you we're taken aback with what he said. he raised his eyebrow at you.

"huh?" you we're about to move away when he squinted his eyes and glare at you. so you remained hugging him.

"don't huh me, y/n. you're always with shittykawa." that made you giggle. its a rare event to make your boyfriend jealous. you pinched his both cheeks.

"fyi mister iwaizumi, were just discussing about the team's performance and besides can't i hug my boyfriend after a long day?" you released his cheeks. you giggled when you saw his red cheeks.

you released from the hug which made him pouty. "you should change while i just check the equipments, okay?" he followed you. and before you knew it, he's already ready to go.

"im walking you home." he said. "aw did my boyfriend miss me too? don't worry i missed you too." you teased him.

"shut up, y/n or you'll regret it."

"ey, why can't you just admit it? poor me. my boyfriend doesn't miss me. i should just go home by my self. heeey! are you listening to me, hajime?"

he abruptly kissed you on your lips. that made you stuck on your feet. you could even feel your face heat up.

"that should shut you up. and fyi mrs. iwaizumi, i missed you too that's why im staying at your house this weekend. so reserve that day only for me, okay?"

he slowly interteined his fingers to yours then kissed you on your nose. oh ghad! when did he become sooo cool????

#haikyuu #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu headcanons #haikyuu imagines #kenma kozume x reader #kenma x reader #kenma headcanons #suna rintaro x reader #suna x reader #suna headcanons #iwaizumi hajime x reader #iwaizumi x reader #iwaizumi headcanons

[deanstead]

Hidden Feelings

Pairing: Jay Halstead x Reader

Request by @winqhster​: Hii!! I would like to request a Jay imagine where the reader works in the Intelligence Unit and is younger than him. She develops a crush on Jay, but overtime she tries to distance herself from him. She takes a week off from work and doesn't tell anyone. Jay begins to worry, so he goes to her apartment. At her apartment, they end up arguing and she says that he sees her as a child. Can it end with a happy ending with them getting together!!

Warnings: swearing, a little angst, fluff

A/N: This took a little more time than I expected but I enjoyed writing this so I hope you like what I did with it! If you have any thoughts, feedback or even just want to say hi, please (always) feel free to reply or send me an ask, always love hearing from all of you. Also, thank you so much for all the love so far, hope you’ve been enjoying my writing! Jay requests remain open, feel free to send in an ask!

---

You looked up from your desk, your gaze falling onto your partner sitting across from you. Jay had a small frown on his face, like he usually did when he was deep in thought, as he twirled a pen in his right hand.

As if he felt you looking at him, his eyes flicked upwards and he cocked his eyebrows upwards. “Everything ok?”

Slightly embarrassed, you cleared your throat and nodded. “Yeah… just thinking…”

Jay glanced at his watch. “It’s late, we should call it a day.” He leaned over to turn off his computer before looking back up at you. “Molly’s?”

You hesitated. Normally, you would have jumped at the idea - chilling with a beer after a long day was something you couldn’t resist but recently you could feel a magnetic pull towards Jay that you couldn’t explain, which really scared you.

“I think I’ll head home tonight.” You told him.

Jay turned back towards you. “Everything okay?”

You nodded back and smiled. “Just tired.”

A small concerned frown crossed Jay’s face making you look up at him again but it was gone just as quickly, making you think you might have imagined it.

“I’ll see you tomorrow.” You called, pulling your jacket around you as you headed out of the district.

---

It was getting harder and harder to do this. It had started off as a warm feeling, you felt like you had earned a big brother in your partner who was always looking out for you, making sure you were okay, both at work and off. Then somehow along the way it had transitioned into a stupid crush, probably from a physical attraction – but who wouldn’t be attracted to Jay Halstead?

And now, you were head over fucking heels in love with him and you had no idea how it had come to this.

It scared you, this sudden intense feeling you had towards him, so much you didn’t know how to be around him anymore. You felt Jay’s eyes on you and you looked up.

“Hey, we’re hitting Molly’s after work. You in?”

You could feel Jay studying you as you struggled to keep your expression in check. “You guys go ahead.” You responded, pushing your chair backwards and heading for the pantry.

Jay frowned but didn’t follow you.

It had been about two weeks since you had started to put some distance between yourself and Jay. You could tell he was confused, at the very least, and it was only a matter of time before he decided to corner you so you really needed some time and space to deal with this, once and for all.

By the time the end of the day came, you were sure this was what you had to do. Glad that everyone else had left, you got up and knocked on Voight’s office door. “Sarge, can I have a word?”

Voight looked up from where he was sitting at his desk, studying your expression before nodding and motioning for you to close the door.

“What’s up?”

You took a deep breath. “I have some unused furlough days. I need a week, if that’s okay?”

Voight didn’t say anything but continued to look at you. “Everything okay?” His eyes flicked up momentarily to look at Jay’s empty desk.

You nodded. “Yeah, I just have some... personal matters I have to take care of.” You paused, trying in vain to read his expression. “If it’s okay with you… I…”

Voight nodded, without waiting for you to finish. “Take the time, do what you have to do.”

You nodded. “Thanks, Sarge.”

----

Jay had turned it over and over a million times in his head over the past two weeks. He was sure you were hiding something from him, he just wasn’t sure what.

You had been different lately – the way you talked or walked, hell you barely even made eye contact with him this last week.

Jay jogged up the stairs to Intelligence, noting with mild concern that you hadn’t come in yet. He glanced at his watch. He was running late so he had expected you to already be seated at your desk, sipping your coffee. Instead, your table was neat, your chair tucked in. You weren’t here yet and that in itself was strange.

He sat at his desk, looking up every time he heard footsteps until Voight stepped out of his office.

“We’re operating a member down, Y/L/N is on furlough, I need everyone’s head on straight.” Voight barked. “Let’s go.”

Jay frowned and jogged towards Voight. “Sarge. Furlough?”

Voight didn’t respond immediately. “You’re riding with me today.”

Jay nodded, getting into the car. “Did she say why?”

Voight looked at Jay, his eyes seeming to pierce right through him. “Personal stuff.”

---

You were on day three of your furlough when your doorbell rang.

You frowned, confused as to who would be here. You weren’t expecting anyone, or anything.

You pulled the door open and froze. “Jay?”

Jay had that look on his face. The one that told you he had probably been brewing all the way here.

“What’s going on?” You asked as he stormed in.

“What’s going on?” He repeated as you scrunched up your eyebrows. “What’s going on is that you disappeared for three days without bothering to tell me anything. That’s what’s going on.” He huffed.

“Hold on, Jay.” You tried to talk but he didn’t let you.

“What’s going on is that I can’t believe you are so irresponsible that you won’t even tell your partner when you’re going to be back.” Jay continued with his tirade but your dismay at him being angry at you switched to a sudden flare in your gut.

“Irresponsible?” You asked, looking directly at him. “I told Voight I needed a week.”

Jay spun back around to look at you. “And you didn’t think you should tell me? You had your damn phone off for three days.”

“And it didn’t occur to you that I needed time? I needed space?” You shot back, getting more furious by the second.

“Time? Space? It takes you five seconds to send me a damn text Y/N! How am I supposed to look out for you if you don’t tell me anything?”

You shook your head. “That’s the problem, Jay. You always treat me like a damn child! I can take care of myself.”

Jay paused for a second, a hurt look briefly crossing his face, so quickly that you almost missed it. “What are you saying? You don’t want me to look out for you?”

You shook your head. “I’m saying, don’t treat me like a damn child. I’m not. I’m not a little girl, and I sure as hell ain’t your little sister.” You snapped.

“I never said you were!”

“Then stop being so nice to me!” You screamed.

Jay lowered his voice now. “So, you want me to ignore you? Be mean to you? Is that it? I don’t get it!”

“That’s not what I’m saying!”

“Then what, Y/N? What is it? You’ve been avoiding me for weeks and then you just disappear? Are you going to leave the unit next?” Jay asked and this time, you heard it, a tone of desperation in his voice.

“I’m not leaving, Jay.” You stressed, bringing your voice down a few notches. “Like I said, I just need some time.”

“Some time for what?” Jay pressed.

“It’s nothing.” You mumbled. “Just drop it.”

“Damn it, Y/N. You ask me not to treat you like a child, but you’re sure as hell behaving like one.” Jay’s voice rose again.

You glared at him. “To get over you, okay? Happy? I just needed some time and space to squash down all my damn feelings for you so I can go back to being your partner or your younger sister or whatever the hell you need me to be so drop it!” You yelled.

Jay’s eyes widened and your heart sank. There, you did it. You let your emotions get the better of you and you let it slip like you always do when you’re mad and now everything was going to be awkward and maybe you would have to transfer out of the unit or change your partner…

“Y/N.” His voice was soft when he spoke this time.

You turned away from Jay. You didn’t want to see that look on his face. The look he had on to reject you or try to let you down easy.

Jay grabbed your wrist and turned you back towards him. “Who the hell said it was okay for you to get over me?”

Without waiting for an answer, Jay pushed his lips onto yours, one of his hands resting on your lower back, pulling you towards him, while his other hand found the back of your neck, gently moving upwards to thread through your hair. Your eyes fluttered shut as he pulled you deeper into the kiss.

You had imagined this so many times, you had wanted this for so long, yet now that it was happening, it was so much more than you had ever dreamed of. The room felt like it was spinning around the both of you as Jay covered your lips with his and you could even taste the remnants of whisky on his lips.

Gently, he pulled away, looking down into your eyes. “I so did not go on furlough for this.” You muttered.

Jay chuckled. “I was just worried about you.”

“Next time just tell me.” You answered, looping your arms around his waist.

Jay rolled his eyes. “You’re one to talk.”

You let out a smile as Jay rested his forehead against yours. “Don’t you ever disappear like that, ever again.” He whispered. 

#jay halstead x reader #chicago pd #jay halstead imagine #jay halstead imagines #chicago pd imagine #chicago pd imagines #chicago pd oneshot #chicago pd x reader #drabble #chicago pd x y/n #chicago pd x you #jay halstead #jay halstead fanfiction #jay halstead fanfic #jay halstead drabble #jay halstead oneshot #jay halstead x you #jay halstead x y/n #jay #jay x reader #jay x you #jay x y/n #resanoona request #fanfiction #oneshot #imagines #imagine

[wiypt-writes]

You Cut A Mean Rug, Doll Face

Bucky Barnes One Shot

Summary: It’s no secret that Bucky Barnes has women falling at his feet, but it’s very rarely the other way round. He’s the love ‘em and leave ‘em type, well according to Steve anyway. So, when you find him hiding to avoid a certain Private’s advances, it amuses you no end…until she shows up and you find yourself offering to be his ‘Fake Date’ for Stark’s upcoming USO Gala Dance.

Fake Dating in the middle of a war…what could possibly go wrong?

Warnings: Bad language words. Smut. (NSFW 18+)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

A/N:  So this is written as part of @anika-ann​’s 1111 Follower Challenge. Congratulations darling! My prompt was Fake Dating.

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. I do not own any characters in this series bar reader and any other OCs that may or may not be mentioned. By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.

 **********

“Hey, Steve.” You greeted the blonde super soldier as you walked into the little make-shift kitchen, deep in the underground London SSR HQ.

“Afternoon, Agent.” He nodded and you rolled your eyes, picking a piece of fluff off your khaki green uniform jacket.

“Seriously, after everything we’ve pulled together we’re still at agent?” You raised an eyebrow drawing a soft chuckle from the man in front of you as he poured a coffee into one of the tin mugs on offer, holding it out to you.

“Sorry, force of habit. Y/N. That better?”

“Much.” You nodded, taking the mug with a thanks, pulling a face as you took a sip. “God, all the technology we have and I still can’t get a decent cup of Joe.”

“Maybe you should have a word with Stark.” Steve shrugged. “He seems to be able to lay his hands on most things, rationing be dammed.”

“Well, you’re the man with the plan and he’s the man that can.” A smirk pulled at your face as you watched Steve fight the urge to roll his eyes. “Anyway, where’s Barnes? Colonel Phillips is riding my ass about a report he hasn’t filed. Keeps moaning on about us being unable to run strategic operations if we don’t actually do any strategizing.”

At that Steve’s face broke into a grin. “He’s hiding.”

“Hiding?” You frowned. “Chester isn’t that scary, he’s a pussy cat if you figure out how to make him purr.”

“Okay there are so many things wrong with what you just said that I’m not even going to go into.” Steve snorted and you flashed him a grin as he continued. “He ain’t hiding from Phillips, he’s hiding from Private Lorraine.”

“Why?” You paused, mug hovering an inch or so from your mouth.

“Well according to Stark who heard from Jones who heard from-“

“Yeah, yeah, skip to the interesting bit about why Barnes his hiding like the cowardly lion” You cut him off and he raised his eyebrows, his smirk growing wider.

“She wants him to ask her to that USO dance gala thing Stark is hosting.”

At that you felt the heat in your neck, jealousy, at the thought of the blue-eyed solider you’d been harbouring a crush on for months, like some love sick teenager, dancing with someone else. You carefully held Steve’s eyes and licked your lips, hoping you hadn’t given yourself away too much.

“Of course she does.” You shrugged, clearing your throat. “But that doesn’t answer my question. Why is he hiding?”

“He doesn’t want to go with her.” Steve shrugged, taking another sip of his drink and this time you did absolutely nothing to stop the grin that spread across your face.

“How come?”

At that Steve hesitated for a moment before he popped a shoulder again, slightly avoiding your eye line. "No idea."

You knew he was lying, he was notoriously bad at it, but before you could call him out, a deep voice spoke from the doorway.

"Sure your Ma told you it was rude to talk about people behind their backs, Stevie." Bucky grumbled as he walked into the room.

"Yeah, and I'm sure yours told you it was rude to do a lot of things that you still do anyway." Steve shot back and Bucky merely rolled his eyes, walking to the coffee pot and helping himself. 

"Well, I’m astounded." You looked at Bucky as he turned around, leaning slightly against the small units that lined the room. "James Buchanan Barnes is fanning a woman away."

"Yeah, I don’t make a habit of it, Doll Face." He eyed you shrewdly over his mug.

"Still, never thought I'd see the day." You hummed, sipping your drink.

Bucky rolled his eyes and gestured with his mug towards Steve. "Now you sound like him."

"So, humour me, Barnes. What is it about her that’s making you run for the hills?"

Bucky hesitated for a moment before he winkled his nose and answered you. "She’s not my type."

"Really? I thought every woman was your type." 

At that, Steve gave a chuckle. "She's got you there, Buck. I don't think I saw you without one before you shipped off."

"Shut up, Steve." Bucky bit back before he gave a low groan. "She's just..."

"Just what?" You scoffed. "Tall, blonde with big, come-to-bed eyes and pouty red lips? What's not to fall over? Dum Dum follows her around like a dog."

"Sweetheart, Dum Dum would probably chase a pig wearing lipstick if he thought he had a chance." Bucky looked at you his eyebrow raised and you heard Steve give a little snort of laughter. You turned slowly to him, and his eyes widened a little as you narrowed your eyes.

"What's your excuse?"

"His excuse?" Bucky paused, mug poised at his lips as Steve began to flounder over his words, a pink flush spreading into his cheeks.

“Yeah, he kissed her.” You informed and Buck gave a loud groan, placing his mug down on the side. "Peggy caught them, big time."

"She kissed me." Steve protested and at that Bucky sighed. 

"What has my life become? Seriously?" He shook his head, his eyes flicking between you and Steve. "I’m hiding because I don’t wanna go dancing with some broad whilst this punks beating ‘em off with a stick."

"Shield." You corrected as Steve made an exasperated noise in his throat.

"I’m in a nightmare, right?" Bucky finished.

"’Fraid not, Buckaroo." You placed your now empty mug besides his on the wooden counter. "But I suggest that you get your report to me on the Dresden raid or you really will be in a bad dream. Colonel Phillips wants them pronto and I'm not taking the flack because you're too lazy to do it."

Bucky groaned. "How am I supposed to think about that with all this other shit going on?"

"Nice to see you have your priorities straight." Steve scoffed and Bucky glared at him but before he could reply, a loud girly laugh filled the kitchen and you saw Bucky still.

"There you are!" Private Lorraine spoke and you exchanged a glance with Steve, a look of utter glee spreading across his face at his friend's discomfort. "I was beginning to think you were avoiding me, Sergeant Barnes."

"Now what on Earth would give you that idea?" You quipped. As usual, she completely ignored you and watched as Bucky turned to look at her.

"Well, you found me." He nodded, a false smile spreading across his face.

"Yeah, I did. So, err, this dance, do you have a date or..."

Bucky took a deep breath, "well, the thing is..."

"Yes, he does." You blurted out, before you could stop yourself. You stepped forward and slipped your hand into his, ignoring the shocked look he gave you as you stood by his side. "He's going with me."

"You?" Lorraine looked at you, her eyebrows shooting up so high they almost disappeared into her hairline.

"Yes, me." You smiled. "So, you'll have to find someone else to go with. I think Duggan might be free."

"Well, suppose there's no accounting for taste." The blonde woman in front of you looked you up and down and you bristled under her glare, your nostrils flaring angrily. Sure, you might not have her model looks, hell, you might not even be conventionally pretty in some eyes, but you sure weren’t going to make her let you feel like shit. You'd been brought up by a loving family who made you realise your worth and that despite what anyone else said, you were just as good as them. You continued to hold her gaze and eventually she licked her lips and looked away.

"Well, erm, that's..." she clicked her tongue against her cheek, before deciding to cut her losses and she left the room.

The three of you stood in silence before Bucky turned to look at you, a smirk spreading across his face. "You, are a genius!" He pressed a kiss to your cheek and you swallowed slightly, feeling the heat in your neck. "I owe you, big time."

"Yeah, you do." You shrugged. "You can start by doing that damned report. And then you’re buying me a drink at the Gala, seeing as we're, you know, fake dating."

"You got it, Doll." Bucky saluted, flashing you a wink.

"Fake dating?" Steve muttered, and you turned to look at him as he shook his head, looking up at the ceiling. "I've heard it all now."

You cleared you throat, and removed your hand from where it was still in Bucky’s and swallowed. "I need to get going. That report, Barnes. Don’t forget."

"Anything for you, Darlin'." Bucky grinned.

You gave him a last little smile, and then turned leaving the room letting out an inward groan.

What the hell had you just got yourself into?

****

“Why did I do this?” You sighed, looking at your reflection in the mirror, shaking your head.

“Because you’re sweet on him.” Peggy matter of factly replied and you shot her a look in the mirror. She gave you a knowing smirk and you sighed.

“I just felt sorry for him, okay?”

“Sorry for him?”

“Yeah, you know what she’s like, she wouldn’t leave him alone.”

“Admirable.” Peggy nodded, stepping forward so she was behind you, reaching up to fix another pin into your up do. “So what’s your master plan? Act the part tonight and break up tomorrow?”

You shrugged. “Haven’t thought that far.”

“I doubt you’ve thought at all.”  The brunette looked at you, her perfectly shaped eyebrow raising slightly.

“You know, you and Steve really are a match made in heaven.” You scoffed, stepping to the side as you smoothed down the dress you were wearing. It wasn’t anything fancy, but it traced your curves perfectly and made a nice change from the uniform you spent every day wearing. “Go take your righteous indignation and discuss it with him. That is if you’re speaking to him this week, I can never keep up.”

At that Peggy pursed her lips. “We’re not discussing me and Steve, we’re discussing you and how you’re going to get through the next however long pretending to date someone you actually want to date.”

“Well, it could be worse.” You shrugged.

“How?”

“I could be about to spend however long pretending to date someone I don’t like.”

Peggy looked at you for a second and you held her gaze, challenging her to say anything more on the matter. Eventually she merely raised her eyebrows before she turned and looked at the clock.

“We should go.”

With a deep breath you took one last glance at your reflection, grabbed the small clutch from the cot in your room and followed her out.

*****

The small dancehall in London's Soho District was packed with soldiers and civilian staff alike, and you accepted the drink offered to you by a waiter as you entered the main room, the Big Band already playing a bluesy-jazz number as background music, whilst people stood around the room, chatting. It didn’t take you long to locate Bucky. He was stood with Steve and the rest of the Howlies by the bar, all of them dressed in their best uniforms. Taking a deep breath, those pesky butterflies fluttering away in your stomach, you made your way over with Peggy and she let out an annoyed sigh as the men all blatantly looked the pair of you up and down.

“You’d think they’d never seen a woman before.” She mumbled and you scoffed out a laugh.

“Well, we’ve been running missions with them for that long maybe they’ve forgotten that we actually have boobs and a vagina.”

At that Peggy stopped to look at you, and the pair of you started to laugh.

“You are so uncouth.” She shook her head at you, as you linked your arm through hers and continued your path towards your team.

“Like I said, I’ve been in the field with these bozos for over a year, guess their bad habits are rubbing off on me.”

“Well, as long as that’s all that’s rubbing off on you.”

