#agents of shield fashion

[mspirations]

Daisy Johnson "The End" - 5x22

[autism-swagger]

I've made a horrific discovery that I have to inflict onto all of you.

At first I thought this jacket from season 3 was just a zip-up hoodie attached to a leather jacket, like it was all one jacket made to look like layers and all that. But um.

That's a completely different shirt, no hood or zipper in sight, with the same exact leather jacket over it.

It's a vest. It's a leather vest with what I think might be detachable sleeves.

I know leather jackets are like an entry requirement for SHIELD and all but Really?? Really????

[accidental-spice]

Daniel Sousa 4, 12, 14 for the character ask game!

#4: If you could put this character in any other media, be it a book, a movie, anything, what would you put them in?

Ooooh... oh!! I know. I'd put him in What If...? I would LOVE that

#12: What's a headcanon you have for this character?

Okay, I didn't have one at first, but then I typed out the below paragraph, and now my new headcanon is that he loves thrift stores

#14: Assign a fashion aesthetic to this character

I dunno, like a sort of old-fashioned detective look? But it's not exactly classic old-fashioned detective, he's got more of a unique twist to it, too, with his sweater vests and Hawaiian shirts. It feels to me like, he wears what he likes, and he stays true to that, and who he is. He doesn't follow the same mold as Thompson, or Chief Dooley. Which is rather representative of his character, too... okay, I'm gonna go think about this now. This is FASCINATING to me lol

Thanks for the ask!!

[orderoftheavengers]

I Know My Value 

Summary: Pegasus Carter put her House's mascot into the emblem of the Order of the Shield • House: Ravenclaw • Blood Status: Half-blood • Wand: Apple, 12 inches, unicorn tail hair • Patronus: Cocker spaniel • Broom: Bletchley Bark • Specialties: Defense Against the Dark Arts, Transfiguration, Legillimency and Occlumency

Sorting: Pegasus Carter is certainly brave and chivalrous enough for Gryffindor, but her true specialties are information and craftiness. The Sorting Hat asked young Peggy which House she would prefer, and she stated she wanted whichever one she'd best serve her community in. But don't you care which community that is? the Hat quietly asks inside her head. Wouldn't you like a gold lion on your chest, for all who doubt your abilities to see? "I know my value," young Peggy replies softly. "Anyone else's opinion doesn't matter." That was how the Sorting Hat knew Pegasus Carter belonged in Ravenclaw. After graduating Hogwarts, she even convinced Howard Stark to put the Ravenclaw Eagle in their new organizations' coat of arms, as the Order of the Shield operates around all of Ravenclaw's defining traits. Even after her death, Peggy's wisdom and wit lived on in the back-and-white wizarding photograph that Steve Rogers kept of her in his compass. She was his guide. The War of Grindelwald: ...is where Peggy met her first great love, Stephanos Rogers. They fell in love learning magic and Hogwarts together, and assisting their professors in undercover missions. She mourned when Steve was turned to stone, but her Ravenclaw resolve kept her going. Along with Howard Stark, she co-founded the Order of the Shield, and continued fighting dark magic. One Last Dance: Peggy's romance with fellow Auror Daniel Sousa was just beginning to bloom, when she received a heart-stopping visit at her cottage one night: Steve, back from the dead. Steve somberly explained that he couldn't explain, because he had to preserve the timeline. But he also knew he'd never be able to move on until he had that dance. Choking back tears, Peggy pleaded for an explanation. His voice also cracking, Steve replied, "I'm sorry Peg, but the future, and your life, is one mystery you'll have to solve slowly. But I'll tell you this: I'm gonna be okay. And so are you. You're going to have a legacy, in more ways than one. You have too much love to give and life to live for it all to go to me." They shared a bittersweet dance, a passionate kiss, whispered promises of love, and then parted. Peggy married Daniel Sousa, had children, grandchildren, great-grandchildren, and one fickle niece. She reconnected with Steve in her elderly years; but in her deteriorating state, her recounting of his final visit and dance went dismissed even by him as a fantasy. All of Hogwarts listened to Peggy's eulogy over the wizarding radio, and raised their wands at the end. Peggy Carter's portrait hangs in Professor Nickodemus Fury's office, continuing to offer advice and banter to every new Auror that enters. Wand: "Applewood wands were powerful and best suited to an owner of high aims and ideals, as this wood mixed poorly with Dark Arts. It was said that the possessor of an apple wand would be well-loved and long-lived, Garrick Ollivander often met customers of great personal charm who found their perfect match in an apple wood wand. Apple wand owners often had a talent for conversing with other magical beings in their native tongues." ~ the Harry Potter Wiki Patronus: Cocker Spaniels are thought of as a "ladylike" breed. But these cute, elegant dogs canines original bred as hunting dogs, and shouldn't be underestimated.   AN: I initially planned to do Peggy only after watching her series. But as much as "Agent Carter" intrigues me, there are so many shows I'm trying to keep up with. And in the end, I don't think anything in the show would affect my Sorting or the AU story I cooked up.

[rainbowjay20]

I have always had a few ideas in my head that would make good shirts or mugs or throw pillows. I wanted to share those ideas and maybe supplement my income in a negligible way. I'm not expecting large copious amounts of monetary returns, but maybe coffee money?

So if you feel like taking a gander at my artistic creations, here is the link to my store. It is still underconstruction but some of it is available now.

I have funny sayings, witty sayings, and nature and puppy photos. Also coming soon cartoons and artwork.

Main Storefront

Witty Tees

Nature

I'm still working on it, and more stuff will come up as I can think of it

[theamericanoutfit1]

Ghost Rider Agents of Shield Jacket

This time, dress in something ostentatious. Make the money you spend on the Agents of Shield Ghost Rider Black Jacket worthwhile. Buy right now!

Order Now

[stellaluna33]

Another thing... I did get a good giggle at Daniel Sousa's abhorrence of bell-bottomed trousers, BUT I just saw a U.S. Navy sailor's uniform from WWII in a museum last week, and I gotta say... there really was a missed opportunity there!

Watched the Agents of Shield episode where they're in the 1970s, and man, the men's hair was WAY too clean-cut, or at least clean-cut in the wrong way! It was all short at the temples like the 1940s/50s! Where is the SHAG? The sideburns? Or even the horrible flat-top crew cuts for the more straight-laced military types?! I have seen the pictures of my father from that decade!

[holylulusworld]

Golden Boy vs. Dirty Boy (1) - The base

Summary: You end up between two tidal waves.

Pairing: Steve Rogers x fem!Reader x Soldier Boy

Warnings: banter, arguments, sexism, misogyny (SB), fighting, violence, talk about sex, characters death (the bad guys), mentions of decapitation

Golden Boy vs. Dirty Boy masterlist

“Did you have to break that man’s neck? You didn’t even give him the chance to fight back,” Steve complains on your way toward the next complex of the building you, Steve, and a new ally, calling himself Soldier Boy try to infiltrate.

Well, he’s not new in this world. Rather an old archenemy slash concurrent of Steve. Locked away for centuries, just like his super-soldier counterpart. Soldier Boy is a stark contrast to your ever so gentlemanly and old-fashioned Captain.

“Do I look like I give a single fuck?” Soldier Boy flashes you a smirk while insulting your Captain. “How about you give them pet names and offer tea while I rip their heads off for killing innocent people for fun?” He challenges now. “When they signed up for becoming mass-murders they knew what they were getting into.”

“Cap, he’s not wrong,” you interject, hoping you can stop them from butting heads, or worse. “We shouldn’t waste more time, though. There are only three of us, and there are hundreds of them. Backup is not available for another five hours. So, let’s get in without making too much noise, get the information, and start the countdown to destroy the base.”

“Good idea, agent Y/L/N,” Steve ignores Soldier Boy’s angry stare and pats your shoulder. “Always so reliable and loyal.”

“Sure, Captain.” You quickly reply, unsure why Steve’s eyes look a little darker. You stare at his mouth for a moment, mesmerized by the way his tongue wets his sinfully pink lips. “Anytime.”

“I bet I can make her salute even faster,” you squeak when Soldier Boy grabs a handful of your ass. Leaving you stunned and oddly aroused. He’s crass and misogynic, loud and just the right kind of wrong, “while my cock ruins her sweet ass.”

“First and final warning,” Steve raises his index finger at Soldier Boy. The thick vein in his neck bulges, and damn that man is flexing his muscles. He grimaces, and angrily glares at Soldier Boy while images of his bearded face between your thighs make your knees buckle.

“OR what?” Soldier Boy challenges. “Do you think you can stop me from ripping that cute tactical suit off of her ripe body and make her cunt my home? I don’t think so.”

“Guys.” You sigh and forget about your secret fantasies for a moment. “We don’t have time for this. If we don’t change position, we are all fucked, not only my juicy ass.”

“What?” Steve swallows thickly at your words. His concurrent whistles and makes another crude comment about your ass.

“MOVE!” You grunt and push against Steve’s back. “I don’t want to end up dead because you had to fight with him again. Shield accepted him on the team. Stop moping and start moving your asses before I slap your bum.”

“You want to slap my bum, agent?” Steve cocks a brow, looking more amused than surprised. “I’d like to see you try.”

“I’m not against a little spanking,” Soldier Boy throws in. “On both ends, sweetness. Let’s get out of here and inside my apartment. I’m gonna show you heaven.” He looks you up and down, and hums. “Or hell, if you want me to.”

“I want you to shut up and do your job,” you snap at the cocky supe. “I know you two believe we all are only foot soldiers following your lead, but this is my mission, and you will do as I say. Move soldier, now.”

Steve watches you dismantle Soldier Boy’s charm. He grins and nods in your direction. “Let’s hurry then, agent. We don’t want to ruin your mission.”

“Aw, he tries to impress you with his submissive side,” Soldier Boy cackles. “I’m not some foot soldier you can order around, sweet cheeks. After we finish this, you’ll pay for yelling at me.”

“Eat me,” you bite back. “If you are brave enough.”

You stomp off, Steve hot on your heels. Soldier Boy watches you leave. He licks his lips and cups his crotch. “Oh, I will eat you, sweetness…”

“Y/N, down!” Steve throws his shield at another enemy. He growls your name and throws himself into battle to run another attacker over. “Down, agent.”

“The fuck no!” You fire your last bullet at the next guy attacking Steve. “I’m not some damsel in distress.” You pant, and slam your fist into the last man’s face, breaking his nose. He grunts and tries to take you down.

“Hey, that’s my pound of flesh to pound,” Soldier Boy throws his shield at the man attacking you. He decapitates his head, laughing as you shriek and ungracefully jump backward. You land on your ass, crawling away as the head rolls toward you.

“What did I say about killing people?” Steve grunts while you try to not look at the head, and the dead man’s eyes staring back at you.

“I had to save our damsel in distress.” Soldier Boy shrugs. He picks up his shield, cleaning it on the recently deceased man's jacket. “Now, back to the mission. I want to get out of this suit and inside a warm cunt.”

“Gross,” Steve holds out his hand to help you up while your other team member is busy looking inside the cabinets at the laboratory you successfully infiltrated.

“You’re jealous, that’s all,” Soldier Boy opens another cabinet. “I can fuck whoever I want without ruining my reputation.”

“Shut up!” You grunt. “You almost killed me with that fucking shield!”

“You’re alive, and still got your tongue to talk back,” he shrugs. “What do we have here?” Grabbing a vial he smirks. “Do you think this is a drug? Maybe kinky shit helping you get the stick out of your ass, Cappy?”

“Don’t touch shit at the lab!” You try to stop Soldier Boy from doing something stupid. Again. It’s not the first time he got you into trouble.

“DON’T!” Steve screams as Soldier Boy carelessly drops the vial to the ground. “You idiot! NO!”

“Steve, what’s wrong?”

“He just killed us all,” Steve runs toward the broken vial to read the broken seal. “No, it’s even worse.”

“What can be worse than getting killed?” You huff.

“He doomed us to do the unspeakable,” the captain replies.

“Damn, I’m jazzed,” Soldier Boy claps his hands and grins at Steve. “What will we do?”

“Fuck.” Steve replies.

“Yeah, well we got that we are fucked, Steve,” you pat Steve’s shoulder. “But what was in the vial, and what will happen?”

