#atomic blonde imagine

[kind-wolf]

Love this!

Even a spy needs a home (David Percival x reader)

author's note: oh god i am so happy with this one! i was in such a writer's slump and got so upset already because i did want to use some of my free time to write and now i created this! i really think it's my favourite thing i have ever written and i thought i'd share it, even if the fandom is like- super small? anyway! english (still) isn't my first language & all mistakes are mine. pictures are from pinterest <3

warnings: a lot of cursing and swear words, stitches (done unprofessionally), a tiny bit of spicy flirting

word count: around 1.5k

You let out a comfortable sigh as you wrapped the blanket closer around your body, more than ready to go to sleep. Things have been absolutely crazy, and you were convinced that sooner, rather than later, history would be forever changed. People have been protesting and somehow, the spirit was different than ever before. You were sure: a revolution was coming – the wall would fall. Soon.

The frantic knocking at your front door was what pulled you out of your thoughts.

“The fuck-“

It was already dark outside, and the only light was provided by your little lamp on the nightstand to your left. Visitors at this hour were never a good thing, especially because you weren’t expecting anyone. Nevertheless, it seemed urgent.

You pulled a sweater over your head as you walked to the door, trying to get rid of the shivers that spread through your body.

You couldn’t help but huff as you opened it a crack after unlocking it: “What the fuck are you doing here?”

“Can I come in? Please, I am hurt and- I don’t know where else to go.”

You pressed your lips together and crossed your arms. “Come in? You got some fucking nerve even showing up here.”

The man across from you tilted his head. “I thought you’d be excited to see me.”

“Excited? After the thing you pulled off last time? Fuck off, David.”

He furrowed his brows. “What I- What are you talking about?”

“Don’t play coy��, you muttered as you pointed your finger at him, “I am not dumb.” A huff left your lips, “Well, now that I think about it, maybe I am. After all, I thought this was something special between us. You told me I was different from the rest. It’s my own fault I believed that.”

His eyes never left yours as he spoke up, “Y/N, you are special. Whatever happened, I am sorry, but I didn’t do it. You must believe me, please.” David grabbed onto the doorframe and rubbed the back of his neck with his other hand. “Let me come in and we can talk about this.”

“Talk? Sure. And then you’re gonna set me up again, sending God knows who after my ass.” You straightened your back. “I can’t fucking believe you. Who was it? MI6? KGB? Maybe even the Stasi?”

The spy’s eyes widened. “What? What the fuck are you talking about?”

You clenched your fists and took a deep breath. “I am talking about the men who busted down my door an hour after you left and who completely tore this place apart.” Suddenly, your sweater was not enough to keep the shivers away. 

David’s demeanor changed. “Did they hurt you?” His voice dropped an octave, sounding almost threatening if you didn’t know him.

You shrugged, “They were a little rough when they grabbed me, but other than that-“ You shook your head.

He breathed out and fished a cigarette out of the pocket of his coat. “Fuck, angel, I- I would never do that, okay? I know, I talk a lot of shit, but I am serious about this. I care about you, I wouldn’t risk your safety, I swear.”

It was getting harder to pretend you didn’t miss him. “Then who would?”

David gritted his teeth and took a long drag from his cigarette. “Fucking Satchel. Found my only weak spot and-“ He shook his head. “I’ll take care of this, I promise, I-“ He stopped himself from leaning in to kiss you and instead grabbed his bags again, turning around on the spot to walk away.

“David?” He turned to face you again, raising his right eyebrow. “You can also take care of- whatever this is after a home cooked meal, a warm bath and a good amount of sleep.” Your voice was barely above a whisper as you fully opened the door. “Come in.”

The agent let out a huge breath and briefly bowed his head before looking up at you again. “Thank you.”

You watched him silently as he walked into your living room, letting his bag fall to the floor before he sat down on your sofa while you hung up his coat.

He grinned at you when you stood across from him, first aid kit in your hands: “Is that my sweater you’re wearing?”

You looked down your body, internally cursing yourself for not checking what sweater you put on. You chose to ignore the heat in your cheeks. “You said you got hurt?”

David pursed his lips and rubbed his eyes. “My shoulder, it’s- it looks bad, but it just needs a few stitches, I think. Can you do that for me?”

Your eyes widened and you shook your head, “I can put a band aid on you and give you a pain killer, I cannot do stitches, David!”

He clicked his tongue. “I’ll guide you.”

And that’s exactly what he did. For the next forty-three minutes, the agent told you what to grab and how to use it. After removing his shirt and cleaning the wound, you got to work. “I’m sorry”, you whispered when you started to pierce through his skin, but he didn’t even flinch.

“It’s fine, angel, you’re doing great.” 

The rest of the stitches were done in silence, and you finished the little patching up session with a kiss to his upper back. “All done. I’ll just put a bandage on you, yeah?” You didn’t even wait for an answer and simply followed through with your statement, letting your fingertips gently run down his back when you were done. “Can I run you a bath?”

“That depends”, David smirked, “Are you going to join me?”

And just like that, his smug and sassy usual self was back.

You shook your head with a smile, “No, I will fix you a plate of food. But you take all the time you need. There’s a blue towel you can use.”

He got up without a word, but not before he kissed your forehead and brushed through your hair. This interaction almost felt like- no. David Percival did not do relationships.

You didn’t know how much time had passed, but when David joined you in the kitchen, his hands weren’t stained with blood anymore and he looked almost peaceful, if a little tired.

You pointed to a chair at the table and watched him sit down before you put down a plate of casserole in front of him.

“It’s from yesterday which makes it taste even better”, you mused while you grabbed your cup of tea so you could sit down across from him. But David didn’t start eating. Instead, his gaze was fixed on you.

“I’m fucking horrible when it comes to this emotional stuff, but I need you to know that I do love you.” You opened your mouth to say something, only to close it again. “I never planned to love you, not like this.” David cleared his throat and leaned back against his chair. “You weren’t supposed to be more than just another lover, perfect to have some fun with every once in a while, but for fuck’s sake, it’s like your kindness corrupted me in the best way possible.”

Your cheeks felt like they were on fire, but he just kept going. “Your softness rubbed off on me and my heart.” David licked his lips. “You make me want to quit all of this shit, live a normal life.”

His hand carefully settled on top of yours as if he was afraid to touch you. “Even a spy needs a home, and you are mine. I want to hug you and kiss you and make you happy. Only you. No more one-night-stands, no more lies.”

His words had knocked the air out of your lungs and you were struggling to come up with something that could deliver your own emotions, so you did the only thing you knew he’d understand. 

Your chair creaked as you stood up and you walked over to the British man, carefully sitting down in his lap. His hands settled on your hips like it was the most natural thing in the world, making you smile. You held your breath when you leaned even closer to him, your gaze flickering from his lips back to his piercing blue eyes.

“Welcome home, David”, you breathed and closed the gap between you with a gentle force. He hummed into the kiss and his grip on you tightened, making you dizzy with happiness.

Before things could get too heated though, you carefully brought some distance between the two of you and stood up. A whine escaped David’s lips and you chuckled, caressing his cheek. “You gotta eat first. Then we can continue this, love.”

“Lucky fucking me.”

You couldn’t help but laugh and sat back down in your own chair, watching the agent dig into the food. His eyes met yours.

“It’s good to finally be home.”

[multi-fandoms-posts]

Imagine:

You work with David Percival and Paul

[sawyerconfort]

enjoy the silence | lorraine broughton x fem! reader

I am back! Finally, I hope you didn't mind my disappearance. I decided to take a little break from the stories because I felt like I really needed to rest, and I was running out of creativity. I also went traveling this weekend and didn't have time to write as I had planned, but anyway, I'm back and that's what matters!

As I said in the previous post, I will be focusing this week on writing multifandom oneshots, and maybe an ask or two will be answered over the weekend, so those of you who sent in asks, please be patient with me, as always!

Well, taking into account the lack of stories about her, and taking into account that in the last few weeks I gained a boost of obsession with Charlize Theron, let's do a oneshot with Lorraine!

This is fem!reader, but if you feel comfortable adjusting your pronouns in it as you read, feel free!

Enjoy!

Requests open!

*Atomic Blonde is such a badass movie, oh gosh, I can't!*

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

Premise: As you tend to Lorraine's wounds, some things become crystal clear between you. Things that had apparently been kept secret for a long time…

***

You were used to being alone after all the other male members left. It was your most precious moment of peace, when none of them were making fun of you or making sexual comments about you. It was the only time, as one of the top MI6 officials, when you could be silent, focusing on things other than missions, The List or anything else that risked your life.

Turns out that night, it was different. You were concentrating on an electrifying chapter of your science fiction book, when you heard the door slamming loudly. A low, whispered curse and you turned, taking the book out of your eyes to look at who it was.

The thing is, you never took the time to talk to her personally and properly. Lorraine Broughton was one of MI6's most gifted and well-known spies, and newcomers joked that she had been with them since their beginnings in the Stone Age.

Someone of extreme importance like Lorraine apparently didn't have time to listen to your bullshit.

Your eyes met and she took off the black collar that covered her mouth, her platinum hair giving extreme emphasis to her scarred face.

"Good evening, agent (Y\LN), I thought there was no one here."

Hell, she knew your last name! How was that possible?

"I was just leaving, Lorraine, don't worry," you said, trying to sound at least reasonable so as not to cause a fuss with her. But then, as soon as you got up, you noticed her ripped pants, a hideous trickle of blood running down one part of her leg, and her face streaked with red streaks and very swollen.

She looked back at you, the weight of those pale eyes taking over you, and then, your voice was categorical, hoping she wasn't going to dump your ass, not this time.

"Need some help tending to those wounds? They look pretty bad…"

She looked at you, and with the same restful face, she shook her head. "Don't waste your time, I'm fine. It happens all the time."

"Lorraine, your leg is bleeding. We better look into this."

"Don't worry, (Y\N), go home, I can take care of myself."

You chuckled, already being aware of her stubbornness. Lorraine was good when she wanted to outsmart someone in an interrogation, especially the guys in the company, but you weren't interrogating her this time, so she didn't have to act so defensive.

Deciding not to let her go without tending to her wounds, you hurried out and opened one of the cupboards in the cold, dark corridor of the office. The sound of the creaking door obviously got Lorraine's attention because everything was extremely loud in that dark office. Grabbing a first-aid kit, which was only used in emergencies by high-ranking men, you pulled out a chair and gestured for her to sit down.

"I already told you I'm fine, (Y\N), I can take ca-"

"Sit down, please." You didn't mean to sound domineering, but it was unavoidable.

