#so clumsy when not behind the wheel of car

[laura1633]

They are just falling head over heels in love .....

#lestappen #max verstappen #charles leclerc #I love these pictures #so clumsy when not behind the wheel of car

[gunnerfc]

Next Step | Alexia Putellas x Reader (18+)

Summary: your first time with Alexia

Warnings: top alexia, bottom reader, strap use (r receiving), alexia calling r ‘bebita’ and ‘mi amor’

WC: 2.2k 

AN: I lost the request for this but to whoever requested, I hope you enjoy!

You giggled loudly as you watched Mapi stumble back to the table, drinks in hand for those who were still there. The defender cheered loudly as she placed the shots on the table, your teammates who were drinking were quick to grab one. You opted out of drinking tonight, not wanting to drink during the season. You curled into Alexia’s side as you watched Mapi and Patri down their shots. 

Alexia had a tight hold on your waist as she sipped her water, she also opted out of drinking during the season. You laid your head on her shoulder, giggling when Ingrid pulled Mapi’s drink from her hands, attempting to cut her off for the night. Alexia turned her head slightly to place a light kiss on the top of your head. 

The two of you had been dating for a few months and you were over the moon. You were nervous when you first moved to Barcelona, you didn’t know anyone and immediately started feeling homesick. Alexia, as the captain, took it upon herself to show you around and help you get familiar with your new city. Soon her tours turned into dates before she clumsy asked you to be her girlfriend after you spent the evening exploring Barcelona.

You immediately said yes, having fallen hard for the blonde the moment she first spoke to you. Here you were a few months later and head over heels in love with her. After your first kiss, you decided that transferring to Barcelona was the best decision you ever made. You still believe that as you sat next to her a crowded club with loud music bouncing off the walls. 

“Are you ready to go, mi amor,” Alexia whispered into your ear so you could hear her.

You nodded your head against her shoulder before sitting up in the booth. Alexia excused the both of you, telling all your teammates to get home safely. You waved goodbye to those paying attention, letting Alexia guide you through the crowded dance floor. When you finally exited the club, Alexia wrapped her arm around your waist as you two took your time walking to her car. 

The midfielder opened the passenger side door for you and you thanked her with a quick peak before getting into the car. Alexia was quick to her side, starting the car as soon as she was in the driver’s seat. She placed one of her large hands on your headrest as she turned to watch behind her as she backed up. You’ve watched her do this many times before but something about it now was affecting you more than usual. 

You shook your head slightly to get rid of the thoughts you were having. Despite being together for almost six months, the two of you have yet to take the next step in your relationship. Between international breaks and the very busy club schedule, you have had much time to yourselves to do anything. But now, as you stared at Alexia’s side profile with your eyes drifting toward her hands that were gripping the steering wheel, you hoped tonight would be the night.

“Are you okay, y/n/n,” the midfielder questioned as she pulled up to a stop light.

Before you could answer, one of her hands left the steering wheel and landed on your thigh. She gave your thigh a small squeeze and you felt your breathing pick up. You swallowed lightly before nodding and whispering a small “yeah.”  

Alexia watched your chest heave slightly as you stared out the window. She could tell she was affecting you and she smirked to herself as she drove off once the light turned green. Alexia would be lying if she said she hadn't thought about the two of you taking the next step, it's all she's been able to think about for the past week.

Each time she's seen you sweaty after a game or training her mind ran wild with thoughts about you being sweaty and out of breath from other activities. She kept her hand on your thigh, her thumb moving softly against the fabric of your jeans. It was a small amount of contact but it was enough to affect you greatly. 

You had already established you would stay the night at Alexia’s place since you had the day off tomorrow. This was the perfect opportunity you needed to finally take the next step and you were beyond ready. When you finally reached Alexia’s apartment complex you both were quick to throw your seats off and exit the car. Alexia reached for your hand when you both reached the front of the car, her large hand holding yours tightly as she pulled you to the elevator once you were inside.

You resisted the urge to groan when the elevator took its time reaching the lobby, you could feel your arousal growing rather quickly. When the elevator finally dinged and its’ doors opened, you were glad there was no one else waiting to get on with you. Alexia pulled you lightly into the elevator before hitting her floor number. As the doors closed, her lips were on yours in a rushed kiss. 

Your lips moved against hers harshly as you both fought for dominance before Alexia won, as usual. You gasped lightly when you felt her hands on your ass and she took her opportunity for her tongue to slip past your lips to explore your mouth. Your arms tighten around her neck as you arched into her just as the elevator dinged once more as you reached her floor.

You two pulled away, panting as both of your eyes darkened with arousal. Alexia all but pulled you to her apartment, throwing the door open the second she had it unlocked. Your back was shoved against the door and her lips were on yours once again. You two had made out plenty of times before but this felt way different.

Your arms locked around her neck as hers ran up and down your torso, pulling at the material of your shirt. You moaned into the kiss when Alexia’s large hands groped your breasts. Alexia pulled back at the sound you made, her eyes larger as she stared at you. The blonde leaned back in, her lips glazing yours before she mumbled ‘jump.’ You were lifted off the floor, your legs wrapping around her torso as she carried you to her bedroom.

You’ve been in her bedroom and slept in her bed numerous times since you started dating but now, it was a whole new experience. Your back met the familiar mattress as Alexia laid you down, her body resting slightly on top of yours. Your lips moved against each other’s as she started pushing your shirt up your body before it reached your neck. She pulled back to give you room to pull the piece of clothing off and tossed it aimlessly to the floor.  

Alexia was quick to remove the bra you wearing as well, her lips moving to your neck once the material was off your body. The bra joined your shirt on the floor to be picked up later. Alexia’s lips traced any inch of skin it could reach, leaving small nips here and there. You moved a hand to tangle in her hair as one of her hands moved to your bare chest. You whine softly when her cold hand massages your breast, pulling your hardened nipple slightly.

Your back arched off the mattress slightly, pressing into her palm as she kneaded your skin. After littering kisses and hickies along your neck and collarbones, Alexia pulled away from your body. “Take the rest of it off,” the midfielder ordered softly, gesturing with her finger to your pants.

She got off the bed to give you room to do so as she moved to her closest, stripping her clothing as she moved. Your eyes traced her body as you took off your remaining articles of clothing, kicking them both to the floor. When Alexia returned, she was fully naked and carrying a strap in her hand. Your breathing picked up and you felt yourself grow wetter at the sight of her with the sex toy.

You rubbed your thighs together to create some sort of relief for your dripping cunt but it was not doing anything for you. You waited patiently as you laid back against her pillows as Alexia harnessed the strap on to her body. When she finally looked up at you, the sight of you had her head spinning. You were waiting for her to tell you what to do but her taking her time was driving you crazy.

“Get on your hands and knees, bebita,” Alexia’s voice was lower, her arousal lacing her words.

You hurriedly moved to the position she said, not wanting to delay any form of release. Once you were on your hands and knees, Alexia joined you on the bed, resting on her knees behind you. Alexia could see from her position just how wet you were and she had to bite back a groan at the sight of your wet cunt. Her hands moved to grip your ass, squeezing it softly a few times earning her low whines from you. The blonde smirked as she listened to your cries, enjoying how much she affected you.

Her hands moved to hold your waist, her thumbs moving back and forth on your back as she sat up some. She moved one of her hands to the base of the toy between her legs, tracing the tip through your soaked folds. You moaned loudly at the feeling, your hips moving back in an attempt to feel more. 

Alexia took that as a sign that you were ready and pushed the toy into you. You gasped loudly at the feeling, the strap on much larger than those your previous partners used. Alexia pushed until the toy bottomed out, her hips flush with your skin. “Does that feel good, bebita,” Alexia’s voice was still low but her desire to make sure you were okay was evident in her tone.

“Feels so good,” you responded through broken gasps as you got used to the size of the toy.

Alexia pulled back slightly, pulling the toy out almost fully before thrusting her hips toward you. Her skin hits yours as she thrusts, the toy hitting deep inside you. Your head dropped as you moaned, you could feel your arms already starting to give out. The blonde started a slow rhythm, her hips hitting your ass each time she moved. 

Alexia maintained her tight hold on your waist with each thrust, keeping your hips close to her. Your loud moans mixed with the lewd sounds of her fucking you echoed around the room. “Faster, Ale, p-please,” you begged as best as you could, hoping she would listen.

Alexia listened and her hips sped up, the toy hitting even deeper. Your arms buckled under you and your top half fell to the bed. Alexia kept your hips up as she drilled into you, not wasting any time. Your hands gripped the cover as her skin hit yours and you screamed her name into the sheets. 

“P-please don’t s-stop,” you mumbled, unsure if she even heard you.

Alexia could feel herself closer to coming just from fucking you. How the two of you hadn’t done this yet was blowing her mind. Now that she’s had you like this, she couldn't get enough. Your back arched as you felt yourself close to the edge. Alexia held you tightly as she fucked you, each thrust bringing you closer to an earth-shattering orgasm.

“I’m so close, Ale,” you whined as you felt the familiar coil in your lower stomach tighten. 

Alexia railed into you harder earning loud moans and chants of ‘please’ from you. With a loud moan, you came all over the strap on. Alexia didn’t slow her hips, she was close to coming as well and she wanted to help you ride out your high. You whined at the feeling, the stimulation was overbearing. 

Alexia’s hips stuttered as she let go, coming just from fucking you. Her hips came to a stop before she pulled the toy out of you softly. You whined at the loss of contact before your hips dropped to the bed. Alexia undid the harness around her, tossing the sex toy to the floor to be cleaned up later.

You panted against the bed as you tried to catch your breath, your hair sticking to your body due to sweat covering you. Alexia moved to rest beside you, moving a finger to push back some of your hair off your forehead. 

“Why haven't we done that before now,” you croaked, a small smile on your face as you rolled to your back. 

Alexia chuckled at your words before leaning in to kiss you. This kiss was softer than the previous ones that night. She pulled away after a moment before whispering “te amo” against your lips. You gave a her quick peak before saying it back, a light red tint coating her midfielder’s cheeks as you did so.

You were thrilled to have finally taken the next step with Alexia, but now you were worried about never getting enough of her.

#woso x reader #barca femeni x reader #alexia putellas smut #espwnt x reader #alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas

[dilemmaontwolegs]

Licence to Thrill || CL16

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x fem!reader Summary: You give Charles the ride of his life when he’s running late to an important event. Warnings: 18+ only, illegal driving, sexual innuendos, fluff WC: 2.7k

F1 Masterlist || Based on this request

“No, no, no, shit.” Charles’ curses woke you up and you rubbed your bleary eyes as he tossed the blankets back, cold air rushing over your skin. You immediately missed the warmth of his body where he had been spooning you all night and grabbed your phone to see the time.

“Fuck!” Charles growled as his little toe caught the corner of the bedpost, again, and you leapt up to get dressed too. “We are so late, mon amour.”

He had been looking forward to the charity football game all week and the prospect of missing the kick off made him clumsy in his rush. While you pulled on a pair of jeans and a shirt he struggled to get one leg into his team’s black football shorts, falling twice as he lost his balance. 

“I’m sorry,” you murmured as you curled an arm around his waist to steady him. “I shouldn’t have kept you up so late.”

He grabbed a shirt before sparing a moment to press his lips to your forehead. “Don’t be, I enjoyed myself very much.”

“Oh, I know, and I’m pretty sure my neighbours know it too,” you teased as you took your shirt from his hands and tossed him the correct shirt with his name and driver number on the back. “Come on, get that sexy ass moving.”

He laughed as you squeezed his butt when he bent down to tie his shoes. “Hands off the goods, honey, I’m not a piece of meat.”

“Keep telling yourself that, handsome,” you shot back as he made for the stairs and you locked the house behind you.

“Shit,” Charles groaned as he hit his head on the steering wheel. “I am stupid.”

“What’s wrong?” you asked, leaning over to see the dashboard. “You forgot to put petrol in again, didn’t you?”

“I was in a rush to get here last night,” he admitted sheepishly. “I’ll call Arthur to come get us.”

“I can take us.” You opened your handbag and found your keys as well as the remote for the garage door.

“Wait, you drive?”

“Of course I do,” you laughed as you climbed out of the Pista.

He quickly hopped out his side to follow. “I didn’t even know you had a licence. Why am I only just learning this now?”

“You never asked,” you said with a shrug, “and you always offer to pick me up.”

“Because I thought you didn’t drive.”

You giggled as you hit the remote and the door lifted up. “What did you think was in the garage?”

“Storage? Chérie,” he sighed as he followed you down the driveway that passed by the front door that he had a key for and he pointed to it. “I’ve never come in your backdoor, how should I know?” You cocked an eyebrow up with a smirk and he rolled his eyes. “You know what I mean.”

“Well, just so you know, the garage is where I park my car.” You waved a hand to the opened door and Charles whistled as he saw the gleaming black hood catch the morning sun. He automatically started walking to the drivers side and you tutted at him. “Don’t even think about it, love. That’s my baby.”

“But-“

“No buts, if you want to make it to the match on time you ride shotgun.” You grabbed his shoulders and turned him in the direction of the other door and he grumbled as he started to walk around. “If it’s any consolation, you can pick the music.”

The door creaked open and slammed shut behind him before he groaned and you laughed as you climbed in to see him holding his phone, the Spotify app useless with the old radio. “Forgot to mention, she only takes cassette tapes.”

“You know you can update the stereo,” he pointed out as he opened the glove compartment and rifled through the stacks of old cassettes. “Fleetwood Mac. Michael Jackson. There’s nothing from this century.”

“Hey, don’t hate on them. They are classics and this is a classic car.” You turned the key and grinned as he dropped the tape at the sudden roar that was deafening in the small garage. “You might want to buckle up, baby.”

“Why are there racing harnesses in here?” he asked as he pulled the five point harness over his shoulders and bucked it in.

“You probably shouldn’t ask questions you don’t want the answers to,” you admitted as you shoved a random mixtape into the radio and turned the volume dial up.

The kick drum intro to Ram Jam’s  Black Betty thumped from the speakers as you pushed down the clutch and put the ‘70 Dodge Charger into gear. The full force of the V8 engine drove your body back into the seat as the car hurtled forward and burst into the sunlight. Charles latched onto the handle above his door and while the other hand pressed against the dash and his knees tucked up like he was preparing for impact.

“I’m trying not to be insulted here,” you huffed as you pushed his knee down between shifting gears. “I may not have a super licence like some people, but I have never crashed.”

A terrified scream erupted as you burst out of the driveway and pulled the handbrake, kicking the back wheels out as you drifted into the quiet suburban street and took off with a trail of burnt rubber. Your neighbours wouldn’t be too happy but you didn’t care as long as you got Charles to where he needed to be on time.

You spared a glance over to your boyfriend and saw the whites of his eyes as they stared at the road ahead and his knuckles turned white from the tight gripe he held. “Chérie, road, road, cars, look, traffic, look at the road. The road!”

He turned to you wide eyed as you approached the busy intersection at full speed before hitting the brake. You held his eye contact as you shifted down the gears before coming to a gentle stop at the lines in front of the traffic light and he exhaled in relief.

“You’re fucking crazy,” he said but the words were warm and his smile was one amazement as the adrenaline hit him. His hands tugged the harness until it was snug and he settled into the seat as you waited for the light to turn green. “I’m ready this time.”

“Good, because we won’t make it if I stop for every red light.”

“Wait, what?” The light changed and you put your foot to the floor as Charles chuckled nervously. “You’re joking right?”

“If it helps, sure,” you shrugged, weaving in and out of the cars and ignoring the angry honks of their horns. “Do you think I could take your car for a spin?”

“Absolutely…not.” 

You narrowed your eyes as he got your hopes up and almost missed the turn that would shave a few seconds off the travel time. Any normal person would have struggled to stay upright in their seat but Charles’ line of work made it easy for him to tense his abdominals and neck so he barely moved as the mass shifted and the back wheels drifted behind the turn.

“What if I let you drive this?” you bartered as the road straightened out and you reached speeds high enough to instantly lose your licence and the car. 

“Oh, mon amour,” he murmured as he chewed his bottom lip and he debated the offer before looking at his watch. “If you get me there before kick off you have a deal.”

He should have known you wouldn’t miss out on the opportunity very few people got and the smile you gave him gave him pause as he wondered what he had just got himself into.

“It’s going to be tight,” you muttered as you saw the time, just catching the hint of a smile on his face. “But doable.”

Charles watched with fascination. He saw your eyes scanning the road far ahead, making plans and contingency plans for the hazards that you might face. All the while you blindly shifted up the gears with your feet working in tandem, releasing the accelerator as you double clutched for a smoother transition. 

“I can’t believe this is really happening,” he chuckled in disbelief as you took a corner with enough speed that he knew there had to be some g-force working against you, but you didn’t even notice as you gripped the wheel tight and exited the apex without slowing down.

“I’m pretty sure if you were dreaming we would be doing something else, not driving.”

“I’m not sure now, I’m finding this extremely hot. You could pull over and make that dream come true?”

“And miss out on driving your baby? No way.” You shook your head with a laugh before biting your lip. “It is tempting, but I have to think of the children. They would be very disappointed if you didn’t show up for the match.”

“And Pierre, I don’t think he would forgive me.”

“I said children didn’t I. Oh, shit.” You ripped the handbrake and did a 180 as you missed the street you needed. “Stop distracting me.”

The stadium was just up ahead and you could see the parking lot on the other side of the overpass but there was only one road to get there. Unless you wanted to drive the long way around but then you would be late.

“Amour, that’s a one way street,” Charles pointed out as you headed to the underground pass. “You’re going the wrong way. There’s traffic cameras here too.”

“You’re right,” you huffed before twisting the wheel a little to the left then all the way to the right. The suspension would not like the pressure you were putting it under but she spun around and you shoved the car in reverse and draped your arm across Charles’ chair as you looked over your shoulder. “Wouldn’t want to get a fine.”

The engine roared inside the tunnel as you pushed the limits of the gear and you swerved through the lanes. You were grateful that it wasn’t rush hour traffic so there were only a few drivers angry with your recklessness before you burst out of the tunnel, through the intersection and into the parking lot. 

The stadium was quiet since the event was only televised but there were still lots of media crews at the entrance and they all turned your way as the back of your car careened towards them. You reached the last row of empty parking spaces and pulled the handbrake, whipping the front around and coming to a stop beside the gate entrance.

“Twelve seconds to spare,” you laughed as you drummed your fingers on the steering wheel. “That will be twenty euros and a five star rating, s’il vous plaît.”

“Just enough time to change my shorts,” he joked as he pushed his door open.

“Good thing they are black this year,” you retorted with a laugh as you tossed him his boots he would have forgotten. “Go, I’ll meet you inside.”

He blew a kiss as he took off at a jog and waved to the stunned reporters who were still recording.

“Is that Y/N?” A female presenter asked her male colleague.

“Leclerc’s girlfriend?” He laughed and shook his head. “No way. This has to be some stunt.”

You drove more sedately to a spot a few spaces away where you spotted Pierre’s car and parked beside it before killing the engine and letting the silence settle. Adjusting your mirror, you saw everyone still watching, waiting to see who it was being the wheel.

“I told you,” the woman gasped as she elbowed the man. “It was her! Do you have a moment?”

“Sorry, games about to kick off,” you apologised as you rushed past and into the stadium just in time to see Charles faceplant. “Ohh,” you gasped along with the others watching before cupping your hands around your mouth. “Yellow card ref!”

“He tripped over himself,” Kika whispered as she joined you.

“Oh I know, I just thought he could use a little 15 minute rest.” You grinned as you gave her a kiss on the cheek. “He’s had a rough morning.”

“What happened?”

“He stubbed his toe.” Your phone started vibrating and you pulled it out of your pocket to see your twitter notifications blowing up. “Huh, that was quick. The devil works hard but F1 fans work harder.”

You showed her the thread which started with a short clip of your car thrashing it down the street, Charles holding on for dear life. You chuckled as you saved it to show him later, knowing he would get a kick out of it too.

“Yeah, I don’t think that was the stubbed toe, hun…” she hummed.

“Meh,” you shrugged, pocketing the device so you could concentrate on the game.

Charles and Pierre’s team won the match and you climbed over the baluster to jump down to the grass as the pair jogged over. Charles swept you up with a proud grin as he spun around.

