#I would beat him over the head with a bottle until I see my lethal face card being reflected in his tears

[iho6hi2]

I like my man to be short, mid, in possession of a fuckass bowl cut, have a small dick, sleazy and emotionally constipated

[djarinsbeskar]

Foul - Boxer!Din AU

Definition - To break one of boxing’s rules (i.e. hitting an opponent below the navel, ear or while they are down), which can ultimately lead to point deductions if they are repeated.

A/N: The results of my Boxer!AU poll told me that the majority were interested in a jealous/protective boxer so I hope I have delivered! As always, relaxed fit = unedited, no beta. We also have a sneaky introduction to Paz in the Boxer verse which is super exciting! His concept art has been completed by the insanely talented @ronnieiswriting when I said I saw a mix of Jason Momoa and Winston Duke as our heavy. PLEASE heed the warnings in this chapter. There is nothing explicit but the topics hinted at might be triggering.

Word Count: 7k

Rating: 18+ (NO Minors)

Warnings: SMUT! (unprotected sex), blood and violence, toxic masculinity and derogatory speech, hints at discussions of non-con, somewhat possessive behavior, spanking, dom!Din and everything that comes with it.

Main Masterlist | Boxer Materlist

He might as well have been in hell. A colosseum of decaying humanity and dirt floors that erupted in a burst of dust like poisonous ash every time his next opponent fell. The hollow thump of pure muscle meeting the ground of the makeshift ring only drowned by the cheers of spectators. Masked, shadowed—unseen as they dropped hundreds – thousands sometimes – on which gladiator would remain standing in the end.

He felt like a king, a god among men within the confines of his realm of rope and canvas. It was easy to forget—standing under the spotlights that highlighted the sweat and blood and sculpted beauty of primal masculinity that it was a hollow victory any time he fought in the seedy underground rings of Akiva.

Every gladiator was a slave. Even the victor.

Why the fuck did he think it was a good idea to let you come to one of these fights?

“Enough!”

Paz’s unassailable strength banded around Din’s chest, pinning his arms to his side—attempting to contain lightning in a glass jar. Sweat, blood—it all dripped into Din’s eyes as he growled at his opponent, passed out in the middle of the dirt ring—face swollen and puffy from Din’s fists.

Laser focus and animosity spilled from charcoal eyes as he tried to break free of his friends hold with a vicious yank forward of powerful shoulder and an unfaltering purpose. The bastard had it coming. One round a few punches wasn’t enough to slake Din’s anger, the fumes of rage seeping into his skin and clouding his senses until all he could think of was making the asshole on the ground before him pay.

The practiced speed that Din wrapped his hands slowed at the rowdy group on the other side of the room. Dammit, for all the money they brought in, could these cheapskates not provide separate fucking changing rooms so he didn’t have to be subjected to idiots jacking themselves up on testosterone and false hope?

But pissing contests and fragile masculinity weren’t what caught his attention. He could tune that bullshit out like a fine art. What caught Din’s attention was the obvious death wish one of his possible opponents had – if he even managed to get that far up the ranks to Din – when he waved a red flag in front of the boxers’ metaphorical bull.

“See that one in the front row? You know the one I’m talking about.”

Bawdy agreements and asinine gestures raked up Din’s spine, thorny—and prickling nerves of instinct that made him pause the music blaring in his ears. He fucking hated the scum he came across in these fights. Gang members, criminals—the dredges of humanity he sometimes worried he was part of.

“Gonna get her on her knees choking on my cock before the night is out. Sluts like that love titles, champions—why else do they attend? Good excuse to win tonight, eh fellas?”

“Do you wanna completely destroy your career?” Paz yelled over the chortles and raucous cheers for more, for revenge—for everything under the poor fallacy of a sun that strung in dim, bald bulbs along the notoriously infamous Avika fighting ring.

Din thought you would be safe, arrogantly assuming people would avoid even looking at you once they saw who you were with. And you had been—you were safe, but even he couldn’t protect you from the thoughts of others.

The larger man struggled with him, dragging him out of the ring when it was obvious his words were falling on deaf ears. All Din could hear was the little pricks voice in his head from hours before.

Din stood.

Inhaled, exhaled—tried those bullshit breathing exercises that were supposed to focus his mind before a fight. Help to rein in a temper like his from overflowing in devastating tidal waves to destroy all around him. Din didn’t lose his temper often—but when he did, it was lethal.

The breathing exercises didn’t work.

Because the idiot kept talking.

“Did you see the ass on that?”

Leers sounded from his group of friends. Encouraging the vile words that Din always knew came from a man who felt entitled to a woman’s body. He had seen enough of the underbelly of the world to know what that led to time and again. Din might have been shameless in his youth and even until recently when it came to sex, to one night stands, to women—but he fucking respected the girls he fucked or didn’t fuck.

“Traipsing around in a dress like that? She’s looking for the attention,” the asshole defended himself when one of his party voiced an alternative point of view. They were promptly shut down and didn’t speak again.

Din’s blood turned to ice. An image of you running a hand down his arm on your way to your seat when you parted ways for him to get ready, dress sinfully tight but effortlessly classy—a zip front he was dying to pull open with his teeth later that night.

“It’ll look so good with my cock buried in it…”

The ice in his blood turned to fury, white hot and molten as he tied off the tape at his wrists—throwing the roll into the dingy locker he had been given for the evening. The clatter of noise from where it slammed against the metal back was the only warning he was planning on giving them. The lull of conversation was fleeting, his warning going unheeded—when dim-witted morons didn’t read the murder in his gaze.

Looks like they weren’t nearly as intelligent as the pigs he thought them to be.

Grabbing his water bottle and phone, Din stalked towards the chipped door—distracting himself with a text of “don’t go anywhere alone in this place, sweetheart. Ask Paz to go with you” sent to you without a second thought.

The immediate response of “Yes yes I know, for the thousandth time. Don’t worry and focus on yourself” did little to assuage the roar of blood in his ears. There was only one thing he heard over the noise, one thing as his vision became hued in red and fixated on a single target.

“Wonder if she’ll let me fuck her there too—can’t imagine she’s a virgin but her ass will still probably be tighter than her cunt.”

Bald headed and littered in scars and tattoos of a gang known for their viciousness, the other boxer – if he could even be called that – thrust vulgarly into the air, mimicking the hold he would have on the girl. Din’s girl.

The fucker had a death wish.

And Din was only too happy to play the part of the grim reaper.

His friends voice hardly registered over that same ringing in his ears, the roar of protective aggression at the lecherous sneer on the other man’s face who now lay in a heap in the dirt, the filth he spewed about his masseuse, his girl. How beady eyes, cold and villainous dared to drift away from Din before the bell sounded—over his shoulder, to where he knew you were sitting. Knowing your body had been tainted by the gaze of a man who would sooner take what he wanted from you by force than look at you with anything akin to the respect you deserved—it made something snap inside of Din.

And he attacked.

He was lucky he had only been disqualified.

He was damn lucky no one called the cops.

But the perks of underground fighting, was that everyone who attended had something to hide. And no one wanted to be caught in the middle of shady transactions or betting on fighters to beat each other to a pulp. Hell, the savagery Din subjected the other guy to was exactly what half the fuckers who showed up hoped to see.

Din wasn’t just a nameless street fighter though, not anymore. He had something to lose. Any smear on his record for assault and he would be suspended from tournament participation quicker than the asshole’s body dropped after a crushing blow under the jaw by Din’s right uppercut.

Thank fuck Din’s main sponsor was equally as shady. A good man by Din’s logic, but merciless when it came to succeeding. Din being benched was the surest way to make his benefactors patience run out. No, Paz was right—Boba even more so when he clocked Din good in the cheek after Paz wrestled the irate male out of the ring.

“You fucking idiot, bloodlust is an ugly image, boy—”

“I am not a boy—” Din snapped at Boba, teeth bared and bloody from his split lip, neck straining when he spat the words viciously at his long-time coach. He ran his tongue over the metallic tang of blood before spitting it out of his mouth onto the dirt flooring by the chaotic rows of metal seating.

“You almost killed a guy in the ring, you little shit,” Boba snarled with equal venom, matching the anger reflected in Din’s gaze with furious sense Din didn’t want to witness.

“Let me go,” was all Din growled, eyes never leaving his coach’s even when Paz loosened his arms around his chest. Heaving, coal black eyes darkened dangerously and stabbed the former boxer with a dare to try and restrain him again. The other man shook a rope of dreadlock that had come loose from the strip of leather he kept his hair tied in and made to say something when Din interrupted,

“Where is she?”

Paz closed his mouth, heavy brows furrowing over his eyes as recognition dawned in their dark hues,

“Is that what this is about? Dammit, vod—it’s not like she’s your girlfriend, isn’t that what you always say?”

“Don’t fucking try me tonight—” Din snapped aggressively, the threatening hum between the two men charged to dangerous voltage.

“Din?”

Your voice washed over him – aloe on the burns his fury had scorched his skin with – and he was making his way over to you in the next moment, mind battling with instinct as he ignored the calls and curses of his friends.

Mine.

Not yours—

Mine.

He moved with feral grace, parting the sea of people who bleated from the sidelines but cowered in his presence once his attention was facing them and there was no canvas or rope to separate boxer from spectator. They were lucky. He didn’t see them. Would step on them if they were stupid enough to stay in his path. All he could see, was you—watching him with confusion and concern marring those pretty features, absent of fear in the face of an incensed, adrenaline fueled boxer post fight.

He exhaled a growl as he came to stand before you, the sound cavernous and deep in his chest—the hands you had lifted to examine his face intercepted by his own when he grabbed them. His fingers wrapped fully around your wrists, and he was reminded of how fragile you were – even if you worked out whenever you could and had a will of iron that would make you whack him for saying that – and just how easily a man like him, any of the fighters here tonight—could hurt you.

Never.

They wouldn’t dare.

Not with him around.

But how could they know?

How would they know to stay the fuck away from you?

Knuckles stained with dirt and blood; his hand rasped against the softness of your palm as he dragged you in the direction of the unused backstage waiting room fighters had been offered as a changing room. Where this whole fucking thing started.

“Din—Din, what the hell happened up there?”

You jogged behind him to keep up with his pace, long legs taking him farther than your shorter ones could when confined to the heels you had worn for the night out. He stalked through the dimly lit corridors to the flaky, chipped door with a temporary sign on lined paper with “ATHLETES” scrawled along the front of it like some ironic joke.

He almost bent the worn, cheap metal handle in half—nearly pulled it from its socket with how hard he tore the door open and dragged you over the threshold inside.

You whirled on him with a huff, eyes flashing and hands planting on your hips in growing annoyance.

“Din will you just—”

You didn’t get another word out.

His wrapped hands cupped your cheeks between them, his mouth on yours hungrily when he bent over you. Biting, clawing, desperate—the kiss was more a battle of tongue and teeth than anything else. There was nothing soft, nothing slow or affectionate about the way his teeth sank into your bottom lip so hard you gasped. The way the blood seeping from his split lip painted yours in a crimson rouge—smeared and varnishing you in a visceral mark of his claim.

“Mine,” he snarled unknowingly into your mouth, lapping his tongue along the prairies of your tastebuds, plundering the depths of your mouth to brand every inch of you he could reach. Inside and out. His hands had the same idea, forming down over the shape of your curves as he walked you back blindly to the disused vanity pushed against the closest wall. Topped with a row of mirrors undoubtedly used by performers for whatever this place had once been used for, the glass was now aged with discoloration.

It didn’t matter.

He didn’t have eyes for anything but you as he hiked your legs up to perch you on the edge, your fingers curled into the taut muscles at his neck and clawing down over the sweat slick muscles of his pecs—catching on flat nipples that made ripples of pleasure heat his body further. Mad him tangle a hand in your hair, yank your head back harshly and meet your eyes with dark desire before dropping to your neck. His newest target.

“Din…” your irritated, questioning tone had morphed to fervent sighs. His tongue mapped a trail from the corner of your mouth – tasting the tang of his own blood – to the rapid tattoo of your pulse, a delicate sheen of perspiration beginning to shimmer on your flushed skin from the arousal. Another layer of flavor for him to get drunk on.

So fucking hot under his hands.

So beautiful.

So his.

“Mine,” he repeated into the curve of your neck, framed by tremulous stretches of muscle either side that he carved with scrapes of his teeth to leave tracks of slow fading pink grazes before he bit into it. Your legs – already open and inviting him to settle between them – crossed at the ankles around his narrow hips to keep him close. It was fucking intoxicating the way he could make you feel, the desperate need he had for you.

Months of sleeping together, of knowing his body so intimately had given you a rare insight to his emotions whether he knew it or not. And you knew he didn’t need to talk right now, he needed to fuck. To work through whatever had affected him so badly in hard kisses and rough hands on your soft flesh. It didn’t stop your stomach from flipping at his possessive words though, deliriously spoken but whispering the unacknowledged desires you had for him beyond his body.

“Yours,” you admitted before you could stop yourself, your hand cupping under his jaw to lift his mouth back to yours. His raspy moan at your agreement turned positively filthy when you carded short nails through his damp hair. Din was weak to having his hair stroked, his staunch dominance buckling in violent shivers of pleasure when you dragged those skilled fingers down the back of his skull and neck.

Traipsing around in a dress like that…

His eyes flew open, and he broke the kiss—ripped his mouth from yours to press his forehead to yours, eyes searching while his free hand ran indulgently up your torso to the neckline of your dress,

“Never let anyone disrespect you, sweetheart—” he rumbled, his fingers already undoing the zip of the dress, the nude pink material tempting to the eye and celebrating those features you were most proud of—that he found irresistible to know you loved. That someone could make you uncomfortable in those clothes… fucker. He snarled and pressed a long kiss to your mouth, large hands spreading the sides of the dress open wide – no underwear, baby? – and shucked the material down your arms to leave you bare before him.

His appreciation for your body – fucking gorgeous – was only tampered by the frustration he had with himself at the noise of confusion you made at his words. Of course, you hadn’t heard anything that asshole had said thankfully—but fuck, he couldn’t get it out of his head. You read his desperation somehow, and nodded slowly with puzzled eyes, teeth sinking into your swollen bottom lip as you leaned back on your hands.

So trusting…

Fuck.

It made alarm and something akin to fear rise swell uncomfortably in his throat.

He tried again.

“Never let anyone take advantage of you,” he whispered against your mouth in earnest, his hands running up your bare thighs to press his thumbs into the seams of your legs and hips, “tell me—”

His mouth dropped to your collarbone, funneling those feelings into lapping down to your heaving breasts, sucking a nipple into his mouth with a groan and befuddling your mind to his request until he nipped the swollen peak – say it, baby – and caused your head to fall back against the mirror,

“Yes—yes,” you moaned, “I won’t—”

He snarled internally, dammit. Hearing you say it didn’t help. He wanted to say how he wouldn’t let anyone disrespect you, how he wouldn’t let anyone ever take advantage of you. But he couldn’t. Had to frame it like advice he would give any woman he knew instead of speaking it like the promise he wanted to make.

Din had been fucking you for the last few months now, exclusively after only a few months—but it never went beyond that. He had no reason, no excuse to be worried over your life or safety or what you did when you weren’t in his bed. He wasn’t expected to be involved in your life the way a friend or family member was. Not the way a boyfriend was.

He didn’t do relationships. Never had. Too much trouble and frankly—he liked his privacy, his space—and liked not being accountable to anyone but himself. The consequences of any shitty decisions he made would fall on him and him alone. If he demanded that of the women he slept with and then insisted on inserting himself into their lives in the next breath, he would be a hypocrite. And Din hated hypocrites.

He couldn’t.

But fuck. He never wanted to hear someone speak that way about you, never wanted them to think they had the slightest chance with a woman like you. His blood boiled at the notion of someone else’s hands on you, his tempered flared when he imagined your pleasure or smiles, or laughter give to someone who didn’t deserve you.

Like he did?

Fuck no, he knew he didn’t.

He never said he wasn’t selfish though, and he coveted you with sinful greed.

“Fuck me, baby—please, please—” you mewled into his neck as your hands that had started all of this with that first massage, fit into the sliver of space between your bodies to stroke along his cock over his shorts impatiently. His head fell back, and his mind blissfully emptied for a moment, grunting your name at the frisson of pleasure before those damned memories resurfaced again.

Look at the ass on that.

That.

Her. You weren’t a thing, a possession. You were—

He snarled. Misplaced anger manifesting in aggressive passion as he grabbed your wrist from where you stroked him to pin behind your back on the vanity.

“Always so eager, aren’t you—” he grinned darkly when you nodded, “turn around.”

The command was delivered low and dangerous, more a rumble of noise—deep echoes of jungle predators crackling like the kindling of threat, inspiring awareness that one wrong move would be fatal. But you never made a wrong move—not for as long as he had known you. Whether it was alleviating a pain deep in his muscles that had bothered him for months or pushing yourself slowing off the vanity to your feet as you were now—you always knew what he needed.

Wisps of hair fell into his eyes as he watched you—the decided turn of your naked body to dace the mirror—eyes never leaving his even as they caught them again in the aged glass. Bending forward, your ass pressed into the front of his shorts, and you rested your elbows on the vanity.

Perfect.

He didn’t realize he had whispered the word as he pressed his mouth between your shoulder blades, tongue trailing down the arch of your spine while his hands kneaded plush cheeks—spreading them and exposing your slick cunt to the cool air. The hitches in your breath, small squirms of your hips for relief—they all fed into his desire for you.

And he desired you. Constantly.

“I’m gonna eat your pussy until you can’t stand, baby—and then I’m gonna fuck you until you can’t speak,” he muttered against the shell of your ear, massive bulk bowed over your back and shadowed eyes – the duality of warm walnut and lethal obsidian – bore into yours through the glass.

“I want them all to know who you belong to,” he nipped your ear, flicking his tongue along the cartilage—the black ink on his back catching the light as his muscles rippled with movement, a roll of pleasure from your ass grinding back against him with a whimper of his name, “so don’t be quiet this time, sweetheart.”

Your eyes fluttered open molasses slow from where they had dropped closed at his words,

“What—what hap—” you tried to turn your head, the concern mingled with lust in those gorgeous, honest eyes making warning bells blare painfully – too close – and he silenced you with a kiss. Swallowing the worry that hinted at feelings that surpassed those expected from a fuck buddy, he buried it deep inside himself, in the shadows like a coward. To be locked away where he would remain safe from it.

Your tongue grew sloppy with a moan when he ground his crotch into your ass—dragging the solid thickness of his clothed cock between your soaked folds and up against your tight rear entrance.

Wonder if she’ll let me take her there…

Bastard.

He sucked on your tongue with a groan of your name, hand releasing your cheeks to fan up your ribcage and cup your breasts. You jerked in sensitivity when rough hands pinched sore nipples – he fucking loved how sensitive your tits got just before your period. The cry you released was nothing short of musical, tempting him lower as he kissed down your spine—wrapped hands sanding down over your ribs again when he lapped around the rim of your ass, circling it before he traced lower.

You were dripping.

He dropped to his knees behind you, eyes drunken with an ingrained pride that he was the one in this position, looking at the petals of your swollen pussy glistening with arousal he inspired from just a few kisses and rolls of his hips. He kept his eyes on the steady trickle of wetness from your twitching entrance, his teeth grazing distractedly down the back of your thigh as he did so.

A finger ruddy with flecks of dried blood caught a string of your arousal – don’t waste a drop – and he sucked it between his lips with an approving groan, the noise of your whimpers the perfect accompaniment. Blood and lust. The essence of humanity, that was what he tasted when he sucked his finger clean. It tasted like life. And he wanted more.

A sharp crack echoed through the room when his hand came down hard on one cheek, and again... and again—each strike making that dripping wetness gush until he couldn’t hold back anymore. He buried his face in your cunt, nosing at your entrance and tongue spreading puffy lips apart so he could trace in pitter patter swipes through your folds—greedily gathering anything he could get on his tongue before swallowing. Dehydrated on the sands of depravity and sordid company—your cunt was an oasis of relief where he eagerly drank his fill.

You tried to move, your hips slamming up against the edge of the vanity – that’ll bruise – and you keened with a shuddering cry when his mouth simply followed your attempt to escape the onslaught of pleasure that was too much too soon.

“Fuck—fuckfuckfuck—” you gasped, dropping a hand back to tangle in his hair, dragging him closer despite your protests. Mm, he loved when you got like this—overstimulated from the first touch. No matter how much you whined, no matter how many times he wiped tears that smudged your makeup when he unraveled orgasm after orgasm from the knots inside you—he knew you loved the intensity as much as he did.

He spanked you again – take it – your cheeks red and beautiful when he spread them side for him to spit directly onto your quivering cunt. His saliva dribbled and mixed with your juices to gather over your clit, his mouth forming over the little bud enthusiastically, urged by your slow ruts back against his face to streak his face with your essence.

“More—” you whimpered.

“Greedy—” he growled back.

The sound of your breathless laugh meshed delightfully with the swallow of a moan – guttural and primal – and made his cock twitch in his shorts. His hips snapped up uselessly from where he was kneeling—finding no purchase or warm embrace to bury itself in as his tongue took that pleasure for itself.

It licked and curled with practiced, seemingly illogical strokes along your clit and up to your entrance—sloppily kissing it before his tongue dove into your tight depths, thumb working in quick circles over your clit. He knew exactly what to do to make you come undone.

Your first orgasm was sudden—strong and surprising. He hadn’t even fucking fingered you and you were already spasming around nothing. Your muscles tensed as you went on your toes to lean even further on the vanity, trying to escape his tongue that worked you through each wave—drowning you in the pleasure he knew only he could give you. You were his. His his his his h—

You sobbed his name, a raw answer to his internal mantra his mind struggled against and failed to overcome.

Din wanted you.

He wanted your body, your mind, your time—he wanted what Paz had.

Fuck.

The way the older man mooned and gazed with shameless adoration for the little baker he had fallen for in so short a time. Hell, Din teased him over it constantly. And maybe he didn’t want that—but he wanted something. Din wanted something with you. Wanted you to visit him in the gym and stop him mid set just to kiss him and tell him that you would wait for him to finish so you could go home together. He wanted to buy you flowers without having to think of a fucking excuse like last time to distance himself from the sentimentality. He wanted to open his front door and feel our presence as more than just a visitor. That a toothbrush and the stray pieces of clothing you forgot at his place would turn to shoes at the door and your taste in décor mixing with his.

Din wanted you.

But he had no idea how to do anything but fuck you. He didn’t know how to date or be romantic. Was clueless to things like companionship—to the softer emotions he knew you craved. That all people craved. Din had no idea how to do any of it.

You lay with your cheek on the wooden surface of the vanity, eyes half-closed and spacey as you watched him lift his head from your pussy, face shiny from your release and when he licked over his lips, still hungry for more—you mewled.

“Don’t tap out on me yet, sweetheart.”

You shook your head, a whimper and almost childish refusal while your cheek remained plastered to the vanity, all strength having left your body and an adorable pout trying to lie and tell him you couldn’t take any more.

“Mm, yes you can—” he answered you, dragging his mouth back up your slit and along your tight ass where he lapped at the rim again. Later. It took time for him to stretch you to take his size—it was better left for when he had you in his apartment and could take his time.

His hand followed his mouths direction as it continued up to meet your mouth—smirking against your lips at the whimpers you made from the slaps he gave your pussy—the obscene, wet sound filling the area with each slap slap slap until his hand was damn near slipping every time he struck your cunt from how wet it was.

A bang on the door—a harsh slap to your pussy so you would moan just right for him, and he growled out a threatening “occupied” to whoever was outside. You were too high strung to even notice.

“No one else can have you,” he rasped darkly into your temple, his free hand tangling in the strands to pull your head back against his shoulder—the position no doubt edging on uncomfortable with the way your spine and neck were arched back—moUlded into his hard frame. Your eyes fell to half mast even as your lips parted—still smeared with specks of blood you hadn’t yet licked or chewed off—and he bit your jaw in warning.

“No one else—” you parroted, your hot breath fanning over his cheek even as you rocked back against him, a steel confidence entering your fucked out gaze—mercurial in the swirling heat, “just like no one else can have you.”

The boldness of your words, the conviction spoken in that voice of wooden flutes and bubbling creeks made his blood light with fire—yes. As much as he anted you, he yearned for you to crave him in return.

“No one else,” he repeated your words back to you, rutting his hips against you when his cock pulsed with a negligent ache that demanded to be addressed. He kept one hand in your hair when he pushed his shorts down enough to free his leaking cock, the turgid length swollen and angry as he rubbed the tip between your lips.

Maybe he would buy you flowers tomorrow, after all.

Din gave you no time to prepare yourself – that’s my girl – sliding inside you with one brutal thrust that had you pushed up against the mirror and his cock engulfed in fiery bliss. He felt the heat run up his spine, a volcanic metamorphism into marble as his muscles froze in an immediate pause to stop himself from spilling inside you after one damn thrust.

You weren’t doing much better—one hand clawing for purchase on the mirror and the other digging your nails into his hip as you panted his name, an incoherent string of curses and praise as your sensitive walls convulsed around him. The position had him pressed right against that one spot he cock curved up against that could make you see stars and your care for being caught dissipate in cries of ecstasy.

“Baby—fuck please, so—too deep—” you whimpered in inane babbles, tightening in residual spasms from your orgasm and the sudden intrusion of his cock, still a stretch after all these months. Too deep… he snorted, rolling his hips hard to try shove himself deeper still. He could never get deep enough, always wanting more—always seeking to conquer the untouched lands of your body.

“Mm, want me to stop?” he teased, dragging his hips back with a smirk at your immediate rejection of no no no fuck—please, no—hand pathetically trying to drag him closer to you by the hip. Lovely little thing… thinking you were strong enough.

“That’s better…” he purred, relief washing over him when he pulled out—the walls of your cunt stretching around him, refusing his exit, and trying to keep him nestled inside you. The pace he chose was brutal. He fucked you like he fought tonight. Violently, mercilessly—and deaf to the calls to relent. But where he wanted his opponent to suffer, he wanted to devastate you with pleasure, enrapture you with ecstasy and leave you moaning his name where others would curse it.

Wet cock slapping as he pounded into you in short, frantic ruts – need you baby… fuck I need you – there was no time for you to catch a full breath before he was knocking it out of you again. His fingers had to tighten in your hair to keep you up – your body trembling under his as he sank his teeth into the taut muscle at your neck and his cock sank into your welcome body – exposed and waiting for him to litter in his signature.

He would never get enough of the way his marks looked on your skin—the way you decorated him in yours. You were powerless to do much else than accept them right now – likely getting him back later – boneless and weak under the attack of his mouth and the dominance of his body.

He would make sure everyone in this fucking shithole of a place knew who you were with. They would have to be blind not to notice the blotches of poppy bruises snaking down your neck with the elusion to more hidden from unworthy eyes. The smudge of your mascara as tears pearled like crystals in the corner of your eyes when you glanced at him in strung out bliss.

