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cashmoneyyysstuff · 2 months

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hiii i love ur fics idk if ur requests are on rn but can u do a short drabble of the tiktok trend where the guy hasn't ask his gf to be his valentines day so she "put him on sale" as a joke ofc but she's like

BF FOR SALE ($3.50)

- amazing cook

-crusty feet

- will buy anything u want

any character is fine but i would love katsuki or shoto!!

LMFAOOOO this is for sure the funniest ask ive gotten yet😭😭😭 this is so cute !! and very long overdue I apologize writer block devil was rlly kickin my ass😞 valentines been over but yk i had to write this ! i was rlly hesitating between writing for shoto or katsuki and then i realized i could write for BOTH OF THEM!! and so i did ! i tried honoring your request as best i could, hope you like it <3 !

no pronouns mentioned, pure tooth rotting nasty fluff, use of petnames (my love for shoto and sweets, babe and idiot (lol) for katsuki), katsuki is an asshat but when isn’t he, shy katsuki, shoto is a bit of an airhead, kissing, biting, reader is petty asl lol, lemme know if i missed something else !

todoroki shoto ♥︎

“yn, my love.”

“yes, shoto ?”

the corners of shoto’s mouth pull into a tiny frown at the usage of his first name. no baby, no hun, not even sho. just shoto.

“did i do something to upset you ?” he asks carefully from his spot at the foot of your dorm bed he seems to be stuck at, he can’t bring himself to move until he knows if you’re actually mad at him, and he has an inkling you are.

you look up at him for no longer than a second then look back down at your phone screen “what makes you think that ?” you question back nonchalantly.

“you posted something on your tiktok account..” shoto doesn’t have a clue how to have this conversation with you and it makes him a little nervous, he regrets not going to izuku for advice after all.

“mhmmmm~” you hum, urging him to continue knowing damn well you know what he’s going to say. you wanted to hear him say it himself.

you know shoto’s had no previous relationships before you so these type of things probably don’t mean as much to him as they do to you, but doesn’t everyone want their boyfriends to ask them to be their valentine ? you sure do, and your boyfriend hadn’t asked you to be his yet, so as petty as you know you were being at the time you posted the tiktok he’s no doubt here for right now.

shoto feels like a criminal on trial desperately trying to plead his case with you being the judge. tentatively, he asks “ you said you were..putting me up for sale ?”

immediately it’s like a switch had been flipped. you place your phone down onto your bed next to you, shoto wishes he could take your phone’s place. you cross your leg over the other and bring your hands together like a super villain revealing their master plan “yes. yes i did.”

“oh.”

silence. nothing.

shoto tried—he’s trying. he’s trying so insanely hard to make sense of everything that is you but he simply can’t. he breaks eye contact to think of more to ask but his attention is quickly pulled back to you when he hears you whine.

“uuuuughhh shotoooo~” you moan, throwing your head back against the headboard. “you’re not supposed to say ‘oh’ !” you’re face changes from grumpy to deadpan as you lower your voice slightly to try and mimic him. on any other day this would’ve made him laugh but he’s beyond lost at this point. he clears his throat before speaking again.

“ i don’t know what i’m supposed to say—or what i did for you to want to sell me.” he thinks “and for 3 dollars at that.”

you let out a laugh when you process his words and shoto’s shoulders magically feel lighter at the sound. carefully, he slides a little closer to the side of your bed so he can stand at your bedside. little by little. you pretend you don't notice.

"it's what you deserve for not askin' me to be your valentine."

the secret’s finally out and you get to see how the cog wheels in his head are starting to turn in real time, it has you holding back a giggle when he looks up at you like a deer in headlights.

“is that..why you were mad ?” you nod, humming out a playful mhmm

“ya really hurt my feelings you know ? to think my own boyfriend wouldn’t ask me” you clench your fist over your heart and fake sob dramatically.

shoto huffs out a laugh, relieved to see you’re not actually mad, and goes to sit down on your bed. he tentatively reaches for your hand and squeezes it twice when you let him hold it. before bringing it up to his lips and placing a sweet little kiss to it. it feels as if pop rocks are going off inside of you.

“ i’m sorry for not asking you to be my valentine.” he apologizes, his thumb absentmindedly rubbing your hand “ i was thinking i should’ve, but i didn’t want you to think it was weird since we’re already dating.” his thumb goes to run over your fingers “ i was worried me being too intense would scare you off.” he mumbles.

your eyebrows furrow, you lean towards him to make him look at you “ you wouldn’t scare me off, who told you that ?”

“kaminari. he said ‘coming on too strong scares away the babes.’ ” shoto quotes

you sigh. of course it was that bigmouth portable charger filling his head with this stuff.

you pull your hand out of his grasp and he looks up to protest but you grab his face in your hands before he can say anything, you can practically see him start melting at the contact as he blinks at you slowly, he reminds you of a cat.

“sho” you purr, rubbing his cheeks “ rule number one is never ever listening to kaminari’s dating advice. most of the time it is very wrong.” you explain.

shoto presses his mouth to the palm of your hand “yeah, i’m starting to regret that now.” he speaks into it, you snort. he leans in closer to press a sweet kiss to your lips and you reciprocate, pressing a few more kisses on his lips for good measure “ i’m really sorry for not asking you.” he says in between pecks. you hum in response to him placing even more kisses all around your face. “s’okay. i’m also kinda sorry for putting you up for sale.” you say, running your fingers through his hair while he places kisses on your shoulder.

he lifts his head up to look at you then, an eyebrow raised with an amused expression on his face “kinda sorry ?” he asks.

you nod “mhm. kinda sorry.”

he chuckles to himself, then gets up so he can climb into bed next to you. when he’s positioned how he likes it, with his head in your lap while you comb through his hair with your fingers, he sighs peacefully “well, it wasn’t all bad. i’m glad you think i’m a good cook.”

“what about the crusty feet ?”

“i’m choosing to ignore that part.” shoto smirks lightly to himself when he hears you laugh at his joke, clearly proud of himself for it. “and i will buy you anything you want, to make it up to you.”

“i don’t need you to buy me anything, sho” you roll your eyes with a lovesick smile “ all you gotta do is ask.”

he blinks up at you, looks off the the side as if he’s deep in thought, and suddenly gets off your lap to sit right in front of you. you never think you’ll get over how pretty your boyfriend is and being reminded of it with how close he is to you makes you flustered. he leans in to kiss you passionately and you don’t know if it’s the love he pours into it or the lack of air that has you so dizzy, you don’t dwell on it.

when he pulls away he’s looking at you like you hung up the stars in the sky and he simply, almost shyly smiles at you and asks.

“ will you be my valentine ?”

bakugou katsuki ♥︎

you did not expect katsuki to come barging into your dorm room five minutes after you’d posted your tiktok. the loud sound of someone banging on your door and proceeding to let themselves in seconds later causes you to let out a squeak.

in comes katsuki, phone tightly clutched in his hand and the moment his eyes zeroed on you he’s like a bull charging at a red flag. he stands right in front of you, angry frown on display before he shoves his phone in your face.

“explain this. now.” he growls, you have to hold back a laugh, keeping your face as calm as possible you look between him, his screen then back at your phone.

“what’s confusing about it ? i thought i was being pretty straight forward.”

his eye twitches. “why the hell did you put me up for sale ?! and for three dollars and fifty fuckin’ cents ?!” he exclaims, you can’t help the snort that bursts out of you, though katsuki doesn’t look as amused as you are.

“explain.” he deadpans.

“i think you can figure it out.” you shrug back.

he mutters insults to himself that you can’t catch “well obviously fuckin’ not, cus I wouldn’t be askin’ you if i did.” you simply shrug and look back at your phone. “i wrote it in the caption.”

it takes him a second to process then he’s tapping his password and opening the clock app at super sonic speed. his eyebrows furrow and you see him tapping away at his phone. his eyes widen when he reads your caption and he looks down at you with a mix of desperation and disbelief.

“you’re mad cus I didn’t ask you to be my valentine ?” your bratty huff and turn to the side as you shrug again is all the answer he needs. he looks at you for about 5 seconds longer then sighs.

he sits down on your bed and keeps staring. katsuki bakugou hates a lot of things and one of those things is you ignoring him. a warm hand on your ankle startles you and you can’t even ask him what he’s doing before your being yanked towards him. you squeal, almost missing the smirk on his face or the huff of laughter at your reaction. almost though, so you glare at him. katsuki looms over you until your noses almost touch, then you turn away with a huff. he chuckles, pressing his lips to your neck.

“ yer such a baby, y’know that ?” he mumbles, smirking against you neck. you huff but make no effort to shrug him off “ no i’m not, jerk. is it so wrong for me to want my boyfriend to ask me to be his valentine’s ?” you grumble, trying to ignore the feel of his warm lips against your skin, it’s not working so well for you.

“s’not what i’m sayin, sweets” he nips at your earlobe “‘m sayin’ ya coulda just told me ‘stead of bein’ a baby about it.” you can’t tell if this is his way of trying to apologize. either way, you don’t want to give in just yet.

“i’m not supposed to tell you to ask me to be your valentine’s katsuki, that’s not the point~ !” you huff petulantly. you feel a but childish but, c’mon ! it’s a given to have your boyfriend as your valentine and it wouldn’t hurt your demon spawn of a boyfriend to be a little but romantic once in a while.

he playfully rolls his eyes at you “see, what’d i tell you? big baby.” leaning forward he nips at your nose making you groan and trying to push him away with your palm. katsuki being the powerhouse that he is, doesn’t budge. “ i didn’t think to ask ya cus you’re already mine. so why should i need to ask something that’s a given ?”

your heart beats faster at his words and katsuki takes his chance when he feels you loosing up more and more. suddenly he’s got your wrists in his grip, holding them above you and looking down at you with that sickeningly handsome smirk. you’re almost there, he can practically feel it.

“i—i’m..still mad at you” you stutter out weakly, your defenses are down.

“yeah ?” he taunts.

“yeah. apologize.”

he scoffs, rolling his eyes lightheartedly “why should i apologize ? you said my fuckin’ feet stink.”

“ ah, ah, ah.” you tut “don’t put words in my mouth, i said your feet were crusty.”

“yeah, thanks babe. that makes it so much better.” he sasses, you laugh “and i complimented you ! i said you were an amazing cook !”

“yeah but that ain’t a compliment, ‘ts a fact.” he says matter of factly, you’re eyes threaten to get stuck at the back of your skull with how hard you roll them and he snickers.

he dives in and steals a kiss, and then another one when you don’t stop him. when he pulls away to catch his breath, ready to steal another kiss you stop him by placing your hand on his chest. he looks down at you questioningly and you give him a raised brow in response. he groans.

“fine. m’sorry” he concedes quietly

“foooorrr ?” you urge.

he narrows his eyes at you as if saying “don’t push it” but swallows his words down “ for not askin’ you to be my valentine’s or whatever the fuck” he shoves his now hot face into your neck and mumbles “now quit bein’ all pissed at me.”

you’re happy enough with that, so you wrap your arms around his neck, one of your hands creeping up his nape and into his hair. he sighs contentedly, clearly enjoying the attention you’re giving him.

“thank you. i’m also sorry for saying you have crusty feet.” hearing him scoff at the accusation makes you giggle “and for putting you up for sale.” he hums, happy with your apology.

“..kinda.”

“oi.” he warns. you giggle in response continuing your ministrations in his hair.

“you still haven’t asked me so..” you trail off. he lifts his head up to look at you with a blond eyebrow raised.

“ does this valentine shit really matter that much to you ?” he asks.

you respond immediately “yes.” nodding aggressively to make your point.

he sighs, shaking his head. he looks at you, then looks off to the side in embarrassment, he can be so cute when he wants to be. steeling his nerves he looks you straight in the eyes. fearless with fierce red cheeks and all.

“b-be my valentine, idiot..”

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rubysparx · 4 months

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Ok im gonna try and be mostly images for real this time (and im going to fail)

"From most to least interesting, the types of monsters he likes are: dragons = animals > magical beings > plants > insects > undead > spirits." (-Dungeon Meshi world bible/adventurer's guide, page 5)

at first glance that statement is easy to dismiss, ofc he doesn't really like undead or spirits, they're not really even monsters. Just dead humans, and he doesn't like humans. But there's more to it, he hates spirits because that's what got Falin outcast by the rest of the village (to the point of their father, the village chief, sending her away to magic school to get her out).

(Notably, the above is from the spirits chapter, "sorbet" chapter 11) but on top of blaming spirits, he also blames himself. Because it was his choice to sneak out into the graveyard when he heard there was a spirit there as a kid, he took his sister with him. He got attacked for his arrogance, and Falin saved him, revealing her powers to the villagers who never saw her the same afterwards. "If only I had been the one eaten by the dragon" "If there were only some way for me to take your place, then I would gladly"

So much of Laios' feelings of guilt and shame are directly tied to Falin. He feels guilty for being alive. He feels guilty for leaving the village and leaving her to eat alone for such a long time. But he also feels guilty for letting her run away from magic school and come to the island with him. It all just feels like a long repeat of when he let her come to the graveyard with him.

"she could've had a better life at the academy" "I left a year before she did"

He likely even blames himself for messing up her opportunity at a job he recommended to her when her gift was first revealed.

"Adults are just scared of magic" "laios grew up somewhere humans hated other humans for any reason they could find, so of course he hated them right back, esp being so othered already. and then seeing his sister be so othered, and partly blaming himself for it. Of course it was his fault, of course he was so hateful, he's a human after all." <- something relevant I said while talking about this on disc

and I don't wanna hide this in the tags, one last comment, I feel like it's important to note that in the fourth image posted above (Chapter 88, Winged Lion 3, page 17) Laios is witnessing Falin be shoved away from playing with another kid from the village, due to the village seeing her as a freak. The rest of that panel is humans doing bad things directly to him, but that one it's to his sister. But even still he left her alone in the village, what a very human thing to do.

Also, if you enjoyed this dive into Laios might I direct you to this post about representation of autistic anger? I really liked it and will be reblogging it in a few minutes

#dungeon meshi #delicious in dungeon #dunmeshi #laios touden #laios thorden #laius thorden #falin touden #farlyn thorden #look i put it under a read more this time smile #ok the next one is falin post get excited #dungeon meshi episode 2 today send this out cortana

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messylustt · 1 year

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Heyy!! I Hope you’re doing well and have/had a great day🥰

I wanted to request a ghostface ethan x reader smut oneshot and to be honest I don’t really have a exact idea but I just love the way you write and portrait ethan and I also think you are one of the only ones that also write him as a Dom :)

Maybe you could throw in some degrading and choking or some public sex if ur comfortable with that ofc!

Here’s kind of a „idea“ but you don’t have to use it if you don’t want to:

Reader and Ethan are in the same friend group ofc but they really hate each other (Ethan is ghostface) and idk maybe when the ghostface attacks begin (scream 6) one time where reader is walking home or something she gets a call from ghostface (Ethan) and first he’s like trying to scare her but reader isn’t that intimidated since she survived before (scream 5) and she’s also a bad ass and then gf (Ethan) randomly starts flirting with her/ dirty talking and the reader kinda goes with it since she has a bit of a thing for gf and then when she’s in a ally gf pops up and it comes to smut somehow and just before reader is about to cum, Ethan reveals himself?

(Oh and I would still love to see the bickering and fighting with Ethan and reader before the gf smut? If that’s okay with you)

I am so sorry, that got so long omg- 💀

THANK YOU ALREADY IN ADVANCE!!🫶🏻

nothing's too long babe! love this plot. meanish banter is MWAH

behind the mask — ethan landry + reader ( scream ) : you don’t realise that ghostface is your enemy ethan until you’ve gone too far.

contents : slight choking, fingering, semi public sexual stuff (in an alleyway), enemies to kinda enemies who want to fuck, dub con, finger sucking. wc 2.7k

"Which brings us to our suspect list," Mindy spoke, as the entire group sat at a campus off to the side and away from prying ears.

Ethan mockingly coughs, before muttering your name. You shoot him glare. "I'm sorry, who here has survived a Ghostface attack, that's right, not you." You bite at Ethan, adjusting yourself on the bench.

Ethan rolls his eyes. "And you survived pathetically." He mutters.

"Excuse me?" You snap your head back to Ethans direction. You'd never liked this boy, almost too "innocent", and always playing the victim.

"The only pathetic one here is you, Ethan." You hated each other. You could never pinpoint why, just the fact that you did. And everyone knew it. Your smile would always drop when he walked in, your tone turning sour. And Ethan's comments became harsher the moment you said anything.

Chad was surprised by how heated Ethan's anger for you was. He'd never seen the boy say such mean things with such confidence, its like he was a different person when you were around.

"Alright, you two can bicker later." Mindy quickly chimed in, continuing on with her suspect list. She faced Ethan who still had a scowl on his face. "Ethan, the shy, dorky guy, whose so shy and dorky that no one would ever suspect him."

You scoff. "You left out sad and alone." You comment, making Ethan shoot you glare to which you mockingly smiled.

You turn your attention to Mindy. "Don't waste your time on him. He doesn't have the guts to be Ghostface."

Ethan was offended, more than by any other comment you'd thrown at him. Didn't have the guts? He internally scoffs. Maybe he should cut out yours to replace his supposed faulty ones.

As Mindy went to speak on Quinn's sexual habits, tagging her as a suspect, you could feel Ethan's eyes burning holes into the back of your head. You turn to him, narrowing your eyes, before muttering 'what?'

He narrows his own, dragging his gaze along your face. He leans closer to whisper. "You look like you came out of hell."

"Mm, and I'd love to send you there." You hissed back, staying quiet so as not to ruin Mindy's ranting. She can get quite mean when you interrupted her passions.

"You could try." Ethan says, as you turn your head to fully face him. Your faces were close, scowls very present.

"I would try and succeed, Ethan. We both know I'd win."

Ethan scoffs in your face. "You seem awfully confident."

"Again who here has survived a Ghostface attack?" You ask tilting your head. "I can promise it means I have a streak for winning, and I happen to be rather competitive." You lean even closer, whispering in his ear. "You don't stand chance, sweetheart." You mock out the pet name, noticing the way his body tenses. Most likely out of anger.

You lean back putting your full attention on Mindy.

;;

The streets were decently busy with costumed poeple, laughing and joking. You felt your phone buzz in your pocket. Bringing it out you didn't bother checking the number assuming it was someone from your friend group checking you got home. "I'm fine, just walking—"

"To your apartment, I know." But the voice isn't one of the twins or the sisters.

"I'm sorry, I thought this was someone else." You say, skeptically. You gaze around, trying to see if anyone looked suspicious with a phone. Then when he spoke again, you finally realised and recognised the voice.

"You won't find me." A deep chuckle follows. Ghostface. You immediantly straighten, feeling the familiar shivers wracking your spine.

You clench your jaw. "I don't have time for this."

"Oh, no, you have plenty of time." Ghostface replies. "Because all you're going to do, is walk home, take out another tub of icecream and stare at men you can never have on the screen."

You open and close your mouth, feeling partly offended and the other part nervous. How would he know that? "Why'd you call?" You steer the conversation elsewhere, but Ghostface doesn't seem to want to, continuing on.

"You'd be wearing those little shorts that cover nothing, with that top that shows just how cold you usually are." You pause, swiftly trying to spot him on the street.

"You don't know that."

"Don't I?" You clench your teeth, because you did wear shorts for bed, and yes, they may be on the looser side, but it's not like you went out that late. You stayed home alone. Or so, you had thought.

"You're a creep."

"You sound surprised." Ghostface replies. "You shouldn't be. Though I guess there isn't too much going on in the pretty head of yours."

A snarl edges your lips. "You think you're so high and mighty, being a copycat to murderers who lost." You remind him.

"It's called carrying on the legacy." He quickly remarks, making you scoff. You had quickened your steps across the streets, deciding it best to get inside your apartment and behind a locked door.

"That "legacy" as you call it, sucks." You say, hearing a chuckle in repsonse.

"Does it? Because if I remember correctly, you always felt a shiver run down your spine when you heard my voice." He pauses, his smile practically seeable. "And not in a terrible way at all."

You gulp. "Now you're just making up shit."

"Really?" Ghostface probes. "So you don't feel all hot right now? A small rush from speaking to me, one that makes you excited. You don't feel that?"

Your mouth has dried, as you try to cool your body down, noticing how it—especially your core—heated up as the conversation continued. "Well, I'm sorry to say. But you're wrong. Very wrong."

"Do you want me to find out?" Ghostface asks, making you stop your steps, swiftly glancing around, your chest starting to heave quicker. "Because I'm afraid, I don't believe you, sweetheart."

"Is this some new tactic. Get me vulnerable in a...different way."

"You think me flirting with you is a tactic? Poor girl."

You scoff. "That wasn't flirting."

"Was I too subtle?" He asks, his tone showing his enjoyment.

You grind your teeth, having to stop, as a large group of what appears to be Halloween market-goers blocking the path. "Excuse me." You try, pushing past people, but they don't budge making you scowl at them.

"Are you stuck?" You can hear Ghostface say on the other line. "Do you need help?"

"Hang the fucking phone up. And stop acting like some scary villain, when you're really just some third grader doing prank calls." You hiss, trying again to push past the loud crowd.

Ghostface chuckles, as you end up getting pushed aside against a stall, making you curse. "You seem to have a lot of incorrect assumptions." He begins. 'I'm getting quite offended here."

"Oh, I'm so sorry." You sarcastically say, trying again to weave through the growing crowd.

"You're rather mean actually." He mockingly pouts out.

"And you kill people. Are we done?" You ask, getting exasperated by the phone call and the rude people.

"Not even close." And then you hear the beep of an 'end of call', making you bring the phone away. But before you can do anything more, a hand grabs your arm yanking you through the crowd. You gasp as bodies collide with your fast moving one.

You can't see a thing before you're pushed up against a cold wall, finally away from the crowd, but now in a dark alleyway. You finally see the white mask of Ghostface as he cages you against the wall.

Your chest is heaving as your breathing stutters out, everything having happened extremely fast. Ghostface tilts his head as you hear a dark chuckle breaking through the modulator. "You are stupidly confident."

Words get caught in your throat as you try to swallow something down. "Aw, cat caught your tongue?" He coos, his gloved hand dragging across your neck, making your entire body stiffen. Everyone knew that if you got a call from Ghostface you were marked to die. And here he was, probably preparing to gut you.

You quickly shut your eyes, seeming the only thing you can control at the moment, because you weren't dumb enough to think you could bypass him and run. There's a moment where you just hear Ghostface's heavy breathing, as the distant sound of the halloween market goes on behind you both.

Then you feel the rough material of his glove slowly dragging across your bottom lip. You swiftly open your eyes shocked. You can feel your pulse beating everywhere—everywhere. You can't tell what Ghostface is thinking or where he's looking because of his stupid mask. You tried to see through the thin material made for the eyes but it's too dark to pinpoint anyone's eyes.

"So stupid." He quietly says, almost to himself as his finger drags across the in between of your lips, getting your spit on his finger. You don't know what to do. You don't know what's going on. Why isn't the knife inside you?

Then his hand leads down to grip your neck, beginning to tighten, as your hands quickly fly up to grab his wrist. His other hand is placed by your hip, keeping you trapped. "You're always so arrogant." He says, tightening a fraction. Your throat feels small as your breaths grow shorter.

You dig your nails into his arm and wrist trying to pull him off you. But he doesn't budge, his other hand now grabbing at your waist. "But also so dirty." He husks out, as he pulls your hips to press against his, making a choked gasp escape you. He finally loosens his hold on your throat, just enough so that air can get in much easier.

"What would your friends think, knowing you have a thing for a killer in a mask? The killer in a mask." He sneers, his hand at your waist travelling dangerously low, now reaching your inner thigh.

"What—" But you cut yourself off as Ghostface pulls your legs apart, lifting one to rest on his hip. Your eyes widen upon feeling how hard he is against your shameful, throbbing pussy. His hand drops down to feel your wetness through your panties, your skirt having bunched up by your hips at the compromising postion.

Your mouth is open in shock. Ethan behind the mask stares at you, as he feels just how turned on you really are. His chest is heaving, as his bulge begs for attention. Why was he grabbing you like this? He hated you. He had wanted to scare, if he ended up particually mad possibly kill you, hurt you maybe. But certainly not touch you.

But as he had begun to realise your very secret crush on Ghostface he used it to his advantage. But in the process of thinking what a slut you are, he began to think on how you could be a slut for him. Begging for him to touch you as pathetic whimpers and moans escaped you. How pathetic you'd look all for him.

His grip around your neck tightened before loosening, moving up to your open mouth as he stuck two fingers in, wanting to feel your mouth wrapping around them, wanting to see your spit on his glove. "Suck them."

Your eyes stayed wide, as you stared at the now very intimidating Ghostface. You slowly closed your mouth around his fingers as your tongue began to circle the tangy tasting farbic. "That's it..." He breathes as he began to thrust them in and out of your mouth, your spit now coating your lips as you sucked. "Look at you, such a slut for a mystery guy with a knife."

Behind the mask, his eyes had hooded, his cock now aching at the visual. You were powerless against him, and that rush made him, bypass your panties, reaching to drag his gloved finger right up your slit, spreading your wetness around. Your hips jolted into him as he rubs over your clit, a sound that seemed close to a whine coming out muffled through his working fingers.

As Ethan watched you suck his fingers, while he rubbed your aching pussy he felt this need to kiss you, lick up all the saliva that had drippled onto your bottom lip. But he couldn't take his mask of yet. He wanted you to know who was giving you so much pleasure when you were at your peak, begging for him. Ethan felt undeniably smug at the thought of you cumming onto his fingers. The boy you hated.

