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random-thot-generator · 4 months

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Love Thy Frenemy + Interlude

On the Streets of Soho: Just You

ONE SHOT/INTERLUDE

SIMON GHOST RILEY x FEM READER

Summary: Simon makes a journey through Soho hoping to find some relief.

Warnings/Tags: MDNI 18+ Only - Explicit language, explicit sexual content, sexual thoughts and allusions to sex but no actual sex, prostitution/sex workers/solicitation, ***TW- mention of SA (Simon's)- non-graphic, mention of torture- non-graphic, no use of Y/N

(Notes: This is basically just me weaving my personal head canons concerning Simon's past trauma and how his current sex life evolved into the plot. No beta. Embrace the imperfections.)

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Interlude

“To love at all is to be vulnerable. Love anything and your heart will be wrung and possibly broken. If you want to make sure of keeping it intact you must give it to no one, not even an animal. Wrap it carefully round with hobbies and little luxuries; avoid all entanglements. Lock it up safe in the casket or coffin of your selfishness. But in that casket, safe, dark, motionless, airless, it will change. It will not be broken; it will become unbreakable, impenetrable, irredeemable. To love is to be vulnerable.”

― C.S. Lewis, The Four Loves

The cobbled streets of Soho are crowded this time of the evening.

The cacophony of music and the buzz of a hundred conversations flow around Simon as he walks among the throng of people. Crossing to the next corner, he turns down another street, noticing the giggling birds in short skirts sashaying ahead of him. They're no doubt heading for one of the night clubs further down the way.

There are many streets in Soho that have an almost carnival-like atmosphere about them, inviting wanderers with their twinkling string lights, busy shops, and outdoor eateries. However, there are other areas, like where Simon is currently going, that are geared more towards… adult entertainment.

One of the sashaying birds glances over her shoulder at Simon, then turns back to whisper something to her mates. The others then glance back as well, only to erupt into whispers and tittering giggles. Simon ignores them, focusing his attention on the signs advertising the discotheques, bars and clubs, instead. He slows to peer through a pub window, feigning curiosity, but he doesn't go inside. His destination is further along; he's just passing through.

He walks past a long queue outside a dance club. The music is pounding like a heartbeat, bass thumping so hard Simon can feel the percussion through the soles of his boots, the vibration tickling up his shins and setting his teeth on edge. He glances up at the gaudy sign above the blacked-out doors. The club is called 'Bangers', spelled out in electric blue letters. Simon rolls his eyes.

Bloody stupid name, he thinks, but then reconsiders. It's actually spot on, now that he thinks about it. Clubs like that are nothing more than human meat markets, strobe-lit hubs for anonymous hook-ups and drunken fucks in the loo. His lip curls at the thought. Playing Russian roulette VD-style with some random drunk slag doesn't appeal to him. He's careful about where he sticks his dick, is more discerning about who he fucks, which is why he gives the preening birds with their coy smiles and come-hither eyes no more than a cursory glance.

It's been several months since Simon has been to Soho, long enough that he can't remember the exact month anymore. It was cold, that's as much as he can recall, months before you had moved in with him. He also recalls (with some annoyance) how he had been unable to look you in the eye after his last trip there, watching you work behind the bar at the Dog the next day, chattering away at him as you normally would while his gut twisted with something that felt suspiciously like guilt. He'd not been back to Soho since.

Until now.

And this time, it's because of you.

That's not true. It's because of him. This mess is his fault, his failure.

He made a bad call, sharing you with the team. He let one little mention of you slip, and it snowballed from there. Not even he is sure if that little slip-up was accidental or not, but once he'd opened that Pandora's box, there was no shutting it again. He gave them an in, Johnny and Gaz ran with it, and Simon went right along with them.

He made a right cock up of things. Exposed you, then put his bloody claim on you. He had no right to do that― has no bloody right to you at all, but he let his ego dictate how it all went down. Christ, he shared your fucking pics with them. Stupid, stupid mistake. He's potentially put you in danger, doing that. Then again, if someone was already watching him, he put you on their radar months ago.

That was another bad call. Should've stayed away from you, but he didn't; hell, he bloody couldn't, no matter how hard he tried.

He'd cut ties with you for multiple reasons, the biggest among them to protect you, then turned around and fucked it all up. He just never expected you would open the door and let him back in, not after the way he'd treated you. When he went back to the Dog that rainy night, his only thought had been to fix what he broke and part ways on better terms, not pull you back in after pushing you out.

He still doesn't know what possessed him that night. He went back to you knowing he should leave well enough alone, but there he was, scratching at your door like a hungry stray and you let him back in, like the sweet, trusting fool that you are. Christ, what were you thinking? Why did you forgive him? He still gets pissed thinking about it, but in that moment, honestly, all he'd felt was relief.

Because he had his doll back.

Simon never knew he was a starving man until he got a taste of what his life could be like with you in it. It's addictive, that life you feed him, and it's made him greedy, possessive. He wanted you closer, wanted you to feed him more, so he took advantage when you were vulnerable. After what happened with Finch, he offered you safety, security, the promise of family and free reign of his house. You took his offering then turned around and achieved the impossible. He gave you his haunted house and you turned it into a proper home. You filled it to overflowing with light and warmth and fucking flowers. Selfish mutt that he is, he took it, took it all and fucking devoured it whole. He gorges himself on it daily, and that should be enough.

But he still craves more.

It's wrong to want more. You give him everything, everything, so he should be satisfied. He should be content to have you in his home, in his life, but now he wants more, he wants you, all of you, and that's... wrong.

Doesn't matter, though. Even if he knows it's wrong, it's done nothing to curb his craving for you. If anything, it's only made it worse. You've become his forbidden fruit, tempting him to reach out and take a bite. And it's because of that temptation that he's finally been forced to make another trip to Soho.

As Simon makes his way to his destination, he glances around at the buildings now surrounding him. Tall, skinny brick and mortar structures stacked together, just a few stories high; Soho's infamous walk-ups. Their entrance doors stand open, their lighted entryways revealing the narrow staircases and the signs that simply declare 'Models'. Those in the know understand that the men and women who work in these walk-ups have nothing to do with modeling. They're sex workers, professional prostitutes, and Simon has been a paying customer of theirs for years.

Before you, Simon had no qualms about paying for sex. It was simply a means to an end, meeting his basic needs to keep himself on an even keel. He saw nothing wrong with it, thought it was money well spent. As he'd once told you, a soldier's lifestyle wasn't conducive to sustaining romantic relationships, not that he'd ever fancied having one. He told you that he didn't have the patience for it, and he had believed that when he said it. It was easier to hand over a few quid, get what he needed, then be on his merry way, no muss, no fuss.

But again, that was before you moved in with him.

Now, the quid that he withdrew from the ATM earlier weighs heavy in his pocket. He withdrew enough for a thirty-minute session plus a tip. He plans on telling the bird if she can give it to him the way he likes and can finish him off quickly, she'll earn herself a good tip. He's not doing this expecting mind-blowing sex. He just needs to blow a quick, hard nut to sort himself out, then he can hurry back home, so he can make this up to you. He feels like a right sorry bastard for dumping you off like he did, because he was in a rush to get to fucking Soho to bang a prostitute.

He'd waited until he'd picked you up from work and dropped you at home before telling you he had some 'business' to take care of in London. Guileless, you'd blinked up at him, trying hard to hide your disappointment. It fucking gutted him when you simply nodded, then told him you would keep dinner warm for him. That was bad enough, but then you gave his hand a quick squeeze and murmured, "Drive safe, Ri," with that sweet fucking smile on your face, and it felt like his chest caved in.

Fuckin' hell...

He glances up at a street sign and something close to dread makes his gut feel queasy. His steps begin to slow, boots scuffing on the sidewalk. The address he's currently seeking is just around the next corner, then he'll cross Green's Court to a walk-up that houses a consignment shop on the ground floor with two separate flats above it. The bird he's picked out is in the first flat, working under the rather unimaginative alias of 'Desireé'.

Simon already knows that he doesn't want to do this.

But he also knows he has to.

It shouldn't bother him this much. It's not like he hasn't done this before. He visits Soho whenever he gets to the point that he can no longer scratch his own itch, and nothing but a wet cunt will do. Since you moved in, however, that itch has become an incessant burn. His control is starting to slip, and it's been getting worse since the May Day celebration. It's become such a struggle to keep his hands off you that he has to force himself away from you. Otherwise, he'd have you bent over the nearest flat surface.

Yeah. Something's got to give, and it cannot be him.

Grunting in frustration, he pushes those thoughts out of his head. He needs to focus on the task at hand. If he can see this through, it will help quell those urges you so obliviously keep stirring up inside him. Once he gets what he needs, he'll be right as rain again, and you won't be in danger of getting drilled against the wall.

Is he looking forward to this? No, he's not, but he figures it should be just like riding a bike. Once he gets going, biology will take over and instinct will kick in, then nature will take its inevitable course. It won't matter who he's fucking, then.

Still, the thought of fucking some other bird while you're waiting at home for him sticks in his craw and leaves a foul taste in his mouth. That feeling only gets worse when he rounds the corner, and the walk-up he's looking for comes into view.

Fuck. He's here.

Simon comes to a stop. He suddenly realizes he's gagging for a smoke, so decides to have one before going up. Fishing his cigarettes out of his pocket, he slinks into an alley, tugs down his face mask and lights up before pressing himself back into the shadows. He inhales as he casts his eyes up to the lit windows of what he assumes is Desireé's flat. A shadow crosses behind the pulled shade and disappears.

Fuck, he doesn't want to do this.

But he has to.

He exhales a stream of smoke and rubs at the ache still lingering in his chest. He knows the cause of it. It's been there since he drove away from you, and it's only gotten worse. There's not a damn thing he can do about it, though, not without risking the destruction of what the two of you have built together and probably ruining your life in the process. He'd fight for you, kill for you, fuck, he'd even die for you, but he can't— No, he won't fuck you.

But even with such a threat hanging over his head, he still fucking wants you. He wants you in a way that scares the bloody shite out of him.

Which is why he needs to do this.

But fuck him! He doesn't bloody want to!

Simon closes his eyes and thumps his head back against the dingy brick wall. Christ, he's never been so conflicted in his life. It's not like he's cheating on you, for fuck's sake, but damn if it doesn't feel that way. You're his friend, not his woman; he is not stepping out on you. There's no logical reason for him to feel bad about taking care of his own needs. It's just fucking; it doesn't mean anything. He has every right to do this.

But still...

He would rather take a bullet than for you to ever find out where he is and what he's about to do. He wouldn't be able to face you again if you ever found out, because he knows how bad it would hurt you. He knows it would hurt you because he knows you care about him, and he knows those feelings run deeper than bloody friendship. He knows this because he feels the same damn way. You're more than just his friend. You're his Dee, his doll. You're just... his.

And fuck him, he knows he's yours, too.

Dammit, he really does not want to do this.

But now he knows he has to. Because he can't lose you. Fuck no. That's not an option anymore.

He gives himself a mental shake and puts out his cigarette. Straightening from the wall, he clenches his fists and stalks across Green's Court to the walk-up. The open doorway beckons, he just needs to step through. He stops at the threshold and peers up the narrow flight of stairs.

There'll be a 'maid' in attendance up there, hanging about in the hallway. She'll ask who he's there to see then will inform him whether or not Desireé is 'indisposed'. That's the polite way of saying whether or not she has another customer. The prostitutes don't take appointments, so it's first come, first served. Unbidden, the hope rises up inside him that she already does have a customer, so he'll have an excuse to leave.

Gritting his teeth, Simon forces himself to step through the doorway.

The sound of plodding steps coming down the stairs has Simon's eyes darting upward. A bloke with thinning hair and a soft paunch hanging over his belt appears, his jowly face florid but clearly sated. His eyes meet Simon's for only a split second then skitter away as he lifts his left hand to wipe the sweat from his brow. The glint of a gold wedding band catches Simon's eye, and something cold and oily slithers and twists in his gut. That dull ache in his chest flares to life. Simon rubs at his chest and averts his eyes until the bloke walks out of the building.

"Least I don't got a ring on my finger," Simon mutters to himself, like that somehow matters, then begins climbing the steps.

When he reaches the first landing, a wiry, thin bird with her mousy brown hair pulled back in a low ponytail exits a small room. Her smile is tight-lipped but polite, her eyes assessing as she greets him.

"Can I help you?" she asks, folding her hands together at her waist, the picture of discreet decorum.

"Here t'see Desireé," he grunts in reply.

The 'maid' nods and points to a door down the short hall. "I believe she's free to see visitors. That's her flat there. Just knock."

Simon nods his thanks and steps around the woman, noting how leaden his feet feel as they take him to Desireé's door. His arm too feels heavy as he lifts it to rap against the painted wood. His neck grows hot, scalp prickling with anxious sweat as he hears the light tread of footsteps drawing near. When he hears the locks disengage, he takes a step back before the door swings open.

Desireé peeks around the edge of the door and offers him a tentative smile. Her eyes scan over him before she opens the door wider. "Well, 'ello, luv. Would ya like t'come in?"

She steps away to allow him entry, but Simon doesn't move because he's too busy staring at her.

When he was going through all the models' profiles online, he'd taken an unusual amount of time before choosing. That's not something he normally did. He usually didn't give a shite what they looked like, long as they had a clean cunt. Yet he remembered feeling frustrated as he clicked through profile after profile without success. If asked, he would have assumed it was due to a general lack of interest. None of them appealed to him until he'd seen Desireé's profile pic, and suddenly his search was over. Now he understands why.

This bird looks enough like you to pass for family. Maybe a sister, but definitely a first cousin. She's of the same height and a similar build, though she looks a bit older than you. Damn near identical hair, eyes close to the same color.

Bloody fuckin' hell...

"Well? Are ya goin' t'come in?" Desireé inquires.

Simon blinks and then shuffles through the door, trying to hide how rattled he is. Christ, how did he not see it before? She looks like you. It's like he set himself up to fail without even knowing it. He has to wonder if he's completely lost the bloody plot, because this is fucking mental.

He waits for her to lock the door behind them, doing his best not to stare but failing, then follows her through the small flat. His brain instantly compares her shape to yours. She's more hard angles compared to your soft, rounded curves. She doesn't move like you either. And her perfume makes his sinuses burn.

When she asks if he would like a drink, Simon lifts his gaze to see her smile knowingly; she thinks he's admiring the view. He shakes his head, thinking her smile doesn't hold a candle to yours. She gestures for him to take a seat in the sitting area. He sits down in a worn leather club chair, shifting around as she perches demurely on a chair opposite him.

"So, first things, first, luv," she begins her spiel. "Are ya a return customer or do I need t'go over the basics with ya?"

Her voice grates on his nerves. It's high and nasally, with a Cockney accent. It's not soft and slightly husky like yours. This will definitely be a nonverbal session, he decides.

"I know the drill," he mutters.

Desireé nods, giving him a sultry smirk. "Brilliant. Saves us some time, dunnit?" She settles back in her chair and crosses her legs, her skirt riding up to expose more thigh. "Since yer not new to this, I s'pose ya already know what ya want, then?"

Simon speaks it by rote, the same thing he always asks for. "Thirty-minute session, straight sex, no extras. And I have requirements."

