#and a backup team when her friends are not around

[doll3scent]

★ Pornstar 5 ★

John Price x Cam girl! reader

warnings- 18+ -mdni, jealousy, alcohol, smut, explicit language, somnophilia, choking, angst w/ comfort,

wc. 6k

a/n. this took me forever

4, 5, 6,

master list 𓂃۶ৎ

Ghost had mentioned bringing his team along for your birthday. You and your friends had planned a night out clubbing, and you figured it was only fair to let him invite his mates—no sense in leaving him stuck with a crowd of twenty-somethings all night on his own.

You and John had been texting and meeting up a few more times since that first night. Each encounter carried the same charged secrecy—you kept your mask on, and he played along, pretending he didn’t know exactly who you were.

John feels the weight of guilt every time he interacts with Ghost, especially now that they’re back at base. He can barely look Simon in the eyes anymore, the guilt weighing down on him like a ton of bricks. He knows he’s betraying his friend, and he hates himself for it. But he can’t bring himself to stop seeing you. He’s addicted to you, to the sound of your voice, the feel of your body pressed against his…

John keeps telling himself he’ll end it, that it’s the right thing to do—but he can’t. He’s wanted you for too long. He spent months watching your cam streams, craving what he couldn’t have, and now that you’re his—truly his—he refuses to let go. Especially when you meet up, when the heat of passion fades, and you curl up in his arms afterward. You slip off your mask, resting your head against his chest, trusting him with one condition: he can hold you, but only if he promises not to look. And he never does—he wouldn’t dare break the fragile trust between you.

But the guilt gnaws at him. Every time John sees Ghost, he’s reminded of his betrayal. He’s been keeping this secret from his best mate, lying right to his face. And he knows that someday, this whole thing is going to explode in the worst possible way.

One day on base, as the team was gathered around after a long mission, Ghost cleared his throat, drawing their attention.

“Right, listen up,” he began, his voice steady but with a hint of annoyance. “My sister’s birthday is coming up, and she’s dragging me to a club. You lot can come if you want, I’m not about to spend the night stuck with a bunch of half-naked 20-year-olds who can barely hold their liquor.”

A few of the team members exchanged amused glances. Soap raised an eyebrow, smirking. “Sounds like you need some backup, mate,” he teased.

Ghost shot him a flat look, though there was a slight curve to his lips. “Exactly. Don’t want to be the only old man there with no one to talk to, do I?”

Price leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. “What’s the plan? We just show up and blend in?”

“Pretty much,” Ghost said with a shrug. “It’s not my ideal night, but it’s for her, so…”

“Hey, if you’re buying, I’m in,” Gaz said, leaning forward with a grin.

Soap snorted. “Buyin’? Please, Ghost probably still thinks a pint costs a fiver.” Ghost shoots him a glare.

John was torn. On one hand, the idea of seeing you gnawed at him—he missed those stolen moments, the secrecy, and the way you felt when you were close. But there was a problem: you still didn’t know that he knew exactly who you were. You kept your distance, acting like he was just some stranger to you, and it killed him.

On the other hand, the thought of being in the same place as you and Ghost, all three of you in close proximity, felt like a ticking time bomb. The guilt, the risk—it was too much. But if he didn’t show up to the club, it would look suspicious. He couldn’t afford that.

Ghost’s voice brought him back from his thoughts. “You coming, Price?”

Price glanced up, meeting Ghost’s gaze. For a moment, he pondered saying no, finding an excuse to skip out. But he knew that would only arouse suspicion. And so he sighed, nodding reluctantly. “Yeah. Yeah, I’ll come.”

The night of, Price stood in front of the mirror in his room, feeling nervous as he checked his outfit one last time. He tried on a couple different shirts before finally settling on a dark grey button-up and a pair of black jeans. He ran a hand through his hair, frowning at his reflection. For some reason, he felt a strange mixture of anxious and excited. Maybe it was the thought of seeing you or the nerves about pretending he didn’t know who you were. Either way, he took a deep breath and steeled himself.

John stood at the bar with the team, his drink in hand, but his mind was elsewhere. Soap and Gaz were already in the thick of it, eyeing passing girls with shameless grins, their attempts at flirting fluctuating between mildly charming and painfully awkward.

Soap, always the loud one, had just cracked a joke that made a girl giggle-though John couldn't tell if it was from genuine interest or sheer pity. Gaz wasn't much better, leaning in with a smirk, dropping some line that sounded more rehearsed than spontaneous. John nursed a beer, his attention only half-heartedly on the women around him.

“Where’s the birthday girl?” Soap called out to Ghost.

Ghost took a swig of his drink before replying, “She’s always late, wouldn’t be like her if she was on time”. He rolled his eyes but there was a hint of affection in his voice.

A group of girls entered the bar, their laughter ringing out and instantly grabbing the attention of everyone nearby. They wore the skimpiest of dresses, skirts, and shirts—everything designed to make heads turn, and turn they did. Wolf whistles followed them as they made their way through the crowd, including from Soap and Gaz, who were both quick to take notice.

Price couldn’t help but look too, his gaze almost drawn to them instinctively. But then, his eyes locked onto you. His heart skipped a beat, suddenly lodged somewhere in his throat. His grip around his beer tightened, knuckles whitening as he processed the sight before him.

You were standing there, a vision in the crowd. Your outfit hit him like a punch to the gut—like you’d intentionally gone out and found the tiniest pink skirt, slashed it in half, then paired it with a matching corset top that left little to the imagination. Your white patterned stockings and pink heels completed the look, and Price’s stomach twisted with something he couldn’t quite name. His mind raced, trying to pull himself together. It felt like everything in the room had faded away, and all that mattered was the sight of you—so close, so real. And yet, still so far out of reach.

You pranced up to your brother, wrapping your arms around him in a tight hug before quickly greeting the rest of his team with a few more hugs. When it was John’s turn, you stepped forward, wrapping your arms around his neck.

The moment your arms encircled him, John froze. Every instinct in him screamed to hold you closer, to pull you tight against him, to inhale your scent that lingered on his skin. But he forced himself to stay still, his body rigid as he struggled to keep his composure. His mind raced, trying to focus on anything other than the heat of your body against his.

“Uh—Happy birthday, kid,” he managed, his voice tight, strained as he patted your back awkwardly. He kept his eyes averted, though they betrayed him, roaming over you, taking in every detail of your outfit. His heart hammered in his chest as his mind locked on how little you were wearing. The fabric of your skirt, the curve of your corset top, it all felt like too much—too much for him to handle in this moment. But you, blissfully unaware of his internal battle, pulled back with a smile, completely oblivious to the storm you’d just stirred inside him.

You smile sweetly, batting your lashes up at him in that innocent way you always did, the one that made his stomach twist with something he couldn’t name. “Thank you,” you say, your voice light and playful, unaware of the effect it’s having on him.

Butterflies erupted in your stomach the instant his arms wrapped around you, his warmth seeping into you and making your pulse quicken. The scent of him, so familiar and comforting, only heightened the rush of emotions flooding your senses. You couldn't stop your mind from drifting to the other night-the way his hands had explored your body with such deliberate confidence, every touch igniting something deep inside you.

The memory sent a delicious shiver down your spine, and your cheeks flushed as you unconsciously leaned into his embrace, unable to resist the pull he had over you. He desperately wanted to hold you tighter, to pull you even closer, but he couldn't. Not here, not with Ghost right there, oblivious to the fact that his best friend was secretly sleeping with his younger sister.

Instead, he pulled away reluctantly, forcing a smile onto his face. “You, uh…you look nice,” he murmured. But the words felt hollow in his mouth, inadequate to describe just how beautiful you looked.

You smile softly, your cheeks warming as you thank him sweetly when he says you look nice. He seems so different than usual—nervous and cautious, a far cry from the commanding presence he has with you in private. It’s almost endearing, seeing this side of him, though you can’t blame him. He doesn’t know it’s you he’s been with, the person he’s been pouring his desires into. To him, you’re just another stranger, someone he feels freer with than someone from his real life.

Later in the night, after several rounds of drinks and conversations, your friend group led you to the dance floor, the music loud and vibrant. You and your friends all danced together, laughing and twirling in the rhythm. As the music vibrated through the floor, Price leaned against the wall, half hidden in the shadows, watching you dance with the others, a pang of desire and guilt twisting his stomach.

The music pounded through the walls of the club, the lights illuminating you in a kaleidoscope of colors as you danced with your friends. Price couldn’t tear his eyes away, watching closely as you swayed your hips in time with the music, your movements fluid and captivating. He could feel the desire welling up inside him, his heart hammering against his chest, but he forced himself to stay put. He was playing a dangerous game, and he couldn’t let anyone find out.

He watched as your friends pulled you further into the fray, each of them laughing and smiling, completely unaware of the tension he was feeling. Despite the noise and the chaos, he could only focus on you, the way your body moved, the way your hair fell across your face, the way your skirt rode up slightly as you twisted and turned. His hands ached to touch you, to pull you to him and feel your body pressed against his.

Price tensed as he saw a man approaching you, his eyes narrowing as he observed him. The man looked closer to your age, but still older than you, and the way he looked at you made Price’s stomach churn. He clenched his jaw, trying to keep his cool while his mind raced with thoughts of what this stranger could possibly want with you.

As he watched, the man leaned in and yelled something into your ear, trying to be heard over the music. You responded with a wide smile, nodding at whatever he said, and the sight sent a wave of jealousy through Price. His hands curled into fists, his possessive tendencies taking over as he watched the two of you talk.

The man then reached out and placed his hand on your hip, pulling you a little closer to him as he continued talking into your ear. Price’s jaw was in danger of snapping with how hard he was clenching it. He wanted nothing more than to march over there and rip that man’s hand off of you. But he couldn’t.

As you moved to the rhythm of the music, you couldn’t help but feel a twinge of guilt in the back of your mind. The man beside you was all smiles, clearly enjoying the moment as you danced and flirted with him, but something nagged at you. You knew it wasn’t right—flirting with someone else when your thoughts were still tangled with John. But then, you reminded yourself: John doesn’t know the cam girl he’s been so captivated by is you. It felt like a small comfort, a boundary you could convince yourself to cross just this once.

It wasn’t like you could openly flirt with your older brother’s captain—especially not in front of him. That was a line you wouldn’t dare cross. Tonight was yours, though. It was your birthday, and you decided you were entitled to a little fun, a little freedom from all the complicated emotions and secrets you were carrying. You pushed the nagging thoughts aside, choosing to focus on the present. The lights, the music, the laughter—it was all a release. For tonight, you could let go.

Price couldn’t bear to watch anymore. Every move you made, every laugh you shared with that man, felt like a knife twisted in his gut. He had no claim on you, he knew that, but the sight of you with another man still sent a surge of jealousy and possessiveness through him.

He took another deep breath, trying to control his breathing, trying to control his emotions. But his mind was filled with thoughts of you and him, the way your body fit against his, the way you cried out for him.

As the night drew to a close, the man next to you, the one who had been flirting with you all night, finally gathered the courage to ask for your number. He leaned in close, his voice slightly slurred with alcohol, as he shouted over the music, “Can I get your number? I really want to see you again.”

Price observed as you giggled, the sound hitting his ears like a physical blow. He felt his heart sink as you reached into your small purse and scribbled your number on a napkin before handing it to the man. He couldn’t stand it, the sight of you giving your number to someone else, not after everything you’d shared together. He had no right to stop you, no right to say anything, but it didn’t make the sight any less painful.

It’s late, past 1am, and you’re sound asleep, wrapped in the comfort of your blankets. Suddenly, your phone rings, jolting you awake. Groggy and disoriented, you fumble for your phone, only to see a number you don’t recognize displayed on the screen. Your heart skips a beat as you answer the call.

“..Hello?” you murmur, your voice still thick with sleep.

He grits his teeth, the surge of anger coursing through him, and forces himself to breathe deeply. His fingers curl into fists, but he knows he has to control it—he can’t let you see how badly this is eating at him. You don’t know that he knows who you are, and that’s what he keeps telling himself as the fury swells inside him. He tries to steady his pulse, focusing on the need to stay composed, to not give away how badly he wants to confront everything that’s been eating at him.

The temptation to ask you directly what the hell is going on, to demand answers, is almost unbearable. But he doesn’t. Instead, his voice comes out calm, controlled, though every muscle in his body is tense with the desire to let his anger out.

“Do you want to meet up tonight?” His words feel like they hang in the air between you, and he watches for your response, trying to push past the storm inside him, desperate for some kind of answer.

“Okay” your rub the sleep out of your eyes “I’ll leave the front door unlocked”

His breath hitches slightly at your words, and for a moment, he almost regrets it. But then he reminds himself that this is the only way forward. He needs to see you, to feel that pull again, even if it’s tangled with complications he hasn’t fully worked through yet. “Good,” he mutters, his voice a little rougher than he intends. “I’ll be there soon.”

The call ends abruptly, and as you sit there, rubbing the last remnants of sleep from your eyes, the weight of what’s about to happen starts to settle in. You don’t even acknowledge the fact of how he could’ve gotten your number. You know it’s dangerous, know it’s a risk, but your body hums with anticipation. He’s coming. And whatever this thing between you is, it’s about to get a whole lot more complicated. You sit up brushing your hair down, your tie your mask on before sitting on your bed, you then lay down planning on just waiting for John but you promptly fall back asleep.

When John arrives at your house, the night air is cool against his skin, but the anticipation burning in his chest keeps him warm. He stands for a moment at your door, fingers hovering just above the handle. His mind races—thoughts swirling between desire and the heavy weight of the situation. He has no idea how this will go, but he’s already too far gone to turn back now.

He enters silently, closing the door behind him and stepping carefully into the darkened house. The only sound is the faint hum of the refrigerator in the kitchen. He can see the soft glow of your bedside lamp peeking through the crack in your door.

He creeps toward your bedroom, finding you curled up in bed, your soft breaths steady and slow. The sight of you, peaceful and unaware of his presence, gives him pause. He watches you for a moment, unsure if he should wake you or just let you sleep. His heart aches at the thought of interrupting your rest, but his body aches with need, the tension in his muscles undeniable.

Gently, he steps closer to the edge of the bed, his eyes tracing the outline of your body beneath the covers. He swallows hard, trying to calm the growing fire inside him. He silently climbs onto the bed between your legs, your sleepy whimpers making his cock harden instantly. “My little girl thinks she can flirt with others and still keep her mask on with me? Not fucking happening." He enters your wet pussy slowly, knowing you’ll wake up to his invasion, without your mask on.

"I saw you, little girl. Flirting with that man like you were some kind of whore." He fucks you harder, his hands gripping your hips painfully. "You're mine, and only mine. No one else gets to see that face or hear those sweet moans." his hands move to your mask, yanking it off without hesitation this time. “I’m done with this fucking mask. I want to see every expression on your face while I fuck you senseless."

"Mmph..." You stir softly, your body automatically arching back as his slow, deep thrusts send waves of pleasure through your sleepy body. You’re large doe eyes flutter open, taking a second to realize what's happening. "Mmh... " he pulls your legs up high onto his shoulders, deepening his thrusts and forcing you to look at him as he stares intensely into you unmasked face. "Who's bed is this? Who's arms are you supposed to be sleeping in?" His voice is low, almost a growl, pulling you from the haze of sleep.

You blink slowly, still groggy, his words swirling in your mind as you try to piece them together. “…Yours,” you mumble softly, your voice barely above a whisper as you stir awake, the warmth of his presence settling over you. He continues rhythmically thrusting, pulling you closer and covering your mouth with his own, one hand firmly holding the back of your neck to keep you in place. “Mmph..." The kiss deepens, passionate and claiming - not allowing you to speak or register that your mask is gone.

He hooks your legs around his waist, changing the angle. His thick length hits you deep spots, making you moan softly and arch your back. "Baby..." He pulls back an inch to look at you again. Your lips are swollen from his kiss, your eyes half-lidded with sleep and pleasure. He slides a hand down to your side, possessively grabbing one of your thighs. He Spreads your legs wider, watching himself slide in and out of your tight heat. He's unconsciously addicted to the view.

"You're so fucking tight and wet for me, baby girl." He growls, his voice low and husky as he increases Your chest heaves as you try to catch your breath, his words sending a shiver down your spine. He smirks, his lips finding yours again, this time softer, slower, but no less consuming. his pace. His hand on your thigh tightens, fingers digging into your soft skin. “I could stay buried in this little pussy all day."

"You know what I love most?" He asks in a hushed whisper, slowing his hips again to tease you. “Watching your face when I hit this sweet spot just right." He purposely angles himself to rub against your G-spot, making you whimper softly. “But fuck..."

His mind flashes back to earlier that night, seeing you laughing and smiling at that man. He can feel his anger building, his body tensing as he remembers. He pulls out slightly, his hands gripping your thighs painfully. “But you know what i didn’t love?” he wraps his hand around your throat. “Seeing you prance around with that man” he squeezes

"You think you can just flirt with other men and ignore me? You think you can wear a mask and pretend to be mine, but then go out there and act like a fucking whore?" He spits out the words, his voice cold and angry as he pushes your legs wider apart. His eyes darken dangerously as one hand wraps around your throat, applying gentle pressure. He continues thrusting roughly, using his superior strength to hold you down. “You want another man's cock that badly?" He growls, tightening his grip slightly more. “Fucking answer me."

His hand on your throat squeezes just a bit more, cutting off your airflow completely. You can only manage a weak, muffled "n-no" before he finally releases his grip, allowing you to gasp for air. “Good” He hisses, resuming his rough fucking.

Your mind spins, wild and frantic, as his words tear through the air between you. The sharp edge of his tone cuts deep, each syllable laced with anger, jealousy, and something far more possessive than you'd ever anticipated. "You think I didn't know?" he growls, his hips snapping forward with a force that leaves you gasping. "Think I wouldn't recognize you, even with that little mask on? I've always known, Angel."

The weight of his confession crashes over you, leaving you breathless and disoriented. He's always known. Every time he spoke your name in that low, commanding tone, every filthy word he growled through the screen— he knew it was you. The realization sends a flood of heat through your body, but it's quickly overshadowed by the intensity of his thrusts, each one driving his frustration and jealousy into you. “And tonight," he continues, his voice rough and unforgiving, "you really thought l'd stand there and watch you let another man put his hands on you? Let him look at you like he had a chance?"

"I didn't-" you try to explain, your voice shaky, but he cuts you off with another harsh thrust, his grip on your hips bruising as he holds you in place beneath him.

"Don't lie to me," he snaps, his dark eyes boring into yours as he leans down, his breath hot against your ear. "I saw you, Angel. Saw you dancing, letting him get close to what's mine." His words hit you like a physical blow, a dizzying mix of shame and arousal surging through your veins. You can feel his anger in the way he moves, in the unrelenting pace of his thrusts, as though he's determined to erase the memory of anyone else from your mind and body.

"You're mine," he growls, his voice low and dangerous, "and don't you dare forget it." His hand slides up to your throat, his grip firm but controlled as he forces you to look at him. The intensity in his eyes is overwhelming, a storm of emotions that leaves you speechless.

"I've been patient," he says, his tone rough and filled with barely restrained fury. "I let you keep your little secret, let you play your games. But now?" He thrusts into you harder, pulling a broken gasp from your lips. "Now, you don't get to pretend anymore. I know exactly who you are, and you're not going anywhere."

The possessiveness in his voice sends a shiver down your spine, your body trembling as you struggle to process everything. He's always known, and yet he let you believe you were in control, let you think you were safe behind your mask. But now, there's no hiding, no escaping the truth-or him. “Say it," he demands, his grip on your throat tightening just enough to make your pulse race. "Say you're mine."

"I'm yours," you whisper, your voice barely audible as his dominance consumes you completely. "Good," he growls, his lips brushing against your ear as his pace quickens. "Because I'm going to make damn sure you never forget it again." He feels a savage satisfaction at your whispered acknowledgment, his grip loosening slightly on your throat as he continues his brutal pace. Each forceful thrust is a stake driven into the earth, claiming you utterly. “That's right, Angel. You belong to me. Every fucking inch of you."

His anger still simmers just beneath the surface, His hand releases your throat, moving to caress your cheek “Weeks, Angel. Weeks of wearing that damn mask, keeping your face from me. But you had no problem flashing those pouty lips and batting your eyelashes at that stranger, did you?"

“Im sorry daddy-“

His expression darkens at the apology, his voice dropping to a low, menacing growl. “Sorry? Sorry doesn't cut it, Angel. You thought you could play me for a fool, hide behind a mask and flirt with other men right in front of me."

“I didn’t mean it..”

He cuts you off with a harsh laugh, his free hand reaching up to grab a fistful of your hair, pulling your head back to expose your throat. "You didn't mean it? You didn't mean to make me jealous, to make me watch you give attention to someone else?"