“M-more—” you begged, dropping one of your hands between your legs to rub at your clit—fingers splitting around the girth of his cock as he fucked you to feel the thick length disappear into you over and over, the soaked mess amassed from your frantic desire for each other trickling down your thighs.

“Yeah?” he grinned, breathless and sweating for much more pleasing reasons than he had been in the ring, a languid kiss to your neck as he hiked one of your knees up onto the vanity—spreading you wider for him to sink deeper.

You spasmed, your head falling back against his shoulder with a cry.

“Yes—there, there baby, fuck you feel so good…” you rambled, fingers working feverishly over your clit in wet strokes, grazing his balls every time they slapped against your skin and making him muffle his moan in your neck.

Rolling a nipple between his fingers, his large—bloodied hand completely swallowed your breast, squeezing it and tickling sounds that belonged to him from you and into his mouth when you kissed him. One last kiss before you collapsed back onto the vanity, and he stood to his full height so he could ruin you with his cock.

His name was the only thing you remembered as he split you open with full, hard thrusts—the entire length of his cock stretching your tight walls around it and playing along raw nerves already on the brink of another orgasm.

“Gonna cum, sweetheart—” he strained, desperate for release as he watched himself fuck you in the mirror—him behind your smaller body, squirming under the pleasure while his muscles bunched and relaxed with each snap of his hips—the veins in his forearms prominent and tendons taut as he poured all that training and dedication and determination into you, into pleasing you.

“Inside—inside, Din fuck, please—”

His mind emptied. Nothing else mattered about tonight—not the fight, not the disqualification, not the rage. Your eyes—cloudy with lust and achingly trusting as you looked back at him were all he could think about. Nodding without even realizing, the thought of filling you running in his mind on a loop.

“Fuck—!”

He wanted you to cum before him, he always did—but he was so high strung, so tense that he couldn’t stop himself, burying himself to the hilt with several punched out moans—exhaled rapture with every pump of his seed against your waiting womb. Your eyes rolled closed at the amount, bloating you with his release and as he came, you worked your clit frantically—chasing that addictive edge you gladly hurled yourself over at just the thought of him coming inside you.

Din dropped his forehead to your shoulder with a gasp, your spasming walls too much on his sensitive length but he had to stay inside—the contractions of pleasure, the gush of your release might push his out. He couldn’t have that. So, he gritted his teeth, mumbled husky praise – good girl, that’s it—just like that, soak me – to work you through your orgasm and pressed open mouth kisses to sweaty skin, the salt tickling his tongue as he caught his breath.

His mouth worked over the sweep of your shoulder, up your neck to your jaw when your orgasm subsided, purring your name and nonsensical strings of words he had no idea made sense or not. He finally eased his softening cock out of you slowly when you shifted your hips—testing your strength and finding it lacking when you realized both he and the vanity were what kept your legs up.

“Feel… feel better?”

“Mhm…” he confirmed noncommittally, nuzzling the marks beginning to bloom and darken like a forbidden garden only he was allowed indulge in the scent of. One of his hands ran absently down the back of your thigh, feeling for his release—pleased to feel nothing but your sticky arousal, his own still nestled inside your sore cunt.

“Want one of those crepes you’re always raving about from that twenty-four hour place?” he purred, helping you stand—going so far as to pull the straps of your dress back up so that zipping the metal teeth would be easier. Your eyes brightened despite the lazy, satiated fatigue hiding in their orbs.

“Gino’s?”

“Mm,” he nodded, looking down from his greater height and lips quirking in an annoying desire to smile when one – bright as daylight – broke out on yours.

You nodded quickly, looping your arms around his neck to drag him down to your mouth, kissing him good and proper while his hands fell under the still open sides of your dress to settle on bare hips,

“Are you ever going to tell me what set you off tonight?” you mumbled against his lips cautiously, the ghost of a smile from the promise of dessert still lingering but a hesitant worry entering your gaze, unsure if his mood would sour again.

It didn’t.

He nudged his nose along yours, aquiline curve slotting along yours as he hummed in thought, thumbs rubbing lazily into your hips,

“Maybe later,” he settled on and captured your lips again.

You left the changing room together, his gym bag slung over one shoulder and his free arm wrapped around your shoulder—nose never leaving your temple or nuzzling into your hair with blatant affection as you blushed at how obvious it was to anyone who saw you what you had been doing.

You had both tried to tidy yourselves—cleaning the corners of your makeup and trying to flatten your mused hair was about all you could do. Din didn’t even attempt to cover the freshly fucked look of messy hair and heavy eyes as he pulled an unzipped Mythosaur Gym hoodie on over his muscle shirt.

A group were passing in the corridor as you asked him something—his former opponent with one eye swollen shut from the bruises forming around his eye, jaw, and cheeks. Din answered you easily, an automatic response to whatever you were asking as his eyes met his opponents, cold fury and arrogant pride flashing in their depths.

You remained none the wiser as you passed the group, Din’s body protectively placed between you and them. He probably should have told you; he knew you wouldn’t be swayed by it—comfortable in your body as you were, but he couldn’t bring himself to. He could protect you from slander and toxicity at the very least—and he planned to. Even if he had to do so in the shadows for now.

For himself, the swelling and bruising on the idiots’ face weren’t the only thing he had to satisfy himself with. He was the one whose cum was still buried inside you, clinging to your thighs and keeping you slick and wet for him to add more to later when he got you back to his place. And as you glanced up at him with a disarming smile after he dropped his hoodie over your shoulders without a thought once you both were outside in the crisp air of the early morning darkness—he secretly hoped that he would be the only one to have that privilege from then on.

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[buckybarnesdiaries]

white wolf: “the show must go on”

first part — second part

third part — fourth part (soon)

© gif credits to the author, i found it on google. if you're the author lemme know your @.

bucky barnes x reader. ⎢ masterlist.

Sam helps Bucky to ask you out for a date and it’s a disaster, but he gets it.

word count: 1'9k.

warnings/tags: none. bucky being so innocent gives me life. + he being so damn cute as always.

author notes: none of my stories contain reader’s body descriptions to be inclusive.

Join the tag list here.

“Have plans with your girl tonight?”

Bucky clicked his tongue, putting down the weight to the holder, not turning to Sam still doing squats and an awkward noise out of breath. His partner couldn't help but raise an eyebrow and giggle while shaking his head, fast enough to steal the soldier's clean towel before he reached it.

“She's not my girl”.

“Not yet, you mean, uh?” He joked then, using the clothing like a whip to hit the metal arm. “But, you have plans or not?”

“Yeah, we have plans”. Bucky admitted eventually, glancing at Sam also stealing his bottle of water. “She invited me to watch a movie”.

It was the innocent and unworried tone of voice from him that made Sam choke, cough, and laugh at once.

“What?”

“Oh, man… Can't believe you're sinful enough to do what we do but too innocent to not see what that means”.

“It means we're gonna watch a movie”.

Bucky was confused at the laughter, trying to understand what he was referring to as he rested his back against the wall and crossed both arms over his chest. Expecting anything else from his wise friend.

“This is the twenty-first century, you ancient. We don't watch movies”.

“What d— What do you mean? You have Netflix, HBO, Prime Video… What's the point?”

Sam was deadpanned, staring in silence at the soldier, not believing what his ears were hearing. “We, guys, don't watch movies with girls, even less when they are the ones inviting us”.

Bucky squinted at him, tilting his head like a lost poppy would do, not being able to read between lines. His partner gasped exasperated, running a hand up and down his face.

“You know, man? Sometimes I feel alone, not having anyone to laugh with about that forties' manners of yours. Should I call Sarah, maybe?”

“Cut the show”. He hissed standing up and passing him away.

“Oh, no, no, no… the show has just started, man, and I have my popcorn ready”.

Bucky had been beating around the bush the whole day, trying to let it out of his mind. Of course, it was something that would happen sooner or later, and —more than of course— he wanted it to happen. The mere fact of thinking about you and him, flesh against flesh, hearing you moaning his name and making you feel good caused him goosebumps and an awkward sensation beneath his black jeans. Suddenly, swallowing saliva turned impossible, biting his lower lip while ringing the intercom of your apartment. Your response didn't last more than a couple of seconds, opening the door downstairs and waiting for him at the entrance of your apartment.

The butterflies fluttered within your bellies when Bucky stepped out of the lift, showing you that charming smile that could make you kill anyone who dared to erase it from his face.

“Trying to get me drunk?” You joked as he raised the bottle of red wine in his left hand.

“Maybe?”

“Missed you today”. You whispered at the soft kiss on your lips and his arm getting wrapped around your lower waist.

“So did I”. He sighed, sounding a little tired, caressing your nose with his.

Yesterday he talked to you about a routine medical check-up the government used to do every six months until he earned his pardon. Four hours of intense exercise to make sure the supersoldier serum was still doing its effect, as he started to feel somewhat tired since he stayed in Wakanda. For Bucky, it was really easy to open up himself with you and talk about his past and some of the things he did. And he didn't complain when you helped him to take off his leather jacket, watching him rubbing his left shoulder.

“I, uh… also was this morning with Sam. Training”. He told you, following you to your kitchen to find a couple of glasses. Turning at him, you couldn't help but raise an incredulous eyebrow. “Don't look at me like that… I know to perfection what you're thinking”.

“You're a telepath now?”

“God, no. I have enough with the voices inside my head, to hear someone's else”. He chuckled resting against the fridge. “But you're very expressive and I was trained to read body language”.

“So, what am' thinking?” You asked driven by curiosity, entertained on opening the bottle of wine.

“Look at this guy… He looks hotter than a barbecue”.

You broke into a loud laugh, shaking your head as you grabbed the drink and the glasses. “Not even close, Sergeant”.

“Liar”. He blurted into your face, passing him away to the living room where the Thai takeaway was waiting for the two of you.

“I'm not lying! You're a lousy body reader”.

“So… you can do it better, uh?”

“Didn't say so, but… yeah”. You replied, placing the wine and the glasses on the coffee table next to the big green sofa.

“Okay, go ahead. What am 'thinking, genius?”

Standing in front of him, some inches away, you squinted at his eyes in advance of touring his posture from top to bottom with your orbs.

“Look at that girl… she's hotter than a volcano”.

“Not even closer, soldier”. Bucky repeated your words, kissing his teeth and causing you to laugh again.

“Liar”.

The night went on, enjoying your dinner and watching the first part of Scary Movie. Since Bucky told you that he loved the horror genre, you thought that it'd be a good start. As you finished the Thai dishes, you two cuddled on your sofa, and it felt nice to be embraced by his muscly arms and had your head rested on his shoulder. He had never been that happier before, imagining for a moment —staring at you by the corner of his eyes— that he wasn't a retired lethal assassin controlled by a bunch of psychos, just a guy watching a movie with his girl.

For some reason that increased his pulse, having to clear his throat as the thought dried it. You couldn't let it go, wrinkling your nose with curiosity, raising your face slightly at Bucky trying to focus on the movie, and pretending everything was going okay.

“What?” He murmured about to laugh nervously, putting his head back a couple of inches to look better at you.

“Seems like you're gonna have a heart attack, what's the matter?”

The soldier breathed heavily through his nostril, expelling all the air in a sight through his parted lips. A lower giggle escaped them as your eyes widened a little more interested in his response to your question.

“Sam… Sam said something this morning”.

There it was. Your grimace turned skeptical, sitting up to borrow the control remote and pause the movie. Turning to face him and placing an arm on the headrest, you puckered your lips in a funny gesture watching him click his tongue.

“Things are different nowadays and… y'know, we used to watch movies”.

“And that's what we're doing”.

“Yeah, but… it's like… now there are some kinds of non-speak social rules”.

You knew exactly what he was referring to and seeing him somewhat troubled and tense just made your heart melt. It wasn't that he was scared, but it almost felt like.

“Is it your first time since the forties?” You dared to ask, clearly with no intentions of making fun of him.

“I've never really… y'know, I was in my twenties when I left Brooklyn. I me— mean, 'm not stupid, okay? I've done things but not… sex like… to the whole point”. Bucky didn't have his eyes on you when he made that confession, rubbing the bridge of his nose by inertia as his nervousness increased. “And now everything… is pretty different”.

“It doesn't have to”. You just replied, stretching a hand to his right one to intertwine your fingers. “Listen, Buck… We don't have to, okay? We don't have to do anything if you're not ready. We can watch the movie and then… you can go, or you can stay to sleep with me”.

“I'd like that”.

“Leave?”

“Yeah, totally, if you excuse me, ma'am… I gotta leave” He clearly joked, about to stand up until you pushed him down to the sofa bursting in laughter. “Nah, I, uh… I mean, I'd like to sleep with you tonight”.

“I'd like too, and to wake up tomorrow morning with you”.

“Yeah, would be very awkward if you go to sleep with me and wake up with another guy in your bed”.

Bucky smirked at you, biting his upper lip before leaning to press both on yours. He couldn't believe you were being so comprehensive with him, not making any other uncomfortable questions, nor kicking his ass out of your house. At that moment, he realized he was madly in love with you, bringing you closer to himself so he could embrace you tenderly between his arms. And you let him, not wanting anything else than to be with him.

At the moment the movie finished, you both stretched your hands to the ceiling with a yawn opening your mouths. You palmed his thigh to beckoning at him, urging the soldier to follow you as you rubbed your eyes using your knuckles, a little sleepy. Turning off the lights on your way to your room, you changed your clothes for a baggy Iron Maiden's t-shirt, as he stripped himself leaving his clothes on the chair in front of your bed, only wearing a pair of black boxers at the end.

You were about to ask him which side he preferred when the words died on your tongue, glancing at him with his flesh hand over his dark grey shoulder. It was the first time you saw the vibranium arm in all its glory and Bucky gave you the impression of being embarrassed. He'd never stop surprising you with plenty of emotions for things that for you didn't have any importance actually —like the fact of not having two real arms.

“Come here”. You murmured, kneeling on the mattress and palming the other lateral, observing every one of his actions till lying next to him, in the middle of the gloom of your room.

Covering both of you with the sheets and turning on your sides to face each other, Bucky took the initiative of wrapping you close to his chest, as he placed his head on your pillow. He couldn't help but take a soft breath from your heavenly smell impregnated in, provoking a smile to grow on your lips. Surrounding his neck with your arms, you sunk your fingers in his short hair, gently caressing his scalp while you started to spread tender short kisses all around his face.

“This feels good”. He purred with such a pleased tone of voice, closing his eyes as he adventured his warm hand under your shirt to draw invisible patterns on your back.

“So good”. You affirmed, peppering his cheek with a bunch of noisy smooches.

Bucky squeezed you between his grip, hiding his face into the gap of your shoulder and neck, causing you goosebumps because of his exhalation against your skin. He was comfortable being that close, with no distance separating your chests and your legs intertwined in a bundle. You saw how relaxed he was when he pulled his head back to the pillow, noses touching and his eyelids closed.

“Good night, Buck”. You whispered, still feeling his caresses on your back, leaning to kiss him one last time.

“Good night, doll”.

a / n: i hope you have enjoyed the fluffiness of these three chapters because the fourth is gonna be... chaotic.

feedback is appreciated, please, leave a comment to let me know if you liked it.

and support writers with a REBLOG!!! 🤍

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[nahimjustfeelingit-writes]

Life size mannequin.

Erik’s girl uses him as a mannequin but Erik takes it too far and it back fires.

If you were to ask Y/N how she gets everything done she wouldn’t be able to give you a straight forward answer. Juggling school, a full time job, and a side hussle isn’t for the delicate and inadequate. Staying up until 2 AM with flash cards sprawled out on the living room table and a ratty mannequin head between her legs every night, Y/N fights much needed rest to recharge for the next days events. That’s not the only thing her teeming life has to offer. Y/N’s new boyfriend, Erik would be seen as a distraction to some but she can hold her own without slacking on her studies, missing a days work, or forgetting to do a clients hair. He’s handsome, fun, intriguing, smart, and that dick...it needs its own SSN and certificate. It’s own area code even. If she had to admit it, whenever her mind drifted to their bodies tangled in her sheets, moaning and groaning, she lost focus just a little bit.

Y/N is off on a Friday for once and instead of catching up on rest, Y/N decided to use her entire day making a closure wig for a friend and client. It’s a 24 inch body wave natural black lace frontal. No shedding, very soft, bouncy, with overall great quality. If only her lousy mannequin head would keep still!!! Y/N gave up after the mannequin head slipped from her grip. She usually has a wig stand with a mannequin head attached to the end but all of them are covered with other wigs that didn’t need to be ruined. The old fashioned way brought her back to how frustrating it was to practice. And to make things worse, Erik is strolling back and forth in front of her naked after his shower and completely ignoring her closet stocked with plenty of towels. When he stopped in front of her, his strapping thighs and that lethal weapon dangling she felt her face grow warm and her belly grow butterflies.

“You’re not helping, jerk,” Y/N said as she continued sewing. She was almost finished.

“I haven’t seen you in a few days and the one time I have a chance to spend time with you, this is what you do.”

“This wig is past due, Erik. I was supposed to get this to her two days ago. Thank God she had some shit going on herself otherwise I would be losing a client.”

Erik gave up trying to seduce Y/N and grabbed a pair of briefs from his travel bag.

“Whatever, you owe me some after this,” Erik sat down on the bed, leaning on one elbow, “You really into this.”

“And?” Y/N sassed.

“I’m just saying. Why not be a full time hair stylist?”

“Because I don’t want to do this for a living. Why else would I be in school for something that has nothing to do with hair? It’s just money to make on the side.”

The mannequin slipped again and Erik burst out laughing.

“I wanna see you try it since you find my struggle funny.”

“Oh, you don’t want me to do it I’ll fuck that whole wig up.”

Y/N ignored his smart remark.

“I’ll come over there and mess that shit right up and make you start over.”

“Erik, I’m not in the mood right now leave me alone,” Y/N cut her eyes at him, “Try me if you want I will take the end of this needle and dig it in one of them keloids. Make it pop like bubble wrap, think I’m playing.”

“You forget you’re talking to someone with a pain kink. Why you think my pain receptors fucked up?”

“So, you mean to tell me, if I boil some hot water right now and pour it on your leg...you wouldn’t feel pain?”

Erik frowned his face into a mug at Y/N as he cocked his head back. The widening of his eyes is what made her giggle.

“You don’t know how to love me all you wanna do is hurt a nigga. What is wrong with you?”

“I’m only messing with you—”

“No you’re not. If I say some shit you don’t like I get slapped upside my head. If I want to be in a playing mood you threaten me with that little fist of yours. Just admit it, you enjoy tormenting me.”

“You’re so Goddamn dramatic,” Y/N tilted her mannequin head forward, “Can you do me a huge favor?”

“If it involves getting up off this bed the answer is fuck no,” Erik said while lying on his back now with his legs hanging over the edge of the bed.

“I already know you’re about to say no but...I want you to let me use you as my mannequin.”

“Huh?”

The way his voice rose an octave has Y/N laughing.

“Can you let me put this wig on you so I can finish this?”

Erik’s brows shot up as his eyes landed on her, “Why? So you can sneak and take a picture? I’m not falling for that.”

“Erik c’mon now. I just need your head for a second and that’s it.”

“I can think of other ways you can use my head but instead you wanna put some weave on me.”

Erik sat up and swung his legs around to face Y/N. Erik leans forward on his knees, staring at the wig with a steady blink.

“What size is that shit anyway? You know I have locs so...how the hell is that supposed to fit on my head?”

“I’ll just...fit it over that pineapple on top of your head.”

“Jokes,” Erik reached up and took out the elastic band that held his tapered locs. Shaking his head, his locs fell over his eyes, “I’m not putting that on my head.”

“Not even for me?” Y/N pouts, “Not your favorite girl?”

“I know you, Y/N. You’re gonna put that shit on my head, take a picture, and post it. I’m not falling for the shit. I told you that.”

“Whatever. You got a big ass dome anyway and this wig is average size.”

“Now you’re tryna clown me?” Erik said with a half smirk on his full lips flashing a bit of his gold canines.

“It’s like...mad wide from front to back...no wonder you keep your hair long—”

“I know you ain’t talking shit with that ginormous ass forehead, girl.”

“I thought you said all the fine girls got big foreheads?” Y/N bat her lashes at Erik.

“That’s what’s helping you out. First time I saw you I was thinking damn, this bitch got a big ass forehead. And don’t think I forgot about how you played me when you sent that cropped picture.”

“Boy, fuck you!!” Y/N shouted over Erik’s laughter.

“I was—I was looking at the picture like where the rest of her face go?!”

Y/N glared at Erik as he dissolved into laughter.

“It’s really not that funny. Now are you gonna help me or not?!”

“Aight, I’ll do it this one time.” Erik sat up with one hand resting against his abdomen while the other wiped away tears, “Where do you want me?”

“On the floor between my legs, DUH where the fuck else would you be?”

He began dying laughing again from Y/N’s obvious annoyance. Erik took his place on the floor while Y/N climbed behind him onto the bed with each leg dangling on either side of him. Y/N takes the wig from the mannequin and before she placed it on Erik she tilted his head back more for easier access. Grabbing the half-done wig, Y/N fluffed out the ends before arranging it over Erik’s locs. Even at their short length it was a challenge to fit the wig the way she needed it.

“Can you PLEASE keep still?” Y/N prompted.

“I’m not even moving. This wig just don’t fit.”

Y/N applied force and wiggled it over his locs causing Erik’s head to rock back and forth aggressively. He growled before reaching behind him to grab her hands. The wig looked much shorter on him in the back from how prominent his back and shoulders are. Erik turned to face her with his lips tight and face frowned, the wig making him look ridiculous and silly. Y/N folded her lips into her mouth but the urge to laugh caused her cheeks to puff out.

“If only you knew how tight my fucking head feels right now. I can’t even smile without this shit feeling like my scalp is being pulled. This better come off when we’re done or that’s your ass.”

“Erik, turn around. I only have one section to do and then you’re free. Next time, don’t ask me to help you with shit if you’re gonna act like this.”

Erik sucked his teeth and faced forward so Y/N could continue. He lowered his head so she could work on the back area.

“Can I ask you something, babe?” Y/N said.

“What?” Erik replied.

“Do you mind modeling this for me—”

“See, I knew this shit—”

Erik stood up before Y/N could wrap her arms around him. He walked over to the full body mirror in her room to look at himself and that’s when he couldn’t hold back his own laughter.

“Yo, what the fuck do you have on my head!” Erik played with the strands while turning his head from side to side, “I look like James Brown, AYE!!!!”

Y/N was in stitches when he mimicked James Brown in the mirror. She fell back against her bed hollering from the way he looked.

“Nah, I’m not drunk right now I need to be drunk to enjoy this,” Erik leaned into the mirror, “I look better than half the bitches that come in here to get their hair done. Let me find out.”

“You are so STUPID!!!!” Y/N yelled between giggles.

“I’ll be back,” Erik left the room with the wig swaying from side to side since it wasn’t fully secure.

“Where are you going?!” Y/N shouted from the bed.

Erik didn’t respond to her loud voice. When he returned two minutes later he had a cup in one hand and his bottle of Hennessy in the other. Erik sat both the cup and the bottle on Y/N’s cluttered dresser to make himself a drink.

“This was supposed to be a quick thing now you’re drinking.”

Y/N watched Erik from her relaxed spot on the bed. Erik took two sips of his drink before standing in front of her mirror again.

“What are you doing?!”

Y/N couldn’t even finish her words when Erik started shimmying his shoulders and snapping his fingers to a soundless beat. Hooting with laughter Y/N could feel wetness on her cheeks.

“IM DONE!!!”

“This shit give bad bitches super powers.” Erik said

“Let me find out you wanna wear a weave now.” Y/N jokes.

Erik brought his cup to his lips and drank more Hennessy while moving his hips. This was too good not to get a video. With Erik being his usual silly self, Y/N snatched up her phone from the floor before pulling up her Instagram to record him. On her story, Y/N focused the camera on her boyfriend when he started singing the lyrics to Lady Marmalade.

“Gitchi gitchi, ya ya, da da. Gitchi gitchi, ya ya, here!!”

“Oh my God!!” Y/N cried out with a chuckle before ending the video. She uploaded it to her story before quickly tossing her phone towards the end of the bed.

“Creole Lady Marmalade!!!!!!!!”

“You hardly had anything to drink and you’re acting like this? Lord.”

“Aight, I’m done for now,” Erik made his way back over to Y/N with his cup, “put on a movie or something.”

“Ohhhhhh!!! So you’re asking me to pick this time?! I get to make a decision, Erik?! Wowwwwwwwww!!!”

“Girl, shut up.”

Y/N chose a random movie for background noise while she finished. She was surprised at how content he was and it made her consider asking him to help more in the future. It was fun and it made her laugh. That’s one thing about Erik that she adores. He matches her sense of humor. Y/N heard a vibration and when she glanced over to look at her phone the screen is still black. Between her legs she could see Erik staring at a text message from his Lock Screen

“What the fuck is this nigga talking ‘bout.”

“Erik keep still—”

“Nigga who is Miss Man?!”

Y/N paused to peer over Erik’s shoulder.

“This nigga just called me Miss Man from Scary Movie.”

Erik tapped on the microphone on his keyboard to speak.

“Who the fuck randomly texts somebody that at 11 PM? Fucking weirdo ass nigga. Let me find out you want Miss Man for yourself.”

“Who is Miss Man— OH! The PE teacher that was sniffing the underwear?!!! hahahahahahahahahahaha!!!”

“This nigga...he said all you need is the underwear, skirt, nails, and makeup—wait.”

“And some long ass balls!!” Y/N snickered.

Erik whipped his head around and when Y/N met his fiery eyes she swallowed her laugh and it left an uncomfortable lump in her throat.

“Did you post me online wearing this wig, Y/N?”

“No.”

“I’m gonna ask you again. Did you post me online in this wig?

“Mm—mm. I did no such thing.”

“Then let me see your phone.”

Erik reached out for Y/N’s phone but she snatched it away. Erik moved his head to the side to flip some of the wig hair form his face but it fell forward again disobeying him.

“Did I? Uhhhh—OKAY OKAY!!”

It happened so fast. Erik has Y/N by the waist and up in the air.

“Yes, I did!! I’ll delete it.”

“You don’t listen to shit I tell you to do—”

“It was cute! You looked cute with it on—”

“You know what’s about to happen right?! I told you not to do that shit!”

“Erik, it’s all in fun. I’ll get rid of it—”

“That shit is embarrassing! What if I posted you online at your worse?”

“I don’t have a bad moment I always look good.” Y/N sasses.

“Says the girl that always complains about me taking off guard pics.”

“Erik, you’re not even at your worse. You act like I posted you looking bummy!”

Y/N kept her word and went to Instagram to delete. When she got there, she was met with at least ten DMs replying to her story.

Corythemua_: gurllll who is that? 👀 ooooh he is fione!!! Is he into guys?

