#Quietly working behind the scenes suits me just fine

[thateclecticbitch]

If everyone's tweeting and everyone is marching and everyone is is an activist and everyone is fighting in the revolution... then who's doing the dishes?

posting this over here too!

[foli-vora]

run to you: chapter seven

marcus pike x f!reader

A/N: This has been such a long time coming, and I want to thank you for being so patient and still loving this story despite the time since its last update. Your frequent comments, asks & dm's regarding RTY have honestly pushed me and motivated me to sit in front of my laptop and get this out. So thank you endlessly. I hope you enjoy angels!

Summary: Following on from ‘Traitor’ and ‘You’re Somebody Else’. An unexpected visitor throws you right back into the life you thought you left behind. Working beside the man that put you behind bars is one thing, pretending like you never loved him is another.

Word count: 6k-ish (I honestly didn't bother checking after a while lmao)

Warnings: angst, coz naturally. Mentions of the past case and being arrested, Marcus being undercover and tastes of what he was dealing with work-wise. Jane being Jane (aka a fuckhead). The slightest shine of something resembling friendliness between the two idiots before I smash it with a sledgehammer in a true ‘one step forward, two steps back’ fashion. Drama, swearing, it's honestly been so long I don't even know - tell me if I've missed anything!

main masterlist | series masterlist

This story will have explicit sexual scenes in the future so 18+ only.

You can tell by the knock that it’s not Jacob. His knocks were playful, drumming out a tune against your door that sometimes you had to finish from the other side, but this knock was tentative, simple—professional.

Can knocks be professional? Can you know someone just by their knock? Regardless, you seem to know who it is immediately, and for the first time in a while you find yourself not having to brace for his company.

There’s no shake in your hand when you reach for the door; there’s no nausea building in the pit of your stomach, swirling with the uncomfortable tightening of anxiety. There’s nothing, and it takes you slightly by surprise. When did that stop? 

Marcus is standing just shy of your welcome mat, looking slightly uncomfortable as he shifts in his simple dark suit, but still gives you a small smile in greeting when you open the door. You manage to return it without a hint of a grimace.

That surprises you, too.

“Good morning.”

“Hi,” you murmur quietly.

“Can we talk?”

He must see the slight edge of defensiveness creeping into your features, because he hurries to spit out that it’s about the case. The case? Is it over?

A frown starts to pull at your brows, and you give a simple nod before stepping aside and allowing him entry. You don’t miss the way he takes it slow, stepping over the threshold to your apartment carefully, as if giving you the chance to change your mind and revoke his invitation.

It’s... awkward.

For a moment, he hovers only a few steps away, unsure of where to go next without your direction. You watch the internal struggle, and clear your throat quietly before waving a hand to your couch as a gesture for him to take a seat. He does so without a word.

You falter, fingers brushing against your suddenly hot palms as you fidget, “Do you want anything to drink? Water? Coffee?”

“Uh, yeah—yes. Water, please.”

Silence crawls along the edges of the room as you fuss in the kitchen, filling a glass full of chilled water from the fridge. It’s only slightly uncomfortable, neither of you necessarily feeling the need to fill the quiet with small talk, or maybe you both just don’t know what to say.

He takes the glass with a smile when you eventually patter over to him, thanking you quietly and taking a small sip while you seat yourself on the armchair to the left of him.

“So…” you murmur, “what’s going on? Has something happened?”

He suddenly can’t speak, his thoughts too much in a whirl. He doesn’t want to entertain Jane’s idea, he doesn’t want to offer you anything about getting more involved in the case. You already do enough, you’re fine with doing what you’re doing, he can’t risk it.  

You’re out of it all. You got out. Not many people get back onto their feet after something like that—the arrest and the rough fallout, the emotional spiral, the time spent behind bars… but you did. You did. And yet, a very small part of him worries that you’ll go back, that you’ll fall back into old habits for the promise of your old cosy lush life, without a worry for money. Would you?

No. No, he knows you wouldn’t. Somewhere deep inside his heart, he knows you wouldn’t turn back to it all. He saw firsthand how it all crashed down around you—he was the reason it did. He saw you through it all, and yet he still can’t help but ask—

“Do you miss it?”

A frown starts to pull at your features, “Miss what?”

“Your life,” he mutters, almost painfully too quiet.

He doesn’t want to upset you by reopening old wounds, by unintentionally rubbing your face in everything you’ve lost and mourned, but he’s too curious, too scared—he can’t do it all again. He doesn’t have the strength. He’d let you walk. He’d let you get away. He’d lose everything, and he wouldn’t care.

“Before… before this,” he gestures between you silently, watching your eyes flicker down to follow the movement before they roll back up to meet his, irises swirling with confusion, suspicion, a slight shine of pain— “before everything… when it was just you, and what you did—do you miss it?”

There’s a vague feeling of something close to panic building in your chest, but it doesn’t seem to spread out further than the iron cage of your ribs. You feel it sitting there, churning around your heart as its pace starts to quicken.

Is he asking this for a reason? Are you suspected of something? Is whatever answer you give going to be recorded and stored somewhere for future use against you? 

“A little,” you breathe before you can help it, and suddenly your throat feels too thick.

The honesty came out of nowhere. You’re left wondering why the hell you admitted it, especially to him of all people. He's used it all against you before. He’s the reason it all fell apart. And yet, here you are, admitting to a federal agent that you miss a time of your life that ultimately resulted in you left behind bars. What would he think of that?

The worry of what he would think startles you. You don’t care, you haven’t cared, and yet you hurry to explain before he could get the wrong idea. It’s only because he has the power to throw you back into prison. You worry about the fallout, that’s all.

“Make no mistake, I don’t miss the whole crime thing. I just—I miss the peace. I can’t explain it, but I was just content, and I’ve never felt anything like that before. It was just… nice, that’s all. It wasn’t worth it.”

He nods, exhaling quietly before taking a sip of his water.

“Why do you ask?”

You’d been honest, and now it’s his turn.

“Some of the team believe putting you out there, back into your old circles, would result in getting us some further suspects for the investigation, or even limiting our suspect pool,” he explains stiffly, gaze remaining on where his fingers brush against the glass in his hands.

“As you’ve worked with some of these people before, they believe you’ll have no problem fitting back in and getting any information on their jobs or who’s leading this.”

Well that’s not at all what you’d been expecting.

You didn’t think that was even an option, given how they’d firmly kept any and all details of this investigation far away from you. Whether it’s because of your past, or simply because you’re not an agent, you don’t know, but this new direction has you wondering how involved you’d actually be. Is that something you even want?

You’ve reached a point where you’re somewhat comfortable with where you are in life, having dealt with mostly everything that had happened and taken steps to move on both mentally and emotionally.

Accepting the offer from the FBI hadn’t been on the top of your priority list, and this new opportunity didn’t sound any more appealing, but maybe it would give you a chance to do a little more. Maybe if they had you on the inside, this investigation would be wrapped up quicker and you’d be able to leave everything, and everyone, in the past for good.

All of this would be over. 

“So, I’d be undercover or something?”

“Not undercover, obviously there’ll be people who know who you are and what you used to do. You’ll just have to act the part you used to play.” 

There’s a hesitancy hanging in his features, you notice. It’s clear by the tone of his voice and the slight frown working its way along his brows that he’s not the one behind this idea, but he wouldn’t be suggesting it if it wasn’t a good idea, right?

“Do you not want me to do this?”

Finally, he looks at you.

You watch his eyes flitter across your face as you await his answer, wondering what he could possibly be searching for in your expression. Would he even tell you the truth? A part of you is beginning to think so, but you can’t imagine why. He’s been anything but truthful the entire time of knowing him, what would make this time any different?

“I don’t want you to do anything that would jeopardise the life you have, the life that you’ve made.”

Ah. He must think you’ll throw all of your progress away. Because of course he does. Is that why he asked you that question before? Do you miss it? Was he gauging the possibility of you turning your back on him should he let you further into the investigation? He’d probably get into trouble, maybe even lose his comfy little job chasing criminals down.

How comforting to know that he still thinks so damn little of you. 

“Don’t worry, Agent Pike,” you murmur icily, letting your arms cross defensively over your chest. “I’ll be sure to stay out of handcuffs this time. Do you honestly think I’d go back to it all, after everything?”

“I wouldn’t blame you,” he sighs deeply, already expecting and braced for your anger. “And no—I don’t think you would go back.”

You believe him. You don’t know why, because God knows everything in your body repeatedly tells you to never believe another word that comes out of his mouth, but you simply just do with this. You don’t dwell on the why, with your mind now preoccupied with what he’s asking from you exactly.

Are you just finding some old acquaintances and asking some questions? Are you getting involved with jobs? Are you no longer painting for the FBI, if you’re to be involved? How deep would you have to go to give him and his team what they need? And with all the talk of murder, knowing there’s already been quite a few victims, what the hell would happen to you should the potential killer, or killers, find out you’re working with the FBI?

Would you become the next victim?

“Will I be in danger?”

Marcus meets your eyes immediately, answering firmly, “I won’t let anything happen to you.”

That’s not a no.

You fall quiet, teeth nipping and picking at the soft skin of your inner bottom lip in thought. Okay, so you’d probably be safe with Marcus—the FBI—on your side, but is this something you could even do? Physically and mentally yes, you’d already done it all before, but emotionally?

Essentially, you’d be playing the same part Marcus played all that time ago. You’d be the one sneaking around and lying to people, tricking them into a false sense of comfort until they feel safe enough around you to talk. You’d be everything you dislike Marcus for. 

It’s hypocritical.

How could you dwell on and hold anger over your own experiences, when you’d be out there doing the same thing to others? Of course not to the stupidly ridiculous extent Marcus had gone to, but you’d still be lying, you’d still be using them—

“You have the choice here,” he assures you quietly, after watching you work through your thoughts. “I don’t want you to do it if you don’t want to. I want you to feel like you can say no—this is your choice, no one else’s. If you don’t want to, that’s okay.”

Maybe it’s selfish on some sort of level, but the possibility of getting this whole thing over and done and left behind you ultimately wins over any reservations you have, and you exhale quietly. 

“I’ll do it.”

—

The wire, though so thin it would be barely noticeable wherever you decided to hide it, feels particularly weighty between your fingertips. You study the simple black cord, turning it this way and that under the glare of the office lights, wondering how many cases it had been used for, how much it had heard and how many lives it had potentially ruined.

“Nobody will notice it.”

Marcus is half hunched over the table, scribbling away on various bits of paper laid out in front of him, but he briefly stops to give you a small reassuring smile. You simply nod in response, a trickling of anxiety starting to bite away at your mind.

What if nobody approaches you? What if this goes wrong? What if somebody finds out? What if you get hurt? What if you get somebody else hurt? The constant what ifs roll around your head on an endless loop, seemingly getting worse and more horrific with every minute you squirm in the chair.

“Do you know where you’d like to start?”

Your attention falls back on Marcus, and you gently place the wire back onto the surface of the table in fear of breaking it should you fiddle for too long.

He was giving you the freedom of working this next part out yourself. He wanted it to be as natural as possible, letting them come to you instead of having you actively searching them out. It would minimise any suspicion, he had said. 

“Uh, I was thinking of visiting some of the local spots you said they’re targeting. If they’re still scouting pieces and working out security like you say, they're bound to see me eventually... hopefully by people I know?”

It wasn’t meant to, but it comes across like a question, like you’re seeking his approval. Not because you desire it, but because this isn’t what you’re trained in by any means and you feel a little lost being able to make this call on your own. You have no idea how to position yourself, or how to work strategically like they do. The last thing you want to do is mess this whole thing up for anyone.

He nods, seemingly pleased with your choice.

“That’s good, you’ll also be out in the open and that makes it easy for another agent to keep an eye on you from a distance.”

“I know that’s meant to be reassuring, but the mere thought that I need to be watched makes me a little nervous. How dangerous is this?”

“It’s not, it’s all just precautionary,” he soothes, tone calm but undeniably firm. “If anything, I’m probably going overboard, but I’d rather not take any risks.”

It makes sense that he wouldn’t. His job or position would most likely be on the line if someone he’s responsible for gets hurt. His agents, probably not so much—they know what they’re doing and what they’re in for, but you? You’re just an average person, with no knowledge or skills to aid you.

“I’ve been meaning to ask… do any of them know? About… well, everything.”

It hit you as you arrived at the building earlier. You’re walking into your old life, a life that he was once a part of as a completely different person. They—the FBI—didn’t just come for you, they came for everyone, and Marcus was a big part of that. Did he reveal himself to them, as he did you? How much did they know about your situation? What did they think of you and the part you played? 

Marcus stops fussing with the papers, his eyes soon meeting yours from across the table. They flicker over your face, taking in the concern building in your features.

“I was there during most of their arrests so the majority know who, and what, I am.”

He was? He wasn’t there for yours.

Would it have been better, you wonder, if he had been there when they unexpectedly swarmed you that day? No doubt it still would’ve been one hell of a brutal knock to the system, but at least there would’ve been a familiar face in the intimidating crowd of badge carrying strangers.

At least you wouldn’t have felt so alone.

“What about me?”

“What about you?”

“Well, I—I’m part of the reason you got the information you did. Throughout our… relationship, I talked about everything. I told you everything, and during the interrogation… surely they’d know—”

“They know I was undercover, and they know you weren’t aware of that fact. Look, I can’t go into detail, but just know you weren’t the only one to talk. It’s not all on you, alright?"

It doesn’t come as much of a surprise that the others had cracked at some point, it was almost to be expected with the amount of evidence the FBI had against everyone, but at least you don’t feel so guilty for divulging as much as you did back then. 

He waits for you to acknowledge his words with a wordless nod before moving onto business and switching into FBI Agent mode. He stands taller, obviously more confident and comfortable in his element as he begins to rattle off instructions and how to behave. It’s hard to feel unsteady or unsafe when he seems so damn self assured. That’s why he is where he is, you suppose.

“Now it's important that if you’re approached, you refrain from asking any questions about jobs or pry into anything they’re doing. You need to let them bring the subject up—if they don’t, it’s okay.”

“Noted.”

“If at any point you want to stop doing this—tell me, and that’ll be it. If you don’t feel comfortable coming to me, tell Agent Wilson and we’ll go from there. After your visits, you’re to return to your apartment and either Agent Wilson or I will come to collect anything you have.”

“Okay, and where exactly is this meant to go?” You ask, prying the cord from the table.

“Somewhere discreet. Obviously we don’t want it to be hanging out or somewhere someone will notice. Under your jacket will suffice with what you’re wearing. Just always ensure it’s covered completely.”

“How do I…”

He clears his throat, shifting uncomfortably.

“Do you… do you mind if I…?”

“Not much of a choice,” you murmur, glancing around at the empty meeting room. 

“I can get another agent—”

You hear the bustle of the office outside the door, the constant ringing of phones and the hum of constant conversation. There’s plenty of other people to help you work this wire thing out, other than the man you’d rather be miles away from, but the uncertainty of what they know about you, think about you, keeps you from accepting his offer.

The only agent you feel semi-comfortable with is Jacob, and he’s currently out of the office with some other agents doing his job. You could ask for him. You’re fairly certain Marcus would comply if you asked, but that means taking Jacob away from whatever things he needed to do, and you don’t want to cause any issues for him or the other agents working.

Marcus will do. At least you know him. Somewhat.

“No. No, it’s… it’s fine. Just do what you need to.”

You stand and move away from your seat as he steps closer, hands falling awkwardly to your sides after he gently pries the wire away from your hold. He keeps a considerable distance away, the absolute most he could without being unable to reach you, and you appreciate the thought, but the space begins to hinder him as he tries to work.

After a few moments of feeling him fumble beneath your jacket and watching the growing twitches of annoyance briefly break his calm expression with a surprising slight bit of amusement, you relent. 

“You can come closer if you need to.”

His eyes flash up to meet yours, brown irises studying your features before a small smile pulls at the corner of his lips. He moves, still keeping a careful amount of distance between your bodies but close enough to feel the weight of his presence. 

“Are you laughing at me?”

“The big bad FBI agent has butter fingers,” you retort quietly, lips twitching. “They let you hold a gun with those?”

He blinks in surprise at your teasing jab, the curve of his light smile quickly deepening until it causes the dimples in his cheeks to show. You used to love his dimples, often finding yourself compelled to trace them with your fingertips whenever he was close enough to. He’d always welcome it, tilting his face further into your touch or kissing your palm.

Your fingers twitch at your sides.

“Now that’s not fair,” he argues playfully, “I’ve only dropped it a couple of times.”

The smile that spreads across your lips is automatic, and you don’t quite feel like fighting it. At least, not right now. Whether that’s because you don’t have the energy needed to keep up with your recurrent ice saved only for him, or simply because you don’t feel like it, you don’t know.

“Have you really?”

He makes a low noise at the back of his throat, a shine of impish embarrassment spreading throughout his features. “I’m afraid that information is need to know only, ma’am.”

“Of course it is,” you mutter lowly in amusement, his grin briefly stretching into something wider before it fades as he focuses on the task at hand. “Back when you were undercover, did you have to wear one of these?”

There’s no anger in your voice, no betrayal or tone of accusation, just simple curiosity. You just want to know, and not to dwell on the past or overwhelm your mind with what his agents may have potentially heard, because god knows that’s a can of worms you don’t want to open. You feel genuine interest, because surely there would’ve been rules and safety precautions for undercover agents. What were his?

“I did,” he answers, guarded brown eyes briefly meeting yours before falling back to where his fingers pin the wire discreetly to your t-shirt, “but I only wore it for the first few meetings. I stopped when we—when we got closer.”

That was unexpected.

Thinking back on it, you didn’t start to give him any real information to work with until you’d gone on quite a few dates and became more comfortable with him. How did he keep a record of everything you said? You never saw him writing anything down, never had his phone out while you talked, and he never just upped and left once you’d spilled all of your secrets once you became intimate. 

Why wouldn’t the FBI want all of that recorded and documented? Surely that would’ve helped build evidence against you in the grand scheme of things? 

“Why?”

“I didn’t want them to know.”

“Know what?”

How deep he was in over his head.

He wets his lips, finishing his work with a quiet sigh before fixing your jacket and stepping away from you. You watch him take a moment to find his words, wondering what could possibly be so bad he’d want to hide it from his team.

“Some things,” he answers vaguely. “Are you ready?”

—

“You’re off the case.”

He hears the words, feels how they settle in the pit of his stomach, but his mind struggles to comprehend the meaning behind them. He’s one of the god damn leads of this case, how can he be off it? His expression pinches into confusion before he can get a hold of it, the question forming in his features before it even makes it to his lips.

“What?”

He feels the gaze of Jenner beside him, wonders if there’s any judgement lingering alongside the concern. His coworker, his friend, stays quiet, and he’s left to be dragged through the mud alone.

“You’re too close.”

Too close? When has being close to finishing a case ever been an issue? But he knows that’s not what they mean. That’s not what they’re concerned about. It’s you. He’s suspected it for a while, what with the growing questions and raised brows of yet another admittedly unnecessary meeting with one of the major suspects—without a wire or trace. 

“I know what I’m doing,” Marcus argues firmly, the frown deepening between his brows.

Doubt.

It’s not evident in his words, but he feels the stirrings of it somewhere in his body. He doesn’t know anymore, and it’s starting to scare him. He’s always known this job. He knows the rules, likes the rules even, likes playing by a book and not stepping a toe out of line. It’s comfortable, secure. 

This isn’t.

This is dangerous—that’s what it is. The feelings that follow him home after a day of playing another man are anything but a cover. They’re real. The unsteady beat of his heart whenever you cross his mind, the sweat that builds on his palms when he knows he gets to see you, the tingle left across his lips after spending moments pressed against yours—it’s all fucking real.

And it’s terrifying.

“Look, Pike… we see this with undercover work often. It’s not just you, and it’s not a reflection of you, or your work. We know you’re a damn good agent, but relationships can grow, feelings can come into play and lines can become blurred—”

Panic overtakes him, and it takes every bit of control to not let it show on his face. Maybe it’s selfish, but he can’t lose you. Not yet, not when things feel so… so right. It is selfish. You help him forget, you remind him that romance... that love is—God, it’s real.

It’s real, and he has it, or is starting to at least, and he can’t lose it. Just the thought of knowing he’ll lose it all in the end is enough to make bile sit in the back of his throat and a sickly cold tether wind around his heart…

So he scrambles. He fights to keep his cool, to play the good little agent and hide everything away. It goes against everything he’s been taught, everything that he and his coworkers stand for… and he doesn’t care.

“Sir, with all due respect, I’ve put too much time and effort into this case to not see it through to the end. There is no relationship, there are no feelings. I know my job, I know my position in this case, I know where my loyalty lies, and I know what I’m doing.”

He really doesn’t anymore, but in the end they believe the lies forcing their way through his teeth.

—

You used to sit for hours, studying every little detail of the chosen piece until your eyes started to strain. The corridors of art galleries and museums used to be home—it felt like you spent more time there than your actual apartment, but it doesn’t feel as it used to. Not in a bad way, no… it felt nice. Peaceful, even. You can just enjoy the art now. There’s no anxiety, no pressure to ensure every bit of your work is perfect—it’s just you, and the art.