With a sudden, powerful movement, he flips them over so that you’re now on top, straddling his hips. He sits up, his hands gripping your hips tightly as he pulls you down onto his length with a forceful thrust. "But you know what, Angel?" He smirks wickedly, his hands sliding up your sides to momentarily rest just beneath your breasts. "Maybe I ought to flirt with some women my own age, hm? Show you what it feels like to watch someone else get attention." He leans back slightly, looking up at you with mock consideration.

He chuckles lowly, the sound vibrating through your body as he keeps his relentless rhythm, each thrust leaving you breathless.

The amusement in his tone sends a shiver down your spine, though it's laced with something darker, something possessive.

"Just imagine it, sweetheart," he murmurs, his lips brushing against your ear as he arches an eyebrow, his pace never faltering.

"Me, charming some gorgeous, mature woman right in front of these pretty eyes. Someone who'd appreciate a real man— someone who doesn't need games or masks." His words cut through the haze of pleasure and guilt, his deliberate taunt igniting a fiery mix of jealousy and desperation within you.

He's punishing you, making sure you feel the sting of his jealousy just as much as he felt yours.

Your fingers dig into his shoulders, your mind spinning as he drives into you with purpose, his hips slamming against yours in a rhythm that's as intoxicating as it is punishing. The thought of him with someone else, of him turning his attention away from you, burns hotter than you can bear.

"Is that what you want, Angel?" he growls, his voice low and dangerous as he leans down, his lips brushing the corner of your mouth. "Someone else getting what's yours? Watching while I ruin her the way I ruin you?"

You shake your head frantically, your voice trembling as you gasp, "No... no, I don't want that."

His grin widens, wicked and satisfied, as he adjusts his angle, hitting a spot that makes your vision blur. "That's what I thought," he says, his thrusts growing deeper, harder, his dominance pressing down on you like a weight you can't escape.

One hand moves up to grip your jaw possessively, forcing you to maintain eye contact as he continues his powerful thrusts. “You should see your face right now, Angel. Those big doe eyes, realizing you fucked up." His thumb traces your bottom lip. “You look like you might cry, sweetheart. Like you might beg me to stay away from those other women." He leans in closer, his breath hot against your mouth.

“i’m sorry daddy..”

His eyes flash with a cold, calculating light as he hears the whispered "daddy." He pulls back slightly, his hands tightening on your jaw and hips. “You're too little, you know that? Too young to keep a man like me interested." You let out a sad whimper.

He smirks cruelly, his hips bucking upwards again. "See, you're making those sad little noises because you think I'm going to leave you for someone older, mature, more... suitable." He punctuates each word with a harsh thrust.

His eyes glitter with a cruel amusement as he watches the anguish play across your face. "Is that what you're afraid of, sweetheart? That I might find someone more woman than girl?" His thumb presses down harder on your lip, forcing it to tremble.

His smirk softens slightly, but the dangerous edge remains in his voice. “Tell me, Angel... would you miss Daddy? Would you miss these hands? This cock?" He deliberately grinds against you, hitting that sensitive spot again. "Or would you find someone else?"

Your eyes widen at his question, a flash of jealousy and possessiveness crossing your features. You clench tightly around him, your arms reaching back to wrap around his neck possessively. “N-no! I only want you, daddy..”

He growls low in his throat, the sound of satisfaction and dominance. His hands tighten on you, fingers digging into soft flesh as he begins to pound into you mercilessly. "Only me, is it? My little Angel, so possessive, so jealous..."

With each powerful thrust, he bounces you on his cock like a rag doll, his massive hands gripping you hips with bruising force. The wet slap of your bodies meeting echoes obscenely through the room along with your tiny squeals. "Fuck, look at you trembling on my dick”

He leans forward, his muscular torso pressing against your bouncing breasts as he growls into your ear. "You've got me fucking wild, you know that? Jealous little thing, clinging to my cock like it's your lifeline."

You shiver at his words, your pussy fluttering and tightening around his length. You turn your head to the side, nuzzling into his neck submissively. "Y-yes, daddy... I'm your jealous little slut... Only yours..."

His eyes roll back slightly as your words send a jolt of pleasure through him. He bites down on your neck, marking you as his, as he continues to rut into you with animalistic abandon. "Fucking right you are..."

Your vision starts to blur as he continues to claim you, his cock pounding into your overstuffed pussy, his teeth marking your skin. Your completely lost in the moment, your mind consumed by the overwhelming sensation of being filled and bred by him.

As your vision blurs, he looks down at you, his face twisted in a feral grimace of pleasure. "Look at you, fucking lost in it, aren't you? My little Angel, so small and tight, taking Daddy's big cock like the good little slut she is."

You can't even form a coherent response, your mind blanked by the intense pleasure. All you can do is cling to him, your body shaking and trembling as he continues to fuck you. "Mmmmph... D-daddy...”

He reaches one hand up to roughly squeeze your bouncing tits, his thumb and forefinger twisting your nipple cruelly. "Stupid slut, who fucking owns this pussy? Who's fucking you into oblivion?" His hips slam up brutally, driving his massive cock deep.

You wail, your body convulsing around him as he twists your sensitive nipple. You look up at him with tear-streaked cheeks, your eyes rolled back into your head. “Y-you... Daddy, only you..”

He growls triumphantly, fucking you even harder at your submission. “That's right, baby girl. Daddy fucking owns this cunt. Look at you falling apart on my cock..." His other hand moves between their bodies, pressing firmly against your clit.

Your whole body seizes up as he rubs your clit, the overwhelming stimulation pushing you over the edge. “DADDY!!" you scream, your pussy clamping down violently on his cock as you cum hard, your juices gushing out around his cock.

He groans loudly as your orgasm makes your pussy squeeze his length like a vice. He spreads your thighs wider, pounding into you non-stop. "Jesus Christ, Angel. You're squirting all over Daddy's dick..."

His voice becomes ragged with lust as he continues to fuck through your orgasm, completely losing control. "Fuck fuck fuck... You're a filthy little mess... Look how you creamed Daddy's cock...” His breathing turns heavy, animalistic "You're making me fucking cum...” With a final, brutal thrust, he buries himself deep inside you, his thick length pulsing as he begins to fill your womb with his hot, sticky seed. "FUCK, Angel!" he roars, his face contorting in pure ecstasy. "Take Daddy's fucking cum!"

You throw your head back, as you feel his hot seed filling your insides, your body greedily accepting his release. You moan softly, "Yes, Daddy... Breed me~”

He collapses forward slightly, still holding your hips tight as his cock continues to twitch, depositing every last drop of his seed. “Dirty little slut... look what you made me do... I’m fucking you full of cum...”

He slowly pulls out of you, watching as his thick, creamy seed spills out of your well-fucked hole. He smirks darkly, knowing he's marked you as his. "Look at that pretty little pussy, all stretched out and full of Daddy's cum. You're a mess, Angel. My dirty, fucked out little whore." He reaches down to spread your lips apart, showing off your leaking entrance. "This is what you are for me, sweetheart."

You nod, dazed and your mind foggy. He lays you on the bed before going to your bathroom, grabbing a warm wet cloth to clean you. He returns to the bedroom, his expression softening slightly as he approaches the bed where you lay sprawled and dazed. Kneeling between your thighs, he gently presses the warm, damp cloth against your overly sensitive pussy, cleaning you up.

After thoroughly cleaning you, he tosses the cloth aside and lies down beside you, pulling you into his strong arms. He holds you close, your head resting on his chest as he wraps a thick, muscular arm around you waist, keeping you snuggled against him.

“…You knew the whole time?” you murmur, your voice barely above a whisper, a mixture of shock and disbelief woven into your words.

He stills for a moment, his hips pressed against yours, his weight grounding you beneath him. His heart beats a little faster, though his expression remains calm, composed. He looks down at you, his intense gaze piercing through your surprise as if daring you to question him further.

“Yes, Angel,” he says, his voice steady but low, laced with an edge of dominance that makes your stomach flip. “I knew. From the moment I first saw you, I recognized those big, innocent eyes. And when I heard your voice…” His thumb brushes lightly against your cheek, almost tender in contrast to the firm hold of his other hand on your hip. “I knew exactly who you were.”

Your breath catches in your throat, your mind racing to process his confession. All this time, you thought you were hidden behind the safety of your mask, your anonymity protecting you. But he had known—it was you, always you.

“Then why…” Your voice falters as you try to form the words, your cheeks burning with both embarrassment and the weight of his unwavering gaze.

“Why didn’t I say anything?” he finishes for you, his lips quirking into a smirk that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. His tone softens slightly, though it’s no less intense. “Because I wanted you to come to me willingly. I wanted you to need me the way I need you, Angel. And you did. You gave yourself to me, completely, without even knowing it.”

His words leave you breathless, your heart pounding in your chest. His hand trails down to your jaw, tilting your face upward so you’re forced to meet his gaze.

“And now,” he murmurs, leaning in closer, his lips brushing against yours, “there’s no going back. You’re mine, Angel. You’ve always been mine.”

His lips crash against yours, swallowing the gasp that escapes you as his hand tightens on your jaw. The kiss is anything but gentle— it's heated, desperate, and possessive, like he's staking his claim on you in a way words never could.

You melt beneath him, your hands instinctively reaching up to grasp his shoulders, your fingers digging into the firm muscle as he deepens the kiss. His tongue slides against yours, commanding and insistent, leaving no room for hesitation or second-guessing.

The world outside fades away, the only thing grounding you to reality being the feel of his body pressed against yours and the relentless intensity of his kiss. When he finally pulls back, just enough to let you breathe, his forehead rests against yours, his dark eyes boring into yours with an intensity that leaves you trembling.

"You're mine," he growls, his voice rough, his lips brushing against yours as he speaks.

"Say it."

Your chest heaves as you try to catch your breath, his words sending a shiver down your spine. "I'm yours," you whisper, your voice unsteady but sincere.

He smirks, his lips finding yours again, this time softer, slower, but no less consuming.

The kiss is deliberate, his every movement a reminder of the power he holds over you— and the hold you clearly have over him.

[mintyys-blog]

steve rogers x reader: Matchmaker on Duty

WARNINGS: confidence issues (but nat helps)

Working for S.H.I.E.L.D. was nothing like you’d imagined, but it wasn’t the missions, tech, or classified intel that left your nerves in shambles. No, it was Captain Steve Rogers.

You’d had a massive, almost embarrassingly obvious crush on the super-soldier since the day you started as one of the agency’s nurses. Unfortunately, every time he spoke to you—whether it was a casual greeting or a genuine “thank you” for patching up a minor wound—you either stuttered like a broken record or spoke so quietly that even his enhanced hearing struggled to catch your words.

You’d always been shy, but with Steve, it was debilitating.

“Okay, this has to stop,” Natasha Romanoff said one afternoon when she caught you staring at Steve from across the gym.

You nearly jumped out of your skin, clutching the clipboard you were using as a flimsy excuse to linger nearby. “W-What? Stop what?”

Natasha raised an eyebrow. “The pining. The blushing. The silent staring. It’s sweet, but painfully awkward to watch.” She smirked. “You like him, don’t you?”

Your face turned scarlet, and you avoided her gaze. “I… I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Right,” she said, crossing her arms. “Well, lucky for you, I do. And I’m going to help you.”

“Help me?” You blinked, confused and slightly alarmed.

Natasha’s smirk deepened. “Steve’s my friend, and he’s a great guy, but he’s also the densest person alive when it comes to noticing someone has feelings for him. So, if you want him to see you as more than the sweet nurse who gets tongue-tied around him, we’re going to need to up your game.”

Over the next week, Natasha took you under her wing. She started by figuring out what made you feel confident.

“What kind of clothes do you like wearing?” she asked one evening, sitting cross-legged on your couch.

“Um… I don’t know. Comfortable stuff?” you mumbled.

Natasha gave you a pointed look. “Comfortable doesn’t mean you can’t feel good about how you look. Let’s find something that works for you.”

She helped you pick out a few outfits—nothing too flashy, but things that accentuated your personality while giving you a subtle boost of confidence. And it worked. Around Natasha, you felt like you could take on the world. But whenever Steve entered the picture, your confidence shattered like glass.

Natasha groaned after yet another failed attempt to get you to talk to Steve during a team lunch. “You’re like a statue around him. We need backup.”

“Backup?” you asked nervously.

She grinned mischievously. “Bucky.”

“You want me to do what?” Bucky Barnes said, staring at Natasha like she’d lost her mind.

“Help me set Steve up with her,” Natasha said, gesturing toward you, who was fidgeting nervously in the corner.

Bucky glanced at you, then back at Natasha. “Steve’s the most oblivious guy I know, but she looks like she’s afraid of him.”

“I’m not afraid of him,” you protested softly.

Bucky gave you a skeptical look but didn’t comment. “Look, Nat, I don’t think this is a good idea. Steve’s not gonna ask her out if he thinks she’s uncomfortable around him.”

“Which is why we need you to convince him she’s not,” Natasha argued.

Bucky sighed. “Fine. But if this backfires, it’s on you.”

Later that day, Bucky cornered Steve in the kitchen.

“You ever notice how Nurse Y/N gets all flustered around you?” he asked casually.

Steve looked up from his coffee, frowning. “Flustered? No, she just seems… shy.”

Bucky snorted. “Shy, sure. Or maybe she likes you and doesn’t know how to act around you.”

Steve blinked. “What? No, she—no. She barely talks to me. I think she might be intimidated.”

“Intimidated?” Bucky repeated. “Steve, you’re not that scary.”

“I don’t want to pressure her,” Steve said firmly. “If she’s uncomfortable around me, the last thing I want to do is make it worse.”

Bucky shook his head, muttering under his breath. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

Despite Bucky’s doubts, Natasha refused to give up. She dragged you to yet another team gathering, this time insisting that you sit near Steve.

“You don’t have to talk much,” she whispered. “Just smile. He likes when people smile at him.”

You nodded, heart pounding as you took the seat beside Steve.

“Hi, Y/N,” he said with a warm smile that made your stomach do somersaults.

“H-Hi, Steve,” you managed, your voice barely above a whisper.

His smile softened. “How’s your day been?”

“It’s… it’s good,” you said, forcing yourself to meet his eyes for a split second before looking away.

Natasha shot you a subtle thumbs-up from across the table, and for the first time, you felt like maybe—just maybe—you could do this.

As the evening went on, Steve found himself noticing things about you he hadn’t before—like the way your eyes lit up when you talked about something you were passionate about or the shy smile you gave when someone complimented you.

By the end of the night, he couldn’t help but wonder if Bucky and Natasha were right after all.

After that team gathering, Natasha kicked her plan into high gear. She started inviting you to more casual hangouts with the Avengers, ensuring Steve would be there. Each interaction was a small victory, even if it felt insignificant to you.

“You looked him in the eye for five whole seconds today,” Natasha said one afternoon, lounging on the couch in your apartment.

You sighed, sipping your tea. “It’s not exactly groundbreaking.”

“It is for you,” Natasha said firmly. “Baby steps, Y/N. You’re getting there.”

You nodded, still uncertain but grateful for her support.

The next major step came a few days later when you found yourself at the gym, a place you typically avoided when the team was training. But Natasha had convinced you to start working out more—not for Steve, but for yourself.

“You’ll feel stronger, and confidence comes from within,” she’d said.

You were mid-workout, focused on the punching bag, when Steve entered the room. Your heart skipped a beat, but instead of freezing like you usually did, you forced yourself to keep going.

“Hey, Y/N,” Steve said, stopping a few feet away. “I didn’t know you boxed.”

You turned to him, nerves fluttering in your stomach. “I, um, just started. Natasha’s been helping me.”

He smiled, stepping closer. “You’re doing great. Your form is solid.”

His compliment caught you off guard, but instead of mumbling an awkward “thank you” and fleeing, you straightened up and met his gaze. “Thanks. I’m trying to get better.”

Steve looked impressed. “If you ever want more pointers, I’d be happy to help.”

For a moment, you forgot to be nervous. “I might take you up on that.”

As he walked away, Natasha appeared out of nowhere, a smug grin on her face. “You didn’t run. I’m so proud of you.”

Over the next few weeks, your confidence continued to grow. You started joining team lunches more frequently, contributing small comments to conversations. Steve noticed the change, and while he didn’t push you, he began seeking you out more often, sitting next to you or asking for your opinion on things.

One day, during a briefing, you surprised even yourself by speaking up when Steve asked for suggestions on a mission plan.

“That’s a good idea,” Steve said after you finished explaining. He smiled at you, and for the first time, you didn’t look away.

One evening, after a particularly long day, you found yourself sitting on a bench in the S.H.I.E.L.D. garden. You often came here to unwind, but this time, you weren’t alone.

“Mind if I join you?” Steve’s voice came from behind you.

You turned, surprised. “Oh, um, sure.”

He sat down, a comfortable silence settling between you.

“You’ve been more confident lately,” he said after a moment.

Your cheeks warmed. “I’m… trying. It’s not easy, but I’m working on it.”

Steve smiled. “It shows. And for what it’s worth, I think you’re doing great.”

You managed a small smile, your nerves replaced by a warm sense of accomplishment.

From the sidelines, Natasha watched it all unfold, a quiet sense of pride growing with each interaction. She never commented directly, but her occasional nods or knowing smiles were enough to keep you motivated.

“You’ve done a good job with her,” Bucky said one day as they watched you and Steve talk during lunch.

“She did the work,” Natasha replied. “I just gave her a nudge.”

Bucky smirked. “You gave her more than a nudge, Romanoff. Admit it—you’re a sucker for a love story.”

Natasha rolled her eyes but didn’t deny it.

One day, Steve approached you in the med bay after a minor mission. He wasn’t injured—just checking on his team—but he lingered longer than usual.

“You know,” he said, leaning casually against the counter, “I’ve been meaning to ask—would you want to grab coffee sometime? Just the two of us?”

Your heart stopped. For a moment, your old nerves threatened to take over, but then you remembered Natasha’s words: Confidence comes from within.

You took a deep breath, meeting his gaze. “I’d like that.”

Steve’s smile was bright enough to make your knees weak, but this time, you didn’t look away.

When you told Natasha about the coffee date, she didn’t squeal or gush. She simply nodded, a smug grin spreading across her face.

“See? I told you he’d come around,” she said.

“Thanks, Nat,” you said, smiling. “I couldn’t have done it without you.”

Natasha waved you off. “You had it in you all along. I just helped you see it.”

As she walked away, you caught her whispering to Bucky, “Called it.”

From that day forward, things between you and Steve blossomed naturally. And every time Natasha saw the two of you together, she felt a quiet sense of satisfaction, knowing she’d played a part in bringing you closer.