He then—as compensation for his waiting—thrusted a finger inside you without warning. "God—that was so easy. You're just that wet for me, that your little hole was so eager to let me in." His breath through the mask is by your ear as you shuddered. He pulled his now dripping fingers out of your mouth, spreading your spit across your bottom lip as your dazed gaze makes him move his hand to your neck, loving how small it felt in his grasp.

He grinned behind the mask as he added a second finger, pumping in and out of you. Your hands were gripping at his cloak, your mind a haze of pleasure, as you had begun to grind into his hand. "Fuck, your such a little slut, letting me finger you in an alleyway. Someone could find you, you know?"

A whimper escaped you as he curled his fingers inside you. "Such a naughty girl being so dirty for Ghostface."

"Shit—" You breathed harshly, as his thrusts quickened.

You could feel your stomach contgracting with your impending orgasm, and Ethan could tell by how hard you clenched around his fingers. He stopped inside you, making a pathetic whine leave your lips, your orgasm so so close.

"P-please." You say, breathless, as you try to thrust your hips into his fingers wanting friction. But Ethan just pushed you harder against the wall, keeping you still. He then brought his hand to his mask, finally thrusting his fingers into you again as you moan.

He pulled off his mask, not being able to wait before kissing you. You gasp through the kiss not having expected him to take of his mask, or feel his lips at all. Your eyes had immediantly shut as he sucked on your bottom lip, his tongue esploring your mouth eagerly.

And as he finally drew back, breath heavy, you met his gaze. You gasped with a mix of suprise, and pleasure. His fingers having quickened inside you. "What—" You choke, as Ethan grins, his curls a mess, as he stays pressed to your shaking body. "E-ethan?'

"Hi, y/n." He grins as your mouth opens in pleasure as you stutter out incoherently. "Shh," Ethan chuckles, curling his fingers inside you. "I didn't know you were such a slut." He says, as the sound of your arousel fills the otherwise distant noises.

"Actually that's a lie," He begins. "I knew how much of a slut you really were, having a thing for Ghostface..." He thrusts harder into you, your stomach tightening.

"Oh god— Ethan—" Pleasure crashes over you as your head hits back against the hard wall, your body shaking as your orgasm courses through you.

"Mm." Ethan hums as he slows inside you, continuing to watch as your face contorts in pleasure, all because of him. "I thought you hated me."

"I did. I do." You quickly say, as your body feels extremely heavy, your mind trying to wrap around the truth that was revealed.

Ethan shakes his head, leaning towards your ear, licking your earlobe. "Then why moan my name?"

"I—" You didn't know what to say. Because you had. And you had felt very far from hatred when you saw his familiar brown curls come into view.

Ethan felt powerful with how stuck you were. Physically and mentally. His breath tickled your now wet ear, his kitten licks having continued. "Do you wanna show me just how much of a crush you have on Ghostface, or do you wanna try and prove how much you hate me?"

You met his gaze and knew you were fucked. Physically and mentally.

A better way to put it would be entirely.

#. ( archived )#the ethan effect #ethan landry #ethan landry oneshot #ethan landry x reader #ethan landry x y/n #ethan landry x you #jack champion #jack champion x reader #scream 6 #jack champion x y/n #scream #ethan landry smut #jack champion smut #scream smut #scream 6 smut

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portgasdwrld · 7 months

Note

Hello! I read older posts where you mentioned you weren't a fan of your writing. I think you're awesome though! Love your work. c:

I have a suggestion, if you happen to like it. Could we get Zoro (and any other characters) with a shy and aloof female reader who can't figure out they're being flirted with, even though they share the same feelings?

👩🏻‍💻Hey!! Thank you so much for your sweet words it means a lot to me🫶🏻✨ I’m super happy you love it! And yes ofc no problem!! I love the idea 🤭

📂 Zoro+ oblivious shy/aloof reader to his flirting

Featuring: Zoro+ f!reader Warning: none, fluff Note: I rewrote it and very much prefer this version, I hope you do as much as me

Zoro was never the type of man to be outspoken about his feelings

His flirting is somewhat a bit clumsy and he gets frustrated with himself easily. He gets embarrassed by being open with how he feels.

It doesn’t help when you are clearly not reading in between the lines...

He even wonders if you are doing it intentionally to mess with him, but when you just give him a confused look or go on about your day like nothing happened, he questions himself 😭

A sigh leaves the swordsman's lips as his back leans against the railing of the deck. His thoughts wander and they always come back to one thing bothering him: you.

He starts to doubt himself as most of his flirting attempt were fails. A week ago, he complimented your outfit ,but you simple threw a short thanks with a smile as you walked away. Wednesday when he sat next you for dinner and brushed his arm against yours, you just apologized with a blush and slightly took your distance. Yesterday, when he asked to talk to you, but you stuttered a bunch of words and got away from him by grabbing Nami's arm.

He knew better than abandoning. In fact, ever since his feelings for you were revealed to him, all he could think of, was you. You occupied his mind when it wasn't focused on training, he found himself longing to hug you and smile when you do. Although, he thought about not pursuing you, scared it would ruin his focus on his goal. It was in vain, as he realized you were always very supportive of his goal and even cheered him to train harder and achieve his dream. He appreciate it a lot.

The sun is slowly setting on the Sunny, the golden light illuminating the boat. He looks far away, a hand on his swords and his head turns in your direction as your laugh echoes through the ship.

You are playing a card game with Robin, killing time before its time for supper.

His lips naturally curve into a discreet smile as he observes you complain about some move Robin did. You were accusing her of cheating with her ability, sulking over your lost as she quickly denies it with a chuckle. As he watches you, he notices that you did something different with your hair and decide to use it to his advantage.

He approaches you with his usual blank expression, but he slightly hesitate in his steps which caught Robins attention. You smile noticing his presence.

-What brings you here! Wanna play?

You ask him as you show him quickly the pack of cards in your hands with your infamous grin.

-Nah, I’m good. You..you did something new with your hair?

-Oh, yeah! You noticed? Robin said it looked good.

You reply in an excited tone as you touch your hair.

-Yeah, you’re pretty.

-Thanks! I appreciate it

You say with a slight blush due to the compliment, but an awkward silence falls. Zoro stays silent for a moment as he thinks of what he could ad to the conversation but you open your mouth first.

- By the way,..umm I'm sorry about yesterday, i hope it wasn't something important?

You trail avoiding to stare at him as you remember how you embarrassingly ran away too nervous to talk to him. When he pulled you to the side, his eyes staring deeply into yours, you felt like you couldn't breath for a moment. You didn't want him to obviously figure out you like him...

Robin gazes at Zoro before looking at you a small teasing smirk appearing on her lips.

-Oh...Yeah...I was hoping to talk to you, but...uh.

He says as his face gets red. He clearly hates the facts that Robin is here enjoying the little show while you are still oblivious to his advances.

-It can wait

-We can talk now if you want. We were done with our game anyway.

-I have to do something first, but you can meet me in the crow-nest in about 5 minutes?

He lies trying to give himself some time to think about what he's going to say. You nod agreeing with your usual smile that he loves so much.

-Alright then see ya

You watch him leave, curious about what he wants to speak with you. You shrug your shoulders ready to leave too, but Robin is looking at you with a small teasing smirk.

-What?

-Nothing~

She retorts sweetly before waving you off.

++++

The dark sky slowly sets over the head of the Strawhats as the delicious smell of the food fills everyone nostrils. You enter your room to put away your card and as you are about to leave, you take a moment to breath. You didn't notice how nervous you are until you felt your breath getting a little shaky.

Arrived at the location, you open the door and see him sat not too far from the window. He’s looking away but as he notices your presence, he invites you to sit besides him.

-The food smells good

You say breaking the silence. He nods and looks outside again. At around the same moment, an insect fly inside and run directly in your face, making you panic a little. Zoro is quick to catch it and throw it away, making sure you are fine at the same time.

-You’re okay?

-Yeah, it’s just a small insect, I'm good.

-Wait

He gets closer to you and clumsily fix your hair with the use of his fingers.

-Cool

He concludes with a small satisfied smile as he finishes placing your hair. You look up at him with a blush, eyes connecting with his. Zoro clears his throat as he leans back while you stare at your nervous fingers. Your heart is pounding in your chest as you stare now at your friend.

-So, what did you want to talk about?

You see him hesitate as he opens his mouth but close it quickly. His gaze shift from you to the view outside. He sighs and with a blush spread on his tanned cheeks, he finally speaks.

-I like you

Your eyes widen at his sudden confession, not expecting this at all. You furrow your eyebrows as your hand naturally covers your pounding heart.

-What??Since when!?

You ask completely confused. He chuckles a little astonished to your true shock to his confession. You really didn't notice his flirting tactics.

-I thought I made it obvious

-No?? How??

-Uh...with compliments.

-Zoro...

-I don't compliment anyone like the cook, I genuinely think you are pretty.

You gasp a little hiding your face in your hands, half of you not believing this is real and half of you realizing the cause of his strange behavior. You let your hands fall on your laps as you giggle.

-You're so bad at flirting

You joke to try to calm yourself down. Both of you start laughing as he admits it with a nod.

-You are so dense though

-Pfff, not at all

-You clearly can't take a hint

-Wha-

-Y/N SWANNNN, It's time to eat!

You are interrupted by Sanji's scream that startle you a little.

-Look like dinner is ready

Zoro concludes as he prepares himself to stand up, but you quickly grab his forearm pulling him down. You close the distance and give him a quick kiss on his cheek. He looks at you surprised, but he slowly start to smile.

-I like you too

#one piece #one piece headcanons #one piece x reader #tomiewrites🌷#one piece zoro #zoro headcanons #zoro fluff #roronoa zoro #zoro x reader #op zoro #zoro smut #zoro imagines #zoro roronoa #zoro headcanons #zoro roronoa x reader #zoro roronoa x you

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byersbootyshorts · 11 months

Note

hear me out

sub!steve , eddie, or jonathan you choose they’re all adorable, but PLS best friend!character thats also kinda pervy and obsessed but not overly? like maybe you wear a short skirt or something else revealing and you notice they’re kinda 😵‍💫 and help them?? change anything you want though ofc

I decided to write this for Jonathan since he's literally the perviest man alive

Heatwave (J.B.)

There's a heatwave in Hawkins so you decide to wear a skirt for a change. Little do you know it's going to drive Jonathan absolutely insane.

Word Count: 2,536

EXPLICIT CONTENT MINORS DNI!!

Warnings: bestfriend!Jonathan, perv!sub!Jonathan, fem!dom!reader, smut, unprotected sex, outdoor sex, swearing

Leave a request here

Everyday I thank the Duffers for making this man a little perv

Your hair blew around your face as the cold wind beat in the open window of Jonathan’s car. It was the middle of a heatwave in Hawkins and you were feeling its effects. So much so that you had decided to wear a skirt to school that day. Your outfits were usually low effort and extremely casual, but that day you couldn’t bear to wear pants.

So, you decided, since you were wearing a skirt, that you’d make the effort to wear something nicer to school. After throwing clothes all over your room and trying on countless different tops, you’d finally gone with a red and black tennis skirt with fishnets, a black vest top, and a studded belt. Not exactly appropriate for school but you thought you’d get away with it since no one ever noticed you anyway.

But Jonathan noticed. He’d noticed the minute you came out of your house that morning and got into his car. He’d noticed the way the skirt rode up when you sat down. He’d noticed the fishnets clinging to your thighs and how your skin bulged out between each string. He’d noticed…

“Jonathan!” you shouted, practically punching him on the shoulder.

“What?” he said, snapping out of his daze.

“Are you kidding me? You just ran a red light,” you accused him.

“Oh shit, really?” He suddenly realised he’d been thinking about your thighs rather than looking at the road. “Sorry, I was just distracted.”

“Well, focus,” you said, your heart still pounding from Jonathan’s illegal driving. “I’d rather not die today.”

You eventually made it to school with no more near death experiences.

First period math in a boiling hot classroom was not an enjoyable start to your day. Even your teacher was struggling and had resorted to telling you all to do some equations while she fanned herself with a textbook.

“Miss Y/L/N, could you please open that window back there,” the teacher said before you began writing.

You nodded, glad of the suggestion and reached for the window latch. But, of course, it was one of those windows that is literally right at the top of the wall and almost impossible for any average human to reach. You stood on your tip-toes and somehow managed to grab onto the latch and pull it open.

Little did you know that, while you were reaching, your skirt had slid up the back of your leg, revealing most of your thighs. While, the rest of the class had their heads in their books, Jonathan’s eyes were fixed on you. His leg began to bounce rapidly as he started to feel the blood rush to his crotch.

He stared shamefully at your ass, imagining what your thighs would look like perched on top of him with his fingers digging into your skin and your hand around his…

He quickly buried his head in his book when he saw you turn around. He glanced up again, just for a second to find you looking back at him. You smiled at him but you were worried. There was something off about him that day. You couldn’t quite put your finger on it, but something was definitely bothering him.

“Are you ok?” you were finally able to ask Jonathan at lunch. You were sitting alone on a wall outside the school building. It was more peaceful than the bustling cafeteria. And there was less chance of getting picked on by the jocks.

“What do you mean?” Jonathan said, looking up from his sandwich. He had his schoolbag on his lap for some reason. You were confused as to why but didn’t question it.

“I mean, you’ve been acting really weird today,” you explained.

“I always act weird,” Jonathan mumbled.

“Ok then, weirder than normal,” you sighed exhaustedly. “J, I’m your best friend. Please tell me.”

You innocently placed your hand on Jonathan’s arm and noticed him grip the bag closer to his body. That made you a little suspicious.

“It’s nothing,” he said defensively.

You were about to question him further when the bell rang. Jonathan practically leapt up and said, “Sorry, I’ll talk to you later,” before speeding off.

You were itching to know what the hell was going on with Jonathan and last period couldn’t come fast enough. He was already sitting at his desk when you walked in. When he saw you enter his eyes immediately averted to look out the window. You sat at the desk in front of him and tried your best not to think about him. You’d give him a proper interrogation in the car.

Your last class was English and, unfortunately, the teacher wanted all the students to read out part of the homework you’d been working on. After hearing countless dull essays from tired students, the teacher finally said, “Y/N, please stand and read the first page of your assignment.”

You did as she commanded and began to recite the start of your essay. If you’d asked Jonathan what it was about, he would’ve been stumped. Because here he was, once again, stuck in class, staring at your ass. And this time, there was no way to hide it.

He cursed you for choosing to sit right in front of him. And he cursed the teacher for making you stand up. He tried to listen to your essay but the words blurred into one as an image formed in his mind. If he wasn’t resting his chin on his hand his mouth would’ve been agape as he pictured himself running his hands up and down the soft skin of your thighs as you rode him, softly mumbling his name.

But your weren’t mumbling anymore. You were shouting. “Jonathan!” And you didn’t sound like you. You sounded like an old woman.

“Mr Byers! Pay attention and stand up this instant!” the teacher demanded.

This time his jaw did drop as he realised it was now his turn to read his essay and he’d been zoned out for the past five minutes thinking of you.

You turned around to face him as he got up to speak. His face was bright red. He cleared his throat before beginning to read his essay. You looked up at him from your seat in an attempt to reassure him. While listening to his surprisingly well written essay your eyes dropped for a second. Just a second. But it was long enough to confirm your suspicions.

You lifted your eyes back up to Jonathan’s face, trying to ignore the bulge in his black pants. Thank God he was at the back of the class in a dark corner where hopefully no one else would see. When he sat back down you turned around in your seat again, suddenly unable to look him in the eye.

The class sprang out of their seats when, at last, the final bell rang. You and Jonathan left the classroom in silence. As you walked down the busy corridor your mind was racing. You had to address the situation, right? But how? By the time you reached Jonathan’s car you had a plan.

“Give me the keys,” you ordered him, standing in front of the driver side door.

“What? Why?” Jonathan replied, confused.

“We’re going somewhere,” you answered vaguely.

Jonathan gave you a sceptical look but slowly handed over the keys.

There was little conversation as you drove Jonathan where you wanted to go. The closer you got to your destination, the more confused he got.

“Are we going to my house?” he asked.

“Not quite,” you responded.

You parked the car at the edge of the forest that surrounded the Byers’ house and gave Jonathan the nod to get out of the car.

“Oh,” Jonathan sighed in relief when he realised where you were taking him. It was a place you’d discovered a long time ago and now used as a place to hang out. A misshapen tree that bent over to form a perfect little bench. The leaf covered branches of the tree hung down, creating a dome over the bench. It was like your own personal little haven where you and Jonathan would come when you wanted to get away from the bullies of Hawkins.

“Why are we here?” Jonathan questioned you when you reached the tree.

You didn’t say anything until you were both sat on its crusting bark.

“Because we need to talk,” you replied, your expression turning serious as you stared deep into Jonathan’s eyes. He shifted his legs nervously, the close proximity between your face and his causing his pants to swell for the fourth time that day.

“Don’t try to hide it,” you said.

“Hide what?”

“You know what,” you whispered, raising your eyebrow.

Jonathan swallowed hard. He didn’t know what to say.

“I assume this is why you’ve been acting weird all day,” you said.

He nodded. “I’m sorry. I can’t help it,” he said shakily. “I don’t know why this is happening.”

“I do.” You grabbed Jonathan’s hand and placed it on your thigh. “It’s because of this. It’s because you’ve never seen me wear anything other than jeans. It’s because you haven’t been able to stop staring at my ass all day.”

Jonathan let out a quivering breath.

“I didn’t know my best friend was a little pervert,” you smirked.

“I’m sorry,” Jonathan repeated.

“No, J, it’s ok,” you assured him. “I’m trying to tell you that I don’t mind. You’re a guy. These things happen.”

“It’s just, you’ve never worn something like that before. I’m s-,”

“If you apologise one more time I’m leaving,” you said, covering Jonathan’s mouth with your hand.

You were silent for a few seconds, staring into each other’s eyes. Then, you moved your hand down from Jonathan’s lips so you were holding his chin between your finger and thumb. You pulled his face forward, forcing your lips to connect. Jonathan didn’t even flinch when you kissed him. Immediately he melted into your body and begged your mouth to open with his tongue.

But you didn’t grant him access just yet. You pulled your lips away and rested your forehead on his.

“You want some help with this?” you mumbled, placing your hand on his inner thigh.

Jonathan nodded eagerly and started to pull you on top of him.

“Ok, slow down,” you chuckled. You got up from the tree branch and were about to pull off your fishnets when Jonathan stopped you.

“No,” he said quietly, grabbing your hand. “Can you keep them on please?”

“Shit, you really are a little creep, aren’t you?” you smirked.

Jonathan’s face flushed as he fumbled with his belt. He almost sobbed when his dick was finally released from his tight pants.

You got on his lap, knees on either side of his thighs, and hovered above his dick.

“You must be so desperate if you’ve been like this all day,” you said, running you hand through his hair. He let out a quiet whimper in response.

“You sure you want me to help you with this?”

“Yes, yes please,” Jonathan whispered, wrapping his hands around your waist.

You pulled your fishnets and underwear to the side. Jonathan let out a loud moan as you guided him inside you.

“Shh, J,” you hushed him. “We may be in the middle of nowhere but sound travels.”

“Sorry,” Jonathan mumbled.

“And what did I say about apologising?”

This time he stayed quiet.

Your thrusts were slow and deep. Jonathan’s fingers dug into your sides as he willed you to pick up your pace.

“Faster, please,” he begged.

So, instead, you stopped. You sat on his dick, taking all of it inside you. Jonathan whined at the lack of movement. You ignored him.

“You know, it’s really misogynistic of you to only find me attractive when you can look up my skirt,” you said, wanting to watch him squirm for just a bit longer.

“I find you attractive all the time,” Jonathan replied, his eyes shut in concentration.

“Well, you’re not getting a boner every day, so obviously you don’t.”

“Do you have any idea how difficult it is to look at you every fucking day and not get hard,” Jonathan explained. “The only thing that keeps me going is the fact that when I go home I can…”

Jonathan stopped, realising he had revealed too much.

“You can what?” you asked.

“Nothing,” he said quietly.

“Jonathan,” you said more sternly, staring daggers into his eyes. “You can what?”

Jonathan started to speak but he was too quiet.

“Speak up or I’m leaving you out here and you can sort out your little situation by yourself.”

That was one thing Jonathan didn’t want, so he raised his voice.

“I have photos of you,” he began. “And I, uh-,”

“Wait, photos? What photos?” you demanded.

“Nothing creepy, I swear.” You couldn’t tell if Jonathan’s face was red with embarrassment or the heat. “It’s photos that you let me take of you for art class last year.”

“Ok,” you said. You could feel him twitching. “And what do you do with these photos?” you asked, already knowing the answer.

He looked up at you with pleading eyes. You felt his breathing get faster.

“You don’t wanna know,” he finally said.

“Oh, I think I do,” you smiled, beginning to roll your hips back and forth again just thinking about it.

Just that slight movement set Jonathan off again. He couldn’t stop the grunts and whimpers escaping his lips. You thought if you couldn’t stop him from making noise, you could at least muffle it.

You pressed your lips against his again, this time allowing your tongues to intertwine.

“Y/N,” Jonathan groaned desperately into your open mouth.

He was practically ripping your shirt with his hands so you started to increase your speed. Now you were kissing him to hold back your own moans, as well as his.

You reached up to grab one of the tree branches behind Jonathan’s head as you started to feel your stomach tighten.

“Do you want to cum, J?” you asked, pulling away from his lips.

“Yes, so bad,” he whined. “Please, can I?”

You nodded and almost immediately you felt Jonathan spill out inside you. He threw his head back and moaned your name louder than before. But you were too tied up in your own high to tell him to be quiet.

When you eventually stopped your movements the two of you were out of breath and sweating. The sun was beating down on you through the trees, wiping any energy you had left.

You climbed off Jonathan’s lap, adjusted your underwear and sat back down on the tree branch. Jonathan’s hands shook violently as he attempted to do up his pants.

You both sat, staring up at the sky, neither one of your daring to speak. Until Jonathan broke the silence.

“Is this going to be really awkward now?” he asked timidly.

“I don’t see why it should be,” you responded, turning to face him.

A small smile spread across Jonathan’s face. “So we’re still good for movie night on Friday then,” he said.

“Uh-huh,” you replied, squeezing his leg. “I’ll even wear a skirt if you want.”

#jonathan byers #sub!jonathan byers #perv!jonathan byers #best friend!jonathan byers #dom!reader #jonathan byers smut #jonathan byers x reader #jonathan byers one shot #stranger things #stranger things smut #smut #smut oneshot #smut fic

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artists-ally · 8 months

Text

{Flatline} Harvey Specter x OFC {Pt. 1}

I got the title from this song called Flatline by Jared Benjamin. I added it to this playlist of very Harvey Specter vibes if you'd like to listen. There will be multiple parts, around three so be sure to stick around for those. As always comment and tell me what you think, or pop by in my asks. Anyhoo enjoy my loves!

Word count ~ 10,619 (it is a very fast paced read I promise)

Warnings ~ Age gap, smut (18+), handjob, no real BDSM but Dom/Sub concepts, language, alcohol, anxiety/anxious thoughts, probably really inaccurate lawyer terms idk man.

Summary: Harvey has taken notice of the hardest working first year associate, Claudia Martin. Despite being petrified of the infamous closer, she tried her hardest to not let it get the best of her. Harvey has a few ideas on how to increase her confidence.

