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babyboibucky · 4 years ago

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The Match - Part 10

Pairing: CEO!Bucky x Fem!Reader

Summary: Sam helps you out in planning for the launch while Bucky is away.

Word Count: 4.2k (woopsies)

Warnings: SMUT is back, angry unprotected sex, spitting, a tiny hint at scratching and choking, some hurtful words thrown in yada yada yada, kinda intense asjkcackansk

A/N: STRAP THE FUCK IN BECAUSE WE BOUTTA RIDE A DAMN ROLLERCOASTER OMG I’m nervous for this because I found this part very intense while writing it. And I hope it comes across as that to y’all as well because my fingers ached from how hard I was typing this part lmfao. Team Bucky vs Team Reader/Team Sam here we goooo sksksk enjoy

The Match Masterlist || MAIN MASTERLIST

You didn't accept Sam's invitation to connect in LinkedIn. Not yet. But it did give you several ideas, like maybe submitting a resignation letter? Get away from Bucky and his toxic ass? He has Mackenzie now, he can easily have her take over your position anyway.

However, you were also torn because you loved your job at Bucky's company. It paved way for you to improve your skills and you experienced a lot of growth too. And well, Bucky's there too but god, you hated him right now. As much as you wanted to wave the white flag, you didn't feel like it was the right thing to do.

You wanted Bucky to learn that not everything he wants, he can easily get. And Mark was right, that you weren't just a trophy employee or whatever. You were so much more than what Bucky probably thinks of you.

And you were going to prove him that.

"Hey, Bev. Can you ring up your boss for me? Tell him I want to go over some of the plans I made for the launch before I discuss it with Mackenzie tomorrow." you asked.

Beverly was about to lift the phone up when an unexpected visitor arrived. None other than Sam Wilson himself.

"I didn't mean to eavesdrop but did I hear you correctly? You've already made some plans for the launch?" he asked with interest.

You chuckled, "Sort of. Well, it's a rough draft of my ideas. I just thought it would be nice to get a headstart." you admitted.

Sam nodded and was about to say something when Bucky stepped out of his office, his brows furrowing upon seeing you and Sam conversing. Bucky eyed you before glancing over at Sam, patting his shoulder gently as a greeting.

"You checking up on us or what?" Bucky teased with a chuckle.

Sam shook his head, "Not really. Well, kinda. I figured that another presentation would be unnecessary, I mean. I'd love to work on the launch with your team instead of being on the sidelines for approvals." he admitted.

You shrugged, "I think that's a great idea too. Less time to waste, less back and forth." you pitched in.

Bucky frowned a bit, his jaw clenching at how you backed up Sam immediately. "That's fine, but I have a meeting in a few. Might last the entire day. Mackenzie won't be here until tomorrow too." he said.

"She and I can discuss her plans today and maybe I can pitch in some of my ideas too. She can present them tomorrow to you and Kenzie." Sam suggested, gesturing over to you.

Bucky stared at you and Sam alternately, his hands balling into fists at his sides. You could see his internal struggle about leaving you and Sam to discuss about the launch, without his presence.

You lifted up the folder in your hand, "I wanted to go over these plans with you but I didn't know you have a meeting. Sam and I can just refine these today, would save us a lot of time. We don't want to be rushing anything for this project at the last minute." you told him.

Bucky swallowed but nodded anyway, albeit with hesitation, "Yeah. Of course. I'll just catch up on the both of you later."

And with that, Bucky walked away but not without sparing you and Sam one final glance. His eyes met yours for a brief moment and you weren't sure, but you saw a flash of worry in his eyes before it was immediately replaced by his usual stern, ice-cold gaze.

You turned to Sam with a smile, "We can discuss in the conference room." you said and led the way.

The planning was seamless and you were surprised that you had so much fun exchanging ideas with Sam, to the point of almost forgetting about lunch break. It was quarter past noon when the both of you realized that it was way past lunch time.

"Do you want to grab lunch or order something instead? I honestly hate working lunch, just so you know." Sam said with a laugh.

You groaned, "I hate that too, honestly." you admitted with a chuckle.

Sam nodded, "Great, we can head out for a quick lunch?" he asked.

It didn't even cross your mind to hesitate, so you immediately agreed and even asked if you can take Beverly with you. You'd grown somewhat attached to her in the short time you've known her. Poor kid was being treated like an outcast by the other office girls. She always waited for you to have your lunch break too, especially that Mark has been pretty busy lately.

Sam was kind enough to agree about including Beverly for lunch. The two of you were about to head out of the conference room when Beverly peeked in, worry etched all over her face.

"I need your help." she whined, "I think I messed up Sir James' schedule. Mister Nakajima is on the phone and said that he's going to be an hour late for a meeting today. I forgot about Sir James’ meeting with another company today!" she explained, almost close to tears.

You rushed over to her and held her shoulders, "Hey, calm down. Did you tell Mister Nakajima?" you asked.

"I did and he got mad at me! Today is his only free day and he said that if he doesn't meet up with Sir James, the deal is off." Beverly said, stomping her foot on the ground.

You heaved out a sigh, knowing that the deal was very important. Mister Nakajima owned an auto manufacturing company which produces world-class materials for cars. Bucky had been working on convincing Mister Nakajima to be his permanent supplier for quite a while now. Big fucking deal.

You looked back at Sam, "Hey, I'm sorry. Can you give me a couple of minutes?" you asked with an apologetic expression.

"Take your time." Sam nodded with a smile.

You went over to Beverly's desk and took over the phone call, without knowing that Sam trailed behind you. He watched you carefully as you talked to Mister Nakajima, your demeanor calm yet confident.

"Hi, Mister Nakajima. I'm the company's Marketing Head and I would like to apologize for the mix up. Bucky has been working really hard on improving the quality of our products, he's been in meetings in and out. That being said, would it be alright if I take over this afternoon's meeting instead? Bucky worked on an amazing presentation and I honestly would love to go over it with you and just show you how this partnership would be beneficial for both our companies." you asked.

Fortunately, you were able to appease Mister Nakajima while also saving Beverly's ass for her honest mistake. As soon as the call was done, you reassured Beverly that everything was fine now and that you'll take care of Bucky. By the time you looked back at Sam, he was merely smiling at you.

"You're really good with people."

Lunch break passed by quickly, with you, Sam and Beverly engaging in all sorts of conversations. Even Beverly felt comfortable being around his presence. He mainly talked about his experiences at his first job, giving Beverly a couple of tips on how to navigate through the corporate world.

Sam was very kind.

The planning resumed after lunch and by the time Mister Nakajima and his associates arrived, the launch plan was pretty much refined with a lot of details. Sam excused himself to give you time to meet with Mister Nakajima, however, he said he'll be staying until Bucky comes back.

Presenting to Mister Nakajima made you nervous as fuck, especially that he didn't really work closely with you which might affect his decision. Luckily though, you knew Bucky's presentation like the back of your hand due to the fact that he had gone over it with you for a couple of times back when the two of you were still, well, fucking around.

Ah, the good old days.

The meeting with Mister Nakajima went perfectly well because as soon as you were done with the presentation, the old man simply asked for the contract to seal the deal. Although it wasn't you who actually worked on the deck, you had a sense of fulfillment. You were proud of yourself and you couldn't wait to dangle it right in front of Bucky's face.

"Thank you so much, Mister Nakajima. We are excited for this partnership." you said happily as you led him and his associates out of the conference room, just as when Bucky arrived.

He looked confused when Mister Nakajima greeted him happily, shaking his hand and telling him how good his presentation was. Bucky looked over at you, as if asking what the hell was going on. You merely shrugged and headed back inside the conference with Sam.

Bucky followed shortly and for some reason, he looked agitated. He was about to speak up when Sam beat him to it, giving him a hard pat on the back.

"The launch event is gonna be really good." he said confidently before glancing at you.

"You're lucky to have her, Bucky." he said before bidding goodbye, giving you one last look and a wink as well, something that Bucky immediately noticed.

When Sam left, so did the light atmosphere inside the conference room. Bucky turned to you with a scowl, his footsteps rushed and heavy as he approached you.

"What the hell happened with Mister Nakajima?" he asked gruffly.

You smiled as you handed him an envelope, "The partnership is a go. He signed the contract and his team will be keeping in contact with us and our factory soon." you explained proudly.

Bucky took the envelope from your hand and went through the contract before placing it back on the table. "I thought my meeting with him isn't until Friday."

"Beverly mixed up your schedule and before you even reprimand her, give the girl a break. It's her first job and with the amount of meetings you've been having, mix-ups are inevitable. What matters now is that I took over the presentation and Mister Nakajima signed the contract." you explained with nonchalance.

Bucky shook his head, "The end does not justify the means." he said. "Beverly should have been careful. My schedule is not a joke and if I miss another important meeting, that can fuck up the entire company."

You rolled your eyes, "Calm down, Beverly surely learned from today's mistake. It's done. The deal is on. Everything is peachy. The launch details have been planned out, Sam is happy with it. All I have to do is to secure your and Mackenzie's approval for it and then we can start with the execution. You're welcome." you said all in one breath, handing Bucky a USB containing the details of the launch.

You brushed past Bucky to leave the conference room but you were immediately pulled back with his hand around your arm. He looked down at you with an angry look on his face, almost fuming. You couldn't understand why the fuck he was so aggravated with you today. Sure, he had been testing your patience lately but it was the first time he actually looked like he was going to snap.

Not at the situation, but at you.

"Are you trying to impress Sam? Taking on my responsibilities while he's around?" he asked, eyes narrowing at you.

You scoffed, unable to believe what Bucky was accusing you of. Pulling your arm back, you took a step back and looked at him with disgust. "You're unbelievable, Bucky." you said.

"Had I not stepped in, we would have lost the deal. You promoted me for a reason, and I believe part of it is my leadership skills. And no, I'm not trying to impress Sam. I'm simply doing my fucking job." you hissed and tried to side step Bucky, only for him to block your way.

"Did he offer you a position in his company? What the fuck was the wink all about?" Bucky accused yet again.

"Oh my god, Bucky! You're blowing things out of proportion. He didn't. We talked about the event. That's it." you explained, pinching the bridge of your nose because Bucky was getting on your very last nerve.

Bucky had been fucking with you too much now and you could feel the last bits of your composure slowly slip away with every word that was coming out of his mouth. Coming for your job was one thing, but accusing you of flirting your way to another company? That was a low blow.

"Don't lie to me, I saw the notification on your phone the other day. Seems to me like Tinder matches don't work for you anymore, you moved on to LinkedIn now to find connections instead?" he asked and that particular statement struck a certain nerve.

You let out a bitter scoff, "Do you even hear yourself, Bucky? At least Sam was being professional and didn't use Tinder to hire a fucking consultant to threaten my damn job!" you slipped, unable to hold back.

The look on Bucky's face was a whirlwind of emotions-- shock, wrath, exhaustion-- and you felt like you were supposed to get scared. Gone were the blue orbs that used to make you feel safe, his eyes only held anger in them. And the thing was, your eyes looked the same as you held Bucky's gaze.

You were so fucking tired of everything, of Bucky.

"How did you-- it doesn't matter." Bucky said, shaking his head. "How much did Sam offer you?" he asked.

Your jaw dropped at the implication of Bucky's statement, "You are a fucking asshole, Bucky. Sam didn't offer me a fucking job. You really don't listen, Bucky. You never listen." you huffed out exasperatedly.

"Okay, maybe he hasn't laid down his offer yet. Perhaps, you let him fuck you too?"

Your vision blacked out upon hearing that and by the time you regained your senses, all you could feel was how your palm stung. You had walked up to Bucky and slapped him right across the face, hard enough to make the corner of his bottom lip bleed. Your entire body was trembling from rage as you stood in front of Bucky.

He tilted his head as he wiped the blood off from his lip, looking up at you with lust-filled eyes. And then his hand gripped your neck, tugging you close for a bruising kiss. You grunted against his mouth and pushed him away, slapping him again. Before Bucky could even recover, your fingers wrapped around his tie pulling him down to you for another kiss.

Walls crumbled down, tension was broken and needs were being fulfilled. The rush of emotions blurred the line between fury and lust with the latter obviously winning. All you could think about was the throb that you suddenly felt within your core begging for relief.

Relief that was denied from you for the past few weeks of playing cat and mouse with Bucky.

And with the way Bucky was kissing you, you knew he felt the same. It had been too long and both your minds were too hazy to even care that it was only five in the afternoon and that there were employees working just outside the conference room.

Was the fear of getting caught going to stop you? No, not now. Because you needed release and you were sure as hell going to get it. This wasn't like the other times you and Bucky fucked. You didn't care about Bucky at the moment, how he felt or what was going on in his mind. You just needed to release all your pent up emotions and you were going to use Bucky to get what you need.

Bucky pushed you against the table, your tailbone hitting the edge with such force that made you groan from pain.

"Yeah, why don't you make some noise so everyone can see how fucking needy you are for me?" Bucky growled, gripping your face with one hand, forcing you to keep your eyes on him as his other hand bunched your skirt up to your waist.

You let out a chuckle, "I'm not the one going to make noise here." you warned before reaching down to palm his erection.

Bucky hissed and bit his lip hard to prevent himself from eliciting a moan. His jaw ticked as he squeezed your face tighter, forcing you to open your mouth as his eyes scanned your features.

"Watch your fucking mouth, baby. I still own you, you're fucking mine." he said through gritted teeth, his eyes lidded as he looked down at you like a predator.

You kept your mouth closed but as soon as Bucky's fingers found your damp panties, you weren't able to stop your whimper. Bucky took the opportunity and spit in your mouth before crashing his lips against yours in a messy kiss. It was all tongue and spit, the way he kissed you as his fingers rubbed at your folds through the thin fabric of your underwear.

He kissed you like he owned you.

"I'm not yours, Bucky." you said as your hands quickly unbuckled his belt, unzipping his trousers and pulling out his hard cock from the confines of his boxers.

The groan that reverberated from Bucky's chest as you stroked him made you smirk. His hand on your face slid down to your neck, holding you tightly as he pushed aside your underwear and then he slid into you with no prior warning. The lack of foreplay made it hurt when he bottomed out, but the pain quickly turned into pleasure when Bucky started moving his hips against yours.

No words were further exchanged from then on. Only soft whimpers and hushed grunts could be heard. However, it was clear that even up until now, there was competition. You didn't want to make noise, didn't want to lose to Bucky. You didn't want to give him the pleasure of knowing how fucking good he was making you feel right now, with how each drag of his cock was making your toes curl inside your heels.

Your hands held onto his broad shoulders as he fucked you against the table, the fabric of his suit bunching up against your fingers. Bucky kept his gaze on you and not once did you falter, not even when the tip of his cock hit your cervix, almost punching the air out of your lungs.

Bucky held the back of your thighs and lifted you up, sitting you on the edge of the table and bending forward so he could angle his cock in a way that you would feel it deep within you. Your legs automatically wrapped around his waist, one of your hands scratching at his jaw as he continued to pound your sopping cunt.

"God, fucking missed this pussy. Can feel you clamping down on my cock, you gonna cum soon?" he asked, pressing the tip of his nose against yours.

You clamped a hand over your mouth, muffling the wanton moan that Bucky pounded out of you. Not wanting to be the only one to make noise, you clenched around him hard. Bucky let out a growl at how your walls squeezed his cock, his balls tightening as his own orgasm approached.

"Cum for me, Bucky." you whimpered, tipping your head up to lick at Bucky's mouth as your legs tightened around his waist to pull him deeper into you.

Bucky exhaled heavily through his nose, the veins on his neck popping out as he fucked your harder on the table. He kept his hand wrapped around your neck while the other held onto your waist so tight, you could feel his fingers digging deep into your skin. Even with your clothes on, you were sure that you'll be getting bruises from how hard his grip on you was.

"Go on, Bucky. Want your cum inside, want to feel you fill me up again." you moaned against his parted lips, darting your tongue out to taste his mouth.

The needy tone of your voice sent Bucky to the edge first. He uttered a string of curses under his breath as ropes of his cum painted your walls with their warmth with triggered your orgasm. Your body convulsed as waves of pleasure ran through your veins, starting from your fingertips down to your toes. Bucky kissed you and swallowed your moans as his thrusts slowed down.

It took a while for the both of you to recover from the intense fucking. Bucky nuzzled your neck with his nose, his heavy breaths warming up your sweaty skin. There was a short moment of peace that followed, the tension gone and was replaced by a heavy feeling.

You swallowed hard and slowly regained your senses. The release cleared your mind and the memories of the heated exchange from earlier were quick to come back. Bucky's accusations echoed in your ear and they were so clear it almost felt like he was saying them to you again.

Suddenly, you doubted Bucky's intentions when he promoted you. Was he really impressed of your skills at work or was it because you let him fuck you?

"Get off of me." you said, pushing at Bucky's chest until he straightened up.

Ignoring the emptiness you felt when his cock slipped out of you, you hopped down from the table and started fixing yourself. In the many times you had slept with Bucky, it was the first time that you felt disgusted with yourself.

You turned your back to Bucky as you adjusted your underwear, pulling down your skirt and pressing your palms against the fabric to iron out the creases. Your breath was heavy as you processed what had just happened. And just like that, your reserve broke and the strong facade you had built crumbled down into pieces, leaving you vulnerable.

"Hey, are you okay? Did I hurt you?" Bucky suddenly asked when he heard your sniffing, the darkness in his features gone.

His eyes were back to blue and there was nothing but genuine concern when he saw the tears in your eyes. Bucky tried to approach you but you quickly backed away from him, your arms wrapping around yourself as protection.

"Did you hurt me?" you scoffed. "In more ways than one, Bucky." you quickly added, wiping away your tears hastily with the back of your hand.

You were about to walk out of the conference but decided that it was probably time for you to actually speak up about everything. How you felt for him and how much you hated him for coming at you like that.

"I was going to admit that I like you. I thought about it and figured that I was too proud and a bit selfish for not considering your feelings when I rejected you." you explained.

Bucky blinked in confusion, "What? When?"

You shrugged, "The day you brought in Mackenzie. And I was more hurt than mad that you did that. Because you knew how much this job means to me and you had used it against me. You basically took advantage of my weakness, for what? To get me to cave in? Even when I clearly told you how fucking scared I was of the consequences of whatever kind of relationship we have?" you huffed out.

You didn't allow Bucky to speak, not yet. Not until you were done making him understand why you had been so hell-bent on keeping things professional.

"I wasn't born into a rich family like you, Bucky. I had to work my way up to where I am. Unlike you, I have a family to support and if I lose this job, it's not only me who would suffer. And it won't be easy for me to find another one, not after the reputation I'd have once we get busted." you further explained.

"I told you about it so many times and I wish you listened. Because maybe we could've figured shit out. Or I don't know, maybe the fucking was too good and you only wanted me for that." you shrugged.

Bucky quickly shook his head, "No. God no, you're more than that."

You chuckled again, a fresh wave of tears flooding the corners of your eyes. "It most definitely felt like it when you accused me of fucking Sam."

"Fuck, I'm sorry. Let me explain, please? I didn't mean to, I was too--"

"No, Bucky. You didn't listen to me when I told you how I felt about us. Now you're going to know how it feels to not to get what you want." you sternly said before walking over to the door.

You turned back at Bucky and refused to let his expression get to you. He looked devastated, his eyes glassy from the tears he had been holding back, his lips parted as he finally realized what he had done.

"Expect my resignation letter by tomorrow. As soon as we're done with the launch, I'm out."

The Match Special Tags:

@marvelslag @weird-mumbling @propertyofpoeandbucky @lostinthoughtsandfeelings @mostly-marvel-musings @squishybabies @megzdoodle @suchababie @annathesillyfriend @xhollycowx @sweetkingdomstarlight-blog @5-seconds-of-mendes @gogolucky13 @countonthesun @iloveshawnieboi @learisa @borikenlove @scarlet-natasha89

Everything Bucky Tag List:

@ddowii @jessou893 @stealapizzamyheart @bagelofthelord @mxnt @dontputyourfckingdrinkonmytable @jeeperky @ohladymacbeth @wildflowergubler @supraveng @twinerd14 @buckysmar @bakugouswh0r3 @sweetcoldharmony @wintersfilm @charminivy @amelia-song-pond @iamvalentinaconstanza @mcubqrnes @im-squished @tcc-gizmachine @sipsteacasually @prettyintopeerpressure @weloveyasmin @est19xxshit @bloodhon3yx @dressed-in-prada @lizette50 @thatfangirl42 @sunflowerbunny2 @unmagically @okiegirl24 @sugarpunch-princess @enlyume @vvipgotbb @slimeyderp @lyoongx @just-deka @nobody-will @jaziona92 @elisebuitron @dpaccione @suvikamahes98blr @buckybarneshairpullingkink @earthtonav @x-judyjude-x @nani-kenobi @just-here-to-escape-from-reality @belladonnabarnes @iloveangstposts @weenersoldierr @asemistablehundredyearoldman @reidbuck @lizzarooni @girlfriday007 @bonkywobble @lost-in-the-stars03 @its-yasbxtch @whoth3hellisbucky

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neon-junkie · 4 years ago

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In Heat

Summary: Your species goes into heat once or twice every solar cycle, and unfortunately, you're in heat whilst co-piloting Mandos ship. With no supplements, the only way you can get rid of this ache between your legs is with Mandos help.

Pairing: Mando/Din x f!Reader

Word Count: 2809

Rating: NSFW

Tags: Nsfw, Smut, Slight a/b/o dynamics, Sex pollen, In heat, Knotting, Creampies, Multiple orgasms/loads, Reader isn’t human.

Notes: If you enjoy my work then please reblog!!

A co-pilot wasn't something that Mando had ever considered, but since he was carrying such precious cargo, and struggled to shoot and fly at the same time, he decided it was for the best. He'd hired you and told you straight what exactly he needed you for and what his mission was, and after meeting the child, you understood why he felt like it was his duty to return this infant to its breed. You'd been traveling together for a few weeks now, often sharing the load of flying and helping out with the action whenever you needed to. Mando had told you that in dangerous situations, you were to guard the child whilst he dealt with the fighting, and so far, all had been well. The two of you got along much better than expected, only because your wit and sarcasm matched his, and you were fine with the few words he spoke. There was no need for pointless chit-chat and gossiping, especially when both of you could be resting instead, so your dynamic worked well.