“WE WILL FUCK. Anything and anyone coming to our path until it’s out of our system, Y/N. And if you don’t step away, I’ll go for you first,” Steve turns back around. His eyes are dilated, and he salivates as his eyes roam your body. “Get away from me. Now.”

“Fuck? OH!” Soldier Boy grins. “We will fuck!” He snickers. “Let’s do this then. I can’t wait to get my dick inside of you and ruin your holes.”

“Guys, that’s not funny,” you giggle, but press your legs together. “We should call for help. Right?”

Soldier Boy looks at Steve and then at you. He doesn't feel the influence yet but is more than happy to have the chance to get his hands on you and Steve.

“So, who wants to get dicked down first?”

Part 2

Tags in reblog.

[azirafuck]

GOS2 Spoilers Masterpost (ONLY EP. 1-2)

alright, you read the title, you know what's under here - gonna tag everyone who helped this if I know them, thanks to everyone for their contribution and for being agents of chaos the way satan intended. love you all

[Last update/edit: 24/07 - 14:10CET]

first of all, we got some amazing posts from @incorrectquoteswwdits mostly about the first scene in heaven with crowley as an angel:

angel!crowley creating stars and aziraphale thinking he's calling him beautiful

more on that

aziraphale's lies make the lesbians have problems, apparently

communist aziraphale be like OUR CAR

isolation and doubts

THEN we have a detailed recount of the first episode by a kind anon! again, thank you @incorrectquoteswwdits for sharing <3

@goodomens-hints posted a lenghty and detailed recount of the first episode as well with some little hits at future episodes (nothing too big on the post itself, but BE CAREFUL, the blog is actually posting some other spoilers from episodes past the second one!)

@goodomensjail gave us a detailed recount of the first scene, with angel!crowley starting to question stuff and eventually shielding aziraphale with his wing

@mikubinders gives us SOME GOOD GOURMET SHIT by telling us that:

"Beelzebub kidnaps and threatens Crowley, tells him that ze could put a price on his head but ze doesn't want to. After that Crowley comes back to the bookshop and Good-old-fashioned lover boy plays while he drives there. "I'm back" happens. Aziraphale makes Crowley do a silly little apology dance so he forgives him and so they work together"

after thinking this last spoiler was fake, an anon came through and confirmed its real! we also have new context! (sent by an anon to yours tuly)

anon came through with some details about the Everyday record, told us Queen is actually tied to CROWLEY and not to the Bentley, and gave us more context to the OUR CAR and OUR BOOKSHOP bit (sent by an anon to yours tuly)

as for what happens during the Job flashback, after which the sitting five feet apart on a rock in front of the sea happens, a bunch of different versions of what actually happens are going around. @thesherrinfordfacility kept up with the madness surrounding it, so im gonna post here the last two versions of events/details.

first one:

In the Job section, Aziraphale is questioning gods decision of punishing Job. Then u see him in heaven w Muriel here and they are looking thru a long scroll that has instructions from god and he's trying to make sense of it. Muriel is telling him that god and satan made a bet about what Job would do and that's why they are testing him. And az is like whatttt why would god do that that's mean!

When Az finds out they're going to kill Jobs kids, he goes down to Earth to save them while using his angel voice until he realizes he's speaking to Crowley. He sees Crowley about to enter the kids room and tells Crowley "I know you, you wouldn't do this" and Crowley tells him he doesn't know him really. (

AND TY TENNANT IS SASSY AND FLIRTS W AZ??!??!? (*) And THATS when crowley goes "well he seems nice" from the clip. He wasn't jealous tho, like he thought it was funny since they are literally there to supposedly kill these kids and one of them is flirting lol.

The moment of 'weird-beard Crowley' was actually more focused on azi and him questioning God. Crowley tempts Azi w food and u see him struggle but then he gobbled it down and he cries bc he thinks crowley is going to bring him to hell (that's the scene where they are sitting on that thing with the pretty horizon) Crowley tells him "you're just an angel who follows gods as will as much as he can" and Az says that sounds lonely, and Crowley agrees, which is a callback to when he asked Crowley if he was lonely being on what Crowley calls "his own side", and Crowley said no. Crowley then tells him "i'm a demon. I lied"

(*): it was told this isn't actually canon canon, it's up for interpretation - some reported Ty's character is just the classic bratty teenager UPDATE: NOPE anon cleared it up and apparently it DOES read as flirty because ty's character is a little bitch, love that for us

and then we have the second one:

"Episode 2 is half present day things [...], and half the Job story/flashback. Crowley is the demon sent by Satan to torment "God's favorite human" Job to see if Job will curse God, in one big bet between God and Satan. Aziraphale comes to try to stop him, discovers they recognize each other but haven't seen each other since "the flood" and that Crowley seems to have changed since the flood, because he is willing to sacrifice the goats, and ruin Job's house. Crowley says he "has a permit" to torment Job FROM GOD. Aziraphale brings this up to the archangels that gleefully explain that yes it's a bet with Satan and that Job will suffer, but he will get everything back 3-fold by the end. And he will get NEW children. This disturbs Aziraphale, he does not want the CURRENT children to die, he understands the familial love that the archangels do not. He goes to stop Crowley not with power since he has the permit but to reason with him. Aziraphale says things to the effect "I KNOW you don't want to harm them I KNOW you and you don't want to kill children" and Crowley is defiant, but then…. It is revealed that he never killed any of the goats either, he transformed them into pigeons to hide them. And he is hiding the children away in the basement but destroying the house to make it look like they died. He transforms the three kids into lizards to hide them, then when the Archangels descend to give Job his rewards and tell him his wife will bear 7 new children, Job and his wife are in despair because they love their children. Crowley comes in pretending to be a human doctor and he and Aziraphale LIE to the angels faces about how babies are made and trick the angels into thinking Jobs three original children are NEWLY BORN children. Which fools Gabriel, who has only ever seen God make Eve fully grown from Adam's ribs. Crowley then meets Aziraphale at the rock. Aziraphale is crying and says "im ready for you to take me to hell" because he has LIED to angels and foiled God's plans. Crowley is gentle and comforts him that he is still an angel and "I won't tell anyone if you won't" and they reminisce that it's lonely being a different kind of demon and a different kind of angel that sort of do what they feel is right. Heavily implying that they are the same and have each other now. The end of episode 2.

that's what's going around for now, but ill add stuff if we find anything new - also feel free to add to this yourself or send me stuff!

[mspirations]

Daisy Johnson "All Roads Lead..." - 5x18

[naferty]

It's been a minute, but I'm happy to say I wrote something stony! And avac stony to boot.

