#done just stand back and watch someone struggle and say “oh it's for the best if we don't interfere”

[neverendingford]

.

[skylarsblue]

✦I have more C.o.D Quotes✦

Gaz: How’s your head? Y/N: Well, I haven’t had any complaints yet. Gaz: …excuse me? Y/N: Oh uh, I think I’ll live-

-- (Somewhere in Greece with a fuck ton of cats) Ghost, watching Price sneeze every five seconds: What a catastrophe. Gaz: No. Y/N: PFFT- Soap: Stop, no, don’t encourage him. Y/N: Ahem! Right, right. Not funny. Ghost: I am purrfectly capable of being funny. Y/N: *struggling* Gaz: Sometimes I wish you didn’t have a mouth.

-- Just a scene of Y/N taking out a bottle of whiskey, unscrewing they cap, then putting one of those lid caps on. (Like the ones you have on those fancy Gatorades) Taking a huge swig and closing the cap on it as Soap watches in amusement, & Price in fear.

-- Ghost: Quit messing with my hand. Soap: Quit messing with my hair! Y/N: Quit being gay. Gaz: PFFFT Y/N: Both problems solved.

-- Y/N, on the comms: You have thirteen seconds before the building fucking explodes you hot topic wannabe- Ghost: … Y/N: And you green gumball son of a bitch. Gaz: Wha-?! Soap: *WHEEZE* Y/N: You have done nothing but ruin my life; I hope you both die.

-- Soap, Gaz, & Y/N: *cackling* Laswell, losing at poker: I miss my wife, Price. Price: *places down cards* Laswell: I miss my wife.

-- Ghost, overstimulated & a lil drunk: AHHHHHH MY BONES Y/N: *frantically getting headphones* Soap, drunk: *wheeze* Gaz: Ah. I know I should’ve- *dies coughing* Soap: *more wheezing*

-- Graves *kicks in door* WHO POSTED MY NUDES ON TWITTER DOT COM?! Y/N: SUCK IT, BITCH BOY!! Alejandro: *aggressively slapping his leg while silently laughing* Rudy: *pointing and laughing* Valeria, in handcuffs: Ha, dumbass.

-- Graves: Bitch, you are gonna get in this car or I’m popping between ya eyes! Valeria: Hey, I know you. I saw your dick on Twitter! Graves: NOOOOOO Y/N: AHAHA!

-- Graves: C’mon Johnn- Y/N: *chucks a rock at Graves’ head* Graves: OW, WHY?! Y/N: NO JOHNNY FOR YOU! He goes by Soap and we respect that! Graves: Ghost calls him that! Y/N: CAUSE GHOST HAS PERMISSION, you EARN the right to Johnny! And I will be damned if anyone else earns the right before me. I been working my ass off to get the Johnny privilege and you will NOT get it for free! Soap, who’s just been standing there the whole time: *leans to Gaz* Have they actually been taking it that seriously? Gaz: Yeah. They’ve also been working real hard to try and get the right to call Captain “John”. Shoulda seen their face when I said they can call me Kyle. Soap: That’s…really sweet, I’ll give’em permission later. Gaz: Why not now? Soap: I wanna see that bastard get chewed out some more.

-- Y/N, perched on Price’s desk: Captain. Price: *sigh* Y/N: Captain I crave violence.

-- Ghost: Your family line deserves to die with you, only shame it didn’t end before you. Graves: ….I just sat down!

-- Y/N: You’re like…the human incarnation of crumbs in the bed. Graves: Oh c’MON THAT’S REAL MEAN Ghost: It’s true though. Y/N: The kinda crumbs that you keep swiping away but somehow they never leave- Graves: Alright! You know what- Soap: Like getting in bed after going to the beach. Gaz: Sand in the bed, yeah. Feels like that when he talks. Graves: I’M JUST GONNA FUCKIN LEAVE! Y/N: *watches him go* Annnd now the sheets have been changed. Ghost: Clean from filth. Alejandro: You all are so cruel and it’s perhaps the funniest thing I’ve ever seen.

-- Gaz: Things Gucci with you? Y/N: It’s Goodwill at best, my guy. Price: I don’t know what this means but I feel like I should be concerned.

-- (Mild NSFW Jokie Time) Gaz: You alright? You been zoned out. Y/N: Hm? Nah I’m good, just having depraved thoughts. Gaz: Depraved, you say? Soap: Oh do tell. Y/N: You just…you ever see someone and think “they have pretty eyes”. And that’s normal. But then the little devil in the back of ya skull goes “yeah they’d look good rolled back”. Or am I just a whore? Gaz: That is depraved. Soap: Got a good point though.

-- Y/N: Ooo! Look! Old pictures of Captain, this one’s dated. You would’ve been…19 in this one. Lemme s-…… Gaz: Lemme see! ….. Price: What? Y/N: …..you were a whore, weren’t you captain? Gaz: That’s the face of an arrogant bastard who fucks regularly. Price: I…might’ve been a bit of a playboy. Y/N: And I would’ve fallen for it you god damn bastard, no ones fACE SHOULD BE THAT NICE!

-- Valeria, painting her nails: I might kill my ex, not the best idea. His new girlfriend’s next- Alejandro: ….. Rudy: ….should I be worried? Alejandro: Move away quietly and pray.

-- Ghost: For the record this is self destructive. Soap, chugging his 5th energy drink in the past hour: For the record, I’m aware of that.

-- MILF!Y/N: Boys. Bed, now. I wanna talk to your captain. Price: No, boys stay. Please stay- Y/N: Go. Price: Stay. The boys: *concern, panic, perhaps a bit of fear* Y/N: Go! Price: Stay! Y/N: You go! Soap: *speed walking* Price: Soap, stay! Y/N: NOW! Gaz: *slowly backing away* Price: Gaz, don’t move! Y/N: YOU GO! Price: SIMON- Ghost: *leaving*

-- Ghost: What was Plan A? Soap: …don’t fuck up. Ghost: And what was Plan B? Gaz: Don’t fuck up Plan A. Ghost: And what did you do? Y/N: …fucked up plan a- Ghost: YOU FUCKED UP PLAN A-

-- Ghost: What’s rule number one? Soap, with dynamite: Party! Ghost: NO! No, not party! No!

-- Graves: How about after this, we get a drink? Y/N: …I would rather gouge out my eyes and blindly navigate a way to turn them into earrings than ever be anywhere alone with you. Soap, grinning: Ooooo brutal! Ghost: Karma.

-- Ghost: Wait…Johnny’s into me? Like…he LIKES me?? Gaz: Oh Si…you poor, sad, dense mother fucker.

-- Ghost: At least nothing of importance was lost. Laswell: …Graves was kidnapped. Ghost: I know. I said what I said. Y/N: Nothing of value was lost but we did shed off some trash! Ghost: Precisely.

-- Ghost: These lights make me wanna pull my eyes out and eat them. Medic!Y/N: *turns lights off in favor of a lamp* …alright, so you’re autistic, good to know.

-- Ghost: Should I get my reading glasses? Y/N: Oh no no, this isn’t an eye test. It’s a GAY test. Now tell me, *holds up picture of Farah & Graves; Price being 1* Number one, or number two? Ghost: Number one?… Y/N: Interesting. *holds up Farah & Soap, Soap being 2* Okay now number one, or number two? Ghost: *gasp* Y/N: Number two, right? Ghost: Maybe I am gay?

-- Waitress: So, I’ve gotta ask, I’m really curious. 141: ? Waitress: Have any of you ever used like…the military language in bed? Soap: Naaaah. Y/N: No, I don’t- PFFFT, I- *wheeze* I’m sorry I’m imagining it- Gaz: *biting back laughs* Y/N: “You gonna come?” Affirmative. *laughs* Soap: *WHEEZE* Gaz: *cackling* Price: Oh lord- Gaz, snickering: Picking up speed. Y/N: COPY- *Laughter x100* The entire team: *giggling like hyenas* Ghost: Uh, that’s a no. I don’t think we’ve done that.

-- Price: *smiles at Soap & Gaz being stupid* Y/N: I like when you smile. Price: …huh? Y/N: Your smile, I like it. Makes your eyes crinkle up and your beard makes you look like a cuddly bear. You should smile more. Price, internally on the verge of tears: *fond sigh* Get back to drills, soldier. Y/N: Yes sir!

-- Ghost: *minding his fucking business* Y/N: You have pretty eyes. Ghost: *chokes on air* Pardon? Y/N: You have pretty eyes. Ghost: No I-…they’re just brown. Y/N: So? Your eyes don’t have to be blue or green to be pretty. They’re pretty because they’re expressive, and when the sun hits them they look like syrup. I like’em best when we’re all at a bar. They get brighter then. Ghost: Ghost: …stop talking, sergeant. Y/N: Copy that, L.T! <3

-- Gaz: *laughing at something on his phone* Y/N: You have a great laugh. Gaz: Hm? Oh…really? Y/N: Mhm. It’s cute, comes from your chest. I’ve never heard you laugh in anyway that’s not genuine. Really fills the room with joy. Gaz: Dude, you’re gonna make me all soft with words like that. Y/N: All according to plan!

-- Soap: *rambling about something* Y/N: *listening intently* Soap: Then-…ah, I been talkin’ at you this whole time, eh? Should probably quiet down. Y/N: No no, I like your voice! Soap: Eh? Y/N: It’s super energetic and loud, and when you tell a joke or talk about something you love, it’s like you can hear your smile. It’s really fun to listen to. I like when you talk! Soap: *inhale* You’re gonna make me cry- Y/N: I have tissues!

-- König: *fidgeting* Y/N: *takes his hands* You have beautiful hands. König: Wh- Huh?? No they are not. Y/N: They are too! König: Nien, they’re rough and calloused, they break a lot of things… Y/N: They also pet stray cats, make the best coffee on base, and create crotchet works of art. They also mend wounds pretty well. Yeah they fire guns but that doesn’t make them less beautiful. König: *he’s actually crying* …Danke. Y/N: Don’t mention it!

-- Rudy: *rolling his shoulder* Y/N: Anyone ever tell you that you have great shoulders? Rudy: Hm? Oh uh…no, I don’t believe so. Y/N: Well you do! Rudy: Ah, gracias. When I was younger I wanted them to be broader, sometimes now I wish they were more narrow. Can never really be happy with’em, you know? Y/N: Well I think you should be. They’re strong! *gently pats his shoulders* They hold a lot of weight, metaphorically and physically. And even when they’re weighed down, you shoulder it and keep moving. You’re real good at that! I like your shoulders. Rudy, prepared to die for them: …gracias. Y/N: No problem! Now c’mon, the guys are waitin’ for us!

-- Y/N: You have good collarbones. Alejandro: What was that? Y/N: Sorry, I know that’s real specific, but I think your collarbones are pretty. It’s like…the rest of you is bulky and strong, rugged. Then you have these delicate bones. I’m probably being too poetic but it’s like a subtle nod to your gentler side, just, built into your body. Alejandro: …you have a lovely way with words, camarada. Y/N: Thank you! I appreciate that!!

[douceurrrr]

SCANDAL

paring(s): felix catton x black!start!reader

summary: farleigh is his best mate but his sister is just too good and someone knows.

warning(s): mdni! smut, profanity, she/her pronouns, oral sex (f), f-ing in secret, Oliver lurking lol, jacob elordi’s hotness may be fatal!

PS: ik farleigh is his cousin but pretend he’s not

Being farleigh’s sister meant coming to saltburn every summer and coming to saltburn every summer meant being with felix. You and felix had been in a secret relationship for a couple months now and your brother hasn’t suspected a thing. It’s weird because felix would kill anyone that touched his sister but when it came to farleigh’s sister, he could resist. You know it’s wrong but you loved the way his hair brushed against your thighs when his head is in between them. It starts with him sneaking glances at you during breakfast and dinner and ends with you in his bed.

“shhh! he’s asleep felix.” you whispered with a smile. felix had successfully pulled you out of the room you shared with venetia and into his, liked he’d done many nights before. “oh hush, love. oliver sleeps like a child.” felix says, moving your box braids off your shoulder to peck the skin there. oliver on the other hand made sure he didn’t sleep that night.

You and felix had finally made it to his room. “y’gonna let me taste you, love?” felix whispered in your ear, making sure to leave a kiss on your neck before lifting his head up. you nodded, slowly placing yourself on his bed and spreading your warm, brown thighs. before felix leaned his head down, you heard the floor creak, “wait, i heard something.” you lifted your head towards the door but there was nothing there.

“it’s probably nothing, love. but here-” felix then got up and closed the door. “there. feel better?” you nodded but you were still a little concerned. felix then hooked his fingers underneath your lace panties, putting them in his pocket. he then grabs your thigh and pulls to him with force.

his metal, eyebrow piercing was cold against your thigh as he licks his tongue through your wet folds. swirling on your clit. you moaned into his pillow as he watch your face fill up with pleasure.

it encouraged him to do more, wanting you to struggle to keep your sanity. “try to keep quiet, darling. wouldn’t want your brother hearing, let alone oliver.” how does he expect you to be quiet when he eats your pussy the way he do?

the more close you got the more pressure he added to your clit. he had your back lifting off the bed as you the band in your stomach break as your mouth opened in awe at the pleasure. “y’wanna wet my dick, huh?” felix stands up from the bed, fumbling with his belt. you sit up from the bed, watching him struggle with his pants from scrambling too fast.

“need help?” you giggled but he had already shoved his pants down, crawling on the bed to you. it was like lion and prey. he kissed you, hungrily. and you kissed back with force. felix then breaks the kiss. “alright enough of the fucking foreplay, ready love?” he huffs, positioning his cock to your center. you obviously nodded and bucked you hip into him, attempting to speed the process which made him laugh and rub his tip on your clit, making you even more anxious.

“felix please.” he couldn’t say no to you, especially when your making those pretty sounds for him. you finally felt his cock slip through your folds with sharp thrust. “fucking hell that’s incredible.” he groans in your neck, moving in and out of you.

you couldn’t help but to bite into felix’s shoulder to hide you moans as he pounds into you with your legs wrapped him. you press your feet onto his ass, making him take you deeper which made him go even faster.

“fuck felix, m’close.” you moaned in his ear, which would’ve been enough to make him cum.

“cum f’me, angel.” felix replied, sharpening his thrust and hitting that spot that made you see stars before cumming around him. “fuck.” you whimpered as he slows his thrusts, walking you through your orgasm while whispering sweet nothings into your ear.

“you’re incredible.” felix whispers as he slips out of you and flops on his back. the room smelled like sweat and sex as you gather your clothes, about to leave when felix stops you. “just sleep here, love.” felix says but you knew you couldn’t without venetia noticing your absence but you nodded anyway and crawled back on the bed, laying your head on his chest.

-

The next morning, felix had been staring at you the whole breakfast without anyone noticing (or so you thought). After breakfast, you made your way to venetia’s room when oliver stops you. “oh oli! hi.” you smiled but he wasn’t.

“you know you’re a slut right?” you face dropped at his words. “w-what?” you replied, not knowing what he was talking about.

“you think i don’t know about you and felix? how you moan for him?” oliver says. your blood runs cold. “fuck you, you don’t know what you’re talking about.” you sneer at him, attempting to walk past him but he grabs your arm, tightly.

“poor farleigh. he doesn’t know how much of a slut his sister is for his best friend.” he says before letting go of your arm when lady elspeth comes. “oliver love! come. there’s someone i want you to meet!” she says, cheerfully.

“coming.” oliver replied, switching his attitude like nothing happened and walking away with standing there, astonished.

but who would you tell?

[sturniozo]

Savage Love

Matt Sturniolo x reader Mafia AU

Summary: After a night out with her friends, Y/n wakes up in a hotel bed with a handsome stranger with no memory of the night before. Pieceing together what she can, she finds the man she woke up with wasn’t just some stranger, but the most powerful man in New York.

A/N: I’m basing all of my mafia knowledge on watching the god father when I was six and that one episode of community with the chicken fingers. Other than that I have no clue how mafia works so this might not be as good as you hope but hey I tried. Tell me if you want me to continue this though! I had fun writing it!

Masterlist

I never go out with my friends and I felt bad about it for a long time. But today, Emma convinced me to go dancing with her at a club in New York. I’ve been in the city many times, as I live just outside of it, in a small apartment above a bookshop. But the city of New York still terrifies me, especially at night. There’s a rumor of a secret organization that controls just about everything in the city, and if you cross the man at the top then you’re done for.

Of course, these are just rumors and haven’t actually been proven. I have nothing to fear, right?

Now I’m sitting in front of Emma’s vanity mirror getting ready as she does my hair.

“Oh you should totally wear it down! Curl it a bit, let it hang over your shoulders. You might hook up tonight, you never know.” Emma teases as she messes with my hair. I finish curling my lashes and then turn to her.

“I don’t think I’ll hook up at all. I’m just not the type.” I shrug and stand up, switching places with Emma as she sits in front of her vanity mirror to do her own makeup.

“Well, I am the type.” She says as she starts with contour. I walk into the bathroom and plug in the curling iron to heat it up.

“You can hook up with any guy you want.” I say to Emma. “Just make sure he wraps it. I don’t want to be an aunt so soon.” I laugh.

Emma and I have been best friends since fourth grade. She’s my polar opposite, although we have the same dreams. We’re both journalists writing for a small newspaper outlet right outside of New York.

Emma’s the type to do things we’re doing now almost every day. She always tells me about all the big parties and exclusive events and venues she’s attended. She’s talk to, and slept with, many of the biggest people in multiple industries to get information for her articles.

I take a different approach. My stories come from the smaller people. The homeless and the struggling. I try to bring attention to the lower class of America.

I bet you can guess whose stories get published. Hence why I live in a small apartment above a bookshop, and Emma has a penthouse.

“God, I know. I can’t handle having a baby now. I’m only 20 for Pete’s sake!” Emma laughs and sets down her makeup brush. She turns to me and says “But I need to sleep with someone big and important tonight. I’m dying here, I haven had a story published in almost two weeks!”

I sigh. Two weeks is nothing. Try five months. I’m basically just a consultant at this point.

Emma turns back to the mirror to finish her makeup. I check the curling iron and it’s nice and hot, so I begin to curl the ends of my hair. Just a little curly at the edge.

Emma gets up from the mirror and starts shutting off lights and electronics around her penthouse. I unplug the curling iron and walk into the front room to put on my shoes and grab my purse. Emma shut off the last light and we walk out of the penthouse. She locks the door and we get into the elevator, going down to the front desk.

Emma has an Uber waiting for us. The great thing about Emma is, no matter how much more she has than me, she always gives and never asks for any in return. It’s always been this way. She’s the sweetest friend I’ve ever had. She’s also the most ruthless journalist I’ve ever met.

We get into the Uber and the driver starts for the city. It’s a long drive, one that me and Emma use to our advantage and try to find out who’s the most important person attending the party.

“Oh my god!” Emma says after a long silence of us just looking at our phones.

“What is it, who will be there?” I ask frantically.

“Matt Sturniolo!”

I look at her, confused. “Who’s that?”

“Who’s that? WHO’S THAT? Matt Sturniolo is only the most powerful guy in New York!”

“That can’t be true, how come I’ve never heard of him?”

“Because you focus on who can help the lower class. He can’t help them, it’s not in his power.”

“Then he doesn’t have much power.”

“Oh, he has power. He has all the power. It’s his rumor that he’s the one who controls all the important somebody’s in New York. I gotta make it my mission to sleep with him. God, I bet he’s good in bed.” She says to herself.

I let out a laugh. “What story do you plan together by sleeping with him?”

“I want to know if the rumor is true, duh!” She laughs and lightly hits my shoulder.

We arrive at the venue. It’s large and the music is blaring. We step out of the car and I lean to Emma and say loudly so she can hear me over the music “The most powerful man in New York is gonna be here?” I laugh. “This doesn’t look like a scene you’d catch someone so important in.”

“Trust me, he’ll be here. Steph said so, and she’s always right!” Emma says back. She takes my hand and drags me through the line, showing the bouncer a VIP pass for both her and I. They let us in and Emma immediately drags me to the bar.

“Two vodka martinis!” She says to the bartender. The bartender nods and begins our drinks. I turn around to look at all the people dancing. Men in half dressed suits grinding on women in the shortest dresses. This is what Emma does every day? I understand the appeal, but the loud music and the flashing lights just aren’t for me.

We get our drinks and Emma takes me to a table to sit down at. “So what do we do now?” I ask.

“We mingle!” She shouts and raises her hands in the air.

The rest of the night that I can still remember was filled with drinking and Emma talking to numerous people, always asking about the guy who’s name I can no longer remember due to my copious consumption of alcohol. The last thing I remember was talking to a tall, handsome, dark haired man with beautiful light blue eyes.

~

I awake with a pounding headache. I raise my head from my pillow and slowly open my eyes, groaning from the pain. I look around and realize, this is not my bedroom. This is not Emma’s bedroom. I have no clue where I am. I scan the room and my eyes fall on a strange man sitting on the couch. I gasp and he looks up at me.

“Good, you’re awake. I was wondering if I’d have to drop you at the emergency room.” He laughs to himself.

I sit up fully in the bed. “Who are you? Where am I?” I ask frantically.

“My names Matt, and-“ I stop him

“Oh my god.”

“It’s fine just-“

“Oh god what happened?”

“Nothing, I-“

“I was drunk!”

“I know, that’s why I-“

“Tell me I didn’t. We didn’t.”

“Would you let me fucking speak?” He yells. “I didn’t fucking touch you, okay? You were dancing on a table and your friend had gone home with some guy so I got you a hotel room. You could barely stand and you just passed out on the bed.” He finishes with a huff.

I stare up at him in shock. “So we didn’t”

“No. We didn’t.” He pauses. “But we could.” He says with a smirk.