“Agent Carter!” Your mouth fell open in mock horror, turning to look at her as she continued facing forward, her lips quirked up at one side in a barely there smirk. “Now who’s being uncouth?”

“Ladies.” Dum-Dum greeted you with a tip of his bowler as you approached and you nodded to him, smiling before you turned to look at Bucky.

“Wow.” His eyes flicked up and down your form again, and you swallowed, a warm feeling spreading over you as his eyes took in your outfit and when his eyes finally met yours he cleared his throat and you gave him a small smile. “You err, look great. I mean, compared to how you usually look.”

At that Falsworth, Dum-Dum, Dernier, Jones and Morita all snorted as Steve let out a groan.

“Thanks. I think.” You frowned.

“No, I err…I didn’t mean it like that.” Bucky hastily began to back track as Dernier mumbled something in French, of which you caught the words ‘stupid idiot’, Jones hastily agreeing. “I just, well, it’s different to how I’ve seen you before.”

“Well a tight dress and courts ain’t exactly practical for hiking through woods and mounting stealth operations.” You shrugged, taking a sip of your drink. “But for the record, you look exactly the same as you usually do.”

At that the men all roared with laughter as Bucky sighed, dropping his head. “Guess I asked for that.”

Bucky watched as you gave him a small grin, before you turned to talk to Jones, and he took the chance to observe you properly. You looked good. You always did in his eyes but tonight, you were a knock out. Your dress hugged the curves of your thighs and hips, nipping in at the waist with a neckline that showed him just enough skin to leave him imagining what it would feel like to pepper your collarbone with kisses. Your hair was set in a perfect style, your lips rouged, you looked effortlessly stylish. He swallowed, sliding his finger in between the collar of his shirt and neck in an attempt to loosen the starched material as he suddenly flushed very, very warm. He felt timid, awkward, and that in itself made him feel a strange juxtaposition of irritated and amused. Bucky Barnes didn’t get nervous around women, that was Steve’s speciality. But here he was, flapping over how best to ask you if you wanted to get a drink whilst that punk was laughing away with Agent Carter hanging off his every word.

No, this wouldn’t do.

With a small cough, Bucky cleared his throat and dropped his hand to the base of your back. “You want a drink, Doll Face?”

You smiled up at him, blinking and nodded. “Yeah, thanks Buck. A gin would be great.”

Bucky waved over the bartender, placed your orders and had just turned back to you when he spotted the woman who’d thrown him into this mess in the first place, Private Lorraine arriving with some other poor, unsuspecting soldier from the unit. Bucky didn’t know his name, not that he cared.

“Hey,” he nudged you and you turned to face him and he jerked his head, “guess this fake date worked.”

You followed his eye-line and visibly bristled a little bit before you shook your head and shrugged. “Poor bastard.”

“You really don’t like her, do you?”

“Whatever gave you that idea?”

“Just a hunch.” Bucky smirked, passing you your drink, before he gestured with his arm for you to follow the group who were now moving away from the bar to find a table. “After you, Darlin’.”

*****

You had to admit, you’d had your reservations but as it turned out, the night was pretty fun. Whilst you’d been hyper aware of Bucky besides you, you felt reasonably relaxed. His arm had dropped round your shoulder at one point, pulling you in for a friendly hug, the way he often did out in the field, and you’d simply enjoyed being as close to him as you were.

Because, fake or not, a chance to date Bucky Barnes didn’t come along that often.

It was a couple of hours later when you both found yourself at the table with Steve who made an excuse he needed the bathroom and left. Bucky snorted as Steve headed across the room and shook his head.

“Bathroom, he must think we’re stupid. He’s gone to find Peggy.”

“Aww, don’t. I think it’s cute.” You smiled, turning to look at Bucky. “Don’t you? I mean we’re fighting a war and in the middle of all this bloodshed and horror, he’s found someone who…” you trailed off as Bucky was watching you, a strange expression on his face. “Or not…am I talking nonsense?”

“No, it’s not that.” Bucky shook his head. “I just, guess I never thought about it that way. But you’re right. Suppose none of us know how long we have left, especially at the moment.”

He trailed off, his eyes scanning yours for something, but what you weren’t sure. You felt your cheeks warm and you glanced down at your hands, before you turned to watch the dancing going on around you. It was crazy when you stopped to contemplate that, in the midst of all the devastation and destruction, life was still going on. Bucky was right, your time could be up in a flash at any point.

“Well, seeing as you put it so eloquently,” you looked at Bucky, jerking your head to the dance floor. “Wanna show me how it’s done in Brooklyn?”

“Do you mind if we don’t?” Bucky shook his head and your heart sank. “I just…well, I…”

“No, you don’t need to explain.” You hastily back tracked. “I just thought it might keep up appearances, that’s all.”

There was an awkward silence, Bucky studying you for a moment with an expression you really couldn’t place and then, well, it all became too much.

“I’m gonna go to the bathroom.” You made the same excuse Steve had given moments ago, and before Bucky could say anything, you rose from your seat and walked away, as dignified as you could, trying not to let the tears that were stinging your eyes fall down your face.

*****

Bucky watched you walk away from him, your movements graceful as you headed round the tables placed around the edge of the dance floor, taking care to avoid the groups of guests as you went. He let out a heavy sigh and shook his head. This was a mess. It had started out as a bit of fun, you helping him out, because that's what you did, but he'd been a wreck all night. Frankly, being in such close proximity to you was making his head swim.

He'd wanted to dance with you, he'd really wanted to dance with you, but he didn’t trust himself because the truth was he liked you. A lot and he had done so for a while. He wasn’t sure he could trust himself to hold you on the dance floor without trying to kiss the life out of you. So he’d said no, and let you walk away, and the look of hurt on your face was now burnt into his mind. With an angry snort he stood up and stalked to the bar, signalling for another drink.

He stood there, nursing his glass for what felt like an age, seething at his own stupidity until a familiar voice cut through his murderous thoughts.

"Did HYDRA scramble your brain or something, Buck?"

"What?" Bucky's brow furrowed as he turned to look at Steve.

"You’re missing a girl's signals."

"Signals, what are you..."

"Y/N, you dolt." Steve rolled his eyes.

"What about her?"

"She likes you, has for ages."

"I don’t think so, Steve" Bucky snorted.

Steve sighed and leaned against the bar as Bucky necked his scotch. "So explain the look she had on her face as she stalked passed me before.”

Bucky rolled his eyes. "She wanted a dance, dames love dancing. I said no.”

“And why did you do that?”

Bucky took a deep breath and didn’t answer. But he knew Steve could see right through him, the punk always could.

“Buck, what exactly did you think I meant that night at the bar when we first came to England a couple of months back? About Peggy having a friend? I meant Y/N."

Bucky blinked, his mouth dropping open. "What?"

"She's sweet on you. Falsworth told me. I was trying to give you a hint."

Utter frustration lanced through Bucky's entire body and he shook his head. "How in the name of Hitler’s left ball was I supposed to understand that?"

"Well, I thought it was obvious."

"No, no it wasn't, Steve!" Bucky groaned, his eyes flicking around, trying to locate you in the crowd but he felt his heart sink as there was no sign. "Oh, I fucked up, big time."

"Suggest you go fix it then." Steve shrugged, his voice a little slow as he himself was busy looking at Peggy as she walked towards him, smiling. He stood up straight and clapped Bucky on the shoulder, before he walked off, leaving his sergeant alone.

Bucky anxiously continued to search the room with his eyes, and felt his heart jump as he saw a flash of colour the same as your dress, and your familiar profile as you walked onto the dance floor, your hand in Howard’s as the man smiled at you, pulling you into a hold.

Oh, fuck you, Stark!

Without wasting another second, Bucky necked his scotch and moved, striding around the dancehall towards you, not watching where he was going which was why he collided straight into Dum-Dum.

"Woah, Barnes, where's the fire?"

"On the dance floor, I hope.” Bucky sidestepped round the broad man quickly, his eyes entirely fixed on you as he weaved his way round the various couples all in the middle of a reasonable slow dance until he reached the pair of you.

He cleared his throat, gently tapping Howard on the shoulder as your eyes fixed onto his, surprise etched across your face.

“Mind if I cut in?”

xxxx

“Did it work?” Peggy asked Steve as the pair of them stood to the side of the hall. Steve glanced over the dancefloor, just as Howard stepped away from you, kissing your hand in an over-the-top gesture before he turned and walked away. Bucky approached you tentatively, and Steve saw you give the faintest of nods, before his friend took you in a close dancing hold.

Grinning, Steve turned back to Peggy, jerking his head to the floor. “See for yourself.”

As the pair of them watched you and Bucky for a second, Steve’s eyes then fell on Howard who had paused to talk to someone. Almost as if he could sense the Captain’s eyes on him, Stark glanced over, a smug grin crossed his face, and he gave Steve the thumbs up sign.

Steve smiled into his glass, the irony at the fact that Bucky had tried and failed many times to fix him up with gals in the past yet he’d managed to turn the tables in a single try, wasn’t wasted on the Captain.

xxxx

“Funny looking bathroom.” Bucky cleared his throat as he steered the pair of you round in a gentle dance.

“Oh, well I got waylaid a little.” You replied. “And seeing as we’re not actually dating, I didn’t think it was an issue.”

“It’s not, I just…” He was quick to reply as he drew in another deep breath before he shook his head. “I’m sorry.”

 “What for?”

“Before, saying no the way I did. It was rude.”

You took a deep breath, your heart racing as you glanced up at him. “So, is that the only reason you’ve come to dance now? To apologise?”

“Yes, I mean, no.” Bucky stumbled over his words as he shook his head. “No, I wanted to dance. More specifically I wanted to dance with you.”

His admission settled like a bubbling brook in your belly. You wondered why, so you asked, "why?" 

Your mind began quickly doing the math, adding up the moments and signals between the two of you, wondering if what you dared to think was actually what he was thinking too. You were nervous but you remained close in your dance, your eyes flicking between his and his lips as he spoke, the words drowning in your ears, his voice sounding like your head was under water. 

“Because I like you, Doll Face.”

Then, you felt it, your body leaning in just a smidge as you tilted your head upward as his moved just a pinch to look down at you. Your lips brushed his and the electricity took off as he pulled you in for a deeper, slightly less modest kiss, the hand that had been curled around your waist moved upwards at the same time his other released yours from his hold, and calloused palms and fingers cupped your jaw and cheeks. Despite the roughness of his skin, his warm hands felt soft against your face like the finest silk whilst his tongue dipped into your mouth, kissing you in a way that your Pappy certainly wouldn’t approve of.

But you approved, boy did you approve.

The sounds of the big band drowned out the mewl that bubbled from your delicate throat to those around you, but not to Bucky. He heard the elicit sound clear as day, and that was enough. He wanted to get you alone, away from prying eyes.

He pulled back, casting a quick glance around before he looked down at you, "let's get out of here."

It was a suggestion as much as an instruction, and he waited as you blinked, before you gave the slightest nod and he took your hand, turned, and led you from the dancefloor.

****

How the pair of you made it back to your quarters, you had no idea, but here you were, stumbling into the small room, heated kisses being shared as Bucky kicked the door shut, his lips still fiercely on yours. Your fingers were now deftly undoing the buttons of his jacket before you pulled it open with a flourish, shoving it down over his shoulders and arms as Bucky was quickly pulling off his tie and opening the collar of his shirt. Before long, that was also discarded somewhere on the floor and your hands slid up his strong biceps, down his chest, tracing the taught muscle before your fingers hooked into the front of his uniform pants and you turned your attention to his belt, breaking the kiss a little so you could look down.

“Eager, Doll?” Bucky mumbled as his nose nudged at your chin, pushing your head up. His lips trailed across your jaw line, and then down your neck and you tipped your head back, your eyes fluttered shut at the feel of his lips on your skin, relishing the feel of his soft mouth and the delectable gentle scratching of his five-o-clock shadow.

His hands slowly slid up your sides, before they moved round the back, his lips pressing to yours as you felt his fingers gently guiding the zip of your dress down. Once it was undone, you stepped back and allowed it to fall into a pool at your feet. Bucky glanced down and groaned as his blue eyes scanned the stockings, garter belt, lace panties and matching bra.

“Fuck, Sweetheart.” His lips crashed back to yours as he backed you towards the cot at the side of the room.  As the back of your knees hit the metal side of the frame, he gently lowered you down, positioning himself over you, caging you with his arms and his legs as his mouth continued trailing soft kisses down your neck and her jawline.

You were powerless to stop the soft noises of pleasure you were making, try as you might, conscious of the fact the walls in the Quarter-Hall were thin, something you cursed on a daily basis as you could hear the squeak of the cot which belonged to the neighbour to your right as she turned over at night. Luckily for you, your springs were untested so to speak, therefore didn’t make a sound, unlike you at that moment in time.

“Are you sure you wanna do this?” Bucky suddenly stopped, his mouth hovering by your ear and you stilled, tilting your head to look at him. “I mean, this…well, it aint proper really, but…”

“Since when did you give a damned about being proper with a Dame?” You teased, fingers wrapping in the chain of his dog-tags, but there wasn’t a shred of humour in Bucky’s tone or on his face when he answered.

“When that dame was you.”

You blinked, and looked at his face, finding nothing there but a genuine softness and you were overcome with the emotions and sensations you were feeling and you yanked on the chain in your hands, pulling his head back down as you crashed your lips back to his.

“Yes, yes I do. I want this Bucky, I want it so much.” You mumbled against his mouth and he gave a groan, before he stood up, quickly, reaching for his wallet. He pulled out the small condom packet, one you recognised as the standard issued to all soldiers to avoid them catching anything when they were putting it about during furlough, so to speak, and he sat back down on the edge of the bed, bending down to unlace his boots.

Bucky was mentally cursing the damned things as he felt you stir behind him, the hard mattress of your bed dipping slightly, and he stilled as he felt your fingers gently brushing over the back of his shoulders. Your touch was feather light as your hands gently felt across his broad back and he gave a sigh, tipping his head back slightly to catch your lips in a deep kiss.

“Doll, if you want me to do anything to you tonight, I gotta get these boots off.”

“So take ‘em off.”

“Stop distractin’ me then.” His accent dripped from his tongue as he chuckled, and your lips curled into a smile against his.

“You saying you can’t handle a job with a little distraction?” You gave a tut, but pulled away a little to allow him to finally get the damned things off. “And Steve says you’re our best marksman.”

“Well, what does that Punk know?” Bucky tossed the boots to the floor with a thud, before he quickly raised his hips enough to allow him to slide off his pants. Then, in a flash he turned, pinning you back to the cot, smirking at the giggle that burst from your mouth. His hands trailed down your body, flicking open the clips on your garter straps without so much as a fumble, before the reached up and snapped the hooks at the front of your bra.

He took a moment to appreciate you, the soft, supple lines of your breasts a complete contrast to your toned shoulders and taught stomach, both the result of an extensive training regime.

“Fuck, you’re beautiful.” He leaned over, kissing you softly, his lips tracing a track down your sternum before he softly took a nipple in his mouth, his tongue gently teasing, eyes flicking to your face to watch your reaction. 

You groaned at the sensation, rolling your head back on the pillow, hips bucking upwards as you let yourself go, barely daring to believe that his was happening, but just as you were questioning if you were in some elaborate dream, a low moan from above you caused your fluttering eyelids to jerk wide open. You could feel him hard, pushing against you and your hands moved round to his back.  You dragged your fingers up his spine, as his hand moved down, sliding into the waistband of your panties making your gasp as his fingers slipped into your folds. As he teased you, your hips began to move in time with his motions, groans falling from your lips as the heat began to build in between your legs, deep in your belly.

“Good?” Bucky’s voice was a rasp, and it was all you could do to do whimper softly, your head falling back further as your mouth dropped open, your entire body shuddering as the pleasure lanced through you. You reached down, grabbing his wrist and his eyes moved to yours, waiting.

“Want you.” You whispered softly. Almost as if he’d been waiting for that final bit of permission, Bucky’s fingers hooked into the top of your panties, gently sliding them down your legs, gathering your stockings as he went, a movement he had clearly perfected through goodness knows however many other clandestine liaisons. Discarding them to the floor, he wriggled his way out of his own underwear before he sat back on his heels and you moved, grabbing the packet he’d placed on the small bedside unit before.

Bucky groaned softly as your hands gently wrapped around his cock, sliding the condom down. It really shouldn’t have been as arousing as it was but he was almost ready to blow before he’d even started. Once it was on, he crawled back over you, his thighs gently parting yours a little further and with a steady, slow motion he slid into you, the sensation caused both of you to groan, your head falling back against the pillows as Bucky stretched you, his girth and length filling you completely.

"Fuuucckkk.” Bucky breathed out as your tight heat gripped him, his word little more than a whisper. He moved his hands to snake his fingers through yours, gently pinning your hands by the side of your head as he began to move his hips. He went slowly at first, picking up the speed slightly as you keened underneath him, his dog tags sliding in the valley between your breasts, the metal cold against your heated skin.

Your hips bumped together with every thrust he made and, with each rock into you, he was rubbing against that soft spot deep inside you. Your soft cries stuck in your throat, your senses completely overwhelmed as the fire in your body was raging white hot.

“James,” you whispered his name, and Bucky let out a low groan, his fingers tightened around yours as he gave a particularly deep thrust, making you purr in delight. He raised his head to capture your lips, plunging his tongue into your mouth before he released your hands, his own cupping your face as he continued to move.

In that moment, you could have been anywhere. In a hotel, surrounded by the finest silk sheets that money could buy or on some far away beach in the corner of the world, but instead you were led on a hard mattress in a military base, knowing full well you were in for some serious reprimand if you were caught, but you didn’t care. All that mattered was the man who was currently undoing you piece by piece as the two of you were tangled in your own private dance.

The more Bucky gave, the more you wanted, and as he hiked your leg up round his waist, his fingers curling round the back of your knee you choked out another pant of his name, “James,” as you felt yourself nearing that point where you’d drop over that oh-so-steep cliff edge. The tips of your nails dug into the skin of his shoulders, causing him to groan loudly, his head tipping backwards.

“You feel so good.” His voice was nothing but a whine, and at his praise you gave another low, sultry gasp, your breath now coming in ragged gasps. “God, Y/N,” he moaned loudly as you titled your hips, pushing back up against him, his head dropping slightly. “You close?” he gasped and you nodded softly, your lips falling open and once again he kissed you, hard, his movements speeding up ever so slightly.

“Don’t stop.” You begged, shaking your head as you grasped at his back, “please, so good.”

Bucky felt you shudder underneath him and a few thrusts later your back arched and a soft cry escaped your mouth as your eyes fluttered shut and your head tilted back, mouth open in a now silent scream. He could feel you tightening, pulsing around him as you came and that was it, enough to tip him straight over the edge behind you, the surge and ecstasy of his relief causing his whole body to stiffen as his hips faltered. A groan burst from his mouth as he gave a few final, sloppy thrusts before he collapsed forward, his head burrowing into your neck.

You both lay still for a moment, before Bucky regained enough composure to prop himself up, placing a soft kiss to your lips and as he pulled away slightly, he found you looking up at him, lips swollen from his kisses, heavy lidded eyes blinking slowly in your sated state, and he smiled at the fact you wore that just fucked look so damned well.

“You okay?” He asked softly and you nodded, a smile playing on your lips before you kissed him again.

“More than okay.” You grinned, your nails gently scratching at the nape of his neck. “You got moves, Sergeant.”

Bucky let out a chuckle as he kissed you again, his lips hovering over yours. “Well you weren’t so bad yourself, Agent.”

*****

 “Nice of you to show up.” Colonel Phillips looked at you as you walked into the briefing room. “Late night, was it?”

“Sorry, Sir. I didn’t get much sleep.” You mumbled, avoiding Bucky’s eyes as he looked down at the table, a grin on his face.

“Huh, I could have sworn I saw you leaving the dance early.” Dum-Dum quipped and you shot him a glare as you took up a seat next to Peggy who licked her lips, fighting a smirk.

“Whatever, I’m not interested.” Phillips sniffed before he tossed a file down on the table in front of Steve who reached over to take it. “We have word that HYDRA are intending to move Arnim Zola.”

“Do we know where to?” Steve asked, looking at the file before he glanced up and Peggy shook her head.

“No, this is hot off the press so to speak. Stark’s team intercepted their encrypted broadcast. All we know is that they’re nervous about moving, and that the route has been carefully planned to avoid any long, open distances.”

“They’re going through the Alps.” Phillips moved to a map at the side of the room. “Trying to maintain a cover so to speak. Our surveillance team still has Zola at his current location, but that could change at any time. Captain, I need you to co-ordinate and mount an operation to intercept that train and apprehend him.”

“If you know where he is why can’t we just bust in and get him now?” Bucky asked.

“Because you’ll never get there in time.” Phillips replied. “As we understand he’ll be moving out in a couple of hours. So we’re up against it. The window of opportunity lies about six hours into his trip where there’s a slight break in the mountain cover.”