Jermaine_87: Wtf is he doing?! 🤣🤣🤣🤣 let me text this nigga

Katriceee: how did you convince him to do this?! LOL

Amethyst1993: when he find out about this you are in trouble girl!!!

“did you delete the video yet?! Don’t let me find out it’s still there!”

“It’s gone! Happy?! What happened to being in a playing mood?!!”

“Now all my friends texting me and clowning me! You play too many games. Hurry up and help me take this shit off!”

Erik brushed some strands from his lips with his fingertips and Y/N squealed. Nothing he could say or do would make her listen. He looked absolutely hilarious with the wavy tresses of the wig moving in tandem with his brawny physique.

“Erik, I can’t take you seriously with that wig on.”

“Then take this off!!”

Erik attempts to pull it off but suddenly stops when he realizes he needs help.

“I want this shit off now, Y/N.”

“FINE! Come here.”

Y/N tapped the floor with her foot for Erik to take a seat. When he does, Y/N does the opposite of what he asks and begins to place his hair into two buns. She silently laughed behind him, praying that he wouldn’t hear her falling apart. When she was finished, Erik assumed she was done because he didn’t feel the hair tickling his skin. When he stood up to look in the mirror, Erik groaned loudly at his appearance before flexing his jaw at her threateningly to make her listen. It didn’t work at all for him. She couldn’t stop laughing.

“You look so crazy!!!!!” Y/N hugged her sides and rolled on the bed with laughter, “And that evil look is making it even funnier!!”

“I’m about to beat your ass if you don’t take this shit off!!! It wouldn’t be funny if this shit stuck now would it?!!! I gotta go to work and all that nah take this off—

“HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!”

“Aight, are you finished?!” Erik said impatiently.

“Baby...you don’t understand...oh my God.”

“Y/N, for real, take this dumb ass wig off before I cut it off!”

“Okay okay!! Before I do...you gotta do one last thing for me...pretty please? With caramel sauce and a cherry on top? I’ll do whatever you want if you do this last thing for me.”

“.....”

“PLEASE BABY?!!”

“.....”

“Erik, look, it’ll be funny! I just want you to cat walk for me and then I’m done—”

“Ahhhhh HELL no—”

“Please—”

“For what?! So you can keep laughing?!”

“I’ll suck your dick, lick your balls—”

“Girl, that won’t work on me—”

“You sure about that?”

Y/N poked her tongue out and started doing tricks with it to show off her tongue ring. Erik’s eyes squinted at her but she could tell from his breathing that he wouldn’t be able to fight it much longer. He even said so himself that her head game makes him weak and no woman before her has ever made him weak.

“...from here to the bed and that’s it.”

Y/N smiled victoriously.

Erik placed his hands on his tapered waistline before lowering his head. Y/N could hear him silently laughing to himself before he lifted his head displaying an adorable dimpled smile. He started strutting towards Y/N with stiff hips and two left feet. All this from her flicking her tongue. Y/N stared at him with her mouth hanging open and eyes wide. He had a focused look on his face and the wig with its two buns flopped up and down messily like bunny ears. He struck a pose with his hip jutted out before he started to vogue. At that point, Y/N couldn’t take it any longer. She had to grab onto Erik so she could catch her breath. Soon, Erik’s deep laugh could be heard.

“You get on my nerves,” Erik sat beside Y/N, “now, can you take this off of me?!”

“Turn around,” Y/N took down the buns before carefully sliding the wig off from front to back, “You’re off the hook after that I’m gonna go back to using this mannequin head.”

“Yeah, finish up so I can spank that ass for posting me on social media.”

Y/N did a double take, “I’m still in trouble?!”

“Yeah, you’re not off the hook.”

The remaining time Y/N finished her clients wig, she thought up all possible ways he could punish her this time.

“Can I have a kiss?” Y/N asked with a sweet sounding voice.

“Yes,” Erik poked his thick, moist lips out and Y/N pressed her soft lips against them.

“Mmm...still in trouble, ma,” Erik whispered.

[ginwalt]

Training Room Tension (Natasha Romanoff x Reader)

Summary: Reader is a cocky new recruit. Black Widow decides to put her in her place.

Warning: the briefest mention of suggestive content near the end.

It was a well known fact amongst your fellow SHIELD recruits that you were undefeated. You bested all of your fellow trainees in everything from combat to reconnaissance practice. Not only did you spend several hours in the training room after everyone had left for the day, you woke up earlier than everyone else as well. Determination and passion filled your every uppercut and kick as you dreamed of the day you would become a SHIELD agent.

Currently, you were in the middle of sparring with Adam Wesley, a sweet young man with a killer punch. Sweat beaded on your forehead as you twisted the mans arm behind his back and kicked him to the mat with your knee. He grunted and rolled onto his bare back, a grin painted on his clean shaven face. You straddled his stomach and pinned his hands to his sides with your feet. Your black sports bra was damp with sweat and locks of hair were sticking to your forehead.

Adam wheezed, "Okay okay I give. Get up please you're going to crush me."

You rolled your eyes with a smug grin, "You're a big guy Adam, crush is a bit much."

The man stood and wiped his face with a sweat towel. He plopped back down on the mat, "It still hurt. I thought you were going to break my wrist," he complained, chucking the towel into the hamper nearby.

"You're such a drama queen," you replied in between gulps of water.

"Says the one who has never been on the receiving end of one of your punches," he replied, sticking out his tongue mockingly.

You returned the gesture and laughed, "And I'm glad for it, I bet I could take out everyone in this gym with a single punch." You tossed your empty water bottle aside and flopped down next to him.

Adam huffed, "Y/N one day that attitude is going to get you killed."

You wrapped an arm around his broad shoulders and kissed his cheek playfully, "One day maybe, but not today." He made a disgusted face and pushed you away before scrubbing at his cheek.

You opened your mouth to tease the man further when a new voice cut you off, "You could beat anyone in this gym, huh?" You looked up to find the Black Widow herself standing before you, arms crossed. "I wouldn't count on that, princess"

Leaning back on your hands you gave her a lopsided grin, "Oh really? Why shouldn't I count on the truth?" You struggled to maintain your confident façade as you stared up at the older woman. You had been infatuated with Natasha ever since you first saw her at SHIELD headquarters. The skilled assassin was nothing short of gorgeous and you often found yourself staring at her when the two of you were in the same room. However, careful training kept your face from blushing as she crouched so that the two of your were face to face.

"You should the audience for your boasting more carefully. It might get you in trouble one of these days," Natasha purred, her shoulder length hair brushing your cheek.

"Is today one of those days?" You shot back, leaning in closer so that your nose was practically touching hers. Despite all your previously mentioned careful training, your eyes found themselves trailing down to her lips. Your heart missed a few dozen beats as the woman let out a raspy chuckle, clearly aware of just how much of your confidence was faked.

"That all depends on whether you want to make good on your claims, princess," Natasha stood to her full height, her gaze never leaving yours.

Adam cleared his throat nervously and looked between the women before him, "Should I go?" he asked, moving to stand to his feet.

"I think that would best," you replied, hopping up from your own lounging position. The man glanced back at you and mouthed a quick 'good luck' before scampering off to the treadmills.

"So, is that a yes?" Natasha questioned, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Absolutely."

--

The two of you circled one another, fists raised defensively. The excited tension in the air crackled between the two of you like Tesla coils as you took in the woman before you. Your heart was about ready to crack from its place in your rib cage. Why had you agreed to do this? Natasha Romanoff was literally nicknamed the Black Widow because of her notoriously lethal fighting style. Still, it was too late to back out now. If you did neither Adam nor the rest of the recruits would let you live it down. You had a reputation to uphold, after all.

Gritting your teeth, you lunged forward with a low aimed punch. Natasha jumped aside faster than you thought humanly possible and kicked your still outstretched arm away. You grunted and stumbled back as your arm flailed awkwardly back to your side. The two of you erupted in a flurry of kicks and jabs and punches. You did your best to stumble out of the way of her efficient blows, suddenly feeling like a defenseless rabbit stuck in a cage with a wolf. Natasha was making quick work of your attacks, deflecting and dodging as if it were the easiest thing in the world.

The assassin aimed a punch for your stomach, however, you leaped back and managed to land a sweeping kick under her feet. Natasha grunted and fell backwards onto the mat. You let your chest fill with pride for a millisecond before lunging on top of the older woman. Your hands gripped her wrists as your knee pressed against her toned stomach.

You grinned and leaned down until your could feel her breath on your face, "See, what did I tell you? The best," you muttered, your eyes locked onto your own piercing gaze.

Natasha raised an eyebrow, her body remaining completely lax under your own. "Princess, a word of advice," the assassin hooked one of her legs into the crook of the knee that was pressed against her abdomen. She when kicked out, yanking your leg loose. You stumbled, your grip on her wrists loosening. She surged upward and flipped the two of you so that you were now pinned under her. "never declare a fight is over until it is actually over," she finished.

You stared up at her, your eyes wide and your chest heaving. Her thighs were now straddling your bare stomach and her hair was falling against your flushed face. "Bu-but..." you trailed off, face now beet red.

Natasha poked her lower lip out in fake sympathy, "Awww poor baby. Not used to losing, are you?" she murmured, tracing a light finger down your cheek and along your jawline. "If it's any consolation, you were better than I thought you would be. In a few years you might even be worth my time."

You struggled to reply as her finger trailed from your jaw down to your neck and onto your chest. She traced patterns along your sports bra as she gazed down at you. Your mouth continued to gape open like a suffocating fish. She smiled and kissed your cheek. "If you're always this cute when you lose I might have to kick your ass more often."

You frowned, "Who said I was done fighting?"

Natasha raised a brow and sat up. "Okay then, throw a punch," she replied mockingly.

You narrowed your eyes and glared up at her for a moment before letting out a huff, "Fine, I give up. You win," you grit out.

Her eyes widened in fake surprise as she cupped her ear and leaned in closer, "Oh, I'm sorry, can you speak up? I didn't quite get that."

You grumbled, "You win, okay? I'm sorry."

She grinned and stood from her place on your stomach. Part of you mourned the loss of the intimate contact. She reached out a hand to help you up, which you gratefully accepted.

Natasha leaned closer so that her lips were practically touching the shell of your ear, "You know if you weren't so adorable I might just leave you here to sulk. But, I quite like you and I would really enjoy it if you went with me to the locker room," Natasha muttered, her breath hot against your cheek. You shuddered and leaped forward to get to the locker room. The assassin let out an amused snort before following closer behind.

The moment the two of you entered the empty locker room, you turned to face the redhead. But, before you could even get a word out she was already shoving you up against a locker. You gasped as her lips collided with your own. The kiss was violent and desperate as you quickly leaned in to reciprocate. Natasha smiled and nipped at your lower lip, her hands gripping your wrists above your head. You gasped and allowed her tongue to slip into your mouth. Sometimes losing was worth it.

[laurenairay]

What Love Feels Like - S. Crosby

Summary: your boyfriend Sidney, the surprise romantic?

Word Count: 3.3k

Warnings: established relationship fluff, cheesy romance, essentially a 4+1

A/N: I’ve been in an absolute writing rut since before Christmas, so I just want to thank @danglesnipecelly​ for reminding me how much I love soft sexy sid 😘 also, how have I never written for him before?!

~

No-one ever said dating Sidney Crosby was going to be easy.

They also didn’t say how much of a romantic he was either.

It was like at every turn, he had a new way to make your heart beat a little faster, to make you face heat up warm, to make your stomach fill with butterflies. Whether it was buying your favourite sweet treats as a pick me up, or the kisses that would leave you breathless in passing, or even the way his tongue flicked at your bare body just right, Sidney always kept you on your toes.

But it was his words that affected you the most.

You hadn’t expected much verbal affection from him at the beginning of your relationship, the rumours of his hockey robot status the main thing you knew about him – but you were quickly proved wrong. Maybe it was the media training that kept him so hockey-bland in interviews, because the minute he wasn’t in hockey mode, he immediately turned sweet, suave and so sexy. And it wasn’t just flirting talk, to prelude to sex (although the first time he murmured all the things he wanted to do with you after the team event you were at, you almost lost your mind then and there) – it was the sweet loving statements that sent your heart pounding.

How could you ever have known about his way with words?

*

Today had been a stressful one. Work had been full-on without any warning, and you were just about done with people. You’d even hesitated when Sidney offered to cook you dinner at his house – but eventually the temptation of being pampered by your boyfriend had been too good to resist. Maybe he’d be able to turn your day around. It couldn’t hurt to try, right?

And as you suspected, Sidney had taken one look at the exhaustion on your face and ushered you to the sofa, only disappearing to come back with a large glass of wine for you.

“You are an absolute gem,” you groaned, tilting your head back to look up at him.

He just grinned, taking the silent cue for what it was and leaning down to kiss you gently. Yes, this was just what you needed.

And the evening had only gotten better from there. Sidney had made the two of you a simple but delicious coq au vin dinner (the recipe definitely came from Vero Fleury, and you knew that you would definitely need to text her your thanks later), followed by a chocolate tart that you swore was the best thing you’d ever tasted (that one was from a local bakery, and you knew it wouldn’t be the last time you’d get something from there now!). And all throughout the evening, Sidney had kept the conversation flowing, telling you hilarious stories of grumpy Geno and naïve rookies from the recent road trip he’d had, as well as about the cute dog that his neighbour had recently adopted, and you felt yourself relaxing more with each passing moment.

Sidney had indeed turned your day around just like you’d hoped.

After eating, Sidney had insisted on clearing the plates by himself, making you roll your eyes fondly but accept a gentle kiss as he walked past. You could at least get the two of you a fresh glass of wine each. You were tired, not incapable. So with that in mind, you picked up the two empty wine glasses and followed your boyfriend into the kitchen, opening the fridge to pick out the open bottle of white wine he’d opened earlier.

But just as you finished filling the glasses, you felt a pair of arms slide around you from behind, making you jump slightly, earning a soft laugh.

“Menace,” you complained fondly, putting the wine bottle down on the side.

“Couldn’t help myself, I needed you in my arms,” Sidney said simply, squeezing you in a little hug.

You leant back into his chest, smiling to yourself. How could you say no to that? The two of you stayed silent for a few more moments, just enjoying the comfort of this embrace, until Sidney sighed softly.

“You make me want things I didn’t think I could have,” Sidney murmured, pressing a kiss to your shoulder.

What the hell?

You spun around in his arms straight away, the frown on your face making Sidney laugh softly.

“What things? And who says you can’t have them?” you demanded.

“Always so protective,” he mused.

You batted at his chest, rolling your eyes. “I’m serious Sid! What do you mean, things you can’t have?”

He bit his bottom lip, making your frustration soften a little. This was something he’d really thought about, wasn’t it?

“I just…I never expected to find someone while I was still playing hockey,” Sidney started.

What the hell? He was just going to wait, until he eventually retired? What?! But as you opened your mouth to protest, Sidney pressed a finger to your lips, a fond smile on his.

“No, I know what I’m like. My routines are so set in stone, I’m away so often, I have so many more responsibilities as Captain and well, just because I’m me. I was told from a young age that anything other than hockey was a distraction. So I just…shelved the idea. Didn’t even let myself hope,” Sidney explained.

“Sid…that’s so sad,” you said softly, clutching at his sweater with both hands, “to just resign yourself to being lonely, I can’t…”

“Hey, it’s okay. I can’t say it hasn’t paid off with hockey,” he mused, “and besides…I met you, didn’t I?”

You bit your lip, your face heating up warm, Sidney’s hand rising to run a knowing thumb over your cheek.

“So I wasn’t a distraction?” you asked hopefully.

“Oh, you absolutely were,” Sidney said, laughing softly, making your heart sink a little. He saw your hesitant expression, and shook his head. “It was a distraction that I didn’t know I needed. You help me break out of my intensity, to separate the rink from home. Without you, I would just eat, breathe, sleep hockey, and meeting you made me realise that I can have hockey and love. You give me a reason to live, and I couldn’t be more grateful for that,”

You couldn’t stop the tears that sprung to your eyes, nor the smile that spread across your lips. “Sidney…” you murmured helplessly.

“Thank you. For making me whole. For making me a better person,” he said seriously, hand still cupping your face so you couldn’t do anything but look into his eyes.

Your heart clenched at his words, and there was nothing you could think of to say that needed to be added. So you just lifted your head and pressed your lips to his in a kiss that said everything.

*

A good run of games, with far more wins than losses, always put your boyfriend in a good mood. So good, that after the latest game, which was another win where he’d gotten 2 goals and 1 assist, he’d even suggested going out for drinks. You were more than happy to agree – not that you didn’t love your evenings in with him, but sometimes it was nice to go out and try something new, y’know? These plans quickly turned into a couples’ drinks with Kris and Catherine, and Geno and Anna, and the six of you ended up in a private booth in a fancy cocktail bar.

You’d immediately ordered some lethal manhattan cocktails with Anna and Cath, leaving the guys to their own devices as the three of you toasted to the success of the men in your lives. As you surveyed the bar around you, you felt yourself relax a little. This was exactly you needed, with exactly these people. These two women had welcomed you so quickly into the Better Halves group, and you couldn’t be more excited to spend time with just them. Well, them and your rapidly tipsy partners. 

It had only taken the three men a couple of hours to be giggling messes. 

Kris, the troublemaker that he was, had indulged Sidney’s sweet tooth with so many sugary cocktails, that he was already pretty far gone, eyes glassy and skin flushed. Sure, he was going to feel it tomorrow morning, but the fact that he actually got the chance to let go, to just relax with his just closest friends? That was the most important thing.

How often did Sidney get the chance to do that?

The six of you were still in the booth, Geno having just come back with a fresh round of cocktails, and Sidney was started to lean against you a little heavier, making you frown slightly.

“Hey, are you good?” you asked softly.

Sidney leaned back to look at you properly, hair a little ruffled and his top two buttons undone, distracting you slightly.

“You’re the most beautiful thing I have ever seen…and I’ve held the Stanley Cup three times,” Sidney slurred, his lips stretched in that beautiful crooked grin.

Kris, Cath, Geno and Anna all just burst into laughter, making you laugh too.

“I’m serious! The cup is so beautiful…but you, you are the most,” Sidney said firmly.

“He’s serious,” Kris snickered, “crisse Sid, what a romantic,”

The sarcasm just made Sidney pout. Bless him.

“Okay I think it’s time for some water,” you giggled.

“Oh no please, let him carry on. It’s been so long since drunk Sid made an appearance,” Kris grinned.

“Drunk Sid is most fun!” Geno added, nodding enthusiastically.

You looked back at your boyfriend to see him still smiling at you like the sun, and you couldn’t stop the butterflies erupting in your stomach. How were you supposed to react, when he looked at you so brilliantly? You didn’t have to look at Cath or Anna to know that they were smiling fondly at you – you’d had enough wine nights with them to know how sweet they thought Sidney was with you.

“He may be fun now, but he’s going to be an absolute grump tomorrow and you know it,” you mused, shaking your head.

“Won’t be grumpy,” Sidney insisted.

Oh jeez. “Yes you will,” you teased, “But you’re cute, so I’ll let it slide,”

“You think I’m cute?” Sidney said happily, before looking at his teammates, “she think I’m cute!”

That just sent Kris and Geno into fits of laughter again, making you sigh fondly. Oh he was definitely going to feel this tomorrow.

Worth it though.

*

The summer brought you back to Nova Scotia with Sidney. Well, you’d taken two weeks off work in August to be able to spend Sidney’s birthday with him, but you were so glad you did. Spending some proper time with his parents and with Taylor was so worth it, and you didn’t miss the little smiles he sent your way when he thought you weren’t looking – Sidney loved you being home with him just as much as you loved it.

The best part though, was definitely waking up to that sleepy morning sunlight, the lake only a stone’s throw away, Sidney warm and content and at peace. 

“Mm happy birthday Sid,” you murmured sleepily, curling further into his body.

“Shh, if my body doesn’t know that I’m getting older then I won’t get any more grey hairs,” Sidney groaned, not opening his eyes.

You just giggled, running a hand over his bare chest. What a drama queen.

“I’m pretty sure it doesn’t work like that, baby,” you teased, “you know I like your grey hair, the little grey of it that there is,”

What? You did!

Sidney lifted his head to look down at you incredulously. Of course that was what made him wake up properly.

“You like it?” he frowned.

“It makes you look…distinguished. It’s…sexy,” you shrugged. There was no reason to lie to him after all.

“Sexy?” he laughed, rolling his eyes.

Oh now that wouldn’t do. You slotted your leg between his thighs, moving to hover him slightly where he was lying on his back, waiting until he was looking at you properly. He swallowed heavily at the seriousness in your expression. Good.

“Yeah, Sid. It’s sexy,” you said softly, “you’re sexy. Clearly I need to tell you that more often,”

Sidney’s tongue darted out to wet his bottom lip, his eyes never leaving yours as he processed your words.

“If I’m so sexy, then why haven’t you kissed me yet?”

The desire in his voice sent a shiver down your spine, and you couldn’t help but to grin. You leant your head down to kiss him softly, leaning up on your elbow for a better angle. Sidney groaned softly at the sweet kiss, one hand sliding into your hair with the other resting on your waist. You kept the kiss slow, gentle, intense, with only light brushes of your tongue, taking your time to enjoy yourself. You loved early mornings like this, when it was just the two of you with nothing to do for hours, and today you had nowhere to be until well into the afternoon, so you were going to indulge yourself with these kisses while you could.

Eventually you broke away, lips feeling as swollen as Sidney’s looked. Wow.

“Is that better?” you mused, stroking the hair at his template.

“Hmm, I don’t know. That’s all I get?” he murmured, “on my birthday?”

Tease. You licked your bottom lip, Sidney’s eyes flashing darker, and you rolled off of him, tugging your sleep-top over your head and lying down sultrily on your back. Sidney’s eyes immediately fell to your bare chest, yours flicking down to the hard line of his cock in his boxers, before you grinned.

“Get over here birthday boy…” you purred.

Sidney didn’t waste another second.

*

Sometimes things weren’t perfect. Sometimes Sidney had a string of bad games where he got too much into his own head. Sometimes he wouldn’t communicate in any more than a couple of words or grunts. Sometimes you had to prioritise a work deadline over time with him. Sometimes things between the two of you were extremely tense until one (or most often, both) of you cracked and talked it out.

But that’s what made your relationship work – the talking. Being with Sidney meant being in such a mature adult relationship, and it was refreshing to be able to work through things with a guy that wasn’t just going to fly off the handle or sulk around. Sure, Sidney had his faults, but he always tried not to take his frustrations out on you. You knew that the highs of dating a hockey superstar came with the lows too – you knew that when you agreed to go on that very first date way back when, but he’d proved time and time again that he was worth it. He was always worth it.

Right now, Sidney…no, the Penguins had been on a bad luck streak, and you could see the pressure piling up on your boyfriend, from management, from the press, from the fans, from himself. But not from you. There was no way you were going to add to his stress, not when he needed your support more than anything.

And you knew he appreciated more than anything else.

Like today, for example.

Sidney had turned up at your apartment a couple of hours earlier than you thought, having come straight from the airport rather than going to his house first, just looking bone-tired. So you’d immediately drawn him a bath with your favourite lavender-vanilla bath bubbles, Sidney insisting that you join him too.

Well, you weren’t going to deny him that.

So that’s where the two of you were now, you lying between Sidney’s legs, your back leaning against his chest, your hands clutching at his forearms where his arms were wrapped around you.

“Thank you,” he said quietly.

You just smiled softly, tilting your head back to press a kiss to his jaw before leaning into him again.

“I’m just sorry we’re doing this in my shitty apartment rather than your lovely bathroom,” you shrugged.

“It doesn’t matter whether we’re at your place or mine. You’ve always felt like home,” Sidney murmured.

Oh god, if your heart could be any more full it would be. Wow.

“I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else,” you said softly, not wanting to break the moment, “I’ll always be here for you,”

Sidney smiled into your neck, pressing the lightest of kisses into your skin, making you shiver despite the temperate of the water.

“I mean it, you are my home and I couldn’t be more grateful. You’ve shown me what love feels like, sweetheart,” Sidney murmured, “I love you,”

You tried desperately to blink away the tears that sprung to your eyes, squeezing his hands. “I love you too Sid. So much,” you whispered.

As his arms held you a little tighter and he buried his face in your neck a little more, you knew there was nowhere else you would rather be.

*

Another morning, another day waking up in Sidney’s arms. No matter how many roadtrips he went on, countless by the point, it still felt weird sleeping in your own bed without him. Your apartment felt cold, felt empty, despite it holding all your possessions, but you knew that was just because it didn’t have him in it. When he was home in Pittsburgh, whether it was in your apartment or at his house, you had never slept better than when you were with him. You could only hope he felt the same.

“Good morning,” Sidney said softly, breaking you out of your thoughts.

“Good morning,” you replied, smiling up at him.

He smiled back, leaning over to press a few gentle kisses to your lips before leaning back.

“That was a real serious face you had a moment ago,” Sidney said, lying on his side with his head propped up with his hand.

Busted. “I was just thinking,” you shrugged.

“What are you thinking about?” he mused.

“Nothing much. Just…”

You trailed off, biting your bottom lip. Sidney’s hand slid to cup your face, his thumb brushing over your trapped lip until you let it free.

“Just…” he prompted.

“I could get used to waking up beside you,” you blurted,

Sidney’s face looked a little stunned. Damn it. Was that too much?

But then his face shifted into the biggest smile you’d ever seen, making your hopeful heart beat a little faster.

“Why don’t we make that a reality?”

W-What?

Sidney saw the confusion in your expression and hesitated, before turning and reaching into the bedside drawer beside him. He paused slightly, as he grabbed whatever it was, making your heart beat a little faster. What was going on? But after a couple of beats, he rolled back over to face you, hand clenched in a fist.

“Move in with me?” he murmured.

He opened his fist, revealing a shiny key, making your jaw drop a little. Oh wow.

“For real?” you whispered, eyes not moving from the key.

“Yeah, for real,” Sidney mused, although you could hear the strain of nerves in his voice, “I would really love for this to be your home too. You already have a ton of your clothes here as well as make-up and your shower stuff…so why don’t we make this full time?”

You choked out a laugh – he did have a point there.

But was it too soon?

No.

“If it makes a difference, I’ve wanted to ask you for months,” Sidney admitted.

“You have?” you asked, surprised.

“Yeah, sweetheart. You’re it for me,” he said simply.

He really did have such a way with words.

“I would love to, Sid,” you said softly.

“Yeah?” he grinned,

“Yeah. I want to build this life with you. So let’s do this,” you nodded.

Sidney whooped, making you giggle, and he dropped the key into the bedsheets in favour of pressing a deep kiss to your lips. Yeah, you could get used to this.