“Well played, handsome,” you praised as you brushed his sweaty hair back into place before helping yourself to a quick kiss.

“Wouldn’t have made it without you, chérie.”

Pierre clapped him on the shoulder and nodded his head to the reporters waiting for a post match interview and he reluctantly placed your feet back on the ground.

“Well, this should be interesting,” you muttered to Kika as you waved to the camera that remained pointed at you until Charles said something.

“Just how bad was your driving?” she asked curiously.

“Bad? Oh it wasn’t bad,” you chuckled. “My driving is actually very good, if I do say so myself. It was just a little faster than he was expecting.”

She curled an eyebrow up. “He goes 200 mph for a living.”

“Yeah, funny right.”

Charles was still catching his breath when the microphone was held in front of him and could see videos of his entrance playing on the big screens around the stadium. Pierre’s eyebrows disappeared under his hair in surprise as he saw the black Charger spinning to a stop and his friend climbing out.

“No fucking way,” Pierre laughed as he looked back at you laughing with his girlfriend. “That’s awesome.”

“I know right,” Charles said with a proud smile. “You should have seen it, she was going full on sideways through these corners, it was insane.”

“So, Charles, I'm sure this comes as no surprise,” the reported began, “but we have some questions about your girlfriend, after the entrance she made.”

“You have some questions?” He threw his head back and laughed. “I have some questions! I had no idea she could drive like that.”

“Her father is a rally driver. Did you really never suspect anything?”

“My mother is a hairdresser, doesn’t mean I am good at cutting hair. Why do you think I wore a bandana during lockdown? I butchered it that’s why.” He brushed his hair back that had thankfully grown back after his terrible attempt and laughed to himself. “So no, I didn’t assume she could drive because her father can.”

The interview finally turned to the football match and then a little bit about the upcoming race before Charles was able to escape. He held up a finger and mouthed one minute as he made a detour to the few fans that had been invited. He talked with some of them, shaking hands and signing autographs.

You wolf whistled loudly as Charles took his shirt off and he grinned without even having to check who it came from before he gave it to a fan and waved goodbye. You knew you were staring as he jogged back and you knew you weren’t the only one, but he only had eyes for you as he gave you a wink and draped his arm over your shoulder.

“How cool is that shot,” he said as he looked up at the screens still playing a rotation of highlights from the game and your arrival. “There’s just one way to make it better.”

“Excuse me?” you dared him to criticise your driving but his charming smile only grew wider.

“Do it in a Ferrari.”

#charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc x y/n #formula one imagine #formula 1 fanfic #f1 rpf #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic

[astroph1les]

all in a day’s work [h.c]

summary: being spider-woman is going pretty well for hazel. that is until you notice these cuts and bruises appearing on her skin. she’s just a little clumsy, though, right?

pairing: hazel callahan x fem!reader

contains: mature language and content, shower sex (very little detail), spider!hazel, mentions of hazel’s transformation since becoming spider-woman, slight violence, cannabis mention, mentions of the avengers events, josie is hazel’s guy in the chair.

word count: 4.4K

a/n: it’s here. i’m beyond excited for you guys to read this short series. it’s going to be a four parter, uploading each part every week for the month of october. thank you and enjoy <3

one | two | three | four

Hazel hated criminals.

The ones who stole purses from innocent old ladies who were just trying to buy groceries. The ones who harass and assault women for rejecting them. Or in this special Brooklyn norm, a guy who had hotwired a BMW who was now involved in a high speed chase with four cop cars and a special hero following him.

Normally, she would be more than pleased to arrive at the scene. On any other day, she wouldn’t have promised to meet her girlfriend — sweet and patient you — at the bodega that your uncle owned. But some dumbass just had to hotwire a car when she had to meet you in an hour.

Hazel swung in between buildings, following the sirens of the police cars and the map inside of her mask, her eyes darting from car to car to find the one that was described. A dark purple BMW speeding down Tillary Street, turning down Gold Street. Once she had spotted the vehicle, she launched herself faster in the vicinity before landing on a U-Haul truck that was a few cars behind the BMW.

This guy was swerving and weaving through cars like a maniac as Brooklyn’s finest were hot on his trail. Hazel shook her hands out as a nerve-releaser, her gloved hands stretching in and out. She then sprinted across the top of the truck before launching a web at a tall building to maneuver her way onto the back of the BMW.

The breeze felt nice, though, after swinging around for so long. Her hands were gripping onto the sides of the vehicle to keep her balance.

“Excuse me, sir!” She tapped on the back window, waving a hand to get his attention.

The man’s eyes flickered to his rear-view mirror, eyes visibly widening at the sight of Spider-Woman hanging from the back of the stolen car. His response was to step on the gas. Hazel groaned as her lower stomach thumped onto the trunk, but quickly regained her posture as she hoisted herself onto her feet.

“Incoming text from honey with the white heart emoji and bee emoji,” Karen told Hazel, her Siri-like voice echoing in her ears. “Are we still on for sandwiches, babe? Semi-colon. Parenthesis.”

Hazel smiled at the message from you as she crawled to the top of the vehicle, mentally pumping her fist at the sight of the sunroof. The man had left it wide open. So he was an idiot in many ways. Hazel slipped in quickly, her bottom landing in the backseat. She’d tell Karen to reply as soon as she finishes with this nuisance.

“C’mon, dude, high-speed chase? What? Was stealing an old lady’s purse too cliche?” Hazel quipped with a cheeky attitude.

The man didn’t say a word but instead attempted to throw a punch in the backseat, letting out grunts of annoyance. Hazel blocked every swing with a sigh, wondering why the hell he was even trying.

“You know, you’d punch way better if you weren’t driving, sir.”

As the man continued to speed between cars, Hazel stares up ahead to see an empty alleyway in an upcoming street. She needed to get him off of the street so that innocent people wouldn’t be in the way of danger.

Hazel shoots a web at the man's eyes. He grunts at the sticky feeling and temporary blindness, releasing the wheel entirely. Hazel reaches over from the backseat, hands gripping onto the wheel to turn sharply into the deserted alley. She mutters a string of curses as the side of the car scrapes against the brick building.

She’ll tell Mr. Stark about billing that to the owner later.

Cars honked and came to a sudden halt at her illegal moves but the car was now in the alley, away from the public. She releases the wheel to quickly crawl out of the open sun-roof. Mid-way out, she feels the glass begin to close on her torso.

Hazel groans out at the squeezing pressure and looks down into the car to see that the man had hit the sunroof button on the roof of the interior. One of his hands gripped onto her spandex covered calf, trying to tug her back down.

“I have a girlfriend, dude. Let go,” Hazel grunted, wriggling in his grasp.

Hazel threw her foot back into his chest and jaw before jumping up and out of the car. She landed on a metal fire escape balcony. From that distance, she shot multiple webs at the end of the alleyway, creating a makeshift trap for the car to run into. Her wrists were beginning to ache but she kept her movements flowing, releasing the web as he was reaching the end. The car hit the large web with a loud thump but had stopped, which is what Hazel was aiming for.

The thief had stepped out of the car and began to book it.

“Karen, send a text back to honey reading,” Hazel stood on the fire escape and walked on the side of the building as she aimed a web at the man. The substance wrapped around his legs causing him to trip and hit the ground. “Of course. See you soon. With two x’s and o’s.”

“I am sending the text to honey.” Karen alerted Hazel to her mask.

Hazel swung over to land right next to the criminal's head, tilting her body to the side to grin at his scraped up face. She knew he couldn’t see her shit-eating grin but it brought her some sort of badass feeling. Like an ‘I-just-did-that-shit’ feeling.

“The cops will take care of you so if you’ll excuse me,” she shot her web around his wrist to keep him down and held them behind his back. “I have to see my girl.”

The man grunted loudly to which Hazel responded with a: “Bye, Mr. Criminal!” as she launches herself out of the alley and around the corner of the building.

You were browsing the shelf of snacks and candies in your uncle’s bodega. You had just gotten off your shift at the Build-A-Bear in the mall and you were absolutely starving. The array of chips and gummies made your stomach grumble, sighing as you were waiting patiently for Hazel to arrive.

Her Stark internship had consumed a lot of her time lately. Of course, you were incredibly happy and proud of her to be working under Tony Stark: a billionaire industrialist, inventor, and the Iron-Man.

You didn’t mean to seem clingy, but you missed her when she was gone.

“Bee, here you go.” You hear a voice coming from behind the counter.

There stood your uncle with your turkey club sandwich wrapped — no tomatoes. You let out a groan of relief as you walked up to the counter to take it from him. You reach into your tote to grab a five dollar bill.

“Bee, you’re not paying.” He began to walk around to avoid you giving him cash.

“Uncle Karter, take it now. I’ll hop over this counter and shove into the register,” your threat was playful, but you meant every word.

“You’re hungry so I’m giving you food. It’s just like having lunch at home.” Your uncle insisted as he pointed at you, resting his arms on the glass display of the different kinds of sandwiches and deli meat he had to offer.

You sigh, giving him a wary look. Yes, he was your uncle, but you felt guilty just being handed sandwiches that you could easily pay for. You have a job. Your uncle wouldn’t let you pay, though, so you reluctantly slip the dollar bill into your bag.

“Thank you,” you give him a small smile before taking a bite of the fresh sandwich.

“It’s nothing, kiddo.” The man shakes his head as his eyes flicker behind him at the front door. The bell rings and he jerks his head to whoever was walking in. “Your little girlfriend is here.”

You whip your head around mid-bite to see Hazel panting as if she had run here with a wide, charming smile. Her hands were holding something behind her back as she approached you happily with her brown broken-in leather backpack over one shoulder, her keys that were clasped onto a loop of her jeans jangling loudly.

“Hey,” she breathes out, her gaze flickering between both of your eyes. Hazel raises her hand to wave at your uncle. “Hi, sir.”

“Hazel, I told you to call me Karter. None of that ‘sir’ shit, dude. I’m 36, not 50.” Your uncle replied teasingly, causing you to chuckle. Hazel nodded, muttering a ‘right’. Her eyes locked with yours as your uncle began to attend to the other customers.

“How was it today?” You tilt your head as you take another bite of your sandwich.

Hazel shrugged her shoulders, scoffing out. “Boring science shit but it was good. New scientist named Dr. Connors that Mr. Stark introduced me to.”

You deadpan at her, nodding your head. Sure, the subject wasn’t your favorite but you always wanted to hear about Hazel’s day. You brushed off the short response as you swallow that bite of your sandwich.

“Okay, well, that’s good. What are you hiding?” You try to peer over her shoulder but she only leans to the same side as you.

“Grabbed something for you on the way here.” Hazel beams as she pulls out the present from behind her back.

It was a small bouquet of an array of flowers for this time of the year. It was fall in New York, so the array of white roses and yellow sunflowers brightened up your mood. Forest Hills blossomed during the chilly season; a beautiful orange hue washed over the neighborhood in Queens as the decaying leaves fell from the tree branches.

Your eyes softened at the simple yet sweet gesture. Hazel grinned awkwardly, hoping you loved them.

Ever since you two had started dating half a year ago, Hazel has always felt like she had to be the best girlfriend she could. You were her first girlfriend and she was absolutely crazy about you, as you were about her.

Other people haven’t been the kindest to you and she knew that. Lying and cheating were a main factor as you’ve told her.

The guilt ached in her chest everyday having to lie to you about being Spider-Woman. You were her entire world. Tony insisted it was for the best if she didn’t want anything to happen to you.

“You are too sweet, I swear. Thank you, baby,” you lean in close to kiss her lips quickly and take the bouquet in your free hand.

Hazel flushed so easily, making your smile widen. It was a good feeling to see after so many months that she still got flustered when you kissed her.

“It’s nothing. You deserve it.” Hazel replied as if it was something you should know.

You don’t respond to that, only blushing like Hazel was moments ago. You sniff the soft flowery scent for a moment before taking another bite of your sandwich.

“You wanna head to mine?” You offer with a flirty smile.

“Uh, yeah, sure.” Hazel nodded, eyes warily darting to your uncle who was occupied with his line of customers that appeared out of the blue.

“He’ll be here for hours. C’mon,” you loop your arm around hers. “Bye, Uncle Karter. See you later.”

Your uncle simply waves his hand mid-conversation with the middle aged woman in front of him. Hazel leaned into your touch for a second before letting herself get dragged out of the bodega by you.

A fresh autumn breeze brushed against her, hitting her pale skin. You leaned your head on her shoulder as you talked about all the adorable children that had come into the Build-A-Bear.

Hazel loved these small moments with you. Well, she loved every moment but little things like this clouded her brain when she wasn’t focused on keeping her identity a secret. Watching your eyes light up when you spoke about how happy these children looked when you handed them their bear made her heart grow tenfold.

When the two of you had arrived at you and your uncle's apartment, you reached into your bag to grab the house keys.

“You hungry?” You ask as your sliding the key into the slot.

Hazel shook her head, placing a hand over her stomach. “I’m okay. Thank you, though, honey.”

You place a gentle kiss at her cheek as if to tell her that you asked her questions like that to show that you cared. You frowned, though, as you noticed a bruise and cut on her top lip that you hadn’t really seen before.

Hazel noticed you paused and furrowed her brows.

“What is it?” She whipped her head around to see if there were any potential threats. She was tempted to check her watch that Tony had given her to get Karen to scan the area.

“Babe, did you hit your lip?” You raised a hand to graze over the reddening area.

Hazel’s eyes widened once she realized what you were talking about. Earlier this morning, Hazel had a guy hit the butt of his gun at her face when she had dealt with a smoke shop robbery. She actually got free weed from the guy working the register which she plans to give to PJ.

“Oh, yeah. May was opening a cabinet up top and it hit me straight in the lip. I kind of forgot about it.” Hazel easily lied through her teeth, letting you caress the outline of her lips.

“It doesn’t hurt, right?” You ask her softly, eyes flickering up to her freckled under eyes.

Hazel shook her head with a hum, her smile growing as she admired your worried features. You looked away with a flushed grin as you pushed open the front door. The faint aroma of pumpkin and cinnamon filled Hazel’s nose, warmth filling her chest.

It wasn’t the largest apartment but it was home to you. You and uncle didn’t need much more than this.

“How is May?” You asked as you hung your keys on one of the Smurfs wall mounted key hooks that you had found at a thrift store.

“She’s good. Working at the hospital right now so she’s hoping that‘ll pay well.” Hazel explains as she traces the knick knacks on the shelf’s in the living room.

You can’t help but smile at the thought of Hazel’s Aunt May. She really was one of the kindest women you’ve ever met. May had a tendency to call you her ‘future daughter in law’ in front of Hazel just to tease the girl, watching her cheeks and tips of her ears flush a deep red.

“That’s good. I don’t want her overworking herself, though.” You sigh as you set your bag down next to the arm of the couch.

“Yeah, me neither.” Hazel sighed. “So, what did you wanna do?”

You hum in thought, bringing your single braid from behind your head to over your shoulder. You began to untangle the twisted hair as you thought about what activities you and Hazel could do now that she was free.

A certain idea came to mind.

“Well, I do need to shower so,” you say nonchalantly, hoping Hazel would get the hint.

“Oh, okay. Yeah, I can wait out here. Take your time, honey.” Hazel nodded and went over to take a seat on the couch.

You stared at her grabbing the remote for the TV, turning it on and flicking through the channels. You release your hair to allow it to sit on your shoulders, waiting patiently for Hazel to realize.

“Oh, do you wanna watch Foot Loose when you get out of the shower?” Hazel’s gaze floated back to you.

Her excitement to watch the movie dropped when she noticed you tilting your head and looking at her like that. You had only given her that look when you were insinuating something sensual. Your body was swaying back and forth as your smile grew when she set down the remote.

“Sorry. I didn’t— I thought you meant by yourself.” Hazel rushed out as she turned off the TV, chuckling nervously.

“At first, yeah. But, hey, we’re conserving water if we shower together and you know I’m all about keeping the Earth green.”

Hazel couldn’t help but nod, standing up to walk up to you. “That— yeah. That’s true. Conserving water conserves energy that reduces greenhouse gas pollution.”

Her brain shouldn’t have turned you on as much as it did.

“Yeah? What else does it do?” Your fingers hook onto her belt loops, tugging her closer into your body.

Hazel allowed you to manhandle her as she would truthfully let you do anything to her. She knew how much her ability to retain and cite facts turned you on. It was obvious by how you were drinking her in like you could devour her.

“It can… oh, protect aquatic life and extend water supply to areas that lack and ensure agricultural production to thrive.” Hazel rambled out, her flush growing as your thumbs brushed past her hip bone.

“Oh, those poor sea creatures.” You frown, smacking your lips.

“Don’t you need to shower?” Hazel asked, suddenly overwhelmed with impatience.

Your smile only grew, a giggle falling from your lips. You intertwine your hands with Hazel’s as you hurriedly walk over to your small bathroom. Hazel made sure to remove her watch and set it down on the porcelain sink, not wanting any sort of message from Tony to interrupt her time with you.

You turn to shut the door and turn the lock with a ‘click’. Hazel is caught off guard by you removing your work shirt, blushing at the sight of you in your bra. She felt like such a virgin. She’s seen you naked at this point and still was a flustered mess around you.

“Can’t take a shower with clothes, Haze.” You raised your brows as you were unbuttoning your pants.

“Maybe I can. I can do laundry that way.” Hazel quipped back with a chuckle.

Nonetheless, she began to slip off her sweater. You walk over to her, hooking your fingers underneath the thick fabric to help her. Her sports bra came into view as you tugged the sweater up and off, tossing it onto the blue and white tiled ground.

You both messily kissed, clanking teeth from how rushed your movements were. Soft laughter released from you as you removed the rest of your clothing and underwear, Hazel following by copying your actions.

Hazel hoisted you up with ease by your plush thighs, causing you to let out a yelp at the sudden movement. You lazily kissed her jaw as you held onto her neck, listening to her soft hums as she stepped into the shower. You never understood how all of a sudden, Hazel had this strength and toned body. You’d never seen her hit the gym once since you’ve been together.

Not that you were complaining. Just confused.

“Alright, let me down,” you hum against her skin, “I really do have to shower.”

“I’ll, uh, help.” Hazel offered as she released her grasp from your thighs, carefully watching you step onto the tiled ground.

You simply give her a soft kiss, whispering a ‘thank you’ onto her lips. Hazel hums back before grabbing the hydrating shampoo from the shelf. You turned on the shower, letting out a soft ‘fuck’ at the cold water. You hurriedly turn the knob to the red ‘H’ symbol, leaning back into Hazel’s body.

Once the stream of water began to heat up, Hazel squirted out the correct amount of shampoo into her palms. She massaged the product to your scalp as you tilt your head back with a sigh. Her fingers work into your scalp, sending you into a domestic bliss.

“That feels so good.” You practically moan as Hazel continues with the shampooing.

Hazel chuckles with a blush, leaning down to press a gentle kiss onto your naked shoulder. Your mind practically turns to mush but you force yourself to continue the rest of your routine.

You and Hazel bathed each other after a few heated kisses. That’s all. (You had gone down on her and she fingered you until you came twice.) She had told you how much you resembled a beautiful Renaissance painting with every curve and dip of your body. The words squeezed at your heart, feeling yourself fall more and more in love with her — if that was even possible.

Now freshly bathed and spent from the day, you and Hazel settle down, remaining in just underwear with an oversized tee. The sun had been long gone — the only light source being the city lights from outside of your bedroom window. You were cuddled up in your bed on your sides Hazel was running one hand up and down the fresh and lotion-covered skin of your arm as you twirled her wet hair around your fingers.

“I wanna stay here forever.” You yawn and rub at your bare face.

“Yeah?” Hazel hummed.

You nod with a chuckle. “Oh, yeah. If I didn’t have to work or worry about stuff like the apocalypse and aliens taking over, I would stay here forever.”

“Aliens?” Hazel’s brows arched at your words, chuckling along with you.

“Well, I mean, you saw what happened with Avengers in the city a few years ago. That was terrifying, you know?” You mutter, zoning out as the memory flooded back into your mind.

You had been just a few streets down when Loki had sent an army of aliens down onto the city. Who knows what could’ve happened if you had been just one more street closer to the destruction.