[hetacon]

Oh boy, you’ve opened Pandora’s box here my friend!! My ramble will be under the cut so that this post doesn’t get too long

Keep in mind that this is just my own personal headcanon/interpretation of Legend’s character, and I’m obviously not saying this is the only correct way to write him. Also some of this is based off of what’s been shown in LU, but some of it is more so the vibes he gives me. Alright then, here we go

So we’re shown at least some of Legend’s storage in “Hoarder of legend,” which is mainly what I’ll be referencing, and it gives us a tiny peek at all of things he’s acquired over his time as a hero. Like I said in my previous reblog, I get where Legend’s whole thing with keeping everything comes from as I do it myself, and I feel he likely keeps things for 3 main reasons which I will go over in their own individual sections: 1) They’re useful, 2) they’re sentimental, and 3) they’re dangerous

They’re useful: This one basically stems from the idea of “I may not need it now but what if I need it eventually?” and the worry that if he gets rid of it, there might be a point at which he’ll be in a situation that calls for it but can’t use anymore because he no longer has it. Legend both in LU and the canon material has gone on the most adventures, because even if you only count the official Zelda timeline, he has 4 games under his belt: A Link to the Past, Link’s Awakening, Oracles of Seasons, and Oracle of Ages. A Link Between Worlds and Triforce Heroes are officially a different Link but within LU, obviously those two games have been given to Legend’s portfolio given Ravio being his counterpart, and Triforce Heroes following the same Link as in ALBW. So LU-wise, that’s a total of 6 games in his career as a hero, making it only natural that he is considered the veteran of their team despite not being one of the older ones. Given how many adventures he’s been sent on, it makes a lot of sense that he would keep anything that might be useful at some point because when isn’t he going on adventures? Various tools, weapons, magic rods, maps, he never knows when the need for it will arise, so he just keeps it all. Even with extras of anything he has, he would keep them just in case something happens, meaning he has backups. As has been shown within LU so far, he very much likes to plan for things and isn’t too keen on throwing himself into it headfirst, like when he argues with Wild about going off-trail to get an idea of what’s around them in part 2 of “Divine Dark Reflections,” saying that they don’t have a map and that “I kind of want to know where I’m going!” Legend likes to have a good idea of what’s going on so that he can be prepared, and so it’s probably reassuring for him to know that he likely has what he needs if something goes wrong

They’re sentimental: The explanation for this one isn’t as long and is more so based on one particular collection of his, that being the Instruments of the Sirens from Link’s Awakening (or what are more likely just replicas of them). The only purpose they served was to wake the Wind Fish so that Legend could leave Koholint, meaning that aside from their ability to make music, they don’t have any inherent properties that would make them useful for any of his quests. I think it’s reasonable to imagine that he had replicas of the instruments made so that he has some reminder of the island and of Marin, because there isn’t much left that he could remember her by aside from his own memories of that adventure. Even if they are the real things (which I doubt is the case), that’s all the more reason for him to keep them, as it helps assure him that Koholint was real in at least some sense

They’re dangerous: This is the most interesting one to me, because you wouldn’t necessarily think he’d want to keep stuff that would be harmful to use, but obviously he does given his insistence that the Chain not touch any of his things since some of the items are cursed. We’re not shown any object in particular but it’s implied that the ring Wind is holding might be one of them when Legend tells him not to put it on. He’s not opposed to letting the others use his gear—after all, he’s fine with Warriors keeping his fire rod since his only requirement is that Wars not break it, and he looks for a weapon for Wild to use after the latter breaks his sword in the same part of “Divine Dark Reflections” mentioned earlier—so it’s not likely that he’s telling Wind not to because he’s just being stingy with his stuff. The other two items he tells some of the others not to touch are also for understandable reasons, that being the magic mirror Wild picks up because Wild is known for breaking things and Legend says that some of the objects are delicate and irreplaceable, and the Harp of Ages that Sky picks up because of its ability to manipulate time, which might be dangerous if Sky is unaware that it actually has magical properties and isn’t just an ordinary harp. So it’s not that he has an issue with the others using his stuff, but that they’re the things that are safe to use and that they’re actually aware of what it does. But then how come he keeps this kind of stuff in the first place? It’s probably because him keeping it means that he can ensure everyone is safe. Keeping it in his storage means no one will accidentally stumble across it and get themselves hurt trying to use it, and it also prevents them from getting into the wrong hands where they can be used to hurt others. Legend seems to have a sense for magic and can detect what types of enchantments various objects have been imbued with, shown by him noticing that Malon’s wedding ring has a powerful protection spell put on it and pointing it out to her in part 4 of “Malon,” something that she herself wasn’t even aware of. His ability to detect and identify magic means he’s able to tell what is and isn’t dangerous, so he doesn’t have to worry about accidentally using one of the cursed items he’s obtained, making him one of the safest people to hold on to those types of items

Nothing found in his storage is without purpose, they’re all for a reason. He doesn’t have them just to have them

And now that brings us to Ravio’s mindset and how it differs from Legend’s, this is gonna be fun!! (There will be some spoilers for ALBW btw, mainly in regards to Lorule)

So I know surface-level wise, it’s easy to see Ravio as a bit greedy and very money-focused, which people sometimes play up for comedic purposes. Given Ravio’s morals and values though, I’d say there’s definitely more nuance to it

Ravio’s lived in Lorule his entire life, and it’s quite a tough place to live. Due to the destruction of Lorule’s Triforce, the kingdom had started to fall apart long before Hilda and Ravio were born, it’s not a new development, and the mindsets of the citizens of Lorule reflect that. For Loruleans, it’s everybody for themselves, you take care of yourself and your own first and foremost, and it’s unwise to trust anyone. That isn’t to say that there aren’t good people or that everyone in Lorule is a lost cause, it’s just that living in Lorule is so hard that people don’t have much hope that trying to help others will make that much of a difference in the end. But there are glimpses of human kindness here and there. Even though the Lorulean blacksmith’s wife voices that she doesn’t know why she bothered with saving Link, she still chose to go out of her way to do so. The thief girl Link helps escape the Thieves’ Hideout keeps her word of leading him to one of the paintings, and later thanks him with some rupees if he finds her after she leaves Thieves’ Town. No one seems to be very well-off in Lorule, but there are still glimpses of kindness and compassion that you see, showing that the cynicism of most people there is due to their circumstances rather than their overall nature as people

With so little security for anybody’s well-being in Lorule, whether it be physically or financially, it tracks that people do whatever they deem necessary just to get by. Ravio grew up right in the middle of that environment so it makes a lot of sense why he would be so concerned with the success of his shop and the profits he’s making, living in Lorule means his default mindset is to expect hardship and instability, so he spends his time in Hyrule trying to save up as much as he can as a safety net for when he feels he’ll inevitably fall back on hard times. This also goes to explaining why he’s modeled his business in the way he has with renting out gear rather than selling it outright, only allowing Link to buy it after obtaining the three pendants and proving that he’ll likely be able to take care of himself without dying and that selling the item won’t end up being a substantial loss

Living with Legend, it probably takes Ravio a while to truly feel secure in knowing that they’re still going to be ok financially even if his business sometimes doesn’t do as well as it does other times, and so after Ravio gets close with Legend and is given permission to access his storage room with all of Legend’s gear, he probably would rent out duplicates of things Legend has to ensure that he’s able to make enough money to maintain his housing situation. He wants to ensure Legend considers letting him stay to still be worth it because he’s not just freeloading and actually does bring income to the household, and he figures that “You’re not home very often anyways, so it’s not like renting out some of your stuff will even affect you.” I imagine it probably isn’t until they get together that Ravio truly starts to believe that him being allowed to stay in Legend’s house isn’t dependent on how much of an income he makes, because at that point he’s no longer “Legend’s roommate who sort of weaseled his way into being allowed to stay based on their initial circumstances” but rather “Legend’s partner who lives with him because Legend loves him and genuinely wants him around”

(Also this isn’t related to this explanation somehow becoming Ravioli sappiness (as if this whole concept didn’t start out being Ravioli sappiness 😂) but I’d like to point out that I think that Ravio is likely the only person Legend trusts to keep an eye on his stuff because like Legend, Ravio also has a sense for magic and even can do some himself, so he also knows what to stay away from. Don’t mind me just slipping my headcanon about Ravio being able to use magic and actually making/enchanting some of the inventory in his shop himself in here!)

They definitely bicker about the storage room but at the end of the day, they both are coming at it from places that make a lot of sense and their reasonings aren’t actually as dissimilar as one might think. Both of them are honestly very practical, they both like to plan, both of them want to ensure they have what they need to stay safe, they just have different ideas of how to do that. It’s really all about communicating with each other so that they can come to an understanding and then finding a compromise that works for both of them

I think it’s very funny how I can be doing literally anything and the brainrot will just kick in. It’s like

Me: *helping my parents with cleaning out the garage*

My brain: But what if Ravioli?

And then I just proceed to think about Legend and Ravio going through their storage together because it’s their house, they’ve made a home together, and then I find myself wanting to make something with them being the domestic married couple they are. My brain really just decides that absolutely anything can be inspiration for a drawing or a story, and it’s right

[maskedbyghost]

part 2 to Simon marrying another woman. there will be one more part.

That dreadful day, you didn’t stay for the reception. You couldn’t.

The sight of Simon’s lips pressing against hers, his hands on her waist, was more than you could bear. The weight of it settled in your chest, as you pushed through the church doors and into the biting cold. You told yourself you just needed air, but you kept walking, your heels clicking against the pavement as the world blurred past you.

It’s been seven months since he married her.

Seven months since you watched the love of your life vow to cherish someone else for the rest of his days.

Not you like he promised.

Her.

You tried moving on—tried dating, tried sleeping with other men. But no matter how hard you tried, no one compared. They didn’t know how you liked your coffee after a mission, or the songs you hummed when you thought no one was listening.

They weren’t him.

The team had noticed, of course. How could they not? Soap was the first to say something, pulling you aside after a particularly grueling mission.

“You alright?” he asked, his voice low enough that no one else could hear.

You lied, of course. “I’m fine.”

But Soap wasn’t buying it. “Fine, my arse. You’ve been off for months now. We’re worried about you.”

We.

The word stung more than it should have. You knew they all meant well—Price, Gaz, Soap—they were your family in every way that mattered. But the one person you wanted to notice, the one person who had always been able to read you like an open book, wasn’t yours anymore.

Simon barely looked at you these days. He kept things professional, as though the years you’d spent breaking down each other’s walls had never happened.

You hated him for it. You hated her for taking him from you. But more than anything, you hated yourself—for still loving him despite it all.

Why wouldn’t you? You and Simon were perfect for each other. Everyone saw it. The team had long accepted that you and Simon were a package deal, even when neither had put a label on it.

Everything was great—until she arrived.

She was an old friend of Simon’s, someone he’d known long before the Task Force. You remember the day she was introduced to the team, handpicked for her unique skillset, and vouched for by Simon himself.

Captain Price welcomed her without hesitation, and the rest of the team quickly followed. She was smart, capable, and annoyingly charming.

You wanted to like her. You really did. But something about her never sat right with you.

At first, her friendliness seemed genuine, and her interest in Simon was understandable given their history. She would tell stories about him from the past. You noticed how he seemed to soften around her, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips as he listened. It stung, but you told yourself it was harmless.

Then the games began.

She found ways to insert herself into moments that were once yours and Simon’s alone. If you were paired with him during training drills, she’d casually request to swap partners, laughing it off as wanting to “catch up with an old friend.” On missions, she’d position herself as his backup, leaving you to work with others.

Her manipulation was well calculated. When she slipped into Simon’s good graces, it was so gradual that even he didn’t see it happening.

During a team meeting, she’d mention how Simon had always been the one to “clean up after reckless partners” in the past, glancing at you just long enough to make her point. Or she’d joke about how “some people” needed constant saving in the field, her tone light but her eyes sharp as they flicked in your direction.

Simon rarely reacted to that. But you could see the doubt creeping into his expression, the seeds she was planting beginning to take root.

It wasn’t just her words, either. She had a thing for orchestrating situations that made you look bad without ever appearing to do so intentionally. During one mission, she “accidentally” overlooked a key piece of intel you’d flagged, leading to a delay in the operation. When Simon asked what happened, she apologized but subtly implied that your instructions had been unclear.

Another time, she volunteered to handle a critical piece of equipment, only to claim later that she thought you had already taken care of it. It was small things—barely noticeable—but they added up, each one chipping away at the trust you and Simon had built.

What hurt the most was how easily she slipped into Simon’s world. She knew how to talk to him in a way that made him feel understood, playing on their shared history to create a bond you couldn’t touch. She’d bring up memories from their past, reminding him of a time when life was simpler, safer.

And slowly, Simon began to change.

He second-guessed your decisions in the field. When you tried to talk to him about it, he brushed it off, saying you were overthinking things.

The worst part was that she always made sure to maintain her image as the perfect teammate—loyal, competent, and supportive. To everyone else, she was a godsend, a valuable asset to the team.

But you knew the truth. You saw through her façade, the way she manipulated situations to her advantage, the way she slowly turned Simon against you. And no matter how hard you tried to hold on, to remind Simon of the bond you shared, she was always there, pulling him further away.

And by the time Simon announced his engagement to her, you barely recognized the man you’d fallen in love with. The man who once held you with such tenderness now looked at you as though you were a stranger.

You started to fight with Simon often, because he was a dumb, stupid man who didn’t realize he was being manipulated. You tried to make him see it—the way she twisted things, the way she subtly undermined you—but he wouldn’t listen.

“She’s my friend,” he said once, his jaw tight. “You’re overreacting.”

You hated the way he said it, as if you were imagining things. The man you knew better than anyone, was slipping through your fingers, and there was nothing you could do to stop it.

The fights grew worse, spilling over from arguments in private to tense exchanges on missions. The team noticed, of course, but no one said anything. They kept their heads down, unwilling to get involved in whatever was happening between the two of you.

Then, one night, while you were on leave, Simon came home to the apartment you shared and started packing his things. You didn’t understand at first, standing frozen in the doorway as he folded his clothes and stuffed them into a duffel bag.

“What are you doing?” you asked, your voice trembling.

He didn’t look at you. “Leaving.”

“Why?” You stepped closer, trying to put yourself between him and the door. “Simon, please. Just tell me why.”

But he wouldn’t. He kept his gaze fixed on the floor.

You begged him to stay, tears streaming down your face as you pleaded for an explanation, for anything that could make sense of the sudden shift. But Simon—your Simon—had already made up his mind.

A month later, you saw the photos—Simon and her, sitting side by side at a café, her hand resting on his arm like she’d always belonged there. The smile on his face was small, but it was there, and it broke something inside you.

A few months after that, they were engaged. The wedding followed soon after.

“They want to have a small ceremony,” Soap said. He hadn’t looked at you when he spoke, as if he couldn’t bear to see your reaction.

And now here you were, seven months later, still trying to piece yourself back together while Simon lived a life you were supposed to share with him.

One night, during a late briefing, you caught Simon looking at you. It was just a flicker, his gaze lingering a moment too long, his expression unreadable.

For a second, you thought you saw something—regret, maybe even sorrow—but it was gone before you could be sure. You told yourself you imagined it, that your mind was playing tricks on you, desperate for any sign that he might still care. But the look stayed with you, in your memory next to the happy moments with him.

And so, you wanted to continue living your life normally, and tried to move on, but it was hard. You kept telling yourself it would get easier with time, but time seemed to stand still.

The memories of Simon lingered everywhere—his voice in your head, the way he used to call you “love,” the small habits he’d left behind in your shared life.

You threw yourself into your work, drowning in the chaos of missions and training. But even in the most hectic moments, there was always an ache in the back of your mind, serving like a fucking reminder of the man you’d loved and lost.

You tried dating, fleeting distractions that always ended the same way—with you staring at the ceiling, wondering why no one could make you feel the way Simon did.

But then, one day, something happened.

Price called you to Simon’s office. His tone over the comm was urgent and it made your stomach twist. He didn’t explain, only told you to come immediately.

You hurried down the corridor, your mind racing. Something about Price’s voice told you this wasn’t about a mission or a routine debriefing.

Something was wrong.

When you reached the door, you hesitated for just a moment, hand hovering over the handle. You took a deep breath, steadying yourself, and pushed it open.

The sight inside made your heart drop.

The office was in ruins—papers scattered across the floor, the desk overturned, a chair broken and lying in pieces. A crack ran through the mirror on the wall, distorting your reflection.

And there, amidst the chaos, was Simon.

He was sitting on the floor, his back against the wall, knees drawn up slightly. His mask was gone, revealing a face filled with exhaustion and pain. His eyes were fixed on the ground, as he muttered the same words over and over, barely audible.

“She ruined my life… she ruined my life…”

Price stood near the door, arms crossed tightly as he watched Simon. When he saw you, his shoulders relaxed slightly, as though he’d been waiting for you.

“Please,” he said quietly. “Talk to him. You’re the only one he might listen to.”

Your throat tightened as you stepped closer, every movement feeling heavy. You knelt a few feet away, your voice soft, almost trembling.

“Simon…”

He looked up at the sound of your voice, his gaze locking with yours. He managed a weak, bitter smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes.

“Sorry, love,” he murmured, the words barely more than a whisper.

And then, before you could react, he raised the gun to his head.

PART 3

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

yup. this is a perfect place to stop. gonna go hide now hehe

(sorry if you didn't want to be tagged)

@daydreamerwoah @postm0rt3m @blacpiink @nightunite @surprisinglydreaming @shybasementtree @foxwitch666 @snaaaaaaaaaked @somethingsaladsomething @massivescissorsthingperson @abbeyskeff @a66-1 @mortem-writes @jupitersmoon167 @blankk3 @yxfairyrx @balletbiscuit @pickyourpoisonandevolve @emilia527 @midgalaxysparkle @0bonnie-bunny0 @kittygonap @babybimbo777 @johnnyshoe @probably--possessed

[starsjulia]

baby fever // alexia putellas

a/n : maybe it’s because i’m ovulating, but i feel like im having withdrawals from my child (i don’t have a child)

warnings : none!!

“Alexia,” you said, flopping onto the couch dramatically, your phone clutched in one hand. “Look at this baby. Look. Isn’t this proof we should have one?”

She glanced up from her iPad, one brow raised. “That’s the fifth baby you’ve shown me today.”

“Because they’re soooo cute! And we could have one!” You shoved the phone under her nose, showing her a TikTok of a giggling infant in a tiny onesie. “Imagine our baby. They’d have your eyes, my—”

Alexia cut you off with an amused smirk. “We’ve talked about this, cariño.”

“No, you’ve talked about logistics,” you shot back, sitting cross-legged beside her. “I’ve talked about how I want a baby, like, yesterday.”

She sighed, setting the iPad down. “I’m not saying no. I’m saying it’s a big decision. And with everything we have going on—your work, my schedule—it’s not the right time.”

“Then I’ll carry!” you declared, your voice rising with excitement. “You can keep playing, and I’ll do all the hard parts. It’s perfect!”

Alexia blinked at you, her eyes narrowing slightly. “You’ve… really thought about this, haven’t you?”

“For months,” you said earnestly, grabbing her hand. “I don’t care about logistics or timing. I just know I want to do this with you.”

Her gaze softened, but there was still hesitation. “I’m not against it, amor. I just want to make sure we’re ready. Both of us.”

You groaned, flopping backward into her lap. “If you won’t listen to me, I’ll get backup.”

Alexia frowned. “What does that mean?”



————————

It meant enlisting Mapi and Ingrid.

“Finally!” Mapi said when you brought up your idea at training. She threw her hands in the air dramatically. “I’ve been telling Alexia for years she needs to let loose a little. Having a baby is perfect.”

“Right?” you said, clutching Mapi’s arm. “Imagine her as a mamá. So nurturing, so responsible—”

“And terrifying,” Mapi added, smirking. “Disciplining kids with that captain energy? Iconic.”

Ingrid chimed in from beside her. “Honestly, we’re on board. Do it, and we’ll be the godparents.”

“You’d have to fight Mariona for it,” you teased.

Mapi scoffed, draping an arm over Ingrid’s shoulder. “Please. I’m already the cool tía. It’s a done deal.”

Ingrid smiled softly, giving you a nudge. “Besides, we think you’re for perfect carrying the baby. You’re already glowing just talking about it.”

“You get it,” you said dramatically, pointing at Ingrid like she’d solved world hunger. “Why can’t Alexia see it?”

“Oh, she does,” Mapi said knowingly. “She’s just pretending to be logical about it. She’ll come around. Trust me.”

—————————

The breakthrough came at a team barbecue, thanks to Ingrid and Mapi’s nephew, little Liam, who’d stolen your heart the moment you met him.

“You’re so perfect,” you cooed, holding him close as he gurgled in your arms. “The cutest baby ever.”

Across the yard, Alexia watched you from a distance. Mapi elbowed her lightly, smirking. “You’re staring, capi. You look like you’re about to cry.”

“I’m not crying,” Alexia muttered, though her gaze softened as she watched you bounce Liam gently.

“You’re thinking about it, though,” Ingrid said, stepping up beside them.

Alexia sighed. “It’s not that I don’t want to. I just—”

“You’re overthinking,” Mapi interrupted. “Classic Alexia. Look, you’re already a leader. A protector. It’s who you are. Being a mom? You’d be incredible. And (Y/N)? She’s ready. You can see it in her face.”

Alexia didn’t answer, but her thoughtful expression spoke volumes.

Later, as you cradled Liam, Alexia finally approached.

“Look at him,” you said, smiling as Liam giggled and reached for her. “He’s perfect. And soon, he’ll have a little friend. Isn’t that right, Ale?”

Alexia raised a brow. “What?”

“Our baby!” you explained, beaming. “He’s gonna have a friend, and they’ll grow up together, and it’ll be so cute.”

Alexia reached out hesitantly, letting Liam grab her finger. She froze, visibly melting at the tiny hand gripping hers. Mapi and Ingrid exchanged smug looks from across the yard.

Alexia sighed, her voice quiet. “You’re really not letting this go, are you?”

“Not a chance,” you said, grinning. “Come on, Ale. Let’s do it. I’ll carry, you’ll be the hot football mum, and Mapi and Ingrid are already fighting to be the godparents.”

“We’re winning,” Mapi called from nearby, raising a beer.

Alexia laughed softly, shaking her head. “Fine.”

Your eyes widened. “Wait. Fine?”

“Yes,” she said, smiling at your stunned expression. “But we’re doing this properly. No rushing.”

“Whatever you say, mamá,” you teased, setting Liam in his stroller before throwing your arms around her. “Let’s go make a baby!”