Her eyes narrow just a fraction, and she hums, looking him over slowly. She then tilts her head in a coy way. "What're yer requirements, then?"

Simon launches into his list.

"Don't like muckin' about, so don't bother with the strip tease an' lingerie. Rather ya just get naked in the loo; prefer ya prep yerself f'me while yer in there. Ya can wear a robe out if ya like but lose it before ya get on the bed. Want ya on yer hands an' knees at the foot o' the bed.

"Don't want ya touchin' 'r kissin' me; I'll do the touchin'. Keep yer eyes forward 'r down, jus' not on me. Prefer ya not t'speak unless I ask a direct question 'r there's a problem. If there is, speak up. Don't want none o' tha' fake moanin' an' carryin' on, either. I go at it fast an' hard, but I ain't no brute. 'M big, so if it gets t'be too much, say so 'r give me three hard taps an' I'll stop. Tha' bein' said, ya should prob'ly use some lube when ya prep. An' before ya ask, the mask stays on. Tha's non-negotiable."

Desireé gives him a slow blink. "That's pretty specific," she murmurs, but then lifts one shoulder in a shrug. "But I can do that. I'll ask that ya have a care how ya handle me, though. I don't mind ya gettin' a li'l rough, but I don't like marks or bruises. Bad for business. Most blokes don't like seein' another man's marks, yeah?"

"Yeah, I get it. I won't mark ya up."

With the negotiations now over, Simon hands over her fee, but makes sure to let her get a peek at the extra quid in his wallet. He then mentions being pressed for time and his willingness to kick in a little extra if she can move things along. Pound signs dancing in her eyes, Desireé gets a move on, hurrying to the loo to get ready for him.

Simon shifts uncomfortably while he waits, leaning forward to brace his elbows on his knees as he stares at the closed bathroom door. That ache in his chest has gotten worse; it's burning now, deep and searing. He's still put off by how much Desireé resembles you, but luckily, that's where the similarities end. One look in those jaded eyes of hers told Simon all he needed to know. She might look like the girl next door, but Desireé is a pro, through and through. Case in point, not balking at the mask or his long list of requirements.

She probably thinks he's a dom, but that wasn't necessarily true. Simon doesn't derive pleasure from having a woman play the submissive. His requirements aren't a part of any kinky personal proclivities. They are necessary, as is his need for complete control, otherwise, he simply cannot perform sexually. It didn't used to be that way for him, but since his stint in Mexico with that sadistic cunt, Roba, this is his lot.

Sex was never the same for Simon after he was captured by Roba. The torture and sexual assaults he had endured while he was a prisoner broke him in a way that he thought he could never be fixed. His perception of sex was warped, twisted into something dark and brutal and ugly. Sex became a weapon that could be used to torture, humiliate and manipulate him. It took years before Simon could touch a woman again.

Even when he finally worked up the courage to have sex again, he'd been nearly overwhelmed with anxiety, terrified he would suddenly snap or have an episode and unintentionally hurt the bird he was with. Somehow sensing he was struggling, she had taken the situation in hand, guided him through it with patience and a gentle hand. She had been a prostitute as well, which is probably why he's gravitated towards them ever since.

Or he did until you came along and mucked up the works. When it comes to you, those necessary requirements of his go right out the bloody window. When it comes to you, it's not about base needs or physical release. It's about experiencing you, pleasuring you, claiming you. He doesn't just want you; he fucking craves you. When it comes to you, he doesn't feel in control and that fucks with him. A lot.

He's dreamed about kissing you. He's fantasized about ripping off his mask and staring into your eyes as he takes you against a wall. He's laid awake at night wondering what sort of noises you would make for him, how it would sound when you finally came while crying out his name. He wants to see your face when he makes you come. He wants to suck your tits and bite your ass and mark you up. He wants to eat your cunt and taste your cum. He wants to watch you suck his cock before he fucks you senseless in his bed. And then he wants to do it all again. And again.

He doesn't want that with anyone else. He only wants that with you. Just you.

Fuck. Just you.

Simon's head drops in defeat.

When Desireé steps out of the loo, he knows in his gut that this isn't going to work. He subconsciously tried to substitute you with a bird that looks like you, for fuck's sake. But she's not you, not even close, and that's why he feels nothing when she shrugs out of her robe and climbs naked onto the bed. He breathes out a resigned sigh.

Climbing to his feet, he steps to where Desireé dropped her robe and retrieves it. He sees her hips sway in invitation as he nears, her lubed cunt on full display. His cock doesn't even stir. He shakes his head, bemused. He popped a chub that morning watching you come down the stairs in one of his ratty old tees, but a naked bird waving her ass in his face does nothing for him.

Only you can stir up that fire inside him. Just you.

"Change of plans, luv," he murmurs, draping the robe over her before taking her by the shoulders and helping her off the bed.

Brows knitting together, Desireé looks up at him with a perturbed expression as she shrugs on the robe again. "Thought ya said ya knew the drill, mate. Once the session starts, there's no renegotiating."

"Not what I'm after," he tells her, taking a step back. "This ain't workin' f'me. 'M takin' off."

Her eyes narrow. "There's no refund, ya know," she warns him, sounding wary.

Simon waves her off. "Don't want one."

Taking out the extra money he'd been holding for her tip, he folds it and presses it into her hand. "Sorry 'bout wastin' yer time, pet," he says, then walks to the door and lets himself out.

Once he's back out on the street, Simon wastes no time retracing his steps back through Soho. He's still bricked up, but he no longer feels conflicted. He's finally realized that he's been fighting a losing battle this whole time, knows that he never stood a chance.

Because it's you. Just you. For him.

When he makes it back to his truck, he climbs in and cranks the engine, then pulls out his phone and calls you.

"Hey, Ri! What's up?"

Simon's eyes close at the sound of your voice. "Hey, doll. 'M on my way back. Need me to bring anything home?"

You hum in thought. "Mm... Nope. Just yourself, I reckon."

Simon chuckles, that ache in his chest finally easing. "That's all ya need, huh? Jus' me?"

He hears your breathy laugh. "Yeah, Ri," you reply, your voice soft and husky. "Just you."

Simon feels his cock twitch at those words and huffs out a laugh. "See ya in a few, love."

"Okay, Ri. See you soon. Drive safe."

Simon rings off, tucks his phone away, then reaches down to adjust his cock with a weary sigh. "Fuck, doll. Bloody killin' me." He grunts out another laugh, shakes his head and steers his truck towards home.

And you.

Just you.

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#simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x fem reader #ghost x reader #ghost x fem reader #simon riley x reader #simon riley x fem reader #cod ghost x reader #love thy frenemy #love thy frenemy/tenderness au #cod ghost #call of duty

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fountainpenguin · 3 months

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"I was climbing, now I'm falling- I've been pushed off by a man who has made it to the top and now defends it 'cuz he can…" (x)

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New Dog's Life chapter today! ~ 3rd Life series fan-season

Chapter 38 - “Tuesday: Tango's Long Night”

❤️ Read on AO3

💛 Start from Chapter 1

💚 More Pixels Imperfect fics

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Tango layers more anti-viruses in Scott's player file. This goes against everything he knows about corrupted code... Should he keep going? ... Or, without consent, do what he knows will actually save this man?

Meanwhile, Pearl balances Rhetoric, Scott, and Grian visiting her unit at the same time. Yeah, this is gonna go well.

# 1 of 7 of our monthly intermission chapters

(First 1,000 words under the cut)

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Tango

🌕

Location: His studio, West Bailey Wall, Bottom Floor

🖤 🖤 🖤

Tango does not often regret choosing a path of codework. He loves modding. He loves adding pretty details; he loves giving people what they want and polishing the rough edges off blocky faces and backs and butts. His species is classed as avian, though he last respawned under a waxing crescent and lacks the wings and feathers to show for it. He's got tiny talons, blaze rods, and hair that shifts into flames, and that's it. Coding the fluff-tipped tail he wears now was a challenge that captivated his brain since the start. How do add twitchy muscles to lower back? Apply tail to butt, haha. Meld it in. Let the mind control it. Do it beautifully so it's elegant and won't drop frames.

His tail isn't dexterous, but he wears it like a trophy- Adding a mammal tail to a species that’s meant to have feathers there, and not only making it twitch and curl instead of hang, but look natural, is one of the most difficult things you can ever do with aesthetic mods. He's thinking of forcing out the wings he would have under a stronger moon, but never really got around to it. The conversion time takes a kabillion years. You gotta be careful with wings anyway- they release a lot of body heat. Between's a lot cooler than the Nether, so you might fall over and croak. You ever seen strider wings? Yeah, guess how much heat they put out, even if they are tough and resilient around lava. Anyway.

Let's just say it's a good thing his office doesn't have a window. He works with a lot of film in here, so darkness is peak necessity. He's got two copper bulb lights up tonight. The glow's hazy, but at least it keeps his attention on his work, eyes all goggled up and tongue pinned beneath his teeth. Working with player files isn't like working with redstone wiring, with all its tangled tubes of dust and tiny caps that easily get lost and spill all over the stupid floor. Nah.

Code work uses the coding table, and it's a whole lot less messy. You don't need to be super accurate. It's a lot easier to tap a delete key and remove a string of words than it is to rip out a chunk of wires and get all huffy when your machine stops working. They should sell more partly assembled redstone machines in the market- more than, like, comparators. Except all the serious redstoners still won't buy 'em in case corners were cut in the process and because they have to take 'em apart anyway to modify 'em, so there you go. Fiddling and tweaking can really suck you in. It's kind of like making banners you're printing on your soul.

Tango does not often regret choosing a path of codework. But it's a good thing he doesn't have a window. He glances up only on occasion, staring at the chipped, gunpowder-streaked blocks that separate him from the rest of the world.

I should be with the pack right now.

Hey. Little recap for you: Most people aren't going to bed tonight. The hub flower got skadoodley-yoinked. Without its roots hooked in, everyone's comm is black; they're all off the system. There's no way on a server right now. There's no way out of one either. The phantoms are under contract; they can't just log people out right now. Hope they got fed, then.

Eh, they'll be fine. They've got souls in storage. Tango keeps working, checking details on his screen and typing on the table keyboard. What time is it? The sun's officially gone-zo at 14k. That was a while ago.

Do you remember our biology fritter-fratter from before Dog's Life began? 'course not- That was a long time ago. Well, no worries! we'll cover it again. See, the Nether doesn't have a day-night cycle. The heat waves shift. Sometimes the dimension cools. There's never a schedule to it, but when the heat's down, it's down (whether it's been hours, days, or weeks since the last lull). Nether creatures group together for sleepy times. If Tango played on some of those raw servers where traits are turned up to max, he wouldn't even survive the Overworld- Not without a lot of prep from his friends on the other side. Thank goodness for vanilla servers that even out the playing field.

Blaze don't really hang out alone in Between. When they do, they have to keep their internal fires up, and that can really drain the metabolism. The pack is warm. The pack is safety. And Tango's fingers tremble as he blinks his lashes, pushing through the dimension's fading warmth. Nightfall is here. Capture the Flag will be winding down. It's time to go to sleep.

He does his work. He chose this path. Scott's crystal floats on the crying obsidian block beside him, casting a white glow over his workspace. The goggles tune it out a bit. Tango yawns wide (like one of those lions in the emerald savanna biome), then realizes what he did and shakes his head back and forth. "Brrrr! Whatchu doing?" He smacks himself in the cheek. Hard. "Come on, man- He needs you."

He keeps typing. Scott's code is layered in anti-virus protections. Lots of stuff to dig through. Tango's got a book on the edge of his desk, open to a page about data conflicts, and he's still checking and closing loops. Scott didn't want to amputate. He didn't want a graft. "More anti-virus protections," he said, and he was serious.

"Are you sure? That- That probably won't work. If you wait too long, there's no chance a graft will take. That kinda sets you up for like, either being an allay with a prosthetic or just a vex."

"No grafts, please. Just tell me where to sign."

"Okay, buddy… but that's against medical advice. Don't say I didn't warn you."

"He prob'ly would've listened to Etho," he mutters, typing more. "I swear, everybody thinks I just do visuals: slap a little colored fire on this guy, slap some wings on her… Hey, just because I work in the aesthetics department, it doesn't make my license any less legit. I've been doing this almost as long as he has." Who scrubbed in to save Impy? Who helped him and Skizz with the soul-sharing? Who once patched BigB up when he got shot in the neck? That was a Tango original. Just me. Why is he even doing this? All evidence in book and mind is screaming that this isn't going to work.

Fingertips stall. Blank stare. Soft breathing.

Scott would've listened to my medical advice if I was Etho. Should he have tried harder? Should he have done more? He got the signature, Scott confirming exactly what he wanted. He really shouldn't go against that. It'd be medical malpractice at this point.

… Even though the anti-viruses aren't going to stop him from becoming a vex.

Which he's trying to avoid by using stupid anti-viruses.

[Full chapter on AO3 - Link at top]

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sleepingdeath-light · 7 months

Text

relationship hcs ; werewolf cookie

requested by ; anonymous (08/05/23)

fandom(s) ; cookie run

fandom masterlist(s) ; hub | specific

character(s) ; werewolf cookie

outline ; “Can i please request some werewolf cookie relationship hcs? thanks!”

warning(s) ; none, just fluff!

while his fears of rejection and accidentally hurting others because of his lycanthropy do make it incredibly difficult to get close to him, once you’re together you’ll werewolf cookie to be an incredibly attentive and gentle spouse — the sort that would light himself on fire to keep you warm, if only you asked him to do so

werewolf cookie is extremely protective and becomes something of a guard dog for you, doing whatever he can to keep you mentally and physically safe as best he can — whether that means glaring at anyone who seems to be making you uncomfortable until they get the message and leave you be, or making it clear in an array of barely-subtle ways that he could make them seriously regret what they were doing until they catch on and finally go away

(he doesn’t want to actually have to resort to causing anyone physical harm — he’s spent long enough being perceived as a monster and the last thing he wants is to prove all of those people right — but if it came down to it, he would do whatever it took to keep you safe)

he’s incredibly soft spoken with you and, even during disagreements and bickering, he flat out refuses to raise his voice or shout — he’s keenly aware of how frightening he can get and the last thing he wants is for you to fear him

he doesn’t really use any pet names for you, but will respond to any terms of endearment you opt to use for him — bonus points if you combine your nicknames with praise and physical affection (e.g. calling him ‘honey’ whilst combing your fingers through his hair, reassuring him that you could never be afraid of him until he finally accepts what you‘re saying)

it takes him a while to adjust to accepting and initiating displays of physical affection because of how long he spent in isolation — going from freezing up at the smallest touches early on in your relationship to not being able to sleep soundly unless you’re curled up against his side or on top of his chest the longer you’ve been together

once he has settled into your relationship he does find a few displays of affection that he prefers the most: the casual interlocking of hands when you’re walking out and about in the kingdom (it’s nice to be casually and publicly claimed as your partner and vice versa), you running your fingers through his hair and detangling all of the knots (it’s very difficult for him to stay awake when you’re doing this), and cuddling in bed until you both drift off to sleep (he hadn’t realised just how little sleep he’d been getting until he first nodded off in your arms and now he can’t possibly fathom going back)

his kisses are always sweet, chaste, and gentle — a string of feather-light pecks against your lips that start off with his hands gently stroking your cheek and sides, and ends with the two of you embracing and softly smiling (bonus points if you start playing with his hair or rubbing his shoulders when you’re kissing)

whenever you’re the slightest bit unwell he panics and starts to get almost overbearing in how intensely attentive he is: bringing you fresh meals and watching you to make sure you eat them, making sure you take all of your medicine and/or the potions your friends made to help you, keeping a close watch of your temperature so that you’re never too hot or too cold, sticking close by to ensure you’re never overexerting yourself, and so on…

and if you find his wolf form to be extremely comforting then, when he’s not busy attending to your other needs, he may just transform and lounge beside your bed so that you can indulge in the ‘fluffy dog’ experience — just don’t ask him to lay on you as he doesn’t actually want to crush you (he’s a lot heavier than he looks and no amount of puppy dog eyes is going to make him compromise your well-being)

(granted this takes a while for him to be comfortable doing around you because of how he perceives that side of himself, but if you’re patient and understanding enough then you’ll get to see and know all of werewolf cookie — even if he’s always going to be a bit reluctant to let you watch him transform… but, hey, progress is progress!)

though he does love you dearly, there are still times when he wants or needs to be alone — don’t take it to heart, he just needs his space sometimes and it’s really nothing personal

on the days when his scar aches the most, the best thing you can do is just sit with him, hold him close, and try to help distract from the pain — a soothing touch or kiss to the area here and there is also helpful and reassures him that you don’t see him the way his old friends did, but just be mindful of how much pressure you’re putting on it as you could exacerbate his pain if you’re not careful

#sleepingdeath #gender neutral reader #fluff #fluff hcs #crk fluff #crk x reader #cookie run fluff #cookie run x reader #werewolf cookie fluff #werewolf cookie x reader

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reyesstrand · 1 year

Text

more than seven sentence sunday

thank you for the tags!! @heartstringsduet @carlos-in-glasses @strandnreyes @birdclowns @inflarescent @alrightbuckaroo 😚😚😚

TK closes the door softly behind him, and instantly drags his hands down his face, rubbing his palm over his mouth as he stares out at the kitchen. It’s another gray day. Ever since they lost home in so many ways—the townhouse, the firehouse, hubs of safety that TK feels hollow without—the sunshine hasn’t really made its presence known.