This was heavily inspired by an old BL manga I read many years ago.

~~~

Tony wouldn’t say his time in Avengers Academy was bad. He wouldn’t say it was good either. As the son of a SHIELD agent and a HYDRA double agent, it was hard to find people to hang out with, let alone have any friends. What with the whole ‘he could be a double agent waiting to reveal secrets for his own benefit,’ thing looming over him thanks to his father. 

It didn’t matter that his mother had been a dedicated agent who left his father the moment she learned he was double-crossing and raised him herself to be a good person. All her efforts were ignored and Tony was lucky to be called a backstabber at worst and a turncoat at best. 

At least this school accepted him with minimal difficulty. Granted, he was ignored by the two main affiliates he was associated with, but at least he was able to study and hey! He was given permission to use the engineering room. He had that going for him.

It wasn’t all doom and gloom though. Sure, the one individual who managed to overlook his whole conflicted birth was not exactly a person to write home about, but Loki had a sense of fashion compared to most and always made sure Tony looked his best. 

“No Asgardian prince will share common space with a pauper,” were Loki’s everyday words when he found Tony wearing his admittedly cheap outfits. Conveniently forgetting Tony wasn’t exactly carrying a nation’s treasury in his back pocket like the prince. 

All in all, it wasn’t so bad. He had a sort-of friend but really an acquaintance who found his presence less annoying than most. He was given permission to tinker and experiment with tech and invent whatever he wanted. Within reason. He was given his education. He even managed to share space with some of the greatest names known! Both on Earth and from space. 

Captain Marvel, the Hulk, Falcon, heck, he even managed to catch a glimpse of Moon Girl and had Iron Woman look at him once! The last one had made Tony’s entire day. What he would give to share, like, ten minutes with Iron Woman and pick at her brain. See how she worked. A dream come true. 

Often, he would daydream of one day joining any of their groups. Just once. Even if it was only a minute or two. He would daydream of perhaps making a difference somewhere, even if small. Invent life-changing tech. Maybe even become a hero in his own right? Anything to show he wasn’t just a simple agent who was ready to turn their friends over at a moment’s notice.

What he would give for just a glimpse of what that would feel. Not having everyone watch your every move. 

Well, not much to be done there. He just had to buckle down and work harder than most to go against the whole school’s expectations of him. Every day he attended his classes, completed his extracurricular activities, worked on his shabby attempt at an AI and daydreamed about what-ifs.

“Yo, Clint, hurry up. You’re already late!” 

Tony turned to look behind him where the Hawkeye and the Falcon were casually waving at each other. Going about their day like usual and walking around as if they didn’t carry big names on them. 

He sighed and went back to his work. He was finishing up his coding for another attempt at Friday’s calculating. He was alone at Club A. The engineering room having been taken up in its entirety by up-and-coming SHIELD agents wanting to be the next big shot. As Tony was not in the mood to be constantly stared or pointed at, he decided to finish his coding in the one building devoid of bodies this time of day. 

However, even if alone with nothing to distract him, he couldn’t help his mind wandering around the place. In particular, a rumor that had begun circulating around the Academy recently. A rumor involving the golden boy. Captain America himself. 

What was the rumor? Why, apparently Captain America had a crush. In the grand scheme of things, it wasn’t exactly something worth talking about, but if one was following Captain America’s career closely, it was big news. 

Captain America was a big name, and the person responsible for it wasn’t someone to ignore. Steve Rogers was kind, respectful, brave and a very, very private person. Especially with his romantic aspect of it. It was rare to ever see the guy go on dates or show even a lick of interest to anyone. One could say if he ever found love again the person lucky enough wouldn’t have to ever worry about his eyes straying. 

Peggy Carter was a very lucky woman, or had been lucky, he would say. If the rumor held any truth, the founder of SHIELD was no longer the one holding the Captain’s heart. 

According to hearsay, Steve Rogers had a crush on someone in the engineering club, and while Peggy Carter was a genius in her own right, she wasn’t exactly tech savy for the club. This left a few possible contenders. Excluding the SHIELD agents – because come on, why would Captain America go for a lowly SHIELD agent? – the heroes at the top of the list were Moon Girl, Ironheart, Shuri, Spider-Gwen and, of course, Iron Woman. There were more, sure, but the rumor listed these specifically. 

Tony sighed again, tapping the end of his pen against the wooden surface he was working on top of. He should probably stop thinking about this particular rumor, but he couldn’t help it. Ever since growing up, he looked up to the idea of Captain America. Going against all odds to be the hero he was today. Tony couldn’t help but compare himself and his hardships with the guy, and somewhere along the way he kind of, sort of, maybe had gained a little bit of a crush on the hero, so hearing about the hero liking someone was a little painful. 

If he had to guess, the one the Captain was crushing on was probably Iron Woman. The one and only Natasha Stark. He often saw the two hanging out with each other. Always together with their ‘click.’ It was only natural Steve would catch some feelings if they hung out every day. 

Didn’t hurt any less though. 

“Okay,” he said to no one. “Focus. Focus.” He couldn’t waste his hour of free time away thinking about this. He had coding to finish and nobody was going to help him with it. Loki was useless when it came to tech and didn’t exactly make for encouraging company, so it was now or never. 

He slammed his pen down, harder than necessary, but the paper had no feelings to hurt so he didn’t particularly care, but he did utter a soft ‘sorry’ for disrespecting the code. 

He got to work and made good progress. His calculations might be a little off but he could hammer it down once he had access to the engineering labs again. The important thing was he had the base to work with. 

He decided to stop when he got stuck. He needed to test out his idea, but with no access right now to the computers at the labs, it was pointless to continue. He shuffled the papers together and stuffed them in his backpack. He still had twenty minutes left to kill time before his next class, meaning his next destination was the park. There, he was left alone and he could sit with his thoughts.

Ah, perhaps that wasn’t the best idea. The last thing he needed was time to think about the rumor again. Then again, he was thinking about it now as he attempted not to think about it. A vicious cycle.

As he was busy with his inner turmoil, he failed to notice someone getting closer from behind and by the time they caught his attention, Tony was left staring blankly at a flower in his face. 

It was a rose. Very red and very much smelling of a rose. It was jammed right in front of Tony’s nose and he went a little cockeyed looking at it. The person at the other end of the rose was none other than Steve Rogers. 

Whoa, Tony thought. He had never seen the Captain America standing so close before. Had his eyes always been that blue? 

So enraptured by those eyes, Tony could do nothing as the Captain reached out to cup the side of his face and pulled him forward. Tony went wide-eyed when the hero placed a small kiss on his mouth. A peck, really. Tony barely felt it. 

The hero pulled back and gave a blinding smile. Then, just as quickly as he appeared, he left the rose on his lap and disappeared, leaving Tony alone once more in Club A. 

Tony placed his good hand over his mouth unconsciously, and as his thoughts started catching up he went bright red. 

He just – he just – he – k-kissed -

A squeak he would deny for the rest of his life escaped him and Tony quickly scrambled to run back to his dorm to hide. 

[captainsophiestark]

Klaus Mikaelson Masterlist

TVD/TO Masterlist

Main Masterlist

X - x reader F - Female Reader (otherwise it’s gender neutral) ☀️ - Fluff    ✨ - Humor ☁️ - Angst  💋 - Flirting ⭐️ - Author Faves

Newest fics will be at the bottom

Fairy Lights - F!X ☁️☀️ Reader is dating Niklaus Mikaelson, and she’s had a terrible day. Being tortured and used as leverage by a psycho witch is never fun, but it’s a little easier to deal with when you have the love of your life by your side.

Mental Block - X 💋 Y/N is a SHIELD agent with inhuman mental powers, in New Orleans for a well-earned vacation after managing to survive all their training. A nice day in the city turns into an adventure when a strange man with a British accent crashes their vacation.

New Orleans - X ☁️☀️ Y/N and Klaus have been dating for a little while, and they’ve been best friends even longer. They’ve finally weathered most of the storm Mystic Falls has to offer, and Y/N has started their first semester at the University of Virginia. Just when everything’s going perfectly, the Mikaelsons have decided to move to New Orleans, and it might spell the end for Y/N and Klaus.

Immortality - X ☁️☀️ Nik and Y/N have been dating for many years, despite Y/N being human. Despite being in love with the Immortal Hybrid, Y/N never wanted the vampire life. Unfortunately, when one of the many enemies of the Mikaelsons steps in, they might not have a choice anymore.

Nosferatu - X ☁️☀️ Klaus and Y/N have been dating for a long time, and Y/N has more or less gotten used to dealing with all the Mikaelson drama. Still, that doesn’t mean they don’t need a break from time to time. Nik *promised* Y/N they could have a good old fashioned movie marathon as a break from everything they’d been through lately, but when he tries to go back on his promise, Y/N shows him what’s up.

Fatherhood - F!X ☁️☀️ Y/N and Nik have been dating since the Mikaelsons moved to New Orleans and Y/N got turned into a vampire. When Nik starts to feel worried about his ability to parent Hope, who’s due to join the world soon, Y/N helps reassure him.

The Curse of the Sun and the Moon - X ☀️✨⭐️ Klaus' SO is writing their doctoral dissertation on cross-culture myths. Much to their irritation, Klaus knows a thing or two about those.

The 60s - X ☁️☀️ Klaus wiped the memory of the love of his life after hundreds of years together to try to protect them from Mikael. Now, however, his ex has their memories back is going to find their boyfriend. Even if he is in someone else's body.

Witches Get Stitches - F!X ☁️☀️ Klaus and his girlfriend have been together since they were humans, surviving together for a thousand years. They don't intend to let anything tear them apart.

Like Home - X ☁️☀️⭐️ When a serious magical threat comes to Mystic Falls and puts Josie and Lizzie at risk, Caroline and Ric send Klaus' ex down to New Orleans to seek safe harbor for the girls with him. Or, what if Y/N went to New Orleans instead of Caroline, and Klaus was free to see them.

Did I Forget to Mention? - X ☁️☀️ Nik's SO *might* have forgotten to tell their Mystic Falls friends about their relationship with a certain hybrid. But it's not going to stay secret for much longer.

[thetorturedbuckydepartment]

chapter three: the truce

pairing: Bucky barnes x plus-sized!SHIElD!reader

masterlist

summary: being a SHIELD agent, you have a knack for analysing people, particularly when it comes to attraction. you have everyone figured out, sorted away into the boxes you've created. But there's one man you can never seem to figure out, the very bane of your existence -- Bucky Barnes. On the field, he is a saint, helping you dodge bullets and taking knife wounds in your name. Around the building? Public menace number one, always poised to insult or to spar with you.

After being sent on a 6-month-long torture-cum-vacation with the very man, could all this change? Could you finally figure out what has been bubbling beneath the surface for years between the two of you, the juggernaut that you know you cannot stop?

warnings:  language, mention of being fostered and it being terrible, more hints to reader’s past, dead mother, mentions of sex and reader being dom

word count: 2.7k

taglist: @cjand10 @mcira @calwitch

PREVIOUS PART

A/N: I enjoyed writing this sm! as always, please let me know what you think, all comments and reblogs and likes are heavily appreciated!! love u all <3

You didn’t expect moving to be so much work, and…so much fucking tape. Ever since you escaped the hellhole of your foster house, you’ve been living in the Tower, only ever having to unpack a duffel and a suitcase full of clothes and shoes and makeup. 

The good news that comes from being so tired is that you barely have the energy to argue with Bucky, often falling asleep on the couch halfway through dinner. The TV will continue to blare in the background, and Bucky will continue to chew silently. He lets you take the naps, gently waking you up once he’s done, and handing back your freshly heated dinner plate right back at you, just so you never eat a cold meal. In all honesty, it’s been wonderful.

Somehow, he’s nice to you, now. The two of you haven’t officially called a truce, but it goes unspoken, you suppose. You find yourself helping him more than usual, and certainly have stopped insulting him. You don’t know why. Why he’s being kind, and smiling, even in the privacy of your own home, where nobody else but the two of you have been, so you know for sure that there are no bugs or secret cameras.

The neighbourhood has been pretty quiet, and it seems the Senator is currently on a vacation of some sort, so you haven’t had the chance to profile him in person, or his house. Your own is quite nice, large with a swimming pool in the back garden. It’s modern, and neat, and oozes luxury. 

If you weren’t so fucked up, if you still wanted the ring and kids and picket fence, you would’ve loved it here. You can almost see it — a partner grilling an assortment of meats and vegetables that have been marinating in a secret spice mix for hours, kids splashing and playing about in the shallow end of the pool, you and other guests lounging on the chairs as the sun sets, washing everything in sight in hues of golden orange. Or if it’s just your family, maybe sneak some affection from your partner with a hand around their waist and a kiss pressed to the back of their neck. It’s perfect. Given that Bucky’s from the 40s, he must be losing his mind. He’s pretending, albeit, but he’s gotten the simple life he must’ve dreamed of and clung to. It’s a shame he’s with you.