A blush appears on my cheeks and my breath shakes “What?” I ask

“Well you’re an attractive girl, I wouldn’t mind it.” He laughs. “But I have a meeting in an hour, so it’ll have to be another time. Want my number while you think about it?” He asks and before I can answer he hands me a card. “I got an Uber waiting for you whenever you’re ready to go home, it’s already paid for. Just do whatever you need to before you leave.” He says, clearly insisting I shower and eat. “And tell the driver where you need to go. Don’t forget to call, doll face.” He says before leaving and closing the door behind him.

I look down at the card he had handed me.

‘Matt Sturniolo.’ With an address and phone number.

Tags: @stargirlsturniololover (the one who came up with the idea for Mafia!Matt) @sturniolobessed

[percervall]

you make it rain (but I make it shower)

Pairing: Lando Norris x fem!reader Words: 834 Request: Lando Norris + Little Mix - Power + fluff/angst Warnings: Christian Horner, sexism

In which you've had enough

---

“They’re only here for the hot drivers,” the RedBull team principal comments as he walks behind you and Lando. The two of you are watching a group of girls exchange friendship bracelets with some of his fellow drivers, their joy audible as the girls make them remember silly moments that have become inside jokes. Something about Horner’s dismissive tone has you seeing red. You feel Lando’s hand on your shoulder, trying to hold you back from doing something stupid –like getting yourself banned from the paddock.

“No, he needs to hear it. I won’t stand for this,” you brush off your best friend, “You’re such an ass, you know?” you call out to Christian Horner. The man stops and turns around.

“Excuse me?”

“Oh, you heard me. You should be thanking these girls, they’re the reason F1 has gotten as popular as it has. There’s a reason Daniel’s merch is pulling the numbers it does, why Lando’s own merch sells better than the McLaren stuff, or why Ferrari post literal thirst traps on Instagram every race weekend, and it’s not the 40-something-year-old men with beer bellies clad head to toe in RedBull, setting off flares –illegal flares– in the grandstands. The only reason for your success is because of Max and his army of loyal fans. Every single driver in that number 2 seat has failed to live up to your standards, but then again you also don’t offer them a particularly nurturing work environment. I’m not done,” you say as you see him open his mouth to respond, “Your team has the highest driver turnover rate on the grid. It also has some of the worst transparency when it comes to diversity. I know you hate him, but you could learn a thing or two about how Toto runs Mercedes, about Lewis’ dedication to making the sport more welcoming, and also about profit margins. Their car may be shit, but they’re actually making money. They were also one of the first teams to promote F1 Academy, something your own social media team was quite late with. Gee, I wonder why that is. So please forgive me, Christian, when I say that your opinion of girls and female fans of motor sports means absolutely nothing to me. Now, if you’ll excuse me,” you finish your rant as calmly as you can with your heart hammering in your chest, and walk away from him. Behind you, you hear Horner splutter something about Lando needing to keep his friends in check. You can only imagine what Lando’s reply might be to that. The adrenaline of calling out a team principal on his behaviour is beginning to wear off and you can feel your entire body tremble. You almost jump out of your skin when someone wraps an arm around you.

“Sorry, it’s just me nena,” Carlos says as he stears you into the Ferrari garage, “Horner is on a warpath, you’ll be safe here.” Both him and Charles walk with you to Carlos’ driver room. As soon as the door closes behind you, the tears begin to fall.

“I’m fine,” you splutter at their concerned looks, “I’m- f-fine.” Carlos pulls you into a hug while Charles mumbles something about finding Lando.

“How did you find me so quickly?” you ask, face still half buried in his shirt. Carlos chuckles.

“We were right there, signing some things for fans when it all went down.” Taking a deep breath, you pull back and wipe away the tears. “Pretty sure I’m about to get my paddock access revoked,” you joke through your tears.

“They have another thing coming if the FIA decides to do so,” you hear Lando say as he walks into the room. 

“I won’t apologise,” you say adamantly, allowing your best friend to pull you into a hug.

“Good. Besides, what should you apologise for? You didn’t call him names and all of it is true,” Lando replies. 

“I didn’t even tell him that even the grid struggled to name drivers during that grill the grid video,” you mumble into his hoodie, much to the amusement of Lando.

“I don’t think the FIA would dare revoke your pass, nena,” Carlos comments from where he’s looking over Charles’ shoulder at his phone. “Looks like someone’s filmed it. The video is going viral on social media already. From what I can see all the women in the comments are backing you 100%. If they ban you, there will be a riot.” You can’t help but smile at that. Wiping your nose on the sleeve of your sweater, you straighten up and, after saying goodbyes to Carlos and Charles, you walk back out of the Ferrari garage and head towards the McLaren one. Knowing that all the girls in the paddock will have your back, fills you with warmth. Whatever shit was about to come your way, you’d face it with your head held high, back straight and your friends on the grid supporting you no matter what. 

I'm not gonna lie, I wasn't sure where to go with this song at first until @curiousthyme allowed me to just word vomit to her to get ideas and this is the result of that. Had so much fun writing the rant (even my heart was racing by the end of it 🙈)

Please let me know what you think! Your comments, tags, and likes mean the world to me

[wxxpingangxls]

Peaches and Cream

+sypnosis; struggling on ideas for you new best seller, 'Poison', you use inspiriation from your new found relationship

+content/warnings; no explicit description of reader as usual anyone can read, fluff, making out, grinding, begging, teasing, Eren is pretty straight forward, lowercase intended

+pairings; Eren x HyperfemBlackReader

+a/n; this was requested from a very beautiful mind, tysm @0zero0-0

walking along the fields, you closed your eyes, taking in a deep breath. you silently took in the scenery of the forest, sunshine peeking through the towering trees almost as if they were playing hide and seek. the birds sweet tunes filled your eyes, whilst you hummed a song that had been stuck in your head. in reality, you were meant to be working on a book of yours. it was supposed to be the new best seller. “poison” was the name. you internally hated yourself for taking this direction in life, for taking the initiative to pursue your passion in writing.

“poison” was a dark novel about how quickly love can spread; you can either over come it and glow or it’ll be the death of you. not literally of course.

you figured walking out during the warm evening would clear your mind, however even the sounds of nature weren’t enough to gift you even seconds of mental silence. your mind truly was your worst enemy. you tentatively continued to embark this adventure to further increase your creativity. You hoped so hard that you would get some sort of inspiration. You stopped, momentarily to stare at the beautiful hydrengas surrounding the nearby field. 'oh wow' you thought to yourself, before reaching over to feel the flowers.

“careful there, princess,” you jumped upon hearing a voice behind you. you hadn’t for a moment stopped to think that someone was trailing behind you. you turned around with a dry throat to face the voice. a familiar face stared back expectantly. “eren?” his long dark hair was cascading down his face and his green eyes were brighter than ever. he was smiling cheekily whilst watching your startled expression. “hey stranger, it’s been a while…”

“yeah…it’s been a while,” you giggled softly.

“some might say too long, how’ve you been?” he chuckled, walking closer towards you.

“far too long, and i’m great,”

“yeah, i’ve seen. you’ve got another book on the way,”

“hm yeah, just came out here for inspiration…” you spoke thoughtfully.

the pink maxi skirt you were wearing flowed in the wind as you both stood there in silence.

you hadn’t known how, but by some miracle, that inspiration you needed so badly was now flowing through your mind. you suddenly felt so much more confident in your own writing. as you were getting to the climax of your novella, you remembered Eren and your history.

you too weren’t close but there had always been a thick tension in the room. there was an unspoken sense of silent admiration on his side. he’d always felt magnetised to your bright pink spirit. he loved the way you waltzed into every room, hair and nails always done. signature colors of pink, white and purple always adorned you sweet - smelling, soft skin. not to mention your lips were always glossed up and soaked in a pout. it was no surprise that you hadn’t change— why would you? you wore these colors so beautifully. which is why he was at your door with a bouquet of pink roses and purple lilies.

a single door bell startled you and you jumped straight out of your day dream. you tentatively creeped downstairs towards the front door before slowly but carefully removing the curtain to reveal who was standing on the other side of the door.

Eren stood sheepishly, his long dark hair yet again . this time he stood with a crowd of flowers. he had an affliction t-shirt with a white long sleeve underneath. you could see his dc x slayer shoes peeking under through his baggy trousers .

“eren?” you whispered loud enough for him to hear.

“hey beautiful…” he watched as you beamed up at him. your pink silk robe was opening slightly to reveal your cleavage. a matching satin hair band was tied on your hairline to create a cute bow at the top. your smile widened as you saw his gift that he bought.

“oh, i bought this to congratulate you on your book,” he handed the flowers towards you.

“oh thank you eren! please, come inside,” you held a hand on your heart and the other was holding the assortment.

eren sat patiently as you went to put the beautiful plants in water. “so, how’s the book coming along?”

“it’s going…ok, i just need something for the romance part of the book,”

“romance …huh, i didn’t take you for the romance type,” his hand slowly inches towards your face. at this point, your hand rested on his thigh and his layed on your cheek.

“i want you so bad y/n,” you whispered into your ear.

“huh…?” you stumbled on your words.

“if you can huh then you can hear,”

eren watched as your expression changed from thoughtful to bashful. “just tell me…you want me back, please,” his hand slowly stroked against your throat.

“i…”

“you?”

“please, i want you,”

erens mouth found home on yours, his tongue clashing with yours. drool and spit was swapped as the two of you pushed deeper into the kiss. his hand found purchase on your neck whilst yours were placed at the back of his head.

finally breaking the kiss, you looked over to him, eyes bright. “God you’re so hot,”

you just giggled shyly, before squealing as he pulled you on top of him, your crotches directly on top of each other. before you could whine out from the pressure on your cunt, his tongue was shoved down your throat again. he watched as you whimpered into his mouth, both of your hips grinding desperately against each other. deciding to take initiative, your hand goes to his throat and squeezes slightly.

“oh fuck…” you both groaned in unison. your hips never once faltered. you could feel his hard cock twitch under the material of his jeans and your own cunt leaking all over his pants.

you could feel it coming to close. and you could tell he did too. his hands grabbed the fat of your hips almost painfully tight, and his head was thrown back in pleasure. your hips just started to move faster and faster, you could feel your high coming closer and you couldn’t let it go. eren watched as your eyes filled with excitement, his own filling with ecstasy.

sweat formed on both of your foreheads as you pushed harder to strive for your final high.

“mphm…” you groaned out as your cunt pulsed around nothing, cumming all over his trousers, making a mess of yourself. eren was no better, his own pants soiled , so much so, that you could feel his sticky cum attaching itself to your thighs and your labia.

panting out, he let out a satisfied sigh. the sweetness of your cunt wafted into his nose as you moaned out. you were still twitching from your intense high. anyone could hear the loud squelching of both of your privates still grinding against one another.

finally, you lay down on his chest, your face on the crook of his neck. his hand stayed playing with your left butt cheek while another was in your hair.

“what do you say we go for another…” he suggested.

just as you were about to open your mouth to reply, a familiar loud voice stood outside your door, impatient and angry. you both sat up immediately shocked. eren watched as a guilty expression replaced your pleasured one from earlier.

[mrsensitive]

4 times everyone else caught on before the 1 time you and quinn finally did

a good old 4+1 ft. best friend beau & a couple other cameos, some mutual pining and also reader is a costume designer . kind of an elaboration of a lil blurb i wrote a while ago so if it seems familiar no it doesn't 😋

1

You’d never been more grateful for Friday to roll around. You’d had what felt like the longest week from hell and just wanted to take your mind off everything, so when your new neighbour turned best friend Beau texted you to meet him and a couple friends at the bar, the thought that you wouldn’t know half the people there wasn’t enough to dissuade you from joining.

When you arrive, you’re quick to spot the group - Beau hadn’t lied when he said it wasn’t just the team, but he might’ve stretched the truth when he said you already knew some of the guys. A quick once over is enough for you to realise the only other person you really know is Brock. Sure, you had heard of the others from Beau’s stories and the fact that you sometimes watched the games, but you were starting to wonder if you should’ve just gone home to your bottle of wine instead.

Beau is quick to welcome you though, flooding you with the names of everyone you’d yet to meet and pushing you into the seat he’d just vacated.

“Wait here, I’m getting the next round,” he beams at you, a good few drinks in already. “Brock come give me a hand, bud.”

You try to get your bearings a little, looking around trying to commit names to faces since the only two people you knew had left, and you realise mostly everyone is in their own conversations save for the guy on your right. You pause, staring at him trying to remember his name as he watches you struggle, clearly bemused.  

“It’s Quinn,” he offers after a moment or two. He’s laughing lightly and you relax in your seat a little. “Don’t sweat it.” 

You breathe out a smile, “Thanks. I was getting there, y’know.” You pause, taking a moment to get a better look at him. “Hughes, right? I’ve seen you play before. You’re a great skater.”

“Oh uh…thanks.” He shifts a little in his seat. “Beau’s talked about you a couple times actually. So it’s nice to meet you finally.”

You can’t help your eyebrows from shooting up, both of you are equally surprised and amused that you’re even aware of the other. You’re half expecting Quinn to elaborate, scanning his face for any hint that what Beau’s said about you was any level of incriminating, but somehow, you find yourself a bit distracted by the way his hair is curling over his forehead. 

Before either of you can say anything, Beau’s dropped a glass in front of you and inserted himself back in the conversation.

“So what was so terrible about work this week? What’s the drama this time?”  

You let out a sigh, remembering why you’d dragged yourself here in the first place. “Oh, nothing new. They just decided to reschedule all our fittings so we barely had the right costumes prepared - which is just an embarrassing look for me, you know, even if it literally wasn’t my fault. I was running all over the place trying to make it work - and then on top of that I find out they’ve put our costume truck about three states over from where the set is so I’ve got to hassle someone about that and-”

“Costumes?” Your rambling is cut off by Quinn who looks much more interested than Beau, who, to his credit, has heard some variation of this story just about every other week.

“Oh, yeah. I’m a costume designer,” you explain, “I’m working on a movie at the moment.” For some reason you feel rather embarrassed that you didn’t clarify this to him before and you’re hoping the dim lighting is hiding the way you’ve started blushing. 

“I’m going to take this as my cue to leave.” Beau says, already standing up to move across the table, “You tell Quinn the whole back story and I’ll come back when you’re done with that, okay?”

Beau, in fact, does not come back for the rest of the night but you’re so wrapped up in your conversation with Quinn that you don’t particularly notice anyway. Usually you hate talking about yourself, but the drinks have loosened you up and he seems so genuinely curious and intrigued about you. He asks how you met Beau, so you tell him the story of how his 7’s look a little too much like 1’s and you ended up getting so much of his mail that you had to go and confront him about it. You try to ask him about hockey but he seems rather adept at deflecting the conversation back to you every time. You can’t help but bask in the full attention he’s giving you and the more drinks you have, the more you find yourself quietly admiring his bone structure. You’re a little surprised to hear yourself laughing so much and how easily the conversation moves that you can’t quite remember how you ended up discussing how you both think roses are overrated. 

You’re so caught up in each other that neither of you catch Brock nudging Beau and nodding his head towards you across the table.

“You reckon?” Brock asks, a cheeky grin plastered on his face.

“Oh, easily. I’ve been watching them all night.”

2

You pick up Beau’s call almost immediately.

“Hey, what’s up? Do you need something?” There’s a tinge of confusion in your voice.

“What? No, I just- I have an extra ticket to the game tonight and I was going to offer it to you if you weren’t being so snappy.” Beau teases.

“Oh,” you let out a chuckle, “Sorry, you just never call. I do happen to be free tonight though, if the offer’s still on the table...”

“Great, I’ll send you the ticket,” you can hear him smiling through the line. “Don’t drive, I’ll give you a lift if you wait a little after the game. Stick around and say hi to some of the other guys too.”

“Sure,” you reply, “I’ll see you later then. Maybe score or win or something? I dunno, make it worth my night?”

“Yeah ok,” you can hear him laughing now, “Will do, just for you. See you soon.”

And even if you were only joking, the team does deliver on your request. You hang by the exit as you wait for Beau, congratulating some of the other guys on the win as they start to trickle out. When Quinn catches sight of you, he can’t help the way the corners of his mouth quirk upwards and you can’t help the way you mirror it.

“Hey Quinner, congrats on the game,” you greet him, “Big win!” 

You’re mildly aware of the way your heart rate has picked up slightly since he stopped in front of you. You want to believe that it’s just because the handful of times you’ve seen him now have always been aided with a bit of liquid courage, even if you’re currently fixating on his slightly damp hair and the way his bag is slung over his shoulder. Quinn, however, is severely aware of the way his heart rate seemed to stop upon hearing the nickname leave your mouth.

He clears his throat, “Yeah, thanks. I didn’t realise you were going to be here?”

“Beau said he had an extra ticket last minute - enticed me with a ride home, so I’m just waiting for him now.” 

“Yeah, he should be done with the interviews soon - you know, three point night and all,” he laughs, glancing back at the doorway in search of a sign of his teammate.

“Coming from you, mister record breaker!”

Quinn whips his head back around to you, eyes wide as he starts to mumble something to try and downplay his night. He knows he’s blushing from the way he can feel his cheeks burning but he’s hoping it could be disguised as some sort of postgame flush.

You can’t help but let out a laugh at how off guard your comment seemed to catch him. “Surely you’re going out to celebrate?”

“Oh, I don’t know… we’ve got an early start tomorrow…” He rubs a hand at the back of his neck and your eyes flicker to his bicep briefly.

“Hmmm boring,” you tease, “All work and no play I guess.”

Something in your tone has him grinning now. “No rest for the wicked,” he quips.

Unbeknownst to the two of you, you’ve had an audience for just about all of your conversation.

“Is this what he looks like when he’s trying to flirt?” Petey asks, raising his eyebrows.

“I guess. Or trying to, at least,” Brock answers, still eyeing the scene in front of him. “How long do we think til they do something about it?”

Beau’s appeared next to them at the door now too, smirking as he watches you and Quinn completely oblivious to everyone else.

“Wanna take bets?”

3

Quinn’s nervous. He’s already texted you to let you know he’s arrived but he’s expecting that you’ll have to turn him away last minute. He’s still in disbelief that he’s even here, despite the fact that you’d offered to have him visit you on set several times already, but he always thought it was just a throw away thing you would say to be nice. He only tells you this about the fourth time you’ve asked, the arrival of the post season working out with one of the quieter days of your schedule, and you couldn’t stop yourself from laughing in his face about it.

“Quinn. I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t mean it. Most of our conversations are about movies, so I just thought you might find it cool to see what it’s like,” you shrug. "I've watched you play games before so it feels kind of fair, right?’

As much as he protests that it’s different, you are kind of right, naturally. He thinks it is extremely cool that this is what you do for a living, and even cooler that you’d even considered to bring him along and show him a part of it. At least, cool is what he’s trying to convince himself he’s feeling about it all. 

When he sees how excited you look, running out to meet him, he once again can’t help the grin that weasels its way onto his face. He holds out the second coffee cup in his hand to you.

“Hey,” he greets, “I brought you a coffee. I stopped on my way here but I didn’t really know what you usually get or if you prefer, like, hot or iced? So I just got you what I get which is-”

You’re pleasantly surprised and amused, letting him ramble a little before you cut him off, thanking him and groaning when you take a sip. “God, thank you. I’ve already had one today but I truly needed this.”

He’s relieved to hear it, immediately relaxing. “Hectic day then?”

“Kind of, but like… A controlled hectic you know?” You pause, giving him a once over, realising he’s a little less jittery than a minute ago - and also that he looks good. You’ve only ever really seen him in very weak bar lighting, or after a hockey game - but definitely never before lunch. The sun looks good on him you think, and you’re rather charmed by the outfit he’s picked out for the occasion but you’re quick to snap yourself out of your thoughts.

“Let me show you around!”

You give him a tour of the set, proudly pointing out how you managed to convince them to move your trailer closer, talking him through your designs you have pinned up and showing him some of the final costumes.

Quinn’s already wide-eyed, kid in a candy store at all of this, staring and asking if he can touch things. He almost doesn’t believe you when you say he can watch them film a scene or two. He’s amazed by the whole set up of it all, the cameras, the monitors, all the people who seem to be constantly walking places very quickly with a lot of purpose. You lead him to your little costume camp in the corner, letting out a chuckle at how impressed he is. 

“Okay, look so I do kind of have to do my job and leave you alone here, but just stay where I tell you to, don’t get in the way and you’ll be fine.” You’ve barely finished your sentence when someone calls your name, so you’re pushing Quinn into an empty chair, wincing a smile at him and scurrying away.

You don’t really get a chance to check back in on him for a good hour or two, but Quinn’s barely noticed the amount of time that’s gone by. He’s shocked at the fact that he’s so close to actors who he actually recognises, but he’s even more in awe simply watching you in your element. He knew you’d downplayed your role to him but even so, he’s mesmerised at the way you’re handling everyone’s questions, how you’re there in between takes to fix collars and ties and things he hadn’t even noticed, at how almost out of nowhere, you suddenly seem to have this commanding yet gracious air of authority around you. He’s never seen or even pictured you like this but he’s completely caught up in it, not realising that one of the makeup artists has been watching his laser focus on you this whole time and sidled up to him.

He doesn’t quite hear her at first.

“I was just asking if you were the boyfriend?”

Quinn’s immediately blushing furiously and he’s only glad that you aren’t there to see it. “No- no, um. Just, uhh, just a friend is all.” 

His response appropriately earns a raised eyebrow.

“Ahhh, okay. Gotcha. Sorry, was just asking,” she pauses, entertained by his spluttering, “She’s rather amazing, you know? Really great at her job and just incredible in general.”

“Yeah, I, uh- I know,” he answers, glancing at you briefly. There’s something in this stranger’s tone that has him slightly confused, wondering why he’s being told this.

