#had an operation got a new hip part and is slowly walking again :3)

[ngwun]

Quick doodle!

#submas #ingo #emmet #doodle #pokemon #pokemonart #fanart #Havent been drawing much lately these past weeks stuffs happened. My dementing gramz broke her hip and ive been taking care of her #(shes doing fine now #had an operation got a new hip part and is slowly walking again :3) #gramps not taking care of her at all #works been pressuring and stressy lately #dogs having healthproblems again ugh vent vent vent #augh sorry for just poofing away i really feel like drawing again but might not do that too much tho

[whoacanada]

Zimbits - Bartender!Jack + NHL!Bitty AU

Prompt: Retired NHL player Jack Zimmermann takes ownership of a sports bar in Pittsburgh and accidentally falls for the Penguins’ (closeted) new left winger.

A/N - just the start, I’d like to get around to more of this; the basic idea was an It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia AU, but I couldn’t manage to make everyone that terrible so Jack owns and operates a gay sports bar and starts crushing on one of his patrons.

“Can’t believe you’ve owned this place since ’89.” Jack coughs, waving the dust away from his face. “Did you ever come back after we moved home?”

It’d be disingenuous to say Jack had been expecting anything other than cigars and whiskey when his father had invited him on a trip down to Pittsburgh to see Mario and glad-hand some Penguins sponsors. In fact, he’d kind of been looking forward to sulking and getting shit-faced, not limping around a condemned building dodging roaches and rats.

“It was an investment opportunity. That was the trend back then, famous athletes buying up restaurants and clubs — I had big plans for this building. Then your mother got pregnant and I realized I didn’t really give two shits about running a nightclub.”

“Realized you were pretty lazy, huh?”

As Bob laughs, Jack picks at the peeling, lacquered bartop, trying not to imagine how many decades of grime he’s just collecting under his nail, the situation made even more disgusting in such close proximity to the glittering gold championship ring his father had insisted he wear to their lunch meeting with the Penguins front-office suits. Jack flicks the gunk away as Bob levels him with a weighty look, hands braced in the air as if outlining a play and not offering a tour of a cobweb-filled dive.

“Here’s my thought,” Bob says. “The bar. It’s yours.”

Jack leans against the counter, taking some weight off his braced leg, and asks, “What’s mine?”

“This place,” Bob gestures around the room. “The whole building. It’s just sitting here, empty, the bar, the liquor license, there’s apartments and office space upstairs, we’d just need to do some renovations and —“

Jack can’t help himself. He barks a laugh and says, “I’m not moving to Pittsburgh.”

“How many times have you and I talked about opening a sports bar? I’d wanted to get this place fixed up so it’d be ready when you retired, but since the final — you could make it a gay bar, even, if you wanted!” Bob says quickly, offering another awkward olive branch. “A gay sports bar. I wouldn’t care.”

“A gay sports bar. In Pittsburgh,” Jack echoes, reaching for a chirp to defend himself, but he closes him mouth as he realizes a sports bar run by a Zimmermann might not be a terrible investment idea. “The building needs a ton of work,” Jack settles. “I just saw a rat.”

“That was a mouse,” Bob dismisses, not bothering to look at the rat still clearly in view. “Nothing that can’t be fixed. Got a dollar?”

Jack pats his pockets, finds a spare looney and hands it over. Bob doesn’t hesitate, pulling an envelope out of his back pocket to exchange for the coin.

“Congratulations. You are now the proud owner of,” Bob looks around helplessly. “I actually don’t know what they call this place now. A Bar?”

“I’m sure we’ll figure something out.” Jack swallows against the tightness in his throat, holding the deed carefully in his hands. “Thanks, Dad.”

Bob brings Jack in for a loose hug and they both ignore the soft squeaking coming from the backroom.

Five Years Later

There’s a man examining the announcement board in the vestibule, and Jack knows that posture: the forward hip cant, thick thighs, a small but definite bubble butt — guy’s a hockey player, and he has been for some time.

“Hey. Hi.”

Blondie spins around at Jack’s address. Not quite startled, but something close enough that Jack feels a twinge of guilt. “You interested in playing in our beer league? You look like you might know your way around a rink.”

The man quickly looks at his chest, as if expecting to find something displayed, but relaxes immediately. Jack fights a grin, he was once old hat at wandering into public spaces decked out in identifiable team merch.

“Bitty.” The man squares up to offer his hand; his accent is warm and distinctly southern, not at all what Jack was expecting. “You can call me Bitty.”

“Oh, with a nickname like that, you have to play, now, no excuses,” Jack gives Bitty’s arm a firm shake, surprised at how complementary his grip is; not just an overcompensating bro who’s walked into the wrong club.

“If only I had the time,” Bitty placates wryly. “Is this place new?”

“Been here a few years, but not long. How about you? Are you ‘new’? In town, I mean.”

“Moved for work,” Bitty’s smile is timid, eyes darting around the room looking for other patrons, up at the memorabilia and the various pennants. “First year. Slowly learning the area.”

Jack doesn’t miss the way Bitty’s eyes linger on the Pride flag draped from the second floor railing, but Bitty doesn’t mention it, and Jack isn’t in the business of prying.

“Let me be the first to welcome you to The Bar.”

“I saw that outside, do you not have a name?”

“We weren’t creative. The owner didn’t realize he was filling in the wrong line on the business license so we are literally called ‘The Bar’.”

“That’s actually pretty solid,” Bitty laughs, the sound lifting Jack’s mood easily. “I’ll have to make sure I come back and patron your establishment at a reasonable hour.”

“What you aren’t interested at getting sloshed before noon?”

Bitty laughs, and Jack is enough of an adult to recognize he’s got a tiny bit of a crush.

______

True to form, Bitty slowly becomes a feature of Jack’s early afternoons. The first few weeks, he does little more than quietly purchase a single domestic beer before tucking himself away in a corner booth, hunched over his phone, ball cap pulled low for discretion. Jack gives him space, and aside from a few curious regulars, Bitty is little more than another closeted young man seeking quiet sanctuary.

That is, until, hockey kicks up and Mario hooks Jack up with season tickets beside the bench. It’d taken time for Jack to get comfortable with being in an arena again, especially without the ability to step onto the ice himself, but he’s acclimated and learned to appreciate his new lot in life. He can be happy for his success and mourn the end of his career with equal measure.

(Doesn’t hurt he still gets asked for autographs on the regular.)

Bittle, the new forward traded out of Columbus, spins to whip the puck between Lundqvist’s thighs and the score is 3-2 with a minute left in the third. Jack stands to cheer with the crowd as Bittle’s pulled into a celly with his line mates, and the new angle gives Jack a good look at the man’s sunny face, complete with a familiar, bright smile and missing canine. Jack’s heart leaps into his throat when he realizes Bittle is ‘Bitty’, and Jack can’t help but cheer louder.

________

After the game, Jack does his homework. Pulls up stats pages and articles on Eric Bittle. Looking to link the quiet hottie from his bar with the energetic man he saw tonight on the ice. If Jack wasn’t in love before, he absolutely is after watching highlights from Bittle’s time in Columbus.

The next time Jack finds Bitty slipping into the bar, probably between practice and a good nap, Jack makes his move; filling a pint glass, wedging an orange slice on the rim, and adjusting his shirt before striding to the corner booth as easily as one can with a titanium femur.

“On the house,” Jack says, setting down the glass gently. “Choice goal, Tuesday. Great bounce.”

Bitty’s grateful smile falters, turning into something guarded.

“What goal?” Bitty asks, voice steady, and Jack’s immediately alerted to his misstep. Jack casts a careful eye around the room and doesn’t find anyone watching, kicking himself for not thinking this through. He’s used to playing this game with guys who aren’t quite comfortable, who might be visiting with the wrong people, but he hasn’t had to do the closeted-pro-athlete dance in a while.

“You know, I must have been mistaken.”

“Happens all the time. Very sweet of you, though.” Bitty apologizes and pushes away the beer, but Jack waves him off. It’s the least Jack can do for calling the guy out.

“I should have known,” Jack tries to recover. “You’ve still got all your chiclets. But, between you and me, Bittle’s a spitfire, eh? Crazy soft hands. I’d like to meet him someday.”

Jack whistles low, rapping his knuckles on the table before turning back to the bar, moving slowly enough he catches the way Bitty’s cheeks flare pink at the compliment.

About thirty minutes later, Jack, half focused on counting down the till, nearly misses Bitty’s exit. He looks up to offer a parting wave, and Bitty returns the gesture, flashing a shy, incomplete smile; one canine missing on the left side.

________

“Anything new to report? Sales look good, think you might be able to take some time off and visit your poor parents?”

Jack slides open a window to let some air into his bedroom, not for the first time wishing he’d taken the chance to tear out a wall and convert a corner of the top floor into a balcony. There’s still time — his father never seems to wary of giving Jack renovation loans — but Jack loves his condo and hates the idea of relocating again, even temporarily.

“New distillery opened, cut a deal on some local gin. We’re working on drink specials, if you have any ideas for names I’m open,” Jack eases onto the windowsill and looks down at the line of people waiting to get into the bar. “And I met someone. Think he might be a hockey player.”

“No shit? Beer-league?”

“NHL.” Jack corrects, an edge of caution in his tone he knows his father won’t misinterpret. “Started coming around a few months ago, gave me a fake name. Went to a game last week, scored right in front of me.”

“Well, you going to tell me who or am I going to have to guess?”

“He’s keeping to himself,” Jack holds the curtain steady to catch sight of a particularly flashy person in a glittering teal gown, texting Holster to snag a photo for the bar’s Instagram. “Don’t go hunting.”

“Well, if he needs any help you let me know.”

“What could you do?”

“I don’t know. Talk to . . . someone. I guess.”

“I’ll keep that under advisement.” Jack placates, smiling at the saucy photo Ransom texts back immediately of Holster lifting their favorite Drag Race runner-up above his head like something out of Dirty Dancing.

“So.”

“Mmm?”

“Does this mean you’ve got a little boyfriend, again?”

Jack leans out over the railing and tries to see if the universe has blessed him with a sighting of his favorite new Left Winger. Sadly, it’s Saturday evening and the Penguins are in Dallas, so no Eric tonight. 

“Working on it.” Jack offers, rapping his knuckles lightly against the window sill and trying not to think about the way Bittle’s face lights up when he sees that Jack is working. “Think I might really have a shot at something.”

“Well, you know what Wayne always says.”

“I do,” Jack breathes, pressing his forehead against the cool glass, taking in his one-of-a-kind view of the city. “I’ll let you know how it goes. Once he gets back.”

“ — You know, I’ve got the game on right now. I bet you $1000 I can tell who you’ve got the hots for. You have a specific type — ”

“Papa.”

“Okay, I won’t.”

“Thank you.”

“But it’s the kid we just got from the Blue Jackets, isn’t it. Bittle? You always like the fast ones — ”

“Goodnight, Papa.”

#bar au #jack zimmermann #NHL!Bitty #zimbits #Zimmermann #retired Jack #zimbits fic #look I wrote a thing #it's only been forever #my fic #my stuff #omgcp #check please

[sillyrabbit81]

The Instructor - Part 4

Summary: Agent Walker continues your training.

Pairing: August Walker x Female Reader

Word Count: approx 3.8k

Warnings: smut, Dom/sub dynamic (m Dom, f sub), dégradation kink, praise kink, slapping, rough sex, orgasm control, I think thats it?

Authors note: Not beta read, only edited by me. There will be errors, my apologies.

Masterlist

Part 3 Part 5

The Instructor Part 4

August took you to the surveillance room. The operation had the whole ninth floor to work from, you didn’t know how the CIA was able to pull off such a requisition, but you knew not to ask questions. Chances were, even August didn’t know how that was done.

Agent Thomas was there with two other Agents and although they were both men, they were so opposite in nature and appearance you wondered how they could possibly work together. One of them seemed to radiate constant joy and good humour, while the other seemed dour and uninterested in anything. You receive a handshake and a welcoming smile from Agent Ortega and got a short nod from Agent Turner. Despite August introducing you by your name, since Agent Thomas had beaten you to them, your name was New Girl.

Apparently, there were two more Agents you would meet when your shift finishes. The number of Agents on this case struck you as odd. Six agents plus August all in the field seemed overkill for any simple surveillance case. Four should be more than enough. Hell, you could probably do it with three.

Ortega was the agent you would spend the next 8 hours with, and you were relieved. You were confident you knew how to do your job, but since this was your first field assignment, you were nervous and Turner made it worse.

So did August, if you were honest with yourself. You found yourself playing with the golden circlet around your neck a lot and chided yourself for bringing attention to it. It was meant to be discreet but if you constantly played with it, eventually someone would notice. You frequently found your concentration lapse and you would focus on August instead of your job. He was becoming an obsession, he invaded your mind constantly. You couldn’t stop thinking about him, anticipating your next visit or, remembering your too few encounters.

During one such daydream, you caught Ortega staring at you, expectantly. You quickly realised it was because he had spoken to you but you hadn’t responded. “Sorry,” you say. “I tend to get really focussed on my work and block out other sounds.” You lie smoothly. Ortega waves away your apology and repeats the question.

You enjoy your time with Ortega, he was friendly and warm without being lecherous. Perhaps his simple wedding band helped to put you at ease. He doesn’t offer information about his partner and you don’t ask. You both eat a lunch of sandwiches made in the kitchen and while the work doesn’t stop, you and Ortega start chatting and you find yourself growing more comfortable with him. Even though he calls you New Girl, he doesn’t treat you like a rookie and you found your confidence increase as the day went on. You even found yourself sharing jokes with him.

However, an hour before your surveillance shift finished, August came back to the room requesting an update. As he comes in the door you were smiling, still getting over a laughing fit with Ortega. Although he shows no obvious reaction, you notice a slight tightening of his jaw. You keep the smile plastered to your face as you look away, but you know there isn’t a hint of a smile in your eyes.

August checks in with Ortega who reports the day’s events. He leans over Ortega’s shoulder resting one hand on the desk while the other held one side of a pair headphones up to his ear as he listens to some audio. You can feel August’s gaze boring holes into you, and you can almost hear him say, “Look at me, Pet.”

Slowly you raise your eyes and look at him. You had to smother a gasp. He wasn’t just staring at you, it felt like he was stripping you bare with his eyes. The fire is his blue orbs was scorching with desire. His gaze holds you captive, and you know if Ortega sees what was taking place, your secret would be out. Scandal at this point in your career would mean you were chained to a desk for the rest of your life, if you didn’t quit in frustration, which was usually what most people did.

But August doesn’t take pity on you, he knows the risks too and doesn’t avert his gaze. He licks his lips, drawing attention to his mouth. With a leering look he mouths, “I’m going to fuck the shit out of you tonight, Pet.”

You make a strangled noise and Ortega looks up at you started. “You ok, New Girl?” he asks.

You reach down and clutch your foot, slipping it out of your shoe. “Yeah,” you say, hiding your face while you rub your foot. “Just a cramp.”

August ignores the situation and keeps listening to the audio. You avoid looking at him and he leaves a few minutes later. Even after he is gone, you still feel your ears and cheeks burn and you doubt you will be able to regain your concentration. Then you receive an email from August that simply reads “8 pm.” The rest of your shift is a write off.

Not long before eight pm you stand nervously outside August’s apartment. With trembling hands, you knock on the door. You feel tipsy, you can’t think straight, you’re giggly with nervousness and your legs are unsteady, ready to betray you at any moment.

“It’s open,” you hear August call from inside.

You take a deep breath in a useless attempt to settle your nerves and open the door. You see him sitting at his dining table reading from his laptop and nursing a tumbler of what looked like gin or vodka. He didn’t get up, just flicks his eyes up as the door opened, saw it was you and flicks his eyes down again.

“Lock the door,” August says and you do as he asks.

He is wearing his suit pants and button up shirt, but he had taken his jacket and tie off. His sleeves are rolled up and a few of the top buttons on his shirt are open and you can see tufts of his dark hair on his chest. His hair is still impeccably groomed, but a five o’clock shadow dusts his jaw. Even without the suit, he exudes authority, from the set of his jaw, to his posture, the only thing casual about him was his laxed attire.

“You’re early again,” August says. You still can’t tell if he thought being early was a good thing or not. Until he said otherwise you would continue to be early because you were sure August wouldn’t tolerate tardiness.

You half shrug in reply, but don’t say anything. You realise you hardly say anything in front of August, he intimidated you more than else did. He made you nervous in a way that was so intoxicating that you found it hard to even think of anything you wanted to say. Unless, he asked you a question, then you can hold nothing back. Perhaps it was because you know there is no one in the world that has more power over you than he does.

“Take your clothes off, pet.” August says, still not looking at you. “All of it this time, except your stockings and heels.”

You try to swallow, your mouth feels dry, but you don’t hesitate to obey, his tuts of disappointment that morning still lingered in your mind. Your hands shake as you undress and fold your clothes neatly. You aren’t sure why you feel like its important to fold your clothes, maybe it was because even when August was relaxing, he always had an air of clean order around him. Like he needed things to be just so. However, you know that’s not completely true, you have seen the chaos dance in his eyes, the thin veneer of civility he wore like a skin suit couldn’t hide all of his primal urges and tendency towards recklessness.

“Come sit next to me,” you hear August say the second you had folded your underwear and placed them on top of your clothes. You didn’t think he had been watching but he must have been, because even now he seemed to still be focussed on the screen in front of him. You feel a little silly that you had undressed like you would have at home, you didn’t even try to make it look good for him.

So, you make an effort this time, to show him you want to please him. You let your hips sway just slightly as you walk, the movements feel natural, yet seductive as you near him. You pull a chair away from the table but August stops you, putting his hand over yours. His fingers are warm on your skin and you feel a shiver run up your spine.

“Not there,” he says.

You walk around to the chair on the other side of him, but August stops you again. “Not there.” He looks at you, then with a small movement of his head and a smirk, he indicates the floor. “On your knees, pet.”

You’re shocked and before you can stop yourself you say, “On my knees?” You look at the rug under the table. It was fairly plush looking and soft so your knees wouldn’t hurt. You wondered if he wanted you to take him in his mouth again, you couldn’t think of another reason he would want you on the ground.

“Yes,” August says, with little patience, but his smirk holds. He must find your bemusement funny. “Now.”

You slowly sink to your knees next to August, you feel a little humiliated, but you are curious to see where this was going. August lets out a content hum as you obey. The sound makes you smile and you look up at him, his smirk now looks more like a smile and he pats your head. “Good girl.” He praises. All thoughts of humiliation left you as those two words warm you. August places his large hand on the back of your head and guides it to his thigh.

Again, you’re confused, until you feel his hand stroke your head. He pats you, soothing himself as he finishes his work. He occasionally lifts his hand to do some typing and you find yourself watching his hand impatiently until it is returned. Occasionally he touches your collar, running his fingers along it, as if reminding himself that you as his. Sometimes his fingers slide up and down your back, with long tender strokes that make you break out in goose bumps and when he makes you shiver you hear him hum with satisfaction.

Eventually you hear August give a big sigh and he stretches his neck before closing the laptop and moving it out of the way. He takes a last swig of his drink before putting it aside as well.

“Pet,” August says. You look up at him and he gives his head a little jerk again and you stand up. He looks you up and down, his eyes seem critical as he inspects you, but you know he likes what he sees because his tongue licks his lips before he bites his bottom lip.

August guides your leg over his and you stand in front of him now, your legs on either side of his and your bottom rests on the table. You feel exposed while he continues to study you, and you want to close your legs as you see his eyes linger on your bare slit. You know he would see the slick wetness of your arousal, you could feel it on the inside of your thighs. You close your eyes, a little embarrassed by your obvious display of desire.

August starts to run his hands over the outside of your thighs, hips and waist and back again, while he leans in and kisses the soft skin of your belly. You involuntarily giggle and your hands reach for his head as his stubble tickles at your sensitive skin. Still smiling he takes your hands in his, pulls them behind your back and holds both of them in his huge paw. He returns his kisses to your tummy, but this time they are bigger, wetter and you can feel his tongue lick at your skin as he does. You try not to wriggle, you try and hold still for August, but his teasing touch is too much and you find yourself squirming as he plays with you.

Between kisses he says, “I think its time I got to know you better, Pet.” You feel the heat rise in your body and you feel your heart beat everywhere. God, he has barely even started and you were so ready for him. “Time I explored you.” His eyes looked up at yours as his tongue slid up your body and over your nipple briefly. He held his face in front of your breast, letting his breath tickling your hard bud. “Time I tested your limits.” He takes you in his mouth, sucking on your nipple, and letting his teeth graze you, your body shuddering with pleasure.

Looking up at you August’s voice is suddenly serious, “If you need me to stop, say Red.”

“Red to stop,” you repeat, letting him know you understand.

Letting go of your hands, August lifts you by your waist and sits you on the table. “Lay down, pet.” He says, pushing against your shoulder. He lifts your legs so that your heeled feet rest on his thighs. You moan, and want to draw your knees together, but you feel his hands on the inside of your thighs pushing them further apart. You are completely on display for him, you can hide nothing as he continues spreading your legs. You shut your eyes, tight. Your mind and body were in conflict. You were on fire, hot with lust and need, but your mind wanted to say no, to stop, you couldn’t stand the embarrassment.

“Spread your lips wide for me, pet. I want to see your cunt dripping wet for me.”

You shake your head, you can’t do that. It was too much. Already so exposed and naked, the thought of holding yourself open to him was too humiliating. “Please August,” you murmur “I can’t.”

The loud smack against your breast takes you by surprise. You hear the noise before you even register the pain. “August,” you cry. Your hands reach up, covering your breasts, and you try to rub the sting away.

“Hold yourself open. I want to see inside you.” August’s voice is low and firm, not angry, just stern. You lift your head to see him, he tilts his head and his whiskered lip curls in a cruel grin, almost like he was daring you to say no again.

Laying your head back on the table and squeezing your eyes shut, you move your shaking fingers down to your slit. You’re so wet and so aroused you struggle to hold your swollen petals apart. You hear August’s breathing start to quicken and his voice is barely above a whisper as he says, “Good girl.” You feel a finger slide teasingly over your exposed core and despite your shame your hips roll in desire. “You have such a pretty wet cunt, Pet.” His finger sweeps up your slit, his rough pad pausing on your clit. You gasp as he does, and a low moan escapes you parted lips.

August chuckles, “You’re very responsive, Pet. I like that.”

His finger moves back to your entrance, and with agonisingly slow movements he pushes his finger into you. You feel yourself clamping down on him already, you’re so desperate to be filled. Your hips start to rock as he curls his finger inside you, searching for your spot.

“Oh fuck,” you cry when he finds it, you unconsciously try to curl up into a ball as every muscle in your body contracts. Your hips move faster now, and you eagerly beg, “Please August.”

“You are an impatient little slut sometimes, pet,” August says as he lays an arm over you, stopping your undulating hips. “I think patience will be your next lesson, but lucky for you, today I want to watch you cum.”

Without warning, August pushes a second finger inside you. You cry out as you feel yourself stretching to accommodate him. You were so close to coming, your whole body felt pulled tight like an elastic, ready to spring apart when the tension got too much. Your fingers start to hurt as you hold yourself open. Even your fingers feel tight, ready for the release of your orgasm.

Your thighs start to tremble and you feel the warm wave start to rise from your toes. “Are you about to come pet?” You barely hear August through the fog bliss you’re feeling as his fingers dance inside you, coaxing you to your peak.

“Yes,” you say through your moans.

“Ask permission,” August says.

You’re so close you can’t make sense of his words. “What?” you ask.

“Ask me if you can cum. This is my cunt pet, I will control when you cum. Or I can stop now.”

You understand that threat, “No, no, please don’t stop.” Panting, and breaking out in sweat you say, “Please August, can I cum?”

“Yes, my needy little slut. Cum for me. Now.”

And you do. You don’t know if it was because he told you to or if it was because you were so close anyway, but when he said now, you felt a wave of warmth flood you. Your body pulsed and your core milks at his fingers and they keep hitting your spot. It feels like your orgasm lasts for an age and even as you come down from your high, you tremble in little after shocks.