Lorraine rolled her eyes and sat up, legs spread, not intending to cross them. She wasn't going to make the job easy for you, but of course it wasn't a problem anymore. You opened the first aid kit and took out some gauze, cotton and bandages.

"Please, let's not turn this whole thing into a moment of silence, if you want, tell me how you managed the feat of getting all screwed up…", you said, gently swiping the cotton wool over her eyes and lips. , cleaning the blood.

Lorraine gasped and pressed her lips together, feeling the pain of the contact. "Are you sure you work for a spy team, (Y\N)?" You rolled your eyes as she took a deep breath. "It was a chase. Several guys shooting. One of them threw me on the glass table and I ended up cutting myself… not new to me, really."

You continued to gently dab cotton and gauze over the bruises, and her clear, intimidating eyes never left her face as you did so. It was even uncomfortable to look at, such beauty, staring back at you as if it were something normal.

"And how are the guys doing?" you asked curiously, determined to keep her distracted - and to keep you distracted too.

"Dead, I guess. It's not news to me either, they would keep chasing me if they lived and I needed to get rid of them to save my skin…"

You nodded, at the same time that you bent down to get some ointment from the first aid kit and began to run your fingers along Lorraine's injured leg, the blood still very fresh where the glass had probably been stuck. She's lucky she didn't hemorrhage, you thought absently.

"Is that really necessary?!", Lorraine exclaimed, pulling you out of her thoughts, her voice very firm and a hiss of discomfort escaping her lips.

"Unless you want to catch a bacteria, maybe," you replied in the same tone. She laughed and rolled her eyes.

"Okay, okay, you call the shots," she snapped. "Look, it's actually really weird that we've never crossed paths, (Y\N), you seem to know what you're doing."

You nodded, getting up, closing the ointment and putting it back in the first aid kit, as you sat on the edge of Lorraine's chair, her legs keeping your body steady.

"It's hard to come across an agent that the boys keep like a precious jewel inside a password safe…"

She laughed again, and only then did you stop to notice that her smile was beautiful. Your heart missed a beat, but you didn't know if it was envy or some much deeper feeling… And before you knew it, you pushed those thoughts away, afraid of the answer.

Whatever the case, Lorraine Broughton was not the type of person you thought was ideal for the type of person you were. Not as friendship. You could only support yourself within the walls of offices, and despite being called an agent, you were afraid to even fly a plane.

"Is it over yet?", she woke you up from your thoughts again, looking at you with a playful smile. "Yeah, it wasn't so bad after all."

"Yeah, but that's because the bad part starts now!", you said, holding the bandages, which were those children's animal bandages. "You can choose between the giraffe bandages, or the flower bandages, you call the shots, Lorraine."

The smile faltered on your lips as she frowned, clearly confused and uncomfortable, not sure if it was a joke or not.

"Seriously?" she said in disbelief. "Who let the guys buy this?"

You shrugged. "Make a choice, Lorraine."

"I'd rather go without bandages."

"Ah, come on! You're going to make a childhood dream come true! Your inner child is crying out for it, go ahead, choose one!"

"Okay, the giraffe one then.", Lorraine said, in a monotone voice, as if she knew she would regret it the moment she left the office and walked down the street. You laughed, calmly sticking the bandages on her wounds and caressing the skin with your fingers, to fix them better.

That took Lorraine by surprise. Until then, she hadn't known that she could feel that same electricity from a simple touch. She looked back at you, and allowed herself to relax as you finished gluing them all together. At the end, you noticed her look and bit your lip, also caught off guard, completely embarrassed.

"You're free, Lorraine. Now you can even take off the bandages while I'm not looking, I know you're going to do that…", you said, joking, just to ease the tension. But it didn't help much.

Her eyes were too bright in the dim light, and that perfect, even bruised face that looked as if it had been sculpted by angels only made it worse. You were extremely tense and nervous around her, and not in your best dreams, did you imagine that you would feel this way with Lorraine, when you saw her.

"Thank you, (Y\N). And I'm sorry, I think I've been quite rude to you in the meantime, you just wanted to help me get better."

"I don't mind, I'm used to agents' patience…", you laughed again. And he got up, going to put the suitcase back in the closet and close it properly, so that none of the others would notice that you had even touched it.

Lorraine was still staring at you when you looked back at her, and a smile graced her interested expression.

"How long have you been working with us, (Y\N)?", she asked, her deep voice dropping to almost a whisper in the silence between you.

You stopped to think, to remember, to count on your fingers, as you went back and sat in the small space of her chair, as before. Not to tease her, it's just because that was her usual chair and you had this habit of taking possession of things.

"A few months. Five, I think… I'm not good with numbers and dates…", you explained, laughing. Lorraine nodded. "Before you ask, this definitely wasn't the plan since I was a kid, but it seemed to me that I had a knack for it when I had my first experience here, so… yeah, maybe it was nice to get this job."

Lorraine nodded again. "And are you happy here?"

"I think so. I'm sure I do, actually. I don't think I fit in anywhere else right now, honestly."

"That's good, this work is not very easy, there are few people who manage, in the natural order of things, to stay for so long."

Lorraine was still looking at you, and nervousness was still very much present in her body language as she did so.

"And do you have… a boyfriend, (Y\N)?"

You frowned, caught off guard.

"Sorry, that was a weird question."

"No, I don't have a boyfriend", you replied, shaking your head. "It wasn't a weird question, you're just trying to get to know me better…"

Lorraine nodded again, scratching her forehead and looking at you, intent on knowing more. "And are you looking for someone? Or are you completely focused on work right now?"

"Ah, MI6 is my life, yes, but I wouldn't mind breaking that routine to find someone I can share my days with, you know…"

Lorraine looked away, and oddly enough, you noticed that there was a flush in her cheeks. Now, that was something you would never have thought to see, not in Lorraine Broughton.

"You say "someone", so… is someone really someone?"

"Are you asking me about my sexuality?"

Lorraine shrugged. "You don't have to answer that if you don't want to."

"No, I don't have a problem with that, I… I'm open to experimenting, actually. I want something that takes me off my feet, and makes me see whether or not it's worth risking everything."

Lorraine nodded again and her eyes glued to your lips. The tension became even more palpable between you, and when she took the opportunity that you were close to pull you close, seeing that you were going to fall out of the chair if you went any farther back, her inner will spoke louder and she kissed you, absolutely nothing, without expecting you to respond.

If it was someone else, you would have walked away and slapped that person across the face, but that didn't happen with Lorraine. You were so surprised when she kissed you that you just responded. She thought maybe that would ease the tension of the moment, that it would make it easier for you to talk, and she was so beautiful it was impossible to resist.

She was the one who pulled away first, gasping for air, and she opened her clear, beautiful eyes to look at you, her hand hesitating between your hip and your leg.

"Sorry, I really don't know why I did that, I…" she started, but you cut her off, your index finger on her wet lips.

"No, that's fine, I enjoyed it… and actually… I think I'd like to do it again, if you don't mind…"

She laughed and kissed you again, this time letting the moment flow by itself, last as long as it should. You were being drawn, like magnets, to each other's lips, and now it was impossible to break the contact. Lorraine's charm didn't help either, and she ended the kiss after a few seconds with a peck on your cheek.

"Well, I better get going now that you don't need me…" you said, feeling all awkward and embarrassed. Lorraine got up and let go of your hips, and just as you were about to walk through the door, she called out her name.

"Don't you want a ride home, (Y\N)? I think it's too late for us to walk alone…", her voice was full of ulterior motives, and as much as you would love to take things easy, have the chance of a lifetime with Lorraine Broughton made you want to find out where this was going to go.

To be honest, you were under the impression that you wouldn't regret it.

[emmyrosee]

Bill Skarsgard & Co.

Status: Archived Indefinitely

Axel Cluney from Deadpool 2

Gordon Merkel from Atomic Blonde

Henry Pearl from Battlecreek

Mark from Assassination Nation

Mickey from Villains

 Roman Godfrey from Hemlock Grove

The Kid from Castle Rock

Willard Russell from The Devil All The Time

Mateo from Soulmates

Preference Lists, Starring All of Them

[deebris]

From annoying to beloved

Homelander x fem!Reader

Synopsis: The new member of the Seven annoys Captain Patria with their habit of doodling in the corners all the time, but he didn't expect to end up liking it.

During the fourth season, it can be read as both romantic and platonic.

Warnings: Swearing, mentions of murder, the reader has the power to control plasma, fluffy.

The reader is also kind of anxious.

Word count: 2.9k

"You gotta be fucking kidding with me." Homelander interrupted abruptly upon hearing snores in the room. "Is Noir sleeping?"

"Mmhmm," Firecracker murmured in agreement, but the masked superhero jolted awake when The Deep kicked his chair.

"Oh, shit! Sorry, guys." Black Noir straightened up, while the Captain shook his head in disbelief, unable to fathom what he had just witnessed.

"Ah, what the fuck." The blonde furrowed his brows, eyes darting around the room quickly, then fixing on a specific point when something else caught his attention. He had noticed you earlier with a notebook and pencil, but now you're not writing but drawing. The irritating sound of the graphite scraping against the paper had been bothering him for some time, but he had tried to ignore it, assuming as a newcomer you were taking notes.

He wouldn't lie. Though he found taking notes utterly stupid, he liked to think someone was that focused on what he said. Not that he needed it, just opening his lips and everyone would be watching him. But as if that weren't enough, he finally realized you were dressed in regular civilian clothes.

"Radiance, where's your suit?" He asked slowly, but angrily. "Can't anyone do anything right around here?"

You finally tore your attention from the paper, meeting Homelander gaze directly. It's not that you weren't paying attention—in fact, you were, maybe more than anyone else there. It was easier to absorb things while doodling, a way to calm your nerves. Well, that or rubbing your sweaty fingers together until they hurt.

No one ever understood. Even back in school, your parents used to receive complaints about you drawing during class, no matter how high your grades were or the fact that you were the top student.

This was your first meeting with the Seven, and the last thing you wanted was to give the impression of being careless or not caring about being there. It could be said that one of the best days of your life was yesterday when Vought sent you a notice, letting you know that the greatest superhero of all had personally chosen you to join the team. After so many "retarded" - in his words - he had been forced to accept into the Seven, Homelander saw in you, above all, the opportunity to make up for Firecracker's ridiculous weakness.

When Ashley began talking about your powers, he had no doubt the last spot was yours. It was simply brilliant. Who the hell would have imagined someone would have powers to control a state of matter? You could maneuver fire, generate electrical discharges, disrupt magnetic fields, and damn it, you could split atoms as if slicing butter.

