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astonmartinii · 1 year ago

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big reputation part two | charles leclerc social media au

pairing: charles leclerc x fem reader

a new season dawns but that doesn't mean we don't have a map to our buried hatchets

MASTERLIST | BUY ME A KO-FI? | PART ONE

charles_leclerc

liked by maxverstappen1, yourusername and 3,221,783 others

charles_leclerc: ferrari has been home for as long as i can remember, even before i joined the academy, the dream of driving for ferrari gave me a purpose. i am heartbroken it hasn't worked out, but formula one is, at the end of the day, a selfish sport and i have to think about my real goal here: to win a championship. ferrari has an amazing history, but that is what it is history. in the four years i have been here i haven't seen the drive and ambition to be as ruthless and as complete as they were with michael and with kimi. therefore i have to leave. it hurts me to leave the tifosi, but know you're always in my heart and i will always hold dear your support. grazie regazzi essere ferrari ❤️

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user3: i knew it was coming but HOLY FUCK CHARLIE COME HOME

user4: tifosi lecfosi YES SIR

user5: for real i'm down for him not that clown team

yourusername: i'm proud of you charlie, i knew how much this took. but you have to put yourself first at some point. i love you

charles_leclerc: i love you too. i'm sorry i can't stop crying

yourusername: no i love that you are so passionate. it's been a long season and you're finally allowed to let it all out

charles_leclerc: can we go to a rage room?

yourusername: FUCK YEA

maxverstappen1: pretty please may i join. i have a lot of rage. call it teammate bonding?

charles_leclerc: give me a tow in bahrain quali?

maxverstappen1: fine (NO ONE SCREENSHOT THIS OR HOLD ME TO IT)

yourusername: at least this one i don't mind having to third wheel us

user6: the SHADE that's mother right there

user7: trying to stay insanely normal over the fact that max, charles and y/n are besties

pierregasly: congrats calmar, HOWEVER, i though i was your favourite third wheel 🥰

yourusername: but you bring kika ??? how can you third wheel if kika is there? DO YOU NOT KNOW HOW TO COUNT?

charles_leclerc: thank you pear i love you brother

user8: i love how this is some super sentimental post and y/n is asking pierre if he can count i hope they never change

landonorris: max as fave third wheel ??? @alexalbon @georgerussll63 twitch quartet erasure

yourusername: womp womp

alexalbon: WOMP WOMP?

charles_leclerc: guys i'm sad about leaving my dream team where is the compassion?

georgerussell63: yeah boo hoo there are bigger things at play here I DID NOT SIT THROUGH YOUR TEN HOUR MELTDOWN ON AN APPROPRIATE TWO YEAR ANNIVERSARY GIFT NOT TO BE TOP THIRD WHEEL

yourusername: you fools really will argue about anything huh

landonorris: this is the sanctity of our friendship on the line here

user9: the grid was really like YOU might be sad about leave ferrari but we ain't

yourusername

liked by maxverstappen1, charles_leclerc and 1,421,455 others

tagged: charles_leclerc

yourusername: holibobs with sharlie

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user10: i love as soon as the season finishes charles becomes THEE instagram boyf

user11: j.peg account? no. just taking photos of y/n? YES.

charles_leclerc: i have an eye for beauty

yourusername: heheheheheheehehehehehee

alexalbon: so he can use a camera? why does he only take 0.5s of me?

yourusername: the best angle for your big ol dome

alexalbon: EXCUSE ME ?

yourusername: yeah sorry that was a bit far

alexalbon: it's like you got off the ferrari leash and now we all have to suffer

yourusername: WELP

charles_leclerc: ma belle, the only one i'll actually listen to and put sun cream on

yourusername: yes you will because we...

charles_leclerc: put spf on everyday !!

yourusername: yes! because...

charles_leclerc: we're scared of aging?

yourusername: no?

charles_leclerc: we want to be safe 👍

maxverstappen1: you guys done with the kindergarten reading lessons?

yourusername: have you seen lobster leclerc? this kind of work needed to be done

user12: lobster leclerc? goodbye, goodbye, goodbye you were bigger than the whole sky

user13: see now i'm confused cause why are some papers saying that they're breaking up? or that charles is embarrassed by the way y/n acts?

user14: bestie we've been through this DON'T TRUST THOSE HOES - TRUST THESE HOES

liked by yourusername

user15: unless i see it from the horse's mouth I WILL NEVER BELIEVE THEY'VE BROKEN UP

redbullracing

liked by yourusername, christianhorner and 882,339 others

tagged: charles_leclerc, maxverstappen1

redbullracing: charles the qualifying king takes his first pole position for red bull in his first race and is joined by max for a front row lockout

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user18: UNWELL

user19: suck on that ferrari xoxo

user20: *rubs eyes* is that... max being happy to be challenged by a teammate ???

user21: winning three championships really takes the heat off huh

yourusername: THAT'S MY MAN YALL

charles_leclerc: love you baby

yourusername: love you too darling

maxverstappen1: love you three 🫶

yourusername: this is not the problem i thought we'd have when coming to red bull

maxverstappen1: my gf can't make most of the races so you WILL deal with me

user22: max being clingy to charles and y/n is so fucking funny to me

user23: sainz not making it out of q1? shwartzman only making it to q2 but still out qualifying carlos? charles looking sexy in blue? EVERY TONGUE THAT RISES AGAINST CHARLES LECLERC SHALL FALL

christianhorner: mega job boys, let's keep our eyes on tomorrow

maxverstappen1: tell them they have to let me come to dinner with them

christianhorner: isn't this the exact reason we rehired daniel

charles_leclerc: PLEASE MAKE DANIEL COME TO THE NEXT RACE

maxverstappen1: erm rude

charles_leclerc: i'm sorry i'm not used to a teammate that actually wants to be friends for real

yourusername: EXCEPT SEB WE LOVE SEB

yourusername: but for real max emilian i am monitoring the dutch papers... be very careful

user24: healthy teammate relationships (for now) ??? is this what heaven is like

user25: are you telling me that if max doesn't get the lead in the first lap he might actually HELP charles .... a certain spanish individual could never

charles_leclerc

liked by maxverstappen1, yourusername and 2,778,451 others

tagged: yourusername, maxverstappen1

charles_leclerc: wow !! a 1 - 2 in our first race i couldn't be happier. this car is a dream to drive and i'm so grateful to red bull for being so welcoming. teamwork makes the dream work

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user26: tears in my eyes

user27: okay i understand both of them are like with their forever partners but lestappen is also real TWO THINGS CAN EXIST AT ONCE

yourusername: SHARLIE OMG YOU TALENTED, TALENTED KING

charles_leclerc: I LOVE YOU SO MUCH

yourusername: crying sesh. sharlie's drivers room @ 8. bring your own alcohol and tissues

charles_leclerc: just to make sure everyone knows THESE ARE HAPPY TEARS

landonorris: SAP ALERT GET IT TOGETHER MAN

yourusername: i know lando no-wins ain't talking rn 🤨

charles_leclerc: you walked into that one buddy

landonorris: just because i'm friends with carlos doesn't mean you have to come after me like him ...

this comment has been deleted

yourusername: bold... real bold. you're lucky i'm doing meditation and yoga (and that i want to make a good impression on christian)

alexalbon: lando do NOT look at the text she just sent your your ego CANNOT take it

user28: no no no do spill... i need the ammo if he ever takes out my fave

user29: true i need it for the next time either of the ugly twins at ferrari open their gobs

oscarpiastri: it was brutal. they need to get y/n to host the reading challenge on drag race

yourusername: oscar knows drag race?

oscarpiastri: i might be an athlete but i'm not completely uncultured

maxverstappen1: if we're talking being cultured... GET READY FOR YOUR FIRST RED BULL PARTY

yourusername: born ready my university years singlehandedly financed your 'catering budget'

charles_leclerc: no really i think she's actually addicted to the tropical one

maxverstappen1: are you FUCKING KIDDING ME? IT WAS YOU WHO DRANK ALL OF THEM

yourusername: and what?

maxverstappen1: idk i'm still kinda scared of you

user30: the way charles deflected the questions about fred and sainz ? WE'RE FREEEEEEEEE

yourusername

liked by taylorswift, charles_leclerc and 1,311,723 others

tagged: charles_leclerc

yourusername: i wanna be your end game <3

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user32: you guys better be end game or like you're paying for my therapy

user33: i respect her dedication to go to every race, make ferrari staff tremble in fear and pull LOOKS

charles_leclerc: i want to be your first string

yourusername: what if we just called taylor up?

charles_leclerc: you know here you call her i'm nervous

yourusername: @taylorswift paris night one, lover and this is me trying ft. charles on the piano?

taylorswift: sure thing

charles_leclerc: why was that so easy?

yourusername: better get practising baby

charles_leclerc: OH GOD

user34: how did we get red bull charles and a taylor collab in one year?

user35: i guess we used up charles' good luck from the last four years SORRY CHARLES

charles_leclerc: i guess you're forgiven...

maxverstappen1: so could you like tell me what you'd call me if i hypothetically fucked charles over... i'm not gonna but like i need to mentally prepare myself to hear it

yourusername: i have faith in you so i haven't thought that far ahead

maxverstappen1: can you please not be too mean i can't take it

charles_leclerc: you wanna come to therapy with me buddy?

maxverstappen1: i think i might

yourusername: when we entered the reputation era i did not think it would lead to taking max verstappen to therapy

maxverstappen1: and taylor swift?

yourusername: ... and taylor swift

user36: this is all very cute and all but can we have mean y/n back

user37: when will yall learn that reputation is a love album and y/n and charles are just loving each other freely

user38: but mean y/n did teach someone a lesson in not spreading false rumours cause them tabloids have been QUIET

f1tea

liked by user43, user44 and 7,233 others

f1tea: carlos sainz was caught liking these tweets about charles leclerc and y/n y/ln, what do you think?

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user45: put me in the ring with carlos i am being so serious

user46: okay for a while i was on the fence about y/n and how intense she was being but like seeing this shit and realising it was probably what was being said in the garage she needed to do more

user47: for real if someone said that about my boyfriend i'd be in prison

user48: so charles and y/n were under contract to not say a word out of line about ferrari or anything to do with ferrari and this guy is out here liking this

user49: call me a conspiracy theorist but this was his public account... he meant for people to find it and wants people to know this stuff

user50: this is why he DNFed in the first race KARMA

user51: maybe this is why he's always the one with relationship issues bro clearly has no loyalty

user52: charles has never said anything about him even now and y/n only said something in retaliation

user53: fuck peace and love y/n needs to give this man hell

user54: read him for filth

user55: bro needs to keep his twitter fingers to himself and focus on not being in the wall ❤️

charles_leclerc

liked by maxverstappen1, yourusername and 2,311,885 others

tagged: yourusername

charles_leclerc: this is why we can't have nice things, darling

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user56: this is the most response we'll ever get from charles i fear

user57: allow me to elaborate: this is why we can't have nice things by taylor swift is about 'forgiving' the people who wronged you but she literally says "and here's to you because forgiveness is a nice thing to do... i can't even say it with a straight face" so basically charles doesn't forgive carlos or fred. and it specifically shouts out her family and friends and lover for sticking with her which is what charles' family, friends and y/n have done

liked by charles_leclerc

user58: thank you for service

yourusername: i'm reading what they call you lately (it says you're a race winner and a title contender)

charles_leclerc: got a taste of the celebrations and can't get enough

maxverstappen1: KEEP IT PG THERE ARE CHILDREN HERE

charles_leclerc: you're older than me

yourusername: all we said were celebrations, if anything you have the dirty mind 🤨

maxverstappen1: i am usually in the room next to you, i hope this helps

charles_leclerc: our bad <3

maxverstappen1: you don't care do you?

yourusername: not really no. when we get to the same amount of wins as you maybe it'll wear off

maxverstappen1: not on my watch

user58: is this an entertaining title fight but without the bad blood?

user59: and nowhere near ferrari? bless

alexalbon: i hate that i understand all these references

yourusername: lily trained you well

lilymunhe: like a drill sergeant

yourusername: as you should

sebastianvettel: proud of you charlie, i'm glad you're not wasting your talent

charles_leclerc: i love you seb, i'm sorry it took so long

sebastianvettel: make sure you win here, we can be ferrari failures together

yourusername: *ferrari failed you

sebastianvettel: i knew there was a reason i liked you

fin.

note: SOZ. so like i am still working on requests but that radio message FUCKED ME UP. so this had to happen. glad my queen girls (max and charles) did well today, hope you enjoyed !!!

#f1 #f1 x you #f1 instagram au #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 social media au #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc instagram edit #charles leclerc #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc x female reader #charles leclerc social media au

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5sospenguinqueen · 10 months ago

Text

Post Tension | Charles Leclerc x McLaren! Reader

Summary: Back in the same country, Charles realises that the most important thing isn't winning; it's that he was wrong.

Warnings: Swearing, female reader, Verstappen! Reader. Tooth-rotting fluff.

This is the final part!

Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 3

Main Masterlist

━━━━━━ ༻𖥸༺ ━━━━━��

YourUserName just posted

liked by arthur_leclerc, kellypiquet and others

YourUserName something in the orange tells me we're not done

7,956 comments

User 1 excuse me, miss thing?!?!

User 2 not miss verstappen posting this on media day when charles and her were spotted in the background of each other's interviews

francisca.cgomes that silhoutte pic is serving 🔥

User 3 just me or does that bear have a ferrari hoodie on

User 4 he is not the love of your life. he is literally just a guy. hit him with your car

→ User 1 nah 'cause does anyone else think charles would run her off the track if she got ahead of him again

→ User 5 wtf that's his girlfriend? he wouldn't try and hurt her

→ User 6 he did push max in a puddle once

lilymhe @ alex_albon why don't you buy me this stuff

→ alex_albon because you don't support McLaren

→ YourUserName excuse me?!?! what is this betrayal

→ lilymhe @ YourUserName i can explain

━━━━━━ ༻𖥸༺ ━━━━━━

User 7 mum and dad putting those cheating rumours to rest

User 8 y/n a stronger woman than me because i would've keyed his car for implying i was sleeping with my teammate

→ User 9 actually it was arthur who implied that

→ User 10 don't drag baby leclerc into this. he was fighting in the trenches alongside us for his otp

━━━━━━ ༻𖥸༺ ━━━━━━

scuderiaferrari just posted

liked by pierregasly, carlossainz55 and others

scuderiaferrari P4 and P8. A strong weekend for the tifosi 💪

tagged: charles_leclerc, carlossainz55

6,459 comments

User 9 i can't decide what i want to ride more

User 10 scoring some points in azerbaijan. well done, team

charles_leclerc why are you not posting the photos of me being #1 wag

→ YourUserName because this account doesn't post papaya, liefje

→ charles_leclerc no excuse

→ lilymhe because you are not #1 wag, clearly i am the only wag for @ YourUserName

→ charles_leclerc defamation

→ YourUserName @ lilymhe you tell 'em, bby

→ alex_albon i leave you alone for two seconds and you're stealing my girlfriend again

User 11 be still my beating heart

mclaren just posted

liked by charles_leclerc, georgerussell63 and others

mclaren P3 and P5. roll on the points for team papaya (ft mclaren's #1 wag)

tagged: YourUserName

7,321 comments

mclaren we apologise for interrupting your regularly scheduled papaya posts with a splash of red but you'll never guess who this racer was looking at to make him smile like that

→ maxverstappen1 sickening

→ charles_leclerc i am honoured to be awarded such a prestigious title by team mclaren

→ landonorris does this mean i can stop pretending to like y/n now?

→ charles_ leclerc @ landonorris no

→ YourUserName @ landonorris no. you're my emotional support pookie

User 11 so proud of our papayas. they did so good this weekend

User 12 i'd let y/n hit me with her car

liked by charles_leclerc

victoriaverstappen couldn't be prouder of you! 💕

maxverstappen1 just posted

liked by victoriaverstappen, kellypiquet and others

maxverstappen1 a disappointing dnf but very pleased for the less-famous verstappen 🧡

8,066 comments

redbullracing still made us proud. we'll come back stronger in france

kellypiquet well done y/n. p was cheering you on

→ YourUserName tell her i'm coming over for a pizza party soon! 🥰

YourUserName i swear he loves me really, guys

→ charles_leclerc well he threatened to run me off the track if i didn't fix things so i'd say he does

→ maxverstappen1 for legal reasons, this is a joke

→ YourUserName ah, so that's why you apologised. not because of your undying love for me

landonorris feel like that should say the more talented verstappen

liked by YourUserName, charles_leclerc

danielricciardo don't let this fool you. the man was close to tears when y/n was p1 with just one lap to go

→ danielricciardo and then cried when her tire burst

→ danielricciardo and then cried when she finished p3

→ maxverstappen1 i'll sue you for defemation

→ User13 the Grid seemed to have learned a new word this week

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YourUserName just posted

liked by landonorris, maxverstappen1 and others

YourUserName ik houd van je

tagged: charles_leclerc

6,124 comments

charles_lecerlc je sais

→ YourUserName never going to let me forget that one, are you

→ charles_leclerc no

→ maxverstappen1 no

→ danielricciardo no

→ landonorris no

→ arthur_leclerc no

→ pierregasly no

→ victoriaverstappen no

→ lilymhe no

YourUserName how about everybody get off my dick

→ YourUserName my only friends here are the lovely ladies thirsting over my hot boyfriend with me

→ User 14 you tell 'em, honey

charles_leclerc just posted

liked by landonorris, redbullracing and others

charles_lecerlc as the people on twitter say, i would let y/n hit me with her car

8,593 comments

maxverstappen1 my eyes 🤮

→ charles_leclerc look away! i was going to block you for this

→ maxverstappen1 block me forever

YourUserName wow, not even a tag.

→ charles_leclerc everyone knows who you belong to, mon amour

→ YourUserName yeah, the guy who invented ice cream

→ landonorris @ charles_leclerc at least you know what to do if the racing thing doesn't work out

━━━━━━ ༻𖥸༺ ━━━━━━

Thank you for all the support shown on this series. I never expected such a response when I posted my silly little fic.

I've had so much fun making these. I have a few more ideas coming up but not loads so if you have any, please do request and I'll try my best to do them justice! <3

━━━━━━ ༻𖥸༺ ━━━━━━

Tag list: @mehrmonga @luvsforme @lemon-lav @missenclod @halleest @formula1mount @k4marina @evie-119 @letmeseeyougotowork @sleepybrokenmelle @eiaaasamantha @tinyhrry @janeholt3 @allywthsr @callsignwidow @raizelchrysanderoctavius @prudyhoo @valentinanappipage @leah-also-known-as-creatoronwp @delululeclerc @e-nonsense @scott-mccall-could-lift-mjolnir @butterfliesflyaroundmymind @bloodyymaryyy @kqliie @lifeless-firefly @woozarts @silverxxs-world @personwhoisther @eugene-emt-roe @anthonykatebridgerton @qualitygiantshoepsychic @entr4p3 @carpediem241108 @forevercaffeinated-lee @xyzstar @theendofthematerialgworl @geniusalpaca @chfiosr

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23victoria · 7 months ago

Text

slow motion

pairing: oscar piastri x fem!reader

word count: 1.3k

warnings: smut (wrap it before you tap it), cussing, fluff, i think that’s it

authors note: it’s been a min so i need to get something out to you guys!! hope it’s not bad and ignore any typos! ALSO SO PROUD OF OSCAR!!! HE DESERVED THATS WIN!! LOVE HIM SM!! any feedback is appreciated and please like, comment, and reblog!! hope you enjoy!!

wanna be tagged in my works?! CLICK HERE!

f1 masterlist 1k celebration

“What the fuck, why would they do that?!”

The frustration coursed through you as McLaren’s decision to box Lando first flashed across the screen. Oscar was leading the race, on the brink of his first victory, and yet they chose to pit Lando first. It didn’t make any sense. Every nerve in your body was on edge as you watched the race unfold. The radio messages about switching positions were maddening. It felt like McLaren was orchestrating the race rather than letting it happen naturally.

Finally, when the order came for Lando to let Oscar through, you felt a mixture of relief and lingering irritation. This was Oscar’s moment, his hard-fought victory, but the team’s strategy had cast a shadow over it, making it seem as if it was a gift rather than something he had earned.

When it was time for the podium celebration, your heart swelled with pride. Watching Oscar spray the champagne, his face illuminated with joy, was everything you had dreamed of. The crowd’s cheers echoed in your ears, and you could hardly contain your excitement. He had done it. He had won his first F1 race, and you were bursting with happiness for him.

After the celebrations, you and Oscar are on the way to the hotel. "McLaren needs to get their stuff together," you told him, shaking your head. "They almost ruined it with their strategy. But you, babe, you were amazing out there. You earned that victory."

Oscar smiled, a tired but satisfied look on his face. "Thank you. I can't wait to go home and sleep."

You shook your head playfully. "Oh no, we have dinner tonight. We're celebrating, sorry not sorry."

He groaned, half-jokingly. "Can't we just stay in?"

"Absolutely not," you insisted, laughing. "We're going to have a nice dinner, drink, dance, and celebrate your victory properly."

The dinner party was a nice turnout. Friends and fellow racers gathered around, the atmosphere buzzing with excitement and congratulations. You and Oscar mingled, shared drinks, and danced, reveling in the celebratory mood. Laughter and cheers filled the air, making the night unforgettable.

On the way to the hotel in the car, you couldn’t keep your hands off Oscar. The excitment from the victory was still coursing through both of you, and your desire for him was at an all-time high. You leaned in, kissing his neck softly at first, then more urgently, as your hands roamed over his chest. He tilted his head back, giving you better access as you whispered dirty words into his ear, your breath hot against his skin.

"You're so amazing, Oscar," you murmured, your voice low and seductive. "I can't wait to get you back to the hotel."

He groaned softly, his eyes darkening with desire. "You're driving me crazy, Y/N."

"Sit on the bed," you instructed him, a mischievous glint in your eye.

As soon as you reached the hotel room, you pushed him inside, locking the door behind you. "Sit on the bed," you instructed, your voice commanding yet playful.

Oscar obeyed, his gaze never leaving yours. You slowly began to undress, swaying your hips seductively as you removed each piece of clothing. His eyes followed every movement, his breath hitching as you revealed more of your skin.

Clad only in your lingerie, you straddled his lap, feeling his arousal pressing against you. You ground your hips against him, eliciting a deep moan from his lips. Your hands roamed over his chest, teasing and caressing as you kissed him deeply, your tongue exploring his mouth.

He reached out to touch you, but you pushed his hands away playfully. "Not yet," you teased, moving his hands to his sides as you continued to dance for him. You could feel his arousal growing beneath you, adding to the heat between you.

Finally, you couldn't take it any longer. You pushed him onto the bed and climbed over him, your hands deftly unzipping his pants. You kissed his neck, nibbling on his skin as your hands roamed his body, teasing and tantalizing.

You pushed him back onto the bed, crawling over him with a mischievous glint in your eye. Your fingers deftly unzipped his pants, freeing his erection. You kissed down his chest, trailing your lips lower and lower until you reached his hard length. You took him into your mouth, your tongue swirling around the tip before taking him deeper, your hand stroking what your mouth couldn't reach.

Oscar's hands tangled in your hair, guiding your movements as he groaned with pleasure. "Fuck baby, that feels so good," he breathed, his voice husky with desire.

You slowly sucked his cock, taking your time to pleasure him until he was teetering on the edge. Then, you pulled back kissing his tip, climbing back up to straddle his hips. You guided him inside you, both of you gasping at the sensation. You moved slowly at first, savoring the feeling of him filling you completely. Then, you began to ride him harder, your movements becoming more urgent as the pleasure built between you.

Oscar's hands gripped your hips firmly, his fingers digging into your skin as he helped guide your movements. You rode him slowly at first, savoring the feeling of him filling you completely. The room was filled with the sounds of your heavy breathing, your moans mingling with the rhythmic slap of skin against skin. Every movement sent waves of pleasure coursing through your body.

You leaned down to kiss him, your lips meeting his in a passionate embrace. Your tongues danced together, the kiss deepening as your bodies moved in perfect harmony. You felt his muscles tense beneath you, his breath hot against your mouth as he groaned with pleasure.

"God, you feel so good," he murmured against your lips, his voice thick with desire. His hands roamed up your back, pulling you closer as you continued to move together.

You began to ride him harder, your hips moving with increasing urgency. The friction between your bodies was intoxicating, each thrust bringing you closer to the edge. Oscar's hands moved to your breasts, his thumbs brushing over your hardened nipples, sending jolts of pleasure straight to your core.

Just when you thought you couldn't take any more, Oscar suddenly flipped you onto your back, taking control. He thrust into you with a new intensity, his movements faster and harder than before. The change in angle sent shockwaves of pleasure through your body, making you cry out his name.