Which brings you to right now, standing in front of the oven with your arms crossed, waiting for an old-fashioned timer to go off. You stare at it, at the minutes ticking by. There’s nothing much left to do. You’ve already unpacked all the kitchen crockery, throwing away the last of the cardboard. The blue frosting and white icing is mixed and ready on the counter, and you hate yourself. It’s March 10th, today. Bucky’s birthday. 

His kindness in these past two weeks has completely swayed you, so here you stand, baking him a fresh batch of cupcakes you’re going to be decorating, just for him. You don’t know why, it feels like you glanced at your new phone, registered the date, and all you did was blink and now here you stand. Bucky’s still fast asleep in his bedroom.

That was another relief of the house — there were two bedrooms. Thank God, the two of you sleep separately. You’ve shared a bed before, on several missions and attempts to get the two of you to enter a state of permanent civility, and oddly enough you missed those nights sometimes.

When you weren’t tired enough, so the nightmares ran rampant in the small area of your brain and the large expanse of your imagination. Sometimes you’d wake up pressed tightly against him, and you knew he must have held you to ground you. Other times, he’d still be fast asleep, and you would often trace all the intricate ridges and details of his vibranium arm. You’ve gotten adjusted to the sight of his brand new, human arm, but you miss the black and gold. You’d rather die than verbally express so, but you miss it. You miss the way it soothed you, distracted you. The way it created space in your mind for something that wasn’t torturous memories lashing out at you. 

If he knows about it, he’s never said anything. About the nightmares. Not even two nights ago when you had woken up screaming and trying to escape out the window, desperate to escape a phantom wielding a bloodied knife. He’d just calmed you down, talked you back to the centre of the room and held you.

He likes doing that a lot now, finding excuses to touch you. It’s comforting, like you’ve been on edge your entire life and are just now finding peace. You hate it. You hate everything about your current situation, but it’s simultaneously a humongous relief. To not have to constantly have your guard up and be ready to fire insults like they’re bullets. You can just be, and revel in the way he’s not treating you like he’d rather be anywhere else.

The timer goes off. The cupcakes cool. The recipe is something your mother taught you — your only remaining inheritance you carried with you. You smother them in frosting, writing HAPPY BIRTHDAY BUCKY with one letter on each cupcake, leaving two for free reign. You chose to simply put the number 107 on each of them, and arrange them on a wonderful, dark blue tray.

You let yourself smile, proud of the work you’ve accomplished so far, at only 9AM in the morning. And then, a voice grubbed over with sleep, yet not as annoying as you remember calls out.

“Whatcha bakin’ there, doll?” You turn to him, rubbing his eyes and yet thankfully wearing a shirt. His hair is still messy, and you move forward to fix it for him as he shoots you another lazy grin. This has become somewhat of another step of routine between the two of you. He always wakes up with messy hair he cannot be asked to comb, and you got tired of berating him for it. He’d complain theres no mirror around and being to pout until you huffed and fixed it for him.

You try and pretend like you don’t notice his conspicuous eyes fixed on your face like he’s desperate to memorise it. 

“Happy birthday.” You decide to keep your words simple, staring directly into his eyes, so blue that they make some long-forgotten muscle in your chest restart.

You turn around to ignore that feeling, heading back to the counter where your frosted treats await. You miss the desperate, aching look of longing on his face. It brings back memories of him, of how he acted the last time you bothered to remember one of the most basic facts about him — how he’d pretty much thrown your gifts across the room and stormed out of his own birthday party without so much as another word.

He swears to be different now. To be different to you. In all honesty, it didn’t take a genius to figure out why you dislike him so, but on the journey here, he was finally able to read between the lines. It’s pathetically embarrassing to admit why he acted that way towards you, especially now. He wonders if you’d laugh at him, shape it into another painful weapon to aim for his diaphragm.

“Happy Birthday, Bucky. I know being stuck with me isn’t ideal, well, let’s be honest, you’d probably rather be back in cryo—.”

“No I wouldn’t,” he replies all too fast, staring down at the tray in your hands. He tries to ignore the rampant beat of his heart as he registers that you finally called him Bucky, instead of literally anything else. He knows you do it to spite him, and admires that you’d still never call him the Winter Soldier, despite how deep the faux hatred between the two of you ran. Well, faux hatred on his part.

He’s been in love with you for years. And when he finally realised it, you’d already moved past trying to be nice to him. He’s missed his chance with you, he knows this. But he finds himself growing more and more desperate with every passing year to manufacture that chance. But every time he builds up the courage, it seems you’re too busy flirting or eye-fucking literally anyone who isn’t him. And it crushes him beyond belief, every single time.

Without fail.

“Oh, okay. Didn’t mean to bring that up. Erm, I made you these cakes. They’re my mum’s recipe, and as far as I know you’re not allergic to anything in here.” He plasters a grin right back on his face.

“Aren’t you gonna sing for me, doll?” God, you wish you could hate that nickname. But it’s a step above Butterface, that’s for sure. And as much as you hate him, it is his birthday. You don’t know how much you can bring yourself to deny him, especially what with all the kindness he’s been showing you recently.

“Do you want me to?” God, Bucky wishes you could love him back. That those beautiful eyes he dreams about so often, just stare at him with some warmth, some fondness. Like you did when he first got here, when he didn’t deserve your affection. But those versions of the both of you are long gone. 

“‘Course I do. It’s my birthday after all.” You roll those pretty eyes and huff, pretending to be annoyed. 

You grab the candles from the cutlery drawer you bought in a last minute impulse on your grocery shopping run, and stick them in two of the cupcakes, lighting them with your lighter — the only physical inheritance from your mother. You still remember that night, when she pressed it into your small hands and begged you to hide underneath the bed, before all hell broke loose. She always had a lit cigarette in her hand, and the smell of ashes always brings memories of her floating back to you. It’s a simple golden one, engraved with a venomous snake on the front and her name embossed — her name before she got married. It’s your most prized possession. Bucky watches as you run a thumb over it with that fond look in your eyes, and his heart catches in his throat. You’ve never been more vulnerable than you are in this moment, not even when you were on the floor crying over the thought of pretending to be married. All of your guards are temporarily lowered, and he sees how your hard exterior gives way to something softer and warmer, a version of you long buried under the stresses of your job and the malice you exude in his presence.

And he’s obsessed with the ring on your finger, the way you play with it when bored or pensive. Actually, he’s just obsessed with you. You begin singing with a small, yet seemingly genuine, smile on your face. He thinks it’s the most beautiful sound he’s ever heard. 

You have a lovely voice, even if it’s reserved for showers and to be lost in impromptu choirs. But his heightened senses mean he can still pick your voice out of the crowd, can still feel the weight of it wash over him like a perfect blanket. He wishes you’d cling to him like that, like the songs you sing when you think nobody’s listening or paying attention.

And then you call him Bucky again, and his heart goes out the window. He’s practically vibrating where he stands and clutching his fists to his sides in trying not to kiss you. You wouldn’t like that. When you finish, he closes his eyes and wishes for you like he does every year. 

He guesses a lesser man would’ve lost hope, after seven birthday wishes asking for one person, and yet still having them so close yet so out of reach. But he’ll beg, every year, until someone out there decides he shall have no more. He’d beg for you any time, in any way you like. His heightened sense of hearing, and the two of you living on the same floor, means he already knows how much you enjoy being begged for pleasure. How much you enjoy being in charge.

When he first got to New York after Wakanda, the only room that was available was across the hall from yours. He didn’t mind. Even though he’d completely forgotten how to talk to people he finds insanely attractive, so insanely enigmatic that all he can do is try his best to not let drool drip out of his mouth when he watches you do even the most mundane things like eat cereal with your hair still messy from a long night, in a sports bra and joggers. Showing off every inch of that perfect body he’s worshipped so many times in his dreams. It’s why he hasn’t moved out of there, because of the perverted side of him. Something he’d rather die than admit.

And of course everyone in the damn building knows, how could they not? When they see the way he looks at you when you storm out of a room, how he almost misses the punching bag when he sees you training weights across the room with sweat slicking your hair to your forehead. He thinks you’ve never looked more irresistible, and he’d do anything to get his hands on you, in any way you allow. Why do you think he asks you to spar so often? 

You grin at him. “Bucky privileges are only for these 24 hours, then I go right back to James. And I got you something.” You hand him the tiny box, gift wrapped in blue as he looks at you with an adorable blush on his face.

“You really didn’t have to do all of this, doll.”

“I wanted to make you feel more at home. And I needed to talk to you about something.” You’re wearing one of his old flannel shirts, folding your arms across your chest. You’d requested some of his bigger, older shirts to wear, and had told him it’s considered a form of deep intimacy in the 21st century. And those six shirts are all you’ve worn around the house, often with biker shorts on underneath. You know, just to drive him to ridiculous heights of insanity, of course. 

“We should call a truce. Officially. I mean, we’re being civil, and it goes unspoken. But officially, for the record, we should call a truce. At least, not be mean to each other. I wanted today to be the beginning of it, end date TBD.”

“Yeah, that’s fine with me. Now, can I open it?” You nod, gesturing at the box. You watch his face as he delicately unwraps your birthday gift, for any signs of discomfort on his face. If he’s truly okay with the peace you’ve proposed between the two of you. 

“Come here.” He commands. You’re surprised how quickly you comply, walking across the counter to stand mere inches from him. You wonder if he’s going to treat this gift like he did the last, and make sure you end up crying this time. 

“This is a wonderful gift, doll. I really, really love it. Thank you.” Before you can protest, he pulls you in for a quick side hug. You don’t miss how his blue eyes glow as he takes the New York keyring out of it’s container, running his thumb over the Statue of Liberty. 

He feels…so warm. And so cosy, all perfect for snuggling up. You find yourself wishing he hadn’t pulled away from the hug, desperate to feel more of his warmth against you than ever before. You suppress the need as it emerges, but you’re not strong enough.

“Yeah yeah. Whatever. What do you wanna do today? We could go out.” You try to remain impartial, but it’s proving difficult.

Keeping up all of your guards and walls is becoming more and more difficult with each passing day, and you find yourself becoming soft. The one thing you despise, but you also crave. 

You have no idea what’s happening to you.

And it’s terrifying.

NEXT PART

[musings-of-a-rose]

Safe With Me

Pairing: Robbie Reyes x f!reader

Word Count: 10,700+ (you voted and wanted a longer one shot!)

Rating: Mature - 18+ ONLY!

Warnings: Just like ao3, “creator chooses not to use warnings.” If you click Keep Reading, that means you agree that you’re the age to handle mature themes. Also by clicking Keep Reading, you understand warnings may not be complete in order to avoid spoilers for the story. 

Notes: Listen, I have it bad for Gabriel Luna. Bad. As in no coming back. And I saw some gifs of him as Robbie (the first role I saw him in), I've been rewatching his episodes of Agents of Shield, and I had to write something. Thanks to @mermaidxatxheart for giving me an idea that, in typical me fashion, went completely off the rail and became an actual story and not just smut. 

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**Reader is not described

Main Masterlist

Robbie Reyes Masterlist

Bold Italics are the Rider internally speaking to Robbie

Robbie never thought he’d be here, a driver to some rich guy’s daughter. He could feel the Rider, how beneath him the Rider felt that playing chauffeur was. But it was because of the Rider that Robbie was here, trying to get solid information on her dad, to prove he was the secret bad guy…and to bring vengeance.

When he agreed to be a driver for the family, he thought he’d be driving around the man himself, but when his daughter stepped out of the house, Robbie’s eyes went wide and he was momentarily speechless. He hadn’t seen anyone this gorgeous in…well, ever. She walked with confidence to the car and when he tried to open the door for her, she gave him a small smile and stepped around him, eyes roaming over the car. 

“1969 Dodge Charger…you’ve made some modifications?” 

She knows about cars? 

When he doesn’t answer right away, she stops, hand hovering over the hood and looks up at him, her eyebrows raised as she waits for an answer.

“Yeah, uh..yes.”

She nods, glancing back down at the flawless finish. “May I?”

Robbie never lets anyone touch his car. No one. 

“Don’t scratch her.”

“I wouldn’t dare.”

Her fingers lightly brush against the black paint, the car seemingly humming under her touch. Robbie shifts where he stands, like he can almost feel her fingers brush against his own skin. 

“She’s remarkable. And you’re sure you’re fine with driving me around in her?” Her eyes meet his again and he swallows hard. He'd thought the request to be driven in a car like his was odd, but he assumed Mr. Rich Asshole was a car guy. He never anticipated that it was his daughter. 

“Yes, ma’am.”

She shifts a little, smiling as she glances back down at the car before moving around it to get inside the door Robbie had opened. She pauses before sitting and looks at him, so close he swears he can feel her breath on his face.

“If you change your mind, let me know. I’d hate to put this car in any danger.”