You're uncertain of what species Mando is, but he's human-like so human is your best guess. You'll never know as he's forbidden to remove his armor, and you're fine with that. It's not something you need to know, but you can't help but be curious. Humans are far too common out in space, they seem to be a very reproductive breed, unlike your own, a dying breed but you've still met a few like you in your time. Mando had made a comment about how he hasn't seen many of your kind before when he first met you. Funny that, your breed not being common despite things getting very... heated once or twice every solar cycle. With modern technology, those heated ruts can often be tamed and ignored, almost not feeling that urge at all, let alone the smell. But unfortunately, you'd been carrying the bare minimum on this mission and for some reason, you didn't pack the medicine needed to help calm that phase. So, here you are, crossing one leg harshly over the other as you try to calm your crotch down. It's almost burning, you can feel yourself soaking through another pair of pants but you've already excused yourself more than one to go and use the 'bathroom.' Unfortunately, you're so used to your own smell that your body ignores it, so you're not sure how bad the stench it, but from the way Mando keeps looking over his shoulder at you whilst he drives, you'd assume it's pretty bad. When you're in heat with a partner, it's fine, often becoming a very intimate and sensual time for the pair. But you haven't got a partner. You're stuck floating through space with some knight in shining armor and a small green being who's almost twice your age. Just your luck. Mando pulls down on a lever and flicks a couple of buttons, putting the ship into auto-pilot. He swivels his chair around and looks at the child, who's been quietly sat in his floating cot this whole time. "Come on, you. Naptime," he says as he stands. He picks the child up and slides down the ladders, exiting the cockpit and putting the child into the small hammock he'd made for him in his pod. You overhear the pods door shut, followed by the sound of Mandos shoes clinking against the metal stairs as he climbs back up. He closes the door as he re-enters the cockpit, sitting back down on his chair and swirling it to face you. He's silent for a few seconds before he finally says "we need to talk." "Oh? Have I done something wrong?" you ask, your mind quickly going over the past few weeks to look out for any mistakes you might have made. "No... I know you can't help it, but..." Mando begins as he waves his hand slightly, shooing away any bad tension that might have been in the air from his blunt sentence starter. "The smell you're letting off, it's... distracting," Mando tells you. "Oh, sorry! I can't exactly help it. I normally have supplements but... I forgot to bring them," you admit. "I didn't think this would happen whilst I'm out here." "Bad timing, huh?" Mando asks. "Yeah," you say with a nod. He ponders for a moment and you can tell he's thinking about how to help. "We're not going to come across any planets for a few days. Is there... any way I could help?" "Not unless you have a hidden stash of supplements, no." "...I didn't mean through the use of supplements. We know that solution is off the table. You're, erm, in heat, aren't you?" Mando questions. "I am... are you suggesting what I think you're suggesting?" Mando pauses again before eventually replying "yes." You can feel an uncertain expression creep across your face as you ponder over the thought of Mando helping. "You're human, aren't you?" you ask him. "I am," he confirms. "Please don't take offense to this, but I don't think a human would be able to keep up. Those, erm... 'sessions' can last for hours, and you'd definitely be... drained," you explain. "We can try," Mando says with a shrug. You're about to respond but Mandos stood up from his seat. He walks over to you and settles down in front of you, resting his hands on your knees as he looks at you. The feeling of Mandos hands resting on your knees is setting you off much more than it should, and you're pretty certain he heard that whimper escape your lips. "What do you say?" Mando asks you. "We can try," you say with a small nod. "Good," Mando replies as he slips off his gloves, chucking them onto his chair and turning his attention back to you. Mandos hands rest on your knees again, only this time he begins to slide them up your thighs, eventually settling on your waistband. He grips onto it and lightly tugs, waiting patiently for you to lift your hips up. You do, and watch as Mando slowly pulls your pants off, pulling off your boots in the process, leaving you with just your shirt on. His hands are on your thighs again, trailing up the inside of them. The feeling of skin against skin is setting you off again, your pussy already dripping wet, accidentally beginning to soak the chair. He gently parts your thighs, exposing yourself to him. Mandos thumb rests against your clit as he begins to gently rub it, his head flicking between watching your expression and admiring your folds. "You're soaked," he informs you. All you can do is nod, your head beginning to spin from the small amount of contact. "Guess I won't need to prep you," he comments. "Nu-uh," you say as you shake your head. Mandos hands move away and you can't help but whimper. He softly shushes you as he reaches down and begins to unbutton his pants, pulling out his already hard member. He pumps himself a few times, slicking himself up with the precum that drips from his length. You never thought you'd see Mando in this state, jerking his shaft, getting ready to take you, but it's a welcoming sight that you'd love to see again. "Up," Mando says as he stands, offering you his hand and pulling you to his feet. "Wrap your legs around me, alright?" Mando says as he places his hands on your hips, his body slightly bent. You know what he's trying to do so you lightly jump, Mando picking you up and holding you tightly. He walks you over to the wall, pressing your back against the cold metal. Your legs wrap tightly around his waist, and Mando moves one hand off you so he can line himself up. The both of you sigh as Mando pushes into you, sheathing himself all the way in, the tip of his cock brushing against your core, making you whine and moan. Mando pauses for a brief moment, probably getting used to the feeling before he begins to fuck you up against the wall. His thrusts are rough and deep, his balls slapping against your ass. Despite the drone of his helmet, the moans he's letting out are so beautiful that your pussy can't help but clench every time he makes them. "You feel so good," Mando compliments, his voice husky and full of lust. "So do you," you respond as you wrap your arms around his neck, clinging onto him for dear life. Mando rests his head on your shoulder, your cheek turning cold as his helmet presses against you. It's a welcoming touch, your body radiating more heat than the sun, so the coldness of his helmet feels far too good. You feel your body slipping slightly, but Mando raises you up and presses you even more firmly against the wall, his body pressed right against yours. His hands move down to your ass, gripping onto each cheek as he fucks you. For a man that doesn't talk much, he's quite the moaner, almost moaning louder than you; but Mando manages to brush against that spot inside of you, a scream escaping your lips as you bury your head into the curve of his neck. "There it is," he says as he begins bucking against it again. His cock ruts against your g-spot perfectly, making your walls tighten around him as you feel your first orgasm nearing. "So tight," Mando moans, loving the way you're clenching around me. "I'm gonna..." he trails off. Another few thrusts and Mandos spilling his load inside of you, grunting and moaning against your shoulder, his grip on your ass tightening. You also cum, your walls clenching around Mandos length, making him whimper and stop his thrusts. He's pushed deep inside of you, his orgasm being milked as you ride yours. You're almost painfully tight around him, practically locking him into place. Eventually, you un-tense, and Mando is able to slip himself out, still panting as he gently lowers you to your feet. "You're not done, are you?" he asks. "No," you say as you shake your head, holding onto Mandos arms to keep yourself upright as your knees feel like they're about to collapse at any second. "Get against the chair," Mando orders you as he points to his pilot chair. As you walk over and get down to your knees, Mando speaks again. "I didn't realise you get that tight." "Yeah," you say with a shrug. "Some people call it knotting as we're similar to animals," you explain. "You didn't do it then, did you?" he asks as he gets on his knees behind you. "No," you reply. "Why?" "I managed to stop it. I don't want to hurt you. You humans are a bit too soft, wouldn't wanna crush you," you explain with a soft laugh. "I can take it," Mando shrugs. "Plus your species can't interbreed, can't they?" "They can't," you say as you peer over your shoulder, watching Mando lazily stroke himself as he talks to you. "Then it's fine. If you can't help it, then do it," Mando encourages you. He doesn't seem to be admitting it, but he definitely wants to feel how tight you can get around him, so the least you can do is show him as your way of thanking him for helping you out. "Alright," you agree. "Good," Mando says with a small nod. Mando lines himself up again and slips back into you. He rests his hands on your hips, holding you steady as he begins to buck his cock into you. Your hands rest on the seat of his chair, your head resting against them as you begin to moan. You can feel Mandos balls slapping against your clit, the sound of skin against skin echoing around the cockpit. It was definitely a good mistake to forget your supplements, simply because this mysterious masked stranger, who is technically your boss, is now balls deep inside of you, helping calm your heat and doing a surprisingly good job for a human. Mando continues to let out the prettiest of moans as he rolls his hips oh-so-perfectly into you. He feels rather sensual and intimate, not feral like he was 5 minutes ago, but things are about to change when Mando shuffles back slightly and pulls you with him, moving your arms and head from the chair you were resting on. "Give me your arms," Mando orders you. You move your arms behind your back, forearms pressed together, keeping your upper body raised without support. Mando tightly grips onto your forearms and pushes your chest down, your cheek pressing against the metal floor. He begins to slam into you, keeping a firm grip on your arms behind your back, his body towering over you as he begins to fuck you with an animalistic vibe. "Shit!" you whimper, enjoying the way Mandos balls slap against your clit. He already feels like he's close, his balls warm and heavy, ready to push another load into you. His previous load is mostly seeping out of you, his thick length pushing the creamy liquid from your cunt as he pounds you for all you're worth. "Good girl," Mando praises you. That comment makes your head spin and your pussy clench, and Mando picks up on it. "You like that, don't you? My praise?" he asks. "Mhmm," you say with a small nod, your eyes scrunching shut as you feel Mandos cock hit your core. "Interesting," Mando replies as he makes a mental note of it. Mando leans his body over yours even more, his spare hand reaching forward to grip his pilots chair. You're sandwiched underneath him, enjoying the feeling of no-escape as Mando pounds the heat out of you. Your hips feel like they're going to collapse at any moment, Mandos thrusts are a lot harsher than you were expecting, and eventually, you find yourself almost fully lying on the floor. Mando moves his hand off the chair and places it beside your head, keeping his body towered over you. "Come on. You're close, I can feel it," he tells you, commenting on the way your walls begin to clench around him. "Here, let me help," Mando says. He straightens his back as he moves his hand from the floor, reaching underneath you to begin rubbing your clit, his other hand still wrapped around your arms. "Mando," you moan as you feel your orgasm approaching. His cock throbs as you say his name, but he continues to hold himself back, waiting for your release. "Come on," Mando repeats. Mando continues to slam his hips against yours, hitting your g-spot perfectly. The pleasure is all too much, and you cum again, this time tightening fully around Mando as you lock him into place. "Shit!" He yelps as you tighten around him, his cock buried deep inside of you. He spills his load into you, moving his hand off your clit so he can hold his body up, his muscles going weak. You're a whimpering and panting mess beneath him, and Mando eventually hunches over, resting his head between your shoulder blades as you milk him for all he's worth. He's breathing heavily, moaning, and sometimes grunting from how tight you are around him. At least your heat has calmed down, but you weren't expecting things to end up like this - your boss locked inside of you, probably sweating from how long he's been at it. Eventually, Mando lifts his head up. He straightens his back as he looks down, giving his cock a small tug but you're still too tight for him to remove his cock without it hurting the both of you. "Here," Mando says as he wraps an arm around your waist and rolls onto his side, pulling you with him. The two of you are still panting as Mando spoons you, his arm underneath your head, and the other one around your waist. "Rest," he tells you. "You should rest too," you reply. "I will," he agrees. You want to thank him for helping you out, but you're unsure how to say it without it sounding... weird. You decide to leave it, closing your eyes instead, deciding that you'll repay him however he sees fit when the opportunity arises. Mando shuts his eyes as well, falling asleep with you on the floor of the cockpit. It's not the most comfortable place to sleep, but it's the only option available when Mando is still locked inside of you. He'll be able to slip out of you by the time you both wake up, but let's hope that nobody tries to disturb your slumber, else things are going to get awkward pretty quickly.

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ticklyfluffers · 3 years ago

Text

Sensitive Seeker-TF TK Fic

Repost of fan fiction of mine.

To think, it all started with just a simple gesture.

Thundercracker mused in how he had gotten to the scene he stood in now: Starscream shooting off blast after blast at Skywarp, yet the purple and black Seeker just treated the entire thing as some sort of game.

And, perhaps in some weird way, it was a game. As “‘playful” as a “self-respecting” Decepticon could be, he supposed. Yet still, he’d known he would need to separate the two (as always) eventually. Yet when to jump in was the question, as he was in no mood to have a shot of raw, stinging energy or a null ray being delivered to his facial region, should he intervene at the wrong time.

‘How did I get here, dealing with this?’ He questioned, inwardly groaning. It was a useless question, having already known the answer.

It had begun but a few short Earth minutes ago, at least, it had for him and Skywarp, yet for their Commander, it had begun but a few solar cycles ago (at least that measurement of time was fairly close to those used in this planet). Once again, Starscream noticed a, in his own words, “massive flaw” in one of Megatron’s bids to acquire more energy, and thus, just HAD to point it out and make sure everyone around him could hear it. This then led into the regular bickering, which led to the Seeker (once again) proclaiming he’d make a more suitable leader for the Decepticons, which led to Megatron “reminding” him of his place (once again), which resulted in a trip to the infirmary (once again).

And, while Thundercracker felt Starscream deserved to be told to keep his mouth shut, the blue Seeker found himself dreading what Megatron had planned for the Air Commander, as while it was Starscream’s punishment, somehow, in some way, it would affect his wingmates. Once again. Thankfully, it wasn’t overly extreme, mainly because Megatron had two locations of interest in mind, and probably declared that more worthy of his time than looking over his shoulder for his 2nd in Command’s potential assassination attempts. The Decepticon Leader had assigned Starscream and his wingmates to keep watch over the Space Bridge until the operation to seize control over the locations was completed or disregarded.

“And knowing our ‘glorious leader’, he’ll probably fail at this plan too.” Starscream grumbled to himself, arms folded over his chassis.

Thundercracker only sighed. Ever since he had come here, slag, back when was alerted of his duties, the Seeker had done nothing but complain over his leader’s orders. Of course, with a little “encouragement” from Soundwave (as in, alert Starscream he would be relieved of his wings for a good while if he didn’t do as he was told), their Air Commander (begrudgingly) accepted the assignment. Of course, now that they were here, Starscream had seen it as the perfect time to go ahead and start his tirade against Megatron again.

And suffice to say, it was beginning to get on his trine-mate’s nerves.

“Guard duty,” Starscream growled. “Of ALL the humiliating tasks he could’ve thrust on me...guard duty?!”

Skywarp began to shake, fists trembling until finally, he had finally reached his breaking point. “Is it possible for you to shut the frag up for at least a FEW cycles?! Is that too hard to ask?!”

Thundercracker was quite taken aback by the violet Seeker’s outburst. If anyone was being told to shut up, it was usually him. ‘Primus, he must be REALLY mad.’

“I’ll say whatever is slagging well please, thank you very much!” Starscream retorted, clenching his fists.

“Well go off and do it somewhere else away from me!” Skywarp argued back. “I’m getting sick of hearing that shrill dog whistle of a voice you’ve got!”

“Then get used to it, because I have no intention of stopping until I’m done!”

While he had no appreciation, let alone any sense of respect for it, since their arrival to this primitive world, some Decepticons had taken to using Earth expressions and terms in comparison to some more traditional, archaic language. The Casseticons were the worst out of these bots, outright using terms such as ‘dude’ and ‘man’, as well as copying much human cursing (a good portion of which humans based on their own bodily functions, to Thundercracker’s confusion). Skywarp, whether he had just decided that their regular curses weren’t enough, or he had been hanging out with Rumble and Frenzy on one too many assignments, decided to unleash everything that had been, as humans say, getting under his skin.

“Oh boo-hoo! You think YOU’RE the only one that doesn’t want to be here?!” the Seeker shouted, approaching Starscream. “This entire damn thing is your fault anyhow! You just HAD to go and run your mouth about how much Megatron’s plans suck and how YOU obviously had the better idea!”

“Because I do!” the Seeker Commander countered. “He wished to attack both locations at the same time, yet didn’t wish to better separate his forces into equal groups! Even if one was easier to access than the other, did he not think those blasted Autobots would just LET themselves be overtaken?!” he fumed, releasing a frustrated cry. “Bah! He had NO good reason to NOT send the Constructicons! There would��ve been no way that any of those slagging Auto-dorks would’ve stood a chance against Devastator! But NOOOOO! Apparently, they were needed elsewhere!”

“Because there was a crack in the hull,” Thundercracker interjected himself. True, he had little intention of getting involved, yet Starscream was forgetting one vital factor in Megatron’s decision. “The lower sections would’ve been at risk of getting worse and potentially breaking open. Then the entire Nemesis would’ve been flooded.”

“The pressure at the depths the ship’s at is far from enough to cause a breakage in such short a time!” Starscream argued. “We are situated in what the under evolved primates of this floating rock called the mesopelagic zone. True, we are away from the primary star of this current solar system, yet a majority of sea life in that area are perfectly capable of withstanding the water pressure. And they’re also organic, mind you!”

Skywarp scoffed. “You saying all that fancy mumbo-jumbo to make yourself sound smarter or something?”

“Hey, I WAS an accomplished scientist back in the Golden Era of Cybertron!”

“Of which you quit!” the purple and black Seeker countered. “And accomplished? That’s a fat load of shit, and you know it! I bet you only got a passing grade on whatever research logs you presented to those old farts running the academy!”

“Why you slagging piece of-”

“All right, both of you! That’s enough!” Thundercracker had decided that now was the time to step in, lest things start getting violent. Violence was an accepted part of Decepticon culture, seeing as many of their members had been forced to engage in it just to scrape by and survive via gladiatorial matches and other low ranking jobs (which didn’t house the most respectable of bots), yet the blue and black Seeker wasn’t in the mood in having to bring both of his wingmates into the infirmary because they decided to behave like a couple of Sparklings and duke it out.

That’s when the discovery had been made.

Thundercracker had pushed back against Skywarp’s chassis, yet he must’ve misjudged the distance between him and his oh-so-mature Commander (seriously, and he said Skywarp was the one who behaved like a sparkling). His servos made contact with the red and blue Seeker’s waistline, and that was when he and Skywarp heard it. It was a cross between a frightened gasp and an attempt to choke back laughter. Any anger between them had died that instant, replaced with curiosity and bewilderment. Their Commanding Officer was looking quite frazzled and on edge.

“Whoa, time out for a nano-second,” Skywarp said, lightly shoving Thundercracker off him. Nevertheless, he turned to him for confirmation. “You hear that too?” He then turned his attention to Starscream. “Hey, Screamer, what was that noise you made just now? And don’t say it’s nothing, I’ve got a witness right here!” Skywarp gestured to Thundercracker.

Starscream paled (even if there was no change of color) and stood there with wide, red optics. Nonetheless, he quickly straightened himself out and appeared to be cool and collected. “I was merely taken aback by Thundercracker’s sudden movements was all.” He explained, all the while trying to choose his next words very carefully. “You should be grateful he stepped in, lest I fire my null ray right in your face.” He glowered at the black and purple Seeker, hoping that his display would get his subordinate to back down.

But, as the humans said, no dice.

“Uh, correct me if I’m wrong-“ Skywarp began, taking a few steps toward, noticing how Starscream took a few steps back.

“And you are.” Starscream interrupted.

“But you seem a little nervous there.” The Seeker’s grinned. “All I’m asking is why you made that noise.”

Slag, Starscream thought. He wasn’t buying it. Ok, don’t panic. Just come up with another excuse. One that he surely couldn’t refute. “Well...it seems that my inner components are still a little sore from my last...disagreement with our all-wise and all-powerful leader.” He snarled that last part. Even if he were trying to get Skywarp off his back, it wasn’t all a lie. Hook had told him to take it slow for a few solar cycles for his internal repairs to mend the rest of him back together.

“Oh dear, are you ok?” Skywarp asked, an uncomfortable amount of mischievousness in his voice.

Slag. “Yes, I’m fine,” Starscream assured. “But...you shouldn’t touch me. In fact, I outright forbid it.”

Thundercracker analyzed the situation, looking back and forth between Skywarp and Starscream. He was puzzled at first regarding what had happened when he separated the two, yet given one Seeker’s predatory grin and the other’s excuses, it slowly dawned on him what was going on, as well as what Skywarp intended to do.

“Why?” He asked, taking a step towards Starscream while Starscream himself took a few steps back. “You took quite a bruising not too long ago. Maybe something is out of place or broken.”

“No! No, nothing is out of place or broken!” The SIC shook his head wildly.

“Are you sure? Because last time, you said Hook was a piss poor excuse for a medic.” Skywarp chuckled, raising his hands and spreading his servos out.

“Well, I think maybe he’s improved his craft these last few human weeks!” Starscream said, beginning to look around for any escape routes. “But...just in case, you shouldn’t touch anything! You could only make it worse!”

It was then that a familiar, magenta hue began to overtake the purple Seeker, Starscream’s optics widening in horror. “Why Starscream, I’m hurt! Do you think I’d actually hurt you?” He said coyly, optics fittingly red and devilish. “You’re my Commander, my trine-mate. It’s mine and Cracker’s job here to tend to your needs.”

Thundercracker gave a low growl, Skywarp knowing well how he hated being referred to by that name. Despite that though, he kept quiet.

“C’mon,” Skywarp cooed. Then, the magenta hue overtook his entire form, and in a flash, the Seeker was gone from sight.

“N-No! Stay away from me-“ Starscream shouted, yet was cut off when he felt digits traveling along his waistline.

“No need to be so tense.”

The reaction was immediate. Skywarp’s servos lightly stroked and scratched at the other Seeker’s ivory midsection, Starscream seizing up and doubling over, trying to get his “comrade” to release him.

“N-No! Stop it!” Starscream hollered, trying to grab at Skywarp’s hands. “I command you to-“ then out it came. “St-Sto-hoho-p!” A chortle caught in the middle of a demand (or was it a plea) to cease the infernal movements. Starscream had managed to wrench himself away from his assailant, but the damage was already done.

His terrible secret had been uncovered.

“No. Way.” Skywarp said. True, he suspected it, but to actually have confirmed blew his processor. “No. Fragging. Way!!!” He then pointed to his superior. “You’re ticklish!!!”

Now it was Thundercracker’s turn to be surprised, he looked at Starscream with bewilderment and shock. While it wasn’t a topic relatively discussed among themselves, he and the rest of the Decepticons would be fools if they didn’t acknowledge that their “hosts' ' shared more than a few qualities with the ones that had crashed landed on their planet millions of years ago. They were the only species to have similar civilizations to their own, same general body shape, they had an internal, skeletal structure that greatly resembled their own, lived as the dominant species on the planet (well, they were until the Decepticons and Autobots awoke), and fought and warred amongst themselves over the centuries. Yet when it came to the way their organic structure was put together, no one had an exact idea of how the human body functioned. Soundwave suggested gathering a few “lab rats'' and transporting them to Shockwave, yet so far, nothing else had come from that suggestion. Good thing too, Thundercracker felt such a thing was both unnecessary and, while he would never say it aloud, savage. But from what he had seen from Skywarp’s experiment, it seemed that they now were the ones to share the trait of ticklishness with the humans.

Starscream stood there, completely at a loss at what to say or do, processor scrambling to try and find something, anything, to keep the inevitable from happening. “I-I am not-AH!!!” He protested, only for Skywarp to teleport behind him and deliver a servo right in the crease where his hips met his waist. “Stop it!!!” He then aimed the weapon situated on his left shoulder in the other Seeker’s direction. “Try that again, and this null ray is going to blast you right in the face!”

Skywarp wasn’t the least bit intimidated. In fact, this just seemed to make him even more eager to go through with his plan. ”Primus, you’re acting like I’m going to kill you!”

“I’ll kill YOU if you get any closer! I mean it!” Starscream shouted, still aimed right at Skywarp’s head.

“Fine. Do it.” Skywarp laughed. “In fact, I doubt you’d be fast enough to hit me before I just warp out of the way.” He drew closer. “Well? I’m waiting.”

Thundercracker stood by, ready to jump in if things got too ugly. Starscream was cornered, he knew it, yet he seemed to be leaning much more into flight than fight. He looked to the blue Seeker as if trying to gain some support (or maybe a shield to use in case Skywarp made the first move), yet his optics mainly stayed on the third Seeker, trying to gauge what the next plan in his strategy was.

And it was then that Starscream made a critical decision. Frag it.

Immediately taking flight, Starscream transformed into his jet mode and zoomed off, leaving a long, cloudy trail as he departed.

“Oh no!” Skywarp declared, also transforming and chasing after his superior. “You’re not getting away that easily!”

“The slag do you think you’re going?! Get back here!!!” Thundercracker bellowed, yet either Skywarp didn’t hear or just outright disregarded his command, because he and Starscream flew off, leaving him alone.

Why did he always have to be the one to reign those two in?

…

“Aw, c’mon! I’ll go easy on you if that’ll get you to slow down!”

“NO!!!”

“I’m not going to hurt ya!”

“That makes it worse!!!”

“Don’t be such a baby!”

“Frag you!!!”

Back and forth the two Seekers went, Skywarp going back between promising to be ‘gentle’ with his Commander to outright declaring that resistance was futile, and Starscream shot back with threats of murder and dismemberment. All of which didn’t deter Skywarp a bit.

Seeing that the other jet was gaining on him, the Decepticon SIC went as fast as he could to where he was certain he would blow out his thrusters, yet he had to veer over to the side when Skywarp appeared before him via teleportation. He dove upwards, yet found his route blocked by the purple and black Seeker cutting him off via a barrel roll. Starscream went in the opposite direction, yet found himself cut off there as well, Skywarp just barely colliding into him.

“Hey, watch it!!!” he hollered. “You could’ve clipped my vertical stabilizer!!!”

“Then stop flying off and I won’t have to get drastic!” Skywarp shot back, yet inside his alt-mode, he was grinning ear to ear. Or at least he would be if he had any. “Try all you want, I’m not letting up anytime soon!”

“Then you’re going to be doing this for a long time because I have no intention of stop-” Starscream was interrupted by the horrific sight of Skywarp’s body being engulfed with magenta before disappearing from sight.

Oh, Primus. Oh Primus, no! Transforming into his root mode, Starscream looked around, panicking as he found himself surrounded by clear, blue skies, the sun shining high and bright. The intensity of the solar rays blinded him momentarily when he turned in that direction to look for any trace of his pursuer, yet this proved to be a fatal mistake. From beneath, the Seeker was rammed, his subordinate having decided to stay out of his line of sight long enough, and by the time Starscream realized his error, it was too late.

“Aha!!!”Skywarp seized him by the waist and immediately went to work. His servos went in and scrambled along the area he had attacked before, Starscream immediately seizing up and trying to contain the chortles that threatened to spill out of his vocals.

“S-Stop it!!!” Starscream shouted, twisting as much as he could to dislodge himself from the other jet’s hold, yet it seemed that whenever he made a movement, Skywarp just focused on another part of his midsection, the continuous switching of locations making Starscream’s processor be torn between staying still or continuing to writhe around. It was all so confusing and torturous! He was at a loss at what to do! “Stop!!! I-I comma-ha-nd you!!!”

“Hmm...nah.” Skywarp responded, continuing to scramble over the bends and angles of Commander’s midsection.

“I-I’ll kill you!!! Do you hear!? I’ll kill-” Starscream’s voice, unfortunately, chose that time to not cooperate with him. “G-Gah! N-No-hohoho!!! STOP!!!”

“Ah, there you go!” Skywarp congratulated. “Now, was that so hard?”

“Get off!!!” Starscream practically shrieked, both from frustration (and panic), yet also from the sensations that were plaguing his cerebral chamber, sensors lit a fire with horrid tingles and shocks. He only wished that they were of pain. “I-I can’t-'' he then nearly fell out of Skywarp’s arms before he was, unfortunately, caught, the torment continuing. “I can’t stay alo-ha-ft!!!”

“No problem!” Skywarp said, shutting off his thrusters. The two Seekers then began to plummet downwards.

“What in Primus’ name are you doing?! We’ll cra-ah-sh!!!” Starscream hollered, all the while trying to contain himself as Skywarp’s servos still continued to torment him.

As the ground continued to come closer and closer, Starscream braced himself for impact, yet found that it never came, magenta filling his vision before everything around him froze. He wasn’t a stranger to this phenomenon, yet it still perplexed and bewildered him that such an impulsive oaf had such an ability bestowed on him. The times were far and in between, yet whenever it happened, Starscream had gone into the strange dimension between planes of existence with Skywarp when the Seeker teleported both of them. The world looked the same as it had before, yet everything was still and silent. No movement, no sound, nothing. Nothing but their own, as if they were the only things that existed in this small pocket universe.

Then, as quickly as it began, it ended, both Seekers landing on the ground, yet far from at the velocity they were previously traveling at. The landing didn’t mean that Starscream was free, however, the lack of the need to look out below allowed Skywarp to fully focus now on the movements of his servos, which quickly went back to work.

“Stop it, stop it, STOP IT!!!” Starscream commanded, yet he was quickly shut up as giggles threatened to pour out from his vocal processor. He then lifted up his arm in an attempt to, out of desperation, fire his null ray in the other Seeker’s direction, this proved to be yet another fatal error.

Once Skywarp shot his hand underneath to scrape at the cables and joint that linked Starscream’s shoulder and upper arm, he could hold it in no longer.

“Gah!!! Gah-hahahahaha!!!” Starscream released loud and slightly hoarse laughter from his vocals, using his other arm to push back against the other Seeker tickling at his underarm. “S-Stop!!! Stop it!! Sto-hahahaha-p!!!”

“Ha! Gotcha!” Skywarp shouted in triumph, spidering along the red area that rested above his white waist just below the arm joint, this forcing Starscream to retreat into himself and cease his attempts in getting the purple and black Seeker off him. “You’ve got no chance now! Surrender!”

“Hahaha, n-never!!!” Starscream shouted back, trying to turn the opposite way to keep Skywarp away from his side. “Ge-hehehe-t off!!! Get-ah!!!” Skywarp swiped a digit just underneath the area where Starscream’s chest protruded outwards, running the servo along the rim. “Don’t touch me there-AHH!!!”

Skywarp smirked. “Why? Does it tickle?~” he asked oh-so-sweetly. “So you admit you’re ticklish.”

“I admit nothing!!!” Starscream choked in between bouts of involuntary laughter. “I’m not tick-“ he tried to finish but was cut off by more chortles forcing themselves out.

“Then what do you call this? Just a WEE bit of sensitivity?” The purple and black Seeker asked. He stroked and pinched along the SIC’s upper chest region, dipping his hands in the small, square-shaped hollows that rested by his white shoulders, this causing said SIC to try and make another grab at his hands to stop the attack. Unfortunately, Skywarp used this opportunity to dive in under Starscream’s arms and begin scribbling at the joints and cables and whatever other components he could reach. Starscream howled with laughter the moment he felt the wildly moving digits, his arms hugging around himself and clamping themselves down.”Oh great, I’m stuck. Now, what are you gonna do?”

“Wh-Wha-hahaha-t?! You ge-hehe-t them out!!!”

“Can’t exactly do that with you holding my hands down, can I?” Skywarp asked, not letting up in the slightest. “Lift your arms up and I can get free.”

“N-No!!! You’re just gonna-hahaha!!! STOP!!!”

“Hmm...nope.”

Starscream was in, as the humans would say, stitches, his body torn between twisting around and curling up into a ball in a vain attempt to lessen the sensations plaguing him. He knew well that Skywarp would go for the same areas and perhaps others if he lifted up his arms, yet, as he found out, the seams of his underarms were deathly sensitive. It was the equivalent of either having Megatron rip off his limbs versus his fusion cannon blasting him right in the chest. Neither of them was exactly pleasant options. And he didn’t care if he would be called dramatic for making such a comparison! This was torture! He needed this to stop! He HAD to make it stop!

Yet he wouldn’t beg. Not to Skywarp of all mechs. That fool would never get the satisfaction of hearing him grovel for mercy!

And speaking of members of his trine, where in Primus’ name was Thundercracker?! Useless piece of scrap-

“All right, that’s enough!” a voice called out from high above, a blue jet zooming down and transforming, landing a short distance away from his fellow wingmate and Commander. “C’mon, Skywarp, you’re going to kill him.”

“Am not!” Skywarp protested. “I’m just trying to lighten Screamer’s mood here! And from what I’ve seen, my method’s working!

Starscream tried to protest, yet had taken to tightening his lips as much as he could, strained whines coming from in between gritted, grinding dentals. Still, he managed to make out some words (though it was NOT a plea!). “G-Get him off!!! GET HIM OFF!!!”

Thundercracker sighed, crossing his arms. “You heard him. Get off.”

“Aww, do I have to?” Skywarp whined.

“Unless you want a report regarding your insubordination, I’d suggest you do so.”