He leaned down, capturing your lips in a fierce kiss as he drove into you. "You're mine," he growled against your mouth, his voice raw with passion. "Every inch of you."

"Yes, Osc," you gasped, wrapping your legs around his waist, pulling him deeper. "I'm yours. Always."

His pace quickened, his hips slamming into yours with a relentless rhythm. The room was filled with the sounds of your moans and the wet, rhythmic slap of skin against skin. His name fell from your lips in a litany of pleasure as he brought you closer and closer to the brink.

"Come for me, Y/N," he commanded, his voice a low, sexy growl in your ear.

His words sent you over the edge. Your body tensed, a powerful orgasm ripping through you. You cried out, your nails digging into his back as you clung to him. Oscar followed soon after, his own release hitting him hard. He buried his face in your neck, groaning your name as he filled you with his warmth.

You lay there together, your bodies entwined, both of you breathing heavily as you came down from the high. Oscar gently brushed a strand of hair from your face, his eyes filled with love and satisfaction.

"I love you," he whispered, his voice tender.

"I love you too, baby," you replied, pulling him into a soft, lingering kiss.

✿ .° • everything taglist • °. ✿ : @ham1lton @ietss @animeandf1lover @nelly187 @heartsfromtaeyong @bloodyymaryyy @nor-4 @zacian117 @mel164 @uhhvictoria @hadidsworld @zabwlky1999 @sya-skies @lillysbigwilly @avengers-assemble123456 @santanasaintmendes @km-23mr @hookhausenschips @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @Ronpho @minekarina @formula1-motogpfa @slagclarens

✿ .° • oscar taglist • °. ✿ : @tellybearryyyy @exotic-iris13 @magixpracticality @eoduuung @eternoangel l @ihtscuddlesbeeetchx3 @flowerpetalk @oledoledoffen

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bunny-jpeg · 7 months ago

Note

Hi hello good day! May I order an extra spicy mille-feuille with a side of mocha coffee for John Price please?

bakery menu

want to order your own dessert? the bakery is still open! always accepting prompts especially from call of duty and formula one! get kinky! get sexy! order up!

mille-feuille (“that’s it, fuck, that’s a good girl.”) + mocha coffee (breeding kink) served by capt. john price!

cw: smut/pwp, breeding kink, rough sex, wife!reader, husband!price, age gap (20s/40s), doggy style

price had a pretty wife! price had a pretty wife! johnny said in a sing-song voice when price returned to base after a "sabbatical", the other men knew what was up the moment he took off his gloves and there was a shiny gold band on his left ring finger.

captain jonathan price of task force 141 had bagged himself a missus!

while johnny's comments were juvinile, it was all in good fun. price never talked about you a lot on base. off base, the boys of 141 had met you and eaten your cooking. but, price kept you close to his chest.

he didn't want anything to happen to you.

when johnny gave him a shove of congratulations, price narrowed his eyes at the younger man, "i am still your captain. don't forget that mactavish."

"of course sir!" johnny laughed as he scratched his jaw, "just 'appy for ya!"

"so what's the plan now?" kyle asked as he gave his captain a firm handshake. in all fairness all three men were curious. you had the house, the ring, what was next for the price's?

price leaned back a little in his chair and shrugged, "well, we're tryin' for a kid when i get back. she's worried by the time i finally retire all her eggs will have dried up!" then gave a hearty laugh, "feels good bein' married to my wife. she a good woman!"

price was anxious to go home the second he left home for the next mission for the task force. so the day he got to return to his wife, he was all smiles as he took his belongings back home.

his cock was also painfully hard. he hadn't had the chance to relieve himself in a few days, so his cock was aching for a release. and no better place to put it than in his pretty wife.

he pulled up to the house that you two had been living in before you got married. he got his belongings and headed to the front door. when he knocked on the door, he heard the yapping of your dog.

"pumpkin! stop! down!" he heard your voice and smiled. when the door finally opened, he was instantly met with your arms around him. he held you as best as he could.

"hello, love." he smiled.

you kissed him off the lips and took his boonie hat off. you put it on your head before you giggled and took his hand. you brought him inside and price got a full view of what you were wearing.

the tank top was too tight and the sleeping shorts were too short. he made a face and said, "you've been wearin' that while i'm gone?"

you looked at him and said, "yeah? and the ring too!" then burst into laughter, "i'm joking, honey. i put this on for you. i was excited to see my husband."

price knew from the moment he met you, that he could never say no to you. he just loved you so much, it was almost an ache when he was apart from you.

he knew very well that you were leading him upstairs to the bedroom. he gave pumpkin, your german shepherd a pet and a promise they'll watch coronation street when he was done with her "mama."

price waved to the dog who was sitting there confused what her mama and papa were doing. he closed the door and you were on the bed, the tank top and shorts were off. leaving you in a cute mismatched pair of bra and panties.

you looked so adorable. it made price's cock twitch in his pants. such a pretty little wife. a wife he wanted to dick down and breed until you were nice and round with his children.

oh, he hoped you weren't stopping at one price baby. he was thinking at least three, maybe five if he can stick a pair of twins into you. (irish twins would just have to do if that didn't work! price was a man of many plans!)

he got out of his clothes, his hairy body made you drool. along with the strength in his muscles. you swallowed when he invaded your space and took off your under garments. it was like opening a present.

"my beautiful wife." he said. he took you and got you on your elbows and knees, even getting your pillow to put under your head. he took in the sight of you, back arched for him. ready to accept all he'll give you. he rubbed your ass “that’s it, fuck, that’s a good girl.”

you whimpered against the pillow and felt your husband behind you. you held onto the covers under your head and sighed contently. your pussy was wet, he could clearly see that.

usually he had a cup of tea when he got home, but this was just as good. if not better. he knelt behind you and stroked his cock a few times at the sight of you.

his tip was leaky and his balls felt heavy. such a pretty sight, a submissive little wife (it was the only time you were actually submissive. price knew he married a firecracker!). he rubbed the slick tip up against your slit.

"pretty girl." he purred, then slowly sank into your sweet pussy. his hands on your hips as he pushed in. he heard a sweet moan and watched your back arch more.

"john. please." you panted as you held onto the covers.

"i got ya, love. always got ya." he started his pace, his thrusts were hard but steady. sex was rough, but it made it all feel so good in your bones. it felt like two parts of the same whole.

you were perfect for one another, even when he was breeding your sweet little pussy. he thrust against you, watching your ass jiggle at the force of his movements.

he felt the sweat dip down his back as he moved against you, his heart raced as he felt snug in his wife's pussy. you were just perfect, the most amazing little thing he had ever laid his eyes on. a gift from the heavens for him.

his sweet woman.

"john. please, i love you so much. i can't wait to start a family with you. you're perfect, i love you. you've made me the happiest i could be!" you whined into the pillow. you held onto it under your head.

"i love when you say my name, love. sounds so right on your tongue." he laughed as if he didn't have the most common name in the world. but the way it rolled off your tongue while he was balls deep inside of you made him feel good.

you whined in between your giggle as his soft words. even if his thrusts were hard. he melted you to your core and made you hot all over. it was erotic and it made you sweat.

the two of you continued to move together, his calloused fingers dug into the meat of your hips, enough to leave bruises.

"such a pretty girl."

the sex became harder, like a carnal need for the two of you to reach climax. for him to breed you, he pressed his chest against your back and wrapped both of those strong arms around your middle.

you whined and he panted heavily in your ear. he ached all over for you. his cock bullied into you and his breath was ragged.

"john."

"my girl. my wife." he purred and it sent you over the edge. like fire in your veins.

you clutched onto the bed under you, your back arched and you climaxed. you felt it take the air out of your lungs as he continued to batter your pussy. all in the name of growing your family.

your core throb as his continued movements. you panted heavily and let him get close to his own orgasm. his forearms clenched around you as he

he finished inside of you, and dropped his arms from around you waist. he slowed down and then pulled out. he took you into his arms and kissed at your sweaty neck.

"mmm, my good wife." he said with love in his voice. his cock was still painfully hard. one round wasn't going to make sure his little missus got knocked up! he rubbed his slick cock against your back and said, "perfect for me. we're gonna make a big family, love."

you smiled while still panting and held onto him tightly. you could feel your husband's love as he spooned you. he kissed your neck tenderly and you said, "get me some water and we can go again."

you rubbed your achy middle when you felt your son shift against your kidneys. you then poked your belly, "you calm down there." currently he was known as john jr. but you were convincing your amazing, lovely, handsome husband that there were more names than just john.

for now, he was known as peanut. you checked the noodles for the pasta dinner while price was chopping up the mushrooms for the sauce. his sleeves were rolled and those strong arms were on display.

you made a face,

you looked at pumpkin who was seated by your feet, waiting for her chance to have just one noodle. you chuckled and looked at price while you bent down a little to feed the german shepherd one of the penne noodles before you went back to the noodles

"i saw that." price said with a chuckle even if he back was turned to you. he was smiling however. he wouldn't expect anything different from you. when he finished with the mushrooms, he slung a bulky arm around your middle and kissed your cheek.

you turned your head to look at him and giggled, "i love you."

he kissed you on the lips then said, "i love you more. now and forever."

#bunny writes #the bakery #call of duty #reader insert #call of duty smut #call of duty x reader #call of duty modern warfare #price mw2 #john price #captain john price #captain price #price #captain john price x reader #john price x reader #john price cod #captain john price smut #captain price x reader #john price smut

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soaps-mohawk · 6 months ago

Text

I'm going to be honest

I'm having a genuinely hard time making this post. I've been fighting with it for a couple weeks now, but I think it's time I finally make it.

I'm not having fun on this blog anymore.

It sounds bad, but honestly, it kind of is.

I think a lot of it started from the very beginning with the precedence and expectations I put on myself. I've always tried to respond to every comment I get. Even from the beginning. It's just a polite thing to do since those who leave comments took the time to write out what they think of my fic, even if it's just a keysmash. I've always felt the need to thank those who leave comments or reblog my writing or (now that tumblr has it) replied to my fics. It worked fine before because none of my fics were particularly popular. Even my most popular fic (at that time) didn't get as much attention as CRCB has. I've never had a "big blog" before, nor a fic as popular as CRCB has gotten.

It was fine at first, responding to everyone, engaging with everyone. I was riding that high of omg so many people are reading and enjoying my fic! I've never had anything quite like this before.

Now...it just feels more like a chore. I set this precedence on this blog that I respond to everyone and I know a lot of people have said that they're surprised I responded to them and to everyone, and now I'm getting why a lot of writers don't. I'm exhausted. I feel like I've just been robotically saying the same thing over and over trying to respond to people now. I used to love seeing asks in my inbox and reblogs and replies but now? All I feel is dread because I have to respond to all of those.

Turning anon off was a big help. It lessened the sheer volume of asks I was getting a day. And while I do feel bad for all of my anons who prefer to stay anons, with everything that happened (the multiple incidents) with anon that kind of started to suck the joy out of everything. That paired with the obsessive need to constantly have my inbox cleared and make sure everyone gets a response...I can understand now too why big blogs will have 200+ asks in their inbox. It's hard and it's exhausting and I'm burning out.

First it was the fic that was burning me out. Things have gone on far longer than I planned and I just wasn't prepared for this fic to go on and for a while there it was dragging. I'll admit that. If I could go back, I'd speed up a few things, but it's done, it's posted there's no going back. I kind of hoped I would have the mental capacity to upload more than once a week too, but I just couldn't. I still can't.

I've come to dread posting chapters because I know I'm going to have to reply and respond to everyone. The only thing keeping me posting is the fact that we're in the part of the story I've been excited about since the beginning and also because I keep leaving everyone on cliffhangers and I love torturing y'all with all of them.

So that being said, this is in no way to shame anyone for interacting with me, anyone leaving comments or replies or sending asks. Don't feel bad about doing it please. I appreciate all of you that have engaged with me and it really means so much to me. Honestly, earlier this year, if I didn't have this fic and everyone on this blog, I might not have made it to now. It's been a really rough year and it's still going to be into next year. It's just getting to the point where I need a break.

I've needed a break for a long time. I thought taking days off the blog would help, and it did for a couple of weeks, but now even on the days I'm supposed to be on the blog and engaging, I just find myself queueing stuff up and just being offline most of the day still.

I'm tired. That's the best reason I can give. I'm tired and burned out on life and I'm tired and burned out on this blog.

So...I think I need a break. I need to not keep responding to every single reply and reblog every chapter. I need to not force myself to answer every ask right away, no matter how much I want to. I feel bad, but I know everyone would rather have me here and enjoying the blog than forcing myself to interact to the point where I'm dreading it and just robotically repeating myself over and over with every reply and answer and comment.

I won't be pausing the fic, I won't be not uploading. I'll still be posting chapters, I just might not be interacting as much as I have been. It's just putting such a mental strain on me still, even with anon off, even with days off. And with things getting busier for me, it's going to be too much to try and deal with irl stuff and write and try to be super active on the blog. There's going to come a point where I have to sacrifice the writing or the blog and I'd rather sacrifice the blog to keep myself sane, and also to keep trying to finally get this fic done. I love this fic, don't get me wrong, but I'm just burning out.

I'm already burned out in a lot of ways.

I was planning kinktober this year but honestly I'm considering not doing it because I know interaction is going to be insane and it's going to be a lot to keep up on. Plus trying to write that many fics is hard and I'm not sure I have the ability to do it. I have a few done but now I'm just like...is that something I want to do on top of irl stuff and CRCB.

There's just no joy in it anymore. It's not anyone's fault but mine. I put the pressure on myself, I held myself to that standard for this long despite the fact I knew it was draining me. I've tried to push through when I should have prioritized myself. I feel so guilty not responding to everyone. I feel so guilty being a day or two late responding to everyone.

I want to be here and interacting and responding to things but I just can't bring myself to anymore. It's no one's fault, and this is not a drag on anyone, or an attempt to make anyone feel bad or guilty for interacting or sending asks or anything. I'm just airing out the truth and saying what I need to say because I feel like I've been so robotic and lifeless with my responses these last couple weeks and I feel like I need to explain why. It's nothing anyone has done. It's my fault. It's 100% my fault.

Things have just gotten to be too much and it's my fault for forcing myself to be so active. The social battery has dropped into the negatives. I'm not a social person. I can only handle so much interaction and I've pushed so far beyond that, that things have gotten to this point. I want to be here and I want to have fun and I want to use this as an escape but I just don't feel that way about it anymore. It's a chore for me, a job, something I feel like I have to do and it's my fault that I feel that way. It's my own standards and expectations I set on myself, and my expectations on what I think my followers want and deserve and now I feel like I've gone on too long like this that I can't change things without hurting anyone's feelings. I don't want people to think I'm ignoring them in favor of others because I know there's writers out there that do that. They only respond to a certain group and ignore others that comment and reblog. I don't want to make anyone feel like I'm doing that to them and that's now led me to here.

I'm forcing it and I'm tired.

It's been hard these last few weeks. The life has just been draining and draining continuously. The joy and the love I have for this blog and my followers and the interactions and the fic. The last anon bullshit that happened was just kind of the last nail in the coffin so to speak. The straw that broke the camel's back. Things stopped being fun. It made me feel bad (and not in the guilty way, though that was a part of it) and I'm honestly just over it. I'm over the blog, I'm over interacting, I'm over life at this point. August is a hard month for me and every year it seems to get worse and worse. A lot of it is unrelated to anything online and I was going to make a post about it but honestly I just don't want to. Those that know, know. Those that don't...it doesn't matter.

I'm getting annoyed by the blog, I'm getting annoyed every time I look in my notifications and see an ask or a reply or a comment. I'm getting annoyed by some of my followers and that's not fair to you. Everyone always talks about how nice and kind and patient I am when I'm really not. I'm not the person I present myself to be on this blog, the way I mask myself so I can present myself as being a normal, kind human being. The mask is coming off because I'm so tired I can't keep it up anymore. It's happening here and it's happening in real life. I'm tired and I'm frustrated and I'm angry at a lot of things and the last thing I want is to start taking it out on my followers. You don't deserve that, especially when it's not your fault, it's nothing any of you have done. It's all me.

It's not you, it's me.

So for the sake of not burning this whole thing to the ground, I'm going to take a break. I'm not replying to everyone, I'm not responding to every reblog, I won't reply to every ask I get right away, if at all because sometimes I just don't have anything to say in response and I need to learn that's okay. It's nothing against you. It's not aimed at anyone specifically, I'm just trying to put myself first and stop things from escalating. I need a break and I'm going to do something selfish and I'm going to take it.

Don't apologize because it's not your fault. Don't apologize because you think you might have contributed to this because you didn't. It is no one's fault but my own.

I'm the one that needs to apologize to all of you because I've just not been myself because I've been forcing myself to be someone I'm not. I've been very unfair to a lot of people over the last seven months that this blog has been active and I've held a precedent that is not sustainable in the long run and made everyone believe that I was capable of maintaining that kind of interaction when I'm not.

I'm sorry. I'm sorry I've been putting everyone through this. I'm sorry I've been so detached and robotic and ingenuine. I'm sorry I led everyone to believe I'm someone I'm not. I'm sorry I've dragged this on this long that it's gotten to the point that I have to make this post.

I considered just disappearing but that wouldn't be fair to you either. I don't want to put you through that, so I'm pouring all of my thoughts out and making you read through this fucking novel of a post. If you've made it this far, then congrats I guess. Gold metals to you who bothered reading this far.

Anyway, all of that aside, I'll still be posting chapters. I'll have them scheduled and I'll probably come on and add links places to keep things current. I'll respond and reply and answer asks when I feel like it. You don't have to stop sending them, but just don't expect them to be responded to right away anymore. I'll probably still be here reblogging things I want and doing things when I feel like it.

I just need a few weeks to myself. Time I don't have to care about the blog at all and keeping up with it. Anon will remain off for the sake of keeping asshole trolls away, and also so I don't open tumblr and have 200 asks in my inbox after a week. Sorry to my anons but it's just the way it needs to be right now. Maybe once this break is over and I've dealt with irl stuff, I'll consider putting it back on. I just can't after everything I dealt with recently on anon.

It'll be the same on Ao3, for those that follow here and read there. Comments will probably sit for a while. They won't be answered right away anymore unless I get the energy to burn through them. Even then I won't try to answer them all at once like I did this last weekend.

I'll try to reblog something every day so y'all know I'm alright. I don't want y'all to panic and it's not fair to put you through that, especially those that might not see this or bother reading it. Those that follow simply for the fic and nothing else. I'm here, I'm just not...here.

This week's chapter is in the queue to be posted tomorrow as usual. Chapters will still come out as planned since I'm not stopping writing, just taking a break from the blog itself.

Thank you those of you who stuck through to the end here. I appreciate all of you so much. You have no idea. I'm sorry I let things get to this point and I'm sorry to anyone that I've gotten rude or snappy with because I couldn't be selfish and put myself first. I'm sorry to anyone that got a robotic, repeated response to something they were probably excited to share. I'm sorry I've been so unfair to everyone and I hope you can forgive me.

Take care and I'll talk to everyone when I have the energy to.

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shurisneakers · 1 month ago

Text

unsolved (viii)

Summary: Bucky doesn't even believe in the paranormal. So who the hell thought it was a good idea to stick him in a series about everything haunted for the internet's amusement? With his loose-canon of a teammate who has no concept of subtlety or shits left to give, to make things even worse. (Buzzfeed unsolved AU)

Warnings: swearing, frustrated bucky, obnoxious reader, mentions of hauntings and the paranormal, the passage of time, panicking,

A/N: omg guys new banner reveal. i put a flower on that man because i felt like it. personally thrilled that we have made it this far because that means it's only 2 more chapters to 10 and then we're in double digits. also unsolved drabble requests are very welcome and encouraged please ily THANKS BYE

Previous part || Series masterlist

“I don’t get it,” Bucky says, hands stuffed into his jacket pockets.

Inside the room, the air is thick with dust and the scent of aged metal. The walls are lined with dark wooden beams, their surfaces weathered by time, and the faint smell of oil and rust lingers in the air.

“It’s a haunted clock tower,” you reply, walking up the stairs, floorboards creaking generously under you.

“I got that,” he retorts, “but what the hell is it supposed to haunt? All the search results were just some kids' show.”

In the center of the room stands the massive, intricate clock mechanism, the gears and cogs slowly gathering rust as the years have passed without maintenance. Moonlight through the giant clock face casts a faint glow into the dimly lit room.

“I’m surprised you checked the internet,” you tell him, “I didn’t know you knew how to do that.”

He rolls his eyes. “I was an undercover agent for 80 years. I know how to use technology.”

“You’re also older than the concept of time, so you can see how that may confuse some people,” you reply, taking a tour around the room. “Second, I’m surprised you checked the internet.”

“You already said that.”

You stop in your tracks, hand on your chest as you say, “Yes, but you’re researching things now? For our show? That’s real sweet, babygirl.”

He scoffs, shaking his head as he continues to climb up. “It was one Google search.”

“It’s one more than what you’ve done in the last 3 months,” you say, eyelashes fluttering comically at him before your demeanor returns to normal. “Anyway, there’s no like, ghost sightings here, per se–”

Bucky comes to a halt only two steps away from his door. “Then why are we here?”

“It’s still haunted, Bucky,” you chastise. “That doesn’t always mean ghosts. Maybe it could mean orbs. Or shadow people, like from the hospital–”

“Not a thing.”

The clock creaked and groaned, the hands inching forward, their motion sluggish and uneven, as if the gears hadn't been properly oiled in years. With every tick, a loud whine echoed through the tower, vibrating the air in the otherwise silent room.

“Ooh, maybe we’ll find our doppelgangers.” Your eyes shine. “What would you do with yours?”

“Nothing.” Steve met another version of himself once and immediately beat the shit out of it, if that was anything to go by.

“Not even a date?”

His eyebrows knit together, eyes creasing. “Why would I date my doppelganger?”

“Who’s gonna know you better than yourself? But the more important question is, would you fu–”

The noise from the clock grows more intense—a final, desperate groan before it comes to a jarring halt.

The ticking stops abruptly, leaving an unnatural silence hanging in the air. The hands remain frozen at 9.

Both of you are left staring at a now defunct clock.

“Clock died ‘cause of your stupid question,” Bucky comments, voice dry.

“Just say you don’t like modern philosophy and go.”

“Oh I’m going alright. Two hours and all we’ve gotten footage of is stairs, trash and a washout Big Ben.”

“Don’t insult Kinley Clock Tower like that,” you scold. “You’re gonna piss it off and it’s gonna haunt us for the rest of our days.”

Bucky gives you a flat look. “By doing what.”

“Showing you the wrong time wherever you go.”

“Devastating,” Bucky responds, not sounding fazed in the slightest. “Right, so nothing haunted here?”

“Maybe it’s haunted by the failure of proper clock maintenance.”

Bucky’s eyes sweep across the largely empty room one last time. “Other than that toolbox, place’s empty. Chalk this one up to bullshit and let’s go.”

You let out a deep sigh at the thought of a wasted evening. “Fine, but that means we have to find another idea for a video.”

“Use one of the reserves.”

“We’re gonna have to, if we can’t find anything by tomorrow.”

Bucky’s heavy footsteps echo through the staircase. “That is a problem for tomorrow-you to deal with.”

You let out a scoff, following behind. “Tomorrow-us.”

“No,” he replies thoughtfully. “Pretty sure I got it right.”

Whatever. You counted tonight as a win the second you managed to get Bucky out of the compound without having to lie out of your ass. He even threw in a Google search worth of research. And he even told you the batteries on the cameras were all charged. Small steps for a regular co-host, big step for Buckykind everywhere.

The elevator stops at his floor and he gets out, sending you a two finger wave on his way out.

Should I walk you to your door?” you throw in at the last minute, the makings of a smile on your face.

Bucky casts you an indignant look. “Why?”

“Chivalry, baby.” You grin, leaning against the wall of the elevator. “Didn't they literally invent it in your era?”

Bucky flips you the finger instead, not bothering to dignify you with a response. Your laughter subsides as the elevator closes on you with a ding.

Bucky sees a faint light in the hallway, and figures Steve’s slightly ajar door is its source. In between trudging back to his bedroom, he drops a quick knock on it.

“Come in,” Steve calls, voice deep from the sleepiness starting to set in. “Oh, you’re back.”

“Yeah,” Bucky replies from the doorway. “Shoot got done early.”

“Where’d you go?” he asks, laying down his book beside him.

“Kinley Tower,” Buck stands with his arms pulled over his chest, leaning against the doorway. “Place was a dud. Nothing to see.”

“What about other things?” Steve asks, curious but still casually indirect. “How was it?”

Bucky shrugs. “The same. Bounced right back, like nothing ever happened.”

“You still don’t know what Nat was talking about?”

“No,” Bucky replies, scratching the back of his neck, before hesitantly saying, “Should I be asking? I don’t know if we’re— y’know.”