You are in such a haze you don’t notice August removing his fingers until you feel both his hands on your knees, pushing them up and out as he stands. Wrapping his arms around your thighs, he gives them a tug. Your ass is barely on the table and in your malleable state, you feel like you’re going to fall off, but he holds you there.

There’s a new sensation at your core, and you groggily sit up, resting on your elbows. You see August, cock in hand lining himself up. You whimper, not yet, you think. Augusts lifts his eyes and you’re caught once again in his piercing blue eyes. His shows you his teeth and grabs your throat as he impales you with his cock.

You would have thought that you would adjust to his size quicker after the euphoria of your orgasm, but you were wrong. You feel yourself reluctantly stretch around him, and despite the pain, as he fills you, tears you apart, it feels good, he feels good.

August pulls you up by your throat, and you wrap your legs around him for stability. You think he’s going to kiss you, but he studies your every facial expression, listens to every little moan as he starts to fuck you. Still feeling weak, every thrust from August throws you, his firm grip on your throat was the only thing stopping you from falling back on the table.

“You look so good, pet,” he grunts at you through his gritted teeth. “You look like a slut, with your pretty mouth moaning for more.” He leans in close to you, and growls into your ear, “But you’re not just a slut, pet. You are my slut.”

You cry out as he says it, his claim of you relights the fire between your legs and you start moving with him, trying to fulfil the growing need inside you. You grasp his shoulders, holding onto him as he keeps whispering in your ear, “You greedy girl, you want to cum again don’t you?”

“Please, August,” you say. He raises his head and sticks two fingers in your mouth, pushing them in deep, almost making you gag. As you build to your peak so does your boldness and this time you find Augusts eyes. You run your tongue around his fingers, before starting to tease them and suck on them.

August snarls as he watches, and increases his pace. You want to cum again, but you don’t want to stop sucking his fingers. But then August breaths a curse, “Fuck.”

You couldn’t hold it off now, you say around his fingers, “Pease August, can I cum?”

“Fuck, yes,” August is as lost as you are and as you fall over the edge, and your pulsing walls grip his cock he thrusts into like he wants to tear you in two. On his last pump he lets out a deep rumbling growl, before his whole body shudders. You had never seen a man who came like him, the way he doesn’t hold back, the way he lets his primal urges over take him, the noises, all of it was so fucking hot.

August leans his sweaty forehead against yours while you both get your breath back. His hand still holds your throat but he moves it under your chin, and with the gentleness that always surprises you, lifts it and kisses you with soft lips and a caressing tongue. You kiss him back, matching his mood, softly licking at his lips.

With a final kiss, August pulls away and helps you to your feet. “Ok?” he asks. You nod and he chuckles briefly, “Who knew you had both a degradation kink and a praise kink?”

You look away from him, embarrassment filling you. August sees it and lifts your face to his again. “I fucking love it,” he says. “Much more to explore.”

You smile, still a little shy about it, but not as embarrassed. “Come,” he says and takes you to his bedroom where you both get in bed and you lay like you had that morning.

You stay awake, pretending to sleep, keeping your breaths long and steady. Eventually August drifts off, and you wait until he falls into a deep sleep.

You slowly get out of bed and creep over to the dining table. You lift August’s laptop from the chair he had left it on. You open it and enter the password you saw him use on the plane. Your hands start sweating as the machine connects to the CIA network. You think you hear a noise and you look behind you, but you can see or hear nothing.

You type August’s CIA log in and enter another password. You are worried about this one, you aren’t sure if you had been able to catch all of it. You release the breath you didn’t realise you were holding when the CIA logo fills the screen.

You feel eyes on you and the hair on the back of your neck starts to rise. Terrified you turn around and come face to face with August and his unforgiving eyes. “What do you think you are doing, Pet?”

Part 5

Tag List:

@henryobsessed @omgkatinka @legendarywizarddetective @posiemax @nostalgicb-txh @moonlacebeam @anitababi @agniavateira @blakerogue @shadesofarrogance @mansaaay @stxlemate

#august walker #august walker x you #august walker x reader #henry cavill #henry cavill fanfiction #august walker smut #august walker fanfiction #henry cavill fic #fanfic #mission impossible 6

[danniburgh]

Rushingly Bittersweet (Javier Peña x f!reader) part 25

Pairing: Javier Peña x ofc//f!reader with name.

Summary: After the fall of Escobar everything starts happening way too fast for Javier; his raise, his new office, his new team, the Cali cartel’s operation, the sudden arrival of a new agent that was transferred to his team for no apparent reason, the way he was falling in love with her almost unintentionally.

And he couldn’t seem to stop any of that.

Word count: +3.5k

Chapter warnings: smut, (unprotected p in v), a bit of mutual masturbation, a lot of exposition lol, brief mention of drugs

A/N: This chapter is set after season three. // So, last chapter my dudes; im so happy but sad that the main series is ending but so satisfied of everything we’ve done together, i have a fuckton of people to be grateful for but honestly i rather do that in private. I just wanna say that im so happy for the attention this fic has gotten and im so grateful for everyone that has read, liked, commented and reblogged this piece of my heart; i owe you <3. And its not the end of this universe, we’re still gonna see slices of Flor and Javi along the years after this story. I love them and i love you. 

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←previous //

gif: @pescopadral

A big breath of air left your lungs and the already known sinking of the light that woke you up almost every morning made your brain half conscious; Summer sunrises in Texas made you open your eyes earlier than you wanted, you didn’t know if it had something to do with the position of the house, that the sun entered the room through the beige sheer curtains and nagged at your eyelids as if it was eager for you to see it or the overall fact that you weren’t able to sleep with light.

You whined softly when you opened your eyes and covered them with your forearm as the amount of light that hit your face directly hurt you; you had been living in that town and waking up in that bed for almost a year and you couldn’t seem to get used to the amount of light that entered the rooms almost all day.

You opened your eyes slowly and rubbed the sleep off them, making a mental note to buy another sleeping mask whenever you went downtown, as Pepe had destroyed the one you had.

You stretched on the bed and let your arms drop to the sides, your right arm falling on a warm lump that let out a muffled groan at the hit.

“Mornin’.” you muttered, shifting to your side, putting a hand under the pillow to face him, he was on his belly, hands under his pillow, his eyes were closed but you knew he was already awake. A small smile grew on your face at his half asleep face and the messy case of wavy bed hair he so easily pulled off.

“No.” he mumbled in that hoarse voice of his you only got to hear in the mornings and shoved his face in the pillow, you bit your lip and eyed the bit of the skin of his back you could see before the sheet that covered both your bodies began.

“Javi, I’m hungry.” you whispered, reaching to his naked shoulder and sliding your hand to his nape, he sighed.

“Go to my dad’s,” he mumbled, the pillow muffling his voice, “today he’s making pancakes.” you snorted at him, your fingers scratched at his nape and you shifted to get closer to him.

“I’m not walking to his house to steal his food, Javier,” you chastised him in a low voice and left a small kiss on his shoulder. “and I have a different kind of hunger.” you murmured on the skin of his arm.

Javier lifted his face out of the pillow just enough for you to see his grin, he raised an eyebrow and you nodded once.

“You’re gonna be the death of me.” he said, making you chuckle, he slid off his hand from under the pillow and reached out for you, shifting on the bed to lie on his side, you stirred closer to him and cupped his face to take his lips on a kiss.

“What an excellent way to go.” you teased against his lips, Javier chuckled and licked your bottom lip to nibble at it between his, his hand slid to your naked back and his warm fingers made their way to the bottom of it, the sheet going down with them, leaving your top half uncovered and at his mercy.

Javier’s kisses traveled down to your jaw and your neck, leaving sloppy nibbles at the skin and he smiled at the smell of your body; a mix of your coconut soap, laundry detergent from the bedding and his cologne, that had a habit of clinging to you since the first day you slept next to him on your house.

One of your hands wrapped around his neck and you brought him closer to you, your breasts brushing the skin of his chest and you shivered when your nipples hardened because of the contact, your other hand sneaked from his shoulder to his chest, all the way down his tummy and then to his half-hardened cock; Javier shivered slightly when you took him in your hand and started giving him lazy strokes to get him ready for you.

Javier sighed and the warm air that left his mouth collided against the wet skin of your neck and a wave of arousal came out of your core and slid slowly to your naked thighs; he moved his hand from your back to your thigh and down to your mound, brushing his fingertips softly on your covered clit until you folded one leg and opened up for him, his fingers found your slick escaping out of you and he eased his index and middle finger inside you, making you gasp.

“You’re always so wet.” he whispered against your skin and his tongue tasted the essence of your flesh as his fingers curled inside you, hitting several times that spongy part of you that made your legs tremble, your hand gripped his cock at the sudden shock of his pressure inside you and the hand that was keeping him close to you moved to his shoulder, and you pushed him to lie down on his back, his fingers sliding out of you and the hand on his cock never leaving him; you loved to feel him grow in your hand, only for you.

The sheet that covered you when you were sleeping was slowly kicked down the bed as you rouse from your side of the bed and straddled him, one knee on each side of his hips; his hands clasped immediately with yours, one dry and one wet with your arousal and you leaned down to cup his face with both hands and take his lips again with your own, his thumbs were making small circles around the skin of your hips and he moaned softly when you bit his lower lip.

“Get inside.” you whispered against his mouth and one of his hands left your body to grip his length, you lifted your hips and he played the tip of his cock on your wet slit, making you shiver when he made it press on your already swollen clit and found his way into you.

You sat on him slowly and you both sighed in relief once he was fully inside you; you slid your hands from his face to his chest and circled your hips slowly, Javier brought his hand to your jaw and pulled you to him, kissing you again and trying to let you know with his lips how much he needed you.

His hand helped you move on top of him as you started a tantalizing rhythm that was making you both gasp on each other's mouth, you smelled his morning breath and let out a soft chuckle at yourself; you didn’t mind it one bit.

“What?” he whispered when he heard you, moving his hand to your hips to help you circle faster.

“I like you very much.” you replied, he smirked in response and leaned up to give you a soft kiss; you slid your hands to his sides and under him, wrapping them around and gripping his shoulders to gain leverage and start moving on top of him, Javier moaned when your started bouncing your hips on him making his cock slide in and out almost entirely and his tip was already grazing at that soft spot inside you that made you whine his name.

“Fuck, baby.” Javier gasped when you hid your face inside his neck, moaning his name, he tightened the grip on your hips and folded his legs, planting his feet on the bed and meeting your movements half way, you gasped at the already known brushing of his cock with your g-spot and smiled when he made you stop your bouncing to pound into you.

“Fu–‌fuck, Javi jus–‌just like that.” you whispered in his ear and he let out a soft grunt when you clenched your walls around him, almost strangling him inside. Javier slid one hand to your upper back and pressed you tighter on his body, his lips and mustache brushing the skin of your shoulder as he and his thrust and the graze of his pubic hair on your clit brought you to pleasure.

You whined his name a couple more times as his warm breath on your skin along with his cock inside you helped build that knot in your lower belly; he started panting and you knew he was close to burst inside of you; so you moved your hand slowly towards the union of your bodies and started circling your clit at the rhythm of his thrusts; you started panting as well at the same time as him and you felt your orgasm come softly, your toes curled and your breath hitched as the knot inside your belly released at once and Javier drove into you a few more times, he moaned when you shoved your slick covered fingers on his mouth, and he sucked, the taste of you and him mixed made him cum and fill your pussy with that warmness of his you really loved feeling spread in and escape out.

“Oh, god,” you panted out, he let out a spent chuckle and hummed, agreeing with you, you tilted your head to his shoulder and kissed the warm skin “I love you.”

Your low voice against his skin made him smile and his hands started drawing shapeless patterns on the skin of your back and hips, he moved his face to your cheek and licked a thin stripe of sweat that ran from your ear to your jaw.

“I love you more.” he muttered.

“I wanna pee.” you said after a few seconds of panting and recovering from your own orgasms, Javier chuckled and disentangled his arms and legs from you.

“Now I’m hungry.” he let out after another spent sigh, making you laugh.

After a cold, shared shower and Javier trying to get inside you again but failing because of his stomach growling in need of food, a packed breakfast courtesy of your non-husband insisting on going to his dad’s and eat the pancakes he made and your usual hour of catching up with the news, Javier brought the truck to the entrance of the house and between the both of you packed the bed with a small cooler and some blankets.

Pepe was walking next to you, and Javier huffed at the dog when he licked your hand after you had offered him an ice cube from the cooler..

“Y’know…” you let out, patting the black dog’s head with your wet, icy hand, “the only thing I miss about Colombia is the weather.” Javier snorted.

“Yeah,” he replied, shoving Pepe to the side softly to close the truck’s bed’s lid “I had forgotten how hot Texas can be.”

“Where are you two chamacos going?” Chucho’s voice came from behind and both of you turned around at the same time, seeing him on his horse, with the hat you gifted him for Christmas perched on his head, Chucho smiled at the mirrored gesture you two made and you smiled at him with a hand on your forehead to cover your eyes from the sun.

“For a ride, pop.” Javier replied, putting his tinted sunglasses on. Chucho hummed in affirmation.

“Check the paddock’s fence while you’re there.” he let out and you smirked at him.

He knew exactly where you were going; he knew both of you like the palm of his hand, surprisingly to you he had learned to read you so well in so little time and while you appreciated it, it was also somewhat exasperating, but you loved him as if he were your own father already, so there was nothing you wanted to do to stop him.

Chucho had modified a saying after you and Javier’s escapades to the piece of land that adjoined with the Río Bravo, saying that it fit you two best; you can take the agents out of the DEA, but you can’t take the DEA out of the agents.

“¿Van a venir a comer?” (are you coming for lunch?) he asked, whistling at Pepe so the dog turned to him.

“Yeah, pero usted no haga nada,” (you don’t do anything) you replied, eyeing Javier over the corner of your eyes “Javi’s cooking.” you let out, making the old man chuckle.

“So we’re not eating.” he let out and you shared a laugh, Javier frowned and took off his sunglasses.

“No hablen de mí como si no estuviera,” (don’t talk about me like I’m not here) he said in a growl “stop ganging up on me.” you let out a loud laugh when he turned around to walk to the driver’s door and hop in the truck and you raised your eyebrows at Chucho.

“Don’t be late, Florecita,” he said, guiding the horse to the side “vente Pepe.” he called out to the dog and he followed the horse as Chucho led it to the opposite side of the land, to the stockyard.

You turned around as well, Javier had opened the door for you from the inside and you hoped in, he turned on the ignition as you closed the door and started driving to the farthest part of the ranch; the ride to the south part was quiet and quick, Javier didn’t say much and the comfortable silence filled the cabin until he parked the truck in the middle of the paddock.

“Oh, I lied just now.” you said while opening the door and getting out of the truck.

“What?” Javier frowned a bit because of the sun and you walked parallelly to him towards the back of the truck.

“There’s another thing I miss about Colombia.” you let out as he walked to the edge’s fence and tugged at two of the posts before walking back towards you.

“What’s that?” he asked, taking off his sunglasses and hanging them from his shirt.

“Real arepas.” you let out, Javier chuckled and reached for you, his hand found its spot on your waist and he pulled you to him, leaving a kiss on your cheekbone.

“I finished another chapter last night.” he whispered against your skin before stepping away and pulling down the truck’s bed’s door. 

You raised your eyebrows at him, he was writing a lot for the book you and Connie had suggested him and Steve should write, just to help process everything they lived while in Colombia.

“Is that why you came to bed so late?” you asked, reaching for one of the blankets you had packed and unfolding it to spread it on the open door, Javier hummed in affirmation.

“Want you to read it before I send it to Steve.” he said, grabbing your hips and helping you sit on the truck, stepping closer while you opened your legs for him to stand between them and wrap his hands around your waist.

“Why?” you teased, wrapping your arms around his neck and bringing him even closer, he smirked.

“Just because.” he replied and shrugged softly, making you huff a silent laugh at him as you leaned towards his face and took his lips in yours; Javier hummed at the soft, dry contact of your lips with his and fisted the fabric of your shirt. You knew how hard it was being for him to remember all the things that happened down there, so sometimes he would end up with huge chunks of information missing that then he’d have to fix, so he was using you as his proofreader and you were more than happy to help, learning in depth things he didn’t dare to say out loud.

He opened his mouth after you brushed his lower lip with your tongue and you invaded him, tasting the minty flavor of the toothpaste.

He broke the kiss and you moved one of your hands to scratch at the short hair on his nape, Javier sighed softly and you took in his features; he looked like the man you had fallen in love, his deep, brown, expressive eyes were the same, his lips were too, the aquiline nose that you loved to kiss hadn't changed but you knew he was a slightly different man than the one you had met almost two years before in a foreign country.

That man was carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders; traumatized and tired, his own spirit was hanging from a thin thread that was so tense it threatened with snapping at the smallest blow of the wind. But the man standing in front of you wasn’t that man, you could see some glimpses of his old self behind his eyes or when the day had been long; after all, years of being that Javier Peña had clung to him and became a custom; but he was fading into his own self, you were slowly meeting the man he was and the man he wanted to be, and you couldn’t be more in love with him.

Your hands brushed his brown waves and you smiled at him.

“You’re really pretty.” you muttered to him, Javier huffed and gazed at you.

“Am I?” he teased, you nodded twice.

“Very,” he caught when you whispered, “and handsome, too,” he let himself smile at your compliment, “and sometimes you’re funny.” you added and he huffed a laugh before closing the short distance between your faces.

The fact that he could have you so close to him, available to touch and kiss and hug and wrap his arms around made Javier feel like he couldn’t ask for anything else; he still didn’t think he deserved it, but he had learned to be selfish and to appreciate what he had in you and with you. Even if the feelings of what happened with you still hid inside his body when he saw you in your hardest days, even if his brain still whispered to him you would do the same if the opportunity came; he knew you better. 

He had seen you stripe yourself naked to him and he had helped you rebuild yourself slowly.

He still was. As were you with him.

Javier knew who he was with and knew your strengths and your weaknesses, he had learned slowly to read you as you read him and he understood that your past, as hard as it was, was the thing that led you to him.

He would run through the same fire again if that meant he would have the chance to wake up next to you for as long as you two wanted. And he wanted to do it for the rest of his life.

You frowned when he broke the kiss.

“Are these gray hairs? you said in a feigned gasp, he rolled his eyes and smirked at you.

“Well, I’m old.” he obviated, stepping away from you and reaching for the cooler, dragging it closer.

“I don’t think you’re that old.” you said, he let out a chuckle as he opened the cooler and took out two beers, handing one to you.

“You don’t say the same when I ask you to rub my back after three hours sitting on the desk.” he teased, sitting next to you, you laughed and scooted closer to him, leaning on his shoulder and opening the can of beer.

“I’m definitely buying you that lumbar pillow.” you said, he let out a wheeze and turned his head to leave a kiss on the crown of your head, he opened his beer and you sipped at yours, seeing a small boat make its way through the water. You grinned and sat straight.

“This is the same one from last week,” you muttered, he hummed in affirmation “I think it’s the first one that has the same rower.”

“Maybe they’re running out.” Javier said, drinking from his beer.

“Wonder when migration is gonna start patrolling around here.” you leaned back onto his shoulder.

“Do you think old man Peña’s gonna let them enter?” he rhetored, and you looked at him.

“You mean you or your dad?” you teased, Javier grunted playfully, “he asked me when I’m giving him a grandkid again.” you said, returning your eyes to the small boat that made its way slowly through the river, not wanting to think about kids or the lack of them.

“Ese hombre no entiende.” (that man doesn’t understand) Javier let out softly, huffing at his father’s wishes.

“Maybe we can call Steve and Connie,” you suggested, brushing the odd feeling off your mind that talking about you having kids always made you feel “they can bring the girls down and maybe ease your dad’s baby fever.” Javier snorted.

“Maybe,” he muttered, downing the rest of his beer and pointing at the river with the hand that held the empty can “there goes another one.”

“That one’s new,” you said, drinking from your can and then handing it to him, “baby.” you called him.

“Mhm.” he took the beer from your hand.

“Do you think we’re still gonna be sitting here watching drugs being smuggled into the country when we’re gray and wrinkled as raisins?” you asked him, Javier chuckled at the question.

“Yeah,” he shifted to wrap his arm around your shoulders “why?”

“I don’t know,” you muttered “maybe we need to build a porch or a gazebo around here. I can’t push you into the paddock if you’re in a wheelchair.” you teased, and Javier let out a soft cackle.

“C’mon, amor, don’t be an ass.”

←previous //

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[dreamingmanip]

"MADNESS LOVE"

*GIF NOT MINE* 

Pairing: Jay Halstead x Reader

Warnings: None (if I need one let me know in my ask!)

Prompt: NONE

Word Count: 1,860

A/N: Okay, this time I didn’t use any prompt from my board on Pinterest. I came with the idea last night (thanks insomnia), and I thought I could make it in 2 parts. Let me know what do you think in my ask, is always open for you. If you want t, like it and reblog it. Thank you very much! 

A/N 2: I’m gonna pin this imagine so you can easily find it on my page, I will do the same when posting part 2. :)

A/N 3: This awesome gif is from Pinterest but, it comes from Wattpad. Her account is Ariana-Fic and you can find it in her fic “Soldiers in Intelligence”.

Being a cop wasn't easy, putting your life in danger to protect and serve others sometimes wasn't successful. It was 50/50, every morning you will be walking out home not knowing if you could come back.

It had been three weeks without a person in the unit. Detective Jay Halstead had been wounded in a crossfire in a covert operation; when one of you got hurt everyone took responsibility even if it wasn't that way, only for some it was harder to try not to blame yourself for what happened. You had blamed Hailey for not covering Jay enough even though you knew it wasn't her fault, you even avoided her a few days after that. 

She was her partner way long before you were assigned to Intelligence by Sergeant Voight.

Narcotics helped Intelligence in a case; it was your case but somehow their case intertwined with yours at some point, both departments agreed to work to stop the overdoses in the area. You were the best at CO, so it made sense for Sergeant Voight to pick Jay, one of his best undercovers for a purchase. Your skills didn't go unnoticed by anyone in the Intelligence Unit, even for someone with experience like Jay. After the case was over he offered you a spot in his Unit, you doubt it for a moment, you were good in Narcotics, good pay, accumulated vacation days, Voight wasn't known for being a patient person and some co-workers encouraged you to take that step by commenting on how crazy you must be not to accept such an offer. 

You were well received by all, perhaps except for Sergeant Trudy Platt, who didn't like strangers or new people in the district. Jay was among the first to congratulate you when you arrived, for a moment you thought you'd be partners but Voight wouldn't break his dream team, so he paired you with Kevin Atwater, whom you've been entrusting your life and darkest secrets to ever since. 

Atwater was the first one you told about the nights you stayed late with Jay in Molly's, he was the first to know how those late nights became visiting his apartment, to end up arriving together one morning, to the district. He had told you about Voight's rules and how he was firm with them after Jay's last relationship had gone bad with his partner and that had affected his way of working a bit.

Jay and you decided to go slowly, the only one who would know about you two would be Kevin, it was agreed at least, but Hailey Upton was very good at her job so she soon realized what was happening between you. She had supported you, although she did not agree to hide this from her sergeant, she wanted to see her partner happy.

They were all at their desks, doing paperwork on a case they had closed the day before, when Trudy appeared on the stairs.

"Guess who came back from her mandatory break."

You looked up from the papers in front of you to look at a smiling Jay Halstead, who was looking at Trudy with a raised eyebrow.

"Nice to see you too, Trudy."

"Yeah, now try to get away from the bullets for a while, I don't want to have to worry about any of you for a long time."

Kevin and Adam were the first to approach him, joking and patting him on the shoulder. Kim and Hailey were next, giving him a loving hug before heading back to his places. You had stood up to lean against your desk, your arms crossed over your chest, Jay leaned closer, although he kept some distance, the mocking smile still on his lips. You were the first to speak.