Hazel only nodded because how can you forget an event like that? Lives were lost and changed forever. Hazel, at the time, was just like you; a normal girl in the city just trying to live day by day. She wasn’t able to save people as she could now.

“Let’s just… lay here a-and not think about that, honey. Okay?” Hazel whispered as she tried to reassure you while reassuring her own scattered mind.

“Okay. I’m sorry.” You whispered back with a self-deprecating chuckle as you felt that you had ruined the mood.

Hazel shook her head as she moved her hand from caressing your arm to cupping your bare cheek.

“No, no, no, it’s okay. I just don’t want you to worry about all that stuff that hasn’t happened.”

Hypocrite, Hazel’s mind echoed after she had continued to utter soft and kind words to you. That’s all she ever did. Worrying about the unknown or stuff she couldn't control.

You ultimately felt your worries fade for the time being. Hazel caresses the length of your back until your heavy eyes shut, allowing sleep to take over. Not too long after Hazel knew that you were sound asleep, she did the same.

Hazel was awakened by the sound of a loud alarm echoing throughout the space of the room. She had shot up quickly from the bed, looking down at her watch to see it was a call from Josie — her only friend from Stark Industries.

Hazel checked the time to see it was 7:04 in the morning; way too early to be calling her. She glanced at you tangled up in your bed sheets next to her, mouth slightly hung open as you were knocked out. She carefully got up from the mattress, trodding over to the bathroom to get some privacy.

Hazel groaned at her reflection, her hair a tousled mess and her shirt half-way off of her shoulders. She reluctantly answered the call on the watch, squinting her eyes as Josie came into view.

“Hi Hazel!” Her cheery voice threw her off guard.

“It’s seven in the morning, Josie.” Hazel grumbled, trying to fix her hair.

“That didn't sound like a ‘oh, good morning, Josie’ so I’ll pretend you said that.” Josie quipped back, adjusting herself in her cubicle. “Anyways, Mr. Stark told me to call you because he needs you here, like, immediately.”

Hazel’s eyes shot open. “Wait really?”

Josie hums as she types something on her laptop that was lighting up her screen. “He said in his email, and i quote: ‘call Underoos and get her here immediately. No’ and this is in all caps ‘questions’.”

Hazel rolled her eyes at the nickname. Within the first few days of working under Tony, the nickname came to mind and never left. As much as she wanted to stay in bed with you, she knew she had to see whatever Tony needed her there for. She scrunched up her nose and yawned, nodding and scratching the back of her head.

“I’ll be there soon. Probably 10-20 minutes.” Hazel stretches her free arm, releasing some tension in her biceps and upper back.

“Alright, cool. Oh, wait,” Josie muttered as she stopped typing on her keyboard, leaning back into her roller chair. “Ah, shit. Son of a bitch, dude.”

“What?” Hazel responded as she was about to leave the bathroom so she could hang up.

“No, nothing. I lost at Solitaire against Happy.” Josie shook her head, groaning before typing again on the laptop.

Hazel furrowed her brows before hanging up with a: ‘See you soon’. The last thing she heard was Josie angrily typing as she whispered: ‘Filthy cheater’.

Josie took Solitaire extremely personally.

Hazel slowly crept out of the bathroom as she had forgotten that your Uncle Karter was now home, if not, awake. She tiptoed back into your room, grabbing her bag from the small carpet strawberry right next to your bed. You had adjusted once again in your sleep, snuggling into the plush of your pillow.

You were a fidgety sleeper but she found it adorable. Watching over you right now almost made her stay but she couldn't risk Tony being angry with her. She quickly changed into her suit, walking over to your window to unlock it and crack it open.

Taking one more glance at your unconscious body, Hazel tugged her mask over her face before she shot a web out of the window at a building across the street. She threw her bag over her shoulder as she swung to the apartment building next door all the way to the Stark Tower.

Mid-way there, she suddenly remembered that she didn’t leave a note for you like she usually would when she left so suddenly. She brushed it off and told herself she’d send you a text as soon as she left.

Nothing to worry about.

Right?

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#hazel callahan #bottoms movie #hazel callahan x reader #bottoms 2023 #ruby cruz #hazel callahan x you #spider hazel #spider woman #hazel callahan fic

[tropes-and-tales]

Five Times Vigilante Definitely Does Not Have Feelings (and the One Time He Does)

Characters:  Adrian Chase/Vigilante x f!reader

CW:  Crude language; yearning.

Word Count:  3982

Adrian Chase will tell anyone:  he doesn’t have emotions like people do.  He doesn’t feel sad or angry or embarrassed.  When Peacemaker gave him the nickname “Thimble,” he certainly didn’t cry.  When Peacemaker was sent to prison, he certainly didn’t feel lonely.  

Not having emotions is what makes him a more evolved human.

And yet, when ARGUS springs Peacemaker and sets up a black ops outfit in Evergreen, Adrian finds himself toeing the line of feelings.  He doesn’t have emotions like people do, but he comes awfully close a handful of times…until he crosses the line entirely.

The Time Vigilante Definitely Does Not Feel Vulnerable

As the Vigilante, Adrian gets hurt all the time.  He’s become proficient at stitching up his own wounds.  His body is littered with the scars of his own handiwork.

But when Goff tortures him for information, and when the ARGUS team comes to his and Peacemaker’s rescue, he finds himself missing half of a pinkie toe.  It’s the most important toe on the human body, and he’ll probably never walk again…and no one seems to care.

Except for you.  In the van as they return to headquarters, you sit across from him, watching him as he studies his mangled foot.  You murmur something that sounds sympathetic, but he barely hears it over Peacemaker laughing at him.

At headquarters, you look at him and jerk your head in the direction of the back office.

“I can stitch you up, if you want,” you offer. 

He starts to shake his head, but the mean blonde woman—Harcourt, her name is—makes an offhand comment about your superior patch-up abilities, so he accepts your help.  He limps painfully behind you, follows you into a room that has been converted into a rough sort of exam room and budget clinic.

“Hop up on the table,” you tell him, and even though he doesn’t trust you—or any of your team—he does as you say.  It’s clumsy.  He hurts in a hundred different places:  his half-amputated toe, his electrocuted crotch, all the scrapes and bruises from the fight with Cobra Kai. 

“I won’t take off my mask,” he warns you.  “I take my secret identity very seriously.  If you saw my face, I’d have to kill you.”

“Duly noted,” you reply dryly.  “But I only need to see your foot.”

He pulls off his boot and regards his mangled half-pinkie toe sadly.  You pull on a pair of latex gloves and turn on a bright lamp, angling it at his bare foot.

“It’s not as bad as it looks,” you say as you prod the wound gently.  “In fact, you really didn’t lose anything but a couple layers of skin.”

“The blade was as dull as fuck,” he replies. 

You wheel your stool over to a cabinet, then pull out some supplies:  needle and thread, disinfectant, gauze and tape.  Then you wheel back over to him and set to work.

The mean blonde woman was right—you’re quick, efficient.  He looks down at your bent head as you stitch him up, and he sees that your needlework is better than his own.  He doubts he’ll even have much of a scar once it heals.

But it’s the strange feeling that creeps over him:  makes his vision waver, makes him feel a little light-headed.  Your hands are deft but also gentle.  Adrian can’t remember ever being touched so gently.  Maybe when he was really small.  Maybe his mom was gentle like that when he was so small that he can’t remember it now.  It makes him break out in goosebumps.  He shudders at the touch of your warm hand bracing his foot, and you misunderstand the involuntary gesture.

“Almost done,” you murmur, and a moment later you tie off the last stitch and snip the thread.  You wrap his toe in gauze, pat his knee softly in a reassuring way.  Then you straighten up and ask if there’s any other injuries he needs patched up.

“Goff electrocuted me,” he blurts out.  “With a car battery.”

You look at him, level, but the corner of your mouth quirks in a near-smile.  “You want me to look at that for you?”

“Oh, no.  No.  No, I just wanted to mention it.  I’m not asking you to look at it.”  He’s grateful for the mask; he can feel his face heating up at the idea of taking off his suit in front of you, and the sudden flush confuses him.  Irritates him.  Something about the thought of being exposed makes his stomach churn in a way he doesn’t understand.

You hum thoughtfully, then turn back to the cabinet of supplies.  You rummage around, then pull out a small white tube that you hand him.

“Antibiotic gel for cuts and burns,” you say.   “You can put a cool cloth on…well, any burns you may have.  If there’s blistering, don’t pop them.”

“Okay.”

“And, you know…if you have any lingering side effects of being electrocuted, you should see a specialist.”

Vigilante reaches down and pulls his boot back on, but already his toe feels better.  “What sort of side effects?” he asks.

He looks up at you in time to see that same half-smile.  You peel off your gloves, toss them in the trash.  

“I can imagine where you were electrocuted,” you reply.  “So if those parts don’t typically work the way you’re used to, see a real doctor.”

Adrian Chase is not good at nuance or subtlety.  “Huh?”

You blink at him before you say, “if you can’t get or maintain an erection, see a urologist.”

“Oh.”  He blinks too, behind his visor.  “Okay.”

You turn to leave the room but then glance over your shoulder before you do.  “Thanks for your help tonight,” you say.  “The mission was a success because of you.”

Neither Vigilante nor Adrian Chase ever get any thanks.  He flushes even hotter under his mask, and he grumbles in reply, uncomfortable to be seen, to be recognized for the first time.

To be vulnerable.

The Time Vigilante Definitely Does Not Feel Embarrassed

The next afternoon, he’s at Peacemaker’s trailer, helping him clean up from when the police tossed the place.  They are blasting Guns and Roses, drinking beer…it’s like the old days, almost.

A knock at the door then, and Adrian has only a second to pull on his mask before you stroll in.

“Hey, Chris.  Vigilante.”  You nod in greeting, then reach into your bag to pull out a thick manila folder.  You hand it to Peacemaker.

“Murn wanted me to bring this by.  It’s the latest intel we got from Goff’s place.”  

You stand there as Chris takes the folder and sinks down onto his couch, already paging through the information.  Vigilante stands there too, awkward, so he crosses his arms to keep from fidgeting.  There’s a long stretch of silence once the Guns and Roses record ends, and Vigilante struggles with silence.

“I got hard last night,” he tells you.  “And this morning too.”

“Dude, what the fuck?” Peacemaker sputters.  “She doesn’t want to hear that!”

“She mentioned it last night!”

Peacemaker scoffs, twists his face into an expression of disbelief.  “Yeah, I’m sure she mentioned your dick last night.  Sure.  Okay.  Fantasize much?”

“She did!”

“You seriously need to get laid, dude.  Stop making shit up.”

“He’s not lying,” you tell Peacemaker with a sheepish shrug.  “Though I mentioned it in the context of his injuries and not…some other context.”

“See?”  Vigilante says, and Peacemaker rolls his eyes, makes a jacking-off motion with his hand.

You don’t linger.  You beat a hasty retreat, waving over your shoulder as you leave the trailer, and Peacemaker gives him more hell—calls him weird, calls him annoying.

“No wonder you’ve never had a real girlfriend, dude,” he says as he turns back to his folder of intel.  “You say the creepiest shit the minute a cute girl is around.”

Vigilante doesn’t think about it much more until later.  That night, in bed, he lies awake for far longer than he usually does.  He replays that moment, tries to understand why he just blurted that out.  

He wonders if you would have stayed at the trailer longer if he hadn’t been creepy.  His face burns in the darkness of his bedroom, and his stomach twists painfully as he replays the moment over and over.  He replays his stupid blurting out about his dick, and he has no idea what it means.  He never obsesses over his stupid mouth like this.

If he had feelings like other people, he’d recognize the emotion as embarrassment.

The Time Vigilante Definitely Does Not Feel Despondent (and Comforted)

Adrian gets himself arrested on purpose.  It’s the best way he can help Chris:  get arrested, get booked into the same prison as Chris’ racist supervillain father, then kill said racist supervillain father.

Easy enough.  It’d set Chris free and make his life so much better.  Allow him to move forward and not be bogged down, like Adebayo said.

Adrian fails.  He only manages to make things worse—clues Auggie into his plan accidentally, possibly points law enforcement in Chris’ direction.  So Adrian doesn’t just fail—he fails miserably.

He’s released that night.  He’s surprised at first, but as he changes back into his clothes and collects his personal effects from the guards, he realizes that ARGUS has its sticky fingers in all sorts of things and probably sprung him with just a few keystrokes.

When he leaves the prison, you’re sitting out front in your car.  You lower the passenger window and call out to him.

“C’mon,” you say.  “Harcourt sent me to take you home.”

He’s too upset to even feel bad about his cover being blown.  He climbs into the car.

“I think I made things worse,” he says, and he tries not to cry.  He only wanted to help his best friend (even if he’s not Peacemaker’s best friend).  Somehow he messed up, and it could ruin everything.  

“Okay,” you reply softly.  “It’s okay.”

You drive him home.  He doesn’t give you his address, but you know it—another screw-up, he thinks, getting tangled up with people who easily cracked his secret identity.  You know his name, his face, where he lives.  Some instrument of vengeance he is.  You probably even recognize him from his job at Fennel Fields.

Outside of his apartment, you park, then turn to face him.  In the half-light from the streetlamps, he can just make out your soft smile.

“This entire ops is nothing but mistakes,” you tell him.  “And yet, we’re doing okay.  We’ll figure out how to handle Auggie Smith.  Don’t worry about it.”

He nods, and something about the barest bit of comfort—paired with your smile—makes him turn to face you too.  

“I’m Adrian,” he says, even though you know his name.

Your smile broadens and you say your name, even though he knows it.  You hold out your hand and after a beat he takes it.

“Good to finally meet you, Adrian,” you reply as you shake hands.  

For whatever reason, as low as he feels, he falls asleep that night with a weird lightness in his chest—because he doesn’t dwell on his failure at the prison.  

Instead, he falls asleep with the memory of your smile, your kind words.  Your warm hand in his.

The Time Vigilante Definitely Does Not Feel Protective

The attack on Goff’s house yielded some leads, and the team travels three hours away to take out a nest of Butterflies.  Everyone is exhausted, filthy, and bruised up.  

It’s in the van—you sitting beside Adrian—when you start to nod off.  He catches it the first few times, the way your head dips forward, the way you jerk back awake.  It’s cute, the way you fight sleep, and then it happens.

You fall asleep and you don’t wake up.  Your head drifts towards him, then settles against his shoulder.

Adrian freezes.  

He and Peacemaker—they used to go out together, looking for crimes or bitches or both.  He’s no virgin.  He fucks.  He’s no stranger to touch, and he’s certainly no stranger to women.  And yet…this feels different.  It feels new.

Peacemaker notices.  “You got a new girlfriend, dude,” he points out with a laugh.

Harcourt rolls her eyes at the teasing.  “Leave her alone.  She puts in way more hours than you, asshole.”

“I put in plenty of hours,” he replies, defensive.  “It takes a lot of time to maintain this impressive physique.  Do you know how long I work on my small muscle groups alone?”

Harcourt rolls her eyes again, then returns her attention to her phone.  Peacemaker turns back to where Adrian sits, rigid, as you sleep against him.

“If you get hard, just don’t tell her about it,” he advises the younger man.  “You’ll creep her out again.”

It’s strange, the feeling of your head against him.  It’s not sexy at all, obviously—in fact, it’s a little uncomfortable.  He doesn’t want to move you, doesn’t want to jostle you and wake you up.  Harcourt said you’re tired, and you took a hell of a beating as you fought the Butterflies.  

Adrian has always approached his work as Vigilante from a perspective of vengeance, not protection, so the feeling is strange:  how he wants to let you sleep, how he wants to protect your sleep.  How he wants to make you comfortable.

A quiet falls over the team; the swaying of the van lulls everyone into comfortable silence.  Adrian breathes in carefully through his nose, then shifts his body.  Slowly, carefully.  He leans away from you, allows you to lie against him more.  He changes the angle enough that he can get his arm out from where it’s trapped between your body and his.  He shifts again, gets his arm around you.  Gently moves you—changes it from your head awkwardly pressed against his hard molded shoulder pad to your head tucked against his chest.

You wake, a little, as he moves you.  You blink up at him sleepily, say his name—Adrian, not Vigilante or Vig or V—and your voice is husky with exhaustion.  There’s a questioning lilt to how you say his name, so he shakes his head softly.

“Go ahead and rest,” he says, quiet.  “Everything’s fine.”

You nod, then settle back against him.  It takes only a moment until he feels your breathing slow down, deepen.  He feels your body go heavy and lax against him.  Tucked against his chest, his arm holding you against him, he can smell you, feel how warm you are.  If he moves his head just a little, he can press his cheek against the top of your head.

Go ahead and rest, he thinks.  Everything’s fine.  I’ll keep you safe.

Vigilante has always been an instrument of vengeance, but this is the first time he’s felt protective of anyone.

The Time Vigilante Definitely Does Not Feel Fear

The 11th Street Kids have one chance to eradicate the Butterflies forever:  if they can kill their only food source, the so-called cow, they will eventually all die off.  When they make their final assault on the farm, the team splits up:  Adebayo and Economos stay back, while the warriors—Peacemaker, Vigilante, Harcourt, and you—charge into action.

Whether the cow is killed or not, Adrian doesn’t find out until after the battle is over.  He fights off the onslaught of Butterflies, but for the first time, his attention isn’t entirely on his own fight.

His attention is on you, now, too.  

He manages to keep you in his sightline for the beginning of the fight.  He sees you, admires the sight of you when you’re in your berserker mode:  furious and deadly, well-fitted black suit, guns flashing as you empty clip after clip into the skulls of the Butterflies.  

Then he loses sight of you. 

His chest clenches in an unfamiliar tension, and when he finally catches sight of you again, that tight-chest feeling cedes to something else, something worse:  an ice-cold shard of fear that lances through him, settles in his gut where it sits like a stone.

When he finally catches sight of you, it’s the exact moment you are shot by a Butterfly.

One shot hits your shoulder, spins you around.

Another shot hits you square in the chest, makes you stagger backwards as the force is absorbed by your vest.

The final shot hits you low in the belly, and Adrian (who has studied your gear closely) knows you have little protection there.  The icy fear blooms in him, fills up every bit of him until it feels like it’s in his veins.

He screams your name.  He barely even feels the bullet that hits him (“oh, shoot” he mutters, and tosses a knife behind him to kill his own attacker), but then he stumbles and falls, and he loses consciousness.

He wakes a moment later.  He has no idea how much time has passed, but he manages to get to his hands and knees, then to his feet.  He makes his way to where you fell and he finds you.  

It’s bad.  It’s so bad that the icy fear turns acidic in his veins, makes him burn with fear.  With terror.  You gaze up at him but you don’t seem to see him, and each breath makes a fresh pulse of blood trickle from your mouth.

Adrian has never been very good at social situations.  He never knows the right thing to say and if he does, he doesn’t know the right time to say it.  He wishes these things came more easily to him; if it were Chris here right now instead of him, Chris would know the right thing to say.  He’d know how to keep you awake, how to give you comfort.

All Adrian can offer is what you told him the night he got out of prison, when you drove him home.  Now, as you lie under the night sky, dying in front of him, as he presses one hand against the worst wound to try and staunch the bleeding, he repeats your words back to him.

“It’s okay,” he says, and he says it over and over and hopes you believe it.  “It’s okay.  It’s okay.  It’s okay.”

The Time Vigilante Definitely Feels Love

You have no memory of the fight at the farm.  The last thing you remember is the drive there, but everything after is a blank.  Adebayo stops by when you finally wake up and fills you in on the salient details.  

She tells you how Vigilante—who was also shot, who had been blown up earlier in the day—carried you to safety.  How he kept you from bleeding out, how he held your very life in his hands and kept you from dying.  How hospital security had to separate him from you, once you were laid out on the gurney and being wheeled into surgery.

How he still tried to fight to stay by your side, and how he only failed because of his own injuries and blood loss.

“That man is stupid crazy about you,” Adebayo chuckles with a shake of her head.  “I don’t even think he’s really a psychopath.”

You chuckle with her, wince when the action pulls at the thousand stitches and staples that are keeping you held together.  “He’s not bad, right?”

“We’re literally the Island of Misfit toys,” she replies.  “But yeah, he’s alright.”