“I’m pretty sure you’re friends by now, Buck.” Steve smiles briefly. “Wouldn’t hurt to check in.”

Well, Steve may be sure, but Bucky wasn’t. Then again Steve only had 1 best friend for over a hundred years until he met Sam, so how the fuck would he know.

Still, Bucky gives a curt nod, glancing around Steve’s room for any notable changed but coming up empty handed.

“You wanna tell me why there’s several charges on my card for tarot websites?” Steve picks up his book again, thumbing through the pages.

“Wasn’t me,” Bucky grunts.

“Seems a bit suspect after you did an episode on witchcraft,” Steve speaks without lifting an eye from his book. “Could just be me though.”

It catches him by surprise. “You watch our episodes?”

Steve quirks an eyebrow. “Yes? Every last one.”

“Oh,” Bucky mumbles, finding everything else in the room infinitely more interesting all of a sudden.

“Looks like it’s doing you some good,” Steve continues, turning back to his novel. “It’s nice to see you out and about.”

“What’s that s’pposed to mean?” Bucky gives him a look that could be seen as peeved if the blond hadn’t known him for as long has he had been alive.

Steve hides a smile. “Nothing. Left some apples on your nightstand. Eat it if you’re hungry.”

It forces Bucky to try to catch onto Steve's train of thought. Sure you hung out occasionally after work, but it wasn’t like you were hanging out on a friends basis. Bucky definitely would know if you were, because it would be a laborious task to even get him to consider leaving his bedroom. A thousand elephants would not be able to make him go do things that friends do.

So he stares at him for another whole minute waiting for a follow up, a clarification, but Steve makes no other comment, only turning the page of his novel.

Bucky finally leaves silently, shutting the door behind him.

Sure enough, there are apples and a fork on his nightstand. They were good too, crisp like Steve had gotten them from the market just today.

By eleven Bucky’s already in bed, eyes straining as he watches this woodworking guy on YouTube teach him how to make a dovetailed box. For no reason. And just because he heard Sam mention offhand that he needed a place for all his keys doesn’t mean Bucky was making it for him.

From: co-host

how about we take a road trip down to washington to go meet my dear friend

From: co-host

From: bucky (avengers) (guy with the hair)

what friend

mr quatch himself

From: co-host

first name ‘sas’

From: co-host

i’m talking about bigfoot

From: bucky (avengers) (guy with the hair)

yeah i got it

From: bucky (avengers) (guy with the hair)

when

From: co-host

well we’d have to start at 4am

From: bucky (avengers) (guy with the hair)

fuck no

From: bucky (avengers) (guy with the hair)how about something within a 5 mile radius

From: co-host

How about Sunday

Bucky switches his phone all the way off and tosses it onto the bed beside him, smothering his face into the pillow.

From: co-host

How about your mom

He’d deal with your nonsense tomorrow.

And probably fill the gas tank for a trip to Washington.

Bucky’s eyes snap open when the cold air hits his face. He keeps his window shut all the way,every single night.

He blinks several times before his eyes adjust to the darkness of his surroundings.

“Bucky?” a disembodied voice comes from beside him.

His head whips to the side, making him realise that one, he was standing, and two, he had no idea how long he’d been standing for.

Only, he finds you next to him, looking disoriented like you’d just been shaken awake from a nap.

“Where the hell–” your voice trails off as you take note of where you’d landed up.

In front of him, mechanical gears whine as they scrape against each other in a desperate attempt to move.

He peers down at his clothes; the same black t-shirt, jacket and cargo pants he distinctly remembers changed out of nearly an hour ago.

“What the fuck,” Bucky snaps. “Did you bring us back here?”

“No,” you say, face rigid, solemn. “I swear I didn’t. I was gonna ask you the same thing.”

Bucky’s shoulders loosen. “No, I was asleep.”

The wind rustles by, and everything looks exactly the same as when you left it nearly 3 hours ago.

“We’re back at Kinley,” he tests it, taking a step forward. “What just happened?”

“This is weird, right?” you put forth, clearing your throat. “I definitely was going to send you a text about the next video idea, and the next thing I know you’re in front of me. I’m not dreaming, am I?”

Bucky pinches the inside of his arm. The skin comes back red and stinging.

“No, it’s real,” he murmurs. “Unless this is a weird fuckin’ dream that I’m having.”

It wouldn’t be the first time you showed up in his dreams either. He just doesn’t remember any of them being so… vivid.

“I’m in the physical realm, I can feel that,” you talk so quietly it’s like you’re speaking to yourself. “It’s not your dream. I’m here too.”

He checks his phone.

9:05.

Bucky opens up his messages, finding none from you tonight. His YouTube history similarly didn’t have the video he was watching earlier today.

Bucky clenches his fists and releases them, before taking a deep inhale. “Okay. We just had a strange fuckin’ flash forward into the future because of… I don’t know what. But we never left, and now we’re going home.”

“Yep.” You nod in confirmation, but the camera levitating behind you wobbles with uncertainty. “So– do we recreate what happened or…?”

“No, let's just leave,” Bucky debates, running a hand through his hair.

You take a step towards the stairs, holding onto the bannister as you make your way down.

Bucky holds up the flashlight of his phone as he follows, throwing another look behind him.

“Having a shared flashforward… could say it’s soulmate shit,” you give him a quick glance, but the grin on your face is unsure, and he knows you’re trying to shake it off.

“It’s a carbon monoxide shit.”

“You can be carbon mine-oxide.”

Bucky wordlessly shoves past you as he walks down the stairs, leaving you to follow with another stupid laugh.

The car ride back brings with it some air of normalcy, so does the elevator ride.

Bucky once again gives you a two finger wave as he gets down at his floor.

“Offer’s still there if you want me to walk you to your room,” you call. “I may be delirious, but I’m still chivalrous.”

“Go to sleep,” Bucky carps, shaking his head, banishing the slight lift in the corner of his mouth.

The faint light in the hallway makes him falter.

He sticks his head in anyway. “Hey.”

“Oh, hey,” Steve smiles from his bed, book in hand. “You’re back.”

Bucky glances around the room. “Did we talk earlier today?”

“Only when you texted me for my Netflix password.”

“Nothing after that?” Bucky hesitates from asking him outright.

“No. You okay?” Steve asks, eyebrows furrowing.

“Just had a weird dream,” Bucky dismisses, forcing his face to relax. “See you around.”

“Left you some apples if you’re hungry,” Steve calls, as Bucky shuts the door.

He crawls back into bed, eyeing the clock suspiciously. 10:30.

He closes his eyes, wills himself to sleep, knowing that this glitch in the matrix was only temporary and tomorrow, you’d be at his damn door, forcing him to go to Washington with you.

Bucky’s eyes fly open when a draft of wind blows past his cheek.

“You’re fucking shitting me,” he growls, taking in the stupid tower again.

“Well, fuck,” you exhale from beside him, in the same clothes from that evening. “I think we’re stuck in a timeloop.”

Of all the things to happen to him. Has he not suffered enough.

“Fine. Alright,” Bucky recalibrates, voice short, running a hand through his hair. “What now? How do we get out?”

“I don’t know, let me just consult with my vast experience in timeloops.”

He throws you a look so dry it would have crops withering. You don’t seem to care at all.

“If I had to guess from the movies I’ve seen, we either gotta solve a puzzle or one of us has to reach self-actualisation and turn into a good human,” you postulate, arms on your hips as you survey the room. “We both know it’s not me, so is there anything you want to share with the class?”

If your release was contingent on Bucky working through his issues, you’d be here for a century at least.

“We keep coming back here at midnight,” Bucky elects to focus on other things, tilting his head towards the clock. “Is it because we left at 9 instead of 12?”

“Maybe,” you consider it. “We can stick around, I guess.”

It wasn’t a bad place to start. You’d have to trial-and-error your way out of this one.

“We’ve got…” he pulls his sleeve back to look at his watch “...two hours and fifty five minutes.”

You shrug. “We can check out the rest of the tower to see if we missed anything.”

“Fine,” he relents slowly as if still weighing his options, only to come up with nothing better.

The next level is at least a few flights of stairs below and if you thought the room with the clock in it was barren, there was nothing here for you except spiders and dust bunnies.

“Maybe we have to clean it up,” you suggest, nose scrunching. “Maybe the tower’s super mad that everyone’s disrespecting it.”

“That's a stupid reason.”

You spin around, pointing an accusatory finger at him. “Take that back. We just said maybe it doesn't like being disrespected.”

Bucky grumbles a few choice words under his breath, none of which reach your ears.

There's nothing along the walls of the tower, nor on the ceilings. The intermediary floor and the ground floor come up empty as well.

By the time you've confirmed that you’ve exhausted all possible leads with nothing to show for it, Bucky’s memorised the layout of the place.

11:58.

“2 more minutes,” he tells you.

“All right,” you say, rubbing your palms together. “Experiment one. Let's go.”

Bucky keeps his eyes peeled.

11:59.

He doesn't even fucking blink, and neither do you as the seconds count down on his phone.

12:00.

He exhales, looking up.

A cold wind blows past his face.

When he hastily looks back at his phone, it reads 9pm once more.

“Damn it,” you curse softly.

Bucky’s growing anger resonates in a rumble in chest. “What kind of twisted shit is this?”

“It's fine,” you hold your hand up, breathing out. “I have a few more ideas.”

Bucky carelessly gestures for you to go on, and you point at the big clock.

“That thing stopped working at 9,” you hint. “We'll have to fix it. Get it working again and then we go back.”

“You know anything about fixing clocks?”

“I worked at a toy shop near a watchmaker once,” you offer. “That's gotta count for something.”

“What the hell, sure,” Bucky gives up, throwing his arms up.

He only had experience taking apart the old leather strapped wrist watch his parents got him for his 11th birthday, and Steve’s pocket watch that he inherited from his asshole dad. He’d dismantle it carefully, methodically piece by piece, learning the insides and out of each device, so that if and when they stopped running, he'd know exactly what was wrong just by holding it up to his ear.

That didn't necessarily transfer here, but it couldn't be all that different.

Turns out it's very different and you both had to resort to watching several videos before you even began to attempt to fix it.

He retreats the toolbox from the corner, grateful that at least you didn't have to waste a good half hour going looking for tools to fix a fuckin’ clock.

“There's no signs of life in the mechanism,” you say, reading from the phone. “So I guess we start with the most basic shit.”

He only lets out a noise in acknowledgement, before you both spend time dusting away at gears and checking for broken parts. When nothing seems bent or misaligned, you move onto the next step.

And that's when the fun actually starts.

“That’s not how you oil a gear.”

“Sure it fuckin’ is,” Bucky comments, careful making sure the grease reaches every nook and cranny.

“You’re doing it wrong.”

Bucky doesn't take his eyes off the machine, and instead raises his left hand up, clenching it into fist and releasing it, leaving the soft shifting of all the plates to prove his point.

You scoff. “What, just ‘cause you have a metal arm you're the world’s leading expert in oiling mechanics?”

“It means I’ve got some experience in taking care of them.”

“I’ve seen you put that thing in the dishwasher, don’t even try with me,” you warn.

Busted. He usually got away with lying flagrantly about his arm, but apparently you pay attention to him and the fact that the Wakandan tech only required a wipedown every once and a while.

“I do woodwork, I know how to oil things,” he switches seamlessly over to the next lie.

The tools rarely needed any maintenance and he really didn't have to do much with them yet, considering how high quality they were. But he has an idea of what he could be doing, and that's what counts.

You narrow your eyes at him. “How come you’ve never made anything for me?”

“I don’t like you.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

Bucky continues squeezing oil into axles without sparing you a glance. “What do you want?”

“What can you make?”

“Boxes.”

“Make me a box then.”

“No.”

“Bitch.”

Bucky smiles to himself, turning the gears to see them move smoothly.

You dust off cobwebs from the pendulums to get it swinging again, you use your powers to stare at the crank until it rotates on its own to wind up, and to the best of your estimation, make sure the weights are raised to the right heights.

The whole affair takes nearly 3 hours and towards the end, the both of you are hurriedly rushing through the motions, placing aside the need to argue to just get the damn thing done in time. At some point, telekinesis keeps the pendulum swinging.

“Did you check everything?”

“Yes.”

“Everything.”

“Yes, Bucky.” you sigh. “All major pieces are working. The clock should move.”

Proof of your word, the clock starts ticking again. It goes from 9:00 to 9:05 without any hitches, and then continues on without interference.

“Hell yeah,” you cheer and Bucky heaves a sigh of relief.

“Come on,” he urges under his breath, checking his phone again.

2 minutes to go.

“I love the passage of time,” you state unnaturally loudly. “I've never been more grateful for the passage of time.”

“Don't jinx this.”

1 more minute.

“That's not jinxing, it's good lu-”

Bucky feels a cold breeze swipe across his cheek.

He inhales sharply.

“Fuck.” Your stomach drops to the ground.

In the blink of an eye, everything you'd managed to get done in the last 3 hours had gone right back to the way it had been. Dusty, unmoving and dull.

Bucky robotically checks the time on his phone.

9pm.

His fingers rub his temples. “What's the next plan?”

“We must have not done it right,” you reason quietly, taking a step towards it. “Something's wrong.”

“The thing was moving, I think we got it,” Bucky sighs irritatedly.

“Well, we gotta try again,” you turn to him sharply. “You don't have to be here but I'm gonna do it.”

Bucky raises both his eyebrows at you, and you stare back with equal determination.

“Fine,” he forgoes. “I'll look downstairs.”

It takes less time this time around. It gives you half an hour to check if it is moving again, and you watch the hands move from 9 to 9:05 to 9:20 with no problem.

Meanwhile, Bucky spends his time turning the intermediate room inside out in search for other clues.

When he finds nothing there, he trudges back to the clock, finding you fingers crossed but confident that you'd done it.

“This is it, baby,” you say, bouncing on the balls of your feet. “We're getting out of this.”

“Here's to hoping,” he says in a tone that lets you know he isn’t convinced, watching his timer countdown from 30 seconds.

“No hoping. There's nothing to do. We're leaving,” you declare. “I've never seen a clock work more beautifully in my life.”

Three.

Two.

One.

Bucky holds his breath.

And a wind blows past his face.

The machine resets to the way it was.

“All fuckin’ right,” Bucky mumbles, expiring a breath deeply.

“It's fine,” you say, forcing a smile. “I've got a few more ideas.”

Cleaning the floors doesn't work.

Reading up about the clock tower in detail and honouring its legacy in an earnest ceremony doesn't work.

Fixing it for a third time doesn't work either.

“I'm takin’ a nap,” he informs, back against the wall. “I'll deal with this shit again when I wake up.”

“How can you even think about sleeping right now?” you ask, using your powers to pull the damn clock out of the wall. It changes nothing.

“I've thought about sleeping through much worse,” he grumbles, eyes closed.

“I'm beginning to think you have an iron deficiency.”

“Literally a supersoldier.”

“Vitamin D deficiency,” you revise. “Can you step into the sun or do you just like, start hissing and burning?”

“We’ve never gonna find out, ‘cause we’re never making it out of tonight,” he hums, eyes closed.

You go still, clock hovering mid air.

“You don't think we're getting out?”

“I think we're fucked,” Bucky mumbles, yawning as he makes himself as comfortable as old wooden floors would allow him to be. “Y’told me yourself, we tried all the big plans. There's no puzzle. We're trapped.”

The clock lands on the ground with a heavy thud.

“Careful,” he warns, wondering how cozy the floor would be if he just slid down and laid there. “Wouldn't wanna break the fuckin’ thing that put us in this mess to begin with.”

“Fuck,” you breathe out. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

Bucky opens one eye to peer at you. “What?”

“What do you think, Bucky?” you fire back. “We’re stuck in a timeloop for eternity because we’ve tried the most obvious options and we’re still here.”

“Could be a lot cleaner, but this ain’t the worst place to get stuck for the rest of your life,” he tempts, arms crossed behind his head, feeling a dull strain in his neck.

“We’re gonna be stuck here forever,” you say, dawning horror in your inflection. “I’m gonna be stuck with you for the rest of eternity.”

“So much for chivalry,” he says wryly.

“We need a new plan,” you digress hectically from the other side of the room.

“Here's one. I get some sleep, order some pizza in the next loop or two and–”

“No.”

“Fine, Thai works too. Whatever. Then we-”

“You don’t get it,” you snap abruptly. “Jesus Christ, this is literally my worst fucking nightmare. Either help or leave.”

He pries both eyes open at the sudden shift in your tone. He’s used to you snapping at him for his bullshit, and the favour was usually reciprocated, but not like this.

Your back is turned to him, but he can tell you’re breathing heavily as you check out the new gap you've created in the wall where the clock was, before turning around and lifting the entire machine in the center of the room.

“Hey,” he calls, voice gruff, slowly pushing himself off the floor.

You throw him a look, continuing to move pieces of newspaper and tools and check under it.

He watches you curse under your breath, lifting things too high and dropping them down a little too hard without flinching even once.

“Look,” he tries again, a little louder.

You flip the machine upside down, fully intending on taking it apart and putting it back together as if it was going to make a big difference.

“Grab the wrench. Or don't, I don't give a–”

Bucky grips your shoulder with a call of your name. It’s enough to get you to pause from sheer surprise at how close he suddenly positioned himself, considering it was a well known fact that Bucky hated people in his space.

“Listen to me. We’re going to get out of here,” he instructs, voice much more muted than you were used to. “But you have to calm down.”

You take in a deep breath, before it leaves in a shaky exhale. Whatever you’ve got levitating gently drops onto the ground.

“You’re panicking. I would be too if I wasn’t dead inside,” he notes, hands still on your shoulder firmly. “Do whatever you need to to get it out of your system. It’ll be easier to focus after that. We'll be out of here soon enough.”

“You seem awfully sure.” Your mouth curls into a half smile, but it drops as quickly as it came up.

“We’ll figure something out.” His shoulders rise and fall. “Got all the time in the world.”

You swallow the thickness in your throat, giving him a small nod.

“‘M sorry,” he says, eyes intense, and you know he’s talking about the nonchalance he showed earlier. “I was bein’ a prick.”

“Honestly, you being a prick is, like, the most normal part about this.”

“...thanks.”

“It’s fine, I could use some normal.” You brush it off with a slight smile. “You’re right. We should get some food. I’m hungry.”

“Alright,” he says, eyeing your features for a second more. “But you’re buying. Payback for making me clean up every floor twice.”

“Prick.”

His conversation with Steve from earlier that night comes back to him, the same time you take another breath to shake off the antsiness.

Bucky lifts a eyebrow to look more natural. “You still sure it’s me who needs self-actualisation? ‘Cause it sure seems that you’ve got a whole lot to talk about.”

You half-scoff, half-laugh. “Is that your way of saying I’ve got issues?”

“Just using your words.”

You watch him for a second, like you’re thinking about saying something. He tilts his head at how contemplative you look, only for you to open your mouth and ask,

“Say, do you think emotional baggage is hot?” you wiggle your brows. “‘Cause if you do, I’ve got a whole lot of it.”

He groans out loud, neck craning as his head drops back.

“Also,” you pose a bit more curiously, “you gonna let go of me any time soon or are we about to slow dance?”

Bucky’s hands immediately drop from your shoulder, taking a step back. “Fuck off.”

“I could, but I’d just respawn here in three hours.”

He rolls his eyes, but he can’t help but feel a bit relieved that you looked a lot less in distress.

You'd spent two loops doing a deep dive into timeloops, coming up with more possibilities to try out.

Leaving the building at each hour did nothing.

You spent 1 loop eating dinner and reaching out to scientists you knew on how to break out. Those who replied either said they weren't real, told you stuff you'd already figured out, or blocked you.

You even spent half a loop painstakingly combing through footage from earlier in the night to figure out if you'd fucked with anything by mistake that you were yet to correct, not noticing it so far because it had been so minor or mundane.

“Oh shit, I just noticed something,” you gape, pointing at the screen

Bucky pulls the little monitor closer to his face. “What?”

“You’re looking at me so much in these,” you remark, voice relaxing immediately. “What's up with that?”

“Maybe because you’re the only one talking,” Bucky fires back, irritatedly putting the camera back down, “and it’s not like there’s anything else to look at here.”

“So defensive,” you comment. “Just say you think I’m cute and move on.”

“Shut up.”

“Shut me up yourself, coward.”

To be clear, Bucky didn't realise he was looking at you that much. And now that you’ve pointed it out, he can’t really argue because he is doing it a lot more than he realised he was, even unconsciously sometimes.

“How many more timeloops till you run out of these lines?” he questions instead.

“How many more timeloops till you stop being a handsome son of a bitch?”

The clock tower may be cold, but he feels too warm all of a sudden.

“I swear, if this doesn’t work, I’m throwing the clock out the window,” you say, powers forcing the hands to speed through every hour and second at 2x speed.

Bucky doesn’t even look up at you from over his phone. “You throw it, you’re fixing it again.”

You stop trying to spin the hands when one of them creaks.

A few loops in and the growing frustration from the both of you manifests into tension that is palpable.

You'd spent a loop or two outside the tower so you didn't drive yourself insane. Without fail, you'd end up right back up watching the clock every single time the world outside struck 12.

Bucky’s done his fair share of attempts. Jacket on, jacket off. Holding the camera, being the one who led into the room, the one who led out.

Mainstream movies, obscure movies, video essays, podcasts.

“I don’t fuckin’ get it. What are we missing?” you pour over the options again, frustrated. “We’ve done everything. We’ve done combinations of things.”

“There’s something we’re missing,” he says, staring at the moon through the face. “Some detail.”

It's not like you can physically keep track of every variable. Everything resets the second it strikes 12, no matter what you changed.

“I think–”

He sends you a glance.

“Maybe if we–” you try before you stop altogether.

Bucky just stays quiet because at this point you've exhausted every option you can think of, to no avail.

He knows you don't want to say it.

But it's time you start accepting that you're well and truly stuck.

“Should write Maya an email,” he tells you. “Tell her we quit.”

You give him a smile, knowing it would never even make its way to her.

Still, you pull out your phone and let Bucky peek over your shoulder as you start typing, helpfully suggesting curses as you went.

____

You absentmindedly tinker with the machine, able to take it apart, fix it and put it back together by heart and in no time now.

“What was the last mission you guys did?” you inquire, rotating a gear between your fingers.

“Something small,” Bucky replies, voice steady. “Think it was just a recon in Detroit.”

“Do you miss it?”

“No,” he says resolutely. “Everyone got tired of them a long time ago, but we stick around, just in case.”

You spare him a glance. “When was the last time you actually relaxed?”

Bucky considers it for a second. “Wakanda. Wasn't exactly a vacation though.”

“New question. When was the last time you went on vacation?”

He raises an eyebrow, head twisting to look at you.

You place the gear in its place before picking up the oil dropper. “Don’t answer if you don’t wanna.”

He turns his head back to the ceiling, and all the spider webs lining it.

“Couple of years before I got drafted, my family took a day trip to Convey Island.” he reveals, voice low. “We were supposed to hit as many rides as we could but my sister was aboslutely fuckin’ taken by this damn steam engine they had running. Everyoe got sick of it after the second time so I stuck around with her. Must’a ridden that thing 5 times before she finally let up.”

You have half a smile on your face. “Did you like it?”

He can't really remember. He can't even remember if the rest of his family was actually there, or whether it was just him and Steve and Becca, or it was just him and Becca.

“I liked that she liked it,” he decides.

You nod, wiping a gear before putting it back, snickering lightly. “Was the last vacation you took really in the 1930s?”

He exhales a laugh. “Steve and I went to the Canyon once. It was near a mission location. He told me I'd been dyin’ to go there as a kid. I don't remember that, but he fuckin’ dragged me there by the collar. Not sure if that really counts– we were both bleeding pretty heavy for it to be a real holiday.”

“Steve would say it counts.”

“Steven’s never taken a vacation in his life.” Bucky snorts. “I don't think he physically knows how to relax.”

“I don't think I've ever seen that man sit still for more than a few minutes.”

“Fuckin' rich coming from you. How many jobs have you had? A million?”

You exhale a laugh. “Something like that.”

You push the pendulum with your finger, watching it swing back and forth.

“Where’d you stick the longest?” Bucky asks, hands supporting his head as he lies on the ground.

You take a second to think, picking up a gear you’d already cleaned, wiping it down again.

“When I just got out of Leviathan, I used to wait tables for this elderly lady who ran a bakery. Mrs. Mullens,” you say finally. “She was kinder than anyone else I'd met till then; gave me leftovers that didn’t get sold that day, and enough money to get on my feet. I must've been there, what, a year? Year and a half? I think that’s the longest I’ve stayed.”

“Why’d you quit?” He does his best to not sound too intrusive.

