#dinner in america fan fic

[hellfirecvnt]

Don't Piss Me Off (Pt. 1)

John Q. (Simon) X Fem!Reader

Warnings: DRUG USE!! Y/N smokes weed and does coke. Don't do drugs, it's for the bit. Drugs are bad. Don't be stupid. This is self indulgent as fuck. Simon is mean, obvs. Y/N is also mean.

Summary: You're back in your hometown for a few weeks to house sit for your parents. A rivalry dating back to your high school years makes an appearance, but this time, he's met his match.

Notes: I finally found someone angry and hot to fill the Billy Hargrove shaped hole in my fanfic writing heart. Fuck ST. Free Palestine.

You invited everyone to this party. An absolute rager while you're house sitting for your parents. Their home is huge compared to your humble two bedroom house, states away. You've reached out to everyone you can remember from your hometown, and it's surprisingly a lot. The house is packed by the time all the guests arrive. A feeling of accomplishment straightens your shoulders as the music surges through the house. Your pride is promptly diminished when a familiar face you specifically didn't invite steps through the door. Simon.

"Why is he here?" You whisper to the nearest person, but somehow, through the music and loud conversation, he hears you as if you whispered it directly to him.

"I heard there was a party. I followed the clientele." He winks, patting a pocket on his dirty bomber jacket.

"Are you selling drugs inside my parents' house?" You ask, acting mortified. He just smirks, basking in the idea of setting you off like he used to, years ago. Long before you left this town. "Let me get an eighth of smoke and a gram of whatever I can put up my nose." The request visibly caught him off guard. He stares at you with a raised eyebrow as he rummages in his pocket for your order.

"Y'know I don't really-"

"What? You stop selling weed?"

"No, it's just," he tilts his head before shoving the illegal contents into your hand. "You seem different."

"Different?"

"Yeah, like you're not a whiny fuckin' kid blowing up my spot anymore." He chuckles as he slips past you, and dissolves into the party. That's right, years ago, when the two of you were in high school, he was expelled when administration seemingly randomly brought in drug dogs, and his locker was raided. To everyone's surprise, he still graduated from the alternative school and even went on to college, but apparently his pursuit of education stopped there when his well-known temper earned him the boot.

Sure, you were a bit of a late bloomer. A classic loser amongst your classmates. The poster child of people who took D.A.R.E extremely seriously, even though you'd never once given a shit about it. You knew he always blamed you for his getting caught, he made your life hell in college before you moved. You forgot all about him before he stepped through your parents' door.

He's already here, so you decide to let him make his money and spice up your party. It's not like you'll run into him again with the way people keep showing up. A bored town, a boring town seeking any kind of thrill outside the two bars that close at 11 PM.

You're not much of a drinker, so your eighth and blow do exactly what you need them to. The coke keeps you chatty and energetic, while the weed mellows that swinging jaw you'd have. Coke is a special occasion drug, your tolerance isn't something to brag about. You sneak off to the bathroom every once in a while, and no one seems to notice, so you get a little brave, slipping away on the empty back patio to cut out a quick line on your mother's hand mirror.

Your technique is swift, muscle memory from your harder partying days in college. The entire time, Simon watches through a window. He'd caught you in passing, and watched in curiosity as the girl he knew with big, innocent eyes and a loud mouth rails a sizable line of hard drugs. He's dumbfounded, laughing lightly to himself. You clean the glass of the remaining powder with your index finger and rub it against your gums, lifting the mirror to check your nose for evidence of your patio soiree. Just as your eyes meet your own, the patio door slides open, and you're no longer alone in the safety of darkness. "Not your first time with that shit." It's not a question, but it sounds like it was supposed to be.

"Far from it," you sigh, relieved. You don't mind smoking with others, but the coke is something you'd prefer to keep to yourself.

"Could'a fooled me," he strikes a lighter, cherrying the end of his cigarette. "You used to be a fucking bitch." He wraps his lips around those last two words, really annunciating each syllable. It's dark, but there's enough moonlight to see the dark circles around his eyes as he displays that same threatening look he used to shoot at you in college between shoulder checks and vulgar insults.

"This 'fucking bitch' will beat your ass now, Kenny. Watch ya' fuckin' mouth," you mock his accent, as yours thinned out after being away for so long.

"Who the fuck is Kenny?" He looks genuinely thrown off.

"No fuckin' poise. Stay focused. Don't insult me on my own patio, I'll fuck us both up." You're speaking almost gibberish, but the only way to knock him down is to throw him off.

"Who the fuck are you?" Simon chuckles, taking a drag of his cig.

"It's been a long time. I'm surprisingly not 16 anymore. You don't seem very young yourself."

He takes a drag, eyes widening as if he's watching a TV show that caught him pleasantly off guard. "Yeah, okay."

"How are sales?" You ask, running your tongue across your teeth to disperse the numbing of the bitter substance.

"Not bad. You just invite everyone whose name you could remember?"

"Everyone but you, Simon." You sigh.

"Well, I hate it for you, Queen Bitch. But I've gotta make money somehow."

"You could try a job," you say, but after you look him up and down, you change your mind. "Nevermind." He releases a genuine laugh, puffing plooms of smoke from his lips with each heave of his chest. "You still doing that band thing?"

"'Band thing?'" he huffs. "Yes. I'm still doing the... Band thing."

"Yikes, soft spot, huh? Not going great?" Years ago you took his verbal beatings with a cowering stance, and often, tears. Today you're giving it all back to him. The reason for your vitriol is not lost on him, so he takes every blow.

"It's going fine. You should come to a show. Get out of your little rich kid bubble for two seconds." Clocked. You've been clocked. Your stunted social skills stemmed directly from how sheltered and spoiled you were until the age of 18 when you finally realized what your life was, compared to others. You worked and saved your own money and moved away at 20. Away from your shelter, away from your helicopter parents, and realistically, away from Simon.

"Yeah, that'll be the day," you're laughing until you notice something going south right inside the door. A fight seems to have broken out. You burst through the entryway, shoving yourself between the two men. One of them, a tall, broad man steps back, acknowledging the escalation at hand. While the other, shorter, almost shorter than you, seems to only get more angry. "You need to calm the fuck down!" You yell, only trying to be heard over his own volume.

"Get the fuck out of my face, bitch!" The short man spits like venom. You look at him with a raised eyebrow, and something takes hold. Before you know it, your own fist is connecting with his jaw. The crowd is rallying you on, but your hit wasn't enough to knock him out. You're aware that your swing warrants a swing back, but God, you know it's about to hurt even with this dude being the size he is. He swings his fist under and hooks you in the stomach. It's painful, but you can't help but heave a wheezing, breathless laugh at the idea that he swung low because he might not have properly reached your face. He's not even that short, but you can't stop the laughter. That only pisses him off more, and he swings again, this time catching your cheek.

By now, you've both been separated as the spectators realize it was kinda strange to watch a man fight a woman, regardless of how it started. You're still laughing, breathless from the hit and sweating from the cocaine. When you're finally released, the laughing returns to anger and you run half of the party off.

"Party's over, fuck outta here!" You call, harshly pushing the power button on the stereo. "Short stack ruined it for all of you. Get out of my house!" You leave the passed out guests alone, they're safer here anyways. Once you return to the patio, you take your same seat and return to the conversation as if nothing happened. "As I was saying, no. I won't be at a Psycho's show."

"It's Psyops and you fuckin' know that." He speaks harshly before reeling it in, and clearing his throat. "What the hell was that?" He gestures to the door with his thumb.

"I told you I'll beat your ass now, Kenny."

"Was that Kenny? Who the fuck is Kenny?" It's clear he hasn't stopped thinking about "Kenny" since the first time you said it.

"I don't know who that guy was," you shrug. "Can I have a smoke?" You rub your sore cheek.

"Whatever," he tosses a cigarette your way. "What was with the laughing? You just fuckin' insane or something? You been in the asylums this whole time?" He looks almost serious with his inquiry. Like he wouldn't be surprised.

"No, I just-" you start to laugh again. "I imagined him punching me in the gut because he couldn't reach my face." You graze your fingers over your cheek again. "But clearly I was unaware of his lengthy arms or something. He seemed shorter from far away," you chuckle.

"Fuckin' ridiculous," Simon laughs with you, shaking his head.

"Yeah, thanks for jumping in, by the way." You joke, cutting out another line on the small silver mirror.

"Jumping in? For you? A fuckin' snitch?" He raises his eyebrows, as if he's been waiting to address this.

"Oh, fuck off. I didn't fucking snitch on you," you announce before inhaling the line.

"Y/N, it's been years. Just fuckin-"

"Simon, I didn't snitch on you. I didn't know you sold drugs at school. I thought they searched our lockers daily, I didn't think anyone would be able to sell drugs that easily at school." As you're explaining, you realize you never denied telling on him, you just silently took his punishment, hoping it'd eventually stop.

"Are you a god damn idiot? You thought they searched all those lockers every fuckin' day?" He's in disbelief.

"That's what my parents told me," you shrug, rubbing the powder from the mirror on your gums again.

"I ain't buying that shit," he mumbles like a growl. "You got that Mickey kid expelled too. Year before." He's staring you down like he's got you cornered.

"Yeah, because he pushed me down the fucking stairs, Simon. I was in the hospital for a week. He broke my arm." You're shocked that it wasn't common knowledge why Mickey was expelled. "He's in jail right now for the armed robbery of a church."

"Wait, seriously?" Simon huffs a chuckle as he pieces it all together and finally, finally considers the fact that you weren't the snitch.

"Have you ever considered that maybe you weren't very good at it? Selling drugs at school, I mean." You tilt your head, awaiting an answer.

"You really didn't do it," he exhales a cloud of smoke from the cigarette he'd just lit.

"No, I didn't. And you made every single day hell for me. You ran me out of town." You're laughing as you say it, looking down and focusing on rolling a joint, but he keeps his eyes on you. A glint of guilt flashes in his pupils, but you'd never know. He used to wonder if he had a hand in your running off, and today it was finally confirmed. Your laugh carries the weight of everything you were getting away from. A man that feels anger as deeply as Simon does, incidentally, comes with the ability to empathize with pain.

"Alright. Next time, I'll jump in." He relaxes, leaning back into the chair.

"Sounds good." You spark up your joint and take a long drag before passing it to Simon. An olive branch. A silent truce. Forgiveness that he didn't deserve. He takes it from your hand and takes a hit. The usually smooth smoke scrapes into his lungs from the guilt. The feeling quickly dissipates as the two of you get stoned.

You both stay there in those seats all night. You hardly realize the passing of time until the sky begins to light up a pale morning blue. "Holy shit, how long have we been out here?" Simon asks, noticing his empty pack of cigarettes. You throw a five dollar bill toward him.

"I owe you. I smoked over half of those." He stuffs the money in his pocket with a nod. "You can stay here, but if you knock on my door at any point after I go to sleep I will fight you like the little guy." Simon looks around and shakes his head.

"No thanks." He nods and heads towards the door.

"See ya' around, Simon." As he closes your door behind him, something sends a tingle down his spine when he hears you say his name again. A softness directed towards him that he's not used to. It's uncomfortable and new and the sensation of craving more pisses him off. He shrugs his shoulders, physically shaking the feeling from his body before heading off on foot. To where? Who fuckin' knows.

The next day, or that same day, way later when you wake up, you're already planning your next get together as you clean up from last night. It's not as bad as usual, but probably because it got cut a few hours short after the altercation. A feat that you had forgotten about until you caught your reflection while brushing your teeth. A small bruise has formed under your eye where you were hit. "Ha, what a pussy." You lift your shirt to examine your stomach and there's not even a semblance of a hit. "Pussy!" You repeat, louder.

After getting ready for the day, you head to the store to replenish the stock for your next shindig. Your parents always leave their credit card when you house sit. It's the only time in your adult life you don't mind using their money. They hardly notice it anyways.

As you're strolling the aisles of the bodega, you spot Simon. Something in you feels awkward about last night, so you hang back until he leaves. He looks tired and disheveled. More so than usual. And he's a little out of breath like he'd been running. He buys a pack of smokes with the five you gave him and disappears out the door. You make your purchase and tote two 30 packs to your rickety, old van. A vehicle you were proud to buy yourself before you moved out. Simon watches you from the corner of the store, having a smoke before continuing his trek across town. He furrows his eyebrows, trying to remember when he saw you drink anything at all at the party. "She can't seriously be throwing another shit show," he mumbles.

He bolts when police pull into the lot, no doubt still in pursuit of him. They pull up to your van and you stand outside, defensively. Unsure of what in your van could get you in trouble at this moment. "Have you seen this guy?" They hold up a picture of Simon. The way he looked in college, anyways. He's shaved his head now.

"No, I can't say I have." You shrug.

"Take this and let us know if you see anyone suspicious." The cop hands you the paper and you take it with a flat smile. Once they leave the lot, you crumple the paper into a ball and toss it in your van.

Simon just can't shake the image of you he's had in his mind all these years. Shy and afraid. Avoiding eye contact and clutching your books to your chest when he'd loom over you and whisper vicious cruelties. Now you walk with your back straight. You look him in the eye, even when he tries to make you uncomfortable just for fun. You fist-fight people and laugh because you imagined something funny in the middle of getting an uppercut to the stomach. You bought drugs from him the second he walked in the door. You're hardly recognizable.

That night, you're settling in the living room with a movie on the TV. It's a quiet, peaceful evening as you smoke a joint on your couch, enjoying the silence of your own company.

Knock, knock, knock, knock, knock!

Someone frantically bangs on the door before bursting in and slamming it behind them. "Hey! Are you home or what?" Simon yells into the foyer.

"I'm right here, you scared the shit out of me!" You throw a handful of popcorn at him. "Why are you inside my parents' house? What time is it?"

"I don't know what time it is. Shut up, listen, I need to," he seems to search for a softer word than 'hide.' "Stay in here for an hour or two."

"I saw your wanted poster. You're a real outlaw, huh? Arson, right? Hard." He rolls his eyes. "I told them I hadn't seen you."

"Yeah, thanks. I'd hope so."

"You gonna sit down or what?" You ask, annoyed that he's interrupting your movie. He huffs and joins you on the couch and you pass the joint to him.

"The fuck are we watching?" He raises an eyebrow. You stare at him for a second before answering.

"Firestarter."

"Jesus fuckin' Christ," he sighs.

"Yeah, I started thinking about it after I read your charges. Fucking idiot." You laugh. "Broad daylight is brutal."

"Their house was fine."

"Well, you can hide here as long as you need to. I'll be here for a few weeks. But I am throwing another get together tomorrow, so be down for that."

"Again?" He scoffs.

"Yeah. It's way more fun to party in this giant house than my fucking double wide."

"You live in a double wide trailer?"

"Yes. I got out on my own dime. Options are limited where I ended up." You always tell this story like a brag. It's something you're proud of. After all, it's a nice double wide. It's not even in a trailer park... This time.

"Hard." He mocks you and you laugh in response.

"So these are your two options? Party or a movie with barely any volume while you get high?" He leans across the couch to pass you the joint, unknowingly scooting closer with each reach.

"Normally I'm not talking over the movie so the volume is just fine." You shrug. He takes the hint and finally shuts up, watching the movie and keeping panicky eyes on the windows. By the time the joint is finished, the two of you are much closer than before. Not too close, but gravity seems to be doing its thing. Simon can finally see the small bruise under your eye.

"Is that from that guy?" He laughs.

"Yeah, I know. He tried his best," you join in the laughter. Simon raises a hand to brush his thumb over it, never minding to invade someone's personal space.

"There's not even a welt. What a fuckin' pussy," he says as he lowers his hand. You're not sure if you're blushing or not, but you do know that you're frozen for a moment after the sudden, close quarters. You may have grown out of a lot, but you're still pretty fucking awkward sometimes. Simon notices right away. God damn it.