“How do we know this is kosher?” Falsworth took the file from Steve. “They could be leaving a false trail.”

“We hacked a number of broadcasts, each saying a different thing.” Peggy answered. “But this one held the code words we know HYDRA are using today.”

“And our codebreakers have never let us down before, so I’m willing to take a punt.” Phillips nodded. “Get to it, we don’t have much time.”

There was a flurry of movement around the table as you all stood up, Steve barking instructions at you all to collect what you needed and head to the transportation hub immediately as Dum-Dum mentioned something about zip wires and ambushing the train from above. As you all sidled out of the room, a hand gently closed over your arm and you turned to see Bucky as he fell into step besides you.

“Just so you know, I don’t normally make habit of splitting before breakfast.”

“Oh, you normally eat first?”

“In a manner of speaking.” He smirked and you gave a chuckle. “I just didn’t want you thinking-“

“It’s okay, I get it.” You assured him, and you did. He’d left in a flurry that morning before he could get caught sneaking out of the small room you had in the female quarters and you didn’t hold it against him at all. 

“But, I’d really like to take you out, properly, I mean. When we get chance.”

“You asking me out on a date?”

“Yeah.” Bucky stopped, turning to face you. “A real one this time.”

You smiled and nodded. “I’d like that. Oh, but just so you know, I don’t put out on a first date.”

“No? Then what was last night?”

You hesitated, feeling the heat rising to your cheeks. In all honesty, you had no idea what had come over you last night. You’d never behaved in a reckless manner with a man like that before and taken him home so easily, for fear of getting yourself a bad reputation. That said, you didn’t really care either. You were in the middle of a war, running dangerous missions, any of which could be your last. Life was for living, and as long as you were breathing, you intended on making the most of it.

You opened your mouth to explain this to Bucky, but you stopped yourself and instead you simply smiled at him, your eyes looking straight into those steel-blues which were sparkling with mischief.

“Doesn’t count, it wasn’t a real date.”

“Oh, that’s how it is?” Bucky arched an eyebrow and you nodded.

“Yup, that’s how it is.”

“Well,” He took a deep breath as the pair of you continued walking, “guess I’ll just have to show you a real good time when I get the chance.”

You snorted and shook your head. “You’re a piece of work, you know that?”

“It’s been said.” He grinned as you reached the end of the corridor. “But, first we’ve got a German scientist to catch. Think you can contain yourself around me long enough to run a mission?”

“Okay, first off he’s Swiss.”

“What?”

“Zola, he’s Swiss. I don’t know why you all think differently, it’s in all the briefings and his file-“

“Yeah, I don’t read those.”

“Well you should, you might learn something. And second -“ you held your hand up, finger extended, instructing him to keep whatever wise crack he was about to make to himself, “-you’re not that irresistible.”

Bucky blinked before he gave a laugh and shook his head. “You know, I actually learned a fair bit last night.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. I learned that you cut a mean rug, Doll-Face.” He glanced around, before he leaned closer, his breath hot on your neck as he whispered into your ear. “And that you look even better with your clothes off.”

With that he turned and headed off towards the equipment store, leaving you staring after him, blinking with shock, but feeling an overwhelming sense of smugness that, even in the middle of all this bloodshed and fighting, you had something to look forward to when you got back.

#ann1111fc #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fic #reader insert #captain america fanfiction #mcu fanfic

[anniesocsandgeneralstore]

Squad Fam would 100% volunteer at Children's hospitals/animal shelters. I have so many feels about this fam and dont wanna clog your inbox

They absolutely would and I hope you like the direction I took this in 💕 and you're not clogging my inbox at all! I love your requests and you

If I Go Universe - Let's Empty the Animal Shelter (Rick Flag x OC)

Summary: Harley got a job at the Animal Shelter and is organizing an adoption event. So the Squad Fam volunteers to help.

Pairing: Rick Flag x OC / Squad Family & OC (Delphia Holman)

Word Count: 1624

Warnings: language, pregnancy/pregnancy symptom mention, so much found family trope, one flirty old lady

Timeline: March 2022 (Delphia is about two months along at this point)

if i go masterlist

Harley slumped into the living room with red lips pouted and arms crossed. She huffed as she fell onto the couch beside Delphia.

“What’s wrong, Harley?” Cleo asked from her armchair.

“Well, I organized this awesome adoption event at the park tomorrow. I even bought all these freaking decorations and bowties for all the animals — put up posters around town! But none of my dipshit coworkers volunteered to work it with me.”

“Oh, no,” Delphia said with a frown, placing a comforting hand on Harley’s leg, “They are a bunch dipshits.”

“Now I don’t know what to do — cause I can’t run the whole thing by myself.” Harley lead back and stared at the ceiling with a deep, nearly comical frown. “None of those little pooches and kitties are gonna find a home now.”

Delphia put down her book with a smile. “I’m not doing anything tomorrow, Harls. Where do you need me and when?”

“Wait — “ Harley sat up instantly, hands held out at her sides and expression gone wide and hopeful. “Are you serious?”

“Yeah, I’m serious,” Delphia laughed, “I got nothing better to do.”

“I volunteer myself too,” Cleo said with a bright grin, taking Sebastian from her lap and nuzzling his fur with her nose, “Every animal deserves a loving home.”

“Ugh — you guys are the best, I swear! Now we just gotta get the rest of the team on board!”

“The — The rest of the team?” Delphia questioned.

“Yeah!” Harley looked at her like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Getting the team back together for one last mission — Operation Clear the Animal Shelter!”

“Oh, boy.”

It took a lot of convincing. Like — a lot. But eventually, everyone agreed to spare four hours of their lives to help some animals find a good home. Harley was beyond excited. Bouncing around the house handing out everyone’s list of duties. DuBois snatched his from her hand begrudgingly and with a roll of his eyes. But he still read the list with a meticulous eye.

“The fuck does clean up duty mean?” he asked with a furrowed brow and a snarled lip.

“Ya know — cleaning the crates. Making sure the dogs don’t have any…” Harley trailed off, hoping that DuBois would get the point.

“Oh fuck no.” DuBois tossed the sheet down on the dining room table and crossed his arms. “I ain’t cleanin’ no dog shit.”

“Come on, Robby, it’s only for an hour!” Harley tried to bargain, “Then you’re switching off with Dee.”

“Actually, Harley babe, you mind if I just stay under the umbrella — take the cash? I’ve been feeling not super great lately.”

Delphia and Rick shared a look across the table. No one really seemed to notice — everyone was used to their silent communication. The eye gestures, the lifting of their brows, the slight hand movements that let them carry on near-complete conversations. Though Cleo had to narrow her eyes at the smile the couple flashed each other. At the redness that overtook the colonel’s cheeks as he continued to grin into his lap. What was so great about his love being sick?

But Cleo was quickly pulled away from her suspicions by DuBois’ disgruntled exclamation at Harley actually agreeing to Delphia’s request.

“Fine, fine, fine — “ Rick butted in, “I’ll take Dee’s cleanup shift.”

“No, I need you wanderin’ around and talkin’ people into gettin’ these little guys. That southern charm works wonders I’m tellin’ ya.” Harley pointed a painted nail at Rick.

“Damn straight,” Delphia mumbled under her breath, throwing a wink Rick’s way when he caught her eye.

He only chuckled and shook his head at her, then he looked down at the schedule. “‘Kay — Then have Ratattoille take the extra clean-up shift and then Pokey can take her hour of talking up the animals.”

“Oh, God,” Abner breathed at the thought of having to socialize with anyone.

“You’re gonna do great,” Rick assured with a smile and a nod in Abner’s direction.

Abner made one more noise of protest, somewhere between a grunt and a whine and possibly a gargle. But other than that he didn’t protest any further.

“Excellent!” Harley clapped her hands together with an excited squeal. “This is gonna be the best pet adoption since like eva’!”

It was a beautiful day in the park. The sun was shining, there was a slight breeze that carried in the leftover chill of spring, the grass was just starting to turn green, and all the animals were bowtied and ready to go. And so far, despite Nanaue’s looming presence in the background, the pet adoption was going great.

People from all over town and even from a few towns over were stopping by to take a look at what pets were available. So many dogs and cats were finding good homes. And it was all thanks to the Suicide Squad on one last final mission.

DuBois talked up all the animals like he was a cheap car salesman — spinning half-truths and sometimes complete lies in order to get a family to adopt a pet. Cleo spoke soft and sweet and made people appreciate an animal for its flaws and hardships. Abner was terrible at first, but he got better after a while — letting people know the honest truth about the animals they were considering. And Rick…Well, let’s just say that that southern charm really was coming in handy.

“Alright, Miss Carlton — Dee’s gonna handle everything from here,” Rick said as he led an elderly woman to the checkout table at the park’s entrance, she was carrying a little pomeranian with ping-pong ball eyes and every last hair on its head shivering with fright, “You take good care of Missy now.”

“Oh you know I will, Colonel,” Miss Carlton smiled up at Rick, the wrinkles of her face making her eyes disappear.

Delphia watched the pair of them as she gathered the adoption paperwork and opened the cash drawer. It was obvious that Miss Carlton was not only smitten with Missy, but was also clearly taken with Rick. The way she smiled and leaned closer to him and kept looking him up and down. It nearly made Delphia choke on the laugh she was trying to cover up.

“You good?” Rick asked softly, stopping at the edge of the table before he headed back into the thick of it.

Delphia watched Miss Carlton staring with one eyebrow raised at Rick’s ass and couldn’t stop the chuckle that bubbled past her lips. “I’m perfect.”

“Move along, Colonel,” Miss Carlton said, the tap she gave one of his cheeks audible against the fabric of his jeans making his eyes nearly bulge out of his head and his cheeks to go a bright shade of red, “I’ve gotta puppy to adopt here.”

“Yeah — move along, Colonel,” Delphia agreed with a cocked brow and a smirk.

Rick coughed awkwardly before pointing back towards the adoption and walking away. But a few minutes later, when Miss Carlton was gone and a few other pets had been taken to their forever homes, Rick came back up to the table and sat down in the empty seat beside Delphia.

“So — er — she slipped her number into my back pocket.” Rick held up a piece of bright pink paper between his fore and middle finger.

“Oh, my God!” Delphia cackled, “That’s hilarious! You gonna keep it just in case?”

“What? No!” he chuckled back, folding up the note as small as it would go, “I may or may not have put on too much southern charm in order for her to adopt that demon dog.”

“It did kind of look like a frog covered in fur — yeah.”

Rick chuckled softly and placed a hand over her abdomen. Feeling the fabric of her shirt and the slight bump that was now hidden beneath it. His hands had always felt warm and home and safe against her. So tender despite their lifetime’s worth of training to kill. But this felt different somehow. More caring, more loving, more than she had ever felt before.

“You feeling okay?” he asked quietly.

“Honestly?” she sighed, putting her chin in her hand, “I feel like shit.”

“Oh, baby — “

“No, it’s okay.” Delphia looked over her shoulder and saw Harley talking animatedly with a little girl over a boa constrictor. “Harley needed this — I think. So, even though I feel like either throwing up or sleeping for the next two days I’m gonna be here to help her and support her.”

“God, what did I do to deserve you?” Rick asked with a smile and a kiss to her temple.

As the afternoon began to bleed into evening, the sun waning in the sky and that springtime chill overtaking the air, the pet adoption was finished. And every single crate, cage, and corral was empty.

“Guys, we did it!” Harley cheered loudly as everyone finished cleaning up, “Another successful mission completed by the squad!”

“Didn’t you admin fucks always have a celebration thing after completed successful missions?” DuBois asked as he finished loading the last table into Rick’s truck.

Delphia cocked her head to one side, arms hugging her sides against the chill. “While I wouldn’t consider myself an admin fuck — yes. We did party after a mission was completed successfully.”

DuBois slammed the trunk shut and looked around at everyone with raised brows and lifted hands. “Then let’s fuckin’ party!”

Everyone whooped and hollered as they started heading in the direction of the local bar. Delphia and Rick trailed behind — hand in hand with chill bitten blushes and proud grins on their faces.

Taglist (if you would like to be tagged in future installments just let me know in whatever way you feel comfortable!): @bbygrgu @a-reader-and-a-writer @slayerx147 @xoxabs88xox @kasey-puff @witchygagirl @the-pink-petite-princess @blooo0ooop @woodlandmouth @csigeoblue @rexorangecouny @h-hxgirl @thisisthewayrose @blondiekook @darkestbeforethedawn16 @runic-belova @weallhaveadestiny

#rick flag #rick flag x oc #rick flag x delphia holman #colonel rick flag #rick flag imagine #rick flag fanfiction #rick flag fanfic #suicide squad fanfiction #suicide squad imagine #suicide squad fic #the suicide squad #suicide squad #joel kinnaman #joel kinnaman imagine #squad family #squad fam #if i go universe #dceu oc #dceu imagine #dceu fanfiction #dceu fanfic #dceu fic

[corysmiles]

oh ohoh :]c Look who's showing her face once again, that's right! The runnaway experiment isBACK! And not only is it back, it's also AVAILABLE ON AO3 BABY!!!!!!!! :D

https://archiveofourown.org/works/35957815/chapters/90253351 With that out the way, enjoy! this new chapter! It's a bit more world building, but we'll soon return to more plot progression. :]

Passing Conversations.

-------

C- “Just so we’re clear, we are doing this for the good of the operation.”

W- “I understand.”

C- “Hopefully, the 3 year break will allow the transition from patient to experiment to go smoothly.”

W- “Yeah. It’s a shame we won’t see the kid.”

C- “This… is another thing I’ve been meaning to talk to you about.”

W- “Mh?”

C- “The transition…. Will also be done within us. During the 3 year gap, we will have to recognize T-0 as not a child, nor an entertainment, but as the subject we’ve been meaning to train since the beginning.”

W- “...of course. I understand, Mister sparkle.”

C- “Good. Good. Now go join Techno. I’ve heard he’s been waiting for you.”

W- “Alright. Have a good day, Sir!”

C- “You too.”

—-----

C-“So, how’s the experiment doing?”

B-“Well, aside from the obvious, rather well.”

C-“I see. Has it caused any trouble during the first tests?”

B- “Not really. But he is careless. We’re having a hard time finding props that fit.”

C-“I see… I mean, it could be useful to us in the future, even though right now, it’s a bother.”

B-“What, the fact that it’s a giant?”

C-“Mh.”

B-“How so? It’s more of an inconvenience if you want my opinion.”

C-“You can see it at that, but only if it rebels against us. If we teach it right, it’ll help us in many ways. Protect us, amongst other things.”

B-“Heh. ‘Reaching new heights’ kinda goal, right.”

C-“Exactly!”

B-“That’s ridiculous.”

C-“Well, so is it! And yet it’s sitting well alive in our lab.”

B-“... Touché.”

C-“So, you’re gonna do this with us?”

B-“Oh of course, I’d never quit. Not after we created the specimen.”

—--

W-“I’m… what?”

C-“You heard me, Wilbur. You’ve been assigned as one of the ‘advocates’ for the experiment.”

W-“I… You want me to be in contact with the thing?!?”

C-“Indeed.”

W-“Let me run over just so we’re clear: You’re training T-0 to be a sort of, mass destruction weapon…”

C-“Indeed.”

W-“And you want ME to be in the SAME ROOM as THE WEAPON OF MASS DESTRUCTION??”

C-“Pretty much.”

W-“You do realise how bad that sounds, right? How can I accept that?”

C-“Well, Wilbur. The thing is indeed going to be a very human-like AI of some sort, and we are going to be training it so it can use its strength to its utmost potential, but most importantly, we are training it to protect us. It will go as far as possible to protect us. It’s like a brand new safety protocol in case of an emergency!”

W-“... And, just by pure curiosity, if it were to turn against us. Like, I don’t know, a ‘program controlling’ thing or what have you… do we… have a safety protocol for that?”

C-“Wilbur. This ‘program’ we’re talking about… you know how it’s called, for such a specimen?”

W-“Uh… enlighten me?”

C-“It’s called ‘raising’. Educating it.”

W-“...So it’s no AI, then!”

C-“Well, the human brain is a program of its own. After all that’s what we based it on.”

W-“...So we’re gonna raise it to be…”

C-“Merciless, protective, moralless, and a killer. In case we ever need to deploy it.”

W-“....Riiiiiight.”

C-“Come on. Your first meeting with the subject is tomorrow. The protocol has been sent to your desk.”

W-“TOMORROW?!??”

—

W-“Am I ready?”

W-“How much did it change since last time?”

W-“Okay, you just follow the protocol, follow the instructions… …”

W-“The door alone is so fucking tall, what the heck.”

W-“I’m just delaying the inevitable, ain’t I?”

W-“..Okay, let’s do this…”

…

T-“Oh, hello doctor.”

W-“...H-Hello, T-0-M. Do you remember me?”

T-“You’re… doctor soot?”

W-“Very nice. I suppose you are aware of the set of rules they set for me to be able to see you in your room.”

T-“Mh mh. No touching, no yelling, no sudden movement, no talking loudly, no interrupting you, no grabbing, and listen to everything you say.”

W-“Great. Let’s start, shall we?”

T-“Mh.”

W-“Can you describe to me the test you took this morning?”

—-

W-“Alright, surprisingly, the first meeting went smoothly!”

B-“See? I told you it would be alright, dude. Relaaxx”

W-“I mean- yeah.. I guess. You have it easy! You always see him behind that glass.”

B- “Boo-hoo.”

W- “Alright, I’ll stop.”

B-“Doctor Puff will do the next meeting I think. They want you two to switch your rounds so the both of you can get a breather between each session.”

W-“Yeah, it’s quite tense in that room. I’d like that.”

W-“ I felt… small. In that room.”

B-“They really went all out in this, huh? Is everything really adjusted to its size?”

W-“Yeah. Makes you feel like a doll. It’s unsettling.”

B- “Good thing I’ll never enter it.”

W- “You fucker-”

—---

B-“Doctor Soot! How are you doing?”

W-“Pff, what with the formalities? I’m doing fine, thank you. I’ve heard the tests are going well.”

B-“They are! It’s been quite the task to find good enough test dummies, but now that we found it, we can begin the actual tests.”

W- “Heh, what was the issue? I thought you had plenty of material.”

B- “Oh, it wasn’t the size. We managed to make mannequins his size. One that could resist more than a punch? Not so much.”

W-”...Really?”

B-”Yeah! Hopefully, your little program is going to convince him quickly that we’re not the ones he should punch.”

W-” Pff, don’t worry, I’m working on it.”

B- “Good. It’s a decent listener so that’s that at least.”

W- “Yeah, it’s growing well. Listening like a perfect little student.”

W-“Who knows, maybe he’ll really act human one day!”

B-“God let’s hope not! We’re scientists, not criminals… That would be extremely unethical.”

W-“...yeah. Of course.”

—--

T-“Do what you’re told. Do what you’re told. Obey as you listen. Obey as you hear orders.Be fast. Protect others. Protect. Obey. Obey. Protect…”

C-“Exactly, T-0. That is the best thing you can do.”

W-“Captain?? What are you doing here?”

C-“Just teaching him.”

T-“Am I doing good, doctor?”

“Jordan seems to do a teaching of his own in between sessions.”

C-“You are doing amazing, T-0.”

W-“... Jordan, leave it to me, will you?”

C-“He is all yours, Wil. Enjoy.”

W-“...Thanks. Hello T-0. How are you doing?”

T-“Fine.”

W-“... Being rather distant, uh?”

T-“Is it wrong, doctor?”

W-“Not necessarily, but let’s get started, shall we?”

—--

T-“Protect. Obey. obey. It’s the best you can do. It’s the best. Obey. Protect. Protect…”

T-”Protect from what?”

B-”From everything that isn’t us, or ours.”

T- “Protect. Protect. Obey.”

B- “Wonderful. Now let’s get you ready for today’s tests, alright?”

T-”Yes, Doctor blade.”

B-”You know it’s not my real name, right?”

T-”Sorry, Doctor.”

B-”It’s alright. Anyway- Oh hey Wilbur!”

W-“...Hey. It’s not often you roam around here, what’s the matter?”

B-“Oh, didn’t they warn you? From now on, the tests are gonna be more frequent. And the sessions will happen once every two days.”

W- “...They did not warn me, no.”

T- “What does that mean?”

B-”That means that you’ll see Wilbur a little bit less.”

T-“Oh.”

B-”Come on. We have a test to do.”

T- “Yes doctor.”

—-

W- “Okay, so… What’s with the schedule change?”

C-“A new phase of the safety protocol. Though I must congratulate you! Your lessons are being effective.”

W-“Oh, great! So is there a shift for me or do I just continue like before?”

C-“You continue to address it and train it to obey.”

C-“That’s the best thing you can do. For all of us.”

W-“Of course! All in the name of progress!”

C-“All in the name of progress!”