Vought's scientists said they didn't know if it was possible, but you could destroy the damn out of a star one day. Homelander wasn't a science guy, but in one of his moments of boredom, he got curious and did some research. He didn't even know that plasma crap was all that, he thought it was a cell thing or whatever.

He always thought someone with a power as peculiar as yours, and at your age, would be arrogant or just plain dumb. But you were actually the complete opposite. You didn't speak unnecessarily, and while you seemed very aware of your own actions, you had no clue how powerful you were, or perhaps ignored that fact. The blonde thought you were an idiot for it, but he appreciated the inferiority you submitted to, especially in relation to himself.

"I don't have one, sir," you replied to his question, feeling small with everyone looking.

"What the hell?" He continued, focusing on you with incredulous voice, he couldn't believe it. How did someone end up here without even having a superhero suit?

The truth was, you had never been part of any team before, nor had you received any sponsorship during your life, or even attended Godolkin University. The only thing you had were your powers, which were indeed impressive. You never chased after any position, nor were you ever obsessed with being a famous superheroine, but lately you thought it would be a good adventure to radicalize your life. That's when you applied to join the Seven.

"How do you have a name and not have a fucking suit?" He asked, boiling with anger, fists clenching tightly behind his back.

"They gave me a name when I filled out the application," you answered honestly. That day, after they chose to call you Radiance, a random and easily commercial name, you couldn't complain much and didn't want to bother, so you left it at that.

"You'll be introduced as an official member of the Seven tomorrow, how do you not have a suit?" He took his hands off his back, moving them as he spoke to express his confusion, and for a few moments you followed it movement like a child who can't keep their attention on anything for long. "Who's handling your marketing?"

You couldn't answer, so you stayed silent and no one else dared to say a word either. You had no idea who was handling your marketing, not knowing you should even have that. You glanced quickly around the table, perhaps seeking some kind of help for the situation, but everyone looked down when they realized you were staring at them. They were enjoying themselves, and that made you exhale through your nose in embarrassment.

"You know what? Fuck it, doesn't matter." Homelander brought his fingers to his furrowed forehead, letting out a loud sigh as he calmed down. "Just... don't show up like this in public until someone gives you a suit."

"Yes, sir," you replied tensely, relieved that he had resolved the matter.

Sister Sage widened her eyes in relief when she finally saw the superhero sitting beside her. She opened her mouth to begin speaking, as she had intended from the beginning, but when some sound was about to come out of her mouth, Homelander spoke to you again, this time pointing an accusatory finger at you:

"And stop drawing, damn it," he ordered, causing you to slowly drop the pencil on the table, as if caught doing something wrong with the weapon of the crime in hand. You stared at your lap throughout the entire meeting, embarrassed for messing everything up on your first day.

When the meeting ended, you followed most people out of the room, but stopped nearby in one of the hallways. You slid down the wall, crouching in a hidden corner, and lightly tapped the sketchbook against your forehead in annoyance.

"Stupid," you murmured softly to yourself. It was so ridiculous, yet it embarrassed you so much. Maybe this first day wasn't so bad after all. You would have plenty of time to prove your worth to everyone, no need to dwell on this situation. Even though you had been corrected in front of some of the most iconic supers by Homelander himself, this situation could be overcome. It was thinking about it that kept you from letting the burning tears fall.

"I can hear you whining," Homelander voice made you jump to your feet, startled to be caught once again doing something you shouldn't. He didn't seem happy, and his expression was so intimidating that you felt like Mariah Carey performing for a crowd of Eminem fans.

He approached you in slow steps and you held the sketchtebook protectively to your chest, as if that could protect you from something. He glanced down to briefly see the object in your hands and looked at you with disgust.

"If you don't straighten up, I'll kick you out. Got it?" Everything about him exuded threat. Maybe if he weren't so imposing and powerful, that sentence would have sounded a bit like the janitor from your old school scolding you for spending too much time in the bathroom during class.

You were paralyzed standing there and all you could do was a nod. But your gesture made him more aggressive.

"Answer with your mouth. Are you mute or something?" And there he was, hands behind his back again. He seemed to enjoy that pose.

"I won't mess up, sir," you said, swallowing your saliva.

"And get rid of that. Or burn it, do whatever, just get rid of it. And I better not see you with that again," he said referring to your notebook, walking away faster than before. "These kids..." you heard him mutter distantly.

After that happened, you didn't destroy the sketchtebook, but you were afraid of being caught and kept it safely tucked away in the back of a drawer in your room. What the eyes don't see, the heart doesn't feel, right? You mentally made a promise to yourself not to use it anywhere else but here, to avoid causing more trouble.

It's been a week since you've been with the Seven, and several strange things have happened. You quickly realized that Homelander wasn't the pristine and merciful hero everyone believed him to be. But the truth was that deep down you already expected that. Everything about heroes always seemed too perfect and pure, there had to be a catch. Despite everything, you still remained yourself, never intentionally hurting anyone or getting involved in murders and conspiracies.

You were comfortable helping out with some minor crimes that Vought sent you to solve, but by now you suspected that sooner or later Homelander would ask you to do some of his atrocities. It was still hard to think about how to feel about it, but you weren't naive, you were already mentally preparing to submit to it or else be killed.

During that time, as you adjusted and interacted with the team, it didn't go unnoticed by Homelander that you were drawing on your own hand, or on napkins and on random sheets you found lying around, even though you hadn't shown up with your sketchtebook again. This was starting to wear on his last nerve, but he tried to ignore it. As long stayed as you were, without asking too many questions and obedient, he made an effort to continue overlooking your makeshift drawings.

"Meeting's over," the blond suddenly declared, interrupting another of the Seven's weekly gatherings while cutting off The Deep's rambling about his ideas.

"But I haven't even talked about the flying shark yet," he tried to defend himself.

"Shut up," Homelander's voice rang out sternly in the room, issuing a warning that the man promptly obeyed.

"Right. Meeting's over." Ashley nervously moved to gather the portfolios on the new soda advertisement she had come to present, but as soon as she touched the first folder, specifically the A-Train one, the superhero exploded in rage:

"Ashley! Get out!" She immediately dropped the folder in place and hurried out in her heels, unable to run in them. "All of you! Get out of here."

Everyone got up from their chairs, even you, and filed out through the front door, leaving the folders on the table. Sister Sage hesitated, thinking she might be an exception, but when his scowl deepened, she understood she should leave too.

With the room empty, Captain Patria took a few minutes to admire the view from the tower. He enjoyed staring at it sometimes, even when bored.

"Bunch of idiots," he muttered to himself, shaking his head in denial, indignant. If he had to spend one more minute with these morons, he would have a heart attack, even though that was technically impossible for him.

He threw his cape back as he turned to leave, looking down and not focusing on anything in particular. But his eyes caught something different from the other folders. It was obviously yours, with a huge drawing covering the text and images printed on it.

That was the first time he actually saw something you had scribbled. And damn, it was perfect. It was a drawing of everyone in the room, with him in the center looking angry. Just as he was. His ego flared up as he noticed that his figure was more detailed than the others'. You must have started drawing him first, hence had more time to detail him. The idea of you making him the main focus of this particular drawing made his pupils dilate. He used his super hearing to check if anyone else was around and secretly took that sheet for himself.

The next time he saw you drawing in the Seven's room, he couldn't help but wonder if you were drawing him again. As soon as he noticed you sneakily reaching for a pen that belonged to Ashley, he looked in your direction. The noise that used to annoy him now sparked curiosity. And after staring at you for so long, it didn't take long for you to look back at him too. The blond thought you would be embarrassed, like most people, but you just grinned as if you were used to being caught looking. And indeed, you were.

You began drawing Homelander more frequently when you realized he never caught you watching him. It was easier and avoided awkward situations with other people. After two whole weeks of drawing him continuously while taking advantage of this freedom, you felt capable of drawing his face without even needing to see a photo, having memorized most of his distinctive features.

Well, it seems he's finally noticed you.

Sometimes, when alone in your room, you took out your sketchbook and started practicing the memory of his facial features you had developed. Just like every other time, you became absorbed in the drawing, focusing only on the voices around you to understand what was being said. This was also a way to keep yourself engaged during conversations, so you wouldn't get restless from being still while being a mere spectator of everything. After all, you never participated much or gave opinions; Deep already did enough for two.

The meeting had already ended, but you stayed in your chair, even as everyone else left, to finish just a part of the hair. You thought no one would mind, and then you would leave as usual, but a voice caught you by surprise:

"Can I take a look?" Homelander asked, for the first time, using a gentle voice beside you. His expression was enigmatic, somewhat relaxed, and shy at the same time.

You turned the stack of post-it notes, also taken from Ashley, for him to see what you had drawn, fearing what he would say. You weren't ashamed of drawing people, much less of them catching you doing it. You feared because he found your habit annoying.

He observed the drawing, seeing his posture from the side, upright and imposing. He wondered if you drew him exactly as you saw him, or if it was just another caricature of reality, like those Photoshopped pictures spread around. He looked much better than he imagined, though he had that superiority complex that made him see himself as a god.

For a moment, he was offended to see his image stamped on such despicable things as scraps of paper and these damn post-it notes. Your fingerprints were also visible stains, and the paper was slightly wrinkled from his sweat. He had noticed that sometimes you drew calmly, as if you had all the time in the world, and other times it was like drawing on a boat in a storm. Today seemed to be the latter situation.

"Do you like drawing me?" He glanced at you.

"I do," you shrugged. That was the simplest and most truthful answer you could give. "Sorry, I won't do it anymore," you said, thinking he was bothered by it.

"Why?" He ignored your apology.

"You're drawable... I guess," you stared at the table, not understanding the flow of the conversation.

"And what the fuck does that mean?" He asked in a louder voice, turning to face you, obviously confused. "Is this some artistic shit?"

"It's just that you're easy to draw because you have unusual characteristics. It's a good thing," was your answer, and it inflated his chest with narcissistic pride. Unusual, that's what you said, but to him, it was like being called extraordinary.

"Next time you draw me, try using a sketchbook," he said sternly, pretending to reject your work, but deep down, he just didn't want to show that he really liked it. That statement was his way of encouraging you to continue, but at the same time, it was so ironic, considering he got mad at you just when you were drawing him in the sketchtebook that day.

"But you asked me to get rid of mine," you said simply, your voice dwindling with each word of the sentence, not wanting him to find out that you had never thrown it away.

"I'll get you a new one," he said dismissively, taking the entire stack of post-it notes with him, including the drawing, as if you wouldn't notice.