Tagging : @maxdamax @ashcosmo @rosedpetal (This is basically just dedicated to you three so I hope you enjoy it the most!)

~~~~~

“Alright, everybody stop,” Harvey announced. I put down my file and sat ramrod straight in my seat, eyes darting at the other associates as they put theirs away too. “We have been working on this case now for four hours and no one has brought me a single thing that I can use as evidence. Now, if someone doesn’t put a file in my hand in the next ten minutes, we’re going to lose. And those of you who don’t want to get stuck doing whatever bullshit Louis is going to punish you with, you better come up with something fast.”

I looked at the blue file in my hands, heart hammering in my chest as I saw Harvey leave out of the corner of my eye. With a deep breath, I pushed up out of my chair and followed after him.

Circling around the office a few times, I made up reasons and excuses not to go see him. It was stupid, I knew that, but I didn’t want to bring him something and then immediately be called an idiot for bringing him shit he already knew.

I saw how he treated Mike. And Louis. Even Donna from time to time.

There were two things you did in this world: die, and respect Harvey Specter. As a first year associate in this god awful firm, you didn’t dare break his trust or waste his time.

“Is Mr. Specter available for a moment?” I asked Donna. I hadn’t talked to her much, but I’ve heard her speak to Harvey a few times around the office. She was someone I wished I knew better, someone I wished I could ask for help, but I didn’t want to bother her either.

“Yeah, he’s in his office going over the statements from the mock trial,” Donna smiled, pointing over her shoulder. I nodded, willing my feet to move in the direction of his office. I knocked before pushing the glass door opening, keeping my head down.

“Claudia, now is really not a good-” “I have something for you,” we spoke at the same time. “I’m sorry to interrupt, I can come back and-” “Is that for the mock trial?” He asked, and I nodded. “Hand it over.”

I placed the file in his outstretched hand as he came around to sit on the corner of the desk. My hands were trembling with dread as his eyes raked over the words on the page. The lines in his forehead creased, eyes narrowing.

“Claudia, this is brilliant,” he had a very confused expression when his eyes met mine. “Where did you find this?”

“Well, I figured if Mrs. Thompson said that she didn’t pay her rent that month, because there wasn't money in her account, then there had to be some kind of a trail. Some clue. There was, but it was only an amount, and it didn’t say which account it came from. When I did some digging, I found out that she uses Capital One banking and when I looked at her bank statement-

“There was a draw for the exact amount that Mr. Saros used to bet on that game,” Harvey finished before I could get the words out of my mouth. “Claudia, this is genius. Come on, we’ve got a case to win.”

____

“...Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, this compelling evidence reveals that Mr. Saros was in fact fraudulent and used his ex- wife’s funds to continue gambling. Thank you.” Harvey closed the argument, taking a seat besides Donna, who represented the client. Jessica looked to the opposing counsel as if to say ‘do you have anything?’. Louis had nothing. Not a sliver of hope.

“Then it is decided, Mr. Saros will be charged with a misdemeanor and face a prison sentence of one year in county jail.”

With a crack of the gavel, the case was over, and applause rang through the office for Harvey and his team. I had a tiny smile on my face as I left the conference room to go back to the bullpen. There was an endless stack of reports to run, motions to file… it never ended when it came to Louis. And now that I was on the winning team I’m sure that-

“Claudia, where are you going?” Harvey called out.

“Oh, I was just going back to my desk. Why, is there something that you need?” God I hope he didn’t need anything. I was sweating bullets by just standing next to him.

“I just wanted to congratulate you on your first win,” he gave a small smirk. His brown eyes were sharp, but not as intense as they usually were.

I flushed, “Well, it’s not really a real case.”

“No, it’s not. But seeing what you did today, how would you like one of your own?” He extended a blue file back to me, a stack of papers covered inside. I could feel the gaze of the other associates on me as I hesitantly took the file.

“Mr. Spector, I’m honored, but I’m not-”

“Yes you are,” he cut me off. I bit my tongue. “You are a lawyer, Claudia. And you clearly have an outside the box approach to your tactics which we don’t see very often. I haven’t seen someone able to compile and order evidence like you since Mike came to work for me a decade ago. I’ll be supervising your case, you report to me with any questions you might have, but otherwise this is all you.”

My first case… given to me by Harvey Specter himself.

“I don’t know what to say,” I whispered. I flipped through the file, seeing that this wasn’t just some pro-bono case. This was against a big time client and the SEC. The SEC meant Sean Cayhill, who, from my understanding, was already on the rocks with this firm and has been for a very long time.

“You can thank me when you win it,” he extended his hand, and I shook it, hoping that they weren’t sweaty. “Look over the file tonight and come ready to swing tomorrow morning.”

Harvey’s hand was warm, and significantly larger than mine. Everything about him was bigger than I was, especially his ego. And his personality. Lord help me…

My nod was the only confirmation that I would meet him there. As he walked out, I met some of the eyes of the associates and they scowled at me. At the file in my hand. At the fact that I hadn’t said a word the whole meeting today and then came up with the winning piece of evidence. And now I was working alongside Harvey.

The infamous closer at Pearson-Specter-Litt.

____

“Claudia, what’s wrong?” Donna startled me so bad I dropped my coffee on the floor with a shout. “Something’s really wrong.”

“Oh, it’s just you Donna,” I sighed in relief. I could feel the coffee seeping into my shirt and chilling against my skin. “Great.”

“What has you so skittish?” She asked, worry gracing her features.

I didn’t want to admit that it was because of Harvey and the fact that I had to work alongside him on this case. I hadn’t been able to sleep much last night because I was up thinking about him, wondering how he’d handle this case himself. What he would do, how he would do it. Sure, I admired the guy, how could I not? He was a perfectionist and always found a way. I wish I had half the confidence he did.

“It’s Harvey, isn’t it?”

“How did you know that? Nevermind, you’re Donna. But… Yes it’s because of Harvey.”

“Did he say something to you yesterday after you guys won the mock trial? I saw he handed you a case file, what was it all about?” “That's precisely what’s wrong,” I groaned, bending over and picking up the dropped paper cup. “He gave me a case of my own as a 'thank you' for finding the evidence that won the trial yesterday. I’m terrified of him, Donna. I-I don’t know how to act around someone with that kind of personality. He is so abrasive and forward and harsh and-”

“A total jackass?” She finished for me.

I chuckled nervously, “I’m afraid to even think of that word in association with his name. I mean, how am I supposed to work alongside someone that intense? Plus, I’m a first year associate, how am I supposed to compete with what he as to offer and-”

“Hey, it’s okay. No need to get yourself all worked up, Claudia. Harvey is a lot of bark, and only some bite.” “That doesn’t make me feel better.”

“What I’m trying to say is that there is some heart inside that cold dead chest of his,” she smiled, a genuine, friendly smile. “For what it’s worth, I’ve never seen him give someone a case after a mock trial. Not even Mike. Up until yesterday I’m not even sure he knew you existed.” “Wish it was still that way,” I rolled my eyes, folding my arms against my chest.

“Claudia, listen to me. Yes, Harvey can be rude and obnoxious, but he is the best damn attorney in the state of New York. He didn’t get to the top by being nice and sweet. He was impressed with your willingness to bring him the evidence yourself. Now he knows he can count on you to get things done in a pinch when he needs them.” “I had that evidence for an hour,” I emphasized. “I was trying to build up the courage to give it to him long before he came and ripped us to shreds for not having anything. I just didn’t want him to think that it was a stupid idea or to be in a bad mood and turn me away because I definitely wouldn’t have done it at all after that. I don’t know how to deal with someone like him, Donna. What am I supposed to do? I should just give the case to Griffin or Thomas-”

“No no no. You are definitely not going to do that. That will only show Harvey that you aren’t serious about becoming a lawyer.”

“I am serious about becoming a lawyer.” I was mildly offended that she’d even say that to me. “Of course I want to be a lawyer, it's all I’ve ever wanted.”

“And Harvey will only know that if you work on this case with him.”

I inhaled and exhaled, leaning my head back and looking at the ceiling. “Fine.” “That’s my girl,” she grinned. “Now, come on. I have an extra dress you can borrow because I am sure as hell not letting you walk around covered in coffee stains.”

“I appreciate it, but I don’t think what you have will fit me.” Donna jerked her head over her shoulder and I followed to a closet in the back of the file room. When she opened it, it was like a full blown wardrobe. There were dresses and shoes and purses and hair supplies lining the walls. “Woah…” “Don’t ever underestimate the power of Donna,” she winked before rummaging through the office closet.

After searching for a few moments, she pulled out a lovely royal blue dress that was, as she hinted at, a perfect size for me. How she knew that it would fit, I’ll never know. But I did know that I wouldn’t ever underestimate the power of Donna ever again. She’s magical.

“Now, what do you say?”

“Thanks, Donna,” I smiled sweetly.

“Actually I was looking for ‘you are an ethereal goddess who makes all my dreams and wishes come true’ but that works too,” I knew she was teasing, and I gave her a small shove of her shoulder. “Go get dressed, come back here and let me do your hair.”

“What’s wrong with the way it is?” I turned to look in the mirror on the back of the door and grimaced. “Oh…” My messy curls from yesterday looked more like a rat wrapped around a bunch of fishing line.

“Hurry up, Harvey will be back soon and I want you in that office, file in hand, ready to go when he gets here.”

I quickly shuffled to the bathroom and changed into the form fitting, very Donna-style dress. It didn’t look half bad, and I actually somewhat tolerated the dress. Normally I’d find a pants suit far more flattering and business appropriate than a dress, strictly because of the over sexualized nature of women's business clothing.

I hate the corporate world.

I did one more glance in the mirror before heading back to the break room to grab the file. I must’ve set it on the counter while I was pouring my coffee. Hopefully it wasn’t ruined.

There was no blue file on the counter. Or the table. Or on top of the microwave or the fridge. I even checked inside the microwave. Nothing. It was nowhere. Oh shit.

“Do you want curls or for me to straighten-” “It’s gone,” there was a clear panic in my voice. “The file, it’s not in the break room, Donna. It’s gone.”

“How can it be gone?”

“I-I don’t- I don’t know I thought I set it on the counter while I was getting coffee and it’s not there.” I felt a cold sweat break out onto my skin. My forehead was damp to the touch.

“Okay, take a deep breath. Let’s go look again and then check your desk. Maybe someone found it and put it there, or maybe left it with me or Gretchen. It didn’t grow a pair of legs and walk away, we’ll find it.”

“I’m gonna get fired,” my voice was almost a silent whisper, tears building behind my eyes, prickling my nose. “Donna, Harvey is going to kill me.”

“Worst comes to worst we get a new file, Harvey will never know.”

“No no no he will because he had notes of his own on the papers in there.” “Shit,” she swore. “Let’s just go look.”

We speed walked through the bullpen, earning some odd looks as we practically sprinted through the office. She checked the break room for me again, and I went to my cubicle. Nothing, not a blue folder anywhere to be seen.

Donna came up empty handed in the break room, checking with Gretchen on her way by Louis’s office. We met at her desk. Nothing.

“Fuck fuck fuck this is bad.” My hands were shaking, heart thundering against my ribs. I felt faint, like I could’ve fallen to the floor at any moment. “Donna, what am I gonna do?”

“Maybe somebody mistook it as their own file,” Donna blurted out after a moment of silence. She took off towards the bullpen and I followed after her, right on her heels. She marched through there, unapologetic as she invaded the other associates' work spaces.

Still nothing. No blue file labeled ‘Devlyn Inc. Vs. Fulton Dynamics’.

“Where the hell could it be?” She murmured to herself.

“What are you guys looking for?” An associate, Benson, asked.

“Oh, you know, a leprechaun pissing pieces of gold,” Donna’s voice was full of sarcasm. “Claudia set down a file in the break room for three minutes and forty-two seconds and now it’s mysteriously disappeared. Know anything about it?”

“No,” he pressed his lips together. “Not really.” “Not really?”

“There are a million case files floating around this office, you really expect me to pay attention to every single one and where it’s going?” “As an associate of this firm, yes, actually. I do. Now I want to know if you know who took her file and I want to know right now. You have one chance to tell the truth, otherwise the bottom of my stiletto and your ass are gonna be great friends.”

Benson swallowed, “I truly don’t know. I’m sorry, I can keep an eye out for it. Is it the one Harvey gave Claudia yesterday?”

“Yes, and he needs it in twenty minutes,” Donna said, an undeniable urgency in her voice. “If you find it, do the right thing and give it back or so help me god you will find yourself jobless faster than you can get down on your knees and beg me to let you keep it.”

Donna beckoned me for her to follow and I did, my heart sinking and sinking into my stomach. It had to be around here somewhere. It had to be.

I did another lap around, rummaging through all the drawers in the desk and thensome. Still nowhere. How could I be so stupid? So irresponsible? This is exactly why I didn’t want to take this case in the first place.

Despite all Harvey and Donna said the other day, I’m not ready to be a lawyer. Not really, anyway. I know I have my license and I’ve passed the Bar. I’ve done all the hard work, but this was… this was hell. A living nightmare. Not only was this firm constantly on the verge of collapsing, but it seemed like I made new enemies every other week by simply doing my job quickly, quietly, and efficiently.

I don’t know how or why I piss everyone off all the time. I just do my work, I quite literally don’t bother another soul in this building unless I have to. Occasionally I’d ask Donna a question that she could ask Harvey or Mike to see what they thought about it. I’d never speak to them directly, just through her which didn’t make me feel good, either.

I’d eat by myself, working through my meal. It took me two months of being here to finally use the break room because I was too nervous about taking the last tea bag or power bar from the cabinet. I just took a disposable coffee cup and filled it with tap water. And then kept that cup because I didn’t want to take the others because I figured other people needed them for coffee and I didn’t want them to be all gone-

“Claudia,” Donna interrupted my mild panic. “Harvey wants to see you.”

Oh no… no no no not yet god please not yet. I swallowed, or tried to at least; there was no moisture in my mouth whatsoever. I stood, knees trembling as I smoothed out the skirt of my dress.

Before I went on, she ran a brush through my hair, taking out the knots. It lay sleek and flat against my shoulders, a major difference from the low bun I always kept it in. My hair always made me so hot; I never understood how anyone could get anything done with it swaying in their face all day.

I could see him in his office, eyes staring us down as we rounded the corner. His gaze was locked on me and I felt my body tighten and constrict around a breath. Harvey was sitting on the corner of his desk, fingers toying with the cufflink on his left wrist..

“Hey, look at me,” Donna spoke softly, hands coming to my shoulders. “Give Harvey the truth, and nothing but. He will understand, if not, I will make him.”

I nodded.

When I pushed open his glass door, tension was thick in the air. My palms were clammy, still shaking. My mind was going a million miles a second.

“What can I do for you, Mr. Specter?” I asked, trying to keep my cool despite almost throwing up.

“Please tell me you have some good news about the case that I gave you,” he sighed, pushing off the desk and standing in front of me.

Welp… here goes my career.

“Actually, Mr. Specter there is something I need to-”

“You were looking for me, Harvey?” I whipped my head over my shoulder, seeing Griffin knocking on the door.

“Yes, Griffin come on please, shut the door as well.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, sir. I can come back and we can discuss the details of-”

“No, Claudia. Stay for a moment,” Harvey gave a firm nod, full attention slipping from me to my fellow associate. “Griffin, I see you have something for me.”

“Yes,” Griffin threw a wicked grin at me before handing over a blue file. I could feel the sick rise in my throat. That was my blue file. “I would just like to go over the details of my case with you to get your input.”

“Your case?” Harvey questioned, sharing a glance between me and Griffin. “Where did you get this? Who the hell gave you a case?”

“That’s not important. I was hoping we could actually-”

“No,” Harvey cut him off. “It’s very important, actually. Because I can recall that just last night this exact file, with my handwriting, was in Claudia’s hands. So whatever act you’re putting on, I suggest you cut the bullshit right now.” “Okay I found it in the breakroom,” Griffin rolled his eyes. “Maybe if she were a little more responsible, which she clearly isn’t because she left her documents in a public space, then she’d be more equipped to handle a real case. Like a real lawyer should.”

I could see the muscle in Harvey’s jaw clench and contract several times.

“Claudia, care to explain how our case got in this thief’s hands?” “Thief?” “I had spilled coffee,” I started, taking a deep breath when Griffin cut me a gaze so threatening I almost crumbled to my knees. “I spilled coffee and Donna offered a change of clothes for me. I didn’t even notice I left it. When I came back it was gone.”

“Well, I think that about settles it. How about you get out of here before you cause yourself a real problem. And If I ever catch wind of you stealing another one of Claudia’s files, or anyones for that matter, I will personally make your life a living hell. Do you understand me?”

“Yes,” he ground his teeth, refusing to look at either of us.

“Now get your ass back to your desk and pray to whoever you believe in that I don’t have you fired and disbarred for the shit you pulled today. Get the hell out of my sight.”

Griffin was out of there far faster than he walked in, head down, hands shoved in his pockets. I let out a shaky breath.

“Are you okay?” Harvey asked me. “I’m so sorry,” I completely ignored his question. “Griffin was right, I was extremely irresponsible and shouldn’t have let that file out of my sight. If you want to give it to another associate I completely understand. Again, I am so sorry and understand that there are consequences to my actions for letting such important information go missing-”

“Claudia, slow down,” he eased. “It’s okay, you are not the one I am pissed at.”

“You’re not?” I didn’t understand why. “But- but I completely misplaced a case.”

“No,” Harvey shook his head. “No Griffin is the only one to blame. You spilled coffee, went to go get cleaned up, and he stole it. He should know better. And seeing that he clearly doesn’t, I know I’m right in my decision on who to bring onto this case with me.”

I could feel my blush creep up my neck. “I appreciate that, Mr. Specter.”

“Of course, Claudia. And please, call me Harvey.”

I just gave a subtle nod, taking the file from his hand. I followed his gaze from my face to my hair where he took a strand between his fingers, letting the end curl around his digit.

“I’ve never seen your hair so long,” He added, dropping it from his grip. My breath was caught in my throat. Words were vacant shadows in my mind as he surveyed the dress I was wearing. “I bet that’s Donna’s, isn’t it.”

I had to clear my throat before I could speak. “She wouldn’t let me walk around with coffee stains all day.”

“It looks good on you,” He complimented. Harvey’s eyes, again, went from my head to my toes. There was nothing I could do but fall victim to his… I didn’t know what to think of how he looked at me. Couldn’t decide if it was good or bad.

“Time for the case then?” I needed to get his attention off of me. Now. I was flushed and losing my mind. Harvey didn’t really seem to acknowledge my words at all.

“Sure.” Was all he gave me.

____

I barely escaped with the skin on my teeth after our consultation. No, he didn’t rip me to shreds, but he would not take his eyes off of me for even one second. It was so… so potent I couldn’t focus. It was almost lunch when Donna came in and saved my ass.

I couldn’t have gotten out of there fast enough.

“So, how did it go?” Donna asked as I sat in my cubicle. When she came around, or maybe she just followed me, I didn’t know.

I put my face in my hands. “It was a disaster, Donna. I was a stuttering mess and I kept forgetting everything I was going to say because he would not stop staring at me. Like, he would not stop.” “Well, you aren’t exactly ugly, Claudia,” she snickered.

“Donna, this isn’t funny,” I groaned. “I’m being completely frank with you.”

“How can I be expected to work alongside him when I can’t stand being in an enclosed space with him for more than four minutes without turning into a bumbling idiot? It’s like he enjoys watching me get flustered.”

“Claudia, I think you are making this a bigger deal in your head than it actually is.” Donna came around and sat on my desk, crossing a knee over the other. “And besides, Harvey understands what it’s like to be a new associate. It can be nerve wracking, especially when you have Louis breathing down your neck.”

I chuckled gravely, “I just don’t know what I’m supposed to do.”

“You’ll figure it out.” “Why can’t you just tell me?” I whined as she stood up.

“Because I am the Yoda to your Luke Skywalker. Wise you are, patience you must have, my young Padawan.”

“I am not a Jedi who is going on a self discovery journey to start using the Force,” I countered. “I am a nervous wreck who can’t handle being alone with Harvey Specter.”

“Then you need to get over it because Harvey is not going to berate you on your first case!” She argued.

“Did you not hear what he said to Griffin? Or-or to Thomas when he suggested that we consider taking the deal that Mr. Saros had offered during the mock trial? He cracked them wide open and left them to bleed. What about with Mike? How many times has he almost sent him to the curb for not being able to find what Harvey needs?”

“Mike is different and you know it,” Donna lowered her voice. “Plus he always says shit like that to light a fire under his ass. Harvey can see that you are nervous to work with him. He isn’t going to hang you out to dry, I promise. He stood up for you, Claudia, in a way I’ve only seen him do with me and Mike. You know how much he cares about us.”

“Well, yeah of course. But you’ve worked for him for fifteen years and Mike almost seven now. You have a relationship with him and established trust. How am I supposed to have that with him when I can’t even look him in the eye?” “It comes with time, Claudia,” she rubbed my shoulder. “But if there is anything I can say to get you to trust the process, Harvey is loyal, almost to a fault sometimes. He will stop at nothing to make sure the people he cares about are taken care of. I can see that he wants that for you because if he didn’t, he wouldn’t have given a shit if Griffin stole the file or not.”

Donna walked away after smoothing down some of the hair on my head, disappearing behind the corner. I let out a huff. She was right, I was being a little over dramatic.

Harvey had a reputation, though. How was I supposed to know if- no. This is unrelated to anything going on. Sort of. I just need to focus on the case.

I pulled out the files and looked over them again, compiling all the notes into one space for easy recall. As I was looking through it, I found a loophole in one of the contracts that unbound our client from having to give up half of her company.

____

I paced up and down Harvey’s office, tapping my file in my hand as I went through all my key points in my head for today’s trial. I needed to lure, or bait rather, the witnesses into my questions to get them to admit to trespassing on our clients property. We had everything we needed; security footage, witnesses to testify on our behalf… Everything was all lined up. I just needed to blow it.

I could do this, right? I had only spent all night doing a fake run of how today would go in my mirror, but then again anything could happen when I got into that courtroom today. Maybe they had another leg on us, maybe there was another witness they had to testify against us.

God dammit, if I screwed up today I wouldn’t get another case. Probably not ever again unless I packed up all my shit and moved to Iowa.

Having Harvey there didn’t make me feel better. I thought it would, but as we worked together I realized he only made me more nervous. I couldn’t help it, he just looked at me this way I couldn't describe. It was incredibly annoying, I don’t know how Mike does it. Or Donna. Or Jessica or Louis or-

Jesus focus, Claudia. I rubbed my eyes with my thumbs. Just focus focus focus. I’ve been over it a million times. I could do this. I didn’t have a choice, court was in less than half an hour.

“Claudia,” Harvey ripped me from my concentration, making me jump. “Sorry to startle you. Are you ready for today?” “Not really,” I admitted. “I am kind of freaking out, to be honest.”

“It’s okay,” he eased me to sit next to him. “What are you so nervous for?”

I chuckled, “Everything.” “Okay,” he gave a half-hearted laugh. “What specifically? Just name one thing that you are worried about.”

“I don’t know- forgetting cross examination questions? Screwing up the order so it doesn’t lead him into our trap? A billion things could go wrong and I’m not sure what to do if I freeze or stutter. What if the jury or the opposing counsel laughs at me?”

“That is not gonna happen, Claudia,” Harvey reassured. “You have prepared some amazing questions, you’ve got this in the bag.” “You know, I much prefer to stay in the background and do research. I don’t think I’m cut out to handle court stuff this is-”

“Hey,” he said so softly I almost didn’t hear him. He grabbed my trembling hand and held it between his own. My body went completely rigid, chest puffing in and out with heavy breaths. “You are going to do great today, I know it, Claudia. You are prepared, capable, and even more prepared. This is always what you’ve wanted to do, isn’t it?” I just nodded. Over the past week and a half of working together, I had told him what made me want to be a lawyer in the first place. About how I saw my best friends’ parents' business completely ruined by a group of robbers and their insurance did nothing to help them.

It made me so sad for them, made me feel so sick that I knew I had to do something to help them. I did my research and then brought it to them. They brought it to their lawyer and ended up getting a settlement for far more than they were ever gonna get. All because of me and my discovery that I made on my computer when I was thirteen.

“Okay. Think back to teenage Claudia for a moment. I bet she dreamed of being in this exact position. Where she can help people and give the sorry bastards who put them there a taste of their own medicine. Well, Claudia, here you are. Your very first case. Your very first helping hand. Your very first entrance into the world of the law. And you are going to absolutely shake up those witnesses, blindside them so hard they won’t have a choice but to tell the truth. This is your moment, Claudia’s moment. Don’t let fear take it from you, okay?” Again, all I could do was nod. And think about how warm his hand was in mine. We stood and he let go, leading me out of the office and down to his car waiting for him in front of the building. Ray, his driver, greeted me sweetly as I settled into the back seat with Harvey.

I flipped through my cards over and over and over on our way to the court house. Harvey snatched them from me. “Hey!” “You know the material,” he gave me a pointed look, sliding them in the breast pocket of his jacket.

“I know but-” “There is no but,” he shrugged. “Have just one ounce of confidence, Claudia. Trust yourself.”

All of whatever I had been reading was swept from my mind as he placed his palm on my knee. I hadn’t realized it was bouncing up and down until he pressed against it to stop its movements. I tried to sit still, but I just started picking at my nails instead.

“Claudia,” he said in a stern, commanding voice. I stopped my fidgeting, laying my hands flat in my lap. “Good, just relax. Everything will be alright.”

Highly doubtful. He was playing a dangerous game, and we both knew it. But neither of us said anything as he left his hand there the entire car ride.

____

“After the conclusion of today’s trial, the jury here finds Fulton Dynamic guilty of trespassing and breaking and entering with intent to steal inside information.”

I felt the tension deflate from my body, eyes fluttering shut as the judges whacked the wooden disk on his stand. He said something, but I couldn’t even hear over the roar in my ear. Holy shit we won…

“Claudia,” Harvey shook my shoulder. I snapped my eyes to him. “Come on, let's get out of here.”

He didn’t have to tell me twice.

I rested my head back against the seat, eyes focused on the window outside so I wouldn’t throw up. Man did I hate getting car sick every time I looked at my phone when in a car. The city lights were bright and fierce, unrelenting all hours of the day. Why on god's green earth did I decide to move to New York? Out of all the places I could’ve gone to work as an associate in this state, why did I choose the city? I hate the city. I’ve always hated the-