—--

“specimen is curled up on itself. Appears to be troubled.”

“Hello, T-0-M.”

“Hello, Doctor Soot.”

“How are you doing?”

“fine.”

“...”

“Uncooperative to open up about the reason for its behaviour.”

“what..?”

“Did something happen?”

“...no…”

“..T-0M, you must remain honest during the doctor’s visits and answer the questions genuinely, else you’d be subjected to punishment.”

“mh!”

“So… what is causing this state of yours?”

“... It’s the tests.”

“The tests are troubling him. Hesitation to explain akin to a human’s.”

“What happened?”

“...W-Well…”

“Go on.”

“O-One of the tests, they try to teach me to ‘defend’. To ‘attack.’ they say it’s necessary stuff, that if the doctors are ever in danger, I need to do that sort of stuff to protect them.”

“The defence protocol seemed to have upset it.”

“Isn’t that what you usually do?”

“Y- It is! It is!”

“Then what’s troubling you?”

“Reaction similar to panic.”

“I killed it.”

There was a stop.

Wilbur’s eyes widened, before looking back up at the experiment.

“...What?”

Its eyes were wet, holding back tears. Its grip on its own arms tightened, and Wilbur finally realised the dried blood that stood on them.

“They- They asked me to get rid of it. A-And I hesitated. And they got insistent and they kept repeating it. “Do it. Get rid of it. Don’t you want to protect us? Obey, obey obey.”” It gripped its own hair trying to mute the memory. “And I- I- … There’s a blur and then my hands are red and I look at the doctors and they are all making weird faces. And now I’m here and I don’t know what’s happening, but I feel bad.” Its voice wobbled as it looked down at the human. “Did I do something wrong, Doctor?”

Wilbur stared, mouth agape. All blood had seemingly left his face as he stayed mute. The experiment curled on itself, and it was released. A sob.

Wilbur’s face twisted, first in confusion, then in horror. He finally muttered.

“...Empathy.”

A whimper, and T-0-M was looking at the human, tears silently dripping from its eyes. Wilbur looked back.

“You have empathy.” Wilbur breathed out.

“...What’s that?” It muttered.

“You- … You feel! …. You’re experiencing regret. Did- Did the doctor give you a punishment of any kind?”

“...No. They said I did good.”

The shellshock expression morphed into a small smile as a laugh escaped him.

“You’re regretting it. You’re regretting killing the sheep, and talking about it sends you into panics. You- … You feel, T-0-M.” The words left his mouth, and it was like the whole world shifted around him. Painted anew. “You feel.”

“You’re human.”

“...Is that bad?” It mumbled.

“...It’s…. oH GOD YOU’RE HUMAN.” Wilbur started pacing around. “We’ve been sequestering a child for years- WE’VE- WHAT THE FUCK.”

“... I don’t get it.”

“T-0-M, YOU-” He grabbed the bottom of its pants as if to show it to him. “-ARE HUMAN!! LIKE ME! LIKE EVERYONE ELSE IN THIS FACILITY!!!”

“... But I’m not like you.”

“I mean, not physically. And your psychological development surely suffered from the tests… Which means…”

“Doctor Soot. I don’t know what you’re talking about…What do you mean ‘I’m human’? What does it mean?”

Wilbur looked around. No cameras, no mics. Those sessions were between the two of us.

…How couldn’t he make the most of it?

“That, my good little experiment, is what I’m going to teach you.”

YES YES EVERYONE WAKE UP NEW RUNAWAY EXPERIMENT CONTENT DROPPED

i love the dialogue style of story telling and this is so well done :D I adore your writing as always mel

#mel my beloved #Melissas writing is godly #runaway experiment au #not my writing #mcyt g/t #mcyt gt #t!wilbur #g!tommy

[narumi-gens]

How did Naoya and his blue ball Queen meet 👁 👄 👁

note: Naoya’s Blue Ball Queen. Thank you, anon. That’s what I’m officially dubbing her 👑 also know that we know Naoya has a Kansai accent, I’m going wild.  warning: smut words: 1.7k (I’m trash) related drabbles

When Naoya is assigned a mission in Osaka to investigate and eliminate a group of curse users who are rumored to have gotten their hands on a Special Grade cursed object, he thinks nothing of it. As a Special Grade 1 sorcerer and heir to the Zen’in Clan, he considers it more of an annoyance than anything else. 

The thing that does catch his attention and raises his ire is that the higher-ups have decided to assign him a partner for this mission under the apparent logic that the growing strength of these curse users warrants sparing two Grade 1 sorcerers. 

And when he finds out that this partner is just some woman without a cursed technique, he’s furious. 

Throughout the entire duration of the mission, he finds himself bitterly fuming over your presence, his role as your babysitter, and your mistaken belief that the two of you are equals. When the mission is complete and the curse users are dead, he refuses to acknowledge the role you played in recovering the cursed object. 

He’s not quite sure what happens next. 

One moment he has you caged in against the wall in some seedy alley near the curse users’ base of operations, looming over you with a smirk as he tells you that your only value comes from how well you know how to serve a man and how many kids you can manage to pop out for whatever poor bastard ends up stuck with you.  

The next moment, he’s underneath you in some Osaka love hotel watching through half-lidded, hungry eyes as you ride him to your heart’s content with nothing on your mind but your own pleasure. 

He doesn’t know what did it. If it was the way you were looking at him like he wasn’t worth your time. Or maybe it was how every command he tried to give you went in one ear and out the other. It could have been how little respect you seemed to hold for him and his position. 

All he knows is that he wanted nothing more than to wipe that smirk from your lips, teach you your place, and put out that fire that he saw burning in your eyes. 

But things aren’t going to plan. Because every time he attempts to take control as you bounce on his cock, slamming his hips up into yours from below at his desired pace or trying to flip you over so that he’s the one drilling into you, your grip on his throat grows tighter in warning. 

He can feel your nails digging into the skin of his throat and his chest until you’re drawing blood and leaving behind crescent-shaped gouges that will last for days -- and serve as a reminder that he lowered himself to your level. 

But that’s a problem for tomorrow. The only thing that matters now is chasing his own orgasm. Because, even though he hasn’t even known you for a full day, he knows with 100% certainty that if you come first then you’ll leave him still hard and aching for a release without a second thought. 

And with the way you’re moaning with your head dropped back as the pace of your hips begins to grow a bit sloppier, he can tell that you’re getting closer. But he’s not far behind, his own end is in sight as tension continues to build in the base of his spine. 

He begins to run his mouth despite your grip on his throat as he digs his fingers into your hips, determined to leave behind bruises that you’ll feel under your clothes for days. 

“This is all yer fuckin’ good for,” he spits over the wet sound your pussy makes every single time you sink down on his cock. “Yer nothin’ more than a warm hole for me to dump my cum in.”

Before he can continue to rattle off insults and remind you of how little you’re worth, you release his throat only to slap a hand over his mouth that you then use to support your entire weight. Your fingers dig into his sharp jawline and the fury in his eyes as he glares up at you goes unnoticed.

“Shut the fuck up,” you pant, never once breaking your rhythm. Your eyes squeeze even tighter shut as you try to block him out. “I can’t, fuck, come if I have to, ah!, listen to your whining.”

He winces when you lift your hand from his chest, the nail marks you leave behind stinging. But it’s quickly forgotten when he turns absolutely feral as you begin to furiously rub your clit. 

That seems to be all you need before you’re crying out and tensing above him as your pussy clamps down around his cock, the sensation making him groan into your hand. 

But Naoya knows how to seize an opportunity when one presents itself and he knows that if he doesn’t act now then he’ll be left with only his hand to finish getting himself off. Taking advantage of how caught up you are in your orgasm, he uses his strength to flip your positions so that you’re sprawled out beneath him and surprise cuts through the pleasure on your face. 

Only, he doesn’t want to see that fucking face or that fucking smirk or that fucking look in your eyes -- that look that makes him want to break you. 

So, he pulls out and roughly flips you over onto your knees. He tightly grabs onto your hips before plunging his cock back into your still-spasming cunt until he’s buried balls deep inside of you. You toss him an outraged look over your shoulder and he sees your mouth opening to let out some sharp-tongued remark. 

He cuts you off with a hand to the back of your neck that he uses to pin your head face-down into the mattress. You immediately begin to buck underneath him in protest but when he resumes fucking you hard and fast, the sound of skin slapping against skin each time his hips meet your ass loud in his ears, you suddenly become slightly more pliant. 

“That’s right,” he grunts, panting heavily as he takes in the sight of you on your knees in front of him -- ass up, head down. “Fuckin’ take it like the whore ya are.”

His words seem to reignite that spark in you because you begin trying to writhe away from him again. But his hold only grows tighter and his thrusts only become more brutal as he he keeps you in place. When he hears you trying to say something into the sheets, he pushes your face down harder. 

“Fuck,” he groans as he watches you struggle beneath him. “This is right where ya belong. On yer fuckin’ knees.”

He sees one of your hands move from where it had been clutching the sheets to slip under your body and when he feels you clench down around his cock, his eyes turn wild. 

“What makes ya think ya get to come again?” he seethes, now fucking into you with so much force that the headboard is hitting the wall with each thrust. “Ya ain’t earned the right to come twice. Fuckin’ bitch.”

But apparently, you’re presumptuous enough to think you have earned the right to come again because you’re suddenly tensing beneath him as your walls begin to spasm again, somehow even harder than the first time. 

It’s enough to make him loudly moan and he has just enough foresight to pull out of your sweet, sweet cunt just in time for him to spill his cum in warm streaks along your back. The last thing he wants is to end up with you carrying some bastard kid of his. 

As a sudden wave of exhaustion follows his orgasm, he collapses into bed next to you, absently running a hand through his sweaty hair and trying to catch his breath. He feels the bed moving beneath him and opens an eye to see that you’re already getting out of it before he closes it again.

Good. He doesn’t want to have to be around you any longer than he already has. 

He can hear you moving throughout the room and the sound of you picking up your discarded clothing. 

“I’ll let you report back and turn over the cursed object,” you finally break the silence to tell him and he looks at you to see that your back -- now wiped clean of his cum -- is turned to him as you pull on your jeans. 

He clenches his jaw at your phrasing. You’ll let him. As if you have any right to let him do anything. 

But before he can spit any of this out of you, you’ve already slipped your shirt over your head and are making your way to the door, giving no care to how your sweaty hair gives away how throughly you’ve just been fucked. 

“By the way, Zen’in-sama,” you pause to say, your hand on the doorknob as you look at him over your shoulder. That infuriating smirk is back on your lips and he hates how his cock is already stirring again at your mocking tone. “It seems like it’s your value that’s dependent on your ability to serve.”

Naoya sees red and shoots up to prop himself up on his elbows, but before he can put you in your place, you’re already gone, the door slamming shut behind you and your laughter ringing loudly through the hallway of the hotel.

He’s left to seethe on his own and it only fuels his anger. The next time he sees you, you’re going to regret ever having dared to cross him. He’ll remind you where exactly you belong -- on your knees and serving him. 

He focuses on this as he gets up out of the bed and pointedly tries not to think about how he let you get the last word. 

It’s only after he’s showered and is getting dressed that he realizes with a blinding hot rage that you used his shirt to wipe his cum off of your back. 

“Fuckin’ bitch.”

#Anonymous #IM TRASH OK??????? #zenin naoya #zen'in naoya #zenin naoya x reader #zen'in naoya x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk #jjk hc #jjk spoilers #mine #trash man #hate fuck!naoya

[colormeyondublue]

Yondu & The Secretary  Chapter 2: The Love Bug

Chapter 1 Here  Chapter 3 Here A few months go by aboard the ravager ship. You find out that Yondu is the Captain, and Kraglin, the Xandarian, is his first mate. The ship is called the Eclector, and some of the guys on board are total pigs. Yondu sets up a small office space for you to work out of and you find that the work is surprisingly simple. You get into a routine and start to really settle in. You also come to find that Yondu is particularly kind; to you. To the crew, he could be a total ass. Your slight attraction to the Captain was only a thought when you first met him on Krylor, but every day it kept growing and growing with how sweet he was. Maybe it was because you were a woman? Maybe it was because you were Terran? You couldn’t be sure. This might become a problem.

One evening, your office door creaks open loudly, and you hear heavy boots thunking into the room. Yondu. You smirk softly at the thought. “So, you goin’ to Geff’s little get together?” The Captain’s voice came from behind you as you finished up the data entry from the crew’s last heist. It was Geff’s birthday. The boys decided to throw him a little party at the bar on the ship. “Me? Heh, no…probably not.” You hadn’t looked at him yet, but something caught your senses. Something, different. Something…intoxicating. Was Yondu wearing cologne? Whatever it was, it was messing with your head. It smelled like the forest back home – right after the rain, blended with tones of spices and notes of musk. “Well, why the hell not?” He seemed a little surprised. Hurt, maybe? You spun around on your desk chair to face him, “Hmm…. let me put it to you this way: I am not about to be the only female on the ship in a room full of drunk Ravagers. I already get harassed and catcalled on a daily basis, Yondu! Why on Earth would I want to put myself in a situation like that?” “You Terrans sure do use the strangest expressions. We ain’t on Earth…uh….Terra I mean.” He said with a chuckle. The small chuckle at his own words made you giggle too. “Well, regardless, I just don’t think it would be very wise of me to put myself in a bad spot, that’s all.” “Well I’ll be there. I can make sure no one bothers you too much. Then would you go?” “I don’t know Yondu…I mean Geff is great and all but –“  You were cut off by loud laughter and heavy footsteps of several ravagers going past your office door. A lot of the boys were already headed to the bar to get the party started. “ – but I don’t want to be a bother. Besides, if you show even the slightest bit of protective behavior around me, couldn’t that start rumors? Wouldn’t they think it was odd? Some of these guys really talk…”

Yondu scoffed with a slight wave of his hand. “Who cares what these idiots think. I’m the Captain, and I can protect whoever the hell I feel like. Besides, how am I supposed to keep my shit in order without my assistant who helps with our operations? The boys will probably understand that their payouts could get disrupted if they mess with our lil’ secretary, right? Everybody knows you don’t mess with a Ravager’s units.” He finished with a wink. That wink…that smirk…his scent…oh no. Your head starts to feel fuzzy. Your sternum is growing tight, and butterflies explode by the thousands in your stomach. You feel like your arms are floating. You start to notice that your head seems to be wobbling a little bit and you find yourself staring at his lips. Stop being stupid! Say something! Get a grip! His smile starts to falter after a moment or two. “Uhh…you alright?”

Your clear your throat a little louder than you wanted to, and manage to say with a shaky voice, “Uhh, yeah, no, yeah…I’m – I’m fine. I guess I’m just a little tired is all. But, fine. I’ll go, but only for a few drinks. I’m not staying out all night! I have more things I want to get updated in the system before you and Kraglin start gathering intel on your next mission.” “Fine, fine. Just a few drinks.” He motions with both his hands in the air. It did not turn out, however, to be just a few drinks. It started out that way, but the more you drank, the more you wanted to be close to him. The alcohol was making you feel a little too confident. The captain was drinking too, of course, but Centaurians have to drink quite a bit before they really start to feel anything. He was on his fifth glass of whiskey for the night, and you were on your third. You were definitely tipsy, but not terribly drunk. The scent coming off him just kept smelling better and better, your senses were stirred, and you wanted to dive into him. You are sitting next to each other on the couch in the lounge that was connected to the bar. You both listen to stories and jokes being told by Tullk, Oblo, and Kraglin. Laugher is plentiful, and you couldn’t be happier. Then, you feel your Captain move next to you as he throws his arm over the back of the couch behind you. The shift in the cushions causes you to inadvertently lean closer to him. Your cheeks turn bright pink and your heart starts pounding. You sit up straight, put your drink down on the table and politely excuse yourself. The others were too drunk to notice, or care, but Yondu notices. After a moment or two he gets up and follows you to the bar. You hastily get yourself a tall glass of water, and chug it down. “What was that about back there? You alright?” He asked. “Feelin’ sick?” “No, no I’m fine. I just think it’s time I headed back to my cabin. I need to get some sleep. I have an early start tomorrow.” You said as you put your glass down on the bar. Yondu eyes you suspiciously, but doesn’t press the matter. “Can I at least walk you back? These boy’s is pretty drunk. I don’t want you to run into any trouble.” “Yeah, I guess that would be alright.” You fiddle with the empty glass on the bar in front of you. What am I even doing? Do I really have feelings for him? Is this seriously happening? What the hell am I supposed to do?! Your job on the ship is simple: free up the first mate’s time by entering new recruit information, keep transmission logs up to date, work up data sheets for new missions, and keep an updated archive on clients, easy heist planets, kree intel, etc… That was it! Nowhere in your job description are you supposed to fall for your Captain, your boss! “Well…should we be headin’ out?” Yondu’s voice broke you out of your thoughts. You looked over at him, his eyes were touched with slight concern, confusion maybe. “Captain, I….” You began, but the words just stopped coming out. You close your mouth and shake your head. “Never mind, I’m ready. Let’s go.” You both walk slowly back your cabin. Yondu is silent, as are you. The only sound to be heard is both yours and Yondu’s boots clunking down the walkways of the Eclector. When you approach your door, you hesitate.

“Goodnight Captain, thank you for walking me back. I appreciate it…and thank you for having my back tonight. I was able to actually relax and have a nice time.” You begin to open your door and walk in when you feel a large, warm hand on your shoulder. You turn to look at his hand, and your eyes trail up his arm to his shoulder, and then to his face. You both lock eyes, and your heart stops. “Why do you keep callin’ me that? Captain. You haven’t really called me that much since you boarded for the first time a few months back.” “I – I’m sorry. I just…you’re the Captain.” He took his hand from your shoulder, “Yeah, I know that. But it just feels wrong somehow. You typically call me by my name when we ain’t around the crew.” You couldn’t help but smile a little. “Alright, Yondu.” You said with a slight chuckle. “Is that better?” “Yeah. I like it when you call me by my name.” A small tinge of purple comes to his cheeks. “But don’t go tellin’ anybody that! You still gotta’ call me Captain or Sir around the crew.” “Hahaha, of course. I promise I won’t tell a soul. Cross my heart.” You used your index finger to draw an X over your chest. “I swear, you Terrans are odd…I don’t even know what that means.” You giggle again, “It means I’m serious. As serious as I can be. I won’t tell anyone. You have a reputation and status to maintain with your crew, and I completely understand that.” You turn and step into your cabin. Looking over your shoulder you smile a small, bashful smile at him. “Goodnight, Yondu.” With that, you closed your door. Yondu stood at the closed door and quietly said, “Goodnight, Darlin’.” He continued to stand there, frozen in place. What the hell was that? Why do I feel funny? My heart is pounding, my head is reeling. I care about what she calls me? Since when? Darlin’? When have I ever called anyone that? He shook his head to free himself of where he stood, and walked back to his quarters. You laid in your bed that night, unable to sleep. A big, stupid grin would not leave your lips no matter how hard you tried to get rid of it. Oh. My. Gosh. I cannot believe this. I can’t believe how hard this hit me. He’s so unbelievably handsome. His scent was so intoxicating. I didn’t know he wore cologne? And that smile?! Who knew blue could look so damn good. You giggled out loud to yourself. “I have a crush on the Captain. I have a huge freakin’ crush on Yondu Udonta. What the hell?!” You continued to giggle to yourself until you heard a group of footsteps going past your door. More ravagers were headed to bed from the party. You quickly covered your mouth as if someone could possibly hear you. Once the footsteps were gone, you continued to smile and giggle like a little girl. “Wow. What on earth and am I going to do? How do I even begin to handle this?” You said to yourself. Your mind raced, and sleep eluded you all night. Meanwhile, the Captain wasn’t sleeping much either. You kept popping up in his head. Every time he would close his eyes, you appeared. It wasn’t until tonight that he realized that you looked incredible in your maroon leathers. He had always thought you were attractive, ever since he and Kraglin decided to hire you when they met you on Krylor. But this was a whole new level of attraction. It made him feel…different. He had never felt this way before, he felt vulnerable. He did not like it one bit! But on the other hand, he did? It was starting to piss him off. He threw the furs and blankets from his body and got out of bed. He picked up a communicator brace from his nightstand and pushed a few buttons. It beeped a few times, and Kraglin’s sleepy voice could be heard. “Yes, sir? Everythin’ alright?” “Boy, get to my quarters. I need to talk to ya. I’m havin’ a problem.” “Right away sir.” Yondu shut the brace off and tossed it back on the table. Within a few minutes there was a knock on the door. Yondu got up and walked to the door, flinging it open. Kraglin rubbed his eye with a fist and yawned. “What’s goin’ on Sir?” “What’s goin’ on is I need to talk to ya. Maybe you’ll know what to do…get in here!” Yondu yanked Kraglin into the room and slammed the door shut. “Siddown.” He muttered as he pushed his desk chair to the first mate. Yondu sat on the bed and fiddled with his hands for a moment. “Sir?” Kraglin asked. “What do you need help with? Somethin’ goin’ on with the crew?” “No, but there is something goin’ on…I’ve been feeling funny all night. Ever since I went with y/n to the bar for Geff’s party, my head has been fuzzy, my chest is tight, my hands are all shaky and I can’t sleep! It’s pissin’ me off! I don’t know what the problem is. I only went with her to make sure the boys didn’t do nothin’ stupid, but now I can’t think straight! Every time I close my damn eyes, I see her!” A smirk appeared on Kraglin’s face, and he started snickering at the Captain. “What?! The hell is so funny?!” Yondu barked. Kraglin’s snickering turned into full blown laughing. He couldn’t help it. Was his Captain so oblivious? “Sir, sir, I’m sorry. You really have no idea what this is?” He asked. “No! If I did, I wouldn’t have woke you up to help me figure it out, damn it!” “Sir, it sounds to me that you got bit.” Kraglin joked. “Bit? Bit by what? Like a bug or somethin’?” “Ohhhh yeah, it’s happened to me before too. It’s a nasty little sucker.” He said with a grin. “Okay, so what do I do? Am I getting’ sick or somethin’?” “Yeah, you’re sick all right. Love sick.” The first mate said with the biggest shit eatin’ grin on his face. “Lovesick? What the hell is that? That ain’t a real thing.” Yondu snorted. “Sure is, Sir. From the sounds of it, you got bit by the love bug. The only way to cure it is to get some lovin’ from the person who sent it after ya.” Kraglin couldn’t believe this was happening to his captain. This was too good. Of course, he wanted to help him out, but he wanted to taunt him first. “What on Earth are you talkin’ about boy?! Just spit it out already!” The Captain shouted. A goofy little smile appeared on his lips as he realized he just used your expression. Damn it, girl. “Alright, alright.” Kraglin said between laughs. “Cap’n, you’re in love. Plain and simple. It sounds to me like you just realized it tonight.” “Love? I don’t love nobody. I ain’t never been in love before. This can’t be right…” Yondu started searching his hands for some kind of alternative answer. “Anyone can fall in love, Cap’n. I know I have. But that was a long time ago, before I joined the crew. It really ain’t a big deal, honest. Tell me, when you think of y/n, what do you feel?” Yondu pondered Kraglin’s words for a few moments. “I feel – happy. Warm? Maybe a little nervous. Unsure of myself, ya know? I wanna touch her, make her smile, make sure she’s safe and happy, hold her hands... kiss her.” The realization hit him like a blazing meteor. “I wanna kiss her? What?! I’ve never cared about that sentimental crap before!” Kraglin just shook his head and looked down at the floor. “Cap’n, love is a strange and mysterious force. It can be exhilarating. Maybe you should investigate and find out if she feels the same way. Could be worth a shot. Who knows? Could lead to somethin’.” Yondu looked confused. “Like what?” “Heh, I don’t know, happiness?” Kraglin shrugged his shoulders and stood. “I hope that helps Sir. I’m gonna head back to bed if you don’t need anything else.” “Yeah, sure, boy. Go on.” “Night, Cap’n.” The first mate headed toward to door, but before he walked out, he heard the Captain’s voice behind him, “Hey Krags, uh, thanks.” “No problem, Sir.” Kraglin walked out of the Captain’s quarters and quietly closed the door. Yondu got back into bed, stared at the ceiling above him and smiled. Love huh? Well, ain’t that some shit.