"I see you survived, Halstead."

"Hey, don't say it like that, I'm going to think you're not happy to see me alive."

You pressed your lips together so as not to smile because of his comment, it was the game that both played in front of everyone else, the sarcastic comments to pretend that they were not getting along as well as they should. You nodded and looked at him.

"It's good to have you back."

Jay's smile widened and he put his hands on his hips.

"Look at that, you're happy to have me here."

You rolled your eyes and sat back in your chair when Voight left his office, leaning against the doorframe.

"How are you Jay?"

Jay nodded his head looking at his boss.

"Good, Sarge."

"Good, because I just hung up with the Superintendent and he wants to acknowledge what you did. Tomorrow there will be a public event, downtown."

You all clapped for a moment, before Voight continued speaking.

"Now try not to die until tomorrow."

Without saying more he returned to his office. Jay went to his desk to catch up on all the overdue paperwork, from time to time you looked up to observe him, you were glad to have him back but the moment you knew about the award, you felt a bitter taste in your mouth. Why were they going to decorate him when he almost died? 

You stood up and went to the coffee room, took one of the cups on the wall and poured yourself some, you still felt that bitter taste in your mouth. You heard footsteps behind you and looked over your shoulder.

"Are you okay?"

Jay asked, taking another cup, reaching for the pot and pouring himself some coffee as well. You leaned a little to look towards the door, checking that no one was around to hear you. You started to get tired of that, checking over your shoulders to see if no one could hear your conversations or whatever you were doing behind closed doors.

“Uhm, yes, I’m just a little tired. We have been in some paperwork duties from a few cases from the past weeks.”

You took a sip from the cup, making a little grin at the taste of the coffee.

“Well, just for the record, I know when something’s bothering you. We have been together almost a year.”

He looked satisfied with himself, and you couldn’t deny it because he was right, Jay knew you so well almost since day one. You looked at him and gave him a little smile, his mood was good after dealing with a grumpy man at his house because he couldn’t get back to work after being shot, and you definitely didn't want to be the one to screw it up. 

Kim walks into the room without realizing the interruption she just made or how you take a little more distance between you two, starts a little chat with Jay and you decide to go back to your desk.

Later, in the locker room, you were finishing picking up some things from your little blue locker, putting them in the gym bag you were carrying that day when Kevin appeared next to you, opening his own locker.

"I don't see you so happy today, you were quiet for most of the day, man you didn't even laugh at Ruzek's nonsense. I thought having Jay back would make you feel better."

You sighed and took a seat on the bench, rubbing your hands over your face before looking at your best friend. You played with your lower lip a bit before speaking.

"Kevin, am I crazy for wanting more in this relationship? I mean, we've worked well without anyone knowing, what difference would it make if we did from the knowledge of Voight, of our friends?"

They both fell silent when an officer entered the room and moments later he left the room, you clenched your fist and struck the cold metal in front of you, you felt frustrated and helpless. Kevin sat next to you, rubbing his hands together as he took his time answering you.

"Y/N, you are a pretty strong woman who knows what she wants, don't let anyone make you feel like you can't, not even some of my friends. If you want, I can talk to him, you know man to man" .

His comment made you laugh a little, releasing a bit of the tension in your chest, you bumped his shoulder with yours, pushing him a little.

"Thanks Kev. I don't think that talk is necessary but I will take it into account for future problems."

"Whenever you need me, girl."

You took your bag, Kevin had helped you lift your spirits but you knew you had to do something with your feelings, for better or for worse. 

Jay was in the kitchen when he heard you arrive, a smile formed on his face as he came out to greet you, an ice cold beer in his hand and a hockey game in the background on television. He walked over to you to kiss your forehead, took your bag and set it aside by the door.

"It took you a little longer than usual to get here, I'm sorry I didn't wait for you. Trudy wanted me to fill out some forms for tomorrow and I left earlier."

You couldn't look at Jay without stopping to think about the consequences that your words would have, you knew about his past and you didn't want to be the evil witch who would ruin what you both had until that day. You settled next to him, resting your head on his chest while he watched the game and he made imaginary shapes on the skin of your arm.

It took you a few minutes before you could form a sentence, your voice lacking the strength you had gathered all the way to his apartment.

"Jay, what if we tell Voight we're together?"

Your voice caught his attention, looking at you completely confused.

"Y/N, we both know that we can't say anything at the moment if we want to continue working in the same unit."

You slowly sat up again, turning a little so you could face him, Jay was sure of what he was saying, it showed in his face and in the confidence with which he had spoken.

"Jay, I'm tired of having to hide from everyone, like what we're doing is wrong. Voight will understand if-"

"I've been through this before Y/N, I know what I'm talking about. I also refused to hide my thing with Erin, but things changed. If we tell this to Voight he will remove someone from the team and we know it will not be me."

You felt the air come out of your lungs, as if someone had hit you, Jay realized his mistake when you stood up, he began to move his head trying to speak, he left the beer on the coffee table trying to take your hand .

"Y/N, it's not what- it's not what I meant ..."

Unaware of your movements, you started to take your things in a frenzy, Jay seemed to be talking to you but you couldn't identify his words or what he was trying to tell you, you just left.

To be continued...

#Jay Halstead #jay halstead imagine #jay halstead x you #chicago pd #chicago pd imagine #hailey upton #kevin atwater #hank voight #adam ruzek #kim burgess #molly's bar

[holykillercake]

Heavenly Demons

paring: Doflamingo x Reader

word count: 1.7k

summary: How far down would you go to rise with the person who makes your heart beat stronger?

highlight:  ¨Haste is the enemy of perfection, Doffy. We shall have all the time in the world.¨

warnings: implied smut, Doffy himself is already a warning, right?

notes: Hey guys! So, I have read a lot of stories where the main character contrasts with Doffy, but I wanted to write one where the reader kinda shares his ideologies. I really hope you like it!! <3

𝕷𝖊𝖆𝖛𝖊 𝖈𝖔𝖒𝖒𝖊𝖓𝖙𝖘, 𝖗𝖊𝖖𝖚𝖊𝖘𝖙𝖘, 𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝖑𝖔𝖛𝖊!

You closed your eyes and took a deep breath as the salty fresh air cooled your body down. The waves crashed violently, and thunderings cut across the skies, shouting to all eight seas to prepare themselves. You were coming for the throne. You were coming for the golden seat above the great serpent soaked in blood. 

Large hands caressed your belly, fingers flirting with the soft skin of your breasts. You felt Doflamingo's naked and burning skin brush against your back, salty splashes of seawater blending with the salt of your sweat bodies. 

¨Do you remember what you told me that day?¨ his voice was low and deep, masking the ferocity of a roaring predator.

¨Every word.¨ 

¨Can you repeat it?¨ you smirked, words already engraved on the tip of your sharp tongue.

He gazed at the ocean with thirst, recollecting all the sacrifices he made, all the breaths he took and raised a glass for all the blood he was yet to shed.  

¨One day, you will rule them all. You will stand above their fallen bodies and step on them as they lick the floor you walk on.¨ His grip tightened on your waist, nails slightly craving into your skin. 

¨I´m ready.¨

¨You have always been, Doffy.¨

¨Y/N.¨ he called you after a moment of silence.

¨Hm?¨ You hummed in response. 

The man behind you struggled, brain fighting the words from coming out of his mouth. He pulled you away from the window, lifting you up while your legs wrapped around his hips. The ship rocked aggressively, rolls of maps and unlit candles rolling across the tapestry.

Doflamingo pressed you against the wall, tongue gliding furiously with yours. You felt his body growing stiff again, moans masked as grunts being muffled by your intoxicating kiss. 

Whines came out with each heavy breath, your chest rising and falling when he finally parted the kiss, a single strand of saliva connecting both sinful lips. 

You took that moment to look him in the eyes. This time, instead of the glasses adorning his beautiful features, the flashes of lightning from the storm illuminated what he was constantly trying to hide.

The eyes of a monster. A monster for whom you would kill, for whom you would slaughter. The eyes of the man for whom you descended from the Holy Land and got your hands dirty to help him rise above the so-called Gods.

You remembered your words as a child. 

¨Those are not the true Gods.¨ he spoke in your ear. 

Shivers ran down your spine, and your core twisted when you felt the tip of his manhood touch your sensitive and sore skin. 

¨We are the true Gods.¨ a deafening thunder echoed through the structures of the Numancia Flamingo the moment he slipped inside you, covering your cries of lust and pleasure.

                                                               <~>

It was difficult to keep up with the man you followed. After all, he was tall and had incredibly long legs. At no time did he help you when you tripped over a piece of garbage and fell or when your legs gave up on exhaustion.  On the contrary, he just kept walking.

¨May I ask for your name?¨ 

That's what came out of your mouth. You knew that shouting and imposing things would not work, not here. This was the territory of humans, and you would have to deal with it if you wanted to get to the boy.

¨May I ask...¨ he mocked you. 

Your small hands, balled into fists, clenched while you snorted with hatred.

¨Calm down, brat. It´s over there.¨ 

Standing on the toes of your expensive shoes, you saw a well-known figure among sheds and piles of metal, with blond hair and dark glasses.

¨DOFFY!¨ 

¨Y/N!?¨ he sounded surprised to see you in such a filthy place. 

Your steps hurried to get to him, ignoring the other people on the scene who looked at you with suspicion.

The ruffles of the skirt were now dirty from the trip, and your hair, always so neat, flew loose with the breeze and even got entangled.

¨What are you doing here?¨

¨Just making sure you got home safe.¨

¨Nyeh, nyeh, who is this, Doffy?¨ a disgusting old man with snot running down his nose asked.

¨She is the girl I told you about. She helped me escape.¨

¨Do not come closer!¨ you exclaimed to the man when he turned to you. The gooey thing swaying with every movement.

Doffy invited you into what he called home and offered you a shabby wooden stool so you could rest from the trip.

Even so young to understand the meaning of love, your heart ached when you saw the precarious situation in which he found himself. No, he was much greater than that.

Your families were neighbors in the Holy Land, so you constantly spent your free afternoons in the company of the Donquixote brothers. It fascinated you how different they were, like two opposite poles of a globe.

At some point, you noticed Rosinante's absence and assumed he had died like their parents. He too was not like you. He would never last.

¨What will you do? You can not accept this, Doffy.¨ you walked over to the boy in front of a window, eyes locked on the piles of scrap metal. 

¨I know, Y/N. I am just thinking.¨ He hesitated to ask for your help, even though he knew how much more clever you could be.

The others just watched the interaction between the two children, the boy chosen by the heavens and the girl who spoke to him as an equal.

¨Claim what is yours, Doffy.¨

¨I tried.¨ his fingertips turned white from squeezing the window sill ¨I served my father´s head in a tray for them to feast, but-¨

¨That is not what I meant.¨ He searched your eyes for the first time, knowing that you were planning something. ¨You are a rightful king, the real deity, not them. Those are not the true Gods, Doffy. We are the true Gods.¨

The slimy man got up from the pest-infested couch, squinting at you. The brilliant idea he hadn't had before coming out of your mouth like a prophecy.

¨Dressrosa, the World Nobles, from the depts of the ocean to the six moons... one day, you will rule them all. You will stand above their fallen bodies and step on them as they lick the floor you walk on.¨ 

Electricity ran through your bodies, and tears of excitement filled your eyes.

¨Nyeh, your name is Y/N, right? ¨ the miry man asked, keeping a respectful distance from you. His voice annoyed you just as much. ¨It looks like you have a plan, behehehe. Tell us more about it.¨

You looked at him with contempt and mistrust.

¨It´s ok, Y/N. They are my family now.¨

That day you shared the plan that would shape the course of the Donquixote Pirates' operations, and everyone listened in silence, bewildered by the strategic mind of such a young child.

¨I will be your eyes and ears up there.¨

¨I´ll be quick, Y/N. I promise.¨ You shook your head.

¨Haste is the enemy of perfection, Doffy. We shall have all the time in the world.¨

That same night you returned to wealth and abundance, but your heart remained between the scraps and the boy, the Heavenly Yaksha.

For the next two decades, you focused on studies, following like a mantra the striking appearances of the Donquixote Pirates in the newspapers.

The World Nobles feared Doflamingo for his knowledge regarding matters that should be kept secret. Secrets you provided, tearing down the wall of the puny Gods, brick per brick.

Over time, your periodic visits to the world below the Red Line have become more intimate, going from an affectionate gesture to a dinner for two and the satiation of carnal desires. 

But maybe there was love. Among the sins and horrors committed, there was a lull after a nightmare. When your fingers ran through his blond hair, and he took off his glasses before pulling you to his chest.

When you laughed at childhood memories or projected a future together. 

Maybe it was love. But how could two beasts like you know for sure?

Perhaps it was not necessary to know the real meaning. When the sun came up again, you would be there together, ready to conquer, rule, and destroy.

When traitors raised their weapons and the weak perished, they would see the true face of God. Majestic and merciless.

When the weak rulers gave in to pressure, you would take the dirty hands of hopeless people and raise them up. And they would kiss the ground where you walked, freely and willingly.

¨Do you like our new home?¨ he asked, bringing you inside the feathery pink coat. 

You stood in front of the window, watching the country over which you would make prosperity reign.

¨It´s amazing, Doffy.¨ 

¨Are you staying for good now?¨

A smile grew on your lips ¨I am, Doffy. I´m staying for good.¨

His laughter filled the room. He took your hand and guided you to the armchair, where you sat on his lap, already opening the zipper of your dress.

¨Twenty years, Y/N...¨ he put a lock of hair behind your ear ¨I have waited for twenty years, and now that we accomplished this, I am not letting you go again.¨ 

You leaned slowly and torturously, flirting with his mouth, teasing him. You wanted to feel each moment, each touch, and each spasm making your body squirm with pleasure.

¨We have all the time in the world...¨ you whispered, placing a kiss on his lips ¨I want to make this very slow and very pleasurable.¨ 

This time when the sun comes up, you would not have to leave.

He laughed again, wrapping his hand in your hair and pulling enough to make a moan escape your mouth. 

¨I can´t promise slow...¨ his voice was low in your ear, weakening your entire body ¨but I will give you pleasure.¨

The trail of kisses on your neck made your guts twist, and your hips move against him, seeking relief. 

¨I´m gonna take you right here and right now...¨ he pulled your hair a little harder ¨and I´m gonna make you my Queen.¨  

Hey @vemuabhi! Here I go again hahaha

#one piece doflamingo #doflamingo x reader #op doflamingo #doffy #donquixote doflamingo #donquixote family #dressrosa #world nobles #celestial dragons #mary geoise #seven warlords #warlords of the sea #shichibukai #king #red line #numancia flamingo #trebol #diamante

[mulderist]

Five Times Mulder Got Scully Coffee, And One Time He Didn’t

MSR || 2k words || @today-in-fic

A/N: I wrote this on the fly based on a post about types of intimacy including knowing your partner’s coffee order.

1 “we leave for the very plausible state of Oregon at 8 a.m.”

It was her first assignment with Spooky Mulder; a crisp Wednesday morning in September. From the backseat she checked her boarding pass once more while the taxi arrived at Dulles International. The red-orange sunrise broke through the distinct wing-like architecture of the main terminal building. The driver idled then popped the trunk and hoisted out her carry-on letting the wheels click to the pavement. She knew she over packed. She thanked him and adjusted the strap on her leather satchel as the cab pulled into the congested river of departure drop-offs. 

The sliding doors opened with a breeze of recirculated air and she paused to let a cluster of businessmen pass by. She scanned the corridor and saw Mulder hovering near the escalators, a duffle bag at his feet. He was wearing a smart light blue shirt with a striped tie. She grinned at the fact that his dark grey suit jacket didn’t fully match his lighter dress pants. On her approach she noticed a particular boyish charm to the curl of his hair. He caught her eye and gave a wave. She quickly smiled and shifted her shoulder bag once again while she pulled her carry-on behind her.

“Good morning sunshine,” he stated while balancing two cups in a flimsy caddy, “I hope you don’t mind but I grabbed some coffee.”

“Thank you, Mulder.” She was genuinely surprised. He set the caddy down on the lid of the square trash can and pulled out a cup, handing it to her.

“How do you take it?”

“Uh, just cream and sugar.” Mulder fished around in the middle of the caddy and found her accoutrements. She slowly removed the lid and doctored up her drink. 

“Not too early for you is it?” He asked after taking a sip from his cup.

“Reminds me of residency,” she said, shaking her head with a smile and pouring a splash of cream. “The line between late night and early morning was pretty hard to differentiate at times.”

“I find it’s when I’m my most productive. However the T.V. choices leave a lot to be desired,” he said with a shrug, reaching down for his well-travelled duffle bag. He unzipped it and pulled out a folder.

“Is this my debriefing?” Scully asked.

“A little light reading for the flight,” Mulder replied, watching her tuck the documents in the pocket of her shoulder bag. “C’mon, looks like we’re at the C gates.” She followed him down the corridor and to the entrance of the shuttles.    

2 “I’ve heard the truth, Mulder. Now what I want are the answers.”

He offered to drive her home. She was exhausted but insisted she was fine. He squeezed her hand when she left to go find her car in the hospital parking deck. 

Restlessness had set in when he arrived at home. Eyes darted to his cell phone on the desk, making sure he hadn’t missed a call. She’d call if she needed to. He shuffled through a stack of files he took from the office, looking for a particular case that matched a tip from Frohike. He flipped it open and returned to the computer keyboard, adding to the paragraph he was working on. The TV droned on in the background, coffee finished its brew cycle in the tiny kitchen. 

Three taps on the door. He turned down the TV and listened then heard three more. He walked across the room and peered into the peephole then quickly flipped the lock and opened the door 

“Hi,” she began, “I’m sorry I didn’t call.” She sucked her lower lip. “I couldn’t sleep.”

“Come in,” he said stepping aside. She exhaled and slowly entered his apartment, brushing a wave of hair behind her ear. He quickly stacked his work and moved the pillows on the couch. She took a seat, fingers knitted tightly together in her lap. Her eyes closed as she climatized to his space. He gave her a minute and stepped into the kitchen. When returned she had pulled her hand away from her face, gracefully dabbing at her eye with her knuckle. He set two mugs down on the table and joined her. 

“If you want to talk..”

“I don’t,” she said curtly, not intending to sound that short with him. “Not..not yet.” Her anger was still fresh. She was a raw nerve. He pressed his lips together and was patient. He had all the time in the world for her. Another slow exhale to steady herself and she reached for a mug. Cream and sugar. Warmth from the ceramic radiated against her hand; she felt another wave ready to break. He saw the downturn and gently took the mug from her, placing it next to his. She fought so hard but reluctantly crumbled. He embraced her; a shelter from the storm.

3 “Oh I don’t know Mulder, some things are better left unexplained.”

“So tell me more about this talking doll you found,” Mulder stated. Scully swallowed her bite of food and blinked at him.

“I never said it was a talking doll, Mulder. And besides, that was weeks ago, why are you still hung up on it?” He tossed the brown end of a french fry back into the bag and licked the salt from his thumb. 

“Color me jealous.” 

She stuffed a napkin in the empty fry container and added it to the trash on the table.

“Please tell me this hasn’t kept you up at night.”

“Not more so than usual,” he said with a shrug collecting their fast food wrappers. They left the outdoor seating area and started to walk down E Street. The lunch dates were a little more frequent than before. Her remission and recovery brought them closer together. Scully didn’t want to assume he missed her when she took a well-deserved weekend to herself but Mulder was shit at hiding how clingy he could be. It was all part of the process. He tapped the back of her arm and pointed at a coffee shop window. She agreed and he held the door. The wonderful aroma of roasted beans and steamed milk hit her senses. She peeked at the bakery case as he went to place their order. Mulder soon presented her with a cafe au lait and a wink. Her lips pursed as she blew on it. His gaze shifted to the perfect “o” of her mouth complimented by a subtle glossy lip tint. He then proceeded to burn his tongue as he eagerly went to drink his Sumatra roast, snapping him back to reality.

4 “Get over here, Scully”

The lights in the office were dim. He had set-up the slideshow reel to provide visual aid to a fairly vague case detail. However the only detail he was concerned with at the moment was the taste of her lips. A hint of honey from her lip balm, the whisper of milky coffee. Their cups grew cold and lonely sitting on his desk while they turned up the heat hiding amongst the shadows. 

She was needy and pulled no punches. Hand rested firmly against his cheek as tongues danced and twisted. His stubble coarse against her fingertips. Last night at the ball field had ignited a spark. Remembering the feeling of his hands on her hips, cheek to cheek in the cool night air. His weight against her with each swing of the bat. He held her close once again; entwined together in a dark corner of the basement office.

“Remind me to bore you with slideshows more often,” he said, catching his breath. A warm smile crossed his face as he admired her. 

“Shut up, Mulder,” she said before kissing him once again.  

     5 “What if there was only one choice and all the other ones were wrong?”

Three weeks had passed. Scully discovered she was leaving small items behind; a toothbrush, a sweatshirt, a travel sized hairbrush. Evening was still the preferred time of day. Dinner, maybe a beer or a glass of wine followed by ignoring the T.V. Mulder knew just the right amount of pressure to put on the tired muscles of her neck. A rush of circulation flowed through her. She leaned back against his chest and his hands wandered followed by his lips. She loved how he tenderly nipped at her earlobe, He was hard against her lower back and she worked her advantage between his legs. Clothes were shed like new skin. He was swift to carry her from the couch into more comfortable surroundings. 

The linens held her scent, the walls held their cries. Deep and passionate. Primal. Two become one. He broke first and she was quick to chase him down. Chest heaving, muscles aching in the best way. They lay together as heart rates slowed. He traced her jawline, a thumb laid claim to her full lower lip. Lust-laden eyes blinked heavily. She decided to stay. Naked, satisfied, and loved.

Morning arrived with a deep yellow glow. She slowly shook off her slumber and reached beside her, feeling an empty bed. Her ear perked up listening for the shower but heard nothing. She slid to his side of the bed and glanced at the clock. Two hours before work. Her hand clutched the bedclothes to her chest and she heard keys hit the wood table in the other room. Mulder nudged the bedroom door open. Scully smiled and ran a hand through her hair, sitting upright. 

“Morning,” she said. He approached and kissed the top of her head. 

“I got us some coffee. Cream and sugar, of course.”

“You’re too good to me,” she said before realizing it. There was always so much unspoken between them. Affection was a given but rarely vocalized; arousal and desire usually won out. They operated well without words. She blushed and swung her legs over the edge of the bed tucking the sheet closer. 

“Hey. I wouldn’t have it any other way,” he said. 

6 “We will find him -- I have to.”

She needed an out. It was too much too fast and the fuel from her anger was on fumes. Scully dried her hands on the edge of her jacket and stormed down the corridor towards the elevator. That might have been the first time she actually threw a drink at someone. A bit dramatic but she would deal with that later, right now she needed to leave. 

   Her cell phone chirped and she promptly ignored it. The car shuddered as it idled in the parking deck, her head lay back against the headrest, a hand on her belly. She fought against an angry sob. The caller was persistent. She tried to collect herself. Another series of rings and she finally answered.

“Agent Scully? It’s Skinner.”

“Sir?”

“Where are you right now?”

“I’m on my way home. Is something the matter?” she questioned.

“You tell me,” Skinner replied with concern. She closed her eyes and slowly caressed her belly once again. He was the only one she could trust right now. He was trying to be a friend. She exhaled and asked if he could meet her in Georgetown.

Scully sat down at a familiar cafe with small outdoor tables nervously fidgeting with her phone. She didn’t want to deal with the questions, she just wanted to find him. She wanted to talk to him about what was going on and they could figure things out together. She needed to find him. Her attention shifted as a couple walked past with a friendly golden retriever. The animal bumped its nose into her leg then happily licked her hand before it’s owners chuckled and led him back down the sidewalk.

Skinner arrived and set down two cups of coffee along with a handful of sugar packets.