Like how it was before everything. Before Marcus, before the jobs, before art school—when you were just a little thing, staring up at those frames with nothing but wonder, hope, with dreams of her own styles and gallery. What would she think of what she became?

“You like this one.”

The voice alone sets a roll of irritation over your shoulders. You don’t bother looking at him when you feel him step up beside you, instead wondering if Marcus knew he was here, or if the consultant had come of his own accord. Most likely the latter, if he and Marcus weren’t on the best of terms. 

“What are you doing?” You question quietly, glancing briefly away from the painting and over your shoulder to see if anyone had taken notice of you. This damn wire makes you feel like eyes are everywhere. “Does Marcus know you’re here?”

Jane makes a noncommittal noise, “I was bored.”

He makes no effort to answer your other question, and that tells you what you need to know—Marcus has no idea. Is this something he should know? He’s leading the case, and despite your aversion to it, he’s made it clear he’s responsible for you during your time working for the FBI as well as overseeing who you speak to. He made it extra clear he didn’t like the idea of Patrick talking to you, after what happened at the office. What would he want you to do in this situation?

Get rid of him.

You don’t have time to waste playing some kind of twisted back and forth with the consultant. You came here with a simple task, and you couldn’t have him tagging along behind you and potentially ruining your opportunity to get your foot back into the door of your old life, let alone finding anything out about it. Maybe he already knows, either way you’d rather not have him shadowing and questioning you at every turn.

“I’m not your babysitter, Jane. Go and play your games somewhere else.”

“What games?”

You scoff harshly, unable to stop the scowl you shoot him, “Don’t play dumb. You know what you do, and I don’t care for it. Just leave me alone so I can do what I need to and go home.”

He hums, unbothered by your quip. 

“Is this one of yours?” He asks shamelessly, nodding to the painting hung in its ornate frame.

You startle, blinking in surprise and casting another glance around your surroundings in an utter panic. No one had taken any notice of him thankfully, with the art admirers still milling about at their leisure and passing by without any acknowledgement of either of you, yet your heart can’t seem to calm down from its heavy drum. 

There’s a smirk tugging at his lips when your eyes quickly land back on him, seemingly pleased with or expecting your reaction, and your jaw tightens in response.

The irritation turns to anger. Anger at him, anger at yourself for letting him work his stupid little mind games and getting to you. This is what he does, Marcus had said. You can’t let him get to you like he did before. You won’t. 

“Keep your voice down,” you grind out, rolling your attention back to the painting and ignoring the way he purposefully looks around in vague interest. 

“Why? No one’s here. At least not for you.”

“So then what are you doing here?”

“Chasing my own leads,” he hums thoughtfully, “I haven’t crossed out all of my suspects yet.”

“And your supposed ‘leads’ have bought you here?”

He openly eyes you, gaze critical and borderline taunting. It’s almost enough to make you feel like a complete fucking idiot for not knowing what he’s talking about, or what thoughts are rolling through his head. His 'lead'... he's referring to you.

You sigh impatiently, already sick of him. “What are you saying exactly, Jane?”

He shrugs loosely. “Just that it wouldn’t be the first time a scorned lover created some elaborate scheme to g—”

“I’m sorry—what?” You cut in before you can help it, a frown of confusion pinching your brows as your mind rushes to catch up with his meaning. “‘Scorned lover’? What the hell makes you think I’m some kind of—”

“With everything that happened between you and Agent Pike, you must’ve been angry when you found out he was an undercover agent. How many years did you get in the end? Two? Three? Whatever the time frame, I would imagine it was enough to warrant some kind of revenge scheme.”

A chill creeps along your shoulders at having it thrown at you so blatantly. He knows everything, and is definitely not shy or careful when it comes to addressing it with you. You want to shrink in on yourself, hide away from his obvious scrutinisation of every emotion crossing your face, but you can’t seem to move. Something about fight or flight rings through your mind, and that often forgotten third word—

Freeze.

A man steps up beside him to admire the art. Tall, broad, dressed in jeans and a casual tee, but obviously not a stranger to the consultant when he cuts in with a low, “Jane, that’s enough.”

You don’t recognise him from Marcus’s team, so he must be one of Teresa’s. Was he the agent meant to shadow you? Nothing in your body responds to the internal alarms practically screaming leave.  No, you’re simply frozen where you stand on that glossy hardwood flooring, heart beating in your throat and skin prickling with the overwhelming wash of anxiety.

“I don’t—”

“It’s alright, we already know everything about you,” Jane continues nonchalantly, “don’t we Rigsby?”

The man beside him practically squirms. 

“I don’t know what you think I’m doing, but I have nothing to do with this, other than what Marcus has asked me to do. I’m sure he’ll tell you all about it if you just ask, instead of following me around and accusing me of whatever evil mastermind ploy you think I’m up to.”

Jane openly grins, turning his gaze back to the painting. “No, he won’t.”

“No actually, he probably wouldn’t. Maybe if you weren’t such a dick, and maybe if you just left me alone like he asked, he’d be a little more open with you and his plans.”

“That explains it,” he hums lightly, seemingly to himself but loud enough for you to hear.

The constant verbal and mental back and forth, as well as trying to keep up with whatever crap spills from his mouth next, is enough to give you whiplash and birth an uncomfortable ache along your temples. It’s no wonder Marcus can’t stand him. The urge to guard your expression, and hide any potential clues to your thoughts was beginning to feel exhausting. 

“Explains what?”

“His feelings for you.”

A distinct, uncomfortable silence follows his words. They hit somewhere in your chest. You don’t know where, but you certainly feel the force of it push some air from your lungs.

Feelings? There were no feelings. The man who seemingly had feelings for you didn’t exist, and so those apparent feelings didn’t exist right alongside. It was nothing. It meant nothing. Marcus merely had a job, and that’s all you had been to him—work.

Your stunned gaze meets Rigsby’s, and there’s a slight shine of apology in them, though you’re unsure if it’s because of Jane’s words or simply just for Jane in general.

A lump builds in your throat, even after all this time, and you try to swallow it down, try to dislodge it from where it sits at the back of your tongue threatening to choke you fully.

How? How can it still hurt? 

You’d come so far forward, only to have the consultant knock you right back. Confusion overwhelms you—dread, denial. An ache builds around your heart, agonising and familiar and you loathe it. His words… it’s all bullshit, obviously. It must be some sort of sick test or twisted mind game to push you into confessing for something you’re not doing.

Rigsby shuffles, eyes falling away from yours and towards the floor as he shifts in obvious unease. You shake your head, forcing to keep your expression close to something unbothered as you face Jane again.

It’s hard.

You feel it crack—a twitch of a frown, the firm press of your lips to hide their tremble… you hate that he sees it all so clearly. 

“Marcus doesn’t feel anything towards me, except for maybe guilt. I don’t know what you’re thinking, but you’re wrong, Jane. Wrong. It wasn’t real. None of it was real, especially any feelings he had for me.”

He studies you quietly, no doubt taking note of how you draw away and struggle to compose yourself. He eventually nods, saying nothing more, even when you turn away with watery eyes. You’re vaguely aware of Rigsby speaking lowly to the side, but you don’t bother to pay him any mind. 

“And yes, Jane. This is one of mine, but you already knew that, didn’t you?”

It falls from your lips sharply, mockingly. You turn and leave them both standing in front of the replica you’d completed for the FBI, their eyes on your back as you attempt to stride out of the spacious room with your last shred of dignity.

-

[vickiee-mcmuffin]

Jealous

Word count: 3k

Pairing: Stephen Strange x Female Reader

Trope: Explicit smut, Age gap (18+ Warning, Minors DNI)

Summary: You see Stephen's jealous side come out after he sees some guy talking to you at an event.

A/N: I don't even remember this being one of my older fics... but I found it buried deep in my Google Docs last night. I think this was one of my first-ever fics, but I honestly don't remember.

You and Stephen didn’t have a conventional relationship. Not in a romantic way, at least. You were his student. You trained together. Talked. Got along most of the time. And you also slept with him... A lot. You were fucking each other on the regular and not a single person back at Kamar Taj knew about it – which worked out well for the both of you. You both had fun together with no strings attached. You didn’t have to talk about your past, about your days – sometimes you didn’t even ask how he was feeling. But that’s how it was between you two. You just had sex. That was it.

Which was why you and Stephen didn’t walk hand in hand to the event you were both invited to. You weren’t his girlfriend. So why would you be his date? Especially when he hardly ever showed up to events. But he was at this one – looking as handsome as ever in his Armani suit. And you were feeling wildly confident in your red dress and high heels and perfectly applied makeup. You had arrived at the same time, the both of you pushing your way through the crowd as you made your way to the entrance.

“The place is pretty packed,” he mumbled into your ear.

You nodded. “It’s so busy.”

You kept silent as you made your way inside, doing your best to avoid the large crowd of people. Your sharp heels clicked on the ground as you moved up the stairs, finally getting inside the venue. Music was blasting and people were talking and you could barely focus on your thoughts. But Stephen dragged you over to a secluded corner where you could both get settled.

“Would you like a drink?” you asked Stephen.

He took a seat and smiled at you. “Yeah. Please.”

You spun on your heels, searching for the bar. The second you left, you saw a rather large group of people surrounding Stephen. You shrugged at the scene and kept walking to the bar where you grabbed Stephen and yourself a drink. But then you heard someone clear their throat behind you. When you turned back around you were greeted by a man with a glint in his eyes. He looked to be around your age.

“Hi,” he smiled at you.”

“Um, hey,” you returned, still not sure who he was.

“Do you mind if I buy those drinks for you?” he nodded at the counter.

“Oh, no. That’s fine. Thanks though.”

“Please. Let me. I insist,” he placed his hand on his chest.

Well, if you wanted to fork over his own money, you weren’t about to fight him. “Alright. Thanks. You can buy ‘em.”

The stranger paid for your drinks quietly, with you standing with your arms crossed. You wondered for a second where he had come from and why he had approached you.

“Thanks so much,” you smiled when he was done.

“You’re welcome.”

“My name’s Y/N, by the way,” you held your hand out.

He shook your hand quickly, his eyes running up and down your body. He wasn’t being subtle. “Nice to meet you. My name’s Ben.”

You smiled at him, letting out a little laugh. “Thank you again.”

“My pleasure,” he nodded. “Are… Are you here with anyone?”

“Oh, yeah, I am.” You looked over your shoulder to where Stephen was, spotting him now standing in the area where you'd left him. He stared at you. Intensely. And then he moved, eyes stuck on you, as he marched on over. He walked with intent. With a purpose. He didn’t look calm or relaxed at all, as he had done a few minutes ago. No. There was something on his mind and you had a feeling you were about to find out what it was in a second.

“Who’s this?” Stephen asked when he stood next to you. He looked so serious, his head tilted slightly as he eyed the new man.

“Hey. We were just talking, ya know?” Ben said sheepishly.

“Well, Y/N doesn’t want to talk to you,” Stephen said lowly. He grabbed at your hand, holding it tight.

He pulled you away from Ben, not even looking behind him. You had left your drinks there on the counter since Stephen didn’t even give you a chance to grab them. You both pushed through the crowd with Stephen leading the way. You weren’t quite sure why Stephen was acting so oddly. He was usually fairly calm and collected, but the man before you seemed worried and panicked. Had you done something wrong?

When you were in an empty hallway, Stephen skilfully opened up a portal, taking you right back to the comfort of the sanctum. The event – and your drinks, and Ben – were far, far away. He shut the portal before turning to look at you with dark eyes. What on earth was going on with him?

“Why were you talking to that random guy?” he hissed, his eyes dark.

You raised an eyebrow. Why was he so pissed about a silly, little conversation you had been having?

“Relax,” you held your hands up. Why didn’t Stephen like Ben? “It’s not a big deal.”

“Yes, it is a big deal. You didn’t see it, that Ben guy was trying to get close to you.”

You narrowed your eyes at him. Stephen was usually reserved. Calm. Had his head on straight. But the Stephen standing before you was… Insecure. And… Jealous? You couldn’t help but smirk at his reaction. Interesting, you thought. You didn’t get to see Stephen get all jealous often. At least, he had never shown you his jealous side before. But you had to admit that you kind of liked it.

“You know,” you said lowly. “I might just go back to the event and go home with that Ben guy.”

Stephen let out a deep breath and shook his head at you. His fists were curled. His eyes were still dark. The jealousy was clear as day on his face.

“What did you just say?” he asked, voice low.

You gave him a rather sweet but calculating smile. It was fun to get under his skin, especially since he got worked up so easily. “I said… I might go back to the event and go home with that Ben guy.”

He somehow looked even more jealous. There was a fire in his eyes as he grabbed at your waist, pulling your body right up against his. He kissed you, shoving his tongue into your mouth. You were shocked. But you kissed him back, loving the feeling of his body up against yours as your lips moved together.

“No one else gets to touch you,” he muttered when he pulled away from your lips. “And no one else gets to make you feel good except for me.”

“It’s bold of you to assume that you make me feel good,” you smirked. “You know, Ben might be better…”

“Is this a test?”

You just smiled at his question.

Then he picked you up, holding you tight as he carried you to his bedroom – a place you had been to on many occasions. He placed you down on the bed before crawling on the mattress, resting his body on top of yours. You kissed again, tongues dancing together before his lips were on your neck. He sucked at the skin there, forcing a little whine out of you.

“I’m going to make you feel so good,” he whispered into your ear, his voice laced with lust. “So good that you’ll forget all about that Ben guy.”

He yanked off your dress and underwear, leaving your body all bare for him. He was still above you as he ran a skilled finger up and down your wet pussy lips, teasing you a little. You bit into your bottom lip, needing more than just his gentle touch. But he carried on. Kept running his finger up and down your slit slowly and softly.

You were literally on the verge of begging him to fuck you when he finally pushed two scarred fingers into you. You gasped, head rolling back at the sensation. Then he pumped his fingers in and out of you, fucking you with them. You moaned, getting lost in the pleasure. His thumb was on your clit a second later, rubbing at the sensitive bud. You cried out, the sound of Stephen’s fingers filling you up hitting your ears.

With a moan on his lips, he kissed you, and you eagerly kissed him back. Then he focused on your pussy again, playing with you with his talented fingers. It felt so good, but you needed more. Needed him to fuck you.

“Please fuck me,” you whimpered with big eyes.

“I don’t think you’ve earned that.” He pulled his fingers away from you.

“Please, please, please fuck me,” you pouted.

“Hm. You don’t deserve it after what you said to me about you and your little boyfriend Ben.”

“I’m sorry. I won’t do it again. I promise. Please. Just please fuck me. Need it so bad.”         

Your pleading words must have triggered something inside of Stephen, because he lifted himself off the bed and pulled off his own clothes. You sighed happily at the sight of his hard cock. You spread your legs for him, so ready and so willing. He kneeled between your spread legs, pumping his cock up and down before he aimed the tip at your dripping entrance. He ran his swollen tip up and down your pussy, teasing you yet again, before he finally pushed the tip of his cock into you. But then he stopped. He didn’t move at all, and you had no choice but to let out a desperate whine.

“Please fuck me,” you begged. “Please.”

All he did was smirk at you. He enjoyed teasing you far too much.

But you needed him. You wrapped your legs around him, pulling him into you. His cock slowly filled you up to the hilt and you let out a thankful moan as Stephen grunted. Finally, you had his cock inside of you. You had him so deep in you, your pussy lips wrapped around him nice and tight.

“Fuck,” Stephen hissed out.

He didn’t move. He just stayed put, buried deep inside of you, your hole filled to the absolute brim. He stayed like that for a long moment, your little pussy getting his cock all wet before he pulled out and pushed back into you. A thankful hum left your lips as Stephen started to thrust in and out of you, your hands circling around his large form. You dragged your nails across his skin as pleasure began to overwhelm you. He was pumping into you slowly. All easy and steady, but you needed so much more than that.

“Please move faster,” you begged with a whine. “Please, Stephen.”

He did just that. He pulled back out, your pussy feeling empty for the longest second of your life before he filled you back up with his cock. He moved faster. Harder. His cock stretched you out just the way you needed it. He pounded into you, eyes never leaving yours as he took you. Stephen always fucked you so well. Always left you feeling satisfied. But tonight? Tonight was something else? He was fucking you like he had a point to prove, and you weren’t about to fight him on it.

“Oh, Stephen!” you let out, voice laced with total pleasure. Your toes were curling as he took you hard and fast, your head spinning a little.

Stephen kept fucking in and out of you, his thrusts deep and hard and oh so perfectly angled. You felt yourself gushing around his cock, creating a sticky mess between your thighs as he filled you up with his length.

“Who do you belong to?” Stephen asked, letting out a heavy pant. “Huh?”

You didn’t answer. You were too busy focusing on how damn good it felt to be filled up with him. You just whimpered in response.

Stephen pumped into you with a rough thrust. “I said: who do you belong to?”

He sounded so serious the second time. You knew you couldn’t ignore him at that point.

“I belong to you,” you managed to let out, your eyes rolling into the back of your head.

“Good,” he muttered, his voice laced with confidence. He kissed you hard and fast, tongues dancing together as he carried on fucking you. He moved in and out of you all rough and eager, his cock throbbing between your swollen lips.

He was so skilled. So good at making you his. You kept letting out long moans of pleasure, wanting him to know just how good he was making you feel.

“No one else gets to hear you scream out their name,” he hissed into your ear. “Only I get to hear you scream my name.”

You very much agreed. “Yes,” you whimpered out. That was the only word you could get out. The pleasure you were feeling had completely taken over.

Stephen fucked you more. And he gave you one wonderfully angled thrust, one thrust so deep that it hit that sweet spot deep inside of you. Your eyes widened when the tip of his cock met that sensitive spot within you. You needed to feel that again. You could feel your pussy growing wetter and wetter just from his cock alone.

“Oh, please don’t stop,” you pleaded with him. “Please, please, please don’t stop.”

“Fuck, I won’t,” he grunted out.

He kept his promise. He thrusted into you harder and faster, his tip making contact with that spot again and again. You couldn’t hang on for much longer. It just felt too good. You could feel your orgasm getting closer and you needed Stephen to know, needed him to know that your peak was just seconds away.

“I’m gonna cum,” you whispered. “Oh, Stephen. So close. Gonna cum for you.”

He seemed to pick up the pace at that, because a second later, he was pumping his cock in and out of you wildly. The sound of skin hitting skin filled the room as he took you and fucked you hard and deep. Your pussy felt so warm, so wet. You were dripping all over his cock, his length coated in your juices as he fucked you.

“Mm, you feel so good!” you cried out.

Then he pumped into you hard. He did it once. Twice. And then one more time – filling you right up to the hilt. And that was when your orgasm hit you. You felt the heat. You saw stars. Your ears rang as your pussy gushed around him and came. You were amazed that every single thrust managed to feel so good. Stephen was skilled. That much was for certain. And he was taking you in a way that you had never felt before thanks to his jealous side coming out. You had never felt anything so good as he pounded into you, his lust-filled eyes never leaving your face.

“Stephen!” you squealed, your pussy squeezing at him tight - especially since he kept fucking you, his thrusts relentless. He filled you up so deep, fucking you right through your toe-curling orgasm.

“Fuck,” he grunted deeply, still giving you his cock. He wouldn’t stop. Wouldn’t stop pumping you full of his thick, throbbing length. “Fuck, Y/N. I’m gonna fucking cum. So fucking close.”

“Please cum inside me,” you pouted up at him. “Please cum inside me. Please.”

He thrusted in and out of you, giving you every inch of his cock. His eyes were dark and focused on you before he muttered out your name and a deep, drawn-out “fuck”. His eyes shut and his lips parted as he let out a rough moan, your tight pussy wrapped right around his cock.

You felt his cock twitch inside of you, your tight pussy clenching around him. Then he hissed and shot out load after load of cum deep into your pussy, filling you right up with the sticky liquid. Your eyes shut as you got lost in the sensation of him emptying himself inside of you. He moved in and out of you, his pace slowing down, before he finally pulled himself out of your pussy. 

He laid down next to you, panting heavily – just as you were. That had been intense. You were both gasping hard, the two of you trying to get your breath back. It took a minute or two but you finally moved over to lay down on his chest. He felt so warm. So welcoming. He circled a strong arm around your shoulders, pulling you tighter against him.

The two of you didn’t say anything for a little while. And you were happy to lay there, enjoying his warm hands on you. His touch was gentle. Comforting. But then Stephen broke the silence.

“So, do you still think that Ben guy could do better than me?” he asked you lowly.

You stared up at him, blinking a few times. Then you gave him a warm smile. “No. I don’t think anyone could beat you.”

Stephen chuckled. He seemed happy with your answer. That jealousy that had once been in his eyes was all gone. Instead, he seemed more than happy to be right there by your side. The two of you went quiet again. There wasn’t anything else to say at that point. You just knew you could feel yourself growing more and more tired as the seconds passed. The day had already been long. And after what you and Stephen had just done, you were beyond exhausted.

So you laid there. Happily. There was so much comfort as you rested on Stephen’s chest, your eyes slowly fluttering shut. Soon you were met with sleep and darkness, but you knew one thing for sure: there really was no way that anyone could take you better than Stephen could.