"That's exactly what I said! There's nothing on my stomach either. It's like I fought a toddler." You laugh, your head is clearing up, but not for long. Simon leans in closely, sliding closer to you than before and invading your personal space much more boldly than when he touched your bruise.

"You know how to take a hit, huh?" He whispers, inches from your face. Your eyes are wide and you feel the heat rise in your cheeks when you feel his hand on your thigh.

"You're about to take a hit if you don't move that fuckin' hand," you snap with a wavering voice that you hope he doesn't notice.

"I'm just fuckin' with you. Had to find some way to do it. You're all... difficult now." He laughs at your still red face. He backs down and you roll your eyes, defeated by your own bodily reactions.

"You are God damn difficult, Simon." You jam your finger into his chest, sizing him up, invading his bubble. "You're difficult and it makes you angry. Now, I'm letting you hide in my parents house from the fuckin' police, so please, for the love of god, tone that fuck-shit down." He can't help but grin at the tables you've turned. Your forehead might as well be pressed to his as you tell him what for.

"Calm the fuck down, Y/N. I'm just fuckin' with you. Thanks for the safehouse." His thanks sounds like sarcasm, but you decide it's the best you'll get from him. He keeps his distance after that, but doesn't shift away from you. For the rest of the movie, you catch him stealing glances your way. He's silently reliving the moment you pushed back, a smile cracks across his lips, but you're too focused on the movie.

The two of you fall asleep before the credits roll. You're baked and glued to the couch, he's exhausted from running all day. It's barely dawn when Simon shakes himself awake, startled by something only a mind as paranoid and volatile as his could dream up. He looks at your sleeping form on the couch and checks his watch. "Jesus fuckin' Christ," he mumbles to himself. As he quietly steps toward the door, you call to him from the couch.

"You can shower here if you want. You look like shit. It'd probably be harder to spot you if you weren't filthy." Simon rolls his eyes, but you're right. You rise and stretch from your blanket cocoon. "Fuck, what time is it?"

"Early."

"Useful. The bathroom's down the hall to the right. Toss your clothes in the basket and set it outside."

"Alright," he huffs, unsure how to process your balance between "fuck you" and "I'll do your laundry for you so you can shower."

Simon leaves his clothes in the basket just like you asked and you toss them in the washer with a few of your clothes to fill it up. It'll take longer to wash and dry his clothes than it'll take for him to shower, so you rummage through some of your dad's PJs and leave a pair of soft pants and an old Harvard T-shirt in place of the basket. After a while, Simon emerges from the steamy bathroom, towel-clad. "Are you serious?" He asks, holding up the clothes you've left for him.

"Don't you wanna know what it's like to wear a Harvard shirt?" You jest. "It'll be another 30 minutes on your clothes." Simon rolls his eyes, and tosses the clothes on the couch.

"I'll wait." He takes a seat next to you, the towel secured around his waist. "Give me that." He takes the joint you've barely just started rolling out of your hands. It feels more like a "thank you" than a "I'll do it better" so you let him roll it. It's a gesture of kindness from him, and you accept it.

After a joint or two more, the buzzer sounds on the dryer. "I'll be right back, I threw some of my clothes in there too." You leave and return with a basket of fresh, clean, warm clothes. You dig through and find Simon's belongings, tossing them to him piece by piece. Once he slips off to the bathroom again, he comes back fully dressed. A cleaner, easier to look at version of himself.

"Thanks," Simon nods, but he doesn't retake his seat next to you. "I'll catch you later."

"You coming to the party? For the money?" You grin, secretly hoping to repeat your patio soiree from before.

"For the money." He chuckles as he steps out the door, leaving you in peaceful silence. You fall back asleep right away. Hours later, when you finally awaken, some people are already in the house.

"Jesus Christ, you guys don't knock or nothing?" You rub your eyes. "Don't fuck up my parents' house. I'm gonna go get ready."

"Yeah, yeah," your friends chant back, picking out music to play on the stereo. Once you're dressed and made up to your liking, you return to the party. The size of the crowd doubled in the hour it took you to get ready. As you play hostess, you're secretly searching each room and hallway for Simon, hoping he'd show up, though you're not sure why you're so eager. He was a dick for most of the time you've known him, but even back then, he's a very attractive man.

You pour a round of shots and pass them out, making sure each of your closest pals gets theirs first. You're holding onto one last one, searching for Simon, when you round the corner and see a familiar face. It's the short little shit you just fought the other night. "Aw, god damn it." You sigh, already anticipating the spectacle that's about to unfold.

"You got a lot of fucking nerve throwing another party after the shit you pulled," he says, cracking his knuckles, but you're looking down at him almost, so it's not very threatening

"What? Nerve? Aren't you trespassing right now? Get the fuck out of my house. We're all pushing 30." You're dumbfounded by this weird turf war happening inside your childhood home.

"You think just 'cause you're a broad, you can mouth off to anybody you want and get away with it."

"No, I didn't 'get away with it,' you left a faint little freckle on my cheek with that crabapple you call a fist." And with that, you catch another swing. Just as painful, and this time, no laughter follows. The shot glass is knocked from your hand and shatters on the floor just before you land, cutting up your hands pretty good. "Ah! God fucking damn it!"

"Fuck you, bitch!" The man shrieks, kneeling over you to beat you senseless, but he doesn't get a second hit in before someone's grabbed his shoulders and ripped him off of you. Simon.

He has the short man pinned against the wall receiving hit after hit to the face and stomach. "The fuck you come back here for, dumbass? Playground's already closed?" Simon taunts as he lands blow after blow. The rage in his eyes is palpable. You're on your feet in no time, folding your glass-filled hands in on themselves to swing brick-like fists at the troublesome man. It's you and Simon vs that guy until his friends eventually join in, knocking Simon around and finally dragging their friend out of the function. You wonder what the point of showing up was at all.

Simon helps you wash the glass and small traces of blood from your hands. There's only one significant cut, and a bandaid will have it fixed up in an instant. "Why and how did you manage to land on a pile of broken glass?" He asks, frustrated with the tweezers he's using to remove the tiny shards. "Who keeps inviting that fuckin' guy?"

"I saved you a, uh... I saved you a shot." Your voice lowers as the sentence goes on as you realize how desperate it sounds.

"Saved me a shot?" He laughs. "You were waitin' for me." He grins.

"Yeah, I was hoping to sweeten you up and get a heavier gram this time." You reach into your pocket for money and shove it at him, leaving your bandaged hand in front of him, awaiting your drugs.

"I'll share my personal with you, how about that?" He tilts his head up, looking down at you through half-lidded eyes as he raises a cigarette to his mouth. He already knows you'll be pulling him onto the patio, so he wastes no time lighting it.

"Sounds good, let's go." You lead him to the dark backyard and the two of you take a seat at the table, but you're a chair closer this time, making it easier to share the little mirror. You cut out two lines and pull your hair away from your face. Once the substance enters your body, you're ignited into conversation. You drone on and on, and Simon listens to every bit, quietly hitting his cigarette as he watches you go. Slowly, the adrenaline wears off, and the reality of the ache in your face settles in. "Oh, my God. My fucking face." You brush a finger over the inevitable darkening black eye on the right side of your face.

"Yeah, they uh, kinda fucked us up." Simon speaks through cigarette smoke.

"Do you even know who they are? The short guy?"

"You keep calling him short. He's your height." Simon squints.

"I just feel so much taller than him. Maybe it's the shoes, I don't know." You shrug, snorting another line with the side of your nose that hasn't swollen shut from the fight.

"It's clearly a sore spot for him, regardless."

"You jumped in," you smile, feeling as if this "friendship" has finally been validated.

"Said I would," Simon responds flatly. You roll your eyes and stare up at the night sky for a moment. Inside, the party rages on. Music thumps from indoors, but the sound is well sealed from where you two sit.

"This is gonna hurt so bad tomorrow, huh?" You ask, sniffing through your coke and blood-filled nose.

"Oh, yeah." A drag of his cigarette. "It's gonna fucking suck." He can't help but chuckle, having lived through an ass beating or two in his life.

"You gonna be here when I wake up?"

"Stop asking me so many fucking questions." He waves his hand dismissively.

"Not even to hide?" You smirk.

"I'll come back to hide." He exhales smoke through a small smile. You two are up long past sunrise, and when the last of the coke finally begins to wear off, you head to bed.

"Goodnight, Simon. Don't go to jail today." You chime behind you as you head down the hall. Simon scans the living room and it's emptier than the last party. As in, no one stayed the night. He shifts uncomfortably for a moment, unsure of his next move. Before he knows it, he's face down, passed out on your parents soft, leather couch.

You can hear the familiar sound of falling face-first into that exact couch, and you feel a sense of comfort knowing Simon won't be running from the cops while you sleep. He's gone when you wake up and to avoid any more drama, you hold off on planning your next party. Days go by, and your time house sitting dwindles. Simon hasn't come back, not even to hide.

Weeks pass and you're packing your belongings into your van, giving your parents a hug and assuring them that nothing went awry. They shower you in thanks and love, sending you on your way back home, states away. It feels bittersweet, and you wish you got to tell Simon you were leaving. Maybe give him a phone number or something stupid like that.

Before you leave town, you stop by a gas station to fill up and grab a snack. At the register, a tall man with long locs peers at you from behind the counter. "Is that everything?"

"Yeah, and the rest on pump four." The man nods at your request. You'd be lying if you said you weren't looking for Simon to pass by outside, or hopefully catch him walking somewhere so you can say bye. It's a strange feeling in you to want his presence. As you reminisce about the sheer rage in his eyes as he pulled that guy off of you during the fight, your eye catches something behind the register. A poster for some gritty, underground band. And opening for them... Psyops.

The cashier hands you your bags and you point to the poster. "What's the date on that? The concert thing."

"I think it's tonight," he answers flatly. Your shoulders fall, wondering if this late in the evening means you've already missed him. You shake these weird feelings from your head, reminding yourself that a few days of liking each other doesn't make up for all those years of torment. You continue down the road for a few miles more.

"God damn it!" You burst, cutting a U-turn in the middle of the street, barreling your van back into town. He said he'd jump in, and he did. You told him you'd go to a show.

(Part 2 is HERE!!)

[alexjcrowley]

I realised my passion for crossover has just created a multiverse of, I don't fucking know, detectives and supernatural stuff (no, it's NOT superwholock)

So we start by assuming, like some already did, that Q from the Daniel Craig's James Bond movies is the fourth Holmes's siblings. So you get four Holmes: Mycroft, Sherlock, Eurus and Q. But then Q in clearly in a romantic relationship with James Bond.

Now it's undeniable that James Bond has a twin brother, Benoit Blanc, who is the world's most famous detective, and he is married to Philip (Hugh Grant). You can clearly notice from Benoit's...everything (passion for mistery and fasion sense most of all) that he is related to Fred Jones from Scooby Doo, he and Philip are in fact Fred's parents.

To conclude this part of multiverse of hyperfixation, James Bond exists in the same world of a bunch of teenagers with 1970's van and a talking dog. I cannot stress how important it is for me that Sherlock Holmes DOES NOT solve the mustery of why Scooby Doo can talk.

But let's now expand in a different direction.

For some of you who might not be acquainted with the medical drama House MD, it's one of the gayest shows ever made on God's green earth. And, as all the fans know, the REAL finale is House and Wilson running away together after all Wilson's problems suddenly disappeared (I am phrasing it like that because I don't want to spoil it). Now, of course they can't live in America because House can't exactly recover from his own Reichenbach falls, so obviously they have go to London. Like, no questions asked.

And as many have already speculated they are probably the married couple Mrs Hudson's friend was renting an apartment to.

Sherlock-Watson and House-Wilson have a complicated dynamic going on, I just know they suspect of eachothers because there's something wrong with the other couple.

London comes, of course, with all it inhabitants, such as Crowley and Aziraphale (whose supernatural presence could explain Scooby Doo being able to talk???? Maybe he is an ex-infernal hound sent to Shaggy??? Was Shaggy another aborted attempt at an Antichrist?????). I really likes to believe they're House-Wilson and Sherlock-Watson neighbours. And every one of these three couples tries to pretend they're a very normal couple, and not, like, non-human or a Government's resource or technically dead.

But also, you must not forget, London comes with Hob Gadling, the immortal lover of Sandman, who might as well exist in this universe, because why the fuck not, he stole the "meet every x years" idea from Crowley, the goddamn poser. Hob Gadling and Crowley clocked eachothers in a minute and now the two couples have dinners together because "they're the only other supernatural couple in the neighbourhood, we should befriend them!" (said Aziraphale and Hob while Crowley and Morpheus sighed).

ALSO to House MD fans I want to remind you that Wilson got arrested in Louisiana when he met House and there's a popular headcanon going on that Benoit Blanc is from Louisiana so do you think??? Benoit Blanc one day happened to interact with the police department of a city in Louisiana and a policeman was like "hey last week you missed a guy from New Jersey who deadass smashed an ancient mirror in a bar because they were playing a song he didn't like on the jukebox". And Benoit was like (I can't write his dialogues I am so sorry) "Mmhh yeah muhst say thur arh sum jingles I simply cannut grow fund of but by Guhd to,,, smash an ancient mirruh that wuld be bee-YOnd mahself"

And these connections are all canonical in my mind. (There are crossover fanfics between Good Omens and Sandman, and between House and BBC Sherlock, and between Sherlock and the James Bond franchise, and between House and Good Omens- there's a fic I really like with these fandoms- and there's a drawing I also reblogged on Tumblr of Fred presenting Benoit Blanc as his dad).

So, basically, in my head, Sherlock is highly pissed off by Benoit Blanc being considered the best detective in the world though he respects him, Q is Fred Jones's uncle and probably added a lot of cool MI6 features to the mystery machine, Gregory House, notorious atheist, lives in the same universe of angels and demons and the Sandman and pisses off Sherlock Holmes costantly just because they don't like eachothers, Hob Gadling amd Crowley looked at eachothers once and they knew neither of them were humans, Aziraphale and Crowley always stumble in every other characters' shenanigans and once in a while throw a miracle their way and Hugh Grant/Philip makes cupcakes for everyone.

And if you really want me to be precise, Dead Poet Society lore counts for Wilson, but Neil didn't, well, if you saw the movie you know.

And I know they are technically not correlated, but I would love to find a way to connect Dirk Gently, Todd Brotzman and The Rowdy Three in all this.

There's a part 2 to this post here

[inevitablysomber-dark]

Unwanted (Chapter 3)

Dark! Cheating! Bucky x Reader

Warning: Cheating

I wanted to break my own heart when I wrote this. I can’t say I was Wholly successful, but it stung a bit. 

The polls have spoken, Unwanted will become a full-blown series, I have gotten a few messages about making this a lighter fic and giving the reader a happier ending. Unfortunately, I had already created the outline, and didn't feel like changing the direction the series was going, however in the future I will pay more mind to this feedback. In the meantime, I will provide a warning for when the good times end for the reader. Thank you for supporting my works.

Series List

Note: Stop here at this chapter if you're ok with a more ominous happy ending, because shit hits the fan after this.

 When you opened your door, you were surprised to see Steve on the other side, scratching the back of his head with a guilty look on his face and a sheepish smile.

Captain America had been a common visitor when you and your husband were still together, but he wasn't your friend so you were confused as to why he was at the entrance of your new abode. 

“Steve! How did you know where I lived?” you didn’t care about the why, you only wanted to know how the hell did he know where to find you. 

“Come on Y/N, I’m an avenger with access to government files and Tony Stark as my colleague.” he responds.

He looks you up and down “You look… healthy.”

You were about 4 ½  months pregnant, however with the food Mrs. Jennings had been preparing for you. Your face started filling out and coupled with the giant flannel you were wearing, you assumed you looked less pregnant and more chubby.

“Would you mind if I come in?” you’re taken aback by his question and couldn’t help but to ask why. 

“I really need to talk to you, it’s about Bucky.” he states.

Just as you were about to step back to let him in, you hear someone calling out.