“Yoo-hoo,” I heard from my side. I lifted my exhausted head and gave Harvey a look. “Did you hear anything I said?”

‘Oh… n-no I’m sorry,” I stiffened, giving him my full attention. “What were you talking about?”

“I was just saying that you did a great job today, Claudia. You kicked ass in there,” he smiled.

“Thanks, Mr. Specter.” I just let out a sigh.

“You don’t think so?”

“Not really.” Anxiety swirled in my chest. Tears pricked my eyes and nose.

“Why not? Claudia, you gave one of the best cross examinations I think I’ve ever seen. And the way you handled Cayhill? Defended Devlyn from those accusations? It was masterful.”

“It doesn’t feel like it.”

Silence hung between us. I felt like I couldn’t breathe. “You did great today.”

“I was a complete idiot when I was defending Devlyn. I was way too animated and let my emotions get the best of me. For Christ's sake Judge Peterson gave me a warning.”

“I want you to take a guess at how many warnings judges give me when I’m the one in there leading the case.”

“You’re Harvey Specter, of course you… get a lot.”

“You right, I do get a lot. But that isn’t a bad thing. And I’ve been doing this a hell of a lot longer than you-” “That’s the problem,” I snapped. “You have been doing this for seventeen years and I’ve been doing it for ten days. I’ve barely got my toe in the water and I’ve already shown other lawyers and firms that I can’t keep my cool.”

“Claudia, you are passionate. I don’t see that as a huge problem in the courtroom. There needs to be a level of pushback from attorneys because if you, of all people on someone’s legal team, aren’t going to fight back, then you might as well be fired. Because you are the only person some people have hope for. You have to be aggressive and assertive sometimes to get the job done.”

“I don’t know how to do that.”

“I am going to teach you,” Harvey’s words completely short circuited my brain.

“What do you mean?”

“Claudia, I think you’re going to be a great lawyer, even without my help. I know you struggle with confidence and that is all I want to help you with. To get some leverage over these other associates so you can climb that ladder.”

“I can’t just magically pull a wagon load of confidence out of my ass overnight,” I shook my head, folding my hands tightly together. “I don’t see how you can help me.”

The car pulled up outside the building and Harvey let out a sigh. Great. Now I’ve pissed him off, too. That’s exactly what I needed to do was piss off Harvey Specter after a great win. In all honesty, it had been a good day. I didn’t fumble the ball like I was going to, but this was completely taking away from them.

My door opened. Harvey looked down at me from outside and extended his hand. When did he get out of the car? I hesitantly took it, getting out and shutting the door behind me.

“Claudia,” Harvey started. “You need to learn to let go. To put the bad moments behind you.” “I can’t.” “Which is why you and I are going to go back up there and have a drink. Get to know each other a little bit so we can start building that trust. I know I intimidate you, and I try like hell to be as calm as I can around you, but one day Louis or Jessica or Donna is going to come into my office and give me some bad news. You might be there and see how I handle it. You might not, but I don’t want you to be afraid of that happening to you.”

“And how can I be sure that if I come up with a plan one day, and it falls through and goes to shit, you won’t flip out on me or fire me or-or-”

“Because I won’t. I give you my word. But I need yours as well.”

“Need my word, why?” “I need to know that you won’t think I’m a monster if you’re in the room and I lose my cool.”

I’ve never thought Harvey was a monster to begin with. I’ve always admired his ability to shut off his feelings and get the dirty work done. Of course I’ve seen that side of him a time or two, but never catastrophic like some of the stories I’ve heard from the third and fourth years.

“You have my word.”

The elevator chime brought me out of my spiraling momentarily to walk to Harvey’s office. The firm was empty, not even Jessica was here. He led me to his office and got to work on the drinks. My eyes wandered from him to the view through the window. This was the only part of the city I might’ve let myself enjoy from time to time.

“Donna was right, you do have a lot of music,” I noted, taking in the wall filled with vinyl records. She mentioned it when I was caught with my head buried in a book in the library, some random Beatles song blasting so loud she could hear it down the hall.

“You’re just now noticing that?” “Well, I haven’t exactly been in your office for anything other than to work on this case so… no I guess I never really noticed.”

“You can pick something to listen to, if you’d like.” He was gonna let me touch his records? This place was like a museum; autographed basketballs and baseballs, art hanging on the wall. “Or you can just stare at it.”

I flushed, picking up a record at random and handing it to him. In exchange, he handed me a glass a third full of whisky. I smelled it, it kind of made me scrunch my nose. I didn’t drink often; most of the time I was too tired to even feed myself let alone consume alcohol.

When I took a sip, I actually didn’t mind the taste. It was smooth, simple in flavor and didn’t burn too bad. Quite nice, for all it’s worth.

There was a couch along the wall of records that I fixed myself on, Harvey taking the time to remove his tie and lay it across his desk before sitting across from me on one of the chairs. I toed off my pumps and set them on the floor beside the table. God damn did my feet hurt.

“Do you do this with all the new associates?”

“What do you mean?” He asked, taking a seat in one of the chairs while I took up the couch.

“I mean, when you think they’re ready, do you give them a case and help them get their foot in the door?”

“No, no I don’t,” Harvey admitted. “Louis is in charge of the associates. You know that.”

“Yes,” I nodded. “But I just thought that there was some deal between you guys: you have a mock trial with the new associates, whichever team wins gets to give a case to the best performing associate.”

Harvey laughed. I didn’t even know he knew how to do that. “Oh, Claudia, you really are that innocent, aren’t you?” My throat collapsed on itself. What did I say?

“Relax,” he set his glass down, swallowing his sip. “Yes, we do a fake trial every year for the first years, but we don’t just give them cases when they win. No one in their right mind would give a first year associate, fresh out of law school, the time of day. Normally they have to prove themself down the line, after years and years of loyalty to this firm to get their first case. And it’s usually pretty easy pro-bono shit.” I had to stop and think for a moment before I could speak. “You keep saying normally, usually… What are you saying?”

“What I’m saying, Claudia, is that in my decade plus of working here, I’ve never seen an associate who busts their ass quite like you. Who takes every ounce of bullshit from Louis and turns it into the Mona Lisa.”

“I think that everyone does tha-”

“No,” he cut me off. A stern look in his eyes, lips in that crooked line. “No they don’t. Not like you. You put your head down, get into it, and don't come up until you’ve found what you were looking for and thensome. You go above and beyond every time. You don’t go to Louis begging for more work, he brings it to you, and only you, because he knows he can count on you. Which means I know I can count on you, too.”

I honestly didn’t know what to say. I kind of just wanted the ground to swallow me whole. To make me evaporate and never see the light of day again.

“Thank you, Mr. Specter. But I don’t know if you’ve noticed or not but I am not very good in the spotlight. I don’t do well with… all of this.”

“I know, but I’m glad that you are trying anyway,” his smile was very charming. In a way that made his eyes crinkle. “So, besides giving a hell of a cross examination, what else do you like to do for ‘fun’?”

“Well, for starters, your definition of fun, and mine, are going to be very different. I am a very solitary person, I don’t need to be around people to have a good time. Most of the time I prefer to go do things by myself because I find when I ask, people already have plans, or they’re faking having plans so they don’t have to hang out with me. I can’t tell what is the truth and what isn’t so I stopped asking… that was totally not what you asked. Sorry, I didn’t mean to ramble.”

“Go ahead, talk about whatever you want. I won’t judge you.”

A small part of me believed that he wouldn’t. A tiny, microscopic part.

“There is nothing like the feeling of getting lost in a good book. I’m a complete sucker for a cliche rom-com where the bad guy gets the good girl.”

Harvey let out a dramatic puff of air, laughing into the space around us.

“You said you wouldn’t judge!” I chuckled.

“I’m not, it’s just lame. Come on, what do you really like to do for fun?”

“That is what I really like to do for fun,” I let my hand fall to the cushion beside me. “I told you, I am not a very interesting person. I don’t have time for a whole lot of anything other than working here so… Most of my hobbies have been put on the back burner through grad school and working nonstop.”

“If you could be any type of sea creature, what would you be?”

“What does that literally have anything to do with anything we were just talking about?”

“It doesn’t,” Harvey smiled. “I’m just curious.”

“I don’t know, a jellyfish?”

“Really?” He questioned, one brow rising higher than the other. “I’d be a great white shark.”

“Of course you would,” I snickered. “Harvey Specter, the Great White of New York. If you wanted to be a real predator that no one fucks with, you should be an Orca.” “A whale?” “The killer whale,” I corrected. “They put sharks in the obituary for fun, you know. They sink yachts for fun, too. If you really want to be on top, be an Orca. No one in their right minds fucks with an Orca. They’re intelligent and not afraid of anything.”

“Aww, you think I’m intelligent and not afraid of anything?” Harvey mewled.

“Well, duh you’re Harvey Specter.” Everyone knew it. Harvey was the baddest cat in the sky, you didn’t approach him without giving him your respect. Cause if you didn’t, a whole boat load of shit will be coming your way.

Harvey rolled his eyes. “Well, I hate to break it to you, but there is more to Harvey Specter than the title my name comes with.”

“Of course,” I agreed. “Harvey Specter, badass attorney and the best closer New York has ever seen, killer whale of the corporate world.” Harvey couldn’t keep his laugh inside, sending the rumbling noise into the office. I made Harvey laugh, and I have for the past however many minutes.

“You left out the part where I’m devastatingly attractive and charming,” his smirk was nothing short of either of those things. Devastating and charming. It cut through me like a hot knife. I knew I blushed because his eyes went to my cheeks and that spot at the base of my throat that always gives it away.

My fingers tapped away anxiously at the glass in my hands, fingernails rattling against its crystal surface.

“It’s late I should… I should go.” Great, now I’m flustered and stuttering. As quickly as I could, I threw my heels back on and reached for my coat.

“Claudia-”

“Thank you for the drink, and for all your help on the case,” I hurried out, trying to not let my voice break and give away all the things I wanted to say. “Have a good night, Mr. Specter.”

“Claudia.” His voice commanded, stopping my movements. I held still on the couch, drinking in his stare. “Stay.”

“Mr. Specter I really should-”

“Harvey,” he bit out a little harshly. “Stop calling me Mr. Specter.”

“I’m sorry. Harvey, it’s late.” He just nodded, taking a sip from his glass. “And?”

“It’s been a long day and I think we should both go and get some much deserved rest,” I spoke quietly, resuming my nail picking from earlier.

“Do you really want to leave?”

It was such a loaded question. Yes, absolutely I wanted to fucking leave. But there was something deep in his eyes, deep in his voice that made me want to stay and explore. My heart was hammering in my chest. I couldn’t keep my eyes off him, no matter how much I wanted to look away. It was impossible.

“I don’t think you do,” he answered for me. “I told you I was going to help build your confidence.”

You never told me how, jackass, I thought. I swallowed, nothing going down, but I did it anyway. Harvey threw back what was left of his whisky and sat back, knees far apart, fingers drawing patterns on the arm rests of the chair.

“Come here, Claudia.” What? “You heard me.”

Shit, I must’ve said it out loud. If I thought my heart was racing before, it sure as hell was halfway around the world now. Legs trembling, I rose. Why the fuck did I stand up? It wasn’t too late to make a beeline for the door and pray he didn’t catch up. Then again, it wasn’t like I could escape him, we worked in the same fucking building. On the same floor.

When I came to a halt, a few feet in front of him, he held out his hand, palm up. As I put my fingers in his grasp, there was nothing I could do. Harvey yanked me to him, other hand catching my hip as I collapsed into him with a yelp.

“Straddle my thigh,” he ordered. Something about the way his voice went down my spine made me obey. With extreme hesitance, I moved one leg on each side of his, lowering myself. I didn’t dare put all of my weight down. And he knew it because his hands came up to my hips and forced me all the way.

“Sir, what are you-”

“Do not call me Sir unless you are ready to deal with those consequences.” His fingers dug into the exposed skin on my thigh, eyes full of his pupils.

“Harvey, what are you doing? We shouldn’t be doing… whatever this is,” I tried to defuse the situation as best I could, but there was such a seriousness written in his features I wasn’t sure I could sway him. Maybe I didn’t want to, either.

“How does it feel?” He asked.

I blinked, “H-How does what feel, Harvey?”

He smiled at the use of his name on my tongue. I hadn’t really ever called him by his first name.

“To have one of the most powerful men in the city underneath you, bent to your will?”

When I did look away from his face, to where I was seated on his lap, I felt my stomach start to twist and mold into something new. I did have Harvey Specter underneath me. Granted, at his own command, but still…

“And before you even think about it, no. I don’t do this with all the other associates.”

“Then why me?” My voice was a barely there whisper, gaze averted from his until his thumb caught my chin and made me look into his eyes.

“Because I see something else in you that I don’t think anyone realizes. And I know the world will never see it unless you start believing in yourself and take control of the cards you’ve been dealt.”

I took a moment to steady my breath, and my uncontrollable thoughts. “And you think that whatever this is… you think this is going to help with that?”

Harvey shrugged, “I am in no way forcing you to be here, am I?”

My blush came creeping back. Of course he wasn’t forcing me to be here. I shook my head, my face just inches from his. I felt oddly relaxed under his touch.

“And I am not stopping you from getting up and leaving right now. It’s your choice, Claudia, but I think you want to be here, on my lap. Because if you didn’t, you would’ve already left.”

God dammit I hated this cocky son of a bitch. Was he right? Yes. Of fucking course he was. But the way his mouth curled up was dangerous. This was dangerous, and utterly a horrible idea. Was I really about to sit here, on one of my bosses thighs? He did look pretty good under me, shirt unbuttoned the top three, cologne wafting into the air every time he moved his head.

Harvey’s hands came back to my hips as he leaned up.

“So, are you going to get up and leave? Or, are you going to ride my thigh while I tell you how pretty you look?” His breath tickled my ear, his lips trailing the space just below. I couldn’t help the shudder that went through my whole body, and I knew Harvey felt it because he cooed.

As I adjusted myself, I couldn’t help the movement, his breath on my skin was making me flutter, Harvey moved my hips back and forth. I felt the air take from my throat. The material of his pants against my core wracked through me. So unexpectedly I found myself pressing closer to him so I wouldn’t fall off.

“That’s it, Claudia…” His voice was sickly sweet with praise. Harvey moved to fiddle with the front of his pants, and when I went to look, he caught my chin. “Eyes up here, sweetheart.”

“Harvey this… this isn’t the best idea,” I kept trying to reason. Not necessarily with him, but with myself. Obviously he wanted it, so why was I trying to convince myself to go?

“So?”

“This could have some serious implications if we don’t-”

He laughed against my neck, placing a few kisses right over where I always blushed. “Claudia, Claudia, Claudia. This is exactly what I have been talking about. You are wound far too tightly with concern. You need to let go, need to be out of control with something in your life.”

“Let me guess, that something is going to be you?”

“Only if you want it to be,” he said. “Look Claudia, I know we don’t exactly always see eye to eye on things, and we sure as hell haven’t really worked together, but that doesn’t make me less sure about this. About you. If you are having doubts, and this isn’t what you want, then walk away and we never have to talk about it ever again. But I think there is a part of you that really likes seeing me under you. That likes knowing you can make me this way.”

“And what if I do?” Harvey was right. God dammit he was right and he knew it. I looked and saw just what I had been doing to him.

“Then just let yourself enjoy it because I know I want to.”

Man, he was quite the smooth talker. My resolve crumbled and I gave in. No, I didn’t give in, I made the choice to let this happen. Harvey wanted this too, for some reason known only to the great mother and beyond. This was not going to end well, I don’t know why I thought so, but I just know this is going to cause a problem down the road. Maybe it’ll be a good one, maybe it won’t– Jesus I need to get out of my head before I start thinking into oblivion.

Harvey rolled his eyes, hand cupping the side of my face before his lips met mine. The gasp I let out… I could feel his smile. He guided my hand into the front of his pants, but did nothing else. Just left it there.

When I tried to pull away, he bit my lip and pulled me right back in. Finger pressing into the front of my throat. In a commanding, possessive way that made my stomach burn with desire.

I slowly traced around the outline of him. My fingers were trembling so fiercely that I wasn’t sure they were moving at all. As best I could control them, I made my way up to the waistband of his briefs, just… testing the waters.

“You’re so close to where I need you,” Harvey purred, eyes looking at my surly swollen lips. “Go on, sweetheart, don’t be shy.”

I guess there really was no turning back. As my hand ventured further, I ducked down and swept my tongue into his mouth. He approved very enthusiastically. Harvey continued to guide my hips back and forth and back and forth across his thigh. All too gently, all too slowly. One of his hands kept working my hip, the other camp up around my throat.

How could he know that was one of my weakest sides? It didn’t prevent any air, but it was a firm reminder.

His breath broke our searing lips when I moved my thumb over the tip of his cock. Harvey’s grip tightened on my throat and a noise slipped through my mouth. There was little I could do to keep my eyes from lulling back, head going with it. He made an effort to weave his fingers between my locks and pulled. A lot harder than I think he actually meant to.

“Sorry, sweetheart,” he murmured against my ear, sending goosebumps down my neck and arms. “I can’t help myself when you make such pretty noises. I’ll be gentle.”

I huffed out a laugh, as best I could with the straight against my neck. “I don’t mind.”

“Those are dangerous words, Claudia,” he warned, bringing my head back up. His eyes were dark in a way I couldn’t process in that moment. His lips were red and his hair was a mess from my fingers.

I tugged at him as emphasis for my earlier words. “I don’t mind you being rough with me.”

His eyes closed, and his jaw clenched. I continued my motions, slow and long, drawing divine noises from him. Even with his hands away from my hips, I still moved them, picking up pace with my hand. I took the liberty to occupy his mouth with my own, hopefully filling him with euphoria. It was fast, and quite messy. My hair was sticking to the back of my neck with sweat, and I could taste it on his skin when I couldn’t help but trail my tongue up his throat.

Harvey murmured my name, but I didn’t stop. I couldn’t now, not with the constant moans and praise from his tongue. ‘Just like that sweetheart’, ‘I know that pretty mouth of yours will feel so much better wrapped around my cock’, ‘Can’t wait to take you apart’.

With his release, warm and wet over the back of my hand, he stilled my hips. Fingers digging in. At some point my skirt rode up, or he tugged it over my ass, and his nails left long lines of scratches. I hissed, and Harvey was breathing deep.

Harvey’s grin was nothing short of animalistic as he looked at where my hand still connected us. “Look at that, sweetheart. Look how well you’ve done.”

I could do nothing to keep my blood from rushing to my face. When I moved my hand– not entirely sure if I should get up and clean it off– Harvey snatched my wrist.

“Open.”

I was going to question him, but I watched his eyes flick over my surely swollen lips. I flushed deeper. And deeper again as he moved them into my mouth. Bitter, but not in a bad way. And If I had been thoroughly fucked, I’d undoubtably find it irresistible.

“Good girl, Claudia.”

There would be no way to recover from hearing that. I shuddered, so hard I clamped his thigh between my own, and whimpered. Like I had never before. And his stare… the way his eyes watched my tongue circle over my fingers. As they watched me swallow him down.

“I bet you didn’t even realize,” he tilted his head, tucking hair behind my ear, flopping it behind my shoulder.

“Realize…what?”

“How you took control. How confident you were with your hand… with that wicked tongue of yours. It was like it was second nature for you, wasn’t it? I didn’t even have to tell you to keep moving your hips. You just did it.”

I didn’t even know I was doing most of it… It all just happened. At some point or another.

“I wouldn’t say that I was confi-”

“Yes,” he interrupted. “You were. And that feeling, of being in control, is what you need to feel when you are in the courtroom. You were able to do it here, with me, to me. It was the most powerful and direct I’ve ever seen you.”

“Sex and being a lawyer aren’t exactly the same thing.”

“No, but you were able to feel safe and let yourself go. To release all that potential and work miracles.”

“You’d consider me giving you an orgasm a miracle?”

He chuckled, leaning so his lips brushed against mine. “Your hands do miraculous things to me, Claudia. I don’t normally give myself to someone the way I did with you. I didn’t have any second thoughts about it because I knew how willing you’d be to please me. And god damn do I love watching you pleasure yourself for me.”

In the minutes that followed, Harvey stood me up and straightened out my skirt. He did give me some hand sanitizer until I could go to the bathroom. I watched as he tucked in his shirt, buttoning his pants and rolling the sleeves back up his arms.

“Harvey?”

“Yes, Claudia?” His voice was much more mellow.

“How often is this… you know. Gonna happen?”

He smirked, “Why, already picturing yourself on your knees for me?”

I wasn’t, but I sure as hell was now. One thing that I needed to learn to do was control my facial reactions because judging by the way his stepped closer, he could see that I was, in fact, picturing his hand in my hair while he forced me to take it down my-

“Oh sweet sweet Claudia,” he chuckled, tilting up my chin. “You really are that eager to please me.”

“I was just wondering when you were going to return the favor.”

Harvey seized my throat, tighter than he had before. “Don’t you worry, sweetheart. I will have my name dripping from your tongue for so long you will forget it completely and beg for mercy. And when you beg for it, just know that you won’t get it until I say you do.”

#harvey specter #harvey specter suits #harvey specter x ofc #harvey specter smut #suits smut #suits #suits tv #mike ross #jessica pearson #louis litt #rachel zane #suits fanfic #suits fanfiction

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thepunkmuppet · 6 months

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thinking about an alternate season 7 wherein instead of every potential slayer being hunted and then activated, every past slayer gets brought back to life. I don’t really like post-chosen content anyway, but when I do read / look at it the whole slayer academy, everyone’s a slayer thing is really stupid to me ngl 💀

previous slayers, though… nikki wood and xin rong interacting with spike, actually finding out about the slayer before buffy, slayers with different backgrounds and situations and personalities, KENDRA?! I just love it so much.

you’d be able to focus on a relatively small cast of slayers, much like the potentials, throughout the season. this would include buffy, faith, kendra, nikki, and some other american slayers from varying time periods with a couple interesting international characters too (maybe a slayer from ancient greece / rome / egypt, or an anglo-saxon one or something). these are all experienced slayers, so no need to focus on training - it would be more about lore, history and their personal character journeys, assimilating them into society (creating some fun bottle episodes, maybe a day out on the town with dawn and a historical slayer) and trying to figure out why they were all brought back. also, if you want to keep the first as the main villain, then it can look like any one of them because they’re all technically dead, which means you can still have that episode with the dead potential revealing herself as the first and all the mistrust that’s threaded throughout the season.

plus with nikki back, there would be no need for the stupid sleeper agent thing with spike or the ridiculous fight between him and robin. all the same ideas (and the flashbacks to spike’s mum) could still be explored, and in a way better way imo.

I reckon the reason they were brought back would probably be the powers that be (tying nicely into angel ofc) trying to defeat the first. and of course the ending would be this huge battle, as all the slayers from around the world come to sunnydale, and maybe to add some drama they would all disappear and die again when the battle’s done as they have fulfilled their purpose (a classic finale knife to the heart that would have everyone sobbing, especially over nikki and kendra).

there’s also the added thing of like,, I appreciate the show was leaning towards a theme of “hope for the future” with the potentials angle, but literally every other aspect of the season is about harkening back to the past. faith, robin, the first taking the form of previous characters, the high school, the slayer origins, etc etc. so I just think this idea would work so much better with the themes of the season, and tie in really nicely.

and the most obvious perk of this concept is kendra! she was forgotten about so quickly, and this season would really give the writers a chance to redeem themselves for the terrible way poc characters have been treated throughout the show (ignoring what they did to robin. FUCK that but that’s another conversation). I think the show really downplayed how much kendra’s death would have affected buffy, and seeing the two of them interact after buffy has changed so much and kendra’s still the same would be amazing. there’s also the interesting concept that, having been brought back from the dead, kendra still be 17, and therefore closer in age to dawn than to buffy, which could make for some really nice interactions between the two of them. also of course the biggest most exciting thing is having buffy, faith and kendra all interact. they all represent places on a spectrum in terms of personality, and I would LOVE to see kendra and faith interact and how much of a unit they would likely become as a trio.

there’s also the theme of buffy feeling (and being) alone in this season that would hopefully go away, as she would now have dozens of people who truly understand her, giving her a proper support system which I would love to see (season 7 scoobies can actually eat shit btw <3)

so. was this born out of my hatred for insufferable kennedy and the annoying potentials? yes absolutely. do I now want them to rewrite and re-film the entire last season 20 years later? yes absolutely I’m so glad you understand

side note wouldn’t it be sick if in the final battle there’s just this one slo-mo shot where buffy stakes a vamp and through the dust she sees the first slayer looking at her from across the battlefield before she disappears amongst the fight. WHAT it would literally be awesome hello?!

also also other side note sorry but Mother(TM) nikki wood would NEVER kick buffy out of her own house. fuck them kids fr

#btvs #buffy the vampire slayer #btvs season 7 #buffy season 7 #btvs s7 #nikki wood #robin wood #kendra young #faith lehane #buffy summers #dawn summers #btvs spike #the first #the first evil #btvs meta #buffyverse meta

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chilschuck · 9 days

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Can I maybe get a platonic thing where reader is dating one of Chilchucks daughters (probably flertom) but is also an adventurer themselves and join the party hoping to get their girlfriends dad to like them?

`✦ ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹ hi anon!!! ofc you can! <33 i hope this turned out okay, i wrote it in between clients at work, LOL. it’s short but sweet, and i had fun imagining chil being protective!

— CHILCHUCK (& FLERTOM): platonic!chil x gn!reader hcs.

꒰ warnings: ꒱ none! sfw + chil being protective dad, lol.

꒰ wc: ꒱ 627

✦ going insane bc tumblr deleted it right as i was about to post it. sobs. but i hope you enjoy it!! (;;w;;)

✦ When you first joined the party, it was under the guise that you just needed a group to help you get to the lower levels. Laios being who he is, was more than happy to get your help with the rest of the members.

✦ You had an ulterior motive, one you wouldn’t be revealing so soon: the goal to get your girlfriend’s dad to approve of you. Flertom had told you before that it was totally fine, and that you shouldn’t worry yourself too much over it. She loved you, and that’s all that should matter. Yet, you found yourself unhappy to know that not only did he not know of your existence in her life, but that he hadn’t given you his blessing.