[alastaircarstairsdefenselawyer]

champagne problems (part 1)

here's my first part of my modern no magic "champagne problems" singer-songwriter quarantine thomastair AU! happy birthday to @foxglove-airmid even though I don't think it's your birthday where you live anymore (and I still haven't posted zia's birthday fic, it'll happen I swear)!

no content warnings for this part (besides maybe quarantine), but future parts will include discussions of mental illness, substance abuse, and a suicide attempt

obviously, the song alastair "wrote" in the fic is not mine, it's by taylor swift! and a few of the lyrics have been changed!

Masterlist | AO3

Thomas breathed out a sigh of relief as he lugged his suitcase up onto the fifth floor landing.

“‘Ere we are,” Piers announced as he unlocked the door.

Thomas was utterly exhausted, such was the result of taking a redeye flight across the Atlantic during a global pandemic, but any idea of rest that he’d had was interrupted when he heard the sound of piano flood the apartment.

“Ah, sorry about that,” Piers nodded, “One of my flatmates, the walls are paper thin. He can’t record at the studio right now, but he’s trying to finish his EP, so it’s been a bit noisier around here. He’ll take a break soon, hopefully.”

Thomas shook his head. “It’s no problem. Thank you, again, for allowing me to stay here. I’ll be looking for my own place as soon as the quarantine is up.”

“Of course. You’ve got the couch as long as you need it. Couldn’t just hang you out to dry, could I? Although, you did pick a god awful time to move to the city, if I do say so myself.”

Thomas sat down on the couch and tried to make himself comfortable. It was more comfortable than the flight or the airport, at least. “I know… I considered postponing the move, but the visa was so difficult to get, I just couldn’t pass up the opportunity. They say this will all blow over in a couple of weeks, but borders are closing and I heard talk of them suspending all pending visa applications. I didn't know how long it would be if I waited, if the job was even still here for me at all.” Although at first entrance, the music had seemed to be a nuisance, it now comforted him. It wasn’t bad at all, in fact, it quite reminded him of the days Alastair’s playing had filled their flat…

“Where did you say you were working again? At a record company?”

“Yeah. I’m just doing pretty basic stuff for now, but if I ever do want to record my own music, I’ve got to start somewhere.”

“Hm,” Piers said, gesturing to the room the music was coming from. “Perhaps you’ll get on with him well, then. Would you like some tea?”

Thomas nodded and Piers went to start the teapot. Piers continued, “Though I suppose he's more of the tortured artist type. Very reserved, quite prickly. I didn't even meet him until a couple weeks after I moved in here because he was off in some psychiatric hospital.” Thomas shifted uncomfortably in his seat. He was never one for gossip. “My other roommate’s nice, though, I think you’ll like him. He-”

“How did you end up in New York, again? I don’t think I ever asked.”

Piers dove into the subject change quite readily, explaining his uni - or college - years in New York City and his decision to stay afterwards. Thomas had tuned most of it out, truthfully. It wasn’t that he was trying to be rude, but he was rather exhausted, and Piers was wearing thin on his patience.

As the kettle started to whine, Thomas heard the musician begin to sing, and he froze. It sounded so much like Alastair. But it couldn't be, could it? With over 8 million people living in the city, he would not end up in Alastair's apartment by accident. His Alastair was certainly reserved and prickly, but it wasn't possible. It must be like all those times he thought he saw him on a street he'd never walked or heard his laugh in a café he'd never been to. Just his mind, tricking him. Even if he knew that voice so well, despite not hearing it in so long.

“It’s quite good, isn’t it? His first single just dropped.” Piers asked, bringing over his cup of tea. He hadn’t realized it, but he’d been staring intently at the door.

Thomas took the cup. “Hm? Yeah, I guess. Thanks.”

“You should look it up. It’s called “champagne problems” by Simurgh. That’s spelled- Well, it should come up.”

The name Simurgh sounded familiar, but Thomas couldn’t put his finger on where he knew it from. At Piers’ insistence, he pulled out his phone and brought up the song. As he skimmed through the first few lines, a cold feeling settled in his stomach.

“You booked the night train for a reason So you could sit there in this hurt Bustling crowds or silent sleepers You're not sure which is worse”

“Simurgh,” Thomas realized.

“Yeah, I think it’s Arabic or something.”

It took Thomas a moment to process that Piers was responding to him. “It’s Persian.” He was certain that Alastair would have some very stern words to say if he heard Piers confusing the two, actually. Thomas had admittedly let his Farsi skills deteriorate quite a bit since the breakup, but he was fairly certain the name came from the Shahnameh. There was no doubt in Thomas’ mind now: he was staying in Alastair’s apartment, and Alastair’s first single was about one of the most painful days in Thomas’ life. “I, er, I used to study it.”

“Oh, yes, that’s right!” Piers launched into a tangent that Thomas tuned out as he read through the rest of the page.

“Because I dropped your hand while dancing Left you out there standing Crestfallen on the landing Champagne problems”

“Thomas? Are you alright?”

He realized then that his hand was trembling so badly that his tea nearly spilled. He used his other hand to steady it. “Oh, uh, yes, I’m just tired.”

“Perhaps you should rest. I can ask Alastair to quiet down for a while-”

“No!” he exclaimed rather too forcefully. “No, that’s not necessary. I’d just rather not talk, if that’s alright.”

Piers nodded.

Thomas kept reading.

“Your mom's ring in your pocket My picture in your wallet Your heart was glass, I dropped it Champagne problems”

Of all the songs, why did he release the one about him? Why was it about a memory still so painful in Thomas’ heart, all of these years later? He remembered it so well, standing there, alone, shattered into a million pieces.

“You told your family for a reason You couldn't keep it in Your sister splashed out on the bottle Now no one's celebrating”

He was fairly certain that Barbara had been more excited than even he was, confident that Alastair would accept, and so very proud of her baby brother, all grown up. She’d been furious when it fell apart, but it was her who stood with him during the aftermath, who boarded him onto a train to Edinburgh to visit Eugenia when he couldn’t stand to be in the same city as him any longer, who went through his phone, blocking all of Alastair’s accounts so that he could obsess over him no longer, who comforted him as he wept and held him as he picked the pieces of himself back up again.

And all the more sour was the memory in light of her death.

“Dom Pérignon, you brought it No crowd of friends applauded Your hometown skeptics called it Champagne problems”

He looked up at Piers, who had fortunately become enthralled with something on his phone and was no longer paying Thomas any mind. He lifted the teacup gingerly to his lips, but he felt far too sick to take a drink.

“You had a speech, you're speechless Love slipped beyond your reaches And I couldn't give a reason Champagne problems”

A reason, that’s all Thomas had wanted. Just any explanation. He understood if they were moving too fast, or perhaps he’d misread something, but he just didn’t understand it.

Why? Why can’t you tell me why? I deserve an explanation, Alastair. Please, anything.

I… I’m sorry, Thomas.

Stop it! Stop apologizing! We can just go home and pretend this never happened, please, forget about all of it, it was a stupid idea-

Thomas, stop. I shouldn’t’ve… This was a mistake. I’m sorry I didn’t see that sooner.

That was the moment Thomas felt his heart stop beating.

“Your Midas touch on the Chevy door November flush and your flannel cure "This dorm was once a madhouse" I made a joke, "Well, it's made for me" How evergreen, our group of friends Don't think we'll say that word again And soon they'll have the nerve to deck the halls That we once walked through”

Despite the nearly two decades Thomas had spent in London before Alastair, it was never the same without him. He saw him everywhere he went, despite knowing he was thousands of miles away. After graduating uni that May, he accepted a spot at a graduate program in Spain and didn’t look back.

“One for the money, two for the show I never was ready so I watch you go Sometimes you just don't know the answer 'Til someone's on their knees and asks you "You’re the only one I want by my side, What a shame you’re fucked in the head," you said”

Those were the words that haunted Thomas’ nightmares, even now.

It’s you! It’s only you for me! It was always going to be you! But I can see now that I was never going to be enough for you, you and your secrets and walls and your lies. It’s a shame… it’s a shame you’re so fucked in the head, Alastair. You’ll never truly love anyone, will you? You’re not physically capable of it.

Alastair hadn’t responded. Thomas had wanted a rise out of him, any reaction at all, despite knowing how lethal and volatile Alastair could become when provoked. But there was nothing. Not a flicker of anything in his steeled expression. He’d simply looked down, apologized again for any pain that he’d caused, and left.

That was the last time they’d spoken.

Thomas and his sister left for Edinburgh that night, and when he’d returned to London, Alastair was gone.

“Well, you'll find the real thing instead Who'll patch up your tapestry that I shred And hold your hand while dancing Never leave you standing Crestfallen on the landing With champagne problems”

Thomas couldn’t imagine giving his heart to anyone again, not now and certainly not then. He’d dated in Madrid, but it had always stayed casual. He’d made sure of it. He could see now that he and Alastair had gotten together quickly, moved in together quickly, done all of it very quickly. After all, he’d fallen hard and fast. He gave all of himself to Alastair, and he’d nearly lost all of himself in the process.

“Your mom's ring in your pocket New picture in your wallet You won't remember all my Champagne problems

“You won't remember all my Champagne problems”

Now, he wondered what the rest of the story was. He’d convinced himself that Alastair had never loved him, that he was heartless and cruel, though he’d known that wasn’t true. Could Alastair have written this song if he’d never truly loved him? Perhaps he was a sociopath.

Thomas felt like he should run. Like he should pick up his bag and dart out of the apartment before Alastair could notice him, find some hotel somewhere with undoubtedly extraordinary high rates and just pretend like this never happened. He could get back on a plane and go back home to his parents and delete his phone browser history and pretend like this was all just a bad dream. But he could not move.

He didn’t know how many minutes had passed before Alastair’s door opened. He looked up with a start.

“Thomas,” Alastair breathed. He stood wide eyed, flushed.

“Do you two already know each other then?” Piers asked.

There was a moment of silence before Thomas cleared his throat. “We used to,” he said, looking down.

“I, er, I forgot that your friend was coming today,” Alastair told Piers. “It’s quite a long journey from London, you should have told me, I would have been quieter.”

Thomas considered correcting him for a moment, but decided not to. “Don’t worry about it. I heard you had your first big release. Congratulations.”

Alastair gave an awkward nod. “Thank you. Right, well, I’ll just…” He rushed over to the kitchen and pulled a bottle of water from the fridge. “I’ll try to be a bit quieter.”

“Don’t- It’s fine, really. In fact, I’m sure there’s some hotel in the area I can stay at for now, actually-”

“Well, don’t leave on my account,” Alastair interrupted. “We agreed to let you stay here, and the city’s a bloody mess right now. I’ll stay out of your hair, Thomas.”

Thomas only nodded as Alastair disappeared back behind his bedroom door.

Thanks for reading! Taglist (ask to be +/-): @stxr-thxif @chaos-and-starlight @zosiaenrique @lifewouldbebetteronmars @littlx-songbxrd @dianasarrow @eugeniaslongsword @bookswitchcraftandcats @jamesherondaleofficial @thomas-gaypanic-lightwood @livingformyself @anarmorofwords @foxglove-airmid @writeforjordelia @sapphic-in @jem-nasium @fortheloveofthecarstairs @alastair-esfandiyar-carstairs1 @shadowrunner2000 @thewarthatsavedmylife @fair-childd @itsjusta-j-really

[wdwmarveldisney]

Hey I requested the isaac lahey imagine ‘memories’ I was wondering if u could do it where it’s before she died and it’s the part where Ethan, Aiden and isaac get possessed by those flies but instead of isaac it’s y/n and she attacks the twins and stuff and instead of isaac and Allison sleeping together it’s her and isaac( this is not a smut just the build up to it) and she’s all seductive and dominant and taunting and the aftermath when she isn’t possessed anymore .

Stupid Fly

Isaac Lahey x reader

Summary: Isaac isn’t the one to be possessed by Void but instead its you.

Masterlist

A/N: Okay so I watched the episode so I hope this is accurate. I’m really not good at the build up thing so sorry about that.

GIF isn’t mine

Your fingers dug into the cover that you sat on, eyes fixed on the ground as your feet swung slightly. Patiently waiting for Isaac, you stopped swinging your feet and began tapping them instead. Your usual bright and lively eyes had this dark swirl to them that didn't fit, that was natural. You didn't hear his footsteps or the bag in his hand hit the ground and only turned when you heard his voice, "What are you doing here?" When your eyes met his, you only held his gaze for a second or two before scanning his face, "I thought I'd wait for you to come back. You didn't just walk out of the hospital, did you?" Isaac shrugged, falling next to you as he scanned you in caution. He could tell something was off, "It's okay. I feel a lot better. All healed," you reached a hand up, fingers grazing his cheek as your eyebrows furrowed in concentration.

"So you're okay?" Isaac didn't like the tone of your voice, soft concern and care that was usually present gone. He nodded, hand going to hold yours and pull it down to the space between the two of you, "What's wrong?" You stared down at your joined hands before giving his a slight squeeze and finally meeting his eyes once more. In response, you simply shrugged and a small smirk made your lips twitch up, "Just wanted to see you," You had leaned in and although he wished it hadn't, all reason had left Isaac as you had inched closer. He could no longer think about you seemed off, that you seemed too confident and too bold because this was the closest you had been since he had talked to about getting back together. You had been avoiding him as you said you had to work out your feelings. Maybe you had, maybe this was you finalising a decision and deciding to just go with it. But this wasn't how you would do it that nagging voice in the back of his head kept screaming at him. That voice was successfully silenced as your lips were pressed gently to his and it took near to no time for him to kiss. You hand went to his chest and you gently pushed him back wards and onto the bed as you continued.

Your hands moved to his hair, lips kissing across his cheek and to his jaw as Isaac leaned his head back to give you more access. Your hand moved to his jaw, tilting his head to face you. You both started giggling as you pecked his lips repeatedly before he finally pulled you close enough to place a longer kiss to your lips.

-

Light streamed through the crack in the curtains as the soft hum of traffic and nature twisted together and filled the room. Isaac sighed, rolling over to see you and frowning when he realised you were up and out of bed instead of cuddling close like when the two of you fell asleep. He sat up, leaning on his elbows as he watched pick up random objects to admire before placing them back. "There you are. What are you doing over there?" You glanced back over your shoulder with a small smile and you placed the small picture frame back on the dresser and leaning back onto it, "You know, I was at Allison's the other day. We were working on that text, before you came over that is. There's still a lot of weapons there. I thought her new Code was about protecting," Isaac shrugged, not understanding where you were going with this. He sat up a bit more, leaning against the head of the bed as he observed every move of yours. The way you stared around the room, how you didn't bothered by the way that you were topless with your bra on display when you normally would be, how there was this permanent smirk toying your swollen lips.

"Most of them are non-lethal," He defended and your eyes snapped back to him as you nodded, turning back to the things in his room. "Hmm... The daggers looked pretty lethal to me," he could hear the edge to your voice and frowned at the way your fingers tapped a quick beat against the book you held, "But maybe she should keep them. There's still a few of us out there who aren't quite so non-lethal... like the twins," This made him shoot up, reaching for his shirt as his frown got deeper, eyebrows knitting together in worry and confusion, "I thought we were going to give them a second chance?" He gave a small nervous laugh when you didn't seem to react at all, "You're the one to talk me into it," Isaac pointed out and this time, you spun round with an angered expression pulling at your features. Your teeth dug into you bottom lip before you shrugged and snapped, "I changed my mind, they don't deserve it,"

Isaac moved closer to the other end of the bed, reaching for your hands to pull you closer, really panicked by the wild in your eyes. "Things are different now. It doesn't have to be like that anymore," You scoffed at his words, rolling your eyes at the seriousness and concern in his. You took his hands in yours and took those few steps closer before leaning down closer to his lips, "You do remember them trying to kill you numerous times, right?" Isaac gave you pleading as he shook his head at your determination. He wasn't liking where this was going, "They're helping," You dropped his hands with a frown, backing away as you grabbed your top from the floor and pulled it on, "I had a feeling you'd say something like that," He watched you walk out out of the room, slamming the door behind you as you heard him shout after you, "Y/N, wait! Y/N!"

-

"See? That's what I'm talking about. I'd probably be in his pack by now if it wasn't for my psychotic brother - the one who has to kill everything in sight," you smiled to yourself when you heard their voices, gripping the weapon you stole from Allison tighter as you tried to find them. They keep shouting like that and it'll only make it easier, no werewolf abilities needed. "Careful, Ethan... You're currently the only thing in my sight," As you turned the corner, you saw them go for each other and a smirked pulled at your lips. They really did like making it easier for you. You raised the gun you had in your hands, shooting Ethan in the back and watching them both writhe in pain fro the electricity flowing through them. Swinging the gun to rest across your shoulder you took a step closer, "I guess this is the part where I say something witty,"

You gave a small hollow chuckled, hitting Ethan in the face with the back of the gun when you were closer enough, successfully knocking him out. Your smirk fell and you turned to Aiden with that emotionless face and deadly look in your eyes that made a shiver run down his spine. Or maybe that was the electricity. You crouched down to him, head tilting as you scanned his face. With the shake of your head and the small quirk up of your lips, you whispered, "I'm not witty," and knocked him out just like twin.

You dumped the gun and with a huff, began to drag them to the boys locker room. You dropped their hands, letting them hit the ground with a small smack and turned to Coach's office. Digging through his drawers, a frown made its way to your lips as you began to mutter to yourself, "Come on, Coach. You gotta have a lighter," the smirk took its place back on your lips as you lifted the lighter to be level with your eyes. You grabbed the bottle of alcohol with the piece of fabric stuffed into the top, hesitantly slightly. Was this really the best idea? Shaking your head at the thought, you reassured yourself, "I'm gonna burn it down... For Erica... For Boyd... For Isaac... For everyone! I'm gonna burn it. I'm gonna burn it," with final nod, you walked out to stand by the twins, lighting the fabric. Just as you about you were to throw at them, the fabric was pulled out of the bottle and you turned to see Kira with her katana in hand. You stood in silence for a beat or two before you shrugged, "Nice sword,"

The bottle fell from your hands and smashed by your feet but you couldn't care less, immediately focusing on attacking Kira. You were doing this and if she got in your way then you'd just have to deal with it, right? She managed to push you to the ground and you huffed out in frustration. Why couldn't she just leave you to do it? "Y/N!" You turned, seeing Allison and Isaac both standing either side of Kira. Slowly pulling yourself up, you shook out your arms and rolled your shoulders as the three backed away into Coach's office. Allison closed the door as Isaac and Kira pushed the desk in front to block you out. The twins had stood up behind you and you spun to face them, claws beards as you heard the others talk in Coach's office, "Was that a good idea?"

"Probably not," You swung first and managed to hit Aiden but Ethan got you from behind and you could Kira's worried voice as you struggled, "They're not going to kill each other, are they?" You stomped on Ethan's foot and got out of his grip only for Aiden to get you. Ethan joined him and they both shoved you into the door, the window shattering upon impact. "I think they're going to try," Isaac muttered.

Somehow, you'd got a slight upper hand and was managing perfectly fighting the two at once. That was until the other three began to try and break you apart. They eventually managed to take control, Isaac's main focus being you. Deaton had arrived soon enough, pulling the stupid fly that had managed to sneak through a cut on your side from the Oni's sword, just like Derek. Isaac could see the regret cross your face, hands rubbing at your eyes before you shot up and began profusely apologising to the twins. You couldn't look at the blonde as you helped the twins up and heard the update from Deaton and it wasn't until afterwards and Isaac pulling actually pulling you away from the others, did you finally look up at him. "You okay?" He asked quick, scanning you over. Even with Deaton saying you were fine, Isaac couldn't help but worry. "I'm fine," you turned to go but Isaac pulled you right back making a low growl leave your lips. The boy dropped your wrists, backing away as your eyes flickered to their beta yellow and back before a hand slapped over your mouth in shock. "I'm so sorry," you mumbled and Isaac was quick to hold your hand and reassure you. "No, hey, it's okay," he paused, taking a deep breath before leaning forward slightly and avoiding eye contact as he asked, "Do you regret it?"

"What? No, of course not. I still love you. I just, I didn’t want to have it happen that way, you know? And it was...different. Not bad, just it was weird ‘cause I was possessed-” Isaac’s chuckle cut off your ramble, a blush rising on your cheeks as you watched him smile at you. “It wasn’t exactly the way I wanted it to happen either,” he interlaced his fingers with yours as you both stared at your hands, dopey smiles on your lips. “I wanna work this out, I do. I just need a bit more time,” Isaac met your eyes, noticing the crease in your brows and the small frown on your lips and the way you tilted your head to meet his eyes. He nodded slowly, not letting go of your hand just yet. He didn’t want to ever let go.

You finally pulled away, sent a half grin and began to make your way down the hall, disappearing from his sight as you turned the corner.

[lustbile-archive]

Wanna Watch?

YangyangxReader

Word Count: 3.2k

Summary/Warning: Smut. Yangyang swears that tentacles are hot, just watch one video with him and you’ll see. He promises.… this was supposed to be a blurb but then I got very carried away. and because of that it might be a little rambley at some parts im so sorry

Requested

You’d be the first to admit that you and Yangyang had a weird friendship. Your other friends had clocked it, saying that even for best friends, you were way too open with each other.

And they weren’t technically wrong. Something about being around Yangyang deleted your filter, made you say shit that you never thought you’d say to another human being, but in your defense, he was exactly the same way.

It started with a few dirty jokes. It wasn’t anything serious or any different than ones you’d say with or without each other, but you two did encourage each other. It was as if anything one of you said, the other had something to add. It didn’t take long for things to begin to spiral and for your friends to decide that you two together were lethal.

After that day it was like you were attached at the hip. Something about your shared vulgarness made you click and it wasn’t very long after until it went a little far.

It was the first time you stayed over at his place, a bottle of liquor tucked in your bag. Tipsy off a half a bottle each, you both let it slip what turned you on the most. It wasn’t weird at the time, but the next morning there was a tension there.

That tension eventually faded, leading to another sleep over. And another. And another. Each of them somehow leading to some form of sexual conversation.

But the one that happened tonight was different.

Some joke about porn was made. You two sat side by side in your own chairs as you watched him play some game you quickly forgot the name of, and he had deemed it appropriate to mention that it would be kinda hot if the woman he played as were to get fucked by the tentacle monster that she fought.

You started by jokingly scolding him about how, though you weren’t sure exactly in what way, what he said was chauvinistic. But then you followed it with teasing about how he was a weirdo for being into tentacles.

“Oh come on,” he goes on, much louder than he needed to be, “you cannot tell me you’ve never looked at tentacle porn. Not even just because you were curious?”

“What porn I watch is none of your business Yang,” you retort as you push your finger in his face, a bratty giggle bursting from you when he smacks your hand away in irritation.

“So you’re not denying that you’ve seen tentacle porn,” he hums, nodding to himself, “if that’s the case I’m just gonna assume you have.”

You move to retort again, but he quickly interrupts, “actually I’m going to assume that you only watch tentacle porn and it’s something you get off to very often.”

“You think about me getting off a lot Yangyang?” you ask, but you quickly realize maybe the question was a step too far once the words are in the air.

Thankfully, he seems to ignore your question as he suddenly closed his game, the incognito tab he opens immediately after making your mouth run dry.

“How about this,” he starts, his fingers running across the keyboard as he types in the the link to a porn site. You divert your eyes quickly when you see the bars auto fill pop up, the idea of seeing whatever he looked at when he forgot to go incognito making your stomach flip, “let’s just take a little peek and we’ll see who’s right.”

“See who’s right about what?” your voice pitches and your back straightens as you ask.

“About whether or not tentacles are hot,” he turns to you briefly as if he’s explaining a math equation to you, “come on dude keep up.”

“Man I don’t know,” you hesitate, but you quickly notice he already has a video picked out and queued.

“I’m not gonna force you to watch it if you don’t want,” he reassures as he hovers his cursor over the play button, “but I also won’t judge you if you’re curious.”

You gnaw on your bottom lip for a moment as you think, your heart beating faster as the seconds pass, “okay fine just play it before I change my mind.”

And that’s how you got where you are now. You and Yangyang curled into your chairs, eyes wide and curious as a slender woman, with a disproportionately large chest, screams and whines while she’s brutally fucked by a weird tentacle monster.

You feel your face twist in fascination, first at the amount of detail and time that must have went into animating each frame, but then slowly but surely, just how weirdly hot you found yourself finding the video.

Something about the way the multiple tentacles cover her body as they suspend her in the air. One is shoved deep in her mouth, gross gagging noises added as a result, two attached to both of her nipples and another set fucking her open from both holes. It was easily one of the weirdest things you’ve ever seen, but you couldn’t ignore the growing wetness it caused in your underwear.

You try to not let it show in your body language, the idea of Yangyang noticing your arousal and then most likely making fun of you for it making you want to crawl in a hole.

You eyes dart over to him for a moment to try and gauge how he’s feeling. The first thing you notice immediately is the way he curls to block your view of his crotch, the second being the fact that he looks at you as well.

“So… what are you thinking?” he asks slowly.

“I don’t know what are you thinking?” you throw back almost too quickly.

“I… I think you know what I’m thinking,” his words continue to spill out like molasses, his head quickly nodding to the space between his legs with a embarrassed flush to his skin, “I’m asking how you’re feeling.”

“I don’t know,” you double down, your head shaking with a jerk, “I- I don’t know how I’m feeling.”

“It’s okay if you like it-“

“I don’t know if I like it,” you lie, your tone defensive and sharp.

“You do know that you’re not a bad person for liking it right?” He continues to reassure as he tries to keep his patience with you.

You only huff in response, the video still loudly playing as you talk. You try to shift in your seat to create distance between you, but it only makes you aware of how your arousal grows.

“Okay im not gonna lie,” he starts, a joking tone to his voice in the way that tells you he’s trying to ease the tension, “I think it’s hot, but you probably guessed that. I’m just saying I could totallly jack it to this.”

You know it’s a joke, but that doesn’t stop the words from making your face warm and your thighs flex. And even though you try and advert your eyes, you know he is analyzing every move you make.

“Do you maybe…” he trails off as he considers what to say next, “ack, no no it’s weird never mind.”

“What?” you dart up in panic, “is something im doing weird?”

“No no no,” he panics as well, “you’re fine… I was just gonna ask if you... if you maybe wanted to see how much you like it. Like see if you can get off to it?”

It was in this you found out that maybe your friends were right. Maybe you were lethal together, too comfortable and relaxed and willing to do and say the worst in front of each other. If that wasn’t the case there was no way in hell you’d end up where you were now.

If someone had told you that when you first met Yangyang that one night you two would be masturbating to tentacle porn together, you would have told them they lived in a fantasy, that they were just delusional perverts that don’t like people being just friends, but they would have been right.

You felt weirdly eager as you pushed your pajama shorts and underwear to his floor, the air of the room hitting your skin and making you come to the terms of how wet the video had gotten you.

And the fact that Yangyang seemed equally as eager as he pulled himself from the restrains of his sweatpants both put you at ease while putting you incredibly in edge.