She only hums in response before walking away, leaving him to try not to overthink the interaction. He quickly pushes it aside when he sees you making your way over.

“Hey,” you grin, coming to a stop in front of him, “Been having fun?”

“Oh yeah,” he perks up immediately, “Heaps.”

“Great, because we’re starting to wrap up. I’ll take you back out to the entrance, save you all the boring stuff, y’know?”

Quinn’s surprised that it’s already heading into the late afternoon when you exit the studio. He turns to look at you, shoving his hands into his pockets and mustering up as much sincerity as he can.

“Thanks again for having me. It was, um, it was really cool watching you do your thing.”

“Well thanks for finally taking me up on my offer,” you counter, “and thanks for the coffee. I’m glad you had fun, really." You pause, cocking your head slightly, “We’ll go watch the movie together when it’s out.”

This, Quinn is sure, is a throw away line, at least he thinks. You’re not completely sure if you meant it either, but you know you only said it because you knew he would take it as one.

A couple days later you get a text out of the blue from Beau, and then Brock.

Beau: WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU TOOK QUINN ON SET???? I’VE KNOWN YOU FOR HOW LONG AND YOU’VE NEVER ASKED ME?!!?!?! 

Brock: I like movies too :))

4

For whatever reason, Beau’s apartment had become the designated gathering spot. You’d already found yourself there a couple times already with the rest of the group, so you didn’t really question it when he ropes you into the games night he’s hosting, claiming they need another person to even out the numbers. It doesn’t occur to you to ask why he couldn’t have asked literally any of the other guys instead, so you don’t realise he has a whole catalogue of excuses ready to cover the fact that he’d been orchestrating a reason to get you and Quinn in the same room again.  

If anyone were to ask Quinn why he was late, he also had his own list of excuses ready to rattle off before he’d admit the truth. He’d spent an embarrassingly long amount of time switching between three shirts knowing that he’d see you - and so what if you’d done the same, as long as nobody else knew? 

Currently, you’re all way too many drinks in, lining up along the couch in preparation for the final tie breaking round of charades. Beau’s couch is definitely not big enough to fit six of you but you all squish in anyway, mostly too drunk or too determined to win to care. You should have expected this level of competition from a group of professional athletes; you've done a good job of keeping up all night, but you’re suddenly very acutely aware of how close Quinn is sitting next to you. You take another hard swallow from your drink before turning your focus onto Beau flailing his arms in front of you.

You manage to keep your cool through several rounds, but eventually you realise Quinn’s thigh has, at some point, ended up pressed firmly against yours. Immediately your whole leg is tingling and your face is flaming up, but Quinn doesn’t seem to show any signs of pulling away, or simply even realising. You blink, trying to refocus, but the only thing your brain seems capable of processing at the moment is the feeling of Quinn’s leg against yours through your jeans. If it weren’t for Beau’s overly dramatic reaction, you probably wouldn’t even have noticed that your team had already lost. 

You move to lean back against the couch - which was a mistake, considering now your shoulders are brushing too, and someone might as well have set your entire body on fire. Your head is starting to spin - must just be the shots catching up, you try to convince yourself - and you’ve drawn your lips into a thin line in an effort not to combust. 

Brock lets out a laugh, clocking your expression. “Alright, no need to be such a sore loser, princess.”

You can feel Quinn turning to look at you, even if you’re desperately avoiding his eye contact. Beau is looking at you now too, eyes flickering over the way you and Quinn are pressed into each other’s sides. He grins, gears already turning in his head.

You hope your laugh sounds convincing. “Yeah, didn’t realise I’d get so into it, huh?”

“We’ll just have to have a rematch another time,” Beau reassures you, well aware losing wasn’t the reason why you looked so distressed. He fakes a look at the clock as you stand up from the couch, having decided you wouldn’t have survived much longer if you didn’t move.

“Well I guess it’s getting a bit late. I think we’re all pretty far gone at this point so everyone’s welcome to crash for the night if you want," Beau offers.

“Dude,” Quinn pipes up, “There’s no way you have enough space for all of us.”

“Well, lucky a certain someone just so happens to live not so far away!” Beau is already shepherding the two of you out of his apartment, still wearing the biggest grin on his face.

Before you can even begin to protest, you’ve already found yourself standing next to Quinn in the hallway. A beat passes, the two of you staring at the shut door incredulously before you finally catch Quinn’s eye, both unable to help the fit of giggles that escapes when you catch each other’s expressions. 

In hindsight, you think this is the exact moment where you lose the ability to deny to yourself that you see him as just one of Beau’s friends. His eyes are a little glazed over from the alcohol, and his lips are flushed the prettiest pink to match his cheeks which are pulled into the widest smile you’ve seen him wear to date, and for the first time you notice exactly just how full his eyelashes are.

“I guess I do have a free couch,” you breathe out once you’ve both calmed down. 

“No it’s fine really, I can just get an uber home, don’t worry about it,” Quinn argues, the slight awkwardness of the situation finally hitting him.

“Quinn, don’t be ridiculous. Your car’s still here, isn’t it? I literally live down the hallway,” you pause, “... like Beau said.”

He swallows, blinking at you for a good while. “Yeah, okay. If you’re sure then.” 

He waits for you to tell him that you’ve changed your mind, that actually the boyfriend you’ve never mentioned before wouldn’t like it if he stayed, or anything along those lines - something that would make the whole thing feel a little more believable, but instead, he just finds you looking at him. He doesn’t think he can handle that much longer without buckling at the knees, the way your eyes are searching his face, so he turns and starts walking down the hallway. He goes to ask what number your apartment is when he suddenly feels your soft hand slip into his.

You don’t know what it is. Maybe how nervous he suddenly seemed, maybe the way his hair looked perfectly dishevelled, or maybe in your intoxicated state you’d just finally decided to throw caution to the wind.

“I’m back this way, idiot,” you laugh at him before tugging him down the other way to your door. 

Quinn is sure that his heart is thumping so loudly that you can hear it echoing through the silent hallway, or that you can somehow feel it where your fingers are laced through his but you’re being nice and saving him the embarrassment by not saying anything about it. He’s also hyper aware of how you didn’t drop his hand until you were both inside, even when you were rummaging in your pockets for your keys.

He glances around your apartment, following suit as he watches you kick off your sneakers. He’s overtly aware of the quietness compared to the chaos of just earlier, and the overwhelming sense of domesticity as he trails behind you into your home. 

You watch him as he looks around, trying to find something to do in order to not get distracted staring at his nose. “Want some water?”

“Yeah actually, thanks,” he feels like he’s whispering, like if he speaks any louder you might realise that he is, actually, in fact, standing in your apartment and decide to kick him out. 

He watches you reach on your toes to grab an extra glass from the cabinet and he finds himself endeared by it all - the way your shoes were lined up in the hallway, the sweater left draped over the couch, the lone mug left on your kitchen counter by your coffee machine.

He gestures at what he’s guessing is an open script left on the table next to an array of pens. “New project?”

“Yeah, I’m almost done reading through it,” you answer, “I won't be working on it for several months still, but I haven’t completely decided yet.”

“Is it shooting here as well?”

“Only bits of it. Looks like it’ll be mostly in LA though. And a couple other locations but it’ll be fun,” you shrug, handing him the glass.

“So you’re gonna do it?” 

“Yeah, I think so. Script’s pretty good so far, and it’s an exciting team. Kind of like why not, you know?”

Quinn only manages to mutter out some sort of agreement. He’s surprised by his own disappointment at the idea that you could be moving out to LA, when in the grand scheme of things he’s only known you for about half a year. Thankfully, you interrupt him before he can think about it much more.

“Anyway, I’ll go get some blankets for you. Bathroom’s down that way, there’s extra toothbrushes in the first drawer.”

When he’s back, he almost crumples at the sight of you in your pjs setting up the couch for him. He notices you’ve refilled his glass before you turn around and shove a pile of clothes into his hands.

“Sweats for you, they should fit, I think,” you crinkle your nose. “My room’s down that way, just let me know if you need anything.”

He only manages to get out a small thanks in response. He’s staring at you, he knows that, but he can’t help how soft you look in the dim lighting.

You tilt your head, giving him a small smile. “Night, Quinn.”

“Yeah, goodnight,” he mumbles.

He makes a mental note to both punch Beau and then thank him in the morning.

+ 1

Nothing ever happened after that seemingly eventful night. It’s now well into the next season and you’re thinking that this is just what the dynamic of yours and Quinn’s friendship is like. You’ve gone back to trying to convince yourself that it’s normal - like you also think Beau’s good looking, right? You had a bit of a crush on him too when you first met him, even if that came and went awfully swiftly and you don’t get anything even close to the same kind of head spinning giddiness when he talks to you. Quinn thinks he’s been less subtle about it all, and you think you’ve been dropping hints but apparently your efforts have only been evident to everyone else but each other.

You know that the team has a gala coming up soon. Beau’s mentioned it to you a couple times in his attempt to gauge how you would feel if he forced Quinn to take you as his date. When he tells Quinn his master plan to finally get the two of you together, Quinn almost chokes on his own spit.

“Ask her as my date?! You’re kidding right?” he practically screeches.

“No.”

Quinn stammers, trying to formulate some kind of reply. “I don’t- We’re not- … I’m not doing that.”

Beau groans. “You guys are both such idiots, I’m sick of it. It’s so obvious that you like her and I don’t know how you can’t see that she’s head over heels for you too!”

Quinn only stares at him in response.

“Why won’t you just ask her? The world isn’t going to implode.”

There’s a good minute of silence, the two of them staring at each other waiting for someone to break. Quinn finally sighs, taking a seat on the couch.

“Isn’t she leaving for LA soon?”

“Are you being serious right now? Please tell me you’re not actually this stupid.”

Quinn blinks. “I don’t know. Vancouver and LA are pretty far apart.”

Beau is just about ready to physically knock some sense into him.

“You’re not even in Vancouver half the time anyway. Plus she’s not moving away forever. Don’t be such a drama queen.”

When Quinn doesn’t say anything in response, Beau doubles down.

“If you don’t ask her, I will for you. I’m not lying but you can test that out if you’d like.”

Beau doesn’t believe that Quinn will do anything, but he doesn’t give him much time to prove him wrong anyway. He’s calling you that evening.

“What are you doing Saturday night in two weeks time?”

“What? Nothing, I don’t think.”

“Okay, great. You’re coming to the gala as Quinn’s date then.”

“I’m what?!”

“You heard me.”

There’s a pause.

“Are you home right now?”

“Ye-”

You hang up on him before he can finish the syllable and you’re storming down the hallway until you’re banging on his door. He looks rather calm when he lets you in, but you don’t miss the mischievous twinkle in his eye.

You point an accusing finger at him. “Explain it to me again. You want me to do what now?”

Beau rolls his eyes. “You’re free. Quinn’s free. Why not? It’s painfully obvious that you have this massive crush on him.”

You huff, crossing your arms over your chest. “No I don’t. And you’re asking me instead of him because?”

“Because he’s being an idiot, like he has been for almost an entire year now.” Beau looks at you and he can tell you could be convinced. “Just say yes. I’ll be there, the other guys will be there, there’ll be free food and drinks. Plus you’ll get to dress up! You’re always telling me you want to have an excuse to dress up yourself instead of other people!”

You can’t deny his last point. Literally just the other week, you’d sent him a link of this drop dead gorgeous dress you’d found whilst sourcing for your next project and complained to him about how you wanted to get it for yourself but had nowhere to wear it to.

You narrow your eyes at him. “What’s the catch?”

“There is no catch. Just say you’ll come as his date. That’s it.”

You pause. Beau finds himself in his second stalemate of the day, but he knows you’re going to give in more easily. He listens to the tick of the clock in his living room, patiently waiting for you to cave.

“Fine.”

You don’t give him a chance to properly react before you’ve flung open his door, marched back to your own apartment and screamed into your pillow about what you’ve said yes to.

Beau should’ve known you were going to be insufferable leading up to the actual night. You spend the entirety of the next week pestering him about what the dress code is, how you have nothing to wear, what to expect, who else is going to be there. He gives you the same answers every time you ask and he promises to go dress shopping with you on Thursday. You’re only the slightest bit more relieved at this, but as soon as you agree, Beau’s texting Quinn that he has about a week to deliver.

Quinn had called you as soon as he saw Beau’s message, apologising and saying that he wished Beau had given him a little more warning so he could have asked you himself (he knows he wouldn’t have) and telling you that you don’t have to go if you didn’t want to. You were barely done freaking out about it yourself, but the way he sounded so completely flustered about it all through the phone was somewhat reassuring. 

When you make your way up the stairs to your apartment on Wednesday evening, you find yourself actually excited to go pick out a dress the next day. You would be lying if you said you hadn’t pulled together some inspiration images, but in your defence, you were just good at your job. Your steps falter a little when you notice a package at your door, but as you get closer, you notice there’s a post-it note over it. 

Been a minute since our mail got confused again :)

– Beau

You’re confused because you don’t remember ordering anything, but it’s definitely been addressed to you. You head inside to open it, brows furrowing when you start to recognise the fabric. Needless to say, your jaw is definitely on the floor when you pull out the same dress that you had sent Beau not too long ago. You’re scrambling to grab your phone to yell at him when you remember they’re currently playing a game at the moment, so you settle for a borderline blasphemous string of texts instead.

Hours later, when you’re still reeling, you get one single message in response.

Beau: Wasn’t me. Was all huggy :)

It feels like the last days left until the gala had gone all too quick yet also taken way too long. You felt like you’d been pulling your hair out about it nonstop, and it didn’t help that the guys had gone away on a roadie in between. 

You’d started getting ready way too early. You couldn’t do up the clasp of your necklace since you weren’t used to having your nails done, leaving you too much time to start wondering if you’d maybe gone a little overboard with it all. You’d been pacing around your apartment for the past half hour trying to occupy your hands with something else instead, waiting for a more appropriate time to get changed. You think you must look like a deranged housewife, washing your dishes and folding your laundry with a full face of makeup and maybe too much diligence.

You’re so caught up in distracting yourself that the buzzer ringing makes you jump. 

“Hey, come on up. I’ll unlock the door, I’ve just got to get changed,” you say over the intercom. 

You run back to your room to pull on the dress you’d been fawning over for weeks, still not entirely sure how either Quinn or Beau had managed to work out the right size for you. You hear the door being opened and Quinn calling out your name just as you’re spraying your perfume. 

“In my room!” You yell back, “One sec!”

When he rounds the corner and lays eyes on you, Quinn’s certain he’s turned completely into putty. He’s never seen you so dressed up and you look so breathtakingly stunning that he almost drops the bouquet in his hands.

You’re equally breathless when you turn around to face him. You didn’t realise that he’d gotten a tie to match, and you wouldn’t know that he’d dragged Petey to help him pick a new suit in an attempt to impress you. You’re both staring at each other for what feels like forever before either of you can manage a word.

“Um, hi,” he breathes, barely audible, “You look- you look really beautiful.”

You can’t hide the blush that’s creeping up your neck, but you don’t try to anyway considering his cheeks have gone a rosy shade to match. 

“Thanks, Quinn. You look really good too.” You don’t notice how he flushes even deeper because you’ve finally noticed the flowers he’s holding, and even more so, how there’s not a single rose in the bunch. “Are those…?”

Quinn suddenly feels embarrassed about the fact he got you flowers. “Yeah, I um, I got- they’re for you.” He feels like a school boy all over again, mentally kicking himself for not being able to get a proper sentence out. He looks down at the stems, rubbing at his stubble. “Did I overdo it?”

You laugh, you’d been fidgeting with your nails the entire time.

“No, I think it’s really sweet.” You take the flowers from him, laying them down on your vanity when you remember your necklace.

“Oh, can you help me with this? I can’t seem to get the clasp.” You hand him the chain and turn, moving your hair out of the way. 

You can smell the waft of his cologne and feel his focus on the back of your neck, suddenly incredibly aware of how close you’re standing. Your mouth has dried, you're pretty sure your ears are ringing and you think you’re fully frozen in your spot.

“There,” Quinn mumbles, barely even able to get the word past the lump in his throat. He’s still thinking about how unreal you look and fighting the overwhelming urge to spin you around and kiss you right then and there. 

You’re both snapped out of the moment when his phone starts ringing. It’s Beau, asking what time you guys are going to arrive.

“Yeah, we’re just about to leave. See you soon, dude.” Quinn answers, turning his attention back to you. “Ready to go?”

On the way there, you’ve somehow recomposed yourself to manage a somewhat normal conversation. You’re not sure exactly what it is that sent your nerves into haywire in the first place. The fact that you’re so done up, that you’re technically his date, or the fact that he seems just as antsy as you. He tells you he’s a little nervous about the speech he has to make, so you squeeze his hand in reassurance and try to reel your nerves in for both of you.

It’s a lot easier when you get there and see everyone else. You’re reminded that they’re your friends and that this is just another time you get to hang out, even if it’s a lot more fancy and official than what you’re used to. But when you finally go to take your seats after doing your initial rounds of mingling, you still manage to somehow knock your fork to the floor. You bend over to pick it up and you don’t realise Quinn’s covered the edge of the table with his hand until you bump your head into it. Before you can even say anything or just thank him for it, he’s offering to swap forks with you.

“Oh, don’t even worry about it,” you laugh a little breathlessly, “Five second rule, right?”

“Yeah, sure,” he replies, but he’s already replaced the fork next to your plate with his anyway. 

Brock and Petey have watched the whole exchange and share knowing smirks from across the table.

Everything else seems to go smoothly. Maybe it’s the soft touches on his arm or on your back, the blushing smiles and longing glances across the room, but something about tonight feels like tomorrow you won’t be able to pretend nothing happened.

Quinn’s speech goes well, and now everyone is up and moving around again. You hang back and let the long line of teammates and attendees go to congratulate him first.

Beau approaches Quinn, interrupting his train of thought.

“Now that the business part is done, you gonna finally make a move or what?”

Quinn’s eyes almost pop out of his head at the idea of this and also the volume at which Beau is speaking.

“Shut up,” he hisses, “She’ll hear you!”

“Doesn’t matter - she’s going to notice anyway with how hard you’ve been staring all night!”

“No I haven’t,” he mutters, rolling his eyes.

“Yeah ok, sure buddy. Just- no time like the present!” Beau claps him on the back and leaves Quinn to shift his gaze back to you. He’s starting to get lost in how at ease you look, talking to some of the other wives, when he realises Beau is right and you’ve caught him staring.

You make your way to him, prodding him gently in the shoulder.

“Told ya you didn’t need to be so worried.”

He’s blushing again. He can’t seem to get a handle on the effect you have on him.

“Yeah, it went alright, I guess. Made it out alive.”

“Well I, for one, think you spoke really well.” There’s a slight teasing in your voice, but you hope he can tell you mean it.

Quinn finds himself lost for words in front of you for what feels like the hundredth time that night. He’s scanning your face and tries not to think too hard before he opens his mouth again.

“Can I kiss y-”

“Please.”

His hands are quick to find your waist and pull you closer as your hands find a place against his chest. The kiss is quick and rushed and almost all teeth from how big you’re both smiling, but you don’t mind it. You feel like the ground’s been pulled out from under you in one fell swoop and you’re free falling but somehow it feels like exactly what you needed.

When you pull away, Quinn’s wearing the goofiest lopsided grin you’ve ever seen and you can only imagine that you look the same.

“I, uh-”

“You’ve got lip gloss on you.”

You’re both giggling as he swipes over his lips with his thumb. 

You’re so lost in him that you almost don’t register all the hollering and clapping from your table. Usually you would hate the idea of so many eyes watching you, but it all feels like such a long time coming that you can’t seem to be even remotely embarrassed about any of it.

[cross-word]

Ethan Landry x Male Reader

Guardian Angel

“Ethan, can you bring the girls to sleep?” my wife told me as i picked up my two daughters fresh out of the bath and ready for bed one of them touched my face “daddy can you tell us a story.” As I set both of them down into their beds I take the tiny frog chair and set it up between them sitting down. I ask them a question “what story would you like to hear?” Both of my daughters look at the ceiling trying to figure out a story they want to hear.

They stared at me “tell us about your first love.” Janis asked “my first love?” i asked “yeah, was it with mommy?” Rachel asked “no, it wasn’t mommy but someone who was close to me” I said.

It was the first day of 9th grade ethan walks up the stairs to only be bumped by some kid “woah, i'm so sorry ethan” Y/N said, ethan stared at him trying to suppress a smile “no it’s ok i wasn't looking y/n” ethan said holding his forearm that started to hurt due to the impact “come on we're going to late” y/n said grabbing ethan’s hand, unbeknownst to y/n ethan was blushing.

“Wait, him? As in a boy? Your first love was a boy daddy?” Janis asked if I stared at her “yeah, he was and he was the best.” Rachel looked at me “even better than mommy?” she asked “some days maybe” i told them jokingly “i'm telling mommy” rachel spoke.

“When did you know you liked him daddy?” Rachel asked.

It was the summer after their junior year Ethan's family had gotten into a rough patch when the eldest son Richie was killed in a drunk driving accident. It took a toll on his dad the most. He was the closest to richie and now that richie died he was a mess “WHY CAN’T YOU BE LIKE YOUR BROTHER ETHAN” his father yelled at him he had been drinking and ethan made a joke about going to his dream school instead of blackmore university like his brother.

Ethan knew his father liked Richie more than him; it was apparent he never had to say it, “BE LIKE RICHIE? RICHIE WAS A GOOD FOR NOTHING LOSER, WHO SPENT ALL HIS TIME GOING TO PARTIES INSTEAD OF STUDYING HE FAILED EVERY TEST HE TOOK DAD, I GET GOOD GRADES I NEVER PARTY AND I ACTUALLY CARE ABOUT MY FUTURE WHY DON'T YOU UNDERSTAND THIS” ethan yelled back his father was quiet. Too quiet, Ethan looked at his dad before he could react. His father threw a bottle of beer at his face hitting him on the side of his face.