✦ Making sure not to let too much slip, you did your absolute best to get the man to like you. Whether it be staying out of his way while he worked or by showing your own worth, you worked extremely hard to get on his good side.

✦ Occasionally you’d talk about your girlfriend, mainly how much you adored her and that she made you really content. Chilchuck would hum, mulling over everything you said. It never occurred to him that you’d be talking about his daughter of all people, but he’d give you advice once in a while about certain things.

✦ Chilchuck thought you were a good asset. You stayed in your own lane yet brought about your own skills, something he valued. Your interest in his work made him a little happy as well, and it was nice to have someone around his daughters’ age in the party. It made him miss his own kids a lot.

✦ It had been a good while of you being in the party, and you felt it was finally time to show your true motive. You waited until Chilchuck was relaxed, enjoying a drink as everyone made camp.

“You know, there’s something I haven’t told you about myself,” you began, a tinge of nervousness in your voice. You had worked so hard to build up the reputation you had with him, and didn’t want to tear it all down in one sitting.

Chilchuck raised an eyebrow at you, taking a sip of his drink. His silence was a push to keep talking.

“I’m… My girlfriend is Flertom.” The words weren’t rushed, in fact they left you in an exhale of relief that they finally were spoken. Meanwhile, you felt the fear return to your chest when Chilchuck choked on his drink.

After his coughing fit, the half-foot banged on his chest, turning to look at you incredulously. “My daughter is your girlfriend? This whole time, it’s been her?!”

✦ After that talk, he didn’t speak to you for a little while. It was discouraging, but you tried your best to give him the space he needed. When you seemed down more than usual one day, he turned his attention to you and sighed.

✦ “You know, I’ve been thinking… I guess if you’re the one with her, it’s not too bad… You’re an okay kid.” You immediately perked up at his words, before he stuck out an accusatory finger at you.

✦ “But! If you hurt her, or break her heart, or anything like that, you’re gonna have to go through me. Got it?” His voice came out in a tone that had you glued to the floor, but you nodded as quickly as you could. You’ll definitely keep that in mind.

✦ Chilchuck thought back to the letter he had received, with how happy Fler had seemed with you. Well… He guesses that if it stays the way it is now… He’d be fine with it.

✦ For now.

#⟡ lilia writes! 🌿#not sure what to tag this #dunmeshi x reader #delicious in dungeon x reader #dungeon meshi x reader #uhmmmmm #I’ll leave it at that!

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loki-cees-all · 24 days

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Chapter 7 - All the Tiring Time Between {TLTGYA - Post!TVA Loki x OFC Longfic}

Previous Chapter / TLTGYA Masterlist / A03 Link / Next Chapter

Pairing : Post-TVA!Loki x Oliviette (OFC)

Chapter Summary : Sometimes the sharpest boundaries require the gentlest touch.

Chapter W/c : 8.7k words

Chapter Tags / Content : Angst (as always), brief mentions of blood and injuries. Also there's a bunch of Tesseract lore and Loki's history with Thanos that I really got carried away with while writing this.

18+ Only - Minors DNI

⊱ ─ ༓ ── ⋅•⋅⊰ ─ ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ∙ ⋅ ─ ⊱⋅•⋅ ── ༓ ─ ⊰

The silence in the cell was electrifyingly tense, and Loki wished he had something else to focus his attention on.

His jaw ached as he took another bite of the flavorless, perplexing bread that was both stale and damp at the same time. He should have been grateful for it and its distraction, despite the woman having offered it without even so much as looking at him. But it just reminded him of the year he’d spent with the Mad Titan: Wretched. Forsaken. Totally and completely hopeless.

Loki tried desperately not to think about it, but it was getting harder to fight as his exhaustion grew.

The woman sat across from him in the cell, her knees pulled to her chest and her expression blank. She’d said absolutely nothing after dismissing his question about Anathema the night prior, not even when the peculiar guards brought in their cruel attempt at a meal. She didn’t even flinch when they set the tray down in front of her, nor when the duo stared, cold and unmoving, presumably waiting for her to beg for her life like all the others…but she did wait until they were finally gone to pull the tray closer.

She had grabbed the chunk of bread first, and extended it towards him in the shadows like it was second-nature to her. As if it wasn’t ever an option that she wouldn’t share it, and despite the fact that they were in stark disagreement about their respective situations in this place.

He felt guilty for accepting the offering, but unfortunately, he felt like he had no other choice; his eyelids were growing heavier by the minute, his muscles were becoming weaker with each new day of disuse, and his nerves were perpetually fried with wary energy. He was constantly stifling another yawn, and was dangerously close to falling asleep, to having another nightmare again.

Loki didn’t know if he ever talked in his sleep, but he didn’t want to risk revealing any compromising information about himself or his past; the less anyone knew about him here, the better off they all were.

But other than the food she’d shared with him, there wasn’t much else for him to distract himself with. The woman wasn’t talking anymore, and her questions had faded away alongside the hope she may have once had about escaping. That left Loki to alone deal with his questions about her, and their inscrutable answers.

The problem with that, however, was that his mind was nothing but a tangled mess; a rat’s nest, made up of lies and false memories, the betrayals of the life he’d left behind, and all the lives that never were. Before him lay a scattering of dots, all seemingly unrelated and centered around a woman who claimed she didn’t know what they wanted with her, and he couldn’t seem to make heads or tails of any of it.

Loki used to pride himself on his ability to see the bigger picture, especially on a galactic scale. But he had come here to hide and to wallow, to purposely let his mind atrophy into a cobweb of nothingness, because that was easier than continue trying, and failing, to be happy. He felt comfortable doing that, and letting this become his legacy, because he hadn’t ever expected a riddle to fall into his lap again. He hadn’t ever expected her.

As Loki swallowed the last of the bread, he forced himself to look at her again. She was still huddled against the wall, illuminated by the dim lantern light from the hallway and shivering in the cold dungeon like a scared little child. He was flabbergasted that she was still here, that they’d bothered bringing her back after being caught during an escape attempt. And he couldn’t help but hate himself, because the old Loki could have figured out why that was a very long time ago.

Next to her, the bowl of porridge sat on the floor, mostly untouched and definitely not enjoyed. Her expression was sullen as she stared off into the distance, and her limbs were folded around herself as she retreated deeper inward. It almost made him feel…something.

Of what exactly, Loki wasn’t quite sure; the feeling was old and familiar, something that was long lost while never really being understood in the first place. He told himself that the feeling was irrelevant, because it was just the mystery he found equal parts infuriating and intriguing. He just needed a bit more time than usual to settle the question marks, and then he could finally return to the blissful void of apathy.

And maybe she wasn’t lying when she claimed to not know who Anathema was, but he didn’t believe for a moment that she had no idea why the guards were so interested in her. Either she had something of theirs, or she knew some mysterious piece of information they didn’t yet - but they were obviously willing to play the long game in order to acquire it, and that couldn’t have been for nothing.

Perhaps it had something to do with the gem dangling from her necklace. Loki had seen her touching it, frequently and absentmindedly, running her slender fingers over the deep blue stone during stressed and quiet moments like now. Clearly it meant a lot to her; someone who loved her had given it to her. Someone she loved back, someone she probably missed dearly…

As he started to wonder if anyone was out there looking for her, Loki realized he was staring and quickly averted his eyes. They landed once again upon the bowl of uneaten porridge next to her, and a new form of discomfort wove itself between the muscles of his shoulders and neck. It wrapped around his nerve-endings, stinging the open and frayed tendrils that had been worn bare from the pain of still being alive.

He was quite vulnerable existing like this, even though he knew she couldn’t see him hiding in the shadows. That she didn’t know what he was thinking, or where he was looking. That she was unaware of the fleeting relief that poured into his veins when she was brought back to the cell alive, or his shame at feeling anything that had immediately replaced it.

Loki had been flippant when she was initially brought in here. He was angry the first time she tried to share a meal with him. And then he was conflicted, at best, when she was dragged back in the second time. This paltry range of emotions was far more than he was previously used to; he felt like he was drowning in it, like it was slowly collapsing his airways and squeezing out every last ounce of oxygen from his lungs.

Because there was only one person on this planet who knew his name. A single individual, throughout all of space and time, knew where he was. She was the sole witness to his current existence, and he’d never felt more uncomfortable or on display than here and now. She had met him at his worst, in his ultimate moment of triumph when he’d finally been able to remove himself from any and all equations, from every problem that ever needed solving, and he absolutely hated that.

Loki thought he’d finally accounted for everything when he had stepped through the Time Door and into this dungeon. He thought he’d finally fixed the issue, himself, for literally everyone - and then this tiny little variable had shown up so unexpectedly to completely ruin it for him.

He should have been angrier about it. He should have been furious and seething and shaking with rage over this egregious betrayal of the universe. Being alone had been the whole point, keeping everyone safe from him had been his only intention, seeking protection from the pain of both betrayal and being betrayed was all that Loki had left. Why wasn’t he allowed that meager peace of mind?

Damnation clung to Loki like a frightened child clung to his mother’s skirts, trembling in the dark and begging for acknowledgement of its traumatized state. It lurked around every corner and it haunted every shadow, constantly weeping and whimpering and howling out its anguish to cruel and uncaring souls. It was always there, lingering in the corner of his eye, reminding him of just how helpless and useless he was. That he should just give up. That he should just end it already.

But sometimes, the damnation would transform into something far more sinister, into the tall, skulking form of a cerulean demon. Hanging over his shoulder and digging its claws into his neck, the demon would spit cruel maledictions into his ear. Didn’t Loki know that everyone around him was already doomed? Wouldn’t it be kinder to just kill them now, rather than waiting for him to ruin their life and then cruelly and inevitably take it from them?

Hiding in the dungeon was the only reasonable compromise between the frightened child and the viscous demon warring in his mind. If only he had stuck with that plan, if only he hadn’t revealed that someone else was alive in the cell with her, then maybe he wouldn’t be in this mess right now.

Regret, his oldest and only friend, wouldn’t be blaring its horn and sounding the alarm bells and crying out for solace. So why did it bother him so much now that she wasn’t eating?

Loki shifted uncomfortably on the stone floor, weighing the options in his mind. The regret of initially engaging with this woman didn’t mean he couldn’t change tactics; and if she wasn’t eating, then it wouldn’t be too much longer until he was on his own again. That had been his initial plan, and there was no reason he couldn’t return to that now. Wasn’t being alone all he ever wanted?

“You should finish your meal. There’s no telling how long it’ll be before they bring another…” The words felt like acid on Loki’s tongue, dripping down his throat to eat away at his insides. He hoped they had come out as bluntly as he’d intended, but in reality, it just sounded like something his mother would have said.

This time, the woman didn’t shudder when he finally broke the tense silence. She didn’t even react at all, other than to sigh heavily and respond in a low and flattened tone. “What’s the point…?”

“Well, clearly they’d prefer you to be alive, for whatever reason…” Loki’s jaw tensed as he paused, struggling to understand why he was even bothering. “Even if they bring food on an irregular basis, it’s still more than anyone else gets…”

“Maybe the only reason they want me alive is so they can continue mocking and hurting me.”

That was a more difficult point to contend with; perhaps the guards had just grown weary of the simple and mundane murders, and they’d decided to go with something more entertaining this time. What if there wasn’t a more complicated explanation for the guards' motivations? What if he was searching for logic that didn’t even exist?

Loki stifled another yawn as he leaned back against the stone wall, raking his fingers through tangled curls that were just as chaotic as his thoughts. There had to be something he was missing while attempting to put this puzzle together. “So what did the guards say when they caught you escaping?”

The woman let out a heavy exhale, and her tone shifted into a more sarcastic tone. “Oh, normal things like what are you doing out of your cell?, and no one’s coming to rescue you. Typical kidnapper things, you know…”

Loki couldn’t help but roll his eyes at her nonchalant answers, but what else was he expecting? He was beginning to wonder if it was even worth putting this much effort into avoiding sleep. Nothing else in his life prior to meeting her had been easy, so why was he expecting this to go smoothly?

“Actually, the guard did say something strange before knocking me out…” The woman trailed off, pausing as she furrowed her brow.

Loki cleared his throat as he looked towards her again. “Strange how?”

“Maxine - or Nulan, whichever one it was…They caught me upstairs in their private quarters. Just before attacking me, they said what is gone…may never return.” The woman pulled her lower lip between her teeth as she recalled the memory. “I’ve never heard it before, and I have no idea what it means…”

What is gone…may never return. Loki turned the phrase backward and forward in his mind, trying to find its place in this absolutely confounding puzzle. But he’d never heard anyone say anything even remotely close to it, so there was nowhere for it to go. The phrase’s sentiment, however, he understood perfectly well.

“It was probably just a threat, or a taunt…” she continued with a dismissive shake of her head. “They were just mocking me, for losing everything…”

“Or it’s a prayer. A desperate request, for some kind of reprieve…” Loki murmured in reply. He didn’t want to think about whether anyone had ever hoped for the same thing after he’d finally walked away, but he was positive that they had. And he hadn’t meant for his interpretation to sound so melancholy, but as his gaze caught the woman’s matching expression, he could feel her understanding of his meaning. Loki hated that.

She must have sensed that as well, because she quickly forced a false smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “No…surely they must have been talking about me losing my boots.”

Her smile faded just as quickly as it had appeared, shifting into a grimace as a violent shiver shuddered over the limbs she struggled to pull close enough. She breathed out a heavy sigh and lowered her forehead to her knees with another tremble, and for once, Loki was grateful for the Jotun physiology keeping him relatively comfortable. But the woman didn’t share the same luxury of such a curse, and she was clearly suffering in these dank and grim conditions.

Loki turned his attention towards his fingers, twitching and fidgeting restlessly in his lap. This particular guilt was both new and unwelcome, like the haunting of fresh ghosts he thought he’d finally manage to not brutally murder for once. It wasn’t directly his fault she was here, that she was suffering. She was a complete stranger, after all, and this couldn’t have been his problem, or his responsibility.

But as Loki lifted his gaze again, carefully moving his eyes to avoid looking upon her once more, he caught a glimpse of the woman’s forgotten boots in the shadows, the ones carelessly stripped away while the guards were searching her the night before.

He recalled one of the first lessons Odin had explained about ruling a kingdom, that sometimes tact and finesse were far more effective than blades or might. Perhaps if Loki was kind instead of harsh, and if he returned the boots to the frozen woman, then she might help alleviate the nagging questions he still had and allow him to fight off sleep for just a little bit longer.

His brow furrowed, and he swallowed hard as he realized this was the least he could do for the both of them. It wasn’t much, but it felt like chopping off a limb when he cleared his throat and forced himself to speak again. “Your, um…boots are in here. They might help you with the…cold.”

The woman’s head popped back up, and her eyes narrowed as she scanned for them in the darkness. “Where are they? I don’t - ” she replied, clumsily attempting to push herself upright, obviously eager to get them back on as soon as possible.

Loki felt an odd sense of duty, one that had been buried deep underneath the many eons of pain, and it compelled him to act before he had the chance to second-guess himself. He moved slowly, shifting his weight onto his hip, and extended his arm out. His fingers were just long enough to barely grasp the black leather pull loops, to drag them closer and then place them within her reach while maintaining a safe distance, and without the need for him to stand.

A faint smile crossed her lips as she stretched to pull them closer. “Thank you so much, Loki.”

He couldn’t bring himself to make eye contact anymore; it was hard enough to listen to the bewildered gratitude in her voice. His every movement had stayed within the safe confines of the shadows, and he imagined that she saw her boots reappearing as if from the loving aid of a benevolent god, of someone else who was capable of caring.

“It was nothing,” he told them both.

He had fully intended to return his attention back inward, but he found himself distracted by the woman as she shifted on the floor. Curling and stretching her limbs, gracelessly attempting to pull a boot back on with a single hand, and then reluctantly, with both hands. She let out a gasping whimper as she tried to extend out her left arm, and Loki noticed her fingers trembling as she tried to push through the pain.

Obligation flared along his spine again, but this time, Loki questioned it. A childhood memory surfaced, of when his father would return home from war, bruised and exhausted and weary, and Loki would rush to his side, eager to help with removing his armor and assist in any way he could. He thought maybe if he proved himself useful, eager and determined, like his older brother was, then Odin might finally give him a chance to fight alongside him.

But even though his seidr had been well-advanced for his age, his father had always refused to bring Loki along, despite never leaving home without Thor. Odin had said that Loki wasn’t ready yet, that he wasn’t strong enough, that it was too dangerous for a little boy to be out on the field and surrounded by their mortal enemies.

“Such a young prince falling into the hands of Asgard’s opponents could prove disastrous to the realms,” his father had said, even though that fear had never stopped him from bringing Thor into battle. It wasn’t until much later that Loki realized the truth, that the only real use he had wasn’t needed back then - not until the direst of circumstances forced his father’s ultimate and final hand.

The woman let out a sharp groan, bringing Loki back to the present. She had collapsed back against the wall, sniffling and brushing the messy strands of crimson hair away from her face. “Loki, I’m so sorry…but can you please…?”

His eyes widened, and hers were full of tears. Her cheeks reddened, and her lower lip trembled as she spoke with a cracked voice. “Please help me? I’m so cold, and I can’t…I can’t get these back on…”

It wasn’t like the cold, calculating demands he was previously used to, and Loki realized that it pained her to ask like this. She wasn’t trying to get anything out of him, she wasn’t manipulating her way into something more than she deserved, or trying to get him to commit atrocities in her name.

It wasn’t a game or a trick designed to be laughed at later with her friends; she genuinely just needed his help. But the problem was that this kind of assistance not only required him to vacate the shadows, to come closer and share the same air as her - it necessitated physical touch. Loki was sure he couldn’t handle that.

The muscles in his fingers articulated of their own accord, separating and curling into just the right place to summon and concentrate his seidr, intent on disassembling the atoms that made up the woman’s boots and reassembling them back where they belonged.

A suitable compromise, Loki believed, except that absolutely nothing happened. The warmth that normally accompanied his magic was nowhere to be found, that familiar connection to the past and the present, to his mother, wasn’t opening its loving arms to welcome him back home - and that was when he finally remembered.

Loki’s seidr was dead, because he was supposed to be dead.

He’d forsaken his magic as soon as he’d arrived here. Once he willingly stepped through the Time Door and into this dungeon, once he’d realized that the first thing this newly-freed universe had done was trap him yet again, he decided that this time it was really meant to be.

So he didn’t bother fighting it, and he willingly let go of the tendrils of seidr he had once clung so tightly to. He didn’t deserve the honor of wielding it, not after what he’d done in New York. And what use would that magic have been to the hollowed-out shell of a person he was now? What good could he have possibly done with it anyway?

“Loki?”

Once again, the woman’s quiet voice refocused his attention. Her expression had fallen even further during his silent brooding, and she was staring woefully into the dark, desperately hoping to see him finally coming to her aid. A deep sense of dread rose up within his chest, thick and impenetrable, oozing between his ribs to singe and suffocate his lungs like molten lava.

Loki didn’t know what to do, and yet, he moved anyway. Pressing his palms flat against the stone floor, he bent his knees and carefully pushed himself upright. His joints cracked and popped, his muscles were stiff and sluggish as he slid one foot forward, and the belt around his waist was far looser than when he’d initially put it on.

Taking another step closer, his mind suddenly dizzied, and his body began to sway dangerously from the juxtaposition of pushing himself forward while he’d been wasting away. He quickly grabbed onto the wall with a sharp gasp, trying to steady himself as his legs tingled themselves awake.

“Loki…are you alright?” the woman murmured, her brow furrowing with concern.

“I’m fine, it’s just - ” Loki sighed heavily, his heart pounding and muscles trembling. “I’m just not used to…standing.”

Loki closed his eyes and leaned against the wall for a moment, willing his body back into operating under his own control. But despite his best efforts, weariness and exhaustion were still permanently at the helm, relentlessly steering him back towards collapsing and passing out again.

“It’s alright. Take your time…”

Loki’s eyes snapped back open, painfully aware that she was still watching him closely, and he did everything he could to both avoid her gaze and her reassurance. Nothing about this was alright, and he could hear his father’s chastising voice from beyond the stars, criticizing him for allowing enervation to consume him - even though that was the only way to keep himself out of trouble.

His eyes flitted across the dungeon cell, feverishly taking in the stone walls and steel bars of the door, then out to the flickering lantern light of the hallway. Loki had never even bothered to take a good look at his coffin before committing to staying in it for all eternity, but from this elevation, he could clearly examine the cuts that made up the large slabs of the walls and floor. Meticulous, flawless, precise - too perfect to have been sliced by hand.

His gaze moved to the cream-colored candlestick suspended within the single lantern in the hallway, evenly melted away and without a single speck of soot upon the glass encasing it. From there, he could make out the grooves carved by the steel bars into the doorway’s arch as it swung open and closed, and the streaked and dark stains, smudged against the grayed and leadened floor, leading from the hallway back into their cell.

The woman’s blood, he assumed, and Loki’s hands clenched into fists. His throat tightened, and the slightest hint of outrage began to reluctantly wake from its slumber.

Forcing the feeling away, Loki finally closed the distance and carefully crouched in front of the woman; only then did he let her be the focus of his attention. Loose and uneven strands of crimson had been pulled free from the long, disheveled braid nestled untidily over her shoulder;her skin was wan and pallid, and her lips were tinted with the faintest hint of blue.

Dried blood had smeared on her ear, her neck, the lengths of her hair and along her cheek. It was everywhere, mixed with the dirt and muck from the floor, coating the corners of her cracked lips and the freckles that dotted her cheekbone. The fact that the blood was dried, meaning the original wound was at the very least no longer actively bleeding, did nothing to make him feel better.

Loki lowered one knee down to the floor, precariously settling his weight onto one ankle, and the woman’s attention was now entirely fixed on her boots. She swallowed nervously, and Loki silently agreed with the sentiment. How long had it been since he’d touched another person? Did he even remember how to be gentle? How to not contaminate?

Moving cautiously, he took a boot into his grasp, threading his fingers between the loops and slowly pulling to loosen its laces. While he worked, he focused on the soft leather: its scent was herbal, earthy, and with just the barest suggestion of sweetness. Intricate designs, swirls and constellations and rays of light emanating from an overly-stylized sun were stitched into the leather, extending from the collar and flowing down way past the ankle.

Soft, pliable and shiny, the leather still showed signs of its latest polish, applied with a healthy dose of high-quality wax, from underneath the layers of grim. The boots had been methodically cared for, regularly and recently, and probably not too long before the woman found herself in custody of the mysterious guards. Loki found himself curious about the circumstances of her capture.

Stained in the same shade of night as the leathers covering her legs, they blended seamlessly together with the rest of her clothing, from the thin stockings on her feet to the chipped lacquer on her fingernails. Everything was the exact same color, save for the thin, flowing emerald tunic that had long since come untucked, and the gem that hung from her neck.

And everything she wore was undoubtedly expensive, most likely customized for this particular owner, and she had obviously not dressed for being locked inside a damp and grimy dungeon. At best, she was prepared for a pleasant walk through the woods on a mildly chilly evening; Loki tried not to think about it too much.

Out of his peripheral vision, Loki could see the woman stealing glances up at him. She watched him carefully, her sea green eyes shifting cautiously between his face, his hands, and the boot he was unlacing - obviously examining and judging the hideous monster whose help she had no choice but to accept.

Loki began to feel self-conscious. There was no doubt that his own appearance wasn’t any better than her own at the moment; in fact, he was sure it was much, much worse. Dark and unkempt curls hung way past his shoulders like sinister snakes. The skin on his hands was sullen and pallor, shifting dangerously close to bluish gray, and he had no idea if his eyes had begun to drift back into their original shade of ruby-red or not. He promised himself that this would be the only time she ever saw his face up close.

When he could no longer justify stalling with the laces, he cleared his throat, and forced his fingers to tap the underside of her leg; a featherlight touch that could have been easily missed if one hadn’t been expecting it. But the woman again mercifully sensed his meaning, and she positioned the appropriate foot for him to slide the boot on.

Too well, Loki noticed, as he pulled the collar up to settle around her calf; she was exceptionally practiced at having others put footwear on her - at tensing the right muscles at just the right moment, and extending the leg with just enough force to seat the foot comfortably against the insole.

“Sorry about this…” she mumbled as Loki pulled the laces tight and began looping them back and forth around the hooks. “Although, this is probably the most exciting thing you’ve done in a while, huh?”

She was trying to lighten the mood, to distract from the previous awkwardness of such close quarters. Loki’s response was flat and measured, his attention focused on tying instead of talking. “Like I said - it’s nothing.”

A nervous silence followed, one that was far more uncomfortable than the awkwardness. Loki hadn’t meant to be so dismissive, and perhaps he’d been far too frigid for someone who was supposed to be helping her. When he finished the final loop, he cleared his throat again and forced himself to look up again.

“Is that…too tight for you?” he murmured softly.

The woman managed a weak smile as she flexed her ankle. “No. It feels fine.”