“I got you decaf.” he said sincerely as he took a seat, “hope that’s alright.”

“That’s fine. Thanks,” she said, reaching for the cup then removing the lid and adding half a sugar packet. Her heart ached and she was sure Skinner could see it. He was quiet, not wanting to overstep his boundaries.

“I uh, I just want you to know that I’m your ally in all of this. And if you need to talk…” he trailed off when he saw the change in her expression. She pressed her lips together.

“That means a lot, sir. Thank you.” She brushed away an errant tear and swallowed hard. They had much to discuss.

#i wrote this #msr #xf fanfic #scenes inbetween #mulder #scully #my fic

[organabanana]

leaves of three, let it be [2/3] || harlivy

Chapters: 2/3

Fandom:  DCU (Comics)DCUHarley Quinn (Comics)Harley Quinn (Cartoon 2019)

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Graphic depictions of violence

Relationships: Pamela Isley/Harleen Quinzel

Characters: Pamela Isley, Harleen Quinzel, Selina Kyle

Additional Tags: Mentions of alcohol, mentions of batman fucking bats, most of this is straight up idiocy tbh, i just finished watching the cartoon so everyone swears like a sailor i’m sorry, rated for (ahem) happenings later on, ivy/harley/catwoman frenemies

Summary

After Harley mistakenly confesses her love and then promptly takes it back, Ivy spends some time sorting through the things she absolutely doesn't feel (and the ones she does). Selina and Harley don't quite help.

Chapter 1: Tumblr | AO3

Chapter 2: AO3

If you ever asked Poison Ivy if she’s into meditation, she’d say she isn’t.

Actually, if you ever asked Poison Ivy if she’s into meditation, she’d probably stare you down until you crumbled under the sheer weight of her judgment and apologized for ever talking to her, but that’s beside the point.

The point is, Ivy doesn’t meditate. The concept of meditation, if you ask her, goes in the same patchouli-scented box as moon-charged crystals and essential oils.

No. What Ivy does is… introspection. Yeah. She introspects. She consciously clears her mind of all intrusive thoughts. Which may sound a lot like meditation, maybe? But — she cannot stress this enough — it’s not the same thing.

So there she is. Sitting on her couch. Introspecting. And it may look like she’s staring off into the distance, but she’s actually looking at a nearly invisible, tiny little hint of a green sprout that’s managed to grow in a crack on the windowsill.

There it is. A tiny little fighter. Just like—

Nope.

No way.

We are absolutely not thinking about her. We’re introspecting. So Ivy takes in a deep breath, in through her nose, eyes fluttering closed as she exhales slowly and then opens them and tries again.

As she was saying. A tiny little sprout. She could go over there and touch it and quite literally breathe life into it. She can’t tell what kind of plant it is, but she could make it bloom if it’s a flowering species. What if it’s a tree? She could make it grow so big its roots would tear this whole building apart just like her heart was torn apart last ni—

Motherf—

“Morning, my little dill pickle.”

Selina climbs in through the window, practically gliding into Ivy’s apartment with the kind of grace that would normally make Ivy stop and stare and perhaps have a not-quite-respectful thought or two.

Listen: she has eyes. Don’t read into it.

Anyway. As graceful and ridiculously nimble as Selina is, she’s also way up high in Ivy’s shit list at the moment (second only to you know who), so today is not the day for lighthearted conversation and platonic crushes.

“Fuck you, Selina,” Ivy offers as a greeting, glancing at the plant to make sure it’s still there. And it is, of course. Selina fucking Kyle may be a bitch and a half, but she knows how to move without leaving a trace.

“Now?” Selina cocks one perfectly manicured eyebrow at Ivy, the slightest hint of a teasing smirk on her face. “I mean I was gonna offer brunch, but that doesn’t sound like the worst midday plan.”

Ivy simply stares for a moment, as if she’s forgotten if there’s one person in the world that’s absolutely immune to even her most wilting looks, that’s Selina fucking Kyle.

“Oh, come on,” Selina practically groans, “stop it. Brooding is such a teen boy move.”

“I am not brooding.”

“Right.” With one single word, Selina makes it clear that she doesn’t believe Ivy and, most importantly, that she doesn’t care enough to argue. “Anyway. Brunch? My treat.”

Ivy closes her eyes. Not meditating. Just introspecting. Just trying to channel the urge to make a full-grown sequoia grow out of Selina Kyle’s ass into something productive. One deep breath in through her nose and—

“We can have margaritas!” Selina lets out a quiet chuckle as she admires the perfectly matte black polish on her fingernails. “Yikes. Too soon?”

Fuck introspection.

“I. Am going. To fucking murder you.” Ivy stands up with every intention to make good on that promise, and Selina must read it in her eyes because for the first time since Ivy’s known her — for the first time in her life, maybe — Selina looks scared.

Well, maybe not scared.

But she is absolutely concerned.

“Fuck me, Ive, damn,” Selina takes one step back, no longer smirking, “calm down, will you?”

Ivy stops, Selina’s audacity basically jolting her out of her murderous rage. “Calm down, Selina? Fucking seriously? You did what you did and now you come here and tell me to fucking calm down?”

Selina tilts her head just so, like she’s conceding (against her will) that maybe there is a reason for Ivy to be somewhat upset with her.

“Oh, come on,” she sighs, rolling her shoulders like the tension has to leave her body somehow, and it will certainly not be via an apology, “it wasn’t even real poison.”

Ivy’s eyes widen slightly in disbelief. Does Selina think she’s mad because she thinks Harley was in actual danger?

No. No, Selina can’t think that, because Selina may be an asshole, but she’s a very smart asshole. So she must know Ivy’s well aware of Harley’s immunity to toxins. She must know that’s not even remotely the reason Ivy’s spent the last eleven hours and some change introspecting all thoughts of last night out of her mind.

For a split second, Ivy feels something similar to warmth towards Selina as she considers that maybe she’s simply ignoring the embarrassing part of the event to spare Ivy. Maybe she’s pretending this is about Harley’s physical wellbeing and not… well. The other thing.

Sadly, the split second passes.

“If it helps,” Selina says, and even before she finishes the sentence Ivy can already sense it won’t help at all, “it’s totally reciprocated.”

Ivy feels it crawling up her veins, thick like sap. She’s managed to distill plenty of emotions, turned them into tonics and toxins and elixirs and used them for her own benefit and the Green’s. She’s bottled love — well, lust — and hatred and rage. Fear, even. Insanity, ironically enough. But this.

This… this humiliation.

Oh, this is something else.

Ivy closes her eyes. In through her nose, and even the air feels like it has to go through that thick mixture of (public) pain and weakness and acknowledged vulnerability to get to her lungs.

It’s one thing to have Harley see her like this. Like that. Like last night. Defenses down and heart out there in the open like her ribcage’s forgotten its purpose. That’s fine, she figures, because it’s been the norm for years and years and years. It’s nothing new, really, to have Harley see her accidentally stumble over the line into pathetic from time to time. It happens.

But Selina.

Selina fucking Kyle.

Selina saw that and she understood what she was seeing and now she’s acknowledging it, and Ivy isn’t even mad anymore.

I mean, she is. She’s really fucking mad.

She’s just many other things as well as mad, so it’s harder to focus on it.

Out through her mouth. Slowly. And her voice is nice and even when she opens her eyes and looks at Selina once again.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Ivy lies, walking towards the kitchen like that had been her intention all along, “there is nothing to reciprocate.”

Ivy can feel Selina’s look on the back of her head. She’s not going to give her the satisfaction of turning around, of course. Selina Kyle’s ego is healthy enough as it is. But she can absolutely feel it. A look involving an arched eyebrow and narrowed eyes and possibly a smirk. Maybe the slightest purse of painted lips, if she’s going for judgmental rather than smug.

Selina is multi-faceted in her scorn.

“You have got to be shitting me, Ive,” Selina says, and Ivy still refuses to turn around, focusing instead on staring at the interior of her fridge and ignoring the fact that ninety percent of its contents are there for Harley’s all-day snacking needs.

She ends up grabbing a jug of water not because she’s thirsty, but simply because it’s the only thing in there she knows for a fact is there just for her.

“Seriously?” Selina prods, walking closer and crossing her arms over her chest as she watches Ivy methodically fill a glass of water like it’s a delicate operation that requires her undivided attention. “You’re such a fucking pussy. And I don’t mean that as a compliment.”

Ivy does turn around then, gripping the glass with perhaps a little more force than strictly necessary. In her defense, she’d much rather be gripping Selina’s neck instead.

“Once again, Selina,” she says with a slight shrug, taking a sip of cold water, “no idea what you’re talking about.”

Selina gapes at her. It’s kind of flattering, actually. It’s not every day something leaves Selina Kyle fully unable to speak. Maybe — Ivy thinks to herself, enjoying her water — she’ll never speak again. Maybe she’ll leave Gotham entirely. Wouldn’t that be just—

Ivy’s train of thought is completely derailed by something that is never a good sign: Selina Kyle is laughing.

Not chuckling. Not snickering. Not letting out one of those sarcastic giggles she likes to use to obliterate people’s entire self-esteem.

No. No, this is honest to goodness, full-on belly laughter, and it’s fucking terrifying.

“Wh— what the fuck, Selina?” Ivy asks, trying to sound less scared than she actually is. Selina’s sense of humor is not so much dark as it is downright fucked up, and if she’s finding something in this situation funny, it can only mean someone is about to get crushed, metaphorically or otherwise.

All signs point to Ivy.

“Look at you!” Selina points in the general direction of Ivy, like she’s about to rip her fashion sense to shreds. But this, sadly, has nothing to do with clothes. “Holy shit, you’re in so much deeper than I thought, this is fucking hilarious.”

Ivy takes one step back, until her hip bumps against the counter and she blindly feels around to leave the half-empty glass on it. To her credit, she still manages to try and infuse her voice with something resembling nonchalance one last time.

“You’re not making any sen—“

“Man, you’re in love, in love, huh?”

Ivy’s been shot before. So she feels like she’s not being overly dramatic when she says Selina’s words feel just like that. Like being shot right in the gut. And Ivy tries to be as stoic as she usually is when faced with things like gunshots and blunt force and bat-shaped ninja stars (holy fuck, he’s such a nerd), but she feels a bit like she’s been standing on a castle of cards for the last… however many years it’s been since she met Dr. Quinzel in Arkham, and Selina’s just figured out exactly where to blow to make it all come tumbling down.

“I mean I knew you two were into each other. Obviously,” Selina continues, and Ivy suddenly understands the exact meaning of all those expressions regarding cats and mice, “but I thought it was like… well, you know. Friends in need of a nudge towards the benefits. But this.”

Selina shakes her head, smile as wide as her eyes. She looks both surprised and delighted. Like she’s really just found out there are feelings involved in whatever lust-filled fever dream she’d interpreted as reality before now.

“And you’re the one who’s doing all the yearning. I totally thought she was the useless one. Holy shit.” Selina takes a couple steps in the direction of the window, like using a door like a normal person is simply not an option for her. “How long?”

Ivy opens her mouth, but Selina interrupts her before any sound can come out.

“Don’t answer that. I already know.” Selina waves her hand dismissively. “No wonder you’re fucking terrified. You’d be safer falling in love with an actual hyena.”

“I’m not—“

“Please.” Selina reaches the window and notices that little plant for the first time, giving it a little pat that could almost pass for affectionate if you didn’t know Selina Kyle. “So what’s scarier, Ive?” Selina almost purrs the question. “That she may not love you back, or that she probably does?”

Ivy tells herself she could murder Selina right then and there, with the help from the little plant. Hell, she could probably kill her without help from the plant.

But that wouldn’t really fix anything, right?

“Anyway!” Selina lets out a happy little sigh as she slinks out of the window and onto the fire escape outside. “No brunch, then. I’ll leave you to your brooding.” Her smile turns into a smirk then, eyes narrowed like she’s about to pounce on an unsuspecting mouse. “And don’t worry, Ive. I can keep a secret.”

Selina winks at her before she disappears.

Ivy refuses, pointedly, to think about her conversation with Selina.

She tries to go back to her introspection, but it turns out there’s no breathing in and out when your chest is full of feelings to the point of actual physical discomfort, so Ivy gives up on that, too.

She could plot. Scheme, if you will. It’s been a while since she’s gone for an actual multi-step plan to rid Gotham — and, later, the world — of parasitic CEOs profiting off nature. A bit of environmentally friendly murder never fails to put her in a good mood.

But it turns out it’s nearly impossible to come up with a solo plan without being constantly aware of the fact that going solo is no longer her default. A plan involving only herself doesn’t feel like just any random plan anymore. Now it feels like a plan without her, and that’s just— that’s just the opposite of what she needs to be thinking about right now.

So.

What’s an eco-terrorist to do when eco-terrorism is not an option?

Eight hours later she’s in her lab, hair haphazardly held in a bun with a pencil as she looks at her latest experiment through her microscope.

The little sprout from her windowsill sits right next to the microscope in a beaker serving as a makeshift flower pot while Ivy works.

“You know, if this works,” Ivy tells the sprout, eyes trained on the cell that should enter active mitosis any second now, “you’re going to be my sidekick when we take down the next big guy.”

If this works, and she can give this tiny plant the powers she hopes to give her, they can take over Gotham and the world as a team. Ivy’s always worked best with plants, anyway. Who needs—

“Red?”

Harley’s voice is uncharacteristically mellow, but it manages to startle Ivy anyway.

“Jesus, Harley,” Ivy doesn’t look away from the microscope, “what the fuck are you doing here?”

She’s not mad. Not at Harley, anyway. None of this is her fault. She’s just—

Listen. Figuring out exactly what to call what she’s feeling would require introspection, and we’re not doing that anymore.

“Oh. I uh—“ There’s something in Harley’s tone that twists uncomfortably in Ivy’s chest. “Wanted to talk?”

Ivy doesn’t want to talk. Talking, as it turns out, may be the very last thing she wants to do. But there’s that something in Harley’s voice. Something that sounds a bit like embarrassment. Like shame, even. Like maybe if Ivy were to listen in on Harley’s inner monologue right now the voice in there would sound suspiciously like him calling her a fuck-up and an idiot and—

“I’m sorry.” Ivy leaves the little plant’s cell to enter mitosis in its own time and turns to fully focus on Harley. “I didn’t mean to snap. You just startled me.”

Harley visibly relaxes. Ivy decides she hates him just that much more than she did ten seconds ago.

“Didn’t mean to startle ya,” Harley leaves her bat propped against the trunk of a giant nightshade and takes a few steps towards Ivy.

Normally, Harley has no concept of personal space. She sits on whatever surface is closest to Ivy, invading her space and making it impossible for her to fully focus on anything that’s not Harley. It should be annoying, but it isn’t, for reasons Ivy is absolutely not going to consider at this time.

This time, however, Harley hovers just a step or two away from Ivy and her microscope and her standing desk.

It feels…

It feels wrong.

“What did you want to talk about?” Ivy taps the desk and tries not to smile when Harley beams as she practically bounces to sit on it. Her legs dangle over the edge, well-worn combat boots lightly bumping against Ivy’s legs with each soft swing of Harley’s feet.

Nothing really feels wrong anymore.

“I’m sorry, Pammy.”

Ivy shakes her head. “It’s fine. You know you’re always welcome here, I just wasn’t expecting—“

“No,” Harley says, and when Ivy looks into her eyes she realizes Harley’s not going to let her pretend she has no idea what this is about, “I mean I’m sorry about the other night.”

Ivy stands up a little straighter. Takes half a step back, like that’s going to help. Crosses her arms over her chest.

“It’s fine.”

Harley tilts her head just so, bright blue eyes narrowing for a second, and Ivy sees a flash of Harleen right there staring back at her. Reading her fucking thoughts, almost. It’s unnerving.

“It’s fine, Harley,” Ivy insists, tone sharper as she takes another step back. She can hear the low rumble of every vine in her lab stirring along with her mood.

There’s a moment there, maybe a few seconds long, where they both simply stare at each other in silence. Like they’re trying to figure each other out in a way that feels completely foreign because she knows Harley, and Harley knows her, and there’s nothing to figure out. Nothing at all.

“You know—“ Harley’s voice sounds a bit brittle, like it may just break if it hits the wrong word, “you know I didn’t mean it, Pammy.”

Ivy nods. Once.

“I know.” She knows now and she knew when she first met Harley and she’s known for the last however many years it’s been. She fucking knows it’s love but it’s not love like that. She knows. “It’s fine.”

“You know Selina just got in my head, right?” Harley keeps talking, and on some level Ivy knows there’s nothing to be angry about because Harley just wants to explain. She just wants to make sure things aren’t weird between them because they’re best friends. But it feels almost cruel anyway. “You know I don’t—“

“I know you don’t love me, Harley, yes, for fuck’s sakes, I’m not an idiot.”

“But I—“

“Don’t.” Ivy holds one finger up. If she has to listen to Harley say she loves her, but just not in that way she may lose her fucking mind. “It’s fine.”

For a few blessed seconds, it feels like maybe Harley will let it go. Like maybe she’ll just drop it and let Ivy get out of this with some semblance of pride.

But that would just be too much to ask, wouldn’t it?

“I do love you, Ive, it’s just—“

“Holy shit, Harley!” Ivy raises her voice and hears the tell-tale creak of vines growing up the wall. “I know! I fucking know, all right? Selina is a dick and you thought margarita mix was a love potion and you’re not fucking in love with me, all right? I know!”

“But—“

“No! No fucking but!” Ivy swears she hears it. The little snap when she loses her last thread of control over what she’s saying and things spill out before she has a chance to filter them. “I don’t love you either, have you even considered that?”

Harley’s eyes widen in the purest expression of surprise Ivy’s ever seen in her life.

“Right!” There’s a part of Ivy that wants to stop. She wants to stop and backtrack and tell Harley she didn’t mean it because she can’t stand the thought of hurting her, and she needs her to know that of course — of course — Ivy loves her. But she just can’t right now. “I’m not secretly in love with you! All right? I’m glad you don’t love me. I’m fucking fine.”

Harley opens her mouth like she’s about to speak, but closes it without making a sound. She doesn’t look hurt, necessarily. She looks… she looks disarmed, almost. Like she doesn’t know how to react.

“I’ll just—“ Harley swallows and jumps off the desk. “We’re fine, so I’ll just leave. Yeah?”

Ivy nods. “Fine.”

“Cool. Yeah.” Harley sort of smiles, but not really. She moves a bit slower than usual as she goes back to her bat and walks towards the door, and there’s a part of Ivy that wants to stop her and fix this somehow — because it’s not fine at all — but self-preservation wins in the end.

“Remember to lock the door on your way out.”

For a second, Harley almost looks like she may say something. And for a second, Ivy almost hopes she will. But Harley just nods and walks out, and when she hears the lock snap into place, Ivy knows she’s all alone with her plants.

Right where she belongs.

#harlivy #harlivy fanfiction #harlivy fanfic #poison ivy #harley quinn #fic

[wyofabdoms]

Undercover I Do - Chapter 3

Characters: Javier Peña x female reader

Summary: While on an undercover assignment posing as a married couple, you are attacked and nearly assaulted. Upon waking, all you remember about Javier Peña is what you remembering seeing from two photographs of the two of you posing as the happily married couple. As you struggle to regain your memories, Javi struggles with his own feelings for you.

Rating: Mature (Eventual smut)

Warnings: attempted sexual assault, fake/pretend relationship, married and undercover trope, temporary amnesia, hospitalization, blood and injury, soft Javi, brief mention of domestic Javi, mentions of some smexy stuff, unrequited feels, lots of medical things that are probably wrong but I did a five minute internet search so we’re gonna call it good, okay?

Word Count: 1982

Notes: You're awake....but what do you remember?

Read on Ao3

Every inch of your body felt like it had been smashed with a heavy hammer.  The soreness seemed to echo and reverberate up and down, through your wrists, through your calves, along your hips, up your back.  Everything was black and you sluggishly realized it was because your eyes were closed.  Based on the way your body was feeling, though, you didn’t have much desire to open your eyes.

You did anyway, feeling like Sisyphus hauling his boulder up a hill at the effort it took to simply lift your eyelids.  Blurry daylight streamed through the vinyl shades of a window.  A news program was playing on a muted television in the corner.  The parts of the room you could see were stark and sparse: clearly a hospital room.  You tried turning your head to survey the rest of the room and groaned, a shrieking thumping in your head threatening to send you right back into the blackness of unconsciousness you had just come from.  You heard rustling coming from somewhere on your other side, out of your vision; then a wizened older woman with chin length grey hair stepped into your line of sight.  She looked at you earnestly and brushed a smooth, dry palm softly across the top of your head, pushing your hair back and murmuring your name.  

You struggled to place this woman’s face….your mother?  No, that wasn’t right.  You got a maternal feeling from her, certainly, but this woman wasn’t your mother...so who was she?  Your brain grasped to remember.  

“It’s all right,” the woman spoke and her voice was gentle but commanding, calm, steady with a flint of authority.  “You’re safe.  You’ve been unconscious for a while and had a nasty head injury.  Take it slow...don’t push yourself too hard.”  As she spoke, she pressed a recessed button next to you on the hospital bed, calling for a nurse and half asking, half ordering said nurse to get the doctor down here to check on you immediately.  This woman was clearly used to having people do what she said.  She sat next to you, a comforting hand resting on your forearm.

“How do you feel?”

“Like I’ve been run over.”  Your voice croaked and something clicked in your mind.  You flicked your eyes back to the woman.  “I’m in Columbia, right?”  The woman nodded slowly, her eyes searching your face.  “Bogota?”  Another confirmation.  You carefully turned your head and stared at the ceiling for a moment, trying to remember, feeling your mind spinning like tires in mud trying to get traction as you tried to remember what had landed you in this hospital bed.  A memory of this woman’s face rose in front of you, sitting behind a large desk in an office, poring over maps and files and directing yourself and others.  “Agent Dixon.”  You said, flashing your eyes back to her.  Her face appeared years younger as a smile spread on her lips and you made your own attempt at a small smile as memories of your mentor seeped into your mind, like water finding cracks in a sidewalk.

The doctor arrived then and proceeded to examine you, asking you questions about what you did and didn’t remember: names, dates, presidents.  Already confirming that you were in Columbia, you also remembered you work as a DEA agent, having been stationed here for close to two years now.  You did most of the talking while the doctor and Dixon merely asked you questions, elaborating on how you had ended up in the hospital: the DEA had been tracking a drug lord with lofty and insidious aspirations named Rafel Ortiz, an operation to capture him and his network that hadn’t gone as planned, you had been injured during the operation, though after a meaningful shared look across your hospital bed, neither Dixon nor the doctor gave any details as to said operation, nor how you had sustained your injuries.  As the doctor finished up, you lifted your hand to brush a stray piece of hair that was tickling your face beneath the bandage on your head.  Your eyes caught a glint of something on your finger.  You stopped, remembering through a fog: photographs with you in them, a warm grip on your hand, a gentle kiss on your forehead, a panic-stricken voice filled with concern calling for you to wake up, then the same husky, low voice whispering to you to sleep well, calling you “princess”.  Your eyes turned with concern from the ring on your finger to the doctor and Dixon.

“Where is he? Is he ok?”  Another shared glance between the two across your bed.  Your heart sank.  Dixon spoke quietly after a moment.

“Where is who?”

“I don’t remember his name.  The man in the pictures...he was with me in the ambulance.  Where’s my husband?”

****

Javier had managed to sleep, though certainly not well.  He knew he looked like shit as he stalked through the halls of the hospital.  He’d managed to make himself look slightly less of a mess than yesterday after a shower and change of clothes this morning, but he didn’t feel much better.  Beneath his pounding head and screaming muscles, a bubbling of worry simmered and all he wanted was to get back to the hospital and wait for his partner to open her eyes, to give him a wry smile and shoot him some teasing barb about how much worse for wear he looked than she did.  