“One evening she slipped keys into my pocket and told me I could stay in the room above the cafe if I wanted. Realised I’d been there too long, so I left the state the next morning.”

Bucky’s eye twitches as he turns to look at you. “She gave you a place to stay and you skipped town?”

“Yeah.” You half-shrug. “Staying in a place too long feels– suffocating. I don’t know. Just knew it was time to leave.”

Bucky looks at you strangely, mind inadvertently trying to piece together a bunch of information.

Working on a hunch, he tests, “You got family out there somewhere?”

“I was literally created in a lab,” you deadpan. “I don’t have a family. Unless you count test tubes.”

“It doesn't have to be mean literally.” He arches an eyebrow. “What about Nat?”

“Nat’s a friend.” you disclose, holding a cog up to check for any stains, “The Avengers aren’t my family the same way they are for you. They’re great, but it’s just another job.”

Oh.

“Right,” he says, settling back into his position, feeling a frown on his face.

“I haven’t really found what you’re asking me about,” you add, and he knows you're trying to be kind.

He isn't sure what he thought the team was to you. He isn't sure what he feels about the new information either.

“What’s it feel like?”

“What?” he asks distractedly.

“Having people like that,” you clarify. “Maybe if I know what it feels like I’ll know when it happens.”

You’ve all but asked the most emotionally constipated man on earth what family feels like to him.

So reasonaly, Bucky blanks.

Literally every single interaction with the dead and the living exits his mind.

And so he blurts out the first thing that comes to mind,

“Silent blenders.”

And then he cringes.

“Is that the name of a movie or…” you trail off.

“No. They got me blenders that don’t make a sound. It was a nice gift,” he mumbles.

You wait for him to provide even a little more context. He instead shifts uncomfortably.

“Okay,” you allow, looking back down. “Silent blenders. Got it.”

Bucky thinks about it for a second more, and his head starts throbbing.

Instead, he dodges. “Guess you’re not gonna stick around for too long then, huh?”

“Well, yeah,” you answer, like it was the easiest thing in the world. “I was always going to just bounce after this was done. I thought you knew that.”

“Right,” he repeats. “Where you headed next?”

“Who knows?” you mull over. “I could go anywhere. You got any reccs?”

He doesn’t really have an answer for you. Bucky can’t imagine packing up and leaving again. Living life never knowing when he can finally take a seat. He’s spent so long wrestling with the turbulence of having multiple identities that he clings to what little semblance of stability he can find.

But a tiny voice in the recess of his mind whispers to him that maybe the reason he's stayed at the same place for so long is the same reason you can’t.

He has a half formed hypothesis. And then soon comes to the conclusion that he really has no business deriving theories about you like that… but he’d be lying if he said he didnt store it in his head for later.

He also doesn't know why there's a strange churning in his stomach, a deeply uncomfortable feeling that he hasn't really felt in years. It makes him want to get up and leave.

“Y’know, just ‘cause I’m gonna leave eventually doesn’t mean we’re not friends.” You snap him out of his first great attempt to understand human emotions other than annoyance.

He hums. “I wouldn't call us that.”

“You’re right, we’re star crossed lovers.”

“I feel bad for the next person who has to deal with you.”

You laugh, swinging the pendulum into motion and wiping your hands down.

You’d taken turns sleeping in two of the time loops, keeping watch while the other rested for a while.

Only when you're asleep does Bucky fully comprehend how quiet it is in there.

The clouds cover the moon. The floorboards don't make much noise even as he walks around.

He's lost track of how many 9pms it's been.

He doesn't know why it’s lingering in his mind like this. Probably because he had only thought of her a couple of hours ago.

He knows you suggested it as a joke but he can't help but wonder.

What if it was actually him keeping the both of you here?

He really thought he'd made amends. He'd been living as peacefully as he was able to. And yeah, he's a dick, but he wasn't outright evil.

Or so he thought.

Maybe he hadn’t repented as hard as he’d needed to.

“Becks,” he calls quietly. “If you can hear me– I'm sorry.”

No one responds. You don't stir.

He forces himself to exhale and continue, “I know you'd hate what I turned into, but I'm tryin’ here. I promise.”

He wishes a damn piece of paper would give him a sign on what to do, or at least tell him there was no coming back. That he should probably resign himself to his fate.

“You should've had someone who coulda shielded you. Given you a chance to be a kid.” He swallows down the stone in his throat. “I know you're mad, Peanut. I'm really fuckin’ sorry. You deserved a whole lot better.”

And then he waits, and waits some more, ears straining for anything– a giggle, a scrape. He doesn't know what he expected, but he gets nothing.

Only a draft blows through the window.

A shiver runs through you, and you curl into yourself, but thankfully you still don't wake. Bucky has no idea how he’d explain this to you anyway.

Still, he quietly makes his way towards you, shrugging off his jacket and draping it across you carefully, watching as you relax again.

He blows out an exhale, watching the minutes tick by.

“Do you think we’re gonna get old here or do we reset every time the loop resets?” you ask aloud.

“Our clothes kept regenerating with us, so I guess we keep resetting too.”

You hum. “Damn, we can’t even grow old together.”

Bucky adds nothing, only turning to you with a deadpan expression.

“What?” you ask.

“What?” he counters. “No old person jokes this time?”

“There’s no fun if you're expecting it,” you sigh.

“Incredible,” he replies, monotonous.

There’s silence. He hears wind rustle through the room.

You sit up, and he can feel your eyes boring into him.

“What?” he asks again.

“Does it upset you?” you ask somberly. “When I make those jokes?”

“No,” he replies. “They’re fine.”

“And when I keep using pickup lines on you– does that make you uncomfortable?” you continue, however, much to his surprise.

He turns to you with his eyebrows lowered. “Since when does that matter?”

“It matters,” you say quietly. “I knew it annoyed you, I didn’t know they made you uncomfortable.”

He stares at you for a long while, before settling on, “They don’t.”

“Sure?”

“I don’t care.” He looks ahead. “I’ll tell you if they do.”

“Okay,” you relent. “If you say so.”

He shakes his head, feeling a strange sort of feeling settle in his chest. He can’t say he hates it, but he would rather not deal with it.

“Bein’ in here’s making you weird.”

You narrow your eyes. “The fuck does that mean?”

“You know what it means,” he asserts.

“I’m being totally normal, you’ve just refused to hang out with me so you wouldn’t know what that is.”

“I see you every week.”

“For video shoots.”

“We hang out otherwise,” he scoffs, suddenly feeling very offended. “We literally went to the store the other day.”

“To buy batteries,” you emphasize. “For the video shoots.”

“We’ve gone to the park,” he exclaims, sitting up. “And we eat lunch together sometimes. And we watched that stupid fuckin’ movie in theatres at midnight twice because you lied the second time and told me it was another one – what was it called? Metropolis?”

“Megalopolis,” you say, amused at his outburst.

“That. Garbage fuckshit. And we’ve taken the cat–”

“Alpine.”

“I know her name,” he hisses. “To the vet. And that’s all in the last month.”

“Jeez, you keep a journal every time we hang out? What are you, obsessed with me?” you ask, trying to bite back a shit-eating grin.

“Point is,” he grits. “We hang out.”

Fuck. Turns out, maybe Steve was right.

“Tomato, tomahto,” you dismiss. “You’re so obsessed with details. You could’ve just said you’re in love with me and moved on instead of bringing out the whole Excel sheet of every minute we spent together.”

“I hate you,” he groans, dropping back down.

You laugh. It makes the corner of his mouth curl up, just a little.

“What’s the time?” he asks, blowing out an exhale from his nose.

“Like 11:30?,” you sigh.

“That’s all?” He wants to groan again.

“Does it matter? We’re stuck here forever. We can get more takeout in the next loop.”

“You’re paying.”

“I paid last time, asshole.”

He clicks his tongue on the roof of his mouth. “Tomato, tomahto.”

“Touché.”

You spin a gear in the air, waiting for the hour to pass.

It suddenly hits him. Something that you'd shown across episodes of witchcraft and haunted hospitals.

Something you showed literally three minutes ago.

If this worked, he’d probably hug you and your stupid, chaos incarnate self.

“Come on, let’s get this clock fixed,” he grumbles, getting back up on his feet.

“What?”

“I think you’re right,” he says, sticking his arm out to help you up.

“Huh?” you blink at him. “I know the footage is gonna get erased again, but I need you to say that into the camera once for me. And state that you’re of sound mind and body while you’re at it.”

He sends you a look. “Come on.”

“I fixed it already, Bucky.”

“What’s the time?” He ignores you.

“Nearly 12,” you tell him, checking your phone.

“Need you to be precise.”

“Why?”

“Humour me,” he says calmly. “Details are for losers, remember?”

“11:57 and 32 seconds.”

He manually winds the big arm up, the short hand still following. Until the seconds ticker matches the time you were calling out, down to the last second.

“What are you doing?” you enquire curiously, peeking over his shoulder.

“Making it match real time,” he tells you. “Properly.”

He checkes gears and pushes pendulums and everything works like it’s brand new. You’d gotten real good at this.

“11:59 and 43 seconds,” you call.

Bucky closes his eyes, forcing his breath to remain steady. It’s the first time that evening he’s had more than a sliver of hope.

“57 seconds,” you say quietly, voice tired.

And then there's silence.

He doesn't have the energy to open his eyes and find the machinery back to scraps.

But eventually he does. And when he opens it again, you’re still standing there, near the machine. Not the entrance of the room.

The clock reads 12:02.

He turns to you, calmly saying, “Let’s get out of here.”

The drive back home is silent, apprehensive with tension tight as a stretched rubber band. Like if you breathed too hard, you'd find yourself back in the dark room.

You step in the elevator together, pressing the buttons for your floor and his.

He doesn’t know whether it’s the fear or the fact that you've now spent several hours together when time didn’t make sense, but the ride up is slower than usual.

Bucky stands with his back pressed to the wall of the elevator, eyes closed, hands stuffed in his pockets.

“It never occured to me,” your voice is quiet. “It’s the one thing I didn’t think of because I was so focused on getting out.”

“Didn't think of it either.” Bucky’s shoulders shrug, eyes closed. “Not your fault.”

“Kinda is.”

“I would've realised earlier if I paid attention,” he counters.

You stare at him.

“Are you done or should I keep going?”

You blow out an exhale. “This game sucks.”

“Don't play this shit with me. It's the one thing I'm good at.”

The elevator dings, creeping open on his floor.

He stays right where, back pressed against the wall, unmoving.

“It's your floor,” you inform.

“I know.”

The door waits a few seconds before it closes.

It finally reaches your floor, opening with a bright ding.

He watches you step out, casting an unsure look towards him.

You gesture awkwardly, “Do you need anything?”

“Nah,” he says, eyes still closed.

“What are– oh,” you stop all of a sudden. “Is this your way of walking me to my door?”

Bucky’s face doesn’t betray any expression. “See you later.”

You fight a smile, raising two fingers to give him a wave.

He gives you a small nod as the door closes on him, reaching forward to press the button to his floor again.

here’s my ko-fi if you’d like to support my writing!

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#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #mcu fic #bucky fic #bucky barnes fic #bucky fluff #bucky barnes fluff #bucky angst #bucky barnes angst #unsolved fic #winter soldier x reader #Winter Soldier x you #bucky barnes x you #bucky x you

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bucketbueckers · 3 months ago

Text

ACCOUNTING

pairing: azzi fudd x fem!reader (no use of y/n) wc: 2.8k synopsis: you're watching kk and the rest of the team fool around on live when azzi fudd walks in asking for an accounting tutor. deciding to humor it, you're surprised to find that azzi was completely serious, and even more surprised when your offer leads to something more between the two of you. notes: in honor of azzi fudd hoops last night - i was supposed to have this up before the game but i forgot i had a three hour lab and unfortunately i will not write fanfiction in the middle of the university food court. first tumblr post, lmk if we're rockin w it 🙂‍↕️

You’re settling into bed to unwind for the night when you get the TikTok notification.

KK Arnold has gone live!

For the better part of your day, you’ve had your nose in the books, trying to get ahead of your weekly homework. You have a terrible habit of letting most of it pile up during the week and finishing it all over the weekend. As an accounting major, you didn’t really have fun weekend plans, anyway, but it would be nice to lay in bed all day and not worry about something that was due at 11:59. You only had three classes today: managerial accounting, intro to auditing, and intermediate accounting. It wasn’t a rigorous schedule by any means; you were done and out of classes by lunchtime, but after two and a half hours of listening to your professors drone on, you were ready for the nap you couldn’t afford to take due to your piles of homework.

Seeing the live notification is enough to remind you that you aren’t really that tired, so you click on it. KK’s face fills the screen and she’s unboxing Crumbl cookies. You say a silent prayer for the girls – Crumbl tasted terrible and that was a hill you were willing to die on. Paige sat behind KK, with Ayanna, Jana, Kayla, and a few other players milling about off-camera. For a painful few minutes, KK tries her best to get everyone’s attention so she can narrate about whatever monstrosity of a cookie they’re eating, but everyone’s laughing too hard to fully lock in.

Ayanna leaves to get a knife so KK can cut the cookies evenly. KK entertains the live while Ayanna is away, singing, chatting, and interacting with commenters. When Ayanna finally returns, she has the knife, but Azzi also trails behind her - a fact that the live is definitely appreciative of. “Oh, my God, look who it is!” KK intones in a shrill voice, much to Azzi’s clear bewilderment. You’ve never seen an expression of such confusion on someone’s face before. “It’s Azzi Fudd!”

Azzi buries her face in her hands and moves off-camera as everyone laughs. KK’s voice softens as she asks, “Azzi, wanna try a cookie?”

“No,” Azzi whines.

KK’s entire expression shifts, and admittedly, yours does, too. It’s no secret that Azzi was almost nationally known as the people’s princess. Perhaps you’d have to fight someone. You hope that no one’s actually done something wrong to her – first of all, you can’t even fathom the idea. It’d be like kicking a puppy. Second of all, you were just someone, along with 13,000 other viewers, watching the team interact behind a screen. You were sure that Azzi’s team would handle business, although you were willing to step in if needed, too, even if you stood a solid six inches shorter than Azzi herself. “What happened?” KK asks. Paige echoes her question.

“Ask the live if anyone can tutor me in accounting,” Azzi says forlornly.

You don’t think she’s serious until KK turns back just in time for the cowboy hat to return. “Hey, y’all! Is there anybody who’s really good at accounting for Azzi Fudd? Please send help. If you do have someone who’s really good at accounting, please DM me at k2times TikTok or at kamoreaarnold Instagram or at azzifudd Instagram! Thank yew.” The room dissolves into giggles as KK continues, “And if you DM me with edits or anything else but accounting help, I will block! Thank yew.”

You have the time today, so you switch over to Instagram as the live continues in the background, and you go to Azzi’s page and hit the Message option. You doubt she’ll see it, let alone respond, but as an accounting major, it’s basically your civic duty to help those in need, especially since you know these classes are hell.

hey do u actually need accounting help? i major in it!

Satisfied, you click back over to the live just in time for Azzi to comment, “KK, I might actually have a tutor,” she says in near disbelief. You think nothing of it as KK turns her head, humming at Azzi. “Wait, I think she’s in my class.”

That manages to catch your attention. Sure, you’re watching a live with a couple thousand people on it, but how many of those people are accounting students at UConn who happen to share a class with Azzi Fudd?

An Instagram notification pops up on your screen as Paige leaves the camera frame to most likely peer over Azzi’s shoulder. You’re shocked again to see Azzi has DM’ed you back.

Yes please this homework is killing me Are you in ACCT3201 with Cansler??? I recognize you

Discovering just how unobservant you are should not come as a great surprise. Apparently, you’ve been sharing a class with Azzi Fudd this entire semester and you didn’t even realize it. This is easily the most embarrassing moment of your entire life.

i am i can’t believe i didn’t know u were in it i’m a lot better at accounting than i am at paying attention, i promise

This draws a giggle from Azzi that you can hear over the live. It makes a flush rise on your cheeks. The fact that Azzi Fudd knows who you are combined with the fact she’s laughing at your jokes is enough for a feeling of anticipation to twist in your chest. This is your life now, apparently.

“Azzi is cheesing so bad,” KK teases. You can’t help but feel a little pride at that. “Who’s chatting her up right now? Lemme invite you. Accounting rizz is insane work.”

“Don’t scare away my tutor,” Azzi grumbles, coming back into view of the camera. True to KK’s words, a faint blush has settled on her cheeks. Feeling far too smug, you comment on the live, ‘calling it rizz is crazy, i’m just helping the people.’ Azzi’s eyes scan the screen before rolling slightly. “Look at what you did, KK.”

“Is that her?” KK shrieks. She leans in closer to the screen, blocking out much of the background. “Oh, she fine. Lock in, Azzi; she can help you with more than accounting.”

At that, you and Azzi both blush a deep scarlet red and Azzi turns on her heel. “Goodbye, KK!” The room dissolves into rambunctious laughter as Azzi walks out, calling, “I’m going to finish my homework!”

A moment passes before Azzi messages you again.

I’m so sorry about KK, she’s feral

You swipe away from the live again, grinning slightly. In your DMs, the typing bubbles appear for a few short moment. You heart her most recent message in the meantime.

Will you please help me? I genuinely don’t understand what I’m doing wrong

Yes, you’ve spent most of the day in classes and doing homework. Yes, you’re tired. Yes, you really only joined the live to unwind. But when Azzi asks for help, you can’t really say no to her.

of course, are u working on this week’s homework set?

Her affirmative response is swift, telling you what she’s having trouble with. Your fingers hesitate on your screen, trying to figure out how to put your thoughts into words before settling.

i know this is incredibly forward but would u want to ft? i can explain better verbally

Azzi sends you her number. After tonight’s events, you really shouldn’t be surprised anymore, but you can’t help it. Azzi is a nationally (and internationally) recognized college basketball player and, until now, you were just a girl who watched her team’s TikTok lives and cheered in the student section. Azzi had seemed so untouchable, by virtue of her celebrity and your lack thereof; it’s hard to believe you’re this close to her now, even if it’s just to help her with accounting homework.

The two of you talk well into the night, even hours after Azzi submits her problem sets successfully and she understands the material. You feel like you get to see a side of her so rarely seen by other people who aren’t her teammates. She’s softer, with a beaming smile on her face when she finally understands a difficult concept. There’s something so alluring about the way she speaks that you can’t help but listen to every single thing that comes out of her mouth, ranging from her frustrated rants to the smoothness of her giggle. The lamplight reflects off of the lenses of the glasses perched on her nose and you think she’s so incredibly beautiful – bare-faced and slightly delirious from staying up so late.

When the two of you finally hang up half past three, you can’t wipe the smile off your face, and somehow, you just know that this is the start of something new.

From then on, your friendship with Azzi all but flourishes. She’s incredibly sweet, soft-spoken, and so deliberate in the way she moves and speaks to you. When your next accounting class rolls around, she finds the seat next to yours, asking to sit there with an almost shy expression. When there’s lulls in the lecture, you entertain her with jokes, drawing red-cheeked giggles that she has to stifle. You’re almost like her personal TA, sitting next to her and clarifying concepts that she doesn’t understand. It helps you, too; the best study advice you’d ever received was to teach it to someone else.

Your friendship progresses outside of the lecture room and outside of your texts. You both spend a lot of time in the library, studying in peace together or enjoying lunch in each other's company. You always thought Azzi was gorgeous, but now that you know her on a far more personal level, falling for her was a near guarantee. The far-away admiration transformed into something pure, genuine. You couldn’t imagine Azzi returning those feelings — she’s far too busy, too committed to ball — so you keep your rapidly growing crush close to your chest.

You’ve always showed up to the UConn games, though there’s something distinctly different about them now. Azzi was never one for grand celebrations or trash talk in the way Paige was. She was intentional and lowkey, which is why you feel like you could float when she makes direct eye contact with you in the student section, throwing up three fingers to celebrate a particularly deep three. It’s why you cheese when she finds you after the game, after she’s showered and changed, and asks if you want to get ice cream with her. The better question was how could you refuse?

Azzi deliberates between vanilla and cookie dough for a long while before settling on the latter. Even as the clerk fills her bowl, she stares at the the vanilla and your choice of ice cream becomes obvious. Azzi stares at you as the clerk fills your bowl with vanilla. “What? It’s my favorite flavor,” you lie, and her lips quirk up as she studies you.

“Said literally no one ever,” she says wryly. The clerk hands you the bowl and Azzi swipes her card before you have the chance to even contemplate otherwise. When you stare at her in disbelief, her smile widens and all fight leaves your body. What were you supposed to do about that? You were a puddle for pretty women — a puddle for Azzi, honestly — and your resolve should be commended for maintaining months of friendship with Azzi.

The two of you find a secluded booth towards the back of the ice cream shop. Azzi shares her midterm grade — a solid 100, and you whistle lowly. “I got an 89,” you say, not hurt by it at all. As long as it was above an 80, you could care less. “You sure you still need me?”

Azzi swirls her ice cream around her bowl, suddenly quiet. The realization dawns on you immediately. Your words were meant to be a joke, but the truth to them stuns you. You really hoped Azzi would say, ‘of course not, it’s not like that!’ but her silence keeps you guessing.

“I have a confession to make,” she says after a beat, finally glancing up at you. The vulnerability and nervousness makes your heart fall out of your ass. “Promise it won’t make anything weird?”

You open your mouth just to close it again. You clear your throat. “Promise, Az,” you say finally. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing!” she says quickly. “Um, so here’s the thing. I struggled a lot with the first problem set. You know, the one I needed the tutor for?” You nod, confused by her words. “You helped a lot. And, like, I haven’t really needed actual tutoring in weeks. I just really liked spending time with you.” You blink at her. She stares at you right back, brows furrowed with guilt and her doe eyes wide. “I’m sorry. You must feel like I wasted your time.”

At that, you can’t help but laugh, and Azzi pouts. “Az. I thought you were about to dump me,” you explain. “Plus, I kinda figured after a while we were just like, studying together, and not me actually tutoring.”

She sighs, burying her face in her hands. You laugh again, pushing your leftover ice cream towards her. Azzi glances up again, her eyes soft and fond. “I guess I just wanted an excuse for you to stick around.”

“You never needed one,” you tell her honestly, and a blush creeps up her neck.

“You’re not really picking up what I’m putting down, are you?”

Her words almost make you recoil. It’s no secret at this point that you can be a little oblivious, but her words make your heart skip a beat. “Az, I have no idea what you’re putting down,” you admit.

“So, I just admitted to you that I liked spending time with you and lied about needing study help just so I’d have an excuse to hang out with you,” Azzi confirms. “We are sitting here, alone, after a game while my teammates celebrate at Ted’s. All of that, and you have no idea what I’m putting down?”

The realization hits you like a ton of bricks. “Oh,” you say smartly.

“Yeah.”

“So, you like me?” you ask just to be one hundred percent sure.

She smiles at you. You’re certain your heart almost stops beating. “How could I not?” she asks like it’s the easiest thing in the world. “You make me laugh. You’re always so patient with me, you make me feel seen — like I can just be myself. It’s… hard to find something genuine like this. You don’t expect anything from me.”

“I just want you to be happy,” you say simply.

Her eyes confirm everything for you. You’re not observant, sure, but your main priority has always been what was directly in front of you. And right now, it’s hard to focus on anything that’s not Azzi. Azzi’s eyes are so soft, kinder than anything you’ve ever seen before. They hold so much understanding but there’s also a silent plea of let this be mutual that you’re too happy to give into.

“I’ve been falling for you for a while,” you admit, and her face brightens. Your shoulders feel lighter; carrying around your feelings has burdened you, but if it’s the price you had to pay to make sure Azzi felt comfortable and that she could have friendships without people taking advantage of her celebrity, then so be it. You’d bear a lot more for her if it ever came down to it. “I kept it to myself for a while,” you continued. “You deserve normal. A friendship without expectations. But, God, Az, how could anyone not fall for you?”

Azzi’s cheeks flush a pretty red. You can’t help but smile at her, growing a little braver, and you slide your hand across the table. She wastes no time before intertwining your fingers together, giving your hand a gentle squeeze.

She walks you home that night, refusing to let go of you until you’re halfway through your doorstep. She stops you; her height would be intimidating if you didn’t know she was the sweetest person to ever walk the earth. “Can I…” She trails off, her hands gentle on your waist.

You don’t need much more convincing — you loop your arms around her neck and tug her down to your height, planting your lips on hers with a softness that she eagerly reciprocates. You can taste the vanilla on her lips, the sweetness of the cookie dough, and the promise of something distinctly reminiscent of Azzi Fudd. You’re suddenly thankful for KK’s stupid live, for Crumbl cookie, for the accounting class you shared together. It’s all led you to where you are now, in Azzi’s arms outside of your apartment, overcome with the knowledge that all of this is so new, but you have everything you could have possibly wanted.