Loki noted that her pupils dilated ever so slightly when she met his gaze, and he took that as a good sign that her head injury wasn’t a completely serious one. He wasn’t sure why he was noting that, but nonetheless, he had, and he didn’t have the energy to start questioning it. Instead, he busied himself with picking up the other boot and threading his fingers underneath its laces like he’d done with the first.

“Is this all I have left? Just waiting in this cell to die?”

Her voice had taken on a somber, more sorrowful tone now; apparently open anguish was much easier for her than polite small-talk, and if she hadn’t been so exhausted, Loki would have guessed there would have been more than a tear or two accompanying her questions. He wasn’t sure how to answer her; bringing up the fact that the other prisoners before her had never lasted more than a day or two, or the fact that they were never returned once removed from their cells, probably wasn’t going to help her mood very much.

“At least they’re leaving you alone for the most part,” Loki answered, lightly tapping his fingers underneath her other leg for the placement of its boot. “Be thankful for relative peace.”

The woman sighed heavily as she cooperated. “Relative peace. That’s all I have to look forward to?”

“For some, that’s all they’ve ever wanted,” Loki said absentmindedly. “They’d kill for it, and others willingly die in its pursuit…”

The woman’s eyebrows raised in troubled concern, and Loki tried to ignore it. He couldn’t understand why he was like this, either speaking too familiarly with the woman, or far too flippantly. He was out of practice when it came to any sort of normal conversation, but he didn’t want to be accustomed to it again. In the end, she was just a temporary distraction, and he wasn’t supposed to even exist at all.

“That’s very enlightened, coming from someone who has nightmares every time he closes his eyes…” the woman replied as he finished tying the laces on the other boot. She flexed that ankle, and then nodded her approval while pulling her knees back against her chest.

Loki’s brow furrowed as he met her gaze once more. Her eyes were wide and open, appearing to be without a single shred of judgment, only empathy. Loki couldn’t help but scrutinize her for that. If she only knew how little he deserved kindness, and he was irritated that she’d noticed how bad his nightmares were at all. He’d rather have not known that his weakness was on complete display, and thus, beyond his complete control.

Slowly pushing himself back up to standing, grateful that the task and its requisite close proximity were finally over, Loki’s fingertips trailed along the cold stone as he backed into the shadows again. But lethargy was creeping back in, along with the ever-present unsettled and restless energy, and when Loki returned to sitting, he wasn’t quite as far into the dark as he had been before.

“You know, it may help your nightmares to talk about them,” the woman suggested cautiously. “Perhaps unburdening yourself a little would be a good thing…”

Loki grimaced. Of all the ways she could have worded it, he wished it hadn’t been in that specific way. As it were, various burdens of all sorts were already going to haunt him until the end of time, it seemed, and he preferred not to be reminded of the purposes initially set upon him by Thanos. And even if he wanted to, where should he begin?

He still didn’t quite understand what exactly had happened to him on Knowhere; that entire year was just a chaotic haze of torture and manipulation, through both physical and psychological means, and it was impossible for him to decipher what was real and what was a lie. Even now, he couldn’t even recall the exact circumstances that led to his descent from the Bifrost and into Thanos’ control.

Sometimes, he could clearly remember the decision to let go of Gungnir and fall into the abyss; other times, he was absolutely convinced that his brother had pushed him in a jealous rage, furious that Loki’s short tenure as King had proved far more successful than any longer one Thor could have ever managed.

Either way, the fall had resulted in him becoming Thanos’ prisoner, and then later, as a member of the Black Order - but only after they’d finally conceded that physical torture was never going to work on the body of a Frost Giant, on an Asgardian prince raised as a warrior, or on a powerful sorcerer who already had extremely complicated feelings about being alive in the first place.

But once they realized that he just wanted somewhere to belong, they finally started to see real progress, and the emotional manipulation that followed was probably more effective than they could have ever hoped for. It was so very easy to muddy the rough waters of Loki’s psyche thanks to the Chitauri Scepter and his tremendous heartbreak - a kind word here, a clever lie there, and nothing but speeches about revenge and betrayals, destinies and purposes, salvation and redemption, and scorned Kings and their disgraced sons.

After Loki had been welcomed into the fold, Thanos explained his need for the Tesseract; if Loki acquired it, then he would be granted an army to help take Midgard by as excessive and violent force as he deemed necessary. The God of Mischief already knew that he wanted to be as destructive as possible - to both completely cripple his brother’s fondness for the pathetic humans, and to show Odin that he would settle for being a terrifying leader if he wasn’t permitted to be a good one.

His idea for retrieving the Tesseract had been a clever one; so clever that Loki wasn’t surprised that Thanos or the Black Order hadn’t ever considered it before. But getting to suggest it meant that his new Master was immediately pleased with his usefulness, something that had rarely happened with his previous keeper, and Loki was so grateful for the opportunity to satisfy.

Out of the six Infinity Stones, the Space Stone was unique in that it could generate massive amounts of self-sustaining energy. Its power signature was incredibly easy to track, and it didn’t take long for Loki to determine the Tesseract’s location inside the S.H.I.E.L.D. research facility. Under Fury’s careful and watchful eye, the mortals were studying its capabilities for power production, no doubt to be used in some kind of advanced weapons manufacture instead of something that could actually be used to help mankind.

A stereotypically short-sighted action, one that would soon be their downfall, because none of those weapons would ever be able to stop him from completing his task. Had they realized the stone’s true potential, as Loki had, then perhaps the humans might have fared better during his invasion.

Because he knew something that apparently no one else did, something he now prayed that no one else would ever be able to figure out. Loki was in the unusual position of understanding exactly how the Bifrost had operated, of how it could easily send and receive anything from across the galaxies with frightening and pinpoint accuracy. As a child, he was fascinated by the Bifrost, and more than once Heimdall had to stop him from attempting to disassemble it while searching for the details of its inner workings.

Once informed of her son’s unyielding curiosities, his mother had patiently redirected that energy towards Asgard’s massive libraries. There, he spent many late nights pouring over the texts and histories of the magnificent Bifrost. Once he’d devoured all he could from words, he then spent his time exploring the Realm and looking for means of travel that didn’t involve going to the Bifrost at all.

And thanks to the Mad Titan’s relentless and universal conquest in search of the stones, Loki had access to incalculable amounts of lore, research and history that had been stolen from countless cultures and societies. He spent months buried in books and manuscripts, performing calculations and practicing his seidr, searching desperately for the perfect combination of science and magic to get him what he needed.

All of that, when combined with his extensive knowledge of the Bifrost, allowed Loki to realize that all he needed was a power-source. It must have been fate and its impeccable sense of humor, because the Space Stone could be the engine, and the Tesseract was going to be the gateway - a terrible, incredible bridge between where you were, and where you desperately wanted to be.

For Loki, the Tesseract was going to deliver him to vengeance, respect, authority and glory - in a way that no one would be able to undo once he finally got it. His brother, his father, the entire Nine Realms and beyond, all of them would be powerless to stop him once he figured out how to open the Tesseract’s portal from the other side.

Returning to his research with a new sense of delirium, he gave up on sleep, and food, and his sanity while he searched for the answer. His cheeks became hollow, his eyes were sunken deep into his skull, and his skin grew weak and frail. His nerves were on the verge of total disintegration, his heart ached and his mind was hazy.

His every waking thought was consumed by the Tesseract, and on the rare occasion that he actually passed out, so were his nightmares. He became too lost to even carry on a conversation; all he could manage were grunts and groans and strange approximations of the word “Tesseract”. Every part of himself, anything that had once been Loki, had all but slipped away.

But occasionally, Loki would come back to himself. He would look down at his hands in horror, and he wouldn’t understand where he was or how he got there. While screaming and lashing out, the one called Ebony Maw would preach about balance, about salvation and judgment and how Loki was destined to assist the Great Titan in saving all of life, by ending half of it. He was instructed to be grateful for being allowed to take part in it.

But it didn’t make any sense, and Loki tried so hard to resist, to fight them off, to scramble to the exit and free himself, to warn someone of the terrible thing that was coming. Then, something would happen, something would touch him, and his mind would cloud back over with rage and madness. The dangerous craving for the Tesseract would return tenfold, and then he would be back on task, more eager than ever to please.

After a quick journey through the minds of the men known as Selvig and Barton, Loki finally had everything he needed to complete his sacred mission. The astrophysicist filled in the last remaining gaps about the Tesseract’s functionalities, and the archer revealed information about S.H.I.E.L.D.'s security protocols - how many personnel were on site, what types of weapons they had, where they’d been trained. The details of every file stored on their secret servers, every individual’s personal histories - including that of the beings once considered to join the so-called Avengers, the ones that might be called upon to stop him.

On his first attempt, Loki succeeded in opening the Tesseract’s portal. One moment, he was standing on Thanos’ ship, and the next, he was inside the research facility, shrouded within a haze of smoke and mania. By the third second, he was ferociously attacking, moving and acting without consideration for the stealth or secrecy he’d been trained with as a child. He didn’t even bother dodging the humans’ pathetic projectiles; instead, he focused on murdering the ones he had already deemed useless to his cause, and using the Sceptre to convert the ones that were worthy of it

Nor did he bother mincing words with Fury as the Director stalled for time, not even the ones ripped directly from Ebony Maw’s impassioned and self-important speeches. Loki already knew how unstable the gateway was, and that was by design. During his maniacal studies, he had determined how best to sustain the portal’s opening for safe and easy passage - first, in order to allow entry for the Chitauri forces, and then to facilitate easy travel for Thanos to find the rest of the stones later on.

Loki’s first act of murder had been intentionally not stabilizing the portal as it opened inside the S.H.I.E.L.D. facility; he had wanted the structure to collapse in a stunning display of destruction. Whether it was to be an ominous warning for what he was about to do, or if it was to serve as a call to action for the only ones who could have prevented him from succeeding, he still wasn’t quite sure.

Either way, he ultimately failed in the only way that had mattered. Loki didn’t achieve vengeance or respect or authority, and there was no victory or glory waiting for him after it was over. The Chitauri Forces were destroyed, the Tesseract was not handed over to Thanos per their agreement, and he’d made a great many vicious and unforgiving enemies that day.

In the end, the only thing waiting for him was a prison cell on Asgard, and all he’d managed to do was to make everything worse.

And presumably, after it was over, Thanos still had access to all of Loki’s research. Losing out on the Tesseract would have infuriated him and the Black Order; a minor inconvenience, sure, but it wouldn’t have hindered their quest in the slightest. Thanos still knew how to use the Tesseract because of him - and more importantly, he understood how to use it in the most destructive way possible. That was completely and entirely Loki’s fault, and he just hoped that Thanos was arrogant enough to keep that information to himself, that no one else would try and fail in the same catastrophic way that Loki had.

Maybe the Tesseract wasn’t meant to be used as a gateway, and in doing so, Loki had ensured that he’d never get what he wanted, and that he’d lose what little he had left. All of that madness and frantic chaos and deliberate carnage had been for absolutely nothing. Maybe the Tesseract was cursed, and maybe, so was he.

Because every single time Loki had come into contact with it, his life had taken a drastic and even more devastating turn for the worse. Attempting to acquire it for Thanos had broken him - mind, body, and soul; fleeing New York with it had landed him in the clutches of the TVA; and apparently, it had been his ultimate destiny to die while trying to keep it from the Mad Titan.

The absolute last thing Loki ever wanted was to be reminded of the Tesseract - more than he wanted silence, or solitude, or to rot. And now this woman wanted to know what his nightmares were about?

Even if he had made it to the prison cell on Asgard, he wasn’t planning to explain himself to anyone. What was he supposed to tell his brother, his mother, his father? That he’d been deceived? Were they going to believe that he’d fallen for someone else’s lies so easily, and without question? That the God of Mischief himself had been tricked, played for a fool and made to be the universe’s largest and most pathetic scapegoat?

No, trying to justify his actions would be a grave disservice to the innocent lives he’d taken, and telling the truth was next to impossible. Even just talking about the betrayal of his family would be too much for him to bear, and that was the only aspect of the entire thing that Loki had never, ever second-guessed.

The woman continued stealing glances in his direction, from just a few feet away now. Still waiting for him to say something, anything, to help keep her mind distracted from her own plights. For the briefest of moments, he actually considered asking if she’d ever heard of the Tesseract, or the Infinity Stones. If she knew who Thanos was, if he’d ever been to this planet before…but as Loki fidgeted with his tie, running his fingers over the frayed and broken seams in the cloth, he knew the answer didn’t matter.

The appropriate time to have asked that question would have been when he’d first arrived, back when the TemPad still had the power to take him some place else if need be. But now the TemPad was dead; he was trapped here, and the longer he could go without hearing about the Tesseract, the better. The longer he could go on in the blissful ignorance of relative peace, and without talking about himself, the easier this would be for everyone.

“How did you wind up here anyway?” He winced as he spoke, hating himself for being more than a little curious about it. “I can’t imagine the guards asking you to come along nicely…”

The woman hesitated for a moment, no doubt replaying the events in her mind and wishing she had done something differently. Her fingers grasped the gem that hung from her neck, and she swallowed hard. “I was…taken from Tessaway, my home, in the middle of the night.”

She paused, her eyes focused on something non-existent in the distance. “I don’t know how they made it past the sentries, but they…managed, somehow. They took me from my bed, while I slept…”

Loki shook his head, trying to appear sympathetic. “You lived in a heavily guarded city. It must be a very dangerous place…”

“Tessaway isn’t a city,” she corrected, furrowing her brow as she looked over at him. “It’s the castle in Fayrest. You know, the capital city…?”

He didn’t know any of that, of course, having never left this cell. The woman looked like she wanted to say more but was afraid to, and he couldn’t help but think about why she had seemed to imply before that no one was going to rescue her. “Wouldn’t someone from the castle have noticed your absence? Surely they have to be looking for you by now…”

“No…” The woman shifted uncomfortably in place, her expression broken and forlorn. “No, I was just a servant. No one important enough to miss…”

Loki had been studying her carefully ever since he’d realized her captors were going to keep her alive for much longer than they had the others. Her movements were elegant and refined, her clothing and jewelry expensive and customized, her speech graceful and enchanting; the kind of charming that could only come from years of practice. He didn’t believe for a second that she was just a servant working in a castle.

But she was also clearly in a tremendous amount of pain, and for whatever reason, was keeping the origins of her birth a secret. Loki wondered what might have happened to him if he had been given that luxury, if he hadn’t been the only one to not know the truth about himself.

“Ah, a servant,” he replied, trying to lighten the mood a little. His unpracticed lips curved into a forced and lazy grin. “That certainly explains why you’re so concerned about my well-being…”

The woman’s eyebrows raised in amusement, and she tilted her head curiously as if taking his comment as a challenge. “What’s the matter? Are you not used to someone worrying about your well-being?”

Loki’s jaw tensed; perhaps he hadn’t been behaving as opaquely as he hoped, and he hated that she could see through him just as well as he could through her. He glanced over, and decided to provoke her right back. “Well, I’m sure they’ll miss you at the castle eventually. Like when there’s pots that need washing, or linens that need changing?”

“Yes, yes, that’s very funny…” she replied, rolling her eyes. “I get it, the thing about servants is that no one knows your name until something you normally do suddenly isn’t being done anymore…”

The woman turned, and she met his gaze with a considering and dissecting one of her own. “Like you - you don’t need anything from me, so why would you ever bother learning my name?”

From just a few feet away, the woman stared deep into his soul, tugging at the strings that still held him upright and all but questioning if they were even necessary. He waited until she looked away to furrow his brow again, because while she was right about him not needing anything from her, she was surely mistaken about the other half of her point.

Because he did actually know her name; it was the first new name he’d learned in such a very long time, and he thought it suited her quite well, all things considered. But he had been trying to avoid acknowledging it, not wanting it to mean something more than what it was.

It was just a name, after all; a series of specific vocalizations designed to get her attention. Saying it out loud didn’t mean that they were friends, or that they were even important to each other. It wouldn’t bind them in any way, or obligate him to care. But if that were true, then why did he have such a problem with saying it?

Loki could feel a nervous energy creeping relentlessly up his spine again. He wished it would stop receding, that it would stay put, because the constant shifting between relaxing and stressing was completely wearing him out. He told himself he just needed to say it out loud and get it over with, before he could start second-guessing and talk himself out of it again - especially now that she had noticed his careful avoidance of her name.

“What kind of servant knows how to fight with a staff anyway?” Loki asked, affecting an innocent and casual tone. “I guess servants named Oliviette do…”

After he answered his own question, Loki looked towards her again, and Oliviette was already smiling back at him; it was a bleary and quiet acknowledgement, but the sentiment was definitely noteworthy. For the first time since they’d met, he could see the dimples in her cheeks, and it was impossible to miss the way her eyes lit up with mirth, or how her lips pursed before she finally responded.

“What? Am I not allowed to have hobbies outside of work?”

Loki struggled to not return her smile. He almost felt a sense of appreciation for her snark and the much-needed diversion from the constant aching in his chest. It was only then that he remembered that this was supposed to be a temporary distraction; he couldn’t afford to spend needless energy that didn’t directly involve finding out why the guards were keeping Oliviette alive for this long.

Keeping a safe distance was paramount, his new glorious purpose. Trust was for children and dogs, wasn’t that how he’d put it to Mobius during their first meeting? As long as he stayed here, keeping himself isolated and protected, then he couldn’t ever be tricked into being someone else’s attack dog ever again. He couldn’t ever hurt anyone again.

Besides, it was highly implausible that her life would end in any way other than tragically. Loki’d already had quite enough of that - and would it be worth getting close to her, even if it didn’t?

⊱ ─ ༓ ── ⋅•⋅⊰ ─ ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ∙ ⋅ ─ ⊱⋅•⋅ ── ༓ ─ ⊰

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psychedelic-ink · 5 months

Text

We Fall Like Snow ║ Part Ⅰ

After the events that took place at the Cliff Beasts set, needless to say as his bodyguard (and friend) you became overprotective of Dieter. You have all your worries under control until you accidentally flip over a young fan by grabbing her wrist, causing the media to stir with speculations as to why. Luckily Dieter's family arrives in the nick of time, scooping you both from New York to their cozy cabin; however, winter wonderland can't last forever and you need to face the consequences of your actions sooner or later.

pairing: Dieter Bravo x bodyguard!ofc; Amina Addams, written in reader format

chapter summary: You and Dieter are late for a Q&A. Again.

word count: 4.5k

chapter warnings: weed use, dieter having a filthy mind (and a wild s.ex life), cursing, so much banter, minors dni

**dividers by the amazing @saradika

The floor might as well be drenched in grease by how slippery it was.

Your poor sneakers glide across the marble tiles, nearly making you trip as you climb two steps at a time. Adrenaline pumps through your veins, heart hammering in your chest, you force your legs to move faster. You can feel each individual muscle throbbing. It was stupid of you to expect Dieter fucking Bravo of all people to show up on time.

You’ve been waiting by the car for nearly half an hour, already late for the signing. His fans are used to it by now, but that doesn’t mean you enjoyed being late to these events, and Shannon –Dieter’s ever passive- aggressive manager– had graciously put you in charge of his time table. You still aren’t sure why. You’re the bodyguard; the person that slaps his hand whenever he puts his grubby little mitts on something containing peanuts. Occasionally you’ll push away a fan or two. Generally speaking, for such a riot of an actor, he has calm admirers. There was one incident that nearly got him harmed.

Finally reaching the door, you aggressively punch it, the sound echoing throughout the entire hotel. When you detect no movement you knock again, this time accompanied by your sheer shout of his name.

“Dieter! Get your butt out of the bed– NOW!”

Just as you’re about to knock again, the door opens wide, leaving your fist awkwardly hanging in the air. In the threshold stands a disheveled, yet happy-, looking woman. She’s probably in her thirties, with long red hair, and her lash line smudged with eyeshadow. Her smile is lazy and kind as she looks at you. Is she high? God if you’re out there, please tell me he’s not high.

“Hi,” she greets you, her voice sultry. “Can we help you?”

You peer above her shoulder and see Dieter full on french kissing a brunette man on top of his luxurious king size bed. The bedding slides down the man’s body, revealing his perfectly sculpted ass. A soft moan reaches your ears, and your face becomes heated.

Ignoring the woman, you step inside, your hand conveniently wrapping around the metal doorknob, the coolness of it gives you some semblance of peace.

“Dieter!” you hiss between clenched teeth. He parts from the man with a smack and meets your gaze. His brows furrow, incohesive sounds leaving his kiss swollen lips. He fucking knows he’s in trouble.

“Shit,” he breathes out. The man turns to face you, his perfect ass matching his perfect face. Dieter turns to grab his phone. “What time is it? Did we fuck until morning?”

The woman giggles; you hadn’t noticed before but the front of her robe is open, her breasts bouncing as she shifts from one leg to the other. “I guess so,” she answers cheekily.

“We’re late for the panel. Get your butt out of bed right now.”

“Yes ma’am,” Dieter says. Before doing what you asked him to, he quickly presses his lips into his lover’s. “See you later Eduardo,”

“Awwww,” he bemoans, chasing the actor’s lips. “Can’t you stay?” his eyes flit to yours. “She can join us if she wants to, the more the merrier,”

Dieter wrestles with his pants, barely able to get one foot in.

“She’s not into that,” he replies slightly breathless, then he stops and looks at you, eyes full of curiosity. “Are you?”

“I swear if you don’t leave this room in ten seconds I’m dragging you out naked, paparazzi be damned,”

“Kinky,” the woman grins.

Your fingers tighten around the doorknob.

“I can’t believe we’re late. Again.”

With one hand, you quickly usher Dieter into the limo, using the other to text Shannon that you’re on your way. The driver starts the car, a low hum filling the inside.

“I’m hungry,” Dieter groans, scratching the back of his head.

You eye the sidewalk, the brown paper bag containing a chocolate muffin and a cup of coffee idly laying sideways next to the back tire. The dampness of the pavement had seeped into the bag, the coffee also spilt, turning it into a mushy, disgusting mess. You let out a sigh, climbing into the car right after Dieter. You originally had placed the bag on top of the trunk lid; it must’ve fallen with the wind or something.

The car starts to move and you internally curse at the driver for not keeping an eye on Dieter’s breakfast.

“We’ll just have to get something there,” you say, fishing out a small kitkat bar from your bag. “This is going to have to suffice,”

He takes it with gratitude and a lazy smile.

“Thanks.” Hhe leans into the soft seats of the limo, fingers playing with the edge of the wrapper. “I am really sorry by the way, time kinda flew by,” clearing his throat, he adds,. “Is Shannon mad?”

“Well, she ain’t happy,”

“I should send her a bouquet,”

“You did that last time,”

“Box of chocolates?”

“Did that the time before,”

“Muffin basket?”

“That’s new.”

The smile he gives you is wide and bright and you can’t help but mimic the expression. His gaze is soft as he looks at you, his fidgeting with the wrapper stopping abruptly.

“Could you tell Kate then? Before I forget.”

Without an answer, you quickly text Kate, his assistant, to send Shannon a nice and elegant muffin basket. While you do so you hear Dieter peeling open the wrapper of his unhealthy breakfast, the voice of his favorite youtuber follows.

For the upcoming months, Dieter’s schedule is packed. He’d been cast in an upcoming dystopian blockbuster hero movie. It sounded interesting enough, but while he explained the plot, you were already thinking about the arrangements that needed to be made. Thanks to this new project, he didn’t have much time to relax, so these short limo rides were his little moments of escape.

Seeing that you got a “thumbs up” emoji from Kate, you push the phone back into your pocket. Now that the two of you are actually on your way, you’re relaxed, a ticklish sensation laving across your skin as you melt into the leather seats, the smooth drive pushes your brain into a nearly sleepy state.

Your gaze follows the shops on the street, now that Halloween and Thanksgiving were things of the past, everyone had busted out their Christmas decorations. You enjoy this time of year, the city becomes colorful and bright, the smell of gingerbread following you no matter where you go.

“They were really nice,” Dieter suddenly states, drawing you out of your Christmas- fueled thoughts. “I wish you could’ve spend more time with them,”

“Who?”

“Eduardo and Isabel,” he scrunches up the wrapper and stuffs it into his pocket, dropping his phone to his lap. “They showed me around,”

“Are they actually friends of yours or two people you met at the after party?” You have no doubt in your mind that it’s the latter;, your lips curl into a mischievous smile. You cock an eyebrow, face contorting with confusion. “I thought you came to New York before, what do you mean they ‘showed you around’?”

“I might’ve said I’m new in town,” he grins, wiggling his eyebrows. “I like the attention,”

“As if you don’t have enough of that already,”

He ignores your playful jab and indulges in his train of thought.

“We should meet them again, the four of us,”

“Is this an attempt to lure me to bed with you?”

“It’ll be fun,”

“I have no doubt about that,” your expression grows smug when you see that he wasn’t expecting that answer. “I’m not saying no because it’ll be boring, I’m saying no because I’m your bodyguard. What if someone bursts into the bedroom with a gun? What am I supposed to do when I’m butt naked?”

You exaggerate your words with your hand movements, “Am I supposed to search the floor for my holster while some maniac holds a gun to your head?”

“You can keep the holsters on,”

You hold your breath as discreetly as you can. Dieter leans forward and rests his elbows on his knees. How far he can reach surprises you, the brush of his knuckles against yours prompts you to let out the breath you’ve been holding. His pupils devour the color of his eyes, his gaze burns your skin, a feeling that should hurt but doesn’t. His tongue licks over his bottom lip. Your eyes drop to his neck when he swallows.

As he speaks again his voice comes out low and sultry, like he’s out of breath. “That would be so hot. And, like, imagine you shooting a dude while riding my cock,”