[lilacxquartz]

lilac hun can you do anything with nanami? 💜

flustered by you;

kento nanami x reader

plot: kento can never keep his hands off of you — themes: smut, kissing, praise, needy nanami, f!reader, established relationship — w.c: 700ish

a/n: hope this is okay anon, made him extra sweet here <3

masterlist • ao3

The best thing you ever did for Kento Nanami was to force him to quit his job, with you happily taking over as the breadwinner instead. Everything was smooth sailing from then on, but Kento grew desperately needy for you by the end of the day, wanting nothing more than to hold you in his arms.

The second you walked back in through the door to take in the sight of your cosy, spotless home, Kento’s presence was already mingling with yours. With an breathless voice, he swiftly closed the gap between you, unable to hide the desire evident in his eyes, “Welcome back home, I missed you so much.”

“Glad to be home,” you tiredly replied, although you loved the attention. His love for you was definitely endearing and you would be lying if you said you were ever tired of it.

With no time to spare, Kento pinched the edges of your shirt, brushing your handbag off to the side on the floor. His hands reached out to smooth over your skin before returning them to the middle of your form, unbuttoning his way down to reveal more of your skin.

“I have been thinking about you all day,” he whispered, peppering soft kisses along your neck, “couldn’t stop myself from imagining my hands on you.”

You leaned in closer, feeling the heat rise from within him; his trousers bulging with heightened arousal. “Yeah? You want me that bad?”

“Oh, you have no idea,” he continued to whisper sweet words into your skin, pulling you off the floor and level to his lips, shuddering out heated gasps when he felt your legs wrap around his waist.

Without wasting a second further, he moved with you over to the living room, carrying you off towards the sofa before moving you down towards your back. Kento continued to whisper singing praises all the while, unable to stop himself from worshipping your every atom, “So beautiful. I can’t believe that I get to call you mine.”

Before you could respond, he captured your lips in a desperate kiss, his action not once betraying his rising hunger for you. You pushed your head up to press into it, exploring his mouth with your tongue.

At this point, you were almost entirely unclothed and now Kento was only just catching up. He did this often; finding himself in such a heated rush that he didn’t stop even once to think for himself (an endearing quality, if you were being honest).

You hummed and rushed your words the best you could, encouraging him to take the lead, “I want you inside of me so bad—“

You didn’t have to tell him twice though as he quickly positioned his cock right in between your legs, entering with a slow, deliberate plunge. Your legs tightened around his waist, pulling him closer and deeper into you, connecting his length into your warm, enveloping reach.

Kento started to move; his hips rutting in smooth rhythmic thrusts—each passing impact sending eliciting soft, breathy moans that escaped from your lips—building an almost intense, scalding heat that rose from within your body. He leaned down to kiss you next, the locks of his blonde hair intertwining with yours from the closeness, desperate to taste you in the heat of the moment.

You whined against his touch as he picked up the pace, slamming his hips into yours at a deeper and harder pace. The way that his length filled you out was almost addictive; causing your back to arch in almost writhing need. His tempo grew more frantic as he chased his own release but he prioritised you first, propping the pad of his index finger over your clit and rubbing feverish circles over it, driving you to finish with him rather than after him.

Soon, your body began to tremble violently; your inner core clenching around his shaft as you were brought to climax. Sensing the shift, Kento rutted at an increased fervour, grinding into you with wild abandon.

“You’re doing so good,” he breathlessly gasped, encouraging you to let go.

And then it happened; with a final, powerful thrust, he finally brought you over the edge. Your body trembled and convulsed in sweeping waves of rolling ecstasy, crashing over you in warm, radiating sweeps. His own body shuddered as he finally came undone, coating your insides from deep within.

Kento struggled to catch his breath after as you did with yours, but he still couldn’t resist to feed you one last bit of sleepy praise, “Always so incredible, I love you so much.”

[slutforsilverfoxes]

Imagine…

BAU!reader being married to Hotch but keeping her maiden name in the field to avoid assumptions and judgment. The team knows, obviously, but then a former colleague of Aaron’s from the Seattle office happens to be in town for a conference and wants to catch up over a drink. You can’t help but tease him, of course:

“Knock, knock,” you murmur, leaning against the doorway to your husband’s office. With a glance at your watch, you ask, “Y’gonna be late for your date?”

Aaron looks up at you with a frown before returning his attention to his case file and mumbling, “Not a date.”

“Mm, my apologies,” you respond with a twitch of your lips as you approach his desk. You lean your elbows on the dark wood and rest your chin in your open hands. Batting your eyelashes, you amend, “It’s a meeting betwixt old coworkers.”

Aaron rises from his chair, pressing his fists against the desk opposite you and positively towering over your smaller stature. He meets your fiery gaze with equal defiance, then leans forward to press a kiss to your lips and murmurs, “Are you our resident Reid while he’s with his mom? Who says ‘betwixt’?”

“Oh, shut up, nerd,” you taunt back between kisses of your own. “You collected coins; I played Scrabble. Now get going! Can’t leave a lady waiting for the Aaron Hotchner.”

—————

But WAIT! There’s more! Said agent gets a call while they’re out for a drink and asks Aaron and the BAU for help on a new case. Naturally, you all have to fly to Seattle together…

“Mama, you know this cabin is pressurized, right?” Derek teases with a nudge of your shoulder.

You mumble back around a sip of coffee, “Yeah, so?”

“So if you glare any harder, you’re gonna burn a hole through the jet and we’re all gonna die up here.”

Emily snorts out a laugh and you steal a Cheeto from JJ’s snack (for which you’re met with a stern, “Hey!”) to throw at her. Emily collects the offensive projectile from her lap and pops it into her mouth with a ferocious chomp in your direction, receiving an, “Oh, bite me, Prentiss,” in response.

“Just find a way to slip in that you’re married,” JJ counsels, moving the bag out of your reach to avoid further retaliation.

“Or accidentally fall into his lap. Turbulence can be nasty, you know,” Emily offers as a follow up.

“Like that?” you deadpan, jutting your chin toward the scene at the back of the jet. Aaron and Agent Brandt are over by the coffee, and she’s just steadied herself using your husband’s broad shoulder.

“Or,” Derek counteroffers, tugging at the chain around your neck that holds your wedding and engagement rings while you’re out in the field, “put this rock on and go claim your man!”

“This is dumb. I’m being dumb,” you grumble, flipping open the case file and burying your head in it. “Can we get back to talking about this sociopath and not my high school-esque jealousy?”

“What’s happening? Did I miss anything?” Garcia’s blonde curls bounce up on the monitor before your group, ready for the next installment of this evidently riveting saga.

“Nothing is happening, Pen,” you respond with a sharp look her way, “and y’all need to get out more. Watch a romcom or something if you need some angst.”

“You all completely suck,” Penelope sighs dramatically. “My cup runneth empty in my lair!”

“Then go get yourself another cappuccino, baby girl,” Derek answers smoothly with that dazzling smile of his, perched on the armrest of your seat.

You feel his presence before you hear his voice, every atom in your body suddenly on high alert and keenly aware of everything that is Aaron. “Hey.”

You look up at him with an easy smile, determined to not let your unwarranted bitterness reflect on your work. “What’s up, Hotch?”

He squats down in the aisle beside you so he’s not looming over you and brushes his knuckles across your cheek in an uncharacteristically tender touch, given your current audience. “Do you have that travel bottle of Advil? Brandt may have been overzealous with the margaritas last night.”

“Yeah, it’s… in the side pocket of my bag,” you answer, brow furrowed because he tossed it in there this morning to ward off your inevitable headaches during the coming late nights.

“You’re the best, honey,” he murmurs, standing halfway to press a kiss to your forehead before returning to his full height and going off in search of the pain killer.

“‘Overzealous with the margaritas’, huh?” Emily teases, then starts singing the viral song about just how many margaritas are needed to perform certain acts that shan’t be discussed in polite company.

From across the plane, Dave glances at Aaron who’s rummaging through the overhead luggage bin, then turns his attention to you with a knowing gaze. You avert your eyes, feeling a blush creeping across your cheeks, and settle back in your seat before flipping through the case file in front of you. “So crime scene photos would suggest we’re dealing with a disorganized killer…”

—————

But WAIT! There’s even more!

AH tags 🖤 @gothwifehotchner

[satoruhour]

LEGIT JUST DASHED HERE FKJAKJLASDFKJL

TA! Nanami won't leave my brain so pleaseeee 🥺just him assisting you with lab reports by eating you out

❄️

(ANYTHING BUT) LAB HELP

a/n: icy you got me thinkin about my own TA and the failures in which i am too scared to cop him 😭😭😭 / this was purely fuelled by my own carnal need for nanami after last week’s episode because WHEEEEEWWW !

wc: 5.5k

warnings: fem!reader, TA!nanami, reader is a big simp for nanami but vice versa too, reader has long hair in this, slight age gap? since nanami is a TA (27 / 22), m! masturbation, fantasising, semi-public masturbation, oral (f! receiving) / cunnilingus, fingering, hair pulling, little praise, degradation, use of ‘slut’, unprotected sex, creampie / breeding kink, implied multiple rounds, n*sfw under the cut

the first time your TA walked in, your jaw drops. with a face and body like that, he should rightfully be in the modelling industry, not teaching you about dissecting and suturing mice and looking at atoms under a microscope.

all you know is that nanami kento was just like every teaching assistant — attending lectures just like the rest of the students, taking down notes for his tutorial and lab sessions, answering curious emails from everyone — but every interaction you had with this man was anything but normal, or at least that’s what you felt.

you’ve never viewed someone in such a deranged and filthy way before: pulling on his blonde hair and taking off that hideous cheetah print tie and telling him to his face that wearing a full suit while teaching makes him insanely older than he actually is; and also maybe after that, to push him right down to your cunt where he’d eat you out like you deserve.

“i just don’t get why he needs to use a suit at twenty seven years old just to teach — you’re doing your masters, like calm down a little.” you mumble more to yourself than your friend, but she likes every juicy detail you have about this attractive TA you keep talking about even if you sound like you hate him with how much you talk about the damn suit all the time.

but your friend only knows that if you could get his trousers, suit jacket, tie and shirt off of him, you would in a blink of an eye.