Ethan’s mom ran from the kitchen “WAYNE WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU” she said cradling ethan’s bleeding head “oh my god my baby” ethan’s mom said caressing ethan’s face “that little bitch needs to learn respect” his dad said before grabbing ethan’s mom and throwing her to the floor away from ethan, ethan felt nothing but punches and kicks from his father. After he was done Ethan laid there watching his dad walk away “that’ll teach you, stupid little brat, should’ve gotten your mom to abort you when we had the chance” ethan stared at his mom still struggling to stand up from the force his dad used on her.

Ethan got up, his mom staring at his bruised face and body tears running down his face he ran out the front door, got on his bike and left. He peddled far until he was at his best friend's house. Ethan got off the bike rushing towards the door he rang the doorbell until someone opened it “ethan…” y/n said looking at his face “get in here” y/n said leading ethan to his room.

“Stay here” y/n told him and walked out the room. Ethan watched as y/n came back with a first aid kit for the next 30 minutes y/n spent fixing ethan’s face disinfecting every cut and putting a bandaid on it. “y/n why is ethan’s bike on the front lawn” his mom asked, coming in to see ethans face “oh my god” y/n looking at his mom basically pleading “can he stay over tonight” y/n mom looked at them and left the room.

“I don't wanna bother you guys” ethan said getting up when he was stopped. “no, don't ever say that you’ll never be a bother to me” y/n said sitting down next to ethan “what about your mom?” he asked “she loves you, just lay down and go to sleep we’ll deal with this later” y/n smiled at him covering ethan with a blanket.

Ethan woke up to screaming scared he’s over staying, ethan got up ready to leave coming down stair to see y/n yelling with ethans father “HE ISN’T GOING HOME WITH YOUR DRUNK ASS” y/n yelled stopping ethan’s dad from getting in “YOU DON’T KNOW ANYTHING YOU’RE JUST A DUMB KID” ethans dad yelled back “SO WHAT, I KNOW YOU’RE A SHITTY ASS FATHER GET OUT OF MY HOUSE” y/n screamed ethan saw his father fist raise when y/n mom finally said something. “If you lay a single finger on my son I will take you to court. You’re lucky I'm not going to CPS the way Ethan looked when he came to us, being a known abuser as the town sheriff will definitely get you fired, don't even think about it.” Ethan's dad stood still and backed away mumbling stuff before getting in his car and driving away.

y/n and his mom turned to see ethan there “your awake, how was your sleep” y/n said changing personalities from the one he used on his father “im fine, are you ok?” Ethan asked, hugging you. “I'm fine, don’t worry about me Ethan” you said hugging him tighter “I’m sorry he came here” Ethan apologized to your mom “don’t worry about it sweetheart just happy you’re safe” she said as she went to go lock the door.

“If he was your first love daddy? What happened to him, where is he at now?” One of his daughters asked.

“His gone sweetie he did the one thing he was always good at, protecting me” Ethan stared at them remembering the night Y/N died.

It was spring break Ethan, Quinn and Y/N were back from college Y/N woke up when he got a call from Quinn “Y/N GET HERE QUICKLY PLEASE THEIR FIGHTING AGAIN” Y/N didn’t waste a second sprinting towards his car and driving towards their house.

Quinn was waiting outside pacing back and forward and Y/N got out walking towards her “their in there it’s bad y/n” not wasting a second he walked in to see Ethan’s dad with a gun and beer bottles everywhere on the floor. “I fucking hate you” Ethan’s dad yelled at him.

Ethan was curled in a ball with a black eye forming in the kitchen y/n ran up to get the gun away “AND YOU, YOU AND ETHAN AND YOUR GODDAMN FAGGOT LOVE STORY” y/n pushed trying to get the gun out of his grip while y/n and Ethan’s dad were fighting for dominance a gun shot could be heard.

Ethan opened his eyes to see blood on the floor he looked up to see y/n back starting to turn red “NOOO” he screamed he pushed his dad away from Y/N grabbing his crying into his neck.

“Daddy? You’re zoning out” Rachel said Ethan was snapped out of the his mind “y/n was my best friend, and I would never change anything about it” Ethan looked at his daughters “I hope one day you guys would have a y/n in your life some to protect you like a guardian angel” after he was done talking he kissed their heads walking towards his bed off to sleep.

[stephsageek]

New One-shot Alert

My Five X Lila Strip poker one-shot is finally done!

A Preview:

Five expelled his drink, coughing into his fist afterward.

Lila’s eyes widened as she leaned over, patting him on the back a few times as he gasped and sputtered. “I-I’m sorry—” he wheezed. “I-I thought you said ‘strip’—”

“Oh, no. You heard right,” she reassured calmly.

“What the fu-How can-Are you—?!” Five rapidly protested, suddenly squeezing his eyes shut, his expression annoyed and aggrieved in equal turns. “What am I saying? Of course, you’re insane—”

“Oi! You said I get to pick—!”

“Yes, Lila. I did,” Five admitted, his voice strained as he tried to be patient. “But why would you—?!”

“What? Afraid of losing your precious Puritanical sense of propriety because you’re shite at cards—”

“Two things, senior psychopath. One, I am most certainly not ‘shite’ at cards. You must not have read my file too closely while you were at the Commission, because if you had you would know the identity of the only known person to have bested James Hickok in a game of cards—”

“Wild Bill?!” Lila gasped as Five kept talking.

“—Two, you are my brother’s wife—not to mention my best friend!” Five hissed as if worried someone might hear him.

“Aw, old man, I’m touched—!” Lila fawned, only to be cut off.

“Don’t change the subject! Playing strip poker is practically cheating!” he snapped.

Lila rolled her eyes. “Puh-lease! One, there is no way you are telling me you beat Wild Bill and even think for a second, that we’re not going to play! Two, playing strip poker is most certainly not cheating—”

“How the hell do you figure—?!”

“It’s not like we’d even be touching—”

“We’d be naked—!”

“You might be, loser—”

“Regardless of who might be naked in this scenario, Lila, the point still stands that it is obviously —”

“Have you forgotten that you’ve already seen me starkers as it is?” Lila smirked, folding her arms. “Or am I the only one that remembers?”

Lila watched as a vein began to throb at Five’s temple as he gritted out, “You were trying to kill me; forgive me for being a little preoccupied.”

“Not at all! You honestly ought to thank me for even giving you another chance at eyeing the goods!”

Lila watched in amusement as Five gnashed his teeth in frustration, his face growing red. She was unsure if it was from anger or embarrassment.

“We’re both adults, old man; playing a friendly game! Nothing untoward. You Americans are always so touchy about nudity. There are plenty of cultures where family members see each other naked all the time—!”

“Lila, it’s not because we’re—"

“Besides, the human form is natural; not necessarily only sexual,” Lila reasoned, knowing Five well enough to know that an appeal to his sense of logic would be difficult for him to argue against. Although she could think of one other appeal he’d struggle to overcome: an appeal to his sense of pride.

“You’re just afraid I’ll show you up,” Lila grinned.

She liked the way his eyes blazed when he was truly beginning to lose his patience. The way he clenched his jaw, making a muscle jump in his cheek.

“Or worse, that you might like what you see~” Lila whispered, teasing.

Five’s face went scarlet.

Lila felt her heartbeat quicken.

Lila loved ruffling his feathers, flirting and teasing; taunting and baiting; and disturbing his carefully constructed world.

She loved it from the moment they met, and it had only grown over the years.

She remembered when they'd first been enemies, the way his anger and pain had felt like a balm to her soul.

When his bitterness had tasted so very sweet.

Even now, with his brother—her husband—no one else had ever given her this feeling. That spike of adrenaline and dopamine that rushed through her veins like a drug. That thrill that made her heart race.

Her life felt drab, stifling, and joyless sometimes; like she was dragging her feet through a gray, lackluster existence.

And then Five would come along, brightening her life and splashing her universe in technicolor. If she was Dorthy, he was her Oz and she never wanted to go back to Kansas.

[rogersideup]

Nice to be Kneaded

Chapter 15

Everything will be Okay

series masterlist

Previous part: Cinnamon Roll Next Part: Crawl Home to You

Word Count: 6,979

Warnings: My blog is 18+ only. All minors or blogs without an age in bio will be blocked. Minors DNI. Mentions of medical equipment, loss, abuse, PTSD, anxiety and depression.

"This is the worst thing I've ever done" Steve complained, puffing out short winded breaths as he worked at the table opposite you.

He decided he wanted to learn how to bake bread after watching you do it so many times. The patiences and techniques behind the art intrigued him, and there was no one better to learn from than you, the best of the best.

You laughed as you watched him struggle to knead the dough on the floured counter facing yours. His cheeks were turning pink and his dough was still shaggy and lumpy, he was completely envious of yours already becoming smooth and bouncy. "Don't look at mine, it's unfair to you. I have experience, comparison is going to kill all your confidence."

"My arms hurt" Steve emphasized.

"Your arms pulled an in-flight helicopter into the top of a building, and single handedly ended World War II. I'm pretty sure they can handle an artisan loaf, Baby." You smiled.

"How long have we been kneading?" He puffed out.

You peaked at the clock, "mmmm, 3 minutes."

"How long do we need to do this?"

"Usually 10"

"Okay, well, you must have arms of steel because this is impossible."

"I believe in you!" You encouraged him. "Use the heels of your palms, push the dough out then pull it back. You can even go diagonally, side to side."

"You're not even out of breath?" He noted in disbelief. "I feel like I'm asthmatic again."

"Do you need an inhaler? I'm sure I can find you one" A giggle slipped past your lips.

"You're a super soldier." Steve stated, his arms coming to a stand still to take a break. "There's no way someone can just do this."

"Here, let's swap. I got a good start on this one so it'll be easier for you." You said walking over to his side of the table, and taking over his dough while he moved over to yours.

"See, much easier. Now I'm a bread master!" He exclaimed, working with your dough that was already almost completely smooth rather than his shaggy mess.

"I knew you could do it! Great job, Stevie" You smiled.

"Thank you, thank you." He accepted your compliment.

A comfortable silence fell between you two as the sound of music filled your ears, you were obviously very concentrated on fixing the monstrosity of a dough pile Steve had left you.

It was sticking to every square inch of your hands, yet also incredibly crumbly and dry. You had no idea how he even went about creating such a substance, but you sure as hell were going to make it work, and you definitely weren't going to say anything about it.

He knew it wasn't correct, it was written all over your face but that made him happy. Watching you try to work with the crumbly goo with furrowed eyebrows and a smile that you tried to hold back warmed his heart, you were always so kind and encouraging.

"So..." Steve broke the silence.

"So?" You acknowledged.

"I was thinking."

"Oh gosh, that's scary..." You joked.

"Our anniversary passed not too long ago..." He mentioned, causing you to look up at him with a fond look on your face.

"That was six months ago" You pointed out, unsure if not too long was the proper description of how much time had actually passed.

Once all of the scary bumps that came along with establishing a new relationship were smoothed out, unlike the dough beneath your hands, your relationship with Steve was so smooth it glided by effortlessly and fast.

The concept of time since the blip in general felt quite odd, it felt like five years had passed by in the blink of an eye, yet the way of living with only half the population was so normal and routine now you couldn't imagine a time in which you lived a normal life before the blip.

That's exactly how you felt about your time with Steve as well. He moved in permanently next door, then before you knew it his lease was up and he moved in to your house. The spaces that were once yours were now yours and Steve's.

Four and a half years deep into your official relationship with the man and you couldn't even remember a time in which his easel wasn't always displaying a half completed work of art in the corner of the living room and there wasn't a Captain America suit tucked away in the very back of the closet, hiding away in a garment bag.

The two of you created the simple, care free life of your dreams. One in which the biggest struggle you faced on the daily basis was keeping the bakery stocked despite the ever growing crowds, and missing Steve whenever he was away on business to the compound in New York.

"So our anniversary is coming up!"'He enthused.

You laughed at his change of words, "only six months away!"

"Can you believe that four and a half years ago I waltzed in here for a cookie, and that simple choice single handedly changed both of our lives?" He questioned.

"Wow, kneading bread makes you so philosophical." You noted. "What a great choice you made, just goes to show that cookies really are the better part of life."

"You're the better part of my life, sunflower." He purposely cheesed causing you to look back up at him once more.

"How sweet" You acknowledged. "If my hands weren't covered in dough I'd reach up and boop your nose."

He laughed while he continued kneading your loaf that he was definitely going to claim as his now. "Maybe we could spend our half-anniversary in New York?"

Steve was going through a phase in which you could've never ever predicted, he hated going up to the compound now. He dreaded work trips, he hated how cold his room in the compound always seemed to feel, he despised all the memories that came to mind when he walked around.

From what you could understand through multiple conversations about this, he just didn't like being away from you. Being away from you when the blip happened and having no control over your arrest traumatized him in a way he would never admit, but in a way you could see in his eyes every time he had to leave town.

Regardless of what it was that made him resent the compound so much, you knew that it was a whole lot easier for him when you tagged along. So now he found a lot of creative reasons to try and drag you to New York.

Each reason was more creative than the last, and you said yes every single time he asked. At this point in your relationship, you were pretty sure you've spent over four months time in New York and it was starting to feel like a second home.

"You know you don't really need a reason to get me to New York right?" You smiled. "I'd love to spend our half anniversary with you, and I'll go with you to wherever you need to go."

"But coming up with a reason is half the fun" Steve admitted.

"Is this fun?" You questioned, motioning to the dough in your hands.

"This is exhausting!" He answered honestly, earning a laugh from you.

"You know what I love about going to the compound with you?"

"That Nat is there?" He questioned.

"That I get to learn about all the cool things you do for once. It's like going to the Avengers bakery and kneading the Captain America loaf!" You explained. "But yeah, I do love seeing Nat."

Steve giggled at your analogy, loving every second of watching your skillful hands try their absolute hardest to make his faulty dough pile work. "I'm always worried that you might be bored whenever I drag you with me."

"Bored?!" You emphasized. "My love, I'm a civilian in the Avengers compound. There's absolutely nothing boring about that."

"Okay, so next week you'll come with me?" He asked just to make sure.

"Of course" you reassured.

"Woohoo!" He shook his shoulders and hips in a little happy dance, hands sill focused on the dough. "Best day ever!"

You laughed at his response, "if this is the best day ever, then I think we should get out more."

"Okay, now is your chance to be honest with me." Steve prompted. "Does that dough lump have any potential at all of becoming anything close to a loaf of bread?"

"You know I love you very, very much?" You smiled, batting your eyelashes.

"Of course I do." Steve giggled.

"We're gonna have to squish this." You told him honestly. "But the bright side is that you're doing so well kneading that loaf, it'll be the prettiest, glutinous loaf to ever come out of this kitchen!"

"You said that so nicely, I'm not even upset about it" Steve shrugged, prompting you to smile.

You walked over to him and rocked up on your tippy toes before smacking a kiss to his cheek. "You're wonderful, we'll try again soon."

Before you knew it, you were right back in New York, smack dap in the compound. Whenever you were here you completely understood that Steve was here to work, so you never expected him to keep you entertained by any means. So you always brought your laptop and took care of business from the comfort of his room or the living room depending on what him and Nat were up to that day.

And 100% of the times you stepped foot into the Avengers home, whoever was lingering around always asked for you to bake them something, and you were always happy to say yes.

This particular night, Nat requested a chocolate chip cheesecake. After going to the store to get everything you needed, making all the parts and popping it in the oven, you started to do the dishes.

Muscular forearms wrapped around your stomach from behind, and the front of Steve's body warmly pressed against your back.

"How's it going, baby?" He questioned.

"Good, almost done in here." You responded while enjoying every second of his embrace. "How are you? Sleepy?"

"So tired." He confirmed. "I have a few hours of work left to get ready for the support group tomorrow but I think Nat is wrapping up for the night. You'll be okay?"

"Of course, I still have to input payroll and enter the supply delivery invoice for the bakery so I have plenty to do." You grinned, wiping your hands off so you could turn around to face him. When you did, you couldn't help but to admire him. His hair, his cute outfit, the fond yet tired look in his eyes. Reaching up, you squeezed his shoulders to try and relax his tense posture as his hands made their way to your hips. "You're so beautiful."

His cheeks turned pink before dropping his head onto your shoulder. "You're beautiful-er."

"Why does it have to be a competition? Just accept your handsomeness and move on" You giggled at his shyness, even after four and a half years together.

"Becauseeeee" he complained. "I'm lucky to have you, and I'm so happy you're here. Then, you're always really nice to me and all the people here that I love and I just can't even process how sweet you are."

You smiled before you both mutually leaned in for a kiss. "I promise you that I feel like the lucky one."

"Impossible." He shook his head in denial with his cheeks stilly adorably rosy. "Thank you for baking for us."

"Anytime, you know I love it."

Steve nodded in agreement. "I'll see you in a few hours?"

"I'll be here." You gave his shoulders another good squeeze. "We'll get those pretty eyes of yours some good rest."

By the time Steve finished up work and made his way back to the living quarters, it was already way past the bedtime he subconsciously made for himself to keep up with living with a baker. 10 at night felt like he had pulled an all nighter, and it seems as though that's how you felt as well considering he found you and Nat asleep on the couch.

Empty plates on the coffee table with Oreo crumbs being the only evidence of the cheesecake you made hours prior, and a movie that Steve had never even heard of playing on the TV provided the only source of light in the big space.

You and Nat had obviously gotten close and comfortable with each other, the shared blanket across your laps and your head plunked over onto Nat's shoulder with her head on top of yours made Steve smile and feel endlessly happy.

As much as you loved Nat, Steve knew Nat needed every drop of love and friendship you could give her. You both knew she was struggling ever since the blip, she spent every waking moment trying to monitor the world and find a solution. Steve didn't even know she was capable of settling down enough for even just a few hours to be able to fall asleep while watching a movie in the first place. You weren't just his sunflower, but everyone's who was lucky enough to earn your love.

Though he hated to break up the adorable scene in front of him, he was just as tired as the two of you evidently were and knew he should get you to bed.

He started by waking up Nat considering you were stuck beneath her. She was a light sleeper so it didn't take more than gently shaking her arm to wake her up, and she came to her senses quickly enough to immediately recognize what Steve was about to do.

"Good morning." Nat grinned, not lifting her head from the top of yours.

"Morning." Steve smiled. "Any chance I could get my girl back so I can send you two off to bed?"

"No. She's mine now." Nat denied. "Shes so cute and cuddly like a little puppy."

"You can have her back in the morning, but if she doesn't get some real sleep she gets a little grumpy." Steve bargained.

"Fine, but she's mine tomorrow. We're gonna go run some errands and grab lunch together."

"That sounds great, you could use a few hours away from this place." Steve encouraged.

"Just for that comment, I'm staying home." Nat joked.

"I will literally pay for both of you to go get your nails done if that means you'll get some fresh, non recirculated air." Steve sassed.

"A manicure and I get to take your girl out? Sign me up." She continued joking.

"The only conditions are that you go get some sleep and let me have nighttime custody of her so that she can get some sleep too."

"You're such a dad." She stated while carefully nudging your head off of her shoulder, then slowly standing up when she had successfully moved you off of her.

"Can I get you anything before you head off to bed?" Steve checked in.

"No, I'm okay. Thank you." She approached him and squeezed his shoulder before he just pulled her in for a hug anyways. "Goodnight, Rogers."

"Night, Romanoff." He reciprocated before letting go and she walked off into her room.

Now, he had you. His precious little lump on the couch. The dishes on the coffee table could be taken care of in the morning, and the TV would auto shut off in an hour or two. So he picked you up and held you tightly in his arms, and you immediately snuggled into neck.

He could tell you woke up at some point considering you started leaving little kisses to his exposed skin before he made it to his room. You were already in your pajamas ready to go, so he gently laid your down on the bed before he changed into some pajama shorts and brushed his teeth before laying down next to you.

Surprisingly, you were still awake and quick to pull the blankets over the two of you as you settled into each other. Appreciating the warmth of his soft bare skin, you laid your head on his chest and wrapped your arm tightly around his stomach, hand resting on the side of his rib cage.

You placed a little kiss to his collar bone before propping yourself up a bit on your arm to spark up a conversation you needed to get off your mind before you could truly get some restful sleep.

"How was the rest of your day, honey?" You questioned as one of his hands slipped up the back of your crewneck, the other drew little circles onto your hip.

"It was okay, pretty routine." He responded softly. "How's Nat doing?"

"That poor girl needs to get a life away from all of this." You sighed.

"I know" Steve nodded in agreement. "It's really hard to take a step back when you feel directly responsible, but it's not healthy. I've been encouraging her to get out more but she doesn't listen."

"I invited her to stay with us in Greenwood in a few weeks, hopefully she takes me up on that." You moved your hand up to his chest.

"That would be really fun." Steve grinned. "Did you have fun tonight?"

"Mhm, I mostly worked the whole time though." You admitted. "I actually wanted to talk to you about something before we sleep."

"What's going on?" He asked, you could tell he was paying a little closer attention now.

"So I ran some numbers on profit and what not, and just for shits and giggles I reached out to my lender and contractor to see if this was even a possibility when I had the idea but now that it's looking very possible, I wanted to see how you felt about this..."

"About what?" He raised an eyebrow in anticipation.

"What would you think about me opening a second location of the bakery?" You asked.

His face immediately lit up in a big smile. "Darling, that's incredible! You should absolutely do it if you feel comfortable enough."