“That’s… not how it works,” she said, pulling back slightly.

“Oh, right,” you said, blushing. “I knew that.”

Her laughter was warm as she leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to your lips. “I can’t wait to see you glowing, amor. And for the record… Mapi and Ingrid are not automatically the godparents.”

“We’ll see about that!” Mapi shouted, earning another laugh from both of you.

As Alexia’s hand rested gently on your stomach, you knew everything was about to change. But for the first time, it felt like a change you were both ready for.

[crescenthistory]

hiiii, i love ur writing sm especially barty

i wanted to request the prompt "when did you realise you love me/her/him?" and barty basically feels insecure something like that so he wants reassurance from reader

thank youu

thank you for being patient with this one babe, it's one of my oldest requests:,) i have hijacked it into poly!bartylus but the main focus is still on comforting barty my babyboy

Prompt: B.13 "When did you realise you love me/her/him?"

Words: 2k

Warnings: fem!reader, not proofread, established poly relationship, heavy allusion to the terrible crimes of barty crouch sr (also known as implied abuse), freeze mode, mental health struggles, hurt/comfort, reg and reader teaming up, flirting and bickering in french and romanian

Note: this is very much cradling-y and soft. i love them, your honour.

It was always either or with Barty.

It was either the wicked grins, the booming laughter, larger than life presence with a silver tongue and tactile hands – or the impassive face, stoic demeanor, quiet voice. Either the big swings or the straight spine. Mad or measured.

It was absolutely lovely to be with him on his 'either' days, but it was the 'or' days that truly solidified your love for him. Making him understand as much was part of the challenge, but never straying from one was part of what brought you together.

It didn’t hurt that you now had backup.

“Did you hear what she said, amour?” Regulus murmured into Barty’s hair. 

The three of you were huddled up in the corner of the common room sofa where your extended friend group had decided to spend their evening. Throughout the day, Barty had been growing quieter, mask around his features tightening in a way you always envisioned was physically painful. 

He sat by the armrest of the sofa with you half in his lap while Regulus was perched on that very armrest. Originally the latter boy had been immersed in his book, planning on ignoring the lively chatter and disappearing into his own world – his version of unwinding. You had been ignoring the chatter as well, except it was in favour of coaxing Barty – your Barty, the one you knew was being hidden away – out of his shell. When you realised it was particularly hardened tonight, you lightly knocked into Regulus’ knee with your ankle from where it was perched across Barty’s lap.

Luckily one glance with the boy was enough to make him catch your drift; a practiced dance you more than happily fell into.

“Hm?” Barty’s voice was distant, absentminded.

You continued stroking patterns over his heart, your finger separated from his skin only by the thin material of his shirt. Repeating movements, grounding movements. “I asked if you wanted to head back to your dorm?”

He didn’t meet your eyes, training them on the fireplace instead. “Not tired.”

“Mhm, me neither darling. Just want to be with you alone.” 

He tensed almost imperceivable beneath your hands. “Why?” he asked in a careful, measured voice.

“Miss you,” you whispered, pressing a firm but gentle kiss to his cheek. “Want to be with you. Is that okay?”

By now you knew that when Barty was disappearing into the rabbit hole that was his mind, short, affirming sentences were the way to go. Eliminate any possibility of worry before it could arise, all while giving him space to pull away should he feel too spooked.

“Yeah,” he said hoarsely.

He made no move to get up, but that was alright by you. After carefully detangling your limbs, you reached out your hand for Barty to take. Relief washed over you when he did, immediately letting your thumb stroke over the back of his hand.

Regulus bid the others goodnight while you and Barty went ahead. You knew he would be quietly communicating to Evan that you three would need a moment alone and that you would most certainly be spending the night.

When Barty was in a crumbling state, he reverted to automatic movements, and thus his descending the stairs went quickly. You almost had to run to keep up with his long legs, but while you other days would have jokingly chastised him for it, maybe even send a stinging hex his way, you only made your best efforts to keep up with him.

Once, you could not have imagined how soft you would become around him. Perhaps undeservedly, you had not considered yourself capable of complete love, always suspecting there must be some inherent selfishness in you that would shine through and ruin whatever good you tried to claw at. Barty had been the first to prove that wrong in you; when he struggled, it was like a calm softness washed over you and there were no hesitations, no ego, just him. 

You had not had the time to close the door to the boys’ dorm before Regulus slipped through it with his own soft smile that seemed to tell the exact same story as yours.

Hand still in Barty’s, you led him to Regulus’ bed, knowing he usually felt more comfortable there. Sliding in, you made yourself comfortable and formed the perfect Barty-sized spot beside you, but not tugging him in. His autonomy was the most important in these moments.

“Do you want to lay down, B?” you asked gently.

He looked between you and Regulus, and already you could see more of himself in his eyes, though they were clouded with an anxiety no one but you two could recognise. “Don’t you want to lay down, Reg?”

“I do. After you, though.”

“It’ll be more comfortable without me. I can head to mine.” His voice was void of emotion, but his eyes betrayed him. 

Regulus met him head on. “I would not be comfortable knowing you were two metres away and not cuddling with us, love.”

“Why?”

“Because I love you.”

“Why?”

You sighed, but did not let your reassuring smile drop. “If you want to lay down my love, please do. I want you here.”

Barty shifted his gaze to yours and you could visibly see his resolve crumble. He shucked off his uncomfortable trousers and slid under the covers beside you, tense body all hard edges against your own. Almost gingerly, he placed his head beside yours and you reached up to cradle it – he immediately leaned into your touch.

Regulus easily laid down beside Barty, the three of you having the method of how to comfortably fit on the dorm beds down to a T. “Mind if I hold you, Barty?”

“You don’t have to,” he whispered.

“Do you mind if I do?” Regulus’ voice was dripping in affectionate patience.

You could barely hear Barty’s no, but you both did. Regulus let his arms slide around Barty’s middle, shifting him so he laid more sideways and could be pulled closer to Regulus’ chest. In turn you nuzzled further into his front, cocooning him between you where you knew without a doubt that he would be safe and loved. All you wanted for him

“Do you still wonder why?” you asked after a minute of silence and settling into each other.

Barty actually met your eyes, though there was hesitance there. “What do you mean?”

“When Regulus said he loves you, you asked why. Now that we’re comfortable, do you still wonder?” 

Barty nodded, almost imperceivably. You tilted your head upwards to press a soft kiss to his chin as it moved.

“Then let me first ask you this,” you said with practiced ease. This strategic layering of love and affection was your favourite way to ease him back into himself, to replace the harsh voices in his head with softer ones – preferably yours and Regulus’. “When did you realise you love Regulus?”

To your glee, the corners of Barty’s lips quivered into a small smile. “First year. He tried to help me change the sheets on my bed and was blabbering on in true Regulus fashion. It should have been annoying, but he was so cute.”

You snuck another kiss to his chin. “And me?”

The smile continued to grow, though his voice remained low. “After about a month of knowing me, you claimed you knew me. I checked you on it and turned out you actually did. You listened. I didn’t think you would.”

“You didn’t have to think at all about that. It just came to you,” you observed with a mirroring smile. Regulus hooked his chin over Barty’s shoulder to watch you deconstruct it for him, placing a firm hand over Barty’s heart to help ground him as you spoke. “It’s no different for us. There is no need to think or consider or wonder; we just do. We just love you.”

Barty’s face gave nothing away just yet, but he was softening beneath your touch, tension seeping away and into the mattress with each spoken word. “I love you, Barty, because you’re Barty. On your loud days and your quiet days, in your confidence and in your insecurity.” You began tracing his face with your index finger carefully, taking his lack of flinching as a positive sign. “There is no reason for it and there are a hundred. You contain multitudes and I love each and every one.”

“And,” Regulus added in a conspiring whisper. “You happen to not look half-bad.”

At last, a small laugh escaped Barty, though it sounded painfully choked. You nuzzled into the underside of his jaw with a sigh. “I realised I love you Barty when you had just made some awful move at me – I think you asked if I got a permission slip from Dumbledore to ‘burn the school down with my hotness’. And despite it being cheesy and silly, I liked it. I laughed. Because it was you.”

“‘S not awful,” Barty murmured then, looking at you with an incoming cheeky glint in his eye. “I was just speaking the truth.”

“And see, even now when I am being so sweet, you are silly, and yet I have no complaints.”

“Because you love me?” Barty asked carefully.

“So much.”

His eyes flickered over your face, settling for a moment on your smiling lips. You took the opportunity to lean forward and kiss him firmly – grounding him with your lips, pouring your love into him through the slow, careful movement.

You leaned your forehead against his as you pulled away and felt your heart settle when he returned the touch in full, weight lax at last. Regulus’ curls teased your nose as he kissed carefully along the back of Barty’s neck.

“Je t'aime. Je t'aime tellement, mon chéri, tu dois le savoir.” Regulus whispered against Barty’s skin, and you saw how the latter melted into him at the words despite you having no idea what they meant – apart from the first ones. You had both heard enough je t'aime’s to sustain you for a lifetime, yet you always wanted more.

“No fair pulling out your French to make me feel loved, it’s literally a romantic language,” Barty complained half-heartedly, fooling nobody.

“What’s romantic is that you learned French for me,” Regulus mumbled against him with a knowing grin. “Another reason to love you.”

Barty scoffed. “I didn’t learn French for you, I learned it because of you. Couldn’t have you knowing a language I don’t.”

“Of course, that would just be abhorrent,” you teased, to which Barty just hummed in agreement, as if that was plain obvious.

“Multumesc, iubirile mele,” Barty whispered then.

“Had to one-up Reggie on the use of foreign languages in bed?” You lifted your eyebrow at him, but stroked along his cheekbone carefully in case it was too soon to joke.

“It’s not difficult, the sod only knows two.” Clearly not too soon to dish out jokes at least.

“Hey!” Regulus stage-whispered in faux offense, lightly nipping at the side of Barty’s neck. The squeal and subsequent giggle sealed the deal of cracking open his shell. “Here I am trying to take care of you, and what do I get for it.”

“Endless love and adoration.” Barty tipped his head back to kiss Regulus lightly on the lips, the latter humming against him. You snuck another one for yourself, feeling warmth spread to your fingertips.

“I said thank you,” Barty said then. “In romanian.”

“There is nothing to thank us for, B.” You kissed along his cheek, unable to hold back any of it now that you were sure he was conscious enough in his body to be okay with you touching him like this. Though he often reminds you he is always okay with that.

“Oh, Dragă, while I hate to tell a beautiful girl that she’s wrong; you’re absolutely wrong about that.” This time he chased your lips for a searing kiss. “There are endless things to thank you for.”

“Settle for another kiss?”

“Gladly.”

[mellowsaturns]

in losing grip, on sinking ships (you showed up just in time)

BUCKY BARNES X FEM!READER

summary: when the avengers pick up unusual activity, they realize that not all of hydra was destroyed. one unidentifiable face sends the team into a frenzy but bucky knows it. he could recognize those eyes anywhere.

warnings: heavy angst, one sided enemies-to-lovers-ish, hydra!assassin!reader, hurt/comfort, happy ending, brainwashing, trauma, guns & knives, fighting, implied kidnapping of reader when young, all the feels, misunderstandings, poor attempt at writing action

wc: 4.7k

a/n: sorry it’s been forever but i hope my fellow buckyluvrs are still here <3 i actually wrote this a long time ago but never got around to editing until recently so i guess you can say this is (from the vault) ? inspired by the idea: what-if there was another winter soldier and bucky finds himself in steve’s position this time trying to get you back to him. anyways, i hope you enjoy this one :)

Bucky’s life was a never ending montage of gunfire and bloodshed. It didn’t matter if he was under the clutches of someone else, he still lived through the wars—the lingering smell of smoke and tang of metallic forever ingrained in his senses.

And just when he thought it was finally over—a glimmer of peace at last—it comes and steals that dream away from him.

Like deja-vu, he’s looking at faces that were once responsible for his pain.

On the screen, three Hydra officers stare back at him. All faces identified by Tony’s system. Alive. Last seen in the outskirts of some small country in Europe. Irrelevant low ranking officials that had managed to survive the fall of S.H.I.E.L.D and have been hiding and secretly continuing Hydra’s mission underground ever since. Low officials or not, it was one too many.

Bucky freezes in his spot when Tony swipes the screen. The billionaire goes on a rant saying this particular face cannot be identified, which was according to Tony, bullshit because his face recognition system is the best in the world. The rest of the team is arguing and flipping through countless files and internet archives. But Bucky knows. He knows that face and those haunting eyes that he still sees in his dreams.

“Buck,” a voice calls out. “You know her, don’t you?”

He looks up at Steve from his spot, his best friend's face worried and all knowing.

One thing about Hydra was that they were always prepared. They had backups and multiple plans ready, or else how would two heads take its place when one was cut off? Unfortunately for the world, Hydra managed to make another deadly assassin, one whose work was so discreet and nimble that even intelligence didn't know they existed.

You were a ghost story that lived in the shadows of the Winter Soldier. You were another one of Hydra’s prize possessions—less known, but just as deadly.

With Steve’s comment, all eyes are now on Bucky. A pregnant pause fills the air and he gulps before he confesses, “I wasn’t the only one.”

The room becomes tense. The war that they thought was over suddenly looms over like an unpredicted oncoming storm. “Jesus Christ, Barnes. You couldn’t have informed us about her earlier?” says Tony.

“I thought,” he says, shifting his eyes onto the ground, “I thought she fell with S.H.I.E.L.D.”

Bucky couldn’t find you anywhere after he escaped their grasp. After he joined the Avengers, he tried once again secretly using Tony’s technology but it was to no avail—it always ended up being a dead end. And for that, he assumed Hydra had put you out of your misery the day they were caught.

But the face on the screen says otherwise. And suddenly, Bucky feels very guilty.

Steve clears his throat, “Well, they were picked up not too long ago heading north. If we leave now, we might be able to find them and stop them once and for all.”

Everyone looks at each other, debating on his proposal. “What the Captain said. Everybody, suit up. Quinjet leaves in ten,” says Tony.

On the jet, Bucky stares off into space but countless questions run through his mind.

Steve walks over and sits beside him. “What’s going on in that head of yours?” he asks, voice quiet.

Bucky sighs, “I just… I thought she was gone.”

“Hey, it’s not your fault. You didn’t know.”

He looks up, wondering if he should tell Steve the truth. That he’s not brooding about the fact that he concealed you to them. After a moment, Bucky speaks up. “When we get there, let me handle her. Please.”

Steve didn’t know what kind of history Bucky had with you. But judging from the look his best-friend is giving, it’s more than what Steve could understand or even comprehend but he trusts Bucky and so, he gives him a nod. “She’s all yours.”

After scouting the area and tracing the location to a very hidden underground warehouse in the middle of nowhere, they split up. The warehouse was dark and dusty, surely abandoned, but Bucky knew better—it was their facade behind the most sinister of activities. Through the comms, Natasha announces that she has already taken care of all the troops in the West wing. Moments later, Sam reports that he has eliminated one of the Hydra officers. They wouldn’t last long. Hydra didn’t have much resources or time to rebuild—their current empire was weak, they were no match for the Avengers this time.

The only person Bucky’s truly worried about is you. The fact that he trained you, made you into what you were today already gave him the chills. He’s not the Winter Soldier anymore, but he was certain that you were still in that killer mindset that Hydra forced upon you.

Step by step, Bucky walks through the quiet hallway, the echoes of his footsteps the only noise. It’s cold here, he notices, which gives him flashbacks to those days in his dirty cell and the cryostasis chamber. Down a hallway to the next, round a corner and another, there wasn’t a single soul in the eerily Eastern wing.

But he spoke too soon, because seconds later, a garrote wire was around his neck. The swift invisible steps and the perfect pressure that was being used to quickly cut off his air supply was all too familiar. He knows this move, he taught this move. You’re here, and you’re dragging him backwards.

Before all oxygen gets cut off to his brain, he jabs his elbow backwards and hits you hard on the rib which releases the hold you have on him and sends you stumbling back. Bucky takes a moment to regain his breath but you’re on your feet again. He looks at you and for a moment he freezes, then you let out a sinister grin. “Nice to see you again, Soldat,” you taunt, before running towards him.

Bucky’s deflecting your punches one after another. Maybe he’s glad he was the one who taught you everything you know because your moves were predictable—if it were another person, there is no doubt they would’ve been on the ground with multiple concussions bleeding out already. You’re ruthless when you do a triple roundhouse kick on him. On the fourth one, he manages to catch your leg and twists it, sending you to the ground with a groan.

How familiar this scene was, Bucky thinks.

Some forty-years ago, Hydra brought a woman into the training room. There was no further instruction than to train you and that’s what he did. He could tell you were well trained already—compliant and pliable. You were good. And you were just like him, injected with a serum that made you a hundred times more efficient and stronger. In just under a year, Hydra would start sending you on missions. Sometimes with him, sometimes alone.

During training, the both of you would spar for hours, leaving each other bloody and bruised, but it didn’t matter to the overlookers, the both of you would heal in a few hours anyways.

Once you pick yourself back up, he pulls a gun out on you. “Stop this,” he commands.

You smirk, “You going to shoot me, Soldat? I want to see you try.”

He clenches his jaw. You continue to look at him, a dark look on your face that shows no sign of true recognition.

His thoughts are disrupted when you tackle him onto the ground. You kick his gun away and pin his arms down as you straddle him. “I’m going to kill you,” you declare, “I’m going to put a bullet through your head.”

When he looks up at you, your eyes are full of rage. Bucky doesn’t know whether that’s the brainwashed version of you talking or the actual you talking—maybe both.

“What are you going to do after you kill me?” he says, irritated. C’mon, please recognize me. “This is all that remains of Hydra. Half the troops are already dead. One of your new leaders is dead. In a few hours, Hydra will be no more. What will you do after that? What are you going to do after you kill me?”

“What does it matter? You’re my mission. I’m going to finish it.”

He groans at your stubbornness that was identical to his Soldier persona.

He says your name slowly. “Get off. You can walk away from this.”

You frown, but he continues, “I know how you feel. You’re feeling helpless.” He clears his throat, “There’s someone behind this version of you. I want to talk to her.”

“What are you talking about?” you utter in annoyance. “Stop stalling.”

He says that name again, with calamity and care. You want to rip out his tongue.

“Let me talk to her. Please.”

“I don’t know who you’re talking about!” you shout, grabbing for the gun that’s strapped onto your waist. “Stop talkin–”

“I was in the cell next to yours. You liked the colour green. You were wearing white when we first met. You always wanted to visit Bucharest. You hated the leaky cold showers in the Siberian facility,” he rambles, trying to remember every single thing about you in a desperate attempt to get your attention so this version of you won’t shoot him in the face.

And for a moment, it works because your hand freezes on the grip of your gun. He takes that moment to flip you over, so you’re under him now, hands pinned above your head. He takes your gun and throws it behind him.

You snarl at him while trying to escape his grasp. “I know you’re under there,” he says. “Please, come through. Please talk to me.”

Your face scrunches in pain, not from him—he would never hurt you—but from the mental warfare that’s currently going on in your mind. You close your eyes as he speaks again. “Listen to my voice, you know me, don’t you? мой милая.”

My darling.

For a moment, your entire body tenses up and then you let out a painful breath. When your eyelids start to flutter open, he finally sees the eyes he came to know and rely on—eyes he came to love.

The both of you are looking at each other unblinking. A scene neither of you expected but always dreamt about.

You break the silence with a whisper of, “James?”

Bucky slowly nods at your disbelief. Finally, he thinks. But such respite doesn’t last long, because seconds later, you hook your foot under his and flip him over and escape his grasp.

There's darkness in your eyes and he can tell that the Soldate is back and the fighting resumes.

You’re chasing him down the twisting hallway and when you catch up, you grab his shoulder and throw a punch to his jaw. He stumbles back and then a voice comes through the comms.

“Just took down the second one.” Steve. “Bucky, how are you holding up? You’ve been quiet ever since we split up.”

He’s trying his best to block your hand, which now has a damn pocket knife. Your quick movements are starting to tire him out. Maybe he taught you too well, he thinks.

“Buck? Bucky. Confirm your status, right now.”

Groaning in frustration, he taps his earpiece. “I’m fine,” he grunts. A second later, “Shit!” he huffs out as you nearly slice his face.

“You don’t sound fine. Is she with you? I’m sending back up.”

“No!” he says, “Don’t send anyone. I can handle her.”

In truth, he’s struggling right now—your stamina has always been better than his—but he’s worried that you’re going to accidentally get hurt and even more agitated when people appear. His main priority was keeping you safe. Fuck the mission statement they talked about back on the Quinjet.