He stares out at the kitchen, and imagines Carlos, here, for the unknown amount of time ahead of them until they can move out. He imagines how they’d make their mark, here; he imagines having a place of their own, for good, and how they’d fill the space with plants and fresh herbs like Andrea keeps on her windowsill, notes and photos stuck under magnets on a fridge, fresh flowers on the island and their farmer’s market hauls plentiful and rich. The faintest echoes of Carlos’ voice through the door pull him away from the thought, and TK sighs again, curling his arms around his stomach.

Down the hall, he hears a soft whine and the scratch of nails against the floor as Buttercup picks himself up from laying at the bottom of the stairs to move toward TK. He smiles, a little, digging his fingers into soft fur. Buttercup perks up when Carlos’ voice carries a little louder and pulls away from TK to investigate, but as he turns toward the sound, he can’t do what he wants—find Carlos, find the one in silent anguish and sit between his legs and rest his head on his knee—and so he whines again. Before they moved in, doors were typically left open. It’s another ever-changing element of his life.

“I know,” TK tells the dog, scratching behind his ears, repeating himself softly. “I know.”

getting to this kind of late so i’ll no pressure tag @paperstorm @chaotictarlos @theghostofashton @beautifulhigh @marjansmarwani @rmd-writes @freneticfloetry @rosedavid @never-blooms and open-tag anyone who wants to share what they have going!!!

#tag games #my fic #tarlos

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tragically-jane-doe · 2 years

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Sometimes I just think about what would've happen if Karnak sent everyone back

Ocean could have gone to a big name school but was actually afraid to, she went to community college with constance I don't think she would go towards something that helps people one on one but something where she can help from afar i.e that bitch is going to school to become a eco lawyer, I don't know if she would stick with it or have a crisis midway thru it and look into other fields, she has a lot of difficulty finding herself in relationships but sooner or later Constance just says they're dating and she asks zero questions. She gives the vibe of the baddie bitch who ends up with a by circumstance kid (probably some really distance relative dies and ocean not having a lot of family the kid ends up in her care)

Noel most definitely will be in uranium for a long time he'll get a bartender gig In his spare time he will write the most heartbreaking books like you read it in one sitting ugly crying it'll take years but he'll end up writing a best seller he'll be on talk shows it will be made into shows/movies/plays(he also writes super smutty raunchy toe curling novels also under a fake name), He seems like a forever kinda bitch so I think he would only ever have 1 serious relationship and a handful of hookups. Him and his hubs will probably wander around Europe for a couple years. He's very 50/50 on kids he can see why they're annoying and he can see why people have em

Mischa I'm going catfish Talia for this one. He'll fly back to Ukraine to be with her and she'll ghost him he'll never get closer he'll think something awful happend to her and even when he takes it to the police nothing will come from it, he'll go back to uranium and be roommates with Noel probably be in a slump for awhile, he's going to keep doing rap probably starts doing a bit more traditional Ukraine folk music one of which will become a TikTok sound and becomes viral, he won't end up Arianna grande famous but he will be well known He'll end up questioning his sexuality a bit he'll come to the conclusion that he's attracted to whoever he's attracted too and that's enough for him, it'll take awhile for him to start dating again he's gonna have a few handfuls of short relationships and after awhile of living with noel he would just wake up and realize one day that he's head over heels deeply in love with that man it takes awhile but after some miscommunication and hijinks they end up together. He definitely wants 5 kids minimum he's going to be THAT dad the dad that's going to dress up as a fairy princess for tea partys,learn everything about baseball (or any other sport) if his kids are interested in it, all one of his kids have to do is show big puppy dog eyes and a pout and the man will fold like a wet napkin,he'll support anything his kids put their minds too, he's also the dad throwing down in the stands his kids soccer game cus another dad was talking shit, he's afraid of very little i.e his kids...

Ricky stays in uranium he'll share a apartment with constance for a bit, this boy has been writing warrior cat fanfic since he was 10 after finishing his 2millon word fanfic he starts working as a website/product designer until a small publisher finds his warrior cat fan fic and gets in contact saying change a few things he could publish it, he thinks along time on it until Ocean forces her way onto his Google doc back up of it and starts editing it herself so she can bully him into publishing it... Which she successfully does... It ends up being like game of thrones but better. Penny and him end up together like RIGHT after they all come back from "death".. She goes to furry cons with him (he's a furry she likes how creative everyone is) they end up having a army of cats and and foster children

Constance goes to community college with Ocean. She goes into politics because she love her Small Town™ but sees ways to make it better she ends up running for mayor, she wins by a landslide because the man she's running against isn't even from there and looks down his nose a lot at all uranium natives. She always wanted one of those big (invite the entire town almost) themed weddings and all Ocean wanted was a elopement with only them they met in the middle and had a small(only immediate family and friends) theme wedding

Penny as soon as she's 18 she convinces the courts that she should have custody of Ezra. She works her ass off for him and she also goes to night school to become a mortician. She loves the nitty gritty bits of the human body the grosser the better for her She puts a lot of care into prepping the body. Her and Ricky actually don't end up living together until way into their 30s. They decide not to have a biological kids. Penny has always loved kids but the idea of pregnancy is terrifying and after her experience in foster care her and Ricky end up fostering kids of all ages and are very big on the reunification of family's if possible and work very hard with the kids and parents and social workers. They also foster cats Penny is on 4 different allergy medication and she is having a blast naming the kittens

#ride the cyclone #this is coming from DEEP drafts #i just finished editing it and good god was it longer than what y'all will ever see #even still its so long #enjoy whatever this is

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msweebyness · 1 year

Text

Class of Heroes AU: Dormroom Hangout HC’s

Kind of connected to yesterday’s post, these are some of my Headcanons for the hero kids hanging out in each other’s rooms! As always, credit to @imsparky2002 and @artzychic27, and thanks to Sparky for being someone to bounce these ideas off of!

•Marinette’s half of her room serves as the primary meeting place for the self-defense club/class she started at the beginning of sophomore year. Sessions are every Tuesday and Thursday after classes, and almost all of the other girls attend, and some of the boys as well!

•Alya’s half of the room is Snack Central™. She’ll host her cooking classes there when the school kitchens aren’t open, and the door is always open for her friends to drop by, breakfast, lunch or dinner!

•Nathaniel’s room is 100% the destination for the majority of sleepovers. The main reason being that the whole gang can fit on his massive, extremly comfy bed! (Can I get a “PUPPY PILE!”?)

•Nathaniel also plays host for the school’s new art club, for obvious reasons! (He and Adrien started one because the school’s art classes were very…restrictive.)

•Rose’s half of her room serves as the main headquarters for Study Sessions. The cozy mini-library is the perfect place for the gang to curl up and go over their curriculum for the week. It’s also the site of her weekly book club!

•Marc’s room was once the site of one of the largest and most brutal snowball fights the school had ever seen! It was absolute anarchy. Those who had magic were NOT holding back, Kim and Denise were gathering up drifts of snow and HURLING them at other people, Simon was dive-bombing people into said snow drifts, and everyone eventually forgot which team they were on. Seven people ended up with frostbite, but they all agree it was worth it!

•Ondine can change the water level in her room, so on some weekends, she’ll host pool get-togethers for the whole gang. Denise, Alix and Kim are the cannonball trio, despite being told repeatedly not to do so because it soaks her furniture. (Kim loses kisses for the rest of the day each time he does it, and no amount of puppy-dog eyes will change her mind.)

•Heroism and nature survival classes require one to stay in shape, so Kim’s room serves as a workout hub for the whole gang. (He’s going to turn them all into gym rats, I tell ya!)

•They once had a huge campout in Mireille’s half of her room, complete with makeshift tents and all the s’mores you could eat. (Pre-cooked, of course.) (Everyone yelled at Jean when he tried to start a fire. In Mireille’s room. Which is modeled from the Savanna. And its TALL GRASSES.)

•Jean doesn’t have that giant-ass stage in his room for nothing! Not only does it provide the setting for a lot of his shows and numbers, but it’s also where he hosts the improv club he founded. Most of the gang attends, and if you ever drop in, it will simultaneously be one of the most confusing and most hilarious things you’ve ever witnessed.

Tell me any ideas you have in reblogs and comments! Love and hugs!

#miraculous ladybug #disney au #class of heroes #ml au #mlb ocs #hangouts

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angelicfoole · 5 months

Note

MOST PEOPLE IN SAN JUAN HILL KNOW TWO THINGS. ONE: IT’S A DYING NEIGHBORHOOD. AND TWO: THE pack of boys that roam its streets like feral dogs are to be avoided at all costs. They’re known to be dangerous and volatile and all around bad news. Their turf, as far as anyone can figure, are the docks and the slowly crumbling buildings that lead the way to the docks.

Considering most people in Sam Juan Hill know to avoid the Jets (and by extension, their turf), the sight of a newcomer in Jet territory is an odd one. Even more odd is the fact that it’s a girl. Girls don’t come down here. The only girls that set foot down here are the Jet girls. Riff waves off Ice and Action. He doesn’t need their help with this.

He’s dealt with many a girl in his time. He watches her for a moment longer. She looks like she’s rich. His lip curls. Rich girls are always bad news. “Hey!” It’s the short, sharp yell that he reserves for trespassers and only for trespassers. “This ain’t your turf, sweetheart.” He crosses his arms over his chest as he stares at her. “Get outta here.”

the city is still awash in soft, warm sunlight even though the evening is slowly approaching, not that it could deter juliet from roaming the streets all on her own, exploring. she feels safe in this new home of hers, perhaps naively so, but she can’t help herself. she’s quickly learned that the saying is true and the city does in fact never sleep. it’s a hub of art and music, always bustling with activity, so different from her quiet, peaceful hometown. everything is new and fascinating to her — the buildings, the combination of cultures and accents, the iconic landmarks… she fell in love with new york city instantly, on the very day she moved into her apartment, a two-bedroom beauty that she shares with her cousin, rosaline.

she doesn’t know where she’s going, doesn’t realize she must have taken a wrong turn or two a few blocks ago and left the nicer neighborhood behind. lost in her thoughts, daydreaming about the kind of life she’ll have in this city, she’d most likely just keep on walking if it weren’t for the stranger, calling after her. dark brows inching closer together as she stops in her tracks, confused whether this man’s really talking to her. she’s not used to people approaching her and being straight up rude, but she looks the stranger up and down and can’t help but judge… he doesn’t look like a gentleman, doesn’t talk like one either. still, the situation amuses rather than intimidates her, mostly because she’s blissfully unaware of what exactly such men are capable of.

“excuse me?” she chuckles, glancing around as if to try and figure out what kind of joke this is. did rosaline orchestrate this? is she right around the corner somewhere, snickering? “as far as i’m concerned, this is a public space. i haven’t seen your name on the deed.” it’s only then that she realizes she stands out a bit, with jewelry adorning her fingers and wrists, diamonds in her earrings, designer sundress that fits like a glove… and quickly adds, “if you think of robbing me, think twice. i’m quite the screamer,” she huffs, getting defensive and feigning bravado even though the tiny hairs on the nape of her neck are slowly beginning to stand up. what does this guy want from her?

#whenjet #verse: west side story.#hi! thank you for sending this in!#juliet is truly a delight to be around lol

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elianamarie-blog · 3 years

Note

hi can I get a matchup for That 70's Show?

I'm a bisexual 5,7 woman with dark brown curly hair brown eyes and feckles on my cheeks with a hourglass figure.

I'm a ENFP, Griffendor and give off a yellow vibe 💛 I'm a bit ditzy in certain aspects but I'm funny, intuitive and very creative, I sew clothes, draw and paint. I'm Irish and dyslexic. I am a very good listener and give great advice :)

I love fantasy, conspiracy theories and creating characters with complex backgrounds B)

Thank you so much! 🥰💛💛

Hi! Of course you can! :)

I spent a few days thinking about yours because I wanted to make sure I can do the best for you. By the way, you sound really pretty <3 and a badass!

I hope you like your matchup! I'd love to hear back from you.

Steven Hyde x Reader

-Y/n L/n an incredibly popular girl in the small town of Point Place.

-It wasn't just because of her beauty and talents, but because of smart, kind, and full of sunshine she was.

-It wasn't a secret that most of the boys her age wanted her.

-She even outshined the infamous Jackie Burkhart (which she hated.)

-So, when she became a part of the group, she found herself constantly with them, pretty much living in the Forman's basement.

-She grew to like Fez constantly touching and playing with her dark curls. She even gotten used to him smelling it and then always complimenting how good is smelt. (Like coconuts and vanilla)

-There was one particular curly haired, aviator wearing boy who had caught her eye; the only one who wasn't constantly fawning over her.

-Kelso was constantly hitting on her, Eric would make subtly hints on how hot she was, and Fez made no effort to hide his attraction towards her.

-While she found his advances towards her rather cute--and sometimes creepy--she couldn't help but wish that it was Hyde who was hitting on her.

-She saw him hit on other girls in the Hub and at work where they worked together in the record store, but she couldn't help but feel a little pang of jealousy.