“Hey!”

Both you and Steve turn to the voice behind him

“Hey Frank” you say. 

Steve looks at you but you ignore his stare. 

“Is everything alright?” Frank asks.

“Everything is fine.” Steve responds. 

You give Steve a look, bothered that he answered a question that wasn’t his to answer.  What shocked you more was Frank ignoring Captain America’s response, waiting for your own as he forewent Steve's scrutiny with his gaze directed at you. You knew why he was worried, you quickly glanced over at Steve and was confident in his cluelessness. 

“I’ll be fine, don’t worry.” you throw him a smile.

“Let me know if you need anything”.

Steve huffed and turned to walk into your apartment, and you rolled your eyes at his demeanor. 

“What an asshole.” he says “ why the hell is he so worried about you anyways, does he think Captain America would sit up here and hurt you in broad daylight?”

You shrug your shoulders, uncomfortable talking about Frank behind his back.” Do you want something to drink?” you ask, hoping to change the subject. 

He looks at you for a long time before responding “No Thank you” he squints his eyes at you. 

“I hope you don’t mind, but I was eating dinner. “ You take a seat at your small dinner table to resume your meal of Macaroni and cheese with fried chicken.

Steve takes a seat across from you “You don’t seem to mind him.”

Again, you shrug your shoulders, and resume your mac. Steve didn’t need to know how helpful Frank had been to you in the past few weeks, he didn’t need to know that for the first time in a while, you had a genuine friendship that you didn’t want ruined. 

“ Okayy.” he seats back taking a moment to process the situation “I wanted to apologize”

You raise your eyebrows questioningly.

“For Bucky’s infidelity,” he clarifies. 

“Oh.” Honestly, you didn’t care anymore. 

You were surprised at how quickly you got over the situation. You guess they were right when they said out of sight out of mind. You took another bite of your mac. 

“I may have had something to do about it.” you give him a dead stare. 

“You told Bucky to cheat on me with my sister?” you asked.

“Well, no but…” he takes a breath. “I was sort of sneaking  around behind my wife’s back with a coworker, and had Bucky cover for me, multiple times, and I can’t help but feel like I had something to do with him partaking in that lifestyle.”

Wow 

You sat in shock and awe at the entire situation. All of these men were trash, even the golden prince himself, you started getting agitated. You’d met Steve’s wife, she was a very intelligent and sweet woman. You knew for a fact that she didn’t deserve what was happening to her.

“Does she know?” you ask. 

“No, but I think she’s suspecting something.”

Your agitation grows worse and you drop your fork in frustration.

“And why are you telling me this Steve?” you glare at him. 

“Bucky received the divorce papers yesterday, and he is completely beside himself.”

“And this is my problem, how?” his jaw ticks at your attitude. 

“He’s your husband and he regrets his mistake. I think you can find it in yourself to forgive him.”

“I don’t know who’s husband he is, but it’s definitely not mine, my papers are signed and filed, and if he refuses to sign his own, I’ll go the Unilateral route. Let the public know why I really left him.”

“Be reasonable, he really is regretting the situation.”

“He should have thought about that, before sticking his dick inside of my sister and getting her pregnant.” you didn’t realize how loud you were until the silence took over afterwards.

You sigh, grabbing your fork and resuming your meal.

“When did you become such a bitch?” 

That was the last straw, the rage that boiled inside of your heart was too great to contain. Fuck him being a super soldier, this was not okay.

“I hope your wife leaves your sorry ass, and finds someone amazing who’ll fuck the sadness of her, and every night while she’s getting railed by another man, you’re forced to think about it in your repurposed bachelorhood.”

Steve did not like that one bit. 

“What the fuck did you just say?”

He stands, making himself look much bigger than usual. Your own body fatigued as you were forced to stay seated. 

Yet despite the fear that had consumed you whole, you still felt that you needed to have the last word.

“You heard me.”

He chuckles, “I’ll see myself out.” he turns and heads to the front door. 

“Oh, and I’ll try to keep my mouth shut about the baby, but I can’t make any promises,”

The door slams shut, jolting the entire room

What the Fuck?

Later that night, Frank comes over, with a strawberry smoothie in hand and some leftovers from Mrs. Jennings. You knew he didn’t want to push you about Steve, and you were pretty sure he overheard at least some of your conversation, at least with all of the yelling you did. 

During a netflix binge you admitted everything that had happened between you, Buck and Lily. He takes a moment to digest the information and admits that he isn’t surprised that Lily was a part of an affair. 

It turns out that Lily had quite the habit of sleeping around, so much so that her last escapade had gotten her and Frank kicked out of their last apartment. Which was probably why she came running to you and Bucky.

If Steve was right, and Bucky was feeling remorseful, you wondered how Lily was taking it. But then you remember that it was not your problem anymore. These people hurt you beyond repair, you had no intention of intermingling with anyone involved ever again, and if you ever saw Bucky again, it would be too soon. 

It was too soon.

You were nearing 6 months and you and Frank had plans to binge a random netflix series, he had promised Chinese with a homemade jar of kimchi, straight from Mrs. Jennings. 

You should have known something was off when you heard a knock on your door.

Frank didn’t need to knock, as your stomach grew, Frank became more worried about you being by yourself too often, so he requested to get a copy of your key for emergencies. He didn’t really use it for emergencies but you didn’t mind.

Imagine your surprise when you find your ex-husband staring back at you, looking like he had been put through the ringer. 

Good.

What wasn’t good, was that you had on a regular tank top, to help you survive the end-of-summer heat, and your belly was out and showing. The first thing he does as soon as he sees it is move forward and try to touch it. You back up, slapping his hands away. 

“Don’t touch me.” you say. 

Bucky frowns and stares down at you, he attempts a smile.

“I missed you.” he croaks, his voice husky as he speaks.

“Well, that's too bad, now can you leave?” you say, trying to guide him back out of your apartment.

“Is this how you treat your husband?”

“My ex-husband, yes.”

“I didn’t sign the papers,” he says.

“It's good that I have other options.” you respond

“I have other options too,” he says. 

You give him a questioning look.

“I could always just take the baby,” he smirks as if he’s won some competition, and you’re shocked at his insinuation “I’m an avenger sweetheart, the resources I have at my fingertips are endless. Can you say the same?”

“You can’t take what’s not yours.” he’s stunned at your implication. 

You don’t know what made you say it but Bucky was not a fight that one could take lightly. 

“Is it Franks?” he says. 

You were stunned that he knew about Frank, Steve must have spoken to him, yet instead of answering you just shrug your shoulders and gesture for him to leave. 

He grabs your chin with his metal arm, squeezing until the pain makes you squeal. He chuckles, peaks down at your lips and lays a kiss on them. 

“I’ll be back”

Later that night when Frank comes over, he notices the bruising on your chin. You break down and tell him everything. 

You were so overwhelmed that you became almost inconsolable, but  Frank being the gem that he was, stayed with you throughout the entire night, giving you words of comfort and feeding you kimchi. 

Why did he have to show up?

Your due date was getting closer, and you were bigger than ever. 

Since the incident with Bucky you had been on edge for several weeks, but as the days went on you slowly began to calm.  

You figured maybe Lily was keeping him busy, with her own pregnancy and you were hoping their child would keep Bucky busy enough to leave you alone. 

Luckily you hadn’t heard a peep from anyone, not even Steve.

You began to forget why you were anxious, but every now and then the memory of Bucky at your doorstep would resurface and scare you all over again. 

Frank insisted that Bucky was an avenger, and a rehabilitated enemy of the state, he had too much to lose. You knew he was just trying to make you feel better, but it didn’t always work.

And Frank stayed by your place so often now, that it began to feel weird when he wasn’t there. There were no romantic feelings, everything more platonic, due to your shared experience of being hurt by the same person. So he’d grown to be a bit of a comfort for you. 

That night, Mrs. Jennings wanted to watch a scary movie, and since she didn’t want to watch it by herself she had enlisted you, Frank, and your unborn child for emotional support. She loved to rub your belly, acting as if it brought her good luck throughout her daily life. 

You and Mrs. Jennings was on the couch waiting for Frank to bring the popcorn and nachos, when you had an epiphany. 

You were happy. 

And not “Fake happy to appease your husband” but genuinely happy. It was small and unconventional but you had a family of people who cared for you, and you cared for them too. Regardless of the tinge of fear you felt at the back of your neck. You were finally happy.

Taglist:

@cjand10 @lovely-geek @vicmc624

@stuffyownswrld @buckysmainhxe @goobysgoobers

@chemtrails-club @buckystevelove @kentokaze @notlive06

@bruher @lovely-geek @bluebluesoblue @pattiemac1

[scenedenial]

hi scenedenial I got 2 questions pls 🧸 1 will the Sydrichie fwb pregnancy fic gonna drop this year or maybe next? I’ve been a huge fan for monthsssss & 2 would u ever write fic for dinner in America (ur smut is sOOO good I would die). that’s all ily 🩷

hello anon firstly: i love you secondly: sydrichie baby fic is happening just very slowly because my brain is broken rn thirdly: i am currently writing simon x patty because i am so obsessed with them that i want to die …. hang tight 🫶

[oyesmendes]

my dear

a/n: this ones for the anon who wanted me to elaborate on this fic so here it is! i highly recommend you read the previous fic before diving into this one, just so you get the idea. oh and this is also highly unedited....anywhos, enjoy some singer!reader x danny <3

masterlist

I swear I'll always give my best, no pretending Give you breakfast in bed every morning There ain't no answer to this complex question I just keep falling for you every day

another hotel, another city. another room, another unfamiliar setting. but this time you weren't alone. you lean against the smooth leather headboard, sheets draped lightly around your body. you were watching the scenery outside the window when the doorbell rings, and before you could even think about moving, an 'i'll get it!' echoes from the bathroom.

"i'll take this" you hear from the door, and soon you see daniel pushing in the squeaky-wheeled cart filled with food. he was wrapped in a bathrobe, hair still standing from last night's restful sleep.

"breakfast, m'lady."

you smile softly, crawling to the edge of the bed. daniel sits across from you, handing you your cup of coffee. you both eat in comfortable silence, exchanging a portion of your pancakes for some of his french toast.

"when's the next show?" daniel asks with a mouthful of fruit.

you sip on your coffee before answering, "i've got two weeks off before the european leg."

"two weeks eh?"

"yeah," you feed him a banana from your plate, "i'm spending a week in nashville with blake to finish up a couple of tunes. i'm free on the second week."

"how about cota?" he asks almost too casually.

you hum, slicing the pancakes into smaller pieces. circuit of the americas. the texas weekend. one of daniel's favourite races of the year.

"c'mon love, you know you love a good trip to texas. think about the barbecue! the people, the music." he nudges you from across the table.

daniel is glad that it wasn't an immediate no, and it hasn't been since the sponsorship event. you've accompanied him to a handful of other events at this point, and he's showed up at your shows a couple of times too.

even the fans were getting hints. the mclaren admin had been posting pictures of these said events, with you standing close to daniel; and you had sometimes given them the soft launch on instagram - the subtle hand in your posts, or the occasional picture of brunch for two.

you were starting to give him commitment, starting to open your heart up to the australian; and although it was terrifying, you were absolutely enjoying the free fall.

"let me think about it?" you asked daniel, even though you didn't have to think twice to know the answer.

he grins at you, "that's better than a no."

-

the both of you spent your last day roaming the streets of south italy - gelato cone in hand as you walked down the cobbled path. when evening rolls around, you both walk to a quiet restaurant near the hotel and ordered dinner. you look up from your menu, watching daniel quietly as he analyses the description of each dish; his brows furrowed together as he pretends to understand the ingredients listed in italian. you clear your throat to get his attention.

"so, about texas..." you say with your hands cupping your chin as you lean forward on your elbows. daniel looks up at you with his eyes glistening.

"it's a yes from me."

"YES!" he shouts a little too loudly, apologising to the patrons near him as he closes the menu dramatically. he leans over the table and kisses your forehead softly, "thank you."

-

"you ready?" daniel closes the door to the rented mclaren, intertwining his fingers with yours. you nod, and the both of you make your way into the paddock. it felt almost like a red carpet event - lights flashing, photographers calling out your name. they were having an absolute field day with your presence.

"y/n! y/n! over here!"

"are you and daniel together?"

"daniel! is this your girlfriend?"

you make your way through, smiling shyly for the cameras as daniel leads the both of you through the small crowd. he's eventually stopped by some fans, and releases the grip that he had on your hand. you take a couple steps forward, allowing his beloved fans to have some one on one time with him.

but its not long before a young girl came up to you, holding an orange number '3' cap and a black sharpie; the front of it already signed by daniel.

"i'm a really big fan, could i get an autograph?" you look at the wide-eyed girl and smiled at her, gladly taking the marker and signing onto it. she runs off giddily, shouting to her parents about the signatures she just got.

the hand on the small of your back brings you back to reality, daniel standing right next to you to guide you to the hospitality building. it's behind the glass doors where you find a different kind of buzz - various team members getting their breakfast and having meetings. you wave to a couple of people you recognised from past events, before you heard someone call out to daniel. his hand rests on your back again, pointing to the table in the far corner where lando and zak were sitting.

"tell me you've snagged the girl, DR?" zak asks. daniel looks at you then back at zak and smiles, "i'm almost there i think."

you follow daniel back outside to the paddock, where a few of the drivers and their girlfriends had formed a small circle. they were talking and catching up with one another while you stood back, not being too familiar with everyone. but someone, you recognised as george russell's girlfriend, came up to you.

"y/n, right?" she asks and you nod.

"i'm carmen, george's girlfriend. daniel spoke about you before at dinner." you shook her outstretched hand.

she nudged you after, "big fan of your music by the way."

you blushed, "thank you, it's really nice to meet all of you."

"it's really nice to finally meet you! if ever daniel annoys you, just come by mercedes, you're always welcome." she jokes, and daniel sends her a playful glare which makes you laugh.

and for a moment, everything seemed to be going okay, amazing, in fact. until you made your way to the garage and started watching the race.

fuck. shit. god dammit.

those three words echoed throughout the garage.

you watched daniel's car spin out on screen, after being clipped in the back by another competitor. your arm was wrapped around your own body, picking at the fabric of your shirt. michael, daniel's physio, turns to you to try to give you a reassuring look; but nothing was going to calm you until you see him, hear him.

"daniel, do you copy? is the car okay?"

if you could shoot daggers with your eyes, daniel's race engineer would've been stabbed by now. you watched on the screen as the cameras covered movement in the car, and daniel's voice echoed through the radios seconds later.

"i'm okay, car's fine."

you take a breath, gripping on to whatever you could to steady yourself. its more than a hot minute before daniel's car rolls into the garage, semi wrecked, and you're speechless as your eyes fixate on the australian. you watch as he climbs out of the car, going over to his race engineer, then michael; minutes feel like hours as you watched him talk, your eyes never leaving him. he scans the garage after his conversation, and he spots you.

no words shared, everything floating in both your minds as you lunged towards each other. he relaxes in your arms and so do you, nuzzling your head into the crook of his neck.

"fuck, i love you danny. i'm so glad you're okay."

he chuckles, and you can feel it vibrate through his body.

"i fucking love you too, y/n."

taglist: @primadonnasdream @dr3lover @chicadelapartamento512-blog @thebagginsofbaggend @d0ntjudgemy50shades @cowspew @justthatgirlxox @ggaslyp1 @fromthedeskofjoii @lorenakaspersen @words-4u @o0itsjustme0o @gulsolsikke @enjoymyloves @rmaddens-blog @care2703 @katcontrreras @tattered-tales @piceous21​ @kyomihann @sgkophie @idkiwantchocolate @ricc3rodeo @organasith @anthonykatebridgerton @icecoldtires @vamossainz55 @ophcelia @dudde-44 @ladyf1 @kissatelier @leclerc16s @nmw-am @dan3avocado @ally4and33 @amsofftrack

[ggensblog]

Okay i loved your James fic, now get them back together :) my heart cant take this :)

ok so I thought this would happen so I had something on the back burner for a type of resolution type scenario. I don't have the energy to type it out right now so here are some head canons or like bullet points-

read the original; over-the-ocean call | j.p.