You tried to ignore him as he sat next to you. Your eyes taking an iron lock onto his screen as a new video played. It was the same idea, pretty girl with literally any possible hole stuffed with a slimy tentacle getting pleasured in any way possible, the only difference was a slight change in art style.

It took you a moment to get into it, your fingers gently tapping against your clit as you tried to build the courage to touch yourself the same way you do in the safety of your own room, but after one particularly hard thrust from the monster and a desperate cry from the girl, you couldn’t hold back.

Your fingers dipped into your entrance gently as you coated the tips in your arousal, your hips jumping slightly at the friction.

Yangyang tried to ignore you as well, his fist moving slowly as he tried to focus on the scene in front of him, but the way you jerked next to him and the bubbles of noise that slipped unintentionally from your lips, he felt like a starving tiger being tempted with a steak.

You tried to bite your tongue to hold in any moans as your fingers started to roll circles gently on your clit, but with the way you grew wetter and wetter and the rising sensitivity in the bundle of nerves, you couldn’t help the quiet whimpering that rose from you chest.

It wasn’t that you could get off to it, it was actually much easier than you had anticipated. Something about the way the girls in the videos were being stimulated in every way possible had you hot and dripping in your arousal, and maybe your best friend pleasuring himself next to you was making it a million times sexier.

You weren’t alone though. It didn’t take long for Yangyang to lose his internal battle, his eyes straining to his side and his gaming chair rolling back slightly to allow him to watch you from the side. He knew he could crank one out easily to the videos in front of him, he had done it plenty of times before, but if he let the opportunity of watching your chest rise and fall with labored breaths while your fingers moved quickly over your dampened skin pass him by, he’d be kicking himself forever.

He was moving before he could even think, the finger of his free hand working with a mind of his own as they tap gently on the side of your chair. His heart beat sky rockets when you jump, but he only feels himself get harder when he sees it doesn’t stop your rapidly moving hand.

“Say no,” he whispers regardless of his growing need to touch you, “say no cause I cannot ruin this friendship.”

“No offense Yang,” he almost collapses at how winded you sound, but also at the promise that you’re still comfortable enough to shorten his name, “but if what we’re doing now didn’t ruin it, I don’t think anything will.”

“Thank fuck,” he speaks too loudly again as he moves his chair next to yours, his hand brushing against the side of your bare leg as it leans against the arm of your chair, “cause I wanna touch you so bad dude.”

“Hmmmm,” you hum out as his words swirl your brain like a blender, your heart rapidly pumping against your chest. You’d be a liar if you tried to act like the idea didn’t cause a new wave of arousal run over your body. Your answer comes before you can even think of the consequences.

“Please,” the word being your only verbal response before you rip your hand away from your body, your legs falling wider apart as an invitation. Your body jumps in protest as you deny yourself the orgasm that was slowly building, and Yangyang immediately jumps into action to compensate.

The first touch of his fingers is unsure, a hesitation in his muscles as he tries to convince himself that what’s happening is real. He isn’t sure what’s hotter to him in that moment, the way you whimper with a slight pout to your lips when he finally presses his digits to your swollen clit, or the way your eyes remain locked on the animated porn.

He’s battling between the two, when you show him something better. Your hand moves wildly in the air for only a moment, before you're pushing it under his arm. It doesn’t take you much exploring before you find where his hand slowly moves against his length. Your hand swats gently at his in a way that weirdly reminds him of the way you swat at him when he does something he’s not supposed to, and after his brain catches up with your motions, he lets go.

He thinks his heart probably stops when your hand wraps around him, your wrist immediately moving at the same pace as his fingers. His eyes slam shut for a second, a desperate attempt to hold off his orgasm, before they open slightly again.

He tries to do the same as you and keep his eyes trained on the video, and it works a few times, but as you gush and twitch against his unrelentingly moving fingers. He feels like one of his biggest fantasies has come to life in front of him, the whining sound of his name from your lips music to his ears.

You babble and squirm, your orgasm approaching you much faster than it has ever before. There’s something so jarring and new about the video that flashes in front of your eyes, and combining that with your best friend playing you not much differently than he’d played his game not long before made you feel like you were losing your grip on reality.

You’re vaguely aware that your hand flexes around his length, and fear that maybe your hold may be too rough immediately leaving your mind when you hear him let out a pleased groan. The sound also momentarily replaces the fear that filled you from actually looking at the boy that sits next to you, and you feel your head jerking to look at his face scrunched in pleasure.

The wind is knocked from your lungs when your eyes meet his again, neither of your stares faltering like you assumed they would. Instead the eye contact encourages you both, and you feel your hands pick up their pace.

You thank the universe for Yangyang’s reflexes as he finds no trouble in following your antsy jerking hips, his fingers never shifting away from your buzzing clit. He’s also completely unfazed as your thighs clamp around his wrist, and instead his now free hand moves to grab at your knee that’s closest to him, and pull harshly to hold your legs spread.

The angle his body is now turned leaves him leaning on his side, and he shows no hesitation to using the new position to his advantage as he begins thrusting his hips to fuck your fist.

You feel as if there’s another force around you that forces you to stare at one another, your hands and hips becoming frantic as you both inch closer and closer to your finish.

The video had ended moments before, but neither of you move to choose another. Too distracted by the other bodies, both of your breaths pick up right before the point of hyperventilating.

You feel yourself right on the edge, the beginning of your orgasm making your toes curl and your back arch off the back of the chair. Just from the stimulation on your clit, you can feel yourself falling, but when he notices that you’re starting to crumble, his fingers slip down until they push into you making you gasp loudly.

With his middle and ring finger pistoning in you at the same pace as his hips and the heel of his hand digging and rubbing into your clit, you finally start to come. If it wasn’t for his determined pace, your fluttering walls would push him out, but he fights against your body with a deep grunt as he curls the digits to pull against the nerve inside you that makes your eyes roll back into your skull.

With your mouth hanging open, silent moans and squeaking whimpers popping from your throat, he’s sure he stares at a defiled angel. He knew he always found you attractive, even more attractive when you first took his raunchy jokes in stride, but as you come so beautifully around his fingers, he decides you’re the prettiest thing he’s ever seen.

Just watching your come is enough to push him over the edge, but as it makes your muscles tense, your hand flexes and shakes as you hold him. With a few more pulses of his hips, he’s coming with his lip tucked between his teeth and his eyes trained on where you wrap around his fingers, your noise of surprise at the feeling of his come shooting across your hand only making his orgasm stronger.

With shaking legs, he falls back into his chair, his hand pulling from your sensitive skin, and his softening length slipping from your fingers.

Silence falls over the room, the only sound being the angry sound of his computer's fan and your evening breaths. You pull your limbs into your body as you try to get more comfortable in the seat, and as you try to wrap your arms around yourself, you notice the evidence of his orgasm that sticks to the side of your hand.

You’re moving before you can even think about your actions or how weird they could be to the boy next to you, your hand lifting up to your face and you tongue peaking out to lick at the sticky substance. You jerk slightly at the taste, but in a thought of self challenge and a simple ‘fuck it,’ you slide the flat of your tongue up the side of your hand, collecting everything he left behind, before swallowing deeply.

You hear a muffled sound of surprise to your side, the sound making your head whip to the side as you remembered your possible audience. Your heart beats fast as you panic at the idea of him finding your action gross, but as you look you see him in a very similar position.

Yangyang grins around his fingers that were once drenched in your orgasm, but now sit licked clean in his teasing mouth. There’s a slight popping noise as he pulls them hesitantly from his lips, and his devious smile only grows before he speaks.

“Oh so we’re both like gross, gross huh?”

[genshinfanboy]

A Special Meeting.

|Hello everyone. I know it's been awhile. My apologies about that. I was working on some irl stuff and didn't have time to write. I'm back. I had changed my rules slightly for requests. They are still closed. I'll make an update post soon. This one-shot is fairly indulgent for me. It is fairly long so be warned about that. Anyways please enjoy and as always feel free to change the pronouns to fit your own. Have a good day or night. :)

Albedo x Cryo! Male reader.

Warning: minor Spoilers for characters stories.

Albedo was sitting in the library reading some books. He was looking into something he had ran into at Dragonspine. He had a feeling it had to do with Festering Desire. He gave a small sigh. This small research task would become that much more tedious if the Calvary Captain decided to visit the library that day. He was looking through the shelves to find some history books. They should help him solve this strange occurance. He walked around the library reading the spines of books to see what he's looking for. As he was walking he heard Lisa talking with a voice he didn't recognize. "So cutie would you like to be Lisa's little helper today?" She said. Albedo pitied the poor person who was being roped into helping Lisa. He didn't mean to eavesdrop but he was curious about the other person Lisa was talking to. The person seemed overly polite.

(Y/N) gave Lisa a small smile. "So Miss Lisa is this why you asked me to come here today? I'm not going to have to make a run for over due books am I?" He asked. He shifted slightly on his feet. He didn't like just standing still. He watched Lisa's face closely to gauge if his initial thought was correct. She gave a small laugh and crossed her arms. "I don't need you to do that today Cutie. I do have some potion recipes I'd like to have you look at while you're here. You don't visit Mondstadt very often after all. Make me wonder if you even need your old teacher after all." She answer. "However if you want to make book runs I won't stop you. I am more than happy to keep you here longer. Maybe we can even reopen the lessons you missed while being gone?" (Y/N) got a bit worried as he saw his old master's smile turn into a bit of a smirk. He quickly shook his head putting his hands up. "I think helping you with the potions will be enough today. I'll make sure to send letter more often and visit more. No need to reopen the lessons. So do we need to go to your lab for the potions or would you like to go to the Alchemy table in the middle of toqn?" He quickly stated. He wanted to change the topics so Lisa wouldn't get any ideas.

Albedo listened to the conversation a bit long. Something about the person talking to Lisa seemed intriguing. His ears picked up the part about potions. He was interested in the potions and decided to walk towards the voices. "Pardon my intrusion. I happened to over hear your conversation. Is it possible for me to join in on the potion creation?" He asked approaching the two. His eyes met will the person talking with Lisa. He looked at them for a second their features seemed enticing. He received a look from the unknown male. The look was a bit hard to decipher. "Oh Albedo! I didn't know you were here. You're welcome to join us. This cutie has been all over Teyvat and is quite the genius." Lisa greeted with a smile. Her voice definitely surprised. He observed the other male turning slightly red. "I'm not that smart Miss Lisa. It's a pleasure to meet you I'm (Y/N) (L/N)." The other male held out a hand to him. "No it's mine. My name is Albedo." He said taking the other's hand. "Shall we to the potions?"

(Y/N) looked at the light haired person. Albedo was definitely attractive. He was definitely interested in the other. He glanced at the blue eyes shyly. He hoped he wouldn't be caught staring as the three were walking. He wondered if Albedo was apart of the knights. He wasn't too fond of most knighted. Maybe Albedo would be one of the ones he liked. They made it to Lisa's lab. (Y/N) watched her pull out the recipe for the potion and hand it to him. "This was left in one of the returned books recently. I've been having issues trying to figure out what it is. Some of the ingredients aren't things I've recognized. Read it through and let me know what you think." She said. He started reading through it. He felt his cheeks heat up as he noticed Albedo was close to him reading over his shoulder. As he read through the ingredients of the potion he noticed something strange. On the worn out piece of paper there was a faded instruction. It was barely legible. "Miss Lisa there's a need for a cryo vision energy for this recipe. I find that a bit strange. There is an ingredient from every nation. I'm pretty sure that I have enough of all of the ingredients to make one potion. Another thing I noticed is the instruction at the end is rather off for some of the ingredients. It's quite faded and was hard to decipher at first between Cryo and Pyro. Though I am certain it says Cryo. It's odd to use cold rather then heat to combine everything." He explained. He barely noticed Albedo step a bit closer to him to get a better look. His face became a bit more red. He was praying to the archons that his old teacher wouldn't notice.

Albedo leaned closer to see what (Y/N) saw. It was a rather unique. He was impressed with how quickly the other had read the recipe. He finished reading finally and stepped back slightly. "That is fascinating. There is no name or description of what the potion does. Perhaps one of us can drink it to find out the effects. It could make for a new discovery." He explained. He did wish to see this through until the end. "Well Cutie it seems you are the perfect little helper for this task." Lisa said wrapping her arms around the other. Albedo watched his (e/c) eyes widened. They were a lovely color. "May I just observe while you make the potion." He said. The other two in the group nodded. (Y/N) started working skillfully making the potion. Albedo was watching him. He brought his sketchbook out and started drawing the sight. After a few minutes it was done. He smiled as he looked at the sketch of the other male. He watched as the potion was also completed It glowed a nice light blue color. He stepped closer. He set his sketch book down to look at the potion. He noticed little snowflakes it as well. Were they from (Y/N)'s cryo energy? He looked up at the other two. Lisa and (Y/N) seemed to be looking at something. He followed their line of sight and saw them looking at his sketch. He saw the other male blushing like crazy. "Oh my apologies for drawing you without permission. I did it without thinking." He said with a very faint blush on his cheeks.

(Y/N) could detect a hint of embarrassment. "Oh no it's fine the entire drawing is very beautiful. I'm very impressed." He quickly said to relieve him of the embarrassment. "Who should test the potion?" He was a bit shy. "I think you should darling. You did most of the work after all." Lisa said with a smile. He was a bit nervous to try it. Though it shouldn't be that bad plus his curiousity over took his worry. He gave the old arch mage a nod and grabbed it. He uncorked it and starting putting it to his lips. The moment the rim touched his lips his wrist was grabbed by someone stopping him from drinking it. He looked up in surprise his (e/c) irises meeting the beautiful blue eyes. "Wait I just wish to clarify something before I allow you to ingest that. All of the ingredients are safe to ingest correct?" He said in a worried tone. (Y/N) would be lying if he said his heart didn't skip a beat at the tone of Albedo's voice. He gave a smile to the other. "I don't carry any herbs or anything that are lethal to others. They tend to interact poorly with some of the herbs I always carry for medicinal use. Thank you for your worry though." He said giving Albedo a soft smile. The two shared a look. "I'd still feel more comfortable if I was the one to ingest it." He said. (Y/N) started thinking for a second. "How about a both drink half and then Lisa can monitor us if anything goes wrong?" He suggested.

Albedo let out a sigh. "You certainly are a stubborn person." He hid his small smile. "Well let me drink it first." He said holding out a hand. He saw the (e/c) male place the bottle in his own hand. He didn't know why he reacted the way he did. It was truly strange. He found a strange infatuation with this person. Perhaps it was the other's thought process. He was snapped out of his thoughts by the man he was thinking about. "Hmm I wonder if since it uses a cryo vision to combine things if it may affect vision holders differently." He said. Lisa watched eagerly. "If it does then this potion could potentially be dangerous." She said with a hand to her chin. Albedo gave Lisa a nod before drinking half of the potion. It was very sweet which made him slightly happy. He didn't feel any immediate effects. "The taste is sweet. However I haven't felt anything immediate happen." He said to the others. The former Arch Mage and the other male seemed interested. He watched the other male down the rest of the potion. "Yuck that's super bitter......" his sentence was cut off when he started staring at Albedo. The Alchemist definitely wary of the stare. "Is there something on my face?" He inquired. The other quickly shook his head. "No it's just that the potion seems to be affecting me faster than it might be affecting you or something. Is it because I had made ......" the other's voice seemed to trail off. He noticed swaying. Lisa must've too since she quickly put her hands on (Y/N)'s arms to stabilize him. Albedo quickly rushed over and checked for anything dire. Soon there was a puff of light blue smoke around the three. When the smoke had cleared a teen stood where (Y/N) should've been. Something clicked in Albedo's head. So that's why he had been so infatuated with someone he thought he hardly knew. This was someone he met once before. They had spoke for hours on different topics when they were teenagers. (Y/N) was the person Albedo cared very deeply for in his youth before he met Alice and Klee. (Y/N) was Albedo's first love. He was once again snapped from his thoughts by the person he was thinking about. "? I thought you and your master had left. I was waiting for you." The teen said with a frown. "I am sorry for leaving you back then. I assure you it won't happen again." He said giving a reassuring smile. He meant what he said there's no way he wanted to lose the other again. He looked at Lisa who seemed confused. Before another clouds of light blue smoke appeared. (Y/N) was standing between the two looking slightly confused. "Wait were you the boy (Y/N) talked endlessly Albedo?" Lisa asked with a smirk. She saw both boys go bright red. "Miss Lisa I asked you not to mention that." He said.

As the conversation died down there was one thing for certain. Albedo wasn't going to lose (Y/N) a second time.

[ren-therose]

You Are Like Me (Pt. 1 of "Winter's End)

Roommate!Bucky X F!Reader

Summary: You and Bucky begin rooming together after Sam discovers your background and suggests you live with him. . As another failed HYDRA experiment with an enhanced skill set, Sam decides that you, the newest recruit who shares a similar path with the Winter Soldier would benefit from living together.

Warnings: Angst, Fluff, Cursing, semi-spoilers for FATWS (but nothing plot related, just set during that time).

A/N: This started out as a one-shot for our man Bucky Barnes, but now there will be multiple pieces with this as the wonderful starting piece to the story. I don't know how much the parts will be reliant on a plot, but it will all be based on the same love story throughout. The parts don't necessarily need to be read all together and in order. There will be a variety with this couple, varying from angst to smut, fluffy fluffy FLUFFY shit, and some very depressing stuff too. I hope that these different pieces fulfill all your Bucky needs and help you feel like you really have a developed and copasetic relationship with this lovely gentleman.

"Jesus, who the hell are you?"

I had been laying on a neatly made bed in the apartment Sam had signed me up for. I was staring at the ceiling mindlessly as an old record player spun, emitting the scratchy tones of classic 1940s music. In my hand was a small journal, opened to a blank page towards the middle of the book. My eyes shot open, my hand grabbing a knife from the back of my pants as I launched myself off the bed and towards the unfamiliar man in the doorway.

Before the knife could reach his throat, cool metal met my wrist, stopping my arm in its track. I was practically on top of the dark man in front of me, staring up into his bright cerulean orbs. He seemed almost amused by this first introduction. Almost. The glimmer of humor left his eyes as soon as my knee made contact with his groin, causing him to keel over, as I maneuvered around him to be behind, using his arms hold on me to choke himself.

"I could ask you the same question, blue eyes," I said with a snort. I realized quickly he wasn't an enemy, but the continued power struggle was fun enough to let it play out. Before I could plan my next move though, I was flipped over his broad shoulders, and square on my back, the impact knocking the wind out of me. I looked up through my lashes, trying to focus my eyesight as the splitting headache blurred my vision. Standing above me, the man let out a soft chuckle as he stepped over me, making his way over to the bed and sitting on the edge. I slowly lifted my head, still dizzy from the landing, as his eyes followed the outline of my body.

I was still in my training clothes, too tired to have changed out of the tight tank top and cargo pants. I had been perfecting my combat technique so that I could fend for myself, but it seems I was not yet ready to fight whoever the stranger in my room was.

"Here," he started, getting up from his place and reaching his right hand out to me. I stared at it for a moment, not sure if I should give in or not, though I could tell I would have to. I placed my hand in his, surprised by the contrasting warmth I felt compared to the hand he had caught my wrist in. He quickly pulled me up, causing me to launch into his chest, my left arm quickly wrapping around his bicep to steady myself.

"You can feel me up later doll, but can you explain what the hell you are doing in my room?" He taunted.

I realized that his colder hand was on the small of my back and I leaned back into grasp as I sneered "I could say the same for you..." I noticed the outline of dog tags imprinted underneath his shirt, glancing back up into his eyes with a wink, "Sarge".

He let go, allowing me the chance to step back and start searching for my knife. I could feel his eyes on me, questions waiting to be asked.

"You are Seragnet Barnes, correct?" I mused, grabbing my weapon from the corner and twirling it in my hand before replacing it in its holster. The corner of his mouth twitched into a smile at my maneuver, but quickly looked down and cleared his throat before replying.

"Yes ma'am. And I apologize for not knowing your name, as well as for throwing you," he grunted. It was suddenly a very formal manner in which he spoke. My eyebrow quirked up, as I spun on my heels and made my way into the kitchen, hearing heavy footsteps follow in time.

"Y/N".

"And what are you doing in my room, Y/N?" he said inquisitively. I was now the freezer for an ice pack, finding a floppy blue one in the back.

"I guess, I'm your roommate," I shrugged, putting the ice pack to the back of my head as I moved towards the bathroom.

"Wait, Sam told me I was meeting someone named "Y/L/N", they were gonna stay here for a bit," he retorted, once again following behind.

"That is my last name Blue Eyes. Need an ID or something?" I called over my shoulder, turning the corner to enter the bathroom, reaching towards the medicine cabinet.

"That still doesn't explain why you were on my bed," he scoffed, leaning against the door frame as I scavenged through the drawers.

"I didn't think anyone was living here. I was told I'd have a roommate, but I didn't think anyone had moved in yet. You have, like, no shit here. It looks like a hotel room," I critique, standing up with a shake of the bottle in my hand.

"I'm using your Ibuprofen" I say with mock respect. I move past him as I saunter back towards the kitchen. He can't help but laugh at this bizarre encounter and that I am truly not making this easy for him.

"You have a lot of sass for someone who just had their ass beat," he jeers, leaning forward on the counter between us.

All I could do was smile and shake my head, throwing the pills into my mouth and taking a swig of water.

"So, Y/L/N, why do you figure we Sam is rooming us together?"

"Love match?" I joke, placing the now empty cup in the sink and walking over to his side, leaning my back against the countertop.

He snorts, amused by my sarcasm once more. "Maybe, but I have a feeling it goes deeper," he says, turning to rest his side on the counter as he looks me over, clearly searching for something.

"You aren't gonna find any metal attached to me, Barnes," I report, turning to brace myself against the counter. "They messed me up in here." I gesture to forehead, softly tapping to get my point across.

His face falls as he realizes what I mean.

"HYDRA..." was all he could make out.

"They weren't just trying to make soldiers. They were trying to make spies. Hyper intelligent ones that can be manipulated without the risk of losing control or access, like a computer could. I am their failed experiment," I say softly. I chuck the ice pack into the sink, and make my way over to the window, rubbing at the back of my head.

"You have super soldier serum. I have an acute memory and the ability to calculate probable outcomes and human error. I remember..." I turn back to look him in the eye, "everything".

His mouth slightly gapes as he looks me over. "I was a lethal weapon when placed in sensitive situations. If I knew the possible endings of different scenarios, I could pick which one could happen."

He steps towards me, as if he was considering whether to comfort me. Before he could though, I straightened up and tried to scurry past him.

"I am so sorry for invading your space, I'll take my stuff out of your room. I can stay on the couch until-" The Winter Soldier cut me off, grabbing my arm before I could make it into the room.

"No, take the bed, please," he began. "I don't sleep in it anyways. Too comfy."

My eyes go from the grip on my arm up to his eyes, staring down at me, but with concern. I softened my face, providing a half smile as I nodded my head.

"Okay, Sarge. Let's eat though- I'm starving. You order the pizza while I take a shower. Then we can talk."

He let me go, looking down into my eyes, "I think I know your favorite kind."

I raised a brow at this bet, curious to see if he was right. "Alright...we will see..."

I turned and made my way towards the bathroom, looking back to see him still watching.

---

Shit, I don't have my clothes.

I was dripping from the shower still and my hair was very haphazardly put in a bun to keep the water from dripping. I quietly opened the door and peeked my head out, searching for my new roommate. When I had determined the coast was clear, I scurried into the room, shutting the door behind me quietly. When I turned around, I shrieked to see James exiting my closet, a few shirts in hand.

"What the fuck Barnes!!" I choke, desperately clutching my towel, as I had almost lost my grip. He dropped the shirts to the ground, slapping his hand over his eyes in case I did lose my covering.

"Damn, Y/L/N, let me buy you dinner first!" He laughs, trying to make his way to the door.

"Oh you are SO paying for the pizza now Barnes," I fume, adjusting my towel and making my way to the other side of the bed where my bag was.

"So you're saying I can look?"

"You just scared me, I'm decent you prick". I kneeled down beside the bed, opening my bag to see that all of my clothes were missing.

"Are you. fucking. SHITTING ME?" I curse, banging my already sore head onto the side of the bed.

"What did I do this time," the soldier groans.

"No, it's not you, it's just that...well shit. My clothes are missing."

"Oh yeah. I threw them in the wash for you. You weren't carrying a lot, and it's a force of habit from the old days, I thought they would be done by now but-"

"Sergeant?" I interrupt, seething with rage and a tinge of embarrassment.

"Y/L/N?"

"I don't have any clothes," I hiss.

"oh." he says shortly. I press my face into the bed, trying not to scream bloody murder. Suddenly, I feel two soft things land on me, causing me to turn my face to the side.

"Sweats and a shirt. Don't do anything weird," he quipped, leaving me in the room alone.

I look down at the black sweats and navy blue shirt. It was soft, and smelled of fabric softener and pine. I looked up at the empty hallway as I heard the front door open and shut behind him as he went to get the pizza.

I slipped on the clothes and looked myself over in the mirror. I decided to let my hair down to air dry, and the rest of me looked swallowed in his clothes. His sweats were pulled tightly around my hips, exposing my stomach when I stood. The shirt would probably be form fitting on him, but it just barely gave me a shape, though my chest clung to the fabric. I didn't know what this meant, but whatever it was felt nice.

---

"I got the pizza, and Sam already confirmed I was right about it being your favorite so..." James trailed off as he saw me standing in the kitchen, leaning over a brochure of sorts. I looked up to see him holding pizza in one hand and soda in the other as his eyes widened at my get up.

"No snappy remark, blue eyes? Wow, they just keep getting wide-" he cut me off by throwing the box down in front of me.

"Movie?" he muttered, quickly making his way past towards the living room.

"uh...okay. Can we watch 'Casablanca'?"

He turned around, looking at me with confusion.

"You know that movie? That was made almost 80 years ago."

"I'm a sucker for the classics, James," I say, grabbing the pizza and soda of the counter and bringing it to the coffee table.

"Bucky, please. We're gonna be living together and already saw you half-naked," he chides, sitting down on the couch and flipping it on with the remote.

"Okay, Bucky, do you remember the plot?" I probe, sitting myself next to him as I placed two glasses in front of us. I pulled my legs up to cross and adjusted the waist of my pants to sit above my stomach more comfortably. He was leaning back into the sofa, as I was turned to face him, waiting patiently for a response.

"I mean, I remember looking back on it and how terribly it depicted the war. It was not easy to find love abroad," he stated, reaching to grab a slice of pizza.

"Were you looking for love?"

"I was looking for fun. I was pretty sure I was gonna die, or at least not make it back. I was kind of right," he finished, biting into the slice.

"Yeah, not a lot of love in present day HYDRA safe-houses either. Not that I had time for it between missions, I say, leaning over to pour the drinks.