[butlervibesonly]

heyyy girl, was wondering if you could please write a fic where austin and reader are married and reader maybe has to get surgery (any type) and its just all fluffy? tysm!

𝐹𝑟𝑜𝑚 𝑠𝑒𝑡 𝑡𝑜 ℎ𝑜𝑠𝑝𝑖𝑡𝑎𝑙 | Austin Butler

• Summary : Y/n and Austin Butler are Hollywood's beloved married couple. As they work on the movie together, there is a filming during which Y/n accidentally brakes her leg and is rushed to hospital.

• Pairing : Austin Butler x actress reader

• Warnings : hospital mentioned, surgery (not directly just mentions), broken leg etc.

• Note : Heeey anonymous reader! Thank you so much for this requests, I hope it's gonna be fluffy just as you wish!! And I also hope you don't mind I made the reader actress, it just suits me with the situation! ☺️ (PS. I found the gif on Tumblr, not sure where, but credits goes to owner! 🤍)

The day had started like any other on set, filled with the activity of the crew members adjusting lights, actors repeating their lines, and director shouting cues. You and Austin were working on a pivotal scene together, your chemistry lighting up the room — no wonders Hollywood loves both of you.

But one wrong step during a stunt had turned everything upside down. You're laying on a hospital bed, your leg in a temporary cast as the sharp ache pulsed with every slight movement Austin sits beside you, his hand gripping yours tightly, his eyes filled with worry he isn’t bothering to hide. Which you, of course, find so cute.

"I’m so sorry," you whispered, disappointed . "I ruined the scene, ruined the schedule—"

"Hey, stop that," he cuts in softly but firmly, squeezing your hand. "You didn’t ruin anything. Accidents happen, and none of this is your fault, okay?." Austin's free hand reached up to gently brush a strand of hair away from your face. "The only thing I care about right now is you."

You smile to his words. He always been protective, but seeing you in pain was something he clearly wasn’t prepared for. A nurse comes to your hospital room, bringing x-ray of your leg. "Mrs. Butler, according to the results of your x-ray, the fracture will need to be fixed in surgery."

You sigh because you knew this would be necessary. Austin squeezes your hand even more, raising his eyebrows. "But you don't have to worry about anything, it won't be a complex procedure, you'll be fine," the nurse smiles warmly.

Austin leans closer, his hand never leaving yours. "I’ll be right there with you through all of it. From the moment you go in until you wake up.” You smile and notice the nurse is also smiling. "Sorry to interrupt you, I just—” she says, her cheeks turns pinky rose.

"I'm a big fan of both of you and seeing you like this melts my heart. You truly have such a beautiful relationship together..." Austin smiles and so do you. "That's so sweet from, thank you." he says, sounding relieved a little.

As the nurse leaves you, you suddenly member all the work that you guys left behind. “You’re supposed to be filming,” you say weakly. "I love my job, but to hell with the movie now,” he replies, a soft smile tugging at his lips as he leans down to press a kiss to your forehead. “There’s only one thing that matters, and that’s you, remember? The movie can wait. You can’t.”

The door opens again, and a doctor stepping in to let you know the surgery would begin soon. Austin stands up holding your hand as they prepare to wheel you to the operating room.

“I’m proud of you,” he says quietly, bending down to press another kiss to your temple. “You’re the strongest woman I know. And when this is all over, I’ll carry you around the set myself if I have to.”

You laugh softly, the tension breaking slightly. “You’re gonna regret saying that when I take you up on it.”

“Never,” Austin says, his eyes shining with. “I love you, and we’re going to get through this together."

As they wheel you away, his hand stays in yours until the very last moment, his gaze locked on you as if willing all his strength and love into you. And as the doors swings close behind you, you know you've never been more certain of his devotion.

"Mr. Butler, you can wait in the waiting room if needed." the same nurse tells him. He nods, smiling warmly at her. Austin sits down on the couch, and waits till he knows you're okay.

Later...

As you open your eyes, blinking few times, before realizing where you are, you feel a warm hand taking yours. Suddenly you recognize the view — and the hand holding you. "Wakey, wakey," a familiar voice says.

You turn your head, finding Austin. He smiles at you. "How are you feeling, love?" he asks. Even tho you look like the most tired person alive as a result of anesthesia, he looks at you as if you are the most beautiful thing he has ever seen. And surely to him you are.

"Like someone ran me over, otherwise fine." you joke, making him laugh. Austin looks much more calm now. "You're so brave," he kisses your cheek, brushing his fingers through your hair. "I was here the whole time, waiting for you."

You look at the window, seeing it's dark outside already. "W-what? How about the filming?"

"I texted the director that I will be with you. He understood and said we should take our time." he explains. You just smile and squeeze his hand. "You're incredible, Butler," you laugh softly. "What time is it anyways?"

"Something after 9 pm?" Austin asks, not sure what the exact time is. The only thing he knows is that he would do anything for you to be okay, and will be by your side as much as needed.

"I love you, Mr. Butler." you say, holding his hand tightly.

"Love ya, my Mrs. Butler."

[seasidefae]

hello! i'm currently writing and editing! also i changed my icon twice these past few days sorry

i reached 200 followers recently and i have no idea how to celebrate.

but. i have a cut scene from written in the margins that i want to share, mostly because it was a complete jump from the narrative of the previous scene and it felt out of place. also i'm not going to add to this. it's just here as a drabble if you guys want to read.

with that said.

warning: suggestive content

The first time he wore red, it was for the post-season testing that same year. Void of logos, just his last name and number, the red suit isn’t any different to his navy one. He feels heavier, though, with the weight of everything else apart from himself right on his shoulders. 

Seeing Carlos in blue is calming, like the sea or the sky they like talking about. He’s sitting with Oscar’s strategists, resting his chin on his hand while he looks at the data. He knows pictures of him in the red headset will make rounds online soon. Carlos’ wedding ring is in full view, and Oscar takes more than one swallow from his water bottle to get rid of the possessive heat churning in him. 

It distracts him from all of this, too. His sense of normalcy in the midst of a hazy dream he never thought would come true. Carlos grounds him. Even though he doesn’t have to be here, Carlos knows this and that’s why he’s chosen to stay. 

Oscar sidles up to his husband, the top of his suit hanging loosely from his hips. 

“You looked good out there,” Carlos says. He doesn’t look up when he says it, instead he’s writing something down in his notebook. Oscar doesn’t remember having that in their luggage. 

“No need to get technical. I’ll make note of that for next time,” Oscar quips. Carlos just hums mindlessly. 

He doesn’t question it. But he does find out the reason for the standoffishness later, when Carlos almost knocks his driver’s room door down and pins him—as quietly as he could—against the nearest wall. He’s being devoured. Carlos places a searing kiss on every inch of skin his fireproofs don’t cover. He pushes forward until they’re chest to chest, warm lips on chapped ones, and kissing Carlos senseless until his knees buckle. 

With ease, Carlos catches his legs and moves them to the small bed. He has Carlos on his lap, in his orbit, and he can feel the heat radiating off him as soon as his shirt hits the floor.

They haven’t snuck into each other’s driver’s room to get each other off in years. Oscar guesses they have about fifteen minutes before someone comes looking for him. It’s fine; they’ve worked with less before. 

Carlos rocks his hips, meeting Oscar’s quick pace as he ruts up. Oscar tightens his grip on Carlos’ hair, angling his husband’s head and licking familiar paths and shapes in his mouth. 

“Cariño, mi esposo,” Carlos purrs against his lips. He slides down to his knees until he’s on the floor, taking Oscar’s pants with him. “Por favor. Please, let me.” 

The tip glistens under the light; the whole of him preens under Carlos’ gaze. It makes him forget there are people behind that door, waiting for him. An undisturbed 5 minutes is pushing it. 

They’ve done this with less. 

So, Oscar lets him. 

Carlos said please, after all. 

[mikiemcsmitty]

Fictober Day 7

prompt: "Follow me if you want to live"

Fandom: Supernatural

Character: Castiel, Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester

Rating: Teen and Up

Summary:

Cas's POV: Cas goes on a werewolf hunt with Sam and Dean now that he is human and trying to become a hunter (circa alternative season 9 where Dean didn't kick Cas out of the Bunker)

The classic 1967 Chevy Impala pulled up to a taped-off crime scene in Aspen, Colorado. Sam and Dean stepped out in their steam-pressed suits, ready to pose as FBI agents investigating a series of grisly deaths.

Dean approached the sheriff, flashing his badge. “I’m Agent Plant, and this is my partner, Agent Page.”

The sheriff squinted at Dean and Sam, then looked over at Castiel, who was standing stiffly behind them in a rumpled trench coat, clearly out of place. “And who’s this?”

“I’m Agent Perry,” Cas said in his usual deadpan tone.

The sheriff raised an eyebrow. “They sent three FBI agents for an animal attack?”

“He’s a trainee,” Dean said with an awkward chuckle, trying to get ahead of Cas's lack of undercover skills (or any social skills, for that matter) but also give a reason for him to be there.

“Isn’t this the third animal attack in a month?” Sam asked, changing the subject.

“It’s Colorado. We have all kinds of mountain animals out here,” the sheriff replied, dismissing the concern.

Dean kept pressing. “Regardless, we’re gonna need to take a look at the body and get the address of the victim’s family.”

The sheriff sighed and led them toward the crime scene.

“Called it! It’s definitely a werewolf,” Dean said confidently as they walked back to the car with the case file in hand. “What else could it be with the heart missing like that?”

Sam shook his head. “Let’s just talk to the family first and see what we’re working with before jumping to conclusions.”

Dean shrugged. “Alright, fine. But I’m telling you, heart missing? It's textbook.” Dean glanced over at Castiel, who was sitting quietly in the backseat, staring out the window. “You ready for a werewolf fight, Cas?”

“As ready as I guess I'll ever be.”

Later that night, the trio found themselves parked outside their prime suspect’s house. It was a quiet neighborhood, and Dean wasn’t leaving anything to chance. They settled into the car for what could be a long night.

Dean tossed a fast food bag into the backseat where Cas was sitting. “Taco Bell tacos: the best stakeout takeout in the country.”

Cas blinked at the bag before gingerly pulling out a taco. “Stakeout takeout?” he repeated, clearly confused but trying to follow along. 

Sam was scanning through the case notes while chewing on his own taco. “Okay, so get this, Coach Mavis, the ex-PE teacher from the high school is always taking sick leave around the same time every month.” 

“Maybe it's a menstrual cycle thing,” Cas suggests.

“Coach Mavis is a guy,” Dean says. 

“–and he wasn’t all that well-liked by any students. Werewolves often hold grudges in wolf form and go after people they don’t like. It would make sense to be a teacher from the school since that's the only thing the victims have in common. I mean– they weren't even in the same grade in school”

“Hey, eyes on the prize you two it's stakeout time.”

Hours passed, and they still hadn’t seen anything suspicious. Then, out of nowhere, there was a loud crash from behind the house. The three jumped out of the Impala and rushed toward the noise, weapons ready.

Suddenly, the sheriff appeared out of the shadows, eyes glowing and teeth protruding. Before they could react, he lunged at Sam, knocking him to the ground and dragging him into the forest behind Coach Mavis’s house. Dean and Cas ran after firing bullets and trying to get Sam back to safety.

In the chaos, Cas got separated from the brothers. His heart pounded as he pressed his back against a tree, hiding, unsure of what to do. He wasn’t used to feeling fear like this but the cut on his leg from running into a branch reminded him just how mortal he is now that he's a human. The feeling was overwhelming.

Dean’s voice rang out in the distance, “Cas! Where are you?”

Cas peeked out from behind the tree just in time to see the sheriff luging at Dean now. He panicked, stumbling backward as Dean dodged and shot at the werewolf successfully injuring it. 

“Follow me if you wanna live!” Dean yelled, extending his hand toward Cas.

Without hesitation, Cas grabbed his hand, and Dean yanked him up from the ground. Together, they sprinted back toward the Impala, running hand in hand until they reached the car where Sam was already waiting in the passenger seat with a makeshift sling on his arm. They jumped inside, and Dean floored the gas, speeding away before the sheriff could catch up. 

“What are we supposed to do?” Cas asked, still panicked from the confrontation and the sudden realization of his mortality. 

“Were dropping Sam off somewhere safe and then circling back around to take care of him once and forall.”

“Dean, I dont know if… I– I’m not as good a hunter as I thought I could be.”

“Don’t worry Cas we won't get separated this time. I’ll be right by your side the whole time.”

[serenasoutherlyns]

hand it over

“Do you see how dirty this sink is?” Alex says. She turns back to scrubbing the pristine sink.

Requested by @nielsen19844: Domestic Calex :D. ao3 fluff, very much fluffy. tagging @allergictocanon @whiteberryx @15coldhotpockets @swimmingstudentchaos891

When Casey walks through the door, Alex is nowhere to be found. Her bag is hung up, her shoes are on the rack, but she’s not on the couch or at the table, and there’s no sign of her in the kitchen.

“Alex?” She says into the seemingly empty apartment. If the shoes and bag hadn’t been there she would’ve thought she’d just gone back to work in a rush, maybe to a crime scene, and forgot to tell her; that had happened before. Their presence gives her pause, and she quickly checks the lock for damage. There is no being too safe in this business, not in Casey’s opinion. She decides that nothing looks broken, so she sets down the bag of Chinese takeout she brought home and turns down the hallway.

“Al-ex,” she says again. Alex doesn’t usually spend much time in their bedroom, but Casey is going to check there when she hears a chchchchch sound from the bathroom. The freshly cleaned bathroom. Casey opens the door.

Alex is standing over the sink with a light pink face, a brush in hand covered in scrubbing powder. She swivels toward Casey with such force tiny globs of powder-water paste splatter onto the mirror and onto Casey. She raises both hands.

“Whoa, whoa, what did I do? Is there bleach in that, Alex this suit is new.”

“Do you see how dirty this sink is?” Alex says. She turns back to scrubbing the pristine sink.

“I don’t,” Casey says.

“It’s making me mad,” Alex says, putting more and more force into the circles.

“What did it do?” Casey asks. She knows what’s going on now.

“I told you, I can’t get it clean.” She moves on to the faucet, but the brush slips not once or twice but three times. “UGH,” she yells, throwing the brush down, sending splatters through the room again. She grips the edge of the counter so hard her knuckles turn white.

“Alex, what happened?” Casey says lovingly, putting her hand on Alex’s back and running it up and down.

“I can’t stand her,” Alex said. “She’s a fucking weasel, sneaky, conniving. You know, Serena warned me about her, and I still fell for it!”

Oh, Casey thinks. She should’ve guessed. Alex picks up the brush again and starts going after the countertops, but Casey reaches over behind her and eases it out of her hand, then sets it down, taking Alex’s hand in her own..

“It’s not your fault. She had a point this time and you and I both know it,” Casey says, resting her head on Alex’s shoulder.

“I still think that kid should be tried as an adult, and now I might lose on that, and not only will there be a serious lack of justice for a dead child, Cutter is going to be super annoying about it for weeks, maybe months.”

“You’re jumping to conclusions,” Casey says. She kisses Alex’s cheek and feels her relax.

“I just can’t afford to mess this up, and Hartley convinced me to make a mistake,” Alex says quietly.

“It’ll be okay. You’ll figure something out.”

Alex breathes in deeply and sighs. “I know,” she says.

“Good,” Casey says. “Now, I brought home Kung Pao chicken and I bet you’re hungry.”

“Starving,” Alex says with a smile. She kisses Casey. “Just let me finish—“

“No,” Casey interrupts her. “Hand over the brush.”

“Fine,” Alex says, placing the handle in Casey’s waiting palm.

[iwonderwh0]

"The usual" Hank ordered, then glanced at Connor, who stood quietly next to him, watching, hands behind his back.

"You want anything?" Hank asked.

Connor frowned turning his head as he was about to say something, but Hank chuckled.

"Just kidding."

"Still follows you?" asked the owner of the "Chicken feed", indicating Connor with a nod.

"It's consensual."

----------

Hank bit into his burger as Connor stared at him, leaning on the stand-up table. Although he wasn't making any remarks about Hank's habits it became quickly uncomfortable as Connor's eyes continued to follow his every movement with a look of intense curiosity.

"Can I ask you a personal question?" asked Hank with a slight frown.

"What is it, Lieutenant?"

"Do you always look at people like you're watching zoo animals?"

"Sorry," said Connor looking away from Hank, but barely a minute has passed before his eyes were drawn back to where they were before.

Hank slurped with his drink trying to make an eye contact intense enough for Connor to take a hint, but he seemed rather clueless, or maybe just pretended to be this way.

"Gee, I wish you could eat something so you wouldn't just stare at me the entire time." said Hank putting his drink down.

"How does it taste?" asked Connor eye-pointing at the burger.

"Is that what you've been thinking?"

He nodded.

Hank looked at the burger, thinking about how can it be best described, but not finding the right words he just shrugged.

"Tastes like a burger to me."

Connor thought about something for a moment and finally looked away.

"Have you thought about changing anything?" Hank asked, trying to make up for his failed attempt at describing food, "Like trying new clothes or... going somewhere, watching a movie or something." Hank stopped for a moment thinking what else to add to that list.

"If you're interested I can change my hair colour." Connor said.

"That's...not what I was thinking, but whatever works for you."

Hank took another bite thinking about this weird offer, but Connor kept looking at him as if waiting for a response.

"You mean like now?"

He nodded.

"Watch this."

Connor's hair gradually started to turn from dark brown into light shade of blond.

"What the..." Hank put his burger aside and reached his hand to touch Connor's head, "Now you can just turn blond on command?"

"For example," Connor tilted his head as his hair colour changed once again from blond to to black, "Or I can turn them pretty much any other colour. Like black. Or ginger."

Hank took a sip from his drink, looking at yet another change in Connor's hair colour. It involuntarily reminded him of some sailor-moon type of transformations. The thought made him smile.

"I think I should actually keep them this way," said Connor as his hair turned fully ginger, "It suits me."

"Why?" Hank frowned, confused with this sudden decision.

"Isn't it obvious?" Connor smiled expectedly, but Hank's expression turned even more confused.

"What part of it is supposed to be obvious?"

Connor's smile became slightly bigger.

"Gingers have no soul."

Hank didn't laugh. He looked at him seriously, almost disgusted.

"Very funny, Connor. Very." He put his drink down.

"You won't finish your meal?" asked Connor as Hank walked away from the table.

"No, you can have it."

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

This scene was originally part of the fic (which I now feel like I'll never finish since my perception of the story and characters changed and now I can't feel them the same way I used to), but this scene can exist perfectly fine without any additional context so I decided to share it. I died laughing when I first thought of that, so I hope some of you will enjoy it as well.

[bronbrons]

First Blood

(Shigaraki Tomura x Reader – Part 3 of “The Beginning”)

The glass in your hand felt heavier than it should. Maybe it was the weight of Shigaraki’s words. Maybe it was the way everyone was watching you now, waiting for your reaction.

Take care of someone.

You weren’t stupid. You knew what he meant. There was no room for hesitation in a place like this. Either you did it, or you didn’t belong here.

Shigaraki leaned on the counter beside you, tapping his fingers against the wood. One, two, three, four—always careful not to let all five touch. “What’s the matter? Second thoughts?”

You exhaled slowly. “Who?”

His lips curled in satisfaction.

Kurogiri reached behind the bar and pulled out a manila envelope, sliding it toward you. You hesitated, then opened it.

A photo. A man, mid-40s, suit and tie. His name and last known location scribbled underneath.

“Nothing special,” Shigaraki murmured, watching your face. “Small-time informant for the heroes. No quirk. Just a rat who sticks his nose where it doesn’t belong.”

You stared at the picture, heart pounding in your chest. This was real. This wasn’t just talking about being a villain—this was crossing the line. Once you did this, there was no turning back.

You glanced at Dabi. He smirked, eyes glinting with something unreadable. “Better hurry, kid. He won’t wait around forever.”

You swallowed. “Fine.”

Shigaraki chuckled, pleased. “Knew you’d say that.”

The streets were eerily quiet by the time you found him.

You spotted him through the window of a small café, sipping coffee like he didn’t have a target on his back. If only he knew.

You took a breath, adjusted the hood over your head, and stepped inside.

He barely glanced up as you approached. His eyes were tired, distracted. “Can I help you?”

You slid into the seat across from him, fingers tightening around the knife hidden in your sleeve.

Say something. Make it fast.

“You know who I work for?” you asked quietly.

That got his attention. His eyes sharpened. “Excuse me?”

You exhaled. No turning back now. “You’ve been talking to heroes.”

The color drained from his face. His hands trembled slightly as he set down his cup. “I—”

You didn’t let him finish.

The blade was out in a flash, pressing against his side beneath the table. His breath hitched, panic flooding his face.

“Don’t make a scene,” you murmured. “I don’t want to drag this out.”

His throat bobbed. “Please,” he whispered. “I have a family.”

Your grip faltered for half a second. Family.

He must have seen the hesitation, because his expression shifted—hope creeping in.

Big mistake.

Shigaraki’s voice echoed in your head: “Once you hesitate, you’re dead.”

Your jaw clenched. “Should’ve thought about that before selling us out.”