"I do feel really good about it." You confirmed. His happy response made your heart soar. When you first opened Nice to be Kneaded, your last partner ridiculed you every single day. He thought the idea of owning a business would simply be too much of a challenge for you. He told you that you'd never succeed, that it would go under and cause debts for the rest of your life. Though you were at a point in your relationship with Steve where you never doubted his ability to be a kind person, his kindness still made you happy every single day. "The reason I really wanted to ask you is because I was advised the best location to break ground in would be New York."

His big smile grew even wider, and the corners of his eyes crinkled with adorable smile lines. "Are you for real?"

"Yeah" you giggled at his response.

"That makes me so happy!" He pouted his lip and furrowed his eyebrows. "I'm so proud of you."

"So I take it that you think this is a good idea?" The smile never left your face.

"I think it's the best idea you've ever had." He exaggerated.

"Then I guess I'll give it the green light first thing tomorrow morning." You settled the issue then settled back into his body.

The two of you talked for a little while about what life would look like with another bakery in New York. Both of you traveled back and forth so often now that dividing your time between two places was already second nature. He even pitched getting the two of you an apartment somewhere between the city and the compound so you both felt more at home when away from Greenwood. Though you loved the idea, you encouraged him to let all these thoughts settle for a day or two until you had a better idea on the logistics of this new endeavor. Besides, it was already late and you were both tired, there was nothing you could even arrange until the morning.

Though you felt settled and completely relaxed snuggled up to him, you played with his hair and tried to get him to relax too. You could feel his tension, but it was normal. No matter how exhausted he was, if he was at the compound his mind was busy and never quite turned off. His thoughts shifted from the happy thoughts of a future where the two of you hopped from bakery to bakery, big city Avenging to a small town simple life to something that had nothing to do with the sweet girl in bed giving him the most delightful cuddles he could've ever wanted.

You knew he was enjoying spending time with you even if his mind was up in the clouds, his hand that never stopped drawing shapes into your back told you that loud and clear.

"What are you thinking about, love?" You asked.

He let out a sigh and his eyes never left the ceiling, then his lips pressed into a straight line, then a forced grin and he finally looked at you. "What do we do if we can't find a way to undo what Thanos did?"

"What do we do," You motioned to the two of you "or what do the Avengers do?"

"Both. Either." He said, desperate to hear the right answer he couldn't find.

"Well I think both have the same answer." You shrugged. "Acceptance, then moving on."

He gave you the most adorable stink eye you've ever seen, so cute you had to hold back a giggle. "Why does everyone say that?"

"You preach it every time you hold a support group, no?" You questioned.

"That's different."

"How so?"

"Civilians aren't responsible for what happened, they deserve to live their lives exactly how they would if this never happened." He explained.

Whenever he spoke about the situation, you could feel a genuine pain in your chest. His feelings about the snap were like a rollercoaster. Some days, he could see the benefits, he could almost understand why Thanos did what he did. He could go about his day with acceptance, go to sleep with the intention of continuing to rebuild tomorrow. Then sometimes he'd wake up that next morning feeling the weight of every blipped person on his shoulders. As if he was the one who decided this needed to happen. That weight seemed to double every time he was in New York.

So with an ache in your heart, you tried to put a bandage over his. "Right now are you looking for the truth, or are you looking for reassurance?"

He groaned at your level-headedness, before shoving his face into your neck. "I'm looking for anything or anyone to just tell me it's going to be okay."

Understanding now that he needed reassurance instead of actual logical advice, you caressed the back of his head with your hand and used your other arm to hold him safe and sound against you. "Of course it's going to be okay, sweet boy.

"I'm sorry, I'm not trying to be so... grim, I just- I have to be strong all day every day for everyone else and sometimes you're the only one who can be strong for me." He admitted.

You kissed the top of his head a few times before providing the words he probably really needed to hear. "Life was okay yesterday, and the day before that, and it'll continue being okay tomorrow, and every day after that just like it has been for the past five years. Nobody blames you for what happened, and all of you guys deserve to move on too, not just civilians. The ground is still under your feet, the sky is still above your head and I'll never leave your side. The sun and moon are still taking turns, so I'm pretty confident when I say that everything is fine."

"That was great" Steve mumbled into your neck.

"Yeah? You feel any better?" You questioned with a smile.

"Mhm, I'm gonna use that in the support group tomorrow."

You smiled, though he couldn't see it before squeezing the back of his neck. "I love you, you're not going to bring back half the population from bed."

"I love you too, should I get up?"

"Go to sleep" You whispered directly into his ear, earning his sweet laugh that you loved so much.

"You first, traitor." Steve said playfully.

"Traitor?! Why am I a traitor?" You asked, feigning offense.

"You we're cuddling Natasha and not me." Steve fake cried.

You laughed before stating "Excuse me?! You've kissed Nat before, so I don't want to hear anything about my cuddles, sir!"

"Ugh?!" Steve was immediately taken back. "She kissed me and it was for a mission! Don't even start with that!"

You couldn't help but continue laughing at how flustered that statement made him. "Poor, Stevie! Your cheeks are so pink."

"I miss 10 seconds ago when you didn't bring that up." He pouted, a smile prevailing past his attempts to pretend like this conversation wasn't funny. "It was a life or death escape situation and we've never done anything romantic since then, okay?"

"I'm not bothered, baby" You continued smiling while prying his hands away from covering his face. "Were your bothered by our cuddles?"

"No, not at all." He denied. "I actually thought it was really adorable, I was just joking."

"And I think it's really cute that you and Nat shared a smooch" You pinched his cheek between two fingers.

"She implied that I was a bad kisser, by the way." Steve giggled. "So, neither of us enjoyed that experience."

You laughed at the confession before cooing, "awww poor, Stevie. Did that hurt your pride?"

"It wasn't a fair assessment, I wasn't ready for it." He defended himself.

"Exactly, you're a great kisser." You smoothed over the review that obviously stuck around with him for a while. "I know from experience!"

"Thanks, Baby. I appreciate your input on the matter." He gave your hip a nice squeeze.

"I'll be sure to talk to Nat about it in the morning to try and sway her opinions on it ." You joked.

"Absolutely do not do that" His eyebrows raised in horror.

You laughed once more before cupping his face and laying a long one on him. "I would never."

"Good, cause I think the sleepiness has taken over the both of our brains and made us a little crazy." He smiled.

You rested your head back onto its rightful spot on his shoulder, your hand rested over his heart and his free hand that wasn't on your back lovingly wrapped around your wrist. "Are you going to be able to shut your brain off long enough to fall asleep?"

"Of course" He appeased your worries about him. "I always sleep well when you're with me. You're like a little sleeping pill, the second you fall asleep on me, you put me to sleep too."

"Cheese ball" You poked fun at him with a content smile as you closed your eyes and wrapped the blankets tighter around the both of you.

"I might be cheesy, but I always will be. And I'm proud of it!" He agreed.

"I love it so much." You admitted. "And I love you so much."

"I love you too." He kissed the top of your head. "Goodnight, Sunflower."

"Sweet dreams, Stevie."

Not even two whole minutes of silence and attempts at sleeping went by before Steve gasped.

"Wait... are you asleep?" He asked, using his hands to dramatically shake you. "Wake up! This is important!"

"I'm awake, I'm awake!" You alerted his urgency. "Jeez dude, you're scrambling my brain."

"Oh good! You're awake!" He said. You didn't have to see his face to know he was wearing a big sarcastic smile. Steve's favorite hobby was definitely being a little shit.

"What a blessing." You mumbled.

"I forgot to ask you out on a date tomorrow night!" He enthused.

"Sorry dude, I think we're better just as friends." You carried on the tradition of your favorite inside joke.

"Sooooooo... should I cancel the engagement ring?" He quipped.

Recently the two of you were talking about getting married a lot, and if there was two things you both agreed on it's that a marriage was definitely in the books for the two of you soon, and that being engaged should never be truly be a surprise. Sure, time and place of the proposal as a surprise was the fun part, but both of you setting clear intentions and a well timed future that flowed at a comfortable pace for the two of you was important.

"A date sounds great!" You overly enthused.

"Great! I made dinner reservations without asking first so I'm glad you said yes."

"Risky business, Rogers." You smiled.

"Okay now go to sleep." He giggled.

"You first..." You poked his chest with very low effort.

When the morning came, you were up and out way before Steve was to start your morning with Nat. She wanted to get back to the compound before a planned call with affiliates of the Avengers, so the two of you snuck out before most of the compound was awake. Much like most mornings when you woke up before Steve, you covered him up with the blankets nice and snug, kissed him goodbye, and wished him a great day.

A nice long walk and chat followed by coffee, breakfast, and a nice relaxing manicure had Nat feeling brand new.

You dropped her off at the compound then left again to meet up with a friend of yours that lived pretty close by. While catching up on each others lives for a few hours, Steve called you.

Figuring he didn't realize you were busy, you denied the call to clue him in to text you instead. You often times did this if he needed to get through to you at work. But this time, your sunflower necklace lit up four times, a number that didn't have a code attached, then your phone rang again.

Figuring it was probably important, you excused yourself and quickly picked up the call.

"Hi, baby." You spoke timidly into the phone.

"Hi, I'm sorry to interrupt I know you're busy." He sighed. You could tell by his tone that his brain was fried.

"No worries, is everything okay?" You questioned.

"Remember Scott Lang? Ant-Man?" He asked.

"Yeah, yeah I do." You nodded though he couldn't see you. "He was blipped right?"

"You see, that's the weird part." Steve puffed out a confused chuckle. "He's at the compound. He just... showed up."

"What?!" You said louder than you probably should, earning weird looks from strangers around you.

"Yeah, he was stuck in the quantum realm and now he's here, and we think-" He started but cut himself off to think about how he was going to phrase this without worrying you.

But the pause was deafening. "You think what?"

"I think you should make your way back here whenever you're done with your friend so we can talk about it more."

"That sounds so scary" You admitted.

"No, everything is fine. I promise." He reassured you.

"Should I come home right now?"

"No, baby, it's okay" He tried to calm you down once again. "Nothing to be anxious about. I just think we need to visit Tony and get a few other ducks in a line and I want to make sure I can get you someplace safe before we start looking into this more."

"So you guys found some good hope?" You asked, this time with a smile knowing that's exactly what Steve needed.

"A lot of hope and possibly the craziest pipe dream of all time, but we can get into that when you get here, okay?"

"Okay" You sighed. "Everyone's okay?"

"Everyone is fine." Steve smiled. "I want you to keep having fun with your friend. I'll see you later."

"See you soon. Love you"

"Love you too."

Though he tried his hardest to reassure you that everything was fine, you couldn't clear your head of the endless possibilities of what this could mean for the future of the whole universe. Those thoughts didn't even allow you to fully appreciate or give your undivided attention to your friend, so you called it a day as soon as you could. And when you arrived back at the compound, you immediately spotted Steve sitting outside on a bench.

You could tell his mind was occupied by a billion racing thoughts, his breathing was steady and there was a pinch in his brows.

Approaching slowly and sitting next to him, he wrapped you up in a side hug before kissing your temple and letting you go. "What's going on, Honey?"

He sighed in appreciation as your hand found its way to his back, rubbing long, firm strips up and down to comfort him. "We think we can time travel."

"What?" Your hand stopped in place.

"Go back in time before Thanos, get the stones from a bunch of different points in time, snap again." Steve explained like it was the most simple idea in the world.

"But..... how?" You we're blown away by the possibility, but the biggest part of you was terrified of what that meant for him, the world, and the entire future.

"Something to do with pym particles and a quantum tunnel, I don't really understand it." Steve explained, his mind was wandering miles away from him. "We have Bruce en route to work on that, but we're going to get Tony. Try to assemble the whole team again."

You didn't quite have the words at the moment, nor the time to even process this as a possibility. Whenever you couldn't quite grasp a concept that was much larger than you, but whenever you felt so tiny in the vastness of the universe, Steve was always there to put you on his shoulders and make you feel big again. "How do you feel about this?"

"I feel ready to just get it done." He explained.

"Are you scared?" You plopped your head down onto his shoulder, he nestled his cheek into the crown of your head.

"No" He denied softly. "Are you?"

"If you're not then I'm not" You smiled. That was a lie, but you always tried to not burden him with your own fears.

Though letting him out of your grasp and straight into battles often appeared in your own nightmares, you reeled in your feelings as to not disrupt his own peace. As often as you wanted to tell him to be careful, beg him not to do risky things like go to space in a ship being piloted by a raccoon to kill a titan that killed half the universe, you trusted him. His entire life was rich with risk assessment that only made him more and more successful the more he lived.

So if he wasn't scared, you'd try not to be either.

"Well, maybe that's a lie. Maybe I am a little scared." Steve retracted his statement.

"Well shit" You joked, earning a laugh from the sweet man.

"I'm scared it's not going to work, and I'm scared of putting anything on the line when my only goal for the future is a life with you." He admitted. "Everything else, I'm not scared of."

This time, your arms wrapped him up and didn't let him go. He was letting his Steve Rogers shine through in a place you typically only saw Captain America. Though he would argue that those two people were the same, you thought he was so very wrong.

Steve was still the little guy he once was. Sensitive and gentle, he'd cry over videos of cute animals doing cute things, decorate cookies with you and asked to be cuddled for as long as he could get you to stay still. But Cap... Cap was strong. Nothing could tear him down. When the uniform was on or public and teammates eyes were on him, he had to be the leader. He stood tall, refused to shed a tear regardless of any circumstance thrown his way. Everyone looked at him to guide them through.

You loved both versions of him, and both were truthful of his character, but it was also true that Steve was a version of himself he was only comfortable showing to the people he loved the most.

So you gave Cap the space he needed to be firm and strong, and gave Steve the space he needed to be vulnerable. Sometimes that looked like a little snuggle on a bench outside of the Avengers compound.

Very surface level and as deep down as could be, he knew that Cap couldn't be the fighter he was without you nurturing Steve. He was strong because you were compassionate, and everyday he amounted his power to you.

"I love you so very much," you started.

"But?" He raised an eyebrow, already anticipating the kicker.

"But doing this is exactly what you need in order for you to live the life you want." You explained. "You and I both know you'd live the entire rest of your life with guilt if the Avengers don't find a way to fix this. And though I don't agree that any of this is your fault, I know you feel that burden every single day. So in a certain way, I think for once, this is a great fight for yourself."

He sat and considered it for a second. "I don't have it in me to fight for myself, so I'm going to consider this a fight for you."

"A happy, relaxing future with you is all I want." You kindled his fire. Though you wished he could fight for himself, any incentive to get him through would work in this moment. "And i'd love to see Sam again and meet Bucky."

"I miss them so much" Steve stated, you could hear the sadness in his voice.

You lifted your head to give him a kiss. Your soft lips mingled for a little while before pulling away and resting your forehead against his. "Everything is going to be okay."

"I think so too" He agreed.

"And if it doesn't pan out the way you all hope, then I hope you know that everything will be okay that way too."

"Well that's not an option." He gently shook his head.

"Hard headed!" You pulled away and raised your hand to gently poke him right in the center of his forehead. He laughed, knowing his words would irritate you. "You drive me crazy!"

"I love driving you crazy" His smile prevailed.

"Really? I couldn't tell." You said sarcastically, feeling the effects of his contagious smile.

"And I'd love it even more if I can keep annoying you on our date tonight." He brought up.

"Stevie" Your face softened. "We can reschedule that if you need to, you know I understand."

"No, I definitely don't want to cancel that." He denied firmly. "Not to bring up the past or anything, but the last time I rescheduled a date it didn't turn out too well for me."

"Awwwww" You cooed. "Classic Cap history"

"Yeah, and we're rewriting it because I'm not doing that again" he said with a chuckle.

"I'm more than happy to help you out with that" You agreed, giving his leg a little squeeze. "How's Scott doing? I'm sure this is a lot to process."

"He seems to be doing alright, but that leads me to something Nat and I talked about that I wanted to present to you."

"What's up?"

"It's no secret that you're kind've one of the most amazing and comforting humans alive, and we were supposed to go home in 2 days but..." He took a moment to find the right words. "I'm my best when you're around, and whether you've noticed or not, everyone is happier when you're here. So we were wondering if you could stay a little longer just to kinda help keep spirits up. I know you have the bakery at home but it could be a pretty crucial part in saving half the world."

"I can't imagine I'd have any crucial part in any of that, but I'll stay for you alone." You giggled.

"Obviously I'll bring you home before the time travel happens because it's such unknown territory, I'd want you far away from the compound. But we're going to bring everyone we've got here, including Thor who we heard is going through a rough patch. I think your love would go a far way."

"And cookies" You grinned.

"Cookies would definitely help."

"Can Rocket eat chocolate chips?" You pondered.

"He's a raccoon, not a dog." Steve reminded you.

"That doesn't answer my question." You eyebrow raised. "What about Nebula? Do cyborgs eat food? Ooh! I know Bruce likes chocolate, and Tony likes hazelnut because they had those Ben and Jerry's ice cream flavors so maybe I'll make Nutella cookies so it's the best of both worlds. Do you know what Rhodey likes? I have Nat covered. Thor probably li-"

"Baby, Baby" Steve cut you off with a giggle. "Don't stress yourself out now. You're not here to take care of us, just keep being you"

"This is me." You laughed. "Have you ever seen me not like this?"

"You know what? That's fair." He agreed.

"Ooh! And I bet Nat knows exactly what Clint would want!" You chirped. "...I should call the bakery..."

Next Part: Crawl Home to You

Tag List: @patzammit @bemysugarbean @buckymydarlingangel @happinessinthebeing @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory @differenttyphoonwerewolf @themotherof10 @talesofadragon @spikeluv84 @royalwriteroftheuniverse @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @bitchy-bi-trash @crazyunsexycool @openup-yourmind @selella @kattreffic @benedict-squirtle @magnificentsaladllama @theroyalmanatee @calwitch @avengersinitiative2012 @rogersbarber @daddywattpad4945

[graciegoeskrazy]

Instead of living in your head

ross Macdonald + daughter!r

warnings: angst, lil bit of yelling, crying, r has dyslexia, uncle matty lolz, r is 11, tall ross with lil y/n oh my hearttttttt, barely proof read, idk what else

a/n: told ya i’d get this done tnt! Thank you tot he anon who requested this i ran right to the computer after getting the request.

“Why must the parent-teacher conference be tonight? And why are you so stubborn about going to all of them? You already know I’m doing fine in school.” You groaned from the back seat.

Ross kept his eyes on the road, not giving into your antics, as cute as they might be. “Oh, how terrible. God forbid I care for my daughter and help her during her school years.”

You smiled. “You really don’t have to go, you see my grades, they’re good.” You told him you just wanted to spend a quiet night with your father, which wasn’t a lie technically, but there was a bigger part that you didn’t want to tell your father.

You knew you were struggling. You knew this ‘issue’ was getting worse. For years, you were able to get by in school. Your grade wasn’t the best compared to your other stellar grades, but you kept it up. Until now. It wasn’t that you weren’t trying. If anything you were trying your hardest. It’s just as time went on and you got older, the harder it got. But you were determined to continue on as if nothing was wrong.

“I’ll only be gone for a few hours. Plus you don’t have to go with me, you get to stay with your uncle.” You smiled only a little bit. You figured that there could be a chance the topic won’t come up.

In complete honesty, Ross forgot this parent teacher conference was happening, which led him to texting Matty last minute.

ross | What are you doing tonight?

matty | getting drunk and crunk and making love to my wife

ross | Do you think you could add watching y/n for a few hours somewhere in between all that?

matty | oh for sure

matty | of course she calls upon her favorite uncle in her time of need

ross | George was unavailable…

matty | ffs

ross | Be there at 5.

The front door opened with a whirl as soon as you stepped out of the car door. Matty stepped out with his arms opened wide. You ran to him. “Uncle Matty!”

He scooped you up and lifted you in his arms. “Hey, angel! There’s my favorite niece!”

You looked at him with a pointed look. “I’m your only niece.”

His smile never faltered, “Which means you’re my favorite!”

Ross walked up by this time. “Thanks for doing this last minute. I should only be a couple of hours.”

“No worries. Say bye to your father.” Matty said, then gentured to you.

“Bye Daddy.” You said hugging his legs.

He kissed your head. “Bye, my love. Be good for your uncle.”

“Always.” You said with a smirk. Making both men smile.

—-------

Ross truly thought he had nothing to worry about. You were a well rounded girl all things considered. And not a single teacher had a complaint in the past. Sure, he was completely biased, but you were a great student. Not every kid can be perfect, but he was convinced you were the closest any girl could get. But again - he’s biased.

Someone had called his name from a hallway that was filled to the brim with anxious parents. They led him into a classroom. He was met with a woman, y/n’s teacher he heard about, standing over a table organizing files and papers. She was younger than he expected, but seemed nicer than the other teachers you’ve had, gentler.

“Mr. Macdonald! Please, come have a seat.”

She introduced herself, told her about the class, what they learned, etc. It all seemed very normal yet, there was still something that didn’t make sense.

“As I’m sure you’ve noticed, the grades she brings home are phenomenal.” He nodded, a small smile gracing his face. “It’s no surprise to me or any other teachers here that you have a very bright child. She’s the first to raise her hand, the first to help others, she has every quality of a great leader.”

He kept nodding, obviously agreeing but too shy to verbally admit it. Too proud to admit you were smarter than he ever was at this age.

Suddenly she took a pause. She read over her notes. When she looked back up her eyes wandered, looking anywhere else but Ross. “I have noticed a few grades have been dropping in the reading area?”

His head tilted. “Really?”

“Well, her last few grades have I’ve noticed have been getting lower and lower. Now her overall grade, although lower than the rest, I’m confident we can bring it back up to where it was.” She shifted, and Ross took notice. “When preparing for this meeting I discussed this pattern with our principal, and she thinks it’s possible that y/n has Dyslexia or another learning disability.”

Ross didn’t expect it.