“maybe he wants to impress.”

your mouth twists, “who? only person he should be impressing is me.”

it’s all in good fun, with the way you’re talking — in reality, you don’t know what you’d do if the opportunity really presented itself to you. gossip, your legacy (or shame) carried by mouth, expulsion from the university, there were countless of unfortunate things if you do decide to go for the teaching assistant meant purely to help students in better understanding the material.

but it wasn’t one-sided. all those glances you thought nanami was sending you weren’t imagined, nor was it because you thought he was squinting due to bad eyesight. he remembers your name from the first tutorial he taught you, caught you lingering around the lecture hall, helps you a little too much during lab sessions and every time, he’s inexplicably drawn to you and your aura.

“good afternoon, ladies,” the familiar deep and collected voice snaps you out of the conversation, heart beating a hundred miles. you were in no way prepared for this, but you’re grateful for even one meeting out of class. your friend is insufferable though — from your peripheral you can see her giving the two of you a sick grin, “any chance i could ask for directions to this particular room?”

that was another thing; nanami wasn’t from this university. having completed his degree in another, he took his masters in the one you’re attending, wanting a breath of fresh air from the four years of his time in kyoto. that’s what you remember from his introduction, amongst many other things: he liked neutral colours, he’s interested in the philosophy of aesthetics, and he loved bread.

“babe, i’m going to head off for a class,” lies. she had no classes today at all, “see you tomorrow!” she bows briefly to nanami who only shoots her a tender smile and you turn to the side to bite your fist. you’ve become good at containing your reactions, though.

“oh! nanami-san, of course. headed there for a class?”

what kind of stupid question is that? of course he w—

“i’m heading there for a seminar, actually, starts in about,” he checks his watch, “10 minutes. the uni invited an external professor to give a talk that merges both the philosophical aspects of questioning life alongside the functions of the body, sparking thoughts of science and philosophy. thought it’d be interesting.”

you swallow and you swear you can feel your core pulsing. hot, intelligent and always pushing the boundaries and capacity of learning? you could only thank the gods that it was a cooler day, not being able to do anything if you actually do melt into a puddle.

“y-yeah! yeah, i know where it is.” you don’t, but the rooms are usually lined up pretty nicely, and you know you would be able to guide him successfully without much trouble; but when you’re checking the seminar room, you realise that they may have changed venues.

“crap . . five minutes. nanami-san, do you think maybe they sent a follow-up email with the change in location?” you’re more on edge than nanami is because you usually don’t like to be late for anything, recalling the jumble of numbers and letters he showed you earlier and lining them with the label plates outside the room.

“uh— oh, shit. yeah, i might’ve shown you the wrong email.” your jaw drops when you see the new venue.

“that’s . . on the other side of campus, nanami-san.”

“how long will it take?”

you wince at the disappointment on his face, “if you take the campus bus, at least fifteen minutes.”

nanami’s understandably mad at himself for his own mistake, knowing he’d miss a good chunk of the talk whilst travelling there, but he’s distracted from his self-loathing — taken aback at the quickness in which you offer to drive him.

“uh . . it’s probably maybe eight minutes there by car. my car’s parked close by if you want a lift—”

and nanami thinks it’s simultaneously the perfect and terrible day to send his car to the mechanics and settle for public transport. perfect because he might accept your offer to be close to you, terrible because he would much rather you sit in the passenger sit of his car rather than the other way around.

nanami forgets to be modest in your presence, so he accepts it without a second beat and follows you in a jog to the parking lot. there are scattered vehicles, possibly belonging to professors and maybe students, and the both of you come to an everyday looking corolla.

“okay! unlocked. i’ll try to speed and get you there in four minutes.” nanami can only manage a soft thank you, touched by your generosity and even more drawn by the determination in your face. with a turn of the ignition key, the man clutches onto the seatbelt as you lurch forward with the acceleration, and then you’re taking off.

you’re not the best driver, driving past yellow lights and terrible at changing lanes, but you get the job done. coming to rest in front of the humanities block, you’re arriving with the seminar starting just two minutes ago, and nanami looks at you like you just moved the moon and stars for him.

“thank you, (y/n)-san, truly,” he’s out of breath, maybe a little shaken up from the drive but it’s nothing he isn’t used to (gojo sucks too), “how can i repay you?”

you shake your hand, “a-ah, no it’s nothing. it was just an eight minute drive compressed into four.”

“no, really, let me pay back the favour.”

you bit your lip — you can’t possibly say the thing that’s on your mind. he would report you, you would have to be kicked out, your future crumbling before your eyes — you go for the tamer request.

“lunch, one day, then.”

nanami smiles at you and you feel like it’s cupid shooting his shot straight into your heart. you hardly see the man, smile, ever, so to have a genuine one directed at you made you squeeze your thighs together. there’s hope bubbling in nanami’s heart when he sees the effect of his smile: a glint in your eye and the quickened breaths, he may have thought your thighs move, too, but he didn’t have the balls to glance down to the one place he knew he wouldn’t be able to resist.

“how ’bout right after the seminar?” fuck. you’re grinning now and you see a little of nanami’s teeth in an amused smile.

“sure, nanami-san,” adrenaline sends you reeling, eyes boring so tirelessly into his that you wish he’d understand all the things you want him to do to you. he peeks a quick glimpse of your lips as they lick it before unbuckling his seatbelt, popping open the passenger door to head out. your hand instinctively goes up to stop him, “or should i say . . passenger princess.”

that prompts a full grin out of your TA, who lets out an attractive chuckle before leaving from your car, “sure, whatever you want to call me.”

you’re driving away happily, kicking your feet once you’re parked in another car park and giggling to yourself. unbeknownst to you of the small little thing nanami says after, “although i’d like it if you call me yours.”

the spiral starts from there. it was approximately two hours — you have two hours of going back to the dorms to choose something you knew you looked good in while continuing to text your friend in excitement. it was chaos between the hours of eleven to one pm, rummaging through your closet to find something suitable. you went through many rounds of outfits and with each photo to your friend you were losing hope.

“‘let’s just stick with the first’?” you scoff loudly after reading out her feedback, typing out a reply to your friend. it sounded a little agitated but you can’t help but heart the message wishing you a good luck.

before you know it, you’re hearing a knock on the window, greeted with the very nice sight of his suit jacket now removed and his blue shirt rolled up at the sleeves. it’s like he’s heard your thoughts too because even his ugly tie is bundled up in his hand.

“the AC wasn’t working.” he simply explains, once he’s in the car and he appreciates your gesture of turning yours to the max. you let your eyes rake over his figure, the pull of his shirt that looks too tight for him and the lines of his forearms, before he finally gets settled in and begs your eye contact.

“bummer,” you click your tongue, “but well, any places you have in mind?”

you start the car, pulling out of the lobby and nanami playfully hums, “not going to listen to your passenger princess’ struggles? do you hate women perhaps?”

“nah, i’m a toxic man who doesn’t care about his girl’s life.” that draws a laugh out of nanami, who sinks more into the seat. he’s more relaxed here than in class, than in lectures and it’s a nice sight to behold.

he echoes your sentiment with a small smile, “bummer.”

you both settle on an eatery pretty easily, with nanami keeping his promise of paying for your lunch (you made sure to pay back just a little with some bread, though, because how does a simple car lift equate to a whole lunch?). he was everything you thought him out to be: insanely insightful and smart; on a more physical level, jacked with such a pretty voice to the point you let him ramble about the seminar. it was the most animated you’ve seen him act.

since then, he’s become more open to accepting food items and hangouts with his students, although they never really hit like the first lunch he’s had with you. it was detrimental to his teaching, really, even now where he glares at your lab partner who you’re laughing with. it makes his stomach turn with jealousy, even as you exchange nudges while completing your worksheets.

he figures he can’t do anything but wait for you to initiate, mind muddled with thoughts of you and the possibility you were just being a nice person from what you did before, until you’re interrupting him from his rage-fuelled cleaning of the lab with a tap to his shoulder.

“nanami-san?” the students have filed out by now, a shell of what used to be a lab full of students groaning at the innards of the rats they were cutting open and the whispers of confusion at how to sew them back up.

“what is it?” he turns around too fast, almost knowing over a beaker by accident and when his hand goes over to catch it, you stabilise it as well. your hand encases his, the both of you resisting the urge to smile while you try to remember the question you so desperately tried to think of; anything to just talk to him.

“this is about um . . last week’s experiment about gas chromatography.”

“yeah?” nanami leans against the table, arms crossed and all and suddenly looking too buff that you feel a little lightheaded. his eyes skim over your body, a tight fitting shirt that accentuates your tits whilst you have some yoga pants on and if he bent you over, he’s confident he can see your pussy lips from behind the fabric. he knows it’s because you had a yoga class this morning, because he’s too invested in your life and you willingly give him what he wants.

“if the two mixtures contained the same alcohols but filled up to different amounts, do you know a method via the gas chromatogram to distinguish between the two mixtures?”

“uhm—”

nanami looks collected but he is sweating, approached at such a random time that he doesn’t have time to prepare except stutter through his answer. you don’t notice how you’ve been stepping closer and closer to him, either, until you’re an inch from one another.

“oh! alright, that makes sense.”

“anything else?” your TA looks down at you, hands just itching to bring you in. the lab is so quiet, now, save for the shuffling feet of the students outside but thankfully the windows are opaque. you could probably hear a pin drop if it wasn’t for your hearts pounding so loudly in your chests. your finger twitches with your incomplete lab report.

“right— well, yes, i was asking if you c—”

“babe!” the lab door slides open at the same time your friend calls out to you and you cough in embarrassment. nanami only clears his throat as the two of you step away and your cheeks burn, and he has to loosen the tie around his neck just for a bit.

“you told me to wait for you outside, right? well you were taking too long and . .” the other only continues his ‘task’ of cleaning up, looking anywhere but your direction as she continues to ramble, but he doesn’t miss the look of recognition on your friend’s face.

she mouths to you— i’m so sorry for interrupting, before she has half a mind to say something out loud and you’re clasping your hand over her mouth and ushering her outside hurriedly.

“shush— okay, thanks mr. nanami-san!”

he only waves a hand in farewell, but as soon as the door closes he collapses onto the seat. with head in hands, his mind wanders to the proximity in which the two of you were engaged in and the very, very uncomfortable boner in his pants. he’s so big that everyone can probably see it, frozen in place as he gets a sick idea.

“yeah, i told you to wait for me but not to barge in like that— oh my god! you should go on the records for having the worst timing ever.” you aren’t entirely disappointed, but it did seem like a good opportunity. you’re partly glad, too, because your mind now feeds you countless scenarios of nanami’s expressions turning into disgust and shock.

“dang, i’m sorry, but we do have to get going if we want to make it in time for that cafe event.”

your mouth twists, “yeah, i guess so.”