And then—

The knife sank in.

His eyes widened. A strangled sound left his lips as he slumped forward, hands shaking. You pulled back quickly, heart hammering. Blood bloomed against his shirt, dark and damning.

No one in the café noticed. Not yet.

You stood up and walked out, forcing your hands to stay steady.

Cold air hit you like a slap. You sucked in a breath, eyes wide, pulse racing.

You did it.

Shigaraki was waiting for you in the alley nearby, leaning against the wall, arms crossed. He pushed off lazily as you approached.

“Well?”

You didn’t speak. Just nodded.

Shigaraki studied you for a moment, then smiled—genuine this time.

“Welcome to the League.”

Thanks for reading! 😼

[bi-bard]

Your True Self - The Corinthian Imagine (The Sandman)

Title: Your True Self

Pairing: The Corinthian X Reader

Word Count: 1,663 words

Warning(s): murder, torture, make out scene

Summary: He saw something in (Y/n). Something that they either hid or didn't know about. And he was dedicated to bringing that part of them to the light.

Author's Note: I have started and erased this three times.

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

My father had a tendency to throw parties.

Extravagant parties.

They weren't bad. They would be absolutely beautiful. They would always be crowded. It was usually a fine event.

I was just tired of the same thing over and over again. I was bored.

And I hated being forced to go to that kind of event.

It was during one of those parties that I found myself leaning on the wall. I was watching the usual crowd with a drink in my hand. I wanted something interesting to happen.

"Bored?"

I looked over to see a man in a white suit and a pair of sunglasses now leaning on the wall next to me. I just chuckled, looking down at the top of my drink. I didn't want to give him an answer that would be a lie or place my dad in a bad light.

"Might I entertain you with a dance?"

I looked at him again for a moment. He tilted his head at me a little bit with a grin. He was charming. Something about him felt magnetizing. Like he had been daring me to dance with him. Tempting me. Like he knew me well enough to know that it would work.

"Sure," I said.

He took the drink from my hand and placed it on a small table next to him. He then took my hand and pulled me along with him.

I rested my free hand on his shoulder as his free hand touched my side. It felt like there was a crackle of electricity under my skin just where his hand rested.

"You never answered me," he muttered after we had been dancing for a little while. I raised an eyebrow. "Are you bored?"

"Bored is a strong word," I replied. "I'd say comfortable."

He hummed at my answer. I couldn't tell if he was satisfied with my answer or not.

"I've been to a number of these parties," I explained. "Nothing particularly exciting happens. It's all very regular."

"And you don't enjoy that?"

"I have dependable and normal in my day-to-day life," I shrugged. "Is there something wrong with wanting something more interesting?"

"Not at all," he shook his head.

We continued dancing quietly. It was a very nice silence though. I felt like he understood me. It was different than any connection that I had ever experienced. He was intriguing, hypnotizing almost. All I could focus on was this mysterious man dancing with me.

He leaned over, letting his lips brush the shell of my ear so he could whisper into it, "Why don't you come with me and let me show you a little taste of excitement?"

I felt a small smirk tug at the corner of my mouth as I whispered back, "I hope you don't disappoint."

A low chuckle slipped through his lips before he started leading me away from the dancing crowd and out of the room. I looked around to make sure no one was watching as he led me to a small, empty room.

He closed the door behind me, pushing me against it. I wrapped my arms around his neck as he leaned forward and pressed his lips to mine.

One of my hands moved down to his jacket, grabbing at the edge of it to pull him closer to me. I hummed as his body pressed fully against mine.

He was right. This was a perfect taste of excitement.

"What's your name," I murmured as his lips found my jaw.

He let his lips barely brush my skin as he moved. He stopped when his lips brushed mine. "They call me the Corinthian."

"Why?"

He hummed. "Stick with me and find out, (Y/n)."

In the moment, I didn't question why he knew my name. I just leaned in and kissed him again. I would rather focus on his lips on mine than how he knew my name.

That was the beginning of an incredibly interesting relationship.

Months went by. I was happy with him. Holding him, kissing him, loving him. It made me feel like I was in a trance. And I adored that feeling more than I ever thought I would.

It didn't take him long to reveal most of himself to me. His eyes, the truth of where he was from, how he had met me before in the dream realm.

I accepted all of it because all I wanted was him. My mysterious and intriguing nightmare. My very beautiful nightmare.

Our life was as normal as one could expect for us.

And we both liked it that way.

But there was one night that changed everything forever. When our relationship would become something so different, yet so much better.

And it all started with him being late for dinner.

I had resigned myself to staring out the window. I was sulking. There's no better way to describe it. I looked like an angry child that had their favorite toy taken away.

I jumped when I felt a pair of arms wrap around my waist.

"Just me," the Corinthian mumbled in my ear.

"Nice of you to grace me with your presence."

"I'm sorry, darling. I had something to attend to."

I just nodded, still disappointed about him being gone.

"Come on, darling," he kissed my jaw a few times. "I'm sorry."

I tried to forget my upset feelings, but it was proving more difficult than I was expecting.

He sighed. "Well, I have something that might make you feel better."

"And that it?"

"I've brought you a present," he muttered in my ear.

"Oh?"

I turned around in his arms, letting mine settle on his shoulders.

"Sometimes I think you spoil me," I said.

He let out a low chuckle as he leaned closer to me, lips brushing mine. "Only the best for you, darling."

I let a small smile cross my lips as I kissed him gently.

He pulled back a few moments later. "Come on, sweetheart. Time to go see your gift."

I bit my lip as I nodded.

The Corinthian stepped back and held out his hand. I grabbed it and let him lead me through the house. Through the living room and the dining room to the kitchen and the staircase to the basement.

"What's down there," I asked. I couldn't help but be a little bit nervous. I never trusted basements.

"You'll see," he replied. When I hesitated, he kissed my cheek. "You trust me, right?"

I nodded.

"Then, come with me."

I nodded again and followed him downstairs. He covered my eyes with his hand, guiding me to stand in the middle of the room. There was a small pause. I jumped a little when I felt the Corinthian's breath against my skin.

"Are you ready, darling?"

"Yes."

His hand left my eyes and he stepped away from me.

In front of me was a man tied to a chair. He had a bag thrown over his head, hiding who he was.

I expected so many reactions. To yell, to run, to help, to stop the Corinthian. But I didn't. I just stood there, staring at the body silently.

"Who is that," I asked quietly.

"Your... gift!"

As he said the word, the Corinthian pulled the bag off of the man's head. I didn't recognize him. There was a makeshift gag in his mouth. He looked at me through foggy, half-asleep eyes. They slowly went wide as they saw me.

"My work is usually less messy, but your first time deserved to be special."

I looked back at the Corinthian.

He had taken off his jacket, showing off the knives that were usually hidden just underneath.

"I saw it when I first met you," he said, twirling one of the blades in his hand. "I saw it when I looked in on your dreams. That look in your eyes. Hungry for more, tired of the normal. I just want to give you an escape. That excitement that you were craving."

He made it sound so sweet. He made his theory about me wanting to hurt someone seem normal. Like it was as simple as going out for a drink or going on a trip.

He walked behind me slowly. I had every opportunity to run. To leave the scene and save the man in the chair. But I didn't I stood still, letting my eyes fall on the man again.

One of the Corinthian's hands landed on my waist, the other- the one holding the knife- touched my arm. It slowly slid down the length of my arm as his lips found the skin on my neck. He pressed soft kisses against it as he slid the blade into my hand. He wrapped his hand around mine, making sure that I kept a hold of the handle.

"It's time to stop hiding," he muttered, lips brushing the shell of my ear. "Let your true self step into the light, darling. I promise it'll make you feel amazing."

I slowly stepped away from him, knife sitting in my hand. I looked down at it. I turned it around in my hand a few times, watching the light in the basement bounce off of it.

I heard the man trying to talk through his gag. My eyes met his.

I picked up my hand, bringing it and the blade down into the man's hand. He yelled through the gag, his head falling back as he did. I pulled the blade out, turning it in the light again. I wanted to compare how the blade looked with blood on it.

I heard the Corinthian's proud laugh behind me. His arm wrapped around me again, turning me around to pull me into a kiss. I kissed him back, my free hand grabbing onto his shirt. I lightly nipped at his bottom lip before pulling away completely.

"How's it feel, darling," he asked quietly.

I let a smile cross my lips. "It's perfect."

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

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Some Original Characters

[e-munson666]

prompt for "you don't have to tell me anything, we can just sit here" for jamie & joseph. i have no idea for a story around that just that the reader is close friends with them both, maybe on set for ST?

Love it! Thank you so much 🖤

18+! Fluff but with angst. Jamie and Joseph being super cute and protective on the set of stranger things. 🖤

It was a tense day on set, one of the first major filmings with Jamie in full Vecna suit, and the first person that was going to see him in the makeup would be you. You were nervous, the scene was going to be heavy and you were on edge at the thought of being frightened by your best friend.

You ran lines with Joseph while you were both a separate trailer than Jamie, the Duffer brothers wanting a raw reaction to what the monster would look like. After about an hour you were called onto the set.

The staff went to work getting you ready for the scene, wrapping the fake vines around you and the pillar behind you, dusting your costume with a little more fake blood and dirt, and giving you encouraging words about what was to come.

When the director called for the crew to clear the set, Joseph ran up and gave you a quick peck on the cheek. "It'll be fine honey, you know its Jamie under there, and I'll be right over there until your done yeah?" He says in a smooth calm tone, rubbing his thumb on your chin. You nodded and smiled at him before the director playfully shouted for Joseph to get his ass off the set.

The warehouse lights went down and the red set lights flickered on, low and deep red. The several smoke machines around the room started slowly emitting thick blankets of fog low to the floor. It was time.

"Action"

You immediately immersed yourself into the scene, writhing and thrashing under the hold of the vines, fearful sounds coming from you as your on screen persona became aware of them being in the upside down.

You hear a low growl, followed by heavy, odd footsteps coming towards you. Per the scene, everything went black on set momentarily, so the next thing the viewer (and you) would see is Vecnas large intimidating form right in front of his prey.

The lights turn back on and that's when you first see Jamie......but its not Jamie....it can't be...

You're eyes go wide in very real fear as Jamie became to perform his dialog for the scene.

Your heart was racing out of its chest, and you began hyperventilating. Jamie noticed and immediately broke character to call for the director to cut.

"Hey, hey....its just me....hey......love are you okay?!" Jamie asked, trying to step towards you. You flinched away from his touch, ripping the fake vines from your trembling body and bolting off the set sobbing.

Jamie quickly glanced over at Joseph, who simply nodded and turned heel to follow you.

Joseph found you in your dressing room, curled up on the floor in the far corner of the room. He wordlessly made his way toward you, positioning himself on the floor next to you. "What happened honey?" He asked, voice so sweet and full of concern.

"That wasn't Jamie" you stuttered, looking up at him, that same fearful look plastered on your face.

"Sweetheart, it was, thats why it took them so long to get him ready." Joseph assures you, reaching out and taking your hand in his.

"I thought.....it would be cgi...." you almost whisper....trying to control the trembling. You were embarrassed.....running off set like that, but nothing could have prepared you for seeing your best friend of 10 years look like such a monster....look so threatening.....

Joseph and you sat in the same spot, him quietly reassuring you and running his thumb over your palm for awhile, until the dressing room door opened and Jamie poked his head in.

He had demanded the makeup team remove the mask and makeup from his face, and remove the prosthetics from his hands, before hastily making his way to check on you.

"Sweetheart, are you okay?" Jamie asked, stepping into the room. You look up at him, a slightly shocked look on your face as you watched him slowly sit in a chair nearby.

Joseph kissed your hand before releasing it, rising to his feet and leaving to give you and Jamie some privacy.

Several minutes go by without you speaking, or even looking in Jamies direction. He completely understood.....he told the Duffer brothers that you would react poorly to the scene being a surprise, and he was silently scolding them as he sat and watched you lean as far into the wall as possible.

"You don't have to tell me anything, we can just sit here" Jamie says, his own voice breaking from emotion. You were his best friend in this world, and he knows what had just happened had terrified you, and he felt fucking awful.

A few more minutes of silence went by before you finally turned your head to look at him. You took in his appearance as he sat slouched in the chair, half Vecna, half Jamie......

"You look ridiculous" you mutter, giving him a weak smile.

"I really do don't I?" He quips, rising from his spot. "Im so sorry love," he adds, kneeling before you.

You look up at him, a the face you can now recognize, and your nerves immediately still. You leap at him, wrapping your arms around his neck and burying your face in his bare shoulder. "If you ever scare me that bad again I will seriously hurt you Jamie Bower" you whisper, feeling him chuckle.

"I wouldn't dream of it my dear, now come on, we have some very concerned crew members and a slightly annoyed director we need to go have a chat with." He states, kissing your forehead before taking your hand and leading you out of the dressing room.

Joseph was waiting right down the hall, a sweet smile on his face when he sees the two of you. "They okay Jamie?" He asks the blonde, taking your other hand as the three of you walked back to set together.

"They're fine mate, but the Duffers are about to get a fuckin earful about what just happened" Jamie warned, a stern look coming over his face when the brothers came into view.

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A/N:: okay im obsessed with how this request turned out. Would LOVE to write this dynamic again, because there's definitely more than just friendship feelings going on with these guys!!! Please interact if you'd like to see more 🙂

[smutsonian]

Mafia bucky with size kink, belly bulge, choking with vibration arm, sub space, daddy kink, creampie kink and squirting, breeding kink, maybe exhibitionism with Steve. This could lead to a part 2 as a 3 way with double vaginal penetration, no anal

that smile on her face

bucky barnes x reader

summary: mafia!bucky x reader ft. mafia!boss!steve and it’s basically just p0rn with a little bit of plot i guess.

warnings: smut, (whatevers written in the ask), violence, rumlow, not proofread, idk please tell me if I missed something.

word count: 3.1k

a/n: why was it so hard to write this fic vjhafvu im rusty with writing soz

masterlist

It was becoming too much for you. The palpable tension between the two brooding men and the looming figures of terrifying men on each side that serves as guards for both sides didn’t bring you any comfort and the fact that your boyfriend is a few feet away from you right now isn’t giving you any reassurance that this situation is under control.

 Steve, your boyfriend’s best friend, stands face to face with an unknown man wearing an eerie smile on his face but his aura is producing anything but a positive vibe while your boyfriend stands beside Steve, glaring at the strange man. You thought you remembered someone calling him Rumlow.

 You know about your boyfriend’s line of work but you never really got to witness his job with your own eyes. Life with Bucky has always been laughs and giggles, passion and love behind closed doors so you never really thought about the dangers that may come with his job. You thought you could continue to live happily and carefree with him until now. 

When you saw Rumlow turning his attention to Bucky’s louring face and smirking at the emotion he’s able to get from your boyfriend made your stomach turn. You saw Rumlow’s hand rise from his side and time seemed to stop for you when you saw a gun pointed in your boyfriend’s direction. You saw your Bucky’s jaw clenching and you couldn’t help the small whimper escaping your lips when Rumlow turns the safety off with a deafening click.

 Bucky’s eyes subtly searched your face but you weren’t looking at him. Your eyes were begging Rumlow to drop his gun and let your boyfriend be but the moment Rumlow turns to look at you, your stomach begins to feel more horrible than it already is. But you would do everything for your Bucky. You had to try.

 “P-Please don’t…” You stutter, glancing at the gun pointing towards your Bucky then looking back up at Rumlow. 

 He mockingly juts his bottom lip out, pouting at you before tilting his head to the side. “No?” He asks.

 You could only nod, ignoring Bucky who was trying his best to get your attention, for sure trying to make you stop talking to Rumlow.

 “This your girl, Barnes?” Rumlow asks, scanning your form but nobody answers him.

 Rumlow chuckles before putting the gun down, giving you a sense of relief before your breath hitches when the gun is suddenly pointed in your direction. 

 “Should I just shoot you then, little girl?” 

 Bucky’s form stiffens, as well as Steve’s and his guards, ready for an order to attack when Rumlow speaks up again.

 “Are you willing to risk your life for this motherfucker?” 

 You didn’t know if it was your nerves making you dizzy but everything went by in a flash but in slow motion at the same time. You saw Bucky side-stepping quickly towards you, his metal arm raising as if to shield you both. A bullet makes contact with his metal arm before bouncing off of it and you stare at his arm in awe before looking at him with crazed eyes. He scans you for a quick second before he rushes you both out of the place, and onto a car before caressing your face with both of his hands. The sounds of guns being fired filling your ears.

 “You shouldn’t have done that, baby girl.” His words are dark and it would’ve scared you if you didn’t know him. If he wasn’t giggling with you about a silly movie yesterday, you would’ve been frightened of him.

 When you don't answer, he tightens his grip on your face, forcing you to focus on him instead of the continuous gunfire.

 “Y-You’re arm… How did you know it would save us?” You stared at his face while your hand absentmindedly wrapped over his metal hand, caressing it gently.

 His eyes flicker to your hand on his metal ones before looking back at you with an earnest look. “I didn’t. I just know that I had to protect you.” He says, chest heaving as he finally let himself show his emotions. Something that he only does with you.

 “Y-you… You could’ve died, Bucky…” 

 “I will do anything to protect you, doll.” He presses a kiss on your forehead before the driver’s door opens and Steve crawls in, breathing heavily.

 “We gotta fucking go,” was the only thing he says before stepping on the gas.

 You did your best to ignore the blood splattered on his face and the white shirt under his black suit.

 You lay your head on Bucky’s shoulder as he hugs you extra close to him, fearing that you might slip away from him and you bask in the closeness and warmth of his body. Your brain starts to fog up, and the only words running inside it are the words your Bucky said. You snuggle closer to him, humming unknowingly in satisfaction.

 ‘I will do anything to protect you, doll.’

  Bucky Barnes watched you curling closer to him, your cheeks brushing against his arm as your eyes remained close, face finally relaxing as you go deeper into slumber. He smiled at your form, pecking the top of your head before pulling you closer to his body. 

 If someone told him that his heart would be palpitating because of a pretty little thing like you, he would’ve shot them in the head for poking jokes at him but now that you’re beside him…

 “Is she okay?” Steve’s voice cuts Bucky’s thoughts off as Steve looks at him through the rearview mirror, quickly turning back to look at him then towards his girl with worried eyes.

 “She’s resting. Calm for now.” Bucky’s jaw clenches at the thought of you producing tears for the likes of Rumlow. His heart skips a beat at the memory of that gun being pointed at you. His grip on the door handle becomes tighter while he tries his best to keep his other hand calm, the one that he’s holding you with.

 “She’ll be fine. We won’t let anything happen to her. I know you won’t. I sure as hell won’t…” Steve gives Bucky a reassuring smile, mumbling the last words under his breath. 

 The car ride was silent throughout the ride, thoughts eating up on Bucky’s mind as he thinks of Steve’s words as well as what to do with you. How to make things up for you because he’s taking the blame for you being in a very dangerous position. 

 “We’re here,” Steve states, stopping the car and getting out before quickly going over to Bucky’s side, opening the door for Bucky and a groggy you. You’re still in Bucky’s arms, already squirming into consciousness while Bucky tries to coo you back to sleep.

 “Need any help?” 

 “I got it,” Bucky answers Steve before carrying you inside the manor, Steve quietly following behind.

 Once inside, Bucky feels you squirming more and he lets you go, gently putting you down on your feet. He looks down at your face that’s looking back up at him with a blank expression. He takes note of Steve’s form leaning on the doorway.

 “Bucky…” He hears you mumble.

 “What is it, princess?” Bucky notes the way your eyes flutters at the nickname and he fights a smile that wants to force its way onto his face.

 “You almost d-died because of me,” Your sob breaks his heart and he’s suddenly on you. He’s eager to make you wipe the tears away. Eager to bring back the smile that always makes him swoon because this isn’t how he wants to see you cry. 

 “Don’t cry, princess. I’ll do anything for you even if that means getting hurt.” He continues to wipe at your tears but it was no use. You’re a broken dam right now.

 “Daddy’s here, princess. Daddy’s right here.” He whispers, not caring if Steve hears him but he takes note of the way Steve’s form stiffens by the doorway. It wasn’t hard to miss because of his broad shoulders. 

 “You trust Daddy, right, Princess?” He pulls back, caressing your face and that’s when he sees it.

 Your eyes are fogged, face wet with tears but the flow has stopped. You’re just looking at him with those foggy eyes filled with something so much intensity.

 “Yes, daddy. I trust you.” He hears you whisper and he knows you’re deep in your space right now.

 Bucky wipes your face with a cloth that’s conveniently in his pocket before walking back, away from you. You whimper at the loss of his touch but one word from him made you stop.

 “Stay.”

 Bucky feels himself grow proud at your obedience. He flicks a look at Steve before looking back at you.

 “Take your clothes off for Daddy, princess.” 

 “Steve, you fucking stay there.” He doesn’t even glance at Steve but he hears his steps stopping. You didn’t even notice his words towards Steve because you were eagerly obeying his command, stripping out of your clothes with haste.

 “Come here, princess,” Bucky motions you to come over and you do. He instantly wraps his metal hand around your throat, not clenching it at all. He just rests his hand on your throat, careful not to frighten you.