The purple and black Seeker huffed and begrudgingly stopped moving his hands, Starscream immediately seizing the chance to scramble away, standing up and dusting himself off. Skywarp began to rise as well, yet Starscream pointed one of his cannons in his direction, eyeing his every movement.

“He isn’t going to bother you anymore.” Thundercracker assured.

“I should blast you in the face JUST for what you put me through alone!!!” the Decepticon SIC snarled.

“Hey, I was just trying to get something out of you that wasn’t complaining!” Skywarp countered. “You think you’re the only one that wants to be here on guard duty?”

“I’d much rather be in the company of Megatron at the moment rather than you two!!!”

“Hey, c’mon, that’s enough.” Thundercracker began, trying to cool things down, yet his Commander wasn’t having it.

“I’ve done nothing wrong to even be here!!! I was made Second in Command by Megatron himself!!! And, like it or not, that means I have the full right to question and propose any sort of adjustment or improvement to whatever backward, ridiculous, and foolhardy mission he’s got in mind!!!” Starscream shouted, clenching his blue fists. “And if that’s not enough, he had to stick me with YOU TWO of all bots!!!”

“Hey, c’mon!” Skywarp shot back. “We’re the only ones that can fly besides those damn cone-heads! And Primus knows they won’t put up with your bullshit.”

“I’ve had it up to here with yours!!!” Starscream retorted. “I don’t know why I even continue to allow myself to work with you two!!!” he then pointed to Skywarp. “You are an immature, idiotic thug that has been graced with a power that you clearly do not deserve!!!” he then pointed to Thundercracker. “And you…” Starscream paused. “You...you...well...you didn’t get here fast enough!!! I was under attack by one of my own wingmates, and here you were, lollygagging and taking your sweet time!!!”

Thundercracker was somewhat taken aback. True, this was typical of Starscream, ranting and raving about all the unfairness of the world and how he was slighted by whomever he decided had insulted him, yet the blue Seeker felt a twinge of anger flare up in his spark. “I was TRYING to keep back to make sure you wouldn’t clip a wing or something. You were behaving quite...erratically.”

“That’s no excuse!!!” Starscream countered. “I am your superior, and thus, am your utmost concern!!!”

“I was-”

“No, I’m not done!!!” the other Seeker interrupted. “You know what? You’re just as useless as Skywarp here!!! Only you’ve got no discernable skills or anything spectacular in your arsenal. I lack Skywarp’s little ‘talent’, but I come packed with null rays that can disable and render any machine, Earth or Cybertronian, useless. But you? What, the typical blaster? And such an outdated model too!!! Perhaps even one of the cone-heads would be better suited to be here in comparison to-”

Starscream got out no more before he found himself tackled to the ground. Thundercracker was on top of him and, at a blinding speed, as if in response to the SIC’s remarks regarding his skill and prowess.

“What do you think you’re-” Starscream shouted, yet soon felt his shoulder cannons being removed from his arms. “H-Hey!!! Put those back!!!”

Thundercracker didn’t answer him, continuing his work until his Commander was relieved of his weapons. Then, the blue Seeker delivered a blow to Starscream’s face when the other Decepticon tried to rise. He was disoriented long enough for him to be seized from behind, Thundercracker having ducked his arms underneath Starscream’s own and lifted them up, holding them together with one hand clasping around his wrists, effectively keeping the SIC in place.

“Skywarp,” the blue Seeker began, voice low and emotionless, yet the other members of the trine knew well what such a tone meant when it came to Thundercracker. “He’s all yours.”

Skywarp beamed and made a motion of ‘cracking’ his knuckles (even if he had none). The grin on his face filled Starscream with the utmost dread and fear. “Y-You can’t do this!!!” he protested. “I’m your superior!!!”

“Yes,” Thundercracker responded. “A superior asshole.”

“A superior asshole that’s been getting on my and Cracker’s nerves,” Skywarp said, grinning. Thundercracker despised the nickname the other Seeker had given him, yet at the moment, what was at the forefront of his mind was his Commander’s “disciplinary” session. “And since we’re both done hearing you bitch and moan,” Skywarp raised his servos up, wiggling and making clawing motions with them. “We’re gonna hear you laugh it up instead!”

And then, he went in and continued where he had left off.

Starscream had no chance to brace himself, his focus torn between trying to get Thundercracker off of him and Skywarp’s advances. The purple and black Seeker dove down and traced his servo-tips all over the red and blue Seeker’s chassis, running along the curves and bends, dipping his digits in the vents situated on his chest, and down the midsection where his cockpit was located.

“N-No!!! No-hahahahaha!!! St-Sto-hahaha-p!!! Stop!!! I or-hoho-der you to STOP!!!”

“Not happening.” Skywarp responded, now skittering along the white waist.

“You-hoohoo dare defy an or-hoho-der from your Comma-hahaha-nder!?!”

“If said Commander is being a little bitch, then yes.”

“Th-This is ahahaha-assult on a supe-hehhehe-rior officer!!!”

“Fine then. Stop me.”

Starscream didn’t answer that, knowing well that, despite himself, he was effectively rendered helpless. Thundercracker wasn’t letting him go any time soon, and Skywarp was more than content to keep tickling the ever-living shit out of his Commander. He was completely at their mercy. But he would not surrender. He couldn’t! Not to them! They wouldn’t get one word out of him that was begging for mercy!

At least, that’s what he tried to keep in mind, all the while fighting against said pleas that were forming in his processor.

Skywarp continued to let his servos dance all over Starscream’s upper half, Thundercracker keeping him immobile. The other Seeker’s added weight made struggling difficult and sometimes near impossible, and the maddening sensations made his futile attempts to escape no better. Skywarp had gone for the SIC’s underarms, Starscream’s laughter raising in volume and his struggles increasing, yet Thundercracker held him firm. Skywarp spidered down Starscream’s sides and chest, even tackling the red sections that stood upward on his shoulders. The red and blue Seeker howled with laughter, Thundercracker keeping up his efforts to hold him tight. Despite his current predicament, Starscream could at least take comfort in that the three were clearly alone out here. The only downside to that was that it was Skywarp of all bots doing the torturing! That mech left no inch of his upper body untouched, making sure to give each and every portion of it equal attention. Odd that he would be so precise given how impatient and foolhardy he was.

Having decided that he had explored all he could in that area, the purple and black Seeker shifted his attention to Starscream’s hips, dragging servos along where it connected to his waist and squeezing the sides. The Decepticon SIC continued to release mad cackles from his vocal processor, Skywarp’s servos traveling down to his inner thighs, teasing the joints and cables he could reach. The purple and black Seeker went down the other jet’s legs and reached his knees, swiping servos behind the blocky sections that essentially served as ‘kneecaps’. He even dipped his digits in the vents that rested there.

Starscream was being driven mad, his frantic struggles weakening, though whether it was due to him losing strength or some part of him simply accepting his fate, he was unsure. Regardless, he was reaching his limit and frankly, beginning to lose his mind. “W-Wait!!!” the Seeker got out. “O-hoho-k!!! OK!!! You-hoohoo-’ve had your fun!!! Stop!!!”

“Not yet,” Skywarp said. “I’ve still got a little more of you to tend to.” he then turned to the blue Seeker. “Hold him tight. I gotta feeling this is going to send him over the edge.”

“What do you mean…” Starscream asked, yet trailed off when he saw Skywarp secure his ankles, the undersides of his peds and thrusters completely exposed. Oh no. Oh Primus, no! “W-Wait!!! WAIT!!!” Skywarp and Thundercracker were quite shocked at how loud their captive had gotten, both looking at him with wide, red optics.

Skywarp then smirked. “Oh my,” he glanced at one ped he had in his grasp. “This a particularly sensitive area?” as if to demonstrate, he ran one servo down the length of the side of it, Starscream trembling and straining to keep noises from exiting his throat. “Oh hot damn!” the purple and black Seeker looked to his comrade. “Look at this Cracker! Screamer here’s got sensitive tootsies!”

Tootsies? Was that a human word? Well, whatever. Thundercracker had to strengthen his hold on Starscream, the other Seeker growing even more erratic than before.

“Not there!!!” Starscream finally threw all pride and dignity aside and went to one of his desperate fail-safes: begging. “Please, not there!!! Anywhere but there!!!”

“Why?” Skywarp coyly asked. “Does it tiiiickle~?”

“All right fine!!! Fine, I admit it!!! I’m ticklish, ok!?! There, I said it!!!”

Skywarp stopped his teasing, yet still held Starscream’s ped in his hold. “And?”

“And…” the SIC couldn’t believe he was doing this. Megatron was one thing, but these two? He would NEVER live this down. “And…” he felt a servo place itself on the underside of the ped. “And I’m sorry!!! I’m sorry for everything I said!!! You’re not useless or idiots!!!” Starscream sighed, having gained both of the other jet’s attention. “It’s just...it’s just so frustrating.” He said, lessening his struggles. “Your position means nothing, and whatever contribution you have to give is treated little better than the ramblings of a fool. How nothing you could ever say matters…”

Starscream looked away from both of them for a second, his wingmates quite baffled and confused by what they just heard. True, complaining was one of the hallmarks of their Commander’s personality, yet it was quite a rarity to hear him display such raw honesty with them. It wasn’t a completely alien event, the two having heard these supposedly heartfelt (or in their case, sparkfelt) confessions before, but they were far and in between. Yet whenever they happened, despite their probable better judgment, they listened. And Starscream, even if he didn’t say it outright, acknowledged that they were indeed listening. These moments were always awkward and generally uncomfortable for all three of them, the mood not exactly being positive but oddly calm. And neither Skywarp nor Thundercracker could tell whether these were genuine or not. Their Commander was very much what the humans called a social chameleon. Oh sure, he had his distinguishing traits, yet it seemed that whenever he had to play a certain role (aside from a duplicitous usurper), he usually took it and made it his own. He could have solid strategies and plans, he could be deadly in combat and made use of his airborne advantage well, and when, rarely, Megatron’s plans aligned with his own, he would follow it to a tee. But whether all these were just an act to get what he wanted or a rare display of inner, truthful self (even if partway), neither of the Seekers knew. And in a way, Starscream would probably have it no other way.

Skywarp looked at his partner in crime, then to his victim. “You believe him, Cracker?”

Thundercracker was silent for a moment, Starscream looking up at him with wide, pleading optics. “I don’t know. You know Starscream.”

“Oh, you think so little of me, dear Thundercracker?” The SIC asked, seemingly hurt. “I merely let my own grievances with Megatron affect my sense of professionalism.”

“And?” Skywarp asked. “You sorry for being the King of the Assholes today?”

“King of the...what!?” Starscream began to protest, yet the sensation of Skywarp’s servo kept him in his place. “Yes!!! Yes. Yes, I’m sorry. I apologize. I apologize for everything that’s come from my vocal components.”

The purple and black Seeker looked and Thundercracker and nodded his head. “You know what? I believe him. How about you?” Thundercracker remained silent, yet when his hold was loosening, he noticed Skywarp look at him with a coy, calculating smile. “I think Cracker here forgives you too, Screamer.”

Starscream sighed in relief. “Yes, well...I suppose, as the humans say, to err is, well, human. But to forgive is divine.” He tried to get up, but still, found himself being held tight.

“Hold on there! Let’s not get too ahead of ourselves.” Skywarp said. “I said I forgive you.” He then placed a servo on the underside of Starscream’s ped and dragged it down, noticing how his Commander’s face tensed up. “I didn’t say anything about letting you go. And neither did Cracker.”

Starscream’s red optics widened in terror, his fate had not been changed. “But...but you said that you forgave me!!! You have to release me!!!”

“And we will,” Thundercracker spoke up. “But, it would be bad form to leave Skywarp’s job unfinished, right?”

“Was that an actual joke from you?” Skywarp asked, genuinely surprised. It was just as, perhaps even rarer than Starscream’s “honest” moments, yet once in a while, the blue Seeker showed he was capable of humor, albeit mostly dry, but still, humor. “And yeah. I’ve only got one more place to cover. So I’d suggest you buck up and take the rest of it like a mech!”

Shit, Starscream thought, a part of him surprised that he had used a human curse. Still, the sentence had been delivered. He was doomed. “N-No, wait!!! You don’t understand!!! I can’t take it there!!! It’s too much!!! You’ll drive me crazy!!!

“Hmm...those are all rather bold claims. But you shouldn’t have told me that.” Skywarp said, eager to start his tickling torment up again. “Because now I’m going to have to see it for myself!”

And thus, Skywarp wasted no time in getting started, Starscream having no chance to maintain any semblance of self-control the moment he felt a servo quickly swipe itself back and forth on his ped. The reaction was immediate, Starscream having no chance to try and even contain himself. Skywarp traced down the entire length of the ped, the red and blue Seeker released loud and slightly hoarse laughter from his vocals, he desperately trying to twist his way out of Thundercracker’s grip.

“Skwarp!!!” Starscream hollered. “Ple-heeheehee-se!!! STOP!!!”

“Oh no, Mr. General Dickweed!” the Seeker answered back. “Forgiveness or no, you’ve been in dire need of an attitude adjustment all day today!”

“I sa-hahaha-id I was so-hohoho-rry!!!”

“And you lied to us about being ticklish. Shame on you!” Skywarp teased, continuing to scribble around on the underside of his Commander’s ped.

Starscream was in absolute hysterics, trying with all his remaining power to break free and escape his torment, yet it seemed that his fate was sealed. He was going to have to stay here and endure the continuous, soft, agonizingly light yet maddening sensations Skywarp’s servos created. Eventually, his struggles ceased, no longer having the energy to fight back. Or maybe, somewhere in his processor, he knew that he was fighting a losing battle and simply relented to those that currently had power over him. Skywarp then ceased tickling the peds, yet Starscream had no time to rest. Despite his hopes, pleas, and prayers (he hadn’t really considered himself a religious bot, yet he was singing praises to Primus at that moment in his head), Skywarp had discovered his Commander’s Achilles Heel. Literally.

“PRIMUS, STOP!!!” the SIC shrieked, living up to his name. Out of all the spots that could’ve been at the mercy (or lack thereof) of Skywarp’s servos, he knew well that one would be enough to make him go crazy. “YOU’RE KI-HIHIHIHI-LLING ME!!! I’M DY-HIHIHIHI-ING!!!”

Skywarp scoffed, yet he found this whole thing hilarious, his servos dancing along the lining of and inside Starscream’s thrusters. “Oh please. If anything, this is a spa treatment compared to what you usually get hit with from Megatron.”

“I’D RA-HAHAHAHA-THER TAKE THAT!!! OH PLEASE!!! PLE-HEEHEEHEE-ASE!!! I CAN’T TAKE ANYMORE!!!”

Thundercracker glanced down at his captive, taking a look at the Seeker’s ever-present smile he had plastered on his features, yet also of how hot he was beginning to feel how warm he was becoming. His internal systems had steadily been heating up from all the exertion of energy, yet the fact Thundercracker could now feel the heat himself signaled to him that Starscream was truly reaching his breaking point.

“Ok, I think that’s enough.”

Skywarp looked up. “Aw, why?”

“Is your processor malfunctioning? Feel how warm he is!” Hmm, now that he thought about it, Starscream DID feel like he was heating up the further along he went. Still...did he have to? “Skywarp!”

“Ok, ok! Fine!” the purple and black Seeker groaned.

Begrudgingly, he ceased the movement of his servos and raised his hands away from Starscream, who was still caught in the throughs of laughter. Yet after a few moments, said laughter began to soften and decrease, the Seeker resting in Thundercracker’s arms mainly because he couldn’t do much else. Despite there being no need to take in oxygen, Starscream was quite appreciative of its abundance, his vents taking it in and filtering out the heat that had been building up.

“Oh, and here you actually had me...going,” Skywarp said, gesturing to Starscream. “See? He’s fine!” The word ‘concerned’ was about to exit from his lips, yet the Seeker kept them back. Like the Pit he was going to say that. Starscream then glared in Skywarp’s direction. “See? Totally fine. He’s already back to his bitchy self.”

“You…” Starscream huffed, sounding as if he were short of breath despite not needing to breathe. “You think you’re VERY clever, don’t you?”

Skywarp shrugged. “On occasion, I like to think so.”

Starscream only narrowed his optics. “The moment I get my strength back up, your termination will be slow and painful.”

Despite this threat, the Seeker wasn’t intimidated in the slightest. “Yeah right. I stopped believing you after the...what was it, the millionth-and-first time you said that?”

“Well...who’s to say I don’t mean it the millionth-and-second time?” Starscream questioned, beginning to reach for his null rays, yet ultimately, had tired himself out too much to even move from where he was. As the human said, screw it.

“Are you all right?”

The Decepticon SIC looked up at Thundercracker. “Oh, so NOW you care about my wellbeing?”

“I stopped him, didn’t I?” The blue Seeker asked, pointing to Skywarp.

“And you’re also the one that restrained and let him torture me.”

“...touche.” he then began to rise. “Come on. On your feet.” he slowly hoisted his Commander up. “You’re still cooling down, so it’d probably be good to wait for a klik or two before you take to the air.”

Starscream didn’t argue with that, yet he went over to retrieve his arm cannons. Skywarp soon found the Commander’s eyes looking straight at him. Yet still, his cannons didn’t fire, though whether because he was too tired to do anything or he actually didn’t have it in him (at least at the moment), to shoot Skywarp was unknown. Yet the result was the same.

“So...now what?” the purple and black Seeker asked.

“What do you mean, now what?” Thundercracker asked. “We go back to our posts! Slag, we shouldn’t even be out here anyway!”

Starscream dusted himself off, trying to straighten out his appearance. “As soon as this is over, I’m punishing both of you.”

Skywarp mockingly gasped. “Aw, why?”

“Why?! You know slagging good why!!!” Starscream responded. “And by the time I’m done with you, a session with Megatron himself will sound exceptionally pleasant in comparison!!!”

“Oooh, that’s pretty big talk, Screamer.” Skywarp chuckled. “And just how are you going to do it?”

Starscream didn’t exactly care for how close the other Seeker was. “I...I’ll find a way. I’ll find several.”

“Of course, you do realize you’re not the only one with an advantage, you know?” And before Starscream could ask, he felt a poke in his side, the red and blue Seeker recoiling from the touch. “Y’know, I can’t help but wonder how the guys would react to this when I tell them.”

Both Starscream and Thundercracker were taken aback by what Skywarp had just said. “Why would you tell anybody?” Starscream asked.

“Because it’s adorably precious and funny.” The Seeker answered.

“You had better not!!!” Starscream ordered. “Or I’ll make your punishment even worse than Thundercracker’s!!! I’ll…” he then went over and fell at Skywarp’s feet. “Please don’t tell anyone. Please. I’m begging you.”

“Relax, he’s not going to tell,” Thundercracker assured his Commander. “Right, Skywarp?”

Skywarp folded his arms. “Only if Screamer takes back his punishment threats.”

Starscream relented. “Ok, yes. Fine. No discipline. Ok?”

The Seeker smiled. “And since you’re feeling so cooperative, I’ve been meaning to ask you some...stuff.”

Starscream did NOT like the sound of that. “What kind of...stuff??”

“Well, c’mon.” Before he knew it, the Air Commander found his trine-mate’s arm slung around his shoulder as if he were a long-time friend. “We can discuss it on the way back to the space bridge.”

Starscream groaned, not liking where this was going at all.

Thundercracker only looked on, still trying to swallow everything that had happened. Suffice to say, he found himself feeling rather...odd about it. And he could tell Starscream held this sentiment as well. Truly, it sounded unreal: he had just held down their superior while his wingmate tickled him into near insanity. Had he not seen it himself, let alone participated in it, he wouldn’t have believed it. Frankly, he was beginning to feel quite embarrassed about how he had sunk so low to be involved in something so childish, but…

“Oh, come on! It wasn’t that bad!” The blue Seeker heard Skywarp say. “You were smiling the whole time!”

“Yes, against my will!!!!” Starscream retorted, folding his arms and, for lack of a better word, pouting.

“But don’t you feel just a little bit better?”

Starscream’s red optics widened. “No! It-“ had he been human, he would’ve been red as a tomato. Odd how the meatbag’s skin changed at just the slightest amount of extreme emotion. “Hmph!!! Well...I’m not talking to you right now!!! Or in the next few Earth hours. Or tomorrow. Or the day after that. Or-“ he was interrupted by a poke, unprepared to contain the giggle that slipped out. “Do that again, and I WILL blast you this time.” He threatened.

“That makes a millionth-and-three.” Skywarp answered, unfazed.

Thundercracker continued to watch the two Seekers argue and banter with each other, noticing that, even if he would swear to Primus Himself that it wasn’t the case, since his tickling session, Starscream seemed...less irritable?

“Well, maybe that’ll be the lucky number. What’s that human saying again? Third time’s the charm?”

“I don’t think they have plus a million in there though.” Skywarp chuckled, Starscream huffing.

“Shut up.”

Thundercracker could only speculate. One could never tell with Starscream. But from watching him, he had a vague idea of what was going in his processor. And that he’d keep it a secret from everyone.

#transformers #transformers generation one #transformers g1 #starscream #thundercracker #skywarp #seeker trine #g1 seekers #seekers #sensitive #tickle #tickle fic #fanfiction #fanfic

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lordabovehelpme · 4 years ago

Text

Bath Time- Din Djarin x Reader

Summary: Mando finds you trying to give his son a bath.

Masterlist

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Bath time!” The little green child’s ears drop and he starts to waddle away from you. “Oh come on. It’s not that bad. Plus, you smell like a mudhorn!” You run after the child. He is surprisingly fast when he wants to be.

“Don’t you want to be all clean and nice when Mando get’s back?” The child stops at the name of his adoptive father, exactly as planned. You scoop him up before he can wiggle his way from you again.

A large old container filled with warm water and floral scented bubbles waits for the womp rat, however, he wails and squirms in your arms. You start to untie his tunics and place him in the water. Albeit, the child continues to squeal. Even when you hand him his prized metal ball from Mando’s cockpit, he still whines.

“Shhh. Come on, do you really need to scream?” His little arms are splashing around in the water, soaking the front of your shirt. You sigh, how did Mando ever do this? You pick the child up and stare into his wet eyes. “How can we make this comfortable for you?” you ponder out loud.

He stops crying for a second and grabs your shirt, pulling it towards the container below him. “You want me to…?” Still unsure of what he is trying to communicate. The child huffs and tugs your shirt again towards the water.

“Do you want me to get in with you?” You ask, unsure if this is what he wants. Pleased, the kid smiles and claps his hands.

Well, he isn’t crying anymore and Mando should not be back for another hour or two so, why not.

You set the child in the water and take your clothes off before sitting in the container with him.

He laughs and hands you the metal ball before splashing around in the bubbles. Squeezing a blob of soap into your hand, you start to lather him. He doesn’t even flinch, perfectly content with splashing water out of the container. He babbles and giggles while you wash his little body, perfectly tranquil now.

He grabs at your wet hair and splashes some more. You laugh at how ridiculous this must look to anyone else. You and this small green child sharing a bath in an old container, playing with a piece of metal from the cockpit.

***

The Mandalorian returns early.

He had gotten food and medical supplies from the local town. But, he couldn’t help but worry about his son and his new crewmate while he was gone. You had agreed to watch over the child while he was on bounties or just away. But he has started to take quite the liking to you. You’re so nice and compassionate to not only the child, but him as well. It boggles his mind everyday how you can be so cheerful all the time, completely different to the people he is used to affiliating with.

His thoughts come to a halt when he hears water splashing and giggles. He peeks his head into the main room of the Crest. There you two are, in all your glory; water surrounding the container and the scent of roses filling his helmet.

He watches as you toss the metal ball over the child's head. His son is full of joy while he is trying to catch the ball from your hands. The Mandalorians heart flutters as your laughter bounces off the walls of the ship. His chest swells with adoration at the sight, tricking himself into thinking you’re his. He shakes his head and scolds himself as his mind creates domestic scenarios: you cooking for his family, you sleeping in his bed, and you carrying his children.

***

You’re giving the child and yourself bubble beards when you look up and see him.

“Mando!” Water splashes outside the container as you sink under the water. The child coos and giggles from the soft waves your sudden movement causes. The Mandalorians cheeks grow beet red, matching the color of your own. He walks by and into the cockpit, cursing himself for getting caught. Thank goodness for his helmet.

However, to you, he seems unfazed as he walks by.

***

Dressing back into your clothes, you slip a towel around the child and dry him. You’re still embarrassed about the Mandalorian seeing you. The child's eyes start to drop and he is starting to get fussy. “Time for bed, hmm?” You clothe him and rock him in your arms, singing a faint lullabye. Immediately he falls asleep. You sigh as you place him in his pod, wishing you could sleep away all your problems.

Well, you have to face a certain bucket head sometime anyway, might as well get it over with. Climbing up the ladder, you sit in the co-pilot seat. Mando is in the pilot's chair, hands hovering over buttons and levers even though the Crest is in autopilot.

You had asked him once why he is so insistent on piloting even when auto is on. He had stated that it makes him feel safer to know what is always going on and that he will never be able to truly trust the system.

“I’m sorry.” You’re not sure if he actually spoke or you’re just making things up. “I should have knocked.” His visor is still facing the stars, giving no clue to if he’s actually speaking or not. “I didn’t see anything.” That you know for sure he said. Your face heats up and you can see how red you are in the reflection of his helmet. But, for some reason you’re almost disappointed at his confession.

“Would it be so bad if you had?” The words leave your mouth before you can stop them.

His head whips to face you, tilting to the side in thought, or maybe shock.

You can’t form coherent thoughts, absolutely mortified with yourself. Of all time, why does your flirt have to kick in now?

This is exactly opposite of how you thought this day was going to go.

“That depends on you, cyar’ika.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I love me some soft baby yoda action!

I hope you all liked it!

Love, Lordy

#din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #din djarin #mando x reader #mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian #baby yoda #mando

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breanime · 4 years ago

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Bre’s Boys Picture Preference: Your Baby Girl

Disclaimer: All of these adorable babies are internet babies, I do not own or know these babies, though I do wish them the absolute best lives.

Billy Russo: When you told him you were pregnant, Billy kind of went on auto-pilot. He was there for every ultrasound, indulged your cravings no matter how nonsensical or inconvenient they were, bought all the books and bottles and tiny clothes, but he still hadn’t come to terms with the fact that he was about to be a father. Honestly, whenever he thought about it, all he could feel was this immense sense of guilt that he wouldn’t be able to give the baby the one thing it would really need: love. He could provide a home and education and all the material things, but Billy just couldn’t see himself loving an infant; he was still surprised that he loved you, to be honest. But then he saw her. And he held her in his arms for the first time, and Billy had never felt so weak, so happy, and so in love ever in his life. He felt such a sense of protectiveness and love and security when your baby girl looked up at him with big, black eyes...his eyes. Billy soon finds out that he’s powerless when it comes to his daughter; he just wants to hold her all day, one blink of her big, sweet eyes and he’s mush. “I will never let anyone hurt you,” he promises as he buckles her into the car, “I will make sure you have everything you want, no matter what it is. If you want it, Daddy will get it for you.” He can’t help but caress her soft, fat cheek with his finger, melting as she stares up at him, blowing spit bubbles as he talks. “Daddy is gonna give you the world.”