#gotg fanfiction #fanfic #yondu x reader #Yondu Udonta #kraglin #kraglin obfonteri #gotg #marvel

[basicjetsetter]

The Rise of Deus

♡ Pairing: Mob!Peter Parker x BlackFemale!Reader

♧ Setting: The Terrace Room in The Plaza Hotel, New York

♤ Warnings: Language, Adult Themes, Violence, +18 Smut (If you are under age, please do not read this).

♢ Word Count: 7.2k

☆ A/N: Okay, so I got a little carried away. This is such an indulgent mess, I love it to pieces. If you haven’t read The Fall yet, I suggest you read it before you get to this part. It takes a while to setup, but I promise it’ll be worth it.  Please hit like if you enjoy it, leave me a lil’ comment and a reblog if you love it. Happy reading! (P.S. I like these two characters so much, I might just write some more moments for them).

The game is in your hands. Exactly as planned.

♢ ♤ ♡ ♧

You’re not a great poker player.

In fact, compared to Peter and even Rumlow, your skills are subpar at best. The idea of betting everything on chance rankled the very fibers of your being, and you never could quite remember which hands beat which. But you were excellent at reading people.

It’s how you became New York’s best attorney. That, and because you were sharper than most people assumed you were.

Exhibit A: Rumlow.

You have to give it to him, though. He was initially difficult to read.

Earlier in the game, you tried to gauge his tells as he demolished Peter. Everyone reacts when they have a good or bad hand, whether they’re aware of it or not. As an attorney, you study your clients, plaintiffs, and sometimes the theoretically impartial jury for their tells—how they react to damning information, or rather, how they choose not to react.

The truth is in their eyes. The way they hunch their shoulders. Touch their face. Purse their lips. Breathe. Everything is a tell.

Rumlow’s whole personality screams dominant knowing, and he strategizes that way. Like he’s seen your hand before you even pick up the cards.

He plays too smart. And when he’s drunk, it becomes all the more apparent.

The way he rubbed his bottom lip before bargaining the final bet, slow and methodical, sealed the game against him. It’s not much to go off of for some, but for you, it’s more than enough. It’s a nervous habit—the movement confirming that his hand isn’t crap, but it isn’t the best, either.

You glimpsed down at your hand, then back up to Rumlow with a pleasant expression.

No, you aren’t a good poker player. But Peter is.

“Save your time, sweetheart. Let’s just get this over with,” said Rumlow, leaning back in his chair. It creaked under his muscular weight. “Fold.”

You arched an eyebrow, then crossed one leg over the other, causing the hem of your dress to ride up and show a decent amount of skin. “Don’t I get to place a bet of my own? You know, just in case my hand is better.”

Rumlow’s eyes predictably feasted on your exposed skin before he dragged them back up to your face. “What makes you think your hand is gonna be better than mine?”

“Indulge me, Brock,” you nearly purred, internally gagging as Rumlow’s breathing became labored. “If you know your hand is better, then you have absolutely nothing to worry about. I just want to have a little fun.” 

Part of you is grateful that Peter is handcuffed in the back of a police car, not here to witness your attempt at seduction. You needed to do it while Rumlow is still drunk enough to fall for it.

Rumlow contemplated your words for a split second, eyes dipping down once more to relish the sight of your skin while his thumb repeatedly ran over the top of his cards. You resisted the urge to roll your eyes.

He finally said, “Alright, I’ll bite. What’d you have in mind?”

Saccharine venom oozed into your words as you held a charming smile. “When I win, you’re going to give me $20 million, all of your inventory and routes to Peter, and I want your promise that the Scorpions will no longer operate in New York. You can go be someone else’s problem.”

The smug light fizzled out of Rumlow’s eyes, and his mouth hardened into a flat line. “Not going to happen.”

“And why not?” you asked innocently. You’re having way too much fun with messing with Rumlow’s head. “What’s so different about my demand from yours?”

“You don’t think you’re asking for too much?”

You leaned forward, letting your eyes slowly roam over his face before settling on his dark eyes, loving the way it made him uneasy, then said matter-of-factly, “Not at all. If you want everything from Peter, then I want everything from you. Only seems fair. That is, of course, if you want to renegotiate your previous proposal…?”

Rumlow sat up in his chair, staring too hard into your face. Searching for a crack in your armor. He wasn’t going to find anything that wasn’t already there. You’re sincere and know next to nothing about manipulating a game of luck, and it showed all over your face, clear as day. He’s got nothing on you.

“What is this?” He looked around the room as if there were hidden cameras on the walls, looked at the clueless faces of people spectating the game.

Tony muttered, “Well, this was supposed to be a party, but I’d say we’re miles away from that—ouch!” He groaned as Pepper elbowed him in the ribs.

“What do you think this is?” you questioned him back using the same inflection.

Rumlow’s head snapped back to face you, his eyes practically pitch-black. “A fucking setup.”

“It’s just a game, Brock. That’s all it is.” You’re surprised at how serene you sound because your heart is leaping around in your chest, about ready to burst free and fly away from the excitement of it all, but you’re conscious enough to keep the surprise off your poker face. “Do we have a deal or not?”

He filled his lungs with a ragged breath, expelling it out of flared nostrils. Pinched the bridge of his nose. Strategized. “$25 million. Everything else stays the same. His routes. His connections. You.”

You nod once. “And you accept my wager?”

Rumlow begrudgingly nodded. His knuckles turned white from clenching his cards.

“On three, we show our hands,” you said and waited, giving him one last chance to object. He doesn’t; he just keeps his hawk-like stare trained on you.

“One.”

“Two.”

“Three.”

You both turn your cards over at the same time.

Rumlow’s hand shows a Three, Four, Five, Six, and Seven, all clubs. Straight Flush.

Peter’s hand shows a King, Queen, Jack, Ten, and an Ace, all hearts. Royal Flush.

“Bullshit!”

Rumlow shot up from his chair, threw his cards to the floor, and snatched the gun from one of his men, aiming it at you.

Gasps filled the room, and you’re certain you heard Tony shout your name in alarm. Just as they’d done with Peter, the venue's guards raised their weapons at Rumlow and his men. 

You broke out into a fit of giggles. There were uncontrollable, bubbling from your lips and almost doubling you over. Maybe it was your nerves finally getting the best of you, or perhaps it was the dumbfounded shock on Rumlow’s face as he pulled a gun on you. Either way, you didn’t have a hope of taming them.

Rage intensified the crimson flush on Rumlow’s face. He barked out, “Why the fuck are you laughing?”

You struggled to pull it together. “Di-Did you honestly think you could beat Peter at poker, of all things? Seriously? I mean, don’t get me wrong. I knew you were dense, but geez.”

“He cheated. Ain’t no way he got that hand. Ain’t no fucking way.”

“Oh, come on,” you said, trying hard to stifle the giggles. “You said it yourself. Peter's a lucky son of a bitch.”

Rumlow took a minute to process the loss, eyes spacing out while the gun remained pointed at you. Your giggles died down as you sat patiently, drumming your fingers against your thigh and staring right back at the gun, uninterested. He wouldn’t shoot you. Not if he valued his life.

If Peter were here, you knew he’d be proud. Furious, yet proud.

At last, the arrogance returned to Rumlow’s smile, and he scoffed, “Congratulations, I guess. But um, I don’t really have to give you anything, you know. All bets have been word of mouth, nothing written down.”

Your smile never faltered. “Don’t do that, Brock. That isn’t how this works, and you know it. You were fully expecting Peter to hand me over to you with a nice, shiny gift bow taped to my ass and $25 million. Right? Or are you pointing a gun at me just because you feel like it?”

Rumlow shrugged with one shoulder. A hint of his anger traced his features before it faded back into an impassive mask.

“Doesn’t matter. I’m not giving you shit.”

You sighed dramatically. “Okay, fine. Be that way. But this is how it’s going to play out, regardless. You have three choices.” You ticked them off on your fingers. “One: You give me what I won and leave New York. Two: I sue your ass until you have nothing. Three: You get to deal with Peter. That last one won’t bode out too well for you.”

“Oh yeah?” he asked, snickering. “And what you gonna sue me for, sweetheart? Gambling?”

Your eyes firmed into a severe gaze as you spoke. “I had a nice little chat with Miss Shuri Udaku earlier.”

The dark look passed over his eyes again. A thick mask of indifference tried to hide his culpability before you could spot it, but you didn’t even need to see it in his face. The guilt in his tightened shoulder blared like a blinking neon sign.

Bullseye.

You forged on. “Now, if what Shuri told me is true, which, guessing by the look on your face, it must be, you’re in deep shit. And I’ll take an educated guess and presume she isn’t the only one you’ve…spoken with.”

You paused for him to defy your assumption. He remained silent, his jaw grinding.

“What’s wrong, sweetheart?” you inquired with a faux mask of concern. “Did I hit a nerve?”

Rumlow’s eye twitched as he lowered the gun. Defeat heavy in his furrowed brows. “I’m gonna make you pay for this. You and him.”

“Just be sure to run me my money, first,” you said. A sly smirk curled up the corner of your mouth. “I want the whole amount by tomorrow, and I want you out of this state by the end of the week, got it?”

A snarl rumbled in his chest. “Got it.”

“Good,” you smiled brilliantly. “Now get your ass out of here. And take the Dynamic Duo with you.”

Everyone lowered their weapons as Rumlow and his two shadows stomped out of the Terrace Room. You watched their backs until they were no longer in your eyesight. It’s over. You won. A rise of applause swelled after the threat ultimately left the room, catching you off guard as you moved to retrieve Peter’s cards from the ground. You curtsied for them and offered a humbled grin.

A rush of adrenaline is humming through your veins, and it’s unlike anything you’ve ever felt before. You’re positive you could scale the Empire State Building without so much as a harness, just running on pure pent up energy. Maybe you should do this kind of stuff more often.

Steve was the first to come up to you, confusion laced in his blue eyes. “We’re letting him go? Just like that?”

“Yes.”

“He pointed a gun at you!”

You brusquely scanned your unscathed body. “No harm, no foul, Lieutenant Rogers.”

“Jesus, you and that kid are a match made in Heaven,” Steve mumbled, shaking his head in shock.

“Wouldn’t be marrying him if we weren’t. And thank you for reminding me…” You trailed off, heading in the direction of Tony and Pepper.

You had to tell Tony the truth about you and Peter before your nerve wore off, or else you’d never find the courage to ever say it straight to his face. Even as you trudged over to him, a leaden ball of anxiety smothered your chest.

Shuri sprang at you without warning, tightly hugging you and jumping up and down as she squealed, “That was so awesome! Thank you, thank you, thank you!”

“It was nothing,” you said mirthfully.

“It was everything! That man’s been breathing down my neck for months about those weapons. I couldn’t turn a corner without seeing him. I can’t thank you enough.” As you broke apart, she handed you an embossed card. “If Peter is interested, I would love to have a meeting with him. Maybe we could all catch lunch.”

“He is definitely interested. I’ll be sure he calls you,” you assured, beaming her a friendly smile.

She nodded in agreement then waved her goodbyes, walking away to find her companions.

Everything always falls right into place for Peter.

You shook your head in awe as you made your way over to Tony and Pepper again, this time scanning your surroundings to ensure no one else ambushed you. Once you were close enough, they both threw their arms around your shoulders and pulled you into a protective embrace. 

“We’re so glad you’re okay, sweetie,” said Pepper as she rubbed a comforting hand up and down your back.

“Don’t you ever pull something like that again, you hear me?” Tony chastised, his tangible relief choking up your throat. He pulled away to look into your eyes thoroughly. “I almost had a heart attack watching that. How could you just stare at the guy as he held a gun to you? You didn’t flinch or anything. I swear you’re turning into a different person right before my—”

You blurted out, “I’m marrying Peter.”

Tony blinked and opened his mouth to speak, but you cut him off, the floodgates bursting open as you spilled everything.

“He proposed three months ago, and I said yes because I am in love with him, Tony. I am in love with Peter Parker, and I know you hate his guts because of what he does, but I don’t care. And…” you stopped, sucking in a deep breath to steady your trembling words. “And I don’t care if me loving him means you hating me. You’re like a father to me, and I respect you, but I won’t continue to let you badger me about being with Peter.”

Tony interjected, “Woah, woah, woah, pump the brakes. Where did you get the idea that I’d ever hate you for being with Parker?”

Both you and Pepper raised an eyebrow at Tony, a universal look that easily translated to Your words said it all.

“Alright, sure, I never really liked the kid. He’s this devious little mastermind who circumvents the law to get what he wants and somehow even got you. But I can hate him and still love you, hon.”

You coughed up a laugh partly because of your relief and partly because of how ridiculous Tony was. “I want you to tolerate him at least. That means no more bringing up the fact that I am his Personal Attorney, no more threats of arrest, and no more nicknames.”

Tony sighed and said, “Okay to the first two, but I can’t make any promises for the nicknames. Baby-faced Criminal has a nice ring to it.”

Your smile brightened. “Deal.” You stepped back into his hug, pressing your face against his shoulder and exhaling. Finally, having the truth out in the open felt like releasing a breath you held in for three long months.

You heard Tony add, “ ‘Sides, I already knew you were engaged.”

“What?” you screeched, stepping back. “What do you mean you already knew?!”

“First of all, ouch,” Tony groused as he rubbed at the ear you accidentally screamed in. “Second of all, Pepper is not really that great at hiding wedding preparations as she thinks she is. And Parker came to me about four months ago.”

You’re so shocked you forgot to breathe, involuntarily pulling in a long drag of air as it dawned on you that your tormented lungs screamed for oxygen. “What—what do you mean Peter came to you?”

“Your young man thought it proper to ask me for my blessing before popping the big question, and I may have expressly told him to go swim in the Bermuda Triangle.” At your expression, he quickly added. “Well, he didn’t!”

“It’s just—He never told me that he asked.” You omitted the part where Peter held your refusal to tell Tony about the engagement against you. Tony wouldn’t understand Peter’s motives any more than you could. But you were going to make him explain himself. 

A brief impression of chagrin flashed in Tony’s eyes. “I admit I wasn’t that forthcoming about it. He probably thought it’d be better to keep it to himself than tell you I said no.”

That’s not what it was, but you hummed in agreement anyway.

“Welp, my party mood’s long gone,” Tony stated, unbuttoning his jacket and loosening his tie. “Anybody else up for some Shawarma?”

| Next Morning  |

Today wasn’t unlike any other day. Phillips told you your client's location, even though you both knew the area by heart. Third floor. Cell Block E. Number 7. Always Number 7. Lucky Number 7.

♢ ♤ ♡ ♧

One of the guards, a new hire with a tag reading Lang, shadowed you as you walked out of the detention center’s lobby and into the bustling dayroom, then up to Peter’s cell. An untrained eye wouldn’t notice the guard’s careful proximity, and an untrained ear wouldn’t hear his trepid footsteps. You knew better. 

Your fiancé is many things, and cautious just happens to be a large part of his make-up. None of the inmates lounging around the dayroom dared to glance your way, not because of the authoritative figure trailing behind you, but because of Peter and his imposing rap-sheet. 

While Lang’s presence was somewhat reassuring on your way around the crowded cells, you didn’t need the security detail. You weren’t afraid of anyone in this facility. The moment you propositioned to be his attorney, he should’ve known you weren’t one to be easily rattled.

When you stood in front of Peter’s cell door, Officer Lang moved up close enough to smack the door twice, then placed the key in the lock. As the heavy metal door swung open, you weren’t sure what you might see. 

He’s been away from the action, holed up in here all night. A tiny part of you expected Peter to be pacing the floor, running his hands through his hair and wringing them together in distress, beads of sweat trickling down his neck as he counted the seconds to your arrival. You wondered what it would be like to witness God panicking.

What you saw made you smile. Peter, sitting on his squalid mattress with his body propped up against the wall, his eyes closed and mouth slightly ajar, is sound asleep. Some of his brown curls are slightly lying over his forehead, giving him the perfect air of innocence.

Lang took a half step through the door, poked his head in the room, and loudly sang, “Wakey, wakey, Parker! You’re sprung.”

Peter jolted up from his position, looking around as if he forgot his bearings. The moment his eyes landed on yours, a sly smirk slid onto his lips, and the air of innocence vanished.

“Took you long enough.”

He got up from his bed with a low groan, stretching out the kinks in his neck. His dress shirt from last night is has a few more buttons open, exposing his black undershirt, and his shoes are in the corner of the room. The guards didn’t bother giving him a change of clothes because they knew he’d be out in less than 24 hours.

“I could always leave you in here, Mr. Parker,” you said, a small, teasing smile playing at your lips.

Peter grinned back at you, then retrieved his shoes. Lang stood against the wall like a statue, head forward and hands crossed in front of him. 

When he was out of the cell, and Lang locked the door behind him, Peter addressed Lang. “She can take it from here, Scott.”

And just like that, Lang’s stoic face melted into a rueful grin as he mockingly saluted Peter and walked off, leaving the two of you alone. 

Your mouth gaped for approximately two seconds before you caught on. “You hired him to play pretend-cop?”

“Oh no, Scott works here.” Peter slipped his shoes on and unbuttoned the rest of his dress shirt’s buttons. “He just also happens to work for me while working here.”

You wanted to ask how many Scotts he had in this facility but thought against it, deciding to quietly lead him out of the dayroom and into the lobby. No one acknowledged your departure. Every single one kept their heads down and tended to business as usual. 

Peter’s driver, Flash, leaned against the car, smoking a cigarette. Once he saw you both approach, he stamped it out and immediately opened the back seat door for you and Peter.

“Good morning, sir,” he said, always overly cheerful.