-----

Adrian is hospitalized too, and once he’s healed up to a point, he starts sneaking into your room to visit.  It’s not really sneaking—every time he undoes his IV and heart monitor, it sends the nurses into a panic—but after Adebayo’s press conference revealing the existence of Task Force X, the hospital staff is pretty tolerant of his harmless shenanigans. 

He helped ward off an alien invasion, after all.  You both did.

You have to agree with Adebayo.  You’ve never quite believed that Adrian is a psychopath or a sociopath or whatever.  You certainly never believed him when he said he didn’t have feelings or emotions.  The guy is nothing but a walking ball of emotions:  obvious love for his friends, a yearning to belong, a sweet desire to be liked and included.  Sure, he kills without compunction, but he seems to love in equal measure, even if he doesn’t believe he does.

When he visits you, he doesn’t talk about feelings.  He chatters endlessly about his and Peacemaker’s exploits—criminals they’ve busted, ways they’ve destroyed old appliances in the woods behind Peacemaker’s trailer.  He talks about how it was when Peacemaker was in prison, how he kept calling and leaving voicemails to make it seem like everything was normal.  He talks about his job at Fennel Fields, all the terrible customer service stories he has.

He discharges himself against the advice of the doctors (he’s healed enough, he tells you), and you think he’ll stop visiting, but he doesn’t.  He visits every day still, and when you start physical therapy to build up the muscle tone and endurance you’ve lost, he sits in a nearby chair, watching you.  Cheering you on.

Adebayo wasn’t wrong.  You know Adrian has feelings for you.  You’re more socially adept than him, and you’ve had relationships before.  You’ve had crushes and been the object of them.  You guessed his infatuation early on, and you can guess that it’s only grown for him since then.

It probably confuses him, you guess.  You know what love feels like.  What a crush feels like.  All that feeling, in so many places:  the fluttery stomach, the pounding heart, the thoughts that just circle ‘round and ‘round about a single person.

You’d be lying if you said you didn’t have similar feelings for him.  He’s easy on the eyes, sure—but he’s earnest and sweet, a brutal killer with a heart of gold.

You can also guess that Adrian might never make a move.  This has to be unfamiliar territory for him.  You know he’s no virgin (he’s chattered endlessly about his and Peacemaker’s exhaustive threesomes too), but he seems to have no relationship experience.

But your entire short working relationship with him has been give and take.  You stitched him up, comforted him when he was feeling low after his failed attempt to kill Auggie Smith.  He let you rest against him, held you gently as you slept after a mission.  He saved your life, kept you from bleeding out.

Give and take.  The best kind of relationship, in your opinion.

“Hey, Adrian,” you say one afternoon after PT.  You’re exhausted and sore, but you’re quickly approaching your own discharge.  You are healing up nicely.  You have things to look forward to.

“What’s up?” he asks, and he bounces over to your bedside like a Golden Retriever puppy, eager.

“Doctor says I’m good to go in a few days.”

“That’s great!”  His face breaks open in a wide grin that transforms him from nerdy-handsome to downright gorgeous.  “That’s good news!”

You swallow, push down the nerves that flare up.  “I thought maybe we could celebrate.”

“Yeah!”  He grins at you.  “I can call Chris—”

“I thought maybe just me and you,” you cut in, clarifying.  “Just this time.  Maybe we include Chris some other time.”

“Oh.”  The smile falls from his face, and he looks at you.  His brows are knit in confusion.  

No sense in backtracking now.  “Like a date.  Would you like to go on a date with me?”

“Oh.”  A beat.  “With me?  Are you sure?”

“Absolutely.”

What you’re asking him finally sinks in—a beat longer than it might with someone else, but that’s just part of Adrian’s charm.  The smile returns to his face, brighter and wider than before.

“Yeah,” he replies.  “Hell yeah, dude.  I’d love that.”

#adrian chase #adrian chase imagine #adrian chase x reader #vigilante #vigilante imagine #vigilante x reader #peacemaker #tropes-and-tales

[azqope]

quality time!

step brother!sukuna x reader

word count: 3.2k

warnings! female reader, dark content, pseudo incest (step sibling incest), noncon, dubcon, groping, dry humping, forced orgasm, unprotected sex, creampie, blackmail & threats, rough sex, degradation, obsessive sukuna, edging, throat fucking, mild exhibitionism

part two.

one thing that sukuna loves about you is how accessible you are. things are so simple when your little fucktoy is in the room right next to yours.

but as of late, you’ve been stripping him of this accessibility, bit by bit.

he notices it all, the way you stick close to your friends, being too eager to go shopping or muck around with them after class and attending parties that you’d in all honesty, rather not go to. it’s alright though, he understands. you’re just being a little coy, unsure. he admits, he’s not the nicest of guys to be around.

but what he won’t allow is you going off and hooking up with someone else. when he catches you at uni, chatting it up with some no-name behind the scenes, a little fire opens up inside of sukuna. once he’s able to capture a hold of your gaze, he shoots you a look that means to beckon you in.

getting nervous, you have to excuse yourself from the person you were conversing with, to walk up to him before he did something that would upset you. sukuna then drags you off to some secluded and empty lecture hall.

he’s quick to have you lay across a desk, making you drop your bag in surprise.

“you’ve been avoiding me, haven’t you? i thought i said i wanted to get along,” sukuna says, holding your legs in place as you squirm around.

“i… i still get home by evening,” you say, making a clumsy excuse.

“so you’re not even denying that you’re avoiding me,” he continues, frowning deeper.

“night only isn’t enough, sweetie. you’re making your big brother lonely,” sukuna emphasises, pushing his hips up against your ass with a mocking face of hurt. it sets off a panic inside your mind, as you hastily look around for any possible onlookers.

“why? afraid someone’ll see us like this?” he asks with a sly voice, his hand creeping up under your shirt, fingers pinching at your perky nipples.

“look at how they’re standing... maybe you want people to witness you.”

“no, stop, please,” you quietly beg, grabbing onto his wrist to stop him from groping your chest so lewdly.

sukuna ponders for a moment, deciding on what he wants to do with you.

“as long as you start comin’ home early…i’d have no reason to do all this here.”

you seem to be feeling unsure about it, so he continues his speech.

“you think your friends are gonna stick around if they find out how much of a slut you are?” he delivers a sharp squeeze to your areola, making you cry out.

“i’ll go home,” you relent, tearfully.

your pathetic tears send a delicious shock of arousal down his spine.

“ladies first,” sukuna offers sarcastically, opening up the car door for you. ignoring his smile, you sit yourself in the passenger seat. when he comes around and finally grabs ahold of the steering wheel beside you, you can’t help but notice the tent in his jeans.

he starts the engine, and gets to driving. and the way he makes his turns gets you holding onto the seat belt for dear life.

“my room,” he orders, once the two of you get home.

you follow close behind him as he saunters up the stairs with a hand in his pocket.

you start looking around once you get inside, maybe a little intrigued by the multitude of band posters he has on his wall. you’re not very sure what you were expecting.

“i know you’re curious about my stuff, but you can take your time with that later,” he intervenes, turning around to face you.

“for now…” he says, cupping your chin, “get on your knees.”

you hesitate a bit, but eventually, you slowly sink down. the way you look up at him from this angle, gets him aroused all over again.

“unbuckle me yourself. and i want you to use your teeth with the zipper,” sukuna instructs, running a hand over your head rather affectionately.

you do as he says, unbuckling him using your hands, but using your teeth to zip him down. there’s the enticing feeling of having the tightness of his jeans removed, but it doesn’t compare to the feeling he gets when your hands automatically fly up to his thighs while your face brushes up against his twitching cock.

you lower his briefs, to reveal his fully erect dick that greets you with a strong pulse.

"have you done this before? be honest."

“...yes,” you tell him quietly, feeling anxious.

“shame i couldn’t be your first,” he mutters under his breath, “well then, you know what to do next, don’t you?”

you give his throbbing erection a nervous glance. you’d done this before, but not with one so big. your hand wraps itself around his shaft, and you bring your lips to his leaking tip, using the tip of your tongue to swirl around him. he patiently watches you with his palm still resting against your head.

you know that he’s expecting you to push it further down your throat. so, after giving a few sucks onto his cockhead - you attempt to bring him in deeper. you go excruciatingly slow, making sukuna’s patience run down to a dangerous level. and then at the half-way point, you seem to be unable to go any more.

seeing you struggle makes a malicious smile appear on his face, blowing away the small, remaining patience that he had. his hand creeps down to the back of your head.

“need some help?”

before you could protest, he pushes it in completely, without allowing you a moment to brace yourself. you gag around him as he bucks his hips in, the tip of his dick going past the back of your throat. he merely hums in satisfaction, appreciating the warmth of your esophagus, and how it squeezes him.

“looks like you still need some more training after all,” sukuna chuckles darkly.

when you gaze up at him while blinking your tears away, mouth stuffed full, you feel the twitch in his cock inside you.

now, both of his hands clasp against your ears as he moves himself up and down, disregarding the way you tug at his jeans for mercy.

“fuck… even your throat pussy feels good,” he groans, holding himself back from releasing yet.

after a few more thrusts, he has the decency to pull out and let you breathe for a bit.

your eyes widen with shock and he abruptly rams his dick inside, your nose hitting his pubic bone. eyes accumulating even more tears, it seems that there was no point in wiping those previous ones away, as he continues to face fuck you earnestly, his heavy balls hitting your chin.

“you’re okay,” he coos, collecting your strayed tears using his thumbs, “just a little more.”

you open your mouth again, and he slaps his cock against your laid out tongue.

“i’m gonna get a little rough. do your best to withstand it.”

this isn’t supposed to feel good… you should be pushing his hips away, digging your fingers into his flesh even, but… what’s this feeling in your panties? this feeling that suggests your arousal? you try to relax yourself the best you can, but you can’t help the gagging that occurs every time he reaches so far back.

“you’re doing well…” he mumbles, getting lost in the pleasures of your throat.

“nearly there…” he tells you, no longer smiling, but showing his focus on getting to his orgasm.

his pacing falters soon enough, and he’s hissing from pleasure as he bottoms out deep inside.

what surprises him however, is how you cling to him so tightly, like you wanted every last bit down your throat without him having to demand it. he sees you closing your eyes as you swallow around him, and it creates a delirious, open-mouthed grin on his face.

“fuck…fuck…” he whispers as he watches you gulp him down, the overstimulation from your clenching throat getting him to shudder. he throws his head back when you even start swiping your tongue against the underside of his throbbing cock.

when he finally slides out of you, strings of your own saliva follow, still attached to his tip. you come up to lick it off, and then open your mouth wide for him, letting him see how not a drop of his cum was wasted.

“you deserve some praise for that,” he says with a breathy voice.

“such a good little slut. so perfect, i just have to make you mine.”

he gets you up off your knees, and captures your lips into a searing kiss as he pulls you in by the waist, not minding your messy mouth. he pushes you down against his soft bed, and strips you naked.

“on all fours, sweetie. ass up,” he orders with haste, his dick stiff and heavy, once again.

sukuna wastes no time in taking his shirt off and throwing it away to the side. licking his lips, his thick fingers tease your clit, and then slot themselves into your sopping wet cunt.

“sheesh, you naughty girl. getting off of giving me a blowjob?” he taunts, enjoying the sight of you jolting from his touch.

“that’s not…i’m not…” you deny meekly, whining from the way his fingers feel around inside you.

“yes you are,” he insists, pulling his digits back out, replacing them with his fat cock.

he rams himself in in one go, pushing the air out of your lungs. he’s gotten your pussy shaped perfectly around his dick, like his personal cocksleeve. placing his hand against your lower back, he admires the view from here, observing your trembling body. but then, he remembers the lesson that he is yet to teach.

“i despise the thought of you seeing someone other than me,” he speaks with a low voice, gripping onto the flesh of your ass even harder. you whimper pitifully, because that’s really all you can do in this moment.

“you know, i’d never cared whether my side chicks fucked other guys or not…but you’re different.”

grabs your hips and gives you a single harsh thrust that makes you cry out.

“and i won’t need any of my side pieces anymore, either. why would i?"

his cock rubs up against your g-spot, making your body tremble.

"when i have a good slut of a little sister here, all to myself.”

a devilish grin appears on his face, as he proceeds to fuck you in earnest, making you scream with your hands tightly clenching the sheets. your flesh almost stings from the speed and strength of his powerful thrusts as his tip knocks at your cervix ruthlessly, the pain causing you to scream against the bed in order to muffle yourself.

he thinks back to the nights where he pathetically abused his fleshlight, pretending that it was you. all that cum wasted on a single toy. he’ll make it up to you and fill you up twice- no, ten times as much.

“t-too deep…!” you plead, gasping for air.

“yeah? step brother’s cock too much for you?” he asks with a crude voice, smacking his hand against your asscheek. when you yelp, your hole tightens around him and he groans hoarsely.

“good grief… ’s like you’re tryna suck me dry,” sukuna speaks with his head thrown back, while he continues to pummel you.

when he grinds up against your g-spot again, you’re forcefully met with your orgasm, hips quivering and voice ringing out in his room as you moan uncontrollably - pussy spasming against sukuna’s hard cock. he grits his teeth at the sensation as it throws him over the edge, making him paint your insides white with his seed.

he pushes himself in the farthest he can while he cums, like he’s trying to breed you, and you feel the warmth of him filling your womb up with spurt after spurt of his sperm, with an iron grip on your hips.

once he finishes emptying himself into you, he pulls out with a look of satisfaction on his face. when his cum starts leaking out, he uses his fingers to push it back in, and then shoves those same fingers into your mouth, making you lick them clean.

“i’ll.. i’ll get pregnant,” you mumble, making a weak attempt to push him away.

“aht, don’t ruin this for me,” he says, grabbing your wrist and remaining still, dick continuing to throb inside you.

“it’s my favourite part.”

***

the tv is on in the living room, but nobody pays any attention to it. you’d been quietly watching something by yourself when all of a sudden sukuna squeezed in behind you.

and now, here you are, getting your pussy played with, legs spread apart. he watches with amusement, while his fingertips give teasing touches to your clit, making you jolt and grip onto his shirt tighter. however, he won’t give you the satisfaction of letting you reach your orgasm.

a little bit after, he begins his touching again. caressing your sensitive bead carefully as he puts hickeys onto your skin, listening to your moans while his dick leaks more precum in his pants.

“i’ll stop it right here again,” he says, smirking sadistically at your cries of frustration. he pulls his hands away right as you’re about to cum, leaving your clit swollen and aching.

“no…no more…” you whine, wanting to close your legs to rub your thighs together.

“oh, i love the pitiful sounds you make,” sukuna groans, kissing down your neck.

“you wanna cum?” he asks you in a cooing voice, inserting his thick fingers into your dripping wet cunt, going faster as if he means to actually let you this time.

“yes please,” you plead, panting and hips jolting.

he gets faster, one hand fucking your clenching hole and the other rubbing itself against your clit. you throw your head back and focus on getting ready to climax.

but yet again, he stops right before you can. gritting your teeth, you start tearing up, getting desperate to be touched until satisfaction… you have nothing to say to him, only giving frustrated moans and incomprehensive noises of begging.

“sounding so pathetic,” he taunts, all the while his dick gets harder.

“maybe i’ll give you what you want if you promise to be a good girl.”

hands going to work immediately, you draw in a breath sharply as he starts building you up again, your cunt making loud squelching noises from how much slick you’re producing. sukuna knows how to drive you crazy, knows where to touch in order to send you to heaven.

“i promise…i promise to be good,” you say hastily, desperate for relief. your hole gives an eager twitch.

“who’s good girl?” he continues.

“your– sukuna’s good girl,” you whimper, growing impatient.

he hums in response, happy with your answer.

“look at the mess you’re making. dirty slut. coating my fingers like this,” he drawls into your ear, thoroughly enjoying watching you crumble down in his very arms.

“yes, yes,” you gasp, moaning and rolling your hips the best you can against his fingers.

“so close…please!”

“don’t worry, sweetie. i’m feeling generous right now,” sukuna speaks with a grin, and you can hear it in his voice.

when you finally orgasm, it’s like something completely shatters in your mind in a pleasurable way, you squeal, thighs shaking and hips trembling, a trail of drool running down the corner of your mouth. you look like a whore, exactly as sukuna had called you.

gripping onto him tightly, your chest heaves as you catch your breath. he licks his lips, feeling your pussy pulse against his fingertips. he slaps your clit and you give a weak yelp.

“felt good?” he asks.

“y-yes…”

sukuna adjusts his position to push you down, so that you’re laying on the sofa.

“alright. it’s my turn now,” he states, freeing his cock from his pants. it’s angry red tip glistens from his precum. pumping it a few times with his hand, he groans.

“wait! i just came so-”

“so you’re more sensitive? that’s the idea.” he cuts you off, before pushing himself into you without warning. you gasp at the sudden intrusion and shocking pleasure.

“god… fuck… you’re still throbbing. and tighter than usual.”

his guttural moans as he slowly thrusts in and out of you stirs you up. his dick makes a little bulge on your tummy, really showing off his girth and length. the sofa creases as he speeds up, and with every thrust comes a little creaking noise from it. your breathing already unsteady, sukuna comes down to suckle on your nipples, grasping your flesh tightly, enamoured by your tits.

he’d always had an obsession with them, using any chance throughout the day to grope you under your shirt. his warm tongue rolls over you, lips pressed against your skin. you hate how it makes you moan uncontrollably, when he touches you the way he wants.

“why’re you so fuckin’ cute? can’t leave you the fuck alone…” sukuna pants, finally detaching himself away from your tits. his hips start bucking out of rhythm, which means that he’s about to cum soon.

“stop, i can’t,” you quaver, but your hand flies to the back of his head, contradicting your words.

he continues fucking you as he pleases, leaving bite marks all over your slutty breasts, cockhead rubbing up against your cervix. tears protruding your eyes, you whine helplessly, your pussy leaking more juices that run down the shaft of his cock and his balls.

“i-i can’t…” you repeat, eyes glossing over as you orgasm again while your voice cries out.

“shit… fuck yeah, squeeze me just like that,” he grunts, your cunt fluttering around him. your body quivers, but he holds you down in place before he pulls out last minute and cums outside, onto you. he strokes himself quickly as his seed comes out in long spurts, coating your stomach and chest.

“such a waste to cum anywhere but inside you,” he relents, finishing himself up, cock twitching weakly in his hand, “but i’ve always wanted to see you covered with me.”

you don’t even seem to be listening to him, eyes spacing out as you quietly heave, mind numb from the overstimulation you just went through. he looks at the mess he’s made of you with pride, and goes down again to kiss you on the lips.

“since you were so obedient, i’ll help clean you up today,” sukuna tells you, humming as he lifts you up into his arms.

***

…from then onwards, it seems that he’s gotten rather fond of giving you aftercare.

he’ll kiss and cradle you in his arms afterwards for a little longer. follow you around the house, touching your body from behind. on the rare occasion that he cooks, he wants you to eat with him. drags you to his room at night, or barges into yours, claiming that he just feels like sleeping with you today. and when you share a bed with him, he pulls you into his arms and holds you tight.

much like…

much like a boyfriend does.

the birds chirp outside your window, while you sit up in bed and look down at the large man who still remains in his slumber. that makes no sense. you don’t love this man. and he’s your step brother, for fuck’s sake. this can’t be happening.

you’re so afraid.

his peaceful, sleeping face instills fear within you.

are you falling for him? someone like sukuna?

part one

masterlist.

#sukuna x reader #sukuna smut #sukuna #tw noncon #tw dark content

[hannibals-favourite-meal]

.⋆｡Call Your Mom｡⋆.

Clark Kent x plus size reader

I'll drive, I'll drive all night I'll call your mom

Stick Season (We'll All Be Here Forever)

Music softly played through the shitty sound system in your car, providing enough noise for you to stay awake but not enough to wake your passenger. Every few minutes, your eyes would flick over to him as if to make sure that he wasn’t just some hallucination that your caffeine addled mind conjured up. But the way that the rare street lamps would cast a yellow glow onto his face and the occasional shift in his sleep meant that he was very real.

Even in the dim light of this back country road, you could see the tear tracks on his cheeks and the dark bags beneath his eyes. He looked so much smaller than you remembered him, weighed down by the world. You wondered briefly about how long he had felt this way, did it start recently or was it always there, just buried beneath a smile and those bright blue eyes that lingered in your dreams.