“if it makes you feel better, maybe he’ll want you more after this interruption.” she winks and you shove her playfully.

“now, you’re just trying to justify your bad timing!”

in that short time, you’re unaware that nanami has unzipped his pants and pulled out his hard-on through the hole of his boxers, insanely hard and body burning with regret. “lord, forgive me.”

he imagines you propped up on the (clean) lab tables, feet on his shoulders as he eats you out from below, or even hitting it from the back as he “helps” you with your lab report in the dorm, knowing damn well you won’t get anything done, or maybe even your mouth full of his throbbing cock sucking him off as he teaches.

nanami strokes his length in the empty lab room, knowing there wasn’t any classes any time soon from how often he’s looked at the timetables. there, he simply pumps himself under the table, biting at his shirt sleeves to muffle his grunts that he drools. it drops to the table, but he’s caring not one bit, because the feel of his hands just feel too good against him and the images of you only get lewder and lewder.

“s-shit . .” nanami swears quietly, hoping the slickness of his pre-cum doesn’t give him away, squeezing and moving his hands faster along his cock. his tip’s so sensitive — what would your mouth or pussy feel like? would you have let him rip your tights and fuck you silly just now? his hips are bucking into his hands, now, thinking of turning your sweet, sweet smile into something of pure sex, and before he knows it, he’s shooting his load onto the floor with a loud groan, thumbing his tip shakily. nanami’s breaths are ragged, guilt burning him alive while he washes his hand at the sink beside the tables and crouches to the floor, cleaning up after himself — nanami definitely wouldn’t be able to face you after this.

he was right. his mind was flooded with you in obscene positions and your saccharine voice twisted into moans and whines, he wonders if you taste as good as the pineapple juice he had the other day. even in tutorials, the students were wondering why the AC was turned up so high, because one glance from you made him hot and bothered. he liked to book it straight out of class, too, directing all questions to his email which he highlights very clearly in his slides, muttering something about being on a tight deadline with his thesis for his masters, but it’s never that serious — he’s usually heading back to quell the uncomfortable boner in his pants.

“prof? nanami-san?” you knew you’d find him in here in the professor’s office, probably going over lesson plans. your professor only shoots you a friendly greeting as nanami turns in his chair, he’s always happy to see his students while nanami swallows when you’re back in your yoga getup. it’s been a week, already?

“need anything, (y/n)?”

“oh, i need more of nanami-san, since it’s relating to my lab reports.” your professor usually conducted lab sessions, but nanami was the one to help with the reports, conveying the information of what to write and whatnot; well, it was also easier to talk someone who isn’t so intimidating and cool as your professor.

“kento, help me lock up after you’re done, alright?” your professor throws him the keys and you stifle a laugh at the way he stumbles out the door, “going home early to the wife, ahah . . guess i’m falling for her over again.”

that draws a laugh from both of you, bidding him goodbye with a smile on your faces before the mood turns tense again, and nanami looks up at you from his chair. you take him in: the manspread, the head tilt, the intentional (but you don’t know that) deep voice.

“yes, (y/n)?”

you gulp, remembering what your friend said — keep eye contact, slowly walk up to him, keep your voice nonchalant — it was easier said than done.

“cat got your tongue?”

you sputter and exclaim, “no— no i’m okay. i just wanted to ask about the alcohols used in the experiment last week.”

“ah, you’re still on that?”

his tone is laced with a slight disdain, possibly from how much he hates how you make him feel, coming in here to ask about your stupid lab report when he know you’re a bright student who hardly needs any help, coming in here like the two of you don’t want each other.

“y-yes, nanami-san.”

he stands and easily towers over you. from here, you can see his broad shoulders take up his shirt as he walks you back, buttons unbuttoned to reveal a bit of skin. you feel like prey being cornered, but nanami still has some sense of chivalry when he wraps an arm around your waist to prevent you from hitting the frosted glass door.

“mind telling me why your lab report from over two weeks ago is taking so long to be completed?”

reality seeps in for just a moment and his hand removes itself, hovering just over your body, “we still . . have a week to finish it up, nanami-san . .”

your TA takes a deep breath and you think that maybe that was the wrong answer, but all nanami does is step even closer to you and your hands have no choice but to rest on his toned chest. he can only hope no one can see your figure when you’re pressed flat against the frosted glass, but he knows this part of the uni is a little deserted this late in the afternoon.

“that’s not wrong . .” his voice is down to a whisper, closing his eyes for a moment when your hands travel over his chest. when he opens them again, they’re more than just the pretty, hazel ones you like to fantasise about, stained with a darker sort of lust that involves taking you, even if it meant doing it in the professor’s office. “but you’re always submitting it pretty early on, aren’t you? what changed, hm?”

you can feel his breath on your lips, wishing he would just take the first step because frankly, your pussy is throbbing and your body is already leaning into him even without his hand on your back. it feels natural like that.

“i got distracted.”

nanami’s breath moves from your lips to your neck, and you cheer in your head as he plants a gentle kiss there, but it’s not quite what you want. he hums into the crook of your neck, torturing you with wet kisses and sucking lightly.

“by what? your friend? or perhaps it’s some external commitment that’s taking up a lot of your time?” nanami already knows the answer but he enjoys the way you squirm. “what is it?”

by now, your hands are trailing up his body, wrapping around his neck and playing with his undercut. his skin is so soft and he smells so damn good, and he sighs at your hands.

“by someone, actually.” you bite the bullet, forcibly removing him from your neck which is definitely starting to show the obvious blue black on the skin there. his hands this whole time have been placed against the door behind you, but the carnal need is too prominent that he wraps that same arm around your middle. the other, on your nape; the sheer size of his hand makes you whine and nanami smiles at that.

“mind telling me who is it? maybe i could give them a good talk, tell them to stop tormenting my smart girl.”

that draws out a visceral reaction from you, melting into his arms at the simple praise. nanami helps you a little, leaning in with an expression as needy as yours.

“you’re gonna talk to yourself?” a laugh is the last thing you hear before he crashes his lips against yours, a hand smartly going to the door to flip the lock before he pulls you flush against him. you moan softly when you feel his hard-on, against your front, manhandled easy by nanami’s arms as he whips you around to walk you to your professor’s desk.

“do you think he’ll sue us?” nanami kisses down your neck with him between your legs, hands fondling every inch of your body while you grind up against his pelvis. with such thin material such as your yoga tights between you, it feels so damn good.

“at most he’ll remove me as TA . .” as he speaks, you can feel the vibrations along your skin, legs instinctively bringing him closer. he doesn’t let you, instead pulling away from your body and goes to his knees, seeing just how soaked you are. he thanks god you weren’t wearing black, because there’s a wet patch that leaks too much — it’s clear you didn’t bother to wear underwear at all. “but that is if he finds out about this, right?”

you smile, feet pushing at his back towards your dripping cunt and you moan softly when he licks at your pussy through the fabric.

“yeah— yeah i guess so,” you’re then expecting his hands to pull at your waistband and you lift your hips knowingly, but you hear a stark riiip! that echoes throughout the office and you gasp, too focused on his pretty face to notice he’s dug his fingers into the yoga tights to tear it at your centre. the action turns you on, entirely sure you felt your pussy flutter at the sheer strength that he had.

“i’ll buy you new ones, baby,” nanami presses a gentle kiss against your clit and you shiver at the contact, hot breath threatening your demise by his hand, “they’re of terrible quality, by the way.”

you huff, “yeah, you kinda ripped it, nanami-san. plus, what’s terrible — not in quality but in looks — is your tie.”

nanami chuckles, caressing your inner thighs with gentle fingers, blowing lightly on your cunt, “personal vendetta against cheetahs?”

that sends shivers along your whole body, “n-no, just don’t really like the look of it.”

nanami hums, “i’m wounded.”

“you’ll live.”

he only laughs again, “okay, enough talking. i’m starving.” and starving he was — he latches his mouth onto your clit like a vice, sucking and flicking his tongue relentlessly you have no choice but to cry out his name. “taste so fucking sweet,” the sudden swear catches you off-guard, paired with the rasped voice and your hips willingly hump his mouth, “pussy made for me.”

“don’t say shit like that . .” you whine, embarrassed at the filthiness of his words and yet you’re sat here on a desk, pushing your sex more and more into his lips. “it’s embarrassin’.”

nanami clicks his tongue, “you’re still here.”

“yeah, shut up.” you push him further into your cunt to silence him, a loud moan leaving your lips as nanami slobbers over you — you’re so wet, spilling onto the floor. without warning, nanami slips a finger into you, easing it in and the sheer thickness of it prompts more mewls from you.

“k—kento . .” you hear nanami groan at the first name basis, shoving his finger deeper into you. he pumps it as his tongue works overtime, the slickness of which your pussy sounds out echoing throughout the room. “i’m c-clos—”

that seems to fuel nanami further, memorising how your body feels under him. you clench repeatedly around his finger, thighs twitching against him while your whimpers increase in volume, just like your incoherent babbles.

“i’m g’nna— kento, i’m c—” your back arches when you gush all over his face, juices squirting and making a mess out of his hair. nanami groans into your sopping pussy, slurping up your arousal shamelessly as you continue to give him everything of you. you’re shaking around him, moans slowly dwindling due to shame. by now, you’ve soaked through the bottom of your tights, letting him rip the seams for a little more access.

“wanna hear you, baby.” he easily multitasks, turning you around while removing his underwear, looking back at him while you shimmy your ass back into him. with a low moan, nanami drags his tip over your folds, collecting your cum and pushing it in with it. the stretch makes your jaw drop and legs tremble, pussy still sensitive from the previous orgasm.

you hold on to the wooden desk to the best of your ability but your iron grip makes the wood creak a little; it isn’t long before nanami starts moving.

“f-fuck . . you’re so tight,” the lewdness of the situation, your ruined tights, your ass moving with the force of his hips has him gripping your hips harsher than intended. his cock is just so fat, hitting your spots effortlessly as he rams into you from behind, “will this be enough motivation for you to finish that lab report, hm?” your perked up ass is receiving all the abuse from his pelvis, rutted into with pure primal need as the slaps of his balls against you gets louder and louder, just like your moans.

“g-gonna need more than this, kento—!” you’re whining as he reaches around to rub at your clit, messy and fast, surely drawing marks down the once flawless wooden desk. he just hopes there’s no one who requires the professor’s assistance because there was a clear indication that the office was open with the shining ceiling light but he was in no condition to answer any questions without panting.

nanami pushes down your lower back, cockhead hitting your spots over and over, “need more? of course you do, fuckin’ slut.” it’s a total 180 from the gentle way he’s kissed you earlier — a choked whine and a clench of your pussy tells him you like it . “oh . . she’s cock drunk already, huh?”