They’d almost pulled it off, the two of them. He had felt a little ridiculous during the pre-op: having his finger measured for a ring that fit properly, posing with his partner for “engagement photos” in the small garden courtyard of the DEA office building, then changing into formal wear and recreating what would hopefully look like a sweet moment from a wedding ceremony, but was really a job of play acting in front of a blank wall in a conference room.  They’d set up in the large house on the outskirts of the city, posing as a freshly arrived expat couple, newly married and looking to supplement his international banking career by padding it with up and coming connections in the cocaine trade.  They’d “been married” for a little over two weeks, operating normally as agents and partners when on their own, but putting on a convincing performance as a newlywed couple when entertaining or meeting with Ortiz or any of his men.

Javier couldn’t lie to himself.  He had always been attracted to his partner.  She was smart, feisty, independent, strong-willed, and beautiful...oh so beautiful.  When they had first started working together he had pursued her relentlessly for a grand total of three days before she had knocked him across the face and nearly twisted his hand off when he had gotten grabby.  In no uncertain terms, she had made it crystal clear that no, she was not interested in sleeping with him, she had no desire to be a notch on anyone’s bedpost (much less his), that he was being an absolute pig for assuming that she was and that if he ever tried to grab her ass or any part of her again without permission she would shoot him in the dick.

That had been well on two years ago and thinking back, it was probably in that very moment when she had growled at him and he had stared up at her from where she had landed him on the bar floor, that he had started to fall for his partner.  After that night, he had never made another attempt to pursue her...at least not physically.  There had been times, over one too many drinks at a bar or over shitty take out or during a late night glance through the smoky haze from the cigarettes they would chain smoke, that he had seen something in her eyes.  Something that had made him pause and wonder if things had perhaps changed...if maybe the needle had moved for her, if she thought differently now.  They had been through so much together, had grown so close. But he had never been quite brave enough to ask.  And she had so often made her opinion abundantly clear on considering him merely her partner; teasing him about being able to outrun him in a foot chase, scowling in distaste whenever his amorous methods with his informants came up, screaming at him at least twice a week for over some disagreement or another.  

He had liked being “married” to her, though.  For just a little while, he had gotten a taste of what domesticity might be like for Javier Peña: jaded DEA agent.  He had liked the excuse to hold her hand at dinner in a restaurant or place his hand on the small of her back while walking...all of the moments when he could give her little touches: a brush of her cheek with the back of his hand, a kiss to her temple.  

Then there had been the moments that stirred something deeper than his interest in domesticity.  When she had sat on his lap after dinner and nibbled on his ear while he talked business with Ortiz.  When they had attended a party the drug lord had hosted and Javi had found his hands exploring the smooth planes of her body, her fingers knotted in his hair, pressing the occasional kiss to the other’s lips as they danced recklessly until the early morning hours.  He had felt like it had been real, moments like those.  As though the pretense of their undercover personas gave permission for their unspoken craving for each other to float to the surface and be reality, even if just for a little while. Kisses for the benefit of their marks had seemed to linger just a few moments longer than necessary, her lips had discovered the spot on his neck below his ear that drove him crazy and seemed to just naturally end up there whenever they had to “act” married. 

Then there had been that last night before everything had fallen apart: the two of them pressed together for a moment in panic, trying to keep themselves hidden from the suspicious gaze of Ortiz’s men...then suddenly pressed together like lovers, hands under clothes, groping and grappling for purchase on each others’ skin wherever they could find it, the smell of the plumeria trees wafting over them. Javi knew it had only been to cover the fact that they had been snooping somewhere they shouldn’t have been, but he couldn’t shake the way that moment had made him feel: as though suddenly every barrier and wall that separated he and his partner had crashed and crumbled between them.  If they hadn’t been discovered as DEA later that evening Javi wondered what might have happened when they had returned to “their” house….

No. He couldn’t let himself dwell on those kinds of “what ifs” right now.  He shook himself as he rounded the corner and spotted Dixon and the doctor standing outside your hospital door, speaking intently. As he approached, Dixon glanced at him and both of them abruptly stopped talking.

“Peña, what are you doing here?  Shouldn’t you be at the office?  I’m sure you have a report to fill out...” Javi shot her an annoyed look.

“I just wanted to stop by on my way, see how she’s doing….” He trailed off, looking back and forth between Dixon and the doctor, waiting for one or both of them to give him an update.  When none came, he irritatedly asked, “Well?….How’s she doing?”  Worry tugged at him as he saw the look that passed between them.

“Agent Peña…” Dixon said slowly. She gestured to one of the crappy plastic chairs along the wall outside the rooms.  “Have a seat.  We need to talk.”

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8,  Chapter 9, Chapter 10,  Chapter 11,  Chapter 12,  Chapter 13

#javier peña x reader #javi #javier pena x female reader #narcos #pedro pascal fanfiction #undercover marriage

[frogsmulder]

Maybe There’s Hope: chpt 3 All The Colours Cannot Brighten

Starting from the final events of 09x20 The Truth, Mulder and Scully tackle their new reality as fugitives. When they  finally settle into things, Scully finds out she is pregnant again. A canon divergent AU where I thought, what if Scully got pregnant whilst on the run instead of at the end of season 11?

2.1k words; rated t; tagging @today-in-fic; read on ao3

Scully shuffled awkwardly, walking into the department store, having foregone underwear. Currently, it was at the top of her mental list as she tried to discreetly pull her slacks down to stop the seam irritating her. Mulder's hand was at home on her back, to make matters worse, the usually comforting gesture making it more difficult to shift her pants.

Mulder chuckled quietly, seeing her fidget. She elbowed him to remind him he was in the exact same situation and it wouldn't be hard to exacerbate it if she wanted to. He squeezed her hip in apology, but she could still feel him laughing.

Leaning up, Scully whispered in his ear, "This needs to be quick. There are security cameras everywhere; we don't want to increase our chances of being recognised." Her pulse quickened at the prospect. "So, a set of clothes, toiletries, and we get out."

He nodded. "We should split up to save time."

"Agreed."

They parted without a single word more, Scully heading up the stairs to the women's and children's section and Mulder staying in the men's. She watched him, as she climbed the stairs, grow smaller and out of sight, feeling that gnawing in her stomach swell in his absence. Sucking in a breath, she focused her mind and steeled herself for the rest of the operation.

On the second floor, Scully was greeted with a bombardment of bright colours. Keeping her head low, she ignored gaiety and headed straight to the lingerie section, picking up the first packet of black briefs she found in her size. Practicality over style reminded her of her childhood, her father's strict orders, how she both embraced, and rebelled. She was conscious of that storm brewing in her again. With her plain clothes, she could hide from the world and its prying eyes. Yet a niggling thought told her that no-one would notice if she picked out some lace, no-one would see beneath her exterior armour: she could have something for herself again. She brushed her fingers over the delicate material, daring to imagine the power she could have. A small piece of control regained. Perhaps she could banish her contrition from the bedroom. Take control.

Ultimately, she left the lace behind, opting to match her plain briefs with a couple of plain t-shirt bras; the peril of public exposure was starting to take its toll. Every tick of the clock marked a drip of anxiety pooling in her lungs and the water levels steadily rising. Time was marching on.

Just socks, t-shirts, jeans, a coat, and maybe a jumper. She wondered if it looked suspicious buying a whole wardrobe in one, but was too drained already to consider changing tactics.

She grabbed a pack of socks whilst hunting for some t-shirts and jeans.

Two t-shirts: checked.

One pair of jeans: checked.

Coat.

Scully wandered surreptitiously through the floor, doubtful it would have a waterproof, when she stumbled upon tiny hats and boots.

Her insides crumbled.

It had been so long since she'd set foot in this section, buying small clothes to wrap her small child snuggly in. He would be a year old now, she reminded herself, learning to walk, starting to babble. Walking slowly, as if in a dreamlike state, she found herself subconsciously heading for the 12-18 months; no control over the path her feet chose. She was surrounded by a sea of cotton soft baby clothing: yellow cardigans, baby blue t-shirts, miniature dungarees... She imagined his ginger hair in a red sunhat. He'd be a year old now, Scully reminded herself as she picked up a white whale soft toy. It was something that she could have bought for his birthday and watch him chew the tail off when he was teething; tuck him into bed with and read bedtime stories.

----------

Mulder went upstairs to find Scully, having got all he needed. Not finding her anywhere obvious, he started to panic.

"Sc–" he called, but his mouth closed around her name, stopping himself, aware of the crowd of other shoppers who would easily hear him. Forced into silence, he picked up the pace, scanning all the rows of clothes for his familiar sign of red hair.

 They are coming for you, son...

The sound of his pounding feet was mimicked by the rush of blood in his ears.

 If you want my advice... leave your pretty, little partner...

He felt dizzy and disoriented, not knowing where to look or which way to turn.

 get out of there while you still can...

He heard the giggle of a child cut through his mind with clarity but he dismissed it. After all, this was a department store, not a house haunted by unexplained phenomena; he had left those behind in his past. Yet he heard it again, closer, and he could have sworn it was from inside his head.

He stopped and turned around slowly.

Mulder saw that familiar red hair, peeking out from behind a rail, only it was more of a strawberry blonde and just above knee height. He crouched down to see her properly, but she moved away, only her blue eyes fixing sharply on his through the clothing.

"Em?" he whispered.

She made no response but turned away around the corner.

When Mulder rounded the corner himself, she was already at the other end, turning another, her bob of hair only there for a flash before she disappeared. He followed her winding trail, curious where she was leading him, until she stopped, standing next to someone, trying to tug at her shirt.

"Sc– Dana," he smiled, using her given name under some perceptive veil that it was safer. Emily nodded shyly. "You found her."

Scully turned around, still clutching the white whale. "What? Mulder? What are you doing here?"

"E–" He looked to Scully's side where Emily had just been but now was nowhere to be seen. "... I came to find you," he said, which was true, he just didn't want to unravel the traumatised inner workings of his brain in the middle of the baby section.

Then he realised where they were; where Scully had been; what Scully was holding in her hand.

"Dana," he whispered, a lump of worry caught in his throat, distorting his voice.

Scully looked down at the stuffed toy in her hands like she had her hand caught in the cookie jar. "We didn't buy him anything for his first birthday..." she tried to explain.

He wordlessly took the whale from her grasp and put it in the basket with the rest of his clothes like it already belonged.

She shook her head, searching his eyes for some understanding. "No, we can't... The money... We can't afford–"

"Yes we can," he interrupted her. Everybody grieved in their own way; maybe it could soothe him too. "Toiletries and then we're out of here," he reminded her.

"I haven't got a coat yet. Though, I think we're better off getting blankets for the car."

"You find the toiletries, I'll get the blankets. Meet back... by the stairs?"

Scully sighed.

Mulder stepped closer, wishing he could vanquish her hurt. "You sure you're okay, S–?"

"Yes, I'm fine. It's nothing." She brushed off his fussing, feeling like a small, incapable child herself under all the attention.

Mulder held her cheek in his palm and dried a stray tear.

"I'll be fine," she amended.

Trusting her, he gave Scully the basket and watched as she left him, walking quickly like she was running away. Her stiff gait so un-Scully-like and alien it was a physical embodiment of her grief. Himself feeling like cement, stayed, weighed down, swamped by a tide from slowly opening floodgates. Mulder looked at the row of white whales lined up on the shelf, each flopping with individual personality in the way that stuffing could make it appear so.

"Do you think he would like it?"

The bob of strawberry blonde hair nodded out of the corner of his eye before vanishing, leaving him to navigate the labyrinth alone.

----------

Scully was vaguely aware of what she's putting into the basket: deodorant, soap, razors, tampons– she hadn't even thought about those until she saw them. Her hand briefly hesitated over a box of condoms but she clenched it back into a fist. It would just be a reminder, an admittance, an avoidance.

At the checkout, she remained stoic and silent, resisting Mulder's touch at the small of her back. Ignoring the numbers as they flew by on the till, she handed over the money, too much to be paid in cash without raising eyebrows. If the cashier said something, she didn't notice. It wasn't until they were back on the dust-roads, alone, dressed comfortably in their new, plain clothes that Scully lowered her guard. By then, the day was long behind them, Selene cresting twilight in her silver, moon chariot. Night darkened their paths heading south, the chill creeping to tuck them in.

Curled up in the seat, Scully wrapped herself in the scratchy woolen blanket, it in no way kept the cold at bay. The white whale they had bought was tucked under her chin, squished closely to her chest as she held it tightly. She gazed out of the window, turned away from him, watching the last of the colours blur. At first, Mulder thought she was shivering from the cool air, so he rubbed her arm, but when he did so, she gasped and sniffed, retaking air like she would drown.

Mulder clenched his jaw and his fist on the steering wheel, angry with himself for not noticing sooner. They used to trek over the country all the time; long car rides filled with easy talking and comfortable quiet. Times were different, but their silence was a symptom of something more fatal. He wondered how it was so simple to forget that they had changed. He pulled to the side of the road and turned the key on the ignition.

"What... are you doing?" Scully whispered, choking on the sound of her broken voice.

He tried to reach for her hand. "Scully, please..." His plead faded into the stillness.

She remained looking out the window, focusing on the darkness. "I'm fine."

It was a knee-jerk reaction, taken from a box of samples she'd collected over the years. Scully cringed when she heard the old habit spill from her lips. It was an obvious lie– she knew it– risking exposure, especially to Mulder, who knew her so well. Feeling she had to was worse. Did she want Mulder to tell her she was wrong or was she only trying to kid herself?

She expected his words to follow swiftly, felt them on her tongue as he was going to say them. Yet they never came; his hand settled still on her elbow, the silence growing louder.

He continued to give her his undivided attention until she crumbled under the weight of his worry.

"I just..." She paused, licking her lips, trying to find the words to explain when her head was an empty void. She turned around to face him, yet she bowed her head, failing to hold his gaze. Huffing, Scully collected her feelings and imagined holding them in her chest. They trickled through the cracks in her hands, slipping as she struggled to understand them. What she had left in her palms was the guilt that tainted everything she touched. She tried again. "... Want to be happy... I'm not sure I can do that again. Not when there's so much missing."

Mulder gulped, running out of words to comfort her. I'm here, he wanted to say, You have me. But deep down he knew it was pointless saying it; it wasn't enough for her, even if it was for him. He couldn't deny that they were different people– very different people– despite all that they shared.

"It's going to come back for us," she stated simply and braved a glimpse at him. "We shouldn't have gone to the store. We shouldn't have stayed in the motel, Mulder."

He melted in her gaze, hating to see her burn herself in penance for all the things she couldn't control. Only that morning had he put a smile upon her face; things seeming hopeful. The way she had giggled wrapped in his arms now a distant dream.

You know she's right, Mulder. How do you save her now? the grizzled man chuckled, but Mulder ignored the voice.

"You said it yourself, Scully, we needed those things: 'practically speaking'." He felt cruel for using her own words against her, but they were the only ones he had.

She didn't turn away like he was expecting her to. Instead, she trained her eyes on his in the darkness. It wasn't a cold, hard stare but it wasn't filled with warmth either. She reached for his hand, locking their fingers together: a last act of hope. Mulder held onto the feeling, closing his eyes to the darkness.

"Maybe I was wrong."

#my fic #Maybe there's hope #dana scully #fox mulder #msr #on the run #xf fanfic

[bird-in-a-cage]

Cocktober Prompt #3 - Freaky Friday

The plaid walls were a dead giveaway something was wrong. The soft sheets and too many pillows were another. Billy blinked at the ceiling a few times, tried to place where he’d woken up this time. It wasn’t anywhere he recognised. And he hadn’t had more than a beer the night before so couldn’t blame alcohol.

Things just felt, weird. 

Usually when he woke the first thing he craved was a cigarette, to get out of the house as fast as possible, hopefully before Neil was up so he couldn’t be dragged into another one sided lecture about being a model citizen. But this morning he didn’t. His mouth tasted different too. Both toothpaste and mouthwash still lingering around. Not a trace of nicotine.

It was only when he looked at his hands getting out of this strange new bed did the panic set in.

They weren’t his hands. Not by a long shot. Far too slender and femanine almost. No rings. No bruised knuckles. Skin smooth and pale. He tripped over his feet finding a mirror in the closet and just stared wide eyed at what was in front of him. Moved arms and jumped and blinked to check the releflection was real.

The person staring back was Harrington. Every inch of him. Billy pinched this body he was in and it hurt, kicked his shin against the edge of the door hard enough to leave a bright red mark and that hurt too. So this was definitely real. Billy was frozen, looking at himself trapped in another form. Internally he was panicking. Of course he was, he’d just woken up in, presumably, Harrington’s house in his damn body like it was a Halloween costume. Logical thoughts weren’t exactly easy to make happen.

He was 100% certain he wasn’t going to work today though.

Billy ran his hands over his new body, walking his fingers over moles that dotted the skin, across his new stomach and over his hips and chest. Stretched his arms out in front of his new self. Nothing felt as thick as before, but there wasn’t a lot of weight difference. It wasn’t as if Billy felt he’d now be able to jump higher or dance or whatever. He feathered his fingers through his new hair and okay, it was soft. So so soft. Like touching through a cloud even first thing in the morning. No wonder Harrington always looked like he took so much time on it.

There was one other thing he needed to check. Just out of curiosity. Hidden under the boxers on his hips. Billy had seen it before in the showers but this was the literal sense of up close and personal. And if this was all the weirdest fever dream then it wouldn’t matter anyway, he’d wake up at some point and be back to his regular old self. And really, what else do you do when you wake up in someone else’s body? It's practically a step in the body swap handbook.

With a new grin Billy kicked the shorts off and stood naked before the mirror, turning slowly from side to side on the balls of his feet. He knew Harrington was hung but having it attached was something else. For a laugh he spread his feet a little in the shag carpeting and worked his hips, his new cock swinging back and forth like a damn bell. It wasn’t that Steve was bigger, Billy definitely had the girth, Harrington was just longer. And liked to keep his bush trimmed from the looks of it. Least that part made sense. The boy was so meticulous with his look everywhere else. The panic that had been bubbling up inside melted away as Billy moved back to the bed, licked over the new teeth in his mouth, and settled up amongst the pillows.

Let’s see what makes Stevie boy tick…

Billy spat on his palm before taking a hold of his new dick, slowly spreading the slickness up and down. It felt nice to hold, not as good as his own but still, nice. It responded in kind, quickly getting hard with the attention and every drag of foreskin down over the blush pink head and back. Billy hoped this wasn’t a dream anymore, he couldn’t go back to now knowing this was how Harrington felt when he jacked off in bed, how he looked. How he somehow still had space to grow until it was downright not fair. How his thigh muscles got tight when Billy stopped stroking long enough to give the balls some attention. He couldn’t help but grin around a moan that sounded so forgien but Billy would be lying to himself if he didn’t admit he sometimes thought about hearing it. Of course Harrington liked his balls being played with. How very middle class. Every tug and squeeze sent pleasure rocketing through his spine and down to his feet. It quickly became a two handed operation, slipping down the bed until Billy was flat on his back, pumping his fist in earnest over his cock.

Steve was fucking sensative that was for sure. It felt like barely any time at all before Billy was right on the edge, that feeling never changing in theory but Harrington’s felt different. Starting down in his toes and creeping up inch by inch, making Billy’s brain foggy and his mouth slack as the room became engulfed in the sounds of heavy breathing and slickness from both spit and precome that was beading at the slit. Billy only really paused to look down, to watch Harrington’s cock weep and twitch and push out another wet pearl, practically begging for release. To be swallowed. Shit, oh he’d have to convince Harrington to do this again. If he ever got back into his own body. He needed to know what it was like to do this to Steve, now he knew some of his soft points. Places to give the most attention too. Bet the guy would fucking scream getting his balls sucked on.

Three more pumps and Billy came. Hard. it crashed through him like a tidal wave, taking over every inch, rendering everything else in that moment utterly pointless and unimportant. Yeah, he would definitely need to find a way to make Harrington feel that under his regular body. Somehow. Billy panted in the bed, his chest splattered with cum. He licked at a drop that landed near his lips. Steve didn’t taste too different, maybe a little sweeter from all that ice cream.

He had done Harrington a favour and cleaned himself up in the bathroom, which was about the size of Billy’s living room, put pants on, and was busy just looking at Steve’s face staring back in a mirror. Poking and prodding at cheeks, thumbing around the shells of new ears, tonguing over his gums, when the door suddenly popped open. Buckley was stood there, that girl Steve worked with in the mall, looking beyond stressed out and panting, holding onto the doorframe like she’d sprinted all the way across town to get here. It also appeared she’d gotten dressed in the dark. Mismatched shoes, almost comically high waisted jeans and a bright neon sweater that was definitely too big.

“Are you Billy?!” She demanded, cheeks red but eyes on fire. 

Okay well this day just, somehow, got even weirder. 

Billy just blinked at her reflection. Apparently that was enough of a confirmation for her to disappear down the hall and come back not even moments later and toss a shirt at Billy’s head.

“Put that on! We’ve gotta go!”

“Go where?” Billy asked, putting the shirt on as he was dragged out of Harrington’s mansion of a house he didn’t even have time to properly explore yet. There were so many cabinets and cupboards unrifled. He didn’t even have time to think about searching through Mrs Harrington’s jewelry box... 

Parked out haphazardly on the driveway was Billy’s camaro. He froze seeing himself sat in the front seat, hands gripping the wheel so tight they were white. Buckley tugged at Harrington’s arm to get Billy to move but he stayed stock still.

“What the fuck is happening?” Billy demanded. “Talk Buckley or I’m not leaving. How am I in my car?”

Buckley’s eyes darted around. She started biting at her thumb. Even though Billy had only been to Scoops when she was there a couple of times, neither of those things seemed like anything she would do. Billy took a moment to really look at her. Past the weird fashion choices and bird’s nest of hair. Past the no makeup and desperation plastered all over her face.

“Look, I… I kinda fucked up. I can explain everything just, can we do it in the car please?” She spoke in more hushed tones, still tugging at Billy’s arm to get him to move even another step. It wasn’t going to work like that though. Billy needed to know exactly what the hell was happening before he was about to be kidnapped by himself. He glared down at Buckley, or whatever his glare looked like now. Apparently it didn’t do the trick.

“God I look dumb doing that…” she muttered under her breath.

That’s when it all clicked. The penny dropped and shattered through the glass ceiling.

“Holy shit… Harrington?” 

Buckley blushed. It was clear even through the redness already on her face. Steve was stuck as Buckley. Billy was stuck as Harrington. Then by the process of elimination…

Oh shit, this would be fun.

Billy smirked and walked calmly over to his baby, engine still purring, leant down to look at himself sat behind the wheel. Fury was clear over his features, just staring straight ahead at the end of the culdesac and the turning spot to get out of Harrington’s fancy neighbourhood.

“Well, well, well...” Billy started. “The chick has a dick.”

“Get in this fucking car before I kill us all. Dingus is already hanging on by a thread, don’t think I won’t do it,” she spat out through gritted teeth. Apparently she didn’t know how to dress either, clearly just grabbing what had been on Billy’s bedroom floor before probably racing out of that house.

Billy couldn’t exactly blame her on that one.

With a shrug he climbed into the back over the passenger seat, Buckley got in the front, knees pulled tight together, hands not knowing what to do with themselves. The car had barely set off again before Billy couldn’t hold it back any longer.

“Either of you two wanna tell me what the fuck is happening?”

Buckley went to open her mouth, his mouth?, but it was Hargrove that spoke. Practically roared over the sound of the engine working overtime because it was in the wrong gear. It was painful to Billy’s ears.

“This asshole found one of my mom’s spell books and thought oh wouldn’t it be such a fucking great idea to go saying incantations without knowing what the fuck he was doing?! So now I’m stuck as you, Steve is stuck as me and you’re stuck as him until we can get to my aunt’s place in Indy to fix all of this! And once she does I never want to see either of you ever again!”

Billy blinked a few times just trying to process all that information. It sounded weird being said in his voice for a start but, spell books and incantations? God the midwest was full of weird bitches.

“I didn’t mean to. I didn’t think this would happen, did I?” Buckley spat back, peeling away from being pressed up against the door in shame for the first time.