“We have many resources right here in our school. If you want to get her officially tested we can help with that. That’s what we’re here for.”

He finally regained his thoughts, “To be honest, I haven’t even noticed. In her quiz grades? The ones she brings home?”

She let out a soft, sad sigh. “Yes. At first we thought it was some form of test anxiety? But, it’s mainly happening in the reading subject.”

Ross felt a tightness in his chest, the weight of guilt settling in as the teacher's words lingered in the air. He replayed the moments when y/n had shrugged off his questions about school, offering vague reassurances that everything was fine. He had wanted to believe her, and in his busyness, he’d let himself. But now, hearing this, it became clear—she hadn’t been fine at all. She had been drowning in silence, hiding the truth about her grades, her struggles, and maybe even her feelings. He hadn’t seen the signs. The late nights, the way she’d avoid reading out loud, her tendency to brush off doing her homework with a fleeting excuse, but then catching her doing it in silence in the confines of her room. It all added up now, and the realization hit him hard.

He felt a deep pang of regret, mixed with anger—anger at himself for not seeing it sooner, anger at the school for not catching it earlier. Dyslexia. It was a word he wasn’t familiar with in a personal way, but he knew enough to understand that you must have been feeling overwhelmed. He couldn’t help but imagine the frustration she must’ve experienced in class, surrounded by kids who seemed to grasp what was on the page while she struggled to make sense of it. It pained him to think of y/n, his only child. someone so bright and full of potential, being weighed down by something out of her control. 

His mind raced with questions. How long had she been struggling like this? Why hadn’t she come to him? And how was he going to help her now? He realized this wasn’t just about grades; this was about understanding her on a deeper level, about being the kind of father who didn’t miss the subtle cries for help. He nodded to the teacher, forcing himself to stay composed, but inside, he felt a swirl of emotions. This was just one layer of what you had been dealing with on her own. 

—-------

You ran out the door to your dad’s car, but not before giving Matty a big hug and telling him bye.

You greeted your dad with a kiss to the cheek, like you always did, as you got in the car. “Matty got me Mcdonalds.” You said, tone cheeky.

“Nice. What’d you buy me?” He said, only for a second forgetting the news he just learned.

You gave him a look. “Funny.” He smiled and you continued. “How’d it go?”

He shrugged, “Went alright.”

You mentally sighed, maybe they didn’t talk about it after all?

When you got home you told your dad you were going to shower. He nodded and let you be. It was getting late for you after all. He thought to himself as he watched you walk up the stairs. How am I going to ask her? He hadn’t a clue how he was going to address this.

—-------

He heard the water running from the bathroom that was connected to your room. Once he slowly and quietly opened the door, he made his way to your desk.

Compared to other kids your age, your room was pretty tidy for an 11 year old - another point that Ross made when bragging to others about how great you were. The bottom side drawer of your desk was filled with old test papers and worksheets that you brought home. You had always kept them in there, but not before proudly showing them off to your dad first.

It wasn’t the most organized, but the marking in red at the top of certain pages led him to the ones he needed. The first couple of papers weren’t awful, but definitely concerning knowing your usual grades. The more pages he picked up the lower the number at the top of the page. They were littered with correction marks and notes in red ink. His heart sank knowing the truth. The truth was you lied to him. He tried to stop himself from getting too angry but admittedly it was hard. You told him everything, and he was proud of that fact. He knew that as you got older there might be a day where you held some secrets to yourself, but never did he think it would happen now or at this age.

To entranced in the papers and the grades staring back at him, he didn’t notice the water stop or you walking out of the bathroom, towel in hand drying your hair, dressed in your pj shorts and one of your dad’s old t-shirts that, although large on your small frame, always seemed to look just right. “What are you doing?” You said, your voice small, curious. That curiosity only grew when you noticed the pile of papers on the desk and the ones you never wanted your father to see lying in his hands. “Why are you going through my stuff?” You said, stepping forward, only a hint of anger seeping through.

He looked at the papers in his hand, then back at you. “What’s this?” He asked.

You crossed your arms. “Answer my question first.”

He just continued. “Why haven’t you shown me any of your English class grades?”

“So that’s not answering my question actually.”

God, she can be like her mother sometimes. “y/n Macdonald, answer me.” He said, sternly. A sight you can’t recall the last time you saw.

You immediately got shy, shrinking in on yourself once you heard your fathers tone. “...I have-”

“No, you have not.” He said. He took a few steps forward. “I’ve never seen these papers or grades in my life. Why didn’t you show me? You show me everything like this.”

Your stomach flips as he holds up the stack of wrinkled papers, his face twisted with a mix of confusion and hurt. The sight of them makes your heart race faster. You never meant for him to find those, but here they are, crumpled in his hands.

“I don’t know,” you mumble, eyes darting down to the floor as your hands start picking at the edge of your shirt. “I forgot.”

“Forgot?” Ross’s voice sharpens, and you hear the disbelief clear in his words. He kneels down so he’s closer to your height, his face stern but not unkind. “These grades, y/n…why would you keep these from me?” His voice softens toward the end, almost like he’s afraid of the answer.

You stay silent, fighting the tears that sting behind your eyes. You’re not sure how to explain it, how to make him understand why the sight of those red marks on the papers made your chest feel heavy, why handing them over felt like admitting you were broken in some way. “I didn’t want you to be mad,” you whisper, feeling small under the weight of it all.

He lets out a slow breath, running a hand through his hair. “I’m not mad. I just—” He stops himself, and when he speaks again, his voice is quieter. “I’m not mad, Y/N. I’m just… sad that you felt like you couldn’t tell me. That you thought you had to hide this.”

You squeeze your eyes shut, wishing you could disappear, wishing you could take it all back. “I didn’t want you to think I was dumb,” you admit, your voice barely above a whisper.

Ross’s face softens at your words, and he gets down on one knee on the floor in front of you, his eyes searching yours. “You’re not dumb,” he says, shaking his head. “You’re so smart, Y/N. Way smarter than I was at your age. You just… you need a little extra help with this, that’s all. And that’s okay.”

He grabbed the sides of your arms, shifting the tone of the conversation as he spoke.

“Baby, do you know what Dyslexia is?”

You slowly lifted your head to meet his eyes. Softly shaking your head and letting out a meak “No.”

He swallowed and moved some of the pieces stuck to your face from crying away and behind your ear. “It’s a learning disorder that people have. All kinds of people, kids, adults. It could be anyone.”

He saw your eyes look up at him with curiosity. “Is it bad?”

“No, no. No, It’s not bad. Not at all.” He took your hands in his, “It just means some people need more help than others. Sometimes they need to be taught in a different way.” You looked down again, “Honey, some of your teachers at school think you have Dyslexia. They think that’s why you’re getting these grades.” You were trying so hard to keep the tears at bay. “Do things sometimes look different than what the other kids are saying they see? Or are you slow at reading? Are things like that getting harder?” He tried to search your eyes for something. A feeling or an answer, but all he was met with were tears.

His words make something crack inside you, and before you can stop it, the tears are spilling down your cheeks. You’re not sure if it’s from the relief or the guilt or the sheer exhaustion of trying to hide everything for so long, but you can’t hold it in anymore. Ross reaches out, pulling you into a hug, and for a moment, you let yourself sink into it, into the warmth and safety of his arms.

“I’m sorry,” you manage through your sobs, clutching his shirt.

“I know, kiddo,” he murmurs into your hair, holding you tighter.  “Why didn’t you tell me this was happening?”

You continued to sob, “I didn’t want you to get mad at my grades. I didn’t understand what was happening. I just thought I was dumb and if I kept trying it would get better, but it didn’t.” You said, pulling away slightly.

“Y/n.” He said, semi-sternly. “You should never be afraid to tell me something. I could’ve helped you-”

“How?!” You said, anger seeping through, knowing that the truth was he wouldn’t know how to help you.

He sighed, “I-...i don’t know.”

“Exactly.”

“We would’ve figured it out, we would’ve gotten the help sooner.” He took your head in his hands, “I’m not angry about your grades, baby. I’m angry you lied.”

You shrugged through your sniffles. “Can you blame me?”

He gave you a weak somber smile, “No. I can’t.” You fell into his arms again, cries continuing to wet his shirt but settling down with the comfort of your Dad. “But you don’t ever have to be scared to tell me. No matter what. We’ll figure this out together, okay?” 

You nod against his chest, the weight of the secret you’ve been carrying finally starting to lift. 

You were still angry—not at your father, of course—but at the situation, at how unfair it all felt. You'd spent so long believing you were just slower than everyone else, that something about you was fundamentally wrong, and now, suddenly, you had a name for it. However it didn’t erase the years of frustration or the moments when you felt completely lost, watching your classmates breeze through what felt impossible to you. But at least it was something—a reason. You weren’t broken, and knowing that eased a small part of the heaviness in your chest. 

Still, the anger lingered, mixing with relief in a confusing knot of emotions. Maybe you could get the help you needed and not have to hide behind excuses or crumpled papers anymore. And maybe, for the first time in what felt like forever, you could let yourself believe that it wasn’t your fault. You weren’t alone in this, and though the road ahead looked uncertain, at least you weren’t walking it by yourself.

You glanced up at your dad, who was still holding you close, and a small, tired smile tugged at your lips. Whatever came next, he was ready to help you through it all, and you were ready to face it together.

[ofstarsandvibranium]

Late Night Visit

Fandom: Marvel

Pairing: TASM!Peter Parker x GN!Reader

Summary: While insomnia takes over you, a visitor decides to drop by. Literally.

A/N: I was watching The Amazing Spider-Man and Andrew Garfield got me all kicking my feet and giggly hehehe. also, i didn't want this to be too long so there will be a part 2.

Sleep was evading you again and it's pissing you off. For the past few days, you've been struggling to sleep at a reasonable time. Melatonin wasn't even helping and you were ready to lose it.

So you're just sitting in the dark, staring at the wall when you heard a loud THUD at your window.

You shoot up, grabbing the bat you keep by your bed. You slowly creep over to the window, pulling back the curtain and looking out.

"Holy shit!" you place the bat down and open your window, "Spiderman? You okay?" you lean out and see the web-slinging superhero clutching his side. There's a gash and you see blood, "Oh shit. Oh shit. Oh shit. Spiderman is bleeding on my fire escape! Fuck!" you climb out and help him sit up.

"Ow ow ow ow!" he exclaims, causing you to freak out, "I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I'm sorry!"

"Let's-Let's just stay like this for a while," he says as he's trying to even out his breathing.

"So, uh, rough night?" you ask, feeling awkward as hell because what do you even say to a superhero that's bleeding out in front of you?

He chuckles, "Yeah, guess you can say that," he clears his throat, "Is it okay if I use your bathroom and clean up?"

"Oh, uh, yeah."

You help him to his feet, hopping inside your room first to gently guide him in. He stumbles forward with a wince, and you catch him before he falls. He mumbles out a 'thanks' and then follows you to your bathroom.

He leans against the sink counter as you fish out the first aid kit under your sink, "Thanks. Um, do you happen to have a thread and needle?"

You nod, "Yeah, but I'm not stitching you up. If I even attempt to, I'll throw up. Like, no joke, I don't think I can-"

"Hey, hey, hey. It's okay. I wasn't gonna ask you to. You've done enough for me already." You nod again, moving out of the bathroom to find your sewing kit. When you find it, you hand it to Spiderman, who gives you a nod of thanks, "Seriously, this means a lot. You didn't have to do this."

You shrug, "You do your best to keep all of us safe. This is me returning the favor."

"Thank you. Is it okay if I," he gestures to the door and you back up.

"Yeah, of course. Take your time."

You turn around when the door shuts and you go to your kitchen. You're up and awake, might as well make him some food or something.

________________

Twenty minutes later, you're plating up some mac and cheese when you heard a crash in the bathroom. You immediately rush over and open the door to reveal a maskless Spiderman.

Both of you are frozen, staring at each other in shock for what feels like ten minutes until you're turning around, hands over your eyes, "I'M SORRY! I'M SORRY! I'M SORRY! I HEARD A CRASH AND I WANTED TO MAKE SURE YOU WERE OKAY! I'M SORRY!"

Spiderman is rushing over to you, "Woah, woah, woah! Hey, relax! It's fine. It's fine, you can look." You know he's standing in front of you, hands on your shoulders. You're still covering your eyes and he chuckles, "Seriously, it's okay."

Your hands slowly lower and you properly take in the man before you. His face is a little beaten up. His eyes are brown and he has dark brown hair. He's...very attractive.

He softly smiles, "Hi."

"Hi, uh, Spiderman."

"Well now that you've seen my face..my name's Peter."

"How are you so trusting with your identity?" you can't help but ask, "I can easily tell the world who Spiderman is."

"You don't look like someone who' do that."

You cross your arms over your chest, "Looks can be deceiving."

"Are you gonna tell the world who I am?"

"...no."

He grins at you, "Then I'm okay." He lifts up his fist and you fist bump it with a smile. He then goes back to the bathroom, cleaning everything up.

"I'm sorry if I woke you up, by the way," he says shyly, as he throws the bloody gauzes into the trash.

"I was awake anyway," you reply with a shrug. When he gives you a questioning look, you add, "I've been suffering from insomnia lately."

"Ah," he nods in understanding, "I get that way sometimes too."

"So, um, I made you some food...if you're hungry."

"You didn't have-"

"It's fine. Really. Gave me something to do. But don't expect much. It's just mac and cheese."

He smiles brightly, "I love mac and cheese."

"Cool."

Peter follows you to the kitchen were you have a bowl of mac and cheese waiting for him alongside a glass of water and some painkillers.

"You're the amazing for this, seriously," he downs a few painkillers and immediately digs into his food.

You snort, "Did you not eat before you went out to fight crime?"

"I did, but it takes a lot out of you, okay?" he says as he shovels another spoonful of mac and cheese into his mouth.

Twenty minutes of eating and chatting go by and Peter has enough energy to get back home.

With his mask back on, he's out on your fire escape again, "I just realized, I never got your name."

"Y/N."

"Well, Y/N, thanks a bunch for helping you. I'll see you around."

"You're welcome. Stay safe out there."

He gives you a salute and proceeds to jump off the fire escape. A web shoots onto a lamp post and he's swinging away, "GOOD NIGHT!"

You're waving even though he probably couldn't see you.

You close your window, locking it shut. You're body suddenly feels heavy. You plop yourself onto your bed and pull the blankets over you. Sleep finally comes to you.

[cherrrubss]

'Wake up princess...'

Jenna Ortega x Fem!reader

Rays of sunshine peeked through your curtains,while birds sang a happy melody.You slowly opened your eyes ,taking in your surroundings,you sat up and immediately the feelings from yesterday hit you like a train.

You had the worst day anyone can have,you broke down as soon as you entered the house,you were crying until you couldn't breathe,a pounding headache as you tried your best to stop but you couldn't,not until she came and held you,whispering sweet nothings as she lulled you into sleep kissing your head then carrying you to bed.You were pulled out of your thoughts when you smelt something coming from downstairs,you slowly got out of bed,feet dragging as you made your way to the kitchen...where you saw her.

The love of your life,the light of your life,cooking your favourite breakfast.You were frozen in ,staring lovingly at her,usually you'd be the one making her breakfast, but the thought of her waking up early to make you breakfast made your heart beat faster,giving you butterflies.You don't think you can love her more than you do at this moment,oh, how you love her.If you could show her every day how much you appreciate her,you would've done it already,but for now,your both content with saying how much you loved th eother,

You were dragged out of your thoughts again as you heard her giggle while waving her hand infront of your face trying to regain your attention,if you could your whole world would revolve around her really,"Helloo,earth to y/n",she giggled again as you blinked twice offering a soft smile which she returned without hesitation,you wrapped your arms around her soaking in her warmth,Oh how you wished for this to last forever,"sleep good?", she asked pulling away slightly to see your face.She smiled lovingly once she sw your sleepy eyes open slightly,you nodded before kissing her jawline,trailing them all the way to her ear before whispering,"did you?" , her smile grew bigger,as she nodded, pulling you towards the counter where you two sat, eating breakfast, while jenna spoke about her dream with you listening attentively.

Little moments like this made your heart bleed,you just love her so much, its pathetic.

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

Today was even worse,your co-workers were noisier than lastweek,and you had to work over-time cause you said you'd cover someone's shift for them,huge mistake,after you left work rain just thought it was the best time to say hi,and the cherry on top you got harassed by a creep,that stole your umbrella when you pushed him away, 'this is why i HATE people',you thought as you entered home on the verge of tears a small pout on your lips.

As you were trying to collect your thoughts,arms wrapped around your waist as soft lips kissed the top of your head,you relaxed almost immediately,letting out a shaky sigh.You turned around and hugged jenna back melting into her embrace, "Bad day?", she asked softly,you nod once, "wanna talk about it?",you shook your head no, she let out a soft 'okay' before leading you both into your shared bedroom.As jenna sat you down on your bed,you watched as she got out comfortable cloths and helped you get changed.

You both laid in bed while she talked about her day,while you listened, the way you liked it,you brushed her hair with your fingers while she leaned into your touch,talking about what happened on set.

"I want you to do something for me", she said softly,you nod once lightly scratching her head,she sighed,"promise me,that you won't give up,that you won't you know.. when they push you to your breaking point", oh...you avoided her gaze hands slowing slightly from playing with her hair," i can't stand to hear that my baby gave up and went out that way..so please if your struggling talk to me",she pleaded cupping your face so you met her eyes, they were filled with tears,your heart broke. You sighed and nodded once,you weren't in the mood to talk not trusting your voice to not crack.

She smiled softly,giving a warm feeling, " Can you do one last thing for me", her voice cracked slightly as she stroked your cheek,You stroked her hair, before nodding,"anything",you whispered.

"close your eyes"

You closed your eyes.

"breathe in,and out for me"

You did what you were told.

"Now...i need you to wake up princess..",she let out a shaky breath

Your brows furrowed ,eyes still closed,you were confused.You opened your eyes to find yourself alone,in your slightly less desired room,the sun now rising....oh,right

[jolalibrary]

v. a new day

javier peña x dea! f!reader | chapter five of nowhere to run

Summary: Determined to do it better this time, Javier Peña returns to Bogotá to take down the Cali Cartel. With a new promotion, office and team, what he doesn’t expect is the pretty thing outside his office—or why they’re not allowed in the field. chapter warnings: season three narcos spoilers. no use of y/n. smut. oral sex (man receiving), angst. bit of emotions are coming outttttt. Wordcount: 6.3k AN: apologies for the lateness, my personal life has just been throwing things at me and I didn't want the emotions to bleed in when i was editing. also, if there's errors, i'm so sorry, i have had no sleep. pls forgive me. as always, huge thank you to @yeyinde who allows me to ramble continuously and to @guyfieriii who is on her way to get me a magazine and send it to me. I adore you both.

series masterlist

“I can’t believe you caught him?”

“Me neither.”

You lean back, eyes wide, twisting the cord around your finger.

“I did call you—last night. After we’d seen him. Rang your place, work...”

Swallowing, you smile. “I, um—“ 

Looking up as Peña steps out of his office, sliding his tie through the loop, eyes staring over you. Drinking you in. Making every part of you burn up under his gaze. 

“—had a date.”

“Oh. How did it go?”

Biting your lip, you watch him. How his brows furrowed, letting your eyes descend down before noticing his tie. How it sat off-centre—all threaded in a rush. 

You suspect he’s been ordered to attend a meeting. One likely about the day's events, one with a lot of Colombians, officials and higher-ups. So, you gesture. 

The corners of your lips slightly rise, watching his smile slowly grow.

“It was good. Nice.”

Van Ness snorts. “You going to see them aga—actually, fuck this, I don’t think I wanna hear anymore.”

“Wasn’t about to tell you, Van Ness. Hey—I have to go, please be safe.”

“Always am.”

“Says the man catching Narcos—anyway, Stoddard is here, speak soon.” 

“He best not be making you drinks…”

“Promise he isn’t.” 

You place the phone down, standing up as Peña comes to a halt barely an inch away from you. 

“That my name now? Stoddard.”

“Well, you’re struggling to sort your own tie, does seem a Stoddard thing to do, sir.”

He twitches his fingers at his side. Has been doing so since he guided Gilberto out to the flashing lights and clicks of cameras.

The significance of what they’d done—what he had done—crashed into him. Not knocking him off his feet, not even knocking him off his axis. But it kickstarted something.

It truthfully only slid over him when he slid into the seat of a car. 

They’d done it. Proved that surrender wasn’t the only option—that they could be caught. Because they had caught one of them. The ones they all said were untouchable. Right in his fucking home, hiding away. 

A new lease of life spreads as Javi swallows. A thrum of energy, one which has been missing since before he was sent back to the States, rippling through him as though it had never gone. Disturbing the regret he’d been feeling since… 

They’d done it. The thought rolls around, his finger occasionally stroking his bottom lip—sometimes pinching his thigh as the streets flash past the window. Doing so even as his knee hits the door, needing to, just to be certain he’s awake, and not dreaming. 

The truth it’s all a reality weaves into his muscles, the adrenaline bursting into his bloodstream—beautifully blending with the newly rejuvenated oxygenated cells that swim to his heart.  

He knows there's a shitstorm waiting for him at the embassy. For what he’d done—but, then, they hadn’t really wanted him here for the accolades.

Stechner hadn’t vouched for him because he’d been a rule-follower. More someone to blame, to use.

And now, he’d shown them the sheer proof that it could be done—the surrender could be nil and void. They could get more.

That’s what he’d thought as he had hammered his knuckles into Martinez’s door, pulling on a string marked ‘do not touch’. Hoping he’d be forthcoming—that he’d trust him to work alongside him. 