 “You trust me, princess?” He asks one more time.

 “Yes, yes I do, daddy.” You breathe out, nodding against his hold which he tightens. Bucky’s eyes flicker at how your thighs clenched together and hear the tiny moan slipping out of your mouth.

 “You like this, princess? You like my hand around your pretty little throat?” Bucky tightens his hold a little more, eyes gleaming at how his hand is covering your whole neck now. 

 “Your neck is so tiny, I can easily crush it, princess. You’re not afraid of me?” Instead of being afraid, you whine, suddenly thrusting your naked hips towards him and he chuckles at you before letting you go. 

 Bucky glances at Steve who was fixing his pants, no doubt tightening uncomfortably at the scene in front of him.

 Bucky stares at you, eyes begging for him to touch you but he ignores it before walking over to the long sofa and sitting down. He pats his lap as he calls for you which you eagerly obeyed, almost skipping your way towards his lap. You were about to straddle him when he stops you.

 He turns your body with so much ease before pulling you down, earning an “oof” from you when your back hits his hard chest. He guides your legs so they’re resting outside of his legs. He easily spreads your legs with his and he dwells at the shiver your body makes when you’re completely exposed.

 “Sit, Steve.” Bucky motions to the long sofa opposite to where the both of you are sitting and he feels you stiffening against him so he whispers soothing words in your ears. “I got you, princess.”

 Steve walks towards the sofa before awkwardly sitting. Bucky could see how much his best friend was trying to control himself but, in the end, his best friend loses his inner battle for he looks at you and then to your cunt, before looking back at you.

 “Don’t worry about Steve, princess. We can trust him. He did kill that awful man for you…” He chuckles at the way your body shivers, your stiffness has long gone now.

 “H-he did?”

 “Yes. Now let’s give Steve a little show, yeah? Show him just how fucking precious my princess is…” Bucky’s metal finger goes to your breasts, teasing each of them with equal attention. He pulls little whimpers from you here and there and he can see Steve squirming uncomfortably from across the both of you and he chuckles.

 “Don’t be shy, Steve. You can touch yourself.” Bucky’s free hand goes to your core, rubbing his fingers on your clit, making your moans grow louder.

 “But you won’t be able to touch my girl. You can just watch and you can be thankful that I’m letting you.” Bucky takes pride in how he’s able to make his best friend look so powerless when he’s the boss. Right now, Bucky is the boss though.

 “D-daddy!” You’re suddenly shaking against Bucky as you reach your first peak, your juice covering Bucky’s fingers while his other hand continues to play with your hard nipples.

 Bucky hears a groan from Steve, smirking how his friend has his hand down his pants pathetically.

 Bucky continues to play with your body, pulling a few more orgasms from you until you’re crying from all the pleasure he’s giving you. 

 Now that’s how he wants to see you cry. Only in pleasure and nothing else. Only the best for his girl.

 “Daddy, please!” You scream at Bucky, your small hands gripping his flesh hand that was on your cunt.

 “What is it, princess? Tell daddy what you want.” 

 “W-want more, daddy,” you whisper, almost shyly, and Bucky coos at your embarrassed face.

 “You need to be more specific than that, princess. Don’t be shy. You’re so fucking beautiful that you got Steve and me so fucking hard, baby.” He turns your head to the side before pressing a hungry kiss on your lips, tongue lapping every corner of your mouth before pulling away, admiring the string of saliva that connects your lips.

 “Tell daddy what you want, princess. Be more specific this time.” He whispers against your ear before nipping at it and earning another whimper from you.

 “Want your cock in me, daddy,” you finally say, begging with your hips grinding against his hard cock that’s under you. 

 He hums in approval before easily lifting you up and positioning his tip in your entrance. He looks at Steve who was looking hungrily at your slit that’s ready to take his swollen cock.

 A gaudy moan escapes from your mouth as Bucky pulls your body down his cock, your head instantly falling back to his shoulder at the feeling of his cock inside of you.

 “Fuck!” Bucky hisses at the feeling of your warm and very tight walls hugging his thick cock.

 “God, baby… You’re so fucking tight!” Bucky’s eyes shut at the feeling of your walls clenching him and he even whimpers when you start to grind against his lap, asking for more.

 He gives it to you. 

 He stares at Steve’s face as he guides your body on top of his, bouncing you on his lap while thrusting his hips into you to reach deeper inside of you.

 Bucky sees Steve’s hungry eyes staring at a certain spot as he bites his bottom lip. Bucky follows his gaze and he too, grows even more hungry, if that’s even possible, at the sight of your lower abdomen bulging out every time his cock thrusts deep inside your tight cunt.

 “Princess…” Bucky groans, stopping you from bouncing, earning a whine from you which turns into loud cries of pleasure when he starts impelling you with his cock again and again. His flesh hand goes to press on your lower abdomen to feel himself inside of you.

 The three of you groan at the scene and Bucky looks back at Steve, smirking and moaning at the same time. Seeing Steve hungrily looking at you but not being able to touch you gives him a rush. Especially when Steve is choking his own cock while he watches the both of you. Oh, Bucky loves showing people that you’re his girl.

 “D-daddy, I’m gonna—”

 “Fucking cum for me, princess.” 

 And you do. You cum with a loud cry, followed by Bucky’s loud cry as he felt your walls suffocating his cock which only gave him more motivation to pistol into you, riding your orgasm. His vibranium fingers find your clit, ignoring your tiny hands that wrapped around it.

 “Too much, daddy!”

 “Give me one more, baby! I wanna cum inside your pretty cunt,” he whispers into your ear before pressing his lips on your neck, sucking your skin with wet kisses. That seems to make you more compliant. You wanted him to cum inside you and Bucky chuckled at how your walls clenched around him at the thought.

 “Oh, you’d like that, won’t you? Want daddy to give you his cummies? Want daddy to breed you? Get you all nice and round…” 

 “Y-yes daddy!” You let out a squeal when his fingers started buzzing around your clit.

 “Yes! Cum inside of her, Buck…” Steve’s wanton voice catches both of your attention and Bucky feels your walls tighten around him when he sees you watching Steve beat his cock with his own hand, his girth swollen and ready to cum. And it’s all because of you. His girl.

 Bucky doubles his efforts, metal hand vibrating against your clit, flesh hand pressing on the bulge that his cock continues to make on your lower abdomen.

 With a few more thrust, Bucky feels his balls tightening and you must’ve felt his thick cock twitching because your walls tightened again and this time, it’s enough to make him burst his seeds into you so, with a loud grunt, Bucky pulls you down on him as his cock twitches inside you, spurting his seeds into your cunt while the head of his cock remains touching your cervix.

 With his metal fingers still vibrating against your clit, you follow him with cumming as the mixture of the feeling of him filling you up with his cum and the intense vibration of his fingers on your sensitive bud.

 Across from the both of you, Steve watches how Bucky is filling you up with his cum, and the moment Bucky’s excess cum starts slipping out from the sides of your slit, he loses it. With a whimper, Steve’s cum shoots out and his hands get covered with his thick white cum while a few lands on the floor. Steve licks his lips when he sees Bucky pulling out of you and using his metal fingers to push the fallen cum back inside of you.

 Steve, still shaking from his orgasm, watches as Bucky picks you up after covering you up with his suit jacket and walking toward the stairs. 

 He stops to look at him though.

 “Thanks for killing the bastard for her, punk.” And with a smirk, he leaves with you in his arms.

 Bucky places you on the bed before cleaning you up. His hands are gentle as he wipes his cum off your thighs and your swollen cunt before getting in beside you and wrapping you up in a blanket.

 “Thank you, daddy.” You slur before curling up beside him. He chuckles before pulling you closer to him.

 “You don’t have to worry about anything, princess. I’ll do anything for you, okay? Seems like Steve will too,” Bucky laughs but doesn’t earn a reply from you. He looks down at your face, seeing you already fast asleep with a smile on your face.

 Oh, how he loves that smile. 

 And he’ll do anything to keep that smile on his girl’s face.

 --

a/n: i just wish I did this request justice :3

taglist

General: @readermia @unlikelygalaxygiver @xoxabs88xox @anncutamarica @chaoticfiretaconerd @i-love-superhero @caffiend-queen @coconutqueen21 @jtargaryen18 @jennmurawski13 @mushyjellybeans @ninjabucky @buckstaybucky @donutloverxo @rebloggingeverything @adriannajackson @la-cey @awaywithtime @gotnofucks @empath-bunny @belovedcherry @white-wolf1940 @the-soulofdevil @mianorth @scorpiosmalfoy @rottenstyx @littlegasps

Bucky Fics: @jeremyrennerfanxxxx123

Anything Chris: @patzammit @princess-evans-addict @shadowcatsworld @notyourtypicalrose @onetwo3000 @bluemusickid @heyiamthatbitch @inlovewiththefictionalcharacters @slytherinandoutasgard @chrisevanisliterallysir

Chris and seb: @harrysthiccthighss

[parkersbliss]

Tough | K. Brekker

pairing: kaz brekker x reader

warnings: blood, cursing, kaz being a simp

wc; 2K

synopsis: mission gone wrong… gone right?

prompts: 028: “hey, hey, hey, I’m right here.” 030: “you could’ve died!”

a/n: I don’t know how I always end up so off track

Masterlist | Taglist | Prompt List

—

“This is ridiculous,” Jesper hisses, looking between you and Inej. “Someone tell him that!”

You raise an eyebrow at him. “Tell Kaz to back out of a job? No way.”

“I prefer to keep my head,” Inej said.

Jesper rolls his eyes. “You’ll lose it either way at this point!”

“Jesper, it’s fine.”

“No, it’s not! Do you realize how-”

“Shut up, Jesper,” Kaz scowled through the earpiece.

Jesper mumbles something under his breath, but you don’t catch it.

“How’s everything looking, Kaz?” Inej asked.

“One last round of guards, and then you two can come in.”

You nod, securing your gun in place as you stand up.

“If you two don’t come back, I told you so!” Jesper said.

“If we don’t come back, we probably ditched you,” You quip back.

Jesper scoffs, standing up. “At least I still have Wylan.”

“No, you don’t,” Wylan responded through the earpiece.

Jesper throws his hands in the air, “No one appreciates the voice of wisdom around here.”

“(Y/N), Inej, go.”

Inej takes the lead, climbing the gate and dropping safely on the other side. You follow after and make a run for the main entrance. You hide behind a column, holding your breath as two guards walk back to their posts. A hand sticks out from the opposite column on you, and Inej makes a hand signal that means go.

With what you hope are quiet footsteps, you emerge from behind the column and follow Inej to the hallway to the left. You patiently wait as two Grisha emerge from the bedrooms, and in the span of a few seconds, it takes the door to close; you both rush in.

Inej opens the closet, throwing you a kefta, and you gasp at the softness of the fabric.

“Do you think we can keep these?” You jokingly ask.

“Unless you want to be an even bigger target in Ketterdam: I’d advise not.”

“They’re bulletproof and warm,” You said, slipping on the blue kefta with red and yellow detailing.

Inej only hums as she slips hers on, which has green swirls embellished on it.

“Tidemaker,” You said.

“Inferni,” Inej replied. “Suits you.”

You both walk out of the bedroom, the kefta’s making it easier to walk through the palace undetected. The Grisha all automatically assumed you belonged there. They didn’t bother to take a good look at your face.

“Status?” Kaz asked.

“On track,” You said softly, passing by two Grisha’s.

Kaz nods on his side, dressed as a guard inside of the palace. He waits patiently by the door for the two of you. He can just barely spot Wylan in the distance, acting as a servant to the Queen.

She was too stuck up to ever notice or acknowledge any of the servant's names. Similar to the Mercher’s back in Ketterdam.

What snobs they are.

Kaz watches as you and Inej round the corner. The Kefta’s fit both of you surprisingly well. He nods at you two, giving Wylan one last glance before going to unlock the Queen’s room. His fingers and quick, and the lock cracks open in a few seconds.

In those few seconds, someone screams. You can hear Wylan laughing nervously before being pinned down by a guard.

Kaz instantly stops what he’s doing as you all watch the scene unfold. They disarm him, grabbing a remote and throwing it across the floor.

“Get back!” Kaz shouts as the button lands first onto the ground. There’s a moment of silence, utter stillness as you and Inej look toward the Queen’s room, and then it explodes. The blast echoes through the castle and shatters everything. Pieces of rumble rain down as the building begins to shake.

You slam against the adjacent wall, coughing at the dust and groaning. Blood trickles down from your forehead, and your entire body aches.

A low moan catches your attention, and you look up to see a crystal chandelier, cracks surrounding the ceiling it was attached to.

“(Y/N)!” You can hear Kaz scream as it gives way.

You don’t have enough time to get away, you know that. Your vision was still blurry, a loud ringing in your ears. You were too disoriented to even comprehend the idea of being pierced with the decorative piece.

But Kaz isn’t.

He lunges forward, tackling you to the opposite end and shielding you with his body. He’s holding his breath the entire time, counting in his head and reminding himself that it’s just you. If he lets go, then you’ll be dead.

Don’t let go. He repeats it like a mantra inside his head, focusing on the sound of glass shattering as you both skid across the floor.

Sharp glass shards pierce his jacket and skin, but he’s barely fazed by it. It gives him something else to focus on other than the feeling of you.

“Don’t move,” You said quietly, and you can see his eyes widen because by saints he needs to, or he’s going to pass out. “Kaz, if you move, you’re going to push a piece of glass further into yourself.”

He starts shaking his head because the feeling of you breathing under him is overwhelming. Your voice had snapped him out of his daze, and now he was fully aware and fully scared. He doesn't know why. It's you and you were the one person he wishes he could be able to touch, but right now, he can't.

“I can’t,” He whispers.

“Kaz, don’t.”

“Please.”

“Hey, hey, hey, I’m right here,” You assure. “I’m alive, okay? Just breathe slowly until I can get out.”

Kaz closes his eyes and breathes deeply. Every nerve in his body is screaming. It’s worse than the shard of glass sticking out of him. He can’t do it.

“Kaz!” You scream as he rolls off of you and onto the floor.

Almost instantly, the glass pierces through him, and he groans. There’s a huge shard sticking out of his stomach, and you can feel panic surging through you.

Your instincts overwhelm the pain, and your senses come rushing back to you. There’s no way you can grab the glass without cutting yourself in the process, and Kaz would bleed out before you can do anything.

“Kaz Brekker, don’t you dare die on me.”

“I’m not trying to,” He hisses back.

“Inej!” You shout, searching for the Suli girl through the rubble.

“A healer,” Kaz coughs out. “You look Grisha, call for a healer.”

You blink, still amazed how Kaz’s mind is still working, before standing up. “Healer!”

On cue, a girl with a red kefta and silver detailing runs over from the area where Wylan was. You don’t want to imagine how many others are hurt. Behind her is Inej, who nods at you, and you thank the saints for her.

“I need to get the glass out," The healer said.

You look at her, then back to Kaz. “Okay. I can do that. Trust me."

“What you did was stupid,” You said to Kaz, kneeling down by his side once more.

“You were going to die,” he protests weakly.

You slowly grip the glass tightly, trying to ignore the sharp sting of it as the jagged sides cut through your skin.

“You could’ve died!” You scowl, but Kaz could hear the fear in your voice. “You still could.”

“It’s better me than you.”

“No, it isn’t,” You reply, “Kaz, how can you not see it?”

“See what?”

“That I'm in love with you!”

His eyes widen, and at that moment, you grab the glass and yank it out. Kaz screams out in pain, shutting his eyes. “Fuck!”

It’s the first time you’ve ever heard him curse.

The healer jumps into action. She leans over Kaz, and with a single motion of her hand, stitches him up.

She looks at you, and before you can say anything, she heals the cut on your forehead and the gashes on your hands.

“Thank you,” You said.

She nods, and Inej thanks her as well before turning her attention back to you and Kaz. “We need to go, like now. Wylan’s already running out the door as we speak.”

You nod, looking to Kaz. “Okay, can you walk?”

Inej hands him his cane, and he uses it to steady himself. “I can.”

“Okay… can you run?”

“I don’t think we have much of a choice,” Inej said, tugging on your kefta and gesturing to the guards eyeing you down.

“We’re running!” You announce, taking off with Inej and Kaz on your heels. The guards immediately start pursuing you, and you try to lose them in the many hallways.

“Where the hell is Jesper when you need him?”

“Right here!”

“I’m here as well!” Nina shouts, coming to a stop behind him. “The Kefta’s suit you two.”

“Thanks.”

Jesper winks before beginning to fire as Nina drops their heart rate.

“I take it the mission was unsuccessful?” Nina asked, turning to run when the guards become too many.

“I wouldn’t say that,” Jesper said.

“I would,” Kaz seethed.

“Yes, well, you happen to be the most pessimistic person here,” Jesper replied, firing a shot at an approaching guard.

“(Y/N) confessed her love for Kaz,” Inej said through labored breaths, finally reaching the exit.

Nina whirls to face you, “What?”

“About damn time,” Jesper grumbled, ignoring the look Kaz gives him.

You roll your eyes at him, grateful to see your getaway carriage on time.

“And then she pulled a piece of glass out of him,” Inej added, opening the door and hopping into the carriage.

“Oh wow, that’s really the cherry on top of it, isn’t it?” Jesper asked sarcastically.

“You guys are the only people that gossip while being chased down with guns,” Your driver, Matthias, chuckled.

“When else are we supposed to be doing it?” Nina asked, getting into the seat next to him and grabbing the reins.

“Oh sorry, didn’t realize there’s a time and place for it. I’ll stop being a criminal and getting chased now,” You sassily replied, climbing in behind Kaz.

“Just go!”

Nina and Matthias don’t have to be told twice, and you all take off, leaving empty-handed, or so you thought.

Jesper and Wylan sit across from Inej, you, and Kaz. The curly-haired boy holds a bag tightly to his chest, and you’re not oblivious to it.

“What’s in the bag?” Inej asked.

Jesper grins. “Why thank you for asking. Care to share, Wylan?”

The boy rolls his eyes and opens the bag, revealing a crown.

“Oh my god,” You gasp.

“I told you we weren’t leaving empty-handed,” Jesper smirks, leaning back and ruffling his boyfriend's hair.

“How?” Kaz asked.

“Stole it from the queen after the explosion and quite literally ran for my life.”

“We taught him well.”

The ride back to Os Kervo is long, and most of the Dregs fall asleep, except for Nina and Matthias, of course.

Inej rests her head against the window, using her hoodie and scarf as a pillow. Jesper does the same, with Wylan resting on his shoulder.

However, you’re wide awake, not finding a comfortable position to sleep in.

“Did you mean it?” Kaz whispered, turning to face you.

His features stick out more in the moonlight, casting sharp shadows across his face. His blue eyes feel like they're piercing you in a single gaze.

“Mean what?”

“What you said before you yanked the glass out of me, or was it just a distraction?”

“Oh,” You said softly. “I meant it.”

“I mean it too.”

You raise a questioning eyebrow at him.

Kaz realizes he has to say it back. It wasn't that he didn't want to, but he felt like a child once again. There were butterflies in his stomach as he speaks. “I love you too.”

“Is that so?” You ask, a slightly teasing tone to your voice, and he knows it.

“I don’t risk my life for just anyone.”

“No, I suppose you wouldn’t.”

“I also don’t offer my shoulder to sleep on to anyone.”

Your eyes brighten. “Kaz?”

He gives you a small smile, “I can take it.”

“Are you sure?”

“If it means both of us get some shut-eye, yes.”

A slow smile spread across your face as you pull up your own hoodie, having shed the Kefta long ago. It was too bulky for you.

You slowly let your head fall onto his shoulder, and his breathing stutters for a brief moment before relaxing again when he can feel your heartbeat. It should freak him out, and it does, but he stays strong. That’s what you do for the people you love.

You tough it out.

That, and Kaz falls asleep a few moments later with his own head resting on yours.

— END —

🏷 Kaz Brekker Taglist: @ms-awkward @kykymyeon @alcottsangel @kaqua

want to be added? click here!

[ijustwant2write]

Reconnect-Finn Shelby x Reader

(GIF credit to @peakystitches​)

Masterlist

Tags: @captivatedbycillianmurphy​ @jenepleurepasbaby​ @amirahiddleston​ @bloodorangemoonlight @haphazardhufflepuff​ @mzcrazy2​

Requested by anonymous: ‘Hello! May i request an either tommy or finn shelby x reader? (Whicheverr one u think suits best) for this prompt i found: character A and B have been in a longterm relationship and nothing can get in between, until one day something does and they drift away. But then they reconnect emotionally and everything feels like the first time again (first kiss, first meal together etc) 🙏🏼💜 i love ur writing thank u’

Characters: Finn Shelby x Reader, Polly Gray x Reader (platonic)

Meanings: (Y/N)=Your name

Warnings: Swearing, arguing, finance issues, drinking, fluff

                                    *~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

"Finn, is that you?" I called out from our bedroom as I heard the front door open. I tensed up when I didn't hear a reply, only to let out a sigh when I heard him giggling.