-years pass and after you graduate from the university you were attending your mom wants you to come back and move in with her.

-when you get back you're greeted by your mother and she's just kind of updating you on everything that has been going on recently- lily's doing well, the marauders are doing well etc.

-you get to your house and there's a surprise 'welcome back' party with all of your closest friends from Hogwarts.

-lily is like 'oh my gosh it is amazing to see you again'

-lots of hugs

-James isn't there. he is in his own apartment. he got an invitation but wasn't sure if you'd want to see him after all of this time and with the way things ended- which wasn't necessarily bad, but instead was guaranteed to make things awkward between the two of you.

-the party is fun and everything but you can't help but miss James's presence, he was always the life of every party you went to and even though it had been years since your break up and years since you've even seen him- you still found yourself looking for him or waiting for him to walk into your mother's home.

-the next couple weeks go by where you're just kind of getting back into the swing of things. one night you go out to a pub with lily and the marauders end up being there at the same time. lily claims she had no idea they would be there but she totally did.

-you and James run into each other while getting drinks and it's just as awkward as you would have expected. lots of 'so how have things been' and whatnot.

-eventually the two of you agree to get coffee sometime when you're both free.

-on said coffee date meeting you both just kind of catch up on everything you've been doing. you talk about how all of the work you were doing in your first year in America paid off and you were able to graduate from the university with an honors degree. James talks about how he sustained an injury during a quidditch tournament that forced him into retirement so now he's a personal nutritionist for a couple other quidditch players.

-you end up talking about your relationship and how you weren't a fan of how things ended. James expresses the same opinion on how you both were young and maybe not even ready for a long distance relationship quite yet. you agree.

-James says something along the lines of 'if I had to do it all over again- I wouldn't have let you go as easily.'

-swoon !

-you both agree to get dinner later int he week

-over time you both kind of settle into a routine of seeing each other on a regular basis and after a month or two James finally asks you out on a proper date.

-you agree.

-after that it was like two puzzle pieces were finally fit together after years of being apart. it's natural- your relationship. remus, sirius, lily and all of your friends are relieved that the two of you reconciled.

-and the rest is history

I hope that is a satisfying enough ending lmao- definitely a quick little thing I wrote in 10 minutes. anyway- I feel like most of my inspiration comes from songs I'm listening to so I am sure y'all can expect more 'songfics' in the future. but if you have any ideas or requests I would love to hear them.

[bookgeekgrrl]

My media this week (28 Apr - 4 May 2024)

📚 STUFF I READ 📚

😍 Bound by Contract (BootsnBlossoms & Kryptaria) - 135K, 00Q00 - pt 2 of The Marketplace AU with Bond & Q figuring out how their relationship works for them and how Alec fits all while doing semi-canonical spy shit. Such a huge fan of this series.

😍 Out of the Dead Lands (orphan_account) - "Someone is building machines that look and act like people. Meanwhile, the Winter Soldier tries to be Bucky Barnes." - 62K, stucky, very angsty with a happy ending, robots, identity porn (of a sort) - SO GOOD! (thank you, unknown author, for orphaning your work instead of deleting it.)

💖💖 +207K of shorter fic so shout out to these I really loved 💖💖

February (xoxobuckybarnes) - MCU: stucky, 5K - Steve and Bucky celebrate Valentine's Day in Wakanda

if the bad times are coming let 'em come (suzukiblu) - MCU: shrinkyclinks, 9K - accidental interdimensional swap puts still recovering WS into 1940s with pre-serum Steve

Maybe Our Kind Don't Fit Round Here (Rainne) - MCU: shrunkyclunks, 5K - companion fic to above - 1940s pre-war Bucky with modern Steve

📺 STUFF I WATCHED 📺

Um, Actually - s1, e21-32

Royal Pains - s8, e1-8

Ghosts (US) - s3, e10

The Brokenwood Mysteries - s10, e1

D20: Fantasy High: Junior Year - "The Name" (s21, e17)

D20: Adventuring Party - "Five Years in the Making" (s16, e17)

Dead Boy Detectives - s1, e4-8

🎧 PODCASTS 🎧

⭐ Lost Notes - S1 Ep. 1: Louie Louie: The Strange Journey of the Dirtiest Song Never Written

Dinner’s on Me - Niecy Nash-Betts

Under the Influence - Ham on Wry: Sandwich Board Advertising

Under the Influence - Cars Are The Stars: Automobile Brands in Hollywood

⭐ Lost Notes - The True Story of ‘Tainted Love’

Worlds Beyond Number: Fireside - [One Shot] SPACE CRAM: Reasonable Hoop Dreams - "The Menlo County Summer League 3X3"

Pop Culture Happy Hour - Dead Boy Detectives

Homophilia - LOL LOL OMG LOL with Steve Yockey

WikiHole - Virginia (with Lauren Lapkus, Naomi Ekperigin and Mary Holland)

Switched on Pop - Best of 2024 so far: hip hop feuds, Hozier’s pop surprise and espresso shots

Pop Culture Happy Hour - Summer Guide

The Atlas Obscura Podcast - Old Cahawba

Wild Card - Jenny Slate turns fear inside out

It's Been a Minute - How Chicago's Black press shaped America

Consider This - Judi Dench reflects on a career built around Shakespeare

Shedunnit - The Murder on the Links

Vibe Check - Every Girl Has A Good Gay

⭐ 99% Invisible #580 - Mr Yuk

Today, Explained - One Flu Over The Cowcow’s Nest

The Atlas Obscura Podcast - Checking Into Hotel Imperial with Deborah Cohen

Pop Culture Happy Hour - The Idea Of You

Throughline - The 4th Amendment: Search and Seizure

⭐ If Books Could Kill - "Going Infinite": Michael Lewis Takes On Sam Bankman-Fried

⭐ You Are Good - My Own Private Idaho w. Cecil Baldwin

Dear Prudence - My Brother Is a Budding Alex Jones. Help!

⭐ Endless Thread - Episodes We Love: Doom Jelly

Pop Culture Happy Hour - The Fall Guy And What's Making Us Happy

Re: Dracula - May 3: Your Friend, Dracula

It's Been a Minute - An inside look at the campus protests; plus, Israel at Eurovision

Armchair Expert - Chris Pine

Re: Dracula - May 4: The Eve of St. George's Day

Today, Explained - The tourist tax

Welcome to Night Vale #247 - Rerun

🎶 MUSIC 🎶

The Who

Dua Lipa

Back to the Yacht

Endless R&B Throwbacks

Hozier

[ms-moonlight-inn]

Weekly Tag Wednesday (V-Day Edition) Sunday

Hey, here I am, late again. 😁 So this week’s tag game I was tagged by my lovelies @jrooc & @lingy910y

name: Late For Dinner

where the heck are ya? The armpit of America aka upper New England

do you believe in love at first sight? So yes, I believe it's possible, but highly improbable. I believe that deep connection can be felt immediately, but that's the kind of shit that needs to be built upon.

do you believe in soulmates? Okay, kinda yes, but again that's the kind of thing that needs to be built up.

what’s a song you’ve been loving?

Can't get this shit out of my head lately.

how about a show you’ve been loving?

Will Trent

your ultimate otp: Gallavich

your comfort book: I recently finished reading Boyfriend Material, so that's been on my mind lately. I think a lot about books that I've read in the past, but the only one I've ever reread a lot was RWRB.

a fan work you adore (fic, art, manip, etc — tag the creator!): Gosh, recently I've been thinking about JQ's "In Real Life" a lot. It's a quirky little story that did not get the attention it deserves, unfortunately. And I'm obsessed with the way she ended it. Its final chapter is a social media post!

a trope that captures your heart: hurt/comfort, especially when it's emotional hurt 🥺

favorite candy: favorites are lemon heads candies, but really anything sour is good. 🍋

dark chocolate or white chocolate? neither

romance novels or thrillers? Both. Sometimes at the same time 😆

pink or red? I like hot pink and black as a combination. And then red sometimes, too. I guess that's to say that I don't have a strong preference either way.

and finally, spread some love! share words of encouragement, a positive message, or say something kind to yourself—it’s up to you!

🫶

***

I'm late on this one so not tagging anybody. If anyone wants to join in, feel free!

[hellfirecvnt]

Don't Piss me Off (Pt. 2)

John Q. (Simon) X Fem!Reader

Warnings: Smut, oral (female receiving), "public" sex, unprotected sex (don't do that), poor life choices.

Summary: You still can't stand sticking around your parents for too long, but you stay in town for a while longer just to see him play. PART ONE IS HERE!!

Notes: I love him. I'm gonna write a million versions of the same story I stg. I didn't proof read. I got like 6 ideas at once and they're all getting written at the same time.

In the basement of a warehouse you'd assume abandoned, Simon and his band consisting of a handful of less ill-tempered, but just as dirty and dead-looking men set up for their performance. They're all spitting insults at each other as they scramble to plug in each meticulous piece of shoddy equipment they've acquired.

Simon's preoccupied. Clearly stuck on the thought of you. He realized hours ago that he never told you about the show tonight. He's wrapping the wire of the mic around his fist when he overhears the stagehands. "I didn't make it to Y/N's last party, I figured there would at least be one more before she bolted."

"She went back home?" Simon interrupts.

"Yeah, man. She left today, I'm pretty sure." The stagehands hoist a large amp to its spot, leaving Simon in the silence of realizing you two have no way of contacting each other. That's it. He shrugs his shoulders, brushing off any disappointment, as he's used to things falling through. Nothing's special to someone like him, or that's what he tells himself. He reaches into his back pocket and reveals a pair of underwear that had gotten tangled with his clothes when you did his laundry. He chuckles at the thought of how he would've made you think he stole them on purpose. He stuffs them back into his pocket and gets ready to perform as people start piling in the small venue.

You're nearly flooring it back to that gas station. Once inside, you leap over the counter and snatch the poster from the wall. "God damn! You could've just asked for the fucking flyer, man!" The cashier exclaims, certain you were attempting to rob the store.

"I don't have time!" You yell behind you as you sprint out the door. "Old fuckin' Mill building? Where the fuck is that?" You mumble to yourself, frustrated. You read that Psyops isn't set to play for another 30 minutes, so you speed around town to every old and decrepit site you can find. Four failures before you find the warehouse hosting the show tonight. "Finally!" You slam the van in park before bolting to the door.

"It's $10 to get in," a nonchalant man at the door huffs. You shove the money into his hand and he opens the large, black, graffitied door behind him. You're not shy in a crowd, so when you hear the boisterous speakers blasting the sound of guitar riffs through the building, you start shoving. The vibration sends the decently sized crowd into a wave of cheers and you finally make your way toward the front. You can hear a voice over the speakers, Simon. It's hard to make out what he's saying, but once the song starts, the crowd starts moving.

You're being jostled around for most of the set. Song after song, you try to force yourself to the front, but to no avail. Finally, once Simon takes one step off the slightly raised platform on which they're performing, you can reach him. His grip is white-knuckled around the microphone, now's your chance. You lunge forward and wrap a hand around the mic, pulling yourself forward. Confused and annoyed by the sudden tugging, Simon pulls back, effectively breaking through the wall of people blocking you. The moment your eyes meet his, under his ski mask, he grins. In the moment bringing you before him, he'd missed a few bars of the song, but effortlessly picks back up once you're front and center.

It feels like his eyes are locked on you for the rest of their set. You hate to admit it, but it's a hell of a show. The energy of the crowd, their presence on stage. No wonder Simon feels so strongly about it. He's a different person when he's John Q. An alias you found out about when you were seniors, and you hoped staying quiet about it would've shown him you weren't the snitch, but instead it took a coke bender several, several years later. Plus, he wasn't much less of a loser than you were. Who fucking cared back then that he has a stage name?

After Psyops' set, you and Simon slip outside for a smoke. Riled up from the show, he's too abuzz to make sure his face matches the angry stare he usually wears. "Someone said you were headed home already, didn't think I'd see you at a show any time soon," he says, lighting a cigarette.

"Said I would," you echo his words from his promise to back you up next time you got yourself into an altercation. "Can't let fucking John Q. be more trustworthy than me." Simon laughs at the mention of his stage persona. "I like the mask, though."

"Oh, yeah? That do somethin' for you?" He teases, reaching into his pocket for the mask, but pulling out a different wad of fabric. "Oops," he laughs, dangling your panties in front of you.

"Is that my fuckin' underwear, you god damn pervert?" You curl your lip, put off by the invasive behavior.

"They might be yours, I don't know. I get a lot pussy." Simon smirks with his eyes darkened on you.

"Jesus Christ, what the fuck-" you're ready to lay into him, too violated to make any excuses despite how attractive he looks with messy hair and drying sweat.

"Calm the fuck down, they got mixed up with my shit when you washed my clothes at your house," he laughs. You roll your eyes and jump to grab them, but he's too quick. You miss the swipe and are now a great deal closer to him. "I'm gonna hold on to these," he says with a low voice as he scoops you against him with a hand placed on the small of your back. A second passes like an eternity and the two of you lock lips as he stuffs your underwear into his pocket again, allowing some of the silk and lace detail to hang out. As the kiss deepens, his hands move down your body, to your thighs before he grips your ass roughly. Soft moans escape against his lips as he gropes various parts of your curves.

"Do you know how worked up you get me?" He whispers between the press of your kiss. "Thought you left before I could get a taste." He reaches for your eyelet belt, but you stop him.

"Someone's gonna see us."

"Call it an encore," he mumbles before going back at your belt, but you swat him away again.

"At least take me around back, dumbass." You grab a fistful of his shirt and nearly drag him around the corner. It's dark and concealed from any passerby. He lifts you up onto a pad-mounted transformer and wraps your legs around him, still moving his head in sync with yours as each of your tongues explore each other's mouths.

"I guess I was kind of a prick to you back in the day, huh?" He whispers, running his hand through your hair.

"You were an angry piece of shit, yeah. We fuckin' or having a breakthrough?"

"Shut the fuck up for a second," he snaps. "I'm trying to apologize." He slips your denim shorts off your legs and all but falls to his knees in front of the large metal, green box you're sat on. His nimble index finger hooks around your thong and pulls it to the side. You barely have time to process what his "apology" will be before he plunges his head between your thighs. You fight to stifle a surprised moan as he conducts his skillful movements against your sensitive skin.

"Simon, oh, my God!" You whine, arching your back against the friction. He laughs against your skin sending waves of vibrations through your legs. One of his hands is occupied holding your panties to the side, the other is hooked around your hip, holding you securely in place as he meticulously works you over the edge.

"You want me to stop?" He asks, lips framed with drenched facial hair.

"No! No, I-" he cuts off your plea, resuming his position.

"Then stop fighting me," he snaps, harshly pinning you to the metal with the hand he had hooked on your hip. The stimulation quickly builds up, becoming too much, too quickly. You throw your head back and tangle a fist in his hair as he guides you through the high. Your legs shake and threaten to close around him, but his grip is too strong. You remain exactly where he wants you until you've ridden out your orgasm. You're slumped back on your elbows with your head down, breathing heavily as you return to reality.

Simon towers over you where you lay, staring down at you with his dark-circled eyes. You look up and watch him teasingly wipe his mouth, licking his lips like you're the first thing he's devoured in months. He slips your shorts halfway up your legs for you, leaving the rest of the work for whenever you can feel your legs again. "Um," you sigh. "Apology accepted."

"Tits."

"Is 'tits' good?" You furrow your eyebrows. He sighs, rolling his eyes and shaking his head.

"You're leaving tonight, huh?" Simon lights a cigarette.