-But nonetheless, she kept her distance, respecting that he may not feel the same as she did.

-But, oh, how she was wrong.

-Steven Hyde pulled his infamous move and kept her at arms length so that he couldn't get attached.

-If there is anything he was good at it was hiding his feelings for anybody.

-His aviators helped conceal his feelings--and his red, glazed eyes when he was high.

-She was super cute, especially during casual nights when she would crack jokes and giggle at the stupid stuff Kelso says, or the pranks Hyde pulled on the boys.

-He knew he couldn't be with her; she was full of sunshine and radiance, her inner beauty making her even more beautiful.

-He knew everything about her; her likes and dislikes, especially her love of conspiracy theories (they have talked for hours just talking about it and that's when he started to develop his feelings for her) her love for writing, and even found that she had dyslexia.

-When she came out to him about her bisexuality, he found out that he was the only person who knew because she trusted him enough to not mention anything.

-He was floored that someone who trusted him this much to keep.

- "I have to ask," he said. "Which chick do you find the hottest?"

- "Oh my God, Hyde," she laughed but thought about it for a minute. "If I'm being honest, Jackie. I mean, Donna is gorgeous too and all, but Jackie is a petite, cute little thing and when she isn't being, well, a total bitch, I want to just cuddle with her and squeeze her so tight."

-Steven grinned at her. "Hot."

-Y/n laughing before shoving him off the couch. "You're a pig."

-But she was also very funny and very wise. She was always the first person to help when her friends needed her, the ear to listen to about all their problems, the hands that would help pick up others, the lips that would turn up into a bright smile, making anyone around her smile with her.

-And not to mention that bangin' bod that she had goin' on that was almost damn near impossible for him to look away from.

-For Christmas, she painted him a Led Zepplin painting that was full of colors and shading; a near replication of the actual band themselves, but with a beautiful twist to it...the most thoughtful gift anyone has ever given him. He proudly hung it in his room that day.

-But despite how good she was to him, he knew he could never return those feelings.

-He was too dark, too brooding, too independent, too negative, too aggressive and...too much.

-His energy could never match hers.

-He'd never be good enough for her.

-It wasn't until long the group caught on about their feelings for each other.

-They got tired of the longing stares, the dance arounds, and the sad puppy dog faces that they always wore when the other wasn't nearby.

-So they conjured up a plan.

-The perfect time came when Y/n was over in the Forman's basement, watching Three's Company and Hyde had just walked in through the door.

-Fez, Donna, Jackie, Kelso, and Eric all looked at each other before they all stood from their seats.

- "We'll be right back," Eric announced.

- "Alright, where you guys going?" Y/n asked.

- "Uh, nowhere," Fez responded smoothly.

-Hyde eyed them suspicious

-They split off into two groups; Jackie and Donna took the stairs door, locking it.

-Kelso, Fez, and Eric took the basement door, blocking them in.

- "Kelso! Forman! What the hell are you doing?!" Hyde shouted through the door.

- "C'mon guys, let us out!" Y/n called through the basement door.

- "No! Not until you confess your feelings for each other!" Jackie shouted through the door.

- "What?!" The two said together.

- "You think we haven't noticed the way you two are with each other?" Fez asked.

- Y/n looked at Steven before turning her attention back to the two girls blocking the door. "I don't know what you're talking about."

-"Oh, whatever, you are lying!" Jackie said.

- "Just tell her how you feel, man," Eric encouraged.

-After a few minutes of going back and forth with the group, the pair gave up and found themselves standing in front of each other.

- "Is it true?" he asked.

- She looked him in the eyes before nodding. "Yes. W-what about you?"

-He looked at her for a minute before he reached out, grabbing her face and roughly brought his lips to hers, bringing her in a bruising kiss.

-After what felt like a decade, they pulled apart lips swollen.

- "I'll take that as a yes," she said, chuckling.

-He tucked hair behind her ear before pecking her lips one more time. "Yeah," he said breathlessly.

-She smiled before leaning up one more time, kissing him softly, completely entranced by the kiss.

-And man was he a good kisser.

-She wrapped her arms around his neck as he wrapped his around her back and waist to pull her tight against his body.

- "Finally!" Fez called out from behind them.

-They break away to give him the "go away" look.

-"Now, let's go to the hub."

#steven hyde #that 70s show #that 70's show imagine

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wiypt-writes · 4 years

Text

Stark Spangled Forever

I Don’t Like Bullies

Intro: Emmy encounters someone from her past, and is left shaken after they threaten her. Steve and Bucky decided to pay them a little visit…

Warnings: Some violence, a slightly dark Steve and Bucky…some bad language. SMUT (NSFW, No UNDER 18s!!!)

Pairing: Steve Rogers x OFC Katie Stark

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. I do not own any characters in this series bar Katie Stark and the other OCs. By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.

Stark Spangled Forever Masterlist // Main Masterlist

** If you haven’t read SSB in it’s entirety, this contains MAJOR spoilers**

August 2024

“Again!” Jamie giggled, splashing his way over to Steve who laughed and waited for Jamie to reach him.

“Ok ,one…two…three…” hooking his hands under Jamie’s armpits he gently launched him into the air and the 4 year old laughed hysterically before he hit the water with a splash in the deeper end of the pool before emerging, from the surface.

“You’re gonna give me a heart attack…” Katie sighed from where she was sat on the steps to the pool, submerged to her shoulders. Rori was suspended in the little inflatable baby support, her legs kicking out behind her as Katie gently pushed her away then pulled her back, the baby smiling and thrashing with her arms.

“He’s fine ain’t you son?” Steve asked as Jamie doggie paddled over to him, grinning.

“It’s like flying Momma!”

“Hmmm.” she said, as Jamie jumped on his dad’s back and he pulled at Steve’s neck. Steve, playing along threw himself backwards taking them both under the surface before he stood up, shaking his head like a dog as Jamie’s laugh hit his ears.

“You’re getting strong pal.” he said, turning his head over his shoulder so he could look at Jamie. Jamie grinned.

“How’s my little water baby doing?” Steve asked as he carried Jamie on his back to where his wife and daughter were, Jamie scrabbling out of the pool and heading to the lounger for a drink.

“She’s fine.” Katie smiled, as Steve turned his attention to Aurora, a huge grin on his face as she looked at him and beamed, waving her legs and arms as fast as she could.

“Look at you princess!” he said as Katie pulled her back towards them. He dropped down so his shoulders were under the water and Rori was at eye level. “Think she’s enjoying it.”

Katie smiled as the two of them watched the baby for a moment before Katie looked up at Jamie who was sat now with Lucky between his legs, gently talking to the dog. “Do you know what time it is?”

Steve glanced at his watch “Almost 4.”

“I should really think about starting dinner.”

“Leave it….” he said, turning to her, pressing his lips to hers. “Come on, when was the last time we got an afternoon like this?”

She smiled, “Feels like a while that’s for sure…”

“So…we can chuck a frozen pizza in for Jamie and we can get a take-out…” he said, moving so he was behind her, his arms curling around her waist, pulling her back so she was perched on his bent legs, his chin resting on her shoulder “Eat by the pool…” he placed a kiss to the crook of her neck, “And then later when he’s in bed and she’s settled we can hit the hot-tub…” another kiss “maybe a bottle of wine…”

“You feeling amorous Soldier?” Katie grinned, tipping her head round to face him.

“Always when you’re concerned…” he winked, his lips again meeting hers, only this time the kiss slightly deeper until they broke apart after a loud splash, followed by a smaller splash drew their attention.

Jamie had launched himself back into the pool, followed by Lucky who had clearly decided he too needed to get in the action.

They stayed in the water for another 15 minutes or so until Rori started to get a bit grouchy, and Katie took her out, wrapping them both in a towel and sitting in the quiet for a while to feed her. Steve and Jamie followed her out a little while later, both drying themselves off before Steve took Jamie inside to get him a juice box and throw his pizza in the oven. Jamie then insisted he wouldn’t make it until his pizza was done as he as starving, so Steve got him quick snack of breadsticks and hummus and sent him back out onto the garden where he made his way over to the side of the pool, flopping down on the lounger next to his Momma.

Deciding that a snack was actually a pretty good idea really, Steve grabbed a few things from the fridge, namely olives, more breadsticks, dips, cheeses and was about to carry it down to the pool area when the security system sounded to tell him that Emmy had come home.

“It’s ok…you’re ok…” his ears picked up Brooke’s voice from the hall and instantly he frowned as he heard Emmy’s deep breathing too. He strode into the hallway just in time to see Emmy slide down to the floor, her back pressed to the door as she tugged her knees to her chest.

“Emmy?” Steve asked, quickly dropping down in front of her. “Hey…look at me…”

She looked up and he gently reached out, his hand smoothing back her hair “Use your numbers ok, like we used too, remember?”

She gripped his hand tight and her eyes screwed shut as she desperately tried to regulate her breathing and Steve, not once taking his eyes off his daughter issued Brooke with an instruction to go and get Katie. Less than 2 minutes later she was also on her knees next to Emmy having left Brooke to watch the younger two and it was a minute or so later before the 16 year old began to breathe normally, her eyes slowly blinking as they returned to their usual size instead of being blown wide open.

“You ok?” Katie asked gently, looking at Emmy. She nodded.

“Sorry…”

“Don’t…” Steve looked at her as she fell into his arms, pressing her face against his bare chest as he wrapped his arms around her, kissing her head “Don’t every apologise for that, we told you.” The amount of panic attacks their daughter had had when she first came to live with them meant they’d been fairly used to them, but she hadn’t had one in a VERY long time, not since the events of the Final battle with Thanos had hit her and she’d broken down about losing her Uncle Tony, Auntie Nat and then how close she had to losing her parents. Emmy was a strong, independent teenager who for the most part simply got on with things, letting a lot of stuff that would bother other people wash right over her head. But clearly something had triggered her today.

“You need a drink sweetheart?” Katie asked and Emmy nodded.

“Ok. Think you can stand?” Steve asked.

“You’re not carrying me.” Emmy looked at Steve and he raised an eyebrow.

“You used to love me doing that.” Steve quipped and she rolled her eyes.

“Yeah at the Parties at the Kids home.” she grumbled “I’m not 7 anymore.”

“Never too old for your Pa to carry you.” Steve teased, standing up and offering him her hand. She took it and he pulled her to her feet, and despite her protestations at her age she kept her fingers tightly wound around his as they headed to the kitchen.

“Emmy!” Jamie shot off his seat and threw himself at his older sister. She smiled and bent to give him a hug.

“Hey Jay…” she smiled, “You been swimming?”

“Daddy was throwing me.” he grinned. “I bet he could do it for you too.”

“Sure he could” Emmy smiled as she shakily took a seat, glancing at Rori who was in Brooke’s arms, her little hands tangling in the girl’s long, red hair.

“Jamie, why don’t you go in the den for a moment, watch some TV.” Katie looked at him, adjusting the crochet slip she had thrown on over her bathing suit “Momma and Daddy need to talk to Emmy for a second.”

“But I don’t wanna.” he frowned.

“Hey, why don’t you show me your legos?” Brooke said quickly. Steve could see the cogs in his son’s head whirring as he considered this for a second before he nodded.

“Ok.”

“Thanks Brooke.” Katie said to her as she handed Rori back over.

“No problem Mrs R.” she said, allowing Jamie to tug her by the hand out of the room.

Once they were gone Katie adjusted Rori in her arms so that her head was tucked against her shoulder, mouth resting on her collar bone and Steve took a seat next to Emmy after pouring her a glass of water.

“Wanna tell us what happened Em?” he asked gently.

“We’d just been in The Hub.” she said, “You know the Computer shop because Brooke needed a new charger for her tablet.” Emmy swallowed and took a sip of her drink “We were walking down towards the bus stop so we could head home and we’d just passed that bar on the corner, you know the Irish Pub place?”

“Mc Mahons, yeah we know it…” Steve nodded

“And then he came out.”

“Who?” Katie asked, her eyes not leaving her daughter.

“Him…my old foster father. The one that used to hit me.”

Steve took a deep breath and breathed out through his nose “Did he hurt you?”

“No, not really…he erm, he didn’t recognise me at first and I kept walking but Brook had stopped and when she shouted my name he realised it was me and he grabbed my arm and…”

“Ok…ok…” Katie said gently, as Steve gently laid a hand on their daughter’s shoulder.

“Did he do anything else?” he asked. Emmy shook her head.

“He just started shouting stuff, saying he knew that I’d landed on my feet and that I was nothing but a worthless brat and that he would come and pay you a visit one day, tell you all about what I used to do and how bad I was and then you’d throw me out and…”

“Em, he’s an ass hole.” Katie said gently “You were never a bad kid. You’d been treated appallingly, what that man did do you…” she shook her head “It was cruel and abusive and…”

Steve’s hand fell to Katie’s knee under the table as she looked away, blinking back the tears.

“Emmy, me and your mom love you.” Steve looked at her, “We love all you kids more than anything, and nothing this dick says or does will change the way we feel. You know that right?” “I know, I just didn’t like seeing him that’s all.” she said gently “I just had all these flashbacks to the basement he locked me in and the belt…”

She swallowed and looked down. Steve looked at Katie, the jaw in his nerve twitching with anger as he took a deep breath and ran his hand up Emmy’s back.

“Well I hope he makes good on his promise and does pay us a visit.” he said his eyes flashing “I’d be very happy to exchange a few words with him, maybe a few fists too.”

Emmy smiled softly as Katie shook her head.

“Pretty sure your Uncle Buck would have a something to say too. And between you and me, his Murder Strut is frightening.” “Murder Strut?” Emmy looked up, the corners of her mouth twitching. Katie nodded.

“Trust me, I saw it a few times. Scared the shit out of me.”

“Woah, you saying I’m not scary?” Steve scoffed, folding his arms.

“Bucky’s a Rottweiler, you’re more of an angry retriever.” Katie shrugged and at that point Emmy laughed, which was exactly what her parents had been hoping to achieve. Steve flashed a wink at his wife before he turned back to Emmy.

“You know he won’t ever hurt you again, not now you’re with us.”

“I know. I love you guys.” she smiled and Steve dropped a kiss to her cheek. She looked up, wiped her eyes and then glanced at her mom. “Can Brooke stay tonight?”

“Course she can, I’ll call Jen”

“It’s ok she can message…”

“I’ll call her.” Katie said firmly, “Brooke was there today so Jen has a right to know what happened. Don’t worry, she won’t be mad at you.” “Kay…” Emmy nodded “What’s for dinner?”

“Your dad threw a pizza in for Jamie, we’re gonna get take out and hang by the pool.” Katie said.

“Anything you fancy?” Steve asked.

“Can we try the Greek place?”

“Sure.” Steve nodded “Hey, do they do Shwarma?”

“Gyros.” Katie said, “Same thing almost.”

“I’m in.” Steve said.

“I’m gonna go watch TV for a bit, that ok?”

“Course.” Katie smiled.

Emmy stood up and moved behind her dad, hugging him from behind, her arms round his shoulders. He tilted his head so she could kiss his cheek before she moved to do the same to her mom, giving Rori a peck.

“Love you both.” she smiled at them, before she left the room.

As soon as she was gone Steve stood up, his calm demeanour ebbing away as Katie looked up at him, shaking her head.