You’re angry—no, you’re extremely angry at him. It doesn’t take a genius to tell. It’s a mixture of pure rage from both the brainwashed and actual you.

He supposed he deserved it. You should be angry. Because for the longest time, it was you and him.

Other than turning you into a ruthless assassin just like him, an unexpected companionship also formed during those hazy in-between moments when the two of you weren’t frozen or on the metal chair getting fried by those machines—during the times when he was just Bucky and you were just you, two unfortunate innocent souls that shared the same suffering.

They weren’t pleasant moments. It was dehumanising. It was getting shoved into draughty cells with nothing but a blanket until it was time to train or time to embark on a mission. Luckily, your cells were next to each other and it made the endless nights a little more bearable. He was a little off-putting at first, but when he yelled at you to stop crying because they would torture you even more for it, you knew he meant well.

During your shared time together, glimpses of your true selves would seldom come up and you would tell each other about the little bits and pieces of a life once known. And the both of you would hold onto each other's memories and stories in case the other forgets.

And whenever they prep the two of you for the chamber due to there being no current missions for the time being, the two of you would look at each other—a look of longing with the secret squeezing of each other's hand before going under.

Despite the absolute awful situation the two of you were in at the time, the both of you were hopeful for the next shared moments together. Because even when all hope was gone, you had each other. And that was good enough for the two of you.

He misses you. So damn much.

“Shut up,” you mutter.

He didn’t even realise he said it outloud. “Well, I do,” he admits, his back hitting a wall.

“You talk too much, Soldat,” you say, creeping up on him. “I ought to cut your throat.”

“I’m sorry I left you with them.”

You halt in your steps and your jaw ticks. In a second, you pounce on him, your knife against his throat. He’s gripping your hand to stop you from continuing your job.

He says your name again. You’re pushing but he’s pushing back just as hard. “I’m sorry…” he repeats, “I’m so sorry.”

The desperation in his voice… You glance up at him slowly and he sees the pink forming in your eyes and your trembling lips. “What are you doing? What are you doing to me?” you whisper.

He sees the internal war behind your eyes once again. Bucky gulps for a moment before letting go of your hand, trusting that you won’t do any actual harm, and moves his hands so he’s cupping your face, firm enough so you’re forced to look at him. You look into his eyes for a second, then a minute, and for a moment, everything stops. Your breath hitches, because those eyes… those arctic blues… you know them. You fell in love with them many years ago.

A realisation washes over your face, one that Bucky doesn’t miss. You’re back.

The first tear falls. Then the second. “Bucky.”

“Hey, sweetheart,” he whispers.

You let out a small cry before you press the blade harder against his neck, your grip a vice from his betrayal. He could feel the sharp cold metal pierce through his skin ever so slightly, but he doesn’t try and stop you.

“Give me a reason to not kill you right now,” you grit through tears. “You left me. You left me behind to rot alone. You promised me. You fucking promised,” you say, voice laced with venom and so much hurt.

Bucky’s heart breaks at the sadness of your voice. Because he did promise. There wasn’t much to do in the cells other than throw around false hope. But whenever he told you he was going to escape one day and that he was going to take you with him—it didn’t feel like false promises at all because it wasn’t, and you knew it too.

Until he broke that promise and left you all alone.

“I didn’t mean to,” he says, voice breaking. “I didn’t mean to leave you there with them.”

“I waited for you,” you cry. “Day and night I waited for you to come back. Even when they relocated, I waited for you because I knew you’d find me.”

You remember that day clearly. Everyone was in a frenzy when the death of Alexander Pierce broke out and that they could not locate the Soldat. For a moment, you could taste your own freedom because government officials would come anytime now and finally arrest all these criminals. But right when they came, a few Hydra officers managed to escape and took you with them, and when you woke up, you didn’t know where the hell you were. But even then you didn’t lose hope because James Buchanan “Bucky” Barnes, the name you committed to memory, was going to come for you just like he promised.

Until days, months, and eventually, a year came with no sign of him.

You were angry at first, but it slowly turned into worry because what if something bad had happened to him? But what do you know? You were stuck in this building and only went out whenever they spoke those trigger words to you. And you were always under their watchful eyes, giving you no chance to even attempt an escape. Surely he would never break his promise to you so something must’ve happened to him, you told yourself multiple times.

But he was standing here right in front of you. Alive. We’re under attack, your handler said to you moments ago, Kill the Soldat before he kills you.

“You’re a liar. You never cared about me,” you hiss.

Sometimes, it got too much. But whenever reality was a bit too hard to endure, Bucky was there, always reaching his hand out to you through the metal cage, which you took and held tight. And it meant the world to you, that someone cared.

“All those moments, did it even mean anything to you?”

He uses this opportunity to pull your arms down slightly, knife finally away from his neck and his eyes start to sting from his own tears. “They meant everything to me. I care about you.”

You look up at him with a defeated expression and Bucky never wanted to punch himself in the face more. “Then why? Why didn’t you come back for me?”

“I did,” he chokes out. “When I escaped, the first thing I did was go back for you, but the facility had already been raided and there was no one there. I checked every inch of the building.”

Bucky had never felt so scared, because what if the government took you too? They would never understand—framing you as a villain even though that was far from the truth. But there was no news of your capture, so with a breath of relief, Bucky continued to look through other known Hydra facilities.

“I tried my best looking for you, but I also had to be careful because I was a wanted man at the time. When months passed by and there were no clues, I thought that maybe you had escaped. I was in Bucharest waiting for you. Remember how you said you always wanted to go there? I knew that if you escaped, you’d find me there. Even when you didn’t show, I never gave up. Steve… I think I told you about him once—he found me, he helped me and cleared my name. After that, I still searched for you but it all ended up being dead ends. And…” he pauses for a moment, “and so I thought you were dead. I should’ve tried harder. I’m sorry.”

He had mourned you and blamed himself endlessly for it.

He knows he should’ve asked for help, but instead, he took this task upon himself until it got too much—because that was the one thing he struggled with the most, asking for help.

When his side of the story finally comes to light, you break into a sob. “I don’t expect you to forgive me,” he says, “but please, drop the weapon and let me help you.”

You swallow hard at his confession. He never stopped looking for you. You didn’t even consider how hard it must’ve been for him after everything and yet you’re lashing out on him.

“How are you going to help me?” you say. “I’m a mess. All you have to do is say those words and I turn into a weapon.”

Twelve. Ember. Fragment. Nine. Academy. Order. Frigid. Yearning. Blue.

Those were your trigger words.

“I got you out of your trance, didn’t I?” he says with a gentle smile.

Hydra needed you to rebuild their empire and they relied on those nine words to do so. To them, those nine words were your greatest weakness but one of them, the last one, the one they liked to spit out in vexation, was also your greatest strength—your salvation.

Blue.

You think back, moments prior, when all he had to do was use his voice and all you had to do was look into the blues of his eyes. Hydra can repeat those words all they want, but Bucky would always be able to bring you back.

At that, your grip relaxes and the knife finally drops onto the floor, it’s noise ricocheting off the walls.

“There’s a place called Wakanda and I know someone there who can help you. Her name’s Ayo and she’s amazing. She helped me overcome my words.”

He brings his hands back up to cradle your face and you shutter at the familiar touch—at the calluses on his palms. “And I think you’ll like it there. It’s quiet and there’s so much… green.”

You let out a small laugh through your tears but doubt still fills your mind. “But… all the things I did,” you whimper, “I did such terrible unforgivable things. There’s… there’s so much blood on my hands.”

Sadness flares around his heart. It was all so familiar. He knows the feeling.

“It’s not going to be easy. God knows how long it took for me to believe that none of it was my fault. But let me be the first one to tell you,” he says, wiping your tears away with his thumb. “None of what you did was your fault. You were a victim.” He swallows a deep breath, “There are going to be days where it’ll be too much too bear and there are going to be nights where all those casualties will haunt you,” he admits. “But… but you’ll get there. Someday, you’ll learn to stop punishing yourself for something you didn’t do.”

And he vows that he’ll help you every step of the way.

You breathe out slowly, digesting all his words. “You can trust me,” he tells you, “I won’t let you down this time. I’ll be here.”

Blinking up at him, the small hesitant part of you so desperately wanted to say, “How can I trust you?” but his eyes were telling you everything you needed to know. Because it was filled with nothing but honour and truth.

He breaks away from you and reaches out his hand. An invitation. You stare at it for a while, then you slowly lift yours and brush your fingers amongst his before grabbing it tightly—a truce of sorts, a promise. He squeezes back in return, a loving smile on his face, just like all those nights many moonlights ago.

Your breath hitches when he pulls you into his embrace, your face burying perfectly into the valley of his chest. He wraps his arms around you in urgency, in fear, almost afraid you’ll slip out if he doesn’t.

“It’s over,” he mumbles into your hair.

Because two floors down an explosion erupts, finishing off the last remaining garrison of troops. Three hallways down, Natasha sets fire to a room that contained the other small red leather book that held those nine suffocating words written in Russian. Outside, the last Hydra officer attempting to flee falls to his knees from an arrow to the chest. And the only hope they had left to rebuild their regime was safely in Bucky’s arms.

He pulls away and uses his thumb to rub gently across your cheek, “It’s over. The war is finally over.”

Now that the worst is over, Bucky’s hopeful. There will be other conflicts to come, that was just how it worked, but this one, the one that held you and him underwater for years was finally over. War always took too much, but this time, it gave something back. Because among the ashes and ruins you came back to him, no more oceans in between.

“What do we do now?” you press nervously. You were taken at a young age and spent years in the Red Room before you were sold off to Hydra. Like Bucky, you’re in the wrong time period, there’s no one to go back to.

There’s so many things you could do, Bucky thinks. You can finally start living the life you deserved, the life that was taken from you too early. He’ll have to explain all this to his teammates but he knows they’ll understand. They treated him so well, there’s no doubt they’ll show the same kindness for you. Then, he’ll go with you to Wakanda, get rid of the words, maybe stay there for a while so you could heal—maybe show you the goats he took care of during his time there.

You’ll probably adjust to the 21st century better than him—you won’t need to start off with a flip phone, that’s for sure. He’ll make you listen to all the great records and watch all the movies you missed out on. There’s so many things he wanted to do with you. He knows you have no memories, no recollection. It didn’t matter, Bucky thinks, he would make new memories with you, ones worth cherishing and remembering. If you’ll have him, of course.

But first and most importantly, “Let’s get you cleaned up, okay? Then we can talk about it,” he says, rubbing the grime off your nose.

He grabs your hand and heads for the exit. But before he does, you pick up your knife from the floor and in one quick motion, you spin around and throw it. The knife embeds itself into the wall a few metres away, right next to a prying face. You stand in front of Bucky and stare at the intruder with a murderous gaze and Bucky’s heart races at the thought of you still wanting to protect him after everything.

The blond raises his arms up in surrender.

“Steve,” Bucky says from behind and you briefly recognize that name. You turn around to look at him and he meets your eyes, nodding. You relax your stance.

“Hi,” Steve says, voice slightly hoarse. “I hope I didn’t interrupt anything.”

Bucky scoffs at him, as if he wasn’t eavesdropping the whole time.

Steve looks at the both of you, then a gentle smile adorns his face. “C’mon, the rest are waiting outside for you both.”

You step forward. This is it. Freedom. A new life. Bucky notices your hesitation as you suddenly stop in your tracks. Intertwining his fingers with yours, he squeezes with reassurance. You take a deep breath, then the two of you follow Steve to the exit, leaving behind the smoke and memories of your old life.

Outside, the sun comes up slowly but surely on the horizon, painting the awakening sky a gentle warm hue of oranges and pinks.

A new beginning awaits.

[woso-dreamzzz]

Proud V

Hardersson x Teen!Reader

Summary: Your first match for Sweden

"And Sweden is making a substitute. On comes y/n Harder, Arsenal's youngest forward. Blackstenius makes way."

It's your first match for Sweden, the first of Sweden's euro qualifiers as well.

You high five Stina on your way onto the pitch.

It's a late substitution, maybe five minutes or so until the ninety minutes are up so you know you're the last kind of hail mary before this ends in a draw.

You pass some of your Arsenal teammates on the way to the corner that's being set up.

It's hardly the first time you've worn a Sweden jersey. You were a staple on the youth teams. You always had been.

Your first long term foster family had gotten you into football. They'd sorted you out with kit and gear and put you into a kid's football club to see if you liked it.

You really liked it.

Their foster license expired and you got moved but you never left your football behind.

Some families were more into it than others but none of them stopped you from pursuing your football.

Least of all Magda and Pernille.

You knew Magda from a distance when the senior team had come down to help out with whatever youth team you were on at the time. It was almost like fate that you got placed with her and Pernille over the summer.

It had been the best summer of your life both emotionally and physically.

They worked on your game while they were off season. They helped you with your studies and they took you out to the arcade and the beach and anywhere you wanted to go.

You didn't want to leave.

They didn't want you to leave.

There was a bunch of red tape around it, lots of meetings with lawyers and the judge and your care worker but by the time the next season rolled around, you had a new last name and two mothers.

Now, you're here.

Playing in Wembley Stadium for Sweden with Momma's last name emblazoned on your back.

You weave between Morsa and Johanna, slotting between them during the jostling to get into position.

The ball comes in and you make the jump.

It gets cleared away and England are on the counter attack quickly.

Magda peels away from your side quickly to sprint down the pitch to intercept while you follow at a more sedate pace.

Defending is not your role and you're not the greatest at it.

You've been bought onto this pitch for one thing and that's to score a goal.

You pass Lotte on your way and exchange a small smile with her. You've still got to go back to North London after this and you and Lotte are friends.

Morsa recovers the ball quickly and boots it up the pitch.

Most of your team was concentrated in your half of the pitch so the ball falls neatly to your feet.

You can feel Lotte at your back quickly, almost too quick for you to react but you turn even quicker, keeping the ball out of her reach.

You don't have any backup as you drive forward into the box.

Greenwood slides in for the tackle but you jump over neatly with the ball practically attached to your feet.

Charles and Bronze start closing in as you lose Lotte behind you.

The angle's getting tighter and tighter and Earps starts coming towards you to collect the ball.

You've driven into the box so quickly that there were no reinforcements for you to pass to.

So, you kicked the ball upwards just as Earps comes out.

The ball sores over her head before landing and rolling into the empty goal.

The Sweden supporters go wild as, seconds later, the ref blows the final whistle.

You scored.

The familiar arms of Morsa wraps around you from behind as you celebrate.

"Debut goal!" She cheers as the rest of the team finally run over.

You laugh. "Do you think Momma was watching?"

Of course she was.

She couldn't travel to watch, not with preparing for her own Euro qualifiers but your phone is ringing by the time you get back to the locker room.

"Hi," You say as you pick up, Pernille's face filling the screen.

"Debut goal," She teases and you look down bashfully.

"That's what Morsa said."

"It's impressive," Pernille says.

You roll your eyes. "It's my job."

"Still impressive. Don't sell yourself short."

"I'm a Harder," You reply," It's what we do."

Pernille grins at you, face full of pride. "Don't do that," She says," Celebrate, alright? You have my full permission to let loose and drink tonight, alright?"

You huff out a laugh. "You know most mothers wouldn't encourage underage drinking."

"I think I can make an exception tonight."

[arjudy224]

Chemical Valley

(The Intern x Red Hood)

After the unsettling reminder of her past, Y/N has been avoiding vigilantes for the last few months. However, Dr. Harris has requested backup in the form of Gotham's newest crime lord. What could go wrong?

The Intern Collection:

Prequel: Death of a family

The Intern: Day one

The Intern: The Laughing Fish

The Intern: Busy Work

The Intern: Outreach Gala

The Intern: Teachers Pet

The Intern: Visiting an old friend

The Intern: Chemical Valley

The Intern: Billionaire Boys Club

I'm getting real sick of risking my life for a minimum-wage job. Driving around with Dr. Harris is one thing, but since when did the job description list teaming up with crime lords? I mean it's the Red Hood for Christ's sake. Dr. Harris gives me a protective smile from the driver's seat.

"Don't worry about Red Hood. He knows what he's doing." He starts sensing my apprehension. "Besides, he owes me a favor."

I nod with a nervous smile. Red Hood is the only vigilante that I've never interacted with. He only recently appeared in Gotham. From what I've heard on the streets, he isn't on great terms with Batman.

"All due respect... hasn't he killed people? " I question glancing around the lonely alleyway.

Growing silent, Harris contemplates his response.

"Not recently." He says with what is supposed to be a comforting pat on the shoulder.

Trying to ignore the anxiety creating knots across my gut, I reply with more enthusiasm than I feel.

"Oh well... that's progress."

Harris laughs.

"It's Gotham dear. It's hard to find someone who hasn't committed murder. I wouldn't worry too much about the Hood though. If you can befriend Waylon, a little boy in a helmet is the least of your worries. "

I raise an eyebrow.

"You wanna elaborate?"

He smiles sweetly. I narrow my eyes.

"Don't ask questions that you don't want to know the answers to."

That shuts me up. We sit in silence for a few minutes while I contemplate what he just said. Dr. Harris isn't exactly wrong... Glancing at the time clock on the dashboard, I frown. I guess vigilantes aren't known for being punctual, but at least Nightwing was on time. Considering our history, maybe we were both eager to see each other again. I try to focus on the cool air dusting my face.

A swift knock causes me to jump. The infamous Red Hood almost cartoonishly waves at me from the outside the window. My nervous heart patters like a hummingbird. Eyeing his bike, I sigh. It was silent... Of course, it was silent. What kind of muffler does he have on that thing?

Harris rolls down the window.

"Good morning. Thank you for meeting us."

Leaning on the car door, Red Hood asks in a deep voice

"What do you have for me Dr.?"

"Routine inspection of Ace chemicals. Normally, I wouldn't worry about having a backup, but with an uptick in Joker sightings... I figured it would be better to be safe than sorry."

Hood nods, then glances in my direction.

"I'll keep an eye out."

"Y/N L/N," I say introducing myself, "But most people call me L/N."

"Weren't you the one who convinced the Riddler to let you go in exchange for inspecting his lair for asbestos?" Hood asks with a tone of pride.

I smile while shaking his hand. Word must get around quick.

"Yeah, that's me. He didn't even ask me any riddles. The poor man was terrified."

Dr. Harris whips his head around.

"Why haven't I heard about this?" He demands.

I flash him a shit-eating grin.

"Don't ask questions you don't want to know the answers to Dr. Maybe Metropolis hasn't made me so soft after all."

Before he can start lecturing me, I step out of the car to face my new bodyguard. Keeping my eyes trained on the ground, I sidestep the hulking mammoth of a man.

"Thank you for dropping me off Dr., but I'm sure "Little" Red and I can take it from here."

Harris watches me with a hint of pride.

"This is not the last time we will be discussing this."

"I look forward to the debrief," I remark as he pulls away.

The ACE chemicals manufacturing plant towers over the surrounding buildings. The smoke stacks excrete a dark sticky aerosol that trickles down from above. Its gothic structure makes it look like something out of a Tim Burton film. Taking a step near the external shutter, I drag my index finger across. My glove smears a damp power off revealing the old white paint. An uncomfortable sensation settles in my chest.

There is no way this amount of air pollution is legal.

After my second round of coughing, Red Hood offers me a disposable face mask. I gratefully take it. The neon green sign serves as a haunting reminder that somehow this has passed inspection. My eyebrows furrow. We passed several kids on the way here. What does that do to someone? No wonder Dr. Harris mentioned childhood asthma. I'm more concerned about the long-term exposure to industrial solvents.

Glancing at Red Hood, I state

"There is no way this is legal."

Hood stays quiet for a moment. Adjusting his helmet, he replies

"The law can be anything you want as long as you kill the inspectors who challenge you."

My mouth falls open. A thousand questions flood my mind.

"Somebody must have tried."

Hood tilts his head while glancing between us and the doors.

"Somebody did try."

Tossing me a key card over his shoulder, he continues, "You can visit them in Arkham if you want."

I flounder to catch the key card. It takes a few moments to register his words. Them as in more than one? Or is he concealing their identity? By the time my brain focuses, I stand in the alley alone staring up at a sign for a trading card company.

Isn't that where the Joker.... Oh hell no...

Stumbling through the stained doors, a bubbly man contrasts the bleak external welcome. As he rambles, I analyze the faded posters nailed to the wall. Dr. Harris briefly mentioned the factory's history of producing bioweapons during the Second World War. Hazardous feels like an understatement. I nodd along with the pleasant man, yet something in my gut tells me to keep my eyes and ears open.

Walking past a dust cloud, my lungs contract. Unable to steady myself, I sneak down a back hall to take my inhaler. The rambling man continues down the other hallway completely oblivious to my absence. I tear the disposable mask off my face. Searching my pockets for the familiar medication, my heart drops. Of course, I left it in the car.