Logan Delos: A lot of fathers call their baby girls their princess, but with Logan, he truly thought she was a princess. Your baby was a Daddy’s girl through and through; she could be fussy and whiny with you all day long, but as soon as she saw Logan’s face, she was all smiles. Logan doted on her, kissing her chubby little cheeks and pretending to eat her fat feet while she giggled her little head off. “Are you Dada’s Princess?” He cooed, lifting her in the air so she could kick her hands and feet in excitement. “Are you Dada’s perfect little Princess?” Logan actually designed and commissioned a crown (with a matching gold bracelet with her name engraved on it with a note that said “Daddy’s Princess”), because his daughter is a DAMN PRINCESS. And your little girl loved being royalty. It got to the point that she would whine and cry when you put her in anything less than a princess dress, and God help you if you forgot the crown her Daddy got her. And when Logan was out in public, dressed in one of his suits with his thick hair styled perfectly and his 1000-watt smile aimed at his princess, who was smiling up at him, pulling at his beard and babbling happily in her blush pink dress with her crown glittering in the sunlight, well... No one who saw the two of them could say they weren’t royalty.

Jax Teller: Jax was a sucker for your baby girl’s toothless smile. He literally would stop what he was doing if she smiled at him, making him late to many a meeting--not that he minded. You would come home to see Jax laying on the floor with her, his smile wide as she laughed and tugged at his offered finger. The croweaters who clean the dorms are shocked when they go to Jax’s room and find it full of diapers and little pink blankies and cute onesies and stuff. The guys stop smoking inside and have gotten into actual fist fights over who gets to hold her next (Juice can’t cut it in the ring, but if the prize is cuddles with your daughter, he WILL knock someone out). Jax gets her a mini kutte that says “Daughter of Anarchy” on the back and sews a “President of Daddy’s Heart” patch on the front. The ringtone on his personal phone is his baby girl’s giggle, and no matter what bullshit he has to deal with via the club or his family or whatever, one smile from his daughter makes it all worth it. Since she was born, Jax smiled more, laughed more, practically floated on air. And he wanted to be a better man--for her. Wanted to make sure he was there for her, taught her right from wrong, how to protect herself, and most of all--he wanted to make sure she always had that smile; the kind of smile that could light up a room. He dedicated himself to your daughter and preserving that angelic smile for the rest of his life.

Coco Cruz: You had terrible heartburn all throughout your pregnancy, and when your daughter was born, you finally saw why. Your baby was 10% child and 90% hair, just like her father. Coco loved her big hair, and she loved when he picked her fro out or washed it for her. You would hear nothing but laughter coming from the bathroom on wash day, and when you walked in, you saw Coco, inexplicably shirtless now, playing with your daughter’s hair. She wrapped up in a towel, giggling as Coco talked to her. “Papi is gonna put some of this in your hair,” he said, reaching for the coconut oil, “ooh, and some of this,” grabbing the peppermint oil as well. She shrieked happily, making grabby hands at the peppermint oil. “Okay, but you can’t eat it--mami, what did I just say? No no no,” as he picked her up and carried her to your room, kissing her fat cheek, “let’s get you a toy for you to chew on, okay? Aw, my baby... You’re so beautiful, just like your Mama.” He sits on the bed with her, taking her out of the towel and wrapping her up in your nice silk sheets (because she’s fucking worth it), as he continues doing her hair. You watch, heart full, as your little girl reaches up and starts patting Coco’s hair. “Oh, you’re doing Daddy’s hair now,” he asks, smiling as she laughs, “You’re so talented, mami! Thank you!”

Angel Reyes: Angel and your baby girl were best friends from birth. She loved playing with her Daddy, loved being in his arms, and Angel felt the same way. The two of them were as thick as thieves, always laughing and playing, and she absolutely adored going on walks with him. So Angel would pack her diaper bag and take her to the beach, where she could waddle around with no shoes and play in the sand. Every day, his daughter made him laugh. It was like, once she was born, Angel finally felt like a complete person. This was who he was meant to be--this little girl’s father--and he was so grateful for the opportunity. He walked in front of her, phone out, taping her as she shuffled after him. “Come on, mi amor, come to Daddy,” he cheered. She stopped and put her fists up, making him laugh. “Oh, you wanna fight? Alright, come on then, champ! Put your dukes up! Show me what you got!” She scrunched her little face up in what was meant to be an intimidating face, but she only made herself that much cuter. Angel melted, dropping to his knees to grab and hug her. “You’re so damn cute,” he cooed, kissing her as she laughed, “You make Daddy so happy.” “Put up your dukes, Dada!” She shrieked, punching him in the face. He laughed, taking her fat fist and kissing it. “I love you so much.”

Miguel Galindo: When it came to your daughter, no one could tell Miguel anything. In his eyes, she was perfect. She was only a toddler, but she ran the house. She had Miguel and Nestor eating out of the palm of her hand, could bat her eyes and get you to give her extra sweets, even Cristobal wasn’t immune when it came to his adorable baby sister. Miguel spent many hours in his office with her on his lap, because when she wanted cuddles from Papa, she got cuddles from Papa. In fact, the staff started calling her “Boss Baby Galindo”, and Miguel had to agree--she was already the boss of the house for sure. He doesn’t realize how much she emulates him until he takes the family to their beach house for a little vacation. He, of course, has to hold your baby girl as soon as they get out of the car, and he’s holding her, both of them wearing their matching circular sunglasses (her’s customized into hearts as well), as he directs his security and staff. He sees Cristobal struggling with his over-packed backpack, so Miguel puts his daughter on the hood of the car for a second to help him, and then he hears her babbling. He looks up to see her pointing and “talking” to the staff, just like she’s seen him do. He can even make out certain words in her cute little tirade, such as “right now” and “ahora” (because his baby is bossy in two languages) as well as “let’s go”. He picks her up and kisses her cheek, proud of his Boss Baby Galindo.

Nick Amaro: Your baby girl is the friendliest baby ever. Strangers are always stopping to wave at her, and she waves and smiles back, and Nick has to stand there and pretend he isn’t ready to cap a bitch for the imagined crime of hypothetically considering kidnapping his adorable daughter. Still, he loved taking his baby out, and he couldn’t lie--he loved all the compliments they got, loved how his little girl was such a sweetheart, always eager to meet new people. They couldn’t get three steps before some sweet old lady was cooing over her, and Nick just beamed with pride. One day, he decided to take her on a ride after he got off of work. He wrapped her up in her favorite fluffy blanket and buckled her into her pink car seat. He kissed her cheeks a few times before standing back, just smiling down at his perfect little angel, and he felt his heart swell. “I love you and your brother and sister more than anything in this entire world,” he whispered as he stared down at her, “I’m gonna be so much better than my Dad was, I promise...” The weight of that promise made his eyes water up, and he turned away, not wanting her to see him like this, but when he glanced down at her, she was giving him the sweetest little smile, and he couldn’t help but laugh softly. He leaned down and she reached up and patted at his cheek, as if to brush the tears away, and Nick took her little hand and kissed it. “I promise...”

Johnny Tuturro: Your daughter was cute, and she knew it. She had big, round eyes and her dad’s thick eyelashes. Every day when she woke up, Johnny would cradle her to his chest and tell her “you’re the most beautiful thing in the whole world. You’re smart, you’re worthy, you’re strong, and Daddy loves you with all of his heart”. He taught her how to crawl, taught her to say “Dada” and “Mama” and “wawa” (water), took her into the ocean and let her kick her fat little feet until she was practically delirious from laughter. You taught her how to make puppy dog eyes. And so, after doing her hair, putting bows in it, and getting her dressed, Johnny put her on the carpet. “Stay right here while Daddy gets your shoes, okay? Don’t move.” She nodded, giving him her most innocent smile. Johnny kissed her before going to get the shoes, and you watched, amused, as your daughter crawled away and started climbing the ottoman. Johnny groaned when he walked in and saw her, standing over her with his hands on his hips. “What did Daddy say? Hm? I said don’t move,” he frowned, but you could see the amusement in his eyes. Your daughter looked up at him, gave him that heart melting smile, and titled her head. “Wuv you,” she cooed, and Johnny fell to his knees, grabbing her and showering her in kisses. “I love you more!” You laughed, shaking your head at your sweet little con artist.

Rio: Rio didn’t call your baby girl his Princess. She was THE QUEEN. Rio sat her on his lap while he made calls, letting her listen to the serious tone of his voice and learn how to talk to people (she was a baby, so...she didn’t talk at all yet, but still), and he never let her forget that she was special, because she was his daughter. As she went into toddler-hood, your daughter loved being around her Daddy. She would hold his hand and walk around the neighborhood with him, pointing at things and naming them, which he proudly encouraged. She was the first thing he thought about when he woke up in the mornings, and he was the last thing she saw when she went to sleep at nights--even if it was only on a video call. Rio adored her, and she loved him right back. Rio would sit her on his lap and put her hair in a bun, telling her how cute she was, and she would say “Dada cute too!”, making him laugh. She had started copying him more and more, and Rio thought it was the funniest thing. One day, as you and your daughter waited in the car for Rio to finish some business, he came out and saw her playing in the back seat. He opened the door and peered down at her, smirking at the look on her face--it was classic him. “We all good?” She asked, her lips pursued. He laughed, crawling into the car to smother her in kisses. “Yeah, mama, we all good.”

*******************************************************************************************

Thanks for reading! Please let me know what you think! Did you have a favorite? Will you join me in wishing all of the babies involved in this full, happy, fulfilling lives because they are all literal angels?!?!?

And if you really enjoyed it and you can send in a tip, I would greatly appreciate it!

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#Billy Russo x reader #logan delos x reader #jax teller x reader #coco cruz x reader #angel reyes x reader #miguel galindo x reader #nick amaro x reader #johnny tuturro x reader #rio x reader #bre's boys #bre's boys preferences

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supernatural-jackles · 5 years ago

Text

Owe You One - Part 5

Title: Owe You One - Something Old and New

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Word Count: 4,371

Warnings: Minor Angst, Workplace Drama, Light Smut, Dry Humping, Fluff, Implied strained relationship.

Summary: Dean Winchester has been your best friend and neighbour for the last year. A year of finding comfort in random drop ins and casual conversations, but neither of you know the pasts that the other has. Not fully. Pasts that come back to haunt you, and ruin everything you want in life. Can you find what you’re seeking in a couple of favours and a good time between the sheets or is history doomed to repeat itself?

Owe You One - Masterlist

Square Filled: Mechanic AU ( @spnfluffbingo) Friends With Benefits ( @spndeanbingo ) Clothed Sex ( @spnkinkbingo)

A/N: Happy Tuesday! Here is part 5! I hope y’all enjoy this part! Please leave your thoughts in a reblog, reply or send me an ask! The reason I share is to get a response from you! Happy Reading!

You let out the biggest yawn as you typed away on your work computer. It was just after one on a Tuesday afternoon, and you were more than ready for Friday to be here. You weren’t sure if you could handle another three days of the same boring work. You needed to find something new, instead of this fashion magazine crap. There was no way you were going to work her for the rest of your life.

You finished up your last paragraph, saving the file before exiting. Charlie walked past your desk, giving you a wink before she entered the conference room right next to your desk. You were having an afternoon meeting in there to discuss how things were going, along with a bit of a late lunch. Since your floor was all women, getting off topic was a given. It was basically a gossip session in a professional setting.

You put your computer on sleep mode, getting up from your chair. You decided to bring your sweater into the room, in case you got cold later on. Charlie had picked her usual seat at the end of the table so she could look at the boss directly. You always took the seat next to her, since she was one of your only friends in this place.

As soon as you took your seat, the rest of the ladies piled into the room, taking their respective seats. Ruby took her seat next to you, and Meg beside her. Across the table, Bela and Lilith sat down. Your project leader Abaddon, walked in last with a platter of sandwiches from the diner down the road.

“Ladies,” she greeted you as she placed the platter down on the table. “Welcome!”

“I hope you got vegetarian,” Meg side-eyed her.

“Of course I did,” Abaddon stated. “Let’s get the boring part of this meeting over-”

“Please!” Charlie interrupted.

“As I was saying. Asmodeus gave me the rundown in this morning's meeting about how things are going on our end. Right now, sales have improved by three percent, which isn’t terrible but it’s not what he is expecting out of us. Considering we cater towards women, he thinks we should be doing better. The guys on the floor below us are doing slightly better on their fishing magazine, let’s put it that way.”

“Who the fuck wants to read a fishing magazine?” Lilith pointed out.

“Exactly,” Abaddon replied. “Anyway, if we keep at the rate we’re going, odds are we are going to improve. We just need a couple of good hits and maybe a celebrity cameo cover story to sell and we should be on top. With Charlie on website duty, that reels in a whole other audience and we need to keep that up. I’m going to have Y/N do more articles to keep readers coming back. Ruby, I’m thinking of sending you out in the real world to grab some more perspective since you know how to talk to people. Lilith and Meg, you guys will continue working on graphics.”

“What about Bela?” Charlie asked.

“Well I'm actually leaving the company next week. I’m going back to England for a few months,” she smiled sadly. “I’ve got something to do back there.”

“We’ll be sad to see you go,” Abaddon told her.

“Yeah,” Ruby frowned.

“Alright, I’ve given you the just of what you needed to know,” she said, taking a seat on the chair before grabbing a sandwich. “Gossip is now in session! Who is first?”

“I started seeing this girl a few weeks ago,” Charlie started. “I met her in one of my weekends larping. She became one of the queen’s handmaidens in Moondoor and we just clicked instantly. I mean, I have never just clicked with someone like I have with her. She’s hot and not to mention, one of the best kisser’s like ever!”

“I’m happy for you,” you smiled at her.

“I’ll have to bring her around sometime. She’s amazing. I think y’all would really like her,” she beamed.

“Look at her, she’s getting all blushy,” Abaddon teased her.

“Shut up,” she scoffed. “I’m not!”

“You are,” Ruby let out a laugh.

“Someone else share,” Charlie stated.

“Cas and I are talking about adopting a dog,” Meg shared. “Our schedules finally match up to the point where one of us would always be there. Our relationship is in a really good place and I think this would be as good a time as ever.”

“For a second there, I thought you were going to say you’re adopting a child,” Ruby smirked.

“No. Not yet,” she shook her head.

“And to think, a year ago you thought Cas didn’t feel the same about you. Now look at you guys,” Lilth reminded everyone. “It’s only a matter of time before you guys get married!”

“That’s still a long way off. But Cas is my best friend. I love him with all my heart,” she smiled.

“Lilith and I are having a get together at our house next week,” Ruby spoke up. “You guys can all come and bring whoever you want. It’s been too long since we had one and getting all of us together is so hard.”

“That’s true,” Charlie said. “I’ll bring my girlfriend.”

“I’m in,” Abaddon smiled. “Count Crowley in too.”

“How are you and Crowley, by the way?” Charlie asked.

“We’re good for the most part. You know us. We still argue like an old married couple. Last night we argued over who was cuddling with Juliet. He likes to hold her and I like to have her head in my lap while we watch tv. There was no settling it last night. You know what he’s like,” she shrugged.

“Do you think he’s going to propose soon? You guys have been dating for what-”

“Eight years,” she finished. “I don’t know. Maybe? Maybe not. I’m not expecting him to. I’m happy as long as I’m with him. Even though all we do is argue, there is no one I’d rather be with than him.”

“That’s what matters,” Meg smiled.

“What about you, Y/N? Any guy in your life?” Abaddon asked you. She was staring directly at you. You didn’t want to say no, because it was a lie. But at the same time, you didn’t want to say yes because what you and Dean did in the bedroom was between the two of you. It wasn’t anyone else’s business.

“Nope,” you stated.

“Oh really? What’s with the hickey on your neck?” she smirked. Everyone turned to face you in sync. Your hand instantly reached up, covering the spot you knew she was talking about. You felt your cheeks turn warm. So much for keeping it quiet. Dean’s fucking lips. “You’ve been caught. Spill now!”

“I’m not dating anyone,” you shrugged, trying to make it seem like it was nothing.

“But you have a hickey?” Ruby furrowed her brows. “What, just a hook up?”

“Something like that,” you breathed out.

“Or is a friends with benefits kind of thing?” Meg cocked her eyebrow. “‘Cause there is nothing wrong with that.”

“Sorta,” you answered vaguely.

“What do you mean there is nothing wrong with friends with benefits?” Bela scoffed. “It’s only going to get complicated for one. Two, what is the point to it?”

“Have you never just had sex with someone?” Meg argued. “There is nothing wrong with two consenting adults having sex.”

“That is true,” Charlie nodded. “So what if you are. Is he a nice guy at least?”

“Yes, he is,” you told them. “Look, I’m not ready for what all you guys have. You are all dating someone, or married or getting married. I don’t want that. I like sex and this guy just happens to be awesome at that. He doesn’t want to date. I don’t want to date. This is better than hooking up with random strangers on a constant basis to get what I want. At least with this guy, there is trust.”

“With trust comes love,” Charlie teased you. “Why don’t you want something more?”

“Yeah really?” Abaddon added in. “Out of everyone in this room, you are the only one who has never had a significant other.”

“I just don’t want one. I’m perfectly happy on my own and I don’t need to have a man to make me feel like I’m getting somewhere,” you shrugged.

“You never know though, Y/N. You might find this guy is worth it in the end,” Abaddon winked. You could hear the judgement in her voice. It was very clear that she thought the friends with benefits thing was stupid. She had been with the same guy for eight years and all she did was fight with him. What did she know about relationships? Better yet, what did she know about you and your life?

You needed out of this workplace as soon as possible. You didn’t want to continue to be included in the bi-weekly gossip session. You were fucking tired of being judged by them. Even Charlie, who was supposed to be your friend. Granted, she wasn’t as judgy as Abaddon, the queen of drama. But why couldn’t you be happy with just having sex with someone you trusted. With someone who knew how to get the job done and made you feel good?

You couldn’t have been happier when the meeting was over and you finally got to head out for the night. You needed away from these women and the drama that they exhaled. You made your way back to your desk to gather your things. You checked your phone to make sure you didn’t miss anything from Sam especially.

*Hey, you wanna stop by the auto shop when you’re done work. Wanna show you something* - Dean

You smiled for the first time all day. Finally, some normalcy. Someone who wasn’t immersed in drama. You couldn’t have been happier that he was your best friend after a day like today. You grabbed your sweater, pulling it on before throwing your bag over your shoulder. You swiped your card on the way out of the building, making a beeline for the bus.

You were thankful that Dean’s work wasn’t too far from your own. It was a few blocks away and thankfully, the bus stop you were getting off at wasn’t too far away from his shop. You sent him a quick okay, you were on your way message to let him know you saw it. You had never been inside his workplace before. Not his day job anyways. You were kind of excited to see what he looked like as a mechanic.

You got up from your seat, heading over to the back doors of the bus to get off. You could see Winchester’s Auto Shop from where you were. It wasn’t too far. About three buildings away from the bus stop. You just hoped that John wasn’t going to be there. Not if you were going to go in. You definitely weren’t up for another fight with one of the Winchester’s.

The front door of the auto shop was mostly window with Winchester Auto Shop painted on it in red and black window paint. You pulled it open, hearing the ding of the bell shortly after. There was carpet set down, leading to the front desk where a blonde woman sat. You took a deep breath, finally taking a step forward.

“Hi there hun, what can I do for you?” she greeted you with a smile. You looked down, reading the name Ellen on the metal bar sitting on her desk.

“Hi,” you smiled at her. “I’m here to see Dean.”

“Ah yes! You must be Y/N,” she beamed. “Go right on in, sweetie. His office is at the back on your right. Just be careful. They are still working back there.”

“They?” you dared to ask.

“Dean and Bobby,” she told you.

“Thank you,” you said with a soft smile before heading into the garage. It was a big space filled with a lot of different cars and tools. It smelled exactly like a garage. All the oil and metal you expected. You heard someone working on a car to the left of you. By the sounds of it, it sounded like a tire change. Nothing too extensive like you were somewhat expecting. You looked to the right, finding Dean’s office in the corner like Ellen said.

You could see Dean from the doorway. He was sitting at his desk, writing something in a black notebook. He was clad in a pair of jeans and a snug grey t-shirt that was covered in grease spots. He was solely focused on what he was doing.

“Hi,” you greeted him, giving him a warm smile. “You wanted to see me, Mr Winchester?”

“Hey sweetheart,” he grinned. “Yeah, I did. I have a bit of a surprise for you.”

“A surprise? Dean-”

“Just, follow me before you protest, okay?” he stated. He got up from his chair, motioning for you to follow him. He lead you both to the back door of the garage, allowing you to step out first before he joined you. You saw a bunch of tires stacked up, and rims to go with them close by. A couple of scrap cars and a two door truck sitting close by.

“What are we doing out here?” you asked.

He walked over to the truck, leaning against the bed of it before resting his elbow on it. “I know you’re stuck taking the bus because you can’t afford car payments right now. I mentioned something to Bobby a few months ago and he came across this in his salvage yard. It’s a little beat up and it needs a bit of repair work. I figured I could fix it up and you could have it.”

“Dean, I can’t accept this,” you breathed out.

“Yes you can,” he nodded. “It’s going to cost me nothing to fix it up. I can even teach you a thing or two about it,” he smirked. “It’ll save you on bus money and this way you’ve at least got a vehicle to get you from point a to point b.”

“Thank you for this, Dean. Bobby too,” you beamed.

“What about me?” a gruff voice said from behind you.

“Y/N, this is Bobby Singer. Bobby, this is my friend Y/N,” Dean introduced the two of you.

“It’s nice to meet you, Bobby. Thank you for the truck. I really appreciate it,” you smiled at the older man.

“It’s no problem. It was just sitting in the yard, taking up space. Dean mentioned that a friend of his needed a vehicle. Better use this way. It was mine for the longest time,” he told you, looking at you a little strangely. You swallowed hard, hoping you weren’t about to get another warning from yet another person in Dean’s life. “I have to say, you look a lot like your mother.”

“Y- you knew my mother?” you cocked your head, swallowing hard. God, did everyone know your mother?

“A long, long time ago. Way back when she was a kid on my street,” he revealed.

“Interesting,” you nodded. “Seems like a lot of people knew her.”

“She was a popular gal,” he chuckled. “I’m heading out now, Dean. Gonna take Ellen home. See you tomorrow.”

“See ya, Bobby,” Dean waved him off. You heard the door shut behind you a few seconds later, leaving you and Dean alone once more.

“You look kinda cute covered in grease,” you commented.

“It’s a dirty job,” he side-eyed you. “Little miss casual Tuesday.”

“I had a meeting earlier,” you told him.

“You mean a gossip session with those girls who don’t know how to do anything else?” he chuckled.

“Yeah, that,” you breathed out. “I guess I kind of owe you one for the truck.”

“No you don’t,” he stated. “Not for this, Y/N. You need this truck instead of taking the sketchy ass bus. Now you can take up parking spot twenty six. Right next to Baby.”

“Dork,” you shook your head with a smile.

“Well, you could always give me a bit of a thank you in my office,” he wiggled his eyebrows as he made his way over to you.

“You replace the condom in your wallet?” you asked him.

“Fuck,” he frowned. You gave him a smile, taking his hand before dragging him back inside the auto shop. There was no sign of Bobby or Ellen anywhere as you walked straight into Dean’s office. Space was a little limited, but you could make do with what you had.

You shut the door tightly behind the two of you before pushing him down on his office chair. You couldn’t have been more thankful that he didn’t have arm rests like your chair at work did. He was a little confused at what you were doing, and truth be told, you had no idea what you were doing. You just wanted to make him feel good.

You threw your leg over his lap, settling down on top of him. His hands wrapped around you, resting on the small of your back. His eyes were a little darker than they normally were. You leaned forward, slipping your arms around his shoulders.

“I’d take you right now if I had a freakin’ condom,” he muttered as he leaned in, his lips inches away from yours.

“Doesn’t rule out all of our options,” you whispered as you wiggled your eyebrows.

“No, but we don’t got a whole lotta space in here,” he reminded you as his fingers traced the top of your pants. “My office is kind of small.”

“Then we’ll make do,” you winked. An idea slipped through your mind. You didn’t necessarily have to have sex right here, right now. There were so many different ways to have fun. One of your personal favourites from way back when was something you hadn’t done in a while.

You balanced yourself on his broad shoulders, finally closing the space between you, capturing his lips with yours. They were soft and wet, and god, when he kissed you back. His kisses were intoxicating and that’s what kept you coming back. You rolled your hips against his. Holy - did it feel good. You couldn’t have been more thankful for wearing yoga pants to work. You could feel everything so much better.

“Mhh, what are you doing?” he almost chuckled, breathing out against you. His voice was laced with that same lust that was evident on his face.

“Saying thank you,” you growled. You gripped your fingers into his shoulders, grinding your hips slower on his lap. You could feel him hardening in his jeans, and that made you smile. It made you feel confident about yourself. That same comfortably that you had the first time you were on top fell over you once more. “You okay with that?”

“More than okay with that,” he nodded, pecking your lips sweetly. His hands slipped down to your ass, squeezing you with just the right amount of pressure, helping you grind on him with ease. The friction of your center pressed against his bulge had you going. You could feel your slick coating your panties, making them incredibly uncomfortable. His tongue parted your lips, gliding along yours in a smooth motion, tasting you.

Your hands made their way into his hair, feeling the softness as your fingertips grazed over his scalp. He was as hard as a rock in his jeans. God, you felt like a fucking teenager again. Making out with a guy, trying to get as close to having sex as you possibly could. Only this time, you weren’t worried about someone walking in on you. It felt so euphoric to be this close to him, but still be so far.

“Fucking hell,” he panted, his fingers digging into the flesh of your ass, causing you to let out a whimper. His eyes fluttered shut as he bucked his hips into yours, pulling you on him. So thankful for wearing yoga pants, you thought to yourself.

His chest was heaving, just like yours. His lips were parted, the tip of his tongue peaking passed his lips as he breathed heavily. It felt so damn amazing to feel him the way you were. The pressure against you clothed pussy brought you closer and closer with each movement.

“God, Y/N, feels so good,” he groaned. His eyes peered open, meeting yours as he adjusted his grip on your ass, curling his fingers into your flesh. One long movement on his crotch dragged perfectly along your clit, causing you to throw your head back in pleasure as you let out a loud moan.

“Dean!”

His lips crashed to yours once more, his tongue sliding against yours, deepening the kiss instantly. You wrapped your arms securely around his neck, your chest pressing against his. The kiss didn’t last longer than a few seconds, the need for air becoming too much too quickly. You could taste the saltiness on his lips, a thin layer of sweat covered both of your bodies, the clothing making it that much worse.

“F-fuck sweetheart,” he grunted before letting out a whimpering sigh. You knew he was getting close. He was making the same face as he was the last time before he came. He was panting, trying his hardest to get his breathing under control. He was fucking sexy before he came.

“De - I’m gonna-” you warned him.

“Come for me, sweetheart,” he urged you on. “Wanna see you come undone again.”

Your legs began to quake on either side of his as pleasure soared through you. You let out a moan. Your fingers digging into the muscle in his shoulder, trying to ground yourself as you came. Dean’s hands gripped around your body as he bucked his hips up to yours.

His eyes slammed shut as he pulled his bottom lip between his teeth, biting down just hard enough for you to see he was holding back a moan. “Son of a bitch,” he breathed out.

You continued to ride his lap, letting him get as much pleasure as he possibly could from it. You were over sensitive, and your panties were ruined. But you felt so satisfied. You felt even better knowing that you made Dean feel good.

He smiled at you with his half swollen, cocky grin that had you smiling along with him. He leaned forward, pressing his forehead to yours. His nose nudged against yours before his lips pressed softly to yours.