He drew in a shuddering breath but then settled back to sleep, the wrinkle of worry above his brow slowly disappearing with each mile you drove. You bit back the urge to push back the lone black curl that had fallen onto his forehead. Instead, you gripped the steering wheel even tighter and thought back to a few hours before, when you received a call from someone you thought you would never hear from again.

You were half paying attention to some late night television show, half awake and numb with the lateness of the hour but the relative calmness of your night was interrupted by the ringing of a phone. Without looking, you fished your phone from the side table and pressed it to your ear. “Yeah?”

Expecting a telemarketer or some automated message, you were shocked as the speakers let out a pitiful sob followed by a voice you used to know so well. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know who else to call- I just- Please.” 

The drive to his apartment went by quick as you forced yourself to act upon instinct and not listen to the still hurting part of your soul that told you to let him suffer just the same as he left you to do so. The achingly familiar walk up the stairs to his apartment made that little voice grow louder and louder until you could barely ignore it.

Your knuckles hovered over the painted wood of his front door, your nerves screaming at you to leave but then the door opened and you knew that you couldn’t. 

Clark Kent, Superman- always so well put together, so stupidly perfect in every way- looked like he was crumbling right before your eyes. Like a great tree wilting away, he was bowed forwards, pale and trembling. You let him pull you into a hug and he collapsed into your arms.

It had been months since the last time you had felt his touch, you were out of practice, slightly clumsy as you cradled his head in one hand and stroked his back with the other. But it was muscle memory, your instincts guiding you back to that spot on the left side of his spine halfway down his back that always had a knot in it but when you dug your fingers into the muscle, he melted, pushing his face into the crook of your neck as his sobs began to taper off.

Neither of you said a word, the discussion, the awkward conversation and the inevitable fight could wait- for a while at least. He trailed behind you like a lost puppy as you guided him down to your car. He squished himself into your small passenger seat and leaned his head against the window as soon as the door shut. 

He fell asleep less than 5 minutes after you started driving, this would have normally annoyed you but you knew he needed the rest and you didn’t need to hear the sound of his voice as your mind reminded you what used to be. 

Soon, street lights and paved roads gave way to corn fields and the gentle sway of a well-worn dirt track. The porch light was on, guiding you home through the darkness. As you pulled into the driveway that you had driven onto countless times before, the screen door opened and Martha, still dressed in her dressing gown, stepped out.

“Clark. You’re home.” You placed a gentle hand onto his shoulder, softly waking him. Those gorgeous blue eyes looked up at you, reflecting the full moon perfectly. He glanced past your body to where his mother stood then back to you. “It’s gonna be ok.”

His smile was enough to make you forget the miles driven in the dead of night, to heal the heartbreak caused by his hand, to remind you that all things can be set right once more.

[Verse 1] Oh, you're spiralin' again The moment right before it ends you're most afraid of But don't you cancel any plans 'Cause I won't let you get the chance to never make them [Pre-Chorus] Stayed on the line with you the entire night 'Til you let it out and let it in [Chorus] Don't let this darkness fool you All lights turned off can be turned on I'll drive, I'll drive all night I'll call your mom Oh, dear, don't be discouraged I've been exactly where you are I'll drive, I'll drive all night I'll call your mom I'll call your mom [Verse 2] Waiting room, no placе to stand Just greatest fears and wringing hands and thе loudest silence If you could see yourself like this If you could see yourself like this, you'd've never tried it [Pre-Chorus] Stayed on the line with you the entire night 'Til you told me that you had to go [Chorus] Don't let this darkness fool you All lights turned off can be turned on I'll drive, I'll drive all night I'll call your mom Oh, dear, don't be discouraged I've been exactly where you are I'll drive, I'll drive all night I'll call your mom [Bridge] Medicate, meditate, swear your soul to Jesus Throw a punch, fall in love, give yourself a reason Don't wanna drive another mile wonderin' if you're breathin' So won't you stay, won't you stay, won't you stay with me? Medicate, meditate, save your soul for Jesus Throw a punch, fall in love, give yourself a reason Don't wanna drive another mile without knowin' you're breathin' So won't you stay, won't you stay, won't you stay with me? [Chorus] Don't let this darkness fool you All lights turned off can be turned on I'll drive, I'll drive all night I'll call your mom Oh, dear, don't be discouraged I've been exactly where you are I'll drive, I'll drive all night I'll call your mom I'll call your mom

All works

@im-a-slut-for-fluff @alexxavicry @ravenwings73 @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @silverfire475 @psychadelichues @mvyalx @faefanatic @evansqueen54 @anamiad00msday @th3slothy @princess76179 @Lanielagenev @luvvvjada @Lucypaulette @midnight-shadow-va @km-ffluv

DC

@snedhdh @kobaltdragon @blackhawkfanatic @8bookishworm8

#stick season (we’ll all be here forever) #clark kent x plus size reader #clark kent x reader #clark kent x you #female reader #plus size reader #reader insert #clark x plus size reader #clark kent x female reader #clark x reader #clark x you #clark x y/n #clark kent x y/n #superman x reader #superman x plus size reader #angst

[charlie-lec-stories]

Clumsy // CL16

Pairing: Charles Leclerc / Sainz!sister

Summary: Charles' clumsiness is a curse and blessing.

Warnings: None

Author’s Note: I love clumsy Charles, this story was perfect for this blog. Rate: PG

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Charles Leclerc has always been clumsy. His hands were constantly struggling to keep things steady and his grip was as slippery as pavement on a rainy day. Every piece of food that intended to get into his mouth often did a technical stop at his shirts and most of the brewages ran down the ends of his lips, failing to make it to his tongue. It was a shock to everyone when he decided that he wanted to drive cars in weirdly shaped circles at 300 kph for a living. Charles, the kid who couldn't play basketball because he always loss the grip of the ball, wanted to keep the pace of a car through the sharp corners of the most iconic Grand Prixs. No one could believe it, but they were even more stunned when he ended up being actually great a it. He was really great at it and that, ladies and gentlemen, was the real shock. He still had his fair share of accidents around the paddock, like when he ran into a tyre, falling face-first on the floor while he was trying to go to the bathroom, or when he drove over his own phone with the car because he forgot he left it next to one of the wheels when he kneeled down to tie his shoe. Those were pretty embarrassing moments for Charles, but lucky him, they were private, hidden behind the friendship and confidentiality that characterized his team in Ferrari. But when he thought he couldn't hurt his pride any more, he found a new level of embarrassment.

It was his most guarded secret that he liked Carlos Sainz Jr.'s younger sister. Carlos was his teammate, and Y/N Sainz was a driver for Mercedes, along side Lewis Hamilton. More than "like her", Charles worshipped her. He thought the world of her, admiring everything she did like it was God-touched art. From her skilled driving to her pretty face, Charles could spend his entire life just watching her exist. But his little -massive- crush felt like treason to him, the sting of guilt stabbing him in the chest every time he was in the same room as the Sainz siblings. The younger Sainz constantly spent her free time at the Ferrari garage, glued to her older brother like they were joined by the hip. This meant that Charles had her around all the time, resulting in him letting things slip from his hands, knocking things off tables and tripping over his own feet on a daily basis. He just couldn't keep it together around her and even though she find it cute, he still felt awkward about it. Embarrassing himself in front of Y/N Sainz was his speciality so when him, her and Max Verstappen got a podium together, he did what he does best: fuck it up. She had her hair down, the soft wind of Australia moving it around slightly and he couldn't help but watch it flow while she moved her hands around as she spoke. They were all ready for the podium picture, Max and Y/N were talking about their cars when they were asked to stand close to each other, facing the large amount of cameras with live feeds straight to millions of viewers around the world. Max let Y/N stand in the middle, his arm going over her shoulder while Charles positioned at her other side, mimicking the winner of the race.

"Charles, your suit is open". One of the press correspondents said and he looked down to confirm that his race suit was, in fact, not zipped up. Everything happened in a fraction of a second, he turned around to zip it, the velcro of the sleeve of his suit attached to a strand of hair that was close and as he quickly zipped up his suit that strand of hair got stuck on the zipper. When he turned around back again, Y/N yelped in pain, her head moving sharply towards his chest.

"Auch!". Was all she initially left out, followed by a hiss when she tried to stand straight again. He didn't know what to do, so he did the first thing that came to mind, he zipped down his suit. Her head went even lower as her hair got even more tangled to the zipper. "Charles, you're making it worse!"

"I'm so sorry!". He was about to zip it up again, his face red in a mix of embarrassment and concert for the pain he was causing her.

"Don't!". She yelled and grabbed his hand to stop him. He felt like his hand was on fire, but his spine suddenly cold. He could feel her touch through his body, his brain stopping functioning. "Let me do it". She said calmly as she grabbed her hair and zipper. Her hand so close to his chest was giving him a hard time breathing, he just hoped that no one got to see his blushed cheeks on TV. She worked on her hair for a few seconds, but the public situation wasn't exactly a comfortable space for her to do her thing patiently.

They had to cut it and the missing part was so evident that she was close to crying. She did the best she could to smile anyways and they took the picture. The moment was live streamed and the memes from the fans quickly invaded Twitter. He lost count of how many times he apologized to her, but even if she told him that it was alright as many times, he still felt awful about it. His mother was coincidentally at the race that weekend and she was a hairdresser, so Charles came up with an idea and offered her to ask his mother to fix the mess he made. Y/N agreed and they both walked to the Ferrari lodgings, where his family was. She wanted it fixed for the podium party that night. In the room, she found Arthur, who she already knew from previous races, Charles' older brother Lorenzo and their mother, Pascale. After the proper greetings, Charles' mother took a look at her hair.

"You really did a number here, Char. What a shame, this is a beautiful hair". Both Charles and Y/N blushed, Charles from embarrassment and her at the praise to her hair.

"Thank you, Mrs. Leclerc". She smiled and the older woman mimicked the gesture. The Spaniard sat in front of a mirror and Pascale started working.

"Toc toc". Carlos voice rang behind Charles at the door. "Ah, veo que estáis solucionando el desastre de Charles" (Oh, I see that you're fixing Charles' mess). Carlos stood beside his sister and then looked at Charles. "Next time put some space between the two of you". He said it with a playful smile, but Charles could see that Carlos was being serious about it. The older man was extremely protective over his younger sister and Charles knew that it was hard to pass Carlos' test when it came to being good enough for his little sister. Y/N smacked her brother's arm softly.

"Be nice". She said in a warning tone. "He didn't do it on purpose". She locked eyes with Charles through the mirror and he smiled at her.

"Still, he should keep his distance. You don't need to be all squished together for the picture". There was no point in arguing with him, she knew the hair wasn't the problem, for Carlos, Charles was. Carlos was sure that his teammate liked his sister and he wasn't too happy about it. The siblings talked about it a few times, the older one even offering to go to the Mercedes garage instead of her going to Ferrari's just to keep her away from Charles.

"Max was pretty close too". Arthur added and Charles knew that even though his brother was trying to help him, he ended up doing the contrary.

"Yes, he was". Carlos said in a monotone voice. "But like Charles here...". He put his arm around Charles shoulders. "He won't anymore". Charles nodded slowly while looking at Carlos. "Okay, I'll see you guys later". He dropped his arm from Charles shoulders and bended down to kiss his sister on the cheek. "Pórtate bien, chiquita. Te veo para cenar" (Behave, kiddo. I'll see you at dinner). And with that, Carlos walked out, proud of leaving a terrified Charles behind.

Everyone kept talking while Charles' mother finished with her hair, Charles keeping his distance even though Carlos wasn't present. When the cut was done, Y/N looked even better than before. She smiled and turned around, moving her hair around and looking at it in the mirror. She exclaimed how much she loved it repeatedly and she hugged Pascale tightly. Charles smiled like a fool watching her move around, his eyes going through every millimeter of her face, the way her brown eyes closed a bit as her cheeks went up with her big smile and how her lips looked even more pinkish after biting on them through the whole cut. After many 'thank you's and another round of hugs, Y/N waltzed out the room, going to her own facility to change and get ready for the podium party. She posted a picture with her knew haircut and she tagged Charles, letting all the fans know that everything was alright between them.

"Thanks @ charles_leclerc for the free haircut but please stick to driving. Thanks to his mom tho, for fixing it". Arthur read out loud for all of the Leclerc's to hear. Charles was smiling again, his eyes scanning the selfie and reading the caption over and over again.

The party was alright, everyone was having fun and Y/N was rocking her new hair. Charles followed her around most of the night, wishing he had the guts to ask her to dance with him or invite her a drink. He was too scared, he feared he would make a fool of himself again, the last thing he needed was to step on her or make her fall while dancing. After two hours of not knowing what to do, he found himself sitting on a couch, kind of down and looking at the bottom of his glass. The couch dipped at his left and he looked up, finding a pair of brown eyes looking back at him.

"Why so blue, Charlie?". The girl of his dreams asked him, and he found himself at loss of words. Arthur watched his brother from afar, sensing that he was about to screw up, so he quickly walked to them and saved his big brother with the first thing that came to his drunken mind.

"So, are you coming?". He asked and both drivers looked at him puzzled.

"Where to?". She answered.

"Charles didn't tell you!". He faked surprise. "Next week is Monaco, and Maman will celebrate her birthday, she wanted to know if you want to come". Arthur quickly lied. Charles looked up at his brother unsure of what was happening. He felt Y/N gaze on him so he turned around to face her.

"I'm sorry, I forgot to tell you". Charles said quickly. "I was so busy with the press and then we didn't even talked here... I just... sorry". He trailed off at the end. He didn't even know how to properly lie. She smiled.

"Don't worry, and of course I'll go. Your mom is super nice!". She exclaimed excitedly. Arthur walked away and gave his brother a thumbs up, getting an eye roll from Charles.

"Y/N! It's nice to see you again". Lorenzo greeted her when he opened the door. He then moved his gaze to Carlos, who was standing next to his sister. "Nice to see you too, Carlos".

"We come bearing gifts!". The younger Spaniard showed Lorenzo the red wine bottle they brought.

"Wow". He said grabbing the bottle. "With a gift like this you two just earned the VIP Leclerc Experience". The siblings laughed with Lorenzo as he moved aside to let them in. "Maman is in the back yard, with Charles and my girlfriend, Charlotte. Go on, make yourselves at home". Y/N looked around until she found the door to the back yard. Her brother followed her close behind.

"Oh, Y/N! Carlos! I'm so glad you're here!". Pascale got up from the table and walked to them, kissing both their cheeks.

"Happy birthday, Mrs. Leclerc!". Y/N handed her the gift Carlos and her made for the Leclerc matriarch. Pascale opened the little box and found a bracelet inside with three red beads. "Since all of you wear bracelets, we made this one for you, it has three beads, one for each of your kids. We hope you like it".

"I love it!". The older woman took the bracelet out of the box and started to put it on.

"Let me help". Carlos offered. He clipped the bracelet around Pascale's wrist and then she led them to the table. Y/N sat next to Charles, while she proudly watched Pascale admire her gift.

"I think she really likes it". Charles whispered to her. "You choose great".

"Thanks, but you should credit Carlos, I made the bracelet, but it was his idea". Charles looked at his teammate, who was now talking to Arthur and Carla, Arthur's girlfriend, the last two to arrive. The rest of the guests kept arriving, all of them family and close friends. Carlos was amicably talking to Charles' cousins, finally forgetting about his sister. They spent an amazing day. The bottle of wine that the two Spaniards brought was going around the table when the party was entering its last hour, Charles poured some in Y/N's glass. The only ones in the table were Charles' brothers, their girlfriends, Carlos, two cousins and them, the birthday girl having excused herself when the only ones remaining were the young.

"You know, I brought this really expensive wine you're drinking right now and Lorenzo told me that it granted me a VIP Leclerc Experience". Charles could hear the teasing in her whispered voice. "Tell me, Charles, what does this VIP pass include?". Y/N grabbed the glass and took it to her lips. He felt like the wine and her perfume were making him dumber by the second, he wanted to give her a cheeky answer, but he found himself speechless. He finished pouring himself the wine but when he tried to set the bottle on the table, he missed it, spilling the wine over Y/N's lap, staining her white sundress. Everyone stopped talking and looked at them. Charles could feel his face heating up from embarrassment and didn't dare to look at the woman next to him.

"I'm so, so sorry". He said quickly as he tried his best to clean up her dress. He avoided looking at her face and kept repeating his apology over and over again.

"It's okay, Charles". She sighed. "It was an accident".

"I think there's some clothes bleach in the ground floor bathroom". Arthur said quickly. Lorenzo was about to stand up when his little brother kept him down by his arm and shook his head. "Why don't you guys go there? You'll be more comfortable". Y/N looked at her brother who was looking back at her sternly. He didn't like the idea of Charles and his sister alone in a bathroom. Any other day, she would have followed her brother's rules, but she really liked Charles and even though she still wanted to kill him for ruining her dress, she got up and thanked Arthur for the information. Charles clumsily got up too and walked behind her into the house.

"I'm really sorry, Y/N". He repeated while they were squished together inside the small bathroom. They were furiously rubbing a wet cloth with bleach over the red stain but it was persisting. Charles was doing his best to ignore that the dress was up enough for him to see most of her legs and the physical closeness forced by the little space they had wasn't helping.

"Please, stop apologizing". She begged him. She huffed and stopped working on the dress. The temperature inside the little bathroom was going up and they were feeling the heat. She opened the tap and soaked her hands. Running her hand over her forehead to freshen up her face, she looked at him. "You're the clumsiest person I know, I swear". Charles looked down, embarrassed, while she dried her hands with a towel.

"I'm sor-".

"Don't". She cut him off. "Instead of apologizing you should start making it up to me". He felt her hands on his chest and he snapped his head up instantly. She was looking back at him with a smirk, confidence plastered on her face. She slowly ran her hands up to his neck, playing with the hair at the back of his head. She moved closer and Charles felt the air caught up in his throat.

"Carlos is going to be really mad. He's going to kill us both". The last part came up a little breathier than he expected it. She giggled a little, it was kind of cute that he was actually that scared of her brother.

"I'll deal with him, don't worry". She moved closer to him, her lips ghosting his ear. "But first we have to do something for him to get mad about, don't we?". And there went the last bit of self control that Charles had in him.

Carlos was getting impatient and Arthur and Lorenzo had ran out of ideas to keep him sat at the table. They kept offering wine but, as a worthy Spaniard, the man could drink it like it was water. His grandfather would be proud of his alcohol tolerance. Carlos checked the time a few times, looking back at the door to the house to see if his sister ever came out. Carla and Charlotte kept asking him questions and he was doing the best he could to answer them as politely as possible. At some point, it was all too much.

"C'mon! What's taking them so long?". He asked to no one in particular and everyone at the same time. The girls looked at each other worried.

"Tu ne veux pas savoir". (You don't wanna know). Arthur mumbled. Carlos frowned at him. With wide eyes, Arthur tried to make up a fake translation. "I said-"

"Don't bother". Carlos cut him off as he got up from the table. "I speak french". And with that last comment that left the others speechless, he walked into the house. He looked for the bathroom for a few minutes, kind of lost by the amount of doors around the ground floor. Next to the stairs, a door caught his attention. Inside, he heard a sound like a giggle. He opened the door as he asked. "¿Y/N, estás aquí?". (Are you in here?).

"¡Mierda!". (Shit!). Inside, his sister was sitting on the counter, her legs wrapped around his teammate, who was shamelessly sucking a hickey on her neck. Charles quickly moved back, hitting his back against the wall, that was a lot closer to them than he had calculated. Y/N jumped down and walked to the door, standing between her brother and a disheveled Charles, with his shirt half open and hair messy.

"¡Joder, Charles! ¿Con mi hermana?". (Fuck, Charles! With my sister?). Y/N could see her brother's face reddening with anger. "I'm fucking killing you".

"Ahora no, Carlitos, I'm getting the VIP Leclerc Experience". (Not now). She closed the door on his face and turned around. "Okay, where were we?"

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As always, I hope you like it!

#charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc one shot #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc imagines

[nerdyjournals]

When you have a dangerous hobby/job

ship: bf!skz x reader

Notes: talks of sharp objects and dangerous scenarios, mentions of injuries and bruises

skz masterlist

Bang Chan

found out you had been axe throwing since age 15, was a little worried when he realized how easily they can bounce back

tagged along to one of your sessions, super impressed by every bullseye you hit

thought he saw it all until you pulled out the knives. you are far more accurate with those than the axes

the kids joke that he started dating a carnie and he squared up at the playful insult much to your own amusement

felt proud when stay found out bc they said that you'd be his personal bodyguard from now on, made both of you laugh

though he's supportive, he does get a little worried when he sees you with the large knife in the kitchen

Lee Know

accidentally found out that you moonlight as the top driver at a demolition derby after he tagged along with his friend

after what he's been through, it was a major worry that one hit would be too damaging

upon confronting you, you admitted that you had been doing this long before you started dating

you love the rush and the sound of the cheers when your car gets the final blow

seeing the worry, you invite him to one of the practices so he can see all of the safety measures the arena has in place, talking to every on staff medic and stunt coordinator

you find it sweet that he worries so much, but also that he doesn't really try to stop you as he sees the light shine when you're behind the wheel

Changbin

was a little confused when someone at the gym started talking to you about a new course, but felt his heart panic when you said you do high-risk parkour

rather than do it on lower courses, you and your other friends scaled parking garages, apartment complexes, and even main street buildings at night

he knows that you're quick and agile, but you're also a bit clumsy. he's seen you trip over air before

honestly, he tries to talk you out of it but knows that it won't do anything. the least you could do was put him down as an emergency contact alongside your parents as long as you two were dating

when he does finally see you in action, he's blown away. it's like there was a whole new person just waiting to be introduced to him

he calls you his little superhero after all of this

Hyunjin

the man may be an artist himself but when he walks into your studio for the first time to find you wielding a chainsaw, he's admittedly a little scared

you took up chainsaw carving as a hobby after seeing some at festivals, finding the act soothing and stress relieving

the amount of horror stories you have about chains snapping and hospital visits have him going green in the face, but you assure him that you do safety checks before and after each session as well as every thirty minutes

it isn't until your first exhibit that he realizes how much the medium means to you

he asks if you two can collaborate on a piece, one where you carve and he paints it. it becomes one of his favorite pieces

he eventually gets to see you in true form when you wield a chain-less chainsaw to scare people in a haunted house. let's just say, he knows not to make you mad anymore

Han

when you told him that you raced on a bike, he thought you meant a bicycle not a motorcycle

though street racing is frowned upon when not for a certain event, you found the thrill in racing through empty streets, parking garages, warehouses, and farmlands

he wanted to support you, but with you going out with nothing but a helmet, his anxiety went through the roof

to this day, he's still not happy about it but won't stop you because he loves you. he worries even more when you come back with bumps and bruises but no trophy

sooner or later, the others found out and the company hired you to film stunts for content and b-rolls for their groups. the pride that filled him when you went from illegal racer to professional stunt driver was warranted, but still wanted you certified

Felix

he's taken an aerial yoga class for a skz code, but that's nothing compared to what you do

the way your dance performance incorporates the dance form almost scares him as you fall at great speeds, unraveling or spinning with no spotter

he knows that he should trust in your abilities, but worry sinks into him at every drop and sign of a malfunction. it takes a lot in him to keep from running out on to stage to save you

you had been doing this long before you met, having taken dance lessons next to the aerial studio. you specialize in the silks but enjoy the lyra ring and the rope as well

your upper body's strength became super impressive, jokingly picking up your partner whenever you wanted

Seungmin

you never really talked about your job when around him, but he found out eventually when you showed up on the same interview program with him

contortion wasn't really seen as a job, but you felt pride in your abilities when you were cast for horror movies and traveling shows

he was super worried about the long term effects the talent could have on your body, especially your spine as you had always complained about pain there before

you try to assure him that you've been trained to do this from a young age, knowing the safety measures and when to pull out of a trick

you two always joke with the guys when you visit him on tour, making it seem like he packed you in a suitcase from the last location

I.N

it all started when he saw little dots of purple on your legs and arms. they weren't anywhere else, but eventually he asked you about them as he had feared the worst about your family

you assured him that was from your bi-weekly paintball battles that you and your friends do as a form of bonding. it gets out the aggression from the week as week as gives some relief to any sibling drama

he finds it interesting, having wanted to go but his job won't really let him due to the risk of injury

you end up sneaking him into your next session, showing him the ropes and keeping him safe from your sibling's wrath

he sees you in a whole different light, joking that you should go to the military instead of him

#kpop fanfic #stray kids x reader #stray kids imagines #skz fic #skz imagines #skz au #skz fanfic #skz x reader #stray kids fanfic #stray kids

[meguwumibear]

yakuza!shouto x reader writing warm up

you fucked up.

badly.

broke into the wrong place at the worst time.

in your defense, you've been casing the joint for hours. it was supposed to be empty. how the hell were you supposed to know it was anything but?

the scene before you is gruesome. the body on the floor still warm. and the killers? yeah, they're staring straight at your dumb fucking ass.

you just had to choose this fucking house to break into. didn't you? what shitty fucking luck—not that you've ever been on particularly good terms with the lady. besides, you're really a horrible thief. too loud. too clumsy. probably should've gone into construction instead.

you're fast at least. from all these years of running. you're good at creating space, at keeping a distance between yourself and others. thank fuck for that because if your speed fails you now you are most certainly going to eat a bullet for dinner.

maybe a bullet wouldn't be so bad actually. you've had worse things to eat. what kind of metals are in bullets anyway? your anemic ass could certainly use some iron.

focus.

there's a car running in the driveway. likely an escape vehicle which means it would be an absolutely stupid thing to steal. the assholes are probably tracking it somehow. hitmen do shit like that, right? they keep close watch on their property?

the footsteps behind you are close. way too close for comfort.

fuck it. whatever. gambling's never been your vice, but it's probably worth the risk. you'll just hightail it out of here and ditch the car the moment you get the chance.

the driver's side door swings open when you pull at the handle.

idiots. who forgets to lock their fucking getaway car?

no matter. you're not one to look gift stupidity in the mouth. those morons can eat your fucking dust.

you throw the car in reverse and slam your foot on the pedal just as two hulking forms come into view. they have their weapons raised, poised to shoot.

tires screech on gravel as you tear down the driveway. you keep your head low in case your pursuers decide to empty their entire magazine into the back seat in a last ditch effort to kill you.

the rain of bullets never comes.

odd.

they probably could've hit you. is the car you're in worth so much they wouldn't risk dinging it?

the moment you hit the city you pull the car into a narrow alleyway and shift gears into park.

the night is too quiet and still. it does nothing to keep your mind off of your rabbiting heart. the stupid fucking thing is beating so fast you're certain you're setting some sort of world record.

you take a long deep breath in to steady yourself, relaxing your grip on the wheel.

"i'd torch the thing if i were you," comes a voice from the backseat. "you're dead if they find even a trace of something that could lead them to you."

that rabbiting heart of yours? yeah, it near about stops. you can barely find the courage to turn to meet the eyes of whoever the fuck you just took for a joyride.

the man is beautiful in a way that cuts like a knife. lean build. smooth skin...well mostly smooth anyway. there's what looks like a long since healed burn around his left eye.

the man also has a gun in his hand. he's not pointing it at you. he's not even fucking looking at you. he has his elbow propped on the window and his head resting in his hand.

yeah, you are so totally screwed.

"arson's not really my thing, but thanks for the tip," you reply, throwing open the door. it hits the brick wall of the alley with a dull thud.

you wince at the impact, wondering how much it costs to buff that kind of dent out of a car like this.

you chance a glance behind you, and the man is looking at you now, red eyebrows raised in amusement.

fuck.

motherfucker's toying with you.

there isn't a large enough gap for you to wriggle out of the car, and you don't have the strength to yank the door closed again now that you've so dimwittedly sandwiched it into the wall.

the asshole in the back's just watching you. he seems curious what you'll do next.

psh, as if the solution isn't obvious.

you start the car, moving the gear stick into drive, and slowly scrape your way down the alleyway, aiming for the entrance.

"bit conspicuous, don't you think?"

"shut up," you spit, stopping the car nonetheless. "like you could come up with anything better."

a lazy smile touches the corner of his lips.

"i'd never get myself into such a predicament. i would have-" the man is cut off by a buzzing in his pocket.

holy shit he has a phone on him?!

"do you mind?" he asks, answering the call anyway. "i kind of need to take this."

#shouto x reader #shouto x you #bnha x reader #bnha x you #shouto todoroki x reader #shouto todoroki x you #todoroki shouto x reader #todoroki shouto x you #mha x reader #mha x you

[gumilac]

"thank you..."

MEGUMI smiles as he pays for your books, handing his card to the cashier, as soon as the worker got it to punch the books, he faces you and pats your head affectionately.

"you're welcome."

feeling shy because you asked and wanted these, you shuffled closer to him and poked his arm. fidgeting with your fingers, you smile up at the cashier who was observing you both as he hands back megumi's card. he packages it up nicely in a bag and hands it to you, muttering a small thank you. to which you return.

megumi nods his head at the worker, and wraps his arms around your shoulder, turning around to walk out the store.

"thank you again," you mutter once you step out the book shop. looking up at him, he smiles and megumi kisses your forehead before squeezing your arm.

"anything for you, sweetheart."

humming, you feel shy as you walk up to his car and megumi notices this but makes no comment. he only smiles and kisses your head once you reach his vehicle.

"did you know i bumped into someone?"

"did you?" he asks, placing a hand on your head rest, leaning back to reverse the car.

"mhm hmm, she didn't mean it. we were both clumsy, and i apologized, so did she."

"that's good then," his eyes focused on the road behind him, and looks at you with a smile when he changes the gear to front, "glad nobody was hurt."

you smile, gently patting the paper bag that your books are in. the crinkling of paper ringing in the car, but he does not stop you. he starts driving and you're unable to contain yourself from the word vomit that keeps leaving you.

"i saw a cat, they said those strays are being taken care of by the place."

megumi turns a corner and hums, stopping at a red light. he looks at you, one hand on the steering wheel, the other holds your hand, "really? that way they have collars?"

"yeah, it's pretty nice of them."

"hmm, very." he tilts his head and admires your features, softened by the night light of street lamps. pretty, he thinks. so pretty.

"i remember tripping on the sidewalk when i was young."

he raises his brows, and slowly nods his head, "did it hurt?"

"no, but it was funny because i was walking alone and no one tripped me on purpose."

"typical you," megumi softly laughs, his low voice reverberating in the car. he quiets down and takes a peek at the light. still red.

"oh, they said that every star we see is bigger than the sun," you peek out the window before looking back at megumi again, "did you know?"

he shakes his head and grins, lop-sided, "i did not, no."

"i read it somewhere, i forgot why that is though."

"we can search it when we get home?"

looking up at him, you smile, eyes almost closing from how happy you are because of the books he bought for you, and him just listening.

"we can."

megumi chuckles softly and leans in to place a soft kiss on your cheek. he pulls back, just enough for your noses to touch and cerulean hues peek behind half-lidded eyes as he looks at you.

he loves moments like this, conversations that might seem they aren't entirely significant, but it is to him. they aren't really connected with each other, the topics, but that doesn't matter because he'll listen. talking about nothing and everything, he'll love every bit of it because it's you.

"i love you..."

aki's notes. anyone else get really chatty all of a sudden and shy when they're bought something, or get what they want from someone? bc me, yes so here's a quick, vvv self indulgent bc i got books today hihi >>_<<

#megumi x reader #megumi x you #megumi fushiguro #megumi #fushiguro #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk megumj #『 ✎ ; aiko bakes ☕🥨 』

[ceruleancattail]

First and foremost I wanna say congrats on 1,300 Ceru!💖💖💖 You literally deserve every follower and more, your writings are so immersive and well-written and you bring so, so much to this little fandom that you are practically a pillar in my humble opinion! Not to mention you are such a sweet friend and a joy to talk to and interact with! FRFR I’m really happy we met.🥺

Ngl, I’m a bit embarrassed to actually request fluff for Leona Kingscholar... BUT I WANNA SUPPORT YOU BBY SO HERE IT GOES. ATEM (Hopefully this is okay? I like NEVER request things bc I’m too embarrassed.)

Sorta based off my last art? Pre-existing situation-ship? Because of the hectic events that always happen at Night Raven College the two never seem to get time alone to be a “normal” couple. The lion man is so down bad he actually agrees when the Sage Island Diner is suggested after one of his Spelldrive games. They looked so cute cheering him on after all. In fact, he might secretly have a soft spot for these things: vinyl records, vintage movies, and greasy diner food. He’s such a pushover he even finds a used car on the island so he can drive them around on their very first date. Leona never thought he’d be the sentimental type, but when his feisty Cottontail’s gaze softens on him as they slide in his passenger seat, maybe it’s all been worth the trouble. (BRB GONNA GO DELETE MY BLOG NOW.) Love you, Ceru!

Challenges

Dreamy Day Event

Leona x reader

Leaning back into your seat, leather smooth against your legs. The backrest creaked backwards, slanted for your comfort. The interior reeked of air freshener, the sharp scent stinging your nostrils. It hung from the mirror, dangling loosely. It was loosely modelled in the shape of a leaf, an startling emerald green.

The same colour as the driver’s eyes.

Those emerald pupils flickered up to the mirror, a scar jagging through one of them. As if sensing your gaze, the edges of his eyes crinkled in a smile.

An elbow found it’s way into your arm, jabbing at you playfully. You shove back, huffing. Rapping your knuckles on the wheel, you gestured forward.

“Focus, Leona. I refuse to have that dinner as my last meal.”

A snarky laugh, bursting from the depths of Leona’s gut. A deep chuckle, slightly raspy. It geared against your ears as it echoed through the car.

It wasn’t the most unpleasant sound, honestly.

To your disappointment, his hand didn’t return to the wheel. With a chuckle, Leona drops his arm over your shoulders, a weight pressing onto your form.

Warmth pulses through it, bleeding into your skin. Like daisies in the sun, you muse silently. Despite yourself, you find yourself melting into his touch. Forget daises. You’re a slab of butter, left to the mercy of the gentle, golden rays of the sun.

His hand caresses your skin, fingers tapping into you. A clumsy beat, following the song crackling through the speakers. An old song, with the vocalist particularly purring into the microphone.

Singing about love, of course.

What else?

Retro seemed to be the theme for today. Your gaze flickers to Leona. His outfit certainly reflected that.

A leather jacket, left open over a white shirt. His belt peeked from underneath, a skull of an animal of some sort acting as the buckle. With well-worn jeans and those sharp cowboy boots, Leona looked as if he just stepped out of one of Vil’s photoshoots.

Seating there, behind the wheel, there was just something so… natural about him. You can’t help but find his style oddly charming.

It wasn’t perfectly sculpted, styled to the latest trends. It was a rather simple,casual fit. You let your gaze wander, taking a good look at the man behind the wheel.

It suited Leona well.

A finger poked into your cheek, curling slightly. Clicking his tongue, Leona stroked your cheek much like how one would pet a fluffy little bunny. The ghost of a smirk playing on his lips,ivory white canines peeking out from within.

“Well, aren’t ya going to say anything, cottontail?”

Snorting, your head plops onto his shoulder. Nuzzling up to the crook of Leona’s neck.

“Thank you for the date, you arse.”

Carmel locks of hair brush against your neck, as Leona reciprocates the action. His head rests on yours, ears twitching ever so slightly. Stifling a laugh, you shove him off you.

“That tickles, fur ball !”

Raising an eyebrow, Leona bares his fangs at you. Snapping them playfully, nipping at you. His elbow jabs into your ribs, nudging you gently.

“Nah, nah, there’s something else ya gotta’ say, herbivore.

You know those three magic words, sweetheart.”

With a quick glance outside, Leona brings the car to a complete stop. You glare at him, curiosity burning within your eyes. He only shrugs, shoulders moving in one fluid motion. Raising his hands, Leona shoots you a grin, overflowing with smugness.

“I’m not driving until you say them to me, cottontail.”

Crossing your arms, you fix him with a stern look.

“You’re impossible.”

Barking out a laugh, Leona moved forward, resting his chin on his palm.

“I thought you liked a challenge?”

“No I don’t.”

Leaning in, your hands entangle themselves within those sweet caramel locks of his. Pulling him closer. The tip of your nose grazed his, Leona’s breath wafting over your lips.

“I love them.”

Your eyes met his.

“I love you.”

The corner of his lips twitch upwards. A sappy smile.

“Love ya too, cottontail.”

#twisted wonderland #twst #twisted wonderland x reader #disney twisted wonderland #twst x reader #Leona #Leona x reader #leona kingscholar #leona kingsholar x reader #Dreamy Day #HELP REN YOU GOT ME ALL SHY AND SHIT #LITERALLY SCREAMING #NAH NAH NAH I DON’T WRITE THAT GOOD BUT THANK YOU #A PILLAR IS OVERSTATING WJANWMWKWKWKKWKWIW UWAHHHHHHHBHHH #YOU CAN COOK AN EGG ON MY FACE #AHHHHHHHHHH #THANK YOU UEEEEEEEWWW #I HOPE THIS IS OK WISNSMNSJS #Leona behind a car wheel just makes so much sense to me #have fun on your date!!!!

[pey-up]

Hello! This is one of the first pieces of writing ive ever posted here, so, enjoy!

One / Divertissement

You know, lots of people look back on their teenage years in a lot of different ways. Some flush in embarrassment, remembering the crappy and stupid things they did. Some smile and laugh recalling the days of sneaking out late at night to meet up with friends. Some dream that they cherished those years more, frowning when they recollect they have bills due that week.Most people wish they could tell their ignorant, younger, more lively self something. A piece of advice.

“Don’t waste this time.”

“Love your parents, they’re not as stupid as you think.”

“Please please please for the love of God study, you cannot pass the final exam on memory alone.”

Although, that’s probably a stupid idea, as parents and adults tell children and students these messages daily. Usually they’re met with:

“The time will pass anyways.”

"You don’t know me.”

“Says you.”

So, in hindsight, it's a dumb idea.

Elora doesn’t know what her future self would tell her. Maybe she should study more? Cherish her youth more? Does it really matter? Maybe it does. Maybe it’s stupid to contemplate what her hypothetical future self would tell her, as currently she's not aware of any time machines that exist at the time. Hm. Maybe.

She approaches the stop sign, stuck deep into the dirt to avoid being blown away by the strong Pennsylvania winds to mark where the bus must stop, lest it not see her and miss her entirely, forcing her to walk all the way to school. (Despite the sign being here, this has happened multiple times.) The dirt is grossly muddy from previous rainy nights, and she's thankful for her boots for keeping her socks dry. Elora takes out her clunky headphones and clicks play, music flowing and dancing in the rain. The crisp sound fills her ears, melodically keeping her mind occupied with the lyrics, studying them and wondering what the meaning behind the words may be.

Eventually, finally, the faded yellow bus arrives, its wheels mucky and the color has grown faint from the passing years. The arm automatically swings open, presenting the stop sign to the cars passing, splashing the water at them. The doors scrunch together and allow her to step inside, so she does. In spite of the lack of a heating system it’s significantly warmer on the bus, wind no longer playing a factor in the chill that goes down her spine. The bus is usually quite empty- thank God- so she sits all on her lonesome.

After a long, and generally uneventful ride to school, students file out, Elora following suit. Unexciting, uninteresting, monotonous, unchanging, tedious, dull, synonyms of the sort are all definitely applicable to the day. (If one could call it that, the sun hasn’t even risen yet, and here were dozens of kids and adults alike up and ready.) Really, it’s unmemorable. Well, it would’ve been, if three strikingly different dressing teenagers weren’t squealing over something. One of the eccentric kids in the trio waves Elora over excitedly, resting her back on the wall.

“El! El! Over here!”

“I know you’re over here. This is where we meet daily. I’d be more surprised if nobody was here,” She replies, the inflection in her voice lacking flair.

“Well I didn’t want you to miss us!” Says Paige Madden, one of Elora's dear friends since the 6th grade (Paige and Elora both didn’t have anybody for a partner project, so Ms. Barlow put the two together. This event happened every time there was partner work, and they ended up agreeing that working together would be easiest.) Paige’s curly, dark hair fell into her eyes, always making Elora wonder how the girl could see where she was going. Although, it could be to blame for Paige’s clumsiness.