He was drunk again, it happened almost every week now. Tommy would have given him something important to do for the gang, and whether or not Finn succeeded with that task, he would go out and celebrate with his mates. I would sometimes tag along if I wasn't tired from the week of working, but after seeing our finances, I realised we needed to stop acting like teenagers and start saving wisely.

"Hello my gorgeous girl." he slurred out as he entered the room.

"Hello Finn." I replied as I received a sloppy kiss to my forehead.

He flopped down beside me in bed, taking the book out of my hands and throwing it to the floor. Finn wrapped his arms around me, snuggling into my lap. I took off his hat, stroking back his hair. He was cold from the brisk walk home, causing me to shiver.

“You should have come out tonight." he said.

"I got off work late."

"He kept you again?"

"No, I decided to stay."

"Why? You always say you're tired."

"I'm tired because I'm picking up extra shifts and hours so that we can start saving up for a house."

"I've told you, we don't need to worry about that. Business is good."

"Finn, we're not going to be given the money. We have to earn it."

"Tommy will help us."

"He might help but he won't give us a lot. And even if he did hand us a house, we've got to have enough money for the bills, furniture-"

"It will be fine."

"Finn, we've not even had our wedding yet!"

We had been engaged for half a year. We were wanting to be married sooner, but problems arose with the Peaky Blinders it distracted us both from it, especially since our lives were in danger. I desperately wanted to have enough money for the wedding and house, though it looked like it was going to be one or the other at this point.

"What's wrong with the flat?" Finn now sat up.

"Did you seriously ask me that question? There's only so much I can do to this dump to make it look somewhat liveable. It just doesn't feel like home."

"We'll get the money. Don't worry. Look, look," he took my hands in his,"we will get a house. I promise. And believe me, I want to marry you as soon as I can, there needs to be another ring on that finger. And I need to see my name at the end of yours."

I stupidly believed him. Those adoring eyes I once trusted had lied to me. Finn kept his promise for a week at max, soon breaking it. I didn't mind him going out with friends, we both needed to socialise, I just disagreed with the amount of times he was out and the amount of drinks he was buying each night. He would always offer to get the next round, and although he was a Shelby, the discounts didn't make much difference at the end of the night. I decided I had to go with him to ensure that our money wasn't being poured away, struggling to stay awake for those long nights, and making work even harder every day. It was impossible to keep an eye on him like that.

Usually Finn would tell me if he was going out that night so I wouldn't worry. That stopped too. My mind was never at ease. How did I know he wasn't lying in a ditch somewhere after a job gone wrong? Or what if he was trapped somewhere by a rival gang? I could only rest when he returned, which he always luckily did. I pretended to be asleep, trying to not push him away as he slipped his arms around me, cuddling me for the rest of the night. My patience began to grow thin. I was too scared to speak up about it, worried that we would just end up having an argument. However, I knew we would have to bring it up soon, because our money was only disappearing instead of increasing.

One morning when I was leaving for work, I noticed that the drawer we locked our savings away in was slightly ajar, meaning someone had unlocked it and stupidly left it open. Of course it had to be Finn, no one had broken in during the night. My eyes widened when I saw how much he had taken, enraged that he would think me so foolish. Why would he take the money without asking? What was he using it for?

As I stormed towards the shop, I heard whooping from men in a car further up the street. My face turned into a deep frown when I recognised the car, managing to catch a glimpse of the people in it. They hadn't seen me, and I had to make sure my eyes were deceiving me.

I didn't care about the looks on me as I burst through into the shop, making a beeline for Polly's office. I harshly knocked on the door, entering when she called me.

"(Y/N)? What's wrong?" she asked, a lit cigarette in hand.

"Where's Finn?"

"Off out with his brothers, why?"

"Where are they going?"

"To the races."

I scoffed, placing a hand on my head in defeat.

"Why? What's wrong with that?"

"He told me he would be in the office all day today."

"So? Things change."

"No, he specifically told me that. I never even asked about it. He made a point meaning he didn't want to risk me waltzing in. That means he's hiding something."

"(Y/N), they're only going to bet on horses today. They're mingling."

"They're betting today?!"

She stood, putting a hand on her hip."What am I missing here?"

"Pol, he's using money that we don't have! I need a car, I need to get to him."

"Look, even if my nephew is being the biggest idiot, it's a bad idea to go there."

"Why?"

Her eyes widened."Don't snap at me young lady."

"I'm sorry, I just, I just know he's going to be stupid with what little money we have at the minute."

Polly was silent for a few seconds, and I didn't know if she was just staring me out, trying to make me leave. Perhaps she didn't think it was anything to worry over. But it was to me. She surprised me when she went into one of her drawers, pulling out a set of keys.

"Come on. I'll get one of the girls to call your work, say you're sick."

I tightly clasped my hands together as Polly drove. I was furious, trying to think of what to say to Finn when I got there. He stole our money. He went behind my back, gambling away the money we worked hard to earn. I had never said it, but Finn had it much easier than I did. For one, he worked with family, and although I liked my job, the boss could sometimes be an arsehole; second, he earned a lot more than me, so he was the bigger breadwinner between us, but I worked longer hours. Yes, he was in a gang meaning he had more days where his life was under threat, but he seemed to be having a jolly good time anyway. Really, it wouldn't have mattered who worked longer or harder, or who earned more, it was still our money to spend on our house.

As soon as Polly parked up, I was straight out of the car. She quickly followed grabbing my arm and warning me to not get lost in the crowds. I couldn't make a scene, especially since there could be potential business partners or enemies about. I refrained from rolling my eyes, knowing she was right but also knowing that I would find it extremely hard to not scream at Finn.

Polly guided me to where the men would be, ignoring the shoving and shouting. I wished for her to walk quicker. We swiftly entered the posher boxes, almost stopped by a doorman until his accomplice shut him up. I even heard him whisper 'That's Polly Gray you idiot.', the one time I was glad we had a reputation. She only paused to scan the room for the boys but I spotted them first. Quickly moving past her, I couldn't stop my fists from clenching, seeing Finn joyfully drinking and laughing with his brothers only added fire to my fury.

"Finn!" I snapped, quickly catching his attention.

"(Y/N)?" he exclaimed, struggling to stand and clattering the plates and glasses on the table."W-what are you doing here?"

"Stopping you from spending our money like a fucking idiot! Where is it?"

"Oh, Finn boy is in the doghouse." John chuckled.

"Shut up!" I fiercely pointed at him.

"Where's what?" Finn brought me back.

"Our money!"

"I told you, you do this outside." Polly warned, shoving Finn in that direction, and I knew I had to follow him.

Luckily, we were left alone. Finn continued on, finding someplace we would be alone. Once we were in the clear, the distant roar of the crowds covering our conversation, I saw him sigh quietly, running a hand down his face when he realised what was coming.

"Where's the money Finn?" I asked, calmer but with a mean tone.

"Let me explain first.”

"Explain how you took our money without asking? How you just waltzed out this morning without consulting me?"

"Tommy said that there was a good chance, a very good chance that this horse would win, and I thought it would help us if we put our money on it. Imagine how much we'll have if it wins!"

"If it wins Finn, if! You're gambling our money, why would you do something like that?"

"Because you went on about not having enough money! And here I am trying to help!"

My mouth dropped open in shock."You really don’t see the problem here."

"No, actually, I don't." he crossed his arms over his chest.

"Finn, you stole money from the drawer! You then go behind my back and bet it away. Have you thought about what we'll do if that horse loses?"

"But it won't, Tommy said."

"And what if Tommy is wrong this time? Also, don't pin this on your brother, I know he hasn't even suggested this idea."

"I'm not-urgh!" Finn groaned."Why don't you trust me?"

"I can't trust a gamble Finn. I don't think you realise how many nights I've spent lying awake, worried that we'll never have enough for our own home, and thinking that you don't even care anymore."

"Of course I care. This is why I've bet the money."

"How is this not getting in your head?"

"(Y/N)," he took my hands in his, but I couldn't even look at him,"in a few minutes we will hear them announce the winner, and we will start jumping for joy when we realise how much money we're going to get back, and we're going to be so much closer to getting our home."

"Finn, I desperately want to believe that. But even if we do win, you're in deep trouble." I took my hands away from him, turning around. I couldn't even look at my own fiance.

On queue, we heard a man come over the intercom, it was muffled to me but I knew Finn was listening intensely. Glancing over my shoulder, I watched for his reaction, turning around fully when I saw his expression. We had lost. We lost all that money.

"How could you be so fucking stupid?!" I screamed at him, throwing slaps onto his chest."Why couldn't you just listen to me? I don't understand why you had to lie to me Finn!"

I broke down crying, shoving him away from me. My sobs were loud but I didn't care. Finn could watch, see how much he upset me. My heart sank at the thought of it all gone, Finn had left scarcely any money in the drawer back at the flat.

"I'm sorry (Y/N)." Finn pathetically said.

"You know how you always go on about your family never trusting you enough for the big jobs? That you never get to go out with them and help? This is why. Because you do things like this, you fuck everything up Finn. Fuck!" I wiped away my tears, even though more spilled out."You know I've always stuck beside you, but this is the last straw Finn. I can't be with someone who doesn't want to put effort into their future."

"What are you saying? (Y/N), I can fix this. I promise I'll get the money back, I'll-"

"How? That took us so long to build that up. And you were spending our money almost every night on useless drinking. I can't Finn, I can't live like that anymore."

He ducked his head, and I almost wanted him to say something. When he didn't, I knew what I had to do.

I took a deep breath before speaking."I'm going home. I suggest you stay at Polly's tonight."

"Let me take you home-"

"No!"

"What's going on?" Tommy suddenly appeared, he, his brothers and Polly approaching.

"Your nephew, your brother, just gave away almost all of our money betting on a horse. Not only that, but he took the money without telling me. That was money for a house." I angrily explained.

"Is that true Finn?"

Finn shamefully nodded.

"We can get you your money back (Y/N)."

"It's not about that Tom. He's lied to me. He promised me he wouldn't spend our money every week, yet he did. And then he takes our money without asking me about it first."

"I'll fix it (Y/N), I promise I will." Finn was begging at this point.

"Another promise that you're bound to break. I've had enough today."

"Let's get you home love." Polly said, putting a stop to this argument as she stepped forward, taking me under her arm.

Finn didn't come home that night. I didn't sleep. I was sat at the tiny dining table, staring at the ring on my finger, wondering what to do. It broke my heart to think about leaving him, but it also broke my heart thinking about how reckless he had been. Did I really want to be marrying someone who acted like this? Would he mature? My heart wanted to believe he would, but my mind kept telling me that today confirmed he wouldn't. That was one of the worst nights of my life.

                                     *~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

I couldn't stand this job any longer. But it was the only thing keeping me alive. It was crappy work, the pay was just above minimum, enough for me to buy food, pay my rent and have the tiniest amount left over. Saving up money was hard when it was just you. Even after two years, I didn't have enough to consider looking at places of my own, or with less roommates. It was exhausting keeping up with these girls I lived with, there were 6 of us altogether. It was a big change when I moved away from Small Heath.

"You ready (Y/N)?" one of my roommates called out to me as I finished applying my lipstick.

"Just a second!" I replied, checking myself in the mirror.

It was the rare occasion that I was going out with them, the one time we could all go out together at all. I was looking forward to a few drinks, and although that sounded hypocritical, I realised that I had to have a night or two in at least a month to relieve myself of the stress I put upon myself.

We arrived at the small club we always went to, it had the cheapest drinks this side of town. We all shivered in the cold weather, walking as fast as we could to make it to the club. The warmth was very welcome, as well as the loud music that drew us further in. It was the usual routine, a few of us grab a table, the others get the drinks in, then we would all make our way to the dance floor. Hours passed, and I had to get away from the heat coming from the dancing, stepping back towards our table to get a drink. I saw my roommate stumbling in the direction of the bar, rolling my eyes as I went to help her, perhaps getting a drink whilst I was there. However, once I got closer, I stared at the man she was starting to flirt with.

"Isaiah?" I said as I got closer.

"(Y/N)!" he smiled, bringing me in for a hug.

"You two know each other?" my roommate asked, looking disappointed.

"He's an old friend. Just that, nothing else."

Isaiah let me go."How long has it been? Two years?"

"Uh, yeah. Yeah, two years. What are you doing here?"

"Business. Nothing dangerous though, you girls are still in for a good night. Especially you if you're good." he winked to my roommate.

"Is he...is he here?" my voice suddenly went shaky, and I felt almost completely sober.

Isaiah's playful nature dropped."Uh, he is. He's really misses you (Y/N). Hasn't even looked at another girl since you left. He's just not been the same." I wasn't sure how to reply.

"I can't not tell him I saw you. Imagine if he found out, he would be so upset with me."

"I know. I wouldn't want to hurt your friendship."

"Maybe you should see him. It might do you both some good."

"Or the opposite."

"He still loves you. Even if you don't feel the same, it could bring closure. But I know you (Y/N), I can tell what you're thinking."

"You were always annoying like that."

"He's out front, in the corridor. That's all I'm going to say."

I looked at him for a few seconds, trying to make my mind up."Well, this one is a handful, just so you know."

"I think I can handle her." Isaiah smirked.

"I was warning her about you."

I giggled at his reaction, walking away and leaving him in his natural habitat of flirting. But as soon as I turned around, my stomach dropped, nerves filling up my entire body. He was here. I hadn't seen him for two years, though I thought about him everyday. Would he look different? Did I look different? What was he going to say? What was I going to say? My brain didn't want to think of any words, maybe I was about to babble absolute nonsense to him.

Upon seeing him, my throat tightened, the cool air slapping me in the face; oh, now I was sober. He hadn't noticed yet, leaning up against a wall, hands in his pockets. Wow, he had changed. His boyish charm was still there, yet he had matured into a handsome young man. It was like I was seeing him for the first time all over again. I was just happy that he would be seeing me in my finer clothes rather than catching me after work.

Urging my feet to move, I almost sighed at how small my steps were. I really was scared. Isaiah had said reassuring things, yet I couldn't even walk up to him. It was too late to back out now, especially when he finally looked up at me. I froze on the spot, not knowing what to do. Finn seemed the same way.

"(Y/N)." he said, I only just heard it.

"Hello."

Hello? Really, that's all I could come up with?

He pushed himself off the wall, coming to stand in front of me, though not too close."I...I can't believe you're here."

"I could say the same about you."

"This is where you've been living then."

I nodded."It's not too bad. I mean, I'm on a night out."

"Who are you with?"

I knew he was wondering if I was with a man."My roommates, I live with five other girls."

"Oh, that's a lot."

"Yeah, it's the only place I could afford."

"I hope it's nice."

"I shouldn't complain. A lot better than other places."

We both knew we were making an awful attempt at small talk. I was sure he had so much to say like I did, we just didn't want to dump it on each other in case the other ran away. It was like we were teenagers again, awkwardly trying to think of something to fill the dreaded silence.

"I really want to talk about us (Y/N)." Finn said.

"You do?"

"I...I just have so much to say to you. I can't do it now, but what about tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow? Tomorrow, um, yes, yes tomorrow works for me. It's the weekend, so I'm not working."

He smiled slightly."OK, good. I'll come get you. Um, I need your address."

"Oh, here." I dug around in my purse, thankful there was a folded up tissue and a pen, it was good to be prepared. I wrote down my address, handing it to him.

"I'll pick you up at one. I would want it to be earlier, you just never know what time you'll be back with this sort of thing."

"I understand Finn, I did live this with you once."

I barely slept, even when we stumbled in at three in the morning. Luckily I hadn't seen Finn, Isaiah or any other Peaky Blinder that evening, no doubt settling business behind the scenes. Despite the lack of sleep, I was wide awake the next morning, up before everyone else who were nursing their hangovers, trying on multiple outfits in a desperate attempt to look nice, but not as if I put too much effort in. The clock was rolling onto one o'clock, and my heart was beating much faster than usual. I was about to make my way downstairs when something glistened on my small vanity. Should I take it? Yes, I would.

Finn knocked on the door, and I waited a few seconds before opening it. We smiled as we greeted each other, not going in for a hug or kiss on the cheek, something I was worried about. That was the first hurdle jumped over.

"How was your evening?" Finn struck up a conversation as we walked further into town.

"Much better than yours I presume?" I smirked. He chuckled."Yeah, didn't exactly get to enjoy the music. Small fight, nothing we couldn't handle."

It was strange hearing about Blinder business again."Well I'm glad you're all safe."

"I thought we could go out for lunch, saw a nice place round here."

"Oh, that would be lovely."

"We don't have to, if you don't feel comfortable."

"No, no, no, it's not that. It's just a lovely thing for you to do."

We both bashfully smiled, luckily the restaurant was just around the corner. I had expected nothing less when we walked into the fancy place, not because I thought I deserved it, but because Finn wouldn't be seen anywhere else. His clothes were even more tailored now than they had been the last I saw him, indicating that the gang had been doing well, more money was coming in. We both immediately picked up our menus as we sat, hoping someone would speak first. Our eyes glanced over the top of them, it was as if we were on our first date again, only this time in a better establishment.

"You look beautiful." he said, still hiding part of his face.

"Thank you." I blushed.

"I'll never forget what you wore when I picked you up for our first date. That blue dress you just bought, with a matching purse, and those heels that you hadn't practiced walking in. Well, you used that as an excuse to latch into my arm all night."

I smiled, placing down my menu."It was a good plan, wasn't it? And I did struggle in those heels, I just didn't want to embarrass myself."

He copied me."I liked holding your hand all night."

"What a sweet sentiment."

"I mean it. And I mean this date. That didn't sound right, but...what I'm trying to say is that I want to make it all up to you."

"You do?"

"Yes! I really didn't expect you to leave. I mean I did, but I didn't want to believe that. I didn't want to believe that I had been so selfish that I couldn't even see how much I had hurt you." 

“That was the hardest decision I ever made. Most days I battle with myself whether I made the right choice. All night I kept making deals with myself. If you came back, I would hear you out, and if it was good enough for me I would stay. But then you didn’t, so I said to myself ‘Give him another hour.’. An hour went by, and I said the same thing to myself. That went on for the whole evening until I found myself angrily packing my things. Even then, I sat by door on top of my suitcase for another hour or so.”

“I thought you just got up and left. I didn’t realise how long you waited for me.” he sighed into his hands.“I’m such a fucking idiot.”

I could tell he was full of regret. Although it sounded sadistic, I was glad that he was upset when reflecting on our past relationship, it meant he realised his mistake. On the other hand, I hated seeing him sad. I took his hands away from his face, hesitantly reaching into my handbag to pull out the engagement ring I kept.

His eyes widened.“You still have that? I looked everywhere for it when you left, guessed you took it to sell.”

“I won’t lie, that was my intention at first. But it meant too much to me. It was like selling a piece of my soul. I kept it hidden, I didn’t want to risk any of the girls seeing it, they would just ask too many questions.”

I kept my eye on the beautiful ring as I spoke, slowly twirling it around to catch it twinkling in the light.

"I had such a hard time picking that out. I knew what you wanted, but I had to get it right for you. I'm so glad you kept it."

"I did try to sell it. I was stood outside of a shop for ten minutes debating with myself. It would have helped a lot for the deposit on the room, but I couldn't do it."

We were silent, both staring at the ring. We used to do that a lot actually. Finn would take my hand and hold it up as we laid in bed together, both giggling as we watched it glisten like it was in present times, before squealing at the thought of us being married to each other. I constantly fiddled with it when he was off on business, a habit which never wore off, even now; whenever I was nervous or worried, I would automatically do the same action, just without the ring.

A waiter awkwardly interrupted us, and I hurriedly put the ring back in my bag, sharing an embarrassed smile with Finn as we ordered. Once he was gone, I quietly sighed, looking out of the window. We were in such a nice part of town, so many ladies in beautiful dresses and men in smart suits strolling around.

"Are you...are you OK for money?" Finn boldly asked.

I was a little shocked by that.

"I don't mean anything by it. I just want to make sure you're OK, I would hate for you to be struggling, if you were."

"Uh, no, no I'm fine actually. It's not as generous as my old wage but it keeps me alive, I can live with the bare necessities."

I could see him itching to say something else, to keep the conversation going. I wasn't sure if we could go back to the serious topic we had before. However, I also wanted to bring it back up, it felt like we needed to talk about us.

"How's the family?" That's all I could come up with.

"They're fine. Everyone is the same. Well, they're not, they're a bit more serious nowadays."

"They weren't in the first place?"

He smiled."I suppose they were. Tension is the right word, tensions have been rising. Tommy's taking on a lot more, Polly knows all these secrets that no one else does, Ada is rebelling against anything Tommy says, Linda is still annoying, Esme and John have been popping kids out left, right and centre. Arthur is still crazy."

"Sounds like business as usual to me."

"They miss you too."

"Do they?"

"Yeah. Almost as much as me."

I cast my eyes down as butterflies rose in my stomach.

"I heard nothing else for the next few weeks after you left. They all told me what an idiot I was, that I was an extremely reckless, stupid and immature boy, and that I had let the best thing in my life get away from me. And they were right. I knew all of that already."

"I...I don't really know what to say right now."

"You don't have to say anything, let's just enjoy this meal, no more of that talk."