I sink into a seated position once the dizziness sets in. Do. Not. Panic. We cannot do that again. No more emergency room trips. A pair of boots emerges from the shadows.

"Are you alright?"

I nodd while focusing on each labored breath.

"Sometimes, I really hate this city." I wheeze clutching my chest.

Red Hood lets out a dry laugh before taking a seat next to me.

"I have something that might help, but you have to trust me."

A small inhaler makes its way into my left hand. Squinting, a small Bat engraving stares up at me. I give him an incredulous glance. There is no fucking way that Batman has a pharmacy.

"It works. I promise."

Reluctantly, I take two puffs. We sit in silence for a few minutes. Breathe in. Breathe out. Breathe in. Breathe out. I relish the first full breath of air in days. My lungs expand completely taking in the dusty air around us. It is glorious.

"How did you manage to get Killer Croc to cooperate with you?"

The immense pain that weighs on my chest lessens slightly. I open my eyes to look at him. Spots litter my vision. The sticky residue has left grime all over his mask. I hesitate.

"Waylon has lost everything... Everyone really. All he really needed was a friend."

Hood stays silent weighing out my words. Slow in. Slow out.

"What factory did they make you in?" He questions.

I can almost hear a smile in his voice.

"The same one that kicked you out for defects." I retort gazing at the white paint peeling on the far left wall.

I really hope that's not lead paint.

"Touché, Ms. Friendship. Touché"

I give him a friendly shove.

"You know, you aren't as bad as your reputation suggests."

He laughs climbing to his feet.

"I wouldn't go that far. Usually, I'm a dick."

"Better a dick than a sociopath," I say dusting off the black power on my pants.

"Damn Metropolis. Who have you been talking to?"

I shrug.

"It's Gotham. "

After a few moments of comfortable silence, he asks

"You ready to find Mr. Optimistic?"

I nodd allowing him to pull me to my feet. Enjoying the comfortable silence, I open the door for him once we make it down the hall. To my surprise, Red Hood slams me against a wall before covering my mouth. Paralyzed in shock, I don't fight him. The Red Bat insignia stares at me. The soft aroma of his cologne catches me off guard. It's nice. Very musky. There's something so... familiar about it. I suddenly feel my face go red. There is no way I am evaluating how good a CRIMINAL smells. Get a grip girl.

Ignoring my mental crisis, Red Hood leads the two of us out the back door. Stumbling out the door behind him, I bend over holding my knees for stability. This is a lot of cardio for a regular inspection.

"What the hell was that about dude?" I hiss in between breaths.

Red Hood doesn't say anything.

"I know you are trying for the strong and silent type, but I think this partnership would benefit from open communication."

Standing up tall, a gunman aims a pistol directly at my temple.

Oh.. That's why.

Tag list: @nosyrobin, @jjsmeowthie, @epicy0n,@gaychaosgremlin, @rory-cakes, @luna-zendra-star

[obxcc]

⋆✴︎˚｡⋆ kitty!reader was a good friend. of course she’d show up when sarah texted her begging to show up to the beach. especially when she said kie was being a bitch.

warnings . . . 18+ male masturbation , profanity , ex!jj , butthead!kie for the plot i love my girl more than life , drinking

it had been far too long for jj to still have to pull out his phone and open your instagram just to get off every once in awhile. but there was this one post you still had up from years ago when you were still together. jj had taken it when you two were having a beach day. the red bikini that left nothing to the imagination. the activities he knew you got up to that night. god , it would get him to finish like nothing else.

he did feel bad about it every time! a little guilty. your words swirling around his head each time he nutted all over himself and his phone. you don’t act like you care about me , baby , and you ditch me for your friends all of the time , or even you’re not good at loving me.

yeah… nothing like a post nut clarity to make jj feel impossibly worse. so instead of dealing with the reality of his sticky situation , he just cleaned up and went to bed. the pogues had a big day tomorrow. there was this volleyball competition at the beach that john b signed the guys up for.

actually , scratch that. waking up and opening his phone to still see your picture pulled up is worse. he cleared his search history and swiped out of the app before getting ready and heading downstairs.

everything was going swimmingly at the tournament until you showed up. until you showed up in that fucking bikini. jj hadn’t seen you in maybe two years , and when he does you were wearing that.

he didn’t even know you were coming.

he didn’t know sarah had texted you sending for backup earlier in the day. SOS KIE STILL HATES ME. SEND BACK UP PLEASE. SOS SOS. and you weren’t doing anything but lounging around the condo , so of course you’d head out and help your best friend. you’d drop everything if you needed to. especially when sarah mentioned kie.

the three of you had all been friends at one point. you had been good friends with kie individually. you dated one of her best friends. but after her and sarah got into a huge fight your junior year , everything blew up. you were forced to pick sides , and you chose sarah , which only caused problems between you and jj. it was a shit storm inside of a shit storm when everything happened.

now here sarah was , falling for john b routledge. you hated to admit that it sort of made sense. you knew them both , and there was ways they just clicked. so as soon as you found out kie was making the process of falling in love hard for sarah , you were on the way.

you got dressed in a swimsuit , tied a wrap around your hips and set off for the beach. not before grabbing a bottle of tequila on the way out the door. maybe getting drunk out of her mind would help kie loosen the fuck up.

when you arrived to the beach , there weren’t too many people there. the game was paused , two teams huddled up on their respective sides of the sand court. so when you walked up to the game , bottle clinking in your purse , everyone looked.

“hiya , boys,” you batted your lashes , making eye contact with jj before the teams broke up to get back to the game.

it was like he was frozen in place , flashed back to a time just a few years ago you’d been with him on this very beach in a swimsuit so similar he could easily mix them up. “hey— uh , what are you doing here? didn’t know you liked volleyball,” he stammered , stepping closer to you as he eyed the way you fit your swimsuit.

your eyebrows scrunched up as your hand came between you. “why are you standing so close to me?” you asked him , shuffling back in the sand but jj was more focused on the ring that wrapped around your finger. a ring he gave you on your eighteenth birthday.

“i’m not—“

“jayj! get your head out of your ass!”

you knew who was yelling at jj from the sidelines before you even looked. he darted away , jumping back into the game as you made your way over to sarah with a big grin. “look at you , sexy mama!” you greeted her , kissing her cheek.

“did you sneak alcohol into this event?” sarah giggled , wrapping her arm around your waist as she heard the glass bottle hitting other items in your purse.

“well , i wasn’t about to deal with kie sober , and i thought maybe it’d help lighten her mood a bit,” you shrugged.

“i don’t know,” the blonde sighed , stopping before you got too close to kie’s spot on the bleachers, “she’s like really mean now.”

you took a glance at the girl , seeing she looked the exact same as she did the last time you saw her— ocean salted hair with a hippie-esque outfit , and rolled your eyes. “sarah,” you began , putting your hands on her shoulders, “we’re not gonna let some bitch from high school flush you out , okay? we’re the bitches from high school.”

it wasn’t much of a pep talk , but it worked enough to get sarah moving up the stairs to sit down next to kie again.

“as if one of you wasn’t enough,” kie spoke , not bothering to force a smile onto her lips.

“yeah , you know you used to be one of us , right?” you replied , pulling the tequila from your purse and unscrewing it, “what?” you questioned kie and her furrowed brows as you took a gulp, “did you think the three of us could hang out sober?”

you held the bottle out , wiggling it to entice her more. “whatever,” she rolled her eyes as she grabbed the bottle and took a swig.

she passes it to sarah expectantly , causing the blonde to jump before mouthing ‘thank you’ your way and taking a drink of her own. “how ‘bout we play a game?” she suggested , giving you another turn with the liquor.

“a game?” kie repeated , tearing her eyes from the actual game in front of you.

“yeah , like we take a shot every time the boys score?” you added on , taking one already with a shrug as the ball lands on the other side of the court.

“mmm , no. that was a fluke. they’re not actually good,” sarah chuckled, “maybe every time the other team scores?”

you both look at kie , waiting for her response. “what the hell , why not?” she rolled her eyes , reaching into your purse to pluck out a solo cup she saw, “fill me up , skank.”

“oh! better than a poser!” you remarked , not surprised by her outward nastiness , before tilting the bottle and pouring her plenty liquor, “here , babe,” you muttered , filling the second cup and handing it to sarah.

soon enough the game ended with your ex boyfriend and his friends winning. it was a long game though , giving you , kie , and sarah plenty of opportunities to get drunk. the bottle only held a dribble of tequila left in the bottom after you ditched the solo cups all together.

“hey , you girls look like you’re having fun… together?” john b spoke , gladly catching sarah when she flung her happy drunk self into his arms. he kissed her , squeezing at her waist before bringing her feet back to the sand. “y’guys drunk?” he chuckled , looking at you the most suspiciously.

“it got kiara to be nice to sarah for more than ten minutes , so i’ll say it was a good idea , john b,” you remarked , tossing the bottle back into your purse all while ignoring the heat of jj’s gaze.

but of course , he wasn’t going to not say something. as you stood from the hot metal bleachers and readied yourself to order an uber , you wobbled. jj’s hand shot out , gripping your elbow to not let you fall.

“yeah… i don’t think you should be driving,” he admitted , shooing john b away. kie left the moment cleo and pope joined them , so when the brunette dragged his girlfriend off to the twinkie , it was just you.

“i’m fine,” you grumbled , pulling your arm from him and walking away. you rolled your eyes at the sound of footsteps behind you. “my uber’s like five minutes away,” you announced loud enough for the blonde to hear.

jj caught up with you , grabbing your shoulders and turning. “why won’t you talk to me?” he asked , eyes darting away when he realized that his voice sounded far more hurt than he wanted it to.

“because i dumped you.”

ouch. no shit.

“okay , yeah… but i thought we’d at least be applicable?” jj shrugged , letting his hands fall from you as his eyes fell to your chest.

“amicable and my eyes are up here,” you scoffed , hand reaching to push his chin up, “besides me not tearing into you about how awful you were to me every time i see you is amicable enough,” you added , hating that you could remember everything about your relationship so clearly.

you hadn’t seen jj in so long , and having him in front of you— really in front of you just reminded you of how much you used to miss him. sure , you liked to get on his ass about the bad stuff , but there was so much good. you recalled how much fun you had with jj , like nothing else but you and him matter. you’d ride around the island on his bike and go fishing and surfing and everything else you hadn’t done in years.

you hadn’t let yourself think about it all that much. it hurt , so you pushed it down , and now? jj’s shirtless torso was reminding you of everything you’d shoved down in the worst ways. just looking at him flashed you back into your bedroom.

late nights when jj would sneak into your room through your bedroom window when your parents were home before absolutely plowing into you.

“who’s eyes are wandering now?” jj chuckled , noticing the dazed look in your eyes.

you were caught off guard , not realizing yourself that you’d been staring. “will you drive me home?” you asked , eyes flicking up to jj’s. you knew this was stupid. you knew the moment the words left your lips.

but you missed him.

“thought you didn’t like me. treated ya bad and shit?” jj replied , already decided that he was going to drive you before you asked. but two could play cat and mouse. you’d done it before.

you sighed , looking down at your nails. “wasn’t all bad…” you whispered , reaching out to his hands before looking at the ring that adorned one of them. “y’still wear this?”

“you wear mine,” he shrugged, “nicest thing anyone’s ever gotten me. wasn’t gonna throw it out just cuz you dumped me.” he thought about it. thought about launching the silver ring into the ocean so many times , but it was the last thing of yours he had.

“i miss you sometimes,” you admitted , intertwining your fingers, “miss us.” the last bit was whispered , and jj nearly missed it as he was helping you into your passenger seat.

and as he rounded the front of the car , he definitely knew he wanted to get back together with you. he missed ‘us’ too.

[foulphantomllama]

The Pen: One-Shot | Pool Winner

Ahn Yujin x Male Reader (POV)

I was so tired that I go straight to bed when I arrived home. And then, of course I was late in the morning. I shouldn’t be late tho. Because today was a big day. I got out from the bed, brushed my teeth and wore my jeans and shirt in nearly just five minutes. I hoped into my car and drive straight to the record studio. I worked with many famous artists. But today, IVE  were visiting us to record a special track. I was too excited to see my bias, Yujin. I dreamed about this day ever since I knew that they were coming to our studio. I even prepared my albums and photocards in order to get them signed by the group. But especially Yujin.

But there was a big problem. I already got the text from my friend that says they’re about to be here. And the problem was that I forgot my bag in home. As you can guess, I was already there, at the record studio. I rushed inside my booth and make my preparations. It was that moment that I realized that I forgot my bag at home. Fuck. There was no turning back from there. They’re here, our secretary opened the booths door and said to me. I went out from the booth and greet the girls. They were even more gorgeous than they look on the screen. Especially Yujin, oh boy she was glowing. I briefed them about the song and the standart procedure, then we started. I turned back to my booth. And we did a part of the recording. I was so dehydrated and I needed a cofee break. I got out from the recording booth and went downstairs to get myself a coffee. Many of my friends from work knew that I was obssessed with Yujin. Some of them were encouraging me to talk to her. I mean, I did not see the point? What is going to happend? We suddenly start dating? I got my coffee and went upstairs.

I returned to my place and give the greenlight to the team to start recording again. But suddenly, power went out. Generators were not working. This happened to us before tho. I was familiar with the problem so we just used the backup generators. But sadly, they were no good for powering up our recording gear. It was just for lights and kitchen. So that we can survive in the studio and do the lightwork until the problem gets fixed. Sometimes it get fixed quickly, sometimes it takes a remarkable amount of time. I went out to talk to the girls agent. This kind of artists were using different artists in different countries, in US, they working with an American agent. I never seen or heard about her.  So I asked how many days will the girls will be around. She told me 4 maybe 5. I said that we may have to postpone the recording for today so that the girls go to their hotels and rest. She said it is a great idea. She went to the other room to make phonecalls to arrange a driver for the girls. During that time, I went into my cabin again and start looking at my phone. I never realized that Yujin was doing the same in the recording are. my eyes caught Yujin sitting in the recording area of the booth. She smiled and wawed at me. This was an interaction I was not expecting. I studied Korean in my University years and I was familiar with the language. Although has been a long time since I used it. I said, fuck it! When are you going to get the chance to talk to Yujin again? I got out of my section of the booth and get right inside to the recording area. She was wearing white knee socks, a crop tank top and jean shorts. And let me tell you, her shorts was literally short. I tried not to look at her legs and belly button so that I would not look like a creep in our first interaction.

I said hi with my broken Korean. She greeted me with a kind gesture. You know the little bowing they do when they greet somebody. I did the same. She asked me if I know Korean, or If i just know the basics like greeting and asking names. I said that I think that we can communicate in Korean. She said that not many Americans know Korean. “They barely know English don’t worry.” She laughed at my joke very loudly. I insulted my own people to make Yujin laugh. Totally worth it tho. We surprizingly started chatting about things about life and work. Then, their manager get inside the booth. And opened Google translate in order to tell Yujin something. She looked at me with a smiling face. It was a reference to the thing I said about Americans. I already fell into her humour. “I can translate.” I said to her agent. She relieved. “Tell her that we’re stuck here for a moment because I did not find any cars to drive them to the hotel.” I translated this to Yujin. She asked me to ask about the girls. “What about the other girls?” I asked. “They’re visiting the area with some guards. We can arrange a host for her if she wants to do so too.” I translated this too. Yujin replied “No, I will wait here. Thank you.” I was surprised. “She stays. Don’t worry she is in good hands.” I replied to the agent. She said whatever and went out. And she come back in “If the power does not fixed in a few hours we will go to the hotel somehow.” Again, I translated. She answered in English. “Okay.” The agent went out again.

Yujin continued in her cute english “She talks very much.” She giggled. I laughed. “You want a coffee?” She nodded. “Yes, please.” I went downstairs to get her a coffee in a flash. I grabbed a coffee want went upstairs very quickly. My friends were cheering for me. Of course there were cameras. I gave her the coffee and went into my recording booth, unplugged the camera and went back in. Our chat was too fun. We talked about music, industry, movies and many things. She is even a better person than you see and read in online. She is an angel. Literally.

My eyes were having a hard time trying not to look at her thighs and legs. But It was literally impossible. I tried to distract myself by saying that she is my bias in IVE. The moment I said this, her face blushed. I can see that she was embarassed. I tried to comfort her by saying “And you’re even prettier in real life.” I don’t think what I said helped her the slightest, but I wanted to say it anyways. But I can see that she was a little bit more comfortable about this whole situation when I said “I wanted to bring you my albums and wanted you to sign but..” She interrupted “What happened?” I answered, “I forgot them at home when I was trying to be here on time for you.” “Oh, that is so cute. I still sign them for you If you want.” I asked how can we do it. She answered. “Maybe I can come around with you and sign them for you. Is your house far away from here?”

That was an answer i did not expect. She just really wanted to come home with me? Should I do it? “It’s not very far away. A seven or eight minute drive and I’m home.” “Great!” she answered. As soon as we finish this recording, I will come with you and sign your albums she said. “We probably going to finish tomorrow. I bring them with me if you want.” She looked at me. “No, don’t carry them around with you. I can come with you.” I agreed. After a moment of silence, she took the last sip from her coffee and wanted a pen. I gave her mine. I always keep a pen in my pocket. She signed the paper cup and gave it to me. “Let’s start with this.”   And then her agent came in. “Let’s go” she said, our car is here.

And she went with her agent. It was going so good that I did not wanted it to end. At least, I got a promise from her. She will come to my home and sign my albums and photocards. I did not mention this to anybody. And I went home. Later that night I got a text from the studio. The problem was fixed and the studio was ready for recording. At least we did half of the song. Only a few hours of work left to do.

As I was getting ready to go to bed, I got a notification. IT WAS FROM YUJIN. SHE MESSAGED ME. It was saying, “I got your instagram from our agent. She asked so many questions. LOL.” “Oh, Hi!” I texted back. And I wanted to be a little bit funny. “Do I know you, princess?” She sent me a sticker of a cat holding a heart. And texted “Can you send me pictures of your photocards?” I got up and took a little video of my binder for her, then sent it. She replied quickly. “Even from IZ*ONE?”  “Yup.” I replied. “You deserve a lot of signs lol” She texted. And continued texting. “I need to sleep now but.. See you tomorrow.” She texted and sent that cat emoji again. I wished her good night. She liked my message. Then I went to sleep. Or at least I tried.

In the morning, if i completely be honest, I waited for a good morning message. I opened our chat and started typing things. But i did not sent anything. When I was doing so, she suddenly texted. “Morning. What were you typing?” I quickly had the control of the situation by saying; “I wanted to tell you good morning but i did not sure that you’re awake. And I did not want to wake you up.” The cat sticker. Again. “Your pen is with me right now. I forgot to give it back.” “You can keep it if you liked it” I replied. “Thank you, I will sign your albums with this. Haha.” She replied again. I said that I need to go to the studio. “See you at the recording.” I texted. She liked my message. But no cat sticker this time.

I arrived at the studio. The girls were already there. We quickly started the recording. It went pretty well. We finished even quicker than I expected. We wrapped up the recording and they left the studio. Except Yujin. When a K-Pop artist comes another country to record a special track, they had time to explore the country and buy some souvenirs. Yujin decided to spend her time with me. But her attitude was different from yesterday. She was like more.. intimitading. She approached me. This time she was wearing a skirt and a crop t-shirt. And a Nike shoe. That crop was a must. She loved to show her abs.

As we started to walk towards my car, she said that she needs a cover up before entering my car. She said someone might took her photos and start rumours. I gave her a cap and a long coat. We entered my car very quickly. And I drove her away from a safer zone. Along the way, she kept asking me personal questions. But the most important one was when she asked “Do you have a girlfriend?” “No” I answered. And I don’t know why i kept giving her my personal information but, i continued; “She cheated on me. So we broke up.” “What a bitch!” she answered. Then she quickly get emberassed because she swore. “Don’t worry” I said. You are still so cute when you are swearing. She laughed. “I wouldn’t cheat on you beacuse you’re a good person. And you’re handsome too.” She said. I was pretty shocked to hear this. I looked at her face. “Look at the road.” She turned my face towards to the road. “You will see my face enough today.” She continued. “It will never be enough tho.” I answered. “Sorry If i offended you by saying I wouldn’t cheat on you. I did not upsed you did I? “She asked. “Why would I be offended by that?” I asked. She kept her silence for a moment. And contiuned; “You always say I’m so cute, so beautiful, Aren’t I sexy and hot?” Okay. This was something different. She obviously trying to flirt with me. I was very close to get a one night stand with my bias. I was feeling confident.