Robbie chuckles to himself as he closes the door behind her. If only she knew how much danger his car got into on a weekly basis.

Over the next few weeks, he takes her various places on a pretty consistent schedule, mostly shopping, occasionally meeting up with some friends, a random night club or two. Robbie finds her fascinating. He assumed that she would be pompous, like most rich people, that she would look down on others and treat them like shit. But she doesn’t. And the more he watches her, the more he sees how her smiles to her friends don’t reach her eyes, how she never wears the clothes she buys, the little sigh that escapes her lips before she steps out and into the club, her dress just barely covering her.  

One day, Robbie was elbow deep in a broken engine when his phone rang, the one that he used only for his chauffeur job. He wipes his hands on his coveralls and pulls the phone out, surprised to see her name lighting up the screen. She never needs him on Mondays.

“This is Robbie.”

“Hi, Mr. Reyes. I’m sorry to call you on your day off, but..would you be willing to take me into town?”

He looks back at the engine, disassembled, pieces scattered all around, and she takes his hesitance as a no.

“You know what? I’m sorry, Mr. Reyes. I shouldn’t ask you on your day off. I..I’ll just-”

“No, no. It’s ok. I can come get you. Are you at home?”

“Yeah. When can you get here?”

Robbie glances up at the clock on the wall. “45 minutes?”

She’s quiet for a moment. “Ok. I’ll see you then.”

Robbie stares at the phone for a moment before cleaning up and changing, wiping the grease from his face and hands. Why had she called? She seemed a little off. 

He got there in 20 minutes with a little help from the Rider.

When he pulls up, she’s there, walking quickly to his car. Robbie jumps out and starts to walk around to get her door but she waves him off. “It’s ok. I got it.” He nods, watching her walk to the car, hunched in on herself, arms crossed and hiding behind sunglasses. She gets in and closes the door, buckling her seat belt. 

“Where to?”

“I don’t care, just drive.”

Robbie starts up the car, revving the engine a little because he knew she liked that. The corner of her mouth ticks up slightly into the beginning of a smile and he relaxes slightly, still worried about her. 

“My dad hates that sound.”

It’s the first time she’s mentioned her dad, has said anything to him outside of polite conversation and chats about the car. 

“I’m sorry. I won’t do it again.”

She reaches out and touches his arm, lightly squeezing him. “No, please don’t stop.” Robbie stops the car as the gates open slowly and he turns to look at her, trying to see through her sunglasses. 

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Neva.”

Robbie’s eyebrows pinch together. “Neva?”

She nods, taking a breath. “It’s what my nanny called me. She was Russian. She said it meant snowy, or something like that. I was born during a bad snowstorm,” She clarifies and Robbie nods. Neva removes her hand from his arm and starts to pick at her nails, placing them in her lap. “She was the only one who really cared for me. No one else calls me that name. Probably because nobody cares.”

Robbie is speechless. He has no idea what to say, but he wants her to know that she can open up to him. Maybe she’ll tell him more about her dad, but it’s more than that now. It’s…wait, does he care about her?

“I’m sorry you have shitty parents.”

She laughs then, her head tilting back with the force of it, and Robbie vows to make her laugh as often as he can. As her laughter fades, she takes off her glasses and wipes at her eyes with the back of her hand. 

“You’re a riot, Mr. Reyes. Thanks for making me laugh.”

He smiles at her. “Is…is there anything I can do for you?”

She stares at him a long time and he hopes she can’t see the warmth in his cheeks that was definitely not from the Rider. 

“I doubt you can help, but thank you.”

“Are you sure? I’m pretty resourceful.”

She smiles sadly. “I doubt any of your resources could change who my father is.” Robbie opens his mouth to respond when she shakes her head. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything. You don’t want to hear about my problems… so, do you have a sister or brother or girlfriend or…or someone?”

He studies her for a moment, amazed at how she instantly schooled her demeanor into a completely different emotion, as if whatever the shit was with her dad never happened. 

“I have a brother.”

“Just a brother? No girlfriend? Sister! I meant sister.”

He glances away from her, hiding his smirk at her slip up by pretending to look out the window before he turns. “Nah, just Gabe.”

“Gabe. How old is he?”

“High school.”

“Ah. The fun years, or whatever everyone says.”

“What, you didn’t like high school?”

She shakes her head. “Hated it. Everyone was so fake and I just didn’t fit in. Ok, well I mean I made friends but not anyone I’d actually consider a real friend. Just kids of people my dad has connections with or wants connections with.”

“Your dad would use you for that?”

She grows quiet, staring out of the window. “He does.”

Robbie stops at the red light and angles his body towards her. “Hey, you sure you’re ok-”

“Does Gabe need anything for school?”

Robbie stares at her, her eyes pleading for him to take the change of subject. He’d follow her lead this time, but he tucks that information about her dad in the back of his mind. Something wasn’t sitting right with him about it. 

“Don’t worry about it. We’re good.”

“That’s not what I asked. Is there something he’s into?”

“He used to be really into soccer before…”

“Before?”

Robbie took a deep breath. “Before the accident…Now he’s in a wheelchair.”

She squeezes his arm again and it makes his whole body feel like a livewire. “I’m so sorry to hear that, Mr. Reyes. Do you guys need anything? What about any medical bills?”

“We’re fine, thanks.”

She takes her hand away like he had slapped her. “I’m just trying to help.”

He stops at another red light, putting on his turn signal. “No, I didn’t mean it like that. I just…everyone always wants to pity us. But we’re doing fine.”

“I never said you weren’t. I just..have the means to help. If you’ll let me?”

“I couldn’t ask you to do that.”

“Good thing you didn’t then. Now, what sorts of clothes does he like?”

Robbie could tell she was being genuine, not like most people with money who fake it just to use it as a tax write off or a photo op. So they spend the next several minutes talking about Gabe, Robbie telling her some fun stories from their youth as she directs him to a shopping district. He pulls up to an empty spot and parks, getting out of the car and opening Neva’s door. She gets out and smoothes down her pants as Robbie starts to head back to the driver’s seat. 

“Where are you going?”

“I’m going to wait for you like I always do.”

“Oh no. You’re coming with me.” She links her arm through his and Robbie tries to slow down his beating heart, certain that she can hear it through his chest. “I need you, Mr. Reyes.”

“Yeah?” Shit, he shouldn’t have let that slip out. She didn’t mean she needed him, but she needed his opinion. 

She squeezes his arm with hers in response, turning her head to look at him, her face inches from his. He swallows hard as his eyes switch between hers, his heartbeat pounding loudly in his ears. Her eyes flick down to his lips, his breath catching in his throat as she leans towards him ever so slightly.

“Ah, mademoiselle!” The store owner had come outside, no doubt spotting Neva, who frequents his shop. Robbie’s blood boils at the interruption but perhaps it was for the best. He’d almost forgotten that the reason he’s even driving her around is to get more information on her dad. 

“Alexandre. How nice to see you.”

Alexandre leans in to kiss her cheek and Robbie feels her grip on his arm tighten slightly. 

“What brings you in today?”

“I need some gifts for a friend of mine.” Neva launches into a description of Gabe that is so spot on for not ever meeting him or seeing a picture of him that Robbie is taken aback. Once inside, Robbie tries to extricate himself from her but she holds on tight, pulling him to some racks of clothes that Alexandre was pointing out, pulling things from the racks and tossing them at another clerk, who was frantically trying to hold everything. Once they had it all laid out, Neva turns to Robbie, gesturing at the clothes all nicely folded. 

“How’s this? Is there anything he wouldn’t like?”

He can feel Alexandre’s eyes on him, like he knows he doesn’t belong in her world, like Robbie doesn’t already know that. He shakes his head. “I can’t take this.”

“Oh. Is it the wrong size? Or color?”

“No, it’s just…it’s too much.”

“Oh. Does he need another dresser?”

“No that’s not-”

“Mr. Reyes, you told me it was his birthday and I’m insisting on buying him some things. He’s been working hard in school and deserves a reward for all of his hard work. Now, is there anything else he needs?”

Her eyebrows are raised in question: why did she say it was Gabe's birthday? He doesn’t have time to think about that and he knows she won’t accept him declining her offer. “No. No this is more than enough.”

She smiles at him, one that reaches her eyes. “Good. Alexandre?” He’s there in an instant. “Ring me up. Charge my father’s card.”

“Oui, mademoiselle.”

She takes him to lunch next, insisting that she pays as this was supposed to be his day off. They go to some fancy restaurant with food that Robbie can’t pronounce, with portions that are way too small for the price, but they tasted great. Not homemade meals from his abuela great, but not bad. 

He pulls up to the front of the house, putting the car in park before grabbing the handle, when Neva touches his arm again. 

“Thank you for today, Mr. Reyes.”

He hesitates a moment before placing his gloved hand over hers, meeting her gaze. “You can call me anytime, Neva.” She smiles at him, squeezing his arm before turning, allowing Robbie time to open her door just in case her dad was watching. He can still feel her hand on his arm, how it felt to link her arm in his, how her laugh sounded, the way he made her smile, like it was only for him. 

Damn, Robbie. You got it bad.

—----

“How did you find this?” Robbie stares at the car part in the box he’s holding in disbelief. “I’ve been looking for this for years!”

Neva smiles and waves her hand nonchalantly. “I know a guy.”

“No, you don’t understand. This is impossible to find.”

“Obvioulsy not as you’re holding it.”

Robbie looks up at her, a smile sliding into place. “I don’t..this is too much, I..”

Neva pretends to gasp, placing her hand on her chest. “Was I just graced a smile from Mr. Reyes?” Robbie can almost feel his ears turning pink, a little extra heat in his cheeks and looks back down into the box. Neva leans in a little closer to him. “I’ll have to do this more often if it means I get to see that smile.”

Robbie looks up, his eyes meeting hers. She’s close to him now. If he just leaned in a little further, he could press his lips to hers, feel how soft they -

“Do you want to put it in now?” Her eyebrows raise, but not before she glances down at his lips again. 

“What?”

Neva nods her head towards the box. “The part.”

Robbie shakes his head, pushing aside the images of pressing her against the side of the car, her leg wrapping around him as they embrace. “Uh…yeah. But after work-”

“I have nothing to do today. Can we go now? I’d love to watch you install it. If that’s ok with you?”

I’d let you do whatever you want.

Robbie tries to hold back the smile he feels coming on, but he can’t. “Hell yeah. Oh, I mean-”

Neva waves her hand. “I don’t give a fuck about bad language. Also, that’s two smiles I got from you. I’m definitely spoiling you more often.”

Robbie pulls into Canelo’s Auto and Body, driving up to one of the empty bays. He hops out and starts looking for tools, gathering what he needs. 

“Are you allowed to do that?” 

Robbie turns to see Neva standing outside of the car, watching him open and close toolboxes. He realizes then that he’s never mentioned also being a mechanic.

“Yeah. I work here too.”

Her eyes go wide and she nods. “That actually makes so much sense now!”

“What does?”

She gestures around. “The cars. How you’re able to keep her-” she points to the Charger “-so pristine.”

“Yeah. It’s a good place. Owned by good people. I don’t know where we’d be without them,” Robbie returns to the drawers, finding the last tool he needed and closes the drawer. When he turns back around, he freezes, watching Neva remove her outershirt, standing there in a skin tight camisole that hugs her in all the right ways, framing her chest perfectly as she pulls her hair back off of her face. Once her hair is secured, she pats her head a little, making sure she didn’t forget any loose strands. She jumps a little when she sees Robbie staring.

“Sorry! It’s just hot out and-am I making you uncomfortable?”

“What? Uh no. No, you’re, uh..fine.”

Her smile makes his body tingle and he has a short, internal conversation with the Rider, telling him to calm his shit. Robbie sets up his tools, putting the car up on jacks. When he finally lifts the hood, he hears a soft moan from Neva as she steps around, her eyes fixed on the engine. 

“Did you do all this work yourself?” She asks, standing so close to him that their arms lightly brush against each other and Robbie desperately wishes he wasn’t wearing sleeves.

“Y-yeah. I had to rebuild her, basically. The car was my uncle’s but he doesn’t need it now.”

She glances up at him. "I'm sorry for your loss."

Robbie chuckles. "Don't be. He's in prison."

"Oh,” She looks down, nervous, at a loss for words. “…well I'm not sure how to respond to that. I'm sorry?" She lifts her head and he can feel her eyes on him. 

Robbie turns his head slightly to look at her. "It is what it is." He wasn't about to go into his personal business with her. Not when she's standing so close, smelling like her shampoo of strawberries and coconut. He can’t help it, his eyes flicking down to her soft lips, dragging back up her face to see hers tracing a similar path on his own. He brings a hand to her face, gently cradling her cheek as he slowly leans towards her, feeling her fingers lightly tug at his shirt to pull him closer. Her eyes close-

“Robbie! I didn’t expect to see yo- oh.”

Robbie and Neva spring apart as a man in coveralls walks in, rubbing a dirty oil rag across his matching hands. 

“Hey Canelo. I just came in to install this piece.” Robbie gestures towards the box and Canelo glances inside, whistling in awe.

“Holy shit. Where did you find it?”

“I didn’t. She did.” Robbie nods his head towards Neva, who shrugs.

Canelo looks between them both, a smile tugging at his lips. “Robbie, do you really think your date wants to see you work on a car?”

“Oh we’re not-”

“We aren’t-”, they both speak at the same time and Canelo chuckles. 

“Actually, I asked him to bring me. I love this car.” Canelo looks at Neva in surprise.

“Oh yeah?” He proceeds to give her a mini quiz, which she aces. 

“Robbie, don’t let this one go. She’s a keeper.”

“No, we’re not-”