Peter clapped Flash on the shoulder and said, “Hey, man. How you doing?”

“Good, sir. Thank you for asking.”

“Dude, we talked about this. Stop calling me ‘sir’ so much. It’s getting weird.”

Flash automatically nodded, saying, “Right, sorry about that,” before closing the door behind Peter. He’d call Peter ‘sir’ again by tomorrow.

Peter groaned in instant satisfaction as he sank into the leather seat. It’s a low and throaty sound, and you felt its vibrations all the way to your core, leaving a flustered mess for longer than you’re proud to say. Two years you’ve been with this man, and the lust hasn’t dimmed.

Peter got right to the point. “So, how’d it go?”

You smirked contentedly, flattening your hands across the lap of your pencil skirt. “You are $20 million richer. And you have the Scorpions’ trading routes and connections, along with a guarantee eviction by the end of the week.”

“20 million… Damn, baby, I knew you were a hustler, but that’s in-fucking-sane!” Peter whooped, turning in his seat to face you fully. His face radiated with excitement. “I bet Rumlow’s pissed.”

“Oh, yeah. He was pissed, alright. He tried renegotiating, then tried to worm out of it. It was fun to watch him squirm.” You’d never mention the part where Rumlow pulled a gun on you to Peter. Not because you cared for Rumlow’s safety in any way, but because you’ve seen how Peter reacts when someone threatens his loved ones, and you never want him to go down that dark tunnel again.

Peter leaned his head against the headrest and wistfully said, “Wish I could’ve been there. Stark didn’t give you a hard time for gambling, did he?”

The topic shift smacked you with the remembrance of what happened last night, what Tony had said. It shouldn’t have kept you up all night, but you tossed and turned with the nagging fact that Peter both hid his confrontation with Tony and had the nerve to pester you about not telling Tony something that he already knew.

For a while, you stayed up wondering why Peter even brought it up at dinner. What was his purpose? Why act cold towards you if there wasn’t a reason? Or was it even an act? Did he genuinely resent you that much for being anxious about telling Tony? Would you ever see that side of Peter again? So indifferent, so cruel. So quick to discard you.

The rest of the night, you replayed over and over how he ignored you, how he minimized you. That wasn’t part of the plan. Most of what happened before the cards got into your hands played out unexpectedly, and you understood why that had to be at some degree, but the ambiguity of it all ticked you off. Did he not trust you?

When he dismissed you, you actually thought about leaving him there alone. Was that not real?

That ache in your chest was real.

“Babe?” Peter waved his hand in front of your face. “Babygirl? What’s wrong? What’d I say?”

You couldn’t bring your eyes up to meet his. They strayed to your lap, refusing to move even as Peter hesitantly took hold of your chin with his thumb and index finger. He emphatically called your name a few times, worry intensifying more and more as an unspecified amount of time passed. Peter never dropped his hand. His thumb caressed your chin while he waited for you to speak, knowing you would.

The desire to verbalize took longer than you expected. There just didn’t seem to be a right way to say what was weighing on your mind. Outright confronting him with only inference to go off of felt childish, but so did beating around the bush. You ultimately chose to address the subject of your silence.

In a tense voice, you said, “Tony told me that you asked for his permission to marry me.”

About thirty seconds ticked away. Peter sighed, “Are you upset that I didn’t tell you?”

You nibbled on your lower lip, then brought your eyes up to meet his. Mild concern drowns his warm brown eyes, somehow increasing their depth, and frown lines creased his forehead. If this were one of your typical squabbles and he stared at you with those damn eyes, you’d have been a goner.

“No.” You shook your head to clear the effect of his gaze. “I’m upset that you asked Tony and then proceeded to act like I had an obligation to tell him something you already told him. And then you got so mad about it last night…” you trailed off in a whisper, recalling his restrained animosity, something you never thought you’d experience with him.

“I wasn’t actually mad,” he rushed.

“So you were pretending?” You asked lamely, feeling the ghost of last night’s ache lash around in your chest. “All that wasn’t real? Ignoring me? Snatching your arm away from me? Dismissing me?”

He insistently shook his head, brown curls swaying across his forehead. “None of it.” 

To you, the truth is almost as bad as the lie.

“It felt real to me.” Your voice sounds so small, it’s humiliating. You shifted uncomfortably in your seat, severing the eye contact again. “The fact that you couldn’t just tell me that that’s what you were doing beforehand makes me feel like… like you don’t trust me. Like you’re willing to sacrifice my feelings for some stupid game. Like I’m a pawn.”

“Fuck,” Peter cursed, running a swift hand through tousled his hair. “No, baby, that’s not it. Come ‘ere.” 

Peter reached over the divider and pulled you into his lap despite your attempt to scoot away. You didn’t want him holding you, consoling you because even if you tried your hardest to resist him, an irrational part of your brain would immediately relent to his closeness.

You stiffened at the touch of his hand rubbing small circles on your lower back, then loudly to clear your throat. “What is it, then?” You spoke to him as if he were one of your clients. Professional. Distanced. But you couldn’t look into those eyes.

“I was giving you an alibi,” he confessed, not fazed by your tone. “In case anything went wrong. We needed to look distant so Rumlow wouldn’t catch on to how coordinated everything was.”

Okay, that’s nowhere near the answer you were expecting. Because, of course Peter would come up with a convoluted explanation that only made sense to him. Irritation rose in you like a brewing storm as you peered straight into his eyes, ignoring the visceral pull as they locked on you.

“Did it ever occur to you that I’m a grown-ass woman who can handle shit by herself? I didn’t need a fucking alibi, Peter,” you said, indignation souring your tone. “What, did you think I was going to fuck up that bad?”

“No,” said Peter firmly. When you scoff, he persists. “I mean it. I was just—I was just trying to look out for you.” He held your chin again, applying a slight amount of pressure to keep your eyes on him. “I’m sorry. You’re right, you’re more than capable of taking care of yourself, and I love that about you. Sometimes, though, I want to be there for you as much as you’re there for me, if not more.”

You stubbornly held your tongue. You’re not going to cave with a simple apology… no matter how sincere it sounded.

Peter leaned in closer, poorly hiding his smirk as he heard your breath hitch while his lips skimmed up your neck. “I’m sorry, baby,” he murmured against your skin. “I apologize for not considering your feelings.” He placed a tiny kiss on the crook of your neck, trailing the tip of his nose against your jawline. “I’m sorry for keeping you in the dark.”

An undeniable heat flickered to life within you, building as Peter’s actions grew enticingly bold. The pads of his fingers glide up and down your stocking-clad thighs, and each motion brought his hands down further and further until his whole, warm palms flattened down to massage your calves and thighs. Unknowingly, you inclined your neck to allow him to access a larger expanse of your skin.

Any resolve you cemented against Peter crumbled as a pair of lips outlined the shell of your ear. His voice comes out hoarse when he speaks, hoarse and deliberate. “I trust you with everything I have. You know that, don’t you?” His lips hover dangerously near yours.

You exhaled out a breathy, “Yes.” You do know that. He wouldn’t trust anyone else to hold those cards but you, wouldn’t trust anyone else bargaining with his assets but you.

Peter held your lowered gaze steady as he hooked his hands under your thighs and hoisted you up so you fully straddled him, your pencil skirt elastic enough to permit marginal movement. A low whine emitted from your throat as he pressed a chaste kiss to your lips, then pulled away to stare at you, using the full force of his immorally brown eyes.

“Can you forgive me?”

It’d be as simple as sin to whimper out a pathetic affirmative and let him off scot-free. Excruciatingly simple. You knew he meant every word, and you were glad he let you express your anger before apologizing. You wanted to forgive him. But your mind currently wasn’t on the same circuit as your mouth, refusing to utter a single word, wondering where that would get you.

“Hmm,” Peter hummed pensively, contemplating while a predatory grin crept onto his lips. “Guess I gotta work for it, then.”

♢ ♤ ♡ ♧

Your back arched up off the bed, and you toss your head back as you gutturally cried out Peter’s name for the fourth time.

The moment you two entered the house, Peter was on you, guiding you to the bedroom with his lips attached to yours and his hands groping your backside. His hands never left your body, and once they did, it was only to tear off his clothes. You weren’t sure what you signed up for, but something glinting in Peter’s eyes, an erotic passion you’ve encountered several times in your relationship, bespoke of an intense afternoon headed your way.

Before you could even guess what that might entail, you were lying on your back in the middle of the bed, and Peter was parting your legs open.

Currently, his grip on your bucking hips remains vice-like as he keeps his face planted between your quaking thighs, still lapping up the rest of your orgasm and staring you dead in the eyes with wicked lust.

Each time he made you cum, he’d huskily ask, “You forgive me?” The first time, you were cheeky, shaking your head with a tiny pout on your lips and eagerly wiggling your hips and tugging on the silky strands of his hair for more. The second time, your body ached wonderfully, and you lazily nodded your acceptance of his apology, but he didn’t stop, tightening his hold on the swells of your hips and delving his tongue through your silken folds. By the third time, you were religiously chanting, “I forgive you,” grasping the sheets for dear life as Peter solely sucked on your clit and salaciously groaned into your core.

On the fourth orgasm, your whole body is aflame, your fingers are desperately clutching Peter’s wrists, and you’re a blissed-out, gibbering mess with tears of ecstasy streaming out the corners of your eyes.

“You forgive me?” Peter rasped, his breath fanning against your sensitive skin. He alternately kissed your inner thighs, sometimes gently sucking the skin until he left stinging love bites.

Knowing words were well beyond your reach, your jerkily bobbed your head up and down, gulping in air to calm your heaving chest.

A whine of relief breaks free when Peter finally lets go of your hips and leads a sloppy trail of kisses up your abdomen, between the valley of your breasts, along your neck, your jawline, until he claims your lips in a sensually slow kiss, one that stole away your regained breath. You mewled into it, wrapping your arms around his neck and threading your fingers through his hair. He lowered his body on top of yours, deliciously suffocating you with his body heat and his scent—an intoxicating aroma of smoky spice you only associate with Peter.

Your brain treads on a fine line near oblivion. All your mind can comprehend is Peter. His soft little grunts in your mouth, his toned chest brushing against yours, his hardened cock against your stomach as he ruts into you.

“I want you,” you panted, wanton need thick in your voice. You’re entirely spent, but you couldn’t help but crave more of Peter, couldn’t help but want him to thoroughly build you up only to tear you down all over again. 

Peter teasingly nipped at your lips, mumbling, “Where do you want me?”

You let out an impatient, low-pitched groan. “Inside me, baby. Please, Peter.” Your hips angled up on their own accord, grinding your dripping core against his cock. “Please, fuck me.”

His eyes rolled back, mouth slightly agape, and his face pinched in pleasure—what a pretty sight. Your eyes drank him all in. You loved the way he squinches up his eyes, almost as if all the sensations are too much to process. You loved how the flush creeping up his neck turned his skin a lovely scarlet. You loved watching him try to be attentive to you while being so engrossed in his own bliss.

Unhurried, Peter took himself in his hand, then slid his length through your folds before guiding his tip to your entrance. He always liked to draw this moment so he could hear the desperate noises you’d make for him. Your whole body sang out for him, from the broken moans spilling from your lips to the constant, stuttering pitch in your hips. 

At an agonizingly slow pace, Peter slid inside of you, hissing out a drawn-out Fuck. You jumped and gasped at the slight sting as he stretched you out, gripping onto his biceps and clenching around him as the sting built up to a toe-curling burn of ecstasy. 

He stroked into you with painstaking emphasis, hitting a deep spot within you that brought stars to your vision while capturing your lips in a blistering kiss. Your hands held his face as the kiss deepened, both of you moaning into each other’s mouths in carnal abandon. Yeah, it definitely tops the sex you had on the night he proposed.

Peter broke the kiss to dip his head down and favor the skin on your neck. His voice is a low murmur when he speaks, barely louder than your gasping breaths. “You forgive me?”

You practically sob out, “Yes! Yes, baby, I forgive you.” The flames are multiplying, licking up from your lower region and engulfing you as his strokes rock steadily. 

“You know you’re my everything,” he grunted, sucking down hard on your skin and laving it with his tongue after you yelp his name.

Your heart flutters as you moan, “Yes.”

“Say it, baby,” Peter mumbled, an undercurrent of firmness in his voice. “I wanna hear you say it.”

“I’m your everything.” The things this man does to you…

“Good girl.” Peter’s hand wedged between your entwined bodies, reaching down to rub your overstimulated clit, watching the tremors shaking through your body as your mouth hung open in a silent moan. “I want you to remember that,” he ordered. “You’re my everything, and I’m sorry I”—grunt—“Fuck, I’m sorry I hurt you.”

He carefully collects you in his arms before rolling over and putting you on top, wrapping his arms around your back so your bodies remain pressed together. Some of your twists cascade on either side of Peter’s face, but he doesn’t mind, keeping his head buried in the crook of your shoulder as he pumped up his hips, deeply thrusting into you. 

“You feel so good, babygirl,” Peter said roughly, his hips picking up into a bruising speed. “So wet for me.” His hands slide down your back and squeeze your ass. “Always take me so well.”

All you could manage were needy, shameless whimpers in response as his dirty words, his scorching touch, his soft lips, his slick body against yours all sent you reeling towards a rapturous release. Every stroke brings you closer to the edge, and you know Peter isn’t far behind.

With some effort, you drag yourself up to sit on Peter’s cock and brace your hands on his chest, lolling your head back as the new angle allowed him to hit a deeper spot within you.

Peter admired you through half-lidded eyes. “So fucking beautiful.”

You mustered up a beaming smile for Peter, then set your focus on riding him with the little energy you had left, slowly bouncing up and down on his thick length and loving the quick hitch in Peter’s breath as you took control. You wanted to see him writhe underneath you as he came inside you, wanted to see his pretty lips part as he called out your name. You’re so close, it’s maddening, but you’re waiting for Peter to fall off the edge with you. 

As soon as Peter’s hips began to chase yours in a broken pattern and a repeated mixture of your name and fucks streamed out of his mouth, your climax slammed into you, slightly choking you up as you came with a high-pitched, quivering gasp and cried out, “Peter!”

Peter’s crashed down on him with the same force. His hips stalled for an instant before jerking up into you one last time, your name tumbling from his lips in a hoarse groan as he filled you with his hot, sticky cum. It feels as if you’re riding the wave of your orgasm for hours, and you blissfully drown in it. Savor it. Bask in the absolute pride of knowing that this man is yours and yours alone even though you have yet to seal it with the promise of ‘for as long as you both shall live.’

The comedown is a sluggish process, like trying to swim the length of a 10-foot pool of honey. Your heart rate is the first to slow down into a stable rhythm, then the raucous hum singing in your body simmers down to a delicious buzz whose sole purpose is to remind you of the five breathtaking orgasms Peter drew out of you. Every part of your body aches when you merely think about moving, so you cave and slump onto Peter’s torso, eliciting an amused oomph from Peter as he wraps an arm around your waist. When he pulls out of you, his cum smears a sticky trail in between your thighs.

Peter brushes away some of your twists from your face to press a gentle kiss to your perspired forehead. “I love you.”

“I love you,” you echo back, leaning up a little to peck his jawline. You snuggle up closer so your head rested on his shoulder. “And I really do forgive you. Your intentions were pure, and I know you were just trying to protect me.” You reach up and grab his chin, making him look into your eyes. “But I want your complete trust, Peter. Trust that I can handle things on my own.”

“From this point on, you have my whole trust,” Peter promised. He took hold of your hand, entwined your fingers together, and then put your hands over his heart. Its slow thud matched yours. “You have my word. No more alibis.”

You laughed tiredly. “Thank you.”

For a while, you two just stayed in each other’s embrace, your eyes falling as Peter’s finger lazily traced an infinity sign around your knuckles. You’re still buzzing, and you know you should roll out of bed to wash up, but you try to save these soft moments in your memory, to help remind you of the kind man who can be, at times, too cruel for words. That’s when he’s Deus. Right now, he’s your Peter.

Seconds away from succumbing to sleep, a thought occurs to you, and you quietly ask, “Hey, babe?”

Peter sounds wide awake. “Yeah?”

“Did Tony literally tell you to go swim in the Bermuda Triangle when you asked him for his approval?”

He snickered. “I believe his exact words were, ‘Go to hell, Parker. Better yet, why don’t you do us all a favor and take a swim in the Bermuda Triangle, and become a cold case?’”

Geez, Tony. You bit your lip. “And you still asked me to marry you anyway, even though he didn’t approve?”

“I was going to, regardless,” Peter murmured, and you could hear a smile in his words. “I just wanted to try and, you know, see if I could make you a little happier. Me and Stark bump heads a lot, and I saw how it upset you, so I thought asking him for his permission would get us on the right track to some sort of civility. Wanted it to be a surprise if he did say yes.”

Unexpected tears gathered in your eyes, and your chin wobbled. He tried for you. Had been trying for you. He even noticed how his and Tony’s bouts caused you to be anxious about your future together and tried to mend the stupid rift between them, for your sake. You aren’t going to lie and say that you’re glad Tony refused. You wished with your whole heart that he could clearly see how much you loved Peter. But, from now on, you’re no longer going to be scared of what Tony thinks of Peter. You love him, and he most certainly loves you, and that’s all that matters.

You scooch up a little more and capture his lips in a deep, passionate kiss. He’s only caught off guard for a second before kissing back, wrapping both of his arms around your waist. When Peter felt the wet tear tracks on your cheeks, he brought up his hands and wordlessly wiped them away.

As you pulled apart, you rested your forehead against his and said, “I can’t wait to marry you, Mr. Parker.”

Peter lightly rubbed the tip of your nose with his, replying, “I’m already yours, Mrs. Parker.”

#peter parker #peter parker au #mob!peter parker #mob!peter #peter parker x black!reader #black!reader #tom holland #peter parker smut #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker fanfic #the fall and rise of deus #the rise of deus #peter parker x black reader #peter parker x reader #black reader

[n0-eyedtaissa]

1,3,4,5,8,11 for cope

1. Song they dance in the kitchen at 3am

The party at the Chateau had taken on a life of its own that night, a second reunion for the Pogues, John B, and Sarah — one that included Clementine now that her and John B had finally began to put their differences aside. Everyone seemed happy and lively for little while again, for the happy moment that was stuck in time. There were angry parents waiting on the other side, other consequences to be faced. But none of these problems were gonna get solved tonight. The last time they were at Tannyhill, Sarah made sure to slip a few bottles of her dad’s favorite, stashed-away reds into her backpack. She sits on the lip of the hot tub drinking straight from the green glass bottle, purple stains on the skin of her full lips. “Get in the Cat’s Ass, Clem!” JJ shouts over the hum of the jets and tosses an empty beer can in Clementine’s direction. “C’mon, Clam!” John B teases and Clementine flips him the bird as she leans down to light up the foot tall glass bong that was balanced on one of the rickety lawn chairs. Unbeknownst to everyone else, Pope and Clem had a secret that night. Earlier that evening Clementine pulled him aside in the kitchen of the Chateau and retrieved something from the front pocket of her overalls. Pope opens his hand to find a small green pill — the molly that Clem had poached from Kimber’s room all those months ago. “You’re the only person I trust enough to do this with” She says. Pope likes to keep the signals clear and for the most part Clementine did so too, California Sober. If they were going to do anything, tonight was the perfect night. Why not? They take the pills and chase it down with sink water straight from the taps, laughing because what the hell did they think they were doing? They spend the rest of the night in the warm comfortable bubble of their friends, laughing and dancing and being rambunctious, enjoying the blissful handful of hours where consequences were nonexistent because everyone knew shit was going to his the fan tomorrow.

3. Song that plays over them making eye contact across the room

Clementine couldn’t lie and say she didn’t make a habit of popping into Heyward’s Seafood more often than she had reason for. If anyone ever asked her about it, she’d say that she liked the cold bottles of lemonade and the assorted old candy by the cash register, but that was only part of the reason. She liked seeing Pope in a setting that wasn’t school or with the Pogues, the places where he needed to be the brains of the operation. Sure, she liked being around Pope then too but he seemed to have an ease about him when he was just hanging around his dad’s store, chopping it up with the customers and old fisherman, asking them about their luck that day. Clementine walks into the store that day with a purpose, pulling the crumpled paper list out of her sweaty pocket and trying to read her dad’s slanted scrawl. Him and Gat were gearing up for a big seafood boil and Clementine was left with picking up the ingredients. She needs orange juice and lemon juice for flavor and to cut some of the spice from the paprika and other seasonings she flitted around the small store trying to find. Of course, most of what Clementine needed was just out of her reach, high on the top shelf. She wasn’t the kind of girl who liked asking for help, she doesn’t want to inconvenience Heyward and it looked like Pope was busy taking empty crates out back to the recycling bin. She plants her foot on the bottom shelf and sees if it can hold her weight and it can, so she uses the shelves like a ladder, stepping up and over canned foods and dry foods. “Clementine Adams, how many times do I have to tell you that my store ain’t your playground!” Heyward calls out loudly, sounding exasperated. Pope comes through the staff door carrying a big box, shaking his head as he smiles at Clementine, who gives him a shy wave. “Maybe if you didn’t have your only stock-boy running back and forth, I’d have someone to ask to get things from the top shelf!” She puts her hands on her hips, knowing that Heyward wouldn’t actually be upset with her for teasing him a little. (No one believed her when she said the old man had a soft spot for her but she could just tell) “C’mon Pops, you know she’s vertically challenged” Pope smiles, reaching up easily to retrieve one of the big glass bottles of hot sauce from the top shelf. He takes the shopping basket from her and walks up to the till to start ringing up her purchases. “Mr Heyward I think I know the perfect way to make it up to you!” She says as she pushes herself onto the counter. “We’re having a seafood boil over at our house tomorrow night and you guys should come by” Clementine may have been addressing Heyward but she was looking right at Pope.