“Fuck sweetheart,” he breathed out. “I can’t believe you just made me come in my pants like a fucking teenager.”

“You’re welcome,” you giggled.

“Good thing I have a change of clothes,” he chuckled. “I gotta say, you look hot as hell when you come undone.”

“Thank god I wore thin pants today,” you let out a laugh. “I haven’t done that since I was sixteen.”

“I’ve never actually done that before,” he admitted.

“Never?” you cocked your head to the side.

“No,” he shrugged. You carefully climbed off of his lap, feeling incredibly uncomfortable in your lower region now that your panties were ruined. “I never did the whole make out sessions for hours on end when I was growing up. I’ve worked here since I was fifteen.”

“Well, I’m glad I was your first,” you smirked.

“Alright, how about I clean and close up shop. I’ll drive you home so you can get cleaned up and we can go out some place tonight and grab a bite to eat?” he suggested.

“Go out?” you furrowed your brows.

“Burgers, fries and pie. We can hang out some place afterwards,” he said nonchalantly. You were all for eating and hanging out, but you didn’t want to run the risk of his parents seeing you together. You didn’t want to endure more drama than you already had today.

“I’m all for burgers and hanging out, but I don’t want to run the risk of your parents seeing us together, Dean. Why don’t we pick something up on the way home and hang out in my apartment. We can play video games or something?”

“Okay,” he nodded. “But just so you know, you don’t have to hide out in fear of them seeing us together. I don’t care what they think. I told them straight up that I wasn’t going to stop talking to you, or being friends with you. ‘Sides, I’m thirty. What are they doing to do? Ground me?”

“No, but they could stop talking to you or something. I don’t want that to happen on account of me,” you frowned, crossing your arms over your chest. “Your mom told me I wasn’t good enough for your family. I’m not going to come between you and them. I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I was the reason why you didn’t have a relationship with them.”

“My mom is a bitch,” he stated, getting up from his chair. He reached beneath his desk where he had a bag. He pulled out a pair of jeans, clean boxers and a shirt. He reached for his belt, making quick work of removing both his pants and boxers. You almost felt bad for looking at him, even though he was stripping down right in front of you. “Trust me, Y/N. You won’t be the one to come between us. It will be them that destroys everything.”

“Sounds like you’ve got some issues with them,” you said lowly.

“Let’s just say you’re not the only one that had a rocky relationship with their mom,” he said, pulling on the clean, blue boxers.

“I’m sorry,” you frowned.

“It’s not your fault, sweetheart,” he said softly. “We’ve all got our issues. Just remember that you could never destroy my relationship with anyone. I’m a big boy and I can make my own decisions.”

“Noted,” you nodded. “I’m thinking we get burgers and pie from Jody’s.”

“Done deal,” he agreed. “I’m down to play a few rounds of Mario Kart too.”

“Sounds like a good night,” you smiled.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Part 6 coming Sunday!

Did you like it? What was your favourite part? Any theories? Please share your thoughts with me via reblog, reply or send me an ask! Nothing is stupid! I WANT TO HEAR FROM YOU! Your response is the ONLY thing keeping me sharing this story!

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megabadbunny · 4 years ago

Text

Aural Fixation

He can’t say he’s imagined such things (because he hasn’t, would never; big dumb sexless space oaf, that’s him) but if he were to start, he might imagine that’s a sound Rose makes during arousal.

Not that he’d know. Or imagine. Because he doesn’t and he hasn’t.

(Warning: here there be smuts.)

***

CLANK.

“Oh, for goodness’ sake!”

Halfway down the hall, the Doctor chuckles. “Need any help in there?”

Another clank, and he can just make out the sound of Rose swearing under her breath. “No,” she calls back.

“Really? Cos it sounds like you picked a fight with the wardrobe,” the Doctor teases, “and you’re losing.”

A loud Ka-CHUNK sounds in response. “I’m fine!” Rose insists stubbornly.

Shaking his head, the Doctor laughs. “What could you possibly be doing to cause that racket?” he asks, doubling back toward the wardrobe room.

“It’s not me, it’s this stupid busted thing,” says Rose’s voice, and the Doctor steps inside the room to see the outline of her body, silhouetted against the back of a folding-screen; from the looks of it, this stupid busted thing refers to the automatic lace-puller, attached to Rose’s silhouette by two shadow-strings. Normally cheerfully upright, the outline of the lace-puller is now slumped, wheezing a little, and yep, that’s the faintest hint of smoke rising from its vents.

The Doctor tsks. Only got a couple of centuries out of the thing. Typical rubbish Grishtal workmanship.

“Sure you don’t need help?” the Doctor asks.

“Not unless you know how to lace up a corset.”

“I’m sure I can figure it out,” he replies confidently, striding forward. “How hard can it be?”

Rose laughs. “I dunno, you might be—”

Without warning, the Doctor pushes the folding-screen aside to find Rose standing between a mirror and the auto-lacer, hair coiffed, corset half-laced and strings pulled taut, wearing nothing else but a pair of extremely anachronistic (not to mention extremely tiny) knickers. She’s staring at him over her shoulder, wide eyes growing wider, pink cheeks blooming pinker.

“—surprised,” she finishes breathlessly, and neither of them are laughing now.

Fortunately, the Doctor’s mind is a far more impressive machine than the auto-lacer, and its many many gears and cogs only falter for the briefest of moments. It’s nothing to be shocked by, after all. Rose or not, there’s nothing unusual about the display in front of him. It’s just a body. A human body. They’re all more or less the same. Skin, hair, curves. Undergarments. Surprisingly small undergarments that hide very little. Nothing to be startled about. Certainly nothing to bluster over.

“What are you wearing those for?” he blurts out, staring at the pants, and internally kicks himself.

Rose’s eyebrow piques incredulously. “You want to know why I’m wearing knickers?”

The Doctor rolls his eyes. “No, I’m saying that if you’re gonna go through the effort to put on something historically accurate like that—” he says, gesturing to the corset, “—you might as well commit to the whole kit. You know. Bloomers and such.”

“What do you know about bloomers?” Rose laughs.

“I know modern-day pants are an anachronism.”

“And I know no one’s gonna be seeing them anyway. Well, except you now, I guess. Not totally sure you count, though,” she teases, looking the Doctor up and down.

“Gee, thanks,” the Doctor says wryly, watching as Rose struggles to pull her laces free of the auto-lacer’s vicelike grip. “I was gonna offer to help you with that, but now I’m thinking maybe I’ll just leave you to it.”

“No you won’t.”

“Oh no?” asks the Doctor, leaning lazily against a coral strut.

“Nope.” Rose shoots another look at him over her shoulder when he doesn’t move. “You’re too impatient for that.”

“Nah. See, patience is a skill, a discipline, acquired over trials and tribulations over the course of time. And me? I’ve been around for a bit. In fact,” the Doctor says smugly, crossing his arms, “I’d say I’ve had bouts of patience that lasted longer than you’ve been alive.”

Rose smiles at him, her gaze soft and warm, and really, it’s almost maddening, the instant effect that look has on him, the way it makes something go all honeyed in his chest. “Do you really want to stall your adventure just because your companion got trapped by the dressing-machine?” she asks sweetly. “Cos the whole stuck-in-the-car, waiting-cos-the-missus-ain’t-ready-yet bit sounds awfully domestic.”

The Doctor glares at her. Rose smiles at him beatifically, tongue trapped in her teeth. His eyes narrow. Her smile brightens.

Dammit.

“Next time,” he says, even as he grudgingly pushes off away from the strut, “we’re going somewhere and somewhen that does not require complicated underthings.”

“Fine by me,” replies Rose, watching in the mirror as the Doctor approaches the auto-lacer, scanning it with the sonic. Official diagnosis: it is, indeed, busted. “Wouldn’t have gone for the whole historical look anyway, ‘cept I remembered that run-in with the what-d’you-call-‘ems, Henry VIII’s fashion police,” Rose continues.

Chuckling, the Doctor adjusts the setting on the sonic, loosening the auto-lacer’s joints. “Those were just constables, I’m afraid. No fashion police, just coppers getting a little carried away enforcing local sumptuary laws, drunk on an ounce of power. Typical lower-level law enforcement.”

“Yeah, but they didn’t give you or Jack any trouble.”

“All right, sexist typical lower-level law enforcement.” Pulling the laces free from the machine, he turns to Rose. “Now, if you want to talk about literal fashion police—”

He tugs on the corset-laces and Rose stumbles back into him, gasping in surprise.

“Still earning those sea legs?” teases the Doctor.

“Git,” Rose laughs, pushing away. “Give a girl some warning, first!”

“Sort of thought this would give it away,” the Doctor says brightly, giving the laces another little tug.

Rose shoots a dirty look over his shoulder.

His responding grin is perfectly innocent. “I’m only trying to help.”

“Speaking of drunk on power,” Rose mutters, but she’s smiling when she says it, so the Doctor pays it no mind. This time, when the Doctor pulls on the laces, she doesn’t stumble, just rocks back a little. Inwardly, the Doctor grins at that. Her time aboard the TARDIS has earned her some decent sea-legs, after all.

Crossing the laces over each other, the Doctor threads them through the grommets, pulling them taut again, after. He repeats the pattern, pulling the laces snug each time, until he cinches a little tighter and Rose lets out a sharp breath in response.

“All right there?” he asks.

“S’fine,” she says, but in the mirror, she looks a little winded.

“I can loosen up.”

“It’s fine,” Rose repeats, straightening up a little. “Just—sometimes it sort of pushes the air out of your lungs, is all.”

The Doctor shrugs and sets back to work. Cross, weave, thread, pull.

Rose gasps.

Glancing up again, the Doctor frowns. “There’s no use in you getting all dolled-up if you can’t breathe.”

“I can breathe just fine. Don’t worry about me.”

“I don’t want you fainting in the middle of the opera.”

“Oh, god forbid I should miss the opera,” Rose teases.

“I mean it,” he says, and he starts lacing again. “You faint, I’m not lugging your dead weight around. Not with whatever massive frock you’re undoubtedly planning to wear over this.”

“Oh whatever, just take the dress off.”

Something goes funny in the Doctor’s stomach and he yanks the laces hard. Rose’s footing slips a little and she gasps, the sound just the littlest bit strangled this time. Before the Doctor has a chance to apologize, Rose shakes her head.

“Don’t stop,” she says, and is it him, or has her voice gone just a little bit breathy?

“Might as well get it over and done with,” she adds quickly.

Fair enough. He goes back to it, cross, weave, thread, pull, cross, weave, thread, pull, and the little sound that escapes Rose doesn’t sound like a gasp, so much as a—

Well. No. It sounds exactly like a gasp. Just not the sort of gasp one typically makes while one is getting dressed. He risks another look up at the mirror and oh no, no, that’s a mistake, because Rose isn’t looking him in the eye anymore, instead she’s staring into nothing, biting her lower lip so hard it’s gone white as her chest gently heaves, soft pink blooming over her décolletage. And if the Doctor didn’t know any better, he’d think he caught just the lightest whiff of pheromones dusting the air.

It suddenly occurs to the Doctor that his offer of help might have gotten him more than he bargained for.

He should stop, he thinks, before Rose cottons on that he’s cottoned on and things get awkward. Or, would that make it worse, if he stopped, and then Rose would know for certain that he knew? They’ve already established that he doesn’t really. Know, that is. About this sort of thing. Well, no, she knows he knows, but she doesn’t know how much he knows, and she still seems fairly convinced he doesn’t know anything at all. So.

So the surest way to maintain decorum is to play dumb, right? Play dumb, spare Rose’s blushes, preserve plausible deniability. Just be an idiot. Capital plan.

He crosses and weaves and threads and pulls again and Rose lets out another strangled noise and he can’t say he’s imagined such things (because he hasn’t, would never; big dumb sexless space oaf, that’s him) but if he were to start, he might imagine that’s a sound Rose makes during arousal.

Not that he’d know. Or imagine. Because he doesn’t and he hasn’t.

And he crosses and weaves, threads and pulls and crosses and weaves, threads and pulls again and she swallows back a pant and he accidentally looks up to see her in the mirror again, eyelashes fluttering, still biting that lower lip, biting so hard he’s surprised she hasn’t drawn blood, and her cheeks and ears have gone pink to match the blush of her chest, which, coincidentally, is getting more and more difficult for the Doctor to ignore, either due to its color or its motion or the fact that her breasts bloody damn well look like they’re about to escape this godsforsaken corset any second now—

Cross, weave, thread, yank and Rose stumbles backward again with the force of it, smacking into the Doctor with a bodily thud.

“Leverage!” he announces before either of them have a chance to react, because her face in the mirror and her body pulled against his are decidedly not helping things. “Need leverage to wrap up a task like this,” he adds, dropping the laces so he can grab Rose by the arms and walk her over to the nearest coral strut, blessedly out of the mirror’s view. “It’s all about the physics, see,” he continues, placing Rose’s hands on the strut. “Right amount of leverage, right amount of force; hang on and you’ll be sorted in a tic.”

He picks up the laces and pulls them again, pulls them tight and crosses and weaves and oh, oh no, oh this is even worse somehow than before, because now instead of Rose’s whole body rocking toward him, it’s just her hips and bum, inching back and forth with every tug of the strings, offering a graphic preview of what it would look like if—

Nope. Nope. Can’t think like that won’t think like that mustn’t think like that but it’s too late to change tactics now, just got to ignore the scent and the heat and the view and the sounds and her and move as quickly as possible, wrap this up before his stupid overactive senses pick up on anything else. Rose clings to the strut as he works, biting back her gasps from the sound of it, but the Doctor can still hear her breath trying to escape, can’t help but notice the trembling in her legs. He focuses intently on the work in front of him, fingers and hands working rapidly to finish, and if the laces miss a grommet or two—well, that’s not a flustered mistake. It’s a stylistic flourish. Yeah. He can work with that.

“Done,” he announces, and he’s very pleased with how even and calm his voice sounds despite everything rioting in his head, very pleased indeed. “The chore is complete; you have been properly cinched, tucked, and flattened in all the right places. The inability to properly breathe or move is now totally yours.”

“Thanks,” Rose laughs, and the Doctor pointedly ignores how shaky the sound is, the way she gulps for air.

“Need any help with anything else?” he asks, stepping back, hands firmly lodged in pockets. “Socks? Shoes? Hat?”

“Bloomers?” she jokes, turning to face him.

“What, and undo all my hard work? Should have thought about that before you put the corset on.”

“I’ll just pull ‘em on over top.”

“Rose,” replies the Doctor, all faux-scandalized mock-sternness. “Bloomers go on before the corset. Every time traveler knows that.”

Rolling her eyes, Rose crosses back to the mirror. “Well then, next time I’ll be sure to get your input before I get dressed,” she laughs shakily.

The Doctor watches her as she puts the finishing touches on her makeup. His eyes do not wander down the line of her shoulderblades or the exaggerated curve of her waist or the slope of her hips or the completely bare stretches of her legs, but stay firmly fixed on the reflection of her face in the mirror; the idea of a pre-clothing Rose is more intriguing than it has any right to be, but the Doctor pushes that to the side. It’s easy enough, now that the risk of imminent danger has passed.

She’s fine, now. He’s fine, always. Nothing happened, not really. Anyway they’re back in safe territory, where they belong. Even if it is secretly just a little bit satisfying to realize exactly what kind of effect he can have on her, if he so chooses.

He hides a grin. Luckily he, the Doctor thinks smugly, is not so easily affected.

“Unless you’ve got any other chores for me, I’ll leave you to it,” says the Doctor, stepping back. “But don’t take it easy just cos I’m not in here anymore. We’re still sticking to a strict schedule. Chop-chop.”

“You got it,” says Rose, lining her lips with lipstick. “Oh, and Doctor?” she calls, after he’s made it a few steps away.

He stops and turns. “What’s that?”

“Would you send Jack in here?”

His brow furrows in confusion, and once again, he resolutely ignores the view laid out in front of him. “Why?” he asks.

Finishing her lipstick, Rose meets his gaze in the mirror. “In case I need help with any other chores,” she says simply.

Shocked, the Doctor grasps for any kind of witty rejoinder, or any sense of anything really, any at all. But all he can do is turn and leave, before Rose sees him gaping like some kind of slack-jawed idiot.

Nope, he thinks furiously. Not affected at all.

***

The incident is all but forgotten by the time Rose has finished getting ready (having taken her time about it, too, and demonstrating absolutely no remorse whatsoever), and by the time Jack is finished getting ready (how in all the hells did he manage to take even longer than Rose, the Doctor wonders?), the incident has left his brain entirely. Now he’s just tapping his foot impatiently, glancing down at his wristwatch every so often as Rose and Jack gush at each other about oh, how very splendid they both look.

Literally all of time and space at their disposal, and the two of them are making googly-eyes at each other instead. How did the Doctor ever allow himself to become party to this?

“You hens done clucking?” he asks when fifteen minutes have gone by, with no end in sight.

“Oh, hush,” Jack tuts. “You’re just jealous no one’s mooning over you right now.”

“I’m plenty happy outside the moonlight, thanks.”

“You’d be even happier in it,” drawls Jack, swaggering his way. “C’mon Doc, when’s the last time you got gussied-up for anything?”

The Doctor gestures to his shirt. “Changed my jumper. What more do you want?”

“A suit every once in a while couldn’t hurt,” Rose calls out.

“A long walk on the beach, dinner for three and drinks to match wouldn’t hurt my feelings, either,” says Jack with a wink.

The Doctor glares at the two of them. “Good grief. There’s just no pleasing you two, is there?”

“Nope,” replies Rose, and she and Jack both laugh. The Doctor has every intention of continuing to glower at both of them, reducing them both to duly chastened quietude, but then Rose sidles up to him, threading her arm through his.

“Ready to go?” she asks, with that stupid pretty tongue-touched grin of hers.

Suddenly it’s difficult to pretend to be irritated anymore.

Later, of course, he doesn’t have to pretend at all.

“Sure, let’s go to the opera, says Jack,” the Doctor grumbles under his breath, sonic screwdriver whirring in one hand as he cards through coat after cloak after coat after cloak with the other. “I love the nineteenth century, says Jack. No one’s gonna try to abduct me there, says Jack!”

“S’pose that’s what we get for traveling with a Time Agent,” muses Rose, who does not seem even remotely bothered that they’ve spent an hour in the cloakroom instead of watching the opera. In fact, the Doctor has a sneaking suspicion she prefers it.

“S’pose that’s what we get for traveling with Jack,” he mutters darkly.

Busy digging in the pocket of a grand overcoat (which does not have bottomless pockets as far as the Doctor is aware, but has large enough pockets anyway), Rose spares him a knowing smile. “I think that was code for Actually, I quite like the fellow, he livens up the place.”

“Wasn’t aware the place needed livening-up.”

“Oh, come off it,” Rose teases gently. “You like him. It’s okay to admit it.”

The Doctor sniffs before moving onto the next cloak. Maybe he’ll be lucky enough to find the reservation in there; maybe the thirty-eighth time’s the charm. “He’s a scoundrel,” he insists.

“And let me guess: you happen to like nice men.”

Distracted, it takes the Doctor half a second to recognize the exchange. “Quoting Star Wars will get you nowhere, you know,” he says drily.

“Wasn’t quoting Star Wars.” Rose flashes a grin his way as she pats down another coat. “That was The Empire Strikes Back.”

“Close enough.”

“Close enough? Not by a long shot!” she laughs. “It’s easily the best of the three. The best by miles.”

“And it just happens to be the one with a surplus of Harrison Ford.”

“Well yeah, that’s definitely not a drawback, but that’s not all.” Rose pulls a small card out from the coat, holds it up, and frowns. “What’s the name of the hotel again?”

“The Grosvenor.”

Rose sighs and puts the card back where she found it before moving on. “Anyway,” she says, “it’s not just Harrison Ford. The Empire Strikes Back has the best story of the lot, by far. Daring chase scenes, massive clashes between good and evil, swelling music, epic romance—”

“Ahhh,” says the Doctor knowingly, rifling through a lady’s-purse. “Of course.”

“Of course, what?”

“Of course, romance.”

Rose doesn’t look up, too busy feeling her way through a cloak’s silk lining. “What about it?”

“Just not surprising, is all. Lots of humans like romance. In fact, I’d venture to say most of you do.”

“That a bad thing?”

He shakes his head, abandoning the purse in favor of a cloak. “No, not at all. Just means you lot are entirely predictable.”

“What, and you’re not?”

“…definitely heard something,” another voice is saying, drifting into the Doctor’s field of hearing along with the sounds of bootsteps advancing ever-closer, and he recognizes both sounds as those belonging to a pair of Time Pirates—Jack’s captors. Before either he or Rose have a chance to finish their thoughts, the Doctor grabs her about the waist, yanking her deep into the cloaks and coats with him and pulling them both to the floor. Rose’s lips part for a small yelp of surprise but the Doctor clamps his hand over her mouth before it has a chance to escape, holding her firm against him. Probably she thinks he’s gone a little batty—her hearing’s not as good as his, after all, so his actions must seem completely out of the blue—but she stills once the bootsteps reach earshot, once she understands.

The Doctor has scarcely half a second to whisk Rose’s skirts safely out of view behind the heavy cloaks before the two sets of boots reach the cloakroom entrance, footfalls thudding heavy and ominous over the floor.

“You sure?” asks the other Pirate. “I didn’t hear anything.”

Rose starts to slip against the Doctor (curse her silky-satin dress, the thing’s got no bloody sense of friction) but the Doctor anchors her to him before she has a chance to slide, to make any noise. A torch-beam shines into the cloakroom, traveling over the coats and cloaks and furs; one of the intruders steps inside and the Doctor can feel Rose holding her breath, her exhales no longer hitting his hand, her ribcage no longer expanding and contracting beneath his palm. Neither of them dares to move.

The Pirate stops. Between two of the coats, the Doctor can just barely make out that the bloke is glancing around, but not really taking anything in.

With a grunt, the Pirate switches off the torch, stowing it on his belt. “Must’ve imagined it.”

“Or it was rats,” the other Pirate supplies. “This period’s full of ‘em.”

“Everything isn’t always rats, Vigge,” sighs his partner, as if this is a particular sticking-point between them. “C’mon, let’s go find the others.”

The Doctor lets out a silent sigh of relief at the sound of departing boots. It’s bloody awkward hiding like this, his arms cinched around Rose while she’s sat in his lap, neither of them able to shift to anything more comfortable. The sooner they can get up, the better. Fortunately, fading footfalls let him know the guards are leaving, and he moves to shift Rose off his lap.

A third pair of boots approaches. Rose and the Doctor both freeze.

“Seen anything?” asks the third voice.

“Nothing yet. You’re sure they’re not still in the theatre?”

“Positive,” the third voice confirms. “The box seat’s empty; that Doctor-bloke and his bird are both gone.”

One of the Pirates swears beneath his breath. “We’ll have to scour every inch of the place, then.”

Peering between the coats, the Doctor can make out the three Pirates talking, discussing how best to search the opera house. Hopefully it’ll be a brief bit of chatter, the Doctor thinks, but as the conversation wears on, it quickly becomes apparent that it’s not destined to end any time soon.

Of course, thinks the Doctor exasperatedly. Why wouldn’t they pick this exact place and moment for a nice long chat? He’s only trapped behind a couple dozen fur-and-woolen cloaks with Rose plastered up against him, Rose getting increasingly warm and undoubtedly uncomfortable in his arms, neither of them able to move to improve the situation for fear of alerting the three very-much-armed Time Pirates. Of course, why wouldn’t the universe conspire against him like this?

Granted, in terms of Rose’s rising body temperature, it probably doesn’t help that the Doctor’s wrapped so snugly around her. But at this point, he’s honestly not sure what he can do. He can’t move his hand from her waist; he’s got her skirts pinned there, pressed between her bodice and his palm, and if he moves, he risks the skirts spilling into view. At least he had the presence of mind to shift his other hand away from her mouth, give her a little more space to breathe. But he did not, it appears, have the presence of mind to pay any attention to where that hand might settle afterward, and only now does he realize that his forearm has fallen to rest very gently against her chest, fingertips ghosting against her throat.

Alarm bells start ringing faintly in his head. He can’t shift that arm too much more; they’re surrounded by cloaks and any such movement would surely draw attention either through motion or sound. The only thing he can really do is perhaps lift away from her a little bit, let his hand float awkwardly in the liminal no-man’s-land where her breath lives. No longer touching, but still ridiculously close. Of course, once again, that brings up the issue of acknowledging that something is happening, and something is awkward, and you’ve officially Drawn Attention To It, and now there it is, stewing in the mortification of being recognized. Whereas if he pretends everything is normal—which it is, he tells himself stubbornly, because skin is just skin, doesn’t matter whether parts of it are bare and soft and hers—then no awkwardness need be experienced by either party involved.

Not that he’d know about any of that. Because he doesn’t, and even if he does, he certainly doesn’t think about it, or notice it, much like he’s definitely not noticing how Rose’s breathing has gone shallow, and her heartrate has sped up, and one of her hands is clenching in her skirt. Doubtful the Pirates can hear it—like Rose and any other human, their hearing can’t rival his—but the Doctor sure as hell can. He hears her swallow, too, and, close to her as he is, he smells it again, that unmistakable tinge of pheromones, soft and musky and faintly sweet. And he can’t help but notice (can’t help it, really) that despite her shallow breaths, her chest is still rising and falling, bringing her breasts into whispering contact with the inside of his arm and the corner of his palm. If she breathed any deeper, he’d surely get a handful.

The Doctor scolds himself for thinking such things, trying fiercely to rein himself back in, but the glance of her skin against his is near-electric, the feel of her pressed against him is overwhelming, the scent of her, intoxicating. Suddenly he’s forgetting why it’s a bad thing for the two of them to be trapped in here like this, pressed tightly together like the pages of a fresh book. His eyes fall to half-mast as they trace the elegant slope of her shoulder and neck, impossibly close to his mouth, begging to be kissed. And she’d love that, wouldn’t she? Love for him to press his lips to her skin, worshipping her, marking her, claiming her. He’s so close now his lips can feel the warmth of her flesh, burning the scant air between them, or maybe that’s just the oxygen molecules buzzing with excitement, like atmosphere before a lightning strike, and her pulse beneath his fingertips is thunderous—

The heavy thud of departing footsteps abruptly informs him that the conversation outside the cloakroom has ended, and the coast will soon be clear again. The Doctor draws a deep breath, catching himself.

He almost fell. He very much wanted to. It’s been such a long time. And with Rose—

The Doctor shuts down that line of thought before it can develop any further, giving himself the mental equivalent of a sharp slap to the face. He hasn’t got any idea what to do with Rose, not really. Yes, her body is giving off a multitude of signs that seem rather obvious, but that’s just what bodies do, sometimes. Mix the close proximity, a dash of friction, a whole heaping load of chemistry, and that’s what you get. Bodies reacting the way bodies do. Not his, of course, not without his express wishes, but that’s what human bodies do. Human reactions for human people. And Rose is nothing if not human.

That’s right. He put up that barrier for a reason, that wall between him and the world, that line drawn in the sand between him and Rose. They’ve skirted that line enough today, flirted with it more than enough. It’s time for him to take responsibility, get his head out of the clouds and stop playing games. Nothing good can come of them nudging the line any further, no matter how brightly Rose smiles at him, no matter how sweet her kisses may be. Not that he’ll ever find out about that last one.