“Dieter–”

“Not killing him, of course, just shooting the gun out of his hand. Like a cowboy,”

You snort at the image, quickly covering your mouth. He pulls back, fingers absentmindedly scratching his chin. The heat from the brief brush of skin lingers. Dieter appears none the wiser.

You bite the tip of your tongue. His innuendos affect you more and more each day;, it’s infuriating, especially when he does it so nonchalantly. His eyes look up to the limo’s ceiling, and your cheeks heat up. Is he still thinking about you in holsters?

You’re just about to tell him to stop when he speaks again.

“Wait, would it be cowgirl instead? What do you call a female cowboy? Or does the word cowboy include everyone?”

The heat disappears as soon as it comes, leaving you feeling icy cold.

“Gendered terminology is a bitch,”

“Cowperson?”

“That sounds like a superhero with cow powers,”

He starts to mumble the spider-man theme song from 1994. Maybe he is high after all.

“…does whatever a cow can. Eats some grass, any kind. Crushes thieves just like…uh,”

“Bugs?” you offer.

“Why would a cow crush a bug?”

“Why is Cowperson eating grass? They’re still human, that’s not really a super power,”

“It’s to make their cow-powers more powerful. You need to read more comic books.”

“Who are they? Popeye?”

“Hey, if Popeye can eat spinach and grow strong I don’t understand why our cow-hero can’t,”

You pinch the bridge of your nose, you feel a headache sneaking its way to your temples.

“Why are we talking about cow themed superheroes?”

“You said you would fuck me with the holsters on,”

“I said no such thing,”

The limo comes to a steady halt, you don’t even need to look outside to know you’re here. The muffled screams that seeps through the gaps of the car is enough to let you know that there’s a crowd outside. Dieter seems unbothered by it, his soft molten gaze still glued to you curiously. Suddenly, it gets harder to breathe; like someone squeezing your throat. Licking your lips, you slide towards the door, mentally preparing yourself for the fans outside.

“We’re on, Mr. Bravo.”

It takes you everything not to think of the last sentence he said to you. “You said you would fuck me with the holsters on,” the words had rolled off his tongue as naturally as falling snow, not thinking at all about the consequences. You should be used to his flirty remarks by now. Of all the years you’ve known him, he’s always been like that. It never means anything, it’s just who he is. And it’s your job not to allow him to get you all riled up.

Letting Dieter take the front, you step to the side and close the door as he waves at his adoring fans. They all scream his name, posters and memorabilia glued to their hands with hopes that the actor might sign them. He’s got a bit of spare time—traffic had been surprisingly kind—so you allow him to mingle. You trail close on his steps just in case anyone decides to get too familiar. Selfies are taken, and tears are shed. Your gaze swiftly flits to your watch, his panel begins in ten minutes, you have to get him inside– Besides he will do more signings after the Q & A anyway.

Ignoring the blood pooling underneath your nails, you press your hand against the small of his back, gently guiding him to the entrance. He already knows. His steps become faster, yet to an outsider he doesn’t look to be in a rush. You can’t help the way your fingers slightly curl against the soft fabric of his suit; he feels your palm, warm and soft on his hip.

Touching Dieter isn’t anything new. However, this time you sense a crackle in the air, something that can only be felt by the two of you. His muscles stiffen as he fights the urge to turn to lay his eyes on you. If he could, a silent question would be asked with those same pair of soft eyes; Did you feel that too?

The invisible moment shared between the two of you is gone when a poster is abruptly shoved into his hand along with a marker, you notice which movie it’s from; The Bubble, though it’s more of a documentary rather than a movie. He quickly signs it without further inspection, the fan quickly screams words of gratitude.

But your eyes linger.

You hate that documentary. It’s the proof of your biggest failure as a bodyguard. You heard it on the news first. The crazy set where Lauren Van Chance got her hand shot clean off and the actors had to flee via a helicopter. It was a closed set so you weren’t allowed to join Dieter, and the thought alone that something, anything, could’ve happened to him during filming made you sweat profusely.

Your throat closes up, lungs emptying with the reminders of the past. Luckily he returned safe and sound, never again would you accept him to be essentially locked in a hotel by himself, the pandemic be damned.

You feel it first. See it later.

Your skin is coated with unwarranted goosebumps, the small hairs dusted across your nape stands with attention. Years of working had made your senses grow sharp, noticing things before it even came to be. With your backs turned to the approaching threat, you forget your surroundings, forget to hold yourself back.

When you notice your fingers wrapping around a slim wrist, it’s too late. You kneel and throw the person coming from behind using the strength from your shoulder. A small funko pop of one of Dieter’s more popular characters flies out of their hand. It’s a young woman, maybe in her early 20’s. She shouts in pain and Dieter jumps back, only now realizing what happened. You’re horrified, bile rising to your throat as your eyes go wide. You don’t hear yourself, but you know you’re shouting an apology, feeling your lips form the words.

Sorry, sorry, sorry. Oh my god I’m so sorry.

You attempt to help the girl up but she yanks her hand back, looking at you with rightful fury. You look up to the crowd and it’s a cacophony of screams, laughter, booing– The sound comes to you muffled, echoed. You see countless smartphones, all of them directed at you, documenting your second-worst mistake of your career.

Turning back you see Dieter kneeling next to the fan. He’s speaking to her, his large hand spread across her back. She smiles, nods, and he helps her up. Two paramedics come, ushering her away from the crowd., Dieter waves her off, saying something to the paramedics. You’re so disoriented that your mind convinces your body that a threat as big as an explosion had happened, your skin crawling with imaginary shrapnel digging in to it.

Dieter’s face comes into view, your stomach churns with the remains of your too-early breakfast.

Every sound, every motion rushes back into you, like your soul being sucked back into your body. It’s an overwhelming feeling, you shake your head once, twice, then ask a question with the sole intention to convince yourself that you’re alright.

“Is she hurt?”

“She’s going to be fine,”

Dieter never touches you when you work, a rule you established well before knowing him –this rule didn’t apply after hours though, you don’t remember how many times he bawled his eyes out and pulled you into a bear hug during one of his many rewatches of Coco– but right now his arm wraps securely around your waist, pulling you with him as cameras flash before your eyes, the sound deafening. Your eyes water at the light;, briefly you wonder how Dieter does it, then you’re reminded of his shitty eyesight and connect the dots.

The inside of the building is spacious and cool, you take a deep, shaky breath and stagger forward, balancing yourself by pressing your palms into your knees. An angry set of heels echoes in the building; you see Shannon’s ankles, noticing a small tattoo of a happy cat with a ball of yarn.

How ironic.

“What the fuck was that?” she asks frantically, a rhetorical question, you assume, since she continues. “Amina, what the hell were you thinking flipping a fan like that? She wasn’t even doing anything! The press is going to gobble this story up, it’s going to be everywhere–” she abruptly stops mid- sentence, your head spins, Dieter’s shoes come into view, Shannon’s heels disappear.

“Is she going to be sick?”

You flinch at the hand on your back, Dieter’s voice echoes. You hear something else as he speaks in hurried breaths. What the hell was that sound? You attempt to swat it away. Then you recognize.

Jingle Bells?

“Amina?”

You black out after that.

Needless to say, Dieter is freaking out.

You flatout fainted in front of them all, then woke up acting as if everything was just peachy-keen. He was glad you didn’t puke, but that didn’t ease his worries. The memory of you tossing that poor girl didn’t leave his head for the rest of the day. He was confused, his mind working hard unlike it ever did in order to unravel the mystery. He knew you had your reasons, maybe the girl was a secret agent out to get him or something. Mostly, he was worried about how the scene had stirred something in him. The way you looked so confused about your own actions, how your eyes seemed glazed as if they couldn’t piece together where they were… He’d never seen you so out of your element before.

The screaming crowd probably didn’t help.

Knowing that the internet would be brutal, he asked for your phone before the panel, and, surprisingly, you obliged. The rest of the day was event- free.

He still feels the phone in his pocket as he unlocks the door of the hotel room.

Upon seeing the mess of his late night endeavors with Eduardo and Isabel, a small groan leaves his throat. Couldn’t they have cleaned before leaving the room?

You don’t seem to care. With quick steps you reach the couch and sit. It’s facing the TV, and your hand reaches for the remote. He parts his lips to say something but your hand stills before he does, fingers slightly shaking as you pull yourself back.

“I’m sorry,” you say, your voice cracks and his heart beats in his throat. “I don’t know what happened,”

“Well…” he trails off, closing the door. “In your defense, Rose wasn’t supposed to be there. Technically, you were doing your job,”

“Rose?”

“The girl you flipped,”

“Oh god,”

He stands before you, facing the full force of your doubtful gaze. You cradle your cheeks with both hands, shaking your head, and let out a groan.

“Even so, she didn’t have a weapon, she wasn’t there to attack you. All I had to do was to usher her away,” you lean back, both hands now covering your face, letting out a deep sigh. “Fuuuuuuuuck,”

“Hey, it’s not that bad. Shannon is just being dramatic,”

“I saw her looking at her phone Dieter, I think she left early to cry in the shower,”

“Being my manager for so long must’ve taken a toll on her, you can’t blame her for that. I promise you, I did way stupider shit,”

“Doing stupid shit and downright assaulting someone are two different things,”

You’re right, and he knows you’re right. That doesn’t mean he’ll accept it though. He stares at you for a while, thinking what to say or to do to make you feel better.

His first instinct is to roll you a joint—weed makes everything better—but when he notices the subtle tick in your jaw, your lips slightly moving without parting, he understands that whatever you’re feeling, runs much deeper. You eye the remote again.

“Maybe I should just see what they’re saying?”

“I don’t think that’s such a good idea,”

“I’m going to find out about it eventually. I should just rip off the bandaid,”

Offering to roll you a joint doesn’t seem like that bad of an idea anymore.

“How about we smoke weed instead?” He assumes you’re going to say no when you open your mouth. He presses his forefinger against his own lips playfully, meeting your gaze and winking. “We can look at Twitter, check the news, watch youtube breakdown videos or whatever you want to do and see the damage tomorrow morning, sweetheart. Promise,”

“Fine fine, let’s go with what you want,” you give in, clearly exasperated. Dieter grins, but before he leaves you threateningly wave your finger at him. “But this is the only time, Bravo. Got it. No matter what, don’t offer it again,”

“Yes Ma’am,”

Dieter holds the joint between his index and middle fingers, where it looks miniature compared to the rest of his hand. He brings it to his lips, taking a deep inhale before handing it to you.

You move in slow motion— at least, to him it seems like you are. He watches intently at where his lips touched moments ago touching yours. A pleasant tingle blossoms from his tail bone to the small of his back. A delicate puff of smoke dances away from your lips, your head falling back, a long sigh follows your exhale. Dieter’s eyes follow the curve of your neck. You swallow, lips still parted. He mimics the movement, his own adam’s apple bobbing up and down, he thinks of your lips.

“Why did I fucking do that?” you mutter. “That was so stupid of me,”

“Stop thinking about it,” he takes the joint away from you. “I rolled this so you can relax. Don’t waste good weed on tripping,”

“Yeah, you’re right sorry,”

Dieter spreads his legs underneath the fuzzy blanket, and your head lolls towards him, forehead brushing his clothed shoulder. Again, a pleasant tingle spreads, this time warmth added to the feeling. The skin above his lower stomach feels tight. His thoughts the farthest from being pure, he imagines a nipple, your nipple, while sucking the end of the joint. His head fuzzy, a soft moan rattles in his throat. You’re muttering something, and that something comes to him muffled, then you laugh. He laughs too, context be damned. He takes another inhale before passing it back to you.

“It was kinda funny,” he suddenly says, his mouth barely reaching the speed of his thoughts. “The way you just threw her over your shoulder,”

“How is it funny?”

Something in your voice makes Dieter raise his hips, the delicate, barely there pressure of the blanket is equal to torture. He needs his hand, or better yet, your mouth. He bites his bottom lip and chases the feeling, lifting himself once more just to feel that feather-like grind against his cock. You’re unaware. Or maybe you are. Dieter can’t tell. He knows that he should behave, that deep down you’re hurting, but something about your obliviousness did something to him. His teeth sink further into his lip, he wants to draw blood, needs the distraction.

“I’ve never actually seen you get physical before, so the shock factor made me wanna laugh,” his words fade into a surprised grunt when you stuff the joint between his lips.

“I guess you really haven’t seen me like that before,”

You sound genuinely surprised. Dieter shifts to face you better, your face only an inch away from his, he sucks in a deep breath. His eyes dance around your face, taking in every little detail, memorizing it for later. Your eyes seem to have specks of gold in them. Or maybe he’s just imagining it. He hears you swallow, your own gaze dropping to his lips. Dieter shuffles closer. He hears your heavy, but fast, breathing. Your breasts touch his chest, a subtle movement that has him grinding his teeth.

He can taste you in the air, sweet and bitter, you’re so close–

The moment shatters with the sound of a shrill doorbell;, Dieter jumps, an immediate crease forming between his eyebrows.

“What kind of hotel room has a doorbell?”

“The expensive kind I guess,” you giggle.

Dieter smiles sweetly at you, he can’t help it. The doorbell rings again, prompting Dieter to stride to the door with long steps. Gripping the doorknob white-knuckled, he yanks it open.

He forgot.

He can’t believe he fucking forgot.

“Dieter!”

A pair of thick, loving arms, wrap themselves around his neck. An awkward smile tugs at Dieter’s lips as he hugs back, his hands twitching for an imaginary rail to hold on.

“Mom? Dad?”

“You forgot didn’t you,” his dad means for his words to form a question but he’s so sure of himself that it comes out as a statement. “Doesn’t darling Kate remind you of these things?”

“She does,” Dieter answers. His mother squishes his cheeks, making it difficult for him to speak. “I just forgot. Been busy,”

“Such a busy bee our darling boy! I would’ve never guessed,”

“Thanks for the confidence boost mom,”

“I mean I knew you would make it,” his mom defends herself. “I just never thought you would work so hard,”

“Again, thanks,”

“Uh…hello?”

You’re standing right behind him, arms crossed against your chest, you shift from one foot to the other. His mother looks you up and down, a wide smile appears on her face, wrinkles appear at the corner of her eyes, similar to his.

“Well, hello dear. Who might you be?”

Dieter nearly bursts out laughing when you stutter and hurriedly walk up to his parents with your hand stretched out, you nearly topple over. Dieter slightly moves forward, in case you did fall over.

“I’m Amina Addams. Lovely to meet you,”

When you reach out to greet his father, he seems excited, like a fan meeting a celebrity. Dieter raises an eyebrow. His father had the habit of being quite blunt, sometimes steering towards being mean, which made Dieter adapt into having a warning mechanism whenever his dad was about to say something stupid.

Right now the alarms are deafening in his ears, red flashing beneath his eyelids.

You shake his hand, and Dieter’s world falls into slow motion, his father parts his lips.

“You’re that girl who turned over a fan! The crazy bodyguard, right?”

For fucks sake dad.

author's note: I've been sitting on this for SUCH a long time and I'm so excited that it's finally out in the open! I love Christmas, romcoms and Dieter so this is essentially pouring out my adoration to all of those things and I hope you'll all fall in love with Amina & Dieter as hard as I have ❤️ Thank you everyone for reading!

#dieter bravo x oc #dieter bravo x reader #dieter bravo x fem!reader #dieter bravo x fem!oc #dieter bravo x ofc #the bubble fanfic #the bubble fanfiction #christmas fic #dieter bravo x amina addams

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callsign-bunnie · 5 months

Note

Would you write Nikolai x Price?

Like something happens to Price and the 141 get to see Nik just go nuts to get him back? Laswel involvement ofc

If you want to

Another draft that I never posted

Also, I'm sorry it's not more involved, I'm not the best at writing long drawn out action scenes, try as I may, so I went with this, instead. I thought it'd be cute

36 hours.

That’s how long it took Nikolai to find Price.

It had been almost exactly, just five minutes shy, of 36 hours from when it had been revealed that Price had even been taken. Gaz, Soap, and Ghost were still putting together clues to even find the fucking man, and Nikolai had brought him back without a damn scratch on him.

Of course, Nik was coated in blood. Laswell, herself, had a fair amount, but it didn’t compare to the sheer amount of blood that Nik had.

All three had stood there, their mouths stupidly agape, as Nik and Laswell escorted Price back onto the base, Price grinning from ear to ear, and had watched the two bloody individuals drop into chairs, exhaustedly. “Will not make that mistake again.” Nik muttered, dropping a combat knife on the table.

Laswell? She just snorted as she dropped a handgun. Both were bloody.

“I’m thinking a shower.” Price had chuckled, putting his hands on the back of Nik’s chair. Nik had just snorted. “Damn, guys, did you even look for me?” He’d joked to the three.

Even Ghost had looked… beyond shocked. But, eventually, he’d just crossed his arms, huffing. “We were starting the process. We didn’t even know where you were.”

“Only three people know where Price would be on a Sunday.” Nik muttered. “Me, Kate, and the bastard who grabbed him. It was… easy to find him. Child’s play.”

“Child’s play?!” Soap spluttered, shaking his head. “It was hardly a day and a half, Nik!”

“Would have been less.” Laswell commented, rubbing off what looked like dried blood on the back of her neck. “But the helicopter malfunctioned.”

Nik nodded, his expression solemn. “But we managed.”

Price beamed behind them, his expression full of pride and joy. “I’m a little disappointed you two rescued me so fast, I was almost to my good material. I’d only gotten past the ‘you won’t get away with this’ bit.”

Gaz shook his head. “Wait, wait. Nik how would you know where Price usually is on Sunday? Like you said, I don’t even know that.”

Nik blinked at him and then shrugged. “He gets tea and crumpets from the same little shop, and it’s always playing the last football game. He sets an alarm for 9 o’clock, hits the snooze button, and then sleeps in until 9:30, where he then finally gets up, takes a shower, and walks there. Of course, he almost always stops by this animal shelter to pet the dogs, which puts him at the cafe at 10:30.”

“God save us if you ever become an assassin.” Soap mutters, but Price’s grin only widened. “So… how did you find him?”

“Well, I knew who had to have taken him. An associate of Makarov, though I wouldn’t call him an ally.” Nik continued, accepting a towel from Laswell and wiping his face. “And I knew a chain of people to go through to get the location. Ultimately, it only took one chain link.”

“Either of you ever slowly dismember someone?” Laswell asked, leaning back in her seat. “It’s not for the weak of heart.”

“Or stomach.” Nik agreed.

The lieutenant and two sergeants just stared, again.

Price had finally sighed and leaned down to Nik. “My love, that shower?”

“I’m coming.” Nik nodded, standing, and both men exited.

Laswell had remained behind, chuckling at the three boys. “Close your mouths, boys. You too, Ghost, I can see the concave in your mask.” All three did as told, and she shook her head. “I knew as soon as Nik had been the one to find out that this would happen. Word of advice? Don’t fuck with someone who only has one thing to lose.” She had finally stood, neatly pushing in her chair, before bowing and leaving.All three had shared a look between them, silently agreeing to one thing. Price calling Nik my love had not been the strangest thing to happen in the last 36 hours.

I can't believe I don't have a Nikprice taglist. I mean, it makes sense, I never write them (I never get asks) but damn.

Do you want to be added to this taglist? Reply to this post that you wish to be added to the taglist and I will start to tag you in it every time I post it. You can also use this form!

#call of duty #nikprice #nikolai cod #john price #captain john price #john price cod #price cod #pricenik #Nikolai x John Price #John Price x Nikolai #oneshot #queue for dinner again honey?

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sjsmith56 · 4 months

Text

Customer Service

Summary: Bucky’s former girlfriend helps him buy a new suit, but he’s there for other reasons. First part of a two part series.

Length: 3.6 K

Characters: Unnamed OFC, named minor OFC, Bucky Barnes, Sam Wilson.

Warnings: Bucky showing up unannounced at her workplace, OFC remembering the not so good times, anxiety.

Author notes: Once upon a time I worked retail. An ex-spouse or lover showing up unannounced was always problematic. I’m not terribly knowledgeable about what men’s suits go with an athletic build, although my research did lean to a preference for the Hugo Boss and Calvin Klein labels.

🥾 👔 💔

“There’s a customer here that wants to speak to a manager,” said Lynette, the clerk at the customer service desk, sticking her head in the door of the office. She had a big smirk on her face. “I’m just warning you to be careful.”

I pulled my glasses off to glare at her as I really didn’t have time to deal with a grumpy customer. She shrugged.

“That’s why you get paid the big bucks.”

I followed her out and turned the corner where the most beautiful man I had ever seen leaned on the counter, someone I knew well and hadn’t expected to ever see again. Tall, broad-shouldered, with soft dark brown hair, rugged good looks, and a pair of blue eyes that pierced me as sharp as a knife. He had a smirk on his face as if he knew exactly the effect he had on me.

“Good afternoon, sir,” I said, trying to modulate my voice so that I didn’t give away that I knew him. “How can I be of assistance?”

He looked at me in surprise. I was going to be like that was I? Well, two could play that game.

“I would like to return these work boots,” he said, in a manner that indicated he wasn’t going to take no for an answer. “They fell apart the first time I used them at work.”

There was a black garbage bag on the counter that I assumed held the boots in question. Before I looked in it, I looked at him, trying to gauge if he was going to be one of those customers to me, in front of a witness. You know the type, someone who buys something to replace the worn-out ones he already has, then tries to pass the worn-out ones off as the newer model in order to get his money back. It’s a scam, and I could always pick out the type of person who would do that, which he wasn’t but it would be just like him to push the boundaries, trying to make me react to his being there. Internally I really hoped he wouldn’t go this far to punish me for ending it with him but his manner, although brusque, had none of the tells of someone who was trying to make life hard for me.

“Do you have your original receipt, sir?” I asked politely.

He nodded, pulled his wallet out of his jeans and opened it, revealing a carefully folded receipt that he handed to me, from his gloved hand. Lynette noticed the glove but stifled her reaction to it, except I could tell he noticed, as his eyes narrowed slightly, as if he was a little bothered. Briefly, his eyes flickered to mine. Had I not told anyone about us?

Swallowing, I opened the bag and looked inside at a pair of boots that had definitely seen better days. Although the top portion of them and the tread looked fairly new it was obvious that whatever mission he used them for was too much for the boots to handle. In several places the top part of the boot had pulled away from the sole. The stitching had also split in several of the stress points. I could only imagine what he went through that had caused this much damage to the boots. It was one of the reasons we broke up; nights of imagining the mission, wondering if he was alright but not hearing from him, not until he walked through the door all bruised and battered, sometimes still bleeding because he didn’t want to bother the medical staff. Meaning that I had to patch him up and deal with the stoic suffering he inflicted on himself by not believing he was worth being looked after.

“May I ask what line of work you’re in?” I asked politely. “These were new but seem to have been subjected to a lot of ….” I didn’t want to say the abuse word. “Um … stress.”

“I have a stressful job,” he answered, still playing the part of the customer who was a stranger to me. As if he hadn’t ever touched me in ways that no other man had; had never told me he loved me, who hadn’t argued with me sometimes just for the sake of arguing and liked seeing me all fired up because it meant the makeup sex after would be incredible. “It sometimes involves a lot of … running, jumping, kicking, and often moving through uneven terrain of all types.”

“Okay,” I replied, taking in a breath and deciding I couldn’t do this anymore. “I’ll authorize the refund, since your receipt shows you’ve only had them a week but obviously this brand won’t stand up to the pressures of your job. I would suggest you try a specialty footwear store that can provide something sturdier for you.”

His face changed when he realized I wasn’t going to prolong this moment anymore. Mentioning he should buy elsewhere could also be taken that I didn’t want to see him come back here, to where I worked. I entered the refund in the cash register, asking him to insert his bank card to finish the procedure, then had him sign our copy of the new receipt. I looked at the signature, J.B. Barnes, then at him.

“Is there a problem?” He looked at me with his eyebrows raised; as if he was willing me to say something, anything that he could respond to.

“No, no problem.” I made the mistake of getting caught by those eyes, becoming a little lost in them. It wouldn’t have been the first time those eyes made me change my mind, but not this time. “You have nice handwriting.”

“Thank you,” he smiled sadly, making my heart flutter a little. “I appreciate the good customer service.”

“You’re welcome,” I replied, then smiled my customer service smile as he turned around and walked away.

That should have been the end of it, except he turned around and looked at me one more time when he met up with Sam Wilson. He almost waved at me, but Bucky shook his head at him, and instead he just put his hand on his friend’s shoulder, in support. I heard Lynette gasp.

“That was Captain America,” she exclaimed. She grabbed the receipt that he signed. “That meant he was Bucky Barnes. He looked at you.”

“Of course, he looked at me. I was processing his refund.”

She wouldn’t stop talking about it, so I went out on the floor, wanting to get away from her incessant blathering about how I should go out with Bucky as it was obvious to her that he was sweet on me. Although I normally worked as a manager in the clothing department, I sometimes acted as customer service manager when that person had a day off. I still had a duty to walk around the store, making sure everything was working the way it should. That’s when I saw him again, Bucky, that is. He and Sam were in men’s wear, looking at shirts. By the sounds of it they were having a disagreement.

“Can I help you with something?” I asked.

They both turned to look at me then shared a look that can only be described as polar opposites. Sam grinned at Bucky, who scowled at him.

“He needs a dress shirt,” said Sam, playing along for the benefit of the male clerk on duty in men’s wear. “There’s a little problem in that he thinks a button cuff will be too tight. But he hasn’t worn a French cuff since the 1940s and thinks they’re old fashioned.”

“On the contrary,” I replied. “A French cuff is very fashionable. Personally, I think it offers a classy look to a man. Are you wearing a suit or a blazer?”

“Suit,” said Bucky, who seemed taller now that he wasn’t blocked by the customer service counter, taller than the last time he held me; broader than the last time I placed my head on his chest and listened to his heartbeat, sexier than the last time we made love.

“What colour of suit and what colour of shirt do you want?”

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “I don’t even have a suit yet.”

“What’s the occasion?”

“A formal event that he doesn’t want to go to because he doesn’t have a date,” smirked Sam. Trust him to be blunt.

“Sam,” glared Bucky. He turned to me, looking a little flustered. “Sorry, I really don’t know what I want. He’s right. I haven’t bought a suit since the 1940s and the one suit I had then was what I could afford.”

He looked a little lost, not that I could blame him. Outside of his missions, his wardrobe consisted of black jeans, blue jeans, long and short sleeve T-shirts, and Henley shirts, and those plain black combat boots that he wore constantly. He never wanted to go out anywhere that required a suit; always saying that he just wanted to stay in, as I was all the entertainment he needed. It was nice until it became stifling. The male clerk was helping another customer, and I suddenly didn’t want Bucky to leave. When we were together, I offered to help him buy a suit, but he always turned me down, saying he didn’t want to be my customer. But if this was the only way I could show him that he would be more than that then I was going to take my shot.