"Well... That's the plan." You feel a pit in your stomach when you think about going back home. The place is nice, it's far away. It's what you wanted, but life is full and meaningless. You don't have friends out there, it didn't strike you how hard it'd be to meet people in your mid 20s.

"You don't sound so sure about that plan, Y/N." He exhales a cloud that illuminates under the street lamp's orange glow.

"It's boring out there, but it's quiet. It's peaceful. My parents aren't in my ear telling me trying something new could kill me." You shrug.

"That's why you're running? Because of your frigid bitch mom and dad?" Simon laughs as if it's the funniest thing he's ever heard.

"Okay, well. You know, maybe don't call them that or I'll lay you the fuck out, but yeah." You stand and fasten your shorts and belt, knees still threatening to buckle. "You had a hand in me leaving too."

"I know, I apologized!" He gestures to your trembling legs and you laugh.

"Yeah, yeah," you wave your hand at him. "Where'd you go? I was in town for weeks. I thought you were in the pin."

"I didn't want to overstay my welcome," he chuckles. "Or watch another fuckin' 80s movie with the volume on ten." He turns to look at you and he smirks.

"Well, my parents are in town now. I still have the rest of this week off. I was gonna spend it getting unpacked, but-"

"Fuck that. Let's go, you're driving." He walks off around the building toward the parking lot and you're dumbfounded for a moment.

"Of course I'm driving, it's my van!" You scramble after him. He hops in your passenger seat and you pull out of the lot, leaving his disgruntled band mates to pack up their own equipment. "You're not gonna help them?"

"What for? My shit's in the van. It's a microphone."

"Yeesh, sorry. Forgot you're actually kind of the worst when your head's not between my legs," you tease and Simon can't suppress a smile. As you cruise down the dark road, bright blue lights ignite in your mirrors. "Fuck. Get it the back." Simon wastes no time, he throws himself in the spacious rear area of the van as you pull over. You both wait anxiously for the cop to approach the window. Everything feels silent, until you finally hear the footsteps.

"I'm gonna run," Simon whispers, hand on the rear door latch.

"Don't." You demand sharply, rolling down your window for the cop. The air feels still and tight. It seems like it takes hours for the cop to speak, but when he does it's a routine traffic stop. He asks you if you knew how fast you were going and you innocently explain the floating nature of your speedometer. The officer laughs when he reads your ID and sees your last name.

"You're Frank's kid, right?"

"Yeah, his one and only." You beam, proudly. Happy to name drop your wealthy family.

"You just try to slow it down and tell your dad I said hello, alright?" The cop taps your door twice and sends you on your way. As you pull off, Simon peeks out from under the blankets and sighs with relief.

"Holy shit, with the way this thing looks, you should've been strip searched." Simon tosses himself back into the passenger seat.

"Don't shit-talk my van," you hiss. Simon proceeds to tell you where to go, each turn and shortcut, until you reach a large white house, almost as status defining as your parents'.

"My parents are out of town." He points to a concealed area to park and leads you to a basement door. He fights with a key for a moment before leading you inside. It's a messy basement room with red walls and posters from ceiling to floor. Instruments take up most of the space, aside from the bed.

"Do you avoid your parents like me, or do your parents avoid you?" You ask, bluntly, not considering the weight of that question.

"Both, I guess." He says after a long pause.

"You... Wanna smoke?" You ask, unsure how to navigate the silence.

"Can't. Fucks with my motivation," he grins. You shrug, rolling and smoking a joint by yourself while Simon works on some songs. He's got an ear for every instrument in his room, and he layers them over each other, creating complex instrumentals. It's nice to listen to while you lie on his bed and watch the swirling tendrils of smoke twist into the light and air above you.

"It sounds nice," you hum, settling into the cozy divot in the center of his mattress-on-the-floor.

"Write something for it," he commands, tossing a notepad and pen at you.

"Like lyrics? Why?" You stare at the blank page, unable to read the layers and layers of writing indented into it from Simon's heavy, angry hand.

"You need an out, I'm giving you one." He leans back in the rolling chair he resides in, staring me down like a hawk.

"I don't think I'm a very musical person. I think I'm more of a doodler, really," you argue, scribbling in the corner of the paper.

"Just fuckin' write something down and stop being a pussy." He snatches the pen from you and tosses it onto the pad.

"Bitch- How does that make me a pussy?" Your eyes narrow at him.

"It'd be too vulnerable. You're no tougher than that kid you were in high school. It's all fake now." It's clear he's taunting you. Making a fair attempt at reverse psychology.

"Fuck you, give me a minute," you huff, writing a line or two to start with. "Play your shit again." And he does. Restarting the instrumental he put together just for you. After a while, you've written something and you sling the notepad at Simon. He takes a moment to read through it a few times, almost trying to decode the melody of how I'd sang it in my head.

"Perfect. Now sing it." He nods toward his microphone stand.

"Fuck's sake, dude. Are you serious?" You whine, pushed further and further out of your comfort zone.

"Come on, let's see what you got," he says in a tone that lets me know I've already lost the argument.

"It doesn't feel good to be vulnerable to you."

"Tough it out." You roll your eyes at his demand, but you do it. You tough it out and recite your song over the music he provided. He hits 'restart,' and then 'record,' and then he points to you. After a measure you begin to sing. Low effort, but still angelic. Your song is about the feeling of being homesick no matter where you end up. It's about running and putting up a face as a defense mechanism. It's about wearing a mask.

When you're done singing and the music fades out, Simon slides the headphones off his ears. "That... Was tits." He looks elated. Like a poor painter with a new pallet.

"Is 'tits' good?" You ask again, emphasizing the lack of answer last time you asked.

"Yeah, 'tits' is good." He grins. "That was good."

"Fuck you. Who's not vulnerable?" You curl your lip, clearly more moved by the challenge than the release he was offering. Simon just shakes his head.

"Let's mix it." He beelines for the computer and begins fine tuning the song. You're watching in awe of his quick skill at this craft. As if watching him play all those instruments wasn't impressive enough. The night grows older. Simon offers you your favorite party favor, but you're over it. So the two of you share a joint.

"You don't ever get tired of living in a circle?" You ask through a cloud of smoke.

"A fuckin' circle?" He looks at you.

"Just, still in this town, still avoiding your parents, still making music alone in your room."

"Fuck," he huffs, offended but acknowledging the truth in your words. "Do you ever get tired of running from it?"

"Touché." You bring the joint to your lips as you lie in his disheveled bed. His arm snaked around you ages ago, slowly pulling you closer and closer to him. Like he's worried you'll float away.

"If our only two options are run away or get sucked into this shit hole of a town, I think we're a little fucked, don't you?" He chuckles to himself.

"Maybe those aren't the only options. We just don't have all the answers yet. I don't think anyone does." Your voice is wistful and quiet. You can feel Simon's eyes on you, but you stare at his dark ceiling. He rolls his eyes at your corny words, but he knows you're right. "It's funny, because if I could run from the uncertainty too, I would." You giggle, aware of your vices and poor coping skills.

"Yeah, you would," Simon mocks.

"And you? You're just going to live with it? Sit right beside the discomfort and accept that for yourself? Have you ever tried to give yourself more, even if it meant running?" You're slowly building up a sense of passion behind your words and Simon just listens, staring deeply into your eyes as you speak. Suddenly, you're cut off when he wraps a hand around the back of your head and pulls you into a kiss. His lips crash into yours and the two of you melt into each other.

You can't even remember what you were saying, you just know you don't want to stop touching him. The heat of the kiss begins to swell as Simon's hands trail up and down your body. He's grabbing at you in a specific order, like he's been waiting to get his hands on it. Really get his hands on it. You grasp at the hem of his shirt, tugging in semblance to take it the fuck off, and he does.

His broad, pale chest rises and falls with anticipation as you strip off the same article of clothing. "Jesus Christ," he moans, pulling you to him to shove his face directly between your breasts. He breathes deeply, taking you in. With one swift motion, he's hoisted you on top of him, your legs straddling his waist. Simon unfastens the button on your jeans before tossing you to the side to undress you.

You're both naked and greatly anticipating the next moment your skin will touch. Seconds feel like hours until you're pressed against each other again. Simon buries his face in the crook of your neck as he guides his throbbing erection to your entrance. You're squirming and arching beneath him, and he releases a breathy laugh as he watches you writhe. "You're aching for it," he groans.

"Fuck you," you hiss, pulling him closer to you by his shoulders. All he does is chuckle before slowly slipping inside you. You moan loudly as you adjust to his size. Something about a lanky, dead-eyed man. His pace is steady as he rocks his hips against yours, picking up speed as you gush around him. Soon his thrusts are hard and rough, and your loud, vulgar moans echo off his bedroom walls.

"God, you're so fuckin' tight," he huffs, pulling out of you and tossing you aside. Simon quickly repositions you in front of him, on all fours. You let your back arch naturally, putting on a bit of a show for him as he watches you. His eyes are darkened and his smirk sends chills down your spine. You can't help but smile wide in excitement. With two round hands, he grabs your waist and positions you at the perfect height. His hands wander the soft flesh of your ass as you press up against him. "You drive me fucking crazy..." He sighs as he slips inside you.

Simon digs the tips of his fingers into your skin, pulling you against him with every violent thrust. You do everything you can to contort your body to give him more of you. He throws his head back, falling into a sloppy, unsteady pace. His breathing is wild and primal all the way up until the point of climax. You release a loud, fluttering moan as he fucks you through your high, quickly withdrawing to finish on your back and ass. You're both breathless for a while, the room is silent but for the sound of your lungs filling and deflating.

Simon climbs off the bed, but you're too fucked out to even raise your head up to watch where he's going. Moments later, he returns, towel in hand. He cleans you up and lands a hard smack on your right ass cheek. The sound is thunderous against the silence. You yelp and break into quiet chuckles.

Finally, you have the strength to roll over. You sit up against the mess of pillows that became a sort of headboard for his bed, feeling beautiful and bare before him. It's a nice feeling that you're not used to. Sure you've had your flings, but it's never occurred to you how quickly you tend to leave or cover up after. Not this time. You're both fully exposed and Simon's eyes drink you in, one last time before he speaks. "Don't go back." You stare at him for a long while, silent.

"I won't," you gasp, surprised by your own promise. As soon as the words leave your mouth, his lips are on yours. In the next few days, you quit your job and Simon rides with you to go back and get the most important of your shit. The rest goes with the trailer when you sell it. You don't run a single thing past your parents and you don't tell them you're coming back to town. It's a new sense of peace and adventure, though it feels like abandoning your old life.

After a month of van living, you and Simon get an apartment and constantly receive complaints about the noise, but nothing stops the music overflowing from your floor of the building. A new sense of bliss. It's comfortable now.

[pedrospaltas]

Caffeine Comfort

Plot: A simple and comforting story of how there is a man out there that consumes more caffeine than you do. How you become friends and your comfort person.

Set in winter of 2020 and the story will progress into current timeline.

No use of y/n.

Warnings: All the fluff, depiction of anxiety/panic attacks, consuming a unhealthy amount of caffeine.

This story is SMUT FREE, I respect those who write it, but I morally cannot do that to a real public figure. This is simply a comfort fic, to help my own anxieties and I do not mean to disrespect Pedro in anyway. I want to help those to envision, what he possibly could be like as your comfort person.

Disclaimer: I am not a writer, I make mistakes, please forgive any grammatical errors that may occur.

Part 1/4 (2.3k)

Every morning before you would stop by your local Starbucks to get a cup of coffee, it was your routine. The baristas all know you by name as you go to pick up the usual, iced americano, 5 shots. They always laugh at you when they go to make the drink, “How’s the hand tremors?” Someone asks and you simply laugh it off. Today was slightly different, you waltz in and made your order and as you were waiting the gentlemen behind you made his order, one of the baristas called over to you, “Hey! Someone is crazier then you are!” The others turned around from the bar to look at the cup, “6 shots…” you overheard one of them gasp. The customer paid for his order and walked over to the waiting area, the two of you made eye contact and he noticed your avengers shirt, “So who’s your favorite Avenger?” He laughs, since you had to wait for the coffee anyways, you entertain him, “Are we talking original 6 or everyone?” “Let’s start with OG 6”, you pucker your lips and thought about it, “I thought Hawkeye was really cool when I was in high school, then I really had the hots for Captain America” The guy in front of you ruffles his hair, “You a big marvel fan?”

“I dabble a bit in all the cinematic universes, Marvel, DC, Starwars.” He gives you a smirk, “Are you excited for the new Wonder Women movie coming out soon?”

Just then the barista hand you your drink and his. “Well then-“ he places to your cup to get your name, “- I gotta bounce, but I’ll see you around” You simply smile and wave him goodbye, he turns around and says “Life is good, but it could be better.” You didn’t understand what he meant and just laughed as you thought about how cute he was, absolute golden retriever energy.

The day passes at work and you go home, the night is just the same as every-other night. You get home prepare dinner, shower and heads to bed.

It’s been a few weeks since your first meeting with the coffee addict, you learned that his name is Pedro. Pedro said that he works nearby and needs his caffeine every day to function as a human being. Everyday you go to Starbucks, and everyday you run into Pedro, the conversations were awkward at first, he asked about your favorite roasts of coffee beans, and the maximum amount of caffeine you would ingest in a day. The more you interacted with him, the more you enjoyed his company, he emitted such a comforting energy. He would always clink your cups together and say, “Hope you don’t get a heart attack today!”

Today you went in expecting Pedro to be there, but he wasn’t. You didn’t understand why, but you were disappointed. Barista handed you your coffee and as you walked out the cafe, you noticed Pedro waving at you from across the street, you invoulnteemily smiled as wide as your cheeks would allow. He ran over to you as soon as the lights turned yellow, “Thought I was gonna miss you! I made it!” He wanted from the running. You smiled as you watched him catch his breath, “Yup, just me and my espresso” you shook the iced-coffee in his face.

“I uhm, I wanted to ask you, I have premiere tickets to Wonder Women 1984, would you ever be interested in joining me?” He straightens his back and slightly towers over you.

“Oh, I haven’t even seen the trailer yet, is it out already?” You furrow your eyebrows in confusion. “Don’t watch the trailer, it’ll, uhm- you can watch it start to finish without any anticipation, it’ll be great” He smiles while he rubs the back of his neck.

“Okay, when is it it? I may have work?”

“Next Monday evening, you mentioned you had Sunday/Mondays off once, I remember” He laughs proudly at the remark.

You pretended like you had a life outside of work, “I’ll have to check to see if I have plans already. I’ll tell you tomorrow when I see you.”

Pedros eyes glimmer at they look at you, “Sure, sounds good. I really hope you can join me!”

You give him a smile and a nod, you pointed towards the direction of your office hinting to him that you gotta leave for work. He nods, “Right, well, I’ll see you again, tomorrow morning!” He gives you a wave and you were off to the offices again.

Today at work a few guys at IT were caught talking about the WW premiere and how they couldn’t land tickets. “I was on the site at 11:59 last night and I made sure to refresh, but it was all sold out.” You thought about Pedros invite, but it had been so long since you’ve been out to see a movie, even before the whole pandemic, you just preferred staying at home. A part of you really wants to go just to get to know Pedro more and a part of you wants to stay home and just be a couch potato. You didn’t give it any more thought before returning back to work.

It was a absolutely horrible day at work, your client requested to have the proposal revised for the 4th time and marketing decided it was a good time to change up all of the store front promotional materials causing a mountain load of work to be done. You went home, showered and head straight to bed, you had a late lunch, you didn’t feel the need to eat dinner.

It felt like you had only closed your eyes 30 mins ago, but the blaring 7am alarm disturbed your ever so peaceful sleep. You knew that today was one those days where 1 coffee was never going to be enough.