“You didn’t think at all Steven! You never do love spells on a full moon without knowing what you’re doing. God if you weren’t me I’d punch you!”

The grin that grew on Billy’s face was palpable. A love spell huh. Maybe when they were all back in the right bodies that could be something to be worked on. For now they were pulling onto the highway towards Indianapolis, finally in the right gear. Billy just sat back and listened to them bicker like an old married couple. He’d enjoyed being Harrington for a few hours. And if it was true he was stuck like this because maybe Harrington had feelings well, Billy maybe wouldn’t say no to giving that a try too. After this, anything was possible.

#cocktober #harringrove #billy x steve #my writings #im not gonna do all of these but this one was a total must #enjoy penny!

[detectivejay-chuckles-halstead]

30 Days // Jay Halstead x Reader // Pt 3:6

Description: 30 Drabbles of Jay and Reader’s life together

Words: 2385

Warnings: Canonical Violence, FLUFF

Pairing: Jay x Reader

A/N: The third installment. I am simultaneously working on this, a new upcoming long fic, and requests. Not to mention I get to go back to work for the first time in 6 weeks (YAY!) So my posting may be out of wack, or only maybe once or twice a week. Hope you all enjoy!

Doing Something Together

“Why do you always insist that you can beat me?” Jay asked as the two of you walked into the firing range. Yes, your boyfriend had been an expert marksman as a Ranger, worked as Intelligence’s sniper when needed. That didn’t mean that one of these days you wouldn’t beat him when it came to target practice. 

“Because one day, someday, it’s going to happen. And today is going to be that day,” you answered with a smile, Jay just shaking his head with a laugh. It was like this every time the two of you went to renew your certification for work. 

It didn’t take long to sign in, being sent to your respective areas. You both put on the protective eye-wear and earmuffs. As the targets were sent back, you took out your gun and took a wide stance. One clip was all that you were firing that day. 

“You may begin,” the evaluator stated, the two of you firing your guns multiple times until no bullets were left. You holstered at that point, taking the earmuffs off as you looked at Jay with a smile on your face. This had to be it, right? This was going to be your day! The targets were brought up for evaluation

Most of your hits were along the 8 and 9 marks just to the left of the silhouette. When you looked at Jay’s target, at first you thought it was a joke. There was no way he only hit the target once dead center. Until you took a look at it again, realizing he’d hit the same spot multiple times. 

“Good job. We will see you guys back next year,” the evaluator then told you, writing down his comments before walking away. 

“One day, babe,” he assured you as you pouted. 

“Maybe next time, I just need to distract you,” you suggested, walking away from him with a sway to your hips. 

In Formal Wear

Voight had more or less ordered the team to go to this fundraiser that the CPD was hosting. Not that you minded, but you knew Jay hated these events. He said he felt paraded around. Which definitely wasn’t a lie, though none of you had a choice. If Voight said to jump, the answer would be ‘how high, sir?’

“Stop fussing with your tie,” you scolded for the fifth time since the two of you had arrived, swatting his hands away to fix the fabric. He huffed, letting you do your thing as he looked around the room. “We’ll be here an hour, two tops.”

“I will complain the entire time,” he assured you with a smirk, getting a chuckle from you. “You look gorgeous by the way.”

He’d been left speechless when you’d walked out of the bedroom in the black, low cut, tulle gown. Not like you saved it for special occasions or anything. You realized that Jay had never seen you dressed up like that before. And you’d never seen him in such a crisp, form-fitting suit before. 

“If you behave, maybe I’ll even let you take it off me,” you whispered as you leaned in, hands pressed to his chest. The glimmer of hope in his eyes was enough for there to be an understanding. All he had to do was put up with the event. That was all. 

A waiter walked around, Jay grabbing two champagne glasses off the tray like a pro. You couldn’t help but lean into him slightly as the two of you walked around the room, mingling with all the important names. As much as you loved the dress, you hated the heels. 

“Don’t you two look like a handsome couple,” Voight mentioned as you neared the huddled group of Intelligence officers. You couldn’t help the blush forming across your cheeks.

“Thank you, Serge,” Jay said softly as Kim and Vanessa pulled you into their conversation. Your eyes would meet Jay’s occasionally, wanting to just get lost in him until one of the other women would pull you back. Maybe you needed to go to these events more often. 

Dancing

“Why does this song sound so familiar?” you asked Jay as the two of you were cooking dinner, the tune on the radio bringing back clouded memories that you couldn’t quite place. 

“Really?” he countered, looking a bit hurt. Though you weren’t sure why. “Don’t you remember this was the song that was playing at Molly’s the first time we kissed.”

“How could I forget that?” You weren’t sure how to answer your own question, feeling crappy about not remembering. But you were a bit surprised that Jay remembered. There was no doubt that you would have remembered if you hadn’t been as drunk as you were that night. 

“Dance with me?” he asked, holding his hand out for you. There wasn’t even a second of hesitation as you took his hand, letting him pull you close to him before the two of you began gently swaying in the kitchen. He looked at you with complete love and adoration -- a look nobody else had ever given you before. 

It felt right, being with Jay. This moment was the moment you realized that he was the one for you. He was the one that you’d never let go. The one that you'd move Heaven and Hell for. You and Jay were endgame. You’d never been more sure about anything in your life. 

In Battle Side-by-Side

The case you’d all been working on for the better part of a week --the one that had already made most of the team shed sweat, blood, and tears -- had led you all to an abandoned factory on the south-side of Chicago. Everybody’s cars were huddled in a parking lot a block away, out of sight of the building to keep from blowing the whole operation. The team stood together as Voight spoke. 

“We bring this guy in dead or alive. Got it?” Everybody agreed with a ‘yes Serge.’ “Halstead, you and Y/L/N take the north entrance. Rojas and Atwater take the south entrance. Ruzek, you’re going to cover the north entrance in your vehicle. Burgess, you and me with the south. Nobody goes in or out once we start this except us.”

Jay helped you secure your vest over your shirt before grabbing his gun out of the trunk. His pistol remained holstered on his thigh. As much as you loved your job, it was moments like these that made you hate it. More like, you hated working in the same unit as your boyfriend. If things went south...you didn’t let yourself think of it, Jay pulling you out of your thoughts with a smile, handing you your own gun.

“I love you,” he told you softly, squeezing your free hand. You sighed, looking at him as everybody got ready.

“I love you too.” 

It was a go. You and Jay walked to the north entrance, your boyfriend in front of you as your hand rested on his shoulder, following right on his heels. Why a lone offender would be hiding out in an abandoned factory was the real question you were asking yourself, but you didn’t mention it to anybody else. As long as you got this guy, that’s all that mattered. 

The two of you silently breached the door, moving slowly and methodically. You’d done this a thousand times before, no different. He came to a T in the hallway, motioning for you to go left. There was no hesitation as you stepped to the side of him, hugging the wall as you went down the hallway while he walked the other direction. 

The only sound you could hear was the sound of your breath and your heart beating in your ears. The further you got away from Jay, the less you were able to hear his footsteps until they disappeared. You were on edge, creeping down this hall, taking turn after turn. Was this a factory or a maze? The second you heard any type of movement, you froze in place before slowly looking around. 

It was a bit of a scare when you found yourself looking down the barrel of a gun, releasing your breath when you realized it was Jay. The look on his face matched yours. Confusion.

“Something doesn’t feel right,” he said softly, getting you to nod in agreement as you continued down the new hallway. Eventually, the hall opened up into a large room. As you looked around, you noticed Vanessa and Kevin at the other end, about twenty-yards ahead of you. As far as you knew, nobody had seen an entrance to a second floor, realizing you missed something. There was no second floor, but there was clearly a window to the right as well as a door. 

“Jay,” you whispered, motioning for him to look. As soon as he started to turn his head, you heard clattering. 

“Flash grenade!” he called out, pulling you to the ground with him, trying to shield you from the flash. 

Your ears were ringing, feeling Jay’s body weight on you as you tried to assess what was going on. Shots were the next thing you heard, seeming to miss everything besides the walls. It sounded like it was only coming from one gun, which meant your offender was indeed working alone. 

“Stay down,” Jay told you softly. “Don’t key your radio.” Fear flooded over you. There’d only be one reason he’d tell you not to key your radio. 

“You think there’s a bomb.” There was no question about it. That’s exactly what Jay was thinking. “Vanessa and Kevin!” 

“Right now, we have to move,” he interjected, getting off you so that you could crouch. There was nowhere to take cover. No boxes, no equipment. The room was empty. The only way to get out was the way you came. The two of you looked over at the other pair who seemed to have the same idea.

“Jay, we leave, this guy will be in the wind,” you snapped as he grabbed your arm, ready to drag you out of that building. “Trust me.” 

He hesitated before nodding, the two of you pressing against the wall before moving quickly towards the corner. Kevin and Vanessa seemed to get the memo, mimicking your movements. The other pair waited, not daring to cross in front of the window as the offender stopped firing. Most likely out of confusion due to there being no active targets he would be able to see. 

Jay nodded at you as you busted in the door before firing a single shot at the offender, the man falling to the ground. Quickly, you kicked his gun away from his reach, though you knew it wasn’t necessary. A single headshot. Kneeling down, you felt for a carotid pulse, feeling nothing. He was dead. 

You sat down next to him, elbows on your knees as you rested your head in your hands. It was over. It was finally over. Nobody keyed their radios still, not until the bomb squad got there to do a search of the building to ensure there weren’t any extra surprises. 

“Nice work,” Voight told you when you finally exited the building. It didn’t feel like good work. You knew the order was to bring him in dead or alive...but never did you think it would be your gun that killed the man -- your shot, your decision. 

“Let’s go get this paperwork done, then go home,” Jay suggested softly, kissing your temple as you silently agreed. 

On A Birthday

“You know, all I want to do is just relax at home with you for my birthday,” Jay told you as you walked out of the precinct to the car. 

“Okay, promise not to get upset?” You’d waited until he was securely in the passenger seat of your car before you’d asked him. “The guys planned a surprise party that I’m supposed to be taking you to. I told them it was a bad idea, but can you just go for an hour at least to please them?”

“One hour, then just us,” he agreed. 

This was the third birthday you’d spent with him, still not getting a clear answer on why he never wanted to celebrate. The first year, you practically had to force a piece of cake into his mouth. He’d opened the present you got him the day after his birthday. The second year went smoother, but he still resisted nearly every idea to actually celebrate. This year though, it wasn’t your doing. You’d finally given in, still forcing him to get a cake at least and always getting him a present. Birthdays were a big deal for you growing up, family always making it a big deal. 

You pulled up in front of Molly’s, his arm hooked around your shoulder as you reminded him to ‘act surprised.’ Which he did, smiling as friends came up to wish him a happy birthday. He drank some beer, had some laughs, but as soon as that clock hit the hour mark, he excused himself from the party, ensuring everyone promised they’d keep it going for him. 

You followed close behind as the two of you stepped into the cool Chicago night air. When he suddenly stopped, you nearly walked into him before he turned to look at you with a smile, small box in his hand. 

“You’re the one who’s supposed to be getting presents today, silly,” you reminded him before he kissed you.

“I know, but I think you deserve this,” he countered, flipping the top of the box open to reveal an engagement ring, shock evident on your face. “You know I don’t really like celebrating my birthday. My mom was the only one who ever made a big deal of it, and after she died, I didn’t really find a reason to celebrate. Then, I spent two birthdays in Afghanistan...I was going to wait to do this, but I wanted a reason to be able to be happy on this day again. You’ve tried so hard the past few years...my mom,” he sighed softly, “she would have loved you. And she would have told me to keep you forever. So, Y/N...Will you marry me?”

#jay halstead #jay halstead imagine #jay halstead x reader #fanfiction

[venusandromedadjarin]

Fresh Meat

Ch 3, Mi Cielo

18+, smoking, language, canon timeline, TW: mild violence, 2k words

Inside, Connie waves you over to a table and you drop Javi’s hand, weaving your way through the swaying crowd as he joins Steve at the bar. You slide into a chair next to her, preparing yourself for the inevitable question she’s about to ask. She eyes you, “So you and Javi, huh?”

You shake your head, your dark hair bouncing with the movement, “We worked together back in Texas. It’s a long story…”

“One you can share when we unpack together, maybe tomorrow after work” she offers a smile before adding, “if you want.” You nod and smile back, grateful for the offer of friendship from this stranger. The guys join you and Steve hands a beer to his wife while Javi sets a glass in front of you. You blush at the thought that he still remembers your drink of choice.

“Whiskey on the rocks,” he holds his own glass up, waiting for you to clink his. “To new partners, even if one of them is gringo.” Connie laughs and Steve shakes his head as you all toast, Javi winking at you slyly. 

The upbeat Latin music pulses through the club as you all drink and chat. Eventually, Connie begs Steve to dance with her. After a show of fake annoyance, he gives in and follows her to the dance floor. Connie sways her hips to the beat, a surprise to you as you raise a brow, smiling at her, but Steve looks like a fish out of water as he tries to sway along. Javi takes a drag from his cigarette before holding it out to you, which you take and do the same. “If he keeps that up, we’re going to get targeted just for his shitty dancing.” 

He chuckles, glancing toward the man and grimacing, “Fuck, maybe we should put a stop to it.”

“We could just show him how it’s actually done,” you say around the cigarette dangling from your lips before handing it back to him and downing the rest of the whiskey and hissing at the way it burns your throat. 

“I’m not drunk enough for that, but I could maybe be talked into it…” He trails off, looking up at you as you stand, at the way your tight dress is bunched around your thighs before you pull it down. 

Bending down, you whisper in his ear, “Like the way you talked that woman who left your apartment into giving you information?” He gapes at you when you pull back and walk towards the bar, simultaneously breathing heavy from being called out and from the way your ass sways as you walk away. You mentally pat yourself on the back for messing with him. He might remember your drink order, but you remember his tactics for information. If the moaning you heard earlier was any hint, you’re sure you’d hear about it tomorrow. 

The bartender flirts with you a bit, her curly black hair bouncing as she laughs at something you say. You play with her a bit before ordering two more drinks, biting your lip when she notices the brooding guy you point towards. He glowers back at the both of you as you pat her hand and blow her a kiss, grabbing the drinks. Her blush is not lost on you, but you ignore it anyways. 

“You heard?” You set his drink down in front of him when you join him back at the table.

“Did you think we wouldn’t? You’re not a quiet person Peña.” 

He rubs his face, pursing his lips before grabbing your hand and leaning towards you, “And you still flirt with bartenders so obviously neither of us have changed.”

You stare at him for a second, the walls crumbling around your facade, “You know we both have, Javi.” He nods slowly, his eyes never leaving yours. You stand, pulling him with you, “Let’s go dance. They’re making fools out of themselves.”

“Hey! Connie isn’t,” you raise a brow at him, feigning surprise. “Anyway, I don’t dance hermosa.”

“Liar,” he allows you to pull him to the floor, far enough from your other partner to let his hands roam on you, but close enough to not seem suspicious as you sway against him. The music seems to pulse around you and you both fall into a familiar rhythm. Moving your ass against his hips, you can’t help but remember times like this back in Texas. His hands slide up and down your sides, before one comes to rest on your hip and guides your movements. His other hand comes up to lightly cup your throat as he whispers into your ear. “Looks like I’m not the only one remembering, Javier.”

————————————-

The hillsides of Medellín roll beneath the helicopter as Steve and Javi fill you in over the headsets. Pablo’s city, for all intents and purposes, is not only huge but a drab color of tan that sticks out like a sore thumb against the green hillsides. “We’ll be stopping at the Carlos Holquín School. It’s where Carillo runs his ops from,” Javi’s voice crackles through the headsets. He points to some brick buildings below as the helicopter makes its descent in the opposite direction. “We’ll pick up a jeep and head over there.”

Twenty minutes later, the jeep rumbles to a stop in an area surrounded by men in uniforms. You quickly slide your jacket on and tighten your ponytail as you step out of the vehicle. Javi greets a handsome man, one you can assume is Major Carillo, as Steve just looks lost. You elbow him, “I’ll help with your Spanish if you want, but you’ve got to learn fast if you’re going to survive around this shit.” He nods down at you as Carillo tells Javi about intel while you both make your way to their side.

“I want you to meet our new DEAs, Steve Murphy and y/n Lucio.”

Carillo nods towards you before staring at Steve, “Carne fresca.” Javi just sighs and you bite back a smile at the man’s bluntness. As soon as the two are out of ear shot, not bothering to see if you follow, Steve is asking what was said. He doesn’t find it funny when you tell him. Carillo leads the three of you around the base, showing you different points of operation before circling back to the jeep and climbing in the front with Javi. Steve quietly climbs in the back, obviously annoyed at the constant chatter in Spanish. You offer him a smoke as Javi drives towards Hotel Las Margaritas. 

Inside a room looking out onto the valet area, Steve snaps pictures from behind the curtain as you and Carillo talk. He questions you about how and why you ended up in the DEA, and then fills you in on the ground information about Pablo Escobar. Things, he says, won’t be in any file. You’re a bit taken aback, even though you were prepared that things would be done differently here. Javi watches you, trying to gauge your reactions. You know he can tell you’re nervous, but you try not to make it obvious to anyone else. Steve motions for everyone to come towards the window.

“Is that Gacha?”

Carillo nods towards Javi, “I’ve never seen him with other traffickers.” The man in question is a short, heavy guy with a fedora. He looks vaguely like most middle aged men in the country, but you recognize him from the intel reports you were able to look over. Finally, a tan convertible Mercedes-Benz pulls up with two men and you push to get a better look. Carillo and Javi aren’t extremely tall, but you’re short so they block your view significantly. Moving back to let you see, Carillo turns to Steve, “Get pictures of that fucker.” It confirms who you thought it was: Pablo Escobar. He’s not what you expected, even after seeing him on TV and in papers. He almost looks harmless, but you know better and you glance at Javi. He tenses as the man steps out of the car, but doesn’t say anything. The amount of men under this roof would’ve gone undocumented if it wasn’t for Javi, and that fact is not lost on any of you. 

An hour later, a van full of hookers show up and you hear Javi inhale when one in particular steps out, “That’s Helena.”

The guys both look at him nodding. Carillo radios downstairs to one of his guys, asking to check if the coast is clear to leave. Once the okay is given, the four of you make your way downstairs and drive back to the base. 

A couple hours later, the military jeep is parked in front of a church and Javi is pacing in front of it. You glance at Carillo, who watches him with crossed arms. Steve is bent over the map on the hood and you’re leaning against the front, picking at a string on your jacket. 

“She should be here by now,” Javi looks between the three of you, scratching at a callus on his hand. 

Steve looks at you and you shrug. “You think she slipped?”

“Nah, she’s no dummy.”

“Javi, maybe she’s just late,” you offer.

Carillo looks annoyed, “Maybe she’s getting pretty for you.” You shoot the man a dirty look and he ignores it.

Javi just continues pacing, ignoring all of you again. You honestly aren’t sure how much time has passed before Carillo speaks again, “They’re telling me the girl left a long time ago. She’s already dead.”

“No, they wouldn’t kill her at the hotel,” Javi rubs at his shoulders, the point where he carries all of his stress and you wish you could help him. You’re quiet as the guys argue about what to do and now you’re the one watching with crossed arms. Steve glares at you when the guys start speaking Spanish again, and you shake your head. Javi looks at you and says something and you nod towards him before turning to Steve.

“Stay here and see if she shows.”

“You’re leaving? Where the hell are you guys going?”

You plead with the man in front of you, giving him a pat on the shoulder, “We’re going to look for her. Stay here.” The three of you jog to another car and hop in, but not before you hear Steve curse behind you and hit the hood of the vehicle. Part of you feels bad for the guy, but it’s obvious he’s green and the shit you know Carillo is about to pull isn’t something he needs to see on his second day. Miami had its issues, but Javi and you had seen enough to know it was worse in Texas. 

Twenty minutes later, you were right and you stand over a sicario getting a bag held over his head. Javi stands next to you, unflinching, as you smoke another cigarette. Carillo does the heavy lifting and questions the fucker before having him choked again. You finally pull Javi aside, leaving the balcony with a glance towards Carillo. 

“Hey, look at me,” his brown eyes finally find yours and you hand him the cigarette. He takes a shaky drag. “We’ll find her.” You wave him off when he tries to hand it back and lean against the railing on the stairs, crossing your arms and looking out over the street.

“What the hell do you care, y/n? She’s just an informant.”

You glower at him. “Obviously one you care about.”

He sighs, “It’s not like that.”

“Claro.” Without another word, you head back up the steps towards the sound of Carillo kicking something, probably ribs. “Anything?” 

“Let’s go,” he grabs Javi on the way, leading you both back to the car. A gunshot echoes behind the three of you, making you jump. Javi’s hand finds yours, giving you a squeeze before you all climb in the vehicle. “She’s at an apartment building not far from here. We don’t have vests in here,” Carillo makes eye contact with you through the rear view mirror, “understood?”

“Yeah, don’t get shot.” 

#narcos #narcos fanfic #javier pena x reader #javi x reader insert #steve murphy

[aam-loves]

It’s heeeeerrrreeee! I made it🙈 it took me ages.

Day 15: a song that's a cover of another artist

Song: Daft Punk - Get lucky

This my first experience writing light smut and I’m anxious about posting it😳

——————————————————————————

“Jug, man, you have to come out of your cave and get some already!” Archie whined.

Jughead looked around his penthouse theatrically “Don’t see anything wrong with my cave”

“Are you kidding me? It’s Friday evening!” Archie rounded his eyes.

“Yeah, and I’m perfectly fine with spending it with books, pizza and video games, it could be even better if you joined me and I’d beat you ass”

“Come oooon, Jug, you are spending way too much time working already, you need to go out, see people, get laid!”

“I don’t need to get laid” Jughead muttered.

“When even was last time you were with woman?”

“Why does it matter?”

“Because!” Archie threw his hands in the air “Look, Jug, just go out with me, we’ll have a couple of drinks and maybe get lucky with a nice girl. Just do it and I’ll be off your back for some time”

Jughead squeezed his eyes and surrendered “Fine”

***

Jughead Jones stood in his bathroom getting ready for the evening. He looked at himself in the mirror. It’s still him, the same stormy blue eyes, unruly black hair and lean toned body even at almost 30. But something was different, he didn’t feel himself. He lacked inspiration. His book series made him wealthy, but he was stuck now. He wanted to start writing something new, but there was not a single word in his head that he wanted to print. It was like he burnt himself out. He didn’t want this life. No, having money was good, especially after being poor for the most of his life, but he got tired of everything this money could offer him. He missed the feeling of overwhelming inspiration, the words pouring out of him on pages, drinking coffee not out of habit, but to keep energy up so he could write more.

He didn’t know what he had to do to return this feeling, but at least he could make his best friend happy and go out with him tonight. Maybe he could get lucky with some girl, that was really too long since he was with a woman.

***

After 3 hours in a bar Jughead abandons all hope for a hookup. He had to reject 3 rather beautiful ladies. They just didn’t do it for him. It seems he reached the state where he can’t be sexually attracted to a woman if everything she can talk about is celebrity gossip, Instagram or how many calories are in this drink.

He sees Archie approaching their table, leading an attractive Latina girl with his hand on her back and some blonde girl behind them.

“Here we are” he hears Archie saying to the girl coming up to their table. “Jug! Look who decided to join us, this is Veronica” he points to the Latina girl and she primly shakes his hand.

As Veronica slides to take a seat on the opposite side of the booth Archie introduces the second girl “and this is Betty”, he quips and sits next to Veronica.

Betty shakes Jughead’s hand and stands awkwardly by the table. She is pretty, blonde wavy hair, big doe eyes and bubblegum pink lipstick that matches her dress. His checking her out is interrupted by Archie clearing his throat. Jughead’s eyes shoot to his and Archie lifts his brows tilting his head in Betty’s direction. Jughead is confused for a second, then he realizes that he has to scoot for Betty to sit down next to him. As soon as he does so, Archie turns to Veronica and they properly forget about their friends. Jughead almost groans and prepares himself to listen about the amount of calories in martini.