“What were you yelling about over here, anyways..? Did something bad happen?” She tilts her head, looking behind Paige at the other two trying to solve the mystery of their squeals. “Something good?”

“Edgar has a friend!” She points to the man himself, sitting on a ledge, allowing his legs to dangle off. He nods his head to them, cradling something in his hands. Elora takes a few steps close, curious as to what the ‘friend’ may be. She mentally decides in the moment that she’s going to murder Ed if he has a snake, and one of them gets bit. He notices Elora getting closer and leans forward, showing her.

“Don’t be scared, she bites,” He says with a smile, his necklaces clinking against each other like poor music.

"Don’t you mean she doesn’t bite?”

“No, no she bites. Nothing to be afraid of though, you know, unless you are.”

“Well said, Shakespeare.” Edgar chuckles a bit and moves his hand, cupping the small creature to show Elora. It’s a small ball of fluff, making high-pitched twittering sounds as its long narrow snout. Her eyebrows furrow, squinting at it.“Where did you find a shrew..?”

“Don’t even worry about it,” He says with a small smile, holding his little friend. “Her name is… Rue.”

“Oh, I like it!”

“What does it mean?”

“Adorable, obviously.”

“I mean. It doesn’t. You’re wrong,” Elora narrows her eyes, looking at the itty bitty creature.

“Well what does it mean then?”

“Uh- I don’t know?”

Edgar smiles. “Then how do you know I’m wrong?”

“Because it’s you.”

Edgar laughs a bit, the sound like honey, and turns back to his small friend. He and Paige begin talking about how he’s going to take care of it (and realizing not one of the three have any clue what Rue could feasibly eat.). The chattering lack of conversation, at least one directed at her, let her mind wander for just a moment. Her eyes traced the school walls, posters advertising events and clubs that sound interesting if she had the motivation to actually make a commitment. No clubs for her.

Paige always insisted Elora join one, despite her not belonging to one either. To be entirely fair she had her fair share of hobbies anyways. Sewing, knitting, crocheting, things she insists are completely different, no matter how similar they are.Elora however doesn’t have those things.

Yeah, she listens to music, but that's not a hobby, that's just something she does.She thinks she should find the definition of “hobby”.

Learning new words isn’t a hobby, it’s just something she does.

#Pey scribbles #Writing #Writers on tumblr #oc's #Ocs #Oc writing #Original story #Original work #<3333

[gimmethatagustd]

just me being greedy and dropping a second req lmao oop. FOR JOON HOES EVERYWHERE!! your boyfriend knows he's been busy with work and slightly neglecting you, but he's planned the perfect evening for the two of you to ~reconnect -- too bad every single thing that *can* go wrong, *does* go wrong.

FOCUS ON ME | KNJ

Namjoon just wanted to have a magical evening with you. So how did it end up becoming a nightmare? (An alternative summary: Namjoon is clumsy and dramatic. You love him anyway.)

» pairing: namjoon x reader

» rating/genre: BTS | PG | established relationship | humor | crack

» word count/date: 3k | August 2022

» warnings: things are not always what they seem

» notes: i hope you enjoy this ABSOLUTE INSANITY 😌 also fun fact, the magic lounge is a real speakeasy / magic bar in chicago that i love going to

» masterlist

» what was jai listening to? good time - wayv

Namjoon flung open the front door of your apartment, nearly knocking a photo of the two of you off the wall. He had his suit jacket slung over his arm and tugged off his tie as he barreled down the hallway towards the bedroom. 

“Are you ready?!?” 

“You aren’t ready,” you said with a roll of your eyes from your seat in the living room. 

You sipped a glass of wine (a solo pregame, you could say) while you waited for your boyfriend to figure out what avant-garde outfit he was going to wear to the Magic Lounge. Because, as he’d said, “It’s the Magic Lounge, babe. We have to look the part.” 

If looking the part meant looking like an absolute maniac, Namjoon was killing it. 

Maybe everyone else at the magic show would think he was gorgeous, his dark hair flowing at the nape of his neck and swept over his forehead, the sparkly button-up he wore hugging tight to his muscles when he rolled the sleeves up his arms. But you? You knew he was a maniac. Only a maniac would walk outside in slacks that hugged his thighs like that. 

It was downright illegal. 

Just like the way Namjoon parked outside your apartment complex, made evident by the large yellow ticket tucked under the windshield wipers of his car. 

“The fuck?” He snatched the paper, dark eyes scanning the fine print. 

“You parked literally right next to a fire hydrant.” 

“It was for maybe twenty minutes.” 

You cocked your head to the side. “You’re kidding, right? Kim Namjoon, you’re a lawyer.” 

“And?” He tossed the ticket into the backseat of the car when he slid behind the steering wheel. “I’m not a cop.” 

“Are you sure you actually went to get your driver’s license, or is that ID just a fake one you bought off your student intern?” 

Holding in the laugh that threatened to escape from the way Namjoon sent you a glare was nearly impossible. The only thing that saved you was the fact that he nearly drove off the road from looking at you too long. 

Date nights were rare in your household, though that hadn’t always been the case. The first two years of your relationship with Namjoon was all late night adventures, giggles, and bitten lips. You’d loved the spontaneity of it, even though you didn’t always consider yourself to be the type to jump into decisions without thinking first. 

But then Namjoon graduated from law school and the long hours of corporate law kicked in. There were nights you never saw Namjoon; it was easy for him to stay cooped up in his office. 

In all honesty, you didn’t give a shit what you did, as long as you could do it with him. Grocery shopping could be a date if it meant you could playfully bump the shopping cart into his butt and chase each other down the aisles. 

Still, it was nice to get dressed up and visit the new bar that hosted magic shows every other weekend. You weren’t the last attendees to arrive at the Magic Lounge, and that’s all that mattered to you. Although, you were a bit concerned that just because you’d arrived didn’t mean you could go.

“What do you mean the ticket is invalid? It’s right here. See, the timestamp was only a week ago.” 

“Sir, I’m telling you what I’m seeing when I scan your code.” 

Namjoon held up his phone for the bar host to view, perhaps getting a bit too animated in his display. That was what stress did to him; he got so tightly wound up something as simple as a wrench in his plans could have him grinding his molars. When you saw his jaw pull taunt, that’s when you knew an intervention was due. 

“Um, hello.” You pushed past Namjoon to stand before the host. If you’d made it all the way to the bar to be turned away at the front doors, Namjoon was going to lose it. “Maybe there’s a problem with that ticket? Can you try this one instead?” 

“Of course.” The host’s demeanor quickly shifted as he inspected your digital ticket. He gave you a boxy smile that wasn’t lost on Namjoon, his large hands brushing against yours when he took your phone from you. “Looks like this one worked. You can both follow me and I’ll take you to your seats.” 

It was hard to keep up with the man as you trailed him through the bar. “This guy is all legs,” you muttered under your breath to Namjoon, but he only grunted. 

You finally reached a bookcase in the back of the room. You and Namjoon gave each other side glances, unsure of what a bookcase was doing in a bar. Sure, it had an upscale speakeasy aesthetic, but the little reading nook seemed a bit random. That is, until the man pulled a book off the shelf and the entire bookcase slid to the side, revealing a secret door to a large room with a stage at the front and many tables scattered around it. 

“Oh shit, wow.” You hurried behind the man, thankful to quickly find your table and sit down. From seemingly nowhere, the host handed you food and cocktail menus.

“My name is Taehyung, by the way. But you can call me Tae,” he said with that same boxy smile, shooting you a sly wink with his back slightly turned away from Namjoon. “I’ll take care of you tonight, so if you need anything, feel free to use the call button to let me know.” 

“What call button?” Namjoon interjected, having looked at the table and seeing nothing of the sort. 

Taehyung smirked at him before leaning in a bit closer to you. He smelled refreshing, like a mojito, and you wondered if he also prepared the drinks. You felt your face grow hot as he brought his hand up, gently tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. When he pulled away, he held a small device in his hand.

“This call button.” 

Your mouth fell open, clearly entertained by the simplest of tricks. “I haven’t seen one of these before. How does it work?” 

Taehyung shot you another grin as he straightened up. “Magic.” 

Namjoon let out a loud snort as your host slipped away to attend to other patrons. “That was corny as fuck.” 

“You said you wanted to come here!” You teased, poking his shin with the toe of your shoe while you flipped through the menus. 

His expression softened a bit and he tapped your shin with his shoe as well, although much gentler than you had. “Thank you for coming, babe.” 

“Oh, it’s not something to thank me for.” You ducked behind the cocktail menu. The romantic feelings stuff always made you feel shy. It was your luck that your boyfriend lived for romance. It was part of the reason why his new job was putting a strain on your relationship. He didn’t like not having time with you. 

“It is, though,” he continued, pulling on the menu to expose your face. “I miss you.” 

“I miss you, too.” 

As the lights in the room faded to signal the beginning of the show, Namjoon took a hold of your hand from across the table and brought it to his lips. A bit of stubble pricked your skin when he pressed a kiss to the back of your hand. 

“Good evening, folks!” 

A rather plain looking man in a simple suit stood on the stage, introducing himself as the magician for the night. He looked nothing like what you’d expected, but that didn’t mean his talent was lacking - in your opinion. Although some of his jokes were corny (which Namjoon believed he’d predicted after the little Taehyung situation), you were all wide eyes and small giggles at the magic tricks he performed. Magic, honestly, pissed you off. You hated that you couldn’t understand how things happened, but that was also the fun of it all. Wonder wasn’t a feeling adults got to experience much in life. You found that to be rather sad. 

Namjoon managed to maintain a state of wonder, though. If it was writing poetry or going to art museums, he found a way to bring creativity and novelty into your lives, much like the magician was now. 

He also managed to bring a bit of chaos with him, too. That was a type of wonder, wasn’t it? 

“Shit,” Namjoon hissed. You watched in slow motion as his elbow knocked into his glass, spilling water all over the table. Thank god the glass didn’t break, but you still let out a small yelp and immediately shot up from your chair to avoid getting water on your clothes. 

“Ah, yes! You, with the blue hair! Come on up!” 

Your eyes grew wide as you turned to see every single person in the room staring directly at you. The magician waved you over; he’d taken you standing up to indicate your eagerness to participate in whatever his next trick was. 

“Oh fuck,” you whispered when your long-legged friend arrived to escort you to the stage. Namjoon watched with his mouth hanging open as you weaved through the tables and eventually climbed the stairs to the stage. 

Why hadn’t you just said no?! 

“Welcome! What’s your name?” The magician looked even more normal up close, though he had some pretty dope makeup that made his eyes stand out compared to the plainness of his outfit. 

“Y/N.” You tried not to sound nervous, but you’d finally noticed the rectangular box sitting on a table in the middle of the stage. Fuck fuck fuck. 

“Nice to meet you, Y/N. Now, we’ve never met before, have we?” 

You shook your head. 

“Great. Have to confirm for the skeptics, right?” His laugh was deep and melodic. “Now, you’re going to help me by getting comfy in this display. Can you handle that?” 

You looked out in the audience to find Namjoon, but the stage lights made it difficult to see anything. Well, there was no point in embarrassing yourself further by chickening out, right? 

“Sure.” 

The magician took your hand and helped you into the rectangular box, and you tried not to feel like you were putting yourself into a coffin as you eased into a lying position. At least when the magician closed the box over you, your head and feet stuck out so you didn’t feel completely trapped. 

Well, until you realized just what this trick was. 

“Uhh, can we-” you began, but the magician turned to the audience. 

“Now, as you can see, my lovely assistant is nestled in the display case.” You hated that he was calling it a display case. It made you feel like a bug or something. “I’m going to take this real saw-” 

You didn’t hear anything else he said. All the blood rushed to your head, and all you could hear was the sound of the ocean in your ears as the magician began sawing you in half. 

“Wait, wait,” Namjoon reached out and grabbed a hold of Taehyung’s shirt as the man walked past your table. “What the fuck is happening right now?” 

Taehyung smiled and wrinkled his nose at your boyfriend. “Magic, of course.” 

“Don’t fuck with me, man.” Namjoon tightened his grip on Taehyung’s shirt, closing the space between the two of them to glare the man straight in the face. Taehyung narrowed his eyes and stood his ground, much to Namjoon’s surprise. 

“If you don’t calm down, I will have to escort you out, sir.” 

“I wish you’d fucking try.” 

Right when Taehyung grabbed Namjoon’s hand to rip it from his shirt, the audience cheered. Namjoon let go of Taehyung and focused his attention on the stage where the magician held out his arms to showcase the rectangular box. It was now completely cut in half. And empty. 

Where the fuck were you? You weren’t dead. Well, Namjoon hoped the fuck not! But you also weren’t here, and he didn’t like that. Not one fucking bit. 

“Skeptical?” The magician asked the crowd, hearing a few cheers ripple through the room. “Would anyone like to come up and see for yourself?” 

Namjoon immediately forgot about Taehyung, determined to get the magician’s attention. When the man beckoned for Namjoon to approach the stage, he charged forward and nearly stumbled up the stairs in his haste. 

“Welcome! I invite you to take a look around the stage to confirm that yes, my lovely assistant has indeed disappeared.” 

Namjoon ignored the magician and frantically paced the stage. He moved around the two pieces of the box, examined the table the pieces sat on, eyed the floor to look for any holes or trapdoors. Whatever the fuck tricks magicians had up their sleeves to make the impossible happen. Maybe Namjoon was stupid or wasn’t observant, but he couldn’t find anything… Nothing at all. 

While the magician bragged about his success in making you disappear, Namjoon slumped back to your table. Obviously, the skit was that you would disappear and then the magician would make you reappear. That was the whole point. Namjoon would just need to sit and wait. 

Fuck that. 

His sharp eyes scanned the tables, keeping an eye out for that douchebag Taehyung. With the man nowhere in sight, Namjoon slipped out of his seat. He followed the perimeter of the room until he found a black door with a faded sign that read EMPLOYEES ONLY. Giving the handle a little jiggle, he quickly slipped inside while the magician rambled on stage about his next great trick. He wasn’t concerned about you. But Namjoon was. He was going to figure out where the fuck you were, and then the two of you were leaving because he did not particularly enjoy what he just witnesses.

Magic or not. 

The door led him to a large backroom. The air felt granular, like dust in his lungs. A lone box fan did its best to circulate in the room. Props and unknown machinery lined the walls and at least a dozen employees scurried around the room, looking for whatever items were needed for the next magic act - at least, from what Namjoon assumed. He suddenly felt very out of place with his flamboyant outfit while the employees wore dark outfits. Namjoon was definitely not where he belonged. 

Luckily, no one paid any attention to Namjoon as he weaved through the props and racks of costumes. It didn’t take him long to decide that you weren’t in this room, either. Eventually, he came to another black door marked VIP at the other end of the room. His hand left a sweaty imprint on the gold handle as he pushed inside. 

The entire room black with gold accents. Gold specks were woven into the black carpet. Gold end tables flanked a black couch. Gold earrings dangled against your neck as you laughed, tossing your head back and slapping your hand against your knee. 

“Y/N,” Namjoon spoke in an exhale, slightly bending over to catch his breath. “What are you doing?” 

Your face lit up when you saw him and you jumped to your feet to wrap him in a crushing hug. “Oh my god, Joonie, did you see it? Did you see me? Didn’t I do a great job? Oh fuck, I had no idea what was happening at first.” You babbled on, but all Namjoon could do was lean against the door. 

“You!” His eyes fell on an unfortunately familiar face who’d sat next to you on the couch - the person who’d had you laughing. “You knew where Y/N went and you didn’t tell me.” 

Taehyung flipped a gold coin between his knuckles and shrugged. “It’s all part of the show. You paid for it, didn’t you?” 

Was it fair for Namjoon to feel jealous? This was supposed to be his date night with you, and you’d spent most of it in a dark room with Taehyung and whoever else the other people were in the room, likely all magicians with tricks he didn’t want to know about. 

“Why didn’t you come back?” 

You rubbed Namjoon’s chest, squeezing him even tighter. “You’re so dramatic, baby. I’m supposed to go back in about ten minutes. I’ll reappear, say surprise! Then we can watch the rest of the show!” 

Namjoon gave you a long, unreadable stare. 

“Nope. We’re leaving.” 

“What??” 

He snatched your wrist and led you through the storage room, muttering to himself. “Watched you get sawed in half. Disappeared. On date night, of all nights. With Mister Long Legs, even.” 

You couldn’t help but smile as your boyfriend stomped through the venue, stopping to drop a tip on your table (because he was cranky, but he had manners), before leading you back through the bookcase. You’d never seen him so worked up before, and quite frankly, it was pretty hot. So maybe you were a little bit of a brat, but it was cute how Namjoon seemed to have genuinely worried about where you were. 

“You knew it was fake the whole time, right? Like, you knew I wasn’t in any real danger, right?” You poked him in the side, but he didn’t look at you, only led you to your parked car. “Joonie.” 

“Yes, yes, I know it’s not real! But it was weird and I… I just wanted you to be with me, okay? I didn’t want to wait around alone and not have you with me.” He pouted and waited for you to get into the car before he got in himself. The two of you sat in silence for a moment. While you’d had plenty of time to process what you considered a pretty dope magic trick, Namjoon was obviously in his feelings. 

“Hey, babe. I’m right here, okay? We can go home, if you want. Get into some comfy clothes and snuggle?” You captured his hand in your own and pressed it to your lips as he had done to you earlier. He set his soft gaze on you and it was impossible not to melt. Drama king or not. 

“Alright. But… Can I ask you a question first?” 

You pressed another kiss to his hand. “Of course, baby. Whatever you want.” 

He visibly gulped and leaned his head against the seat headrest as he turned to better look at you. “How did he do it? The trick?” 

You brought your lip between your teeth and smiled into your eyes. 

“Magic.” 

all rights reserved © gimmethatagustd on tumblr & ao3

do not copy, repost, modify, or translate any of my work

#thebtswritersclub #purplearmynet #namjoon x reader #namjoon fluff #namjoon imagine #namjoon fanfic #bts fluff #namjoon scenarios #bts rm #bts namjoon #bts #bts imagines #bts x reader #bts fanfiction #bts fanfic #bts au #gimmethatagustd #jai writes #fom #drabble request #The Great M #here2bbtstrash

[outisgivingpac]

PAC: Your Impact on Other People🌱🦋💞

Today I'm excited to deliver a pick-a-card reading with the most popular theme in the last poll 🤗 Thank you all so much! In this PAC, we shall look into what lasting impression and influences you gave to people in your life.

If you find this reading helpful or entertaining in any way, you can support me through Ko-fi or simply by liking/reblogging this post. Check my pinned post for personal readings, and feel free to send me requests. ☀️✨

My Masterlist

💖Pick the pile/image you feel most drawn to💖

Pile 1. Pile 2. Pile 3.

In the first part, I would focus on your impact on strangers and acquaintances; people who don't know you so well. In the second part, it involves your friends, family and loved one; people who are in your close circle.