“yesyesyes! mmff— kento, please . .” he pulls on your hair from behind, made easy by the ponytail you had it in and you moan at the mixture of pain and pleasure. he takes it a little easier, resting his large palm at your neck and pulling, together with your hair. nanami sucks at the same spot as earlier, and the overwhelming sensations has you both arching your back and fucking yourself back onto him.

“pretty arch you got here, darling,” he pants out, fucking so hard into you with his support that your hands don’t even need to rest on the table. nanami knows you’re already close by the way you’re unresponsive, mindless babbling leaving your mouth while you let him use your limp body. “is it all for m-me?”

“mhmh— it is, it is—” you’re fucked senseless, letting him turn your head to meet him in a sloppy kiss. by now your pussy juices are spurting all over the place, staining the floor and table, dripping down his balls where with every slam of his cock you can here the wet pap! pap! pap!’s of it.

“y—yeah i know it is; that’s all you are, aren‘t you? a little cocksleeve for me.” nanami groans out, letting go entirely before wrapping his arms around you and trapping you between his front and the table. he’s flush against your back, thrusts faltering with each plunge into your warm, tight pussy as he feels you clench tirelessly and you don’t even to say it before you’re jolting in his hold.

���cumming, i’m cumming . . fuuuck . .” your body is so sensitive, shaking around his cock that continues to move into you. you cum all over him, listening to the dirty whispers he’s dumping into your ears.

“oh . .” nanami groans, “that’s a good little slut, s-shit—” your hips continue to move even though your brain tells you to stop, hands making terrible effort at reaching for him.

“wan’ you to cum in me, kentoo—” your grip on his forearm is tight, pleading with your doe eyes and small voice that has nanami grunting out in a dilemma, but your pussy’s too warm that he cums suddenly. his voice reaches a higher register, stuttering pelvis rutting into you with the intent of breeding you; he pumps you full of his seed, ropes upon ropes of white filling your womb. it’s so thick that you shiver again, yelping softly when he pulls out.

“look at that . .” nanami marvels at the amount of cum he’s dumped into you, using a finger to scoop it up before pushing it back in that you jump from the coldness of his finger. “a smart girl turned so dumb just from cock.” you give him an intoxicated smile, lazy and hooded as you lay limp on the table.

“only for your cock, nanami-san . .” you lick a stripe up the palm of your hand and he indulges you by stepping closer. he moans softly as your hand makes contact with his shaft, “or should i say . . sir?”

nanami ended up driving you back to your dorm, helping you to your room from how sore you were after that.

[moistmailman]

Botw/totk Ganon kinda had it rough honestly. All of the other Ganons had to fight a Link who was mostly normal. The most adnormal one probably being Wind Waker Link. These Links were just heroic kids who went across Hyrule to save the land. They were tough, sometimes childish, but still normal.

Meanwhile he had to deal with the most feral bastard ever. This Link is a chaotic son of a bitch. It’s bad enough that in his first adventure this 5’1” blond immediately chose violence upon waking from a 100 year nap, while also having no memories at all. He was essentially in factory reset mode and his brain went on first instincts, which was violence. Head empty except for the violence.

But then in his second adventure he started vehicle warfare and spread even more violence across Hyrule. Imagine fighting someone and they immediately build a tank in a few seconds and make your entire existence extinct. This man is basically a caveman who figured how to split atoms. He flat out pillages the remains of monsters and uses them to kill even more monsters. Imagine a guy beating you over the head with your buddy’s arm. That’s what he does.

When’s Zelda’s around though he’s tame and normal. She literally keeps him in line. He’s the princess’s knight everyone expects him to be. But when Zelda’s gone, something snaps in him and he becomes this picture

[jenjensd]

Imagine Phoenixes

Flamingo and the Machine

Goose Charlotte

The Spice Birds

4 Non Beaks

Atomic Duckling

Electric Chicks

We the Kingfishers

Bowling for Seeds

Red Hot Chilli Parrots

The Avian League

Sparrow Sisters

Guns N Roosters

The Smashing Penguins

The Pretty Ravens

Cage the Pelican

All Time Owl

The Flaming Tits

System of a Dove

Fall Out Bird

Alien Emu Farm

Robin Against The Machine

Twenty One Parakeets

Black Eyed Peacocks

Finch Fighters

Swan 41

[Bird universe]

The squawking heads

[icantsleepsoiwritefanfics]

18 - Jake Shim (ENHYPEN)

❝ Jake Shim's biggest problem has name, surname and is two years older than him. Who said falling in love with his friend's cousin would be that hard? ❞

Pairing: younger!jake x fem!reader, Jake's POV

Genre: romance, fluffy, suggestive, kinda cliche you know, fem!reader has no name

Inspiration: 18 by 5 Seconds Of Summer

Warning: cursing, kinda suggestive, making out, just a little bit of nudity

Word count: 1,1k

Part 1 | Part 2 (COMING SOON!!!) | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8

A.N: Hey everyone! First time posting here! English is not my first language so I hope you understand if there's something wrong here and there. Jake is a minor in the beginning but he'll be a big boy soon don't worry. Hope you like it!

"She's just a little bit older".

That's what Heeseung said when I asked about her.

He didn't give more details but I found out a few days later we study at the same school, she's a senior and she knows my older cousin, Winnie. And by the irony of fate these two are a few meters away from me talking to a blonde girl who seems the most excited of her group.

"Stop staring at her" Jay alerts me with a glass of Sprite on his left hand.

"I'm not staring at her" I denied even if everyone can see that yes, I've been staring at her since I arrived at Heeseung's birthday party. "I just think she's cute"

"I just think she's cute?" he laughs because he knows better than anyone this is not about cuteness. "I see you stalking her Instagram every single day in the breaks. Shame on you"

"If you don't know I've never been so shameful" that's my confession before drinking my Coca-Cola can.

"Why don't you get an excuse to talk to Winnie and talk to her too?" he looks pretty impatient now. "I know she won't disappear or something but if an atom of her body disappears every second passing by I think she wouldn't be here anymore"

"And what should I talk to Winnie?" even if I'm talking to Jay I can't take my eyes off her. This is the first time I see someone wearing a jumpsuit and a flannel at the same time. "Should I ask her if she beat Final Fantasy again this weekend?"

"Wait, wait, wait, she beat Final Fantasy every weekend?" now he's the one who's confused. "This is not normal man"

"Say it to her not to me" I finally avert my gaze from her. By now she knows I may be staring for a couple minutes.

"I'll say it to her but you'll come with me"

There's no time to say no. A few seconds later we are closer than I imagined and she looks at me smiling. It's pretty obvious I'm a little shy so I take a huge sip of my Coca-Cola while Jay starts annoying my cousin.

"Winnie, Jake told me you beat Final Fantasy every single weekend" I don't look at Winnie because I know she's mad. "This is a little worrisome, don't you agree?"

"It's not every single weekend…" Winnie tries to protect herself but the blonde girl's scandalous laugh interrupts her excuse.

"C'mon Winnie you say it all the time" she laughs. It's the first time I hear her laugh. 

"Why did you say it to him Jake?" my cousin punches my shoulder.

"You are Jake?" finally I decided take a look at the blonde girl. She seems kinda surprised and keep staring at me. "Winnie why didn't you told me your cousin was so handsome?"

"Get out Naomi he's a minor"

"So what? He can be my baby."

"Naomi!" Winnie screams. Jay keep on looking at me like that and take another sip of his cup.

"She's crazy, nevermind" this is the first time she talks to me and I feel my forearm shiver when she touches it for a few seconds. "Winnie talks a lot about you, maybe more than her brother".

"Respect my maternal instinct" my cousin seems angry, but she keep on laughing. "By the way you and my brother are the same age, Jake is two years younger"

"You're sixteen?" Naomi asks and I just nod. "Winnie I can't deny your brother is pretty hot, but your cousin is a lost cause"

"Naomi I swear to God if you don't stop I'm gonna call the police" Winnie tries to make her stop. Jay keeps eye-contacting me like he was saying I should make a move and he knows the answer.

Suddenly I feel her getting closer. Her hand cover my ear and she whispers: "I'll get you out of here before she does something illegal"

I'm stunned hearing her voice so close.

See that smile makes me go dumb and dumber.

"I want more Coca-Cola. Would you come with me Jake?" I nod again, twining our arms as we get distant from them.

I couldn't hear them anymore. Maybe my heartbeat is making me deaf.

"Thanks" that's all I can say. I keep on staring at the floor and finally I notice she's wearing a black Keds.

"Not at all" I can feel her smile between the words. "I was just like you"

"Minor?" she laughs.

"Yeah" and she is still laughing. "But I was pretty shy when I was sixteen"

"It's a must not being shy to be a senior?" I ask and immediately regret myself. Pretty sure she can see me swallowing hard. "Sorry I…"

"It's alright" she says like it means nothing. "I know you check my Instagram stories." Definitely I'm blushing. "I know it because I check your profile. Winnie follows you and she told us she has a cousin named Jake."

"You checked my profile?" that's the only information that I could focus on. Just getting dumb and dumber.

"Of course!" unlike me she seems pretty chill to confess those things. "You've got that low-profile vibes but I love the songs you share"

"I like the songs you share too."

"I started listening to Cage The Elephant because of you." 

"And I started listening to Two Door Cinema Club because of you."

And then the silence.

She makes me feel so lost I've got no idea what I should talk about.

"They know I was lying" she can see I don't get it. "I'm not a big fan of Coca-Cola"

"Sprite?" she nod and laughs. God, how I wish I could make her laugh more and more.

"You know my cousin, right?"

"Guess I can say we're friends?" it's my time to laugh. "He's part of the school team"

"Oh yeah" and she laughs too. "Sometimes I forget he's a local celebrity"

"Local celebrity?"

"You know, popular crew, cool kids and everything in between" but this time it doesn't sound funny to her. "I don't like that they see me just as Heeseung's cousin."

"Being honest I met you before meeting him".

And immediately I regret myself again.

Dumb and dumber is getting real.

"Are you keeping an eye on me Jake?" her smile isn't the same.

Looks a little more sassy?

"Well…" I don't know what to say when she's looking at me like that.

"Damn it boy you're so fucking cute" I feel her fingers squeeze my right cheek. "Such a shame you're too young for me" 

"I can wait" I'm not a bold guy but I definitely was when I said that.

"Maybe when you're older big boy" she smiles and taps my shoulder before leaving me alone.