He collects his wits and draws his barriers close. “Rose,” he says quietly. “We should really—”

“Yeah,” says Rose, voice clipped as she shifts off his lap to stand upright, and the Doctor resolutely does not think about how cold he is now, without her body clasped to his. After smoothing out her skirts, Rose reaches down to help him off the floor. Grinning, the Doctor accepts.

“All right?” he asks despite himself, but Rose doesn’t answer; instead she watches him as he stands, eyes searching his. The Doctor gets the instinct impression that he’s being evaluated, somehow. Appraised.

“Rose?” he prompts, and she shakes herself.

“Oh yeah, everything’s fine,” she says, and maybe he just imagined it all, because now she sounds perfectly normal.

“Yeah?” he asks anyway.

“Yeah. You know,” she says, turning to continue her search. “Just thinking about Jack.”

“Right,” says the Doctor, feeling, strangely, as if he was just kicked in the shins. “Of course.”

It only makes sense that Rose would be thinking of Jack right now. He was just kidnapped, after all. It’s only natural he’d be on her mind. For the kidnapping, and no other reason. Certainly nothing to do with flushed skin and pumping adrenaline and soft little noises and the buzzing potential energy of bodies pressed close in tight spaces. Those things wouldn’t make Rose think of Jack at all. Not even a little bit.

Not that such a thing would bother the Doctor. Because it wouldn’t.

***

The good news is, there’s plenty of good news: they’re able to locate a reservation for the proper hotel, thereby raising no eyebrows when the Doctor and Rose show up at the front desk requesting their room key, and like so many other sentient beings in the universe (really, he’s in good company), the desk clerk is fully taken in by the psychic paper, firmly believing that the Doctor and Rose are, in fact, Mr. and Mrs. Henri Flugenstaff; additionally, locating and breaking into the Pirates’ room is easy as rewiring a quantum rotor, and the rest of the hotel floor is blessedly empty when they do so, meaning no awkward encounters with nosy guests or suspicious staff.

The bad news is, once they enter the room, Jack’s captors (and more significantly, Jack) are nowhere to be found.

“Any idea where they went?” Rose asks.

“Not yet,” murmurs the Doctor, kneeling down to better inspect the faint traces of silvery powder on the carpet, almost invisible even to his keen eye. A reading from the sonic confirms his suspicions: the powder contains traces of Retro-Oganesson and Nihonium-3. Unmistakable evidence that the Time Pirates were here; no clues regarding where they went next.

“Might as well search the room for clues, right?” asks Rose.

“Right.” The Doctor sets the sonic against the carpet, following the path of silvery powder illuminated by the screwdriver’s ghostly blue glow. It guides him across the rug, around the bed, to the fireplace poking out from the wall opposite Rose. For her part, Rose is rifling through the items left behind on the writing-desk; given the general state of disarray of the desk, and the room, it’s clear that the Pirates left in a hurry, so there’s every chance they left something important behind. The Doctor takes just a second to appreciate the view, allowing himself a soft grin at Rose poking around for clues like a blonde little Sherlock Holmes.

“I hope he’s okay,” says Rose, peering beneath the inkwell.

The Doctor blinks. “Who?”

“Jack,” Rose replies, as if the answer is obvious.

The Doctor huffs. “He’s fine. Probably sliding out of their clutches as we speak.”

Laughing at that, Rose pulls open a desk-drawer. “Yeah, you’re right. He’s probably seducing his captors right about now.”

“You say that like it’s a good thing.”

“You say that like it’s not,” Rose laughs.

The Doctor grunts noncommittally, inspecting the inside of the fireplace.

“What was that?” asks Rose.

“Oh, nothing,” the Doctor hmphs. “Just, there it is again. Humans and romance.”

At that, Rose turns to face him, her eyebrow piqued. “And just what have you got against romance, anyway? Did romance offend you somehow, today?”

“It didn’t,” the Doctor lies cheerfully.

“There’s nothing wrong with liking any of that stuff, you know.”

“Oh, I’m aware.”

“Really? Cos it feels like you’re gonna launch into a lecture on silly apes and their silly feelings any minute now.”

“I never said feelings were silly.”

“You didn’t have to.”

The Doctor stops his search inside the fireplace so he can look at her. “Something on your mind, Rose?”

“No,” she replies stubbornly.

“Good,” says the Doctor, and he resumes his search.

“Just makes me glad Jack’ll be back soon.”

The Doctor’s nostrils flare and the tiny hairs on the back of his neck stand up on end as something hot slithers into the pit of his belly, smoldering there. “Don’t worry, we’ll find your boyfriend soon enough,” he replies, his voice tight.

“It’s just nice to have another human on the TARDIS, is all I mean,” Rose says, and the Doctor absolutely does not notice how she didn’t correct him on the boyfriend bit. “Cos you seem to think so much human stuff is stupid, and Jack doesn’t.”

“Oh, is Jack the gold standard now?”

“When it comes to feelings? Compared to you, yeah, he is.”

“Look, do you want to find him or not?” he asks, glaring at her. “Cos if you do, I’d advise more searching, less yammering.”

If the force of his glare affects Rose, she doesn’t show it. “Someone’s moody today,” she mutters before turning back to the desk.

“Not moody, just demonstrating a wide range of all those feelings you’re so fond of.”

“All the grumpy ones, maybe. And I’m not so fond of those.”

“And I suppose Jack’s never grumpy, then,” the Doctor says conversationally. “That it? No, not perfect Jack, of course not, never. Just the perfect blend of gentleman, boyfriend, and scoundrel, him. The ideal human mate!”

Rose shakes her head. “I’m sorry, the what-now?”

“It’s fine, Rose,” the Doctor says, forcing on a grin that’s surely strained. “You don’t need to explain yourself. You don’t owe me that. You don’t owe me anything. We’ll just find Jack, and then you two can run off and have your fun and your romance. All right?”

“Have my—what are you even talking about?” asks Rose, stalking up to him. “Where is all of this coming from?”

“Observation, mostly,” the Doctor says pleasantly.

“Right. I don’t know what you think you’ve observed, but—”

And suddenly both of them snap to attention at the sound of a key in the lock, the door-handle jiggling loudly in the quiet.

In the split-second that follows, the Doctor tries to think—run? Nowhere to run, they’re in a tiny hotel room; hide? But surely they’ve already been heard—but Rose’s brain must be working a little faster than his somehow, because before he’s even had a chance to react, she’s shoved him flat on the bed and she’s straddling him by the waist, ducking down to press a bruising kiss to his mouth.

The Doctor’s brain grinds to a halt.

She—they—she just—he—

He’s never had an experience where both of his hearts stopped for a good reason, before.

“Cleaning servi—oh, oh my!” gasps a voice by the door.

Rose sits back at the sound and through the fog currently short-circuiting his brain the Doctor manages to look over at the door, to see a middle-aged cleaning maid standing there, clutching her cleaning-cart and blushing furiously.

“Blimey!” she squeaks, shielding her eyes. “Begging your pardon, sir, ma’am, I thought you were out for the evening!”

“Not anymore, I’m afraid,” Rose laughs, which is just as well, because the Doctor is too busy reeling to find his voice (or even his thoughts) at the moment. At least his hands had enough sense to plant themselves on Rose’s waist so they’re not flailing about like a pair of nerve-addled bats.

“Still on the honeymoon,” Rose continues, flashing the maid a shy but winning grin. Her voice is just the littlest breathy and shaky and very convincing, so much so that even the Doctor could almost believe the two of them had just been—well.

“You know how it is,” Rose adds, coyly biting her lip.

“Aye, once upon a time I did, ma’am,” the maid chuckles. “I’ll see to it you’re not disturbed the rest of the evening.”

“Thanks,” Rose laughs breathily before pushing the Doctor back down on the bed, kissing him passionately as the maid closes the door behind her. Her lips part against his, warm and sweet and betraying just the slightest hint of moisture as—

As a loud click lets them know the door is locked once again, and then Rose immediately stops, breaking the kiss. Pulling back, she locks eyes with the Doctor, her cheeks almost as bright as the housekeeper’s. Several long seconds tick agonizingly by, marked only by the fluttering of Rose’s lashes, the gentle heaving of her chest.

Rose’s lips part, like she might say something (or like she might bend down and kiss him again, the Doctor almost hopes) but he must be looking at her with the universe’s most daft expression, mouth agape and eyes wide as saucers, because the next thing he knows, she’s lifting herself off of him, smoothing back her hair and resituating her dress.

The Doctor sits up after her, forcing himself to stop staring. What is he, some kind of idiot?

“Sorry,” Rose laughs, all traces of breathlessness gone.

“S’all right,” the Doctor’s mouth says for him; his brain is still catching up.

“Although you’ve got to admit,” Rose adds, resuming her investigation of the room as if absolutely nothing just happened, “as a diversion it was fairly effective.”

The Doctor scratches the back of his neck. “I’ve had worse.”

“And I’ve had better,” Rose teases, her tongue trapped between her teeth. “You’re a little rusty, Doctor.”

“Excuse me,” the Doctor huffs indignantly, “maybe I just need a little more advance notice than your average boy-toy.”

“Well, as an above-average boy-toy, I’m sure Jack would be happy to give you some pointers.”

And there it is again, that feeling of something hot sizzling in his chest. “And I’m sure he can go sod right off,” says the Doctor, surprising himself.

Rose shoots him a dirty look over her shoulder. “What’s gotten into you? What’s with this mood today, why are you so cross with Jack?”

“I’m not.”

“You are, you’ve been saying nasty little things about him all day.”

“I haven’t.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” says Rose, righting the frame of a crooked painting on the wall. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were acting jealous again.”

The hot feeling grows hotter. “I’ve got nothing to be jealous about,” insists the Doctor.

“’Course not,” mocks Rose. “Cos you’ve never gotten jealous about sharing me with another man, before.”

“Shouldn’t have to,” he mutters.

“What was that?”

“I said I shouldn’t have to,” the Doctor says loudly.

“What? Get jealous, or share me?”

The Doctor’s fists ball at his side. Either one, he doesn’t say.

“Whatever,” scoffs Rose, as if he’d gone ahead and spoken the words aloud. “Not like it makes any difference anyway.”

The hot feeling pulses in his chest and pounds in his ears and maybe it’s because of the kiss or maybe it’s because Rose already seems to have forgotten it or maybe it’s just because of this bloody damn day but that line in the sand is growing dangerously thin, all of a sudden, and before he gives himself the chance to think better of it, the Doctor is pushing off the bed and striding towards the door, grabbing a chair so he can wedge it beneath the door-handle before he stalks over to Rose.

“What?” she mocks. “Don’t want the maid to see us having a row? That too domestic for—”

The Doctor pins her to the wall, grasping her by the chin to pull her up for a punishing kiss. She gasps against his mouth and fuck, he wants to take advantage of that opening, he really does, wants to force her mouth open so his tongue can dart inside and really properly tease her, taste her, but he settles for prolonging the kiss, offering no quarter and no mercy until Rose has to pull back, panting for breath. She looks up at him with eyes wide from shock and—and gods, he hopes that’s not fear he sees, because that would kill him, it really would.

He doesn’t want to frighten her. He just wants her to see. Wants her to know.

But there’s still that goddamn line to preserve.

Drawing back a little, the Doctor braces himself with both hands against the wall, one on either side of Rose. “Tell me to stop,” he says quietly, even as he cages her in, even as every atom in his being is screaming for her.

Jaw set, defiant once again, Rose shakes her head No.

Oh. That’s not fear in her eyes. That’s not fear at all.

Relief washes the line away like the ocean at high tide and the Doctor lets himself fall.

He leans in and kisses her again, claiming her mouth with a fierceness that leaves no room for doubt. He might worry that he’s being too rough, too soon but Rose is giving as good as she gets, yanking him in by the lapels as she deepens the kiss. Her hands slip beneath his jacket to clutch him by the shoulders, her fingernails sharp even through the fabric of his jumper. His tongue brushes her plump lower lip and it’s a heady realization, that he can taste how much she wants this, how much she wants him. It’s enough to make him dizzy but he doesn’t stop, he wants more, his tongue plunging into her mouth, and the breathy little whimper that escapes her lets the Doctor know he was right—those delightful sounds Rose made earlier in the day were definitely due to arousal. And the sweet scent lingering in the air lets him know she’s wonderfully aroused right now, almost certainly wet with it.

Because of him. No one else. Just him.

Good.

Lips still on hers, the Doctor pulls up her skirts so both hands can sneak beneath, grabbing Rose by the hips and pulling her roughly into him. He has every intention of tearing off those ridiculous little knickers of hers but then she arches into him, her hands slipping beneath his jumper and nails dragging across his stomach and her chest pressed against his, and it’s all too much and it’s not nearly enough and his hips are grinding against hers as he hardens between them.

Dimly it occurs to the Doctor that Rose does not seem nearly as shocked by all of this as he might have imagined—indeed, he’s shocked himself with this pure impetuous driving animal need—and he wonders if, on some level, Rose maneuvered things to this conclusion.

Well. He smiles against her lips. Two can play that game.

He hitches one of her legs over his waist and thrusts into her, the friction and the heat almost unbearably delicious even despite all the layers in the way, and Rose must think so, too, because she’s panting against the Doctor’s mouth, her nails scratching lines of fire down his back. She lets out another strained whimper and fuck, he’s not going to last, not even with his trousers on, not if she keeps making those needy little noises while rutting against his cock like that.

So he repositions, wedging a thigh between hers to maintain the friction she needs while one hand travels up to palm one of the breasts that’s been positively fucking begging for his touch all day long. He can just feel the peak of her nipple through her corset and dress, stiffening sharply as he circles it with his thumb, and Rose bites down on his lower lip, sending a jolt of pleasure straight down to his cock. Rose reaches for his belt buckle but the Doctor stops her, grabbing her by the wrist and pinning it back to the wall.

“Not yet,” he growls softly. “Not until I say so.”

She’s glassy-eyed with surprise but he doesn’t give her an opportunity to respond, rips down the neckline of her dress instead so he can cup and tease her bare breasts with his free hand while his other holds her wrist tight against the wall. Rose breaks their kiss, eyes pinched tight in concentration as she rides his thigh, sweat beading and glistening on her breasts and her brow, and the Doctor realizes she’s about to climax, right here, right now, just like this.

Positively brimming with pride (and isn’t that a first, in this incarnation) the Doctor presses a kiss to her jaw, tracing a line up to her ear, lips ghosting the shell of it. “Come for me, Rose,” he murmurs, his voice as husky and deep as he’s ever heard it, and she shudders. He lifts his hand to cup her cheek, his thumb teasing her swollen lower lip. “Come for me, love.”

Her teeth graze his thumb as she bites down on the cry that tries to escape her, her arms shaking and hips stuttering, her legs clenching tight against his thigh. The Doctor can feel the aftershocks ripping through her and he holds her tight, relishing the movement and heat of her body against his, the knowledge that he’s the one doing this to her, that all of this is because of him. Not Jack, not Ricky, not Adam or Jimmy or any other stupid pretty boy who might be sharp enough to fall in love with Rose but could never be good enough to deserve her. Of course, neither is he, but he’s at least clever enough to recognize that, and to do everything he can to make up for it; he may not always have the right words but his mouth can still say what his voice can’t, offering praise along with his hands and his tongue and all of him, really.

Those little men will never see Rose the way he does. The Doctor almost pities them for it.

(Only almost.)

Panting, Rose pushes a strand of sweat-slicked hair out of her face. “You, erm,” she says between breaths, flashing the Doctor a lazy blissful smile. “You gonna let me touch you, now?”

He’s still got her wrist pinned to the wall. He lets go.

“Take off your clothes, please,” he tells her.

Biting her lip, Rose obeys, pushing her torn dress down over her hips, her eyes fixed on his. She wriggles the dress past her thighs to reveal those tiny knickers of hers, completely soaked through and now thoroughly ruined. The sight and smell of those ruined knickers ignites a small flame of male satisfaction the Doctor wasn’t even aware he possessed, something he might have wrinkled his nose at once upon a time, but now, watching Rose pop open the front of her corset, peeling off the knickers after—now he rather likes the feeling, knowing that he can make Rose feel like this, that she trusts him like this. That he’s earned her trust, and this privilege.

There’s only the faintest hint of shyness from Rose once she’s naked beneath the Doctor’s gaze, but it’s enough to make his hearts swell almost uncomfortably behind his ribs, so the Doctor dips down to press his mouth to hers, softly, to kiss any lingering doubt away.

“Good girl,” he murmurs afterward, and smiles as Rose’s cheeks and ears flush pink. “Now get on the bed.”

The moment she does, the Doctor grasps her by the hips and slides her bum to the edge, pinning her down against the mattress as he presses a hungry kiss to her mouth. Impatient, Rose pushes at his jacket and he shrugs out of it, but he doesn’t make any effort to remove the rest of his clothing, his hands gliding up the insides of her thighs instead. His fingers tease her until she’s wet again, gloriously wet and gasping and clinging to him as she fucks his hand. He dips down to kiss the expanse of neck and shoulder that were tormenting him earlier and stops beneath her ear, lips caressing the soft skin there.

For a brief moment, the Doctor just breathes her in, inebriating himself on the smell of her. Then he latches on, giving her skin a good hard suck. Rose cries out, thighs clenching around his hand. Drawing back, the Doctor can see the mark he left behind, petal-pink blossoming in the shape of his mouth, and it shocks him how much he likes to see that, the visual evidence that he’s claimed her, that she’s his. He wants to taste more of her, he thinks, let his mouth explore and lick and nip and tug until she’s begging for mercy—

“Doctor,” Rose pants, but with a start he realizes she isn’t begging, she’s demanding, hooking her legs around his waist and pulling him down, into her. She rolls her hips against his aching cock and all other thoughts and plans fly right out the window as he realizes he’s bound to spontaneously combust if he doesn’t give her exactly what she wants and fuck her right now. In a second his belt is unlatched and trousers and pants shoved out of the way and he’s pushing into her with one smooth slick thrust, groaning at the hot wet clench of her muscles around him. He draws back and pushes in again, and again, and again, brow knit tight and mouth falling open because it’s good, it’s too good, it’s too much, he’s losing himself, drowning in her, and dying never felt so sublime.

“You’re mine,” he gasps, surprising himself, but Rose doesn’t look surprised at all, she just nods, glassy-eyed and breathless as he fucks her. “You’re mine,” he says again, kissing her fiercely as his hands pull her hips into his, harder, faster, more.

She nods again.

“Say it.”

“I am, I’m yours,” she chokes out, clenching around him, and his grip on her tightens. He’s hurtling toward the edge, spurred on by her words and her heat and her everything else but now there’s guilt chiming in too, because what the fuck is wrong with him, why would he say that, why would he make her say that, why would he make her do any of this, why the fuck would he allow her to give herself to him when he’s nothing but a broken wretched old man, and she deserves so much more—

“Hey,” says Rose, and his thoughts must be written across his face because suddenly her hands are cupping his jaw, forcing him to look at her. “Don’t do that,” she says between gasps. “Don’t wander off. Stay with me. Be here with me.”

His lips part but Rose doesn’t let any words out, stoppers his mouth with hers. “Just let us have this,” she pants against his lips. “Please. Please. My Doctor.”

Something in him snaps and he buries his face in her neck, muffling his cries as he empties into her. His head floods pleasantly with bliss but he’s just coherent enough to slide a hand between them, urging Rose along. Rose follows soon after, muscles convulsing around him, nipples sharp even through his jumper, and the Doctor feels a twinge of regret that he didn’t finish undressing, that he isn’t feeling her skin properly sliding against his. Rose must be feeling the same way; even as her hips stutter and slow, she’s sliding her hands back beneath his jumper, exploring every expanse of skin she can reach.

The Doctor sighs with something that feels suspiciously like contentment.

“I am, you know,” he says quietly.

She doesn’t reply; he half-wonders if she’s already fallen asleep, somehow.

“Yours,” he adds, voice soft.

Rose’s arms tighten around him in a hug, her heart fluttering against both of his.

She doesn’t say anything. She doesn’t have to.

He knows.

***

Apparently Jack knows it, too.

“That dress didn’t tear itself,” the Doctor overhears him whispering to Rose after they sneak out of the Pirates’ ship. “Not to mention you smell like all the sex.”

“Oh my god, shut up,” Rose replies, laughing.

“I will not! Tell me everything!”

“If you don’t behave, I will hurt you.”

“Ooh, promise?”

“I will put you in time-out,” Rose amends, mouth twitching with the effort to hold back a smile, “and I will hide the sonic so that those,” she adds, pointing to the shackles clamped over both of his wrists, “never come off again.”

Jack shoots her a sly grin. “But then how would you two ever get to use them?”

The Doctor feels a flush creeping up the back of his neck as Rose’s eyes widen, her mouth dropping open. “Pervert!” she shrieks, and Jack crows in laughter as he takes off running down the road, Rose chasing after him. It’s a good thing they’re out in the country now—they’d wake up the neighborhood, shouting and laughing and carrying on like that in the city. But eventually they settle for huddling together, arm-in-arm, as they whisper and snicker all the way back to the TARDIS.

The Doctor maintains some space, trailing a little ways after, so the humans can have their fun and their—he smiles a little—their feelings. It’s actually nice, he thinks, seeing Rose so giddy and full of joy, seeing her laugh and smile like that, even with someone else. She’s far too bright and loving and big-hearted to be kept to one person, he realizes. She deserves to share herself with whomever she wishes, not to be hoarded like gold in the fist of a grumpy old miser. Rose deserves to love freely, and to be loved freely, in return.

(They’re definitely going to make use of those shackles, though.)

***

dedicated to @galiifreyrose @yellowsuedeshoes @saecookie @aintfraidanoghosts for being such wonderful terrible influences <3 <3 <3

#ficandchips #ninerose #ninexrose #nine x rose #nine/rose #pwp #lemons #lemons everywhere #XD #jealousy #jealous!doctor #mbb fic

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notdonesimpin · 4 years ago

Text

Best Part ~a.m.~

timeskip!atsumu miya x reader

warnings: none?? fluff.

synopsis: it’s the first time that you and atsumu can’t spend an anniversary together because of your tour and his volleyball career, yet somehow you managed to have a concert in the right city at the right time.

a/n: inspired from best part by daniel caesar feat H.E.R. lyrics are bold! hope you enjoy:)

“How’s everyone enjoying their night?” you ask, taking a sip of your water as the crowd goes wild.

You grin, looking over at Atsumu and a small group of his teammates as he gives you a wide smile and two thumbs up from the VIP section.

“I’m so glad that you’re all having fun, but sadly we’re on the last two songs.”

The crowd awes, matching the pout you were making as the band walked offstage and the crew came on to fix equipment and your guitarist sat on the steps with their acoustic.

“I know. I never want this night to end, either. Especially since this is the first night I’ve seen Atsumu in months,” you gesture to him as you continue talking, “That’s my boyfriend of three years that plays on Japan’s Olympic Volleyball Team. He’s here supporting me with some of his teammates, since we couldn’t spend our anniversary on vacation this year. On three, let’s all wish them luck tomorrow! One! Two! Three!”

The crowd erupts as they all bow and wave to give their thanks.

“Well, I guess I should get into the next song. This is actually a new one. I finished a few weeks ago, and my team is very upset with me for making them fit a new piece just for this concert, but that’s what you do for love, right? This one’s for you, Tsumu. It’s called Best Part.”

As the song played, the screen behind you flashed a montage of photos and short clips that your friends had taken of you both over the years.

You don't know, babe

When you hold me

And kiss me slowly

It's the sweetest thing

You quietly walked into your shared home with Atsumu, glancing down at the time. 1:23 AM.

Atsumu was definitely asleep since he had practice early in the morning. You walked through the kitchen, hearing the faint noises of the tv to see Atsumu fast asleep on the couch.

You smiled to yourself when you took out your phone, snapping a picture of him and making a mental note to change your lock screen later.

You squatted down to get eye level with him as you ran a hand through his hair softly. He grumbled and scrunched up his nose at the action.

“Tsumu, let’s get in our bed,” you softly spoke.

His eyes slowly opened and a lazy smile came across his face as his eyes met yours.

“Kiss first,” he requested.

You shook your head in amusement and leaned over to give him a soft kiss. He hummed in satisfaction.

“Were you waiting for me?” you asked as he got up and let you lead him to the bedroom.

“Bed’s cold without ya.”

Your heart warmed at his statement as he climbed into the bed and pats the spot beside him for you.

“I have to take a quick shower.”

He shakes his head, “Don’t care. C’mere.”

You sigh, knowing that he wouldn’t go back to auto until you were in his arms. “I’m only listening because you have to be up in a few hours,” you state as you get in beside him.

“Mhmm. Missed you, too,” he muttered as he wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you into his chest, giving you a soft kiss on your forehead before he quickly fell back to sleep.

You're the coffee that I need in the morning

You're my sunshine in the rain when it's pouring

Won't you give yourself to me

Give it all, oh

“Y/N! I got to pet a cute dog during my run today!” Atsumu yelled excitedly as he walked through the door and took off his shoes.

No response.

He shrugged it off, figuring that you were more than likely working in the office and writing for your album.

He opened the fridge, noticing that you hadn’t even eaten the breakfast he made for you before he left two hours ago. He sighed with a shake of his head as he pulled the plate out and stuck it in the microwave to warm up and refilled his water bottle.

He walked into the office with the plate in one hand and two drinks in the other. He laughed to himself at the scattered papers across the floor and the two empty coffee cups on your desk as he walked up behind you.

You paused when you saw the plate being set down in front of you. You pulled off your headphones as Atsumu gave you a kiss on the cheek. “You need to eat something, sweetheart. You’ve been in here for four hours without a break.”

“I’ll eat in a second. I really need to finish this song, Tsumu.”

You tried to push the plate out of your way but were met with a dissatisfied grunt as he sat on the futon across from you.

“You’ve been holed up in here for the majority of every day since I’ve gotten back. I think you’ve earned a break.”

You turn to face him, “I haven’t had any new ideas, so I put it off. Now, my manager is down my neck.”

“That doesn’t mean you can neglect your own health. You and I both know that you can’t write under pressure. First, you need to eat. Then, we can take a relaxing bath together. How does a trip to the beach sound?”

“Tsumu,” you started to protest.

He cut you off and said, “I don’t care what your manager said. I don’t like seeing you stressed, so you’re taking the day off, okay?”

You huff, quickly turning back to grab a piece of bacon. “Fine.”

“Do you always skip meals when I’m away?” he asked.

“I eat dinner at Osamu’s restaurant since he’d be worried about me if I didn't show up while you were away.”

“I’m going to start making you call me whenever you eat because you need the nutrition.”

It's the sunrise

And those brown eyes, yes

You're the one that I desire

When we wake up

And then we make love

It makes me feel so nice

“Atsumu,” you whined, “We have already had two rounds. How much more could you want?”

His hands continued to roam over your body as he held you close, giving you small kisses on your neck and shoulder blade. “If I had a choice, we wouldn’t leave this bed for another week.”

“Well, I have an interview today, so that’s not going to happen.”

He huffed, rolling on top of you and propping himself up on his forearms, “Can’t you just reschedule? I think our quality time is a lot more important.”

“Don’t you dare,” you warned him, knowing that he was going to pout

His eyes widened, “I haven’t even done anything!”

“You’re going to use those pretty eyes of yours to convince me to stay. I’ll have to call my manager and lie about you being sick and have all my fans become disappointed.”

Atsumu grinned as you spoke, knowing you were right. He leaned down and gave you a soft kiss. “So you’re saying that it won’t work?”