(You ask her to officially be your girlfriend two weeks after that, having been on three dates since — it’s only after you pop the question and the two of you are settling in to watch a movie that she admits to you the real reason she was struggling so bad with the problem sets was because she’d spend entire lecture periods staring at you. You roll your eyes, feeling inexplicably cared for in a way you haven’t experienced before Azzi, and your only true response to her confession is the lingering kiss you place on her lips.)

#azzi fudd #azzi x reader #uconn wbb #uconn x reader #wbb #wbb x reader #ncaa wbb #uconn #azzi fudd fic

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quickstappen · 2 months ago

Text

track 004: the see is calm (before the storm)

A/N: i know i've disappeared for a while but it turns out that second year of college is very different to the first. now finally after two months i've got it under control so hopefully we'll have a semi-regular schedule for now, i'll try to post something every two weeks (on weekends most likely). anyway, this one's not very plot heavy but it's needed for the story, enjoy!

masterlist | previous next

liked by carlitosalcarazz, oscarpiastri and others

paola_sainz contrary to popular belief, I do actually work sometimes ;) keep your eyes open guys, things are getting done here

tagged: sean_cliff

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F4ST_C4R oh please say its a new collection, i was too late for the 1st one and it sold out 😭

oui_lyanne who the fuck is sean

↳ 4ND1 from what i can see he's another designer

↳ oui_lyanne ooh, collab maybe? 👀

↳ f1w1tch OR the super secret boyf

L3CH41R well, looks like she's not in spa after all

mcwilliams are you gonna comment on the williams/carlos announcement??

↳ prplsector i mean,, why would she?? it's not her announcement, she's got a job

lightning_enjyr oh my god are those pieces from the new collection?? 😳

danielricciardo Respect the grind 💪🤠

↳ sadiebull sorry what is daniel ricciardo doing

↳ fastkiwi trying to relate to the youth lol

shithappens oh god women in suits 😳

STARG3N guys,,, what is carlos alcaraz doing in the likes

↳ hamilteaa the tennis player???

↳ STARG3N yeahhh

sean_cliff you know it's always a pleasure working with you 🤭

↳ paola_sainz oh I know, I am brilliant of course

↳ elmatadorf1 jesus what a self-centred bitch 💀

predestined55 no one's gonna buy this crap anyway 🐍

carlitosalcarazz We need to play again sometime! 🎾

↳ paola_sainz do your job at the Olympics first, then we'll see 👏

↳ isawthesainz THEY KNOW EACH OTHER???

↳ dutchlion sure looks like it 👀

oscarpiastri You gonna spend the whole summer break working too?

↳ paola_sainz actually no, this one guy invited me to visit his family you know

↳ oscarpiastri Lucky guy

↳ lightning_enjyr oui_lyanne surely you see my point now

↳ oui_lyanne everyday i am closer to believing you

paola's messages:

paola_sainz posted new instagram stories!

caption 1: a little pitstop before our journey ;)

caption 2: mid-rant and a little drunk but he's fine, alive and well

⟶ alex_albon replied to your story!

alex_albon oh thank god you're with him, he hasn't been answering my calls and texts

paola_sainz yeahh, we figured. me and Osc are with him rn but we have to leave in the morning

alex_albon shit, how is he really? do you seriously have to leave?

paola_sainz he's better than yesterday, mostly pissed atp but I'm sure that the self-hatered and misery will come soon

paola_sainz and yeah we have to, we've been trying to visit Oscar's family together for ages

paola_sainz I think he's going home for the rest of the break

alex_albon jesus, that's good at least

alex_albon I'll try to reach out again

paola_sainz good idea

caption 3: couldn't take this little guy home, apparently "2 is enough cats Lola"

⟶ maxverstappen1 replied to your story!

maxverstappen1 I think you should've taken him anyway, he is very cute

paola_sainz I knoww! I named him Barron Meowmilton

paola_sainz unfortunately, I do not fancy sleeping on the couch for the foreseeable future so we left Barron at a local shelter ;)

maxverstappen1 Ah, I understand

maxverstappen1 We'll always remember you, Barron Meowmilton

caption 4: and we're off to see the future in-laws ;)

⟶ hattiepiastri replied to your story!

hattiepiastri has my brother done something we don't know about??

paola_sainz nahh, dw about it, you'd be first to know after your mum

paola_sainz I'm just sure I'm gonna marry him someday, there's no other option

hattiepiastri you're both so disgustingly gone for each other it should be studied

hattiepiastri can't wait to see you though

paola_sainz girll me too, it's been too long

paola's messages:

liked by jensonbutton, hattiepiastri and others

paola_sainz can confirm that kitties are just as cute down under as in the rest of the world ;)

see all comments...

shithappens paola talking about cats at all times? fork found in kitchen

arthur_leclerc did you try to take the cat home?

↳ oscarpiastri take a wild guess mate

↳ paola_sainz don't know what you're talking about mate

↳ oscarpiastri I have a feeling that you're gonna grossly overuse mate now

↳ paola_sainz now why would I do that... mate 😇

barbiegirl what are you doing in Australia girllll

elmatadorf1 thank god she's not going home with Carlos, he doesn't need her 🐍

jensonbutton Come back in one piece please

↳ paola_sainz don't you worry about that Jense, I am well taken care of ;)

oui_lyanne yeah okay she's actually in australia

charles_leclerc You're right, that's a very cute kitty

lightning_enjyr did you buy any new records?

oscarpiastri Have you seen the sights yet?

↳ paola_sainz not really, my tour guide has been kinda busy

↳ oscarpiastri That's a shame, there's a lot of great things to see

↳ paola_sainz don't worry mate, I've been looking at different kind of sights plenty enough, lot of beach days yk? I can wait a few more days 😉

↳ oscarpiastri Oh, well in that case 🫢

prplsector oscar is brave fr, I'll give him that 😳

4ND1 god the tension is this comment section is something else

ada_moore if Oscar's not the boyfriend and I was the boyfriend I am straight up fighting that man in some dark alley because that is so flirty and for what (if he IS the boyfriend, carry on please, the energy is unmatched)

L3CH41R how are her outfits always so good???

predestined55 Carlos just signed a contract and she's talking about cats and being a slut in the comments, great 😒

hattiepiastri posted new instagram stories!

caption 1: did you know, we're killer on karaoke nights?

caption 2: doing all this late night talking

caption 3: we're keeping her oscarpiastri, if you don't wife her up I will

⟶ oscarpiastri replied to your story!

oscarpiastri You don't have to worry about that

paola_sainz posted new instagram stories!

caption 1: g'day mate! celebrity crush meet up officially checked out from my wishlist

caption 2: the locals showing me the best ice cream places in town

caption 3: hands that have never seen manual labour

⟶ oscarpiastri replied to your story!

oscarpiastri hey!

paola_sainz you're offended like it's not true

caption 4: bad bitch on the beach

liked by oscarpiastri, danielricciardo and others

paola_sainz most unexpected crossover of the year? maybe not as unexpected as you think! me and Robert did some cool things this week and I got to meet some sweet pets, I might not come back from 'Straya

see all comments...

N3CKSTRI excuse me- Robert Irwin and Paola Sainz in one place? i might actually die

prplsector spain's sweetheart with australia's sweetheart, way too cute

dutchlion can someone actually explain to me how people can hate her? if you don't like her content just stop looking at it, but actually hating on her?? can't imagine

robertirwinphotography It was good to finally see you! The animals already miss you

↳ paola_sainz oh god please don't say that, I'll cry for real 😭 I miss them too

shithappens i dunno, i still think it's pretty unexpected

fastkiwi the way this isn't even the wildest thing she's done this season 😳

predestined55 can you like rot in hell now? two faced bitch 🐍

barbiegirl they'd look sooooo goooood together

↳ zoebryne_x ik right??

logansargeant Is zookeeper next on the cv?

↳ paola_sainz you're laughing but I'd be an amazing zookeeper

↳ logansargeant Who told you that? I wouldn't trust them, you'd end up taking all the animals home

↳ paola_sainz Robert said I'd do great!

↳ logansargeant I think that's just his job, plus he's too nice to tell you the truth

↳ paola_sainz you're mean, see if I bring you gifts when I get back

4ND1 can I meet Robert Irwin now??

oscarpiastri Still looking at sights?

↳ paola_sainz why, you jealous mate?

↳ oscarpiastri Don't worry, just curious

lightning_enjyr are they even trying to hide it atp???

elmatadorf1 can she just injure sth since she's playing tennis so much? maybe then we'd get a break from her stupid face 🤢

↳ STARG3N you guys are literally insane what the hell

madi_races every time i open the comment section i get whiplash, on twt everyone is trying to figure out who the boyfriend is, the press is eating this all up, people are placing bets and here is oscar just shamelessly flirting, it's like a different universe

arthur_leclerc I'm coming with you next time

↳ paola_sainz ditch Charles and come here then

hammertime_1 guys i really don't think Oscar's the boyfriend, she's just way out of his league

isawthesainz jesus she's so cringe, excuse me while i throw up

paola's messages:

NETHERLANDS 2024

liked by charles_leclerc, logansargeant and others

oscarpiastri And we're back 👍 break at home was good but it's nice to be racing again

see all comments...

laile_f1 he's never beating the calm cat allegations

catstri81 that is the most oscar caption to ever caption

maximumformula he's doing the dad pose 😭

4ND1 i can't with him 😭 he's just a guyy

chat_withmani ohh he's posted the girlfriend!!

elmatadorf1 i can't believe he still has a seat

↳ prplsector can you guys stop being fucking petty for a minute

paola_sainz so did the girlfriend like it in the down under mate?

↳ oscarpiastri Yeah, since she's now best friends with my sister I'm pretty sure she did mate 🙄

↳ paola_sainz what, you jealous of your sister?

↳ oscarpiastri She basically stole my girlfriend

lestappen116 he looks so happy 😭

fastkiwi it was good to see you back at home

landonorris Let's go mate! Good weekend 👍

paola's messages:

click here to be added to the carved my name taglist!

taglist: @blushmimi @Ale-522 @joalslibrary @jaydaaasworld @vroomvroommuppett @sugarhoneylemons @formulaonebuff @clove0 @rockyhayzkid @glitzyditzy @coriyaps @irishmanwhore @gr3yhues @kikiki04 @fall-bambi @nichmeddar @sunfairyy @formulaal @marauders-wife @theseus-jpg @heavy-vettel @anxxiousaries @linaversion @gloriousmoneyrascalbiscuit @d3kstar @camelliaflow3r @delululeclerc @lesliiieeeee (xxx - couldn't tag you)

DISCLAIMER: i do not know anything about this people, this is not real life, this is just something for fun, i do not know anythings about their life or personalities!

#f1 #f1 smau #for fun #f1 instagram au #ferrari #formula 1 #oscar piastri smau #oscar piastri social media au #ferrari f1 #charles leclerc #carlos sainz smau #carlos sainz

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burntheedges · 22 days ago

Text

Pas de Deux Chapter 14

Din Djarin x f!reader | 4.1k | fic masterlist | main masterlist | ao3

chapter summary: the Gala is over! The night after has arrived.

a/n: I promised myself that I would catch up on replying to all of your amazing comments over the past few weeks before posting this last chapter, but I didn't quite do it. I will respond to each and every one -- they have been so amazing and really made me smile during the hectic start to this year and moving. We're all moved in with just unpacking left, and I can't wait to catch up and let you all know how much I loved reading them. I hope you enjoy this final chapter of this story. Thank you all for reading. and thank you @katareyoudrilling as always for being the best.

chapter tags/warnings: fluff, flirting, touching, pet names (sweetheart), hand-holding, intense feelings, kissing, smut - kissing, grinding, holding up against a wall, manhandling, fingering, p-in-v sex (unprotected but in my mind she's on birth control), cuddling

Chapter 14

For a while after the curtains closed there was just absolute chaos on stage.

Everyone was shouting and hugging, and you lost track of the congratulations you gave and received as you were pulled from person to person. Your fellow dancers jostled you and clapped you both on the back and shoulders, and you noticed Din was grinning a bit shyly at being included in the camaraderie.

Through all of it, he never let go of your hand.

Kuiil pushed through the crowd to find you and Din and pull you both into a hug.

“You were marvelous!” he said, shouting to be heard over the crowd. “Better than I even imagined. It was art. Simply marvelous.” He went on like that for a few minutes before hugging you once more and walking off to find Karga, smiling. You caught Din’s eye and laughed.

Somehow, in that moment, you found yourselves alone in a sort of bubble, with people moving around you but leaving you alone. Din looked at you, and you felt time slow around you as he smiled, slow and intent.

He leaned forward, and when he spoke his voice made you shiver. “Let’s find Karga, and then Grogu. And then I think we have somewhere to be.”

You nodded and let him lead you towards the front of the stage where Karga was waiting. He saw you coming and flung his arms out to welcome you. “Oh there you are! Well done, both of you. He grinned, looking so pleased you thought he might burst. “Din, I knew you could do it.” He patted him on the shoulder, and Din laughed. “You had it in you, I could see it. And you were better than I could have dreamed!” He turned to you and continued, “and you! Truly, you were amazing.” He shook his head, at a loss for words. “I was in the audience, and I could feel the reaction. You blew them away.” He clasped his hands together and nodded again. “Now, go celebrate! You deserve it.”

And so you were dismissed, and without pausing, Din led you through the crowd and towards the side of the stage. “Grogu and Peli are going to meet us back here, just for a minute – it’s past his bedtime, but I want to say goodnight.”

You laughed, and smiled when you rounded a corner and found Grogu and a woman you didn’t know walking down the hall backstage.

“There he is!” she said to Grogu, who smiled and took off running towards his dad.

“Hey, kid,” Din said, smiling widely. He knelt down and let Grogu run into his arms. “Did you like it?”

You could see Grogu nodding against his dad’s chest, but you couldn’t hear his response. You looked up to find Peli looking at you, and you introduced yourself.

“Oh I’ve heard alllllll about you,” she said, and you raised your eyebrows. “Oh yes, Mr. Strong and Silent Type over there does talk, and when he does, it’s mostly been about you, lately.”

Din chose that moment to stand up and interrupt, and you smirked at him.

“Ok, thanks Peli,” he said quickly, and you laughed.

“What have you been saying about me?” you teased, and he sighed.

Peli grinned at you. “I’ll tell you all about it later.”

You felt a small hand tug on yours and looked down to find Grogu looking up at you. You knelt down next to him. “Hey Grogu,” you said, smiling. “Did you like the show?”

He nodded. “You were pretty again.”

You grinned at him. “Thank you. What about your dad?”

Grogu smiled and nodded. “He was pretty, too.”

“I agree,” you said, and poked Din’s leg. You were distracted when Grogu suddenly flung his arms around you in a hug. You gingerly hugged him back before he backed up just as quickly and hugged his dad’s leg.

You looked up at Din, stunned. He had the softest look you’d ever seen in his eyes.

“Ok, time to go home with Peli, bud,” he said to Grogu, bending down to lift the kid in a big hug. “I’ll see you in the morning, ok? Be good and sleep well.”

You turned to Peli as they said goodnight. “Nice to meet you, Peli.” You leaned in. “I do want to hear all about what he’s been saying, later.”

She nodded and winked. “Nice to meet’cha.” She reached for Grogu’s hand when Din put him down. “C’mon, kid! We got places to be.”

Grogu waved back at you as she led him down the hall, and you both called goodnight before he disappeared around the corner.

“He’s so cute, Din,” you said, and looked over to find him looking down the hall after his son. “You ok?”

He turned towards you and smiled. “Never better, sweetheart. Let’s get out of here.” He grabbed your hand and started walking towards the dressing rooms. You ducked into your usual one as you passed and promised to meet him at his after you took off your costume.

You were almost done when Adrian came running in after you and found you throwing on your sweats. “Excuse me, best friend calling, were you just going to sneak off without letting me freak out at how amazing that was??”

You grinned at him as you threw things in your bag. “You were, too. I saw most of it. You nailed it.”

He waived away your praise, nodding. “I know. But shit, the two of you made freaking magic out there.”

“Adrian, it felt…” you sighed and tossed your bag over your shoulder. “I’ve never felt like that on stage before.”

He grinned and grabbed your shoulders, shaking you a little. “They’re going to put you together again, so much. That was… That’s the kind of thing most of us only dream of getting to do on stage, you know.”

You nodded, throat suddenly tight. You knew exactly what he meant.

“Ok, go find your man.” He pulled you in for a crushing hug. “And you better fucking call me tomorrow!”

He let you go, laughing, and you waved as you moved into the hall.

You were grinning as you turned the corner, heading for Din’s dressing room. Just as you reached it, he stepped out into the hall in sweats with his bag over his shoulder and his costume on its hanger.

“Let me put this up,” he said, “and we can go.”

You nodded and trailed behind him as he found the nearest costume rack. He hung up his shorts, and then turned to you and held out his hand. You slid your hand into his and smiled.

Without a word he led you to the stage door and poked his head out. He looked both ways and, finding the road deserted, tugged you out after him. “We can go around the back, my apartment is just around the corner.” You fell into step and suddenly, you found you didn’t know what to say.

The tension that had been building between you for weeks suddenly returned, full force, as you walked away from the theater. With nothing left between you, no performance standing in the way, all that was left was you and Din.

Only a few moments later, he turned off the sidewalk and into an apartment building you had passed a million times and never been inside. He nodded at the guard in the lobby before leading you to the elevator. As you waited, you searched for something to say, wondering if he was waiting for you to speak first.

Then the elevator arrived, and you let him lead you inside. You opened your mouth, ready to say something, anything, but the second the doors closed, Din dropped his bag and backed you against the wall. And then his mouth was on yours.

Your kisses in the studio and then backstage had been amazing. But this one was on an entirely different level.

Din crowded you into the wall and claimed your mouth. His hand came up to cup your cheek and he used his grip to tilt your face just where he wanted it. He pressed on your chin with his thumb to open your mouth and you lost track of everything except his mouth on yours.

Until he pulled back suddenly and you realized the elevator doors had opened.

“Shit,” he said, and took a deep breath. He had to dart to the side to keep the doors from closing. You grabbed his bag and handed it to him. “C’mere, beautiful.” He tugged you after him and you exited the elevator into a hall with only four doors. He pulled you towards the one on the far left, dropping your hand only to unlock the door. He ushered you inside with a warm hand at your lower back.

You barely got a glimpse of the inside of his apartment before Din was pressing you up against the back of his door. He didn’t immediately kiss you, this time. He leaned forward, forearm by your head and pressed a line of kisses down your neck. “Do you know,” he said, between kisses, “how fucking beautiful you were on stage tonight? I wanted to be in two places at once, dancing with you and watching you. You took my breath away.” Your breath hitched as he worried a mark at the base of your neck.

“Din–” you sighed, and he lifted his head to meet your eyes.

“It’s been torture, waiting for this. I was going to offer to feed you, you know.” You nodded. It really had been. “But I don’t want to wait anymore. I want you, sweetheart. What do you want?”

You took a deep breath and grasped at his shirt. “I want you, Din. But–” he froze, and you shook your head. “Not just once.”

He smiled, and you felt his body relax into you again. “No, not just once.” He kissed you, softly, pressing his smile against your mouth until you smiled, too. “I want to take you out. I want you to spend time with me and Grogu.” He kissed you. “I want to dance with you again.”

Your heart was racing as you nodded. “Me too, Din. All of that.”

“Good,” he murmured against your lips, and then he was kissing you again.

Without noticing it happen, you found yourself pressed back against the door with your legs wrapped around Din’s hips. His hands were holding you up with a firm grip on your ass. “This feels familiar,” you teased, and he nipped at your neck.

“You feel so good, sweetheart,” Din said, voice deep and warm. “Been thinking about this for weeks. All I wanted that day in rehearsal was to keep going, just like this.”

“When–” you said, but cut yourself off with a small gasp when you felt his teeth press against your collarbone. “Since when?”

“Since I first saw you,” he said, “in class.”

You blinked, surprised. “What, then? The first day?”

He smiled against your neck. “Yes, then. Remember when you bumped into me, in the hall? I didn’t want to let go. I was…” he hummed and pressed gentle kisses along your neck that made your breath catch in your throat. “But also since you looked at me, in that rehearsal room, and saw me.”

You knew he meant the day of your first real conversation, not the day you’d run into him in the hall. “Me too,” you breathed. “But then I really knew that day you got that grand jete pass from the second…” you caught his mouth in another kiss, and broke off before continuing, “and after you got it, you smiled at me. And it took my breath away.”

He chuckled. “That wasn’t the first time I smiled at you.”

You shook your head. “No, I know. But you were so happy that day. I saw you smile at Grogu one day, too, back in the fall, and it was like that. You were just… happy.”

Din leaned back and smiled at you again, and it was just like those other smiles. You let your gaze dance over his face, taking in his features again. He was so handsome. “That day you met Grogu for the first time, I wanted to grab your hand and take you with us. He liked you immediately. It was so…”

You let your head fall back against the door and smiled at the memory. “I couldn’t tell what you were thinking. You put your mask back on and I never know what you’re thinking when you do that.”

He laughed, looking taken aback. “My mask?”

You rolled your eyes. “You know, that face that you do when you don’t want to show any emotions. The one you had on for your first few months here.”

He nodded, amused. “I’ve never thought of it as a mask before.”

You shrugged and threaded your fingers through his hair. “It’s how I thought of it. Because then I started to get glimpses of you behind it. So it was surprising when it came back.”

He leaned into the way you were massaging his scalp, and hummed. “I was probably trying to hide how much seeing you with Grogu made me want to fall to my knees at your feet.”

Laughing, you pulled him back in for another kiss. You both got swept up in it for a few minutes, and he pressed you tighter against the door. “At my feet, huh?” He nodded into your neck. “Din,” you murmured, and he hummed in response. “Take me to bed.”

You squealed when he gripped you under your ass again and lifted you to walk down the hall, and then you yelped when he tossed you onto the bed. He started to follow but you stopped his advance with a foot planted on his chest and he grinned. “Clothes off, Djarin.”

Din leaned back and stood. “Only if you do the same.”

You both began to strip off your clothes and somehow even though you’d been basically naked together just hours before, this felt different.

He watched as you pulled off your shirt, and then followed your hands as you pulled down your pants. You nudged him with your toe to get him moving and he laughed as he stripped off his own shirt.

And then you realized he was still covered in paint. “Din–”

He waved his hand. “We’ll change the sheets.”

You laughed and shrugged. “It’s your bed.”

As he pulled off his pants, he replied, “and you look perfect in it. And I liked the way my marks looked on you, before.” You didn’t get a chance to look before he was crawling over you on the bed. He lowered his body to yours and kissed you again, and you wrapped a leg around his, pulling him closer.

You felt his cock press against your thigh and moaned. He was devastatingly hard.

“It was so hard not to touch you in that costume,” he said, shifting his weight to lean on one arm. His right hand slipped over your chest and down your side, and you realized he was tracing the patterns of the swirls from your costume. “I could see all of you, and none of you. I wanted to slide my hand from your hip, just around to the front and down…” he trailed off.

“What about those shorts?” you said, breathless as his hand started to travel lower. “God, Din, your legs.”

He smiled against your mouth. “My legs?”

You nodded, unrepentant, and then sighed and arched your back as his fingertips brushed lightly over your thigh. “So strong,” you said, mind spinning away from you. “All of you… beautiful.”

“Hmm,” he hummed against your mouth as his fingers teased at your slit. “I like the way you look at me, in the shorts.” And then he ran his fingers lightly through your wetness, and groaned. “Sweetheart,” he murmured. “You’re soaked.”

You nodded and tangled your fingers in his hair. “Your fault,” you accused, and he laughed.

“Good.” And then his fingers found your clit, and you gasped. He pulled up slightly and you realized he was watching it play out across your face. “Show me. I want to see how it feels.”

Din watched your reactions and learned, so quickly it took your breath away, exactly how you liked to be touched. You thought about how much he said he liked watching you, and tucked away that idea for later.

“Yes, Din,” you sighed as his fingers teased around your entrance. He shifted suddenly and you found yourself with your legs pushed farther apart by his knee and his arm.

“Like this?” he asked, fingertips brushing just outside of where you wanted them with light pressure.

You nodded. “Please,” you said, and then gasped as he pressed inside. You realized your eyes were closed and opened them to find him staring down at you, mouth open, expression full of heat.

He sank a second finger inside of you and watched as your mouth fell open at the stretch. “Yes, beautiful,” he praised, watching as your back arched again. “I want to see it.” He praised you as he worked you higher with his fingers. Just as you started to feel it build, a tension at the base of your spine that started to soar upwards, he moved his thumb over your clit.

Din smirked when you moaned. “Like that?” You nodded, and he smiled. “Yeah, like that. Come on. Come for me, sweetheart.” He worked his fingers faster, thumb circling your clit just right, and you felt yourself barreling helplessly towards your peak.