“So... Archie told us you are a writer” he hears her soft voice.

“Uh... yeah”

“What do you write?”

“It’s crime fiction, I don’t know if you’ve heard about “Blood in the river” book series... um, I wrote them”

“Oh my god! I have all of them! They are so good, I get captured in the book so much I forget to eat sometimes. Did you really write them?” her big green eyes are sparkling in the lights of the club.

Jughead is surprised and amused, usually girls in clubs don’t really know what crime fiction is, lest read his books.

“Yeah.... yeah, I did. And what is that you do?”

“Um... I’m getting my PhD in Industrial Engineering and Operations Research, last year now. And I work in the library part time.”

At that he is stunned. Like who is this this girl? She doesn’t look like a gear head at all. And she likes reading crime fiction. He sits there just looking at her when he registers she is speaking again.

“... I like to restore vintage cars when I have time, mom hates it, but that’s my and dad’s bonding time” she chuckles.

Ok, she is pretty, no, beautiful, actually, now that he’s had a chance to look at her properly he can see she’s really beautiful. And she is obviously smart.

He gulps down his dry throat “you are an enigma, Betty”.

A beautiful smile appears on her face and she looks at her lap blushing.

She is so adorable and alluring at the same time. He wants to take her home, spend a night with her, date her, marry her, have children with her.

“What are you doing here?” He asks, he really can’t imagine her in this world. Loud clubs full of drunk rotten people.

“Sometimes all of it becomes too much and V drags me to some club or bar for good fun”

“Well, I think I just got really lucky this night, it would be really upsetting not to get to meet you”

***

He lifts her and places on the kitchen isle without interrupting the kiss, that becomes more and more heated by every second.

They spent all night talking, at some point their bodies drifted closer on the bench seat, his hand found its place on her thigh and she bit her lip while her eyes darkened. Veronica and Archie were making out opposite them and when they decided to go to Veronica’s place, Jughead offered Betty to continue at his place, to have some vine and... talk.

At some point her subtle glances and constant biting of her lip became unbearable. He cupped her face and connected their lips. She eagerly responded and even deepened the kiss. He backed her to the isle and here are they now.

He moves to kiss her neck and slips a strap of her dress lowering his mouth to her shoulder and collar bone. Her hands are in his hair, holding his head to her and he is gripping her hips with such force, he thinks there will be bruises in the morning.

She crosses her ankles behind his back and pulls him closer, so that his crotch collides with her heat where her dress has lifted up her hips.

She starts grinding into him and unbuttoning his shirt. He groans feeling himself getting harder and returns to her lips.

“Jug....” she pants against his lips

“What do you want, baby?”

Betty moves her hands to pull his shirt off him and whispers “I want you to touch me”.

He surges forward to capture her lips in a bruising kiss, tips of his fingers teasing the skin on her inner thighs, thumbs rubbing the crease near her core, feeling the edge of her lace panties.

She nearly whimpers from frustration and overwhelming need and tugs his hair.

Jughead slips his finger into her panties and tugs her dress and bra lower to reveal her breast at the same time. A low moan escapes Betty’s mouth when his lips capture one of her nipples and his nimble fingers slide through her soaked folds. She is so wet, it was never like this before.

When his fingers find her bundle of nerves pulsing with need she looses all coherent thoughts, but moves her hands to his belt buckle anyways.

He moves to her other breast slipping one finger inside her, she arches her back, pressing her chest into his face and her head falls back with a loud moan.

The sounds she makes and the way she responds to him make him dizzy with want. He finally leaves her full breasts, nipples wet and puckered, as she slips her hand under his boxers and wraps him with her delicate fingers. Her hand so soft, but her grip firm and oh so good, he groans burying his face in her neck and tugs her underwear down her long legs while she pumps him slowly.

“I can’t wait anymore, I need to be inside you” he whines, hips bucking into her hand.

“Take me” she whispers and it’s all he needs.

He manages to fish a foil packet out of the back pocket of his jeans just before the slip down his legs.

He slips into her slowly and it’s the best feeling ever. He fucks her hard right there on the kitchen isle and then once more slowly but passionately in bed.

It’s almost sunrise when they lay in his bed, properly sated and he wants to keep her here, beside him, look at her in the morning, bring her coffee to bed and then maybe take a walk in the park and talk some more. He wants to tell her all of this, but he is so deliciously exhausted that his eyes close themselves and he falls asleep with a smile on his lips.

***

She can’t fall asleep, she feels his breath even and steady where her head lies on his chest. She carefully detangles herself and slips from bed. She turns to look at him, sleeping peacefully. He came to the club for a hookup and she shouldn’t delude herself into a fantasy, no matter how good they seemed to each other. She sighs, picks her clothes walking through his apartments and leaves.

***

Jughead wakes up with a smile, anticipating a sweet morning with a blonde goddess, but this smile quickly leaves his face when he realizes he is in bed alone. After inspecting the apartment he understands she left while he was sleeping and she didn’t bother to leave a phone number. He is frustrated and angry for a moment, he feels used. But he refuses to take it. It felt too good to just let it go. And he doesn’t mean just sex, she is incredible and anyone would be a fool to skip his chance with her.

It takes him about 20 phone calls to wake up Archie and he exhales relieved when he finds out that Betty’s friend is still with him. Then it takes him about 30 minutes of explaining and begging Veronica to organize him a meeting with Betty, as she refuses to give her phone number.

Now he has to wait until the agreed time. Meanwhile he finds himself reaching for his laptop and words pouring out of him. She pushed something in his head, he feels inspired just after talking to her.

When the time comes he goes to a little Italian restaurant Veronica set the meeting in. He is nervous as if he is a teenager again.

Betty is already sitting at the table, her eyes on the menu. He quietly walks to the table and slips into the sit opposite to her.

“Finally, V, I swear your cryptic messages...” she lifts her head and trails off, eyes rounding.

“Hi, Betts”

“Jug... what are you... why?”

“I was really upset when I found out you left this morning without me saying you just how amazing you are and that there are at least several dozens of books we need to discuss, a handful of conspiracy theories I need to share with you and some surfaces we have to defile”

When she doesn’t say anything back and just sits there stunned and gapes at him, he becomes nervous.

“That is unless you don’t want to, than I’ll just leave you to have a nice Italian dinner and go drown myself in self pity”

At that she seems to return to herself.

“Oh my god, Jug. Of course, of course I want to”

“Well, than, I guess yesterday I got really lucky” he smirks and she blushes prettily.

#songfic writing challenge 2019 #songfic #bughead #betty cooper #riverdale #jughead jones #betty x jughead #bughead fanfiction #betty cooper and jughead jones #fanfiction #bughead fic

[mycupoffanfiction]

His Favourite Gal: Part 5 A Bucky x Reader Mobster AU Fic

A mob!Bucky x Reader fic

Part 1  Part 2  Part 3  Part 4  Part 5  Part 6

The reader begins working as a waitress at Bucky Barnes’ favourite club in town. Little does she realise that working on mob territory owned by the infamous King of New York, Bucky Barnes, comes with it’s quirks as the reader is slowly pulled into the mobster life. Warnings: Smut, fluff, a bit of violence, language, one mention of drugs (in relation to trafficking).

Word count: Approx 6700

Hi! Part 5 is here! Hope you all enjoy! Thank you all for the lovely feedback about part 4, dunno what I was getting myself worked up about 😅 Enjoy! 💕

_________________________

“Okay good, try to breath slowly and steadily.” Steve spoke quietly to you. “Whenever you’re ready.” He said, stepping away from you. Firing a shot, your hands tingled with the recoil of the gun you held. Looking over at the target, you’d not done too badly, it wasn’t in the middle of the target by any means, but it wasn’t too far off. Imagine what mum and dad would think of all of this. You shake your head in an effort to get rid of your thoughts and reposition yourself, aiming and firing a second time. You were ready for the recoil this time, keeping your hands much steadier than the first try. “Damn, not bad!” Steve exclaimed, observing from behind. “Try one more time.” Steve says, waiting for you to aim. You take the third shot, a bit closer to the middle this time and Steve reaches forward, taking the pistol from your hands. “Great job, with some more training you could be a great shot.” He encourages you and you beam up at him. Steve’s phone buzzes and he looks down at it. “Buck wants you up in his office.” He informs you. “Alright, I’ll head up. Thanks for the training.” You smile at him. “Wait, uh, before you go.” Steve steps back, approaching his duffle bag he brought with him and rummages about. “I know Bucky had to take it from you the other night, but since you were quite pleased with it’s effectiveness, I got you a new one.” Steve pulls out a box. You step up to his side and take the box from him. Taking off the lid, you peer inside and there’s a brand new fibre wire inside. The handles are made from steel and they are beautifully polished, glinting with the overhead lights. “Thank you.” You breath, reaching in to take it in your hand. “Keep it concealed, I know Buck is more than happy with you having weapons on you, but you don’t want to freak people out.” Steve chuckles, pulling his duffle bag onto his shoulder.

 You and Steve part ways and you make your way up to Bucky’s office. You were inside of Bucky’s office building where he ran his business out of. It was a huge modern structure and while it mostly had offices, it was the perfect place for a base of operations. Since you’d been promoted from your job of waitress to girlfriend, you no longer had a job, but Bucky had insisted on paying you a salary none the less. You weren’t too keen on not having an actual job for yourself, but you appreciated Bucky’s insistence to make sure you were well cared for.

 You exited the elevator, passing a few of Bucky’s employees on the way. His office was on the top floor, naturally. You knocked on the door to his office before poking your head in, Bucky was sat behind his desk with a woman sat opposite. She had red shoulder length hair and wore a leather jacket, from what you could see. “Hey, sugar.” Bucky waved you into the room. Closing the door behind you, you pulled out the chair next to the red haired woman and when you shifted in your seat to look at her you realised it was Nat. “Holy- Nat, what are you doing here?” You ask, the two of you reaching over your chairs to share a quick hug. “Missed you too.” She laughed, pulling away. “(Y/n), I’m sorry I didn’t tell you this earlier.” Bucky began, resting his hands on his desk. “Nat was never a bartender, was she? Were you?” You asked, beating him to the punch and looking between Bucky and Natasha. Bucky huffed out a laugh, leaning back in his seat. “I don’t think you two exactly need me for this.” He joked, watching you and Nat interact. “Well I technically was a bartender, but also trained intelligence.” Nat nods her head from side to side, a smirk playing on her lips.

 “I invited you in here, doll, to offer you something.” Bucky finds a gap in your conversation, turning the attention back to him. Both you and Nat fall silent and you sit up straight, ready for what he was about to say. “I spoke to Natasha about your observational skills, your fast reactions, the behaviour you exhibited every time you’ve been in the face of danger.” Bucky explains, keeping his eyes locked firmly on you. “We’d like to offer you a position as an intelligence agent. Nat will train you and I’ll have a reason to pay you, since you were quite stubborn about that and this way I’ll feel a lot better about taking you with me to meetings.” Bucky didn’t even have to give you reasons, god you would snap that up as soon as. If he’d asked you to be intelligence for him without the promise of Nat or money, you’d do it anyway. “Yes.” You responded, coming out of your thoughts. “What? I wasn’t done with my whole speech.” Bucky pauses, his hands still poised from talking with them. “Yes, I’ll do it.” You smile. Nat looked at you with amusement, sharing a glance with Bucky. Bucky let out a chuckle and relaxed in his seat. “I’m glad it didn’t take much convincing.” He laughs to himself, looking down at his hands. “Nat, a moment with my girl, please.” Nat nods, patting you on the shoulder before vacating the office.

 “Did Stevie give you your new fibre wire?” He asks, leaning back and letting his chair recline. You pull it out of your inner jacket pocket and flash it at him before smoothing your fingers over the handles again. “Thank you, for all of this Bucky.” You lean on the desk, putting the fibre wire back in your jacket. “Sweetheart, I’d do anything for you. I just want to make sure you can handle yourself even more than you already can.” He grins at you. “I was afraid after all the shit you went through that it would scare you off, I feel like I’m corrupting you.” Bucky says, fiddling with his fingers. “I’m here to stay, Bucky.” You smile up at him. There’s a pause in conversation as Bucky takes in your features.

 “Any news on the boys?” You ask. “Yeah, Scott’s back at work, can’t drive yet though and Clint is at home recovering, broken bones make it a bit hard for him to be your bodyguard.” Bucky chuckles. “He was my bodyguard?” You puzzle. “Yeah, unofficially I suppose, although the first time he had to protect you he got himself knocked out.” Bucky jokes as he gets up from his seat and walks to your side. “Dinner tonight?” You ask. “I wanted to wanted to make you lasagne, you could come to my place.” You suggest. “I know it’s a bit of a crap apartment but-.” You suddenly become nervous after Bucky’s critical analysis of your apartment the first time he had visited, but he interrupts you. “Crap apartment or not, I’d love to, (Y/n).” Bucky leans on the desk in front of you, grabbing your hand. “Great!” You beam. “I’ll drop by at seven? Until then I’ll have Sam drive you home.” Bucky holds your hand still, gently pulling you up from your seated position. “Try not to get into more danger, gorgeous.” Bucky leans in and you reach up on your toes for your lips to meet.

 Bucky’s hand rests on your lower back, his metal hand sliding up to tangle itself into your hair and you whimper into his lips as he scratches your scalp gently. Your delicate hands run under his shirt collar, caressing the soft skin hidden underneath as you snake your hands around the back of his neck. Bucky deepens the kiss and you pant slightly as his hand plays with the hem of your top, running his fingers on the soft skin of your lower back. Parting slowly, Bucky looks down at you with hooded eyes, and in that moment, you see all of the adoration and love he has for you in those piercingly blue eyes of his. “I love you, (Y/n).” Bucky breaks the silence and you feel your heart skip a beat at the sound of those three words. He loves you. Bucky Barnes loves you. “I love you too Bucky.” You smile uncontrollably. “I can’t wait to see you later sweetheart.” Bucky says, planting one last gentle kiss on your cheek before he backs away from your hold. You feel your cheeks burn red as you step towards the door. “I’ll see you later, Buck.” You say quietly before ducking out of the room.

    A sharp rapping at your door tells you that Bucky has arrived and you drop your tea towel to answer the door. You had both decided it was going to be a casual one tonight, so neither of you dressed up too much, although you did still put some effort in because you loved getting dolled up for Bucky. Swinging the door open, Bucky looks down at you with his signature smirk while he leans against the doorway. “Hey sugar.” He drawls, placing his hands on your hips and leaning in you kiss you on the lips. He moves against your lips hungrily as he slowly backs you into your apartment, shutting the door with his foot. You only part when the timer goes off and you have to rush off to tend to your lasagne. “You’re just on time.” You smile, pulling the homemade dish out of the oven. Bucky peers over your shoulder at your creation and hums. “Looks delicious, doll.” He says, looking directly at you, eliciting a sweet giggle to pass through your lips.

 Bucky moves out of your way when you stop him from helping and he takes a seat at your dining table. “Tell me about your day, sweetheart.” Bucky makes conversation as you cut him a portion of your meal. “I didn’t do anything exciting after I came home, I just tidied up the place, went to see Clint for a while.” You shrug, plating up his lasagne and moving it to the side. “How is he?” Bucky relaxes against the back of his chair, making it creak a bit. “He’s alright, he’s pretty immobile at the moment with a broken leg and a broken arm.” You sigh. “He complained nearly the whole time that he has to use a wheelchair. His wife is mad at me because she thinks its my fault he’s hurt. I guess it kind of is.” You sound slightly dejected. “S’not your fault, sweetheart. If it’s going to be anyone’s fault, it might as well be mine. You can’t help that you got wrapped up in the middle of my business.” Bucky leans on the table, but immediately sits up straight when you bring the plates of food over. “It’s not like you knew it was going to happen.” You shrug, sitting down opposite him. Bucky takes a bite eagerly but breathes out heavily when he realises it’s still too hot. You let out a breathy laugh and shake your head affectionately at him while he fans his mouth a bit. “That’s hot.” He remarks, looking you in the eyes. You know he’s not really talking about the food and you give him a sweet smile. How is someone so intimidating and big, so damn sweet?

 “Well that was hands down the best lasagne I’ve ever had.” Bucky says matter-of-factly as he drops his cutlery onto his plate. “Sure you’re not just saying that?” You ask, leaning forward. “Absolutely, I could get used to homemade lasagne more often.” He nods enthusiastically and you stifle a laugh when you see how serious he is. “I’ll have to ask you very nicely to make one for me and the guys sometime.” Bucky smiles. “All you have to do is ask.” You respond, collecting the plates together.

 Lounging on the sofa in a semi-comatose state, you’re cuddled up to Bucky as the late night television plays softly in the background. “Do you think we’ll ever have a normal life?” Bucky asks, glancing down at you. “This isn’t normal to you?” You frown. “No, no, I mean with less of the mob. I mean if things get more serious between us and you want to take further steps into our relationship, won’t my work get in the way?” Bucky thinks out loud. “We’ll work around it, I’m not ready to think about dropping my day job of intelligence agent just to have a white picket fence life.” You smile. “I mean, unless that’s what you want.” You shrug. “No, I mean I could live with a life like that, I just thought that’s what you wanted.” Bucky shakes his head and you feel the loose strands of his hair tickle your forehead. “No, I didn’t get involved with you to pull you into a domestic life.” Yawning, you lean into him more and trail your hand up his thigh. “Although there is one step I’d like to take.” You say in the most sultry voice you can muster.

 Bucky quickly understands your meaning and he grips at your waist, gently pushing you so you’re laying down on the sofa and his soft lips gently move against yours. You move your hands down his sides and you can feel him shiver when you invite yourself under his shirt, making contact with the soft skin there. Bucky hovers above you as he works against your lips, and his tongue gently plays with yours. The only thing you can hear are laboured breaths as you slide your hand further up his shirt, your fingers brushing over what felt like scarred skin. “Are you sure you want to do this?” Bucky asks breaking away slightly and coming back in for another kiss. “There’s no one I’d rather do it with.” You whimper and Bucky hums into your lips, satisfied with your answer. He pulls back a bit, snaking his arms around you and pulling you up with him, resting you on his lap in a seated position as your kisses start to become more hungry and less delicate.

 Grabbing at your thighs, Bucky lifts you as he gets up from the couch, carrying you across your apartment to your bedroom. He gently and carefully lays you down on your bed and he parts from your lips, leaving you breathing heavily as his fingers pass over your clothed torso, the sensation of his fingers brushing over you makes you whine and he looks up, locking eyes with you as you watch him. He hooks his fingers under the hem of your shirt and began to pull it up painfully slowly. You wiggle your hips a little as you lift your arms up, prompting him to move a little faster and he pulls your top over your head, revealing your lacey red bra. Bucky catches his breath in his throat as his gaze trails over you, looking at you with such awe in his eyes. You hum as he reaches down and plants gentle kisses across your stomach, the contrast of his scratchy stubble and his soft kisses makes you shiver. He moves further up, skirting over your bra and pressing his lips to yours again. His hands are playing with the button on your jeans and he pops it open while he moves against you. Shimmying them down your hips while never leaving the gentle touch of your lips, he pushes your jeans down before you use your feet to kick them off.

 Breaking the kiss, Bucky moves away, sitting up slightly to get a good look at you and he gapes at your almost naked body. “You are so beautiful.” Bucky whispers. “So goddamn beautiful.” He breathes, his hand smoothing over your hip and clutching at your waist. You reach up and grip the bottom of his black t-shirt. “I want to see you, Bucky.” You sound breathless as you tug at his top. “You sure, sweetheart? I ain’t as pretty as you.” He sounds sad and you get up on your knees to be closer to his height and press a few kisses up his neck. “I don’t care.” You assure him, sucking at the delicate skin. “I want you, scars or not.” You breathe hot air onto his neck and you hear him moan softly. You slowly pull his shirt up revealing his stomach and then his chest until he eventually pulls the top over his head. The marred flesh where metal meets skin looks pink and sensitive, it’s swirled in odd patterns where the skin had scarred and it looked almost unreal. You gently slid your hand over his chest, brushing over his pecs and sliding down his huge metal arm, letting your fingers feel every groove beneath them as the plates shifted against your touch. He was no less handsome to you than when he had his shirt on and you let yourself smile with satisfaction as you gazed at his scarred skin. He was a warrior; he had survived awful things and his scars were like badges of honour. “You should wear your scars with pride.” You break the silence. “They make you so strong.” You add, kissing up his left shoulder where the metal met his skin. “You don’t hate them?” He asks, surprised. “No, I love them, I love you, all of you, scars and metal arm included.” You speak softly against the shell of his ear and you hear his breathing hitch.

 Bucky grabs at your sides and pushes you down back onto the bed. “I want you so bad, (Y/n).” Bucky breathes out as he undoes his jeans. “I’m all yours.” You whisper as you eye his bulge, now that his jeans are out of the way. His underwear is straining over him and you enjoy the sight, seeing how much you turned him on. “All mine.” Bucky breathes as he lowers himself closer to you, winding his hand around your back to undo your bra in one swift motion. Pulling the piece of clothing from your arms, it’s thrown somewhere into the room and your on full display for him. Bucky breathes out a wow and you giggle at his reaction. Bucky doesn’t even give you time to play with him a bit before he latches onto your breast, nibbling, licking and sucking on them. Tugging your nipple between his teeth, he rolls the other between his metal fingers and the cold sensation makes you moan.

 Bucky holds you in place with his mouth, sending waves of pleasure through you as he pushes your panties down, revealing your wet core and Bucky is quick to slide his fingers between your lips as he works you with his mouth. You let out a shaky moan as he toys with you, circling his metal finger around your clitoris, the coldness of the metal intensifying the pleasure. Without giving you time to react, Bucky moves down between your legs, looking up at you and you lock eyes. He’s waiting for permission and you silently nod. He smirks and holds your legs open with his hands, working you with his tongue. God you feel like you could scream from the pleasure, the way he focusses on your clitoris, swirling his tongue around in circles and creating patterns with it. You writhe underneath him as he increases his intensity, working you harder and faster as you pant, gripping at anything you can find within arm’s reach. Grabbing his free hand, you clutch it as you moan out in pleasure and he speeds up even more, sending you over the edge, pleasure washing through you like a wave. You shudder and twitch as he rides you through your orgasm, drawing gentle circles on your thigh with his thumb, his flesh hand gripping yours and you slowly release your grip on him as you come down from your high.

 “I need you.” You pant, watching Bucky wipe his mouth. “Please, Bucky.” You reach forward, palming his bulge and he lets out a low groan. “You taste so good.” He whispers, leaning over you and pressing his lips to yours, sharing the flavour of your pleasure with you. Bucky slowly slides his boxers down as he kisses you gently and you feel him spring free against your leg. “Are you ready?” He asks, gripping his shaft and sliding the head up and down your entrance. You nod frantically, bucking your hips into him. Bucky chuckles and cups your cheek gently as he slowly slides into you. He moves in excruciatingly slowly, allowing you to adjust to the feeling before he starts moving.

 Bucky starts of slow and gentle, his eyes locked on yours as he gauges your reactions, repositioning himself now and again to reach the spots that make you moan and cry out the most. Thrusting with more energy, Bucky pushes into you, his length pressing against your g-spot and you breath out heavily, a moan riding on your lips as he thrusts and you feel an orgasm shudder through you, clenching your walls around him. Moving with a stronger pace and with more force, the slapping of skin against skin fills the room as well as your panting breaths, before he speeds up, looking you in the eyes as he starts to tense up, his large muscular shoulders and arms bulge and it’s a beautiful sight. Bucky lets out a throaty groan, vibrating through you as he reaches his peak, his orgasm rushing through him as he thrusts through it, slowly decreasing in speed until he can’t take the sensation anymore and pulls out, collapsing onto the bed beside you.