Canelo waves his hand. “Yeah, yeah. Whatever you say.” He leaves, tossing you a wink before heading back into the office. Neva steps back from the car, giving Robbie space to work. He sighs, internally cursing his boss for interrupting that kiss. It would’ve been a kiss, right?

When he drops her off later, after taking the car for a much enjoyed ride, she touches his arm to stop him from getting out and opening her door. 

“I think we should talk about what happened. Or, almost happened.”

She regrets the kiss doesn’t she? Almost kiss? We are from different worlds. 

Robbie waves his hand, determined to get in front of this so he doesn’t show how her letting him down hurts. “It’s ok. Nothing happened so…”

Her face changes, a flash of disappointment before she expertly schools it. “Very well then. If that’s what you want. I’ll see you tomorrow, Mr. Reyes.” And she opens the door, closing it a little harder than normal behind her. Robbie watches her walk away, feeling like he fucked up big time.

That’s because you did fuck up.

—----

For the next few weeks, Neva is polite, a coolness settling over their interactions after his rejection. He didn’t want to reject her, he wanted to kiss her until she couldn’t breathe, begging him for more. But she was the one who was going to stop things so why should he feel guilty?

She didn’t tell you that, you idiot. You made it up.

She asks him to drive her to a party one night, offering to pay him extra since it was after his regular hours. He agreed, of course he agreed. He felt guilty and kept trying to talk to her, but couldn’t find the words.

Don’t forget why you’re really here.

When he pulls up she’s walking out of the house, a snug, black dress that rouches on the sides, a slit going up nearly to her hip, and a neckline that plunges, perfectly framing her chest. She has on black heels and clutches a small black purse that is more for looks than practicality. Suddenly, Robbie couldn’t breathe, watching her walk towards the car, the dress sliding across her skin but never revealing more than it should. She makes it halfway before the Rider snaps him out of it and he jumps out, walking quickly to the other side to open the door. She gets in the car without really looking at him, smoothing down her hair as he closes the door. When they start to drive off, she sighs, setting the small clutch in her lap and leaning her face against her fist as her elbow rests on the door. When the gate is opening, Robbie chances a look at her. She looks phenomenal, but her expression doesn’t match. Her color is a little off, the sparkle in her eyes not really there. 

“Are you ok?”

“Mmm?” Neva turns her head to look at him. 

“You don’t look good. I mean, y-you-you look..just…but I mean, your face doesn’t…” What the fuck dude?

Luckily for him, she smiles slightly, a small chuckle escaping her. “You’re cute when you’re flustered.”

His cheeks warm, his ears tinging a slight shade of pink as he stammers on. “I just… I meant that you don’t look into this.”

“This?”

“The party.”

She leans back on her fist. “Oh. Yeah. I’m not really.”

“Then why go?”

She sighs. “Because my dad commands I make an appearance.”

“You don’t have to go, you know.”

She doesn’t look at him, her eyes gazing off at a point in the distance. “I’ve been through worse. I can survive a party.”

He’s quiet for a moment. What did she mean she’s been through worse? “Well if you change your mind, you know how to find me.”

He drops her off, watching her walk into the building that’s crammed with people, loud music blaring and lights flashing everywhere. He drives around the corner, parking just off property so as not to interfere with the valet and waits. He had a feeling. And sure enough, about an hour later she texts him to come get her. They pull out of the drive up and he puts on his blinker at the next light. 

“How was the party?”

“Ugh. I couldn’t take it anymore. Everyone in this world is so damn fake. And they all seem to want my attention,” she huffs.

“Home then?”

“No way. Are you hungry, Mr. Reyes?”

“I could eat.”

She perks up, sitting a little straighter in her seat. “Great! Take me to your favorite place.”

Robbie chuckles. “I don’t think you’ll like it.”

“Well I like you so I’m sure I will.”

His stomach leaps into his throat. So he didn’t fuck everything up then. “It’s…not your type of place.”

She turns her head, her eyes studying him as he keeps his on the road. “Have you learned nothing about me, Mr. Reyes? Now drive.”

He smirks. “Yes, ma’am.”

He drives across town to his neighborhood, pulling up to park in front of a diner. Neva looks around. “This is it?”

“Told you you wouldn’t like it.”

“I didn’t say that. I’m just surprised your favorite is diner food.”

“And what would you know about diner food?”

“Oh ha-ha. I have eaten at a diner before.”

“Uh huh. How much did a burger cost?”

She punches his arm, fighting the smile that wants to come out. “Shut up.”

He opens the door for her, offering his arm when she goes to get out and she takes it, linking them together. 

“Ok so, this isn’t my favorite place. But that one is closed and this is my number 2.”

“You know how to make a girl feel special.”

“Hey, I don’t take just anyone to Bertha’s. They have the best burger in town.” He feels her hold him closer and at first he thinks it’s for the neighborhood, but one mental smack from the Rider and he sees that she’s cold. Taking off his formal jacket, he settles it across her shoulders and she cuddles into it. Robbie swears he sees her smelling it out of the corner of his eye, but he doesn’t say anything. 

As they eat, she opens up more, their flow settling back into how things were. Little flirtations, her hand brushing his, her foot accidentally bumping into his leg over and over, her moaning when she tries the burger. Ok, that last one was just the way Robbie heard it but it counted. In his head, anyway. On their way out, she notices the graffiti on the side of the building next door. She stops, pulling him back by their linked arms to look at it. 

“That’s the Ghost Rider,” Robbie explains.

“Who?”

He launches into a generic explanation about the local legend of The Ghost Rider, how he has a flaming skull for a head and seeks vengeance on those who have done wrong. 

“And by vengeance you mean he kills them?”

He stiffens slightly. “Yeah.”

“Hhmm…”

“Most people think he’s a murderer.”

“No. I like him. We need justice where there is none.”

Robbie is speechless. No one has ever looked at the Rider like that, at him like that. And she doesn’t even know they’re connected. 

I like her, Robbie. Hold onto this one.

You just like her because she said she liked you.

They finish making their way around the back of the diner to the car, and Robbie leans over to open the door for Neva when she pulls him, facing her back to the car. 

“Thank you so much for tonight. This is the most fun I’ve had since…well, probably ever.”

“Nah, it was my pleasure.”

She smiles at him, her eyes bright and inviting, making his skin prickle like a live wire. His body is growing warmer, and not from the Rider. She’s so close, her scent of strawberries and coconut filling his nose as she leans closer, her eyes darting down to his lips. He leans too and their foreheads meet, both of them breathing heavily as they stand there, the air around them crackling with tension. 

“Robbie,” she says it quietly, but it’s all he needs. 

Robbie’s hands come up to cup her cheeks, turning her head up to him as he presses his lips to hers, feeling her sigh, her body relaxing into him. He glides his tongue across her lips and she parts them instantly, silently begging him for more. His lips never leave hers as he puts a hand out, walking her backwards into the side of the car. Her fingers twist in his shirt, pulling him closer before she slides them around his broad back, trying to grip him anywhere she can. He drops his hand to the back of her knee and lifts it on his hip, her gasp breaking their kiss. He takes advantage of this, turning her head to the side and kissing the side of her neck, sucking on a spot just below her ear. She moans and Robbie gasps against her neck, feeling her skin pimple under his lips. 

But then she’s pushing him back and Robbie stumbles, his eyebrows furrowing together. Did he misread the situation? No, she wanted this as much as him… His brain goes fuzzy as he watches her walk around the car, gently setting her ass against the hood as she looks at him, her eyes wide and dark with want, her eyebrow arched, begging him to come closer. 

He’s there in less than 2 steps, hands cupping her face again as he brings his lips to hers, feeling warmth fan out from where they touch. His hands slide down her, taking in every curve of her body before he grips her ass, moaning slightly into her mouth before lifting her to set her on the hood of the car, her legs automatically opening and wrapping around him, trying to bring him closer. He leans her down, her back against the hood of the car as he continues to kiss her, lips soft and needy. Her fingers fumble at his belt line and he finally snaps out of it. Robbie pulls back and grips her wrist, looking down at her. 

“I…this is not…I don’t want our first time to be like this.” 

A smile crinkles up her eyes and Robbie feels it in his bones. “You’ve thought about us before? Our first time?”

“Oh, I think about you all the time, chica. I want the space and time to take you apart.”

She whimpers, his pants feeling a little tighter at the sound. “Fuck, Robbie. I want that too but right now, I don’t care about where we are. I want you. I need you.” Her eyebrows pinch up in question, fully leaving it up to him.

He smiles. “I can’t say no to you.”

He lays his body against hers, sliding his hand up her bare thigh while propping himself up with the other, his elbow leaning against the hood. He doesn’t kiss her, choosing to watch her expressions as his hand ghosts across her cool skin, disappearing under her mini dress. He ghosts his fingers across her underwear, chuckling when she jolts at his touch. Her fingers grip his forearms, nails trying to dig through the sleeve of his shirt as he draws light circles over her clothed cunt, her breathing coming out in ragged gasps. 

“Please,” she begs, voice barely above a whisper. Gently, he dips his finger under her pantyline, sliding it down her wet pussy, tracing light circles at her clit. “Oh!” She gasps, trying to hold back her sounds because they are in a parking lot. Robbie had completely forgotten their pretty public display. His hand stills and she huffs, her lip coming out in a pout. 

“Are you sure, chica? We’re pretty out here.”

“I don’t give a fuck. I need to feel you inside me, Robbbie,” She blinks up at him with a fire, not too different from the one he feels blazing behind his own gaze. “I won’t break.”

“Fuck, you’re gonna kill me, Neva.”

Robbie sits back, fingers deftly opening his belt and pants just enough to pull himself out, groaning as his hard cock springs free. His skin is warm and he swallows hard, trying to get himself to cool down a bit. But then he sees her, moving her panties aside for him and, while he can’t see too clearly due to the lack of proper light, he can see that she’s fucking gorgeous, somewhere he will have to explore when he has the space to. Lining himself up, he looks down at her and pushes in, clamping a hand over her mouth when she lets out a high pitched, loud, moan, and it’s all he can do to not join her as she envelopes him, her heat wrapping around him perfectly, like she had been waiting just for him. When he bottoms out he waits, hips joined close together as she catches her breath. She looks up at him, pleasure radiating out from just her gaze alone, a gives him a nod. He pulls his hips back and slowly slides in again, groaning at the feel of her as he slots his hips against hers. He adds in an extra deep thrust and she cries out, trying to swallow her own moans as Robbie hones in on that spot, thrusting deep and hard against her. Neva starts to slide up the hood of the car, her dress doing nothing to hold her in place. Her fingers grip his sleeves, trying desperately to find something to hold her in place as Robbie continues to thrust into her. 

He’s about to stop, give her a moment to grab something when her hand shoots out, gripping the raised engine of his Charger. Instantly his skin heats, feeling like he’s about to catch fire at the sight of her digging her fingers into the metal, her other hand gripping his as he pushes it to the side of her head, knuckles clanking against the dark metal. His body is tingling and he shakes his head to clear it when he feels her raise her legs higher, digging her heels into his ass and lower back, trying to get him deeper. 

He growls, pressing a hard kiss to her lips before pulling out, grabbing her ankles and sliding her down the hood, her gasp turning to whimpers as he grabs her hips and flips her, pushing her chest down against the cool metal of the Charger. He pushes into her quickly, feeling himself warm instantly as he speeds his hips up, thrusting extra hard when he’s fully inside of her. Neva’s hands scramble across the car, looking for something to hold onto and she finds the engine again, using it to help her push back against him, bringing him slightly deeper than before. His skin is ablaze, his thoughts racing, mixing with the Riders as he fucks her, warning him mentally to back off, unsure how long he’d be able to keep him at bay when he’s worked up like this. 

Then she pulses around him, his name tumbling from her lips over and over as she cums, squeezing him tightly, trying to keep him inside of her. He feels his balls tighten, his skin starting to lightly glow and he grunts, cumming hard as his hips jut into her soft ass, his hands squeezing her hips to keep her in place. He keeps his eyes closed, feeling his release wash over him as he simultaneously tries to fight back the Rider, who does eventually back down. Robbie looks down at Neva, her back heaving as she tries to catch her breath. Still seated snuggly inside, he leans over and pushes the hair from her cheek, moving in to kiss her there. Instead, she turns her head more, finding his lips with her own, as if she were trying to keep him there a little longer. The kiss breaks and Robbie pulls out with a grunt, tucking himself back into his pants.

“I don’t know if I have anything to clean you up-”

She chuckles, cutting off his sentence. Sitting up, she sways and Robbie catches her, pulling her close. 

“Don’t worry. I don’t mind feeling you between my thighs.”

His ears are hot, silently begging the Rider to stay put. “I plan on spending a lot of time between your thighs.”

“Ugh how are you so fucking hot?” She pulls him down to her, her nails scraping against the back of his head, his arms wrapping around her. 

“You’re so warm,” she sighs, cuddling into him. 

“I run hot.”

“Yeah you do.”

Robbie drives her back home, but not before she tells him to pull over, hopping into his lap and riding him until they’re both screaming the others name. 

—----