“Din–” you cried, and he ducked down to kiss you. He pulled back again quickly.

“Yes, come on. Come.”

And you did. It washed over you like the sound in the theater earlier, rumbling through your body and leaving shivers in its wake. You came back to yourself and realized you were breathing hard as Din curled over you.

“That was so fucking beautiful, sweetheart,” he said, leaning down to press kisses along your collarbone. “Everything you do is beautiful. Fucking gorgeous.”

You tightened your grip on his hair and tugged his head up. “Din,” you said, and he opened his mouth to respond, but you shook his head lightly with your grip on his hair. “Fuck me.”

The expression that took over his face was fierce. He thrust his hips downward and you felt his cock against your thigh. You untangled one hand to reach down, but he caught your hand. “No, sweetheart. Not if you want me to fuck you right now.” And then he kissed you again.

You almost protested, but then you felt his hand behind your knee. He bent it upwards until it was flat against your chest, almost like you were doing a split with your knee bent. He tucked your leg over his shoulder. With that one in place, he used his other hand to bend your knee and open your hip to the side.

He pulled back from the kiss, and looked down at where he’d put you. You had one leg over his shoulder and the other thigh to the side, lying flat against the bed. Your pussy was spread wide open for him, and he grinned, wickedly. “Perfect,” he murmured, and then thrust his hips forward.

His cock came to rest against your pussy, and you both moaned at the sensation of the head nudging against your clit.

“You feel so fucking good,” he murmured, pressing kisses all over your face. “I knew you would.”

He thrust his hips again, and this time the head of his cock nudged against your entrance, and you shivered. “Din, please–”

He nodded into your neck. “Alright, sweetheart. I’ll give you what you want.” He pulled his hips back, and on the next slow thrust, notched the head of his cock right where you wanted it. With your hips so open you could feel everything.

Din lifted his head and caught your eye. You nodded, quickly, and he smiled as he pushed inside.

Your mouth dropped open. He was so big. You held his gaze as he filled you and you realized you were breathing hard, chest heaving, once he pushed all the way inside.

For a moment neither of you moved. Your eyelids fluttered as you adjusted to the sensation of him, inside you, filling every inch of your cunt. You tilted your hips slightly and your eyes flew open when he gasped.

“Move, Din,” you breathed, and he nodded. He started to pull his hips backwards, and you shivered as the head of his cock nudged against that spot inside of you that felt so good.

He saw it, of course. He saw everything. And he knew your body well.

Before he thrust back in, he reached down and tilted your hips upwards, pressing his torso farther forward to catch your knee. The head of his cock nudged against that spot again and you sighed.

He smiled at you. “Like that, hmm?”

You nodded, and he did it again. And again. And again.

You watched his muscles move in his arms and shoulders as he fucked you, and you struggled for breath. You were falling apart underneath him as he held you in the perfect position and fucked you slowly, so slowly you thought you might cry.

“I thought about this,” he said, voice low as he watched you. “Knew you’d be so beautiful. But I…” he trailed off as he thrust forward again. “I had no idea. How amazing you would be. How you would feel.”

You felt it start to build, again, and travel its way up from your toes to the tip of your head. You were tingling all over, sparks running down your spine and out your fingertips.

“Faster?” he asked, watching the way your hips started to thrust upwards to meet his. You nodded.

He started to move faster, so gradually, the increase in speed building slowly and washing over you like a wave. Before you knew it he was gripping you behind your knee and thrusting into you, hitting that spot inside just right.

Din shifted so that his knee was bent to the side under your leg and the change in angle let him slip just a little bit deeper inside. You whined.

“Yes, sweetheart,” he said, voice low. “Just like that. Show it to me again.” He let go of your leg, held in place on his shoulder, and slipped his fingers between you to play at your clit.

You were almost there, so close, teetering on the edge, when he leaned down and murmured in your ear, “Come, beautiful. You feel so fucking good. Come for me..”

And for the second time that night, you did exactly what he told you to do.

You came, hard, head thrown back and his name on your lips. He thrust faster, carrying you through it. Your entire body was shaking as you came down, and you felt him thrust once more inside you and then still.

Din ducked his head into your neck as you both breathed. You curled your legs and arms around him, holding him close. You took a moment to revel in the fact that your bodies were pressed together with nothing in the way, no barrier between you. You felt like you were floating.

He shifted his weight and nuzzled at your neck. “I feel like I could fly right now, if I tried hard enough.”

You laughed. “You already fly on stage, you know. I’ve never seen anyone get air like that.”

He lifted his head and leaned it against his hand, still pressed against you everywhere else, and looked down at you with a half-smile. “Sure, I can jump, but I can only fly with you.”

Your face felt hot and you tried to bury it in his chest, but he laughed and cupped your cheek with his free hand.

“It’s true. I’ve never felt like this before. I didn’t know I could feel like this.” His eyes were so open and serious. “If I’d known you were here, I would have left years ago.”

You bit your lip and studied his face. His handsome, lovely face that was so open and expressive, but not for everyone. You felt a familiar warmth building inside of you at the knowledge that you got to see the man behind the mask so fully. “You were worth the wait, Din.”

He smiled and leaned down to kiss you. “So were you, sweetheart.”

...

last |

a/n: thank you again for reading!! it means so much to me. I hope you liked this chapter. I can't believe we reached the end!!

#din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #din djarin x f!reader #din djarin fanfiction #the mandalorian #nbt fic #pas de deux fic #pedro pascal character fanfiction #x reader

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harunayuuka2060 · 1 year ago

Text

MC: *sitting in front of Lucifer, Diavolo, and Barbatos while staring at them blankly*

Diavolo: We're really glad to finally see you conscious, MC.

Lucifer: Please tell us if you're still feeling unwell. *smiles* We can stay here in Demon Lord's Castle for your fast recovery.

MC: ...

MC: *tilts their head* Fast... recovery? Have you never been aware that this body has lost its soul?

Diavolo: We're aware of that fact, yes. But seeing you right now, it means that your soul has found its way back.

MC: *blinks at him* Why would it return? Does it have any reason to?

Diavolo: ...

Barbatos: I'm guessing that there's not-

Lucifer: You love us, MC. Yes. We might've driven you to despair, but we will do everything in our power to fix that.

MC: So you think you can fix a broken glass?

MC: You are... so full of yourself. No wonder this body feels so empty inside.

MC: That I want to shatter it.

Diavolo: I won't allow you to hurt yourself!

MC: Why not? Its previous owner wants the same thing, for this body to begone.

MC: If you're truly concerned about them, wouldn't it be better to follow their wish?

Lucifer and Diavolo: ...

Barbatos: MC- No, what are you?

MC: Nothing. My existence is of no importance. Just allow me to end it so I can be on my way.

Lucifer: That won't happen. *uses a spell to make them sleep*

MC: *their body goes limp as they close their eyes*

Barbatos: Lucifer...

Diavolo: It seems MC is still angry with us. But I'm certain that it will go away just like with Satan's.

Barbatos: ...

Luke: *still cuddling MC* Are you really the MC I know? You're not just an illusion?

MC: *smiles* Yes. It's me, Luke.

Luke: *tearing up again*

MC: Please don't cry. Your eyes are already puffy. *wiping his tears away*

Luke: Will you never leave again? I see that you've become an angel. D-Does that mean father has given you another chance?

MC: ...

MC: *masked their expression as to not worry him* Yes. Isn't that wonderful?

Luke: Hm! *finally smiled* You look great as an angel, MC!

MC: Thank you, Luke.

Raphael: I've failed to catch them.

Michael: They must've found a secure place to hide.

Raphael: ...

Raphael: You don't seem to be worried now, Michael. Why is that?

Michael: MC is still an angel. Sooner or later, I would be able to feel their presence and they could never hide from us again.

Raphael: ...

Raphael: Once we see them, I suggest that you finish what needs to be done.

Michael: Hm? Why, Raphael?

Michael: What's wrong with having a little bit of fun?

Raphael: ...

Mammon: You told us that MC finally woke up and now you made them sleep?!

Lucifer: I had to. MC is not in their usual self. I'm only trying to protect them.

Levi: We understand that, but... Is that an enough reason to make them stay in the attic?

Lucifer: That is the safest part of the house.

Belphie: *feels sick hearing that, but he doesn't make a comment*

Lucifer: All of you, when MC wakes up, pay heed no mind to whatever they say.

Asmo: What does that mean?

Lucifer: ...

Lucifer: *holds their cheek and caresses it with his thumb* They are unwell.

His brothers: ...

#obey me #obey me nightbringer #obey me mc #obey me lucifer #obey me diavolo #obey me barbatos #obey me luke #obey me michael #obey me raphael #obey me brothers

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cheralith · 1 year ago

Text

to a heart's content — 「 single father!miguel o'hara x reader (part iii) 」

content warnings ; fem!reader, implied fem bodied!reader, use of she/her pronouns, reader wears dresses and makeup, mild violence mention

contains ; single father!miguel o'hara, boss!miguel o'hara, assistant!reader, angst, angst with some comfort, unedited/not beta read as of 2/24

word count ; 8.5k

notes ; we're so back. am i severely late to posting this? very. did i at least get it done after too many months? also yes. i also apologize in advance to those i tagged that are no longer interested in the series, as i merely tagged people that had commented regardless of time. lmk if you no longer want to be tagged in the last part, i promise i won't take offense at all!

parts ; one two three four (tba)

THREE YEARS AGO

“My name is (Y/N) (L/N), it’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. O’Hara. Please let me assist you at any need possible.”

Miguel peered at you through his reading glasses, averting his attention from his laptop to fully examine the stranger that stood in his office. Dark hazelnut eyes scan the appearance of a young woman dressed in black slacks and an ironed white blouse standing stiffly next to his superiors that eyed him with more eagerness than he liked. He could already tell that you were a shy one, a person that wasn’t too accustomed to the outside world and its people; you stood with stiff posture; it was one that exemplified nerve rather than confidence from the way that you almost seem paralyzed in your place.

Caldworth, one of the superiors that stood by your side, placed a wrinkly and veiny hand on your shoulder and showed you off to him as if you were a painting up for bidding. “We choose a sharp one for you. (Y/N) here is rather attentive, so don’t be shy about letting her get to know you better, Miguel.”

Miguel stayed quiet, still skeptical about this sudden new arrangement for him that was brought up at the last minute. He lacked a certain sort of anticipation that would usually behold anyone else in his position—a new person entering their work life would usually be an exciting, rousing meeting seeing as how it would be a new addition to what the higher-ups would refer to as “family.” A loose term, Miguel often thought… very loose, even. To even have the courage to compare coworkers to something as intimate as family was something that didn’t sit well with Miguel. Blame it on the certain circumstances on his own familial life, but even anyone else that had their brain in the somewhat of the right spot would understand that mere coworkers were nothing compared to family.

At least in his case.

“I’ve greatly admired your work in the past,” you said almost robotically, “so I hope I can be of any help in your future accomplishments—no matter how big or small.”

Miguel cocked his head. He fought the urge to raise an eyebrow at what he began to concur was something scripted via his superiors. Something about your tone of voice seemed… flat; devoid of any actual enthusiasm.

Caldworth and his partner began to see themselves out, leaving him to babysit you. “Well, you two have at it! Maybe go out for a cup of coffee to familiarize yourselves, get to know each other better since you both are essentially going to be around each other all the time,” Caldworth stated, making Miguel twitch from the last part.

Just before they left, Caldworth offered the glint of his eye over his shoulder, the peek of a tight-lipped grin ever so slightly visible.

“And don’t forget, we’re all family here!” he cheered before the slam of a door shut you and Miguel in.

Immediately, Miugel noticed that your shoulders caved inward, indicating that you were finally able to breathe properly without the surveillance of people that were essentially in charge of your life. He eyed you again from the top of his glasses before he took them off and rested them in between his fingers, letting them dangle lazily.

“Did they tell you to say that?”

You jolted in your spot. Nerves seemingly reshocked with the same anxiety from before, you turned yourself to face your new boss again with a much more paled, yet evident expression—wide-eyed, pursed-lipped, gritted jaw—and swallowed thickly. Almost in a shameful manner, you silently nodded your head.

“W-was…” you started, “was it that obvious?”

“Somewhat,” Miguel murmured simply and closed his laptop. “Don’t listen to what they say, just make yourself as comfortable as possible. I’m sure neither of us want to be that comfortable with each other.”

Your lips pressed themselves into a tight line, hitching a sharp breath before it’s replaced with another stiff nod. There was no user’s manual of sorts that was given to you by your superiors. They merely told you to do exactly what Miguel needed, so if this is what he wanted—for you two to maintain distance—then so be it. If anything, it’s easier to breathe this way for both parties.

And it was like that for a rather long time; the both of you never came too close to the other person. It was strictly a professional workplace relationship, one that didn’t issue any room for intimacy because it wasn’t needed. There were no lunch or dinner get-togethers outside work hours, there was barely any small talk between you both, and you and he didn’t even bother getting each others’ personal numbers despite being consistently around the other like air—both parties thought the work phones were more than enough. There was no need for you to learn about his likes, his dislikes, his favorite foods, and Miguel couldn’t certainly be bothered with your own slices of life. To each their own, if you minded your business about him, he’d do the same to you.

It was a fair trade and a sufficient barter that satisfied you and him; there need not be any excess of the unnecessary.

That was, until a certain day that Miguel was held back during his usual hours to continue working on lab reports—work that didn’t allow him freedom from this hell of a company to see his own salvation.

“If it’s an urgent matter, Mr. O’Hara, I don’t mind taking on some of the workload,” you had said softly as you placed the last stack of packets on his desk that needed proper annotation. “I’m your assistant, after all. It’s my job to help you out.”

Miguel rubbed his forehead out of exhaustion and shook his head, “You’re my assistant from 9 to 5 only. I’m not gonna be like those shocking pricks and work you longer than needed,” he muttered and stretched out his neck, joints crackling. “Go clock out, (Y/N). I’m sure there’s someone waiting for you at home that needs attending to.”

Suddenly, the atmosphere had gone awkwardly quiet. The tension was only broken by the scritching of your shuffling feet before you coughed.

“Um, there’s no one in particular like that for me, unfortunately,” you whispered through a forced laugh that quickly dissolved. “So again, I don’t mind staying late…”

Miguel stiffened in his seat and mumbled an apology for his blatant inconsideration. Right… you were still rather young and didn’t seem the type to have a family yet. “No boyfriend? Or girlfriend… I’m not one to judge.”

“No, Mr. O’Hara.”

“No parents?”

“I moved out, so no.”

“Not even pets?”

“None.”

“... perhaps friends of sorts?”

“...”

Another sigh heaves itself from his aching lungs. What he’d do for a cigarette right now to kill this awkward tension. You were a rather shy person that isolated herself from most people, but Miguel didn’t think you’d detach yourself this much from the crowd.

You proposed your assistance once more, as third times always a charm. “Please let me assist you, Mr. O’Hara. I truly do not mind staying overtime if needed.”

Miguel, at first, thought you might be kissing his ass for a possible raise, but the thought quickly disappears when you genuinely appear concerned for his well-being given the fact he looked ultimately much more disgruntled than usual. Despite your timidity, you could be a stubborn one, so Miguel gave in before he tired himself even more with mild arguments that he was sure would drain whatever life he had left in him.

He inhales sharply and fiddles with his bag for a bit before he pulls out an array of keys, gently detaching a pair of them. One of them is his car key. The other—his house key.

“Take these,” he said and gestured them to you. “I’ve trusted you enough to drive my car on multiple occasions, so now I’m entrusting you to my daughter.”

Your eyes widened briefly, brows raising to new heights. Blinking in the alikeness of an owl, you repeated, “Your… your daughter?”

Miguel supposes this is what succumbs to him after not revealing even the most personal, yet basic parts of himself to a coworker. He hasn’t even revealed his birthday to you, let alone his family, so he can’t say he’s too surprised at your reaction.

“Yes, my daughter,” he repeats and starts scribbling on a post-it. “Her name is Gabriella, she just turned five and is in kindergarten. I’m gonna call up the daycare and tell them that you’ll be picking her up from school. After that, drop her off at the house and just… just kind of stay there until I come home. There should be leftovers in the fridge if she gets hungry. I’ll take a cab home… I dunno.”

Miguel sticks out the post-it note containing both the address of the daycare and his apartment number. With caution, you take and examine them closely with a mild surprise still on your face of the new information about your boss that you thought you should’ve learned a while ago. You begin to see yourself out of his office with an evident nervousness in your being before Miguel spontaneously gets up and grabs your wrist tightly, forcing you to look at him.

A chill goes down your spine when you see a menacing and unusual red glint in those pools of mahogany. His once-drained face is suddenly stony and rugged with his teeth bitten back to avoid any unnecessary threats. The physical contact makes your nerves go cold and paralyzes you into place to force you to stare into those eyes that you’re not sure aren’t even human, a sort of malicious crimson tint gleaming over brown hues.

“Do not… let anything happen to her,” he hisses under his breath, his tone jaggedly sharp, “Not a single scratch, yes?”

It takes a while for air to breathe itself back into your lungs, yet only a partial amount of it revives your body because all you can reply is a choked out,

“Yes.”

Miguel lets go of your wrist like it’s a heated iron rod, the burn of it stinging his hand with the aftertaste of your skin still damped on his palm. You quickly leave after that, leaving him to sigh and stare into nothing before clutching the picture frame of his daughter that sits on his desk—praying that you’ll live up to his expectations and arrive home to an unscathed Gabriella.

And throughout the duration of the three years you and Miguel have spent side by side, with each repeated question he’d contritely ask again and again, he did each and every single time you had to take care of her. The hours became longer, more strenuous, and created a blockage between Miguel and Gabriella that only you were able to bridge between. Gabriella—whose particular shyness reminded Miguel of a certain someone—eventually warmed up to you and began to treat you much more familiarly as time passed, growing accustomed to wrapping her body around your legs when she saw you during pick up and always asking what was for dinner that evening as if you’ve been there since her birth.

Gabriella grew very fond of you, Miguel noticed. There was some sort of mimicry in her actions at times that mirrored your own habits like how she’d tilt her head and purse her lips to the left when she was confused like you did or she’d randomly walk briskly in the same fashion you marched. She’d slip in a mention of your name during small discussions here and there, a praise never failing to tail her words.

“Miss. (Y/N) bought this headband for me! Isn’t it pretty?”

“Oh, Miss. (Y/N) taught me how to solve that problem yesterday.”

“Can you make cookies like how Miss. (Y/N) does? Yours taste weird.”

While you weren’t always present around the O’Haras, Gabriella made sure it seemed like you were.

There was a particular time that Miguel was helping her on some homework assigned over the weekend. The assignment had discussed different careers that children might be interested in the future and when Miguel had asked her what she wanted to be when she grew up, Gabriella, who couldn’t have been more than six or seven around the time, replied all too simply,

“I want to be like Miss. (Y/N).”

Miguel was astonished. He had expected an answer like a professional soccer player due to her love of the sport or a scientist like her father, but to aspire to be someone that seemingly was just an occasional companion? To him, it didn’t make sense.

“Like, do you wanna work for Daddy when you’re older?” Miguel asked, attempting to clarify what she meant since she knew enough to understand you were associated with her father.

Gabriella shook her head and mindlessly continued to draw what seemed to be a portrait of you in… a pink dress? “Nuh uh. I wanna be a princess like her.”

Through furrowed brows, Miguel chuckled a little aimlessly. Of course she’d still believe fantasy and magical things—she was just seven after all. Initially, he wanted to merely correct his daughter, but was a little curious as to what sort of silly information you had been feeding her. “Miss. (Y/N) is a princess?”

“Yep, she told me herself!” Gabriella exclaimed, her hand fisting a yellow marker that scribbled on a crown on the drawing. “She said she used to be a princess, but she ran away ‘cause a giant, fire-breathing lizard tried to kidnap her!”

“I think it might’ve been a dragon, mijita,” Miguel corrected gently, trying to go along with the usual trope fairy tales portrayed.

“Nuh uh, it was a big and creepy lizard, she said!” she retaliated stubbornly.

“Well,” he started again, attempting to choose his words a little more carefully this time around. “How come you don’t wanna be like Ariel? Or Tiana? They’re princesses, too, right?”

She shrugged. “I like them. But they’re not Miss. (Y/N).”

Something unnatural began to seep into Miguel’s chest. He knew that Gabriella liked you quite so, but he didn’t expect for her to almost admire you in such a fashion that inspired her to be like you. In his eyes, you were nothing but the assistant that loyally stood by his side and abided by his every word—to him, it seemed like you were more of a butler or servant than a princess.

But in his daughter’s eyes…

“Why? What’s so special about (Y/N)?” Miguel inquired with a growing curiosity to try and see you in the same light as Gabriella.

She shook her head, displeased with the informality given to you by her father. “You gotta say Princess (Y/N). I don’t have to ‘cause she said it’s okay.”

He sighed, “Okay, fine. What’s so special about Princess (Y/N)?”

Gabriella set her marker down carefully and thought for a little while. Her eyes suddenly lit up with delight, an affirmative grin set on her lips.

“Well, she’s really pretty… like reallyyy pretty. I wanna be just as beautiful as her one day,” she praised, making Miguel’s brows rise at the sudden compliment. “She’s really nice, too. She never shouts at me like the teachers or coaches do… and she always lets me have extra dessert when I do a good job on my homework.”

Miguel fell silent. Perhaps it was more than mere admiration, but idolization for Gabriella. She viewed you in a way that Miguel hadn’t even thought of because he only viewed you as his coworker. But in Gabriella’s eyes, you were more than just her babysitter—you were literal royalty to her. He shouldn’t be one to complain though—he’d take his daughter following in your footsteps over some others that might lead her astray. You were… sufficient enough, he supposes, even if Gabriella didn’t think so.

“She’s super smart too—like you, Papá! Maybe even smarter,” she retorts, making Miguel twitch. “And I like her voice a lot. I really like it when she reads me a story because her voice is pretty. Sometimes she sings this song to me to help me sleep.”

“Oh?” Miguel questioned, “¿Y, qué canción es esa?”

“I keep forgetting the name and words of it…” Gabriella pouted after a moment of attempted concentration. “But it went somethin’ like…”

She began humming an off-tune melody that struck a dissonant, yet familiar chord within Miguel, but it was impossible for him to find why it was so eerily familiar to him. Was it perhaps from an old song? Or a film he’d seen before? It was a calming song, one that was perfectly suited for a child’s lullaby, but something about it seemed almost so customary to him.

“Ya gotta marry her,” his daughter said plainly and began to resume her artistry, ignoring the sudden startle she gave her father. “So that way, I can become a princess, too.”

Miguel helped himself to the nearby cup of water to soothe his choked throat after the scare she gave him. “Sweetheart, I’m not a prince, though.”

“Yeah, I know,” his daughter replied without missing a beat. “But you know what you are, though?”

Dare he say that Gabriella had grown akin to you the same way she had with her father. Something about her praise and regard for you seemed to mirror the way that reflected alike to her father, yet Miguel couldn’t tell if she had managed to draw a line between the images of you and him. Hell, he wasn’t even sure if Gabriella could even define a difference in her adulation between you and him besides the fact one was her parent.

But when the thought of Gabriella potentially viewing you as sharing the same title as him—a parent—something seeds inside Miguel. He doesn’t know what it is or what it will grow into, but there’s one thing he knows for sure.

The seed of you in his life and hers is here to stay, whether he likes it or not.

Gabriella’s smile grew wide before she happily announced,

“You’re her knight in shining armor!"

PRESENT

If he squinted properly and took a closer look, perhaps Miguel could make himself hallucinate enough to try and visualize the golden chandelier above your head as your haloing tiara. It was the main light source nearly the entirety of the venue, but something about the way the light glistened around you made you seem almost holy, like you were a divinity gracing your presence on the wretchedness they called Earth.

Blame it on the wine, but Miguel couldn’t help but notice that you looked more celestial tonight; a unique sort of ethereal that he’s only seen in the finest of paintings. The banquet hall is covered in layers of silkened gold, only emphasizing your best features in the spotlights of reflecting amber.

You’re talking idly (per usual, unfortunately) with a coworker from Human Resources that he’s seen you often have mild conversations with on the weekly, a rare familiarity that he only knows he’s been graced with in full; so it’s truly no surprise that there’s a placid stir of envy growing within Miguel as you’ve decided to not give your semi-cold shoulder a break even tonight, even with the rarity of a compliment given by him. At least there’s been somewhat of an improvement—you’re actually holding miniscule conversations with him every now and then as you both chatter with the crowd as long as there’s a third party.

Yet he still hasn’t been granted mercy of having a proper one-on-one with you, yet.