"Well what were you before...them?"

"A history student, if you can believe it. Wanted to study abroad and learn about wars, apply it to algorithms to prevent them. Seems like the common denominator was always men," I reply with a wink.

"I can't say you are wrong. But I am impressed. And now..."

"Now, I'm protected by the Avengers, er- what's left of them, and am able to use my skills for good. All of that history knowledge, everything I have ever learned and forgotten about, I can remember it all". I looked him up and down. "I didn't recognize you without the long hair and this stubble thing kinda threw me off, it's not the same as the pictures in the museum".

He adjusted his angle to better face me, curiosity etched across his features. "You really are something," he contended. The comment caused me to pull back, shocked by his honesty.

"I...uh..." I stammer, unsure of how to proceed.

"If you're going to say thank you, don't bother. It's just a fact," he noted, once more causing me to fall to silence.

He started looking up the movie, struggling with the technology of the remote.

As I studied him, the tension in his jaw, the stress he carries in his eyes, I realized I shared similar features.

"ты как я," I whisper under my breath, unsure if he even heard me.

You are like me.

I knew when he straightened up, and slowly looked in my direction.

"я знаю," he replied.

I know.

I reached my hand out to his arm, resting it on gently.

"What does this mean?" I asked softly.

"I'm not quite sure."

------

The next morning, I awoke to the smell of deep roast coffee.

Bucky and I had spent almost the entire night talking. We skimmed around the dark parts of our past, knowing that there would be time for that, but instead got to know the things that really shaped who we are today.

He really enjoyed his time in Wakanda. It was incredibly healing for him, and allowed him a chance to find piece, something we ex-soldiers and spies rarely could get. He told me about his life in the 40s, or what he could remember. A lot of his memories has been formed with the help of Steve, which I knew caused him pain. But he also found happiness in retelling those stories, knowing that someone else will see him as more than the Winter Soldier.

I shared my experience abroad. I had been all across the USA, in Canada, both Iceland and Greenland, Poland, France, Italy, Turkey, London, and of course Sokovia. It was were I had been taken during my travels. I had never told anyone about this before, but I had felt so comforted knowing that he had been through something so similar.

I don't know when, but at some point in the night, I had ended up falling asleep propped up on the couch. When I woke up in my bed the next morning, I realized it must have been him. I looked down to see I was still wearing his shirt, and smiled to myself. When I got up, I found his sweats on the floor, knowing I probably kicked them off when I got into bed. I stepped back into them, pulling them up around my legs and tying them once more on my hips. I looked in the mirror, my hair limp and flat from sleep. Checking my phone, I walked out, scratching my head and rubbing my face, yawning as the coffee smell grew stronger.

"доброе утро," he greets me, smirking at the confused face I made.

"No Russian. Too early. Try again later," I mumbled, jumping up to sit on the counter. He held up the sugar, shaking it in my face.

"Two to three teaspoons please," I groan, pushing the container out of my face.

"Someone likes it sweet," he laughs, dumping in my unhealthy request.

"And creamer, if you have some," I added, smiling as he turned towards the fridge.

"Did you know you speak Russian in your sleep?"

"I bet you do the same. All HYDRA escapees probably," I mutter, taking the mug from his hands.

"Well, you will have to let me know sometime," he chides, taking a sip of his own black coffee.

"Last night was...."

"Traumatizing?"

"Yeah, but maybe healing too?"

"Good," he exclaims, walking over to the couch. He sits down, swiping his phone off the charger next to him.

"Before you have to go, do you want some breakfast?" I offer, scanning his response to my inquiry.

"Is that your power thing? You knew they would ask me to work today?" He questions, looking down at the phone and then back at me.

"It's a skill, not a power. I'm not a superhero," I laugh, getting out the contents for a breakfast sandwich.

"Yes, I would like one. But you already knew that didn't you?"

"No skills required. Tony texted me this morning too. We are training together."

He smiled. He almost looked excited.

"I'm gonna beat your ass again Y/L/N".

"You wish".

-----------------------------------------------------

Every day, we played out the same routine.

I would wake up to the smell of freshly brewed coffee. I'd come out, thank him and proceed to make us breakfast. We would then go to combat training for a few hours. When he wasn't helping me, he was working on his own workout routine; often, he would put aside time to just focus on improving my knife skills. He would always joked that I showed promise after out first encounter, and then would promptly beat my ass in a knife fight.

After training, it would be time to meet Sam for lunch, chat about our personal lives (which were rarely separated from our work), as well as current issues in the Avengers, and the world.

Bucky always stayed close by when we were out and about, glancing over to make sure I was okay. I would signal back that it was okay, smiling as a way of thanks when I noticed him checking. The only time we went our separate ways for our "rehab plans" we called jokingly. He would go see his therapist while I went and saw mine. Then, he would meet Sam for a bit by himself, while I went back to our place and did paperwork. When he came home, we would decide on dinner and a movie, but would probably stay up the whole night talking and leaving the movie with at least 20 minutes to go (on a good night).

One night, after I had "magically" ended up in bed, I woke up to Bucky shaking me, yelling my name.

"Y/N! Y/N, it's me, it's Bucky! Come on Y/N, wake up!"

I was drenched in sweat and my voice felt coarse and raw. My heart was beating at an impossible rate, as I shot up to hold on to him.

"Y/N, it's okay, you're okay," he said, trying to calm me down as he pushed my wet hair off of my face. I was gripping his arms, trying my best to ground myself. My eyes were bloodshot and wet, as tears and sweat mixed down my face. His blue eyes were frantically searching me, making sure that I was okay.

"It was them Bucky, they were here, they were gonna hurt you, I couldn't move, they said the, they said the words Bucky, jesus I was gonna lose you Buck, I couldn't, I can't..." I trailed off, starting to hyperventilate as I buried my face in his chest, allowing him to pull me closer.

He held me against him, shushing me as he ran his hand through the back of my hair. His chin rested atop my head as I regained control of my breathing. As my heart rate lowered and the sound of blood rushing through my ears subsided, I heard him say softly:

"I could never leave you Y/N, I can't...you mean to much to me..."

I didn't know if he realized I heard him, but it made me relax into him a little more. We didn't move for I don't know how long, just holding each other, breathing in sync. I could feel myself start to get sleepy, and began to slump more and more into him. He could feel the wait of me on his chest, and softly laid me back into the bed. When I was settled in, he started to scoot backwards towards the edge of the bed, before I grabbed his arm.

"Stay. Please. Stay," I barely whispered.

He looked down at me, tucked under the covers in an oversized t-shirt with my hair a crazy mess around my face. My eyes were glassy and red from crying, but my grip on his arm was sure.

"Please Buck."

I pulled back the covers next to me, signaling the invitation that I meant it.

He was only in a T-Shirt and boxers in himself, but nevertheless, he climbed in anyways. As he slid down, I pulled myself into him, hugging his torso as the scent of his fabric softener filled my nose.

He wrapped his arm under my head and around me, the other to my back, sheltering me from my nightmares as I drifted back to sleep. When I woke up, my head was resting on top of his chest, his hand still in my hair. I could count his steady heartbeats over time, our breathing once more in time together. I glanced up to see his stubbly face, in a serene sleep. I had heard him up late at night, wandering in the living room. I am sure he had nightmares like me, but I was the unlucky one to have the first terror while we were roommates.

I couldn't help but realize that he put a shirt on.

He never wore a shirt to sleep.

I knew this because I had woken up a time or two to go to the bathroom, and he would be there, on the floor, practically shining as the moonlight radiated off of his skin. It was almost impressive.

So he put a shirt on when he came in to help me last night. I guess it is respectful of him. I mean, everything about last night, or at least what I could remember, made me feel safer than I had in a very long time. Bucky always made me feel safe, but now, lying on his chest, it was deeper than two former soldiers-it was intimate.

I couldn't stop myself, I inched slightly up, lifting my head to his face, practically nose to nose. I could feel him exhale as the air left his nose and tickled my face. I leaned down, just off to the right side of his mouth and softly kissed him. I couldn't kiss him on the lips, but I needed to put it out there, even if he was asleep. I laid back down next to him, facing the ceiling as I felt him softly stir next to me. I tried to discreetly roll away, my body turned away from him, screwing my eyes closed.

I could feel the bed shift underneath me as he awoke. I could feel him leaning over me, checking to see that I was "asleep". Then, I felt his lips on my forehead, pressing a gentle kiss to my temple.

"You can't get away with it that easily Y/N"

My eyes slowly opened, as if afraid I would see it was all a dream, and he wouldn't be there. Instead, he was looking down at me, his head cocked to the side with a crooked smile dancing on his lips. Concern was etched on my brow, though my mouth betrayed me in a half smile as I stared back at the blue eyed soldier.

"I uh-I didn't, uh, mean to wake you Bucky, I'm sorry, I don't know what came over me," I stuttered out, worried that I might have made him feel pressured to return the favor.

I was surprised when his arm reached for my waist, pulling me from my side to my back as he rested his hands on either side of me. Trapped underneath him, my train of thought was so far off the rails, my ability to even speak was completely hijacked.

"Y/N, you have no idea how long I had been waiting for you to do something like that," he confessed. I quivered underneath him, my only response to his words. He was now hovering above my torso, propped up on his forearms as he continued to ramble.

"I never wanted to pressure or impose anything against you. I thought that you felt it too, and I wanted to be a gentleman, but with last night and you wanting me to stay, and now this morning..., I just wanted to make sure that I am reading the signals right an-"

He was cut off by my hand on the back of his neck, pulling him up to my face where our noses connected once more. His eyes were piercing, searching mine frantically before I closed them and pulled him down. Our lips attached to one another, fitting together softly, one on top of the other. His arm slid underneath my back and pressed me into him as my arm wrapped around his neck, my other hand holding his face. I could feel the metal against my waist, but it was warmer than usual, probably due to being under the covers all night. After years of torture and pain for the both of us, this kiss made terrors of that night worth it. It brought him and I together.

As we pulled away, our lips still stuck to the others until there was enough distance to truly focus our eyesight on the other. Pupils dilated, chests rising and falling against each other, our status shifted from roommates to something more in seconds. Maybe we were always something more and we hadn't realized it until now. But none of the what ifs mattered now. Now, there was a certainty that Bucky and I had a future together.

-------

A/N: This made me cry. A lot. The angst, the coping skills, the little sparks of chemistry. I just love writing about this man. He is everything a girl could ask for. I will start writing a part two tomorrow and I can promise you, it is about to be a lot cuter, a lot smuttier, and a lot more BUCKKKYYYY.

Taglist: @n3ssm0nique @arctic-duchess @bluemoon-icecream

[whats-rambled-rambled]

Smoke & Mirrors - part 2

Neil x Reader

Chapter 2: What kind of man

(see chapter 1)

summary: the matchmaking trio changes their strategy, and you end up on a sparring mat with Neil

warnings: language and other explicit things, 18+ and I MEAN IT

author’s note:  ...you know what? I don’t want to take any responsibility for where this chapter ended up going. Those characters have mind of their own and at this point I can just write it down and try not to die on the way. (I know it’s far from what we’ve discussed A, but it’s best I could do with what these two had given me, promise to do better next time)

The song for this chapter is Florence + The Machine - “What kind of man”  (changed from “Undisclosed desires”, don’t ask me, I don’t know either)

Anyway, enjoy and let me know what you think, please?

___

“...and you really think this is a good idea?” 

“It sure beats yours,” said Ives and took a sip from his cup.

TP huffed and smacked his arm. “Hey, I thought it was our idea!”

“What matters is,” - Wheeler chimed in, fighting a losing battle to hide the annoyance in her voice - “it was a terrible one, and we have to do better if you want them to not get each other killed on the field.”

Ives pondered for a while. When he looked at Wheeler, his eyes were full of concern. “Honestly? This sounds like a recipe for someone getting hurt.”

She kept forgetting how protective he could be over his friend. Although this time, she thought, the one at risk was definitely Neil. 

Wheeler smiled reassuringly. “Trust me, it’s gonna work.”

_________________

There was a certain peace in the emptiness of the HQ’s shooting range in the early morning. It always helped you clear your head - there was no place for emotions while you were holding a gun. And you always knew when to come there to be alone. 

At least up until today.

Just as you finished your routine and grabbed your bag, the door opened and you were greeted by the smirk from under the messy blonde mane. 

Bloody perfect.

A week had passed since the bar encounter, seven long days filled with Neil’s tiresome presence during your work time. If it wasn’t a merged mission of your squads, there were training sessions. The shooting range was your last place free from the walking reminder of your recent failure. 

Not anymore, apparently. 

“Going out already? Too bad, I was hoping to get some tips from you.”

“Aim and pull the trigger. Repeat. It’s really that simple,” you said, shrugging.

The blue eyes narrowed behind yellow-tinted lenses of the safety glasses as Neil sent a forced smile your way. “Never would have guessed,” he deadpanned.

You passed by him, not willing to allow him to get under your skin. But then, just as you were about to exit the room, you stopped and cursed internally at yourself. Closing the door and turning around, you placed your bag quietly on the ground and leaned back against the wall. With your arms crossed, you watched Neil as he prepared his pistol and started the practice. 

You studied his posture, the way he held the gun in his gloved hands, trying to find any weak points in his technical side. There wasn’t too much to improve, his problem with shooting during the missions must have been elsewhere. You briefly glanced over the rolled sleeves of his navy blue shirt and the way his jaw tightened when he checked the target to grade his accuracy. 

“Look at that, you actually can hit a target,” you said and the corner of your lips twitched. “An easy one and not quite lethally but still, I’d call that a progress.”

Neil scoffed and glared at you over the shoulder. “I thought you were done for today.”

The subtle hints of frustration rang in his voice, catching you by surprise. You didn’t know why, but all of the sudden, the satisfaction you felt had a bitter aftertaste. 

You eyed him carefully before speaking again, this time easing up on the mocking tone. Just a bit. “Maybe you just need to train in a more stressful environment.”

A sardonic smile tainted Neil’s lips as he focused on the target again. 

“Keep talking then.”

You snorted, shaking your head as you left the shooting range. 

Fucking hell, he was just infuriating.

_________________

You stared at the bulletin board in disbelief. The new training lineup added one-on-one sparring sessions, and your name was all the way at the bottom of the list, which only meant more late evenings at the headquarters. And as for the choice of your sparring partner-...

With the corner of your eye, you spotted a familiar figure, trying to sneak by you unnoticed. You turned around quickly. “Ives, why do you guys hate me so much?”

He sighed slowly and patted you on the arm. “It’s nothing personal,” he said, his voice almost sincere. But you knew better, and after the crap they’d pulled on you last time, you had every right to be suspicious. 

“You could have picked anyone else for him,” you complained, quite desperate to try anything to avoid spending more time with that blonde pain in the ass.

“I didn’t pick shit,” Ives scoffed. “Besides, it’s just the combat practice, the usual training rotation stays the same.”

“And it’s a coincidence-”

“It’s not,” TP’s voice rang from behind you. “It’s the result of your recent evaluation.”

You stifled a curse. 

_________________

Neil’s brows furrowed in fake concern while he looked you up and down as you kicked off your shoes and stepped on the mat. The fact that you accidentally matched your black tank top and shorts to his black t-shirt and sweatpants didn’t get lost on him.

“What’s with the frown, sweetheart?” he teased. “I thought you might enjoy it, I saw the way you look at me.”

You smacked your lips as you began to stretch your arms and sneered, “Good, so you know how much I want to punch your stupid face.”

Neil kept his features casual, but the taunting sparks in his eyes were saying plenty. 

“I can’t wait to see you try.”

You started circling each other slowly. After seeing him in combat, you knew that you were in his domain. You tapped into all your bottled anger to cover the lack of confidence you suddenly felt in his calm presence. 

“Ground rules?” you asked, putting your guard up.

Neil’s shoulders raised in a slight shrug as he mirrored your pose nonchalantly. 

“Just show me what you got.”

And that’s what you did. 

You always considered your close combat skills adequate. Good enough to let you get out of most of the situations you’d found yourselves into during missions. But after yet another blocked hit, you weren’t so sure about that anymore. 

Meanwhile, Neil was clearly having fun watching you struggle to break through his defense. “You don’t like hand-to-hand combat,” he rather stated the fact than asked as he dodged under swing aimed for his head and lunged forward, tapping your right side to mark the exposed area. 

“If you’re that close, it means I’ve failed to shoot you,” huffing in frustration, you spun around and kicked, missing him just barely. Neil didn’t give you too much time to regain your balance, making you jump out of the way of his flying knee. He flitted around you and grabbed your wrist, twisting it quickly and pressing it to your back, quickly adding your other one there before you could do anything about it. 

“You never let anyone near you, huh?”

A cold shiver ran down your spine as you tried to wriggle your way out. Neil was definitely too close for comfort, both literally and figuratively. “You’re not my therapist, blondie,” you uttered through gritted teeth, taking a sudden step back right into his arms, a change of direction finally allowing you to escape his grasp.

“Thank god, because I feel sorry for them already,” Neil laughed dryly. His eyes narrowed as he watched your mouth open in disbelief at his remark and a shit-eating grin crept on his face. 

You don’t know what pissed you off more - the fact that he was bent on driving you mad, or the sudden realization that the fucker was clearly holding back. It didn’t matter that you were struggling enough with the moderate effort from his side; to you, it was an insult worse than the comment. 

You brushed a sweaty strand of hair from your forehead. “Aren’t you tired?” you snarled, shifting your balance back and forth. The question was vague enough, but from the way his expression changed, you knew he got the hint. The predatory flare in his eyes made the heart race in your chest. 

Neil sprung at you, faking a misstep on the way to throw you off balance. Your senses sharpened enough to predict his next move and you were there to deflect a lightning-quick hit to your abdomen. You returned with a strike at his side but to no luck. Neil ducked under your elbow and closed in on you, giving himself enough momentum to knock you down and pin you to the mat.

The self-satisfied stare just a few inches from your face was making the blood boil in your veins. Cursing internally at both his reach and flexibility, you squirmed under Neil and that only made him press his forearm to your chest even harder, a roguish smile tainting his lips. “See, there’s one thing you need to learn. You need to work smarter, not harder.”

An outraged cry built in your throat as you clenched your hands on his arms, trying to gain any leverage in your position. You glared into the blue eyes, the nauseating hate burning in every cell of your body.

Neil raised an eyebrow and grinned. “Oh no, did I hit a nerve?”

You let out a frustrated groan. Of course, that son of a bitch hit a fucking bullseye. And to make matters worse - he had a point, too. 

Neil spotted a change in your expression a second too late. You swiftly moved your hands and sneaked them under his t-shirt, sliding them up his stomach. His eyes widened as he gasped, reducing the pressure on your chest. That gave you enough room to maneuver, rolling him off you and pinning him with his wrists above his head. 

With your faces again just inches away from each other, both of you panted heavily; a part of you enjoyed Neil’s amused gaze, his mouth slightly open as he tried to level his breath. And then - 

“Good girl. Just like that.”

...fuck.

You didn’t know what exactly made your brain short-circuit. Was it the hoarse voice combined with the praise? The way the blue eyes suddenly got darker? Or both together?

And you didn’t even know how you found yourself underneath Neil again, flipped on your stomach, your hands behind your back. With one cheek pressed against the cold mat, you shivered at the sudden warmth of his uneven breath on your neck. 

A throaty chuckle made your heart skip a bit. “Two can play the game, darling,” he purred as his lips brushed against your ear. 

Your mind went blank again. 

Somehow, you made your way back to the shared locker room.

You leaned your back against the wall, crossing your arms. The tension between the two of you was almost volatile, elevating your heartbeat with every second passed and every step Neil made your way. 

“You’re insufferable.”

You grinned slyly as your eyes flared up. 

“The feeling is mutual, blondie.”

The way his gaze got even darker made your breath hitch. The burning sensation inside of you was something more than hatred now, not caring if you were ready to admit it or not.

He smacked his tongue, a vicious smile dangled in the corner of his lips. 

“You really should stop calling me that.”

The hidden threat in his tone made your mouth dry. You raised a brow and held your breath. 

“Or?”

He closed in on you and grabbed your chin harshly.

“Or I’ll make you.” 

You flashed your teeth and taunted him again. 

“Can’t wait to see you try.”

Neil hummed and moved a pad of his thumb against your lips, making you gasp breathlessly and lose all the resolve you had left. A dry chuckle in response to your expression was enough to haze your mind. You tilted your head as Neil leaned in, drawing his attention just where you wanted him. It took all your willpower not to sigh when he sucked at the skin just below your ear and your fingers raked through blonde hair, pulling Neil even closer. 

His hands roamed your body hungrily while his mouth moved down your neck. When you felt his fingers going up your thigh, you tugged at his t-shirt, and as they moved even higher, your hips bucked involuntarily, so eager to feel him where you needed him the most.

A sharp chuckle against your collarbone as he palmed over the almost completely soaked-through fabric of your shorts sent a bolt of pleasure through your every nerve. You could feel your core pulsing even harder as his long fingers rubbed you just right.

Your hand flew back up and yanked at his hair, making him look at you just before you trailed his jawline with your mouth. Neil groaned and a laugh rattled in your chest. 

You reached for his waistband, but he was faster. Next thing you knew, your shorts and panties were gone and Neil lifted you and pinned you to the wall. You wrapped your legs around his waist as he slid his arm around your lower back. You nearly cried out when he thrust into you mercilessly; instead, you dug your nails into his back and sank your teeth in your bottom lip. As Neil picked up the pace, you clung to him for dear life. The heat radiating from his body carried the musky smell mixed with the almost fade-out scent of his cologne, the combination so intoxicating it made you lightheaded. You felt yourself tighten around him as he ground into you relentlessly, and pathetic whine escaped your mouth. Hearing that, Neil slowed down, almost stopping and you groaned in frustration when you realized what he was doing. 

“I hate you,” you uttered through gritted teeth, panting heavily, rolling your hips, longing for the friction that son of a bitch was purposely denying you.

Neil pulled back enough so you could see the roguish sparks in his eyes accompanied by a mischievous grin. 

“Don’t be so dramatic,” he teased, his voice low and raspy.

You huffed, outraged by the audacity and he laughed, burying his face in the crook of your neck as he picked up where he’d left off. The fire he’d just fueled blazed in your veins, your heart raced in your chest and you felt yourself climbing the peak again. Wrapping your arms around him and pulling yourself closer, you frantically gasped for air and squeezed your eyes shut as you came undone with a loud moan, the pleasure hitting every fiber of your body in violent shockwaves. That was enough to send Neil over the edge, a deep groan escaping his mouth as he came into you, tightening his grasp on you almost painfully. 

At that moment, you were nothing but a trembling mess in his arms. Coming down, you pressed your forehead to his, enjoying the way your breaths intertwined. 

When both of you regained your senses, you pushed him away and picked up your clothes. As you were both decent enough, you glared at Neil.

“This changes nothing,” you said. 

The self-satisfied look in his eyes made you realize your mistake. 

No nickname. 

You cursed internally, but it was already too late. He’d had it his way, in the end. 

Neil’s lips curled in a half-smile.

“How tragic.”

(next chapter ->)

[what-the--curtains]

In a Week

Part 3/4 - Snowballs and cigarettes

(Frankie Morales x f!reader)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Summary: The snows finally stopped and its about time you got to work unburying your car. With your friends all prompting you to move on from your toxic ex you find yourself becoming more and more aware of the kind of person you’d want to be with. And how Frankie was ticking all those boxes.

Authors notes: Ugh okay I was over the max block text so the finale is split into two parts!! But you get them both tonight💕🌻💕 .

Warnings: mentions of toxic relationships, allusions to sex (nothing depicted), PTSD, smoking, drinking, swearing

Tagged: @agingerindenial @icanbeyourjedi

Word count: 4.0k

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Day 4

It had only been three days but you had found yourself in a routine that you hoped you never fell out of. Each morning he’d wake up first and you’d be predictably wrapped around him for another 2 hours or so. He found it hard to believe you were able to wake up before 10am, let alone that you were up at 5am most days but he’d love to be around to see it happen. For the first time, he saw something he’d long given up on. A future with someone else ingrained into his and his daughters life. Maybe it was stupid feeling this way after a few days, but he was old enough to know when he felt a real connection, and he’d never felt as good as he did when he was with you. He would make his feelings known to you, one way or another, he’d regret it forever if he let you slip through his fingers. He just had to find the right time to do it. It had been a long time since you’d woken up with someone in the same bed as you and even longer since the person was someone who made you feel safe and secure. There was something calming about knowing that even if you pushed your freezing cold feet between his calves in the middle of the night he wouldn’t get angry, or push you off he’d just grumble and pull you closer.

It sounded pathetic but it was the nicest a guy had been to you in years. You knew how stupid it was to catch feelings this fast, and it definitely wasn’t like you to feel such strong emotions. Since the funeral you had actively decided to forego them although. This benefited your work, helped you in your field, made you a better doctor, but keeping all your emotions bottled up took its toll. Primarily on your love life. You’d had your fair share of flings with other residents, nurses, friends of friends, but between classes and shift work there wasn’t time. Plus what was the point when you had no idea where you’d be moved to. At least that’s what you told yourself. Then Jonathan came along and you’d let him in, let him know you and you fell for him in the process. Then he’d started dating someone else, told you he didn't realize you were exclusive, and it shattered you completely. You’d pieced yourself back together and once you were better, once you were finally over him, he’d cycle back round to you, determined to keep you on retainer. The whole ordeal had left you tired. You’d never had a real relationship and you were already done with them. You never understood how people would want to live with someone for the rest of their lives until now. Catching feelings had always happened in periphery to your life making it easy to push by a crush by simply avoiding them, but you couldn’t avoid Frankie. Each day you spent trapped inside with him he’d continued to grow on you, cementing your feelings for him tenfold. You yawn and stretch your leg out over Frankies torso propping yourself up onto your elbow so you can reach over him and grab the glass of water on the nightstand. He exhales as if your movement across him is an inconvenience to his meticulous strategy for winning whatever game he was playing on his phone. You take a sip and put the cup back down, rolling off the bed and opening the curtains.

“Hey!” you shout, causing Frankies head to shoot over to you, “It stopped snowing!” you exclaim, gazing out over the parking lot where the snow had fallen. The powder undulating overtop the cars buried beneath it. You stretch your arms up catching an unsavoury whiff coming from your armpits causing you to pull a face. Turning around just in time to see Frankie laughing from the bathroom door.

“Seriously man? Do you have to beat me to everything!” you pout, crossing your arms over your chest.

“Gotta be faster sweetheart.” he says, closing the door behind him. From anyone else the term would have driven you into a rage induced frenzy, but it was endearing not condescending coming from him. You take the time to call Stella, you’d been texting with her since you got stuck but you felt it was time to officially announce your arrival as permanently cancelled.

“Hey girl”

“Hey babe what's going on? You calling with good or bad news?” she asks, a constant bustle evident in the background.