The next few weeks are spent tucking themselves away from prying eyes, Robbie practically living between her legs, pulling every sound he can from her. It becomes a little easier to keep the Rider at bay while he’s buried inside of her, but he’s not sure if he can always hold him back, which terrifies him. Neva doesn’t know about the Rider, about his secret. Would she even accept him?

It’s his night off, Neva having some sort of engagement to go to, a car sent to pick her up. Robbie slides a bowl of mac and cheese across the table to Gabe, who picks at it with his fork. 

“What?” Robbie asks, a mouthful of mac and cheese.

“It’s nothing.”

“You too good for mac and cheese now?” He smirks, but drops it once he sees Gabe not smiling.

“Gabe?”

“It’s just…you always put hot dogs in it before.”

Robbie smiles softly, schooling his face as he stands up, grabbing his brother’s bowl. “Alright, your majesty. Would you like them cut in cubes or circles?”

Gabe punches him in the arm. “You’re an ass.”

—-

Robbie jolts awake, his phone ringing loudly as is vibrates on his nightstand. Rubbing his eyes, he quickly glances at the time - 1am. No good calls come this late. He feels the color drain from his face when he realizes it’s his work phone, the one that Neva calls. He picks up, hoping that it was just her letting him know she made it home ok. She had promised to do that.

“Hey, chica.”

She takes a moment to answer and Robbie straightens up, sensing something is wrong.

“Nev-”

“Please come get me,” her voice is barely above a whisper, harsh and rough, not sounding at all like the whispers she presses into his ear when he’s buried inside of her. His phone pings but he ignores it.

“Where are-”

The phone clicks off, but not before he heard a yell from her, a terrified yell, a pleading yell. He glances down at the phone and sees she had dropped her location, a red dot pulsing up at him from the map. He grabs his jacket, jumping into the Charger, feeling the fire blaze in him.

If anything has happened to her, we will get justice.

“You got that right,” His eyebrows furrow together in anger, his foot pressing into the gas as he makes his way across town in record time. He pulls up to the gate of a large estate, the guard taking his time coming over to him. Robbie tells him he’s here for Neva and the guard lets him in, the gate sliding shut behind him. He pulls right up to the front door, his car angled for a quick getaway if needed. His skin is on fire as he opens the door, striding over to the front door, raising his fist to knock when he hears her scream, pleading with someone to stop. Without thinking he kicks open the door, taking several large steps inside towards her voice and the sound of something hard making contact with her skin, a scream coming out every time it slaps against her. When he enters the room he sees her on the floor, blood smeared across her as her body curls in on itself, shielding her face with one hand, the other outstretched towards the man towering above her, riding crop raised above him, begging him to stop. Robbie’s skin lights up, eyes turning to fire as his skin melts away, the Rider pushing his way out.

—-

Neva, Earlier That Night:

“You will attend the gala with Mr. Fortier and attend his party after.”

I nod, familiar with this game having been forced to play it my entire life. My dad says me attending these things with these men, powerful men as he says, helps his business endeavors, which in turn helps the family. That I need to do what I have to for the good of the family. 

Of course, he’s not the one to have to endure them.

Showing up, being glorified arm candy clutching to the sleeve of some powerful man or his son, having to discreetly slap away their unwanted touches without upsetting them, having people ogle you like you were just another pretty face, like you were just a piece of furniture, really wears on you. But what else can I do?

I never liked going to these events, showing up with these people, but especially now that I have Robbie, albeit secretly because there’s no way my father would approve of me being with “the help”. I despise them. I begged my father not to go but he wouldn’t hear of it, slapping me across the face when I initially said no. I dabbed on a little extra concealer to hide the redness from his palm and painted on a smile for Mr. Fortier. 

The evening progressed as they usually do. A gala meant a beautiful gown, one that was worth more than most people make in a year, hand holding onto the arm of the man of the evening, Mr. Fortier, as he smirks, loving the attention he gets showing up with me on his arm. His hand rests on my thigh under the table at dinner and it turns my stomach. He starts to squeeze, his nails digging into my skin slightly, so I discreetly place my hand over his, squeezing it back like I wanted to hold hands, choking back the bile that threatens to spew from my mouth as he gives me a smile. 

We dance, his hand sliding a little too low for my comfort so I ask him to spin me, just to get away from his touch for a moment. The money for whatever charity this gala was sponsoring was made, everyone cheering like they made their donations to actually help the charity and not just for the tax write-off. I scan the room, seeing many faces that I know my father has done business with behind closed doors, illegal things that I’m not supposed to know about but I’m too smart to not realize that my dad is not a good man. 

Mr. Fortier asks me into his house after the gala for drinks and I initially decline, wanting to get home and scrub this night from my body, but when he persists, I remember my father telling me I will attend his after party. So I accept, a fake smile on my lips as he takes my hand, leading me inside. Once he has me in the living room I sit at his request, watching him walk to to his drink cart, offering to make me a drink. I decline the offer, saying I had too much already and he shrugs, raising the glass to his lips. It’s when he’s drinking that it starts to sink in - the silence of the house, the lack of movement even from staff, nothing to indicate an after party. I don’t even remember him telling other people there’s one at his house. 

I feel the color start to drain from my face as I realize what might happen next. It’s happened before, my father delighted with the extra money he earned from me. I didn’t realize it at the time, certain that the men had actually cared for me as I did them, so it hurt even more when I realized they’d done it for money or whatever deal my father promised them. They were my age and we were young, I was naive, believing in love and falling for slick words and touches I’d never had before. When I found out, I confronted my dad, who initially denied everything. I wanted to believe he was telling the truth, that he wasn’t putting on a show by telling these men to fuck off. But several months later, I would see them leaving the house, shaking hands with my father. 

I’d confided in my nanny, who held me close and told me that something similar had happened to her, except it hadn’t been her choice like it was mine. But then she told me about a secret herb to put in their drink, basically to knock them out, and then I could set the narrative. I graciously took the herb and it had been successful. Whenever anyone got too handsy, I’d offer to make them a drink, lacing the liquid with a dash of the tasteless herb, feeling a little too triumphant when they slumped over just a minute later. 

But this time, it’s too late. He’s already had a drink, placing the glass back down on his cart as he makes his way back around the couch to me. If he senses that I’m on to him he doesn’t let on, and he may not. Oscar winning actors have nothing on me. He sits next to me on the couch, leaning back and putting his arm along the backside of the couch. 

“Did you have fun tonight?” he asks, his eyebrows raised. 

I nod. “Of course. It’s always nice to have a fun time and raise money for charity.”

“That’s what I like about this particular gala. The money actually goes to the cause and not someone’s pocket.” 

An asshole with a conscience? That’s a first.

“Are you sure you don’t want a drink?”

“No, thank you, Mr. Fortier.” I glance at the clock on the wall, ornate filigray design set into the darkened wood. “Oh - it’s actually getting late. I need to be getting home.” I go to stand but he puts a hand out in front of me, preventing me from standing.

“You don’t have to go so soon, do you?”

I swallow down the scream that’s been echoing around my head and try to put on my best apologetic look. “I’m sorry, Mr. Fortier, but I do.” I go to stand, but his hand doesn’t move. 

“How will you get home?”

“I’ll call a car.”

“Don’t be silly. I’ll have one of mine drive you home. Give me a moment to call them.”

I nod, not comforted by his words. It’s the way he’s looking at me that’s making me feel icky, like I want to run from the house and not stop until I’m home. Or at Robbie’s. Do I even know where he lives?

“Please have a car ready for our guest…Thank you.” He hangs up the phone and I throw him a hopefully convincing smile. 

“Thank you, Mr. Fortier, for a fun night. I’m glad the fundraiser met its goal.” I move to stand when his hand tightens around my wrist, his ring digging into my skin. 

“Your father promised me your time after the gala. To do what I want.”

I look at him, trying to swallow down my fear and channel all of my confidence into my gaze. “Please let me go, Mr. Fortier.”

“I will get what I want.”

“Mr-”

The sound of skin slapping against skin echoes across the quiet room, my cheek stinging with the contact as my head whips to the side. My hand instinctively comes up to my cheek, cupping it as I turn to look at him, his grip somehow tighter. 

“Please, Mr. Fortier, I don’t want-”

He shakes his head. “No, you stupid girl. I don’t want to have sex with you. I have other…desires that I need to release.”

I swallow hard, not really sure what he means, but trying to take solace in the fact that he’s not wanting to take me. 

“What -” My whole body is wrenched forward, face slamming against the hardwood floors as he throws me to the ground. He kicks me once, hard, and I nearly vomit, his dark chuckling getting louder as he squats next to me.

“Like I said, I have no interest in having sex with you. But putting marks on something so beautiful?” His finger graises my cheek and I flinch. “Well, that’s the fun we’re going to have tonight.” 

Pain. That’s all I know for what feels like forever, my skin splitting open open over and over, bones never quite breaking but on the verge of, hair being pulled from my scalp. He meant what he said. He never touches me sexually, never makes any indication of wanting that. I can feel myself in danger of blacking out, desperately trying to cling to consciousness despite my body wanting to shut down to ease the pain. After he throws me to the floor again, my body sliding across the floor, I hear him leave the room, telling me stay put. I lay there, feeling the cold floor slick with some of my blood, my brain screaming at me to run while I have the moment, but I know I wouldn’t make it far, and that it would be worse for me if I attempted it. Something digs into my side and I realize it’s my clutch, having fallen from the couch when I was initially thrown. Wincing at the pain, I grab it, sliding it across the floor to my head. I fish out my phone, keeping one eye on the open door as I blink at the screen, unable to make out any numbers. Luckily, I only need one. Pressing the speed dial slot 1, I wait, praying to whomever is listening that Robbie is awake. 

“Hey, chica.” 

I nearly break down at his voice, a light shining through the darkness I’ve been pulled in. 

“Nev-”

“Please come get me,” I choke out, trying to be quiet but clear. I drop my location to him when I hear Mr. Fortier’s footsteps coming back into the room. 

“Where are-”

He grabs my ankle and I scream, eyes going wide as I see the riding crop held in his other hand, pleading with him to just let me go. I’m not sure how much time passes but in the back of my mind I hear him, the Charger, unmistakeable in its sound, pulling up to the house. Mr. Fortier doesn’t seem to notice, too involved in whatever sick pleasure he’s gaining from this as he raises the crop to me again and again. I cover my face, raising my arm out weakly to try and stop him, begging him to stop. 

And I feel him, Robbie, barging into the room, the last thing I see before passing out is his eyes, full of fire, blazing orange as he shifts, heat enveloping the room, somehow comforting me as I black out. 

—----

Neva:

I remember waking once since that night, very briefly, bright lights shining down into my face while gloved hands and a person in a white coat moves around me, poking and touching my skin where Mr. Fortier had left his mark. I remember my pulse speeding up and then he’s there, Robbie, holding my hand and pushing hair back from my face, telling me he’s got me, that I’m safe. Then I black out again. 

My eyelids flutter open and at first, I’m certain I’ve gone blind. But then my eyes adjust and I realize that I’m in a room, a bedroom, and that it must be night because the room is nearly pitch black, a quiet nightlight plugged in on the other side of the room, making just enough light to see the floor. As my brain catches up to me, I start to make out shadowy shapes from around the room, a taller one that must be a dresser, a smaller one that most likely held books or a tv. I’m in a bedroom, not a hospital room, and certainly not my own room. 

I slowly flex my fingers, making a fist and opening them back up against the sheets and I notice the weight next to me. Slowly, my head pounding slightly, I turn to look and see Robbie next to me, his eyes closed and lips slightly parted, a quiet snore emanating from him. God, he’s beautiful. The man I trust most in this world. Actually, the person I trust most-

Wait. Did his head turn into a flaming skull? Was he Ghost Rider? That had to be a pain hallucination. Right?

He jolts awake, his eyes finding mine and, seeing that I’m awake, he sits up, shaking his head quickly to rid it of sleep.

“Hey, chica. How are you feeling?”

“Ok, I think.” My throat is raw and then he’s holding up a glass of water, a bendy straw sticking out of the top and holding it to my lips. 

“Small sips, ok?” I do as he says, the water helping to abate the raw feeling.

“How long?”

“Just a couple of days. I took you to a guy I know to get you checked out after you begged me not to bring you to a hospital.”

That explains the bright lights and white coat. 

“He said you’ll be fine, that nothing was broken but you’re severely bruised, several cuts needing stitches, and that you’ll be sore for a bit. I do have some pain meds here if you need them.”

“Did…did anyone look for me?” I say this already knowing the answer.

“I…no. Well, you got a text a day or so ago, but I didn’t look.” He leans back and grabs my phone off the nightstand, handing it to me. I unlock it, navigating to the text app and, sure enough, there’s the text from my dad.

Dad: You earned us an extra 7%. A job well done.

I roll my eyes, trying to swallow back the anger and bile in my throat as I hand Robbie back the phone. His eyes glance down at the screen where I’ve left the text up, his eyes almost glowing orange as his brow furrows together in anger. 