“It would a hundred percent work, so I’m telling you that this interview is very important to my career, so don’t you dare.”

He pouted, moving beside you to prop himself on his elbow and look at you. “This is my first day off in so long, and I can’t even spend it with you. Do you know how frustrating that is?”

“Do you realize who you’re asking?” You sat up on the edge of the bed, glancing over your shoulder at him as you continued, “Why don’t you come with me? You can take me on a date afterwards.”

His eyes narrowed as he watched you walk into the bathroom. “I’ll think about that date.”

“Tsumu! We haven’t gone on a date in so long! Don’t you want to see me all dressed up?”

He cheekily grinned at you, “Do you want my honest answer?”

You're my water when I'm stuck in the desert

You're the Tylenol I take when my head hurts

You're the sunshine on my life

Atsumu heavily sighed as he laid across the couch.

“Tough day?” you asked, walking out of the kitchen.

“Yeah. The extra training is wearing me out. How about you?”

“The company is still on my ass about the album even though we just finalized the release date.”

“If you want me to fight them for you, I will,” his voice was muffled since he shoved his face into the couch, but you heard him perfectly and let out a small laugh.

“I'll keep that in mind. Movie night?”

“Just wanna talk to you,” Tsumu hummed in response, tilting his body and opening his arms for you to lay beside him.

You laid down, facing him and let him pull you close as he nuzzled his face in the crook of your neck.

“Since we aren’t able to spend our anniversary together because of my tour and the olympics, I’m really trying to convince my team to get me a venue near you around the date.”

“Or you can just not go on tour and stay by my side the entire time,” Atsumu suggested.

“Or you can quit the National Volleyball Team and stay by my side the entire time,” you retorted, knowing he wouldn’t like the sound of that.

He grumbled, “You’re not allowed to have tours when I have games anymore. It’s not the same when you aren’t there.”

You softly laughed, bringing your hand up and running it through his hair. “I’ll consider it after you put a ring on my finger.”

I just wanna see how beautiful you are

You know that I see it

I know you're a star

Where you go I follow

No matter how far

If life is a movie

Then you're the best part, oh oh oh

You're the best part, oh oh oh

You motion for Atsumu to join you on stage and with the help of his teammates and the guards he successfully does.

You continue to sing as a soft smile is on his face and his arms are loosely around your waist.

You gently place your hand on his cheek, watching him melt into your touch as you finish up the song.

As soon as you finish singing, Atsumu moves the mic in your hand and gives you a quick kiss.

The crowd erupts in cheers as everyone is recording this sweet moment between the two of you.

He speaks into your ear, “That was beautiful, baby. I loved it.”

“You better have! It took me a month to write it!”

He laughs, pulling you closer to his chest, “You always amaze me at the most inconvenient times. I had a plan, you know?”

You pull back in confusion as he takes the mic away from you and begins speaking, “My Y/N, here, has given me such a great anniversary gift. I guess it’s only fair that I share my gift right now.”

He hands the mic back to you with a smirk on his face, digging his hand in his pockets.

He leans down, looking right into your eyes and speaking directly into the mic, “You’ll sing that at our wedding, right?”

“Atsumu, what-” Your eyes widen as he gets down on one knee and pulls out a black box, opening it to show the prettiest ring you’ve ever laid eyes on.

“Will you marry me?” Atsumu looks at you with a soft smile.

“Atsumu, this better not be a fucking joke. Are you serious, right now?”

He laughs and nods, “I’m so serious. Let’s start our future.”

For the first time, you can’t hear the crowd. You know they are screaming at you to say yes, but the only thing you can focus on is Atsumu in front of you.

It feels like the world is stopping so that you could share this moment. A moment that only lasts for a few minutes but will be remembered for a lifetime.

Lifetime? Atsumu wants to spend the rest of his life with you?

You’d never talked about the future with each other, since you both really like focusing on enjoying every moment that you do have together. It is comfortable that way. It is fun for you both.

If you were honest with yourself, you never thought Atsumu would even consider proposing until your lives had settled down a bit.

You nod as a few tears fall down your cheeks. “Yes! You fucking show off.”

He lightly laughs and puts the ring on you, standing up to give you a soft kiss.

“I love you,” he mutters against your lips as he laces your hands together, basking in the joyous feeling of knowing you’ll be by his side forever.

Best part

#atsumu miya #atsumu x reader #atsumu x you #atsumu miya x reader #atsumu miya x you #haikyuu!!#haikyu!!#hq #atsumu #miya x reader #hq masterfind

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shanie-the-toyaddict · 3 years ago

Note

I would like to hear your Zowens headcanons and I will in turn share a few of mine with you.

WHEEEEEE

Ok, so I posted a list a couple weeks back that contained most of mine but I have added a few more in here in the meantime.

So, combined from that list and the new one, here goes...

Headcanons behind cut.

it’s a fine line between love and hate and they’ve been tap dancing on that line for so long it’s been trampled to oblivion

Kevin likes to think he doesn't need Sami in his life and that he would be just fine without him. He especially likes to forcefully repress all memories of the time between Sami's call-up and his own when he was proven painfully wrong.

Sami is loyal to a bloody fault and it’s why he keeps coming back for more.

Kevin is a huge grump. He has always been a grump and he will always be a grump even when he's trying to be nice. The only time he isn’t a grump is when Sami manages to chip away at his shell long enough to let Kev’s heart pour out and, when it does, it only pours out onto Sami.

The exception to this rule is when his heart is pouring out about Sami which is what led to heartfelt promos about missing his best friend and regretting his life choices.

As mithen put it, “Unbridled Obsession”. Fight Forever is in reference to exclusively THEM. Nobody else has or will ever matter.

The sheer magnitude of cosmic OOMPH surrounding them… I once described them as “A yin and yang yo-yo, spinning around each other endlessly while oscillating back and forth between friend and foe and being controlled by the red string of fate.”

Kevin struggles endlessly with his feelings about Sami. His brain and his heart can never seem to agree on where they stand but, in the end, his heart always wins be it for better or worse.

Meanwhile, Sami figured this shit out ages ago and lives in eternal wait for his better half to get it together. This is, again, why he always comes back.

The reason Sami has it figured out was because, despite his better judgement, he fell in love with Kevin almost immediately and decided he would wait as long as it took for Kevin to come around. He's still waiting and, even with his recent turn for the crazy, there's a part of him that he's tried so damn hard to destroy (and failed) that's still waiting.

However, despite figuring out his own feelings and wanting Kevin to reciprocate, Sami is damn near clueless when it comes to receiving the signals from Kevin about it. When the day comes that Sami figures out that Kevin does indeed love him back it will have involved a bullhorn, three billboards, half a dozen hallmark cards, a shouting match, bite marks, a punch in the face, copious amounts of aggressive kissing, and possibly a marriage proposal.

If cheap motel rooms had mouths, our guys would have filed a TON of NDAs by this point. What happens on the road, stays on the road.

That said, if said walls did have mouths and word got out, both Sami and Kevin would claim it meant nothing and was just a product of too much free testosterone and adrenaline in a small space (with only one bed).

They would both be lying.

You always hurt the one you love. [gestures at that recent backstage photograph of Sami’s back]

“I Love You” has no meaning at this point. They’ve said it so many times it’s just part of the script. “J'taime” on the other hand...

The aggressive cheek kissing was a compromise with Vince that replaced Kevin's desired lip locking. Little does Vince know that lip locking is second on their list of "romantic gestures" and that touching foreheads is infinitely more intimate to them.

On a related note, It’s not biting it’s a possessive kiss with teeth and it's number three on the list.

Kevin, for all his grumpiness, looks like an angel while he sleeps.

Sami, meanwhile, looks like an idiot and Kevin finds it both endearing and hilarious and has a ton of photos on his phone which he’s assured Sami he’s deleted (but hasn’t).

The shared selfies we've seen of Happy!Keven and Confused!Sami are just a small sample of the ones he's taken. It's one of Kevin's favorite pastimes to snap photos of Sami off guard and it pisses Sami off to no end. (Kevin doesn't care, he still has them all saved multiple places on his phone and cloud storage, to prevent Sami from breaking into his phone and deleting them.)

Speaking of breaking into phones, they've both given up on device security between the two of them. It doesn't matter what they change their passwords or swipe-locks to, they know each other too damn well for it to work. They've just come to an agreement to respect each others stuff as much as possible.

"As much as possible" does not include refraining from going on each other's social media accounts and going on blocking sprees.

Kevin did indeed stun L*gan P*ul because he hurt Sami and would do so again a million times if he had the chance. Nobody does that to Sami Zayn.

Nobody except Kevin Owens, of course.

Both men have foul mouths but for Kevin, it’s just words. He weaves cuss words in and out of his sentences like friggin punctuation marks. The only time they mean anything is when he gets into the sacre.

Sami, meanwhile, tends to go more for exclamations. He doesn’t pepper his speech with swearwords but, when he’s excited, he’ll go for the biguns in a heartbeat (see his MFER cry over his IC Title Win)

Sami has a penchant for petnames and nicknames. He's been known to full-name Kevin when he's pissed and when he is most angry, he doesn't bother using a name at all. Meanwhile, When Kevin is feeling kind towards Sami, he has a similar thing going on but it usually just involves spewing insults (that may or may not be meant affectionately).

Re: Above - “Idiot (affectionate)”, “Shithead (romantic)”, “Dumbass (soulmate)” and so on.

Kevin Owens has learned to appreciate a good Gyro for the sole purpose that it’s about the only thing he can stand on the menu of the Greek Cafés Sami always used to drag him too.

Kevin is a burger addict. One of the easiest ways to gain his affection is gifting him with a perfectly cooked bacon cheesburger.

One time, one dark, DARK day, he let Sami get the food from the burger joint. He was horrified to discover (immediately, upon the first bite) that Sami had gotten him an impossible burger to try and convince him they tasted the same. Kevin was not happy at ALL and Sami was forced to clean up the mess in the car while Kevin went and got a real cheesburger.

One of the biggest reasons they have remained close for so long is that, long ago, they both decided that the car radio remains OFF. Anything else leads to screaming matches and possibly auto accidents.

If those ridiculous Hallmark movies my mom watches are correct and there is such a thing as a Godwink, then the Montreal Screwjob was God winking so damn hard he nearly blinded himself in one eye.

Kevin secretly loves both Sami’s long hair and his dancing but the world will end before he ever admits either.

Similarly, Sami finds it adorable how Kevin's beard is starting to turn grey but knows better than to say word one about it.

Both men are bi but Kevin is way, WAY more bi than Sami. Like, Sami is straight with a side of Kevinsexual. Kevin is much more… open in his attractions; his heart belongs to Sami but he has never been afraid to mess around with other men as well.

Due to Sami's otherwise straight nature, he's managed to do a really good job lately of convincing himself that he never cared about Kevin in the first place and that his hatred is well placed... you know, like a liar.

Kevin Owens Steen is too violent for his own good. Violence is his primary means of communication and it's how he expresses himself in all things. This is a big reason that he is so hurtful towards Sami, even when he is trying to help him. He doesn't know anything else. There is a reason so many of his kisses come with teeth (as mentioned above).

This is also why... um... er... in the times where they did hook up, Kevin was the one in control. He would never willingly let Sami pin him in the ring why the hell would he let Sami pin him... uh... elsewhere.

That said, if there were anyone who Kevin would be open to a change in position with, it would be Sami. As long as Sami knows full well who's driving the car, Kevin's up for relinquishing control of the radio for a night.

Overall, Kevin Owens and Sami Zayn are both the best and worst things to happen to each other. The best because, for better or for worse, they drive each other to put their all in everything. They bring out the star in each other time and time again and neither one of them would have ever made it to the stage without the other.

They are the worst thing to happen to each other because... well, have you MET them? Enough said.

Sorry this list is so long. I have a ton of thoughts about these two and if I don't wrap this up now, the list will only get longer.

#Zowens #Headcanons

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venusofthehardsells · 4 years ago

Text

Dreamgirl [part 5]

BuckyxReader

[part 4]

Summary: Bucky tries to adjust to his new life in the Avengers compound. One day he meets a girl who might be everything he needs in order to move on, but is his past really that far away? Warnings for this chapter: self-hate, fluff wtf, brief threat?... (general series warnings include noncon, violence, mental illness, feels probably) A/N: Yes, hello, I am still alive even if it doesn’t always seem that way. So here we are again, another chapter of a story I bet y’all keep thinking I’ve abandoned. But I will keep on squeezing out updates every once in a while until this fic is done or so help me god I will relay it via ouija board to someone who can publish it for me, is that clear?

All the pent up tension and fear seep out of his body at the sight of her face.

"Mornin' doll," he answers and just like that, Bucky's morning has turned on its axis.

"You're up early," she comments sweetly, tilting her head a little. "I'm opening now if you wanna come in."

It's a normal thing for her to say as a retail worker, but there's something about the way she says it that makes her words of welcome feel personal and warm and only meant for him. She would never say them to anyone else.

"Yeah, I'd like that," he says a little out of breath and the sun has got nothing on her smile then. Feeling as though his stomach is full of butterflies, he follows her inside the empty coffee shop. Relax, it's just coffee, you idiot, he chastises himself, but it's no use. He's almost giddy with excitement now that she's so close. Her faint floral perfume might as well be dragging him along after her as she goes to stand behind the counter.

"What would you like?," she asks, turning to look at him so that the light catches in her little dangly earrings. They send shiny squares of light all over the floor and walls. One of them settles on Bucky's shoulder and her eyes land on it almost lovingly before trailing back up to his face. The look makes Bucky’s legs feel like a pair of cooked spaghetti, but he smiles as he leans on the counter.

“I’ll have some more of that great coffee you made me yesterday, please,” he says without taking his eyes off her, deliberately letting his gaze rest on her face, her hands, her figure when she walks the five small steps from the till to the huge industrial coffee maker by the wall. For a moment he wonders how it can be so enticing watching someone move, but he soon realises he doesn’t really care. He allows himself to get lost in the image of her in front of him, reaching out to take the note he hands her, her fingers elegantly plucking the change from their little compartments in the till’s drawer before placing the coins in the palm of his hand as if they’re some delicate treasure she wants him to keep safe for her.

"You sure you don't want anything to sweeten it?," she asks as she pours the coffee into a cup on the counter between them.

Bucky can't help but chuckle. She as good as serves him the antiquated pick-up line that falls from his lips like a breath before he can even think to stop it.

"Don't need it when I've got you, sugar."

The moment the words are in the air, he wants to swallow them back down. A line like that was already corny in the 30’s, how stupid will it seem to her now? His heart is already so far down his gut he thinks it’s about to wither, when the unimaginable happens. She laughs.

And it’s neither scornful nor condescending. It’s sweet. Genuine.

“If I had a dime for every time someone said something like that to me, I would’ve stopped working here a long time ago,” she chuckles and leans on her elbows on the counter, looking up at him through her lashes. “And then I wouldn’t have been here to hear you say it. You’re the first person I’ve met who’s been so…” She drags her bottom lip in between her teeth while she chooses her words and Bucky has to swallow. It’s simultaneously hot and endearing the way it makes her smile crinkle into a mischievous grin.

“So what?,” he challenges with a confident smirk to try and hide how perfectly not confident he feels right now.

“So infuriatingly charming.”

“I don’t want to presume anything, sugar, but… that sounded an awful lot like a compliment?”

The only reason he doesn’t pull away and out of her personal sphere is because she’s still smiling at him and in the mercifully empty coffee shop, his hearing clearly picks up that her heart-rate is so fast it rivals his own. She’s just as nervous as him, if not more.

“Oh, it most definitely was.”

She’s closer now, or maybe it’s him, but he can feel the heat of her skin and her breath on his cheek as the distance between them dwindles. The sound of his heart stops when she tilts her head just enough and her eyes, those enthralling, beautiful eyes of hers flit down to his lips and he knows he’s done it, he’s got her, all he has to do is lean in the rest of the way and close the still shrinking distance between them…

The jingling of the bell above the door cuts through the moment and jolts her away from him. In one fluid movement, her attention is on the two newly arrived customers and her smile stretches into the overly intense customer service mask of false enthusiasm Bucky sees on so many retail workers' faces and her voice when she greets them rises half an octave to match. It's like watching a shapeshifter.

Bucky steps back and lets her work, taking a sip of his coffee. His heart is still pounding in his chest.

He almost kissed her.

The realisation hits him belatedly as another slurp of scalding liquid runs down his throat. It's the 21st century and Bucky Barnes is still capable of wooing a woman. That's a triumph if ever he saw one. If only those idiots (he can't help but think of the two customers that way) hadn't come in, his tongue would be in her mouth right now.

As much as the thought of kissing her thrills him - and it does thrill him to the point of breathlessness - it also fills him with a bitter sense of regret. Because he's not going to be that stupid. He can't do that to her, can't let her get that close no matter how badly he wants her to.

Just like that, his stomach ties into a hard knot when it hits him how selfish he has been.

She's beautiful, radiant even in her uniform shirt and flat practical shoes as her hands fly through the motions of making whatever it was the couple ordered, yellow nail polish hearts blurring at the tips of her deft fingers. Despite her strained auto-smile, she seems… well, maybe not happy, but at the very least content beneath the efficient exterior. Bucky imagines how easily he could turn her almost-happiness into regret and disappointment by just being with her. His nightmares alone would be a deal-breaker to a lot of people, he's sure of that, never mind his mood swings, his melancholia, the trouble he has mentally adjusting to almost everything around him all the time…

He manages to stop himself before his face falls and reveals the shift in his demeanour.

He should just go now while her head is turned and not come back. Find another coffee shop to supply his morning runs and hope he never sees her again.

"Your loss, soldier," the Asset smirks in his reflection on the glass-clad counter. He's not wearing the mask this time, but Bucky almost wishes he did. "Guess I'll just have to take care of her for both of us."

Bucky barely manages to contain a snarl.

I swear if you touch her it'll be the last thing you ever do.

The Asset bares his teeth in a vicious grin. Bucky's stomach rolls seeing his own almost-face like that.

"Try and stop me."

Bucky blinks and the Asset is gone from his reflection. The next thing he knows, she is turning back towards him, eyes bright, sweet smile at her lips… and the Asset's silver metal fingers around her throat. They squeeze, just like in his nightmare, digging into her flesh.

No!

He reaches out blind with panic so fast he almost stumbles. If he has to pry that cursed hand off her, so be it.

But Bucky's fingers never close around the Asset's. Instead, his palm is met by the softness of her neck, his fingers by the feeling of her hair and the pad of his thumb with a tickle of her earring.

"James?..."

The look she gives him is a whirl of surprise, wonder, hesitation, hope…

Bucky doesn't know what he's doing until he's leaning forward and pressing his lips to hers and then there's no going back. He hasn’t kissed a girl in god only knows how many years, but it feels even better than he remembers. Every muscle in his body nearly sags in relief and at the same time, he’s sure he’s as hard strung as a high wire. He softly brushes his thumb along her jaw and she sighs, leans into his touch and into the kiss, tentatively moving her lips a little against his.

He knows he should stop this, but he can’t. He doesn’t want to.

All he wants is to stand there all day with her, shamelessly indulging in the feeling of her mouth and her skin, and in her scent of flowers and coffee, just reveling in the warmth of having another human being so intimately close.

She nibs ever so softly at the pillow of his bottom lip and he's sure his heart stops for a full ten seconds. He feels the small motion in the entirety of his body, in every vein and crevice, until he's sure the kiss has made him so soft he can't stand up straight anymore. He wants to mold himself to her and he would have pulled her close to him if it weren't for the counter between them.

When at last she breaks away to draw in a trembling breath, her eyes are still closed and her slightly parted lips slowly spread in a hazy smile.

“Wha-...” She’s breathless. Breathless and smiling and the the most beautiful creature Bucky has ever seen. “What was that?”

He did that to her. Despite his mind shouting at ten different octaves of chaos, he can’t help the smug little shrug as his face breaks into a happy grin too.

“Persuasive, I hope.”

The husky confidence in his voice is completely at odds with the struggle raging inside his head, but he manages to keep it from bleeding through and she doesn’t notice, he thinks.

"Oh, very," she sighs, not taking her eyes off him. "If… if you want to make sure though, I, uh, have a break at twelve."

She licks her lips nervously and Bucky can feel the heat coming off her face. It's taking all of his willpower and then some to not immediately lean in for another lasting kiss. His mouth is already forming the word, yes, when his messily giddy mind catches up to him.

Friday noon is a perpetually occupied space in his relatively empty calendar.

He wants to punch something. The mandatory therapy sessions were the last thing on his mind up until this very second.

"'m so sorry, sugar, twelve's a bad time for me. But, uhm…," he hurriedly babbles when her face falls just the tiniest bit. "Maybe I could pick you up when your shift ends? If… if it's not too sudden or-"

"James, I think we passed the point of "too sudden" when you kissed me like that."

He blushes hotly all the way down his neck, but she's thankfully just as flustered and it makes him feel oddly light.

"Like what?"

"Like in a movie," she answers quietly, looking down with a little embarrassed chuckle.

“That’s one hell of a compliment,” Bucky smirks, softly running a finger down the bare stretch of her soft forearm. “Kinda wanna makes a guy try again. If it’s wanted.” She looks down at his fingers and he can hear her breath hitch, clear and sweet as a silver bell to his ears.

“It’s wanted,” she almost whispers, meeting his eyes again. She’s all nerves for a second, but then she smiles, emboldened perhaps by the way he’s looking at her. Because Bucky’s sure he’s doing a very poor job of hiding the pure adoration in his gaze. “And I get off at five.”

She lets him intertwine their fingers and, lightheaded as he is, he lifts their joined hands and kisses her knuckles.

"Five it is, sugar."

She beams at him and his stomach does a somersault when he realises what he's just done: he’s just gotten himself a date. The exact opposite of leaving her alone and blissfully unaware of the dark mess that he is. It would be the right thing to do and he knows it, but if he’s honest with himself, he doesn’t want to. He wants to see her again. He wants to kiss her again. He wants to do so much more than that.

His cock twitches at the untimely image his mind conjures then of her straddling him at the hips, both of them naked as the day they were born and he swallows hard, clenching his teeth behind his smile to try and focus on her very clothed form in front of him, but it doesn’t help at all. He wants her too much.

Hell, if he had it his way, they would lock the door now and he would take her right there on the counter and then on every one of the tables, then against the walls, on the floor, on whatever surface stable enough really and the very visual thought alone is enough to have his face burning.

How is it possible to simultaneously want to put his arms around her and keep her close and tell her how beautiful she is but at the same time want to thoroughly fuck her until neither of them can remember their names anymore?

"I'll see you then." The breathy quality in her reply makes him wonder how his name would sound on her lips if she was moaning it and he knows he really needs to leave. Even though letting go of her warm, pretty hand is about the last thing he wants to.

He sends her one last confident smirk and turns to go, but her voice makes him stop.

"James, wait!"

Bucky almost swirls in place and he sees her grabbing a pen from somewhere below the till. She quickly scribbles something down on a piece of receipt paper and hands it to him.

She only shyly meets his eyes.

"Just in case," she says with a nervous shrug and he stares down at the little slip.

It's her phone number, followed by one word in quotations.

'Sugar'.

When he looks up at her again she leans close and places a quick kiss on his cheek.

Bucky doesn't remember running back to the compound, but this isn't a blackout in the blink of an eye like yesterday was.

It's the feeling of floating.

[TRANSMISSION]

ORION: STATUS. ALHABOR: SAFEWORDS SUCCESSFULLY TESTED. ASSET SUSPECTS NOTHING. ORION: INFORM ME OF ANY AND ALL PROGRESS. ALHABOR: UNDERSTOOD. ORION: HAIL HYDRA ALHABOR: HAIL HYDRA

Tags will be added in reblog ~

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #marvel fanfic #bucky barnes #i'm sorry this is so fluffy i do not control the flow of this anymore #i know where i'm going not how i'm getting there

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ks-caster · 4 years ago

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Beth Liveblogs Black Widow

Bought that premium access on Disney+ so I can have the privilege of pausing for snacks and using subtitles as needed - so let’s go!

Beth’s Spoiler-Free Review: Overall I thoroughly enjoyed the movie - the plot was compelling, the characters were likable, and the stunts were really excellent. I felt like hair and makeup dropped the ball on realism multiple times which I was sad about, because how she looks seems to be pretty important to Nat so I expected it to be done well in her movie.

I did not like the way they framed the tail end (denouement - obviously because this movie is mid-series we know how it ends to an extent) - I felt like the connect-up to Infinity War was lackluster, especially compared to how enjoyable and dynamic the rest of the film was.

Spoilery live-reactions are under the cut. Click at own risk! Feel free to rebagel with your own impressions, thoughts, jokes and rebuttals!

The movie begins with a young Nat with blue dyed hair and visible roots, showing her natural red. Do you know how hard it is to get natural red out of hair, enough to make it blue and not green? And I’m supposed to believe that a middle-school age girl in 1995 Ohio had access to these chemicals? I’ll give her the white hair in IW/Endgame because she’s an adult with a lot of experience as a spy altering her appearance. But as a child? In the 90s? While her family is apparently in hiding? Sus.

The scene with Alexei laying on the on the wing while Nat learns to fly? AMAZING stunts. Amazing. AND someone in an action movie is finally smart enough to shoot the tires.

Nice skills on young Nat, getting the gun. Since we know from Endgame that Nat’s father is named Ivan, we know that Alexei isn’t really her dad. She also refers to presumably the red room as going “back.” Was she lent out to these agents to legitimize their family?

-0-

Nice knife moves, Yelena - I love the hand switch.

Ooooh so she was being mind controlled and the red stuff freed her? Interesting.

-0-

Nat is in Norway - visit Thor! He’d love to have you. (I’m mixing up my timeline, aren’t I?)

Supplies Dude whose name I didn’t catch refers to the Avengers breakup as a divorce - I kinda love it. It’s accurate!

BUDAPEST omg are we finally going to get the story?? Are we??

Box dye? I’m supposed to believe she got all that red out of her hair with flippin’ Loreal? Really? And that toner isn’t even the color she ultimately went - it’s too yellow. Sus.

-0-

Oop, looks like Nat got caught up in Yelena’s desertion.

Do not give Nat your metal frisbee, robocop - she’s been around Steve long enough that she knows how to use it.

I laughed out loud when she did the string him up thing with the cables - literal spider move, I love it!

Mystery box is empty - classic bait and switch.

-0-

BUDAPEST - WE ARE IN BUDAPEST - IT’S HAPPENING PEOPLE

Nat closing the door behind her is a small thing but I appreciate it - no sneaking up behind her.

When Yelena throws Nat in the kitchen and her feet hit the door and she spins before she hits the ground? That was a helluva stunt.

Oooooh honey. No body left to check is ALWAYS movie code for they lived.

Dreykov’s daughter? Another hint from Avengers 2012? C’mon, movie.

Riding the chimney down? Another incredible stunt.

Dreykov can scan his soldiers’ bodies and terminate them if they’re too damaged to keep fighting? Big yikes. With Nat where she is character development wise, the stakes are now much higher because if she injures an opponent they may be killed remotely.

“Do you want me to chase him down and un-steal it?”

The car door under the bike was an excellent stunt - as was the car going into the subway. Though I’ve never seen a subway entrance big enough to admit a car.

Who hasn’t wanted to slide down the middle to avoid the crowded escalators lol.

Yelena making fun of Nat’s sexy poses I am LIVING omg.