The nerves making my stomach flip built at that. What if we had nothing else to talk about? What if it was too weird to dive into our separate lives? I didn't want to sit across my ex-fiance, painfully and politely smiling through forced conversation.

The spark was still there.

When the waiter had returned with our drinks, we were already deep in talk about what had been happening in our personal everyday life. We were non stop, even as we ate through dinner. The waiters had trouble catching our attention each time they checked on us. I was deep in those eyes again, the ones I always dreamed of seeing. We were laughing hysterically, not at all acting how we should have in that establishment (there were a few eye rolls from other patrons). As if time had gone by in a second, the bill was slipped towards Finn, though I still reached into my purse.

"Are you mad? No, put your money away, I'm not taking it." Finn stated as he carelessly threw down some notes, surprisingly taking my hand in his and guiding me out of the restaurant.

I was tense as we walked, and I saw a flash of realisation in Finn's eyes as we made it outside. Both looking down at our interlocked fingers, Finn broke away, clearing his throat.

"Sorry, force of habit."

Hesitating, I smiled up at him, lacing our hands together again."These are new heels I'm breaking in. Need help walking in them."

He chuckled, pulling me closer as we walked down the street. We were silent, feeling like kids in love again. I couldn't deny that my feelings were still strong for Finn, I missed him dearly. At first, part of me had been wary of all this, wondering if he really had good intentions, or just thought he could get a quick shag in from an ex before he left; but the effort he went through, the things we spoke about, trying to heal old wounds, Finn had matured and he was wanting to fix this. I wanted to fix this, my heart was aching for my old life with him. 

“We’re not done yet, are we?” I timidly asked.

“Not unless you want it to be.”

I instantly shook my head.“No, I’d like to stay out for longer.”

“Even though you’re struggling in your heels?”

I smirked.“I know a nice place we can sit down.”

I took him to the local park, it had a huge lake with benches dotted around, luckily it wasn’t busy, there was somehow a hint of privacy here. We sat down close to each other, hands still entwined. 

“You still hungry?” I asked.

“Hm?”

I dug into my purse, producing a bag of sweets I had bought the previous day. I laughed as his eyes lit up, taking one without even asking. I took one too, reminiscing on how we used to do the same thing as kids. It seemed he was thinking about it too.

“Just like the old days.” Finn said.

“We spent way too much money on sweets back then. It’s a wonder we still have our teeth.”

 “Wish I got out of that spending habit. We could be married and in our new house by now.”

“So you never wanted to move on? You didn’t give in to those girls wanting to be with a Peaky Blinder?”

“Never. I couldn’t. I couldn’t even fathom being with anyone else, it was always you (Y/N). Did you date?”

“No, I felt exactly the same. Which is why I was angry at myself for a long time. I was supposed to be upset with you, not still in love.”

His head whipped round to face me.“You still love me?”

My mouth was still open, unsure how to answer. It seemed I didn’t have to as Finn leaned in, placing on hand on my cheek as we kissed. Instinctively I kissed back, placing my hands on him where I could, hearing the bag of sweets fall to the ground and spill its contents. This kiss was needy, the type of kiss you gave your partner when you had missed them, when they had been away for a long time; and although we had our hands on each other, our touch was still gentle.

“Get the ring.” Finn breathed out, our lips still almost touching.

I carelessly got it for him, heart beating extremely fast. He took it from me, pecking me on the lips one last time before standing up. He straightened out his suit, took a deep breath and got down on one knee. I was just as emotional the first time he did it.

“(Y/N), I know I messed up everything in the past, I was careless when I should have been supportive and helped to build our future. I learnt from those mistakes, and I really, really want to go back to how we were. I need you (Y/N), I love you so much. There aren’t enough words to express how much love I have for you. Will you marry me?”

I didn’t need to think about my answer. I blurted out a yes, waiting for him to slide the ring back on my finger before throwing myself onto him. We stumbled back onto the ground, our arms around each other as we laughed and cried. I believed him this time, I truly believed him. He put in the effort to show me his changes, he wanted to fix everything. I wanted things back to the way they were with my man, and we were back to building our future and living the rest of our lives together.

[russiandoll-from-brooklyn]

Just Once - Part 2

Title: Just Once - Part 2

Some of y'all were asking for Part 2 of Just Once so here ya go! This picks up right after the first story.

Pairing: Tony Stark x fem!reader

Summary: Grief and loneliness got the best of you last night. Your friendship with Tony was too precious to risk, and now all you want to do is move on. But what happens when the other party doesn't want to forget?

Warnings: smut, language, (technically) cheating, friends to lovers, mentions of past canon trauma, oral (f receiving), protected sex

Word Count: 5.1k

[Starts out sweet and all about tony x reader friendship, then turns into steamy Tony smut. Table sex, included. 😳]

---

Thump, thump, thump.

Your feet hit the pavement rhythmically as you jog your normal morning route. It’s a misty Seattle morning, and the world is still quiet. The sun is rising sleepily, beginning to bathe the world in gold. All is well.

Except. It isn’t.

You turn the block corner, and your apartment comes into sight. You take a glance down at your watch.

42 minutes.

That’s how long ago you had quietly slipped out of your apartment for your morning run. That’s how long it had been since your eyes shot open and you remembered the events of last night, rushing into your mind, all at once like a tsunami. You had turned your head to find Tony still asleep beside you in the bed. One leg sticking out of the messy sheets and his face buried in the pillow. Your pillow.

You had stared at him in disbelief, half-expecting him to disintegrate into a fleeting figment of your imagination. You had rubbed your eyes, trying to clear the haze.

Nope. Still there.

You silently curse yourself and your stupidity (see: weakness in the face of sexual temptation) for the 50th time this morning as you approach the brick building. Perhaps, when you reenter your apartment, Tony will be gone, and this will all have just been a bad trip — or something of the like.

Before you even open the door, the smell of frying bacon reaches your nose. You step inside and are greeted by a peculiar sight.

Tony Stark, clad in nothing but a pair of dark jeans, is buzzing about your small kitchenette. Simultaneously, there are eggs being flipped over-easy on the stovetop, orange juice being procured from the open fridge, bacon sizzling happily in a pan, and toast being buttered. You stand in amazement for a few seconds, processing the scene before you. The wonderful aroma of the all-American breakfast makes you mouth water.

“Y/N! Hey!” Tony exclaims when he sees you.

You slide onto a stool at the bar top, overlooking the controlled chaos unfolding in the kitchen area. Tony truly has remarkable skill when it comes to multitasking. You guess, all that time in the suit, operating about twenty computing systems at once, was good practice.

“Wow. Breakfast?” you remark, raising an eyebrow. “Since when do you cook?”

He scoffs, shooting you a brief smile before turning away to rapidly crack some black pepper onto the eggs.

“Cooking is easy. People think it’s a skill, but really it’s just planning, timing it out. It’s like assembling anything else. You just do the parts in order, trying not to break any yolks.”

You roll your eyes sarcastically at the classic “Tony” response.

Suddenly, all the components come crashing together, and Tony is setting down two perfectly assembled breakfast plates on the bar top — complete with a glass of orange juice for each of you. It looks delicious; it’s been way too long since you had a proper breakfast. Meaning, a breakfast that wasn’t cereal, a protein bar, or a bowl of sad, pale, scrambled eggs. You thank Tony as he pulls up the other stool to sit across from you.

“Dig in,” he says cheerfully, raising his fork. “Good run this morning?”

You nod, taking a big gulp of orange juice.

“Yeah, I heard you leaving,” Tony continues mindlessly. “Kind of weird waking up to an empty bed after a night like that. I finally know what it feels like to be on the other side, I guess.”

You nearly spit out your bite of toast. And just like that, reality comes crashing back down to earth. For a brief moment, it had felt like things could possibly come out normal on the other side. You and Tony could go back to being perfectly normal best friends.

How ignorant.

“What?” you remark incredulously.

You’re on the verge of laughter, partially out of amusement but mostly out of bewildered embarrassment.

Tony gives you his award-winning “I’m innocent!” raised-eyebrow expression. You suddenly become acutely aware of the situation. Tony Stark is sitting in your kitchen, shirtless, serving you breakfast. After you spent a far-from-platonic night rolling around your sheets together. You want to slap yourself.

“I’m talking about the incredible sex we had last night. And then, you leaving me alone before sunrise,” Tony explains casually, pushing your buttons further. “That's usually my play.”

He looks up at you, expecting a playful quip in return. Instead, you just slowly set down the fork you had been gripping.

“Tony,” you begin, seriously and calmly. “Let’s not talk about it. It was one night, and it won’t happen again. It was just once. We gave into the moment, but we shouldn’t-“

“The moment?” Tony suddenly blurts out, interrupting you. You purse your lips, surprised by the new and unexpected edge of anger in his voice. “God. Y/N. The moment, huh? You’re really just going to shrink it down to that. Just a moment.”

You stare at him, confused. Tony’s big brown eyes hold yours with an intensity. It's amazing how fast his sarcastic, playful tone can morph into ferocity. You want to look away, break his gaze, but you can’t. This whole thing was a mistake.

“It was fun,” you finally say. “But it was just a fuck. We were lonely.”

“You know, Y/N. You’re so damn smart,” Tony replies, leaning back a bit in his seat. “So, why do you always try and kid yourself? It bothers me. I know -- that you know -- that this wasn’t just a fuck.”

Your mind races through a million different responses.

Then, what was it?

What do you mean?

Why are you acting like this?

I'm not kidding myself.

But something tells you, deep down, that there's nothing you can say that won't lead to something you don't want to hear.

So, instead, you angrily snatch up your glass of orange juice, rising from your seat at the bar. You grit your teeth at Tony one more time before turning your back and striding toward to your study. You feel your cheeks burning hot.

The study is a second living room-sized space where you keep all your projects. Early sunlight is now streaming in through the large windows, falsely giving the impression of a peaceful Saturday morning. The large wooden table tops are littered with wires, microchips, and other electronic parts. When you first met the Avengers year ago, you and Tony butted heads over your shared expertise in technology and robotics. After much bickering and trying to outdo each other, you eventually accepted one another's intelligence and bonded over your shared field.

You look to the floor of your large study to see the air mattress you had set up there prior to Tony's arrival yesterday, obviously still pristine. You squeeze your eyes shut. Your apartment is absolutely dripping with reminders of last night's events. The empty whiskey glasses, still sitting on the side table in the living room. The couch pillows crumpled from the weight of your bodies, hungrily crashing together above them. You don't even want to think about your bedroom, where you're sure Tony's missing shirt is strewn on the ground.

You push the thoughts out of your your mind, pulling up a seat at your work table. You start to fiddle with a new lightweight shoulder pauldron you're currently designing. You can feel yourself going into 'shut-out' mode, trying your hardest to focus all your attention on the metal in your hands. This was all too much. This was all wrong.

When you hear footsteps behind you, entering the study, you ignore it. Tony quietly traverses the floor, coming to pull up a chair on the other side of the work table. He silently watches you working the wires into place. You don't look up. You don't have to see his expression to know the contemplative expression undoubtably painted on his face. You also don't have to look at him to know he's pondering more than just your work.

"You know, aluminum-titantium alloy won't hold up after a few heavy hits," Tony comments, nodding to the armor piece.

"I'm gonna chromatize it," you reply dryly, not looking up from your hands.

"I wouldn't bother. You can't just give everything a shiny coat to hold it together. If the problem is underneath, that is."

Fuck Tony and his fucking metaphors.

You growl angrily, throwing the pauldron down in frustration. You sit back in your seat and cross your arms, finally meeting your friend's eyes.

"Ok, fine," you say matter-of-factly. "Let's talk about it. It was good. It was really fucking good. And we both needed it. But that's it. I'm willing to leave it at that and forget about it if you are."

Tony rubs his beard in his palm, seemingly mulling over your words. His brown eyes don't leave yours. The warm sunlight coming in through the window behind him paints yellow patches on his bare shoulders, bathing him in gold. You take a mental picture of him, sitting there in his thoughts. A brief, intrusive thought passes through your mind, threatening that this could be the last time you see him. You immediately banish the notion. This friendship means too much to you. Not even a fuck-up as big as this one could make you want to toss it away. You hope Tony agrees.

"Help me understand where your head's at, Y/N," Tony finally replies. "What is your biggest concern right now? Wait, listen, I know there's a lot of reasons why last night was bad. But I want to know what you're thinking."

You sigh, uncrossing your arms. As much as Tony's 'list-and-analyze' reaction to crisis could be annoying, in some ways, it comforted you. Tony is impulsive, yes, but those who know him best also know his calculative nature: the mental risk assessments, the contingency plans labelled through Z. Always searching for the route that will hurt everyone the least. Always.

You consider his question carefully. Again, there's a million answers: the risk of ruining your friendship, the potential awkwardness, Pepper -- oh, god, Pepper --, the pain and grief you've both been through in the past few years. You close your eyes and pick one.

"You're one of the only people left that I trust. One of my only friends. Complexity doesn't often end well."

"You're right," Tony admits. "But aren't you the one who asked, 'is it wrong to not want to be alone'?"

You scoff loudly, angered by his using your words against you. However, that bitterness melts away into nothing when you see the heart-wrenching expression on Tony's face. His lips are pursed, and his eyes are searching yours desperately. Tony rarely shows outward weakness, but right now, the man before you isn't Iron Man. The man before you is broken. Someone who has tried everything to hold it -- his sanity, his relationship, his life -- together, to save the people he loves, to be strong. Someone who failed at that. Someone who truly felt alone.

You rest your chin in your palms and sigh, the weight falling over you as well.

Finally, you speak.

"Isn't it awful -- and strange -- how it can feel like a lifetime ago and just yesterday at the exact same time?"

Tony nods sadly at your observation. Of course, you were talking about the snap. About Thanos.

"You're right. About everything," he remarks. "Sometimes, it just gets too much. The...”

Loneliness. You finish his sentence in your head.

“Me too.”

“You should know though,” Tony continues. “I would never stop being your friend. No matter how complex things are. This — what we’ve been through — could never change, Y/N.”

There it is.

Some situations feel like you're running in circles; you're spiraling downwards and everything you say only makes matters worse and worse. It feels like sinking in quicksand with no way out. In every one of those situations, there's a key -- that one sentence, that one idea, that effortlessly clears the fog. This was it. Tony is going to be here, always. Everything is going to be alright.

You straighten up a bit in your seat. You let out a long sigh and give Tony a small smile.

"I know," you assure your friend. "Sometimes I forget everything that's happened. How complicated it's been before. How we made it out."

Tony laughs, and you're relived.

"How could you forget? It's been a wild ride."

The two of you grin at each other. You take a sip of your orange juice, which you had forgotten about and was now lukewarm.

"OK, happy?" you inquire with a playful tone. "Base material fixed. No need for shiny coats of anything. We're solid now."

Tony lets out a hearty chuckle at the stupid analogy. Suddenly, he stands, circling the work table until he's right in front of you. You suck in a breath of oxygen. From your seated position, your head only comes up to his abs. Bare abs, that is. You tilt your face upwards to meet his eyes.

"Y/N," he says gently. “Stand up.”

Confused, you rise to your feet. Before you can open your mouth to say anything else, Tony’s lean and muscular arms are wrapped around you. He pulls you into his chest, embracing you in his warmth. His grip is firm, as if he’s afraid you might run away. You soften into the hug, wrapping your arms around his back. You feel safe.

After a few moments, Tony releases you. However, he doesn’t move away, and the two of you are still nearly chest-to-chest. You peer up at him, and your friend’s warm toffee eyes meet yours.

“Wow, a Tony Stark hug?” you remark sarcastically. “I should play the lotto today.”

Tony chuckles under his breath. Despite your joking, it was true that Tony rarely gives hugs. He just isn’t the touchy-feely type — according to himself. Somehow this gesture, right now, meant everything. A hug was the most intimate thing Tony could have given you. It was a seal, a mark saying ‘I meant every word I just said.’

Tony is still standing directly in front of you, so close there’s only a magazine’s width between you. He’s so near that you can feel the warmth of his steady breathing, and the slight radiating heat from the arc reactor in his chest. Suddenly, you feel that familiar tug in your stomach. A rush of blood downwards...

“Tony-“

“Do you want me?” Tony cuts you off. His voice is low, gentle.

You suck in a breath of air at his words. Despite his directness, there's a detectable edge of nervousness in his tone. You smile internally at knowing you have this effect on Mr. Playboy. The slight uncertainty in Tony's voice also tells you that it's true: this is different. Last night was not just a mindless fuck. This is an understanding, wrapped around a mutual care that runs so deep that it burns.

You don’t even try to convince yourself that you don’t want Tony. Every ounce of your being is screaming to close the gap between you. You can still hear the scientist-logic-brain in you resisting, but your heart feels at ease. You and Tony. A concept that felt like the forbidden fruit itself just ten minutes ago now looked more like an oasis. And oasis that was maybe alright to take a drink from every once in a while.

You snake one hand upward to hold his cheek. Tony pushes gently into your palm.

It's you who leans in first. When your lips collide, it's soft. He presses himself into you, a delicate sigh escaping. You pull back just enough to whisper a breathy "I want you."

And oh, god do you want him.

“Then, have me,” Tony whispers back, gently.

You nearly visibly shiver. Any trace of hesitation is gone from his voice now. His words are demanding, but his tone is more of a plea.

“Do you want to go the bedroom?”

“No,” Tony replies immediately. He’s breathless. “Right here.”

You immediately feel wetness drop into your panties. Tony’s eyes have grow darker, as they bear down at you. The intensity makes your legs feel weak. You need him. He needs you.

In a moment of boldness, you bring your hands down to the hemline of your shirt. You lift the garment up and over your head, placing it on the work table beside you. Tony’s eyes wander to your red sports bra and your now-stiffened nipples showing through the sleek fabric.

In the next breath, Tony is suddenly kissing you again, his lips against yours in a desperate hunger. He brings his large, roughly calloused hands to your waist. He firmly grips your body, making you feel tiny in his hold. You let a small moan escape your lips.

Still holding you in his grasp, Tony starts to walk you backwards until your backside is pressed against the edge of your large work table. Tony’s hips press forward into you, making you gasp with excitement. You fingertips tangle in his hair, just wanting more and more and more...

In an effortless movement, Tony lifts your sports bra over your head. He throws the red fabric to the side, neither of you caring where it lands. Tony breaks away from your lips, starting to kiss down your cheek, jaw, and then finally giving attention to the delicate skin on your neck. Again, he’s careful not to nip or suck too hard to leave marks. The light scratching of his facial hair contrasts with the soft wetness of Tony’s lips, making you throw your head back in pleasure.

He continues to attend to your neck and jaw as one of his jean-clad thighs moves to fall between your legs. You let out a deep groan as Tony begins to rub and and roll his knee forward, stimulating your clothed core. His movements are like a wave, every forward crest bringing you a tiny bit of that friction your body wants so, so much. You’re in awe of the control Tony has over his movements and the effortless pleasure he’s capable of giving. You can’t help but find his experience and expertise sexy.

“Y/N,” Tony breathes against your neck. “Say it again. Please. Say you want me.”

It occurs to you that, aside from last night, Tony hasn’t felt wanted in a long time. Like, truly wanted. A pang of sadness fills your heart.

“Tony. I want you,” you declare, making sure the conviction in your voice shines through. You don’t have to try. You desire him more than anything right now. “I want you. I want this.”

With your words, Tony moans deeply into your jawline and begins to move his leg between yours more vigorously. Your fingertips trace over his bare back muscles. You trail your hands upward, into the nape of his neck, massaging his scalp. Everything about his beautiful form fits perfectly in your hands.

Tony continues moving downwards, soon finding your right nipple in his mouth. You arch your back, letting a loud moan escape your lips. He works your nipple expertly, rolling it and playing at it with his tongue. He alternates to your other nipple, his thumb replacing where his mouth just left. He lightly strokes the hard, spit-slick bud, and the combination of coolness and friction is heaven.

Tony stands back up, and a second later, his hands are at the elastic band of your running shorts. His eyes meet yours for a moment, silently asking for your permission. You nod a bit too eagerly, and Tony cracks a small, teasing smile. You scoff and lightly slap his shoulder, returning the smile.

Tony pulls your shorts down in one swift motion, leaving you in just your underwear. Next thing you know, Tony’s arms are around your waist. You let out a soft, surprised squeal as he lifts you effortlessly to sit on the edge of the work table behind you. Slightly elevated now, you come to about the same height as Tony.

“Hey,” you protest playfully. “Be careful. There’s important stuff here.”

Tony reaches behind you to clear the area, moving your half-finished projects and parts to the side.

“My apologies, Ms. Y/L/N,” he replies with a huge grin. “Got a bit carried away.”

You pull him into another deep kiss. He growls with pleasure when you nip at his bottom lip. Tony is now standing between your knees, his torso pressing gently into your panty-covered pussy. You can feel his erection through his jeans, straining against his clothes. After seeing Tony’s length for the first time last night, the mental image of his cock — just a few millimeters away from your core — is enough to make you drool. You wrap your legs around him, pulling him in harder against you. He moans into your mouth, and you feel the vibrations as your tongues tangle together.

You feel Tony’s body leaning forward, slowly coaxing you to lay down on the table. Now fully on your back, Tony’s above you, taking in the sight of your body.