This is the first time I wish I wasn't a minor.

[actual-changeling]

he wonders sometimes what it would have been like if they had gotten away from everything. if aziraphale had said "yes" when he asked him to take his hand and run off to alpha centauri together. if it had been them and the bentley in a sea of stars, dust, and gravity.

it's no use thinking about it now, crowley knows it brings him nothing but pain, keeping the regret burning in his chest alive, yet he cannot stop.

fantasies of a kinder world are the one thing keeping him going. they paint the sunrise golden and the sunset a blinding violet, they breathe morning dew onto bright green leaves and grass stretching towards the sky. every 'what if' is another blossom opening beneath his fingertips, every 'maybe' another night he makes it through without unfolding his wings and tearing through reality until heaven is in shambles around him and aziraphale back where he belongs.

crowley watches the bookshop for hours at a time, letting life pass him by, and he imagines white-blonde hair glowing behind the windows and classical music drifting through the cracks in the walls. he dips his tongue into the lonely air of london and pretends he can still taste shared wine and lips.

above him, the stars are waiting for him, have been waiting for him since the day they lost each other, and the hole in his chest marking aziraphale's absence feels much like the silent cries of his creations.

loss, crowley wants to call it, but you can only lose something that you had the privilege of carrying in the space between your hands in the first place, so he doesn't.

loss, he wants to call it regardless of whether they have had each other at some point or another, but he doesn't. if he did, his sprawling fantasies and hopes would collapse under their own weight and swallow him whole, because loss means the emptiness will remain.

loss means he won't come back.

crowley wonders whether they would have been happy chasing after each other in the spaces between atoms, wings expanding far beyond their physical shape, dipping into dark matter and the crumbling remains of planets. maybe they would have, maybe aziraphale would have been happy.

it's not loss, because he knows he would have been happy among the stars, on earth, in a pit of burning sulphur—as long as aziraphale is with him, happiness clings to him like midnight rain, never drying, and he couldn't bear to see it disappear.

it's not loss. it can't be loss.

half of him stayed with his stars, the other stayed with aziraphale, went with him to heaven, weaving into his every cell.

the true loss is the shell of him that stayed behind; his fantasies are a promise that he will be whole again.

they have to be.

[da-janela-lateral]

Things must have been so awkward for ex-Claw lackeys. They had a parcel of the power of a living atomic bomb and were under the impression that they could crush the whole world under their soles... only to get shamed by a greasy blond conman who is not actually their boss. Months after, the organization hacks live TV to make a conspiracy announcement. Nobody cares. It's made onto a joke on the internet. The world domination plan fails horribly in like two days.

How would they even live with that. Imagine having a family gathering and everybody just points out that "oh isn't that your old boss on the news?" and "sis how is the terrorism going" when they damn know you're on an Administration course now.

[emmyrosee]

Gordon Merkel

I WOULDN’T BE CAUGHT DEAD IN IT.

fanfics

n/a

drabbles

Patch Up

Comfort

Stop Smiling At Me

My Sunshine

NSFW Content. Reader Discretion Advised. Minors Do Not Interact.

Little Bunny

Rough

Time Apart

Taking Care Of Him

Interrogation

Soft dominance 

[dontyouworrydaddy]

hi!!! I always imagined me being in 141 but with a twist can you make reader like an assassin my inspo is black widow atomic blonde Maria hill

aka a BAMF who gets the job done ruthlessly she work in a diff base but as soon as the job is done she’s a big sweetie she loves ballet,ice staking,painting etc!

thank you!!!!!! 💗

𝕪𝕠𝕦 𝕒𝕣𝕖 𝕦𝕟𝕗𝕚𝕩𝕒𝕓𝕝𝕖

Task Force 141 + fem! reader

I ABSOLUTELY LOVE BLACK WIDOW AND OH GOD HAVING A READER IN HER STYLE???? THIS IS WHAT I HAVE BEEN THINKING ABOUT LATELY AND I AM GIGGLING ABOUT IT😭😭 Thank you anon for this ask, I literally love you so much❤️❤️ I hope you enjoy this!

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

You were a force to be reckoned with, a woman who oozed competence and strength. Your (hair color) framed a face that radiated determination, and your eyes held a glint of unwavering purpose. As you stood there in your tactical gear, the team exchanged uneasy glances. They had heard of your ruthlessness, your precision, and your unparalleled efficiency. But what intrigued them the most was the stark contrast between the persona you displayed during operations and the person you transformed into afterward.

Price's gravelly voice broke the silence. "Listen up, team. We've got intel that Makarov's men have acquired a shipment of nerve gas. Our mission is to intercept and eliminate their operation before they unleash it on innocent lives."

Ghost nodded. "We'll infiltrate their compound and neutralize any threats. Y/N, make sure you stick to the plan."

The mission was a success, thanks to the combined efforts of the team and your calculated approach. During the operation, your movements were swift, your decisions merciless, and your face was ice-cold. You were a whirlwind of calculated violence, leaving no room for hesitation or mistakes. Mistakes were your biggest enemy in the field. The team watched as you executed maneuvers reminiscent of a certain spy they were familiar with.

After the mission, back at the base, the transformation in you was nothing short of astonishing. As the team stripped off their gear, they caught glimpses of you engaging in activities that seemed almost incongruous with the person they had just witnessed. You traded your tactical attire for a soft, flowing dress, and your eyes now held a warmth that contrasted with the icy glare from before.

Soap's brow furrowed as he observed you delicately painting a canvas on an easel. "I can't believe the same person who took out those guards with such ruthless hands is also into painting." Gaz chimed in. "And ballet. Don’t forget about that one."

Price chuckled, his mirth hidden behind his mustache. "Appearances can be deceiving, lads. We all have our ways of balancing the scales of this life. And Y/N‘s is painting and ballet…"

The team continued to watch you in fascination, occasionally sharing stolen glances amongst themselves. Gaz approached you, a rare hint of curiosity in his voice. "So, uhhh, Y/N how do you manage to switch gears so quickly?"

You paused your painting, offering a genuine smile. "It's all about maintaining control over yourself. In the field, I am ruthless because I have to be. If I want to protect my country and protect the people in it, I can’t show any emotions. It would just distract me. But after the mission is done, I switch my energy into things that bring me joy. It's my way of finding balance. And extractly that is the key to success."

Soap smirked. "Well, I have to say, If I had to choose between you and ghost. I would definitely choose you as my Teammate." This statement caused Ghost to look at him with a threatening face. You chuckle at the sight.

"You know" ghost began as the others slowly left to get food for their hungry tummy "I've seen a lot of fighters in my time, but none like you. You're like a shadow, moving seamlessly between two worlds."

You took a sip of your hot chocolate, meeting his gaze. "Thank you, Ghost. It's taken a long time to strike that balance. And many nerves… of course." hinting to your trauma from all the training and steps you had to take to reach where you are right now.

Ghost grinned behind his mask. "I have to admit, watching you take down those enemies in the field is a sight to behold. It's like watching myself, but in a better version."

[hail-americas-ass]

🔆JUNE FIC REC II

✒ a greek tragedy by ash 

(I can’t express enough how amazing this is) 4.6K Words

When Steve started drawing the comic, he drew himself before the serum and Bucky as he remembered him when they worked together to keep from ending up on the streets and dreamed of futures with floating cars. He drew them then and now, scenes against a New York he remembered and scenes against this future he didn’t quite fit in, one drawn soft and hazy, the other hard lines. When he drew them in the present, he never drew himself looking at Bucky; Bucky was always behind him, a shadow that followed as he tried to find a trace of the world they used to know in this one. He called them Orpheus and Eurydice.

🦾  Touch Me I’m Going to Scream by buffypeppers

(This is a classic in my opinion. It’s got recovering!Bucky and every trope you can imagine, so very fluffy) 107.5K Words

Only a few days have passed since the Winter Soldier put Sam into a hospital bed but Steve is ready to find HYDRA’s assassin and bring him to justice.

Things won't go according to plan once the Avengers find the infamous man.

🕵️‍♂️ End of all Days by Minka ( @minka-g​ on tumblr)

(I was motivated to reread this recently, it kept me on the edge of my seat the first time I read it and it had the same thrilling effect when I reread it too. There’s only one word to describe it: thrilling.) 

(Archeological Historian!Steve x Spy!Bucky) (Indiana Jones & Atomic Blonde AU)  116.7K Words

Captain Steve Rogers had thought his military days were behind him, left in the bloody nightmare that was Saigon. Retired and working as a History Professor, the last thing he expected was to get caught up in a cataclysmic Slavic prophesy foreshadowing the end of the known world.

With Cold War tensions running high, Steve finds himself in need of a guide and translator to get him behind the Iron Curtain and into the isolated snowdrifts of Siberia.

It’s deep in the heart of Bucharest’s resistance fighters that Steve finds the ideal candidate, but swaying the enigmatic ex-operative known as The Winter Soldier proves to be complicated. Trust is hard-won, especially in the world of espionage, and with a KGB death squad nipping at his heels, the Soldier has countless reasons to stay presumably dead.

As the lines between right, wrong and the supernatural begin to blur, Steve is forced to reconsider everything he’s ever believed, right from the sanctity of his own country to the very foundations of creation itself.

❤️‍🩹 Every Door Opens by Notoska ( @notoska on tumblr)

(This fic, the words and the way they were written, not only yanked my heart out of my chest, it also sunk deep in my bones where I was forced to carry it and think of it for days. Fantastic.) Recovery fic. 73.9K Words

Then Bucky licks his lips, tip of his tongue just grazing the sensitive skin of Steve’s ear and Steve moans. Nothing close to the surge of lust behind his ribs, but a tiny, breathy sound all the same. Bucky doesn’t react—he must not have heard. Though a minute later he curls his fingers and extends them again, moving just slow enough for it to be a caress.

Just tip your head into his touch. He’ll take the lead and trace the folds of your ear with his tongue until you can’t keep quiet any more. Then he’ll smother your desperate little noises with his mouth, fingers twisting in your hair. Kissing deeply, tongues reaching to declare your filthy intentions. Find his knee with your hand and slide wolfishly up his thigh until you reach the bulge behind his fly. Palm him through his trousers until he’s panting in your mouth, until he’s pressing his forehead to yours, hips bucking, and you can see his dark eyes, glinting in the screen’s flickering light, pleading—

Steve jolts back to the present. The credits are rolling and Bucky is reading them as well. The screen blacks and two fluorescent lights buzz to life. Bucky loosens his hand from Steve’s head, welcoming the world back in.