Running water for wounds. RUNNING WATER. NOT ALCOHOL. The vodka goes on the INSIDE for the pain - the running water cleans the OUTSIDE. If there’s a convenience store then there’s a bathroom, with running water. Cleansing with something like alcohol is a LAST RESORT and you do not look like you’re at that point resource-wise. I thought these ladies were supposed to be highly trained in all of the things?

“Could be fun though.” “I saw where he put the keys” “Top drawer green cabinet.” I love their chaos.

Yelena’s vest and its pockets and the resulting conversation are positively majestic.

“You are sensitive.” “You’re a very annoying person.”

-0-

Do! Not! Move! Around! Like! That! While! Getting! A! Tattoo!!!! That poor artist was trying his best and Alexei just...

Ooooh was Red Guardian like Captain Russia? Interesting.

“Just don’t make a scene.” “You made a scene didn’t you.”

David Harbor running up that wall and then wiping out after the guard shocks him... I really loved that stunt, especially since they don’t show him being all super cut - he’s a big guy! He’s allowed to have fat over his muscles and still be a strong dude! I love it.

“Such a poser.” Girl, you need to meet Loki - he does a lot of hair flips too lol.

The sibling energy between the girls during the rescue!!!

“Whooooooa... this would be a cool way to die.” Yelena, I’m not necessarily disagreeing with you but get your head in the game girl.

Poor Alexei - he never gets to do the dramatic escape from *inside* of the aircraft.

Hang on, no ovaries? So all of these women are now in immediate, surgically-induced menopause? The uterus part makes sense if the intent was to prevent them from getting pregnant if they have sex during a mission, but, what, they gotta be on estrogen supplements for the rest of their lives? That’s just really poor planning. Like it was hilarious the way Yelena went into the biology of it to make Alexei uncomfortable, but that really doesn’t make sense to do to your superhero kids. It’s just bad science.

Love that Yelena keeps her vest even after she changes into her matching white flight suit. That vest better make it to the end of the movie.

-0-

“Honey, we’re home.” I 100% expected her to shoot him on sight tbh. it would have been funny.

Alexei squeezing into the uniform is such a post-pandemic feel. Also all of the fancy braids at that table; I see where Natasha got her propensity for them.

Animal cruelty warning, ugh. Poor piggy Alexei.

Oooh the photo album and Natasha remembered staging the pictures; they’re emotional for her but in a different way.

I wonder if robocop’s shield is actually Alexei’s.

The singing between Alexei and Yelena was a really beautiful moment because it was neither auto-tuned-good nor hilariously bad - it felt really real, especially the way Yelena’s so choked up she can barely make sounds come out.

Uh-oh, mama has one of those monitor your vitals and kill your ass suits. The suits I understand - the eyeliner though... when and why did she do her makeup?? That’s not really the thing that comes to mind for me when I’m getting ready to do something athletic, like say kidnapping my supersoldier fake family.

“This is a much less cool way to die.” Also WTF why would they do that. Wouldn’t it be easier to get the information out of her while her brain is still attached to, y’know, her mouth??

CLEVER CLEVER CLEVER they switched outfits and faces ooooooh like mother like daughter.

The door opening as Alexei is leaning against it dramatically bahahahaha

I love the plan. I’m thoroughly weirded out that Melina has a red wig just lying around that perfectly immitates Natasha though.

“Yelena, it’s mama. You have a two-inch blade in your belt.”

Oh. My. God.

Antonia.

A pheromone lock preventing them from hurting them if they’re close enough to smell him - I like it. It’s clever and new.

Bahahaha poser! You posed I saw you! Still love the vest.

Natasha is really good at manipulating people’s emotions to get what she wants - I mean, scary good. So if she’s provoking Dreykov into beating her up, there’s a reason.

“Using the only resource the world has too much of - girls.” Kill him.

-0-

When I say I whooped out loud... SEVERING THE NERVE. Thank you for your cooperation. YAAAAAAS QUEEN.

-0-

“Slight change of plans - we are going into a controlled crash.” The way she said that was just so mom-like omg!

-0-

The grenade as a delivery system was super smart - but yikes what if she’d mistimed it and blew Natasha up? Also, after the beating she took and how hard she had to wack her own face into the desk to sever her olfactory nerve and the amout of blood we saw her leave behind from doing that, her face should be a LOT more messed up, come on makeup department.

“Get as far away from here as possible.” And then keep going because General I-Collect-Supersoldiers-Like-Stamps Ross is about to turn up at your location looking for trouble and he’d snap you ladies up like there’s a fire sale and you’re going out of stock.

This crash doesn’t look all that controlled, Melina. I’m starting to suspect that most of the widows won’t live long enough to make their own decisions...

All of the aerial stunts were amaaaaaazing - the way Nat slowed herself by sliding down the panels so Antonia could catch up with her and she could deploy her parachute...

The vest survived the movie!!!

Fuuuuuck Ross is showing up and he sucks and I hate him and I’m super worried that he’s gonna take the vest from Nat if he takes her into custody. Please don’t let her lose the vest.

Okay, there is now zero reason for Nat to stay behind. They have an aircraft. She had plenty of time to just board it and leave?

-0-

Okay okay okay Ross did not get her and did not take the vest. But am I supposed to believe she bleached her hair, toned it blonde, and then re-bleached and re-toned it to silver? Who does that? That would be terrible for her hair. Her scalp would be burned all to hell from the amount of chemicals needed to not only get all that red out but THEN get the blonde toner out. Y’know what color silver toner is? Blue/purple. Y’know what happens when you mix that with yellow? Green. And not a nice green either (I speak from experience). No. Her hair at the end of the movie? Cancelled.

-0-

SHE GOT THE DOG!!!

Oh, ouch. Big ouch. I hurt like a lot now. This is so not an okay way to end the -

...

Countess I-Forgot-Your-Name-Already?

Oh no. Oh no. That’s worse. That’s a lot worse. We are now setting up the Hawkeye series and I while I’m horrified that this was how they ended the film, I gotta say that’s going to make for some wonderful angst in that series on both Clint and Yelena’s parts and I am here for it!

OVERALL IMPRESSION

I really, really enjoyed this movie, I thought the story was compelling, the stunts were really excellent, and I liked the character dynamics and the twist

I did not like the ending - it just sort of fell off quickly and didn’t feel satisfying after an otherwise really fun movie. I also take issue with the hair and makeup as shown among the characters, as seen in my several rants to that effect.

I would have liked to have seen a few more childhood/training flashbacks, and absolutely would have loved a cameo from Jeremy Renner (not just his voice) and to see him and Nat meeting and him giving her the whole dad speech that he does so well - bonus points if she could have then quoted him to Yelena or Antonia, showing the way that multiple people had a formative effect on her (an answer to the “The Avengers aren’t really your family either” comment).

#BlackWidowSpoilers #Black Widow Spoilers #Beth Liveblogs Black Widow

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sillyluchadoradventures · 4 years ago

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One time Monster Clown found text dictation. It was not a good time for anyone.

*Read at 5x normal speed*

Group text to Los Psycho Circus: Pull off the road abuela who taught you to drive a blind person how can you still be alive I need to pass you on the left I cannot even oh hey guys I’m trying out this text dictation thing I think it will help me focus on my driving and help me be more efficient and all that but seriously we need to talk about He Whose Facepaint Must Not Be Marred people are starting to talk about him on the internet again and I’m looking at you Psycho have you been telling people about He Who Is Not Dave because I know Murder isn’t this crazy let’s be real it has to be you and we all know what happened last time I thought Tirantes was actually going to start spitting blood and it took us a month to even find Mini-Psycho let alone work through the mental trauma so guys we need to be on the same page about this no more discussing The One True Clown until the End Times have come we have talked about this—

Text from Psycho Clown: I didn’t get all that but are we talking about Dave now?

Text from Murder Clown: No! No one talks about The Fearsome One! Psycho how could you?

Text from Psycho Clown: But but sometimes I just get so bored. Pagano only wants to hang out with Pentagón Jr now and sin payaso no hay fiesta papa . . .

Text from Murder Clown: Psycho, please make more friends. Monster, never text us this way again. I hope you haven’t texted anyone else yet. Especially as you talked so fast the phone couldn’t pick up your punctuation

Text from Monster Clown: Murder what are you talking about of course I have texted other people and today even what are you saying that I am not a man of many friends and colleagues I speak to many during the day and at a perfectly normal pace what are you insinuating my punctuation is fine and I even modulate my tone of voice at perfectly reasonable moments

Text from Murder Clown: Technology has risen up against you

—————————————————--

Text to Pagano: Hey so I just got an email from on high and there’s some concern about dress code or something so they say we can’t stand next to each other at the meet and greet later today which I think is bullshit because we are the tallest dudes there if Murder doesn’t come and otherwise we’re going to be stuck in between Drago and TeenyVikingo and look like sunflowers in a patch of peas and it’s not like we dress that weirdly I mean I kinda like your salmon jacket I think its pretty snazzy where did you even get it I was thinking about incorporating salmon elements into my next clown outfit maybe a salmon tie or neck frill but hey I’ve got a call coming in so see you this afternoon—

Text from Pagano: Dibs on not standing next to TeenyVikingo

—————————————————--

Text to Aerostar: Hey little guy just checking in to see if they ok’d the final elements on the lucha de apuestas match next week and wanted to thank you for all the hard work and say that I really enjoyed working with you it was a stretch to fight someone of your high-flying talents and I’m glad for the opportunity to grow and also man it was hysterical when you convinced Drago he was going grey on the back of his head I mean he totally is but just the sheer panic on his face was worth the fifteen minutes it took to convince him he’s getting old and yeah he’s only like a year older than me but I have embraced the grey and it is time he does so as well even though he’s not really slowing down much it’s kind of amazing actually how does he still move that fast when he’s like pushing 50 but anyways just wanted to check in and say thanks and I’m looking forward to the culmination of our epic battles next week ok bye—

Text from Aerostar: Heyyy. Uh, glad to be working with you too, big guy. But I think you’ve got auto dictation on. Did you know you sent me all that?

Text from Aerostar: Also just a heads up Drago read the text over my shoulder and I totally played dumb so he took a big drink of that colored water shit and is heading for you so uh, if you don’t want to be misted I’d take cover.

Text from Aerostar: He may also have a bulldozer.

——————————————--

Text to Mama Monster Clown: Hola Mamá I’m just letting you know I’m out of the lucha I know I said I’d call but my carrier keeps dropping me so let’s hope the text works how is your knee did the surgery go well I hope that the recovery time is quick and also that your neighbors stop letting their dogs shit in your yard remind them your son is a chungus luchador and will fight them if need be love your son—

Text from Mama Monster Clown: Ah my son it has been so long since I have heard from you I was starting to think you had died during a show and they just cut it out or something but your father said I was being dramatic again but I told him no I know my boy and he’d never make his mother wait if he died he would come back and let me know but I suppose a text is good enough my knee is still healing but God be praised it will be better soon and don’t worry about the dogs your father took care of them with a shovel the neighborhood council is a bit upset with us now but that’s ok because we have two shovels and the arms to swing them!

Drago’s face when he saw the text message

#monster clown #murder clown #psycho clown #aerostar #drago #pagano #irresponsible texting #Lucha Libre AAA #Asistencia Asesoría y Administración #Silly luchador adventures #Still all made up guys

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casbelieves · 4 years ago

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Still Breathing: Chapter 1 Preview

Destiel. Highschool!au turned Dean & Cas meeting again as adults in later chapters.

MA/Explicit; WIP; 97k words.; 24 Chapters. ANGST & SMUT.

I promise there will be a happy ending...

I abandoned this fic in 2016, but have since decided to finish it. New chapter coming out on 10/27/2020.

Read it here.

Castiel has only ever wanted a roof over his head and a meal three times a day, which is apparently hard to find. You’d think the system would at least make sure the families he's placed with can feed him, but foster care really isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. Yes, there are the do-gooders, and then there are some nasty families.

Once again, for the umpteenth time, Castiel finds himself being moved into another home that will probably either be too big or too small, with another family that will most likely hate him, and this time, it's in a little coastal town just a few minutes from San Francisco.

The neighborhood looks nice, but he isn't told anything that could actually be beneficial in estimating how things are going to be this time around. He could care less about what the houses look like; what he really wants to know is what happens once you get behind closed doors.

His social worker, Naomi, drives him down a manicured street that's lined with beautiful Colonial and Victorian homes. The neighborhood is probably one of the nicest he’s ever been in, let alone lived in, and he imagines the type of life he might have here.

The family probably goes on a vacation to Mexico every summer. Maybe the kids wear matching shirts to keep track of one another in crowded places. In all honesty, he doubts that this time will be any different than the last. He hasn’t even been with a foster parent for a while. For the last five months he’s been in a hospital. Well, more specifically, the mental ward located inside a hospital, but that’s not important, really. Everyone goes a little crazy from time to time, and he obviously isn’t an exception. It's not like he was locked up in a padded room or anything like that, either. It's just that he had to deal with some things first before entering society again.

Naomi pulls over and parks in front of a generously sized Victorian. The houses surrounding it are much smaller as it towers over the two homes on either side of its corner lot.

“Behave,” Naomi hisses in his ear. She straightens her blazer with flat palms, glaring angrily at him. “We don’t want a repeat of the past.”

“No promises,” He groans, sliding out of the car and slamming the door behind him. He enjoys the exasperated sigh Naomi makes as she walks away.

Lazily following a few feet behind her, Castiel gazes up at the Victorian as he falls beneath its massive shadow. He feels the energy from the cheery house pulling him towards it, like a positive force sucking in his negative energy. They reach the door and instantly Naomi's perfectly manicured fingers are smoothing out Castiel's shirt and adjusting his hair while he stands passively still. She checks her watch twice before ringing the bell. A couple answers the door; they don’t exactly match the picture he had in his head.

“Hello. I’m Ellen and this is my husband Bobby. You must be Castiel,” The woman smiles warmly. The man, Bobby, grunts and waves them in. “Come in!”

The couple wears nearly matching flannel shirts and worn blue jeans; the only difference between their outfits is Bobby’s slightly stained trucker’s hat that advertises an auto shop. They seem nice enough, but that’s how it always starts off. First, they're nice, making you believe they care, but the ugly truth almost always comes out. He’s had one or two truly exceptional foster parents; as for the rest, they can go straight to Hell.

Castiel takes a few steps into the foyer. Ellen gives him a small, encouraging smile. When he doesn’t smile back, she exchanges a glance with Bobby and leads them into the living room. They sit on a sturdy couch.

“He’s a runner; I just thought you should know that,” Naomi pats his knee, and he shifts away in disgust, as if her touch held some unknown contagion. “But Castiel always does excellent in his studies and he never fails to follow orders.”

He tunes her out, tired of hearing the speech about his nervous habits and medications and takes in his new surroundings. From the outside, he'd gotten the impression that the place would be furnished with old wallpaper and fainting couches, the occasional kerosene lamp sitting idly on a coffee table. Surprisingly, it feels much more laid-back. All the furniture is practical, and the walls are lined with photos of children. A few kids walk down the hall. One or two pop their heads in to see what's going on, but they don’t stick around.

A girl walks in and takes a seat beside him – far too close for his comfort. She smiles and leans back, looking him over. He wonders if she is another foster kid, or if she is adopted. She’s pretty, with green eyes and pink lips, and a sort of all-knowing twinkle in her eye.

He looks over at his social worker, wishing she’d disappear. She keeps looking at him like he’s going to steal something. For Christ’s sake, he’s going to live here, why the hell would he steal anything?

As if Naomi could read his thoughts, she stands and says her goodbyes before briskly walking out to her car. She’s probably off to move another miserable kid to another new home.

Castiel jumps at the touch of a warm hand on his shoulder and flips around to face whoever touched him. Ellen retracts her hand slowly and smiles at him in apology without saying a word.

“Sorry bud, I didn’t mean to scare you. Come on now, let’s give you a tour of the place,” Ellen moves forward and into the kitchen. “This is the kitchen. We have a chore list for all the kids; we'll add your name on next week. Usually we have each kid do at least one thing every day. That way you don’t get too lazy.”

She shows him all three floors, which means climbing quite a few stairs, and finally they reach his room on the third floor. It has a big bay window that looks out onto the street. One full bed is situated against a wall along with a side table. Across the room is a small wood dresser.

“You can move the furniture around if you want; you aren’t sharing a room. Normally, when we have a full house, each kid has a roommate. You got lucky.”

He tries his best to smile, “Thank you, Mrs. Singer.”

“Call me Ellen, please. Let me know if you need anything. Dinner is in an hour or so. I’m going to send a few kids up to help you out.”

With that said, she leaves. He likes her. It’s been awhile since he’s liked any of them. His last foster parent, Alastair, was a cruel man with wandering hands and a twisted mind. But in the past few years, Castiel has gotten used to handsy foster parents. That doesn’t mean he likes it; it just means that he's used to it. There's no point in trying to fight something that will never change.

Thinking back, he wasn’t always like this. There may have been a time when he would have fought back and stood up for himself, but not anymore. He isn’t that strong. He only prays for that kind of strength now.

“Need any help?”

The floors creak as the girl from the living room walks in.

He shakes his hea,. “I’m good. I don’t really have much stuff.”

“I’m Jo. Ellen is my mom.”

He lifts his suitcase onto his bed and opens it, “Is she your real mom?”

Jo nods and takes a seat at the end of the other bed. Castiel can feel her eyeballing his suitcase – his only suitcase. He looks her over from the corner of his eye. She doesn’t exactly look like a foster kid, that’s true. She looks normal, happy.

“That all you have?”

He shrugs. He can’t change the fact that he only has a few pairs of jeans, five t-shirts, and one photograph to his name. Jo stands and begins taking the clothes out of his suitcase and placing them in the dresser.

Jo closes the dresser and leans against it, “What’s your story?”

“Same old, same old. You've probably heard it all.”

“We haven’t had someone new in a year or so. All the kids we have here are either adopted or are in the process of being adopted by my mom and Bobby.”

“What grade are you?”

“I’m a senior this year. You?”

Castiel smiles slightly, “I’m going into eleventh.”

“You’ll love Pacific High,” Jo beams back and shifts her weight awkwardly when he doesn’t return the expression of enthusiasm. “C’mon, it’s time to eat. Mom doesn’t like it when the food gets cold.”

*****

Continue reading here.

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adrenalineguide · 3 years ago

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Jeep Wrangler Sport S and Mustang 2.3L Convertible: Two Fours for Summer Fun

Words and Photos By Michael Hozjan

No I’m not talking about cases of beer. I’m referring to the number of cylinders found under the hood of two American icons in the automotive landscape – the Jeep Wrangler and Mustang. Don’t scoff, four cylinders have been making a huge come back in recent years and no, these are not your grand dad’s four cylinders. Both the Jeep and the Mustang rely on turbocharging to get the extra oomph when needed all while delivering below average thirst numbers compared to their V6 and V8 counterparts. Let’s face it do we really need all that horsepower all the time and isn’t it nice to save some bucks at the pump.

Jeep Wrangler Sport: Back to its roots

“There’s something amiss here.” I tell myself as the engine comes to life. I hit the off button and check for the glow plug light, there isn’t one. For some reason the engine doesn’t sound the same, and yet there’s something eerily familiar about the sound. I mistakenly expected the Wrangler to be diesel powered, which it was not. The diesel mill is offered in the Gladiator that I was due to drive, but at a later date. Blame it on old age or just on my eagerness to get behind the wheel of one of my favorite rides.

Well one thing lead to another and another and before I knew it, it was several days later that I popped the hood to gaze upon the turbocharged inline 2.0L four cylinder. THAT’S what the sound was… somehow, the engineers at Jeep have managed to get the sound of the old familiar World War II era four cylinder Jeep into this modern, 80th anniversary edition Wrangler…or maybe it’s just me. One thing is certain, it doesn’t sound like the Wrangler I’ve been accustomed to.

Maybe it’s just coincidence, maybe it’s good corporate planning, with Jeep’s closest off-road capable rival, the Ford Bronco making its debut this year, Jeep has stepped up the ante, not only have they launched the Wrangler Xtreme Recon equipped with the first ever 35-inch rubber straight out of the factory, but are also offering a slew of powerplants to make any competitor nervous: beginning with this week’s tester, there’s the 2.0 L turbocharged four cylinder mated to the 8-speed TorqueFlite automatic, the trusty old 285 horsepower Pentastar 3.6L V6s remain and come with either a manual or automatic trans, there’s also a mild hybrid version mated to the 3.6L tagged the eTorque, a 3.0L EcoDiesel V6 with 442 lb-ft of torque and 260 horses and for the first time in four decades, the Wrangler gets a V8. Available exclusively (dare I say for the time being) in the Rubicon 392 trim, the 6.4L throws out 470 horses and the like amount of torque through the eight-speed TorqueFlite automatic transmission and Selec-Trac full-time active transfer case. It blasts the Rubicon 392 to 100 km/h in less than five seconds making it the quickest Wrangler in history!

Well it appears the Jeep has come full circle with their mills, reverting back to four cylinder power to move their off roaders about. But don’t think for a minute that these are the old WWII flatheads. No sir, and not one but two count them, two four cylinders are offered. Aside from my Snazzyberry Pearl colored 2.0L turbocharged tester which pumps out 270 horses and 295 lb-ft of torque, capable of towing 2,000 lbs (907 kilos), that’s 35 more lb-ft of torque than its V6 counterpart, there’s also an electrified four cylinder that adds an electric motor. The plug in hybrid 4xe delivers 375 horses! Stay tuned for more on this one.

Above and below: There’s nothing missing in the four that you wouldn’t find in the six.

If you’re a regular reader of my posts you’ll know that I do NOT check performance numbers or price tags before I get a feel for what the vehicle feels like. Does it feel like 300 horses, does it feel like 400 lb-ft of torque? I tend to reserve looking at the stats until after my first, second and third impression. That said, despite having 270 horses, it still seemed a bit anemic from my previous Wrangler encounters (with the V6). There’s a noticeable difference at half throttle when leaving a red light or stop sign, but that quickly disappears as you build up speed. Punch the go pedal however to wake up the turbo boost and grab on to the steering wheel. The torque kicks in and bites the tarmac like a banshee. Suddenly Jeeps decision to go with this combo makes perfect sense.

On the highway the four delivers smooth, linear power and actually feels better mated to the 8-speed automatic than the six. Passing semis or climbing grades isn’t a problem and while I didn’t get the chance to go off-roading I suspect that the added torque would be able to let this Wrangler do some serious climbing prowess without hesitation.

Of course one of the other main attributes is that the Wrangler can shed its top when the weather turns warm. With two tops available it still remains the only convertible SUV in the market.

Above: A hidden cubby hole under the trunk floor comes in handy

One of the Wrangler’s Achilles’ heals has always been it’s thirst for fuel. My best has usually been around 12L/100 kms even when feathering my foot. Well the 2.0L netted me a 9.75L/100 average, on top of which a $200 saving over the automatic trannied V6 makes getting into a Wrangler a lot easier. The Sport S starts at $45,465, my fully loaded tester came in at a substantial premium, which leads me to want to see this mill in the 2-door Wrangler variant with a manual transmission. Now that would truly be full circle. If you’ve always wanted a Wrangler but weren’t crazy about their fuel consumption Jeep has just given you several reasons why you should reconsider.

Price as tested: $62,030 *

*Includes excise tax and destination fees

Mustang 2.3L Convertible: Is this the best Mustang ever?

It’s a balmy July afternoon, the kind we wait all year long for and fantasize about from December through to March. I’m in the left lane of the 401 heading west, passing semi after semi. The sun is beaming down on me and I get to thinking how nice this thing would be for a cross-country run. Indeed it doesn’t get much better than this. There are so many semis it reminds me of the rocking chair scene in The Bandit, only I’m not driving a T-top black Firebird with a roaring V8 and Sheriff Buford T Justice chasing me, but a drop top Antimatter Blue (yes that’s the hue) Mustang with a turbocharged 2.3L four cylinder.

For decades Ford has been grappling with the notion of having both a high performance Mustang and an economy Mustang, and yes when it first debuted there were trims that encompassed both. But over the years that concept got lost with muscle cars taking the limelight. It wasn’t until the gas crisis of ’73 that the economy car resurrected itself in the Mustang II, but in the process lost the muscle slice of the pie.

Well guess what, the 2.3L fits both bills easily. Yes diehard muscle heads may pooh pooh the thought of another four cylinder in a Mustang but they have no idea what they’re missing out on.

Pillaged from the darling all-wheel-drive Ford, the Focus RS, the 2.3L mill has been turned longitudinally to fit into the pony car. Although Ford has given the Mustang a larger twin scroll turbo, there are 18 fewer horses pulling the pony car over the RS. Torque however has been retained.

With 310 horses and 350 lb-ft of torque on tap mated to an optional 10-speed automatic my tester galloped along without so much as missing a breadth. Thankfully Ford has retained the 6-speed manual. My unofficial timing showed zero to a hundred kilometers shot in at 4.6 seconds! I have to say that as sweet as the four cylinder is, the exhaust note just tries to hard and gets annoying after a while. It’s like look at me, look at me. Oh shut up! Thankfully there is a shut off switch.

My ‘stang came with the High Performance Package, a $6,500 option inherited from the Mustang GT, which meant stickier 19” Pirelli rubber over the base car’s 17” units, larger brake rotors with four piston calipers, stiffer springs, a beefier rear sway bar, strut tower brace, a larger rad, a 3.55:1 limited slip diff. In other words, all the right stuff to make this a serious tourer.

Above and below: Top up or top down the Mustang looks great. Front spoiler is part of the High Performance Package.

Another plus for the four-cylinder argument is better balanced shedding 147kilos (auto trans) off its front axle. The result is a crisper handling ride with a nominal amount of body roll, less nosedive under hard braking. Switching driving modes from Normal to Sport mode for attacking the lakeside twisties shows the car’s true potential with the engine’s responsiveness hitting the sweet spot over 2,500 rpm and the fun factor sans V8.

This would make an interesting track car.

Inside you get all the usual fan fare of goodies including cooling and heated power leather seats. The hi-po package adds an oil pressure and turbo boost gauge and engine spun aluminum instrument panel. Fit and finish is spot on with comfortable buckets making the drive that much more enjoyable.

Above: Despite what it looks like my 6’ frame spent several hours back there in a friend’s convert for a three-hour trip to the Syracuse Nationals a few years back without a single complaint.

Like the Jeep the Mustang doesn’t come cheap. While the base price is a very reasonable $43,370, my tester’s option list added another $11,800 to the price tag. Stepping up to the $6,500 high performance package is a no brainer, especially if you’re a serious driver, but while the 10-speed is perfectly matched to the engine and responds wonderfully to throttle inputs I’d go with the 6-speed manual and trim $1,750 off the tag. Other options included $1,000 AM/FM/CD/HD radio, $2,300 for adaptive cruise, voice activated touch screen navigation and the Ford Safe & Smart package.

In a move I just don’t understand is the spare tire/wheel has been relegated to option status! In its place is a compressor - just the ticket for a bent rim, blow out or flat in the middle of nowhere on a dark rainy night. Come on Ford!

Yes the Mustang buyer has a number of trims and powerplants to opt for all the way to the 100 grand Shelby GT500 but really, wouldn’t you rather have a car that hits all the right fun buttons without breaking the bank while still passing a gas station or two ( I averaged 10.7L/100 km). Oh and let’s not forget the savings on the insurance premium on the four cylinder So shrug the V8 monkey off your back and hit the road in a four.

Price as tested: $56,970*

*Includes destination charges

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