4. Running from the cops chase song

Everyone knew that the Twinkie was the least reliable mode of transportation ever. It didn’t have enough seatbelts, it was a waking safety hazard, the engine was shot — point to something and it was broken. But John B refused to get rid of it because it was the unofficial mascot of the Pogues. But everyone could admit that it wasn’t the best choice to be able to outrun Rafe and Redfield, who were both high on coke and a power trip at the promise of a payout from Carla Limbrey. John B stomps down hard on the gas to try and get the old van to move just a little bit faster, the engine coughs and Pope tightens the white knuckle grip he had on the door. “They’re gaining on us!” Clementine calls out from her spot in the backseat trunk area (as Clementine was the smallest out of all of the Pogues and the van was getting pretty crowded these days). “He can’t go any faster” Sarah’s tone is sharp and stressed out and if Clementine had the time she’d roll her eyes and make a comment about how uptight she was. Clementine recognizes the intersection they’re coming up against, only a few more cross streets and they’d be in the residentials. Rafe was dumb but not dumb enough to take this chase where it was sure to be seen by onlookers and called in to Shoupe at the station. Clementine sees the clearing that she walked through all the time to get to town, only a handful of roads over from her own house. The clearing was a dirt road but the underbrush was so grown over that it blocked the mouth of the road (that’s why Clementine always had scraped on her legs). She gets an idea. “John B, turn! Turn right now!” Clementine yells. “I can’t!” “Trust me”

5. Song that would make them just lose all inhibitions and dance around their living space

The first few notes of the song start to come to life through the stolen speakers in the kitchen of the Chateau and suddenly Clementine’s ears perked up. “Feel the morning on my face…” She sings along drunkenly, kicking her feet against the countertop where she sat. “You know this song?” Pope asks her, clearly impressed. She responds with an enthusiastic “I LOVE this song” and it’s definitely the kind of answer her was looking for. Clementine takes a sip straight off the glass bottle sitting beside her — some old, gross tasting alcohol that Sarah stole from her dad because it was supposed to be strong— and hands the bottle over to Pope. “You’re crazy” He laughs at her, putting the bottle down and grabbing her hand so she can get down from the counter. Pope does a fake-fancy bow and leads Clementine by the hand towards where the rest of their friends are dancing. They’re both too rigid and insecure, but through their fit of giggles they find the beat and start to move with it. Clementine can’t dance and she never pretended that she could, but it never would stop her from trying enthusiastically. She wriggles about, shimmying and laughing because she knows she looks ridiculous, but Pope was smiling anyways. “What are you even doing? What dance move is that?” Pope asks through his laughter. “I’m free styling!” Clementine’s laughing hysterically now, too drunk and too energetic. But she’s happy, and so is everyone else. Pope grabs her by the hand again and spins her around.

8. Song they’ve made a dance routine for

Clementine is sitting at they Heyward family’s kitchen table — somewhere that she’d been spending a lot more time lately. She looks up from her history textbook at Pope, who looks away quickly to try and hide that he’d been staring at her. Clementine feels her cheeks heat up so she takes a big gulp from her glass of water. “You stayin’ for dinner, Miss Clementine?” Pope’s mom asks kindly, stepping into the kitchen area and starting to grab ingredients out of the refrigerator. Clementine smiles as she nods. “I’d like that” Her eyes flash over to Pope, who’s trying to evade the knowing gaze of both of his parents. Clementine nudges his foot with her own under the table. Mrs Heyward flits around the kitchen, opening every cabinet and slamming down pots and pans on the stove. Pope and Clementine decide to give up on studying and leave their notebooks open. The radio is playing an oldies station and Mrs. Heyward turns the dial up as she grabs Pope by the hand and pulls him out of the chair to dance with her. Pope spins around the kitchen with his mother, laughing and trying not to be embarrassed when Mrs. Heyward says “C’mon over here now, Clementine, it’s your turn to try. Pope’s a great dancer!” She pulls Clementine up out of her creaky wooden chair and Pope extends his hand, bowing in comedic chivalry. Clementine laces her fingers through his, paying little attention to her shaking hands.

11. Adventure montage song

The sun is high in the sky and fire hot, Clementine wipes the sweat off her brow, cursing her friends for making her sit in the back of the Twinkie because she had the shortest legs out of everyone. It’s an eerily eerily silent ride, uncommon for all of them, all too nervous about what they’d find after their look around the Island Room. “What are we even looking for?” Clementine asks. She only knows part of the story, has only been let onto so much information. “We’ll know it when we see it” John B recites and Clementine wants to roll her eyes at him but he’s too far away for it to really be as satisfying as she wants. “Why do you guys ALWAYS say that!” She rests her head against the window until John B goes over a bump, making her smack her head against the hot glass. “If I have to get another tetanus shot because of you guys I think I might need some new friends” She says and JJ laughs. Earlier that summer when they were all trying to find a way to exonerate John B, it was up to Clementine to shimmy her way under the Chateau into Big John’s secret crawl space, where he kept the big metal lock box of all of his important documents and findings, including the agreement he and Ward Cameron had signed. “What have you guys done to this poor girl?” Sarah raises and eyebrow and looks towards the backseat for answers. JJ smiles, taking a hit off of Kiara’s weed pen. “Let’s just say that Clem and Cousin Ricky got acquainted with each other real quick…” “I have the scar to prove it!” Clementine pokes at the small crescent moon shaped scar that was left over from the nail that got embedded in her knee as she army-crawled under the Chateau. They pull the van up in front of a big Angel Oak tree with a cubby-hole in its face and immediately Clementine gets nervous. She knows that someone is going to suggest reaching in there and she knew for a fact it wasn’t going to be her. “Not it!” She says, probably a little preemptively, touching her finger to her nose just to make sure it wouldn’t be her who was reaching her skinny arm into the darkness. Everyone follows suit, save for JJ. “Man I hate this game” He pouts, turning his hat around and climbing up onto the roof of the van.

#clementine x the pogues #obx oc: clementine adams #pope heyward one shot #pope heyward x oc #pope heyward fic #jj maybank x oc #kiara carrera x oc #john b routledge #sarah cameron x oc #sarah cameron #obx imagine #ocappreciation #song asks

[secretpajamas]

a different kind of rush;

an ezra x reader fic

pairing: ezra (prospect) x female reader

rating: explicit

genre: romance/smut/and they were roommates (oh my god they were roommates)

words: 5.6k

part 2 of 2 (read part one HERE)

please scroll to the end to “content” if you would like to know specific smut-related content before reading!

--

When you emerged from the shower, you changed into your long sleep shirt (the thing was far too old and ratty at this point to be considered a “nightgown”). Even though it wasn’t dark out yet, you figured you might as well go to bed at the rate this day was going.

As you slowly crept through the tent partition, you noticed that Ezra was gone—and so was his gear.

You found a note in Ezra’s barely-legible scrawl placed at the foot of your bed.

“Starstone quality check,” you mumbled, reading the note aloud.

Starstone was so finicky that it was necessary to check up on it in storage to make sure it maintained its stability. But you knew in your gut he was avoiding you. While he was out, you cleaned the filters and checked the tanks like you always did—minus the filter and tank that Ezra was currently using—the methodical work helping soothe your nerves a little.

When Ezra came back in, you were sitting up in bed, reading the book Ezra’s kid Cee had hand-written (“She didn’t come up with the story, but she basically rewrote the whole damn thing herself. Smarter than she knows, that kid.”). It wasn’t your usual kind of story, and not even your usual medium of consumption (you preferred late-night radio dramas, but they broadcast from the Ephrate—the signal was spotty at best in the Fringes and nonexistent here in the Reach), but it was captivating nonetheless.

You didn’t look up from the book as Ezra walked in. Neither of you said a word.

Part of you was relieved that you didn’t talk about it.

The other part of you was desperate to talk about it.

--

The next morning, you woke to Ezra sitting at his makeshift desk—a chair set in front of an old wooden shipping crate—swirling together the starstone enzyme bath. He was wearing a pair of boxer shorts and a gray t-shirt, his hair already matted with perspiration from the heat.

You grumbled and slowly sat up.

“Mornin’, sunshine,” Ezra said, not lifting his eyes from his work.

“Mmph,” was your sleepy response.

“Oats are ready if you have a hankering,” he continued, gesturing with his head towards the “kitchen”—another wooden shipping crate, this one with a battery-operated stove placed on top.

You were suddenly very awake at the promise of food. “Please tell me there’s coffee, too.”

“Haven’t made it yet,” he replied. “Go easy on the stuff, you’ve drunk near all my supply.”

“I believe food and board is included in my contract.” You yawned before shuffling your way over to the stove.

“Food and board, sweetheart, not drink.” Ezra held the canister of freshly mixed enzyme solution between his knees as he twisted on the cap with his hand.

Your stomach rumbled and you eagerly grabbed your bowl of oatmeal. After wolfing down your breakfast, you filled Ezra’s rickety kettle with water and set it on the stove, turning the power up to high. You pawed around the mismatched collection of canteens piled next to the stove until you found two clean ones and set them out, along with four packets of powdered coffee (three for you, one for Ezra). It was the instant stuff anyone could grab for cheap at a shuttle station, and it tasted wretched, but it did its job.

As you waited for the water to boil—not long when the water in storage was already warm thanks to this planet’s heat—You heard Ezra stand up and approach you. When you felt his hand brush the small of your back, you shivered.

Ezra huffed. “Are you cold? For cryin’ out loud, woman, it’s hotter’n two channel-rats fuckin’ in a wool sock.”

“Must be caffeine withdrawal,” you lied, knowing full well it was Ezra’s touch.

He rubbed his thumb back and forth and you nearly shivered again. “I suppose it’s high time I replenish our supplies,” he said, “lest you pillage the remainder of my coffee.”

When the kettle began to whistle, you switched off the stove and poured equal amounts of hot water into the cups—and unequal amounts of coffee packets. All the while, Ezra’s hand stayed on your back.

“Speaking of supplies, we could use another full O2 tank,” you said, trying your best to ignore how your stomach did somersaults every time Ezra absentmindedly rubbed his thumb against the material of your sleep shirt, “and coolant for the air circulators.”

“I’m well aware,” Ezra said, “but thank you kindly for the reminder.”

You offered Ezra his canteen of coffee. You mourned the loss of his hand on your back, but feeling the brush of his fingers against yours as you handed him his cup was nearly as electrifying.

“S’posin’ we pull a good haul of starstone today, I can ready the pod for the shuttle station tomorrow,” he said between sips. “Be back within a couple days’ time.”

You swallowed down a lump in your throat along with your coffee. You did need supplies, but it was hardly urgent—was he really that keen on avoiding you? But the way he just touched your back—he’d never been more intimate than friendly pats on the shoulder before—

“The shuttle station gets a clearer radio signal to the Ephrate,” Ezra continued, “I can have a good an’ proper talk with Cee.”

Oh. He wants to talk to his kid, you moron. Why did you make this about yourself and your ill-timed masturbatory ventures?

“I’ll hold down the fort, then,” you said between gulps of your coffee.

“I’m countin’ on it,” Ezra said. “Now let’s score some stone afore this bitch of a planet bakes us alive.”

–

Ezra was gone before you woke, but you had expected it. He told you as much last night. But you still couldn’t shake the notion that he was avoiding you. You sighed deeply before untangling yourself from the bedsheets and crawling over to make your morning coffee.

On the table, the kettle was already set out on the stovetop, along with three coffee packets, a clean canteen, and a note from Ezra.

“Radio at 21:00,” you mumbled. That was tonight—so he was planning to call you as soon as he got in. You couldn’t help but smile as you made your coffee.

You didn’t have to mine today or tomorrow, thanks to working double-time yesterday (and your aching muscles certainly reminded you of that), but there was still plenty to do around the tent. After gulping down your coffee, you started with the pile of laundry in the corner. It was the most urgent order of business, based on how it was beginning to climb up the wall—and how much it stunk. You filled a basin with water and soap and got to work.

While hanging the garments to dry, you noticed a pair of Ezra’s compression pants had a tear in the thigh—thankfully, it was on a side seam, so you could easily sew it shut. You noted to fix it as soon as it was finished drying. You wondered if you could mend anything else, noting Ezra’s ratty assortment of boxers and briefs. If he made any cash in the aurelac rush, he certainly didn’t spend any of it on underwear. You could mend holes, but you couldn’t work miracles.

As you waited for the clothes to dry, you snacked on a ration bar and read more of Cee’s book. You were invested in the characters now, despite your initial skepticism of the subject matter. You had to admit, it was a bit of a page-turner. After a while, you didn’t want to put it down. You moved from sitting at Ezra’s desk to leaning against one of the tent supports to laying on your bed mat, your eyes glued to the page.

When you finally came to a satisfying enough chapter to pause your reading, you looked around for a piece of scrap paper to mark your place. You picked up Ezra’s note and tucked it inside the pages before shutting the book. You noticed the laundry hanging up was dry—had you really been reading that long? Oh well. Time to get mending.

–

You had mended Ezra’s pants, a pair of his socks, and were about to sew a button back on the pocket of your suit when you heard your name crackle from the radio headset in the corner. Startled, you dropped your work, the button skittering across the floor.

“Gimme a minute!” You shouted, hoping your headset would pick it up from across the tent. You quickly found the runaway button and placed it on Ezra’s desk before scrambling to your side of the tent to put on your headset.

“Sorry about that,” you said, “I’m here. You get in okay?”

“All in one piece,” came Ezra’s voice in your ear, “give or take an arm.”

You rolled your eyes at Ezra’s wisecrack. “Talk to Cee yet?”

“Not yet,” Ezra said, “with the time difference between here and the Ephrate, she’s still in class. I shan’t interrupt her studies.”

You looked at the book where it lay on Ezra’s desk and smiled. “Well, when you call her, tell her I said hello.”

“Will do.”

“So, what station did you end up at?” You asked.

“Trinity,” Ezra replied.

“Trinity,” you said, “don’t think I’ve been on Trinity since the rush.”

“Ain’t any different,” Ezra said, “still got egregious docking fees and an abundance of unpleasant company.”

“Already shooed away a pick-pocket busker, haven’t you?”

“Several,” Ezra grumbled, “Damn this stump, they think I’m an easy target.”

“Were any of them good players, at least?” You asked.

“Truthfully, the boy on the panpipes was a talented little devil,” he said, “both in playing his instrument and his victims. I let him pilfer a coin from my pocket—I fancy myself a patron of the arts.”

You snorted. “You keep coin in your pocket? On Trinity?”

“Sweetheart, it’s the decoy cash,” Ezra explained. “You keep a couple low-credit coin in your pocket for the vandals so that they don’t go scroungin’ for the heavy-hittin’ gems in your suit lining.”

“Speaking of your suit lining,” you said, “I’ve been doing some mending.”

You heard Ezra’s raspy laugh through your headset. “Don’t suppose you’ve been sewin’ up my underthings.”

“Those are hopeless,” you remarked, “I meant your spare compression pants.”

“Ah!” Ezra said. “I do recall those had a rip in ’em. I was fixin’ to fix those.”

“Well, I figured I’d do it as long as I had the time,” you said. “Also darned a pair of your socks.”

“Are you anglin’ for a raise?” You could hear the smile in Ezra’s voice.

“Your listing did say ‘compensation negotiable,’” you replied.

“Hmm. That it did,” Ezra said. “Perhaps we shall negotiate upon my return.”

The radio line lay silent for a moment, and you felt a nervous pang in your stomach. Enough small talk. You needed to say something about what happened the other day—even if it was just to apologize.

“Ezra?”

“Yes, sweetheart?” He replied.

“Is everything... Okay? With us?” You asked, trying to suppress the anxiety in your voice.

“Why wouldn’t it be?” Ezra replied, before quickly adding in lowered tone, “Did somethin’... rub you the wrong way?”

“Kevva help me,” you grumbled, feeling the wave embarrassment crawl up your spine. “I’m so sorry, Ezra. It won’t happen again.”

“Stop apologizin’. There ain’t a thing wrong indulgin’ in a little well-earned self-pleasure.”

The way he said pleasure made your breath hitch. You hoped like hell it didn’t pick up on the radio.

“If there’s one thing I’ve come to realize in my years,” he said, “is that there’s no use feelin’ shame in feelin’ good.”

His voice was smooth and deliberate now. That bastard knew exactly what he was doing to you. “So don’t you stop yourself because of me—truthfully, I don’t mind. Not one bit.”

Hesitantly, you reached down to press the heel of your hand against your clit, choking back a moan threatening to escape your throat—but not entirely succeeding.

You heard Ezra’s breath coming loud and heavy through the radio. “Are you touchin’ yourself right now, sweetheart?”

“Yes,” you gasped out, your previous inhibitions completely shattered.

“Fuck,” Ezra replied. “Thank Kevva this radio headset is hands-free.”

You heard what might have been Ezra undoing his zipper—and your suspicions were confirmed when you heard a low moan through the radio.

“Ezra—”

“Do you have the faintest idea what you do to me, woman?” The line swelled with static and the throaty rasp of Ezra’s voice. “Told myself not to—made myself not think of you like that. It ain’t proper. But when you—you let me watch—”

You whined and slid your hand beneath your underwear. “I was thinking of you,” you confessed, “always thinking of you—”

“It’s a cryin’ shame,” Ezra said, “all I’ve got is spit-slick and a weak hand wishin’ like hell it was you.”

You sped up the pace of your fingers as he continued.

“If you were here,” he said, “I’d bury myself inside you so deep—ah, fuck—’til you were the only thing I could feel.”

At his words, you slid two fingers inside yourself up to the knuckle, arching your hips, trying to get them as deep as they could go, thumb tirelessly working at your clit.

“I want that,” you panted, “I want you.”

“—Make you come on my cock again and again ’til you’re dizzy with it,” he said, “fuck you so hard you feel it the next day.”

Ezra’s words were pushing you close to the edge. “Ezra, I’m gonna—”

“Do it,” he groaned, “let me hear you, sweetheart.”

You came to the overwhelming sound of Ezra’s broken moans and your own desperate cries and the static of the radio and the beating of your heart—

a discordant symphony of absolute ecstasy.

–

Ezra returned the following night with a full pod of supplies. You worked together like a well-oiled machine, moving various goods from the pod to the tent in an orderly fashion. You both made small talk—Cee was doing well at the Academy, the shuttle station shop was stocked enough with what they needed, no, they didn’t have real coffee, just the shit stuff in packets.

Despite the friendly conversation, the air was thick with unspoken words.

It was hot out—as it always was on this planet—so you breathed a huge sigh of relief when you had both moved all the supplies to the tent and you could leave the sweaty pod. You both discarded your helmets and stood in front of the air circulator on Ezra’s side of the tent, sifting through the supplies and placing them where they belonged throughout the tent.

When you reached at the same time as Ezra for a can of coolant, your hands collided, sending a shockwave up your arm and stopping your breath.

You both froze, staring at your hands where they met.

Slowly, carefully, Ezra intertwined your fingers with his.

“Hello, sweetheart,” he whispered, those beautiful brown eyes of his gazing at you tenderly.

You couldn’t take it anymore—you climbed over the pile of supplies between you and pressed your lips to his.

He let out a surprised little noise against your mouth before returning the kiss with fervor, wrapping his arm tightly around you and pressing you close to his chest.

“Couldn’t—stop—thinkin’ of you,” he said between kisses.

“Do you want to—can we—” You gasped against his mouth.

“Yes,” he breathed, scrambling to work at the zips and fasteners on his suit. He didn’t object when you reached out to help remove the suit—and honestly, you weren’t thinking of it as helping him, more like getting all your clothes off as fast as possible because holy shit this was happening. Ezra had already removed his boots when he took his helmet off earlier, and you were only dressed in your undershirt and shorts, so this blasted contraption of a suit was the main obstacle.

You both managed to get the damn thing off and Ezra kicked it aside. He reached back, grabbing his sweaty t-shirt behind the collar to tug it over his head. You grasped the hem of your top and pulled it up and off, throwing it to the growing pile of discarded clothing.