Javi hadn’t been sure if a speech on how much he wanted to do right would make up for what had already transpired. Less excuses spoken, and more acknowledged errors that he’d been determined—foolishly so. Blinded and only seeing through tunnel vision. Focused on the wrong thing; determined, but for what? None of it became clear even when he’d sat in his childhood home—or stood out in the field. The more he looked for answers, the less weight his reasonings had—the fewer excuses he could grasp at why he’d let things poison and ruin. 

In the end, he was grateful he hadn’t needed to spout any of that. The sheer opportunity that Javi had brought it to him, had been enough. 

Not sure any of his truthful ramblings would have made sense, anyway.

It was a true second chance. A hope which had been living in some recess, brushed off and placed front and centre at his feet. His hand outstretched, watching as Martinez shook his—a truce, of some sort, a promise. Maybe, in the smallest way, an element of forgiveness—not that Javi would allow it. It didn’t mean he’d squander or wreck it either, using it to stand a little taller and ensure his shoulders were a little more square. 

It’s why he takes a moment when the car pulls up outside the building. Sitting, spreading his palms in long strokes over his thighs. Catching his breath. 

He can already feel how things have changed. Already knows there will be faces turning when he steps inside, the burden of it meeting his shoulders again. Having temporarily moved it, placed it on the floor while he focused on what needed to be done. Now, the music was playing, and the true heaviness of what a second chance meant began to rest on his bones. The true power of doing good didn't just provide accolades, but gifted in moon-eyed agents and hopefulness he felt guilty squashing. 

It begins when he steps down the embassy stairs, bodies stopping, turning. His cheeks warming, ears burning as they murmur and mutter. Focusing on it, while another part blindly wants to ignore it as he enters the office. It’s why the first clap doesn’t register. 

It takes a moment, the applause slowly raining around him, covering him. Layering in thick noise that soaks into his skin and makes him feel cold, rather than joyous. 

The worst thing is, deep down, he knows there’s an old version of him who would have smirked at all of this. Who’d have relished in it. Likely lifted his chin, and shook each hand—man or woman—rather than sinking his chin to his chest like he’s currently doing. Trying to shy from it, get through them all as they begin to move closer, ready to congratulate him—shake his hand. 

A part of him knows he should be glad. Should be proud he has somewhat earned the notoriety he walks around with now. A slither of it, anyway. 

Finding Stoddard’s hand, he’s the only one he shakes. Not sure what to do with the rest of his body as he lets his eyes move across the room, seeing the closing circle of those wanting to thank him, celebrate and pat him on the back. But, his eyes land only on the pair which pulls him to shore. 

Yours.

The one person not clapping—leaning against your desk, head tilted to the side, doing your trademark smirk. The one Javi likes to think is just for him because he pulls it from you so frequently. The one which hits your eyes and shines like the sun on a cloudless day and warms him, even if he keeps trying not to let it. 

His heart sinks, just a touch. It’s still floating on the surface of the day and is the only explanation for why it doesn’t fall to his feet. Because as he lets his eyes fall over you he realises it’s the first opportunity he’s had to think of you. To allow himself to think of you. 

How he hadn’t had a chance to make sure you got home okay. The last sight of you had been in his office, lips swollen, eyes shimmering with post-lust bliss and your clothes a little off-pristine. Your hand on his wrist, sliding circles into his pulse—all thought-out and considered. You’re gonna get him, Javi. Your teeth chewed the skin of your lip as the words washed over him, a nervousness to you he rarely ever noticed—a slight discomfort in your forced expression.

But he hadn’t asked. 

Swallowing, he releases the hand in his.  

“–Where you going? C’mon, we want to toast you…”

Hearing Stoddard, but watching you. “Start without me.”

He never questioned the tight expression when you released his wrist, his hand grabbing at things from his desk—all set to walk out, to leave. Be safe, Javi. 

It echoes through his ears as he crosses the room, watching as you take a deep breath as the gap between the two of you closes. 

Javi could let himself feel it now—the spark and the concern. Could question it—let it fill him. He could find the words to ask why Cali undoes a part of you, why you always place one particular type of mask up when it's mentioned—when someone goes. Unpicking it all, seeing it all as though someone was showing it to him all on video. 

Having been so laser-focused before, he’d missed it. Placed them all to the side, noticing the other things—the ones inflicted by others' words and actions, and not the looming one hovering over you as you worked.

Something had happened to you in Cali. Something that was left from the reports. 

He tucks you away, hides you—keeps you purely for the times he can spare a second to truly think and consider you. Sometimes, it’s in the quiet—in the calm. A welcomed retreat, a safe haven. A person who populates a carved space in his mind, one you had barely needed to hack at to make. Because, in truth, he made it for you, found a place that he could store you in for when he felt safe enough to let you out, and he wasn’t sure what that meant. 

Now just watching in slow motion as you try to hide what he assumes is relief. 

It’s a gift, how you keep people out. One he would admire if he wasn’t on the other side of it and wasn’t able to recognise how quickly and smoothly you were able to slide up the veil which isn’t breachable. While he doesn’t know what monsters live in your wardrobe or which ghosts haunt you, he knows there’s a reason why you can’t tell him too. 

A reason why you talk in riddles whenever bureaucracy is mentioned. 

A discomfort which ebbs and flows, but never truly meets the two of you, even if it tries to. It did so before he fucked you on his desk. A look so similar to the one you gave him in his office, all soft eyes he wasn’t sure if he could ever earn deserving.

He knows people consider you to be a storm. A restless bundle of anger and lightning—thunder rumbling with every step of your heel.

But, as he comes to a stop in front of you, Javi realises he hadn't seen you like that, not since the first day when you'd tried to convince him you were. Not even as you slide around your desk, using the wooden furniture as a barrier between the two of you. 

Ironic, really. When the two of you used one similar as a surface for relief, hours and hours ago. 

Javi thinks you’re something more akin to a rain cloud—all set to burst and let whatever it is you hold close fall like raindrops. Maybe they’d be acidic, maybe they’d burn those unfortunate to be underneath, but he’d only care for the relief on your face. 

The one he’s sure is hiding behind the smile he’s being presented with. 

“Congratulations, sir.” 

He slides his shades from his shirt, nodding at you. Thanking you. 

Continuing, you clear your throat, “I think the Ambassador would like to see you.” 

You let your words wash over him, before dropping your hand close to your mug, slowly pushing it toward him. A gesture, a bold one in a sea of eyes. 

Voice dropping, you flick your eyes up to his, “You can have one sip.”

“And, if I take one more, cariño?” 

Your lips scrunch, a real smile—all teeth and lines in your cheek—so desperate to break out. “You wouldn’t want to know, sir.” 

Each time he swallows, he tastes your coffee. 

Desperate to find a mug, to enjoy one more sip in some silence—even light up a cigarette, if he could be spared. But, it’s one thing, then another. Almost feeling the flutter of anxiety and adrenaline merging into something unheard of. 

From the meeting to the note in his file, right to the press conference he had needed to lead. 

As soon as it ended, he was led to the staircase—practically shoved off. His feet all heavy, legs like lead as he steps down, ready to hide in his office and release many heavy, simmering breaths.

That had been his plan. His only focus—until he finds you waiting.

Then he thinks of the file room, his place, his desk…

It knots all inside of him—that thrum of disbelief that blends so disastrously with the sudden acknowledgement he doesn’t deserve you. Something he thinks a lot, yet is finding it harder to fight off under tiredness and waning adrenaline. 

It isn’t just whatever it is between you—the fun, non-committal thing neither of you are likely to acknowledge—but your mere attendance in his life. 

The way you make things brighter, shine something that makes the edges a bit more colourful and meaningful. Not quite ready to allow it closer to the centre, to let it touch the parts of him still tainted in darkness and regret. He doesn’t think even your shine can do that alone. 

Wiping a hand over his face, he moves towards you. Absently wondering when you’ve snuck in, having not seen you arrive or between his meeting finishing and arriving here. He’d looked for you, met Stoddard’s eyes and nodded for him to come.

Yet, here you are, shaking someone’s hand as Javi moves past another person, noticing that you’ve removed your jacket, so that he can see the outlines of your bra straps through the back of your blouse. He spots the clipboard pressed to your chest, hand wrapped around another mug—one he soon realises is the one you always give him. 

It diminishes, the part of him which wants to protect you from him. From the disappointment he tends to bring and the fact he’s so thoughtless. That even under your occasional frostiness and many secrets, you’re kind… sweet. 

It’s why he should blink, and turn away—not that he can tear his eyes away enough to solidify his thought of walking away. Your presence practically demands his attention, even if you’re talking to someone else. Your leg crossed in front of the other, a white pen tucked away behind your ear and hearing, as he moves closer, the Spanish flowing from your tongue. It’s crisp, and clear—rolling beautifully to his ear as the conversation nears an end. The man’s hand in yours, another placed on your arm—squeezing—bidding you farewell.

Something unfurls, and stretches its legs inside of him. Only settling when the man’s hand leaves your arm, leaves the close proximity and is walking away. 

“You making friends?” 

Shrugging, you smirk. “Apparently so. You looked good by the way.” 

“I did?”

Nodding, you hand him the mug. “Yeah. Like you were supposed to be up there. You know, before you get into your head, it should have been someone else.”

He nods, taking a sip, wincing at the strong taste of alcohol—frowning at you as you smile wistfully. 

“Thought you could do with something stronger. Also, you doing the conference is smart, I like it—takes the heat off Chris and Dan.” 

He nods again, taking another sip. More prepared this time to coat his throat in amber, staring, wondering how you managed to sneak a mug of bourbon to him. Not that he should be surprised. You seemed to manage to do a lot, keep things turning, keep things organised. 

“So, sir. How do you plan on celebrating?”

He takes a long drag, raising his brows that hopefully says, I think you already know, and from the smirk, you shoot him back, you do. The two of you fall into a walk, one where your strides match, where your eyes can be on the other but not walk into a thing or soul. Not speaking, not for a minute, your eyes taking him in—raking over him, assessing him for something (or nothing) he can’t be sure. 

“Are you waiting for an invite for that or…”

Shrugging, he watches you take the mug back as he narrows his eyes. “Never been one to wait to be asked to be somewhere, cariño.”

“Somehow, that doesn’t surprise me,” you comment, sliding closer as you press the button for the elevator. “So, what? You want to take me home and fuck the day away?” 

He looks at you, flicking from your eyes to your lips. Watching as you swipe the tip of your tongue against your lower lip. Your body heat is almost smothering his skin—even through his shirt and jacket. “If I ever say no to doing that, cariño. I’ve got brain damage.”

Smirking, you nudge him, the ding of the elevator's arrival making you step back. “If we have a choice, I choose yours. It's fancier.” 

“I don't know, I bet you have candles and decorative pillows.” 

“That what makes a place fancy in your eyes? The amount of candles someone has.”

“I have no candles.”

Snorting, you shake your head as he presses the button for your floor. 

As the doors close, he glances at you, how your expression is fixed on the metal doors. 

“I’m glad you came back, Peña.”

He hears it, and conjures another set of words. Ones he heard, ones he had been meaning to acknowledge—until the phone rang. Until life hurtled a thousand things, and then he was flying to Cali. 

Javi… I was worried. I was worried about you.

You turn your head, flicking your eyes over him. “Another night, I’d show you how unfancy my place is. Tonight, though…”

He knows. Knew even before the teasing had begun about his place or yours. His thumb strokes over his middle and index finger as he chews his cheek. 

“Plus, someone must have come in and knocked all your files on the floor,” you say, a lightness to your tone, “Left your office in a right mess.” 

The doors pinged open, only able to watch as you step out—not waiting for him, just leaving him behind, chewing his smirk.

The moment Martinez left his office, he just remained sat on the edge of his desk.

It had taken longer than it should to sink in. The power people had, the corruption, how it bled and rotted in every corner of the place. The enormity of it all, how without his sacrifice and him handing his notice in, it would have all been undone.

Martinez was the good one. The one who hadn't toed the line, hadn't stepped into the grey, hadn't even been selfish. Not like him.

He drained the glass, finished his cigarette—staring at a patch on the floor until his fingers wrapped around the edge, feeling marks along the wood. For a solid minute, he traces them, feels the lines, the deepness to them, until his mind wonders if they’re from you.

No, Javi. Just you. Only you. 

It’s instant, the way he darts to his bottom drawer, rummaging through until he retrieves the file—the one marked with your name. The one he’d sourced before, now paying attention to the parts he had ignored then. 

From the look on your face, you’re as surprised to see him, as he is that he knocked. A wine glass in hand, the red of it sloshing from side to side as he observes you process his arrival. That he even got out of the car. 

“You… know where I live?”

He drops his hand from leaning on the door frame, wiping his mouth. “I know where you live.” 

Opening the door, you step aside—hands tugging at your cardigan to wrap it around yourself. “Some could call that stalking, sir.” 

“Y’gotta stop with the sirs.” 

“Do I?” 

You smirk—it spreads up your cheeks until it hits your eyes, before your hand pushes the door closed behind him, keeping your eyes on him. 

All he can think is how pretty you are. How beautiful you look, even if you’re all undone—nothing on your face, a baggy t-shirt and some shorts, the thickest socks on your feet. 

“Drinking alone, cariño?” 

It’s slow, how you lean against the door. Not letting the two of them head further into your place. “Some days justify it. Don’t you think?” 

He does. 

More than he wants to say—not wanting to spoil your evening. Taint your home with talks of work and bureaucracy. Things he suspects you know more than you’re likely to share. The thick lines through your file are all an indication of it.   

You take a sip, and then another. 

Adding nothing, just letting him stand there, and he half wonders if you expect him to plead his case here—or whether you’re assessing whether to eject him out of your place as quickly as you left his prior. 

Mainly, he focuses on the fact it smells like you. Floral with a hint of darkness—your decor not all that different from his, just with additional touches. Some candles, some colour—some attempt at making the place feel like a home and not somewhere to rest your head. 

It’s only in the growing silence does he hear the faint sound of music, something low, involving a guitar thrumming in the background. 

“Are you lonely, Agent Peña?” 

He places his hand in his pocket, leaning against the wall opposite you. 

“No.” 

You nod, rolling your lips. “Just in the neighbourhood then?” 

He wipes his mouth as his other hand rubs his palm against his index finger in his pocket. Suddenly unsure why he was here—why he’d found your address and come. 

Javi wasn’t lonely. Didn’t have the time to be. A sea of paperwork on his desk, the guilt weighing down on him, hearing the colonel's voice over and over—the once pleasant taste of liquor now turning bitter in the back of his throat. 

“You forget I know where you live, so I know you’ve come out of your way.”

A laugh escapes and falls from his lips as he dips his head. 

It all of a sudden catches up with him, how the day has been a range of emotions. The delicate way things had needed to happen, the thrum of adrenaline—the joy, the meeting, the conference… 

Lifting his chin, he finds you still watching him.

No smirk. No smile. All soft edges and a comforting presence—waiting. For what, he can’t be sure, but he kicks off the wall all the same. Sliding his hand from his pocket, softly wrapping it around your hip as he places his forehead against yours, walking you backwards, taking the glass from your hand and placing it down. 

He tells himself he needs a moment. A stolen one that doesn’t bleed and change into others. A break in from everything, for a second. 

It only shifts when he wraps each finger on your hip, pulling you close. He keeps your shoulder blades against the wall, the guitar strumming increasing as much as his heart is beating. It’s all rhythmic, a remix of a song he isn’t sure of—but one he is tuned into all the same. 

It takes his breath away how you look at him. How it’s harder to stop himself from falling into them, worsening as your hand cups his elbow. At first, it’s all shared breath and waiting. Neither moving, his forehead just remaining against yours.

“Are you okay?” 

It’s so soft. Barely audible if his body wasn’t pressed against you, as he shakes his head, feeling your fingers slowly sliding in gentle circles around his elbow. Cupping him, keeping him as close as his hands keep you.

“What do you need?” 

He says nothing. Afraid that saying ‘you’ is too much. Having hoped the action would speak louder than the words as he stares into you—mixing brown with yours to make a colour artists dream of. 

“Hey,” you say again. More demanding, assertive. “Javi, what do you need?” 

He doesn’t think, doesn’t attempt to. Embodies the former version of him—the one which had gone to the Colonel’s home, to begin with—the one who takes and takes and takes. 

“You drunk, baby?”

He hears you swallow, before slowly shaking your head. 

“Good,” he whispers.

Closing his eyes, he lifts his forehead before dipping his head, his mouth captures yours. Javi merges the taste of sweet wine, whiskey and his cigarettes together, creating a taste so intoxicating and delicious he’s not sure he ever wants to come up for air. 

Just need you, he thinks as his tongue slips past your parted lips. 

Only want you, he urges as he feels your other hand sliding around his neck, deepening the kiss, his tongue able to taste that small whimper you do when he squeezes your hip. 

It’s different—but then each time he kisses you is. It has been needy, and passionate. Another, it has been soft, almost meaningful. Now, this time, he’s able to feel how warmth consumes him as you kiss him more purposefully. He deepens it in search of more, kissing you more hungrily, full of need and want.

It’s only when he feels your hand skate over the back of his neck, fingers teasing the bottom of his hair, does he slow. In time, pulling back, pressing his forehead against yours—bruising your hip with his fingers as he takes a few deep breaths. 

“Whatever it is…” 

“We can’t fix it, cariño.” 

It’s cold—the way he says it. Wishing he could retract it the moment he sees your brows scrunch. Instead, he shows no sign of letting up his grip on you. Hoping it’s enough to wordlessly explain that he needs you close, wants you—in fact. Needed to just be around you. Even if he shouldn’t, couldn’t… 

He presses two fingers to the side of your cheek, curling them. Your mouth parts, words—likely reassuring ones, knowing what he knows about you—are all desperate to fall and heal over the cracks. But, he shakes his head, watching your lips close as quickly as they had opened, your fingers continuing to draw shapes at the base of his hairline, studying him—searching his eyes.

Then, like a light in a dark room, understanding spreads across your gaze. Illuminating everything, likely connecting the dots in that beautiful—but deeply fascinating—way you do.

“Martinez…”

“Cariño… not, not right now.”

Slowly, you smile, spreading your fingers in his hair—tugging on him, pulling him with far too much ease until his forehead presses back against yours. 

“You did this… before.”

A breath escapes his lips. “Yeah…” 

“Why’d you come, Javi?”

I needed you.

It wasn’t a lie. If anything, it was more truthful than he cared to admit or accept. Which is why he didn’t say it—didn’t let on that the moment the walls began to tremble, he thought of you. Looked through the blinds, bitterly disappointed you weren’t there to be witty and sarcastic, smirk in that way that gets under his skin and make some flirtatious comment that makes it hard not to kiss you.

He could tell you that. Be honest. 

Instead, he says nothing, staring into your eyes until he feels your other hand, the one which has been continuing to grip his elbow, squeeze. 

“Okay. Lemme look after you,” you whisper, before kissing him.

Brushing your lips against him, before pulling away and then kissing him again. Testing the waters, looking for some form of permission as he grips your hips, giving it to you. He doesn’t protest when you begin trailing kisses down his jaw. Your fingers sliding around his arm, to his waist, to the belt holding his trousers up. 

Holding the base of your neck, he stares into your eyes, feeling your palm brush suddenly over his cock. “You don’t have to, car—“

“Shh,” you whisper. 

Slowly, he watches as you lower yourself to your knees, his throat going dry at the mere sight of you. Watching as you grip his cock. All teasingly slow, dragging it out—your tongue sweeps across your bottom lip as you continue to stroke him. 

Eyes closing, he lets his head meet the wall. Needing more—almost asking for it.

It’s what you want, he assumes. Because as soon as he reaches the point where he’s going to ask, you wrap your pretty lips around him. Taking note of the way you run your tongue around the head of him before licking a stripe along the underside of his cock. Finding that your eyes don’t leave his—watching what you do to him, enjoying it. 

It’s endearing.

A desire building, suddenly wanting nothing more than to watch—how he wants an unrestricted view of such beauty—of you taking him down your throat, of your cheeks hollowing, even if your actions are compelling him to close his eyes. 

You’re always pretty—but this is something else. You are on your knees for him. 

Taking as much of him as you can, your hand working what you can't fit—his own hand tightening around your head as you wrap his cock in warmth.

He feels you smirking, your mouth pulling back as you swirl your tongue over the head of his cock, a hand grasping the back of his thigh as you hum around him. 

“So fuckin’ pretty, cariño.” 

The tip of your tongue slides over his slit, making him hiss again—making your name tumble freely from his tongue as he leans himself against the wall for leverage.  

“I know,” you whisper, tracing your lips with his slick head, “Come down my throat, Javi.” 

He grunts, nails digging into his palm as you take him down your throat. His other hand bites into your head as you take him deeper, his hips spluttering, thrusting against your tongue. 

Your eyes have closed.

The window into your need to please him vanishes, and he wants to ask you to open them. To let him see. His finger strokes the top of your cheek, feeling the dampness from a tear at how deep you’re taking him. 

How deep you want him down your throat. 

His hand aids you, fucking into you as you hollow and moan—it vibrates all around him. It covers and smothers his own grunts and groans. The one you pull from him with ease, because everything with you he is slowly learning is easy. Not complicated—even if the situation is. 

All he can think is you’re a fucking goddess, an angel—something he’s now one hundred per cent sure he doesn’t deserve. 

He hisses out your name, feeling your hands clutch at him for balance, his moans filling the hallway of your place until he’s coating your throat in his pleasure. You lap up every drop of it, swallowing it—swallowing all of what he’s given you.

You don’t move, not for a minute. Him slowly pulling himself from your mouth, your hand wiping any spend from your lips to your tongue. 

“You’re… fucking—”

“Something?”

He snorts, arranging himself before he fastens his trousers, shaking his head. His hand offers out to you, pulling you up from your knees as he adjusts your cardigan—as he places his lips against yours. 