After reaching the cafe you reached to open the doors when you felt a tap on your left shoulder, you turned to see no one, and the other side Pedro was crouched down trying to hide from you view, you giggled out loud when you saw him, “Good morning!” He greeted, “I’m too sleepy for it to be a good morning…” you groaned. Pedro grabbed the door and escorted you inside, “Nothing a little espresso can’t fix!” He cheered, inline, he stood in front of you and ordered, “2 of my usuals and 2 choco cookies please” he then turned over to you, “You won’t have the energy to fight over me buying you a coffee right?” You pouted and nodded as you followed him to the bar, he couldn’t help, but he fix a strand of rogue hair that is sticking up from the back of your head, “Did you not get any sleep last night?”, you shook your head, “I got my 8 hours in, I went home after a long day of OT and after showering, I passed out.”

Pedro nodded, “Hopefully you don’t have to OT today then, I don’t think you’ll survive even a half day” He laughed. You have him a look of agreement, “So about next Monday, would you be free?” He asked. Without filtering your thoughts you blurted, “Of course I am”, the barista handed him the coffees and cookies, “Amazing! That’s awesome, okay, uhm- do you use WhatsApp?” He handed you the coffee and you immediately took a sip and nodded to his question. He hands you his phone and gesture for you to input your number. You added yourself in and he hands you a cookie, “When I’m feeling like shit a nice warm cookie always helps, my sister used to bake these every week when we were living together.” Both of you took a bite out of the cookies and walked towards the exit, “Pedro I don’t want to go to work” you whined like a 10 year old child. “Eres tan linda…” (You’re so cute) you looked to him in confusion, “Huh? Your friend Linda is here?” You look around, “No it’s nothing” he laughs, “But you need to get to work, trust me, it’ll be fine, now that I have you on my phone, I’ll send you motivational memes, I promise!”

You slowly nod your head, “Fine, I’ll go to work…” He waves you goodbye and heads back into his car.

The entire day, at the top of every hour, Pedro sent a work related meme, of if them being GIFs from “The Office, but you honestly found them funny. [5 more hours to go] he texted you. [Longest 5 hours of my life] you responded.

The days leading up to Monday were stressful, you finished the pile of paper work that was sitting at your desk and before you knew it there was a new pile. Your short 5 minute interactions with Pedro were the only thing you looked forward to now.

Monday morning Pedro texts you,

[G morning I didn’t call since you’re probably still sleeping though it’s already 11am]

[Anyways, would you like me to pick you up or did you wanna meet up at the theatre? Movie starts at 4:30, I was thinking movie and dinner?]

You rub your eyes to get a better view of the phone screen.

[Hey P, just woke up lol]

[We can meet at the theatre, it’s only a few train stops away]

[Dinners good]

Pedro almost texted you back instantaneously. [Great, see you there!]

After snuggling in bed for another hour you got up to do some light cleaning and found yourself eating a bowl of cereal for lunch.

You then took a shower and got ready, light coverage make up, simple hair up-do, black tank-top, dark denims and to top it all off a brown leather jacket. You looked at the mountain of shoes you had piling up and decided to just pull on converses’, they honestly go with every look.

You pulled out your phone and texted Pedro [On my way!] and he simply replied with a thumbs up emoji.

You found Pedro by concessions, he was dressed in a similar leather jacket and had a baseball cap on, his arms were hugging a load of snacks. He held a giant bucket of popcorn, a bag of cotton candy, 3 types of choco lates and 2 drinks, when you were in earshot he shouted, “I didn’t know what you liked so uhm- I got one of everything” he had the look in his eyes like a lost puppy, you laughed out, “Oh Pedro, just popcorn would have been fine!” You took some of the load off his hands. “Wow, you look very different when you’re not in business casual attire” Pedro exclaimed as he lead the way to the theater. You give him a questioning side eye, “Good different of bad different?” He gave you another look from head to toe, “Good different, definitely good different”

When you got inside, the theatre started to pack with more viewers, you were busy enjoying the previews and enjoying the cotton candy when you noticed further sinking into his seat and lowering his hat. You gave him a look, he quickly responded, “I’m- uhm, just cold” You didn’t question him and continued to snack away.

The movie was staring and the house lights blacked out, Pedro finally lifted his cap to see the screen.

You noticed how similar Pedro looked to Maxwell Lord, you looked over to Pedro, he has a bit of a mustache/beard situation going, his hair was deep cocoa brown and he looks much younger and slimmer then Maxwell, no, you pinpointed to the fact that you were being delusional.

Then it happened. The line, “Life is good, but it could be better” the line Pedro said to you at the cafe where you first met. You looked over to him eyes-wide. He gave you an innocent smile. “Y- you’re…” Pedro placed his finger to your lip before you could finish the sentence.

You couldn’t ignore the fact that you were watching this movie with him and how he is bitterly in the movie. Your brain couldn’t focus on the dialogue anymore, your ears began to ring, your eyes are out of focus and your hands were getting sweaty.

Pedro notices that you were shaking in your seat, you had the look of impending fear in your eyes.

“Hey are you okay?”

That did it for you, after Pedro asked the question you felt a tsunami wave of anxiety wash over you and bolted out of the theatre, Pedro was quick to follow. People in the theatre quickly noticed, “Is that Pedro Pascal?” They murmured. He followed you to the fire exit stairwells, you had started hyperventilating and your face was red and felt burning hot. You gripped onto the railing like your life depended on it. Pedro placed a hand on your shoulder and pulled his cap off to place on your head, he knew the bright led lights above the ceiling would make you feel worse. “Hey, listen to my voice, just breathe. Breathe for me, okay.” He then mimicked deep breaths for you to follow, you slowly slump onto the side of the wall, your hands now vibrating. Pedro places his hand onto yours. “Breathe”

You closed your eyes and followed his breathing, after a few minutes everything was much calmer than it was before. “Feeling better?” You nodded. Pedro had the most guilty and remorseful look in his eyes right now. “I’m sorry, I wanted to surprise you, I- I- didn’t mean to- I’m so sorry” His voice sounded muffled to you, but in the moment you just wanted a hug, you wanted to feel grounded, “I wanted to tell you at the cafe, but I didn’t want to gloat so I didn’t day anything, and I-“ before he could finish his sentence you slipped both your arms under his and placed your head on his chest. For a moment the world had stopped spinning and the world was silent. Pedro wrapped you around his arms and breathed with you. A warm feeling crept into your chest, comfort.

[coqvttes]

oh my goodness I love this question!!! So, yes I do celebrate christmas my love thank you so much for asking <3

So here in Argentina (yes, I am an international fan, your fics reach all the way to South America) we have this sort of tradition to decorate the eight of december. It mostly exist as a christian tradition since is virgins mary day, so in her honor you decorate and prepare for his sons birth basically, and even though I’m not a christian anymore my parents are and honestly I don’t really mind. Anywayss, this friday I get to decorate the entire house and I’m soo excited. I love christmas in general, the food, the aesthetic, the movies, the overall vibes are so different than any other holiday. And here it’s actually summer right now, so after next weeks of finals I have summer vacations too. Still though, I actually hope to celebrate with snow one day, it would be so cool :,).

And also, fun fact, here we don’t celebrate Christmas Day itself, we actually celebrates Christmas Eve! Big dinner and all. What about you toots? Are you excited? I read you went to your family’s barn and found this cute childhood friend. As a delusional girly, I’m manifesting you get to experience childhood friends to lovers trope ☆*:.｡. (*^ω^*)

- (sorry for the long ask) sofi nonnie

ahhh what a beautiful tradition!! i love christmas so much too and im so excited too!! i honestly feel my happiest this time of year!

i just want to stay in bed and watch home alone with a cup of hot chocolate and marshmallows by the fire pleaseee and i’m so happy it snowed in the uk too especially after a hot summer.

sounds soo exciting!! have a wonderful time decorating sofi! i just put my christmas tree up with my family yesterday and ive spent so much money christmas shopping 😭😭 anything on ur wish list this year darling?

GIRLL IM MANIFESTING HARDD LIKE. it’s so cliche it’s just so meant to be pleaseee this would be the perfect christmas!! <333

no need to apologise i love long asks! xx

[guiltypleasurefandomface]

One of the worst spoiler warnings I ever read was in a fandom where one of the main characters died half way through the series. Let's call this character "Jane".

Everyone was already of the agreement that, cos half of the fandom were british fans and we were over 2 months behind America, that all important plot points were spoilers and therefore, should be warned for. Most people had the right idea. "Spoilers for S2:E3", "Spoilers for series 2", "Dont read if you're not up to episode 7".

One parficular Author tagged their fic, "Spoilers for Jane's death in episode 7".

Second to worst was when I was in the House MD fandom and someone put in the summary "Spoiler warning: Don't read if you haven't seen the episode where Wilson moves out of House's apartment".

Like, task accomplished... in the worst ways possible. Thanks.

And that's why I am currently avoiding Good Omens fic.

I can't remember what I had for dinner yesterday but it's these things that keep me awake at night.

[galactic-magick]

Hey dear! I really love your works on dmitri❤️

Can i request headcanons where: reader and dmitri living together in america (yeah I'm getting inspired by this post of yours) and some Hawkins dude discriminates against Dmitri for being Russian or the reader who has "a communist in their house", during their usual outing together. But the reader is immediately ready to take Dmitri's defense and give that dude a piece of their mind.

((so sorry in advance if I accidentally got the grammar of gender-neutral pronouns wrong, unfortunately English is not my native language))

First of all thank you so much! Glad to see I'm attracting other Dmitri fans to my blog haha!

This will basically be a part 2 to my first headcanon fic about him :)

Have a Stranger Things request? Read this!

you still haven't admitted your interest in each other officially, but there's definitely something there that you can both feel at this point

even though it's still unspoken, Dmitri really wants to do something for you to show you how thankful he is for everything you've done for him

so one day he offers to make dinner for you, suggesting he could make a family recipe from back in Russia

you enthusiastically except the kind offer and you both head to the store to get ingredients

some of the stuff he needs there isn't an exact equivalent to what's available there but you try to get the closest thing

he uses a lot of his native language when pointing to the ingredients on the shelves and mumbling to himself when recalling what he needs

unfortunately one of your nosy neighbors who also happens to be in the store overhears your conversation, you've noticed him watching you and Dmitri from his front porch whenever you're outside lately so it's not surprising he comes up to you

"I knew something was going on!" he exclaims. "Did you really think you could bring a commie into your house and nobody would notice?"

"Leave us alone, George," you roll your eyes and try to walk away.

"You're a traitor to our country. I don't want someone like him living anywhere near me,"

"Then move away," you give him a passive aggressive smile.

he keeps following you even when you try to get away, so you grab Dmitri's hand and turn back around.

"You know what?" you point a finger at your ridiculous neighbor. "You can shut your fucking mouth. Dmitri is one of the kindest men I have ever met in my life and I don't give a shit where he came from, and you shouldn't either. I know you're too much of a coward to actually report him anyway, so you're gonna leave us alone, got that? And maybe face the fact for once that your hatred for others makes you such a blinded asshole that you can't see how good the people you hate can be,"

he doesn't say a thing after that, and you storm off with Dmitri towards the checkout

Dmitri has probably never been as attracted to you as he is in that moment

his heart is warm because you stood up for him so ferociously

he wonders if he should tell you how he really feels tonight over dinner, but he’s still scared

your house has become a true home, and he doesn’t want to mess that up

he makes you the meal and you love it of course

but he still hasn’t properly thanked you for what you did

“You did not have to say all of that for me today,” he says. “I do appreciate it,”

You smile, “You’re very welcome. I’ve been waiting for a reason to go off on that guy anyway, he’s always been a jerk,”

“I do not understand why you have been so kind to me,”

“Oh, shush, Dmitri. I’m so happy I met you and you’re the best roommate I could ask for. There’s literally no reason for me to not like you or be kind to you,”

“So...you enjoy having me around?”

“I love having you around!” you take his hand across the table. “Do I not act like I do?”

“I just wanted to make sure before I...” his gaze bounces around your features.

“Before what-”

he then leans in and gives you a quick kiss, cutting off your question

he didn’t think he was going to make a move right then, but he just went for it

you gasp a bit, but it quickly turns into a grin

“Well if you keep doing that then I’m going to like having you around even more,”

letting out a sigh of relief from your positive reaction, he doesn’t hesitate to kiss you again and again

[dilemmaontwolegs]

*gasps* empty inbox? well we can’t have that! just wanted to say thanks for churning out fics the way that you do. you’re a machine and i love reading your work.

do you ever think bucky would be able to hide his life with the reader away from everyone else? (with the exception of steve and maybe sam bc, well he’s sam ofc he’s gonna find out). he tries his hardest to keep the two separate because he never wants to put you in danger with his work but one day he has to bring the 2 together (almost like a clint and laura in ultron type vibe).

if this sparks interest for a full fic i won’t mind but you could also answer with some short thoughts and i’d be more than thrilled xx

*fans face* too much, too much, you're gonna make me cry! I don't know how to do anything half measure so you have a full fic my sweets xx

Family First || Bucky

Warnings: 18+ only, nsfw, mentions of injuries, guns, violence, fluff WC: 2.1k

main masterlist || bucky masterlist || Part One || Part Two || Prequel Blurb

“Shh, sweetie, daddy will be home soon.” You cooed as your daughter cried for Bucky.

The ice pack on her ankle didn’t seem to be helping but at least the bandage on her knee had stopped the bleeding. You checked your phone once again, seeing he had read the message you sent and you cradled her head close to your chest. At least this latest injury wasn’t as bad as the time she broke her wrist falling out of a tree. You had to admit you didn’t handle that very well but it was the first serious injury your daughter had sustained. You had left a hysterical voicemail for him that really didn’t explain what had happened, only that you were rushing your daughter to hospital.

Bucky had charged in like he was about to face down a legion of aliens again, Steve and Sam right behind him. You weren’t sure who was more surprised, you at the fact he had brought friends from work or them at the fact he had a family. It was no secret being married to anyone in the Avengers was a risk but out of all of them, Bucky thought he had the biggest target because of who he used to be. After Bucky had seen that your daughter was safe, hurt but safe, he had introduced you to the men you had heard so much about and swore them to secrecy.

“You have a daughter?” Steve was still stunned at the revelation and his eyebrows were almost crushed together as the nurse had stepped out into the waiting area and called out her name.

“Sarah Barnes?”

Steve looked like he was going to cry when he realised Bucky had named her after his mom. They two men were still waiting there when she was released a few hours later with a bright pink cast covering her arm.

“Do you think Captain America and the Falcon could sign it, mommy?” She had asked, turning her bright blue eyes that she got from her father on you just like he did when he wanted you to say yes to something.

“Only if they want to.” You nodded with a small smile, leaning into your husband's embrace as you finally took a breath that the ordeal was over. “I’m sorry, I just freaked out.”

“It’s okay.” He had chuckled, rubbing soothing circles over your back. “I’m surprised we went this long without them finding out. I’m just glad you two are alright. When I heard you crying I thought…doesn’t matter, you’re both fine and that’s all that matters to me.”

You looked over at Sarah and saw she had climbed up onto the bench between Steve and Sam to regale the story that had led to her broken arm. You would not have thought that only three hours earlier she was a screaming mess and now she was anything but.

“Do you have to go back to work or do you want to invite them over for dinner?”

“If I have to eat another tv dinner I swear I’ll lose my mind.” Sam answered for them.

“I didn’t say you were invited.” Bucky shot back and you nudged your elbow into his ribs.

“You are both welcome to come. It’ll be nice to talk to someone who actually knows my husband exists and doesn’t think he is some fictitious character I made up.” You half joked and Sam gave you an odd look. “Parent teacher night last year. That really happened.”

His booming laugh filled the hallway and he held his hand up in apology to the nurses that looked his way disapprovingly before he clapped Bucky on the back. “Ouch, that has gotta hurt man.”

You were pulled from your thoughts as the sound of tyres crunching the gravel driveway filled the quiet countryside and up to the porch swing you were sitting on. You wiped away the latest tears that clung to Sarah’s eyelashes and pointed to the dust trail snaking up the hillside.

“See there’s daddy.” You smiled. “I told you he would come.”