Pile 1

The impact you have on strangers and acquaintances: King of Wands, King of Cups

Group 1, to most people who come to know you in public, you gave them a lasting impression as a charming and charismatic individual. You come across as someone who know who you are and what you want ("someone who has their shit together"), without appearing arrogant and overbearing. The thing is, while asserting yourself and your needs, you always leave space for others to express themselves. If anything, the way you treat yourself with respect and boldly go after your goal inspire others to do the same. On a more specific note, I also see the images of you take over the unnamed role of an organizer when your group of people going out. Like you would ask for everybody's order in an restaurant and go tell the server/cashier what you guys want ("Sorry but he asked for no pickles" kind of thing haha). If you're a leader at a workplace, thanks to you, people feel like their work has meaning, personally and interpersonally. They would go out their way to make sure your common goals will be realized, so that you won't have to shoulder all the responsibility during difficult time. 🥺

The impact you have on friends and family: The Sun, The Chariot

With your loved one, you shine through with the same compassion and warmth, but even more brightly. Cliche as it might sound, you're their pride and joy; hanging out with you put a smile on their face. You inspire them to have a more positive outlook on life, and to seek for happiness in the little things. On the other hands, when they're in trouble, you could offer them your insight and bring clarity to their situation. You taught them how to keep up with a long term goal, as something not just requires resilience, but also the ability to adapt to changes. On the other hand, you could be that one friend in the group who has a driver license and/or a big car, that people feel like they could go anywhere with you behind the steering wheels. You could also be the one who knows a lot of niche but nice travel destinations/routes. I feel like your close relationships experienced a lot of their first with you. First time going out of the city, first time going scuba diving, first time trying certain food etc. And of course, you could also be someone's first kiss, or your parent's first child. It could be clumsy or awkward experience, but it has a "before and after" effect. People think fondly of the memories they share with you. Comparing to your public self, you allow yourself to be more stubborn and argumentative with your close circle. And they find it endearing as well. 😊

Pile 2

The impact you have on strangers and acquaintances: Two of Swords reversed, Ace of Swords reversed

Oh wow, before starting, I must say you have such a cool, fierce and sorta "untouchable" energy. You are someone with a sharp mind. You might not talk much or be the loudest, but the arguments you put through when it's called for always stun people, for how keen your observations and logics are. The impact you leave on the general public is: you make them think twice before speaking and develop critical thinking lmao. Because, if they do speak and spread hatred and misinformation, you won't hold back your voice to call them out and hand their ass back. On the other hand, you lend your voice and inspire the underdog. The onlooker who would want to speak up and defend themselves and their community, but couldn't find the courage and/or the mental energy to do so. The only downside to this is, people could find you too opinionated. Some would feel so intimidated by you that they would hold their tongue whenever you're in the room lol. Even when you view it as harmless and non-personal discussion, people could take your counter points personal and take a run from it. 😅

The impact you have on your friends and family: Death, The Emperor reversed

Among your close circle, you also bring in the similar elements to your relationships as described above. However, your impact runs deep; it won't be exaggerating to say you walked in people's life and changed their world. It could be the advices and influences you give them. But it could simply be how you chose to live your own life that, with or without your awareness, changed other people's way of thinking. Such changes always come with an ending. Due to your impact, some shredded their self-limiting belief, or their attachment to a certain place or people. You could have challenged some authority figures, letting them know they are not as "mightier then thou" or in control of other's and their own's life as they believed. On the other hand, you inspire some to reclaim their rights to take space and have more autonomy in their decisions. Either cases, you're a ground shaker. Many people feel deeply grateful for you and the experiences you gave them, some even long after you left their life. Surely, you could make some enemies along the way. But, "hatred is the most sincere form of flattery"; who can say one lives their life "right" without earning some nemesis? 🗡️

Pile 3

The impact you have on strangers and acquaintances: 10 of Cups, 5 of Cups

For people who picked this pile, your energy is quite complex that I hope you would sit with me as I go through every aspects one by one. On the most surface level, you're someone who wear your emotion on your sleeves. People can tell right away if you're happy or miserable at a time just by looking at you. Your mood will seep through the way you dress and hold yourself, and people can gain updates on your life easily through small talks. As it goes, you can just mind your own business, but you might attract a lot of jealousy. Some people would compare themselves to you and evaluate how they are doing in life, by looking at you. They could have false impression, which leads them to have false expectation and values with their own business. I won't be surprise if you have secret admirers as well. Some would look up to you and carefully follow your steps. They hope they would avoid all the traps and missteps, and ripping the same success by doing so. Since you seem to be someone who won't shy away from taking risks and trying out new things in life, people would turn to you and your opinions to see if certain directions is rewarding or a big thumb down. Lastly, you could be someone who make (acquaintances) friends quickly and have a wide circle of people. However, only a few can come forwards and form a relationship with you beyond the surface level. This naturally can cause certain sense of disappointment and regret. If you're extra active and big on social media, look out for parasocial relationship. Though I feel like many would have their fantasy shattered and shred their colored-glasses once they meet/see you out of the usual context. 😂

The impact you have on your friends and family: 8 of Swords reversed, 8 of Cups

For those who are in your closer circle, their relationship with you could be described as liberating. You are the go to friend when someone needs to get out of their mind! ("Up you go, ladies! No more crying, no more whining!" quoting Bacchus). You could be sitting there eating chips, listening to your friend's rant and then dropping a single question/comment and they would have an "Aha" moment. I can also see you dragging your friend out of their rut by inviting them on a trip or to an activity. Anyhow, you are quite spontaneous, people could drop what they were doing to follow you. One sentiment that you help them process is: how the way that it's always been done is not necessary the only way. People get attached to things because it's all they know, or because they have invested a lot of time, money and emotional commitment to it. You kind of knock it off for them, pointing out how those things no longer make them happy, and that it's okay to turn around and take a new path. Thanks to you, a lot of people become more fearless.💪

#tarot #tarot community #tarot reading #intuitive readings #pac #pick a card reading #pick a card

[mr-m-murdock]

hi, i have a request! nat and r decide to get married (will leave the timeline to you), it's a very small and private ceremony, only yelena, clint and his family, and a few other avengers are present. the ceremony gets crashed and r is kidnapped so they all go on a quest to save r. bonus points for nat kicking ass in a wedding dress/suit.

the bells

| natasha x reader |

warnings: violence, duh

a/n: didn’t do much of the marriage, sorry. but there is badassery. also r is a wimp because I can be realistic: if I got kidnapped I’d be blubbering for nat to save me within minutes

You can hear the music going outside: a slow, low tune. Yelena has left and it’s just you now, with your flower stems encased in your sweaty palms, your face ashy in the mirror.

It’s stupid that you’re nervous. Ridiculous. You close your eyes to banish your terrified reflection and think of Nat, picture her in her suit with flowers in her hair and that lopsided little grin on her face as she watches you walk towards her. All that stands between you and the rest of your life is a quarter-open door, where the sunlight is flooding in.

When you open your eyes, there’s a figure behind you in the mirror. The shock hits you before your thoughts can, and you open your mouth to scr

You blink sluggishly. The floor is pressed to your face, the nice white plush carpet. So soft. You could just sink into it, fall asleep. 

Arms loop under your arms and heave you up, as easily as if you were made of paper. Your head droops. There’s a pain starting at the back of your skull, dull and throbbing. The world wheels this way and that and settles on the mirror. Through half-closed eyelids you see a thick face, a square jaw. A man, dragging you backwards across the floor.

The fear hits. You try to kick out, to stand, but your legs won’t move. You tighten your shoulder and slam your elbow back and up into the man’s jaw. He grunts and drops you and you hit the floor, burning your hands on the carpet. You try to scramble for the door but your body gives up and you tilt sideways, hands clawing. Your head hits the floor and you pass out.

● ● ● ● ● ● ● ● ●

It’s the rumble of the engine that wakes you, and the unpleasant sensation of a tire jack sticking into your thigh. Your head aches harshly as you open your eyes, your vision a burst of blue and grey, so you shut them again. 

You’ve been stuffed unceremoniously into the trunk of a car, your legs and arms at odd, painful angles. The car goes over a bump, jolting you up and whacking your head against the lid of the trunk,

“Ow!” you complain, shoving a hand out blindly and bracing yourself against the wall. You try to shift into a more comfortable position and your dress tugs, but doesn’t give. They’ve shut it in the mechanism, the morons.

Your head gives a particularly sharp ache and you moan wearily, half in pain and half in sympathy for the beautiful train of your dress, which must now be crumpled and smeared beyond recognition. The headache is splitting now. The man must really have hit you hard.

You dare to open your eyes again as the pain begins to recede, and see the dim red backglow of the tail lights, nothing else. You can smell that new-car smell, crisp in the carpet, fresh paint and lacquer.

You begin to search the interior with fumbling, shaking hands, but there’s nothing around except for you and that damn tire jack. You try to kick it away but you only succeed in bruising your foot. They haven’t bound your hands or legs. Maybe when they open the trunk you can leap up and bludgeon one of them to death with it. You’re certainly angry enough now that the realisation of what they’ve done to your dress and your wedding day has hit you, but the idea fades quickly. Your hands are heavy and clumsy with shock and pins and needles. Besides, Nat’s the one who does the bludgeoning, not you.

Nat. She’ll come. She’s probably on her way right now, incandescent with fury that some idiot in a nice new car has kidnapped her fiancee right before you were about to walk down the aisle. You imagine her perfect, beautiful face and the strong curves of her legs in her battle suit as she kicks down a door or bursts through a window and it makes you feel a little better. She really will be furious.

● ● ● ● ● ● ● ● ●

The trunk lid lifts an eternity later, flooding your dark little prison with daylight. You scowl up, your eyes adjusting.

“You two, get her out,” someone says, and two pairs of hands reach in, grip you by the arms and legs and haul you painfully from  the trunk. Your muscles cramped long ago, so you don’t put up a fight: you just wince and allow yourself to be lifted. A shoulder lands none too gently in your stomach and you’re draped like a sack, the concrete-laden ground swaying beneath you.

“Ow,” you protest halfheartedly. It’s more of a wheeze, and the shoulder beneath you refuses to acknowledge it.

You crane your neck up to look around. They must have been driving for ages - the low evening light glows over an abandoned parking lot surrounded by wispy fields and patches of barren earth. Middle of nowhere. Fucking great.

Following you are two more people, a woman with blonde hair scraped back into a low bun, and the thick-faced man, a blue bruise flung across his jaw. You remember him from the mirror, remember your elbow flying up to crack into his jawbone, and feel a little bloom of triumph. The shoulder beneath you, or the person belonging to the shoulder, lumps you a little more securely onto them. The movement jolts your diaphragm and you glare vaguely at the two following. Thye both ignore you.

The shadow of a doorway passes over you like a cloud. The concrete is intterupted by a thin plank of wood, a doorstep, and the floor becomes dirty, gap-toothed planks.

A few more steps in, echoing now in the building, and then you’re dumped down onto a hard plastic chair. Your wrists are grabbed by the blonde woman and cuffed behind you, the link passed between the chair legs. Your shoulders are tugged cruelly down and begin to ache almost immediately.

There are four people in the room: the three who pulled you from the trunk and a man in a three piece suit, talking urgently and quietly into his phone. The building is narrow and tall and grey with the dusk, and you hear a pigeon hoot softly up in the dim rafters.

Finally, the fear begins to seep in. So far the shock and the headache have been keeping it easily at bay, but now that you can see properly and these rough and angry people in their dark bulky clothing are eyeing you up and you’re really, completely helpless, there’s no way you can temper down your panic. You don’t know where you are. You don’t have your phone. What if Nat doesn’t find you? What if they kill you before she gets here? 

A panicked sob climbs your throat and you gulp it back, your shoulders jarring with the effort. The handcuffs clank and one of the men shoots you a sharp look. Tears begin to fill your eyes.

The man in the suit ends his call, stows his phone away and looks over at you. His eyes are dark and wide, almost guileless. His expression settles.

“Easiest way to get her here is to bait her,” he says, and you know he’s not talking to you, even though his eyes remain fixed to yours. A single tear dribbles down your cheek. He hands his phone to the thick-faced man. “Serena, rough her up a little.” Those words hit you like a punch to the gut. You whip around to look at the blonde woman.

“Wait-” you say.

“Like how?” she asks, cutting you off. She studies you critically.

“I don’t care,” says the man. “Just don’t make her unrecognizable. And she’ll need to speak, to say the address.”

“Wait, wait, wait,” you say, the words hitting the air one after the other. They are your only protest, your only form of defence as you strain against the handcuffs. “Please don’t, please don’t-”

“Doesn’t matter too much,” the man adds. They’re all ignoring you. “We’ll kill her before Romanoff gets here. Hurry up.”

“What?” you say, alarmed. Serena circles you like a shark. The tears are coming freely now. You’ve never been hit before, but you know it’ll hurt. It’ll hurt. “Please-” you try, and Serena backhands you across the mouth. Your head whips to the side. Pain explodes over your lip like a burst balloon and you grunt from the force. She’s wearing a ring. Your head hanging sideways, you taste blood, your own tears creeping into the corners of your mouth.

Serena grabs your chin and yanks your head forwards. Your ears ring. Your mouth stings. She pulls a pistol from beneath her jacket and slams the butt of it into your cheekbone. You cry out, her hand keeping you from flying backwards, the pain blinding you.

When you blink away the fuzz of tears, she’s surveying you from above. “Give it a second for the bruises to come in,” she says. Your lip is split. There’s snot in your nose and you sniff messily. The third man, the one who’d slung you over his shoulder, is scribbling something down on a notebook balanced on his knee. The man in the suit is outside, his shadow slanting through the open doorway.

The thick-faced man raises the phone. “You done, Billy?”

“One second,” says Billy, the man with the notebook. He scribbles a couple more words, then rises and flips the notebook to face you. It’s covered in large lettering, but you still have to squint through your tears to read it. “Here are your cues,” he says, grinning. The first page says CRY LIKE YOU MEAN IT. You try to glare at him.

“Alright,” says the thick-faced man. The phone camera points at you like the barrel of a gun. Soon enough the barrel of a real gun is going to be staring you down, unless they choose to beat you to death. You imagine your body still tied to the chair, shot clean through the face, imagine Nat finding you like that, and you have the sudden, rising urge to throw up. Bile stings in the back of your throat and you start to cry properly.

“Good girl,” says Billy. “Lights, camera, action.” He flips to the next page. You hear the click of a video recording starting on the phone. You try to clear your vision. You’re no use to Nat if you’re just sobbing uncontrollably. 

On the page is written an address. You stumble through it, your voice wavering, tears dripping from your chin and into your lap. Billy flips the page.

BEG HER TO SAVE YOU

Your face crumples, and the tears take over again, the panic rising until it’s clouding your mind, all you sense, all you know. They’re going to kill you. They’re not even going to give her a chance to save you. You are a throwaway. You don’t matter, not after this moment. 

Serena cuffs you round the back of the head and you rock forward, your shoulders heaving. The ground is rough with dust under your heels. Strangely, it’s this that grounds you.

“Nat,” you say to the ground. Your voice is thick. “Please. Please come and get me.”

“To the camera,” grunts the man holding the phone. You raise your head. You must look awful. Billy flips another page.

FIVE MINUTES, STARTING NOW

“They said-” you try, and tears fill your eyes once more. “They said you have five minutes.” You take a breath that catches in your throat. Stalling will worsen it. Will give her less time. You close your eyes. “Starting now,” you say. A click. The recording has ended. 

“Sent,” says the thick faced man. You stare dismally at the floor.

“Alright, timer’s on,” says Serena. 

The next five minutes are the longest of your life.

You think about Natasha, your thoughts a constant stream of her. Yesterday evening when she kissed you goodnight. The first time you met. The second time you held hands and you could feel her gun callouses on her palms and you struck the little voice from your head that whispered is this a good idea? The wash of red hair down her bare back, and following the scar down her spine with the tip of your finger, listening to the unsteady hitch of her breathing.

You dredge up every memory of her, of her voice and laugh and the spark of her eyes and you clutch them tight and close your eyes, swaying in your seat. 

Your head hurts.

An alarm tone goes, snapping you out of your thoughts. Your memories scatter like a thin cloud on a windy day. The thick-faced man switches it off with the press of him thumb. “Billy,” he says, and he tucks the phone away. 

Billy pulls a gun from under his jacket. You want to cry: you should be begging right now, or screaming at them, grasping at some last words. But your head hurts. It hurts so much because it’s full of Nat. Because she takes up so much space, all that joy, all those memories, the fact that you’d almost had everything you’d ever wanted with her.

The gun is dark and matte and reflects no light. Serena steps away from you and you’re sitting there in the chair but really, you’re tied to a wire, swinging free in the air, straining to reach the ground. The fear turns everything white. You breathe and breathe and breathe, except it can’t have been that long, they would have shot you by now.

Billy is staring over his shoulder with a quizzical look on his face.

“Billy-” says Serena-

The man in the suit comes flying through the open door and hits the opposite wall. The gun goes off with a bang and you scream before you even realise that you’ve opened your mouth. The entire east wall explodes, shard of wood, dust ploughing the air. You feel the impact, feel it lift your feet from where they’re brushing the ground, and the chair tips and you fall backwards. 

Even unconsciously, you brace for impact, for the crack of your skull on the floor. It never comes.

You open your eyes.

Nat hovers above you, one hand out gripping the back of the chair behind your head. Her lip is split and her hair washes across her forehead.

“Hey, baby,” she says. She sets the chair back on all four legs and pulls out a tiny blade to fiddle with your handcuffs. The dust is still everywhere, blinding you, but you can hear the whine and blast of Tony’s repulsors, the hiss of Sam’s wings and the thud of Clint’s arrows, even Yelena grunting somewhere, the shadow of her kicks rising up and up again. 

The cuffs give and your arms swing down to your sides. You wince at the pain, even as Nat’s sliding an arm around your shoulders and under your knees, and hoisting you into the air. “Hold tight,” she says, warm in your ear, and she runs. Right through where the east wall used to be. You flinch, but instead of slamming into hard wood, the two of you emerge into the sunlight, and you hear Natasha’s feet hit the grass. You can tell she’s trying hard not to jog you around.

“You can put me down,” you say, watching your dust-coated dress trail flutter in the wind.

“I’ll put you down in the car,” Nat argues, obstinately.

“Okay,” you say, and you rest your head on her shoulder. When she reaches the car, she sets you down carefully in the passenger seat, and then, horror of horros, tries to pull away. You grab at her, fingers finding a collar: and that’s when you realise she’s still in her wedding suit. “Oh,” you say. There’s something about the blood on her lip and the strands of hair wild and loose from her braid and the flower, dust-covered but still perfectly arranged in her buttonhole that’s making your mouth water. What a ridiculous thing to be thinking, when you can still hear the sound of Tony beating a man into the ground with his metal fist not five metres away. “Don’t you look dashing,” you say. Nat grins, that sideways grin that’s on the verge of preening.

“And you look beautiful as always,” she says. You smile, and then your jaw twinges and you flinch at the pain and realise you really must look awful. Tears color your eyes again. 

“I don’t really,” you say. Your eyes drift away from her morosely. “God, we’ll have to postpone for a bit, so I don’t look like John Wick on a bad day, won’t we?” 

Nat grabs your face between her palms and twists your face gently towards hers. “I’d marry you if you were wearing a trash bag and had lost all your teeth,” she promises. “I’d marry you whatever you looked like. However many bruises.” She adds a perfunctory, “Don’t be so stupid.”

You sniff your tears back. “That’s an image,” you say, a smile appearing uncertain on your face. “Love you too.”

“Love you more.” 

You smile at her idiotically.

And then you see him - the man in the suit, holding his jaw, staggering up behind her. Nat’s eyes flick to the wing mirror.

“Nat, look-” you say, but she’s already turned. He lunges at her and she blocks his punch with a forearm and slams the side of her hand into his throat. The man drops. His body hits the gravel with a heavy crunch.

“Let’s go,” Nat says. She closes your door gently, kicks the man aside and marches around to get in herself. Once she’s in and the door’s shut and the engine’s up, her hand settles on your knee, like she’s reminding herself that you really are there. Her face is stormy. 

“Nat,” you say. She turns to you and her expression relaxes. “I’m okay,” you say.

“Good,” she replies. “I’m still going to kill him slowly, you know.” She squeezes your leg. You decide not to argue.

“I didn’t think the others were going to come,” you say, as the car moves off. Nat looks over at you for a quick second and you grin at her. “I know you could’ve taken all of them at once,” you say. She sits up a touch straighter in her seat and directs her smile through the windshield.

“Yeah. I could’ve.” Right turn, her hands crossing over on the wheel. The noise of the gravel vanishes, replaced by the relief of the silent tarmac road. “Everyone was coming, but they got there the quickest. I think I heard a sonic boom the second I told the others over the phone, actually.”

“When do you think we can get married again?” you ask, closing your eyes and setting your head back against the seat. You feel Nat shrug.

“Right now, if you want. I’ll marry you anywhere.”

So you marry in the courthouse of Austin, Pennsylvania, and the judge casts his aspersions on your bruises but Nat is holding your hand the whole way through, grinning like she’ll never stop, so you don’t care.

“You’re my wife now,” Nat says, when you step back out into the sunny air, her face still splitting with that dopey grin.

“No, you’re my wife,” you say, and the two of you bicker over it all the way to the car. Your smiles don’t drop.

requests | masterlist

notes: tried to make it a tiny bit silly and goofy UNLIKE tends to stick around which will hopefully have a heartbreaking 2nd part sometime soon. also i don’t know how people get married in courthouses leave me alone

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