We arrived my house. I opened her door and hold her hand while she got out from my car. She thanked me and we started walking to my house. I have a modest house. I am a successfull record producer. But also I try to live a humble life. She was fascinated by my house. I never understand if she was being polite or if she really liked it but, that was the situation.

After we entered the house, she said that if I have something fresh to drink. I offered her a beer or a coke. She took the beer. As he was drinking her beer, she got up and started to walk around my house. My record collection, my computer. She was taking a full interest in me. The she asked “Where are your albums and cards. I want to see them.” I gave her the bag. She started to sign them with my pen. And after some time she finished signing them. She put them onto my desk. And sit beside me. “Do you love me?” She asked. “What are you talking about?” I asked. “Come on, you said I’m your bias. Didn’t you ever jerked off to my fancam?” Okay. It was happening. “I think about it.” I said. I got a boner sometimes. But I did not jerked off to you.” She took of her phone and checked to clock. It was 2 P.M. “I need to be in the Hotel by 4 P.M.” She said. “We have two hours.” Two hours for what I asked. She didn’t even replied and just kissed me on the cheek. I hold her neck and started kissing her lips. She started to took my clothes off. I did the same. She was left with her socks and her bra. I was only with my pants and my socks. She took of my pants and sit on my leg. We were kissing very passionately. Our lips were sealed to each other and our tongues were dancing in each others mouth. I took off her panties. And I carried her to my bedroom. Throw her to the bed and get on top of her. I started to kiss her every inch. Her nose, her lips and her neck. I started to go down slowly. I squeezed her tits. My cock was rock hard. But kissing her soft lips and her soft boobs was feeling like heaven. But I needed to go down on her and eat her pussy. When I started to eat her pussy, her body was shaking with my every touch. She was getting goosebumps everytime i lick her clit. It was so wet and so soft. I started fingering her pussy. After a while, I gave her an orgasm. Her juice was all over my hand. I licked my hand and I turned her back and started licking her asshole. “Don’t, It’s so gross.” She said while moaning. I answered “No, I want this.” As she was moaning and saying things in Korean, I stopped licking her asshole. Gave her ass a good spank and turned her back to me. “I want to suck your cock.” She looked at me with her cute eyes. I lay down on my bed, she get up and started to suck my cock. Yujin was sucking my cock.

She was so good. As she sucked my cock, I felt like she was sucking my soul off from my body. “Are you coming?” She asked me. “Yes, a little bit more, then I will be coming.” She stopped and said; “Do you want to cum on my boobs or on my back?” “I want to cum on your belly button.” I said. “You do that.” I was about to cum, I said to her that I was about to cum. I hold my wet cock. And started jerking it off to Yujin’s belly. My ropes of cum were on her belly. She rub her belly with her finger and eat my cum. “You should have just cum into my mouth” She said. “We still have time” I said.

She asked me for a condom. I always carry one in my wallet. I took of my wallet and take the condom inside. She hand gestures me saying give me the condom. She took the condom into his hands. Her red nail polish looked so sexy while she is holding my cock. She put the condom on, and turn her back to me. She was bent over in front of me. I got closer to her pussy and kissed it. Then i put my cock into her pussy. She was moaning like hell. But I wasn’t gentle with her. I put the tip in, waited a second that put it all the way in. Very hard.  I was hammering her. Holding her waist. I was holding her waist so hard that it was starting to go red. I let go of her waist and started to spank her ass. Left, right, left, right. With each spank, she was moaning a little more. I realized that I was about to cum, so I changed the position. Since she is very tiny, I was able to turn her face to me. I put her legs to my shoulder and took of her socks. Her little feet was on my face. I was kissing her feet wile i pound her pussy. She was screaming in English at this point. Then I put her legs down and get a little bit closer to her face. I was kissing her face as I was fucking her pussy. She was also scraching my back like crazy. As I pound her, she started to scrach a little bit more. At some point, I can feel that my back was bleeding.

She came for a second time. This time it was all over my cock and my legs. I continued to pound her pussy. I was about to cum. I took off the condom in a hurry, get closer to her face and cum on her face. She licked the cum near her lips. I gave her a napkin. She cleaned her face. Her face was so pink. I can tell that I fucked her really good. She hugged me. That hug was better than the sex. She looked at the time. “We have 20 minutes.” she said. “Where is your pen? I need your pen.” She continued. I got up and brought her the pen. She signed my left chest. And kissed it. “I was thinking about singing your forehead but you need to drive me to the hotel.” She said. I laughed. “Now I have two reasons not to take a bath” I said. “What was the first?” she asked. “Your smell is all over me. I never want it to disappear.” I answered. She hugged me again. “Will you help me dress up?” “Of course.” I answered. I helped her wear her clothes. She did not wear her bra and her socks. “You can keep those. In case you miss my smell.” She said. Then I asked “Will I Ever see you again?” She hugged me again and said; “I don’t think so. But If you see me again, you can be sure that we’re going to do this again.” I was devastated to hear that but, what else was going to happen? “I will text you tho.” She continued. “Now, let’s go. I’m going to be late.” I get dressed up and carried her to the car. As we were getting closer to the hotel, a sadness was taking over my body. Her little hand was on my thigh. It was a feeling that cannot be described with words.

Then we arrived at her hotel. She took off the pen one last time, put on her cap and coat and signed my forehead. Gave me a kiss on the lips. “Goodbye.” She said. “Goodbye.” I replied. As she got into the hotel and disappeared from my sight, I was just standing here. Frozen. Trying to process what happened in the last few hours. I smelled my right hand. It was still smelling like her.

And I drove off to my home.

THE END.

[mushroomates]

the fellowship grocery shopping (modern au!):

frodo: has a list which he always loses halfway through shopping. tries to bring his own bags but they’re never enough, or he forgets them in the car and realizes mid checkout. does not like a lot of the name brand foods, goes for the knock offs- partly because he thinks they taste better and partly because he’s rooting for the underdog. (also they’re cheaper which means more money go towards buying treats for the neighborhood cats.) makes an exception for name brand strawberry poptarts, a pippin favorite. keeps his fridge stocked with snacks for his friends.

sam: grows a lot of his own produce and makes an effort to shop local. has his own chickens and a thriving herb garden. he often trades with neighbors-tomatoes for honey, basil for goats milk, etc. once a month he teams up with boromir and goes to costco for insane amounts of flour (he bakes his own bread) and a foot long hotdog. sam refuses to get his own membership.

merry: has a list of things to get that he has worked very hard to compile. this list stays on fridge, and whenever he runs out of something he adds it. this is always sabotaged by pippin who, in a port attempt to mimic merry’s handwriting, adds a copious amount of sweets and things only pippin likes. ends up buying them anyways only to not share with him- will gloat by snacking in front of pippin and not offering any to his cousin.

pippin: does not actually grocery shop. yes, he has food in his house but this is more because he just tags along whenever someone else is going. selectively copies whatever they get into his own basket. has eight jars of peanut butter because he loves peanut butter but does not consume it at the rate he believes he does. also for backup, incase he runs out mid sandwich and needs eight jars of the stuff. loves to ride in the shopping carts when no one’s watching. definitely scooters along isles. loves to hijack boromir’s shopping trips as boromir is the only one who will push him in the cart and give him a lil treat at the end.

gandalf: kind of just. wanders around the store. gets lost in the bakery. buys the most random things, causing the clerks to conspire about what he’s doing with two packs of rubber gloves, a rosterseie chicken, and a tub of mayonnaise. is he a murderer? a professor? a single mother? what is he doing with this stuff?

aragorn: does a lot of trading with neighbors, like sam. likes to accompany arwen on errands and do the little things. she points at an item and he puts it in the basket. he bags at checkout. drives her home. unloads the car and put it away. real quality time and acts of service. yes, arwen is capable of doing these things herself, but he likes to do it for her: hunts so be always has a surplus of jerky, does need to buy more salt then the typical person.

boromir: also hunts. has a thing about using every part of the animal, will eat bone marrow straight out of the femur with a spoon for breakfast. eats a lot of protein. is real big about no food waste and will use everything he can. has his own compost bin and a humble herb garden. likes hosting barbecues for everyone, and makes the burgers and hotdogs from scratch. every other tuesday is grocery day. he goes to costco and buys his things in bulk. he’s the only one in the fellowship with a costco card and everyone loves to take advantage of it.

legolas: mainly just happens upon farmers markets and grabs what appeals to him in the moment. does not have any seasonings or cooking oil as it’s not something that’s ever really occurred to him to buy. will forget he has food in his fridge for weeks and when he finally does it’s gone bad. this, however, does not stop him from eating it. makes a lot of smoothies.

gimli: has a lot of preserved foods and a cupboard dedicated to emergencies. owns a lot of canned beans, fruits and vegetables- anything that will keep well. has a freezer filled with food in his garage with backup stock. is a very good with coupons- pippin likes going with him just to see the total (and the clerks jaw) drop. eats a lot of trail mix and jerky. enjoys fresh fruit when he can but doesn’t like to buy it because it doesn’t last.

gollum: sneaky little man. he hides in the bottom part of the carts meant for heavy items and parties his way across the store with his hands, scooting along tile and grabbing anything with reach, tossing it back up to the cart and continuing on his journey. then he just rolls right out the door. no one can stop him.

[vamptizm]

ii. MISSION JEALOUSY — p. bueckers

pairing: paige bueckers x clover amar (oc)

synopsis : in which paige bueckers and clover amar, two uconn wbb stars, have an ongoing mission of making each other jealous and outdoing the other.

warnings : smut, fingering (oc receiving), brief degrading, exhibitionism if you squint, they’re both assholes, no aftercare. please do not read if this makes you uncomfortable!

word count : 3.5k

note : this is my first time writing this stuff and omfg was it HARD, i cringed at myself like 10 times and this might be bad but everyone starts somewhere ig lol

series masterlist

The team weight room was alive with the rhythmic clanking of weights and low murmurs of conversation, but Paige only had ears for Clover. The two had been switching off sets on the bench press, each girl pushing themselves harder than necessary—not to outdo their personal records, but each other. Ice, nearby and unbothered, worked through her squats, seemingly oblivious to the escalating competition between the two. 

Clover added another set of plates to the bar and smirked as she lay back, her tattoos flexing with every adjustment of her arms. Paige leaned against the rack, her arms crossed, watching with an unimpressed expression.  

"Feeling bold after last night, huh?" Paige's tone was casual, but the edge was unmistakable. 

Clover gripped the bar above her, sparing Paige a glance. "Nah, I couldn't care less." she quipped, her voice light as she lifted the bar. "Why? Did I make your little friend cry?" 

Paige's jaw tightened with a small scoff, but she kept her composure. "You really thought you ate, huh?" She stepped closer as Clover re-racked the bar with ease. "Maybe next time, try not to scare people off before dessert." 

Clover sat up, wiping her hands on her shorts. "Scare her off? Oh, baby. She was hanging by a thread before I said anything." She stood, gesturing for Paige to take her spot. "Maybe don't bring your charity cases to team dinners next time." 

Paige slid under the bar, refusing to let Clover see how much that comment—and pet-name—got under her skin. She grabbed the bar with purpose, her fingers tightening around it as she muttered under her breath, "You're insufferable, you know that?" 

Clover, now spotting Paige, leaned forward slightly, her grin widening. "Yeah, and you fucking love it." 

Paige bit the inside of her cheek, annoyed that she couldn't come up with a retort fast enough. Instead, she pressed through her reps, feeling Clover's eyes on her the whole time. By the time she re-racked the bar, she was already regretting agreeing to partner with Clover. 

When Clover took her turn again, she added more weight to the bar, clearly trying to prove a point. Paige didn't bother hiding her scoff. "Sure you don't wanna just tape a 'look at me' sign to your back while you're at it?" 

"Jealousy doesn't look good on you, Bueckers," Clover shot back, her voice steady as she lowered the bar with perfect form. 

Paige crossed her arms, leaning slightly closer. "You're not that special, Ma." 

Clover's laugh echoed through the room as she racked the bar with ease. "Sure, keep telling yourself that. I'm not the one who brought a backup date to dinner." 

Paige felt her temper flare, the heat rising up her neck. "You think everything's a game, don't you?" she muttered, her voice barely above a whisper as Jia moved to another station. 

Clover tilted her head, her expression smug. "Maybe. But you love to play, don't you?" 

Paige didn't respond, instead picking up a pair of dumbbells and turning her attention to another exercise. But the tension between them lingered, thicker than the humid air in the weight room.

The weight room grew quieter as the rest of the team filed out, leaving only the steady hum of the overhead lights and the sound of weights being racked. Clover and Paige remained, neither willing to be the first to leave.

Paige pretended to focus on her dumbbells, but her attention kept flickering to Clover, who was at the mirror adjusting the resistance on a cable machine. The gym's fluorescent light caught the sheen of sweat on Clover's skin, highlighting the tattoos curling around her arms and peeking out from the neckline of her tank top.

Clover glanced at Paige's reflection in the mirror, catching her staring. She didn't say anything, but the smirk that tugged at her lips made Paige's stomach twist in equal parts annoyance and something else she refused to name.

"Enjoying the view, Bueckers?" Clover's voice broke the silence, casual and teasing.

Paige huffed, looking away as she set her dumbbells back on the rack. "You wish."

Clover turned, leaning against the cable machine, her arms crossed. "You're still mad about dinner, aren't you? I thought we had fun."

"Fun for you maybe," Paige shot back, stepping closer to grab her water bottle. "I don't make a habit of embarrassing people for sport."

Clover's grin widened. "Oh, come on. Amelia was—what's the word?—forgettable."

Paige glared, taking a long drink to buy herself time. She hated how Clover always knew exactly which buttons to push. But worse than that was how Clover's confidence—the way she carried herself, so effortlessly bold—made it hard to focus on anything else.

"You really can't help yourself, can you?" Paige asked, her voice quieter this time.

Clover tilted her head, her expression softening just enough to catch Paige off guard. "Why would I?"

Paige didn't answer, but the air between them felt charged, almost suffocating. She could feel Clover watching her, and it made her want to walk out—or close the distance between them.

Clover took a step closer, her gaze steady, curious. "What is it about me that gets under your skin so much, huh? Don't act like it's just my big mouth."

Paige's breath caught, her pulse quickening as Clover's words hung in the air. She opened her mouth to respond but found herself at a loss.

"Nothing to say?" Clover teased, leaning in slightly, her voice dropping. "That's a first."

Paige clenched her fists at her sides, every nerve on edge. "You don't know when to stop, do you?"

"Not when it comes to you," Clover replied, her tone softer now, less playful but no less intense.

For a moment, the weight room felt impossibly small, the space between them shrinking by the second. Paige could feel the tension in her chest, the unspoken words and emotions she wasn't ready to name.

Paige didn't step back. Her smirk turned sharper, her eyes searching Clover's face for any sign of hesitation—but she didn't find any. Instead, Clover stood firm, her confidence unwavering even as the air between them grew impossibly thick.

"You're looking at me like you wanna fuck me, Bueckers," Clover remarked, her voice steady and cocky grin unfaltering, even if her heart was pounding.

"Good," Paige replied, voice low. "Maybe that's exactly what I wanna do."

Before Clover could reply, Paige's hand moved—lightly brushing her hip first, then lingering at her waist, her grip firm but not overbearing. Her touch sent a jolt through Clover, but she didn't pull away. Paige stepped even closer, their bodies nearly touching, her breath warm against Clover's cheek.

"You're bold today," Clover murmured, her voice quieter now but still laced with challenge.

Paige chuckled softly, the sound deep and confident. "Bold, or just tired of you running your mouth?"

The weight room suddenly felt a hundred degrees hotter. Paige's free hand came up, her fingers gently grazing along the line of Clover's jaw, tilting her head up slightly. The smirk on Clover's lips wavered for a second—not out of nerves, but because Paige's sudden boldness had thrown her off her game for the first time.

"Speechless for once?" Paige teased, her thumb brushing the corner of Clover's mouth.

Clover regained her footing quickly, her cocky grin returning as her hands came to rest against Paige's chest. "Not speechless. Just wondering if you're finally gonna back up all that talk."

Paige's response was immediate. She closed the small gap between them, her lips brushing against Clover's as she pinned her against the cold wall, teasing at first but quickly growing firmer, more insistent. Clover matched her energy without hesitation, her fingers curling into the fabric of Paige's shirt as she pressed closer.

The kiss was nothing short of electric—heated, competitive, and every bit as charged as their arguments. Paige's larger hand slipped from Clover's jaw to her ass, pulling her closer, while Clover tilted her head to deepen the kiss, not willing to let Paige take the lead entirely.

When they finally broke apart, both of them were breathing heavily. Clover was the first to speak, her voice soft but edged with humor. "So... does this mean you're done being mad about dinner?"

Paige laughed under her breath, her hand still lingering on Clover's waist. "Not even close." She stepped back slightly, her cocky smile returning as she grabbed her towel. "But that's a conversation for another time, Ma."

And instantly, the blonde's lips crashed back against Clover's, her unoccupied hand snaking back up to the girl's face before finding a light grip around her throat. That was enough to ignite the tamed fire inside of Clover, their kiss growing rougher, teeth clashing and tongues meeting— Paige licking into her mouth like she was seeking water in the Sahara desert. A small whimper escaped Clover into Paige's mouth. One that had the blonde cockily grinning against her lips as her slim fingers lightly squeezed the girl's throat.

"Already got you whimpering for me, Baby?" The blonde's grin was taunting, nothing short of confident in herself like she always was.

Clover, however, wasn't as amused as Paige. Too worked up, too hot to come up with her usual and well known retorts. "Just shut the fuck up." She rolled her eyes, barely able to express her annoyance, that could more so be described as frustration.

Paige didn't make an effort to reply, her hand snaking to the back of Clover's neck, pulling the girl into another rough and messy kiss. Her lips slowly began to trail down, peppering wet kisses along Clover's jaw until she reached her neck.

Clover couldn't help but fist the blonde's shirt, gripping it tightly in hopes of grounding herself. Her head tilts backwards, upper teeth biting down on the bottom of her lips to suppress the whimpers that so desperately wanted to be let out. Paige started out with placing soft kisses down Clover's neck, halting at the crook of her neck. Her grip around the girl's waist tightened, tongue darting out to lick along the inked area, down to the collar bone.

The pooling wetness and the growing heat between Clover's legs was hard to deny, even harder to hide. She almost scolded herself for the way her thighs pressed together—it only gave her away and of course Paige didn't miss that. A smirk tugged on the corners of the blonde's lips, darkness clouding her bright eyes.

"You think you're slick, huh? Spreading them for others all fucking week and now you wanna close those legs?" Her tone was mocking, almost degrading and for some reason it only turned Clover on even more.

She couldn't keep her mouth shut, though. When could she ever? Clover Amar was a loud mouth through and through. "Maybe if you weren't all talk I would've spread them for you instead."

Paige had to hold herself back from rolling her eyes, only a small, amused scoff escaping her. "Oh, I'm so sorry I made you wait, princess. Let me make it up to you, yeah?"

And just like that Paige went back to kissing and nibbling on her collar bones, mouth moving further south with each second before reaching her cleavage. Her hands slid up slowly, fingers playing with the hem of the girl's sports bra. "Can I?" Her gaze was back on Clover's face, blue eyes locking with hers and her tone unusually and bizarrely soft and gentle. As if getting permission meant a great deal to her. Clover could only nod her head, too dazed to trust her own voice.

That wasn't enough for Paige, though. She lifted her head up, standing straight as she shook her her head. "You got words, baby. Use 'em."

Clover had to bite her tongue to not curse the blonde out at that very moment. Even in a moment like this, Paige still needed to tease her about it. Typical. Taking a deep breath, she finally complied. "Yes. You can."

A smug smirk made it's way back onto Paige's lips, triumph painted all over her features. It was clear that she enjoyed this more than Clover herself. "There you go, good job."

And oh, how Clover hated the way those words made her stomach do flips.

Paige's fingers finally hooked into the material of the black sports bra, taking her sweet time in pulling it up until Clover's breast sprang free. She stilled for a moment, breath hitching in her throat as she took the sight in front of her in, mouth already watering. If it had been anyone other than the girl in front of her, she'd make sure to shower them in praise and compliments, but she couldn't do that yet. Clover's full tattoo was now in sight— starting from the valley of her breast and ending only a couple of inches above her navel.

The blonde took a subtly deep breath before her hands continued their abandoned actions. "Arms up," she dryly instructed, tugging the clothing over Clover's head and throwing it to the floor after she complied once again. She had to refrain herself from commenting on how well Clover could listen for once.

Paige took her sweet time admiring the girl's exposed chest, hands instinctively finding their way back to her waist, rubbing and caressing the soft skin up and down. Clover was starting to get impatient, her hand finding one of Paige's, guiding it up and placing it over her breast.