“I wanna kill him Steve.”

“You and me both doll.” he paced.

“Think we should call the police?” Katie asked, gently rocking Rori to and fro as she had started to grumble.

Steve contemplated what she had said before he paused, folded his arms and looked at the door, then back to Katie “I got a better idea.”

“What?”

“Do you trust me?” he asked.

“You know I do”

“Then leave it with me.” he said simply

“Steve…” she stated, instantly understanding what he was implying “You can’t.” “Why not?”

“Well, for starters we have no idea where he lives.”

Steve snorted “Sweetheart, you’re forgetting who we know.”

“Oh, no…you can’t drag Sam into this.” Katie shook her head “Ross is being an asshole with him as it is without you giving him ammo by getting Sammy into trouble.”

“I’m not” Steve smiled, raising his eyebrow “I’m gonna drag Bucky into it instead.“

****** Bucky sat at the bar, baseball cap tugged down over his eyes. He’d been reliably informed his target drank in this run-down back dive every Wednesday and Thursday evening. He liked the happy hour, apparently.

Aint gonna be happy for much longer, buddy.

Despite the fact that he was trying to live a normal life now (ok, maybe helping Sam out every now and then) when Steve had asked him to help him with this particular mission he’d immediately said yes. Not simply because Steve was his best friend, but because it involved Emmy. As far as Buck was concerned, the Rogers kids might as well be his own in that respect because he’d give his life to protect any of them.

And then there was Brooke. Bucky had been dating Brooke’s mom, Jennifer now for a few weeks after they’d hit it off at Steve’s birthday party. It was great, slow moving but that’s what he wanted, and when he’d heard that her daughter had been caught up in all this business as well, it was another reason for him to slip back into his old assassin mode.

Only this time his instructions were clear. Apprehend alive.

At first when Steve had told him this he had been about to tease him, wind him up, surely after all these years the Captain had finally found that trigger to flip him over to the dark side, but then he had seen something stir in his best pal’s eyes. He’d told him then about an incident in a HYDRA base, where he had killed on of Katie’s captors and Bucky knew, it was there alright, and he had a feeling he was going to see it whenever they caught this punk.

He ordered another drink, his eyes re-reading the paper he’d brought with him for the 15th time. To most people stake-out work like this would get them bored, antsy, but not Bucky. He’d waited much longer before and he knew that if you got like that you lost concentration which made things 100 times harder in the long run. His eyes scanned back to the entrance to the bar, flicking back round the pub, and he observed the people to make sure he hadn’t missed the man sneaking in, even though he knew that was basically impossible. Satisfied he hadn’t, he took the drink off the bar tender, paid him (another rule of spy work- never set up tabs, you run without paying and your face is recognised all over the damned scene). He took a sip of his beer before he heard the door open and he looked round, fighting the smirk on his face as finally his target walked in and straight to the bar to Bucky’s right.

The man ordered his drink, a straight black label whiskey and when it was served he paid with a bunch of crumpled ones and picked the glass up, heading to a table.

Bucky had to hand it to the guy, in the half an hour he spent in the bar he knocked back a good 5 helpings of scotch before he stood up, and rather unsteadily made his way to the door. Giving him enough time to get out of the door, Bucky then rose and followed him. He tailed him into another bar, then another, before after the 3rd the man headed home.

Bucky watched him unlock the door to the rundown apartment block, before he staggered inside. Quick as a flash Bucky shot over the road, sticking his foot in the door to stop it from shutting. Slipping inside he pressed himself up against the dark wall, just to the side of the post boxes, as the man turned around. After a second or so Bucky heard him heading up the stairs. He walked to the bottom of the steps, and keeping his footsteps light he headed after him and emerged onto the second landing, peering round the wall to watch as the man stopped outside a door, pulling out his keys.

Bucky waited until the door was closed before he headed back down to the ground floor, pulling out his phone.

“I got him.”

***** Steve climbed out of his car, looking up at the ramshackle building before he crossed the road. Bucky was waiting for him and opened the door to the apartment block from the inside.

“What you come dressed as?” Bucky arched an eyebrow, scanning Steve up and down. He was dressed in a pair of black jeans, a dark navy t-shirt and black boots, with a cap pulled down over his face.

“You.” Steve said simply, and Bucky snorted.

“He’s on the Second floor.” he said simply “Number 202. Still think you should just let me shoot him.”

“No.” Steve said “We’re not killing him…”

Bucky rolled his eyes “Why?”

“Because I want him as scared as he made Emmy.” Steve said simply. “He can spend the rest of his life looking over his shoulder.”

Bucky shrugged, “Your call…”

Steve headed to the stairs and started to climb them, stopping as he heard his foot crunch on something.

“Nice place…” he mumbled as he looked down to see he had stood on a cockroach.

“Don’t be a snob Stevie…” Bucky looked at him, and Steve rolled his eyes.

“Even my place in the 40s wasn’t this grim.” he turned to look at his friend before he continued up the flight of steps.

“It wasn’t the ritz either.” Bucky shrugged as they emerged onto the landing. They stopped outside the door and Steve took a breath before he looked at Bucky.

“Looks like we need a key….” he quipped. Bucky gave a smirk, before he drew his left hand back and punched straight through the door, grabbing the handle and turning it to undo the lock from the inside. He threw it open and strode inside, Steve casting a look around before he followed and pulled the door shut behind them. Hearing the noise the man flew out of the kitchen, a knife in his hand, stopping dead when he saw Bucky.

“Who the fuck are you?” he demanded.

Bucky simply raised his eyebrows.

“Look, if Mario sent you…I told him, he’ll get his money…”

“I don’t know any Mario…” Bucky shook his head, “Well, not unless you count the one that rides on the karts in that game my nephew enjoys kicking my ass at. Now put the knife down Jack before someone gets hurt.”

“How do you know my name?” Jack asked, his eyes not once leaving Bucky, missing the Captain who was stood in the darkness of the room behind him. “What the fuck do you want?”

“I don’t want anything…” Bucky said, shrugging, “But he does…”

At that point Steve stepped forwards, drawing up besides his friend, getting a good look at the man in front of him. He was quite tall, but lanky, with a pointed noise and sharp features, reminding Steve of an overgrown rat. Which fitted him perfectly, out and out vermin. Jack frowned and squinted slightly as he looked straight at Steve, suddenly paling even further. Whilst Steve looked a lot different from the once blue-eyed All American hero the world recognised him to be, there was no mistaking who he was, especially to the man in question. Steve stood stock still, his hands falling to the buckle which was round the waist of his black jeans, his chest flexing under his navy t-shirt as he glared at the man.

“Woah…look…I don’t want any trouble…” Jack began to press.

“You should have thought about that before you touched and threatened my daughter.” Steve’s voice was icy.

Jack’s hand clenched around the knife and Bucky rolled his eyes, before he whipped off the glove on his left hand, holding it up, the metal glinting in the dim light of the lamp that stood in the corner of the grubby apartment.

“This can do far more damage than that blade can.” he said simply, looking at his hand before he turned to Jack “Go ahead, I’ll even give you one free swing. But it better be fast.”

Steve expected the man to drop the knife, but instead he lunged forwards. Bucky sighed, and almost lazily dodged to the right before he knocked the knife out of the man’s hand with a single swipe and gripped him around the neck with his hand, slamming him hard into the wall.

“That was really fucking stupid.” he said, tightening his fingers around the man’s windpipe, lifting him off the floor. The man grabbed at Bucky’s arm, desperately trying to prise his fingers from around his neck.

“Buck…” Steve said, and Bucky let go, Jack slumping to the floor. Steve reached down, grabbed his shirt and hauled him to his feet slamming him against the wall.

“Now…” Steve said, his hands tightening. “I don’t like bullies. And that’s what you are. I know exactly what you did to Emmy, all the times you beat her, hurt her, whipped her with a belt until her back split and bled. Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t rip you in half right now.”

“Captain America…nah…you wouldn’t…” Jack stuttered, shaking his head “You’re a good guy…”

“Well, here’s the thing.” Bucky said, picking up the knife that Jack had dropped, leaning on the wall, lazily twirling the blade in his hand. “He’s not Captain America anymore. Just some guy whose daughter you threatened.”

“Which makes me a hundred times more dangerous…” Steve said.

“And I, well, I just don’t give a shit.” Bucky shrugged “Killed a lot of people one way or another…what’s one more piece of shit like you gonna mean?”

Jack looked at Steve, shaking his head “No, you wouldn’t…”

“I snapped the neck of the man who raped my wife.” Steve said, his gaze not once leaving the man’s in front of him “Trust me, you have no idea what I would do to keep my family safe.”

He paused for a second, letting it sink in as Jack swallowed.

“But I’m a fair man.” Steve said, letting go of Jack who dropped a few inches before he pulled himself back up full height. Steve smoothed down the man’s dirty t-shirt before he smiled at him. “So I’m gonna give you a chance to play ball. You got 48 hours to leave New York.” “By that we mean the state.” Bucky clarified.

“And if I ever get a sniff that you’re back in town…” Steve continued.

“And trust us, we’ll know…” Bucky mused, still looking at the knife before he grinned at Jack “We got friends in high places, eyes and ears everywhere…” “….then you’ll lose more than your teeth.” Steve concluded, matter of factly.

“My teeth? What do-“

CRACK.

Steve cut him off with a sharp jab straight into his mouth and Jack dropped to the floor howling in pain as the blood poured from between his fingers which clamped over the lower part of his face.

“Got the message?” Steve asked, standing over him as Jack rolled around, screaming. He mumbled something, his head nodding furiously.

“Can I shoot him now?” Bucky asked.

“No.” Steve shook his head.

“Just once in the knee?”

“No.” Steve snorted “Come on…let’s get out of here, the amount of noise he’s making someone’s bound to hear. He turned to go, and then heard another loud scream. Spinning around he saw that Jack’s hand was now pinned to the floor by the knife Bucky had been holding.

“What?” Bucky asked, shrugging as Steve shot him a look “You said I couldn’t shoot him, didn’t say anything about stabbing him.”

***** The two friends sat at a bar, not far from Steve’s house, each with a beer in hand.

“So, run that by me again…” Bucky said.

“I told Katie I was meeting you for a drink.” Steve shrugged, nodding at the bottle “Technically now I’m not lying.”

“You’re a punk.” Bucky snorted.

“She’ll know full well where I’ve been.” Steve shrugged “She ain’t stupid…”

“Good luck to you pal.” Bucky said, taking a drink “She’s scary when she’s angry.”

Steve snorted “Nah, she won’t be mad…she knew full well I was planning on giving him a warning so…”

“Then why not just tell her?” “Because she’d worry.” Steve said simply.

“Think he’ll heed it?” Bucky asked after a little pause and Steve pondered the question for a moment before he nodded.

“Like I said he’s a bully.” he took a swig of his beer before he looked at Bucky “You know as well as I do that the minute someone bigger stands up to them they back off.”

“Gotta hand it to you pal…” Bucky said, sitting back “You come a long way since you were defending yourself with a trash can lid behind the movie theatre down town…”

“So everyone says.” Steve shrugged “Still don’t feel any different.”

“Remember when Howard’s flying car was the strangest thing we had ever seen?” Bucky sighed “I almost miss those days.” “Would you go back?” Steve asked, “Given the chance?”

Bucky took a deep breath and wrinkled his nose “Nah, I’m too different…too much has happened you know. I don’t think I’d settle. Plus this would probably attract a little more attention than it does now.” he said, flexing his left hand.

Steve smiled “I know what you mean. If you’d asked me when I first came round…I’d have jumped at the chance but after Katie…” he took another drink before he let out a soft huff. “I crossed oceans of time to find her.”

Bucky raised an eyebrow. “Dracula…romantic.” he said and Steve let out a laugh.

“Speaking of romantic…” Steve looked at his friend “How’s it going with Jen?”

“Ok.”

“Just ok?”

“I’m taking it slow.” Bucky shrugged “We’ve been on a few dates and…yeah I like her Steve and she likes me so…”

“Well if you ever want any advice on modern day dating…”

“The day I ask you for dating advice is the day I quit.” Bucky snorted

“I did ok.” Steve grinned “Well, more than ok actually. I lucked out.”

“No, you got what you deserved.” Bucky shook his head “A woman that loves you for who you are, not what you are.” Steve felt his cheeks flush a little as he shrugged “Not quite sure what I did to deserve her but…”

“You’re a good man.” Bucky said “You always were and always have been. A pain in my ass like, but…” he drained his beer and shook his head “Anyway, enough sentimental crap. You want another?”

Steve contemplated that before he shrugged “Sure, why not?”

One more turned into 5 more, and it was a good 2 hours later and approaching midnight when the men left. It wasn’t the first time they’d been out for drinks since being re-united, but to Steve it was the first time that it felt like the old days. They’d talked about so many memories, he’d laughed until he had cried as they both recalled some of their antics, and he felt completely at peace when he walked into the hallway of his house.

Removing his cap he ran a hand through his hair before he hung it on the coat rack on the wall. Then he dropped his keys into that infernal golden pineapple bowl that Katie had bought him all those years ago and headed into the lounge where Katie was sat in her pyjamas, Rori clutched to her breast as she fed.

“Hey…” he smiled, crossing the floor and dropping a kiss to her lips before he turned his attention to his daughter, his finger gently running along her hardworking cheek.

“You have a good time?” she asked, giving a little yawn.

“Yeah.” Steve nodded. “It was nice. When did she wake up?”

“About half an hour ago.” Katie shrugged “With a bit of luck she’ll go down again soon and sleep for a couple of hours.”

“I’ll do the next feed.” Steve said “You can get some rest.”

“Ok.” Katie agreed, yawning again and as she did so Rori mimicked her, her eyes which were now carrying a slight greenish hue fluttering. Steve gestured for Katie to hand her over, and she did so as Steve held her up over her shoulder, hands that had hours ago been so violent were now ever so gentle, rubbing his daughter’s back to wind her as Katie adjusted her top. They sat there in silence for a little while before Katie finally spoke.

“So how badly did you hurt him?”

“What?”

“Jack?” She turned her head to Steve who looked at her “I know full well what you were up to.”

“I knew you would.” Steve huffed a laugh “And not too badly. Knocked a few of his teeth out…oh, and Bucky nailed his hand to the floor with a knife. He won’t be bothering Emmy again, or any of us for that matter.”

Katie looked at him for a moment before Rori gave a light burp and Steve gently turned his face, pressing his lips to the baby’s head.

“Here…” Katie said, and Steve handed her over “I’ll go put her down.”

She gathered the baby in her arms before she dropped a kiss to Steve’s mouth “Don’t be too long…”

He arched an eyebrow. “Yeah?”

“Well, you know what you getting all dark and protective does to me…” she grinned, looking down at Rori “That’s what made her in the first place.”

Steve’s eyes darkened at the memory of that particular day in the HYDRA base which he was recalling for the second time in the space of a few hours, albeit for very different reasons. “How could I forget?”

Standing up she walked to the door, Steve watching her go, before she shot him a coy look over her shoulder his pants became a lot tighter than they should have been. He gave a soft groan, before his head fell back against the cushion of the sofa. After a moment or two he stood up and turned off the lights, before heading up the stairs after his wife.