“Don’t shoot the messenger, but only bad news on my end. I am so fucking sorry, I should have just flown down like you said” you offer, leaning back against the window allowing the chill of the outside to cool you off.

“Well this is why you should always listen to me, but i’ll forgive you just this once.” she laughs.

“God I can’t believe the one wedding I actually care about I’m going to miss!” you exasperated, shifting away from the window and flopping down onto the bed.

“Well I definitely won’t miss you, especially considering you’ve already sent a gift.” she teases.

“How, very dare you” you punctuate.

“Yup long con paid off, 10 years I pretended to like you just to get you to buy me a toaster from ebay” Stella laughs.

“You could have just stolen mine after the first year, then you could have had me gone!” you state.

“Ugh a huge mistake!!” she overemphasizes dramatically, causing you both to burst out laughing.

“So….” you say after your giggles subside leaving a gentle ache in your ribs that always occurred when you talked to Stella.

“What?” she asks, sniffling.

“ Did John make it out there?” you ask, in a painfully transparent way.

“Why?” she spits, her tone suddenly lethal. She hated the guy, she was the one who was always left dealing with you after he’d used you up, helping to piece you back together, just in time for him to get a hold on you again.

“He asked about me?” you query, once again failing to convey your intentions.

“I’m not indulging this anymore, it's bad for you. He’s bad for you, there's only so many times I can watch him emotionally manipulate you” she rants.

“Ya, but it's easy and it's so good with him.” you emphasize.

“It’s not easy, take it from someone in an easy relationship, it's not supposed to hurt that much.” she chides, determined to have you see the light.

“But..”

“Nope, I'm drawing the line for you, find someone else. You’re a gorgeous single doctor,

“Almost doctor” you interrupt, but the statement is ignored.

“Aren’t you currently shacked up with one of my stupid brothers friends?”

“Yes? And?” you say, your heart suddenly beating faster as your head turns to see Frankies hat on the nightstand.

“Frankie right? Statue like, soft curls, kind, deep brown eyes? And don’t pretend like you didn’t notice I know you like the back of my hand!”

“So what if I have, doesn't mean..” you whisper, not wanting him to hear you.

“Nope, don’t sell yourself short, I say get cozy with him and finally move on from dickhead McGee, even if it's just for a night, cleanse the palette. Besides, you know he’ll be doing whoever looks his way at my wedding.” you hear a muffled shout “alright I have to go, something about the bridesmaids fighting.”

“Your sisters? Fighting? Who could have seen that coming” you deadpan.

“I know, god I wish you were here.”

“I wish I was as well i'll call tomorrow in case you get cold feet, I have a five point plan”

“I won't” she chimes.

“ I know because you love her”

“And I also love you” she says

“And I love you” you respond before hanging up. Not even a minute after hanging up you get a call from Santiago

“Hey, I just wanted to verbally apologize for trapping you with ‘Fish, though he's definitely one of the better ones to get stuck with.” he says.

“Well that’s good to know” you laugh, rolling your eyes.

“He hasn’t tried anything has he? If he has I'll kill him, and get away with it, you'll have to help me with the body but...” Santiago starts.

“Santi, it's fine he's cool, really sweet, actually,” you offer heat rushing to your face for some unknown reason.

“Good. He touches you ill..” he warns.

“You’ll kill him ya I got it!” you snap, you understood why Santiago felt like he had to play big brother for you but sometimes he was a touch overbearing. “Is John there?” you try and ask casually, failing to head Stellas advice.

“Don’t...” Santi starts, you can practically hear his jaw clench over the phone “you know if I see him tonight i'm gonna knock him out for how he treats you”

“It wasn’t that bad.” you whisper.

“It was, still is, I heard him bragging about how if worse comes to worse he always has his plan D,” he offers, not to hurt you but to try and free you from the cycle.

“That dick. You know what Stellas right, fuck him!” you exclaim with a newfound determination to rid him from your life.

“Oh my god, are you finally seeing the light?” Santi asks “Praise the lord!” He shouts up into the sky.

“Ya I guess so” you say staring at Frankie as he dries his hair with the towel. “I gotta go, see you soon.”

“Not soon enough” he laughs as you hang up.

“Whose that?” Frankie asks, still curious about who you’d been hoping to see at the wedding and what they’d done to earn your affection.

“Pope!” you say with a smile, pushing your back off the bed and sitting up.

“Threatening to kill me?” Frankie predicts.

“Ya we have a plan” you murmur.

“We?” he asks, a twinkle in his eye and his mouth upturned at the sides.

“Well he'll kill you but, I cant have him go to jail so i'll have to hide your body.” you explain

“Good glad that got sorted” he says, his smile now in full effect.

“I'll go grab some breakfast” you say.

“No ill get it, you’re always getting it, plus gives you time to shower, I can smell you from here.” He prods, grabbing the key.

“Rude!” you yell out after him.

He's back when you exit the shower

“Oh thank you, you say grabbing the plate form him”

“Just what the doctor ordered, hey?” he asks, smiling stupidly big.

“Ouuuf that that was bad truly apologize to me” He laughs at how serious your face gets “You're laughing? I had to listen to that joke and you're laughing?” you say through a mouthful of eggs. “Here's something that'll wipe that stupid smile off your face, snow stops which means we have to clear off my car.”

“Using the royal we are we?” he asks

“Think of it as repayment for the pun,” you say waving your fork in his face

“How will we be clearing it off?” he asks, leaning over the counter.

“Brush” you say, as if it's obvious

“Where's the brush?” he asks, resting his chin on the back of his hands and smiling sweetly at you, waiting for an answer.

“In the….oh” you say, face dropping when you realize that the brush was in the car currently buried under a snow pile.

“Not so smart now” he laughs pushing back off the counter taking your empty plate with him, washing it up for you.

“Well I guess we just have to get to the door with our hands then” you say smiling.

“Once again, about this we,” he says, drying his hands on the dish towel, turning to see a dramatic pout plastered across your face.

“Fine, I'll only help because I think you may disappear in the snow if you go in alone” he responds, the truth was, he couldn't deny you.

You both get dressed into the most winter proof clothes you had, neither of you having packed for a snowy expedition. As you exit the room you see him grab a pack of cigarettes he’d been hiding, not wanting you to see his worst traits.

“Those will kill you, you know,” you say, causing him to roll his eyes dramatically.

“Okay mom” he laughs grabbing the lighter despite your disapproving glare,

“You have a daughter to think about” you say, feeling like you'd be letting your profession down by giving up so easily.

“It's why I smoke, the safest way to calm the nerves while staying clean” he murmurs with a look on his face that is enough to get you to drop it for now. You weren't about to pry into his struggle with addiction and you certainly weren’t one to judge, you’d faced similar issues after your brothers passing.

“I used to smoke,” you confess as the elevator doors close in front of you both.

“Seriously?” he remarks, not able to believe it.

“Pack a week for about a year” you say, slowly nodding your head as the two of you walk through the foyer towards the parking lot.

“You quit?” He asks, impressed.

“Ya I don’t think it was long enough to form a habit. When did you start?” you offer as you move your legs through the snow, it was dense your legs would be sore tomorrow.

“What? Are you gonna assess the state of my lungs?” Frankie laughs, moving easily through the snow you were struggling so hard against.

“Yes, but i'll only tell you the results if you want to know”

“Few years back, after...” he stops himself before confessing the worst thing that ever happened in his life.

“The mission” you finish for him, remembering how Pope had picked up similar habits once he finally returned home. “You were there with Santi?” you question

“He told you about it?” he asks, sterner than you’d seen him before, he was afraid that you knew what a monster he was. You shake your head, no and he thanks the gods. “You think i'm going to?” He queries lighting up a cigarette and taking a drag, making sure not to blow it out anywhere near you.

“I don’t know, maybe. It’s the one thing he wont tell me about, figured it would be easier for you if you were talking to a stranger about it.”

“Not much of a stranger now” he laughs, but there was something behind his eyes, a similar sadness that you saw with Santi when he talked about it. Your thoughts are interrupted when something cold hits you in the face, your mouth drops open, your forehead scrunches in disbelief.

“Shit, I wasn’t aiming for your face I swear!” he looks up panicked

“I guess it's what I get for asking so many questions” you say, hand still over your face playing into it as you formulate your attack.

“No, oh my god! No! It wasn't because of that, let me see” he says, you let your hands drop and you smile wickedly up at him. Before he has time to react, you rub a handful of snow into his face.

“Oh... you're gonna pay for that.” he draws out, wiping the snow from his face.

After 15 minutes of all out war, and a brief truce that was to be officially signed once back inside you managed to get to the door handle and lean into the back seat grabbing out the brush. You offer it to Frankie, but he's already started clearing off the rest of the car with his arms.

“Hey can you grab my spare charger out of the compartment there?” you say cleaning off the trunk, the front doors now accessible.

“Ya, holy shit is this a knife?” he asks, pulling out a knife.

“Maybe.” You say staring into his eyes as his mouth hangs open in amusement. “For safety, I didn't know who I'd be driving up with! You coulda been a murderer” you explain palms up.

“And you were planning on what? shanking me?” he laughs a huge smile on his face, weirdly endeared by your thought process.

“Only if I had to.” You say chuckling between shivers, the cold now seeping through your makeshift snowsuit hitting against the sweat you’d worked up.

“You want it?” He offers.

“No i'm good, thanks”

“Because you don’t think I'm a murderer or because you have another one hidden in the room already?” he laughs, but he stops when you tilt your head slightly and raise your eyebrows, averting your eyes.

“Wait, do I need this knife?” he calls as you trudge back through the snow.

You both change into less sweaty attire and you settle into the couch turning on to watch the latest forensic files rerun. You shiver as you sit down having caught a chill. Noticing you shaking, Frankie goes to the wardrobe and grabs down a spare blanket throwing one at you so it lands directly over your head. He laughs when he sees you slowly turn towards him beneath the blanket, like someone in a makeshift ghost costume.

“Excuse me!” you laugh

“Hey you should be thanking me, can't have you freezing to death.” he says, “Are you asleep under there?” he asks, when you don't respond

“I'm not a cat! I don't fall asleep when someone throws a blanket over me!” He's not paying attention to what he's doing and the bottle in his hand shatters against the counter, a shard slicing his hand open.

“Fucking shit.” you him sigh.

“Are you okay?” You ask maneuvering out from under your blankets to see Frankie in the kitchen, glass on the floor and blood coming down his arm.

“Wow you're out of my sight for 2 seconds and you maim yourself” you say laughing, stopping when you see the panicked look in his eye, the event evidently triggering something deep in his psyche. You quickly stand up and he goes to move towards you.

“No don't move Frankie, stay where you are.” you reassure softly, watching as his eyes lay into your own, his breathing calmer now “You're in socks, can't have you cutting your dancing feet” you say.

“You’ve heard of my dancing feet,” he says, grounding himself again.

“Only bad things” you say, throwing him a pair of shoes that he carefully puts on before moving toward the closet where the broom is “No come here, let me see your hand. The mess can wait, you're more important,” you stress leading him over to the couch and sitting him down.

“Wow, first time I'll be able to afford professional health care “ he jokes as you take his hands in your own.

“Ow” he says when you press down onto the hand to assess the damage.

“It's fine, not deep enough for stitches, should heal up on its own. I still want to clean it though, to stop any infection.” You return with a small bottle of over priced vodka opening it and dabbing some onto a cotton pad. He doesn't flinch when the alcohol cleans the wound and he watches as you bandage his hand up.

“You carry a med pack with you on every trip?” he queries, but you don’t hear him you’re too focused on wrapping his hand.

“There! good as new,” you say standing up and cleaning up the glass on the floor. “Hey did you bring a swimsuit?” you ask, dumping the glass into some newspaper that was left in the room.

“Why?” He asks.

“Answer the question Frankie” you say, folding the paper around the shards before placing it into the trash.

“Yes, you wanna go hang out at the pool with the fifty families stuck here?”

“Ya. You don't? Seriously this room is wildly expensive and has a huge jacuzzi tub, I'm getting in your welcome to join, but bathing suits are mandatory.” you offer.

“I was gonna get in fully clothed,” he offers, not missing a beat.

“Perfect even better”

As per usual he beats you to the punch and settles into the tub that was more akin to a hot tub than a bath, he wanted to get in first partially to annoy you and partially so his body wouldn’t be on full display, he wasn't as jacked as he once was and he’d become insecure about certain areas that he’d let go once his kid came along. He watches as you walk in and his eyes can't help but follow your figure around the room, a beautiful person behind a beautiful personality, he thanks the universe for placing him into your orbit.

“That why they call you catfish?” you ask drawing him from his daydream back into an equally pleasing reality.

“What?” he responds, blushing at having been called out on his gawking.

“Cause your mouth hangs open like a fish out of water when you're zoned out” you smirk, lowering yourself down into the tub.

“Rude” he says splashing after you settle in.

“Alright, Frankie, what is it?” you ask, causing his face to look up to you “what's your deal, apart from smoking? You gotta have flaws”

“Wouldn’t you like to know.” he charms

“Sinister” you laugh, but he doesn't, you reach your foot up tapping his cheek with it,

“Disgusting,” he chuckles, grabbing it and rubbing the arch before pushing it back into the water.

“God, I miss the ocean” you confess, “ I hate the city sometimes.”

“You’re not planning on staying in Chicago after you're done?”

“Nope, gonna get myself out to the coast, or at least somewhere without winters.” you say stretching your arms out across the tub. “How about you, are you planning on staying?”

“ Probably, no reason to leave, plus it's close to my mom so she can take care of Arianna when I'm at work, though I wouldn't be opposed to moving if the opportunity presented itself she's young enough that it wouldn’t be too hard.” he says, wanting you to know that if you asked, hed follow you anywhere.

“Arianna, beautiful name. Did you pick it?” you ask looking up when a few minutes of silence pass. As you do you notice that the somber look from early had returned. “You okay?” you ask.

“I don't deserve her, I don’t deserve something so good.” he states, suddenly realizing he didn’t deserve someone like you either. You wouldn’t be sitting in the tub with him if you knew what he’d done.

“Frankie that's not true” you reassure

“You don't know the shit I've done. I'm not... I'm not a good person,” he says, still not looking over to you.

“Well, I…” you begin to refute.

“Seriously, I've done bad things… awful things'' he clears his throat, afraid to look at you, afraid you’d be terrified by him.

“People make bad mistakes, but that doesn't make them irredeemable, not if they are willing to change. You understand what you did was bad, that says something.” you reassure, knowing the guilt was likely left over from the military.

“Well, wise words coming from someone who's never done anything bad”

“You don't know me that well Frankie, I’ve done my fair share of stupid things, crappy things to numb the pain. It's what we do to make up for those shitty actions that count. At every turn, you’ve shown me that you're not an evil person. Everything I’ve seen is good, and funny and incredibly kind.” you finish and you continue to nudge him with your foot until he finally cracks a smile.

“Well now you're smiling again, my missions complete and it's time for bed” you say stepping out of the tub and drying off, unaware that you’d just made Frankie fall even harder for you. His eyes helplessly following you as you leave the bathroom.

“Since I'm an outpatient, does that mean I get the good side of the bed?” he calls out after you. You roll your eyes but let him have it, you preferred the sleeping situation the way it was.

[levisnackajack]

The Wrath of War

Chapter Twenty

A few days later, Eden was officially free of being barred away in the medical quarters.

Hurriedly, she gathered her things and practically sprinted back to her bedroom before wrapping herself up in her harness, uniform and boots. She felt so elated, as though a heavy weight had been lifted off her chest as soon as the nurse graced her with the green light.

Now, the only thing that was properly on Eden’s mind was the Levi’s last words to her. 

I guess it is, brat.

His words had carved themselves deep into her bones; as well as finding shelter in the darkest, most hidden place in her brain. She couldn’t stop thinking about him; scheming of ways to beat him at his own hot and cold game. 

Jean was more than happy to assist her with her games. Although she had never asked him for help, Jean would almost always find a way to flirt with her. It was just their way of communication- light, innocent and incredibly refreshing. He’d throw his arm over her shoulder lazily after training or lean against her side whilst they ate. 

Eden found herself laughing harder, talking louder and becoming more buoyant around Jean when the Captain was around. The atmosphere automatically grew bleaker when the intimidating man entered the room. He didn’t mean for that to happen, merely focusing on his cup of tea or the paperwork in his hand, but the daunting aura followed him everywhere. 

It put the raven-haired girl on edge every time she could sense him close by. Their eyes would meet over Jean’s shoulder when he’d walk into the dining area and Eden would automatically bat her eyelashes at her comrade; sending him the toothiest of grins that made her plump lips stretch widely, and eyes crinkle.

She’d never miss the chance to catch the way Levi’s jaw would clench tightly, stormy eyes twitching in irritation as the grip on his teacup would visibly grow stronger.

It made her thrive.  

When Levi had the chance, he’d be ruthless with Eden; making her run more laps than the others because he ‘wasn’t satisfied with her running’. His scowl would grow deeper when she’d flicker her eyes to Jean in front of him, a devious smile painted across her face. 

That made the Captain grab her by the arm and shove her away from the rest of the Squad, barking at her to continue running laps until the sun went down. 

Then one warm, sunny afternoon, Eden and her comrades were training outside, beside the wall of giant trees and buzzing bees. 

Levi was busy speaking to Hange as Eren trotted behind them sulkily, sending Eden a playful smirk when she caught her childhood best friend’s eyes. 

“Are you tired? Want me to carry you back to the medical quarters?” Jean’s deep voice mocked her as they stood opposite each other. Eden’s eyes snapped back to him, arching a brow. 

“Stop trying to make up excuses for not sparring with me, Jeanie-boy. If you’re not up for a spar session; all you need to do is beg me to go train with someone else,” she retorted, folding her arms across her chest. 

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world, darling. I promise to go easy on you,” Jean sneered back at her, rolling the cuffs of his white shirt up to his elbows as he settled his body in the first fighting stance. 

She mirror him, pouting her lip as her hands balled into fists, stretching them outwards. 

“My hero, let’s see what you’ve got for me,” she said smoothly, charging at him without a second’s notice. 

He recoiled quickly, shifting his body out of the way as her fist swung at him. Raising his own fist towards her, Eden grunted as his knuckles nearly collided with her jaw. She captured his wrist, twisting it in an awkward way, kneeing him in the gut. 

He swore under his breath, smirking mischievously at the sight of Eden growing angrier; her erratic moves quick and choppy. 

“Feisty. I like it,” the boy muttered when Eden sent another punch towards his face. She caught him in the chin; ducking hurriedly when he stepped to the side, attempting to elbow her away from him. 

Suddenly, she let out a squeak when he grabbed her by the waist, slamming her down onto the ground. 

“Jeez,” she groaned, letting go of a shrill giggle when his fingers brushed against her side. “What the hell? That’s not fair...Jean...-” Eden shook with laughter as his fingers ghosted over her tickle spots. He fell to his knees as he attacked her ruthlessly, watching her try her best to squirm away in between heavy gasps for air. 

Eden was an extremely ticklish person. Her reflex was so bad to the point of her growing violent if someone touched her sides, just below her ribs and against the curve of her slim waist. 

Her palms pressed against his chest as she tried shoving him off of her; but her attempts were for nothing. Sighs of pleading echoed out of her, hazel eyes filling with tears as he continued pushing her, a wicked, victorious smirk masking his handsome features. 

“Don’t you dare ever say I’ve never won against you,” Jean growled at her, unable to suppress the lopsided smile that stretched across his face when Eden began nodding fervently. 

“Sure, no problem, I promise. I...-”

“Oi, idiots.” 

Her blood turned into ice as Jean froze above her. He quickly scurried to his feet, saluting the approaching man firmly. 

Eden lay on the ground, shaking; eyes wide as she tried her best to purse her lips and completely conceal the grin threatening to contort her face. 

The sun grew covered by Levi as he loomed over her, scorching eyes blazing down at her. She swallowed thickly as she moved to sit up. Thankfully, her Captain was a gentleman, and he decided to assist her with that by grabbing her by the collar and pulling her up to her feet. 

Her hands shot up to catch his wrist; but he shook her forcefully, his chiseled jaw defined by the muscles tightly clenching underneath. 

“This is why you nearly got yourself killed, you dumbass,” he seethed at her, brows furrowed deeply as Eden continued trying to free her collar from his iron grip. 

“Captain, it was my fault too...-” Jean began urgently, snapping his mouth shut when the Captain’s glare settled on him. 

“Shut it. You weren’t the one who spent nearly a month bedridden, straw-head,” Levi retaliated in a lethal tone, his words dripping with poison. Shifting his glare back to Eden, he ended the training session for the rest of the Squad and ordered for them all to head back to base and clean their quarters. 

“I didn’t tell you to go, brat,” he barked at her when she tried stepping away once more. 

He let go of her abruptly, causing her to lose her balance for a split second before recollecting herself. 

“Captain,” she began, her words halting their path on her tongue when he held his hand up. 

“According to the nurse, you’re fit enough to handle a real fight. Let’s see if you’ve forgotten what you’ve learnt,” he quipped, craning his neck before holding her gaze for a long moment. 

Eden stared at him in shock, her heart racing avidly as she stepped towards him. 

“I bet you missed beating me up,” she replied, raising her fists at him. 

He scoffed under his breath, swinging his arm towards her harshly as he spoke flatly. “Trust me when I tell you I could care less about your injuries, Eden. I can do what I want, whenever I want.” 

She dodged him quickly, twisting her body effortlessly until her back collided with his chest. “I find that hard to believe, sir.” The bone of her elbow caught Levi in the ribs. 

Eden didn’t know whether it was her retort that had affected him or the unexpected move; but Levi visibly grew angrier. He grabbed her by the hair and threw her against the tree bark beside them. The wood grazed her cheek and she winced; knowing better than to thrash when he kicked the spot behind her knee. 

Her knees buckled and she fell to the ground, her bones cracking as they met the hard floor with a thud. Pulling her by the hair once more, Levi craned her head until her face was looking up at his whilst he towered over her menacingly. 

“Watch your mouth, brat,” he snarled at her, ignoring the way she hissed when his fingers stiffly laced with her locks in a harsher manner. She couldn’t do anything but look into his blown-out, steel pupils. Yet, both of them had no knowledge of the tall individual who stood far away from the scene; watching them intently- cerulean eyes glinting as a smirk formed on his lips. 

With a tight nod to himself, a level-headed Commander Erwin watched as the pair sparred, undoubtedly sensing the intensity of each calculated move from afar. The tension made him affirm to himself that they would be the most suitable team for the new mission sealed in his mind. 

Gripping her collar once more, Levi shoved her to the ground before wiping his hands with the small handkerchief hidden in the pocket of his uniform at all times. 

“Get up. I want you to go clean the bathrooms. If you have the energy to mess around, I’m sure you can spend a good hour hunched over those grimy toilets.” He blinked down at Eden as she pulled herself to her feet; caught a little aback at the fabricated smile that plastered itself onto her face. 

“It would be my pleasure, sir,” she chirped back at him in a spiteful way; sauntering away rapidly in fear that he’ll pull her back and punch her in the face. 

She swore under her breath when she heard the door of the restroom swing open. 

“I literally just started. I hope you didn’t come to inspect my cleaning just yet...Sasha? Connie? What are you doing here?” Eden blinked at the duo who had walked in sneakily, twisted grins splayed over their faces as they both gripped some sort of cleaning supply.

“Nonsense, Eden. We came to help you out!”

“Ain’t no way we’ll let you clean on your own when you’ve just healed,” Connie retorted, heading towards the bottle of antibacterial cleaner. Sasha sprayed the mirrors with glass cleaner liquid, winking at Eden, affirming what the boy had just stated. 

Eden felt her insides warm up. “Thanks, you guys. I truly appreciate it. Can’t say the Captain will commemorate your actions with a medal though.” 

“Yeah yeah,” Sasha rolled her eyes at the girl’s words. “We know that! But, that’s only if he knows we’ve been here. Trust me, Connie and I are super good at remaining undercover. Don’t worry about anything but removing those icky stains from the floor, ewww.” 

They chattered as they cleaned rapidly, each individual focusing on a different area. Eden laughed when she found out that her friends had watched her spar with Levi; feeling a little proud that Sasha had decided to bet on her that she’d win this one. She kicked Connie’s boot when she realized that he had bet on the Captain. 

“You can’t blame me. I won in the end. Now Sasha owes me her weekly fruit snack.” 

Sasha concealed the grin from the oblivious boy, directing it only towards a set of warm, hazel eyes. “Allegedly. I just said I’ll consider giving him my fruit snack if I see that the Captain was being too harsh on you.” 

Their conversation came to a halt when the sound of boots resonated around them. 

Three pairs of wide eyes searched each other’s faces for an answer on what the hell they should do. 

“The cubicles,” Eden hissed through her teeth, shoving each comrade in a separate stall. The front door swung open viciously just as Eden managed to close the second stall’s door shut. She leaned against the wood, pretending to be taking a break when Levi’s glare settled against her face. 

She cleared her throat awkwardly, tapping her palm against the door as she pushed herself off it. “Hello there, Captain. I didn’t expect to see you so soon.” 

Levi didn’t respond. His steady stare lingered over the spotless floor, the sanitized sink and the shiny mirrors. He then sharply turned to frown at her.

“Quit playing, Eden. Who helped you clean the restrooms?” 

Silence settled around them as Eden’s brain racked with excuses. Her eyes widened and she feigned offence. “No one? You told me to come clean the bathrooms and that’s exactly what I did.” 

He paused, scrunching his nose at her words. “I didn’t take you for a liar. There’s absolutely no way you managed to clean everything in fifteen minutes.” 

Eden’s brows furrowed as she tipped her chin towards him. “I guess you need to stop underestimating me, Captain. Maybe I’m just full of surprises.” 

Levi let go of a breathy huff, shaking his head ever so slightly as he turned to the side; still standing stationary at the threshold. “Come with me. Commander Erwin wants to speak with us.” 

Curiosity seeped through her as she quirked a brow in his direction. “Oh?” 

Letting out an exasperated sigh, he titled his head towards the hallway. “We don’t have all day for you to process my words. I can write everything down for you later. Let’s go.” 

“I’ll meet you there. Let me just put everything away...-”

“Did I ask you? I said come on,” he impatiently threw at her, watching with a dark glint in his eyes as she trotted towards him wordlessly. It was as if she could sense Connie and Sasha’s impending laughter and she wished she’d just linger around a little longer. 

Walking past the threshold, Levi drearily matched her pace before placing a hand on the small of her back; guiding her towards his office in a bored, aloof manner. 

Eden’s face remained emotionless; but her insides grew heated up as she couldn’t focus on anything but the firm press of his hand against the thinly concealed skin. The sound of cackles and giggles echoed through the hallway a moment after the pair had disappeared towards Levi's office.