“What the fuck?” He asks, looking up at me. 

I try to sit up but my body screams at me, forcing me to stay put. He takes my hand, rubbing little circles into the back of it with his thumb. “It’s ok, Neva. Just stay put.”

I nod, taking a deep breath. And then I tell him everything, how my father treated me my entire life, how I was forced to wine and dine these men or their sons, how I was able to fight most of them off with herbs given to me by my nanny, how twice it had come to more than business and how stupid I was for believing those men, even though they claimed to love me still after I found out, but the trust had been broken. How I missed the chance tonight to give the herb to Mr. Fortier, how I’ve been hurt before but never like this. I don’t look at him when I tell him, but his hand never moves from mine, squeezing it harder with every detail I give him. By the end, I’m surprised to find tears on my face, Robbie reaching up to swipe them away for me. 

“So I’m not surprised no one is looking for me. My dad always sends an update text like this, that what I’ve done for the family was worth it. 7% though? If my dad saw me, he’d negotiate for at least 8%.” It was meant to be funny, trying to lighten the tension, but Robbie didn’t laugh. Or smile.

“Your dad is a bad man.”

I nod. “I’ve known that for quite a while, Robbie.”

“Why didn’t you leave the family then?”

That’s a loaded question. “I guess it was easier to stay. I was raised to do this, Robbie. By the time I’d realized how fucked up it was, my dad’s reach was far. I had no one, aside from my nanny whom he sent back to Russia. I trusted no one, resigned to my fate. And then…you. From day one you made me, no make me feel safe. Like someone cares about me, that I won’t just fade into nothing. You’re my hero, Robbie.” I finally chance a glance up at him, expecting a smile or something, but instead, I’m met with a guilty look, an undeserving expression on his face and he doesn’t look at me. 

“Robbie?”

“I’m not a hero.”

I squeeze his hand. “You are. You literally saved my life that night.”

He shakes his head. “That wasn’t me.”

I scoff. “It was you who walked through the door, saw me, and it was you who pulled me from that…wait was the house on fire?”

He’s quiet for a few minutes and I give him the space he needs. He shifts next to me, making sure I can see his eyes. 

“I have to tell you something, but you can’t tell anyone. Not even my brother, ok?”

I try to move again, but my body retaliates, pain radiating out from where I moved. “I promise. You can tell me anything.”

“Just…know that I feel safe with you, that it’s you who saved me. I don’t deserve it. Don’t argue, just listen, ok?” He takes a deep breath. “I’m Ghost Rider. Well, he is in me.”

“...the guy with the flaming skull head, right?”

“That’s him.”

I let out a small laugh of relief and his eyebrows pinch together. “Why are you laughing?”

“No, it’s just…I saw you...well him? Right before I passed out and I thought for sure I was going crazy, that maybe I’d hit my head too hard. God, this is a relief!”

He studies me for several long moments. “I wasn’t expecting this reaction, you sure you’re ok?”

“I feel much better now that I know my brain isn’t severely addled.”

“I tell you that I turn into a murderous being with a flaming skull for a head and your reaction is ‘oh thank God I’m not crazy’?” The corners of his mouth tick up and then he’s full on smiling. “You’re loca, Neva.”

“Maybe. But you said he’s in you? I don’t understand. Are you not an inhuman then?”

Robbie watches me for a moment and then shakes his head. He launches into an explanation, about how he was out car racing when the Fifth Street Locos attacked his car, on a hit for his uncle, how Gabe, who had simply caught him leaving the house late at night and Robbie convinced him to come along, had a bullet lodged in his spine which means he’d never walk again. How he himself was flung from the Charger, body riddled with bullets, when a voice offered him revenge and he accepted, his body reanimating and healing. How he did seek vengeance, taking out not just that gang but other people too, the Rider coming out to burn them alive, that he only took out those who deserved it. That he did burn down Mr. Fortier’s house, after taking care of him himself, to make it look like an accident. 

“When I walked in and I saw him standing over you, I just lost it. The Rider too. That’s what you saw.”

I squeeze his hand harder, placing his palm on my chest. “Is that why you’re always warm?”

“Pretty much.”

“I stand by what I said before. You’re not a murderer, Robbie. You don’t kill innocent people. They deserve what they’ve gotten, I’m sure…Is it… could I talk to him?”

Robbie raises his eyebrows. “You wanna talk to him?”

“I just want to thank him personally for his part in saving me? If that’s ok.”

He watches me for a long time, like he’s having an internal conversation with himself and it dawns on me, he probably is. Just with the Rider.

“Ok.”

Robbie stands up, taking a step back from the bed, his bed, his eyes on mine. And then they’re blazing orange, like fire itself, his skin peeling back as the skull emerges, embers and flames raising from that face that holds my heart. The Rider stands there, lighting up the room as he turns his face down to me, flames licking out from where his eyes should be. 

“Thank you.”

He nods, a single nod before the flames were being extinguished, skin growing back piece by piece and then Robbie’s back, immediately coming to my side, hesitating in taking my hand.

“You ok, Neva?”

I nod. “Better, now that I get to see your face.” I grunt through a little pain to bring my hand to his cheek, fingers touching the spots where I know his freckles lay. Those freckles that are the death of me. 

“You’re after my dad, aren’t you?” It slips out, this thought I’d had once he told me about the Rider. And honestly, it all makes sense. He never seemed the chauffeur type. I just thought I had been lucky to find the one random, hot man driving one of my dream cars that actually wanted to drive people around in it. 

“Nev-”

“It’s ok. I know he’s my father, technically, but he’s never been my dad.”

“Will we be ok?” Even though the room is dark, I can see his eyes, wide and worried, eyebrows pinched together. I manage to slide my hand up to that spot, trying to smooth away that pinch with my fingers. 

“I’m not going anywhere.”

He visibly relaxes, sliding himself next to me and gently wrapping himself around me, his nose nuzzling in my hair as he inhales, all while I’m inhaling him where my face is against his broad chest. 

“Can you just…wait until I’m better?”

“Did you want to see him?”

“What? Oh no. I just want Nurse Robbie to take care of me.”

He chuckles and my head bounces slightly with it, the rumbling there lulling me back to sleep.

“Nurse Robbie is on duty.”

—----

3 months later…

Her dad was gone, the Rider had left his mark that day. Her mom had fled the country, taking every asset she could, seemingly leaving Neva with nothing. But of course, Neva was smarter than that, tucking money away for literally years, always using her dad’s credit when she needed something. She had more than enough to live comfortably the rest of her life, not filthy rich like before, but more than comfortable, eventually wearing down Robbie with her pleas of “just let me spoil you and your brother”. She’d gotten them a new place in a good part of town, pulling strings to get Gabe into a really nice school that would look great on his college applications. 

When Robbie insisted he stay at Canelo’s in order to stay in the know about what was happening, in case the Rider needed to come out, she followed him, surprising Canelo himself with her extensive knowledge of cars. Her presence attracted new customers, much to the delight of Canelo. 

But today was a slow day and her target was Robbie. 

“Would you just hand me the wrench already?” Robbie smiles, his hand outstretched as Neva clutches the wrench to her chest, an impish smirk on her face as she shakes her head.

“Come and get it.”

He chuckles, standing with a slight grunt as his muscles stretch. “Oh you wanna play, chica?” Robbie

He lunges towards her, hands outstretched, smile on his face and she squeals, trying to run with the wrench but it’s shape making it awkward. She drops it and slows momentarily, thinking Robbie would stop but then he’s there, covering her mouth as she squeals again, smiling into his gloved hand as he pushes her into the office, locking the door behind him before giving her his own version of teasing, her fingers twisting through his hair, his name a quiet chant on her lips, and Robbie knows there is nowhere he’d rather be. 

—----

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[bulkyphrase]

Cap-IM Rec Week - Smut Saturday

Day 6 of @cap-ironman's rec week event! Today's recommendations feature a lot of lovely porn. And maybe some plot sometimes, as a treat.

And if you like subby and/or bottom Steve, check out my previous Stony smut rec list too.

Automated Fantasy by IOnlyWriteWhenCarmelyzed (MCU, Explicit, 1,711 words)

Summary: Steve gets bent over by one of Tony's Iron Man suits

Cherry Ride by copperbadge (@copperbadge) (MCU, Explicit, 12,318 words)

Summary: A SHIELD agent named Roger Stevens told Tony that his nickname was "Cap". Tony didn't connect the dots until it was much, much too late.

More below the cut!

Choices by fundamentalBlue (Marvel, Explicit, 1,749 words)

Summary: “We both know why you come here. So don’t go acting surprised or disgusted. You’re the one who wants this. You.”

Choke You With My Charms by synteis (Ults, Explicit, 8,919 words)

Summary: Steve can't seem to help himself from jerking off at Tony's big do. Tony can't seem to get it up after the last round of chemo. But when Tony offers to take Steve in hand and give Steve's cock some old-fashioned punishment, neither of them are quite expecting what happens next.

I won’t leave you falling by @blossomsinthemist (616, Explicit, 14,653 words)

Summary: Tony doms for Steve, which involves some specially enhanced red rope, cock rings, two vibrators, and a lot of orgasm control. It works out. Bottom Steve, trembling and desperate to come, loving dom Tony, plenty of aftercare.

Larger Than Life by @festiveferret (MCU, Explicit, 3,697 words)

Summary: Steve wants that in him. Right now.

Small Weird Love by @haemodye (Marvel, Explicit, 13,140 words)

Summary: When a magical mishap results in Tony swapping his legs for tentacles, he's absolutely mortified. How is he supposed to face Steve? Steve can't possibly want him like this. Right? Right...

So Much to Confide to You by @sineala (616, Explicit, 16,988 words)

Summary: After an attack by the Masters of Evil, Avengers Mansion is in ruins. Tony has come back from California to help the East Coast team pick up the pieces -- literally. And when the team finds items of a certain intimate nature in the wreckage of the mansion's bedrooms, Tony is of course the one who steps forward to claim them. This leads to two problems: Problem Number One: They're not his sex toys. His toys are in California. Therefore, one of Tony's longtime friends is also extremely kinky and he has no idea who. Problem Number Two: One of Tony's longtime friends happens to own an Iron Man butt plug. Oh, God.

The Crying Game by @fohatic (MCU, Explicit, 36,403 words)

Summary: Steve Rogers stared at the dimly glowing digital screen of the little burner phone, rereading the text message as if it might somehow give away something he missed the first dozen times he scrutinized it. His frown only deepened, though, brows drawing together with consternation as the 88 characters only left him with an even more ponderous sense of uncertainty. If you meant what you wrote, I'll be at the Swissotel Sarajevo, 4/18. Presidential Suite. 9pm. Come alone. ... Nearly a year after Steve and Tony's fallout—and only weeks after press rumors that Tony and Pepper's engagement was inexplicably called off—Steve gets a message on the dedicated burner phone. Despite his instinctive reservations, he's compelled to answer the mysterious call. An approximately canon-compliant story.

The Prize by @sabrecmc (MCU, Explicit, 318,625 words)

Summary: Steve ends up as a concubine in the royal harem.

[tenderjock]

a thousand words

OR, eight photographs Director Carter has in her office.

ONE | Steve.

TWO | A group shot of the Howling Commandos, with a scrawl across the top corner in red pen that reads Howlies in [CROSSED OUT], Feb 1944. There's not much background to speak of; the gaggle of armed, muddy men take up the entire photograph. Captain America is standing dead center, smiling with just the corners of his mouth, Sgt. Barnes to his right hand with a cavalier angle to his head. A row of men kneels in a line in front of him, and more line up on each side.

One of the men kneeling is visibly smaller, less muscular, than the rest, and suspiciously clean-shaven although no less covered in mud. She's grinning with all her teeth at the camera and holding a MP40 with casual grace.

THREE | A gilt-framed photograph of her brother, Michael, in his military uniform, taken before his first death.

FOUR | Technically a clipping from a newspaper: Angie at the opening night curtain call of her first real on-Broadway show, holding a bouquet of dark roses and smiling ear to ear.

FIVE | It's a candid, really, taken in the booth of a bar somewhere in Manhattan near SHIELD's original New York headquarters. They're all outrageously drunk. Jack's slouching in his seat, an arm thrown around the back of the booth and bracketing Peggy's shoulders. He's giving someone behind the camera the what-for, and Daniel is laughing, open-mouthed and crinkle-eyed, at whatever he's saying.

Peggy is staring directly into the camera's lens, drawn up with her spine perfectly straight and a stern expression on her face. It's somewhat marred by the fact that she's wearing a man's hat that is too big for her and has tipped down over one ear.

SIX | A Miss Carter in her mid-forties, gray streaking her dark hair and a fashionably appropriate evening gown adorning her body. Miss Carter is posing for the camera, tipping her glass in a toast to Ana Jarvis, who is winking gayly at her. Half a dozen familiar faces litter the background of the shot, all invitees to Howard Stark's wedding - which happens to be both his first wedding and his last.

SEVEN | A color photograph, this one, taken for LIFE magazine, of Barbara Thompson and Director Carter pouring over a map of the United States. Nothing of the documents they're looking at is visible, but Mrs. Thompson is gesturing, one hip leaned against the table. Carter is looking up at her, red lips slightly pursed. To Carter's right, slightly out of focus, Agent Fury is standing with his hands on his hips, listening as well.

EIGHT | Aunt Peggy, well into her seventies, with her hands on Sharon's shoulders. They're at a gun range; both of them have on protective headsets and goggles. Sharon's holding a loaded pistol and wearing an apprehensive expression. Peggy is smiling, sly and knowing.