Your smile faltered as you saw the reflection of the roof and realised it was black but Bucky’s SUV was silver. Not wanting to alarm her, you scooped her up and carried her inside. “That dust is going to get everywhere if I don’t shut the door.”

You placed her down on the couch and shut the front door, quietly bolting the locks in place and opened the coat closet to get the gun and burner phone that was hidden inside. You hit the only number that was programmed and it was answered on the first ring.

“Bucky, someone’s here.” You rushed as you peeked through the curtain beside the door.

“I need you and Sarah to go down to the basement. Lock yourself inside and don’t come out for anyone but me, Steve or Sam.” You had known him long enough to recognise his voice when he was scared, god knows you had held him through the nights when he cried and he had that same voice now.

“What’s going on baby?”

“Someone hacked us, they stole almost every piece of information on each of us.” He admitted and you heard metal groan as he put his vibranium fist through it. “I’m so fucking sorry, I think they know about you, about Sarah.”

You shoved the phone into the crook of your neck and shoved the gun down the back of your waistband before scooping up Sarah from the couch. “We are going to go treasure hunting downstairs ok sweetie.”

“That’s not daddy is it?” She asked as she heard the car doors slam closed and squealed.

“Daddy’s coming, Sarah.” Bucky called out as he heard his daughters panic but she couldn’t hear, even you could barely make out his words as the cell signal cut out the further down the stairs you descended. “I love you - so much. I’m on - way.”

“We love you too.”

You prayed he heard you before the call dropped and you put Sarah down roughly as you heard the front door slam, it would take all your strength to push shut the heavy reinforced steel door. Sarah cried as her ankle gave way beneath her and she fell to the ground but you had to focus on shutting the door, it was all there was between you and the men you could hear ransacking your home.

“It’s okay, sweetie, I know it's scary, mommy’s scared too.” You rasped as you held back your tears and brushed Sarah’s dark hair back from her face.

She was a prettier feminine image of Bucky and sometimes you thought the only thing she got from you was your clumsiness. Especially now, she bit her bottom lip to stop it from trembling and she hugged her arms around your neck as you sat in the corner, hidden by a barrier of moving boxes you had never ended up unpacking.

“It’s okay mommy, you don't have to be scared. Daddy’s going to save us from the bad men.”

There was not a single speck of doubt and you nodded your head, wishing you had the infallible hopes of a child but fear of reality kept grounding you with despair. It felt like hours but the phone showed it was only minutes later that the men descended the stairs and the loud rounds of gunfire rang out as they tried to shoot through the door. Sarah’s screams pierced your eardrums and you cradled her to your chest even tighter, wondering how long it would take for them to break through.

You were sitting ducks if they managed to get through and there were so many things you never got to say to Bucky. Dropping the useless burner phone, you pulled yours from your smartphone pocket and opened the voice recorder since it didn’t have any bars of signal either.

“Do you want to tell daddy how much you love him so we can play it for him when he gets here?” You asked as your voice broke at the lie and you hit the red record button.

“I can’t wait to see you bust in the door daddy! You’re going to kick their asses.” She growled proudly before you mouthed I love you. “I love you, daddy, you’re the bestest.”

“Mommy will be back in a minute.” You carefully moved her off you so that she was hidden behind the boxes and you walked to the opposite corner as you swallowed the lump in your throat and put the phone back up to your lips. “This is probably the worst time but I never thanked you. I know this is the worst case scenario you always feared and I wish I could see a way where we get out of this but…if this is it, I want you to know I don’t regret us. I know how guilty you feel and I know you will blame yourself but this was not your fault, baby, it was not your fault.

I knew the second I saw you in the market that you would change my life and I’m so glad you did, James. You gave me the world, you gave me your heart, you gave me a family. I-” You heard the door starting to groan and saw the hinges turning red as they torched their way through, panic gripping your last words and holding them hostage in your throat and you had to raise your voice over the sound of the blow torch. “I love you, so fucking much!”

“That’s a naughty word!”

You sobbed a laugh as you ended the recording and attached it to an email so that the moment your phone had signal it would complete its final mission to reach your husband. Tears blurred your vision as you pulled Sarah into your embrace and hummed the tune to hush little baby, just like you did when she was a baby.

Screams and gunfire broke out and you covered Sarah’s ears as her own cries added to the noise, her fear finally overriding the faith she had in her father. You could see the line of fire had almost completely made its way through the hinges on the door and the metal was groaning under the pressure of its weight pulling it down. Light broke through the room as the door gave way, the crash of it hitting the concrete floor threatening to blow your eardrums and it shook the foundations of the house.

“Sarah! Y/N!”

Sarah tore your hands away as she heard her dad’s voice and she tried to get up but you pulled her back down. “Wait! Wait for daddy to come to us, sweetie.”

You struggled to hold her still as she tried to run towards the voice that promised her safety but you didn’t know how many men stood between you and him. You pressed your lips to her forehead and begged her to stay silent until she finally quietened down. The gunfire was no longer constant and it was only every few breaths that one or two shots went off and you weren’t sure if that was good or bad.

Heavy footsteps descended the stairs and you heard a deeply relieved sigh before you caught sight of Bucky’s boots stepping into your line of sight. “DADDY!!!”

You let Sarah go as she jumped up, Bucky easily catching her and cradling her to his chest and he checked over her for any injuries, aside from the scrap of falling off her bike.

“Told you I would come for you babygirl.” He choked as he peppered her forehead with kisses. “Daddy’ll always come for his two best girls.”

You had sagged with relief at seeing him arrive and your eyes closed as you realised the terror was over. You opened your eyes as you felt movement and found Bucky sitting beside you and pulling you into his side so he could hug you both.

“I have some bad news.” He murmured quietly as he ran his hand up and down your arm and kissed your forehead.

“You got blood on the carpet.” You tried to joke but your voice failed to hold any humour.

“That too.” He said, the ghost of a smile tipping up at your attempt. “There’s some more people I want you to meet.”

“Who else came with you?” You asked, worried about even more people knowing but grateful for their help nonetheless. You watched him chew his lip and knew it was bad before he even answered.

“Everyone.”

Part Two/Parallel Story

taglist join form

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[ohtobeleah]

Roughing It // Sebastian Stan x Chris Evans

Summary: Sebastian begs you, his and Chris’s best friend to go camping, but not for the innocent reasons you might think. A simple camping trip turns into something much more unholy.

Warnings: Smut, 18+ graphic content not suitable for people under the age of 18+.

Word Count: 3.5k

Author Note: A rewrite of a fic I wrote for another fandom a few years ago. Nothing I’d consider too seriously written— just so smutty fun to get you guys going.

Curled up on Sebastian’s lounge, you settled on a comfort movie—Captain America, The Winter Soldier. Your clammy hand caressing the TV remote as you pressed play, the title sending chills through your body as you watched both Sebastian and Chris appear on the large crisp screen. To say you were nervous was an understatement, you couldn’t help but feel your heart rate escalate as you watched on, maybe it wasn’t the best idea to distract yourself with the two men you’d just had the roughest sex in your life with, no pun intended.

It all happened so fast, you couldn’t remember exactly how it started but the one thing you knew for sure was that Sebastian was the one who imitated it.

“God! Clarie! you complain more than Chris does, could you stop for maybe, like five minutes before I physically make you myself?” Sebastian huffed as he played with the fire, poking at it with a stick as he watched the members fly into the dark sky. You scoffed, cleaning the bowls from the delightful dinner of canned soup and vegetables.

“Bite my fucking ass, Seb, you couldn’t shut me up even if you wanted to, besides, maybe if you didn’t try to feed me cold inedible canned soup for dinner I wouldn’t be in such a pissy mood!”

“You haven’t stopped the entire day!” Sebastian felt his emotions running rampant after an exhausting day or setting up for the trip the three of you had been planning for weeks. Aligning your work commitments to spend a few days in the wilderness, off the grid and away from prying eyes. Pinching the bridge of his nose between his thumb and index finger, Sebastian couldn’t help but to raise his voice at you, standing up from his seat by the fire as he marched over to where you were washing the used pots and pans out “I’ve got a fucking headache from your incessant complaining.” Seething, Sebastian towered over you from behind. His cascading build blocking the soft light of the moon. Watching as you shrugged him off with a simple eye roll.

“Then fucking leave me alone then!? God, it’s like you didn’t beg me to come with you guys even though you damn well know I hate everything! associated with camping, it's like you wanted me to fucking bitch and moan your ear off? You shou…” before you could finish your sassy argument Sebastian's calloused hand wrapped around your jaw, covering your mouth as he pressed his chest against your back and held you securely against him by bringing his other arm around your waist. breathing heavily through your nose your eyes widened when you felt Sebastians hard on press against the small of your back, you couldn’t process what was happening fast enough.

“Maybe I needed an excuse to finally fuck that pretty mouth of yours, always find myself jerking off to the thought of your lips around me.” Sebastians warm breath fanned over your neck before his lips made soft contact against the juncture of your neck, a gentle kiss against your collarbone sent instant goosebumps over you like a title wave, a slight whimper escaping your lips and vibrating against Sebastian's hand.

“Yo Clarie, Seb? Try not to kill each other out there, please? And shut up I’m trying to sleep!” you heard Chris’s voice come from inside the small tent, already trying to go to sleep. Sebastian's hand instantly gripped around your mouth tighter.

“Don’t fuckin’ make a sound princess, we don’t want Chris finding you down on your knees in front of me now do you?” Sebastian questioned, he was waiting for your consent, if you wanted this as much as he did, he knew full well that if he took his hand away from you and you told him to fuck off, he would, but to his surprise, you never did. When Sebastian slowly but surely removed his hand from against your mouth – the first thing you did was nod, turning around to face Sebastian, you looked up at him through your eyelashes, drinking in the sight of him. Like a fine aged wine you couldn’t afford.

“How exactly were you planning to shut me up Stan?” biting your lip as your hands trailed up his body to wrap around the back of his neck. His eyes never left yours for a minute.

“Just thought I’d shove my dick down your throat” he laughed with a devilish smirk, completely serious yet joking at the same time. leaning in, you close the space between the two of you.

“Why’d you bring me out here? could’ve just asked me to suck you off in the comfort of your own bed?” you questioned, mirroring his actions by closing the gap, your lips now ghosting him as Sebastian smiled against you.

“Just” Sebastian paused, his arms wrapping around your waist. “Just didn’t wanna risk the neighbours putting in a noise complaint.” Giggling, you made the move to connect your lips against Sebastian’s. A heated, passion filled kiss had you both gripping at different parts of each other’s bodies as you walked back closer towards the tent, specifically the fallen tree in front of it.

Pushing Sebastian down, you dropped gracefully to your knees before him, already pulling at his sweats. Pulling them down his thick thighs to pool at his ankles, you noticed Sebastian wasn’t wearing any briefs. With a slight chuckle, you gripped his hardened length in your right hand, pumping his shaft a few times as you spoke. Slowly.

“Going commando something you do regularly Seb?” you teased before taking his tip in your mouth, rolling your tongue gently over his pink tip. The colour of his lips. Sensitive and begging for attention.

“N-nah, just somethin’, oh my god!” Sebastian moaned, too caught up in the pleasure you were giving him as you took him deeper down your throat, inch by inch, so far down your tiny throat, his manscaped pubic hair tickled the tip of your nose. “Clarie, fuckin’ Christ, where did you learn how t-to do t-this?” his voice was raspy and heavy as he tried to control his breathing. His hand making a makeshift ponytail with your hair as you bobbed up and down, gagging softly around his cock as it twitched and leaked pre-cum in your mouth. Watery eyes peering up at him. Pure heaven.

You took Sebastian's saliva coated cock from your mouth and pumped him with your hand, taking both his balls in your mouth softly, gliding your tongue gently over the sensitive skin.

“Fuck, f-uhh! Yess—Clarie, oh my god '' Sebastian wasn’t being discreet at all, his moans filling the campground and echoing off the mountains as you jerked his thick throbbing cock and sucked so delicately on his balls. In hindsight, it wasn’t the smartest idea to give Sebastian head right in front of the tent you both planned on sharing with Chris. It was needless to say—you’d fucked up.

As you went back to take Sebastian entire cock down your throat, you closed your eyes as they watered. Never stopping for a moment to see the familiar silhouette of Chris standing just behind Sebastian, watching on as his best friend gave some of the sloppiest head to his other best friend he’d ever seen.

The second Sebastian saw Chris, he tried shooing him off, mouthing “go away!” as he tried to hold his orgasm back.

“Uhh! Fuck Clarie, k-keep doin’ that and I’m going to cum down t-that pretty throat of yours” Sebastian confessed, his hand helping to guide your head down his shaft as you gaged and hummed around him. Chris’s eyes widened as he made himself scarce, shocked at the sight he just saw.

“That’s the point Seb, don’t hold back, flood my throat.” You looked up through your lashes, looked up to see Sebastian's flushed face as his mouth fell open into an O shape, his eyes trained on you as you went back to furiously sucking his cock, hard and fast, other hand fondling his balls, squeezing them slightly as his orgasm approached.

“Fuck! Shit, ahhh- Clarie m’cumming, fuck, fuck oh!” Sebastians orgasm washed over him. The pool at the base of his shaft he could feel building, ready to explode, shot deep down your throat in hot spirits as his cock twitched in your mouth. Sebastians entire body stilling as he fell victim to his orgasm, the intense wave of pleasure taking over him as he let out a prolonged moan. All consuming.

“Holy fuck.” Sebastian sighed heavily, catching his breath finally after coming down from his high, watching you swallow his entire load, licking his tip making sure nothing was left behind, that nothing was wasted.

“Did that live up to all those naughty thoughts?” you questioned as you sat back on your heels, watching as Sebastian pulled his sweatpants back up his tattooed legs.

“Oh” he exclaimed, a smile wide on his crimson face as his free hand worked to push back his slightly damp hair. “that exceeded everything I ever thought it would be like.” You nodded, proud of your efforts as you rose to your feet, standing between his legs as you wrapped your arms around his shoulders.

“Hope it doesn’t change anything between us?” you asked softly, leaning over to plant your lips against his, the slight taste of his cum still evident and present on your swollen lips. Tasting himself for the first time, Sebastian didn’t quite mind.

“That won’t change anything” he whispered into your open mouth, his forehead resting on yours as you maneuvered yourself down to straddle his waist. “But once I watch you suck Chris off while I fuck that tight cunt I know you’ve got might be a different story.” Before you could answer, you heard what sounded like Sebastian's metal water bottle falling to the ground from inside the tent.

“what!?” Chris shouted as you did the same, only softer yet just as confused.

“C’mon princess,” Sebastian smirked as he placed some on your freely flowing hair behind your ear. “Chris saw what you just did and I know he has the same twisted thoughts as me, s’not fair now is it?”

“I g-guess not” you answered before kissing Sebastian once more, your tongue dancing with his gracefully. Sebastian picked you up as you straddle his waist and walked over to the small two-man tent, dropping you to your feet at the door.

“Chris, man you have a total of five seconds to open this door before I change my mind on sharing.” As Sebastian spoke through the tent door, you began taking your jumper off, exposing your bare chest to him, his jaw hanging open when he noticed your perky tits.

“ooh fuck.” His voice low and full of lust. “maybe I shouldn’t be so keen on sharing you.” his hand coming to grip your right nipple between his index finger and thumb as Chris opened the door, already naked and hard as ever. a slight wince leaving your lips from the sudden pinch.

“I uh” Chris stuttered “I was already jerking off after I saw you take Sebastian balls deep in your throat.” Rubbing his hand through the back of his hair, cock hard against his lower abdomen as he crouched awkwardly.

Sebastian pulled hard against your nipple, making you walk closer to him before shoving you gently into the tent, a sinful smile upon your face as Chris automatically stumbled back, welcoming you into the tiny room.