“I’m sorry Commander, I’d just love some confirmation. So, you want me to accompany Captain Levi to retrieve an undisclosed report regarding ancient titan findings for Hange from the Trost District?” Eden repeated what the Commander had previously just reiterated, making Levi pinch the bridge of his nose in irritation. 

“That’s right,” Erwin smiled at her from behind Levi’s desk, his arms clasped behind his back. His height intimidated Eden so much. The Commander was definitely a force to be reckoned with and although he had starkly contrasting features in comparison to her Captain; his deep-blue eyes visibly revealed the thirst he had to lead his people towards victory. 

Inclining his chiseled jawline towards the shorter man, Erwin spoke again. “I trust you are able to manage this assignment on your own. If you’re aware of the type of man Dimo Reeves is; you’ll know better than to trust the words he’ll throw your way.” He leaned over the desk, fingers settling against the immaculately clean wood, “At the end of the day, merchants thrive on bargains and what better way to lure the Survey Corps in with a deal regarding unspoken secrets about the world outside the walls?” 

Eden nodded her head in affirmation, trying her best not to continuously flicker her eyes back to the Captain beside the Commander. She could feel his stare piercing through her skull; as though he was urging her to break her pact and meet his eyes. 

Blinking rapidly, Eden pressed her fist over her heart, saluting them both formally, holding the Commander’s inquisitive stare. “I would be honored to assist my Regiment on a mission that could substantially assist humanity in the bigger picture. Thank you for considering me, Commander.”

The tall man waved her off, but stood impressed by the confidence emitting from the young woman. He could definitely appreciate why Levi seemed so intrigued by her. 

She was like a fresh breath of air; her eyes glinting with the flame of hope- although having first-hand experiences with exactly what humanity’s hardships were like. Many comrades would lose that spark after the second, or even the first battle in open territory. 

This was why Erwin has decided Eden was the best choice to accompany Levi on this classified operation. Putting all his cards in, Erwin knew that there was a considerably enormous chance for Dimo Reeves’ proposition to be a farce. 

But, it was worth the risk.

“Very well, Chiasa. Prepare yourself. You are to depart tomorrow at the brink of dawn. The Regiment has full trust that this will all be for something. You're dismissed.” 

Bowing her head lightly, Eden began stepping backwards towards the exit of an office she knew all too well. 

“Thank you, Commander. Captain.” She glanced towards Levi, the butterflies in her stomach going wild as he stoically tipped his head downwards in response. 

Closing the door with a trembling hand, Eden rushed back to her bedroom, praying to whoever could hear her thoughts that she’d have the power to go through a long mission with only Levi by her side. 

Tags: @idiot-juice-enthusiast     @hadassackerman

Link to the story in AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28919136/chapters/70952145

[imjustthemechanic]

The Price of a Soul

Part 1/? - Agent Russel Part 2/? - The Letter Part 3/? - Miss Lake Part 4/? - The Stewardess Part 5/? - An Assassination Part 6/? - Fallout Part 7/? - Face to Face Part 8/? - Deals, Details, and Other Devils Part 9/? - Baggage Part 10/? - Private Funding Part 11/? - Just Passing Through Part 12/? - Party of Four Part 13/? - Resolute Part 14/? - The Wreck Part 15/? - Body Snatchers Part 16/? - Out of the Frying Pan Part 17/? - A Miracle Part 18/? - A Matter of Circumstance Part 19/? - Nome Part 20/? - The Future Part 21/? - A Hero’s Welcome Part 22/? - Up to Speed Part 23/? - Expect Further Delays Part 24/? - The Welcome Wagon Part 25/? - Fugitives Part 26/? - A Reluctant Accomplice Part 27/? - Deja Vu

Well, well, well, what’s this?  Peggy doing the exact same thing she just got arrested for?

-

Agent Russel returned to the Automat the next day and sat down at his booth, drumming his fingers on the table and looking around nervously.  It was so obvious that Peggy sent Angie over to discreetly ask if he thought he’d been followed.  From her vantage point behind the counter, she saw him shake his head.  Only then did she and Kay come to join him.

“What did she say?” asked Peggy.

Russel took out the page Kay had given him to give her, and shook his head.  “She didn’t even look at it.  She was, uh… I told her I had a message for her, and she immediately asked if it were from Peggy.”

Peggy didn’t have to ask – she knew those had been Dottie’s exact words.  Russel himself didn’t call her ‘Peggy’, but she knew Dottie did.

“Does she know where I am?” Peggy asked cautiously.

“I don’t know… I don’t think so,” said Russel.  “We haven’t told her much.  But she said to tell you that if anybody’s making deals it’ll be her setting the terms.”

Peggy hadn’t been expecting that.  She glanced at Kay, who also appeared puzzled.  “And what are those?”

“She says she’s willing to rescind her testimony and claim it was coerced,” Russel said, “she’ll even say Jack Thompson beat her up if you want her to.  But you have to get her out of jail and get her in contact with somebody she will specify.  If you try anything funny, she’ll get back in contact with Thompson and Masters.”

Peggy and Kay exchanged another look.  Not at all what they’d had in mind… but was it something they could work with?

Kay seemed to think so.  “In that case,” she said, “we’re gonna need one more favour from you.  Don’t worry, it’s nothing illegal.”

“That’s not reassuring,” Russel said.

“We need you to come up with a reason to unlock the cell door at a specific time,” Kay told him.  “Say, eleven PM tomorrow night.  We’ll do the rest.”

“I think I can figure something out,” said Russel.

“Great,” Kay nodded.

“Leave a message with Angie if you can’t manage it,” Peggy told him.  “We’ll check in before we try to do anything.”

“I will,” he promised.

They left him to eat his lunch in peace, and changed back into street clothes in the employee washroom.

“You sound as if you have a plan,” Peggy said to Kay, as they got back in the car.  They’d left the green Ford at the side of the road somewhere in New Jersey and taken a powder blue Chevrolet from behind a petrol station.  They couldn’t afford to be linked to a specific vehicle.

“I have part of a plan,” Kay replied, taking a pair of sunglasses out of the glove compartment.  These belonged to whoever owned the car, and had therefore been ‘borrowed’ along with it.  “There are drains in the floors of the cells.  I saw them when I was in there.”

“Yes, there are,” said Peggy.  They backed out of the alley and turned onto the street outside.  “They’re far too small for a person to fit through, though.”

“That’s fine,” Kay said.  “I’m told you have some experience navigating the storm drains of New York.  I need you to find a place where we can get down there and find our way to under the cells.”

“I can probably do that,” said Peggy.  “Anything else?”

“Yeah.  See if you can find us some gas masks,” Kay told her.  “Let me know where to drop you off, and then I have to do some shopping.  I’ll meet you back at the same spot in… let’s make it two hours.”

- 

In the evening, they returned to the empty farmhouse in the Pine Barrens.  Peggy had located a manhole they could climb down without being observed, and used a ball of Kay’s knitting yarn to mark the route from there to underneath the police station.  From the drain right underneath it, it was not possible to actually see what was happening in Dottie’s cell – the opening was too small and high above them.  Kay assured her this didn’t matter.  She’d also obtained gas masks and rubber boots, buying both from a man selling questionably obtained army surplus behind a shop.

Kay, meanwhile, had purchased a number of chemicals, including bleach and acetone, and a variety of cooking and baking utensils.  In the farmhouse she put a mask on and did some complicated chemistry, producing a volatile, milky-white liquid that she carefully poured into the now-empty bleach bottle.  Even after that was done, she patiently waited five minutes after capping it for any vapor to disperse before she took the mask off.

“What is that?” Peggy asked, removing her own gas mask.

“Can you guess?” Kay wanted to know.

Peggy considered what she’d used to make it.  “I assume it’s similar to chloroform.”

“Close.  We call it nepenthyl,” Kay replied.  “Release it into an area and it’ll knock everybody out for five to eight minutes.  I don’t have the equipment to make it really pure, so there’s probably some chloroform in there too.  This won’t be enough to actually hurt anybody, though.”

Peggy smiled.  “Did you sit up at night in that little room above the Botticelli Gardens, making the peppery stuff you sprayed me with?”

“Yes,” said Kay.  “I needed non-lethal options.  Who lives and who dies affects the future… I don’t want to kill anybody unless I know they’re going to do evil things.  You have to live, and so does Howard, and Sousa, and Wilkes… and Thompson, even if he’s a pig.”

“So you were joking when you suggested killing Masters,” Peggy observed.

“I suspect Vernon Masters has already done evil things,” Kay told her, “but I’ll look into that later.  I want to cross the big names off my list first.”

Peggy recalled the list of Project Paperclip scientists she’d recited while in jail.  All of them were already most certainly war criminals, still alive only because the government considered them useful… and yet, were they not human beings nonetheless?  “It doesn’t bother you at all?  That you have to kill people to make your better future?”

“You know where I came from.  It took me years to learn how to be bothered by it in the first place.”  She shrugged one shoulder.  “But in this case, no.  I saw the world they helped make.  I lost friends, and my friends lost family, because of their direct successors.  My conscience can handle it.”

- 

There was no message left for them at the Automat the next day, so Peggy and Kay took their equipment down into the drains below the police station and used an old fire hose to make sure the fumes of nepenthyl would go directly through the grate in Dottie’s cell.  Then there was nothing to do but wait.

At a quarter to eleven, they heard footsteps and voices coming from above.  Peggy held her breath and strained her ears to hear.  One of the voices sounded like Agent Russel… or was she imagining it?  She looked at Kay, who pressed a finger to her lips and listened for a moment.

“Agent Russel,” she murmured.  “What brings you here at this time of night?”  A pause.  “The head office wants some full-body photographs of her.  We need a record of scars and other distinguishing marks.”

Peggy kept very quiet.  Kay’s hearing was obviously much better than hers, but this couldn’t possibly be easy.

“Ma’am, please remove your clothing.”  Pause.  “Why, Agent Russel.  Are you trying to seduce me?”  Pause.  “Ma’am, I don’t want to have to force you.”  Pause.  “Really?  Because I think you’d enjoy that.”

Dottie knew.  Of course she did.  She was playing along.

Kay checked her watch, and then set the timer on the valve that would release the nepenthyl.  “Let’s go,” she whispered to Peggy.

They climbed up onto the street, and waited for a taxi to pass before pushing the manhole cover open.  Peggy got out first, and then reached down to help Kay.  They waited silently behind the building while the clock ticked down.  At eleven o’clock, Russel would get tired of Dottie’s taunting and open her cell.  Thirty seconds later, the chemical would release.  Hopefully everybody’s watches were in rough agreement, or this would all go very, very badly.

At three minutes past, Kay said, “now.”

They put on their gas masks and barged into the lobby.

Immediately they heard a scream.  The receptionist was still awake, holding a damp handkerchief over her mouth and nose with one hand, and the telephone receiver in the other.  For a moment she stared at these masked intruders in wide-eyed horror, and in so doing, she let the handkerchief drop.  A moment later she was unconscious on the floor behind her desk.

“Hello?” a tinny voice on the phone asked.  “Hello?  Iris?”

They had to hurry.

They ran down the steps to the holding cells.  The air here, where the majority of the drug was lingering, was still misty, but they could see light up ahead.  Peggy stepped over the unconscious bodies of policemen until she spotted Agent Russel’s blue blazer.  He was lying there still gripping Dottie’s wrist with one hand.  She had fallen on top of him.

Kay pulled out a roll of olive-coloured duck cloth tape and used it to bind Dottie’s hands and ankles, then wrapped more of it around her mouth.  Then she lifted the unconscious woman’s legs while Peggy took her shoulders, and they dragged her back upstairs.

In the lobby the receptionist was still unconscious.  The telephone was still off the hook.

They threw Dottie in the trunk of today’s car – a burgundy Oldsmobile – pulled their masks off, and drove away.

Only then, with everything done, did Peggy allow herself to notice that her heart was beating fit to burst from her chest, or that she was gasping for deep, non-filtered breaths of air.  They’d really just done it – they’d broken Dottie Underwood out of jail for a second time.  If this didn’t work out… if Dottie were recaptured and decided to turn Peggy in again, there’d be no getting out of it.  Once was special circumstances.  Twice was a pattern.

Once they were well away from the police station, they pulled into an alleyway.  When they opened the trunk, Dottie was waking up, but still groggy – Peggy pressed a rag soaked in the nepenthyl against her face to knock her out again.  Then they used the rest of the role of cloth tape to wrap their prisoner up like an Egyptian mummy.  There was absolutely no way Peggy was losing control of her again.

After that, they could take a more leisurely drive back out to their campsite in the abandoned farmhouse.  Nobody seemed to notice them as they passed through small towns on the way, and not enough people went through the Pine Barrens area to notice that three different cars had been parked there in as many days.  Upon arrival, they left Dottie in the trunk and went inside to get what sleep hey could.

“I think we’ll let her talk first,” said Kay, yawning.  “Then we’ll emphasize that we are now in charge, and give her our terms.”

Peggy wasn’t even sure what those were anymore.  “As long as we can have breakfast first,” she said.

- 

In the morning they took their time, at least partially out of spite – Dottie had caused Peggy so many problems over the past couple of years, it served her bloody well right if she had to sit there tied up in a car boot for a few extra hours.  This also afforded them the chance to listen to the radio and get some more news.  The escape of a dangerous criminal did merit a mention, with a description of Dottie followed by an admonition not to underestimate her.

“And now for the news you’ve all been waiting to hear,” the announcer said.  “Captain America is in Washington, DC, for one more day, during which time he will visit the Smithsonian and dine at the White House with President and Mrs. Truman.  After that, he’s off to Annapolis, then Harrisburg, and will complete a tour of New England before heading south again.”

What was Steve thinking while all this went on, Peggy wondered.  Was he thinking of her?  Of his friend in Russia?

What about Daniel?  Peggy had no way of contacting either of them… and might never again.  Wouldn’t that be the easy solution, she thought.  If she never saw either man again, she wouldn’t have to worry about breaking anyone’s heart.

[kinkymankey]

Shantae: Half-Genie Housewife - Chapter 1

Shantae stood just outside the doors to the lair's innermost sanctum, hyping herself up. The puzzles have been solved, the enemies defeated and the traps avoided, all while she was heavily pregnant with twins. She smiled and rubbed her stomach. “This is it, you guys. Nearly over.” She pushed open the door and charged in, taking a battle stance. “Baron!”

“Ah, the little half-genie Shantae,” the baron chuckles, his back to her as he stood hunched over a cauldron. His figure was obscured by a dark cloak. “What an unexpected surprise, and by unexpected I of course mean completely expected.”

“So? I’m ready to take you on!” She retorts, raising her fists. “Get ready to have your butt kicked!”

“On the contrary, my dear,” he grinned and chuckled, beginning to turn around. “It is you who will have your--!” Now fully turned around, he stopped himself mid sentence, his menacing look on his plain, shaven face dropped to one of confusion and even surprise.

Shanate grinned and laughed. “What? Surprised I’m still in one piece from your traps? Gotta admit, they were pretty good for a new guy like you.”

The baron took a sharp inhale, and fiddled with his fingers. “Well, um, I guess that is one thing as well,” he nodded, “but, um, I was not aware of...that.” He gestured to her stomach area.

The half-genie gave a confused look. “What? You mean my tummy?” She poked it with a finger. “What? Think I can’t kick butt when expecting?”

“I mean, it is very clear you can, just isn’t something you really expect. Man. Woof.” He turned his back to her again. “Why didn’t they tell me she’s pregnant?! Would have been good to know! Can, can I even do this now?”

“Huh?” Shanate tilted her head, dropping her fists to now rest on her hips. “Can you what? Fight me? I don’t see why not.”

He turned back to her, throwing his hood down to reveal long unkempt brown locks. He clapped his hands together in front of him. “Listen. Allow me to level with you. As you can tell, I am a new baron. Heck, I don’t even have a title yet. I’m just ‘baron’, not even a capital ‘B’.” He chuckled awkwardly. “As such, this is really my make or break moment to see if I can become a true baron. I have some qualms with it being I have to beat up a pregnant girl.”

“Who says you’re gonna win?” She smirks. “Listen, I went through your dungeon, solved your puzzles, and even learned a new transformation that I’m sure will help me take down whatever tricks you have up your sleeves. Let’s fight already!” She pouts a little.

“How far along are you anyways?” He asks absentmindedly.

Shantae rolls her eyes. “Eight months with twins.” She places a hand on her bump and rubs a small area.

“Ok. Yep. That’s pretty far along, especially for twins,” the baron nodded. “I could easily put you in labor during our fight, and I don’t want that on me.”

“Aw, come on!” She shouts, clearly frustrated. “Please? I swear I won’t pop! My tummy hasn’t even dropped yet, so I’m not even close to labor.”

“I’m pretty sure you can’t control when the baby comes, unless it's some genie power,” he adds, unimpressed. “Look, why are you even fighting when you’re so pregnant?”

“Because I’ve gotta protect people from bad guys like you! It’s my job!”

“And there is no one else who can handle this? Just you?”

“Well, my friends could,” Shantae contemplates, but quickly shakes it off, “but this really is my thing, so I want to keep doing it my way.” She shrugs and pats her bump.

“You could at least set up a buddy system or something. What happens if you do something that hurts your babies or something? What then?”

“Well…” She was quiet for a while, not really sure what to say. “I just try not to,” she finally responded, before glaring at him in an angry yet kind of cute way. “Why do you even care about this anyways? You’re the bad guy!” “Valid point, but I don’t want to harm the unborn child! They’re the purest of innocents as there are, and I will not be a monster!”

“Children,” she corrects. “But you do other bad things, right?”

“Theft, larceny, enslavement, pirating, malicious potion brewing, world domination,” he listed off, “but nothing like killing. No sir. Non-lethal takeovers are the plans of this baron-to-be!”

“Ugh! You’re the lamest baron ever!” She huffs, rolling her eyes. “You really suck!”

“Oh, I’m sorry, what do you want me to do then, huh? Just break the Barons’ Code? That’s a great idea to get kicked out!” He retorted mockingly. He crosses his arms. “Inconsiderate welp. You could learn some decency. In fact...yeah,” he smiled and nodded his head slowly. “Yeah. I think I know an apt punishment for you now. Get ready, half-genie!”

“Oh, so now you wanna fight. Finally!” She grinned, resuming her fighting posture.

“With magic!” He declares, turning back to his cauldron.

“Oh yeah, with what?” She mocks. “I have loads of transformations. Flood the room? I’ll swim as a mermaid. Fire floor? I’ll fly above it! Spikes? I’ll jump from spike to spike as a monkey! Show me what ya got!”

“Quiet the impressive repertoire,” he smirks at his cauldron. “You like having such varied transformations on hand, is that correct, my dear?”

She responds cautiously after a moment. “Yeah…?”

“Well, then.” He turns back to her, a pink vial now in hand. “Perhaps you would care for a new one?”

Her eyes go right for the vial. “Yeah, sure. Probably some kind of poison, isn’t it? What makes you think I can trust you with that?”

“You can’t really, can you?” He asks rhetorically, shaking the vial. “Shame. Looks like you’ll have to take a chance.” He suddenly dashes forward with a great speed, placing a hand firmly on her belly.

“Hey!” She shouts, her facing turning a bright red and her voice growing angry. “W-Watch it, pal!” She tries to back up, but it feels to her as if his hand was now glued to her.

“Say ‘ah’,” he teased as he tried to force the bottle to her lips.

She curls in her lips, keeping her mouth sealed. “Mhmh!” She shakes her head. The baron, not to be deterred, begins to squeeze her belly; soft at first, but progressively tighter and tighter. Shantae begins to moan, holding them back as long as she can until she is forced to open her mouth. “What happened to--?”

Before she could so much as start, the baron quickly poured the contents of the vial straight down her throat, forcing her to swallow it down. The liquid was very thin, and emptied quickly down her gullet. “You JERK!” She shouted, trying to swipe away at him with her hair.

“Thought you’d like a little gift,” he joked, dodging by quickly rushing back as fast as he had come.

“What happened to not hurting a pregnant lady?” She asked in a hoarse voice while rubbing her throat.

“Did I hurt you, though?” He asked back, sounding honest.

“You sq-squeezed my tummy! An-And forced me to drink that weird gunk!” Her voice was returning to normal, but sounded flustered now.

“But does it hurt?” He asked again, just as honest.

“It...well, n-no,” she responded quietly. “B-But still!” She pouted.

“See? No harm, so no foul.” He shrugs nonchalantly.

“Big jerk,” she huffs, crossing her arms atop her belly. “What did that stuff even do to me?”

“Not feeling it yet? (Not enough bat wool),” he asked. “Well then you should be feeling it soon enough.”

“What? What is it?!”

“You’ll see,” he grins

She cowers slightly, putting her hands on her belly nervously. Suddenly, a weak headache strikes her, and she feels the whole weight of her body on her. She takes a few hazy steps as the headache builds in intensity, trying to lean against a wall that was not there.

“Feeling woozy?”

“N-No!” She retorts, gasping as the headache makes a large surge.

“Seems like it to me,” he chuckles.

“Shut up,” she scoffs and blows a raspberry before shortly falling to the floor. Oooh, my head...wait...what is this…?

“Something on your mind?” He asks tauntingly.

“Nnggh-nothing!” She snaps, shutting her eyes and grasping her pounding head. What are these thoughts? They’re so weird…

“Trying to fight it? I’d suggest not. It is a very strong potion,” he voices.

“Wh-What did you do?” She struggles to say, the thoughts in her mind getting more intrusive and over powering.

“Your thoughts. Tell me them, speak them aloud and you will have your answer.” He grins deviously.

“Staying at home, c-cooking...cleaning?” She grits her teeth as she speaks, and the realization hits her. “Y-You’re making me a housewife…?”

“Yes! Exactly!” He pumped a fist. “Now you got it! Right on the money!”

“Why?!” She yelled, making as strong as an effort she still could to hold back the thoughts in her head.

“It’s simple, really, when you think about it. By making you a dutiful little housewife, you won’t get in my way to stop my plans as you’ll be much too busy around the house. Much too busy!” He explained. “In fact, you’ll never trouble the Barons again. This will certainly earn me my baron title!”

“You jerk!” Shantae retorted in an appalled tone.

“Fight it all you want,” the baron sounded amused, “but once the brew eventually sets in, you will simply have to give in.”

The half-genie began breathing deeply as the thoughts began to overtake her. “You big, dumb jerk! You are the absolute worst, you big, fat, stupif je--!”

And then she suddenly stopped, mid sentence. A confused, almost lost look came across her face.

And there it is, the baron thought. “My, how rude. You’re hurting my feelings.

“Oh? I-I’m ever so sorry,” Shantae responded, her tone suddenly sweet. “I don’t know what came over me.”

Score. “Oh, think nothing of it,” he chuckled with a hand wave. “You were simply not in the right mind.”

She giggles lightly. “Of course. Um, would you mind maybe showing me home?” She blushed slightly, trying to get to her feet.

“Of course,” he nods, quickly coming to her side to help her up. “Where is it you live, my dear?”

“I live in--.” A chill shook her head, and her eye twitched. “What? I’ll never tell you, ya creep!” She yelled and pointed accusingly, before a confused look came over her face and she withdrew her arm. “S-Sorry about that...that was strange.”

“You’re fine. Must simply be the hormones,” he tells her. Fight all you want, little half-genie, he laughs to himself.

“Probably. They do do strange things,” she giggles, stroking her belly slowly.

“Fret not, I understand. So, where do you live? I assume somewhere in Scuttle Town, correct?”

 “Yes, the lighthouse on the outskirts,” she nodded with a smile.

“I can manage that. I’ll use some magic to take you back,” I offer.

“Be my--.” Her head jerked slightly, before she took a step back and tried to run away.

“Shantae? Where are you going?” He asked calmly but with a subtle confidence.

“Away from you, you je--!” She suddenly stops with a confused look, nearly stumbling over. “W-What was that?”

“Careful.” The baron hurries to her side to catch her from falling. “Not the best idea to run while pregnant. Center of gravity is all off.”

“Of course, I shouldn’t be doing such silly things,” she giggles. “Thank you, again.”

“No problem,” he smiles comfortingly. “Speaking of silly things, your get up…”

“Hm?” She looks down at herself. As was the usual, she wore a very small red crop top, with pants in a matching shade that were see-through slightly. She also wore gold braces around her arms and her hair was held back in a tight ponytail. “You’re right, this is pretty silly,” she laughs. “I mean, just look at all this belly I’m showing off. “

“Just a suggestion,” the baron started as he began to lead her out of his lair, “but perhaps change into something more reasonable when you get home?”

“A very good suggestion,” she agreed, following him. “I had the idea myself. I certainly must have something more comfortable.”

“Yes,” he nodded, cheering in victory on the inside. “So, any other plans for today?”

“Hmmm.” She trails behind him a small distance as they walk. “I think I should clean up my house today, certainly has been a while...maybe take a crack at some baking...and...kicking your butt!”

He quickly glanced behind himself to catch her charging forward, shouting and making motions to tackle him. He quickly stepped aside, but made it seem like he got hurt in some way.

Shantae rolls forward, ending up on her butt. The determined look on her face quickly melts to one of alarm and embarrassment. “Oh my! I’m so sorry, I-I don’t know what came over me!”

“You’re fine. I am quite alright,” he assures her, quickly coming to help her up. “Though, let’s hope that’s the last outburst…” A bold attempt, but that was your last try. The potion should have fully set in by now.

“Yes, let’s,” she nodded in agreement. “Sorry, again. I’ve been such a mess, and I have no idea why.”

“You’re fine, really. I’ve handled worse,” he joked, making a small laugh. “So, back on topic, is that all you have planned? What about going out?”

Shantae looked at him with a bemused expression. “Why would I go out? Maybe for shopping, but what else?”

“Just curious,” the baron responded, congratulating himself mentally. “Is there any reason why?”

“I belong at home,” she explains. “That’s where I should be, preparing for my babies.” She hugs her belly, smiling down at it.

“Good,” the baron grins. The two eventually arrive outside his lair, which exits to the lush jungles of Sequin Land. “Seems quite a walk,” he commented, trying to gaze through the rather dense trees. “How did you get here to begin with, if you can recall?”

“I ran,” she responded, and seemed to surprise herself. “What a silly thing to do!” She laughs, patting her stomach.

“And dangerous. I must offer you a safer means back home. I have a spell that can make the travel much quicker.”

“That would be wonderful, thank you,” she nodded.

“Of course,” he said. “Hopefully, we may have another visit with each other at a later time.”

“That would be very nice.”

“Farewell, Shantae,” he waved, and in an instant he summoned a whirlwind, producing a squeak from the half-genie before she disappeared with it. When she finally did, the baron let out a hearty, loud laugh. “It worked! Now she sees herself as nothing more than a lowly housewife! I am free to pursue my plans! The barons may wreck havoc as they please!” A wide grin grows across his face. “Oh! I must tell them! I will certainly earn my title now!” With a spring in his step, the baron returned to the bowels of his lair.