You were about to strip off your shorts when Ezra reached for you again, kissing your mouth, your jaw, your neck, down to the tops of your breasts along the edge of your bra. You scrambled to unclasp it, letting it fall to the floor. Ezra wasted no time, cupping a breast in his hand and lavishing kisses on the other. When you felt the wet heat of his tongue against your nipple, you cried out, grabbing his hair and giving it a tug. He moaned against your breast before pulling away to look at you.

“Let’s take this to a bed,” you urged.

Ezra nodded vigorously in agreement and you both stumbled over to his bed mat, falling atop the sheets in a tangle of limbs.

Ezra sat up and you situated yourself on his lap, wrapping your legs around him. You could kiss him like this for hours, his tongue in your mouth, your fingers in his hair, his hand steady and warm on your back.

When you both took a moment to catch your breath, Ezra cleared his throat and looked you in the eye, his expression almost timid.

“I must confess, I have not had the chance to... partake, since I lost my arm,” he said. “I may not be as formidable a sparrin’ partner as I once was.”

“Ezra, I’m sure it doesn’t matter,” you said, leaning in to kiss him again. He stopped you with a press of a finger to your lips.

“Allow me to enlighten you.” He shrugged with his stump. “Nothin’s as it once was. I can’t even take a piss the same way. Ever try to hold a dick with a hand that ain’t there?”

“Can’t say I have,” you said.

“Oh, hush, birdie, you can understand the sentiment,” Ezra grumbled. “Everything is at the behest of my damned weak hand. I can’t read my own handwriting anymore. Can’t shoot like I used to—my grip’s shit on the left. Even gettin’ dressed is harder than minin’ aurelac.”

He took a deep breath and ran his fingers through his hair before continuing. “And as long as we’re on the subject of minin’, I can no longer mine most things on my lonesome. Each harvest is hardly half of my previous yields, and I got the kid to support on top of everything. Now, Cee deserves every bit of that support, do not misunderstand my words—I would move Kevva and earth for that girl. But such meager wages do tend to make one feel... inadequate. A man’s work is no petty thing.”

You listened to Ezra attentively, not knowing how you could get it across to him that he was no less of a man in your eyes than if he had two arms. You wanted to reassure him, but he pressed on.

“So please, allow me to posit this caveat,”  he said, “that I intend to make love to you, and to do so to the fullest of my capabilities—but even my best efforts may prove... unsatisfactory.”

Make love. Ezra wanted to make love to you. Your heart stuttered in your chest.

You were so stunned by Ezra’s choice of vocabulary that it took you a moment to process what he said.

“Oh,” you said. “You don’t think you can make me come.”

Ezra ducked his head; you could have sworn he was blushing. “You always cut right to the quick.”

You cupped his cheek, running your thumb along the little white scar there.

“Ezra, I don’t care. I just want this. With you.” You glanced down to where you straddled his lap, rolling your hips a little against his growing arousal. “And forgive me if I’m assuming things, but it seems like you want it, too.”

Ezra moaned quietly at your movements. “My desire was never in question, I assure you,” he said, the corner of his mouth twitching up into a smile.

You leaned in and kissed him softly. He returned the kiss before gently moving you off his lap.

“Lie down, sweetheart,” he whispered, and you eagerly obliged, reclining on the mattress. He settled on top of you, propping himself up on his elbow, kissing you passionately. Eager to get your hands on him, you hooked a finger under his waistband and gave a tug.

“Whoa there,” Ezra said, “slow down, spitfire.”

You moved your hand away. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothin’, believe me. But those clever hands of yours will have to wait, because I’ve been starvin’ for you,” he said with a sly grin, kissing a path down your breasts to your stomach, “and I can no longer deny myself a taste.”

It took a moment for your Ezra Translator to kick in. “Oh.” You scrambled to shimmy your shorts and underwear down. Ezra took over, pulling them all the way off and tossing them over his shoulder before leaning down to continue his trail of kisses.

He nudged at your thigh with his head and you eagerly opened your legs for him. Rough stubble tickled your thighs as he kissed his way to your cunt. At the first feeling of his hot breath against your clit, your hips jumped up out of their own volition, knocking Ezra off his left elbow and face-planting him onto the bed beneath you.

“Sorry!” You squeaked. You reached out to steady him but stopped yourself—you knew he hated being helped.

“Hell’s bells,” Ezra grunted. He gripped at the sheets with his hand as he slowly pushed himself to sit upright.

“Left arm ain’t worth shit,” he grumbled under his breath, “can’t even hold me up.”

“It’s alright, Ezra,” you said, “we can try again.”

“Indeed we can,” Ezra said. He lay down on his back next to you and motioned to his chin. “Take a seat, sweetheart.”

“Um,” you started. You’d done this before, but not like that. “I don’t want to—hurt you.”

“Kevva’s sake, woman, I ain’t gonna break,” Ezra said, then added with a grin, “if I suffocate on account of your cunt, I will embrace death with open arms. Well, one of ’em, anyway.”

“Oh, shut up,” you said with a groan.

“Here lies Ezra, drowned in pussy,” he continued teasing, eyeing you with a wicked grin.

You hesitantly shuffled toward him. Drumming up some courage, you knelt above him, one knee on either side of his head. You were so nervous that you could hear your pulse roaring in your ears.

Whether impatient or just eager, Ezra grabbed you by the hip, then, and urged you down onto his mouth.

You gasped, bracing yourself as you felt the white-hot warmth of his tongue against your cunt. You choked back a moan, your hips stuttering forward, trying not to grind down too hard on his face. Ezra was having none of that. He urged you to move, his hand gripping your hip and firmly pulling you forward. With a little more certainty, you rocked your hips forward and back, making his tongue slide against your clit in long strokes. You moaned again, louder this time, and Ezra hummed his desperate response, burying his face in your pussy like a man starving.

You rutted against him urgently, your thighs beginning to burn from holding yourself up over him. Your movements became less graceful, more desperate—you slid forward too far, causing your slit to grind against the bridge of his nose, and you’d be embarrassed if didn’t feel so damn good. You were right on the precipice, moments away from shaking apart, when Ezra stilled your hips with his hand and brought you back to his tongue. He latched his mouth over your clit and sucked on it, wet and sloppy and fucking perfect.

“Fuck, Ezra,” you gasped, the heat coiling inside you tighter and tighter, “I’m gonna come, I’m gonna—”

Ezra growled, his teeth grazing your clit for a moment, and the jolt of sensation just on the right edge of pain had you coming so hard you thought you might black out. You stumbled forward, reaching out to break your fall, your cunt pulling away from his mouth. Somehow, Ezra knew you needed more, reaching behind his head for you and guiding you back in place with his hand. He began to lap at you again, working you through another shaking shockwave of pleasure.

You had to pull away before it was too much. You collapsed next to Ezra on the too-small mattress, trying to catch your breath, feeling your thighs burn and your cunt twitch and your heart sing.

“Give me a minute,” you gasped.

“Take all the time you need, sweetheart,” Ezra said, equally breathless.

You turned to look at Ezra. His face was flushed red, beads of sweat dripping down to mix with your slick that had ended up all over his mouth and chin—and his nose. He looked absolutely filthy and you’d be mortified if he didn’t look so damn pleased with himself.

You reached for your discarded t-shirt and gently wiped at his face, cleaning up the most offensive wet patches before tossing it aside again. “Sorry,” you said.

Ezra chuckled. “I do not accept your apology, ma’am,” he teased. “That was sexier than hittin’ a motherlode of aurelac.”

“Now that’s high praise,” you teased back.

“C’mere and kiss me,” he all but whispered, reaching out to hold your chin between his thumb and index finger. You closed the distance and pressed your lips against his. It was almost chaste—if not for the knowledge of where that mouth had just been.

He pressed his forehead against yours. You breathed deeply, absentmindedly playing with the hairs at the nape of his neck.

You looked down at the straining bulge in his pants, snaking your hand down to stroke at him through the fabric. A little choked moan tumbled from his throat at your touch.

“Let’s take this off,” you said, thumbing the waistband. He nodded in agreement, laying on his back and lifting his hips so you could pull his pants down and off in short order. His cock sprang free, hard and aching.

You licked your lips. “No underwear?”

“Too fuckin’ hot for underwear,” he said, gasping when you gently rested your hand on the crease where his thigh met his hip.

You moved your hand up and down his thigh, making him squirm and thrust up against nothing but air. He practically whined, his hand clawing at the sheets.

“Touch me,” he begged, voice cracking.

“I am touching you,” you said with a wolfish grin.

“Damn it, woman,” he groaned, “if the heat don’t kill me, you sure as shit will have the pleasure yourself.”

“Patience,” you chided, not sure how long you could keep this up—you wanted him inside you, and you wanted him now—but you loved seeing him spread out and desperate for you.

Finally, you wrapped your hand around him and gave a long, firm stroke. He threw his head back and moaned, arching into your touch. You licked your lips as you studied his cock, the thick length of it twitching ever so slightly in your hand. You rubbed at the underside of the head with your thumb and your mouth watered when a bead of precome welled up at the tip. On instinct, you moved down to lick it off.

Ezra cursed, bucking up to meet your mouth. You held him down by the hip before taking him into your mouth as far as you could.

“Fuck, sweetheart—I—fuck!” Ezra cried out, clawing at the sheets with his hand, writhing against your hand where it held him down. When you tentatively reached down to gently squeeze his balls, he nearly sobbed.

“I’m gonna—” Ezra gasped.

You pulled your mouth off of him, then, replacing it with your hand, not moving, just holding him at the base.

“Hold on, I didn’t say stop,” he said with a breathless chuckle. “Everything alright?”

“I want you inside me,” you whispered, barely audible.

Ezra reached out to still your movements. “I don’t have protection, sweetheart,” he said, voice strained.

You bit your bottom lip, averting Ezra’s gaze for a moment. “I have the implant,” you said, looking him in the eye again.

Ezra’s eyebrow shot up. “Well, shit, woman,” he said. “Thought they only had those fancy contraptions in the Ephrate.”

“They do,” you said. “I did have some decent money, once. In the rush. Before my crew took it all and left.”

“You and I have trod similar paths, so it would seem,” Ezra said.

“The rush left a lot of us in the dust,” you said.

Ezra nodded. “The deadliest dust there is.”

After a long moment, he sat up to kiss you, just a gentle press of lips. You put your arms around him and closed your eyes, breathing with him for a moment.

“How do you want to—which way should we—” you stumbled over your words.

“You may have me whichever way you desire,” Ezra said, voice low in your ear, “and I will do my darnedest to provide.”

“Can—can you be on top?” You started, “I mean—I will if it’s easier, but my thighs are kind of killing me.”

Ezra chuckled, and you thrilled at the vibration of it against your chest. “Lay back,” he said.

You complied, laying down on the bed mat. He reached behind you to grab the pillow.

“Lift up that pretty ass of yours for me,” he said, and you did. Kneeling before you, he placed the pillow under your hips.

“Reckon my knees will hold me up longer than my arm,” he said, gripping your hip to tug you towards him.

“Guess both our thighs will be burning tonight,” you said with a sly smile.

“Worth every ache,” he replied, taking himself in hand.

He slowly rubbed at your slit with the head of his cock. You moaned, your cunt clenching against thin air as you felt wetness dribble down. Ezra dragged his cockhead through the slick, gathering it before rubbing at your clit directly. You gasped at the jolt of pleasure lighting up your body—it felt so good you could cry. You could hardly stand the teasing anymore, wanting him inside you now more than ever.

“Ezra, please,” you begged.

At your urging, he lined himself up and slid inside you with one deliberate movement. The sensation of his thick cock filling you up, the almost-aching stretch of it—it was better than you ever imagined. He grabbed you by the hip again to pull you even closer as he began to thrust into you at a steady pace.

“Look at you,” Ezra said, his voice gravelly and low, “takin’ my cock like it was made for you. Shoulda known you’d feel this good, sweetheart.”

“Ezra,” you panted, “Ezra.”

You looked up at Ezra as he filled you completely—from his pupils blown wide and his lips slightly parted, to the broad expanse of his shoulders, to the torso adorned with freckles and scars, to—fuck, where his cock was seated deep in your cunt—he was more beautiful than any gemstone.

You could tell Ezra was trying to control the pace of his thrusts, biting his lip in concentration. You didn’t want him to hold back.

“Harder,” you breathed.

“I ain’t gonna last,” Ezra said through gritted teeth.

“I don’t care!” You cried out, clenching down on him.

“Fuck!” Ezra leaned forward and braced himself against the bed, arm trembling with the effort as he set a brutal pace, fucking into you hard and deep and unrelenting. You nearly screamed.

“Touch yourself, sweetheart,” Ezra’s voice was frantic and loud, “come for me, please, please, fuck!”

You rubbed your clit for hardly a moment before you shook apart, your cunt spasming around his cock, your body consumed in flames of pleasure so intense you could hardly breathe.

Ezra managed a few more thrusts before he came with a shout, his cock inside you as deep as it could go.

–

In the aftermath, Ezra collapsed beside you, absolutely exhausted. You turned your head to kiss him, lazy and slow.

“If it’s alright with you,” he said, his breath warm and close, “I’m inclined to take the day off tomorrow.”

“We’re sure going to be sore,” you sighed.

“Well, yes,” he agreed, “but I’m keen on more...sparrin’ practice.”

“You can say sex, you know,” you laughed, “not everything has to be a metaphor.”

Ezra smiled. “I do have an inclination to run my mouth, don’t I.”

“Really? I hadn’t noticed.”

Ezra just rolled his eyes before taking your hand in his, your fingers twining together.

“I just realized,” you said, looking over at Ezra’s desk, “I could’ve sat on that chair instead of your face. Would’ve made things easier.”

Ezra’s eyes widened a fraction, looking over at the chair, then back to you.

“Why didn’t I think of that? I am dumber than a box of rocks,” he said with a chuckle. “But I do believe my method is superior.”

“We’ll have to test your theory,” you said. “Do some serious research.”

Ezra nodded eagerly before setting a steely expression with a furrowed brow. “Of course.”

--

content: phone sex (well, radio sex if you wanna get technical), cunnilingus, face-sitting, blowjob, vaginal sex

a/n: listen. all the scifi sex I write will conveniently make use of “the implant” purely so they can raw-dog it. also like where tf is ezra gonna go buy space condoms. this is set in the fringes of the galaxy. it’s not like he can pop over to space cvs and get some cosmic cock wrappers for his magnum dong. they don’t carry them at the shuttle station, okay?

and yes I DO go back and forth in my fics deciding whether “come” or “cum” is hotter/more grammatically correct/etc and this is a come fic, apologies to the cum crowd

special thanks to taylor (@damerondjarin​) for the exchange of messages that inspired this fic, and for all the moral support thereafter. believe it or not this entire fic was supposed to be JUST the face-sitting sex scene and uh it expanded from there. Oops.

#ezra prospect #ezra x reader #ezra prospect x reader #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction

[ruby-whistler]

hey, so!! i was in the car for a couple of hours yesterday and all i did was listen to music and make animatics in my head. so here are a few songs i thought i could ramble about that fit certain arcs/characters

pitiful children - be more chill

starring:

c!wilbur as squip

c!tommy as jeremy

l’manberg as the squip’s influence

l’manberg members as “the children”

c!dream as the confused guy in the background

-

“then i invaded” because that’s what. yes. c!wilbur moment.

basically, he’s convincing tommy that everyone is “incomplete” or “in pain” because of the “obsolete operating system” that is dream’s “rule”. that’s a lot of quotation marks right there. he’s saying how they’re going to “save” them by making them loyal (“let’s complete their chains”) to l’manberg. “let’s teach the pitiful children, who just haven’t a clue, just what to do” - you know, the whole “you’re naive, that’s good” thing because c!wilbur is scarily smart.

he’s trying to make c!tommy think the world will be better - “shiny happy people singing sweetly, gone is human error and fear” (again, criticizing c!dream) - if they make l’manberg and if l’manberg wins. the usual.

“every issue tucked away so neatly, if you feel a sob or tear, just turn that knob and switch that gear” probably my favorite lyric in the musical. this could be c!wilbur hiding the fact that he has Issues because of the stress he’s putting on himself, as well as the fear of being controlled, via trying to gain more power with the elections and pretending that he is fine and definitely not spiraling.

the next “pitiful children” switches into wilbur trying to convince dream to give him the tnt to “save” people. jeremy changes from tommy to dream; dream sees tommy beaten down and exhausted from the rebellion and does what he thinks is necessary.

the instrumental pause are the events of the 16th, and the next chorus and last upbeat verse is dream thinking everything will be “wonderful” again and no one will feel “left out or unsure”, that he can fix what wilbur broke - that he can have his happy family back, and being determined to get it. “when we rule” refers to the final disc confrontation and the vault.

basically, the song could be used for c!dream and c!wilbur’s parallels.

over all it’s a banger song. yes i did have a bmc phase, next.

unaligned - the undertale neutral route fansong

c!ranboo, 100%. it matches him so well.

“The brave and foolish ones

They walk not on the center

The signs are pointing every way

And I don't know which route's better

Some will take the fall

And some will see tomorrow

I could be the light or darkness

Redemption or sorrow

How could I live on with what I've done?

You took me in, showed me love when I had nowhere to run

You offered me your everything and I threw it all away

My indecision keeps me unaligned”

this could be his regrets for technically “betraying” l’manberg by helping c!techno and c!phil even though they gave him a home when he had no place to stay. could also apply to the community house and c!dream, with him not wanting to believe or “live on” with what he’s allegedly done.

his indecision, not wanting to be on any side, is what keeps him “unaligned”, because he doesn’t know “which route’s better”. light or darkness matches up with his aesthetic as well.

bring that fire - war*hall

looping this song for hours on end is the reason why i made this infamous post.

this is a dream smp army (sapnap, dream, george, punz) song, no questions asked. the freaking hype i feel is exactly the rush i got from seeing them kill it. it being l’manbergians - and, hey, look. i never said dream was some weak-minded woobified idiot, alright? i despise l’manberg with my soul, so that is the true evil, but in the l’manberg war, dream’s a brilliant anti-hero. he did kill people, but he was very fun doing it, and he was in the right, and they asked for it, so. anti-hero vibes.

as well as everyone else - i freaking love them, did i say that yet? yes, so these lyrics really match their ruthlessness and how they were determined to win, taking it further and further to assure victory (beloveds) -

“No stopping me

Breaking barriers

I keep on crushing it till I am done

I didn't get here by accident

No I've been gunning it since I was young

Better believe I'll be standing

There ain't no moon that can outturn the sun

I didn't get here by accident

No I've been gunning it since I was young

Second to none

Been gunning it since I was young

I'm standing at the edge now

It's about to go down

I'm gonna take it higher

It's time for me to light it

So they can't deny it

Ay!

Bring that fire!”

“If you take a shot, boy, you better not miss

'Cuz it won't ever happen again

You gonna wake up and not even know what your name is or where you have been

Better be ready to bleed if you think that you have any hope for a win”

“I never go dim

'Cuz I only know how to win”

i miss them. bring them back. i want them to fight more revolutionaries. they only know how to win and they Freaking Did LET’S GOOOOOOOOO

song’s a banger idk where or when it’s from but please listen to it.

pity party - melanie martinez

dream stuck alone in prison feeling his sanity slip away from him piece by piece in isolation, wondering where everyone is and why they aren’t coming :)

“did my invitations disappear? why’d i put my heart on every cursive letter? tell me why the hell no one is here?”

like, you know. people who he still cared about. the thank you notes he made. also, exile arc parallels.

“tell me what to do to make it all feel better”

[ Dream tried to swim in lava ]

[ Dream tried to swim in lava ]

[ Dream went up in flames ]

“maybe it’s a cruel joke on me, whatever”

sam being cruel to him, dream being convinced everyone hates him and he deserves this after all, forcing himself not to care.

“i’ll cry until the candles burn down this place

i’ll cry until my pity party’s in flames”

[ Dream burned to death ]

[ Dream tried to swim in lava ]

[ Dream tried to swim in lava ]

“maybe if I knew all of them well
i wouldn't have been trapped inside this hell that holds me”

pandora’s box - maybe if he had more allies, more friends, more people on his side, they’d not let him suffer like this. they’d come help him, get him out.

“i’m laughin', i’m cryin'”

the whole ‘laughing at tommy’s death’ bit as well as the fact that - yeah, he’s not been doing very well mentally in there, has he.

“it feels like i’m dyin'

i’m dyin', i’m dyin'”

[ Dream tried to swim in lava ]

[ Dream burned to death ]

[ Dream tried to swim in lava ]

[ Dream tried to swim in lava ]

[ Dream tried to swim in lava ]

[ Dream went up in flames ]

:)

that’s all! i don’t know what this post is. feel free to send in songs, i have a playlist.

#dream smp #ruby’s rambles #implied sh #long post