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re the most magnificent creature on Earth?”

“No,” you reply with a smirk. “But now, knowing how many other planets are out there in the galaxy, just being Miss Earth doesn’t seem like a huge deal.”

Tony laughs, smiling with his teeth. You find the crinkles that form on the outer corners of his eyes utterly endearing.

“Well, you’re still one out of four-and-three-quarters billion,” he jests back. “Not too shabby. It’s all about the little victories.”

You giggle. The pleasant thought passes through your mind that despite the current situation, everything does feel strangely normal. Tony is still Tony; you’re still you. The banter between you and your friend is still comfortable and easy. Your relationship, although maybe morphing into something more nuanced, remains unmoved.

You’re so caught up in your inner thoughts, that you don’t register Tony kneeling to the ground between your legs. You gasp when you feel his warm mouth over your still-clothed pussy. The combined wetness of his mouth and your core easily soaks through the fabric of your panties, making it cling to your skin. Tony runs his tongue over your folds, through the saturated cloth. You groan with pleasure, the small of your back arching off of the table. You grip Tony’s dark hair, needing something to hold onto.

The sensation of Tony’s lips and tongue through your thin panties is completely unique, and fuck, does it drive you wild.

After a few minutes, Tony’s hands reach up to hook in the waist of your panties. He removes your final garment, leaving you fully bare. His mouth immediately returns to your pussy. His tongue circles your clit, before running downwards through your lips, and then back up again. He alternates this pattern with gentle sucks on your clit.

“Oh, Tony. Shit,” you manage to call out. “That feels so good.”

He hums hungrily into you, pleasuring you to a level that no previous lovers have ever come close to. Tony’s large, rough hands wander upwards. One palm gentle grips your breast, while the other comes under your waist to hold the small of your back.

You raise your head slightly to glance down at Tony. The sight is pornographic. His face is buried in your cunt, head bobbing. The shape of his shoulder muscles, and his strong back. His tan skin, all bathed in golden sunlight.

Pleasuring you. On his knees.

It’s like a painting. Beautiful and erotic.

“Tony. I need you,” you gasp out, suddenly overcome with neediness. “Inside me. Fuck, I want you.”

Those magic words, again. I want you. The effect they have on Tony is instantaneous. Without hesitation, Tony is on his feet. He swiftly unbuttons his jeans and pulls down the zipper. His pants fall down to his ankles where he kicks them off. To your surprise his naked cock springs free. A glistening pearl of precum is formed at the tip.

“Wow, commando, huh?” you tease, gently biting at your bottom lip. “You were so confident you were going to get lucky again today?”

“Of course not. I just like to let it breath sometimes,” Tony remarks. “You wouldn’t get it. It’s a man thing.”

You scoff and roll your eyes sarcastically. Lovable idiot.

“Top drawer?” Tony asks, referring to the location of the condoms.

“On the left.”

Tony hurries out of the room and returns a second later with a condom from your bedroom. Stepping closer between your knees, he gives his cock a few pumps in his fist. You can feel your heart quickening with anticipation. Your pussy is nearly pulsing, needing to be stretched and filled.

Tony rips open the shiny wrapper and rolls the condom down onto his length. You scoot slightly closer to the edge of the table as his hands travel to grip your thighs. You moan deeply as Tony rubs the head of his cock over your slit, spreading your moisture.

“Are you ready?” Tony asks, eyes dark with desire.

“Mmhmm,” you hum. “Make me feel good.”

With that, Tony starts slowly pushing into your dripping pussy. You groan as your walls accommodate to his girth. It’s amazing that you took him just last night, and he’s already capable of stretching you like this again. Tony throws his head back, hissing in pleasure as he bottoms out, his pubic mound flush against yours.

He starts pumping gently. The way Tony’s hips roll forward in fluid motions makes you want to scream with pleasure. His hands are gripping your thighs tightly, fingertips digging into the soft flesh.

Tony’s pace quickens, and soon the room is filled with sounds of wetness, skin slipping on skin, and the moans leaving both your throats. One of Tony’s hands moves to your pussy. His thumb rubs tight circles on your clit making you see stars behind your eyes. The extra stimulation almost immediately starts tightening the orgasmic coil in your stomach. Tony seems to know the exact speed to move his cock and thumb to turn you into a whimpering mess beneath him.

“Oh, more,” you groan, your pleasure growing. “Tony Stark. Yes, oh, please.”

“Come for me, Y/N,” Tony growls almost primally. “Wanna feel you squeezing around my cock.”

Tony’s filthy demands go straight to your pussy. You love the feeling of being under him, sprawled out on the table, completely naked for him to fuck. And the dirty talk is the cherry on top.

The pleasure in your abdomen continues to rise until you’re on the edge of ecstasy. With one last thrust, your orgasm washes over you. You scream Tony’s name into the room, not caring who hears. Pulses of pleasure rip through your entire body, even making your feet tingle. When you come down, the convulsions slowing, your head feels fuzzy and bubbly.

Not even a moment later, you feel Tony lifting your legs higher. Still inside you, he straightens them, bringing your ankles to rest on his shoulders. The new sensation is instantly nirvana. He starts pumping into you, and the head of his cock rubs your G-spot on every thrust. Penetrative sex had never felt this good for you.

“You feel so fucking amazing, Y/N,” Tony manages to says between moans. “I’m not gonna last much longer.”

The feeling of your pussy being pounded in this angle has your eyes rolling back into your skull. All your thoughts seem to leave your head. The only thing you can focus on is the immense pleasure. The sound of Tony’s balls slapping against you wetly with every stroke combined with his desperate moans fill your ears.

Tony’s thrusts start to become more jagged, needy. His moans slowly transform more into whimpers as he continues to fuck into you. Suddenly, Tony comes with a series of loud groans, his eyes shut tight. You feel his dick pulsating inside you as he orgasms. He thrusts a few more times, riding out the last waves.

He gently slides out of you, his hands coming down the tabletop next to your waist to steady himself. Both of you are breathing heavily, your bodies radiating with the afterglow of pleasure.

Silently, Tony helps you to stand before sweeping you up easily in his arms. You lean into his chest as he carries you to the bedroom. Tony lays you down carefully on the cool mattress before hurrying to the bathroom. He returns a moment later with a warm washcloth.

After cleaning yourselves up, Tony crawls into the refreshing sheets beside you. He slips one arm under your neck, and you cuddle in closer to his body. The warmth and smoothness of his skin is so, so welcoming. In the strangest way, it feels natural.

“I didn’t think it was possible to top last night,” you finally say, chuckling.

“Me neither,” Tony replies. “I guess we just have good chemistry.”

“Who would’ve thought?” You laugh and drape an arm over his chest. “Hey, question.”

“Ask away.”

“Why did you cook all that stuff earlier? Like the eggs, toast, the whole nine yards. It was sort of...”

“Out of character?” Tony finishes your sentence.

You nod. Tony takes a deep breath, exhaling loudly.

“Honestly, when I woke up, and you were gone, I was freaking out a little bit. I wanted to talk about last night, but you weren’t there, and I just didn’t know what you were thinking. If you were having serious regrets, or if you were angry, or upset with me. Or if you were thinking our whole friendship was burned to the ground.

“I just needed to do something. Anything. Busy my hands, distract my mind. Sorry that I kind of raided your kitchen.”

You turn to peer up at him, letting out a soft laugh. His chocolate eyes meet yours, and you give him a kind smile, endeared by his typical, hyper ramblings.

“I’m sorry I left,” you start. “I was freaking out a little, too. I guess that’s always been a difference between us. I always try to run from the unknown, while you just want to plow straight through it.”

Tony smiles warmly and blinks his gorgeous, thick black eyelashes at you.

“It’s why we make a good pair. Balance. Yin and yang. Ya’ know.”

You both chuckle, content in one another’s arms. You open your mouth to reply, but you’re cut off by a loud growl from your stomach. Tony bursts into laughter.

“Your fault for barely touching breakfast,” Tony remarks playfully. “Which — not to toot my own horn — was quite artfully made.”

“I guess I could settle for a bowl of lowly cereal as punishment,” you reply with mock sadness.

Tony chuckles and shakes his head. He starts to rise from the bed, then offers his hand for you to follow.

“C’mon, I’ll make you some more eggs.”

[handsomelyhiddleston]

Sticky Notes - Tom Hiddleston x Reader

It all started on the set of Ragnarok. They hadn’t even started filming yet. Table reads, choreography, costume fittings, set development…The cast, crew, and even Taika started finding little notes.

Some were specifically to certain people…

“Your laugh is contagious. Thank you for making this set so down to earth and inviting.” You slipped that into Taika’s (the director’s) fanny pack when he left it on his director’s chair.

“I know how hard you’ve been working on your fight choreography, and I just wanted to let you know you absolutely killed it today!” You left that stuck to Tessa’s (Valkyrie’s) water bottle.  

Some you posted for everyone, like “I know that you all put such amazing effort and time into bringing this movie to life and I just want you all to know that it doesn’t go unnoticed.” That note was posted above a table full of ‘easy to grab’ snacks you laid out such as protein bars, fruit snacks, pretzels, and dried fruit.

This continued well into filming. Everyone had tried to figure out who was leaving these little daily encouragements. It got to the point that Taika started calling you Casper, as in “Casper the Friendly Ghost.” Every day at the start of filming he would say. “Come on guys. Let’s make Casper proud.”

Everyone had a theory. Most thought that it was actually Taika just trying to keep morale up. Taika accused Tom but took it back after some comment about the notes not sounding very British.

Your job on set was to cast extras. While you were present daily, you honestly only had to meet with Taika once or twice a day to make sure the next day’s cast extras were ready. You two fell into an easy rhythm working together and he started asking for your opinion on some other aspects of the set. One late afternoon, after an incredibly chaotic day of filming, Taika decided that he was going to scrap the entire scene and start it over.

He pulled out his phone and sent a text to you, Tom, and Chris. “Today can suck it. I’ve just watched the dailies, and something just isn’t right about that scene. Meet at mine in 30 so we can get ahead of it.” A few seconds later he added, “And for the love of God, someone bring some tequila.”

You laughed at his text, jogging to the trailer you shared with the other casting director. You changed into a pair of shorts and a baggy t-shirt and grabbed your keys and wallet. You jumped in your car so you could make a quick trip to the Starbucks down the street since it appeared it was going to be a long night.

“One Venti iced coffee with milk and 1 sugar, one Grande Americano hot with cream and 2 sugars, one Venti hot latte with vanilla, and one Venti hot water with two earl gray tea bags and four sugars on the side. Can I also get one of the small kid’s milk boxes?” You heard the barista repeat your order back and pulled forward and paid.

When you got to Taika’s trailer, Tom and Chris were already there.

“Oh, bless you” Taika thanked you, taking the Latte from you.

“You’re the best” Chris said, taking the lid off of the Americano so it would cool off a bit.  

“Tom, I grabbed you tea.” You handed him the hot water and two tea bags, setting the sugars and milk next to him so he could make it to his liking.

“You’re too kind” Tom graciously took the hot water from you, noting that you grabbed his favorite kind of tea.

In Taika’s trailer there was a table with a bench on each side. Chris and Tom were sat on one side, leaving a space for you to sit next to Taika.

“Anyone grab the tequila?” you laughed, dropping your keys and wallet on Taika’s counter and sitting at the table with your iced coffee.

Taika grabbed the bottle and sat it down in front of you. “You’re already two swigs behind, love.”

“Bullshit” you laughed. “Prove it. Where are the shot glasses?”

“I said swigs, not shots” Taika smirked. “We don’t have shot glasses.”

“Look at how much is missing from that bottle. I just bought it.” Hemsworth backed Taika up.

You looked at Tom, knowing he would be honest with you.

“Hey, you trust Tom more than me?” Taika pretended to be offended.

“Tom always looks out for everybody. I don’t think he’d let me get two shots drunker than you fools.” You teased Taika, poking his side and sticking your tongue out at him.

“Watch” Taika said, putting his arm around your shoulders and looking towards Tom. “How many swigs did we all take?”

Tom laughed, “I’m sorry darling, but he’s telling you the truth.”  

“Fine, fine.” You opened the bottle and took three swigs, handing it to Taika. “Catch up, then.”

Tom started thinking about the compliment you had given him as he took his third swig of Tequila. He felt flattered that you felt that way, but it also reminded him of one of the notes he had found stuck to his trailer door.

“Okay, we need to re-block this whole scene. It just did not translate from script to screen…” The four of you worked on a few line changes and mapped out a better way to execute the scene for over two hours.

There was a bit of dialogue that Taika felt was getting lost that he really just didn’t want to let go of. “We may just have to mess with this tomorrow while we’re filming.”

“Or you could have Loki say it instead of Thor.” You suggested.

“Could do.” You could tell that Taika was thinking it over.

“Here you have Thor immediately going into another hard-hitting line” you explained. “If that line comes from Loki, it makes it less likely to get lost.”

“I think that will fix this problem too” Chris started underlining other parts of the dialogue.

“What do you think?” Taika looked at Tom.

“I mean, I personally think Loki has already evolved enough at that point in the script that it suits him quite nicely.” Tom explained in a way only Tom can explain.

“I agree” you said. “You guys make Loki grow quite a bit in this film and as usual, Tom is hitting it out of the park. I’m 100% confident he will have conveyed that message to the audience by this point.”

“Thank you for your vote of confidence.” Again, Tom was flattered. However, he was growing more and more suspicious that you were Casper.

“Always” you replied, smiling at Tom as you finished your coffee.

“Let me type this up and we can table read it.” Taika grabbed the papers and went to the other side of the trailer where his computer was set up.

“While you do that, I’m going to steal your restroom for a moment.” Chris stood, throwing his empty coffee cup away and closing the bathroom door. Chris joined Taika a moment later.

“Y/n?” Tom said, kind of quietly.

“What’s up?” Your elbows were resting on the table with your chin sat on your hands.

“Can I ask you something?” Tom didn’t want to bring it up in front of anyone. He didn’t want the notes to stop, but he had to know.

Tom looked a bit serious, but you didn’t know why. “Of course.”

“Are you…” He stopped, reaching his hand into his back pocket to retrieve his wallet. “Is this you?”

Your eyes went wide as Tom pulled a small stack of pink sticky notes out of his wallet, laying them down next to each other. There must have been 10 of them in total. You were touched that he actually kept them. Sometimes you felt silly leaving them for people not knowing if they appreciated them. You tried to play it off, laughing. “I thought those were from Taika?”

He pointed at one of them, reading it quietly. “I tried the tea you always drink. I don’t think it could ever replace my love of coffee, but I wanted you to know it pairs well with a good book.” He pointed to another note. “I know you paid for everyone to Uber home after our last night out. I just wanted to tell you I appreciate you. Thank you for always looking out for us.” You could feel his eyes on you as he moved his hand to a third note. “I envy your ability to capture a room. You’ve got an amazing knack for making those watching you feel whatever emotion you’re trying to convey.” When Tom’s hand moved to the fourth note, you heard Taika’s printer turn on.

“Put them away” you said, trying to stack them quickly. Chris started walking towards you and you grabbed the small stack you had gathered and put them in your pocket.

Tom put the rest back in his wallet. “What do you think?” he asked Taika about the changes he had made.

“I think tomorrow is going to be a lot fuckin’ better.” He passed the printed copies around after joining the two of you back at the table.

Tom’s line went over great, and the dialogue flowed much more smoothly. All of the other changes made the scene feel more natural. When Taika called it a night, Chris laid down on the couch refusing to go back to his own trailer.

“Can I walk you to yours?” Tom asked as you stepped out of Taika’s trailer.

The two of you walked back to your trailer in comfortable silence, tired and a little drunk. When you got to the door, you turned around and pulled the pink notes out of your pocket.

“Please don’t tell anyone?” You placed the notes in Tom’s hand.

“I didn’t plan on it” he replied, tucking them neatly back into his wallet.

“I feel silly now that someone knows it was me. Why did you keep them?” You had to ask. You assumed, at most, that people read them, smiled, and threw them away.

“Hmm…” Tom laughed humorlessly, his eyes focused on his wallet. “I think you’re doing a lot more than you realize when you leave your ‘silly’ little notes.”

His response caught you off guard. He almost sounded…sad? Serious?

“Y/n, I’ve had to work with actors and crew that have made filming a project miserable. Whether they were rude or critical or just an absolute diva, there is always someone to bring the room down.” He put his wallet away and looked you in the eyes. “I wish you knew how many of us have kept these notes. Taika has them in the glovebox of his car. The catwalk above the set is covered in notes you’ve left the crew. They’re stuck all over the mirrors in the make-up trailer so that the cast sees them first thing in the morning.”

Your eyes went wide. “What?”

Tom put his hands on each of your arms as if to ensure you were paying attention. “An encouraging word or a genuine compliment can change someone’s entire day, y/n. You have no way of knowing what life has dealt any of these people. They could be depressed or stressed out or wishing they hadn’t woken up that morning…and all of a sudden they receive a tiny bit of kindness from someone and it makes it that much easier to get through another day. Maybe even with a smile on their face.”

Tom wore a soft smile and even though you felt a bit overwhelmed, you couldn’t help but smile back. “Thank you for telling me that.” You moved towards him, pulling him into a tight hug.

“Please don’t forget it.” Tom pulled back a bit and pressed a quick kiss to your cheek. “I hope you get a good night’s sleep.”

“You, too.” You watched Tom walk away before slipping into your shared trailer.

Over the next few weeks, Tom had left you multiple green sticky notes with compliments written on them.

“You looked stunning yesterday”

“Thank you for still being a good listener when I go on rants about things you couldn’t care less about”

“Taika was bragging about you to someone on the phone. I just wanted you to know. I know sometimes you hesitate to suggest your ideas, but you shouldn’t.”

“I appreciate how much time you spend making this a better set to work on.”

“You are an incredible friend.”

You’d find at least one note a day and for every note he left you, you’d leave one for him. The two of you got quite a bit closer after he found out about your secret. You’d spend breaks on set together and often times wound up back in Taika’s trailer with him and Chris. You cuddled and flirted and shared more than a few loving glances, but you never went any further. It felt like it was turning into something more, but Tom was such a gentleman you couldn’t tell.

The note you found this morning, however, completely caught you off guard. The filming was almost done and everyone’s time on set was almost over. You had just sat down next to the director’s chair and opened your laptop. There, stuck to the screen, was a green sticky note. “Darling, would you please be mine?”

You looked up at Tom on stage only to find him already looking at you. He lifted his brow and tilted his head, waiting for your response. You couldn’t help but smile as you nodded ‘yes’.

Taika looked between you, noticing the interaction and intentionally teasing you. “Oi, what’s this then?”

Tom turned, trying to hide his grin by talking to Chris. You closed your laptop to hide the sticky note.

“Nah, I saw you two. Don’t pretend like I’m crazy.” Taika was still looking back and forth between you and Tom.

“Maybe you’re still drunk from last night” you teased, putting your laptop in its bag so you could retrieve the note later.

“Oh, sure.” He dropped it, knowing he’d bring it up tonight when you all gathered in his trailer.

The rest of the filming flew by crazy fast. You and Tom had decided that you would go stay with him in New York until the press junkets and interviews started. When the premier rolled around, you two were already publicly dating so you got to escort him down the red carpet. It had been just over a year since the two of you had started dating.

As the credits for the film started rolling, you felt like you were walking down memory lane. So many people go into making movies of this scale and watching all of the names roll by, one by one, really puts that into perspective. You’d met almost all of these people and worked closely with quite a few of them. As the credits came to an end, you saw that Taika had added an extra credit.

The last few “SPECIAL THANKS” credits were in order as listed…

“The filmmakers acknowledge the assistance of the New Zealand Government’s Screen Production Grant”

“The filmmakers would like to acknowledge the Yugambeh and Bundjalung Peoples of Australia”

“The director would like to thank ‘Casper’, Ragnarok’s own personal friendly ghost”

It had been a year since you’d written one of those notes and it caught you off guard. Tom put his arm around your shoulders, pressing a kiss to your temple. “I told you.”

You and Tom mingled amongst your friends at the after party. Taika was flying. He was so happy with how it turned out and grateful for such a positive response. Everyone in the cast was telling stories from filming and catching up with their friends. By the time you two got back to your hotel room, you were blissfully tipsy and exhausted. You slipped out of your dress and threw on a baggy t-shirt before washing your face and getting ready for bed. When you left the bathroom, you saw Tom sitting on the edge of the bed in his pajamas with a soft, warm smile gracing his beautiful face. He was wearing his glasses and his hair was a mess and he could not have been more attractive if he tried.

“How are you feeling?” he asked, pulling you to stand between his legs.

“Pretty good. How about yourself?” you put your arms around his neck and pressed your lips to his.

“I think there’s only one thing that could make me happier in this moment.” He answered.

You thought he was being a bit cheeky, so you replied with, “oh, yeah? I wonder what that could be.”

Tom reached behind him on the bed and pulled out a small box with a worn, green sticky note on top of it. He didn’t say anything, letting you read it. It was the same note he had left stuck to your laptop screen. “Darling, would you please be mine?” Only now the word “forever” was written at the bottom.