“Would you like me to dress you?” I blurted out.

“Excuse me?” His eyes opened wide. “What do you mean?”

“Sorry,” I smiled. “What I mean is, would you like me to help you find the right suit and shirt for this event?”

“I don’t want to take you away from your manager duties,” he answered, still looking unsure.

“Our store prides itself on its customer service,” I stated. “It would be my pleasure to help you find the right clothing for this event, Mr. Barnes.”

“She knows what she’s doing, Bucky,” said Sam, in a low voice. “I think you should listen to the lady.”

“Alright.” Bucky’s acceptance of my offer was said softly but loud enough for both me and Sam to hear.

I called up to the office to advise them I was helping a customer in men’s wear, taking measurements for a new suit so I wouldn’t be available for the next half hour. Then I pulled a card out of a drawer and wrote James Buchanan Barnes in the Customer Name portion.

“I’ll mark all of your measurements here,” I said. “That way, you won’t have to be measured again if you ever decide to buy another suit with us. It will also mark your preferences in suit style, shirt style, colours, and shoe size.”

“Shoe size?” he asked.

“You will need a pair of dress shoes,” I replied, looking down at his combat boots, all worn and scuffed. “Those won’t exactly complete the look you’re going for.”

“No, I guess not,” he agreed. “What do you need me to do?”

“Well, we can start with taking your height and weight measurement,” I began. “We have a scale here, unless you’re pretty sure of what you weigh.”

His eyes went soft. “6 feet even, 220 lbs., it doesn’t change.”

I wrote it down. “We need to take your body measurements; in one of the dressing rooms if you want privacy as you’ll have to take your jacket off and your Henley. We can choose a shirt first then wear that while I take the suit measurements, so the jacket fits properly.”

“Let’s do that,” he agreed, and waited for me to lead him to one of the larger dressing rooms.

He took his jacket off, then his Henley. Sam took them while he sat in a chair. I got the measuring tape and stood in front of Bucky, before wrapping it around his neck, taking the neck measurement.

“How are you?” he asked, in a low voice meant just for me.

“Managing,” I answered, getting a slight grin from him at my pun. “You?”

“Existing,” he replied, making me look up at him, and noticing how tired he seemed.

I took his arm measurement and wrote both measurements down on the card. “So, what type of shirt would you like? Classic fit, with room for your shoulders? Close fitting to display your physique? Button cuffs, French cuffs?”

“Why don’t you pick out some suitable choices, so I can see them on me?” he suggested.

Nodding, I left him and Sam there and went out to our selection, looking for some candidates. I picked white ones, thinking that if he wanted a coloured shirt, he could grab one with the same size and features. Taking them into the dressing room I was surprised to see he had his T-shirt off.

His physique never failed to impress me. His vibranium arm and shoulder had been made to match his right arm and shoulder, and the Wakandans had done a superb job of duplicating the musculature of that limb. As I removed the updated classic look shirt from its package, then removed the pins holding it together, he watched me, standing close enough so that I was aware of his scent. That mixture of citrus and sandalwood, from a cologne I gave to him on his birthday, brought back memories of burying my face into his neck during our more intimate moments, breathing in his unique essence. Fumbling with one of the pins, I stopped and took a breath, recenterring myself before handing the shirt to him. Without a word, he took it and put it on then buttoned it up. I handed him some cufflinks to go with the French cuffs. Taking the glove off of his left hand he attached that cufflink first, then the next one before standing in front of the mirror and taking in the fit.

“That’s almost perfect,” I said. “The length is enough to tuck in, without the threat of it coming out. The shoulders are snug enough to show your form but roomy enough for your muscles to move. The French cuffs give you a tailored look with enough room not to bind your wrists.”

Sam coughed and we both looked at him, at his timing. “I didn’t say anything.”

With the shirt on I began measuring Bucky for the suit jacket, starting with the chest, over arm, neck, and sleeve length. Then I continued with the shoulders, waistcoat length, jacket length, bicep, wrist and stomach. The next set of measurements were for the pants, waist, hips, thigh, knee, then the rise, running the tape from the front of waist down over the crotch and up to his back. We both glared at Sam who pointedly looked elsewhere for that measurement as well as the inseam measurement, before finishing off with the out seam.

“We can go look at the suit styles,” I said. “I think with your broad shoulders and slim waist that you should stick with Hugo Boss or a Calvin Klein suit. They’ll need minimal tailoring to be fitted properly. You can leave the dress shirt on, while you try the jacket on the sales floor.”

Both men came out and I showed them the suits, not surprised when Bucky gravitated towards the black ones. Colour was hard for him, as he always thought it made him too visible. The arm already did that, in his opinion. He tried on several jackets in his size before he found one that he liked, nodding his head as he looked at himself in the mirror on the floor. I found his waist size in the matching slacks and draped them over my arm.

“Ties?” I asked, walking towards our display. “You have your choice of plain, patterned, paisley, stripes.”

“Plain, black,” stated Bucky. “Could I try a black shirt as well?”

As much as I wanted him to experiment a little, I also knew he would look stunning in a monochrome suit ensemble of black. I found a black shirt to match the white one he wore then took them back to the dressing room. While he put them on, Sam came with me to the shoe department to find a pair of shoes. As soon as we were some distance away, he stopped and hugged me.

“How are you?” His eyes were full of concern. “This must be hard for you.”

I shrugged. “I miss him, even with all of his quirks. He can’t just show up here unannounced. Why is he really here? He wouldn’t even step foot into the store before even though I offered to help him find clothes many times.”

“I know.” He looked back towards the men’s wear department. “This formal event is mandatory for him. We’re going to the White House to receive a commendation and attend a banquet. It’s made his anxiety level go up through the roof. You always had a way to keep him level. It was my idea to come here and hopefully get your help. The work boots still had to be returned. He just bought them on impulse when he came here by himself the first time to ask for your help but couldn’t find you.”

I began walking to the shoe department; suddenly angered that Bucky was only here so I could make him feel better. Sam hurried after me.

“Seriously? You thought I could give him an emergency psychological bandage to get him through an anxiety episode? You’re better than that, Sam.”

“He needs you. He’s pretty lost without you.”

I could feel the need to cry bubbling up from my stomach and stopped at a display of men’s shoes, plain black Oxfords. Picking up a pair I held them up to Sam.

“What do you think? He’s going to look great in the suit and these will be just the thing to finish it off.”

“Yeah, he’ll like them,” replied Sam. “Size 12.”

I went in back to find the shoe, taking the moment to compose myself before coming out with the box. We began walking back to men’s wear when Sam stopped me again. With a sigh I looked at him, feeling almost at the end of my tether.

“Tell me the truth, are you happier without him?”

What an unfair question to ask. I wasn’t happy. I was miserable but I just didn’t know if I had it in me to put up with everything else. The moodiness, the lack of communication, the emotional withdrawal that happened around every anniversary of his fall, the possessiveness … the good things we had never seemed to outweigh the negative. Without even answering Sam knew what I would say, and he touched my arm, then nodded his head sadly. As we stepped into the dressing room Bucky stood there in the suit, wearing the black shirt, with the black tie, and the black pocket square poking out of the chest pocket. I took the shoes out of the box, doing up the laces, then kneeled in front of Bucky, helping him on with the shoes, before pinning the length of the trousers to fit the shoes and stepping back to look at the almost finished product.

“There you go,” I said. “You look great.”

“I feel good,” he replied. “Thank you.” His eyes flickered to Sam.

“You do look good,” said his friend. “The all-black look suits you.”

“I’ll take it,” said Bucky. “All of it, and the white shirt as well, with a tie of your choice. Just so I have two looks.”

“I’ll pick something out while you get changed,” I said. “Then I’ll meet you at the desk. The slacks can be left here for our tailor to shorten. They’ll be ready in two days.”

I found a tie, a paisley design, black with silver and gold accents, that matched the colours of his vibranium arm. There was even a pocket square to match, and I tossed that on the pile. I entered the information of the suit on the card. It would be entered into our database so that anyone could help him find what he needed in the future.

Sam came out with the suit, shirts and shoes, placing them on the desk. Bucky came out a few moments later, seeming a little more withdrawn. After entering the work order for the slacks, I handed him a claim ticket. It seemed odd that in this digital age we still used paper claim tickets, but it was what our customers liked, as part of the service. I tallied up the total, presenting the amount to Bucky, and he didn’t bat an eye as he pulled a black credit card out of his wallet. It seemed the superhero business had finally started paying off. As he entered the code on the terminal, I placed the suit jacket and shirts into a suit bag, the shoes and ties in a paper shopping bag. Then the receipt was handed over, and I looked at him, wanting to say something other than my usual customer service ramble.

“You should launder the shirts before you wear them, just so they’re softer on your skin,” I suggested. “In the shoe department are some protective sprays that will help keep them looking good in wet weather. You can also polish them with regular shoe polish.” Those blue eyes met mine, boring into me, maybe for the last time. “I hope your event goes well. You’ll look great and you’ll be fine.”

“Thank you for your help,” he smiled softly, seemingly accepting that it was over.

He gathered up his bags and stood awkwardly for a moment before turning away. This time he didn’t look back.

Part 2>>

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mothandpidgeon · 1 year

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Forgive Me (Joel Miller x f!reader/ofc)

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Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader/ofc (unnamed, no physical description)

Words: 3.5k

Rating: E 18+

Warnings: masturbation, the male gaze, dub con (looking at nudes without consent), references to p in v sex and blow jobs, references to drugs and alcohol, violence, general Joel Miller angst and self-loathing [let me know if I missed anything]

Summary: When Joel finds himself in possession of some sexy photos, temptation makes him question himself as he's fascinated by a woman he's never met.

A/N: She's back! I think it's been a year since I've posted any Pedro fic. I've been kind of uninspired but mainly focused on publishing my first novel. But Joel's got me all kinds of distracted from revising my manuscript. Please enjoy some angst.

...

It rained. A gray sky blanketed the QZ making everything look even more bleak. As if it needed help. Joel and his customer had taken cover under some scaffolding. Luckily, the weather meant that there weren’t a whole lot of people around, no suspicious glances in their direction.

Joel opened his wet bag to reveal a pair of work boots to the buyer. Vince’s eyes lit up.

“Hell yeah,” he said.

Joel flipped the backpack closed again. These had been hard to come by and he’d gotten pretty good at this beat. Nobody got their hands on any goods without paying first.

“Alright. I got you, man,” Vince said. This wasn’t his first rodeo either. He’d been doing business with Joel since the very beginning. He bought all kinds of shit— a radio, chocolate, tiny bottles of shampoo. Joel wasn’t sure if Vince resold the stuff but it was better not to know about that kind of thing.

Vince put his cards into Joel’s hand and Joel counted.

“What the hell is this?” Joel asked.

Tucked into the stack of ration cards were a couple of photographs. A quick glance showed him they were all the same woman, naked or nearly naked. Vince had tried to pawn this stuff off on him before. In fact once he tried to pay with porn and Joel had to tell him he only accepted ration cards.

“Just a little something extra,” Vince said with a wink. He happily took the boots and gave them a once over. “You got my size and everything.”

“I’m not interested,” Joel said and tried to hand the pictures back.

“Come on,” Vince chuckled. “A stiff prick for a stiff prick.” He gave Joel a friendly slap on the shoulder which only deepened his scowl.

“See you around.” Vince walked away and Joel had no choice but to tuck the bundle into his jacket.

When he got home, Joel hid the ration cards away as he always did. He put the photographs into the hole in the floor as well. He hadn’t given them another look since they went into his pocket. Joel might’ve just gotten rid of them but nothing went in the trash without careful consideration. Everything in the QZ had value and these pictures were obviously worth something to somebody. It didn’t feel right to sell them but in a pinch, it would be good to have something that could grease some wheels.

He put the floorboards back and promptly forgot about them.

...

Joel’s hand reached into the hole in the floor. It was the end of a long and awful week. The Fireflies were causing trouble which meant the FEDRA rats were out in force. Joel hadn’t done any lucrative business in days. The honest work he could get was as degrading as ever. He smelled like trash and shit. He needed a fucking drink, couldn’t wait to feel it burn in the back of his throat. There was no chance his muscles would uncoil without a couple of shots. As he fished his bottle out of its hiding place, his fingers caught on something else. The slick side of a photograph stuck to his sweaty palm as he drew his hand out from under the floor. It’d been a while since he’d put the nudes down there and he hadn’t thought about them at all since.

Joel looked at it. Curiosity, plain and simple. It was a Polaroid, taken on long-expired film that gave everything a tinge of sepia. The woman in the photograph looked out at him, a coy smile on her lips. It wasn’t her face that caught his attention. She sat on the edge of a bed, tits bare. One of her thumbs was hitched in the elastic of her panties.

He pulled the other two out, just to see the variety, and took them over to his bed along with his bottle. The photos got more explicit. In the first she was laying back, completely exposed and touching herself. The other one had her on all fours, looking over her shoulder at the camera, at Joel.

At first Joel chuckled to himself. He never considered himself to be the type to go for such exaggerated, porny stuff. And he hardly lost control of himself. There wasn’t room for desire in his life. Pleasure wasn’t a part of his vocabulary anymore. From the sludge that passed for his morning coffee to the hard mattress he lay on at night, there was nothing enjoyable to be found around him.

Still, he felt himself twitching in his jeans. She had a nice body, the kind he used to like when he thought about things like that. She looked soft and he bet she smelled good.

Joel began to wonder about her, if she’d taken the pictures for her lover. Or maybe for an ex who’d traded them to spite her. Either way, they weren’t for him. She might’ve posed for a creep like Vince to get a few ration cards.

He didn’t like that. He didn’t like knowing that he was the kind of man who got stiff gawking at her. Joel did all kinds of things he wasn’t proud of but he had a good reason for them. Getting off on some woman’s private pictures just seemed wrong.

She wasn’t his daughter but she was somebody’s and that made Joel’s gut twist.

He tossed the photo aside and laid back, draping his forearm across his eyes. For a while he laid there trying to will his hard on away. His muscles were even more tense than before. He ground his teeth and screwed his eyes shut but the image of the woman had burned itself in. Soon he was absentmindedly touching himself through his jeans, dragging his fingertips over the lump in the denim. He craved that release. Each slow stroke made him pulse with want.

He growled. What fucking difference did it make? Joel was acting all high and mighty like it meant something. He wasn’t any better than the man who’d given him these pictures. He had his own vices and he always felt about an inch away from violence. This poor girl had no idea he was looking at her body, that seeing her flesh was getting him hard. If that was the worst thing that ever happened to her, he told himself, she was lucky.

Human decency be damned. Joel gave in to that selfish part of him, the animal inside that cared only about his own survival, his own desire. This world had taken everything from him and he was going to steal something from her. He knew what that made him but he didn’t care.

Joel unzipped his fly, his cock weeping furiously and straining against his boxers. He took up the last photo, the one that was doubled over ass-out, and spit into his other fist. He pulled at himself as he glared at the picture. It felt good. Slick and tight.

He could see a trail of wetness at her core reflecting the camera’s flash and he imagined how fantastic it would feel to plunge into her, to hold onto her hips and groan and buck against her. He kept tugging on his cock, squeezing at the head and dreaming up the noises she’d make, the sounds of their bodies connecting. He sped up his fist. He wanted her to cry out his name. He wanted her to take him away from all of this shit, just for a minute, just sixty fucking seconds when he could forget.

A spasm ran up from his groin, an electric shock that travelled up his spine, and he moaned and swore through gritted teeth as he came. His heart pounded in his chest as he lay back, sticky and sweating. The photograph was still in his grip as his breath evened out.

That wasn’t the last time he used her picture. Whenever he was amped up or way down, he’d retrieve the photos and get to work on himself.

There was one photograph he favored over the others, the one where she was on her back. He liked to think about standing over her, taking in the sight of her. His eyes would move over every velvet inch of her before he went any further.

She could be whatever he needed. Sometimes he would imagine her seducing him, straddling his hips and lowering herself onto his cock with a luxurious sigh. Others, he liked her to be sweet and innocent, just for him. When he was having a shitty day, he’d picture himself fucking brutally into her mouth until tears ran down her cheeks. It was messed up and he knew it but the guilt wore off quickly. He had next to nothing in this world, at least he could have this release.

...

Joel had been waiting longer than he wanted. He’d circled the block three times already and he was getting impatient. He was meeting a buyer who was late and if they didn’t show soon, they’d be out of luck. Joel didn’t like to linger.

He rounded the corner on the square and did his best to blend in. Another round of executions were underway. Above the crowd, four people were lined up on the catwalk, ropes around their necks. Joel chose to ignore it. He scanned the faces around him until he saw someone familiar. It wasn’t his contact. He wasn’t sure where he’d seen her before. That happened often— he’d spot someone he thought he knew from his past life. Most of the time, it was just a trick of the eye, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that he knew the woman on the other side of the square.

She had her arm around another woman. The other one was more than middle aged and crying, tears running over the wrinkles on her cheeks. The woman, the one that Joel recognized, pulled her friend in close and glanced around. She wasn’t crying but she had a lost expression on her face. That’s when he realized.

Joel was looking at the woman from the photographs. There was no doubt in his mind that it was her. He’d spent over a year staring at that face. In person, she was just as pretty but her appearance was hidden under the same dirt and weariness everyone in the QZ wore.

Joel’s chest went tight and he couldn’t move a muscle, couldn’t breathe. His body was crushed by shame and disgust. He had violated her and she didn’t even know it.

The FEDRA officer read out the charges and she squeezed her friend in close so she wouldn’t have to watch the bodies drop. Obviously there was someone up there that they knew. Joel watched her face go stony as the platform fell out. She barely winced, like she was just there to bare witness, but he could guess how she felt. You lost enough people, what was one more friend dying right in front of your eyes?

The crowd broke up and she lead her companion away, a tender hand on the older woman’s shoulder. Joel had no choice but to move and his feet decided to head in the same direction as the woman. He kept his distance because he wasn't following her. At least he told himself that he that. It just wasn’t safe for him to hang around with FEDRA crawling all over. Dusk was falling so she was probably headed home before curfew fell.

Joel watched her wind down the streets, all the while sick to his stomach. He truly was a creep. He didn’t know why he was going after her. The last thing he wanted was to spook her and it wasn’t like he planned on introducing himself. There was a funny idea in his mind that she might turn around and see him and know, just by looking at his face, what he’d done. Maybe she’d scream at him and slap him in the face. Part of him wanted that. He deserved it.

She was just helping her friend up the stairs to one of the brownstones when Joel connected with something. He’d been so wrapped up in watching the woman, he wasn’t looking at where he was going. It startled him out of his thoughts to be inches away from a FEDRA officer. Usually Joel kept a wide berth but he’d walked right into the back of his bulletproof vest. The officer turned and put his hands on his hips, narrowed his eyes.

Joel gave an apologetic nod.

“Move along,” the FEDRA officer commanded.

Joel did, unsure he deserved to slip out of a close call like that.

When he got home, he felt like shit. He pried up the floorboards and dug out the pictures. The face that looked out at him was the same one he’d seen in the square. He snapped his eyes shut and swore under his breath.

He set the photos down at the kitchen table, then sat on the couch with his bottle. Joel sat there for a long time, watching the pictures like they might spring up and force themselves back into his hand. That night, he hardly slept.

...

Joel knew better than to do business with someone as skittish as Max. This kid had already chewed his fingernails down to the quick and the way his eyes darted around would make anyone suspicious. But he wanted pills so damn bad, he’d give up more ration cards than they were worth. Joel insisted they meet off the street, in an alley buffeted by a fence and brick walls.

“You’re a lifesaver for this,” Max said. He couldn’t stop fidgeting and it made even Joel nervous.

“Mhm,” he grumbled.

Max knew the drill. He was ready with the cards without being asked.

Joel was about to reach for them when the worst thing that could happen did.

“What’s going on here?” a gruff voice called down the alley. Fuck. A FEDRA officer in full uniform was marching their way, one hand on his weapon.

Leave it to Max to split. He made a break for it and blew past the officer leaving Joel to face questioning alone. If he’d been cool, Joel could’ve talked their way out of it but now there was no hope of leaving without trouble.

The officer radioed for someone else to go after Max, gave his position and direction, but he kept his eyes on Joel. He was shorter than Joel and under his helmet, he looked young. Probably born just a few years before the outbreak with no options but joining up. The patch on his chest identified him as DIXON.

“Hands on your head,” Dixon instructed when he was finished.

Joel obeyed, a deep frown pulling at his lips. Dixon scanned him and then reached for his radio again.

“I’ve got some ration cards in my pocket. They’re all yours,” Joel offered before he could make a report.

“You trying to bribe me?” the officer asked.

Joel shook his head. “Everybody’s in need these days. Just trying to help out.”

Dixon scoffed. “Trying to help yourself out of a tough spot.”

Joel clenched his jaw. This motherfucker was obviously one of those types that got off on throwing their weight around. Half of the FEDRA soldiers he’d encountered were happy to bend the rules for the right price. The other half only felt big when they reminded others how small they’d become.

“Let’s see what you’ve got,” Dixon said, sliding his weapon onto his back so his hands were free. The chainlink fence rattled as he pressed Joel against it. Joel kept his eyes forward as hands searched his hips and down his legs. Dixon went into his pocket and Joel heard the crinkle of a plastic bag. “Pills. No wonder.”

He continued his search as Joel cursed himself. Losing that merchandise meant a nice stack of ration cards was about to evaporate into thin air. Not to mention the fact he was now in deep shit with FEDRA.

“Oh, fuck,” Joel heard. The delight in the officer’s voice made him turn his head. Joel’s stomach fell into his feet when he saw what had been found. Dixon held a Polaroid in his hand.

Joel had been toting the pictures around for two weeks, hoping chance might cause him to bump into the woman again. Sometimes he wandered past the building she went into before curfew, hoping to catch her there again. He could have just destroyed them, lit the corner and let them go up in flames, but he wanted to give them back to her so she knew that they weren’t floating around out there. That scumbags like him weren’t jacking it to her picture. That pigs like Dixon weren’t salivating over them like he was right now.

“This your girl?” he asked. He raised the visor on his helmet to get a better look. “Damn.”

Joel pressed his lips into a line, shame washing over him again. He wondered if he’d had the same dopey grin on his face when he’d first gazed over her body.

“That’s a nice piece of pussy.”

Joel seethed and squeezed his hand into a fist in hopes that he could ball up all the swiftly building ire right there.

“Y’know,” Dixon began, finally glancing back up to Joel, “if I got a taste of that, I might be inclined to forget about all this. If she’s any good, maybe I’d even let you keep your pills.”

His fist flew before he even knew it. Joel pounced on him, pinning Dixon against the brick and punching him right in the nose. Dixon fought back, clawing and grunting, scratching at Joel’s face. Joel didn’t care. In fact, he welcomed the pain. He wasn’t defending her, the woman he didn’t know. He wasn’t a hero. Joel pummeled the man the way he’d wanted to beat himself. Pervert. Scum. Monster. Blood gushed from Dixon’s nose and teeth were battered loose and it wasn’t long before he stopped defending himself. Joel finally realized he’d knocked him out. He was holding the officer up with his own bodyweight and when he let go, Dixon crumpled.

Joel stood over him, shoulders heaving with his jagged breaths. Dixon gurgled, a mess of swollen crimson. Joel stooped down and picked up the picture with a bloody hand. He turned down the alley and ran like the cockroach he was.

...

Joel leaned in the shadow of a doorway, his eyes fixed across the street. He’d been laying low, staying as far off of FEDRA’s radar as he could, but he’d been restless. A week had passed since he’d beaten the piss out of one of their officers. His knuckles were still red and raw.

The sun was setting. He’d been out there for nearly four hours now and he’d need to get going soon if he was going to be back before curfew. There as no way he’d risk being out after dark when things were so hot.

He perked up when a figure rounded the corner. They were rushing, clearly fighting the same clock. It was her. Joel could tell from the other end of the block. He’d been resolved to get her pictures back to her but suddenly he felt like turning tail and going home. The urge only confirmed his worst opinions about himself.

Joel strode across the street as she approached. He placed himself at the foot of the stairs he knew she was headed towards.

The woman looked at him with nervous eyes. It stung but he couldn’t blame her. Joel was broad and his face always fixed in a scowl. She should be scared. He’d been no friend to her.

“Do you want something?” she asked, staying a cautious distance away. Her voice wasn’t what he’d imagined.

Joel pulled the photos out and she took a step back. He moved towards her, holding them out so she could see that he didn’t have anything dangerous. His fist was still swollen and a smear of Dixon’s blood had stained the white frame of the Polaroid.

The woman’s eyes bounced back and forth between his hand and his face. Finally, seeing that he wasn’t going anywhere until she took what he offered, she carefully plucked the pictures up.

Her eyes went wide and then narrow. She glowered at him. “Where did you get these?” she demanded.

Joel’s mouth was dry. The accusation in her stare cut him deeper than he’d expected. The scabs on his knuckles burned like he’d scraped them against sandpaper. He looked at her for a lengthy moment and then decided that he’d done enough.

Joel left her there after a grunt.

He walked swiftly, wanting to put as much distance between them as he could. He didn’t feel any better. It felt like failure. He’d already forgotten what she looked like, serpentine and sensuous, replaced by her hurt and admonition.

Joel had planned on apologizing, but the words hadn’t come.

...

My love language is words of affirmation so I'd love any comments or rbs. Thanks for reading, you beautiful person.

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