“I didn’t… this wasn’t why I came around.”

“Why did you… come round?”

His muscles tighten, swallowing as he stares at you. 

Then you smile, placing a hand over his chest, palm flat, fingers spread. “You got anywhere to be, sir?” 

Javi is frowning, before the rest of your words sink in. His hand captures yours, holding it flat against him as he shakes his head. 

“Because you’re here, may as well let me toast you.” 

Some mornings greet him loudly—sweat clinging to his skin, head hammering, and the world chirping.

The morning, it greets him gently, softly. The sun slides through open curtains, a calmer sound of occasional passing cars greeting his ears.

It’s only then that he registers he’s waking beside you. Your warm, soft skin curled against him—his own arm holding you close, keeping you close. 

It takes a second for the sleep to flutter past his eyes, glancing at the clock on your bedside table—the one which ticks ever so loudly now he’s awake. It’s obvious the two of you have managed to catch a few hours, remembering how he’d brought you in here—thrown your decorative pillows to the floor with a smirk that you kissed immediately from his mouth.

He had told you he wouldn’t stay. 

But, here he is. Now, though, he should move—even if he’s unsure if he wants to. 

It’s never been his favourite thing, waking up outside of his own space. Never mind besides someone else. There were occasions and exceptions. He’s not prepared or currently capable of assessing whether you’ve slotted yourself there, either. 

All he knows is… he likes it, being here. 

Enjoying the fact he’s been allowed to steal a moment of this—of you. Letting himself enjoy it, the sound of your soft inhales and exhales, the way you fit against him—not in a way that looks perfect but simply feels it. 

And it scares him. Just a little bit. 

That thought returning, the one which bellows and beats the drum that you deserve better: than him, than what he can give you and the life you’d have being around him. 

Pinching his nose, he knows he should go to the office. Should begin to unravel the highs and lows of the day prior. Make a start on the paperwork that is already mounting higher than he expected. 

Instead, he turns his head. Selfishly admiring the way you sleep so peacefully, how he’d somewhat expected to find a creased forehead or a tightened jaw. A part had also expected to hear nightmares plague you, knowing there’s something there—living in your mind. A bad memory, a past which hammers at you to get out. 

He’d half expected to have his own rear its head too. 

Instead, he’s sure none had greeted the night air. 

If anything, he slept peacefully, soundly. Almost oddly, for the most consecutive hours since way before Escobar was caught. He shuffles against the pillow, eyes widening when he realises and feels your head rolling ever so slightly on his chest. The smallest of movements that had rippled out into hearing you murmur. 

Freezing, it dawns on him that he doesn’t want the bubble to burst. Studying, secretly praying he hasn’t woken you, as your lashes flutter and your lips don’t press back together. He’s a passenger, unable to stop the undoing as your brows dip, your fingers spread over his chest—

“J-Javi?” 

It’s full of sleep, his name. And fuck, it has never sounded so nice.  

He thought it bellowed or screamed as he fucked someone was good, but this… is something else. It takes a chunk from him, snatches it, and renders him thoughtless as you turn your head on his chest, looking up at him, blinking. 

“Morning,” he whispers, thumb stroking your cheek. “I’m… I should go, cariño…”

You frown, not like normal—smothered in sleepiness that it doesn’t quite form. 

A string is plucked in his chest when your fingers slide over his chest, watching them rub at your face. A desperation rises in him to kiss you, to taste what morning and goodness is like—even if it's coated in unbrushed teeth and last night. 

But, it’s his moment to move—his chance. To relieve you of his presence. 

Not that he takes it. Instead, he absorbs the moment he was robbed of the first night he took you to his—of seeing you without armour or walls. 

“If y’give me…”

“—cariño—“

“… like fifteen, maybe twenty minutes,” you say, words monotone and low as your hand slowly drops from your face to his chest. “I need… really need a shower. Then can come wit’you.” 

As soon as you sit up, cool air brushes over the places you’d been against him—goosebumps appearing over his skin as you stretch. His hand lightly grasps your forearm, keeping you from sliding out the sheets completely as he whispers your name.

Lets it slide into the air of your home, around the two of you—the room he secretly wishes could pause time so neither of you had to leave.  

Not ready to face the fallout from Martinez, the look of ‘what’s next’ on everyone’s face. Never mind the note clearly from Stechner. 

“You don’t… you don’t have to, I need…” 

His fingers move to your cheek, sliding over your jaw, only managing a half-breath as you flick your eyes to look over him—stunning him in a shade, he’s not sure truly has a name. 

“W-what?”

“Nothing,” he lies.

Following your suit, he sits up, your sheet falling to his waist as he marries his lips back to yours. Fingers finding your chin, keeping you there, stealing another moment, and another. Doing so until your hand wraps around his wrist, thumb stroking a line up and down his wrist. 

“I need a shower…”

He snorts. “You don’t have to come with me.” 

“I’m normally in an hour or two later anyway—plus…”

“Plus?”

Your lips slide, less of a smirk but more than a smile. “I have to come and ensure you don’t fuck with my organisational system. No other reason.” 

“Not one?”

“No.”

He tuts. “I can keep things organised.” 

You scoff, light and airy. “Peña, you’ve been here five minutes, and your desk already looks like it’s amassed ten years of files, so—I’m gonna call bullshit. Respectfully.” 

“Respectfully?”

“Yes.” 

He allows a laugh to escape, light and airy, it falling from him with far too much ease. Pulled from some depths he hasn’t allowed himself to explore. 

Sliding from him, you stand, grasping at a t-shirt that begins to mist over your body—hiding your skin, your curves and the marks he’s left from view. 

“I… I should say, I don’t mind that you showed up at my place, Javi.”

He traces his mouth with his thumb, looking at you. “Javi, huh?”

You smile, rolling your lips as you sigh. “You wore me down.” 

“Go shower, I’ll wait for you.”

Pausing at the door frame, you glance at him, half your body framed in shadow and the other in the morning light. He’s not sure he’s ever seen someone look more beautiful in the earliest hours of a new day.

chapter six ->

[highlordofkrypton]

the justice league’s moms’ book club’s guide to vampire slaying, a martha kent, alfred pennyworth, atlanna & hippolyta fanfic

@not-another-robin, YES FOR YOUR BIRTHDAY!! HAVE ANOTHER ONE

Chapter 8 - Everyone Needs a Batfriend

The conversation comes to a lull; Martha’s absence is felt, even for just a couple of moments. None of them are foolish enough to think that Martha would be alarmed over damned teenagers . No, she is a woman of experience who leads this farm with great care. Atlanna keeps eating, but Hippolyta keeps glancing out the window while chewing on her fork, thoughtfully.

“I should—,” the Amazon queen starts, but a gentle alarm blares in her sensitive ears.

Alfred looks at his watch with a frown and gets up. Hippolyta follows suit. Earlier in the evening, he had arrived with the food in their travel carriers, an overnight bag should the evening run long and a neat suitcase that simply didn’t suit the event. He unbuckles the suitcase, revealing the laptop encrusted within. The screen reads ‘ perimeter breach ’ as his slender fingers soar across the keyboard.

“I will fetch Martha,” Hippolyta decides, after perching over his shoulder for a moment. All she needs to know is that someone has invaded her friend’s territory and she will move to defend it.

“Wait,” Alfred says, even but stern. Hippolyta waits for no man. He unhooks a headset and speaks into it. “Martha, can you hear me?” 

And that is reason enough to give Hippolyta pause.

***

A pale face rises onto the slanted rooftop, appearing in the barn’s only window. She’s too late. Even if she were close enough, she would have to reach out to pull the swinging doors inward. It’s an immense demand for her to process her impending end and what exactly stands before her. Half-man and half-corpse, the thing smiles at her. She hadn’t seen it from afar, but it’s teeth—it’s teeth are like a shark’s, jutting in every which way, and nothing more than sharp pointed tips. It would shred her to pieces in seconds. 

She prays to God that her hard head and her pitchfork is enough to buy her one more day, one more minute or one more second on His green earth. With grace and with the power of miracle, He answers.

A metal grid slides down over the opening, moments before the thing can lunge at her. Its shrieks reverberate against the barn, and slithers down her spine, making Martha shiver. It bangs, and bangs, and bangs itself against the reinforced window. It wants in.

“Hello? Martha, are you safe?”

“Oh thank God,” she breathes, falling to her knees on Clark’s worn rug. Her heart is going to fall right out of her chest, she knows it.

“Alfred will do,” and she can hear the smile across the speakers.

“Is this what you boys were doing when you were repairing the farm?”

“This and more.”

“I should have known,” she ‘tsks’, but Martha is eternally grateful for Alfred and Bruce’s caution. It’s unfair to put all the responsibility on Clark to listen to everyone in the world at the same time. He’s got enough on his plate, and she’ll worry about the aftermath of this attack once they survive it.

“Martha, what have the teenagers done?” Hippolyta’s voice crackles from holding the microphone too close.

“ That was attached to my head.” Alfred complains.

“It wasn’t teenagers. I don’t know what it was? It was… It looked like a man, but something was wrong with his face?” It’s the best she can do under the circumstances. Martha needs a moment to  breathe, and then another one to process.

“I will fetch you and slay that man.”

“No, I’ve got it,” Atlanna chimes in. “Do you have weapons here?”

“There are knives in the kitchen drawers.”

“There is no need.” There’s a sound of a mild struggle as Alfred snatches back his headset, and his voice comes through a lot clearer. “I’ve opened a latch beneath the barn, you should see it next to Clark’s ship . Follow the tunnel and it will lead you straight to us. You… may have to crawl.”

“Alfred,” Martha snaps. The boys may have shown forward thinking in locking the barn down and providing her with an escape route, but they did not factor in her hate for closed spaces. “I can’t leave the animals. What if it gets in?” Even if she didn’t mind the tight space, her animals are important to her. 

“The barn is reinforced all around, not just the entrances, with a steel and nth metal synthetic. If it gets in, it’d have to be as strong as Clark.”

“And do not think that this will not go unpunished. Atlanna and I will hunt down these creatures for daring to cross your territory.”

The promise of violence is not reassuring, but the thought that she isn’t alone calms her. Martha sighs and starts heading down to the ground floor. She drops into the hidden space carved into the barn’s floor made to hide Clark’s ship—the one he arrived in as a child. Were she as technologically savvy as Alfred, perhaps she would have tried to fly this out of the barn and used it against her enemy, but that thought is so far beyond her reality, she abandons it as soon as it pops into her mind. Martha makes sure to close the entrance above her, in case it tries to follow.

With the flashlight, she spots the tunnel, lit up from the inside. At least, she won’t be trapped in a dark enclosed space. Martha climbs in and finds that the tunnel is also made for someone much larger than her to fit through. It’s… not as bad as she thought. The door slides closed behind her and she starts moving.

“You’re doing great. You’ll be back in no time.” Alfred encourages her over the intercom.

“Thanks, Al.”

The crawl feels eternal and much longer than her walk towards the barn. The metal yields to her weight in some places, making a loud echoing sound that makes her jump. Otherwise, it’s too quiet. Martha stops about halfway through to take a break. It’s hard on her knees and now that she knows she (and her animals) are safe, she figures she earned it.

It starts slow.

A distant scratch, scratch, scratch reminiscent of Krypto playing in the yard when he isn’t stationed at the Fortress, or the Watchtower, or wherever Bruce isn’t that day. Martha wouldn’t have heard it over the sound of her breathing. 

“Alfred, how deep are these tunnels?”

“Approximately six feet, why?”

“It’s digging.”

The tunnel is plunged into darkness, leaving Martha alone with her panic. She doesn’t wait for instruction, she turns towards the house and crawls as fast as she can.

***

Before Alfred can answer, the lights cut out. He tries to get the remote generator started, but it must be out of gas or… what they’re dealing with is an intelligent being that would think to cut off access to both the generator and the solar powered back-up system (to the back-up). 

“I am going after her.”

“She’s coming to us, there isn’t a need to go after her.”

“There is a need to teach invaders a lesson.” Atlanna agrees with Hippolyta, though she has long outgrown violence-as-a-solution. Not with Orm always trying to challenge his brother at every turn, and every other week. She pulls open the kitchen drawers, tossing Hippolyta the knives by the hilt and keeps the forks for herself.

“The forks, really?” Alfred cocks a slender brow.

“They’re better balanced,” she shrugs. She also plucks a loaded baked potato and stuffs in her mouth. In her experience, in surprise combat, the food usually gets ruined. It’s no wonder Arthur has a monstrous appetite, he gets it from his mother. There’s also no better time to eat than before battle, she’ll need the energy.

Hippolyta pulls open the front door and there stands a tall man, clad in worn black clothing. His mouth is stained red, and without the lights, it appears dark on his face. He raises a clawed hand, wiggling his fingers in a mocking greeting. Oh, she’ll give him a proper greeting. Her punch happens in a flash with little to no tell, a sign of her millenia of training and the monstrous man catches her strike in his palm.

“My turn,” it slurs, words caught in its fangs.

He slams his palm into her chest so hard, she flies back across the living room and into the wall. It’s not enough to deter her, only surprise her. There aren’t many creatures left that can stand toe-to-to with an Amazon; there aren’t many creatures Hippolyta cares to know that can withstand a direct blow from her. To think, she was being nice.

The laptop is no use, so Alfred shuts it as he skips over Hippolyta as she pulls herself out of her hole in the wall. “Well, best of luck, ladies.” He smiles and dashes up the stairs, a man on a mission.

Atlanna wastes no time, launching her forks at him. She throws them with enough strength that they embed into his shoulder, but he doesn’t bleed. Interesting. She hops over the kitchen island, sliding across it and sending the desserts clattering to the floor. See? The food is always the first to get ruined.

The grin on her face and Hippolyta’s signals that they aren’t worried or afraid; it’s been a long time since they’ve been able to engage in a killing dance. The improvised weapons and unknown enemy makes this even more fun.

***

Alfred does not flee. He never has and he never will. What he does is trust in the ability of his peers to defend themselves while he executes his own part of the (unspoken) plan. While he has always openly commented on Bruce’s unnecessary paranoia, there is a reason he indulges his son. More often than not, Bruce is right. 

The best vantage point in the house is the attic, an unofficial third floor to a two-story house. He pulls one of the old boxes marked ‘Old Christmas Tree’ and digs out a case at the bottom. Alfred positions the rifle at the circular attic window. He cycles through the different scope settings, noting that the infrared does not pick up on the creature digging for Martha.

Deep breath in, old pal.

And on the exhale, he fires his first shot. 

The creature releases an ear shattering screech, but he calmly puts on bat-ear-muffs. The gun was never for Bruce’s use, just a simple anticipation that Alfred would be spending more time here. He gives the monster no reprieve, firing three more bullets to buy his friend time to complete her journey and yet, his target does not die. He doesn’t even think he’s bloody slowing it.

The thing snaps its head towards Alfred, and this time its scream sounds more like a war cry. Out of the stalks, several more of those things swarm and begin to race towards the farmhouse. 

“Well, at least the animals are safe,” he mumbles to himself, hauling ass downstairs to politely inform her highnesses that he has made a very slight miscalculation.

[officialchristiancagebbgirlblog]

2: “try and get some sleep baby”

34: “shh, it’s okay. I’m here now”

Hopefully this is okay, I made it into a sort of nightmare in which the reader wakes up to a caring Christian Cage. Any feedback is appreciated! Hope you enjoy! 🩵

Tag: @brideofinfamy

Warnings: none

Theme: angst and fluff at the end

Word count: 1407

Link to masterlist

Happy reading 🖤

“I know it’s not easy, but try and get some sleep baby.”

For the last few days, you had been really struggling to get to sleep. You weren’t sure where the problem was starting but all you knew is you were sick of sleeping so late all the time. Christian laid behind you, spooning your body while one of his cats happily nestled behind his knees. He mumbled sweet nothings into your hair, trying to help you get to sleep. Even though he was half asleep he still tried his best to get you as relaxed as possible before he drifted off into his own dreams.

“I’ll try, babe…” you sighed, feeling him plant a soft kiss on the back of your head and pulling the sheets higher up on your bodies. You went to say goodnight, but by the time you turned your head towards him, he was out like a light.

The clock by your bedside table read 2:13am. It wasn’t the time you wanted to see at all, having tried for hours to get to sleep. Strangely enough, you were tired enough to get to sleep but your brain was just refusing to shut off for the night. It’s not like you had even done anything crazy that night anyways! At best, you and your boyfriend, Christian, had just had a quiet night cooking dinner, watching a movie. Being in his later years, he preferred to stay in and hang out with his girl. There was nothing he needed to prove to anyone by bringing you out, showing you off to his friends to prove that ‘he’s still got it!’ He didn’t need to prove to anyone that he was still worthy of being loved by younger women. So he chose to spend his nights relaxing with you instead. He knew you didn’t enjoy going out and partying until the early hours of the sunrise, so it never took much convincing to get you to stay home with him.

You envied Christian for being able to sleep so quickly. As soon as you guys had got yourselves tucked in he fell asleep. Snoring away behind you, his sounds were oddly relaxing. They were loud, occasionally a little bit squeaky but it was just enough to help lull you into a restless sleep.

Once your eyes finally closed and you melted into the sheets, you found yourself standing alone in a hallway. Wide awake.

‘Strange…’ you thought aloud, ‘where is everybody?’

Wandering down the hall you could hear faint, illegible voices that went up and down in both tone and volume. Almost like a weird song? You couldn’t quite pinpoint who the voices belonged to but it definitely sounded familiar. Deciding to stop, you pressed your ears against a closed wooden door on your right to see if you could make out what they were saying. But weirdly, as you got closer you heard more voices that made it so hard to hear as you got closer to the wood. They were loud, distorted, and almost angry. But after some head movements, you found the sweet spot on the door that allowed you to make out at least some words. Sadly, though, it might’ve just been better to ignore them.

“She’s just so…and I don’t…why would he go…someone as young as…she’s just in it…for the money…he could do…so much better…”

‘Oh my god,’ you gasped, ‘is…is that what she thinks of me?!’

It took you a moment to figure out who the voice might belong to, and you felt your heart drop when you realised it was one of Christians friends. It could’ve been Shayna, or possibly Beth but you weren’t fully certain on which of the girls. You swallowed thickly, and with a tightness on your chest you continued down the hall. On your left, this time, was a new wooden door. Except this one was painted Green with a little peephole looking into the room. You could see the back of someone sitting, typing furiously on their phone and dictating loudly what they were writing. Whoever they were, they were practically shouting their words of hatred:

“What does he even see in her…why on Earth…date a younger…she deserves to be-“

Quickly and clumsily stepping back, you tried to spare yourself from hearing the end of that sentence. You felt the cool wall slam against your back as you stumbled down to the floor.

‘Oh my god, what’s going on?!’ You thought to yourself, head buried in your hands, body trembling. The tightness on your chest started to feel more like a weight. Like something was sitting on it, hot and kind of fuzzy? It almost felt like it was merging with the inside of your throat. After what felt like forever, you found the courage to lift your head only to be met with an open doorway. Looking in, sat on a lone chair in the middle of an otherwise empty room sat Christian. Staring at you. With no love in his eyes.

He didn’t say anything, just watched as you shakily lifted yourself off the floor to walk towards him. With each step closer, his expression became more sour and angry.

‘Baby, it’s…it’s me. What’s wrong?” You questioned, lips quivering. Still, he stayed silent and unmoving.

‘Please just say something! Anything!’

Slowly he stood from the chair, eyes trained on you with a scowl plastered on his face. He took a step forward towards you and placed his hands on your shoulders.

‘You disgust me…’ he spat out, beginning to shake you violently. With each shake, he shouted disgusting comments at you, spit flying all over your face as he closed the space between the two of you. You couldn’t move. You couldn’t even breathe. The man that you were in love with stood before you shouting abuse at you. Tears streamed down as you stared at his greying face, his cheeks burning a bright red of hatred. Everything felt like it was shaking around you, and you had the odd sensation of being lifted from the ground. But, his voice kept you distracted from everything around you. You barely even noticed his expression soften, his voice suddenly quiet and soothing.

“Hey, wake up!”

Sitting up in a panic, you almost shrieked. The heavy feeling in your chest quickly disappeared as his cat (who was previously cuddled up on your chest) tumbled down into your lap with a gentle meow in protest. She hopped away from the bed, unhappy with the level of respect. Apparently she didn’t much appreciate rolling down somebody's body. Looking around the room that was just barely lit with the lamp beside your boyfriend you realised where you were. Back in the safety of his bedroom. It was just a horrible nightmare. It still didn’t stop your sobs and violent shakes as you fell sideways into his awaiting arms.

“Oh baby, shh. Shh, it’s okay. I’m here now…” he mumbled, face buried in your hair, hands caressing your arms. You tried to speak but you just couldn’t get the words out between sobs.

“No it’s okay, sweet girl, you don’t have to say anything. I know you had a nightmare. You don’t have to tell me what happened.”

His reassuring words helped you calm down quicker, his soft hands acting as a fantastic distraction from the sadness. Finally you were able to calm down again. The tears had stopped flowing, the shakes were less violent. But that didn’t stop him from continuing to hold you, rocking you side to side. You looked over to him to see him flash you a warm smile.

“Are you feeling better now?” He held an open bottle of water to your lips, trying to get you to have a few sips which you gratefully accepted. Still feeling too upset to properly talk, you gave him a nod before laying back down under the covers. He placed the water down and turned off the lamp, plunging the room back into darkness. There was a brief moment of anxiety which quickly washed away as he nuzzled in next to you.

“Th…thank you.” You managed to mutter out, just loud enough for him to hear. Another kiss was given to you but this time on your cheek.

“I’m here for you sweet girl, whatever happens. Try and get back to sleep if you can, okay? I promise I won’t let go of you tonight.”