But beggars can’t be choosers, so Miguel must make do with what he’s offered.

The coworker, finally, is called by one of his project managers and politely excuses himself, leaving you to Miguel’s devices at long last. Like a flower’s petals given little to no care, your smiling face wilts into the solemn countenance that Miguel has grown accustomed to seeing for the past week when you turn your gaze back towards the table, a sliver of Miguel caught in the corner of your eye. In time, he just barely catches a glimpse of your eyes flickering toward his figure before they return to stare at the nearly empty plate of food with a slight dismal.

A choice of what words to say jumble in his mouth. They toss and jump about while not giving him full comprehension of what they mean and Miguel grows frustrated at his lack of intelligibleness because it wasn’t every day that his resolve could be so cowardly in front of someone. Usually he was the one that made egos shrink, but upon your grace, his own could only grow so small.

You can tell there’s an awkward silence amongst you both despite the audible chatter throughout the banquet hall and the idle conversations among your tablemates, so you break it first but stiffly shuffling out your phone and dialing Gabriella’s babysitter for tonight—a blue moon occasion since neither you nor Miguel could be present. Gabriel is out of town and because there were only so many people in the world that Miguel could trust with his beloved, the elderly next-door-neighbor was the last resort.

“I should probably check up on how Mrs. Darcie is doing,” you splutter with a dry mouth. “I forgot to teach her how the TV remote works and I’m sure she must be bored out of her—”

Unconsciously, Miguel gently pries the phone out of your shaking hands, the connection between skin and skin electrifying his nerves more than he liked. He takes notice of the size difference between your hand and his own and eyes carefully at how easily your fingers would be able to slip into the gaps of his all too easily; like two connecting puzzle pieces.

He places it face down on the table to avoid further distractions. “I’m sure Mrs. Darcie is alright,” he attempts to soothe as he places his hand over your own, nearly caging it between his fingers. Miguel struggles with fighting the urge to squeeze it delicately—he doesn’t know if he’s earned that privilege, or if he ever did. “Gabi is most likely preparing for bed, we shouldn’t distract her.”

Eyes flickering toward your covered hand, the warmth that envelopes it from Miguel’s makes you swallow thickly.

“Ah,” you murmur and timidly pull back your hand to place back on your lap to Miguel’s disappointment. “Right… Never mind then.”

And suddenly, he’s back to square one. Silence plagues the air again between you and him, only this time, it’s thicker and grimier almost. Perhaps it was the oddity that was the physical contact that added to the musk of it; Miguel prays that you didn’t find it uncomfortable.

A fork is plucked between your fingers and you go to idly poke at your food to fidget with something other than your hands. “I hope she’s okay. Gabi, I mean. I-It feels a little odd leaving her with someone other than you.

Rays of hope and enthrallment embellish Miguel’s being from the fact that finally… finally you’re the one attempting a conversation with him after much too long. And not only that, you’re beginning with something bold, even if you don’t realize it. Despite the fact you’re rather unconscious of what you’re saying, something within Miguel perks up at the fact that you’re worried about Gabriella in the same sense… that he is.

That a parent is.

He fights the urge to physically shake his head to brush the thought off. Miguel hums, a semi-sorry attempt at being suede and casual. “Mrs. Darcie has had eight children in her lifetime, I’m sure that she’s definitely had her experience of taking care of kids,” he says seemingly nonchalantly. “Gabi, if anything, is lightwork to her.”

A soft delight pings in his chest again when you reply almost instantaneously, “She is indeed a good girl, very well-behaved.”

“She has her moments,” Miguel snorts, fondly remembering a few of younger Gabriella’s temper tantrums and outbursts of tears.

Something golden, something bright blossoms within him when he hears you let out a soft chuckle at his reply. It’s abrupt, but it’s short and sweet enough that he feels accomplished, enough for him to savor the taste of it. “All children do from time to time. But she’s definitely one of the better apples of the bunch.”

Miguel thinks you’re right; it wasn’t often that parents, new ones especially, were granted with the privilege of having obedient children, so he’s one of the lucky ones. Perhaps Gabriella being a good kid was the universe giving him mercy as a single parent, as society often thinks it takes two to tango when it comes to childcare most of the time.

But that’s why you’re here, isn’t it? Even if Miguel wasn’t aware of it, some of the responsibility was lifted off his shoulders when you entered the picture, as the duties of nurturing a young child were now in your favor the moment you had signed your work contract. For that, he harbors guilt from time to time when he thinks that you never exactly signed up to be a babysitter, let alone a parent figure to his kin that you were still unaware of.

And then it hits him.

It comes all of a sudden—his senses downpouring from the cloud of his daydreams and thoughts.

It’s not a good realization by far. If anything, it’s the very opposite, one that’s one the other end of the spectrum. It’s a deathly epiphany and one that he doesn’t like to acknowledge but is forced to.

Miguel stares blankly at the tablecloth, eyes droning into the satin folds of it as they mimicked the waves of a crashing ocean. A sort of paleness infects his face, the color of it draining slowly and he goes still when he feels his heartbeat thundering in his ears.

You’re quick to take notice of your boss’s current disposition, growing wary of his wide, blank eyes and gritted jaw, along with his knuckles growing white as they fist his slacks. A shallow breath is echoed from him; you furrow your brows.

“Mr. O’Hara?” you murmur, leaning toward his figure.

Miguel’s mind stirs. If Gabriella views you as a parent-figure, what exactly would you think of it? You’re not much younger than Miguel is, only falling behind a mere four or five years, but you’re still significantly young that you’ve got your whole life ahead of you that you’d need to experience by yourself. The remnants of youth are still planted onto you despite being well-adjusted to the adult world, so to put the responsibility of a child on your shoulders? Miguel feels contrition flood into him.

What if you didn’t even want children?

It’s a fact that you care for Gabriella, but do you harbor the same type of love for her that she has for you? Does she even understand what your role is in her life and that there’s a strict boundary between you and Miguel and Gabriella? He knows he can’t just shackle you onto a weighing responsibility, but when Gabriella is a part of this dilemma, the complication increases tenfold.

Your boss seems to be frozen in time, seeing as how not a muscle in his limbs nor his face were moving, but his eyes were wide open, almost glazed with fear. A feathery hand goes to place itself over his tightened fist before you ask again, “Mr. O’Hara, are you okay?”

The worst case scenario infects Miguel’s thoughts—you standing in the same shadow of his ex, exiting through the same door she had walked through just a few days after his daughter’s birth and breaking his entire being into little pathetic pieces.

This time, however? He wouldn’t be the only one with a shattered heart.

A thick swallow goes down your throat. You gently shake his hand with your own to attempt to break him out of his frigid state, a worry beginning to settle itself in your stomach. “Mr. O’Hara? Can you hear me?” you declare a little louder than the first two times.

Your voice makes him blink and he clears his throat, feeling his cheeks warm at the sudden loss of composure. “Yes, I-I’m fine…” he mutters as he tugs at the tight collar of his dress shirt.

You nod with visible skepticism. Miguel turns away from your gaze to avoid further questioning, since he knows you’ve been at his side long enough to know his behaviors. “Are you sure?”

He nods and stifles a sigh, nodding. The flurry of what had just occurred in his mind lingers almost painfully and it takes him a while to remember where he is and why. Right… the annual celebration gala… with you… to make up for the date that never happened.

His mind is a mess. It’s an incoherent tornado of everything and anything, with images of all kinds flashing throughout his mind—young Gabriella’s drawing of you and her as princesses that she insisted on framing, your face of disappointment that you gave him when he ditched out on the date, a flashback of his ex slamming his old apartment door on him as an infant Gabriella screamed and wailed in her crib, you hugging his daughter after her winning goal, Miguel’s frazzled self as he showed up too late to his daughter’s first Parents Day with a teary-eyed Gabriella, him finding you quietly reading a sleepy Gabi a bedtime story after a long shift at work, you making baked goods in the kitchen with her.. you tucking in her into bed… you suddenly with a suitcase in hand, a sobbing Gabriella in the back as Miguel begged you to stay before you slammed the door behind you and leaving them—

Miguel stands up abruptly, making you jump. The collar and tie around his neck suddenly seem too tight and his throat runs dry. The air grows hotter and his vision starts to blur.

“Mr. O’Hara,” you start as you also stand up, “Is everything alr—”

“I need some air,” Miguel barely chokes out before he leaves the banquet hall without another word. He can just barely hear you ask if there’s anything you could do before he turns a sharp right and leaves the entirety of the building altogether, choosing to remain in the back garden to breathe in fresh oxygen, a relieving chill to the air.

A hand goes to loosen his collar and tie and he can feel himself gain consciousness again. The sky is draped with an ink blue all over, speckles of the night stars scattering all around. The floral smell of many garden flowers fills his senses and Miguel grounds himself properly before he settles himself on a stone bench to balance in his mind.

He attempts to reason with himself.

Clearly, you don’t mind being with children, and obviously you don’t mind being with and taking care of Gabriella. She’s not simply a job to you that you’re forced to work with—you’ve said it yourself. Otherwise, you wouldn’t go to her games nor would you remember to bring her small gifts of her liking. You’ve done things for her out of your own initiative many times. Gabriella is your world, Miguel thinks, as much as your hers.

Now there’s the problem of you being with Miguel, if your feelings haven’t changed all too much. In all honesty, Miguel thinks if he’s with the right person, he’s sure to put in effort into stabilizing and nurturing a proper relationship. He hadn’t had the time to go around and look for love because of work and Gabriella, so serving as this sanctuary that came to him was basically a perfect fit into his life—don’t mind it took him three years to notice it. You’re worth putting that effort in.

Finally… there’s the possible chance that you reject Miguel’s proposal of being Gabriella’s secondary caretaker.

…

Miguel attempts to process it in a more… positive light. One that won’t send him spiraling.

But it’s nearly impossible.

How is it possible to settle a middle ground of happiness, or at the very least… satisfaction, between you and him and Gabriella? How do you imagine a happy ending to a dawning of Gabriella’s happiness? How can Miguel ever face you after asking such a thing?

His vision shakes again, another hurricane of impossible questions begins whirling in mind. The bile in his stomach churns uncomfortably and his hands grow clammy again. His feet feel like they’re sinking in the dirt. Somehow, even at a staggering height compared to most of his colleagues, Miguel feels small once more.

Would he be able to cope with such a—

A loud crash and multiple screams suddenly break Miguel out of his state and he whirls his head to see what was happening inside. The peek of something green slithers inside the massive hole in the glass ceiling indented in the building, and it doesn’t take Miguel long to know what’s happening.

He sprints back inside the building and into the banquet hall, the opposite way where everyone is headed and takes a swift peek inside to what was happening.

A horrifically large green lizard crawls on the floor, letting out an agonizing roar of sorts with its tail swishing about and knocking everything and everyone in its path over. Dr. Curtis Connors, the one foe Miguel had fought a few months ago and had just managed to escape his grasp, had come back for revenge in a newer, more improved, more terrifying form of his initial self-experiment. News of his identity had leaked out immediately the moment that he had defeated the mad doctor, and every work that was researched by him that was deemed irrelevant by Alchemax was unpublished and/or destroyed—that included raiding everything in his personal lab—an urgent executive order made by Tyler Stone himself.

Hungry for revenge for the destruction of his work, Miguel was certain he was back for revenge as back when he was still sane, the amount of research that Dr. Connors had put in was extensive and yielded long years in the making, spanning over nearly three decades of research that was wiped away in the matter of a single day thanks to Alchemax.

Miguel quickly turns a corner, hidden from the public eye, and commands his suit on before quickly re-entering the banquet hall. He swings up towards the domed ceiling and carefully analyzes the area.

There’s still a few people scattering from the room, shrieks echoing from the walls. His eyes go to search for where you are in desperation, praying you’re safe somewhere outside, but a flash of light pink catches the corner of his eye. He nearly snaps his neck when he finds you running in the opposite direction of where most people are headed—towards the garden.

“(Y/N)!” Miguel yells out without thinking and slaps a hand over his mouth. Thankfully, you don’t hear him due to the commotion inside the area as you swim against the current of people. You fight the urge to fall down with every person that bumps into you amidst the chaos before you thankfully make it near the exit.

He lunges down from his spot on the ceiling, lassoing a few people that nearly get crushed under Lizard’s humongous tail and bringing them to safety properly on the way, making his way towards your figure. Rubble from the many columns begin to collapse on themselves; clouds of dust and debris fog the first floor of the hall with the wreckage already trapping some people inside.

A large chunk from the wall creaks and begins to teeter over the south exit, where you’re headed. A certain distraction diverts you from noticing the large cement framework around the exit that’s about to topple on you to Miguel’s horror. In the nick of time, he just barely manages to snatch you by the waist from a thrusted sprint just before the framework collapses with a thunderous boom.

You and Miguel cough from the dust it created. It takes a good second for you to process what your fate might’ve become, and it takes just another second for you to regain your consciousness. A good part of the exit is now blocked, but that doesn’t stop you from taking off your heels and attempting to climb over it.

Miguel barks out and grabs your arm that’s now scathed with slight scratches. “The hell are you doing?!” he exclaims worriedly.

You turn back with a teary and troubled look on your face, much to his shock. Abruptly, you turn back towards the exit and attempt to tug back your arm from his firm grasp. “M-my boss… he’s inside the garden,” you croak miserably out as you try to pull yourself over the fallen column. “I need t-to know if he’s safe…”

Lizard lets out another mighty howl and patters toward the stage, his tail once again swinging haughtily and ignoring anything in its path. Miguel shouts at you to duck and pulls you down along with him. You prop back up and without his arm on yours, you use it to your advantage and grunt yourself forward onto the column.

Miguel wraps a large hand over your ankle and weighs you down from moving any further. “Hey, you need to get out, now. You can’t be here, no one should be,” he urges.

The shake of your head concerns him—right, you’re too stubborn for your own good. “I’ll be fine. P-please, just leave me be.”

“Not when you’re about to get killed,” he declares and juts your ankle more towards him. The motion makes you fall into his chest and Miguel uses one hand to properly secure you to himself, the other launching and swinging a web to the north entrance.

You squirm and fight against him, pleading desperately for him to drop you and leave you alone. A frame of tears threatens to fall from your eyes from frustration and despair when you get put down. Miguel has to physically stop you from running back into the banquet hall once again—you put up a fight though. You thrash against him, clawing and weakly punching at his stronger arms, imploring for him to let you back inside.

“You don’t understand—” you gasp as the remnants of the people inside flood out. Looking over his shoulder, you gaze at the exit solemnly. “Please… I need to know if he’s alright—he h-has a young daughter back at home and if anything happens t-to him—just please let me go!” you wail.

He grabs you by the shoulders forcefully and settles you down, the stream of tears falling from your eyes running his throat dry once again. Miguel has never seen you cry, or even come close to crying. Not when Gabriella forced you to watch what she considered “one of the saddest movies in existence”, not when an entire glass beaker had toppled and its shards pierced your skin, not even when Miguel had first scolded you about your many mistakes on the very first document you turned into him.

Glassy eyes meet concerned, masked ones. Your lip trembled violently, the words all jumbled in your mouth about to spill. “Just let me check if he’s alright,” you just barely whisper.

He bores his gaze into yours as his composure does its best to upkeep him as best as possible. Miguel, from the inside of his mask, bites his lip and sighs. “I promise you, I’ll make sure Miguel gets home safely.”

“What if you don’t?” you accuse with furrowed brows.

“I’ll bring him home safe and sound,” he says firmly. “You said he has a daughter, right? I won’t let her become an orphan. I swear on my life I won’t.”

Your gaze doesn’t falter, even when Miguel attempts to soothe you by chafing the chilled skin of your arms up and down in a calming manner. Unbeknownst to you, you and him share an image of Gabriella in your minds; it brings a sting of ache to your chests.

“How can I trust you?” you ask dryly.

“Because,” he goes to weave a string of webbing through the north entrance and takes you out into the safety of the outside. He settles you on the corner of two intersecting streets that sit nearby the building, with your tears still falling and hands trembling. A hand carefully holds your cheek and wipes away descending tears on your chalky face, Miguel ignoring the squeeze of his heart with each one that puddles on the sidewalk.

“... I’m your friendly neighborhood Spider-Man.”

Spider-Man leaves you on the sidewalk idly with the blurry figures of your co-workers and other people in the company whizzing by you with no concern for anyone else other than themselves. It takes a moment for you to understand what just happened and with whom, suddenly hit with the pang of realization that you had just met the Spider-Man: the well-known vigilante protecting Nueva York from all corners, beloved by the public. Excitement can’t seem to conjure itself within you, however, your gaze still lingering on the building that Miguel was possibly in.

A hesitant step takes you forward back to the building, but your phone vibrates abruptly from a notification from Mrs. Darcie. Word must’ve gotten out so quickly that it reached the O'Hara's neighborhood, as her text was asking if you and Miguel were alright. Your thumbs shake as you try and type up a response to let her know that you were at least alive, but you know that Gabriella wanted you both home.

The least you could do is make sure half of that concern was eased. You were counting on Spider-Man to do the rest.

With an arm reaching out for a taxi, you rush into one and tell the driver to step on the gas, promising to tip extra. You’d be willing to give all the money you had with you if it meant that you could be with Gabriella for tonight.

You’ve underestimated the nightly rush hour this Friday night had brought upon, because there’s a sea of cars that are equally as stuck as you are amidst the road. Tangible fingers go to grip your hair frustratingly, and asking the driver to go any further was basically useless. Each minute you wasted on the same road you had been on for what was nearing twenty minutes made you more anxious by the minute.

“I-isn’t there some sort of shortcut?” you ask the driver hoarsely. “I don’t care what roads you have to take, just please get off this one. I’m begging you. I have a child that’s waiting for me.”

His eyes give you a quick glance in the mirror, and empathy embeds itself in his equally tired eyes. He must be a father himself, you think, as he gives you an affirmative nod and swings off the road onto a much more bumpy and gravelly, but visibly less dense one.

It’s nearly an agonizing hour later off the road—it would’ve most likely reached around two or even three if you stayed on the main road—but you thankfully make it to the O’Hara’s residence. Your body moves on its own, flying out the elevator and speeding down the floor of the apartment. You burst open the door, visible sweat misted on your forehead and an ache to your limbs but all that is ignored when Mrs. Darcie greets you with relief, with a sleeping Gabriella settled soundly on the couch as her favorite TV show buzzes in the background.

She grasps you tightly by the arms. “My goodness, thank heavens you’re alright,” she murmurs quietly. “That must’ve been quite a scare… are you alright?”

“I’m okay,” you gasp out tiredly. “But how is she? Gabi, I mean… d-does she—”

Mrs. Darcie shakes her head. “She fell asleep a while ago, she doesn’t know. I just managed to get informed thanks to my son who works near the building. But where is Miguel?”

Dread floods your face once more, remembering why you left the banquet in the first place. Somehow, however, your phone vibrates and receives a text from the one and only. A loud sigh escapes your lips and you crumple to the floor as the feeling returns to your numb legs as Miguel’s texts ease your worries.

Hey I’m alive and alright. I saw you leave earlier, hope you’re safe. I’m omw home.

You fight the urge to burst into tears from the relief as Mrs. Darcie helps you back up. “I’m assuming that’s him,” she says gently as she encourages you to take off your heels. “What a waste of night and beautiful dress. Shame that blasted giant iguana or something had to ruin it.”

A broken laugh leaves you from her gentle humor. You glance down at the dress that the mysterious Lyla had given you tonight and sigh sadly at the many tears of the tulle and fabric. The dress looked expensive and you planned on wearing it again for formal events, but alas, fate has decided to toy with you.

“That’s alright,” you mutter as you help Mrs. Darcie gather her stuff back up so she can finally leave. “I have plenty of others to use in the meantime.”

The elderly woman leaves you inside their apartment after bidding you a goodnight to tend to Gabriella, who’s still sound asleep and oblivious to what was happening to the world and people around her. That’s a good thing, at least, you think to yourself as you tidy up the living room around her quietly. Ignorance is bliss, sometimes.

She’s still small enough that you’re able to carry her to her room even at her age and it reminds you a lot of when she was younger, when she’d pretend to be asleep so you could carry her yourself to go back to her room. Nowadays, she knows her bedtime and does it by herself, but assuming she had been waiting for you or Miguel to come home, sleep had snuck onto her as she waited and waited.

You put her down gently, hoping not to get any of the leftover debris on your soiled clothes onto her freshly-washed body. The action just barely stirs her awake, her eyes slitting open at the slightest bit. Your blurry figure just barely makes it to her senses and she grins sleepily.

A titter escapes her lips. “You look like a…” Gabriella starts, her words faltering due to a fading consciousness.

“Like a…?” you whisper softly, a hand stroking her hair gently.

“Like a…” you can tell she’s trying to find the words in her very limited vocabulary currently, her brain threatening to shut off at any second now. “Like a princess, I think?”

You raise your brows at her description as Gabriella immediately falls back asleep. You suppose you do look much more dressed up from usual, but your cheeks tingle a hint of warmth at the comparison of literal royalty. You blame it on the drowsiness.

Your own tiredness begins to crawl up your spine as you stay by Gabriella’s side in her darkened bedroom, her quiet breaths soothing you like a lullaby. With heavy eyelids threatening to shut close at any minute, you fight the urge to give into the Sandman, insistent on Miguel’s return.

Miguel…

His name rings aloud in your mind for a moment.

Miguel…

“I promise you, I’ll make sure Miguel gets home safely.”

Spider-Man’s familiar voice suddenly jolts you awake. Your brows crunch together. How on earth did Spider-Man know Miguel’s name when you merely referred to him as your boss? Perhaps he saw Miguel in the garden beforehand? Maybe Miguel had an earlier oncoming with him from before and Spider-Man just knew him from that one incident? Or… he just happens to know the names of all the citizens of Nueva York because… that’s just how Spider-Man is?

Or, was Miguel actually Spid—you shake your head in the same second you think of such a stupid reasoning. That’s impossible…

… you know in your heart that it just is.

Any reason that you attempt to give, you think of it as either obnoxious or just simply impossible. Maybe you did let it slip that your boss’s name was Miguel… that just seems like the most plausible reason. After all, your adrenaline was at an all-time high and you could barely remember what had happened before the takeover, let alone the conversations you had.

Whatever it was, it was going to bring Miguel back home, and that’s what ultimately had mattered in the end. It probably wasn’t even your business to prod around.

At Gabriella’s visible sleeping state, you stand up and start to head towards the bathroom to fix yourself up, but the sound of the master bedroom’s window suddenly shuffling open makes your nerves electrify. Miguel’s bedroom sat just right next to Gabriella’s, and it was also the bedroom that was nearest to the complex’s fire escape, so a break-in at this time of night was highly plausible.

Grabbing one of the displayed metal baseball bats on the wall, you turn off Gabriella’s lights and lock the door behind, ensuring her safety first before yours. You’re careful to tiptoe around the more creaky parts of the floorboards, desperate to make yourself not seen by the intruder as you step closer and closer to Miguel’s bedroom. The door is just barely ajar, and the lights are on. A distinct shuffling, bed springs, and a masculine groan echo from the crack of the doorway and when all is silent from the other side of the door, you make your move and burst in, ready to swing at whoever threatens the O’Hara residence.

The bat is suddenly grabbed from your hands from a familiar neon orange webbing and thrusted to the side of the room, where it thunks against the wall and falls limply. You gasp aloud and with nothing to defend yourself with, you look up with fear in your eyes that suddenly turn to shock from the sight in front of you.

There, standing in the same blue and red vinyl suit you had crossed paths with earlier, without its mask completing the look… and thus, exposing the face of the man you had been waiting for to come back home to you.

a/n ; second to last part to this mini-series and once again, i apologize for this nearly six-month delay, last semester was rough for uni. almost made this into two parts, but i felt like they just belonged together and i quite like the blend of them together.

thanks for the patience for those who stuck around and have waited far too long for this, you deserve this! i'm glad to see you all again <3 thank you endlessly for reading and likes/comments/reblogs are always noticed and appreciated (づ ᴗ _ᴗ)づ♡

taglist ; @secretlyrexlapis @urbimom @p1nkliquor @julesclues @averagefloydlover @apurpletrashcan @raeisthebae @mvchmp @um-well @nintendh-e @eddieslooneymoonie @deputy-videogamer @xochyw @honeybeeznuts @aspens-cove @btszn @scaleniusrm @goldenpoison @the-pan-liquid (if you'd like to be either added or removed from the taglist, please lmk! i know it's been awhile, so hi again haha)

#spider man: across the spider verse #across the spider verse #miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara fluff #miguel o'hara smut #miguel x reader #miguel o'hara imagine #atsv miguel #across the spider verse x reader #miguel ohara x reader #miguel o'hara x fem!reader #fem!reader #fem!y/n

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aftgtandn · 3 months ago

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We're at a real risk of sounding like a broken record at this point but you guys are AMAZING!