The smug smirk on Paige's face only intensified, exuding her all too known and obnoxious confidence. "Eager, aren't we?"

Clover didn't say a word, she didn't have to because as soon as the blonde spoke those words, her mouth was already back on Clover, lips latching onto one nipple while her hands played with the other one. Fondling, pinching her nipples, suckling and biting on them until she got a satisfying squeal out of the girl.

As much as Clover hated this, she absolutely loved it. In some way she was being worshiped AND pleased right? Technically, she was the winner.

Paige continued to suckle and place open mouthed kisses all over her tits, slowly trailing down along the inked skin, licking and pecking.

It wasn't enough for Clover, though. Not nearly enough to coming anywhere close to stilling her hunger for the annoying blonde. But luckily for her, she didn't have to do or say anything. Paige was already on it, hand sliding to the waistband of the girl's shorts while she straightened up. That's when Clover felt her body ignite with fire, the mere thought of being touched in such a public space where anyone could walk in at any given time—despite it being so late—excited her more than she'd like to admit.

"Can you stop teasing?" She asked in an unintentionally low tone, her question coming off as more of a demand or request.

"I don't know, can you behave for once?" Paige countered, that stupid smirk never leaving her face and if Clover wasn't so turned on in that moment, she'd want to smack it off of her.

She hesitated before replying, voice barely above a whisper and a small pout on her lips. "Yes."

That one word seemed to be enough for Paige. Her hand came back up, two digits hovering over Clover's lips. "Suck."

'Is she serious?' Clover thought to herself. She debated it, fighting her pride and ego all for the sake of pleasure before ultimately complying and parting her lips, slowly wrapping them around Paige's fingers.

"Good girl." The blonde hummed as she watched and Clover wanted to roll her eyes. Her tongue swirled around the digits, sucking on and wetting them all while maintaining eye contact until Paige pulled them out again, a string of saliva connecting them. This was purely for the blonde's own pleasure.

Her hands were back on Clover's hips, but this time she didn't seem to have the patience to tease her. Paige's hand slipped right between the material of her waistband and panties.

Clover let out a huffed breath of relief at the touch of Paige's fingers running over her slick folds. The girl was completely soaked by now—embarrassingly so—something that emitted a raised brow from the blonde. "What's got you all soaked, Ma?"

"Shut the fuck up." is all that Clover could muster to say, her words coming out breathless. Her body was on fire and the last thing she wanted, was to be teased again.

Paige could only chuckle, something that would've aggravated the girl if she wasn't so worked up and desperate. She began to slowly circle Clover's clit, biting back that smug smirk as she studied her expression. Clover made no efforts of hiding her face, nor how good she felt, multiple sighs escaping her lips and her eyes fluttering shut. Her leg lifted to semi-hook around Paige's hip for easier access.

"More, please." She breathed. Clover knew that if there was one way to get what she wanted, it was by playing her cards right. By asking nicely.

And it seemed to work when Paige sped her movements up, rubbing tight circles as her mouth latched back onto the girl's chest. It was as if she couldn't get enough of her.

Paige's movements slowed, two digits circling the girl's entrance for what felt like an eternity before slipping in all at once.

A soft gasp left Clover's lips at the delicious stretch, her head tipped backwards as Paige continued the abuse on her chest. The blonde's fingers were pumping in and out of Clover's sopping cunt, and the sound of wet squelching would've flustered her if she'd cared enough.

"Oh- Fuck, Paige." Clover's hands came up to the girl's shoulders, steadying herself. Soft whimpers and the sound of kisses all across Clover's chest was all that could be heard through the weight room.

"Good, huh?" Her voice was low and sultry, eyes looking up at Clover's already fucked out face, who could only nod her head.

The familiar knot below her stomach started to tighten, nails digging into Paige's skin as she continued her abuse on her cunt, fingers curling deep, hitting that gummy spot just perfectly.

Clover feels like she's floating and suffocating all at once, her muscles and senses trembling with pleasure and she can feel her high approaching. This wasn't what she had planned—being at the mercy of Paige Bueckers—but there wasn't anywhere she'd rather have been in that moment.

"You close, baby?" Paige mumbled against her neck that she was now attacking with kisses, almost as if she could sense it. "Clenching on my fingers like a slut. You're that desperate, Mama?"

Once again, Clover could only nod her head, whimpering and whining were the only form of noise she could muster up.

Paige smirked against the crook of her neck before pulling back to get a good look of Clover. Her unoccupied hand grabbed the girl's chin, tilting her head back forwards. "Look at me or I'll stop." She near to demanded as her movements quickened.

Clover barely had any time to register what was happening, her eyes fluttering open only to be met by Paige's hungry eyes. The intimacy of it should've turned her on even more, should've brought her closer and while it did just that, it also scared her. Looking into Paige's eyes was a form of intimacy and vulnerability that Clover had never expected to experience with her, a language so foreign, one she’d never bothered to learn. Her heart was pounding in her chest, stomach fluttering and she didn't know whether it was due to Paige bringing her closer to her release, or if it was the girl's baby blue eyes staring deeply into her soul, almost as if wanting to find a home within.

Those thoughts were quickly disrupted by the sudden feeling of Clover's climax washing over her, everything except the feeling of her all consuming orgasm, vanishing into thin air.

Just as quickly as it happened, it seemed to end when Paige's hand slipped out again, barely giving Clover the time to register anything. All she could do was watch how the blonde casually licked her fingers clean. "Tastes good." She spoke, but it sounded like she was more so speaking to herself.

Paige turned and a towel along with Clover's sports bra were already being handed to her. "To clean up with." She said, as if it wasn't the most obvious thing in the world.

Before Clover could register anything, the blonde was already making her way towards the door. "See you tomorrow." She called over her shoulder, barely looking back as she left the weight room.

Clover could only stand there in shock. Did that really just happen? Did she really leave just like that? It's not as if she expected any aftercare or something as silly as a kiss, but standing topless and still catching her breath, Clover couldn't help but feel ashamed. Feel as if she had just been used and discarded so easily. It wasn't something she was used to. Heck, even she had the decency to help the girls she hooked up with get cleaned up and dressed before ditching them.

She scoffed humourlessly before putting her bra back on, tightly gripping her towel and walking out of the weight room herself in annoyance, and which she hated to admit, tears of frustration stinging her eyes.

[wheneverfeasible]

Cheerleader!Eddie AU pt. 1

POV: Eddie

When Eddie found a sobbing Chrissy in the restrooms after school, where he had been about to tag some stupid shit about one of the football players who had left him with a bruised face a previous week, he hadn’t expected it to lead to them becoming friends, her breaking up with her shithead boyfriend, or him joining the cheer squad.

Yet here he is, wearing the stupid school colors and his long hair tied up in a ponytail to match Chrissy’s, even down to the identical green scrunchie. Chrissy was lucky he loved her. Platonically, of course. They’d kissed after everything, figuring that’s that the thing between them was, but it ended up being like kissing a sibling (or so Eddie guessed, not ever having had one before), but quickly discovered that whatever middle school crush might have existed was well and truly gone.

Everything else was just right, however, and if such a thing as platonic soulmates existed, then Chrissy was well and truly his. She had to be, to get him to agree to this stupid shit.

He wasn’t an official member of the cheer squad at first, nothing more than a glorified backup, but he helped her in all the practices and learned all the moves and somehow, without realizing when, he started performing at games and pep rallies. Which didn’t help the queer rumors from spreading, even when Chrissy acted like his beard at first. Because the rumors would have been galling if they hadn’t been true.

Don’t get him wrong; he liked chicks too. But there was something to be said about seeing a pretty boy on his knees.

He played it up, taunting the other team and his own with blown kisses and suggestive hand motions with his tongue in his cheek, but he had cheerleader privilege, and Chrissy’s best friend privileges, so he actually managed to avoid anything more than pointed words and threats, which he then always turned into a kink thing to make the jocks uncomfortable.

“Oh, you’re right, Princess, I look amazing on my knees,” he cooed with a wink when King Steve himself deigned to be one of the insulting masses. Of course, all Harrington had said was that he should stop messing around and get back under the pyramid during cheer practice instead of poking fun at the basketball players on the other side of the gym.

Harrington always flushed whenever Eddie got too weird, too freaky, too queer, and it was quickly becoming one of his favorite things. Chrissy teased him about it when he’d go out of his way to harass Harrington, telling him to stop pulling the king’s pigtails, which he vehemently denied doing.

No way. Nuh uh. Not King Steve. Gag him with a spoon, or whatever they said in the movies Chrissy always made him watch.

Soon Harrington started snapping back, however, but with an amused smile on his face. More than that, he’d snapped at Hagan to leave Gareth alone when he’d come to playfully jeer at Eddie until they could head to Hellfire together. (Chrissy had actually taken DnD up too eventually, much to everyone’s surprise, though it was less surprising than her Level 7 Chaotic Neutral homebrew half-Orc male Barbarian whose tragic backstory was only known to Eddie so far, seeing as he had helped her craft Uragoth the Undaunted.)

To say that Eddie was surprised when Harrington of all people protected a freak was an understatement. And then it kept happening. Harrington always stepped in if he saw any freak or nerd being bullied, he even used logic, pointing out that Eddie was both freak and cheerleader, so going after the freaks was going after him and the cheer squad, and did any jock really want to piss off the cheerleaders?

A jock using logic? Unheard of!

Eddie was a little flattered though to think that his freaks had best friend privileges as well because of him, that he could be the shield offering them protection simply by straddling the line between the two sects at school.

Harrington never stopped snarking with Eddie, however, always calling him a freak but always with that smile that almost spoke of something…fond.

And then it was the day of the big game, the championship, and Chrissy was giggling as she tried to pretend like she was having second thoughts, even as her hands never faltered getting him ready. They, and the rest of the squad who had slowly warmed up to Eddie, had scoured the rule book to make certain he could do it, smirking amongst themselves at the surprise they had in stock.

Eddie waited at the end of the line, waited for their introduction, and then he was running in with the rest of the cheer squad, his pale and hairy legs flashing beneath the short green skirt. Gareth and the rest of the freaks screamed, sending out wolf whistles and making enough noise to draw the attention of anyone who might not have noticed yet.

Eddie only had eyes for one person though.

Harrington’s gaze was fixed solely on him as he jogged out wearing the female cheerleading uniform, a bright pink high on cheekbones and his mouth agape, and Eddie thought he had even seen the guy swallow as his eyes took in Eddie in a skirt.

The game went exactly as the cheer squad had hoped, their secret routine putting Eddie front and center, and he took great enjoyment in rolling his hips suggestively and blowing his kisses and winks as he taunted the opposing team, resulting in more than one fumble when he distracted them. The fact that Harrington seemed equally distracted seemed something else entirely.

As well as the fact that Harrington roughly fouled the player from the other team that Eddie had pointedly flirted with during their halftime routine.

Hawkins Tigers won in the end, easily, with Harrington scoring the final winning points like the king he was, pointing at Eddie right before he took the shot with a wink. Eddie rolled his eyes, almost hoping Harrington would miss in retaliation for the tease. Instead, Harrington ended the game as the buzzer sounded with his last three-pointer and the crowd went wild.

Typical.

Less typical, however, was how Harrington strode through the crowd right after, bypassing the celebrating teammates and cheerleaders and fans that had streamed onto the court, to head straight for Eddie. Eddie was given just the barest moment to wonder if he was about to be hate crimed when Harrington’s hand landed on his back, the other cupping the back of his head, and he was spun into a dip as Harrington leaned in for a kiss.

Except Harrington didn’t immediately kiss him, he hovered above his lips, his eyes looking into Eddie’s asking for permission, and really…what more could Eddie do except wrap his arms around Harrington’s neck and close the distance?

If later that night Eddie was still wearing that skirt as he and Harrington came to an understanding, well, no one needed to know.

And if the next night it was Steve wearing the cheerleading skirt…that was between him and his king.

Part 2

[kingkatsuki]

— late

This was completely inspired by a conversation I had with my friend about her kids.

Pairing: Bakugou Katsuki x f!reader.

Warnings: girl dad!Bakugou, established relationship, not proof-read as always.

Word Count: 1.1k.

Juggling family as a Pro-Hero in the top 10 is never easy. No matter what you do to ensure your plans go smoothly, crime doesn’t sleep— especially not when it’s your daughters fifth birthday.

“I hate you!” Is the last thing Bakugou hears before his daughters bedroom door is slammed shut, the silence after is deafening as you watch the colour drain from your husbands face.

His chest still heaving from the speed in which he rushed home, dirt and grime stain his skin as he stands dejected in the middle of the living room. Boots that are usually abandoned at the door trudge filth through your home as Bakugou stands statuesque in place.

“Baby,” You hum, reaching around his frame to bring him closer to you as you rest your chin on his chest to stare up at him, “You know she doesn���t mean that—”

“Course she does,” He rasps, “She said she fuckin’ hates me.”

You can tell from the slight lilt to his gruff voice that your big, strong husband is on the verge of tears. Bringing his arm up to rub at his blackened eyes with the ball of his hand, smearing the eyeliner along his cheekbones.

Bakugou was used to being hated, from the public to the media and the Hero Commission. It was usually something he could brush off with ease, laughing off angry emails or poorly written articles. But it was a different kind of hurt when the words had come from his own daughter.

“She’s hurting right now,” You soothe, tightening your grip on him as his Adam’s apple bobs, “She was just excited for you to be at the party, but she understands—”

Bakugou had booked this day off a year in advance, it was always the first thing he looked at on the calendar, even before your birthday. It was his daughters special day, and he was determined for it to be perfect. Fully embracing whatever theme she’d decided on for her celebrations— this year had been a Barbie theme that had left your home embellished in vibrant pink and glitter that would probably stay embedded into your plush carpets until her next birthday.

He’d spent the previous night carefully wrapping a custom Barbie doll in pretty pink paper as you prepared the house for her party. Bakugou had even picked out an entire hero outfit that was an on brand Barbie pink, instead of his usual colours that he was planning on surprising his daughter with.

But even with all these plans in place, and even arranging backup from his dutiful sidekicks at the agency— the life of a Pro-Hero is never easy. And just as Bakugou was preparing to change into his outfit for his daughters party, he was called into work. An emergency that superseded anyone working at his agency today, as the Hero Commission requested his presence in the field.

It’s not the first time it’s happened, and Bakugou knows it won’t be the last. Even a last minute phone call to Deku to take the lead wasn’t enough to save his day, as the Commission ended up calling both heroes to the scene.

Hours later, he was explosive and inconsolable. Telling the authorities to fuck the crime scene reports and statements as he shoved an unwitting reporter out of his face as their camera crashed to the floor, certain his PR team would be in his inbox about that incident first thing tomorrow morning. But he was completely uninterested in humouring any of them today, not when he could’ve been at home with his family.

Coming in through the front door as he finally realised just how late it was when the house was completely empty besides you and his daughter.

“I should’ve been here, she needed me—”

“The city still needs Dynamight,” You murmured, “What was the situation?”

“Bad,” He grumbled, “Shithead derailed a train in the city, had a group of school kids on it. One almost— the look in his eyes when he was fallin’.“

He trailed off, scrunching his nose as he thought back to the scene. You felt his arms wrap around your shoulders as he clung to you, leaning into your warmth as he tried to calm his racing heart.

“But he didn’t, right?”

He shook his head as you smiled, breathing in the scent of smoke and ash from his quirk as soot covered his body.

“Because Dynamight is a hero.”

“But not to my own daughter.”

“You’ll always be her hero, baby.” You soothe as he leans down to bury his face in the curve of your neck, deeply inhaling the scent of you.

“I’m a terrible dad,” His breath tickles your neck as you pull back to frown at him.

“Don’t you dare say that,” You scrunch your nose in irritation, “You’re the best dad, Kats.”

“If I was, I woulda been here for her.” He scoffs.

“You’re out there keeping us safe, keeping other kids safe. Making sure they get to go home to their dads too.” You cradle his face in your palms to press a soft kiss to his chapped lips.

The sound of little feet coming down the stairs breaks him away from you as you turn to see your daughter, still dressed in her full party outfit, standing at the bottom of the stairs.

“Hey, is that my little princess?” Bakugou rasps as she comes towards you both, crouching down to her height and adjusting the pink tiara that sits on top of her head.

“Barbie princess.” She whispers, holding a piece of pink paper out to him as he takes it.

“Barbie princess.” He corrects himself, moving his attention to the words words etched onto the page as he unfolds it.

‘I’m sorry I wouldn’t trade you for any other daddy in the world.’

A smile spreads across your face at the cute sentence as you feel the muscles in Bakugou’s back immediately relax, reaching down to lift your daughter up to hold her to his chest as her small arms immediately circle his neck.

“I’m sorry I missed your party, sweetheart,” He rasps, smoothing her wild hair down.

“I’m sorry too,” She sniffs, “I don’t hate you, daddy.”

Bakugou’s lips curl into a soft smile as he leans forward to press a kiss onto her cheek.

“I love you, princess.” He whispers, nuzzling her cheek with his nose.

“Love you too, daddy.” She smiles.

“But you know you can’t trade me anyway, right?” He frowns, pulling back to meet her gaze, “I’m your daddy and I always will be.”

[cartierre]

SINCE WAY BACK | ln4

SOCIAL MEDIA!AU lando norris x fem!black!producer!reader (fc: alexis carrington)

side note: drake is aged up in this because i want y/n to be born around 2000/2001 but that would mean drake was 14/15 when he became a dad... so he's just a few years older here to make it more believable okay? great. side note pt2: there are so many long twitter threads used to explain the whole backstory. like, really really long. i didn't know how else to explain everything, i'm sorry.

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tagged: mclaren, octobersveryown

f1 BREAKING: October's Very Own (OVO) joins the McLaren team as their new primary sponsor for the 2023 season.

#F1 #Formula1 #McLaren

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user1 what the fuck is drake doing here

user2 i'm actually so gagged like what is happening why is drake invested in f1 all of a sudden

user3 this is such an odd pairing? drake and zak brown together feels like a fever dream

user4 drake joining f1 as a sponsor was definitely not on my 2023 bingo card

user5 caitlyn jenner buying a whole w series team is less surprising than whatever this is

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lando.jpg adonis is teaching me how to play basketball because otherwise he "cannot accept me" i've been humbled by a 5 year old

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user6 is that the girl he might or might not be dating ⤷ user7 i need to know otherwise i might die (i won't but the suspense is killing me)

user8 WHO IS THAT GIRL LANDO

user9 is this you trying to soft launch or is she just a platonic friend?

user10 "fans" going insane because they can't handle the thought of lando having female friends as well

user11 he's not even tagging anyone omg now i have to scroll through all the people he follows. lando is not making my job easy

(private account)

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y/n_graham why am i trending on twitter and why is everyone uncovering my childhood

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landonorris i think this is my fault ⤷ y/n_graham you and your jpg ⤷ landonorris my camera lense is just so mesmerised by your beauty ⤷ y/n_graham your compliments won't get you out of trouble

centralcee i'm literally getting dms asking about you ⤷ y/n_graham i woke up to 15,000 people trying to follow me

jorjasmith_ lando's fans are literally fbi agents ⤷ y/n_graham i'm making so many backup files of my music projects because i'm scared someone will hack into my laptop now

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f1wags Y/N Graham, daughter of Canadian rapper Drake, was photographed by a fan outside the venue in Greece where Lando Norris, her rumoured boyfriend, was playing this weekend. None of the two have confirmed nor deniend the relationship allegations that have been going around for a few months now. An inside source, which attended the party, revealed how the two behaved very intimate with each other.

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user12 girl it's been nearly four months since the rumours started... can one of them just please either confirm or deny them?

user13 at this point i'm just over the whole drama. let them have their privacy i guess

user14 this drama is juicier than when the whole oscar-alpine-mclaren fiasco happened

user15 i'm this close to ripping my hair out why is this rumour been going on for AGES i just want a simple statement already

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tagged: y/n_graham, champagnepapi

lando.jpg bonding family time, got to support the father in law ;)

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user16 EXCUSE ME WDYM FATHER IN LAW? is this a joke or real ⤷ y/n_graham we're not married, don't worry ⤷ user17 OMG Y/N MADE HER ACCOUNT PUBLIC JUST NOW

champagnepapi i like the sound of "father in law" ⤷ lando.jpeg i know you would ⤷ y/n_graham no no no

user18 okay from what i've gathered drake and lando are on good terms ⤷ user19 bet that's why drake sponsored mclaren lmao ⤷ y/n_graham no but deadass

user20 y/n fighting for her life in the comments lmaoooo ⤷ y/n_graham in the trenches