 After you both recover, Bucky helps to clean you up, wiping you down with a clean cloth and trailing kisses over your bare skin. “That was amazing, you’re amazing, sugar.” Bucky whispers in your ear. Before long, you’ve fallen asleep against Bucky’s chest, and you revel in his warm, protective embrace.

 You woke with a start hours later, the bed is empty and when you run your hand across the space next to you, you feel Bucky’s warmth still there. As you start to wake up a bit more, you realise you can hear shuffling in your apartment and a muffled voice. Sliding out of bed, you pad across the floor to the door, still completely naked. You assume Bucky’s on the phone, so when you open the door, you’re not expecting Steve to be stood in the middle of your apartment. “God, Jesus Christ!” You shriek, shrinking back behind the door. You knew Steve hadn’t really seen you, but he definitely knew you were naked. You throw on Bucky’s shirt that was left discarded on the floor and your underwear before opening the door again. Both men turn to look at you and you shoot them a confused glare. “What are you doing in my flat at,” You pause to look at your microwave clock across the room. “Three in the morning?” You finish, your voice still raspy from sleep. Steve sighs and runs his hand down his face. “Fucking hell, what have I gotten you into?” Bucky says under his breath as you walk slowly into the room. “What’s going on?” You ask. “(Y/n), we need to leave.” Bucky strides towards you. You can hear sirens in the distance, lots of them. “Why, what’s happening?” Your voice peaks as panic starts to fill your chest. “Get dressed, we’re leaving.” Bucky guides you back into your bedroom.

 He comes in with you and you pull of his shirt, throwing it to him while you rush to get yourself some new clothes. “Tell me what’s happening, Bucky.” You frown, pulling out a black crop top. He sighs as he pulls on his jeans. You’re about to press him again as you pull on your top when a loud explosion interrupts you, making you jump and turn to look at the flash of light through your curtains, the building shook with the force of the explosion. You freeze up completely and Bucky rushes to your side. “Come on sweetheart, we need to go.” He breathes into your ear as he pulls out a pair of leggings, helping you put them on as you stand there in shock. “(Y/n), come on, it’s alright, we just need to move quickly.” He snaps you out of your panic and you pull up your leggings. You finish getting dressed and step into your black boots. Throwing on your jacket, you collect together a few of your valuables, chucking them into your backpack and slinging it over your shoulders.

 On your way out, you glance back at your apartment one last time, wondering if you’ll ever see it intact again. Bucky takes your hand, racing down the corridor with you, Steve slightly ahead of you both. Steve reaches out and triggers the fire alarm on your way out and you rush behind both men through the downstairs lobby. The pop of gunfire becomes apparent as you pass through the threshold into the cold night time air. Sam is waiting in an SUV outside and you all pile into the car. Buckling yourself in next to Bucky on the back seat you look out of the window, clutching your bag anxiously.

 Another explosion goes off behind you at the end of the street and you see the glowing clouds of orange burst out of the windows of the building. “What the fuck is going on?!” You scream. Sam floors the accelerator. “Sam will take you to a safehouse, we have to sort this out.” Steve answers you with a stern voice. “What? No! I’m not going to a safehouse.” You protest. “(Y/n), Hydra is attacking your neighbourhood.” Bucky clutches your hand. “I didn’t tell you this, but the day they attacked us in front of that restaurant was my fault. I refused a deal to give up this district to them. That’s why they’re attacking.” Bucky rushes to explain as Sam turns a corner, reaching the edge of the neighbourhood as police cars whizz by at high speed. “What?” You shriek. “I know, I know, I’m so sorry, Christ, I’m so sorry sweetheart.” Bucky clutches his cheeks in his hands and you calm yourself. “God, no it’s not your fault Bucky.” You grab at his arm squeezing it gently and he turns to face you, letting out a little sigh. “We can fix this, right?” You ask. “There’s gotta be a way to fix this.” You ponder. “Why did they want the district in the first place?” You ask. “This isn’t really the time, (Y/n)!” Steve shouts, holding onto the handle above his door for dear life as Sam tears through the city roads. “(Y/n), doll there’s a lot I haven’t told you and I’m sorry.” Bucky holds your hands in his. “I don’t care what it is, I mean unless you intend on breaking up with me, which I absolutely refuse to allow you to over this.” You say sternly, peering out of the back window at the empty street behind you.

 Sam drives you for a few more minutes and you’re starting to calm down from the situation. You take a deep breath but just as you’re starting to relax, a booming explosion shakes the car and you take in a sharp, gasping breath, clouds of smoke billowing up into the sky and you draw in a long, slow breath. “What haven’t you told me?” You ask, looking over at Bucky. Steve looks over his shoulder with a questioning look at Bucky. Bucky takes in a slow breath and closes his eyes. “I swear I didn’t know until a few days ago, I swear (Y/n).” Bucky looks at you with sad eyes, it almost breaks your heart seeing him so worked up. “Your parents died in a car crash, right?” He speaks quietly, like he’s afraid to even say the words. You nod, your heart speeding up rapidly. “Your father was involved with the mob, he got caught up in Hydra. They killed your parents, (Y/n).” Bucky grips your shoulder as you look at him in complete shock. You swallow thickly, a lump in your throat as you feel your lip quiver. “That’s why they tried to take me.” You breath out. Bucky nods, sliding his hands down to yours and you take hold of his. “Oh god.” Is all you can manage, forcing back tears. “The district you lived in was owned by them, after they died, it was passed to my father, everything they owned got passed to him.” Bucky explained, his voice was a lot calmer now.

 Sam slowed the car as you neared Bucky’s office building. “You’re not taking me to a safehouse. I’m going in with you.” You state, your tone strong and even now that you’ve composed yourself. Everything Bucky said is swirling around in your head. It’s not his fault, even though he’s acting like it is, but you know it isn’t. How the hell had your parents kept that secret from you? This entire time, you were from a mob family of your own and you didn’t even know it. Getting involved with Bucky probably bought enough attention to you for Hydra to realise who you really were. Bucky didn’t even try to argue with you as he got out of the car, holding the door open for you and letting you grab his hand to help you slide out of his side of the car.

 Sam drove the car around the corner to park it underground while you, Steve and Bucky made your way inside. “How are we going to deal with this?” Steve asked, not specifically aiming the question at anyone as you all filed into the elevator. “I haven’t worked that out yet.” Bucky sighed, jabbing the button for the top floor. “Can the police even handle Hydra?” You question, wondering out loud. Steve looks down at you and shrugs. “They’ve never had to deal with a mob blowing up a whole district before.” Steve responds as you watch the floor numbers increase above the door. The elevator stops and the doors slide open, Natasha and Scott are already waiting in the corridor outside of Bucky’s office and the three of you pace towards them.

 Piling into Bucky’s office, you all stand around the desk, Bucky standing in front of his chair. “Hydra nearly have total control over the district. There have been four explosions and the casualty count is high. The hospitals are completely overrun, the fire department is stretched thin and the police are barely managing to control things.” Nat reports. “Fuck.” Steve breathes out. “Can’t we just send out reinforcements? You work the police, right?” You question. Bucky nods and scratches his stubble. “It won’t be enough though.” Steve sighs. “They are killing innocent people and you don’t want to send your men out there because you’re afraid it won’t be enough?” You raise your voice, frowning a bit. “Steve, people are dying!” You shout. Bucky looks at you sympathetically and nods. “(Y/n)’s right, we can’t just stand by and not do anything.” Bucky speaks up. “Call out the reinforcements to join the police.” Bucky instructs. Nat is scrolling through photos of the attack on the news on her phone and you look over her shoulder at them, seeing how they resemble a war like attack with enemy lines against the police. “Get your men to flank them, if they don’t see them coming you can take out more of them by surprise.” You instruct, not even caring that you’re not the boss, but everyone listens to you anyway. “Do as she says.” Bucky nods, glancing over at Steve who gives you an agreeing look before taking out his phone to make the call.

 Everyone disperses from the room, Steve heads down the corridor on the phone, keeping his distance. Nat leans against the edge of the sky bridge that leads from the elevator to Bucky’s office and you join her side. “This wasn’t exactly how I pictured my Friday night to go.” She sighed. “Tell me about it.” You roll your eyes, crossing your arms. “Fuck, I should be out there, I can’t just stand around in here while this is going on.” Nat snaps, pushing away from barrier and paces to the other side to look down into the offices below. “Nat.” Bucky speaks softly, moving to join her with you on the other side of her. “I can’t, Bucky.” She shakes her head. “It’s so dangerous out there, you could die.” He tries to convince her otherwise. “Sorry Bucky, but I have to fight. If I die, at least I die fighting for what’s right.” She huffed out, looking between you both. Bucky gives her a nod and rests his hands on the railing. “I understand.” He closes his eyes as Natasha pulls you into a hug. “Stay safe, alright?” She whispers in your ear as you squeeze her tightly. “You too, Nat.” You respond shakily. She moves away from you and you keep your eyes locked on Bucky as she walks away.

 You’re not sure how much time passes but you spend a while anxiously waiting. You don’t even know what you’re waiting for, but you start to grow restless and impatient. You let out a groan as you move away from the railing. “Fuck, I can’t just keep waiting, I need to help somehow.” You heave out a sigh. “Sugar, please.” Bucky instantly takes your hands in his. “I can’t lose you.” He grips you tightly. “I didn’t say anything about fighting, Buck.” You look up at him. “I’m going to see if I can dig up who’s running things. If we can find out who it is and take them out, the rest of them will fall like flies.” You theorise. “How are you going to do that?” Bucky frowns, shifting in his step a little. “It’s easy to dig up dirt on people, just gotta know how.” You give him a half hearted smile. “Where do you keep your records?” You ask. “Downstairs in the archive room.” Bucky answers simply. You nod your head in the direction of the elevator and Bucky walks with you.

 The doors slide open and Bucky walks hand in hand with you, leading you through the corridors to the archive. Pushing open the large double doors, he flicks on the lights and you inspect the rows of free standing shelves filled with boxes on documents. “Bloody hell.” You whisper, taking in the vastness of the room. Bucky follows you to the computer desk and waits for you to boot up the PC. You type in several keywords into the database, writing down the row and box numbers for each one until you’re sufficiently pleased with the data. “We need to find these boxes.” You hand Bucky the paper. “I’ll get the first one, you stay here.” He stops you from getting up and you nod, shifting things about on the desk to make space for the boxes.

 Bucky drops the first box onto the desk and you pull out the files, thumbing through the papers for any source of information. You huff when you don’t find what you’re looking for. You both go through several more boxes until you stop. Pushing away the papers and putting them back into the boxes, you go back to the database, typing in a different keyword this time. You don’t give Bucky a chance to get the box for you, since you rush off to find it yourself and you leave Bucky standing, staring at the screen, glancing over at you disappearing between the shelving units.

 You return with a box, slamming it down onto the table. “(Y/n), that’s-.” Bucky begins but you cut him off. “I know, Buck.” You sound almost sad as you pull the lid off the box. Reaching in, you take out the file, thumbing through the papers, your eyes scan for what you’re looking for. Right as you’re about to admit defeat, you peer into the box and at the bottom are some jumbled up photographs.

 You reach in and pull them out, going through each one, taking in the features of the people in the photos. You stop when you reach one of a man and woman shaking hands with two men. One of which you were familiar with, Rumlow, you weren’t sure who the second man was, but he looked important. Shaking his hand was none other than your father and next to him stood your mother. “(Y/n).” Bucky whispers. You don’t say anything as you look at more of the photos. There’s another one with that unknown man again with your father. They both face the camera and you notice the similarities in their features. They look like brothers. “My dad told me I had an uncle but I never met him.” You point out to Bucky, passing him the photo. He frowns down at it, looking at the two men. “You know who he is?” He asks. “Not a clue.” You shake your head. You shuffle the photos about, looking at a few more before you stop on the last one. It’s a photo of your father accepting a business award from the same man. “Wait.” You murmur, setting the photo down and picking the file back up. Flicking through the pages, you stop when you come to the documentation about your father’s business. “Received business award of excellence from partner and brother Alexander Pierce.” You read out. Bucky freezes. “What?” He frowns. “You know that name?” You ask. “I’ve heard it before, no idea where from though.” Bucky massages his forehead with his hand as you mull over the document. “This guy is in all of my father’s business contracts. He’s got major cuts in all of his payments, all of his deals.” You say, flicking through the papers. “But.” You stop, pulling out the documentation for his will. “Alexander Pierce received nothing when he died.” You point out on the paper. “You think he could be behind all of this?” Bucky asked. “He could be.” You nod slowly, putting the papers back into the folder. “You got any information about Pierce?” You ask. “M’not sure.” Bucky types out the name into the database, coming up empty. “Nothing, sorry sweetheart.” Bucky sighs. You put all of the papers and photos back and you rub your eyes.

 You gently brush Bucky’s hands away from the keyboard and you bring up a search engine, typing in Pierce’s name. “Pierce was a successful businessman but was jailed in 2015 when he was found to be involved with arms dealing and again in 2016 when his accomplices for a case about trafficked drugs admitted to being partnered with him and Pierce’s sentence was extended by ten years. He escaped early last year and has never been seen since.” You read out. Bucky’s phone rings and he pushes away from the desk to answer it. You hear him talking, but don’t really pay attention to what he’s saying while you pack up the boxes again. “I’ve gotta go, sugar.” Bucky announces, walking towards you. “What? Where are you going?” You frown up at him. “Things have gone sideways with Steve; I have to go and help him.” He explains briefly. “What do you mean?” You question but Bucky just gives you a tight hug and a gentle kiss to the forehead before rushing out. “Be careful!” You shout after him. “You too, sweetheart!” You hear his voice echo through the doorway and you’re left in complete silence.

 You look down at the photo of Pierce with your father you sigh. Looking into the eyes of Pierce, you feel cold when you stare at him. A shiver creeps up your back. You start to feel nervous and uncomfortable. The light above you flickers slightly and you let out a shaky breath. You start to feel anxious and jumpy. The odd sound here and there make you look around sceptically.

And then it dawns on you. You’re not alone.

__________________________

Tags:   

@panic-naran @just-a-littlebit-of-everything@stupendousshepherdloverpony @scuzmunkie @sweet-peas-serpent @ its-a-disappointment-thaaanks @ thedoctorisweirdlyepic @fairislesheets @thejestersgesture @silent-loucidity @cryingismyhobbie @saharzek @that-girl-named-alex@founding-fuck-bois @veganfangirl5 @sebbystanlover-vk @the-omni-princess @pawunclebrother @paintballkid711

#bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky fluff #bucky fanfic #bucky x you #sebastian stan #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan x you #sebby stan #mob #mobster #mobsterau #alternate universe #mcu #mcu fic #marvel #avengers #steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #fanfic #fanfiction #winter soldier #winter solider fanfiction #new york #mob boss #mob!bucky #mobster!bucky #mobster!steve #mob!steve #mob!au

[iwouldratherprocrastinate]

Troy x Reader/Borderlands 3 Rewrite Pt 2

After being told that we had to find the Atlas operative, we digistructed my favorite vehicle. It was my outrunner that was pastel with skags painted on it. It only seated two however so we all had to take multiple vehicles. Luckily, FL4K was in mine, he drove while I got in the gunner seat. Our skags got into the back compartment. Driving down the streets in Promethea was exhilarating, the wind blowing through my hair as we sped to the location. All was well until I heard familiar voices coming through our Echos.

"So what do you think of our new corporate sponsors? So far, selling out is awesome!" I groaned hearing Tyreen's voice followed by Troy's.

"We gave Maliwan an unlimited supply of screaming war-meat, a.k.a. our followers. And they gave us a bunch of crazy high-tech guns." I rolled my eyes, mumbling, "Maliwan is garbage anyway.. Waste of lives.." I heard a chuckle come from Troy as if they could hear me and Tyreen cheerfully kept going. "And once they take the planet, they get Atlas, and we get the Vault. So, you're left playing with... whatever you got down there! Just keep doin' you! Ha!"

I growled, 'They are awful..' Lorelai informed us that the operative is aiming at a weapons depot. I fist pumped at the thought of new weapons, Atlas and Jakobs are my absolute favorite. The squad all jumped out of the car when we hit a road block and starting strategizing on how we are gonna take out the enemies in our way. I climbed onto one of the platform stairs while Monty charged off after the Maliwan men. Looking down my sights, I tried my best to cover Amara and Moze mostly as they are our front line. I hummed one of Tina's old songs about bombs as we slowly advanced and made our way through.

Lorelai came through on the comms just as I finished the last guy in our space and we started moving forward, "That weapons depot's a juicy target, but they've got an inpenetrable security force-field surrounding it. If you somehow crack it open, you're gonna find some quality firepower in there." I charged forward to find a new spot to snipe having a rush of energy at the thought of new guns. "Let's go guys! Guns aren't gonna loot themselves!" They all chuckled at my antics and rushed forward to cover me.

After all the men were taken out, we all jogged to the end and my face broke into a grin when I saw who it was. "Zer0!" After he super badass took out those security bots, I ran and tackle hugged him. "I missed you!" He chuckled as much as a robot ninja can and turned to the others after releasing me. "Hello, Vault Hunters. / Let's ruin Maliwan's day. / Our mission begins." I tried to act cool on the outside, meanwhile I was geeking on the inside at the idea of getting to fight along side Zer0.

He led us to a plaza and the fight immediately began. Zer0 kept me close to him, he probably still saw me as the young girl who followed him and Roland around. Zer0 and Maya were my favorites of the new Vault Hunters, Maya usually could only see me in private due to her trying to help me with my powers so the one I was always seen following around Sanctuary was Zer0. I resorted to mostly using my melee as I hadn't thought to bring anything besides my sniper with me. I was too excited about having room for new weapons. Soon enough all the bots and unforseen human enemies had been defeated and we made our way into the depot. After searching through all the weapons, to my dissapointment there were no pistols, shotguns, or snipers better than what I already had at home. 'Bummer..' I did find the sword powerup that Zer0 needed.

I ran it over to him excitedly and he seemed pleased, however he shook his head. "Let me trade for it. / Woudln't be fair. / To just take it." He held out a sniper, it didn't look like it was made by Maliwan. When I exchanged the powerup for it and began examining it, it was made by Jakobs and it was wayyy better than my current one. I thought for a moment and realized there was no way he found it here, "Where did you get this from Zer0?" He simply did a smile emoji on his head and started attaching the powerup to his sword. "Look at this. / Monomolecular edge. / Translation? Cool sword." I giggled at his antics and moved to equip my new sniper and attach the other one to the back of my hips.

My good mood soon got spoiled however when a spoiled twat came up on a nearby screen. I groaned and shook my head, 'Of course, I can't go more than an hour without hearing from idiots..' His smug voice started talking, "Hey, it's Rhys' best friend Zer0, stealing my tech. What's wrong? Atlas not "cutting it" anymore? My offer still stands. It's not too late to come work for Maliwan." He turned his gaze towards the team, "And YOU must be the Vault Hunters Tyreen warned me about. You know what, I don't even have time for you. I'll let my superior forces do the talking." His gaze turned to me now, "You however, I was told nothing about. Don't get in my way unless you want the same fate as your friends." I glared as the screen went black, "Dick.." Zane started laughing, "I would love to see you drunk. Everything would piss you off."

Zer0 interupted "That's Katagawa. / Head of Maliwan Mergers. / And Acquisitions." He made a goofy emoji face, "That guy is a douche. / And he's way obsessed with Rhys. / It's kind of creepy." He walked over to the shield blocking us in and made a happy emoji face, "With this new upgrade. / I can cut Maliwan shields. / Stand back and watch this."

I stood back and watched in awe as the shield slowly got annhialated by the sword. Zer0 seemed excited by this as I prepped the Catch-A-Ride to get my vehicle ready. "Walls cannot hold us. / Now to take down Gigamind. / That is our mission." Amara got hyped and rushed up to Zer0, "Is this Gigamind something I can punch?" Zer0 nodded, "Maliwan AI. / All their secrets in one place. / A juicy target."

Amara seemed confused, "So we break Gigamind into tiny bits and then sift through them for info?" A gleeful emoji popped up, "Precisely the plan. / Meet at Halcyon Spaceport. / Now the hunt is on." He dissapeared in true Zer0 fashion as we all loaded up into our vehicles again, this time instead of being greeted by the lovely sound of Calypso twins, my Echo started broadcasting Katagawa. I facepalmed my head into the gun in front of me resulting in it firing and accidentally hitting a security bot.

"This takeover won't be hostile for long. Atlas and Maliwan, we're hashing things out the corporate way. Rhys doesn't get it yet, but when this is over we'll all be one titanic happy family. You're small stuff, Vault Hunter. Not worth my time. Mess with my Gigamind, though, and that'll change. You keep playing under the feet of giants, you're gonna get stepped on." I grumble to myself and take my annoyance out on some random bots, 'I'll be the one doing the stepping. Mess with my friends..' We arrived at the location Zer0 marked on our maps, when a tv nearby suddenly started playing stupid music. I went closer to inspect it and saw a really slapstick comedy thing of Lilith getting her powers taken. Being the easy to upset person that I am, I prepped my brass knuckles and punched the screen out of the tv.

As soon as it went out, I heard a familiar voice in ym Echo, but no one elses. "Now that wasn't very nice, my brother worked hard on that clip." A feminine laugh came through, I growled in response, "How did you get my personal Echo code??" She laughed again, "You really think we don't know all of your codes? We always know where you are Super Fan." My only response was shocked silence. "Hey? Super Fan? Did you die of shock? That would save me some trouble, would upset Troy though." I raised a brow, "Why? He seemed to enjoy kicking the shit out of my mom." Everyone was getting supisicious of who I was talking to, "Listen Super Fan, I'm gonna need you to stop getting into the fights. Seriously. If you die, it would mean annoying issues for me." I scoffed and growled out, "I will stop fighting when you get the shit kicked out of you like Lilith had." After that I try to ignore her and act like I don't hear an annoying Calypso in my ear. Soon enough, we get near Gigamind and I hear the other one, 'Fucking great.'

Trying to tune them out, I hum and focus on sniping the men dropping in to defend it. Nailing one in the head, I pump my fist, "Fuck yeah. Best gun ever." I hear two chuckles in my ear and groan, "Why are you still in my Echo? Leave. I am ignoring you." Tyreen laughs loud, "Good job ignoring us, now you gotta start over." I hear Troy chuckle, they are basically children. "Why are you even fighting? They seem like they can handle this. You are just a girl." My blue eyes roll, "Even if I was just a girl, I would still fight. They are family now. You always fight for family." Tyreen groans at that, "Of course you are one of those types. Family is most important." She whined the last part.

I kept sniping and ignoring them, I assume Tyreen got bored and left the call as when we finished the fight I only heard one voice. It was humming and working on something metal if I am hearing properly. Maybe his arm, we all made it back to Sanctuary and I went into my room without talking to anyone while he still hummed and sang to himself. I hated myself, but I was mesmirized by it. I took my sweater off once I had my door locked. My yellow Siren tattoos glowed in the dim light, they extended across both my arms and slightly on my back and chest. I relaxed on my bed reading a book about Sirens that Maya had given me a while back. Pulling my stuffed bunny closer, I hummed along to the song that Troy was singing without thinking.

I read my book until I realized the singing had stopped, "How's it going angel? You like my singing?" I blushed and shook my head, "Nope. Not at all. I just know that song.." He smirked and laughed, it almost didn't sound smug or fake like usual. I kinda liked it, "I feel like you did like it, I heard you humming earlier, it was cute." I blushed harder and my tattoos glowed even brighter as I closed my book and glared at nothing in particular, "You have no right to call me cute. You kicked the shit out of my adopted mother." Hearing that made his go silent and still, after a few moments of silence he spoke up. "I'm sorry for that. Ty just gets carried away and we have an image to uphold to reahc our goals. I will leave you alone now though. Goodnight angel." I froze in shock, 'Did Troy Calypso just apologize to me??'

#troy calypso #troyboi #troy calypso x reader #borderlands troy #borderlands 3 #rewrite #i dunno how to tag