He stood in the doorway, watching as she placed Rori in the crib at the end of the bed before he strode over to her, his hands falling to her waist as he spun her round, his lips crashing to hers. She took the kiss eagerly, her tongue sliding against his as he backed her towards the bed, her hands fumbling with his belt as they went. Neither were wasting any time, and after a quick wrestle with their clothing they both collapsed onto the bed, Steve caging his wife underneath him with his arms and legs.

Their eyes locked for a second before he pressed his lips to hers and kissed her again, slow and hard, both his hands cupping her face, thumbs gently skating her cheeks as she let out a soft groan and he felt his cock twitch. His lips not once leaving hers his right hand gently slid down to her thigh, and his fingers gently gave her hip a squeeze causing her to sigh into his mouth again. Using his hand he hooked her leg round his waist, and ground his erection against her spot causing her to moan as she pulled away from the kiss, her head laying further back against the pillow, her eyes fluttering shut as his mouth dropped, swirling softly around her pebbled nipples, carefully lavishing affection on them in turn, and in moments she was quivering to his touch, her breathing ragged.

“Look at me…” he said, voice low, almost a growl and her eyes sprang open obediently, those sparkling emeralds glinting in the dim light as he held her gaze as he pushed into her, her breath catching in her throat. He stilled for a moment, enjoying her warmth as it gripped him before he moved his hips back, thrusting into her again. His pace was hard, deep and he continually dragged in and out of her, dropping his head to kiss and lick and suck all along her collar bone, knowing full well he would leave marks there for the morning but neither of them cared as their moans grew louder as his thrusts grew more desperate.

"Fuck.” he groaned, both hands now on her hips as he continued his movements and Katie’s hands moved to brace herself against the headboard, her body moving with every slam he made into her. One hand moved to the back of her head and he used it to make her look up, her eyes locking onto his as he felt her body start to quiver.

“I love you…” he said, his pace not slowing in the slightest.

“Love you too Soldier…” her words stuttered as he thrust up hard, stilling slightly, grinding up against her, as she writhed underneath him, a desperate, filthy noise escaping her mouth as her back arched and her hands flew to his back, nails scratching at his skin. God he loved the feel of her doing that, the stinging pain mixed with the pleasure was a heady mix and he took in a sharp breath, dropping his mouth to capture hers as she moaned again, this moan broken as she bucked upwards and clutched at him desperately.

“Stevie…” she moaned and her walls tightened on him as she came, her entire body trembling underneath him and he pulled back so he could watch her, lips swollen from his desperate kisses, cheeks flushed, eyelids fluttering against her cheeks. He continued his pace, her eyes opening moments late to lock onto his as the spring that had been coiled so tightly suddenly released and he spilled himself insider her with a low, rough grunt of her name and he tipped forwards, his hips slowing to a stop as he buried his face in her neck.

The pair of them lay still, the only sounds in the bedroom now were the deep, ragged drawings of breath. Katie gently ran her hands through his hair, as she always did, Steve’s body on top of hers rising and falling through the movements of her deep breathing. Eventually he raised his head gently and pressed their foreheads together, his nose sliding up and down hers. She smiled at him, and pressed her lips to his in a soft kiss before he rolled over onto his back, and she snuggled into him, her head on his chest. He reached for her left hand which was laying flat against his abs and raised it to his mouth, pressing a kiss to her knuckles, just underneath where her wedding band sat.

“I love you, I love you all so much.” he said gently. She raised her head to look at him, smiling as she kissed him softly.

“I know, I love you. We all do.”

She was asleep before him, Steve lay awake for a little while longer contemplating everything that had gone down that evening. He’d crossed that line again, the darkness that had awoken all those years ago had bubbled inside of him and he wasn’t going to lie, it had been satisfying, and despite what he had said to Bucky, he would have happily killed the snivelling bastard with his bare hands and not even blinked twice about doing so. But something had stopped him short this time, and he knew now what it was.

His kids.

Back then they hadn’t been in the picture, and he wanted to be able to look them in the eye and tell them right from wrong without feeling like a hypocrite. Steve Rogers was a good man, a loyal husband, doting father, and he wanted to be worthy of the love that surrounded him on a daily basis.

He looked down at his sleeping wife before he shifted slightly, dropping a kiss to her head before he closed his eyes and fell into a trouble free sleep.

#stark spangled forever #steve rogers #Katie Stark #steve rogers x ofc #steve rogers x original female character #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers fic #chris evans #chris evans characters

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fountainpenguin · 6 months

Text

"I'm not a bite; I'm a five-course meal. You want the rest? Better sell your soul- Nobody has to know..." (x)

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New Dog's Life chapter today! ~ 3rd Life series fan-season

Chapter 26 - “Ignite (Cleo, Martyn, Bdubs, Scott)”

❤️ Read on AO3

💛 Start from Chapter 1

💚 More Pixels Imperfect fics

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Fake dating to fool the government isn't as easy as it looks; Martyn and Cleo start drawing lines.

Meanwhile, Mayor Smajor1995 and mayoral candidate GoodTimesWithScar debate allay hybrid boundaries and vex rights in the server hub. Turns out, politics aren't easy, even in Minecraft fantasy world...

(First 1,000 words under the cut)

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ZombieCleo - Zombie

Status: Awkward

Historian, museum curator, and stadium gamemaster

🖤 🧡 💚

BigB blinks. "I don't believe it… What did I just hear?"

Cleo digs her nails in Martyn's skin. "What did you hear?"

"He's courting you?" BigB vaporizes the notebook back into the soul slot of his inventory. He leaps down from the lamppost. Enormous moth wings crack open long enough for two small flaps, then pull in like rolled-up cookie dough as his feet tap against the bedrock road. "No way," he says, and Cleo does not love the tremor in his voice. BigB stalks forward. His hands shake at the wrists. Martyn slides one arm forward, putting it between BigB and Cleo, but BigB doesn't even slow. He opens his mouth, eyes wobbling like a reflection in a pond. Or maybe a twisted mirror. "Did you just pretend to be courting to get Scott off your back? Did you just lie to Scott?"

"What?" The word gushes out. Martyn grips their arm. BigB steps forward, wings sweeping at his heels like a cloak, and those few extra pixels of height difference suddenly make all the difference in the world. Cleo brushes Martyn aside, fading him to the background, and lurches forward to meet BigB in the middle of the road. He wraps his arms around himself, nails curled and dragging down his sleeves. They're catching in his blue jumper threads. "Excuse me?"

"You're lying. Cleo, this isn't you."

Why does he know? Why can he see through her to her core and recognize what Scott couldn't? It twists a sword around and around in her gut, the same way BigB twisted it when he stabbed upwards, clutching her body close against him in that Last Life river all those years ago. Before he let her slump forward, splashing, dead and swirling in Cleo-colored pixels all the way down. She wishes for half a second she was Martyn just to have a tail to snap. "Who are you to tell me how I feel?"

BigB opens his mouth… but nothing comes out. He closes it again, rolling back on his heels. He blinks. He blinks again, and Cleo's hearts pump through her code and wham against their skin. BigB doesn't say the words. He just looks at her, but she can read the question in his face.

"You forgive him for killing you on-server over a pointless joke? He took your life and you take him back? You share your flowers… But when it was boogeyman curse stuff, you threw me away? You still avoid eye contact? Still claim to hate me? Still claim what's broken can never be fixed?"

He doesn't say any of that, because he's BigB. BigB is a quiet person. He just…

He looks at her, and she reads it off him. Cleo's fingers tighten at her sides, pinching pixels until the nails phase through skin. BigB backs off fast, mumbling and lifting his palms in some roundabout apology. Cleo says something then, like "Don't start- We're over-" and Martyn moves forward then. He wraps his arm behind her neck so it drapes around her shoulder. She doesn't push him off. He's loose, eyeing her, waiting for a signal.

They could probably say something like "Martyn's my soulmate" and maybe he'd believe it. But… those words gleam like bitter poison on her tongue.

Double Life was just a mod and a randomizer on a server of 14 people. Martyn's not "perfect" for her. He's just the sap who latched onto her health bar like a leech. Tango and Jimmy can play it up all they like, and Etho and Joel are the same way. But Martyn is not that good a match for her. He's "there." He's not "perfect." And the soulmate mechanic doesn't mean jack out in Between. It's unrealistic to find someone who fits so well in your life in a server of only 14.

"I'm sorry," BigB mumbles, lowering his head. His wings shift, the eyespots squeezed tight just like his actual eyes. They're chocolate chips sinking into cookie dough. He takes two steps back, squaring his shoulders, and links his hands behind his neck. Full posture. Wings down, not flapping in her face. "Did Scott yell at you? Are you okay? … I won't tell him. I know what it's like to need a breath of air. It's one of the reasons I modded away my ability to see through blocks. It was… too tempting."

Cleo's brain skips a beat. "We're fine, thanks. And don't you tell Scott we were lying, because we weren't lying."

Why him? fills the silence between them. BigB's wings shift. "I won't tell," he repeats. "Just be more careful next time. There's raiders out there tonight and it's a full moon. Take it from someone who used to run with the pack: they're looking for a fight tonight. Glad they didn't get you, though. Glad you're safe." One antennae lifts, tracking vibrations in the air. "Have a nice night, you two."

"We will," they chorus, and BigB trots off towards the tunnel entrance. His wings aren't bulky like Martyn's are. They're made of stretched-thin code without tight-knit bony bits. He wriggles through and disappears. He's off to check on Scott. Cleo lowers their voice to a whisper so thin, Martyn leans his head in to hear. "Mmhm. Great… This is fantastic, Martyn. Now all of New Star will know about us by next week… if not 20k ticks from now."

Martyn turns his head. He doesn't speak, clearly reluctant to say too much when they don't know where his hearing range cuts off. He breathes in soft, flickery huffs. He says nothing.

Neither of them speak for a moment. Martyn holds her shoulder and Cleo leans their head on his, even as their ear prickles against his pixels. She wants to address the "ravager in the chunk border" they're both ignoring here, but Scott and BigB are dangerous people to speak these things around. And Martyn can't look at her. Won't look at her. He fiddles with his hoodie pocket. His tail uncurls against the ground.

"You look flustered," Cleo tells him, just to break the silence. She disengages from his arm and steps back. It's a full moon. She's dropped to sunset hour, her wrist-comm glowing orange, but who knows… He might shriek or lash out as aggro takes control, even if he doesn't eat her. Fine. She's got the stomach for it. "You good?"

Martyn coils his tail like a fist. He knocks it against the bedrock floor. When he turns, his eyes train on hers, like a dog's, though pale blue freckles flip over across his cheeks as pixels rearrange. "Um…"

The word stutters out. Cleo looks at him. Martyn, in all his faults, is the most honest man in the world. Oh, he's a liar. He's only loyal as far as you can reel him in. But for all his fumbling, you can read him like his thoughts are printed on his face. And he knows it, too…

… and doesn't know what to say.

[Full chapter on AO3 - Link at top]

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sleepingdeath-light · 1 year

Text

crunchy chip cookie smut hcs ; 18+

requested by ; anonymous (04/05/23)

fandom(s) ; cookie run

fandom masterlist(s) ; hub | specific

character(s) ; crunchy chip cookie

outline ; “can i request some crunchy chip cookie smut headcanons. Thanks. i also want to confirm that i am 19 y/o”

warning(s) ; sexually explicit content, descriptions of genitals, references to distinct consensual power imbalances

minors and ageless blogs will be blocked

he’s a dominant leaning switch who is highly reluctant to let go of the control he has in the bedroom

when it comes to sex, the messier the better and by the end of it the both of you will be covered in blood and sweat and spit and cum — otherwise he’s sure he hasn’t done a good job

he loves when you scratch his back raw because he takes it as a sign that he’s doing something right

he’s also a bit of a bitch in the bedroom, often edging and stopping moving until you beg him to let you cum

big on degradation and dirty talk — and will usually make use of it when he edges you or gives you a ruined orgasm

isn’t shy about being intimate in front of company and will gladly make you scream his name at a crowded camp or in partial view of others

loves marking you up and by the end of a night spent together your neck and collarbone will be covered in hickeys

uses oral as a form of power play — taking control of the pace when you give him a blow job and using it (with consent) as incentive to get him to make you cum, or only letting you cum when he goes down on you after you start begging and tearing up

his cock is shorter than average but it’s incredibly thick and he knows how to use it to make your eyes roll back and your toes curl

he isn’t a fan of being penetrated so whichever role he takes he’ll always be the one inside of you — it’s a comfort thing

is also a fan of collaring — but the only one he’d be able to get you is more of a modified dog collar altered to comfortably fit around your throat

if you wear his coat and nothing else, then he’ll get this dark glint in his eye before pouncing on you and fucking you into whatever the nearest surface is

he’s a big fan of doggy style and the mating press, depending on his mood

but he’s also happy to have you ride his cock, his thigh or his face if he’s feeling lazy

calls you ‘pup’ a lot in bed — not necessarily in a pet play way (though he’d be up for that), but more in a way of showing the power difference between you

if he’s horny enough (and you’re up for it too), he’ll just slam you against the nearest wall or tree, pull your pants down and fuck you from behind — slapping a hand over your mouth to muffle you because he doesn’t want to draw attention to you from animals or enemies

#sleepingdeath #minors dni #minors fuck off #gender neutral reader #smut #smut hcs #crk smut #cookie run smut #crk x reader #cookie run x reader #crunchy chip cookie x reader #crunchy chip cookie smut

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reyesstrand · 1 year

Note

8 and 17 please :D

thank you! <3

8. what is the last scene you’ve written?

i’m stuck in a rut of writing and re-writing today (which will hopefully result in something to share for wip wednesday), so the last full scene is what i shared for seven sentence sunday a couple of days ago:

“I know,” TK tells the dog, scratching behind his ears, repeating himself softly. “I know.”

17. share the previous 5 sentences.

They’re stuck in this never-ending moment, where Carlos wordlessly and guiltily begs for forgiveness when he has nothing to be sorry for. Where he succumbs to the incessant ringing phone, and spares one last look at TK before roughly clearing his throat and accepting the call. TK watches him as long as he can—his features morphing into a mask he’s seen too many times these last few days, one that hides the grief that’s worked itself into knots in his chest—before he resigns himself to making breakfast. It’s the least he can do, after all, as he leaves the last of the orange for Carlos to snack on and squeezes his boyfriend’s shoulder one final time before retreating out of his father’s office, which has become home to more ghosts than TK can stomach. He passes a photo of the 252, smiling faces that no longer walk this earth, and clenches his jaw as the burn of smoke tingles the back of his throat.

talk to me about my wip!

#answered #paperstorm #wip asks

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frangipansi · 4 years

Note

Hi! If your inbox is open, I'd like to request a scenario with all (or any) of the demon brothers, + undatables reacting to a blind MC? Like, none of them expected to have a blind human and Devildom and they have to revamp everything to make it as safe for MC as possible. Can be she/her or they/them pronouns for MC. Bonus points if MC is extremely talkative and won't shut up lmao. Thank you!

OKAY! So, finally got this one out. I’m sooo sorry for the wait, but I wanted to try and do this right, not just some Daredevil nonsense, but I didn’t want to make the mistake of a ‘helpless blind MC’ either; because they’re not helpless.