“s’okay, Chris, I promise I won't bite unless you want me to” you teased, dropping to your knees while Chris worked quickly to lay down on his back, hands resting behind his head.

“I can't believe were fuckin’ doing this? This is crazy we shouldn’t I mean, c’mon Sebastian it's Clarie for fuck sake, she’s our be…. Oh holy shit” before Chris could finish his sudden opposition to the idea of the threesome, your hand wrapped tightly around the base of this shaft as your tongue ran up the thick vein that ran up his entire length. Your lips wrapped around his pink sensitive, pre-cum covered tip before you sunk lower and lower, taking every inch of his thick cock in your mouth.

Chris' tip was slightly darker than Sebastians, you didn’t need much time at all for your throat to adjust to the foreign object making its presence known in the back of your throat over and over again due to you just having just finished sucking the life from Sebastian.

You got to work in no time, gagging and roughly sucking up and down Chris’ entire shaft, watching through hooded eyes as Chris moaned and groaned uncontrollably from the pleasure he was receiving. You were between his legs as he reached out for your head, guiding you down his length. You felt Sebastian's hands come to the waistband of your sweatpants, pulling them down as your mouth continued to bob up and down on Chris’s cock.

“huh?'' Sebastian scoffed as he bit hard on his bottom lip. “Going commando something you do regularly, Clarie?” he teased, his hands sliding up and over your peachy ass as it stuck up in the air, ready for his length to slide in your drenched cunt. Smiling around Chris’s cock you gaged slightly. Pumping Chris’s shaft with your hand as you went to answer Sebastian, feeling his tip gliding over your dripping lips from behind.

“Nah, just something—“ you began to mimic before you felt Sebastian push himself between your slick folds. Thrusting his thick cock inside you, slowly, he stretched your tight pussy out so much so it almost stung. “ahhh fuck!” you cried around Chris’s cock now balls deep down your throat. It was a position you never thought you’d find yourself in. Sucking Chris’s cock while Sebastian took you from behind, taking both your boys at the same time.

“You like this Clarie? like how we both fuck you?“ Sebastian asked as he bottomed out inside your tight cunt, feeling you clench around the bottom of his cock, tip pressed against your cervix. Chris roughly pulling you up by your hair, watching as spit trailed from your bottom lip to his swollen tip. With a needy gasp, you looked up at him.

“Answer the question Clarie, do you like the way we both fuck you?” Chris’s voice had turned into a low deep growl, his eyes dark and full of lust unlike moments ago when he almost backed out, unsure of the decision he made to fuck his best friend. As Sebastian's hands gripped your hips and began to thrust faster in and out of you, you moaned.

“Uh, uh huh, l-love the way y-you both feel ohh—god Sebastian your so big, fuck me—!” hearing you moan how big his cock is, Sebastian began to fuck you harder, with more force. Chris forced your head back down onto his cock, both his hands guiding your head up and down using your hair.

“You weren’t fucking wrong man, her mouths so damn good.” Chris’s hips beginning to lift off the ground as he fucked your mouth. Stopping every few minutes to pull you off him just so he can look at how pretty your fucked face looked.

“W-wait till you feel her tight cunt, f-fuck so tight its almost hard to move.” Sebastian was relentlessly pounding into you, his balls slapping against you as he pulled you back to meet his every thrust.

“Seb! please m’gonna cum!” you cried, the coil within your stomach tightening every time his tip pressed against your cervix. Chris sat up, his hand flying to your mouth as he shoved three of his digits inside your mouth, opening your jaw wide before leaning in close to you.

“That’s it Claire, cum around Seb’s cock so I can fuck you harder, fuck you till you black out, fuck you till your begging for me to stop, wanna feel how tight your cunt is.”

“Chris, choke her when she cums!” Sebastian ordered, wrapping his hand around the front of you to rub his fingers over your sensitive bundle of nerves, an instantaneous quiver leaving your throat as his finger made contact, Chris never for a second removing his fingers from your mouth as his other hand wrapped tightly around your throat.

“Ahh! F-fuck, m’cumming!” you whimpered around Chris’s digits, your pussy clenching so tightly around Sebastian's slicked up cock.

“Ahh fuck Chris, man, holy fuck she’s like a vice!” Sebastian groaned as he fucked you hard through your high. “she’s creaming around my dick, fuck—”

Chris began to fuck your face with his fingers, making you gag on them as your eyes rolled into the back of your head, trembling as you came hard around Sebastians cock. Once he saw you coming down from your high, Chris removed his hand from around your throat, watching with wide eyes as you gasped heavily for air, tears running down your face. His fingers were next.

“Seb let me fuck her cunt man—“ Chris asked desperately, pumping his cock fast as he waited for Sebastian to pull out and share. He gripped your chin, squashing your lips together before spitting into your mouth, rubbing your bottom lip with his thumb.

“Wanna ride my dick Claire?” Chris asked softly as you nodded with eagerness. Sebastian pulled out of you with a hard slap to your right ass cheek, causing you to let out a whine.

“Ah!” you hissed as the sting lingered well after Sebastians had removed his hand from your ass, crawling over Chris to straddle his waist, you maneuvered his length to a line up with your creaming entrance. Sebastian wasted no time in coming to stand above Chris, his cock throbbing, ready to explode yet again as he moved your hair to one side.

“Uhh fuck” you whined as you sunk onto Chris’s slightly thicker cock, his hands roaming your naked body as Sebastian pulled your mouth back onto his cock, needy for your mouth yet again.

“Holy fuck! Ah fuck, fuck, fuck, god you're so tight! So fuckin’ tight Clarie ride my dick, yes—!” Chris mumbled, continuously biting his bottom lip as he felt you bounce on his cock.

“Told you” Sebastian moaned from above, his hands holding onto both sides of your face as he bucked his hips softly into your throat, letting you do most of the work as he focused on chasing his second high of the night. “Slap her ass” and so Chris did, he slapped your ass over and over, harder every time you came down on his cock, the sting so deep you knew you’d have a reminder of the night the next morning.

“Fuck c-can I cum inside you? fuck please say yes?” Chris whimpered as you rode him, Sebastian taking his cock from your mouth before slapping it against your tongue.

“Answer him!” he hissed, so close to his seconded orgasm it was making his eyes water.

“Y-yes fuck, Chris! flood me, p-please!” you cried, completely exhausted and fucked out. Chris gripped at your hips before bending his knees, fucking up into you so hard and fast you fell forward into chris cock, deep throating him unexpectedly and bring him to his orgasm.

“Oh fuck fuck fuck!” Sebastian groaned, pulling his cock from your mouth and pulling your hair back, exposing your entire face in front of him as he pumped his throbbing cock in his hand, hot spurts of cum flying all over your fucked-out face.

Sebastians cum completely covered your face, a facial so thick it dripped down your chin and neck, slowly making its way to your perky tits.

“Oh god you look so fucking hot like that.” He confessed, running this thumb over your bottom lip to collect some of his cum before making you suck it off. Chris wasn’t far behind, never slowing his thrust for a second while Sebastian unloaded all over your face.

“m’cumming Chris! fuck d-don’t stop!” you cried aloud, voice breaking as you reached between Chris and yourself to rub your throbbing sensitive bud. “aaah- fuck yes!” you moaned as you came hard around Chris, squirting in the process.

“Yes! Yes! M’cumming I’m I, uhhh—“ Chris spilled his entire load into your tight cunt, creating a mixture of your cum and his as Sebastians dripped from your face down your chest.

“What— what just happened?” you all asked each other as both Sebastian and Chris cleaned you off, completely taken aback at the events that had just pasted.

——-

You didn’t know what part of the movie you fell deep into thought, reminiscing about the camping trip you took a week ago with your best friends but it was the sound of Sebastian’s voice that brought you out of it, only to realise you had been rubbing your sensitive bundle of nerves the entire time, right there on his lounge. Hand sunk low into your sweats.

“And what do you think you doing?” he questioned, leaning against the wall, before sauntering over to you with a devilish smirk upon his face.

“I uh, I uh don’t” you stuttered, fumbling around as you sat up.

“Were you thinking about our camping trip?” Sebastian questioned as he slowly walked over, unbuckling his belt as you noticed the hard girth showing through his dress pants, having just come back from a meeting. So hard it looked painful. You looked down at Sebastians crotch for a little too long, then up, down then up, Sebastian’s eyes locked on you the entire time. Working to stand before you—his belt slipping around your neck as he tightened the loop. His hand guiding yours over his clothes cock—begging for your touch.

“Or was it just me?”

[writingbyshiloh]

Strange Company [Raymond Reddington x Reader]

Authors Nore: My first fan fic! If you enjoy please send me a request for some feedback. This fic takes place during S1 E8. Word Count: 2.8+k

---

You glanced in your coffee mug, hoping it would have been magically refilled. Unfortunately, it was still empty. Your class this morning – Terrisom Tactics in America – was cancelled due to a leak. Your afternoon class – Government and Terrison – was still going ahead, providing that the leak was fixed by then. This caused you to be stuck in limbo, unable to call the day a wash yet, so you remained on campus. You stood to fill your coffee cup but a call to your work phone caused you to sit back down.

“Dr. (L/N)’s office” You said into the phone.

“Hey (F/N), it's Liz. Listen, are you still in DC?” a voice on the other end said.

“Hey, Liz! Yes, I’m tenure track so I don’t think I’ll be leaving soon” you laugh. “What can I do you for?”

“Can you meet me at the diner on 18th St NW in 30 minutes?” Liz asked. You could hear the tension in her voice. Checking your watch you agreed, and she hung up the phone.

You arrive a few minutes early, scanning the dinner before you spot Liz sitting in a booth. The man next to her was unfamiliar but handsome. You gave her a wave as you walked over to the booth and slid in across from the two of them. You noticed as the man's eyes raked over your form, lingering slightly at your chest.

“Y/N, this is George Robinson, George, this is Prof. L/N. She is one of the leading terrorism experts.” Liz said finishing the introductions. You extended your hand for a handshake and George took it. You looked into his face, noticing how blue his eyes were up close. Realizing you had been shaking his hand for too long you quickly removed your own and felt heat rising to your face. George gave you a knowing smile.

“Do you remember when we were doing our undergrads?” Liz asked, your eyes snapping to her face.

“How could I forget? I’m surprised my liver survived” you joked. You met Liz in university, quickly becoming fast friends, pulling all-nighters to study, talk about crushes, and drink. You were the maid of honour at her wedding to Tom a few years ago.

“Have you had any contact with Nathaniel Wolff recently?” she asked, shifting into FBI mode. George studied your face while you rolled your eyes.

“No, thank god.” You replied. “Ever since the breakup, I haven’t been in contact with him”.

“He's calling himself General Ludd now if that rings any bells,” George said.

“I’m aware.” You said, now looking at George. “That was one of the reasons we broke up. I felt that readings from Marx or Gramsci would have been a better theoretical standpoint on his cause. He disagreed so –“ You started to say before Liz cut you off.

“I’m sorry, I know you love theory but we have to go. Thank you for meeting with us.” Liz said, standing to put her jacket on.

“I’d love to hear more. How about over dinner, at 8? I know this fantastic Italian place. The owner is a close friend of mine.” George said. You reached into your purse to take out a business card. He took it, glancing at it before smiling at you.

“Sounds like a date” you smiled back, as he grabbed his hat from the table.

“My driver will pick you up around 7:45, I'll call you when he arrives,” he said, placing his hat on his head, while Liz rolled her eyes waiting for him. Watching the two of them leave you realized that George didn’t tell you what he does for the FBI.

---

You glanced at the clock in your room as you finished putting on your jewelry. Stepping back you admired your reflection. Your hair and jewelry were just right, and your dress was sitting just how you wanted. Grabbing your purse from the dresser, you went into your front hall to find some shoes. Settling a pair from the closet you put them on and leave your apartment. Before you could open the door your phone buzzed. The number was unknown but George said he would be calling you around 7:45.

“Hello?” you said, answering the call on the third ring.

“Hello, Gorgeous.” A deep voice said on the other end, sending a jolt of arousal down your body. “Dembe should be outside, whenever you’re ready.” You walked to the window in your apartment, to see a sleek navy car parked with a handsome Black man standing outside.

“The navy car?” you asked.

“That would be the one” he chuckled. “I’ll see you soon”. He said hanging up the call.

You grabbed your purse and locked the door before making your way to the ground floor of the apartment. Outside, you saw Dembe outside the car, holding something in his hands. Catching his eye, he handed the object to you. It was a bouquet – orchards and peonies you thought – beautifully wrapped. You thank him for the flowers as he opens your door for you.

“I have an undergraduate degree in English” He spoke once you both were in the car. Soon you two fell into a conversation about universities you attended and classes you took. Quickly you arrived at the restaurant where Dembe put the car into park and opened the door for you.

Entering the restaurant you saw George immediately as he was the only person in the restaurant. When he saw you, he stood and approached. His eyes swept you up and down, lips curling into a smile.

“Thank you for the flowers,” you told him, trying to calm your first date nerves. “They're gorgeous”.

“Not as gorgeous as you, my dear” he murmured, wrapping an arm around your waist, guiding you to the table, where a candle was lit in the center, and white wine was waiting in a bucket of ice.

“I took the liberty of ordering the wine” He said pulling out a chair for you. As you sat a soft thank you fell from your lips. He sat in the chair next to yours.

“Before the night gets away from us, I should say that my real name is Raymond Reddington. Goerge is an alias I use.” He said casually, pouring wine into your glass. You reached down and took a sip.

“Raymond Reddington” you repeated, liking the way it felt on your tongue.

“My friends call me Red” Reddington said, placing one of his hands onto of yours. “You can call me whatever you wish”.

A waiter soon delivered a menu, where you took Reddington's advice on what to order. Throughout the dinner, you filled him in on your undergraduate years with Liz, your career, and the problems you had with your undergraduate boyfriend Nathanial. In exchange, he told you about his career – financial broker for the elite – and an extremely funny story about a trip to Casablanca.

While you may have been nervous about the date, you were having a great time. Your head was fuzzy from the wine, the food was incredible, and the man you were with was a gentleman. You offered to pay for your half of the food, but he dismissed the notion with a wave. You tried to do the math on what the bill was but it gave up home when he placed a few one hundred dollar bills in the check holder. It stood in stark contrast to other dates you went on.

Still giggling from the wine and Red’s stories, he wrapped his arm around your waist to lead you out of the restaurant. He carried your flowers in his other hand. Stopping outside the doors, his arms moved to the small of your back. In response you lifted your arms to his neck, chest pressed against his.

“Can I kiss you goodnight?” He murmured, eyes darting between your own eyes and lips.

“You’re not going to ask to come over?” You quietly asked, confusion flickering over your face. Did he not want a second date? Was he that old-fashioned?

“Trust me, I’d love nothing more than to see your place. Unfortunately the FBI has chipped me like a prize dog”. He said, rolling his shoulders slightly. You nodded slightly.

Gently, you pressed your lips against his in a chaste kiss. Pulling back, you looked into his eyes, trying to gauge if you should kiss him again. Seconds later he kissed you with more urgency than the kiss you gave. His hand moved to your face, this thumb stroking your cheek. You kissed back, mouthing opening slightly.

A buzz on your phone caused you two to separate. You moved your hands down to the bag strapped across your shoulders. Red’s hand still rested on the small of your back. He must have read the frown on your face, as he asked what was wrong. You sighed, showing him your phone screen. He let out a chuckle, reading the text Liz sent you, telling you that she hoped you didn't go on the date with him. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Dembes's car pull up.

“Dembe will drive you home, I have to talk to the chef” Red said. He took your hand in his and brought it up to his lips as a way of saying goodbye.

---

The next morning, you almost tripped over a small package outside your door. On top of the package was a note which read ‘Hope to see you again. Maybe wear this the next time? – R’ in gold. Holding the note between your fingers, you opened the box. Inside, was a thin silver chain, with a silver circle hanging from the bottom. On the circle, a small letter R was engraved.