We still can't believe how much support you all have shown the fest. From reblogs and retweets, to comments and joining in all the fun games, it's truly been a blast.

We really, really can't thank you enough! Our hearts are so full to see T&N fest be so fun for the second year in a row — and it's all your doing! Every fic, every piece of art, every work adopted, every meme, every comment left, every full bingo card, every rec. IT WAS ALL YOU.

To our creators in particular: we owe you THE WORLD. Thank you for being brilliant. Please make sure to tag us in all your claim posts so we can reblog them!

WITHOUT FURTHER ADO... here's the full list of works AND THEIR INCREDIBLY TALENTED CREATORS:

Are you Real? by Whyreme Rated Mature | 6052 words Andrew comes back from Easthaven but Neil isn't at Palmetto, where he promised he would be. If you ever wondered what it would be like if Andrew was present for the immediate aftermath of Christmas at the Nest, this one is for you.

[art] don't flinch. by ghostheroes Rated Gen | Art There's not that much space from the cheek to the eye. In the art piece we have for you today, Lola aims the lighter barely an inch higher.

echoes by doodleishere Rated Teen | 100 words What if Kevin didn't leave the next alone? In this flash fic, Jean gets out too when Riko's anger finally snaps.

Bite the hand by Ateiluj Rated Mature | 4515 words We all have asked the question: what was going through Andrew's mind during The Choking Incident? A question we might have not asked, however, is: what would happen if no one stopped him? Well, this fic answers both of those!

duck duck goose by glittersinnin Rated Gen | 2329 words When Andrew goes through Neil's duffel, Neil holds his tongue. It will take some patience for him to get adequate revenge. Patience... and some experience handling the local water foul.

Let Down by maydaykevin Rated Gen | 4132 words How would it affect Kevin and Andrew's deal if Kevin hit Andrew back when Andrew chokes him? How is their relationship impacted by this unexpected bout of violence between them? Find out in this fic!

If You're Throwing Me to the Lions by orionauriga Rated Teen | 3763 words It's not easy when your boyfriend comes with a whole lot of baggage, especially twin-brother-who-hates-you shaped baggage. It's not easy but it's worth it, for Aaron, and Katelyn knows how to stand her ground.

If I was easy to kill you would have done it already by lazarusthefirst Rated Mature | 9196 words They were always meant to be partners, now it's Jean's job to make sure Neil behaves. Neil isn't great at being a partner, but he knows partners don't leave each other behind. In this fic, Neil doesn't come back to Palmetto alone.

Butterfly Effect! Read More on Page 12 by animediac Rated Gen | 5194 words How much can the death of one character affect the narrative? Through newspaper and blog articles, emails and social media posts, that's exactly what this fic explores. How many lives can the butterfly effect of one unfortunate 'accident' change?

Nathaniel by nyaar0n Rated Gen | Art Neil Josten is a Fox, but what if he never got the chance to be? Nathaniel Wesninski is a Raven through and through, and in this art piece, he snatches the spotlight both on the court and with his partner.

Now it's Time to Live (and Turn to Dust) by Witheredcarnelians Rated Mature | 4573 words Renee makes it just in time to save Jean ... or does she? This fic explores the crushing guilt of leaving behind a loved one, and being unable to save them in the end.

caught up in you by rooftopkisses Rated Mature | 5463 words "What are you hoping for, coordinates?" Neil doesn't lock the door, and Nicky walks in on Neil and Andrew kissing. Nicky can be trusted — mostly because he fears Andrew's knife — but Andrew's tendency toward quiet implosion is a different story.

but i've walked this far by rwnjun Rated Teen | 14556 words When the countdown ends, Neil gets taken. His dad is dead, but manages to make substantial damage before he gets shot. Now Nathaniel gets to be Neil Josten, but who is Neil Josten if he can't play Exy?

i've been feeling smaller by neiljokesten (vykio) Rated Teen | 2433 words Over worrying and wound-tending, Aaron and Neil get caught on a never-ending loop of the pot calling the kettle black over sacrificing themselves to protect a loved one

a familiar face by Shinobimoon Rated Gen | 4184 words How would things have gone if Kevin had recognized Neil right away? Would Neil have run, or still signed with the Foxes? Read more in this fic!

Better Luck Next Time by AllAngstNoComfort Rated Mature | 7812 words What if Riko had gone for Aaron instead of Seth, that night? In this fic, we learn exactly that and how that affects the Foxes.

the most unkindest cut of all by deadangelo Rated Mature | 2550 words Riko Moriyama has been many things to Kevin Day: a friend, a brother, a partner, a monster. The die has been cast. Riko is going to die. This time around, Ichirou has a spectator seat saved for Kevin.

we want the young blood by undermoonwalker Rated Teen | Art What if Elodie was sold to the Ravens? What if Jean had a predetermined partner through all that darkness? This art looks at the possibilities of the Moreau Ravens!

you'll be alright (no one can hurt you now) by wesawbears Rated Teen | 1757 words Jeremy Knox can't figure out their newest recruit. But having some secrets of his own means that he can tell when something isn't right, and if there's one thing about the Trojans is that they protect their own.

as soft as feathers by delossanctuary Rated Mature | 4714 words What's a T&N fest without a devastating Abby fic? This year, ponder on this: what if Neil's finger slipped when he needed an airport pickup?

TKO by justadreamfox Rated Mature | 4733 words Remember that busboy Neil paid to knock him out? In today's T&N fic, Neil doesn't get left on the floor of the club afterwards. Not everyone is out to get him.

i know that i did you wrong (but will you trust me when i say that i'll make it up to you somehow) by evenfallwriter Rated Mature | 7076 words Neil gets something different for his 19th birthday: his father's death.

depraved heart by decaflondonfog Rated Mature | 7000 words There is a horrible scene at the Hemmick house. There is a dead man on the ground. There is Andrew, laughing. And then there is Kevin, standing with a bloody knife in hand and something far more potent than fear clawing at his rib cage.

kintsugi by gus_47 Rated Explicit | 4728 words Riko's violence knows no bounds; what if he didn't stop at Kevin's hand? This fic follows Jean as he weathers and grieves the aftermath of the Raven's ugliest secret.

The Mallard's Lullaby by Random2002 Rated Mature | 6313 words The Moreau family are good at business; why sell one child to an Exy empire when you can sell two? Good thing Elodie's got a stuffed duck, a pieced together first aid kit, and her brother. What more do you need?

Light in a prism by sassy_pen_sassy Rated Teen | 1030 words There's a life outside of the walls of the EAU Raven's nest; Jean learns what that's like with Renee by his side in this sweet fic.

not dead (yet) by ashestoashes7 Rated Mature | 13593 words When Andrew is released from Easthaven, only three of his charges are there to pick him up. He always knew Neil was a pipedream. If Andrew cared more, Neil could become a nightmare.

Digits by twolipsliterature Rated Teen | 2700 words A cheerleader and a Exy player on the run from his hitman father walk into a bar. This time, Neil gives Marissa his number instead of being an asshole for once.

shots fired by liaisun Rated Mature | Art Neil threw out the guns when his mother died, but today we take a look at how things might have gone if he hadn't.

Timing by HereBeChickens Rated Teen | 1116 words Kevin scores. Neil falls to his knees. ""You've always known what it's like to be second."" Riko swings. Andrew still gets there in time. But this is where we diverge.

presumably dead arm by kevjean Rated Mature | 15518 words What if someone else had found Kevin first after Riko broke his hand? What if that someone was special in a way that was never allowed before? In this fic, Kevin finds a slightly different way out of the Nest, and discovers something on the way.

and this is just my luck by starwarned Rated Teen | 2107 words Kevin Day is a star. He won't let a gay crisis get in his way. At least, that's the plan -- it becomes difficult for Kevin to maintain that dissonance after he overhears Andrew offering to blow Neil.

n'oublie pas de vivre by FireHeartAW Rated Teen | 5028 words What is left of Jean Moreau without Exy? Can he find a new place for himself without the Ravens even if his injuries prevent him from ever playing again? And what does he need to make that happen?

i am not scared of death, i've got dreams again by liliacskiess Rated Explicit | 5566 words Eden's back alleyway is not the place to be on a Friday night; Nicky learns that the hard way in today's fic which asks 'What if Andrew didn't arrive in time to fight Nicky's attackers'?

Back to the Old House by TearsOfATrickster Rated Teen | 6664 words Neil's not the only one willing to protect Andrew when he's at Easthaven. What if Kevin went back to EAU for Christmas?

Only Human by aquared46 Rated Mature | 2677 words “Shouldn’t I feel different? Powerful?” Neil survives his father, but the encounter leaves him with nightmares that seem like they should be good dreams. Andrew is there to listen as Neil tries to process.

Baltimore Basement by ConventionalExy Rated Mature | Art The apple doesn't fall far from the tree. In this art, Neil is taken to Baltimore by his father's people, but he knows his way around a cleaver.

The Graveyard Shift by KweenDay Rated Mature | 7100 words What if Andrew noticed there was something wrong in the locker room? What if Andrew stayed at Neil’s side? What if Andrew was brought to Baltimore too? In this fic we find out exactly what goes down behind the walls of the Wesninski manor.

the ongoing effects of growing a backbone by favbitchcharlie Rated Teen | 10641 words What if instead of giving Neil the plane ticket to EAU, Kevin tore it up? What if Neil let a bit of Nathaniel slip through? In this fic, Kevin and Neil go to break Andrew out of Easthaven in their own non-Coach-approved way.

The Prince and The Pauper by CherriPips Rated Mature | 8695 words After Riko broke his hand, Kevin went running to Wymack, but what if he saw Andrew first? In this fic, we find exactly how that interaction goes down.

Tear away at the Mask by Moondal Rated Teen | 2779 words What if more than one Fox had crossed paths with Neil in his past life? And what if this one particular Fox immediately recognized him, too? This is a fic about Natalie Shields, Nathaniel Wesninski, and about reinventing yourself.

scavenger's hunt by kiwiaok Rated Mature | 10341 words In a world where Lola survives her gunshot wounds in Baltimore, Neil has to face her once more during her trial, and things come to light that he would rather had stayed hidden.

Neil Josten Is Not Fine by the_greater_grief Rated Teen | 3362 words "In Neil’s dreams, Aaron never shows up to save the day." Neil's nightmares have become a problem even he can't ignore. When his sleeplessness begins to mess with his performance on the court, he gives in. Maybe Dobson isn't so bad, after all.

damage control by seasy33 Rated Mature | 11656 words When Andrew witnesses Nicky kissing Neil, his confidence in his plan to break Neil wavers. What can he stomach in his mission to keep his family safe? And what will it actually take to learn Neil's secrets?

patient violence by Mercey Rated Mature | 6981 words An orderly catches Dr. Proust and Andrew ends up escaping Easthaven early. Where to next? Well, Neil’s in the Nest and Andrew’s looking into a jailbreak. In this fic we find out what happens when Andrew goes to get Neil out of the Nest.

Deadliest Piece by LynxDoesArt Rated Explicit | Art When Neil realizes that something is wrong at the Hemmick's house, he rushes upstairs to find Andrew with the rest of the monsters close behind. What if Kevin got a hand on Neil's racquet before Aaron?

it lives in the throat by timeloops (kunimi) Rated Teen | 14440 words Switching places with your twin is fun, until… technically, Aaron Minyard dies in a car crash with his mother. But the dead body isn’t Aaron and now he must deal with the fallout of it all.

With all the love and appreciation in the world,

Your T&N'24 mods and helpers 💚

#aftg #all for the game #tfc #aftgthenandnever24 #aftgthenandnever #[mod post]#fest masterlist

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runnning-outof-time · 5 months ago

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Hii! Can i pls request a arthur Shelby x wife!reader where the reader isn't involve in any of the business of Arthur and his family and during the vendetta the italians kidnap her to kill her as revenge but Arthur and his brothers come in time and Arthur comfort scared reader?

Hi anon! I hope you don’t mind the formatting of this - I’m trying something out in hopes that it’ll help me get these requests shared. It’s not quite a structured story, but it’s also not quite headcanons - it just kinda showcases the major plot points of the story along with some added supporting details … whatever it is, I wrote it! I hope you enjoy!

When The Day’s Done | Arthur Shelby x Reader

**gif credit: @/sparksetfire, who sadly deactivated**

Summary: Arthur meets a woman when he moves out into the country. She stays behind when he must return to Birmingham to fight the vendetta because they feel that it's safer for her to stay here. Their decision turns out to be the wrong one, and now Arthur must save her.

Warnings: season 4 spoilers, kidnapping

Word Count: 2777 (way longer than I expected)

PLEASE LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU THINK! - YOUR COMMENTS & REBLOGS HELP ME WRITE!

Arthur met (Y/N) when he moved out to the country.

**Linda's not present in this story, but he'd still move out there after the events between seasons 3 and 4 finished. **

Ada - with the help of Polly - would have a big hand in prompting this move. They both know that Arthur could be better, and that what he surely needed was to be away from the smoke of Small Heath. And they were correct.

It didn't take long for them to meet.

(Y/N)'s house was the next one over - down the street that is - and she met Arthur when she opened her front door to find him one day.

Arthur had met her father prior. He already had an established farm, and that's something Arthur's hoping he could create for himself now that he's got this land. So (Y/N)'s father had told him to come over and that he'd show him around in hopes that some inspiration would strike Arthur.

(Y/N) still lives at home with her parents. She's got a job within their community - running the farmer's market that all of the local farmers bring their goods to (her father included) ... it's just easier for her to stay at home, and her parents are quite happy that she chooses to as she's an only child. They like to keep the family close.

So back to Arthur meeting her at the door. Knowing how Arthur is, I'm sure you could picture how he reacted when he came face fo face with this beautiful woman instead of the older man he'd met earlier in the week. Yeah, he suddenly doesn't know how to form a complete sentence.

(Y/N) finds it adorable. And she goes to get her father when Arthur finally manages to get out what it is that he's there for.

She makes sure to ask her father about him once he leaves, too. Like she pretty much plays twenty questions with him. Her father obliges and answers what she asks...and he's got that look in his eye too - like he has an inkling of an idea as to why she's asking all the questions. (Y/N)'s too oblivious to catch it.

The next place Arthur finds (Y/N) is at the farmer's market. He's getting some things that he needs and she, of course, checks him out (in more ways then one, if we're being honest).

He's actually able to strike up conversation with her this time around - asking her about the market and how long she'd been working there. And she happily shares answers with him. He ends the conversation with "well if it all goes right, you'll be selling my things here too."

To which (Y/N) responds with "if you're following my father's advice, you'll be growing things in no time."

She leaves him with a sweet smile and then kicks herself once he exits the market. Since when have I ever been so giddy over a man?, she thinks to herself.

Little does (Y/N) know that Ida, one of the older women in the community, watched the entire interaction with a knowing look...she can read these two like an open book.

And it just so happens that Ida's one of the women in the village that loves to gossip.

The first person in Arthur and (Y/N)'s circle that this gossip gets to is (Y/N)'s father...yeah, probably the worst person it could have reached. He overhears it when he's at one of his fellow farmer's home. The fellow farmer's wife decided to bring it up as a topic of conversation, surprising (Y/N)'s father.

He doesn't even wait to speak to Arthur about it. It's during one of the evenings where the two men are meeting, because Arthur's still getting a handle on the whole farming thing, that the older man decides to bring it up. He comes right out with it, too - "whatever your intentions with my daughter are, you'd better be an honest man about it."

Arthur's surprised, to say the least. But he doesn't deny the interest he has in (Y/N). He puts on a serious face and nods, saying "I will, sir." (Y/N)'s father nods in response.

So the next time Arthur sees (Y/N), which happens to be when she answers the door to find him on her family's front stoop - again, Arthur asks her to dinner.

And that's the start of a lovely relationship.

He's careful with who he tells. He wants to leave his life in Small Heath out of it for the most part. Sure, in some ways that's doing a disservice to (Y/N), but this new start has been good for Arthur.

He tells John and Ada, who are both incredibly happy for him. Finn just kind of finds out one day when he's visiting his eldest brother, and he's got nothing bad to say about it. He'd tell Tommy too...if Tommy wasn't so hard to reach. Polly is also hard to reach during this time, but he does mention it to her.

They're truly inseparable from the start. (Y/N) feels bashful at the fact that she practically lives at Arthur's home now, but Arthur repeatedly tells her that he's so incredibly happy that she's staying with him.

It's during these months that he's the happiest he's ever been. His little farm is flourishing (thanks to the help from the farmer's daughter and her knowledge), and he's sure that he's now with the love of his life.

The move that he was initially feeling uncertain about has turned out to be one of the best decisions he's ever made.

About three or four of these blissful months pass before Arthur's meeting with (Y/N)'s father again. This time, however, he's got a question that doesn't involve farming.

He wants to ask him for his daughter's hand in marriage.

He does everything in proper fashion too - sits down with him, professes how (Y/N) makes him feel and even shows the ring that he'd picked out a few weeks back.

(Y/N)'s father essentially has to agree to Arthur's questions twice because the latter doesn't hear him the first time. He's too busy going through the speech he'd prepared to take into account that her father could answer before he finished it.

And when he does hear his answer, he's immediately relieved.

He wastes no time in asking her. In fact, he does it that evening while they're enjoying some time out on the grounds of his property. Of course she says yes!

News of the engagement spreads like wildfire throughout the village. Some think it's way too early for that step, but others - particularly those who have known (Y/N) and her family for some time - think it's perfect.

(Y/N)'s so excited to plan their wedding, and Arthur's eager to allow her to have anything she wants as part of their big day.

She pours every ounce of herself into the planning and preparations over the next few months.

All of the excitement, however, comes to a screeching halt near Christmas of 1925, when a Black Hand comes in the mail.

To be clear, by this point Arthur's told (Y/N) about what sort of business he was involved in prior to moving out of Small Heath. He felt that if he was going to truly be with her, she deserved to know every part of him.

Sure (Y/N)'s not exactly enthused to learn of the types of things he'd done in the past, but anyone was easily able to see that he was making a good faith effort to separate and distance himself from every part of that lifestyle - besides keeping in touch with his family, of course.

When it's decided that the Shelby's would move back to Small Heath to face the vendetta head on, Arthur insists that (Y/N) stays back in the village. He hopes that the Italians don't know much more about his life there than the address of his home.

There's some hesitance from (Y/N), but she ultimately agrees and moves back with her parents as Arthur heads to Small Heath.

The distance is tough for the two of them. They've essentially gone from being each other's everything every day for the past year to not having any contact whatsoever.

And so while hell's happening in Small Heath, (Y/N)'s living a normal life back home. Things go on like this for some time too...until one day things change.

The - for lack of better terms - hit gets put out after Arthur kills the two men in the basement of the factory.

Two strange men were hanging around the farmer's market for the entirety of (Y/N)'s shift. She feels something uneasy about them, but tries to shake it off and focus on helping customers and whatnot.

They bring her to a stop on her walk home and force her to get into their car, driving off without a word.

(Y/N) decides to stay quiet and remains relatively calm. She doesn't know what these men want, and hopes that if she's compliant with them, they'll let her go.

Unfortunately things don't pan out that way.

The drive feels like it goes on forever, and it's dark by the time they make it to their destination. Because of this - and the fact that the men were forcibly dragging her to the doors - (Y/N)'s unable to catch any defining markers of where she now is.

She's dragged into a dark room, where the only piece of furniture is a wooden chair. Nothing is said as she's shoved into the chair and the men begin tying her to it. "What do you want from me?" she finally asks.

One of the men smirks, glancing at his counterpart before responding, "I'd get comfortable, sweetheart, you might be here awhile."

With that the two leave her tied to the chair, nodding to the man that she now notices is sitting by the door of the room.

A decent chunk of time passes - (Y/N)'s not sure how much because there's nothing that could tell her - before the door opens again.

A different man walks in this time. He's wearing a nicely tailored suit, a fedora, and as he comes to a stop in front of her, (Y/N) can see that he's chewing on the end of a matchstick. A wicked grin spreads across his lips as he gets a good look at her.

"Who are you?" she asks, trying to keep her voice steady.

"You don't know me, sweetheart, but I know all about you," the man answers, "and your family."

This confuses her even more. "What do you mean?"

The man responds quickly, "Your husband killed my father. I want to know where he is."

"I don't...I don't know where he is," she says while trying to hide the fact that her heart is beating out of her chest.

The man just laughs at her statement. "See I don't believe that."

"It's true," she quickly responds, the desperation in her voice not helping her.

The man shakes his head, a wicked smirk forming as he looks her over. "Let me put this as simply as possible: you have twenty-four hours to give Arthur Shelby to me, or it'll be you who dies next. Understood?" (Y/N) doesn't answer. He gets really close to her as a look of annoyance spreads across his face. "I said: do you understand me?" The cologne he wears is almost too much for her to bear. Her face wrinkles together for a moment, hoping if she holds her breath, he'll just leave. But he doesn't.

So she opens her eyes and locks them onto his. "I do," she finally answers, her voice steady despite the fear that's coursing through her.

"Good," the man smirks, finally stepping away from her. "You'll tell him when you're ready," he states, motioning to the man who'd been watching her since she was placed in the room. "I'd do it sooner than later, sweetheart," he suggests, laughing to himself as he exits the room.

(Y/N)'s left with a startling decision now. She truly doesn't know what to do, or if there's even a way out of this.

Back home, people are talking. (Y/N)'s absence isn't hard to miss. At first it's thought that maybe she's gone out for the day, but worries skyrocket when she hasn't returned by the evening.

Her parents waste no time in contacting Arthur, even though it might not be the best move.

(Y/N) told them of the way she was instructed to get any urgent information to Small Heath - by calling the factory they owned and placing a message.

When Arthur receives this message the next time he's at the factory, he immediately knows something's wrong with her. There wouldn't be any other reason why (Y/N)'s parents would be the ones sending out the call.

They manage to send one of Aberama's men out to gain more details, and what information is brought back to Small Heath instantly makes Arthur's blood run cold. His fiancée was in danger. Everything else could wait...what needed to happen next was they needed to find where she was being held.

— ••• —

(Y/N) doesn't give any information to the man appointed to watch over her. She wasn't going to give her fiancé up. She holds onto hope that something'll happen before her time is up.

The man sitting by the door keeps a steady watch on her. (Y/N)'s surprised that he hasn't nodded off to sleep yet, as he hadn't been switched out for anyone else.

It all happens so suddenly. One moment, the man was turning his head to investigate a scraping noise that he heard just outside the doorway. The next, there's a man with what (Y/N) makes out to be shoulder-length hair peeking out from under a fedora pressing a gun to the seated man's temple.

The breath gets stuck in (Y/N)'s throat, but she doesn't panic.

"You speak and it'll be the last thing you ever do," the gun wielding man threatens the seated man. As expected, silence follows. "She's in here," the man then proclaims, making more footsteps sound in the corridor.

The voice that comes next has sobs of relief leaving (Y/N)'s mouth. "(Y/N)," Arthur calls as he rushes to where she's tied up. "(Y/N), love, I'm here."

"I...I didn't know what to...I didn't tell them anything," she stumbles over her words as Arthur works quickly on untying her from the chair. The second her hands are released, she falls into his arms.

"I've got you now. You're ok, you're safe," he whispers into her hair as she clings to him.

"What do I do with him, boss?" the man, who's still pressing a gun into one of her captors' temple, asks.

"Dispose of 'em," a second man responds. A slight struggle ensues, but (Y/N) doesn't move to see what happens. She stays put in Arthur's arms.

Time passes and the couple stays put. Arthur's thanking every god he knows of for keeping (Y/N) safe. (Y/N)'s still trying to get a hold of her emotions. Keeping them bottled up for this long while she was tied up is catching up with her.

"I didn't know if you'd come or not," she finally says some time later.

"I'll always come," he assures her, his voice gravelly as his emotions catch up with him. "When the day's done, I've got you, darlin'."

His comforting words made her finally lift her head from his chest. Her teary eyes found his and she couldn't help but smile. It felt like they'd been apart for years. Something quickly became apparent to her as she took in his appearance.

"Arthur..." she paused, letting out a mixture of a laugh and a sniffle, "your hair." What was all one length and longer was now shaved short on the sides but kept long on the top. She just had to reach out to feel it, wanting to confirm that it was actually real.

Arthur's brows furrow in confusion for a moment before he realizes what she's talking about. He can't help but chuckle as he feels her fingers run through his hair. "I cut it. Hope you don't mind, love."

"I don't," (Y/N) answers, shaking her head. "I love it."

Thank you for making it through…whatever this was. I appreicate you sticking with it. I’m not sure how many more fics I’ll write in this format but I will say that it really helped me get an idea I was originally struggling with out.

MASTERLIST

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@sleepyycatt @novashelby

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