I am also lucky enough to have a regular customer at my work that happens to be blind and she has been very happy to give me a helping hand to make this ask more real. She’s such a delight and her guide dog is beautiful and I could ramble on with our interactions, like one time she scolded us for moving the fixtures because she had just memorized the layout of the store then told her guide “you’ll earn that pay check today!”

SO! With her in mind, more so from her younger days that she reminisced with me; I have decided to work this piece around this customer’s condition specifically so I’m not just pulling shit out my arse.

To give you an idea, this MC suffers from Retinitis pigmentosa; their symptoms being tunnel vision and night blindness. So while they are legally blind, they can somewhat see. They use a cane when going out, use their hands and/or cane when inside a place knew to them – that happens to be in poor light (Devildom) – until they have the layout in their mind and move more confidently.

This also took a while because I couldn’t get a fic/scenario to work cohesively and hc was just not working either! But I’ve hopefully gotten it now, and I do hope you like it. I’ve also placed this under the cut because I’ve waffled on here.

Diavolo:

Interested. Anyone within the Devildom without eyesight, are generally the souls of the damned who aren’t permitted to move freely. Heck, he’s removed some of their eyes himself.

He wants to know instantly if there is anything he needs to change and improve to make sure MC’s stay is not only comfortable but enjoyable.

Absolutely loves how open MC is. He’s amazed at the resilience of humans; delighted to hear MC say how capable they are, though he does insist on one of the brother’s remaining her escort for the duration of their stay. Capable or not, he is well aware of how demons would use MC’s lack of sight to their advantage.

Really wants to ask how amplified their other senses are; disappointed to know most things depicted in movies are – for the most part – an over exaggeration.

Organises a tablet for them with all RAD textbooks uploaded so they have that ability to zoom in so they are able to read the text at their own comfort. Other systems such as braille, text to talk etc are also implemented if that is something MC prefers to learn by.

Lucifer:

Considers Cerberus as a guide dog? Impossible, the human would be eaten alive. Perhaps another smaller hellhound? Goodness no, they’d still be eaten.

Asks MC about their condition –on behalf of Lord Diavolo of course – so he is aware of anything that may help their stay in the Devildom.

Very pleased to see how receptive MC is, very talkative and informative about her condition; he’s surprised to learn the varying levels of visual impairment. Consults Diavolo on brighter lighting to improve her movements around RAD and already planning on improvements within his own home.

During MC’s first few nights in Lamentation, Lucifer appears on edge; always keeping an eye when they’re moving about on their own. Enjoys watching how they learn to memorize layouts, quietly telling themselves how many steps it takes from one room to another, touching hallway objects.

Ready to run to their side that one time MC walked into the wall; turning into the kitchen a little too soon; until he hear them chuckle to themselves and ran their hand along the wall until they found the doorway and walked through it. No damage done. He’s learning to leave them be, understanding that he doesn’t need to dote on them.

Mammon:

MC is blind? Ooh yeah! The things that boy could swipe to make some quick Grimm, and right under their nose. It was gonna be too easy!! Completely stunned when they still catch him out. “How’d ya know it was me?!”

Watches them narrow their eyes as if trying to spot him before coming up beside him and close the drawer he was just rummaging through. The nerve this human has to threaten The Great Mammon by saying they’ll use their cane to whack him.

Surprised at MC’s explanation on how they knew it was him. They recognised his scent; not only did he have his favourite cologne – which he didn’t think he wore that much of – they noted how he had a metallic smell, like the kind you get when touching coin constantly.

Likes to watch MC move around their room; at first using their hand to remember the layout and then moving as if they saw as well as he did. Considered rearranging things to see what would happen.

Okay, so MC isn’t helpless… but, other demons don’t know that. Considers using MC as bait; distract idiots so he can rob them and sell their things for a little Grimm. “I, The Mammon, am a genius!” “No, Mammon.”

Levi:

Couldn’t even imagine being in their position; all that manga he couldn’t read, anime they couldn’t watch… never knowing what Ruri-Chan looks like!!! Gasp! No way. Poor MC!

Really confused when he sees them one day, curled up on a chair in the common room, wearing a pair of glasses and a book in hand. Wanders over and looks over their shoulder before questioning what was going on; nodding when they told him that with reading glasses and preferably larger font, they could indulge in many a storybook.

As their relationship blossoms, he has a dedicated reading nook in his room for the two of them, including a lamp to brighten the area to help improve what sight they have. Likes that they’re happy to listen to him read to them his TSL series. He thinks about writing to the publishers for the next editions to have larger fonts; that way he could buy MC a set of their own.

He likes to sit and watch them bring things close to their face to inspect them better; his figurines which they – to his relief – handle with great care, or his manga comics to see which characters he’s fawning over.

He secretly loves that MC likes to chill by his fish tank wall. Why? They state that while there’s too much distortion for them to actually make anything out, they enjoy the ambient colouring and light; the two eventually just listen to music together like that as a means to relax.

Satan:

Of course he is utterly curious about MC’s condition and is glad to see how open they are to talking about it. He’ll look things up himself in his own time but nothing like hearing it from someone’s own experience.

Asks if those romance and crime novels are accurate; “so, do you touch people’s faces so you know what they look like?” finds it interesting that for the most part, this doesn’t happen; but it makes sense, he wouldn’t be too thrilled by someone he barely knows putting their hands onto him.

Writes down notes that he considers most important from the board during lessons and offers them to MC should they need them for their studies.

Another one who likes watching MC learn their way around Lamentation, like how they touch cupboard handles until they find the one they need while grumbling about how crappy the lights are.

Shared appreciation for just lying on the ground whenever a cat is near them, all responsibility out the window as number one priority is giving adorable little hellcats their undivided attention. Loves that MC is willing to con Lucifer into believing a cat makes a wonderful guide animal.

Asmo:

Oh poor MC, unable to see just how beautiful he is… Oh, they can kinda see? If he gets real close? Oh he can definitely do that! Bummed that MC promptly puts in some boundaries but once their relationship develops they do enjoy the closeness with him.

Learns – albeit slowly – that his looks aren’t going to win MC over, and instead begins to better understand the value of personality and getting to know a person. Should MC like Asmo, it’s because of who he is and not for all the fluffing he does with his looks.

Whenever he happens to be the brother escorting MC, just know he’ll always detour to the main hub; treating the two of them to manicures and pedicures, facials, all that fun stuff.

When shopping, he loves how MC feels the fabric of things he grabs for them and has an even bigger appreciation for how things feel on him. Absolutely enjoys offering explanations whenever MC would ask about colour or cuts if they can’t make them out should the lighting be too poor for them.

Will starting looking around for ‘fashionable’ canes. Yes, he knows it’s about practicality and he’s not going to take that away from MC, but what’s wrong with wanting to match their cane with that gorgeous outfit he’s picked out from them?

Beel:

Having no experience with a visually impaired human, he’ll ask MC if he should carry them places; it’s no big deal, they looked pretty light after all. Apologises if they happen to get a bit defensive so keeps close while they walk together, worried they may walk into or trip over something.

He’ll be curious about whether or not other senses are heightened due to the loss of another and is lowkey disappointed that they wouldn’t be able to hear someone in the kitchen stealing his food when they’re somewhere else in the house.

He loves cooking with them; the tastes of what he creates seem to be more balanced and they’re more than happy to sneak him a few snacks while Lucifer is occupied elsewhere. They’ll fool around, tasting things to see who can pick up more notes.

Things turn into a game between the two of them; if he spots MC in a room he’ll sneak up and try and get to them before they realise he’s there. “Too heavy on your feet,” or “you were giggling,” is something he hears a lot when trying.

Though MC can’t really see while he’s training or playing a game, he really appreciates that there still there to cheer him on; he’s taken to wearing a bright headband in hopes that they’ll be able to spot him out a bit better. They don’t half the heart to tell him they still can’t find him.

Belphie:

In the beginning, he’ll use MC’s lack of sight to their advantage; sly and manipulative to lure them in. Watches how they react to his voice, how their eyes or head move in the direction he’s in, learning how they work their other senses.

Tensions between the two would be tight after that moment and he’ll feel tremendous guilt for what he did to them; keeps himself at a distance, afraid they’ll recoil if they sense he’s too close and understands if they would.

Amazed that they find it in them to forgive him and help mend bonds between him and his brothers, and will spend whatever time he’s able building up trust with MC; whether that’s being their escort around Devildom or just being there for company.

He loves – when trust is established – that MC is just happy to lay with him while he star gazes and talks about what he sees, trying to paint a picture for them while they huddle up together in a fluffy blanket, sharing his cow print pillow.

Simeon/Luke:

They’re angels; their job is to look over and protect humans. So they are already well aware of how capable MC would be – Simeon more so than Luke since he’s younger and more interested in Michael – but they will still offer their assistance should MC need it.

They’re also the sort to take notes down during class that MC may not be able to see on the board; but they’ll ask before assuming.

Simeon has taken to writing a little bigger if it’s something he’d like MC’s opinion on his work; the two forming a bond through fiction and history. The two can be found losing track of time and just talking about any given thing.

Luke enjoys cooking with MC; asking them what they think of the taste of something he creates and asks how he can make it better. He’d love to be able to wow Michael upon his return to the Celestial Realm and MC will always critique his work rather than sugarcoat like Simeon would or just outright scare him like demons would. With a little push from MC, he takes lessons from Barbatos.

Solomon:

Quite unphased; he’s dealt with various impairments before seeing as he is still human despite being a very powerful sorcerer. He doesn’t offer assistance but will give it should MC ask him for help.

He has many a spell in his books that could quite possibly cure or ease symptoms of various impairments and is very tempted to bring this information to MC; but decides on holding back until he can figure out how to approach the subject. He’ll ask them how they feel about their situation and go from there.

Would also offer heightening other senses should MC want them; even temporarily if they’re just a little curious. “Let’s see what’s so crash hot about being Daredevil!” “My thoughts exactly MC.”

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me levi #obey me satan #obey me asmo #obey me beel #obey me belphie #obey me diavolo #obey me simeon #obey me solomon #obey me luke #obey me headcanons #obey me imagines #obey me gn!mc #obey me blind!mc

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javisjeanjacket · 4 years

Text

Moon Song (poe dameron x fem!reader)

A/N: I really went buck wild with this one i’m sorry to those with short attention spans. Phoebe Bridgers' new record, Punisher, came out a few days ago and it broke my heart just like I knew it would. Moon Song really got me so I had to write a fic about it. I put the lyrics of hers that I used in bold. 🌙🥺

“So I will wait for the next time you want me Like a dog with a bird at your door”

Genre: emo, sad boi hours

Warnings: get ready for some intense pining, drinking / a lil bit of drunk poe, feeling like you don’t belong, straight up simping, cursing as well :)

Word count: 4178 oops

(If i used your gif, please let me know so it can add your tag!!)

-hai

GIF by @captain-flint

The Resistance hangar was a-buzz as X-Wings began to return to base from their latest mission. Resistance operatives scurried throughout the hangar, giddy to welcome the brave pilots back to base.

Trying to keep your expression light, your eyes casually scanned over the chaotic hangar for the black mop of Poe's hair or the whirring of BB-8 on the metal floor. Anxiety began to build inside you when you didn't see your friend's black and orange fighter emerge from the cloud of descending jets.

Determined to remain optimistic, you grabbed a sweat-drenched Wexley as he passed by you on the way to the hangar door. "Hey, Snap." You said, smiling tightly.

The bearded man turned to you with an accomplished grin. "Hey, Y/N! How goes it?"

"Have, uh, have you seen Poe? I can't find him." Your bottom lip snuck into your mouth.

"Uh, no. He was the one who ordered us to jump to light speed and come home, I figured he would be right behind us." Wexley's dark eyebrows furrowed and his gaze glided across the busy hangar.

"Cool, cool. Thanks." You said, refusing to allow worry to overtake you.

"I'm sure he's fine. At least he was the last time I saw him." The tall man shrugged and turned back towards a smiling Jess waiting for him in the hallway.

Your fingers began to intertwine themselves together and your heels pushed you to rock back and forth on your toes gently.

Long, drawn out moments passed without seeing the Yavinite pilot.

"Goddamnit." You cursed under your breath. Frustration began to build in your fingertips as your thoughts began to spiral.

'Is it weird that I'm still waiting for him? His squadron believes that he's fine, they're already on their way to the Mess Hall. Should I follow them? What if he's not fine and I'm the only one who notices? Would that even happen? He is the best pilot in the Resistance after all...' Your mind ricocheted aimlessly between hypotheticals.

In a desperate attempt to save a bit of your dignity, you took quiet steps back towards the hallway outside of the hangar and let your eyes drift to your boots moving under you.

Turning the corner out of the hangar, your shoulder collided with another. Your eyes whipped up from their home on your feet and your mind pulled itself out of the reverie. Your gaze met that of Leia Organa's.

"Lieutenant Y/L/N," General Organa said tersely, a power simmering behind her stare.

Struggling to comprehend what level of treason you had just committed, you began to apologize, "General, I am so sorry. I wasn't paying-"

Softly, her withered hand found a home atop your shoulder. She smiled gently and rubbed a thumb across the tense line of your shoulder.

"You look sick, Y/N. Do you feel alright?" She asked, her head cocked to the side with concern.

"Oh, no, General. I'm just, uh-"

"He'll be here." Leia interrupted, a knowing smile spreading on her face.

Your mouth opened a bit in shock and embarrassment. 'Get yourself out of this moment.' Your brain was throwing a tantrum inside you, pleading for you to just take it out and put in a drawer to rest.

"Who do you mean?" You scrunched your eyebrows in feign curiosity. You knew exactly who she was talking about, and she knew that you knew.

Putting your comfort before her own desire to tease you, the General ignored your question and continued with her previous train of thought. "We would have heard about it if he wasn't coming back. You would have felt it." She assured you. She smiled softly, moved her hand back down to her side, and walked past you towards the hangar bay.

You shifted your weight in frustration. The spasming in your heart pleaded with you to turn around and follow Leia back to the hangar. To ask her how she knew about you and Poe.

Did he tell her about you? Did he tell anyone about you? Your mind floated towards the muffled laughs and singing coming from the Mess Hall. You could steel yourself, build a fortress around your heart, and go to dinner and pretend like seeing Poe come home safely was of little interest to you.

Knocking you from your thoughts, an orange and white ball droid came barreling through the hallway, stopping to beep and boop in circles around you.

"BB-8!" You exclaimed. You kneeled down to be eye level with him. You scratched his sides happily. "Where is he, buddy?"

BB-8 rolled his eye in a 360 and beeped sarcastically as his head dome motioned towards the hangar.

You turned to look back towards the bustling hangar.

Poe was jumping out of his X-Wing. He wiggled his head out of his helmet and handed it off to the ship tech assisting him.

Your heart swelled with relief. You could feel the adrenaline of worry zipping through your arms and legs. Taking a deep breath, you took unsure steps towards the newly returned pilot.

Poe's suit had several burn marks across the chest and a piece of his sleeve clung to him by a thread. His angular face was covered in dirt and rubble collected in his thick hair.

Your steps began to quicken, seeing him so close to you now and imagining the pain of each of the new burns that he had been given so far away. Your heart flickered with desideratum at the thought of being able to take care of him. Of him trusting you to heal him. A twinge of pain shot across your chest and caught on a hook in your throat.

BB-8 rolled closely behind you as Poe's eyes finally fell upon you.

You smiled brightly, so easily overwhelmed by the pilot's attention.

A soft smile fell across Poe's face and he held out his arm towards you.

Finally reaching him, you pressed your face into the thick of his flight suit and wrapped your arms around his shoulder blades to rest your hands on the tops of his shoulders.

"Good to see you." You whispered. The words seemed to be stuck to the roof of your mouth, forcing you to overchew them on their way out.

Poe held you tight to his body, one hand gripping your neck and the other pressed against your back. His mouth sat buried in your hair, dangerously close to your skin. His breath sent ripples across your cheek as he replied, "You know I had to come back to see you."

You chuckled into the must of his burnt suit.

For this moment, things were as they should be. You had Poe in your grasp and he had you in his. He was safe and victorious and happy to see you.

So that it was too quick to mean too much, Poe pushed away from your rapturous touch.

Your heart burning in your throat, you smiled softly at him. A shaking breath coerced your chest into trembling. You let him go and realized that the two of you had suddenly become a sizable horde of Resistance fighters gathering around the returned pilot.

"Dameron!" Finn's voice boomed from across the room.

You both looked towards your friend's voice as pats on the back and the phrase, "Great job! You're a hell of a pilot!" echoed throughout the hub of people.

Finn pushed past you to gush about Poe to Poe.

"Buddy!" Poe exclaimed as Finn fell into his arms.

Without a chance to fight against it, you suddenly found yourself and the twittering BB unit standing on the outside of a collection of excited Rebels.

You sighed, tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, and looked down at the confused orange and white droid. "You tired?"

BB-8 twittered in a pattern that could be mistaken for a 'Hell yes' and without warning, the little droid began to roll towards Poe's quarters.

Taking one last look at the Captain, cracks began to splinter down your chest. So entrenched in the love and adoration of his admirers, his mind had wandered from you. You took a deep breath and turned to follow BB-8 back through the hanger, down the hall, and out of the main building to the Captain's quarters.

BB-8 made it to the door before you did and exclaimed happily when you typed in the code, allowing the door to slide open. The small droid zoomed quickly towards his charging pad tucked against a relatively empty bookcase.

This time, entering Poe's quarters felt like walking on eggshells. The memories of his bedsheets on your bare skin, your fingers curling around his bedframe in pleasure, and your clothes scattered across his floor pulled such emotion out of the depths. Your heart seemed to crawl up into itself thinking of how much you wanted to be with him. You wanted people to see you and wonder where Poe was. The mornings when you woke up next to him remained holy in your thoughts and haunted your days.

Beeping loudly in annoyance, BB-8 drew you into the present.

You looked towards him, embarrassed and guilty for forgetting about him.

The droid moved back and forth next to his charging pad, excited to finally get some rest.

You snickered as you sat up the charging station for him. "Okay, buddy. You ready?" You asked as three blue squares appeared on the pad, ready to charge.

BB-8 whirred onto the metal plate. He twittered a small thank you and then powered down, forcing the charging bar on the plate below him to turn green.

You smiled at the lifeless droid and took a final look around Poe's room. Jackets and partner-less boots littered the floor of his quarters. A curled-up X-Wing manual sat on his nightstand beside a half-drunk cup of water and a broken ear communicator.

Trusting that Poe Dameron would stay true to his personality and want nothing more after a mission than a big meal and a drink, you locked his bedroom door behind you and headed to the Mess Hall, your boots clacking on the floor.

The Hall was sparse, only occupied by those still awake at this time of night and in need of a cup of coffee, as well as the celebrating Black Squadron.

Catching Jess's eye as you walked past the group of chatting fighter pilots, you flashed her a smile.

The warm woman smiled back at you and tapped the table top beside her. "Y/N! Come sit with us." She said.

You laughed and moved around the table to sit beside her.

Helmets and trays of food cluttered the table top under the lieu of conversation between the pilots.

"Man, that high side gun pass..." Wexley stated, shaking his head and shoving another bite into his mouth.

Kare laughed and leaned back in her seat. "Snap, I don't think that would have worked without Poe there to save your ass."

The squadron laughed softly and you pulled the meat of your lip in between your teeth.

Jess elbowed your side softly. "Why don't you get some food?"

You cheeks grew red and you said sheepishly, "Oh, yeah, food."

Standing from the table, you went to the serving line and waited patiently for the Resistance cook, Zeno, to make his appearance behind the line.

Zeno scurried out from behind a huge floating refrigerator, a crate of giant eggs in his arms, and caught a glimpse of you.

"Lieutenant Y/L/N! Uh, just one second, ma'am." The Bothan said anxiously.

You smiled. "Take your time, Zeno."

The man smiled graciously and put away the eggs, wiped beading sweat from his brow and then raked his hands down his spattered apron. Taking his place at the beginning of the line, he asked, "What would you like?"

Your eyes flitted over the tray of steaming Nuna legs, the rack of portion bread, and the assortment of fruit piled up at the end of the line.

"Uh, just a little of everything." You smirked.

Zeno nodded and began the task of fishing Nuna legs out of a pan with tongs. "I saw Finn run out of here with a bunch of other people earlier...the X-Wings make it back okay?"

You nodded heartily and put your hands in your pockets. "Yeah, I think they did."

"Good, good." The Bothan said. His eyebrow raised and his large eyes flicked up to yours momentarily.

A shiver of anxiety ran through you. 'Did Zeno know about you and Poe? How could he know? Would it matter if he knew?'

You forced your mind to re-center itself by taking the full tray out of Zeno's hands.

"Thanks." You said, a touch of suspicion in your voice. Turning from the man, you had the inclination to run. To run from the Bothan's wandering eyes and the sly looks from Jess and the bubbling excitement of talking about Poe Dameron, the best pilot in the Resistance. Your lungs feeling rickety, you took your seat alongside Jess.

She smiled at you when you sat back down, but kept her attention on the conversation heating up between the other pilots.

"Y/N, does Poe snore?" Kare asked, pulling you into a foreign conversation. Her arm reached across Jess and her fingers extended towards you, throwing the group's attention to your blank face.

You blushed, "What do you mean?"

"When he's asleep, does he snore?" The pilot pressed again, a smirk plastered across her face.

"I-"

Suddenly, a crowd of people burst through the doors of the Mess Hall. The glow of conversation and laughter cast light across the relatively empty dining room.

Finn's head bobbed up and down in the center of it all, his pride for his friends seemingly emitting from his body.

You let out a breath of relief and caught a glimpse of Poe as he was pulled into the Mess Hall by Finn's determined arm.

Poe was laughing and his eyes were shining, even from here you could see them. His eyes were focused on returning high fives and patting backs. He said something unintelligible to the crowd of adorers and they seemed to disperse a bit. Space was created around him and you could see his chest let out a deep breath. His eyes scanned the hall and landed on your face.

You beamed at him, flecks of passion twinkling on your face.

He smiled softly and then waved to his squad. He exclaimed and the pilots around you shouted back in celebration.

Poe was still in his burnt suit, not being able to change out of it yet because of his admirers. He walked quickly towards your table, Finn jogging along loyally. Poe reached out to give Wexley a handshake and Snap wiped his hands on a napkin before returning the gesture.

Finn swung into the seat on your other side, greeting you somewhat gruffly, "Y/N, hey."

"Hey, have you heard from Rey-" You asked, thankful for something to divert your attention from Kare's line of questioning moments before.

Finn answered without diverting his attention from Poe, "No, I haven't heard from her. Poe, what happened next?"

The smiling Captain took a seat next to Wexley and pulled off his tattered gloves. "So, we didn't know what had happened to Blue Squadron, hadn't heard from them at all. We got TIEs coming at us from all directions. So, I-" Poe paused mid-story. "Wait, where's BB-8?"

Your heart began to thump against your dry throat. Unsure of what to say, you shoved a piece of Nuna leg in your mouth.

The pilots of his squad fell silent, looking to the others with raised eyebrows.

Chewing your food aggressively, you tried to work out what, if anything, you could say that would let Poe know his droid was already asleep in his room, but that would still keep the secret of your relationship hidden from his co-workers.

Kare broke the tension, "Poe, do you snore?"

"What?" Poe exclaimed, irritated that Kare had brushed away his concern for his friend in such a cavalier move.

"We have a bet going and we need to know. Y/N wouldn't tell us." Kare's dark eyes jumped to meet yours.

Finn jumped back from you in confusion.

You swallowed your bite of meat and said defiantly, "I didn't tell you because I don't know."

Poe's gaze met yours. The crinkles around his eyes lay flat and the stars in his eyes seemed to burn a touch too hot. He stood from his seat, "No, Kare, I don't snore. I gotta find my droid."

That was a lie, he snored like a rocket launching.

"I think I saw him rolling towards your quarters, Poe." You offered, keeping your tone casual.

The Captain sent you a cautious glare and retreated back to his seat. "He must have been tired." Poe shrugged, his shoulders shaking off any hint that the two of you were somehow connected.

The rest of his squadron allowed the momentary awkwardness to wash over them.

Snap added a period to the end of the sentence. "Drinks?" He asked.

The pilots around you exclaimed and you nodded yes, your mouth full of portion bread.

The burly man stood from his seat and went back to the serving line to gather the liquor.

Finn snuck a really crunchy piece of fried Nuna skin from your tray and you smirked at him.

Instinctively, your eyes looked to the exhausted Poe Dameron. His fingers rubbed up and down his helmet and the rain of melancholy seemed to cloud his face.

Knowing there was no one else on Base who could see Poe as clearly as you did sat like a curse upon your head. Knowing how fully you would collapse into him almost made you glad he wouldn't let you. Knowing that you could take his pain away, but that he wouldn't let you, gave you the feeling of floating, or falling maybe.

Snap returned with the overflowing metal steins of beer, the contents sloshing over the sides as he sat them on the table in front of him.

Jess slid one to you and you gratefully took a full swig. The liquid burned the back of your throat and tickled the nerves in your teeth.

~~~~

"Can I walk you home?" Poe slurred, his finger drawing abstract designs on your cheek.

You blushed, whether from the alcohol or the pilot, you were too happy to tell. You nodded softly. The tops of your teeth pressed into your bottom lip and your hand wandered underneath Poe's flight suit to graze his bare chest.

The man's body was slumped into his chair beside the empty Mess Hall table. All the harsh lines and scattered regimentation of his job had faded. Poe beamed at you and kissed the inside of your wrist. His smile lines seemed to fill up his face and the strength of his umber eyes seemed to tear at the cracks in your chest.

"Lesss go." The Captain slurred. His strong hand gripped your wrist and pulled you towards the door of the dining hall.

Thinking that he would miss them, you snatched his flight gloves from where they had fallen on the floor of the hall after Snap and Poe had started a game of Sabacc.

Poe pulled you through the door of the Hall and, after looking both ways down the long deserted hallway, threw an arm around your waist. He buried his face in the nape of your neck and took in a long breath.

The feeling of him so close to you punctured your sweet bubble of drunkenness. You wrapped an arm around his back and you walked like this through the sleeping Resistance base.

Poe found it difficult to move without dragging his feet and with every misstep, more of his weight fell upon you.

Finally, the both of you arrived in front of his bedroom door.

"Y/N," Poe slurred, his face still nesting in your neck.

"Hmm?" You responded. You ran a hand lightly through his mess of curls.

"I gotta tell you something." He said quietly.

"What is it?" The beating of your heart seemed to emit from your palms.

"Can I kiss you?" His face moved away from your neck now, but his grip stayed firm around your side.

You turned to him and smiled.

Of course he could kiss you. Of course he could call you in the middle of the night to come over and just lay with him. Of course he could keep you a secret as long as he needed to. Of course, he could.

A fracture of pain struck a chord in your heart as you wrapped your arms around the drunken pilot's neck. "Of course." You whispered, afraid that if you said it any louder he would be able to hear what you wanted to say.

Poe smiled deviously and moved your neck so that he could reach your lips easier. His mouth was kind to yours, pulling gently and tugging with passion.

Your body rested like water in his hands. Making sure to note every texture, you let your fingers wander to the bottoms of his thick curls. Pulling and twisting around them.

Poe's hands gripped your sides and with one last squeeze, he pulled away from you. He smiled softly at you and put in his bedroom door passcode. The door slid open to reveal a darkened bedroom and a sleeping BB-8.

You took in a shaking breath, jealous of the moon light shining thorough his windows. What an honor to spend your life shining across Poe's skin.

For a moment, you waited to hear those words. You waited for him to tell you he wanted you. But, only silence permeated the dark hallway.

"See you tomorrow, Dameron." You conceded, turning on your heel back towards your barracks. Determined to make it to your bed before you started crying.

"I know what you're doing, Y/N." He accused loudly, soberness seeming to return to him in bits and pieces.

You could feel the rush of blood rising in your cheeks. "What am I doing?"

"The answer is still no." He said with an authoritative tone, his head bent down to look out from his eyebrows at you.

You swallowed the ball of fire in your throat. "I'm just making sure you got home safe."

Poe smirked and started to untie his boots already. "You think that doing this stuff will change things," He paused to chuck a grimy boot through his bedroom door. "But it won't. There's things that neither of us can change." He began to untie the other one.

"Well..." You started. The stark reality and the casual way in which he stated it shoved a stake down the canyons in your heart. "I just..want to be here for the next time you want me." Quivering tears threatened to draw trails down your cheeks.

Poe stood up straight and shifted his weight. He placed hands on his hips and the movement reminded you of him hunched around the holopads in the command center. "Y/N, you knew what this would be when we started. You know the rules. There's nothing you can do or say that will change things. I'm not the bad guy here."

You nodded and blinked back emotion. "I know you're not. I just..."

A tug of war began in your mind as you contemplated what you wanted to say and what you should say. The trembling in your chest compelled you and without more than a whisper of forethought you said, "I feel lonely when you're gone and I feel lonely when you're here. I am jealous of your squadron because they get to see you every day and hear your voice for most of their day and...I don't know. I just..."

You cut yourself short and your gaze fell to your boots. The alcohol still in your system threw everything spinning. Taking brazen steps back to Poe, you grabbed one of his hands in yours.

"If I could give you every moon in every single system, I would. I'm sorry if that's hard to hear, but it's how I feel. You're worth it to me, Poe. Whatever we would have to do to be together, you would be worth it to me." Your voice shook and drifted through the hallway in snaggled shards.

Poe's eyes were wide and borrowing into yours. His strong hands turned limp in your grasp.

Desperately, you searched his face for a response. The only thing to be found there was a blank look and deep, mahogany colored eyes combing over your face.

Gritting your teeth, you pulled his flying gloves from your back pocket and placed them in his hands.

"You'll need these." You ended, turning from him and walking as steady as you could back towards your bedroom. Every step carving out more and more of a rift between the two of you.

The promise that the same moon kissing Poe's skin would be kissing yours, gave you just enough comfort to persuade you to fall asleep.

What did you think? I really hope you enjoyed reading my work. Just your liking / re-blogging it means a lot. If you have a moment, I would love to hear your thoughts! Tell me what you think via my ask box or a comment always warms my heart!! Thank you again for reading!

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